The Stone Heart's Lament
A complex sort of bloke

Rashari woke the nextmorning aware of two things: the first was that he ached all over and thesecond was that he’d completely lost track of how many days he’d been inBattlan. Too many, seemed like the right answer even if it lacked scientificprecision.

Sitting up wasanything but easy. He’d finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep with his handsstill bound behind his back and sitting up involved contraction of the musclesof his stomach that did nothing but remind him that he hadn’t eaten in - well,he wasn’t actually sure how long - but it had been long enough that his stomachwas loudly proclaiming the fact that it was empty as a pauper’s coffers.

“Morning, sunshine,”Jaquard was seated opposite him in the grass, chewing on a strip of cured meat.He grinned around his mouthful. Rashari ignored him and looked around forRuthy. He couldn’t see her. He didn’t replace this very reassuring. Where Ruthywas concerned out of sight was not out of mind.

A dewy mist hung overthe plain, thick and cloudy and faintly tinged lilac. Droplets of waterglittered in the hazy light, trailing down the grass stems. The sky above wasthick with low hanging cloud, solid as concrete. The sun was hidden but an oddirritating light still pulsed in the clouds, grey and throbbing. The air tastedflat, metallic and enervating. Rashari looked out across the plain toward themountain range in the far distance; a different range than the Vay Hills. Hedidn’t know its name, but guessed it marked the far bounds of the plain. Therewas an odd red stain lighting the sky beyond those mountains.

“Where are we?” Heasked. His voice sounded loud in the dull silence of the morning.

“Vladik’s Seat; justbeyond those mountains is Djinn territory.” Jaquard shoved his jerky back intothe pack at his feet and rolled easily to his feet. He took a deep breath,chest expanding. “It’s going to rain. That’ll bring out the mire serpents.”

Rashari had no ideawhat a mire serpent was, or who precisely Vladik was or why he needed a seat,but he decided not to ask. He believed it was bad form to ask any question hedidn’t already know the answer to especially in this company. Ignorance wasexcusable, admitting it out loud was definitely not.

“Where’s Ruthy?” Heasked instead, contravening his own philosophy on questions without knownanswers, but he did it anyway. He was fairly confident Jaquard wasn’t going totell him she’d died or run off in the night, and anything else was just amatter of degrees of bad news. Something he thought he was well prepared for.

“Not supposed to tellyou.” Jaquard smiled and reached down into his pack again. He pulled outsomething that looked like a circlet of thorns; black naked twigs barbed withwicked looking spikes, woven into a circle. Jaquard lightly stroked his fingersover the circlet and the air shimmered around the thorns; magic. The djinnraised his gaze from the circlet to Rashari. He sat back a little, pulling awayfrom the djinn and his magic headband. With a quick tug Jaquard pulled thecirclet open, the twigs parting like hinged metal. Jaquard stepped forward,open circlet extended toward Rashari. “Stretch yer neck out mate.”

“No thank you,” Rasharipushed himself backward, boot heels churning the mud. He was still seated onthe ground and didn’t plan on getting up. Standing he’d been in easy range ofthe magic choke-collar.

Jaquard hooked theopen circlet around his right forearm and wriggled the fingers of his left hand.A gout of green flame flared to life in his palm. “Don’t make me hurt yer.Neither of us would enjoy that.”

“Liar,” Rashari shotback before he could help himself. He eyed the handful of fire speculatively.Back home this little demonstration of magical pyromania wouldn’t concern him overmuch. He wasn’t immune to anima magic in the same way he was necromancy, butthe fact that his very essence was riddled with death magic most of the timeallowed him a certain resistance to anima derived magic most people didn’thave. The magic fire might burn him, but it might not. The odds would befifty/fifty. Of course that was back home, where the anima content in the airwas considerably less concentrated and most mages had to rely on their owninnate spiritual energy to cast. He wasn’t sure what a fireball thrown by adjinn deep in magic country would do to him. Still, he was damn sure he’dsooner risk a little singing than wear that collar.

