Chapter 208: Madness

Chapter 208: Madness

While Rushwin teed off against Leland, a fog began to roll through the warehouse district of Ivory Reach.

Starting slowly and pouring from the sewer system, the fog slowly ballooned until it fully consumed any and all. Buildings, streets, people, none went unmolested especially when hundreds of glowing red eyes peered through the mist.

They moved like drone bees following their queen’s command, marching down the streets and ending the lives of any and all they came across. They broke down the doors of houses and inns, slicing the throats of the innocent while ambushing the powerful. Guard patrols acted where they could, but the might of primordial magic outweighed that of steel.

Pillowing orange flumes ate away at the fog in key locations, warehouses burning to a crisp as the food reserves blazed away. Red eyes could be seen around the flames, but they vacated as quickly as it took the heat and ash to spread.

Luckily, the fog only inconvenienced sight, not the soul of the city. Soon multiple platoons of guards and dozens of Inquisitors were dispatched to the warehouse district, quickly ending the cultist threat.

Multiple of the city’s defenders commented on how easy the battles had been. The cultists, while wielding powerful magic, were all but useless when it came down to it. Based on the tattoos on the deads’ hands, most were common citizens. Legacy of the Grand Baker, Legacy of the Brewmaster, Legacy of the Laborer, Legacy of Stables, Legacy of the Smith – the noncombative Legacies.

The Inquisitors quickly sent their reports to their commanding officer who then sent their reports to the castle. Eventually pages of notes and battle strategy rested neatly in Aunty P’s hand.

She ground her teeth for a long moment. “Gather the High Inquisitors and guard Captains,” she said to an attendant.

“Would you like to take a seat, Rushwin?” Spencer asked, already having rearranged the chairs to accompany their large group.

Before the Head Inquisitor could respond, Sam, the old Legacy of the Workshop sputtered out a string of words, “What— How does! What is this!”

Spencer coughed, then sighed. “Sam, I don’t think we’ll need your services any longer. Consider your favor paid.”

A portal opened beside Sam but he continued to sputter out partial sentences. Spencer gently pushed him through.

“Not one of yours?” Rushwin asked.

“Not so much. Just a contact for a plan that has now been canceled.”

“I see.”

Isobel took a seat, prompting Rushwin to as well. Jude pushed a small bowl forward. “Peanuts?”

Rushwin took the bowl, popping one into his mouth. “What is the end goal here?”

Leland answered, “To clear our names. To make sure Sybil is safe.”

“She is very safe.”

“Not when Ashford is around.”

“What do you know about Ashford?”

Leland shrugged. “Not much. You and the adults here probably know more.”

“I somehow doubt that,” Rushwin said, eating another nut. “Especially if what you say about meeting Lords is true. My guess is that you know plenty about the Undying Harbinger.”

Again, Leland shrugged. “I don’t make it a point to keep the company of Harbingers. I didn’t even know his name until just a few weeks ago. I do know some things about the Witch who follows him.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Her name is Charlotte Hansley, Legacy of Pathways. The Lord of Pathways made a contract with me. I am to kill her if I ever meet her, which I expect to by the time I leave Ivory Reach.”

The young man nodded, no defiance or lunge to stop the spell. Rushwin began, the flow of time reversing. “’Is it war?’ you asked, knowing that bluffing a mass murderer would probably get you killed.”

Leland flinched at the casualness of the statement. “I guess I did.” He didn’t dare look at his parents as he said it.

Rushwin continued. “You learned to bluff after fighting and killing the Toy Maker Harbinger.” His eyes fluttered, going deeper into the past. He needed context. He needed to understand what truly happened back then. “A Lordly Image bursting at the seams of its mortal host body. It grasped you, your life utterly in such a monster’s hands. Then, then— madness—”

The connection between the him and Rushwin severed. He bellowed over, falling onto the table like a drunkard at last call. His head slammed into the bowl of peanuts, blood already pooling under his nose. Before anyone could help him, the old man groaned, forcing himself back up. His eyes swirled, his mind spun.

But then he chuckled. “It seems, Leland, your Lord does not want me to look that far back. She gave me a slap on the wrist...”

“A-are you alright?”

“I will be, I hope.” Rushwin leaned back, his old muscles stretching. “Been awhile since I’ve been hurt like that.” He went thoughtful for a moment. “Alright. I understand the forces at play. I’ve seen enough and I am willing to trust everyone here.”

Isobel allowed herself a slight smile. “Then it is time to bring this war council to order yet again. Here’s the plan—”

Rushwin interrupted, “’Plan?’ No, I think not. The Inquisitors and city guard have this problem under control. Six former Inquisitors and three young men are not going to make a difference. Though I will admit having Spencer watching the space around the castle will be helpful.”

Spencer drummed his fingers on the table. “And you will have it. But I think you are misunderstanding something. Everyone here has fought against at least one of the enemies this city faces. Isobel and the boys have fought against them all. We can help, we want to help.”

The High Inquisitor shook his head. “I will not stop you from helping in the capacity of an adventurer for hire, but you are no longer Inquisitors. If you wish to recover your former positions, we can have that discussion, but after the threat is gone.”

“The Sightless King will not stop until the city is under his control or he is banished. Trust me, I would know.”

Rushwin turned slightly, finding the speaker. It was the young man, Glenny. Child of Carmon and the deceased, Annie Red. “And how’s that?”

“Because the Sightless King keeps taunting me about how close he is to taking the city.”

Everyone looked at the young man. Glenny saw that the High Inquisitor didn’t believe him, so he forged a crimson blade. He spun it through his hand like a daring street performer juggling knives. “Regardless whether you let us help or not, I have a fight to finish.”

Rushwin went to respond, but the door to the inn opened. “High Inquisitor!” a young attendant screeched. “Orders from the Spymaster General!”

The attendant ran through the inn, handing over a folded slip of paper. Rushwin snatched it, reading it over in mere seconds.

“There has been an attack. Warehouse district. Many citizens dead. I’ve been tasked with leading a team through the sewers.”

Isobel said, “The sewers are where the cult set up their headquarters. Looks like that is where we need to go.”

Rushwin held up a hand, ceasing all movement. “What about the Harbinger and Witch?”

Lucia and Spencer looked at one another before glancing at the other adults. “Split up?”

“No way.” “No.” “Not going to happen.” “I’m sticking with Glenny.” “I’m not letting Jude out of my sight.”

Spencer blinked a few times. “Then I guess we all are going into the sewers.”

Now it was Rushwin’s turn to blink. “I said that—”

Isobel leaned over. “I told you, you’ll get used to it. Tell your people not to worry about us and to treat us like a special forces unit. We’ll go wherever we are needed.”