Warlocks Index – Previous Chapter
A soft crunching roused me from my partial slumber. Immediately alert, I remained where I was listening with a calm I was both familiar and unfamiliar with. Something nearby was moving in the darkness. I lay there getting ready to defend our space, my heart pounding.
Then another noise. Something cracking against a tree, and whatever the first thing was scampered away. I let out a held breath.
“Sorry.” Graciul whispered across from me. “It was probably a woodland pig.” His voice had more strength to it than before.
“What did you do?” I kept my voice low, and it still felt uncomfortably loud in the still night.
“Stone. Useful things.”
“Yes, like for hot weighted cloaks.”
He chuckled which clearly irritated his wound. “And creating distractions.”
We lay there in silence for a brief time before Graciul spoke again.
“It will be dawn soon.”
“How do you know? Still looks black to me.” That wasn’t quite true as the soft warm light from the distant camp could just be seen.
“The air,” he said “the night is at it coldest before the sun rises.”
The air certainly was chilled. The exposed areas of my face, and my fingertips tingled in the cold. I let out a long sigh.
“Then I should get myself prepared.” and I started to rise.
“You’re not going back?”
“I am going back. That is why I am here.”
“You’ll need help.” He started to move and grunted with pain.
I reached across to him in the dark, subtly aware that I instinctually knew exactly where he was. “You’re not going anywhere.” I could sense the frustration he was feeling and his retort just before he spoke.
“I’ve had worse. I was once…”
“Gored by a swamp pig.”
“How..?” I could not see his reaction, but I felt it.
“There’s more to say than we have time for. Rest and stay safe.”
*****
Graciul had offered diminishing offers of help and I had denied each in succession until I had gathered everything I felt I needed. Now I sat just inside the tree line looking into the camp once again. I could just see the mesh frames that covered the pits where I felt there were captives of The Maker. The night sky showed hints of an early morning sunrise, but the forest hid the horizon from view. The wandering guards still relied on hand-held lanterns and mounted torches, meaning their sight was limited.
A guard doing his round walked past. I shrouded myself in a mental cloak of disinterest and crept into the camp behind him. I tried to keep off the dry soil as much as possible to reduce footprints until I reached areas already covered in tracks. Then I had to figure out how I was going to get into the pits.
Fortunately, they were crudely constructed, designed to be easy to get into, harder to get out. After a quick check, both visually and mentally, to make sure no-one was watching, I lever-opened the trap door to one pit and slipped inside.
The pits we more extensive than I had anticipated, dug deep and were bigger than their openings suggested as they expanded a short distance underground, supported by various wooden panels and struts. I could make out the shapes of at least 4 people in the shade of the cave. As I moved closer, I could see they were in different states of emotional capacity. One sat with his head on his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, looking blankly at the ground. I had seen him in the village although I did not know his name. The other three lay on their sides with their backs to me, one was softly crying.
Keeping my shroud up, I knelt down, touched my hand to the crystal in my cloak, and opened my thoughts. The world fell away, and I could sense the tendrils of dreams being drawn from the four before me. I reached forward trying to not interrupt the flow, but to join the stream.
*****
Triss was running through a long dark tunnel of damp brick work, tears streaming down her face. A vague shadow seemed to be chasing her. From my vantage however, she was not moving at all. It were the walls and ground that passed and vanished behind her. She stumbled slightly but did not fall maintaining her stance as best she could.
How long had she been running like this, on a path with no end, chased by uncertainty? My instinct to help her immediately was strong, yet that would only solve the moment, reveal my presence to the Maker, and progress events before I was ready.
I turned away from Triss and followed the thread closer to the void. I could feel it pulsing in waves, moving in both directions. The temptation to squeeze flashed through my mind.
I dipped further into the thread, trying to feel inside, or syphon from it. The pulses going to the void were emotional; fear, desperation, cold. The pulses going to Triss were images, words, and suggestions.
An interrogation I thought. A memory from the crystal. Techniques similar to this being used to break the will of subjects a century before.
I followed the thread deeper until I hovered at the edge of the void. Here the field of threads was denser as they all converged. I was able to syphon from several at a time and witness the small changes being made to followers and captives alike. I began to understand how The Maker worked his gift.
A small change here that would cause doubt. Another change there, adding or removing a fragment of memory. All working towards a goal of dependancy.
He said he wanted to be liked. Here I discover he desired to be needed. An all consuming desire to be at the centre of all things, with little if any consideration of the consequences.
What I felt coming from him was a sense of justification, earned privilege, and an almost childish need for adoration. Simple desires with a focused simple ambition. Which would make cutting his supply easy, while his response would be immediate and focused.
I would need to be ready.
Reflection of a Ham 
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