Tamaera stretched languidly in the bed, silk sheets stained with sweat and blood. Beside the bed, the creature once known as Kaisha stood, bare crystal skull lighting the draped area with a soft, amethyst glow. Inside the semi translucent jaw, a tongue now split down the middle danced over teeht of the purple gems. Dull onyx eyes gave no clue where they looked, already her body giving up on blinking, letting them stare relentlessly into the unknown.
Iron claws, tipped with silver talons genlty offered her mistress a deep crimson dressing robe. Occasional rivulets of blood trickled along the gleaming shell of them, stirring a hunger in the blood drinker. Tamaera licked her lips, the leaned off the bed, lapping up her favorite taste. The metal only enhanced the flavor the blood held. Once the current streams disappeared into her gullet, the woman rose, gazing with pride at what the northern whore represented. Her waist squeezed waspishly narrow, coated in the glowing blue metal that controlled the golem she now was.
"You are the future, Kaisha. A mobile blood source, a well of necromantic power. How does it feel, to have no purpose but to serve and provide your life to me?"
The jaw moved gently, seeking to form words, still learning to talk again. "Brishful, mishtresh."
Tamaera laughed. "Yes, Bliss is all you know, besides the terror bound still in that soul. I told you, but listening never appealed to you."
She strode out, into the sunlit areas, beyond the curtains. There her master's new protections lay, as they crafted in the dark of night. Her slave followed, obsidian hooves harsh on the wooden floor. Tamaera cast her memories back into the darkness, seeking the ritual once more.
The elvish smith, screaming obscenities, not realizing his fear and anger created the gate to his spirit, allowing his body and soul to be bound easily. Then the moment of truth when the Master finished his chanting. She shivered, remembering the smell of rotting flesh, the fire burning fat and coppery taste in the air. Bones appearing, wreathed in necromantic fires, the agonized scream as the animas, caged by the cobalt and steel joints bound to his body tried escaping, instead imprisoned inside the metal and bone golem to guard her master.
That skeleton sat dark and silent now, ready for one to try forcing open the double chest. Flanking it, Rakkaba and Nin-Arinlillu stood. Motionless, each now with the same skull, jaw and split tongues as her slave. Their other new additions, bird talons instead of feet, gleaming in cobalt blue. Deep indigo arcs of dancing power leapt off the amethyst studs decorating their skulls, seeking fist-sized sapphires atop each lid portion of her master's new resting chamber. After they completion, the pair sought out transients, beggars and other unfortunates to steal life and souls from. That power, perverted within their golem bodies, flowed in those storms of energy to be used at will by her master later.
Slowly, the miniature lightning bolts died away, dimming then snapping apart, showering the room with little bits of souls that turned into cold flames that faded to ashes. Waiting a moment, then Tamaera stalked forward, testing the spell as commanded. Her hand reached to the lock on the right, sealing the lid over her master's head.
Before flesh touched the polished brass, bones grasped her wrist, burning her with the chill from beyond the grave. Pulling back, it held firm. Attempting a touch of the grand chest, pressure brought her to her knees. Gasping, she cried an arcane phrase, forcing the guardian back to waiting mode. As the arm and chest of the skeleton settled back over the casket, she noted the skull remained suspended above it, watchful.
Rising, Tamaera motioned to Rakkaba and Nin Arinlillu. "Try lifting it."
They pivoted, moving carefully to the chest. One step back, the skull rotated completely around, then settled into the grooves crafted to hold it's jawbone. Dull purple sparks danced within empty eye-sockets before dying. Metal hands grasped the handles, gears grinding as they lifted the container from the floor.
"Excellent." Tamaera relaxed, motioning her hands, palm down, to the floor. The automatons obeyed the silent command, then stepped away to wait further instructions.
Tamaera motioned to Kaisha, fingers snapping. "Bring me clothing. We will book passage for the trip to come."
She turned regally back to the sheltered area, content her master would be safe for now. The next hora she spent becoming a regal lady, something she despised. Corsets and frill dresses where not her preference. Layers of form-fitting clothing in the desert heat left her sweaty and irate.
Once satisfied her appearance would hold the time the ruse required, she ordered the automata into their robes, hiding their changes, save the hands, eyes and jaws. Cowls raised, she led them, carrying her baggage, Rakkaba and Nin-Arinlillu the great chest wrapped in canvas, passing out of the docks area headed to the Campi Plaustri just beyond the ruined stone walls marking the old city limits.
Amid the sea of tents, most caravans still arriving to wait out the long night of the shadow, a few barkers still called out destinations. Shouts and brays of beasts mixed with canvas being folded in one area, where a merchant waved offers for passage on his boat downstream off.
Tamaera smiled. You could smell the fear, just below the surface. The shadow approached, men buckled to nightmares riding ahead of it. Even elves tasted anxiety over the long dark days. The stunted ones scurried off to their holes in the mountains to hide.
