Stone and Shadow

Chapter One, Volume V of The Harrowick Chronicles
“Let’s address the elephant in the room first, shall we?” Ivy Noir asked, smugly perched upon the former Grand Adderman’s throne, her husband Erich seated to her left and her sister Envy to her right.  “Does anyone in this hall think that I’m a traitor?” 
It had never been uncommon for those gathered within the exalted Grand Hall of Adderwood Manor to be cowed into silence, but in the past, it had normally been either the Grand Adderman or sometimes the Darling Twins whom they dared not anger. Now, the Grand Adderman was dead, the Darlings were fugitives of the Ophion Occult Order, and Ivy Noir was to blame. 
From a combination of her family’s intergenerational wealth and occult status, alongside her innate intellect and ambition, Ivy had advanced quickly through the Order’s ranks. When the Grand Adderman had threatened the life of her beloved little sister, she wasn’t long in concocting a scheme to take advantage of a conflict with the entity they knew as Emrys to ensure that the Grand Adderman’s days were numbered.  
The question of whether or not that made her a traitor still hung in the air, as it seemed no one wanted to be the first to answer it. 
“Oy, the Lady Noir asked you lot a question,” Fenwick stated, taking a step towards the assembly of Head and Elder Adderman before him. “We’ve had a bit of a shakeup of our upper management in recent days, and we’d just like to know if there’s anyone who feels that it may not have been entirely above board, yeah? Me personally, I was never all that close to the Grand Adderman. Never even knew his name was Grimaldus until Emrys blurted it out before he killed him. Who names their kid that, honestly? Who looks at a sweet helpless little baby and decides to call it Grimaldus? What are you expecting your kid to grow up to be with a name like that? Maybe not a spectral, undead occultist, necessarily, but it’s ominous, yeah?” 
“Fenwick,” Ivy chastised him, though she sounded more amused than annoyed.
“Sorry, just thinking out loud a bit. Won’t happen again,” he claimed. He picked up a bound document of parchment and held it for everyone to see. “I trust you’ve all read your copy of the Covenant the Order made with Emrys? Any of you who sign your True Name to this will be bound by the Covenant and its mandates, and in return, Emrys will be oathbound to spare your life and pardon any prior transgressions! You will be free to return to your chapterhouses and run them as you otherwise see fit. That’s a pretty good deal then, innit?”
“You speak as if we should be grateful,” the mystical merchant Meremoth Mothman grumbled as he slowly rose from his seat. “That spoiled and pampered daughter of the arcane bloodlines conspired against the Grand Adderman, handed him over to our enemy to be murdered, surrendered to him on our behalf without any input from us, and we’re supposed to be grateful?”
“Do you then seriously think that our Order ever truly stood a chance in a full-on war with Emrys, or that the late Grand Adderman would ever have surrendered?” Ivy asked. “Most of us would have been killed and our Order obliterated, which is why you should be grateful that I overthrew him before it came to that.”  
“You forfeited this mansion – our headquarters – and everything in it to Emrys!” the Baphometic Witch Pandora screamed. “The Reliquary, the Megalith, everything!”
“This is still our headquarters. This is still where members of different chapters will meet to collaborate and coordinate with one another,” Ivy assured her.
“Under your rule, backed by the power of Emrys,” Mothman objected. “You say you’ve brought us peace with Emrys, but it feels more like we’ve been conquered! We make a substantial number of concessions in this Covenant you agreed to, and as far as I can see Emrys didn’t make a single one. The only members of the Order who stand to gain anything from this arrangement are you and anyone willing to lick your boots!”
“Our surrender was unconditional because Emrys’ victory was absolute,” Erich proclaimed. “His chains are now broken. His power is unchecked. He slayed the Grand Adderman, the most powerful of our Order, with barely any effort at all! The Darlings fled rather than risk a confrontation with him! Had Ivy not accepted his offer of surrender, he would have burned this place to the ground and begun hunting you all down one by one. If that’s a fate any of you would prefer, you’re welcome not to join the Covenant. Anyone who wishes to survive will first and foremost surrender any contraband or fugitives as defined by the Covenant over to Emrys. Any information leading to the capture or demise of the Darlings in particular will be handsomely rewarded.”
“Does anyone here truly lament the ousting of the Darlings from our Order, or the death of the Grand Adderman for that matter?” Ivy asked. “The Grand Adderman was a tyrant, and the Darlings are depraved serial killers and cannibals! Emrys was a victim of the Grand Adderman, the same as many of us, and he has already proven himself far more reasonable and compassionate. Our Covenant with him will require that we become more reasonable and compassionate ourselves, something which I realize some of you may not welcome, but I think there are many more in the Order who would consider such reforms well overdue.” 
“Will this include the banning of human experimentation and vivisection?” Crowley demanded through his gramophone horn, the disembodied brain bobbing up and down vehemently in his bubbling vat. 
“…At a minimum, yes,” Ivy replied.
“Blast!” Crowley shouted, dejectedly sinking downwards. 
“Surely Emrys does not intend to emancipate my workforce?” the revenant industrialist Raubritter asked. “They all consented to their servitude. I have all the contracts on file should he wish to review them.”   
“Some of the specifics do remain to be worked out, but the bottom line is that Emrys will always get the final word,” Envy replied. “Raubritter, I would at the very least prepare your Foundry for an audit.” 
“So in other words, all our fates are now Emrys’ to decide!” Pandora spat. “Where is Emrys now?”