Jaquard lunged athim. Rashari twisted but couldn’t wriggle away. He was hauled up by the lapelsof his tattered coat. Jaquard pressed his burning left hand to Rashari’s chest.Rashari felt a flare of crackling heat run through him, more like an electricalcharge than an open flame. He lost his breath. Pain ignited in his breastbone, runningalong the cage of his ribs. It crawled up his chest to his neck and then ate athis jaw. He hissed through his clenched teeth, but kept his chin down, hidinghis neck and making it difficult for Jaquard to snap the collar in place. Theheat was the only part of the magic that travelled. The flames didn’t spread.They remained lapping at Jaquard’s hand, failing to ignite his clothes. Thescorpion stirred inside him, suddenly paying attention. He didn’t fight it. Awave of coolness sluiced through him, chasing away the dry, crackling heat ofJaquard’s magic. Shadows swan behind his eyes and he felt the scorpion peer outthrough his eyes. The scorpion was not impressed by Jaquard’s display. Itpreferred a diet of death; anima kindled magics tended to irritate rather thanentice.

Jaquard cursed in hisnative tongue and roughly shoved Rashari away. He fell heavily onto his rump onthe ground. The impact shook the sense back into him and the scorpion slippedaway into the corners of his vacant soul. Rashari took a deep breath visualisingthat the hole in his soul where the scorpion slept could be covered up andsealed away like sliding a heavy stone lid over a deep well. He blinked acouple of times and looked up to see Jaquard staring at him, his expression notangry but intrigued.

“Riiv,” He breathed,confusing Rashari. “You are Riiv.”

“Excuse me?” Rasharipatted his chest. There wasn’t a mark on him, not a single scorch mark. Hisskin still felt a little cold, his skin creeping with shivers, but that wouldover in seconds.

“Riiv,” Jaquard saidagain, face twisting. For the first time in their short acquaintance Rasharicould see no hint of a smile on his face. He looked startled, wary. “Neverthought I’d see a human Riiv; no wonder DeLunde want yer.” He studied Rasharispeculatively, but from a safe distance, before tossing the thorned collaraway. “Bah, this ain’t gonna work on yer; wouldn’t work on any of my peopleeither.” He smiled, bladed and cruel and patently false. “The Captain won’t bepleased.”

Rashari ignored that.If Ruthy had failed to recognise his idiosyncratic reactions to magic that washer look out. She’d figured out everything else about him. It seemed doubtfulDeLunde hadn’t told her to watch him around magic. If by chance they hadn’t,well, then he could use that to his advantage.

“What’s a Riiv?” Heasked, and again he was asking questions without knowing the answers, but thisseemed worth it. Jaquard seemed surprised by his magic resistance but notconfused by it. Had the djinn met others like him? Was that even possible?

“You are. Though I’llbe buggered if I know how you can be human and Riiv.” Jaquard flopped back downon the ground opposite him. His stare was flat, challenging. “My people live tothe north of here, near the Adaline; in the city of Anjenagh. Phantasmacountry. Poison to most folks, but my people, we found a way to make ithabitable. It’s been our secret for centuries.” He paused, and usually thiswould have been an opportunity for him to show off another of his vicious grinsbut he didn’t. The grim, blank lines of his face were somehow far worse thanany of his repertoire of weaponised smirks. “Not any more apparently. HumanRiiv,” he shook his head mouth twisting bitterly. “Well, guess it makes sense.You people have the same appetite for phantasma Anjenagh has. Sooner or lateryou were going to figure it out.” He laughed a harsh, phlegmy sound.

Rashari chewed onthis. Jaquard hadn’t actually told him anything useful. He seemed to assumeRashari would understand, and the only reason he would do that would be if hewas talking about something Rashari could personally relate to. In the contextthe only thing that could be was his magical resistance, but again, he’d talkedabout phantasma not anima so....

“Riiv – you meanthere are djinn that absorb death energy?”

“You slow orsomething?” Jaquard looked at him flatly, “Course that’s what I mean. What, didyou think you’re the only one? Bloody Adrans, you think you’re the only oneswho can come up with an idea like that? Let me tell you something. My peoplewere selling our children’s souls to the dead long before your daddy set upshop in Adaline.” This time Jaquard managed a smile. The effort looked like ithurt. “O’course none of my people would threaten a Riiv. Nope, treat ‘em likebloody royalty, we do; too precious not to,” Jaquard’s expression thinned withdistant, heated anger – real anger, real emotion. “Precious little monsters, oneand all: the treasure of Anjenagh. Take away the blessed Riiv and the citywould fall in a day.”

