In Which A Series Continues – Notes From The Abyss Chapter 2
January 23, 2012
Below the fold is the next installment of Notes From the Abyss. Tomorrow I’m considering doing another article but I’m not sure on what just yet – that I’ll write todaytIf you can handle multiple posts at once I may post new and revised works as this continues, but Notes is going to update Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays as I said before. If you would like to see multiple posts per day, be sure to let me know here.
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The next morning I awoke to my office being in disarray. There was a small air spirit sitting on desk, about six inches tall, bright blue, vaguely human shaped and sitting on a cushion made from a small tornado. It was throwing papers around and looking intently at the ones from the leather case I had gotten yesterday. The sylph seemed to be concentrating on the work I had done last night prior to going to bed, but had left my ritual space alone. I stood and pulled a shirt on and buttoned it up as I watched the little creature examine the lists I had made, waiting until it was concentrating on a list of suspects before snapping my suspenders over my shoulders.
It jumped a mile if it jumped an inch and floated back down to the desk slowly. It was small, no more than a hand-span tall, and androgynous. It crossed its arms and, in a voice far too deep andrich for its tiny form, said, “Are you the detective working on Our case?” Its voice thundered in my ears but it wasn’t loud. It just sounded important, difficult to ignore.
I blinked a few times and shook my head to clear both the cobwebs from sleeping too long and my surprise. I could hear the capitalization, there really isn’t any other way to put it, on the ‘our’ in his question. “Yeah, I’m the PI. Who’s ‘Our’?” I walked over to the desk and poured myself a glass of whiskey, a winner’s breakfast, then walked over to my still pristine ritual space to double check my setup.
The circle itself, a silver pentagram inlaid in the floor, was pristine and well maintained. There was nothing crossing the lines themselves, but at each of the five points was an item representing that point’s element. Starting at the top point, the elements are Life – consciousness, spirit, soul, personality…the things that make us us, Air – wind and motion and intelligence, Earth – strength and stability and maternal protection, Fire – passion and danger and energy, then Water – emotions and feelings and power. Within the circle were the devices I had set up to attune me to the information I needed, each an item representing the five basic senses that humans rely on – a piece of the pedestal from the vase’s storage for touch, a container of musty air for smell, broken pottery for taste, an arcane formula for the Gates’ alarm spells for sound, and finally a photo of the vase for sight.
As I settled into my seat in the middle of the circle and set up my ritual implements – Rothus the silver dagger, a golden chalice, and a paired set of lighters, one black and one white – the sylph hung in the air in front of me outside the circle. “We are the protectors of the family Gates. We are represented by This One, Morikatrix of the Northern Wind. You may call Us Mori. We report to the Council of Elements that the great William Gates the Fourth assembled at the Sealing of the Cask.”
I quirked an eyebrow. “Cask?” I asked, “The vase?”
Mori nodded sagely, “We identify as it is; a Cask that seals a powerful evil.” I chewed on my lower lip slowly, “Alright. Well, Mori, let me do my thing and we’ll talk after this. We’ll have a bit of a walk to the Standing Stones as it is since I don’t feel like renting a train car or temple-ship for the trip.” I gently waved him away and sat down in the center of the circle, focusing on the task at hand. I closed my eyes and let my consciousness fill my mind, flow of me, and begin to fill the circle. I felt my awareness slide like water along the floor, covering every inch and crawling up the walls of my office, filling in all the tiny nooks and crannies hidden around the room. I felt everything as it was in relation to me; I felt how far away it was, I heard the sound reflecting off the walls, I felt the textures around me. Then, once every inch and every cranny of my office was filled I began to pull it back. Slowly, my consciousness slid back to the edges of the circle and, beyond it, blackness. Nothing. All that I was, all that I am, all that I will ever be was that small, silver circle. I spoke slowly, clearly, and in a measured tone.
“Talus.” A whisper from outside of time, of the Laws of the Universe signifying my word, hearing it and Knowing it. The Circle snapped close. Talus is the word of Binding, it is the start and end of every spell.
“Galin.” A whisper again from outside of time, from a different instrument of Creation. This time a thread spun from my heart and dove into the realms of time and space. It found what I sought, it found the moment of the theft, and it Saw the actions upon the Cask. However, it could not See the Cask itself. Galin is the word of Finding.
“Qorez.” A whisper from outside of time, again a new instrument of Creation. The thread hummed as the Universe looked upon itself and came to know the Cask. I became Aware of it, and I saw that it disappeared, hidden from view in time and space by a magician of some talent. Qorez is the word of Knowing.
“Serafa.” A crash resounded through the circle as the Universe acknowledged my request. It would lead me toward the Cask. Serafa is the word of Moving, and it would urge me toward the Cask with gentle prodding and a pressing need in my mind.
“Talus Marketh.” The circle snapped open again and my consciousness exploded back to where it normally went. Talus binds me to the circle, Marketh binds the spell to the itself and the circle is finished, then released.
Mori nodded, “It is as We were told. You have much of the Talent. I shall wait for you to finish your daily rituals by resting upon your desk. Alert Us when you are prepared to depart.”
“Will do, gusty.” I said before half crawling, half walking back into my bed in the small antechamber attached to my office. I needed to rest after finishing the spell since it took a lot out of me to find the vase as it was, which is odd for a piece of art. Especially one with history. Just on the edges on my awareness I could feel a thread pulling me toward where the Universe thinks I should be going, though, toward the vase. Luckily for me, within the edges of my awareness was sleep so that happened first.