And those like her began to walk proudly about, reveling in the darkness to come. If not for Kaisha's betrayal, their rise to rule Dhibt, taking from the cattle-men around them all they wished, should have begun. Now they ran to a distant desert city.
Blue tents marked with grey began to appear around them. Her breath tightened a moment, seeing elven riders moving through, chest relaxing once those pompous sour-bloods moved on. There was danger lying on that box, necromancy cast upon elves offered one of the few cases where those fools were not merciful. She trusted the Master's plan, to be well underway before the smith's absence came to light.
On the right, deep crimson tents marked with black bull heads spoke to her. This was the mark of the ally of darkness, one yet to show herself, and her man. Amid those tents, small children ran about playing, not yet aware of the fright the adults exuded thickly enough even a simple blood drinker almost tasted on the air. Tamaera licked her lips, eyes following one small blond girl who raced before her. Young blood bloomed across tongues sweeter than older blood. Not to mention how much more terror they radiated for the Master to consume.
Light flared in the sky, a flaming track across the sky. Tamaera flinched from the sky-fire, watching as bits of black ash and winged shapes tore off that path. She raised her hand to shield out the light Jzhan still bathed the earth with. She smiled wickedly, dozens of the shadows gathered around a small speck of crimson up there. Fire burst across the sky, proving the green sun dim by comparison. More winged shapes turned, others looking heaven's ward, gasping their horror. The young dragonlet held off the demons of Athalan only moments, in the end succumbing to the darkness. As would the world someday.
Tamaera spent several minutes, hand raised to indicate a halt, watching the rain of fluids and flesh over the foothills south of town. Her smile turned fierce. Only once the demons scattered out, nothing left in the air save a cloud of fine blood mist did she lower her hand, moving towards the blue and grey striped tent of the Urias company.
A female elf, a rare homely one, stood there, looking up sadly to the battle's aftermath. Sniffing deeply, Tamaera sorted out many emotional scents the numena perspired out. This gift from her master, her first step to his own status of undead, let her perform duties like this, scouting and setting up their prey.
"Greetings, Mercatrix. I am Tamaera diSalon. I have goods and servants I wish sent west to Pelori. How much for passage." The elfin woman started, unaware they approached during her study of the omens from the first battle of the passage of the shadow.
"Ave. We have room. Rates depend upon size, weight and numbers of servants." Servillia's eyes roved across robed forms and the shrouded chest. "Which road do you wish taking."
Smiling softly, doing her best job allaying suspicion, the blood drinker spoke softly. "The servants I am sending to a relative along the south road, who may travel to meet me in Pelori. I will pay for them and his passage in advance, you may keep all fees if they stay near the great river." Hand smoothed her silken bodice slowly, a teasing motion, fingers stroking the gems on her belt when reached. "I must take the north road, with the great chest. It must have it's own wagon, covered if you can."
Villia's eyes narrowed a bit at that, something rang alarms when this woman spoke. "Those are very expensive."
Tamaera feigned worry. "The woods on this chest have not yet cured properly, I was told to keep sun off it until the pigments used for the stains and finishes set properly." She met the eyes, speaking a half truth. "A betrothal gift for my husband's sister. He will meet us along the Via, which is why I must go by the north route, seperate from my servants."
"Where is the wedding to take place?" Villia relaxed a small bit, retrieving a small slate from the table by the tent's entry.
"Krithnak or some small village around it. Forgive me for lacking details. The letter suffered damage in transit." Gesturing across the river where a small wildfire burned, Tamaera scowled in false worry. "This season, no matter the efforts, some sparks get inside courier bags."
Eyes darting between the indicated smoke plume and face, seeking truth, Servillia reached out mentally, seeking the taste of lies. Finding none, she nodded. "We shall measure and weigh your goods, then set a rate. For your servants, twenty five obals of gold each and the rations charge."
"They require special foods, and will have their own beasts of burden for that. Would fifteen gold drachma cover each and fodder for their beasts?" Meeting the elf's eyes, Tamaera fought her urge to laugh at the wench's attempts to peirce the illusions around her.
Light dimmed briefly, shadow of a winged demon soaring over the eastern city wall. Cries of fear and anger rose all around, Tamaera worked her fingers through warding gestures, shrinking towards light, The numena nodded after the shadow and demon left, heading north across the desert. "All fees paid in advance. I will allow you the covered wagon." Villia smiled brightly. "Cedar and teak?"
"Ironwood, teak, ebony and cedar. Detailed inlays with the family crests." Women always fell into her traps when conversations centered on weddings. No matter their race.
"Lucky lady, and a princely gift." One last measuring gaze.
Tamaera laughed. "My husband took a bold risk a while back, funding a ship across the Great Water." Not a lie came from her lips, for they had sponsored a pirate in his raids.
"Very well." Villia motioned to a large scale nearby. "Let us settle your rates for the freight."
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