“Because the Riivabsorb the excess death energy from the environment, so the rest of the djinncan live there without going mad.” Rashari nodded, but frowned. “How do yourpeople do it? Djinn have magic, anima in your veins, more than a human. Surelythat would interfere with the process?”

Jaquard answered himcoldly. “They only turn the children. Young bodies, unformed minds – malleablesouls. You don’t need me to tell yer how. There’s only one way of turning aRiiv. Yer know how it’s done.” Jaquard looked at him then, really looked athim, hard and speculative. “You must have been turned when yer were no morethan a nipper? Nine or ten, right? And yer what, twenty now? You ain’t crazy.You ain’t got a head full of ghosts, all screaming out yer mouth. Yer mindsintact.” Something flashed in Jaquard’s eyes, something hot and hungry andperhaps even desperate. He leant forward as he spoke. “It’s fixable, ain’t it;the Riiv madness? You managed to escape, you managed to get yer mind back. Youcan control it. And yer just a human; there’s got t’be a way.” This last wassaid almost to himself, Jaquard’s gaze turning inward, abstracted and worried.

Rashari held verystill, barely allowing himself to breathe. He was on high alert, every paranoidimpulse in his body singing aloud. He couldn’t quite believe his ears. Jaquardhad just revealed far more than he could ever know, just given Rashari a pieceof an old puzzle that had haunted him for years. Connections blazed in hisbrain, threads weaving together. Therewere others like him. The thought alone was terrifying. Rashari had alwaysbelieved that his ‘condition’ was an accident. His father had exposed him tomassive amounts of phantasma radiation when he was a child, but he’d beentrying to kill Smith, drive him out of Rashari’s mind and soul. Despiteeverything that had passed between father and son Rashari had always believedthat his father had been trying to save him. Now he realised he’d been blindly,staggeringly naive. His father had known all along. The Adaline Fault researchfacility was deep in Djinn territory. Father had been negotiating with the localsright up until the djinn had attacked the facility (and Rashari had neverdoubted that the attack was his father’s fault. Matthias Trelawn was a man whocould easily inspire murderous rage in others). His father must have learnedabout the Riiv, recognised the importance of that discovering in regards hisown work, and sought to steal the means of creating Riiv. If the djinn hadwanted to keep the Riiv a secret then killing everyone in the research facilitywas a good way to go about it.

It all made a sicksort of sense now, like dominoes falling in his mind. Jaquard had revealedsomething else during his rant, something that was either a deliberate trap ora possible advantage. Rashari fixed him with a look and decided to take therisk. “Who did your people turn?” He asked. “Who do you want to save?”

Jaquard smiled, thinand close-lipped, “Don’t know what you mean, mate.”

Rashari arched hiseyebrows. “I wasn’t born yesterday. You are renegade djinn, working forDeLunde. You asked me if the phantasma madness was reversible. You don’t reallyexpect me to believe that you asked out of idle curiosity?”

Amusement andsomething like acknowledgement sparked in Jaquard’s eyes. “Maybe I don’t likethe way Riiv are turned. Maybe I’m a political exile; a revolutionary. MaybeI’m looking to cure ‘em all, eh?”

Rashari scoffed. “Theremorseless killer-for-hire, the man who set fire to an innocent village asnothing more than a diversion - has qualms against turning children intophantasma addicts?”

Jaquard shruggedeasily. “I’m a complex sort of bloke.”

“No,” Rashari saidwith certainty. “You really aren’t.”

Jaquard might haveretorted and tried to control the conversation they weren’t exactly having. Hemight even have tried to draw Rashari toward the sting in the tail; the veiledtruth behind Jaquard’s motives that Rashari could guess at but didn’t want topursue until he knew more, but the djinn didn’t have the chance. Over Jaquard’sshoulder Rashari could see something approaching across the plain, at somespeed. He scrambled awkwardly to his feet, staring.

It was a vehicle – amotorised automobile. Squat and blocky it sat on a chassis with four hugewheels. The wheels bounced and rumbled over the plain, leaving heavy treadmarks scoured into the grass. It had an enclosed carriage and the metal workwas grey as the barrel of a gun in the pearly light from the heavy cloudsoverhead. Rashari could hear the distinctive purr of a powerful engine – asound very familiar in Adra and the rest of the human world, but one thatshould have been impossible in the middle of Battlan. Somehow the automobilecould run in the miasma choked air, which meant that whatever fuel it usedwasn’t derived from phantasma. The automobile jounced up the slight bank towardthem. The automobile spewed gusts of greenish-black exhaust from the rear. Theexhaust left a crystalline residue over the ground. It spread over theflattered grass and exposed mud like an early morning frost, delicate andshimmering for an instant before the grass turned brittle and died.

The exhaust fumesperfumed the air with a distinctive aroma; it tickled the nose like sugar spiceand fresh-baked cinnamon buns – delicious at first inhale, but quickly growingcloying with each whiff. It was a smell Rashari knew well. Vedeca’s engine roomsmelled the same, and Vedeca’s exhaust fumes left the same stain across theground anytime he brought her down outside a proper berthing dock. There wasonly one fuel that left behind a stain like that: deific. They’d done it. Thebastards had found a way to synthesise deific energy.

The automobilestopped beside them. The driver and passenger doors swung open in front andback. Ruthy jumped down from the driver’s side, sharp eyes surveying the scenebefore her, immediately noting the fact that Rashari’s neck was unadorned byany magical choke-collar. She frowned at Jaquard, who shrugged with studiednonchalance. Rashari barely noticed. His attention was on the pair of AdranImperial soldiers, covered tip to toe in the dull blue grey uniform ofinfantrymen, disembarking after Ruthy. Their faces were covered in gas-maskhelmets, obscuring human features and giving the two soldiers an insectoidappearance. One carried manacles and the other a rifle, pointed at Rashari.

There was one lastpersonage to disembark the automobile. A man wearing a white lab coat, hispomaded silver hair slicked down over a wide head. Rashari recognised himimmediately. He bit back a groan. The man only approached after the soldiershad placed Rashari’s hands into a stockade-like set of cuffs. Thin andvibrating with a nervous energy that did anything but inspire confidence,Doctor Baillargeon almost skipped across the grass toward Rashari. His large,round glossy eyes sized Rashari up, gaze acquisitive and eager.

“Good,” he said,“Good. He is intact. That’s good.” Baillargeon nodded rapidly, giant headbouncing on his skinny chicken neck. He flicked his gaze to one of theanonymous soldiers. “Get him in the car. I’ve waited long enough.” He lookedback at Rashari, scowling. Rashari stared back, impassive, empty, the stare ofa test subject. The soldier with the rifle nudged him toward the back of theautomobile. Ruthy smiled at him as the soldiers shoved inside the surprisinglyspacious interior of the vehicle.

Rashari shut hiseyes, and tried not to breathe in the scent of deific exhaust clinging to theinterior. He tried to ignore the fact that he was wedged between two heavilyarmed soldiers with Jaquard in the seat behind him, his grin felt instead ofseen. Ruthy didn’t waste anytime getting the automobile started. He didn’t needto ask where they were going, at least. The automobile rushed along, chewing upthe miles as it chewed up the terrain. Vladik’s Seat loomed ahead, gettinglarger. The closer they came the darker the sky grew, thick grey giving way toangry red – the stain of phantasma in the atmosphere. They were headed directlyfor Adaline.

Rashari closed hiseyes against the view. For the first time he let himself think about MadameChimera and Smith. He hoped they were safe. He knew he should hope that MadameChimera was far, far away from here. DeLunde was too dangerous. They hadeverything they needed to start Project Pandora: a new scion stone, him, andsynthesised deific energy. Better by far that Madame Chimera cut her losses andgive him up for dead. Rashari knew that he should think only about her welfare.That was the decent, chivalrous thing to do – but he just couldn’t. He hopedinstead that Madame Chimera was coming for him. He knew that he had no one elseto count on.