“Outside in the Megalith, working on some spellcraft with his daughter,” Envy replied casually, an eerie hush falling upon the hall at this revelation. 
“He… he’s here. Now?” Meremoth murmured. 
“Of course. The manor and its grounds are his now, remember? We are all his guests, and as such, it behooves each of us to be on our best behaviour while we are here,” Ivy informed them with a sly smile. “If any of us were to cause a disturbance, or worse, during a visit, I don’t doubt that Emrys would be swift to put his house back in order.” 
Everyone in the hall exchanged uneasy glances, most of them unsure of what they should do or, if they were, unwilling to be the first to do it. 
“Right then, so who wants to come up and sign their chapter up for this here Covenant, then?” Fenwick asked, holding up the document in one hand and a fountain pen in the other. Those in the front row immediately bolted up to sign, with the rest of the hall queuing up behind them, however reluctantly. “Right then, that’s the spirit. Sooner we get the formalities out of the way, the sooner we can move on to punch on cookies. And yes, I’m afraid those are the only refreshments we have on hand at the moment. This meeting was short notice, and we’re a bit understaffed, what with the state of things and all. The cookies are from Sweet Tooth’s, but I made the punch myself. Well, I made it from concentrate, but that’s still effort. Always takes those cans of ice longer to dethaw than you expect or than you have, doesn’t it? You got to take a potato masher to it then stir it up until there are no chunks of slush left, it’s a whole ordeal.”   
***
The Adderwood Megalith was not in actuality ‘outside’ the manor house, but was rather superimposed upon it. The Adderwood itself existed in a superposition of all its possible states at once, only reverting to a singular form when it was observed. Non-Euclidean trails winding through higher dimensions were never the same twice, and trusted landmarks were not always to be found. In one state the Adderwood held an Old English manor house the Ophion Occult Order had been using as their headquarters since the 18th century. In another, it held an ancient Megalith made by mighty and forgotten sorcerers. In others, neither of these existed, and an unlucky fool could wander the Adderwood forever without coming across them.   
Emrys and his acolyte Petra sat across from one another in the Megalith, levitating cross-legged above the Sigil Sand as they telekinetically drew an ever-shifting mosaic of mandalas in it. Rings of black Miasma wafted up from these mandalas, retaining their forms as they floated higher and higher, creating a spiralling helix of stacked spell circles. 
Despite not technically being in the same version of the Adderwood as the manor house, their supernatural senses meant that they were not wholly oblivious to what was going on there, either. 
  “It seems no one present feels the need to avenge old Grimaldus,” Emrys commented. “That’s the problem with ruling through fear. Your death is neither mourned nor avenged, but celebrated. I know my subjects celebrated when they thought I had died, and rightfully so.”
“You’re not that ancient Celtic warlord anymore. I’d mourn and avenge you, Emrys,” Petra vowed. “Though I suppose I wouldn’t have much company in that. Ivy and her inner circle are still the only ones genuinely loyal to us.”  
“Which is perfectly understandable. I’ve been a bogeyman of the Ophion Occult Order for centuries. That won’t change overnight,” he said. “It will take time, and effort, but little by little we will gain the respect of those Adderman who can be reformed, and rid ourselves of those who cannot.”
Petra nodded absent-mindedly, the fate of the Order being of no special concern of hers now. She stretched out a hand towards the Sigil Sand beneath her, and a small host of shimmering scarab beetles surfaced at her command. One of them unfurled its wings and fluttered up to perch upon her extended index finger.  
“They’re doing well here,” she smiled, inspecting the scarab as it crawled along her finger. “They’ve absorbed a lot of our power from the Sand, and they seem to have developed an affinity for me. With a bit of luck, I think I might be able to train them to take on a shadow form.”
“What about their Ichor? Is it still agreeing with you?” Emrys asked. “It is the blood of a Titan, after all. You’ve never absorbed the humours of something that powerful before.”
“It’s the blood of a dead Titan, so obviously he wasn’t that powerful,” Petra replied. “I only took a few ounces, anyway. Barely a fraction of a percent of a millionth of his power. The Zarathustrans each drank pints of the stuff when it was fresh, and they turned out fine.”
“They were made in their god’s image; you weren’t,” Emrys reminded her gently, the paternal concern obvious in his voice.  
“I was made in your image. Do you really think that a few drops of stale Ichor is any match for The Darkness Beyond?” Petra asked rhetorically.
“Of course not, but you’re still very human, Petra. More than I am, and perhaps more than I ever was,” he answered her. “Even if the Darkness Beyond is untouchable, our physical incarnations are not. I tried to overthrow the gods when I first became one with the Outer Darkness, and it got me tossed into the belly of the World Serpent. I implore you; be better than I was, and don’t let your new gifts lull you into thinking that you’re invincible.”
“Okay dad,” she teased, but then suddenly grew pensive as the weight of his words sunk in. “I… don’t really remember much of my old life, other than how it ended. I don’t think I am that girl anymore, no more than you’re that warlord. The Darkness Beyond has made us both so much more, and now that your chains are broken it flows throw us stronger than ever. When I meditate, I can hear my twin hearts; the heart you gave me and the heart I took back. Two heartbeats make it kind of hard to forget that I’m not an ordinary human anymore. And the heart that Mary stabbed, the one that was transfigured into shadow by my own Miasma, I know that heart at least won’t be content until its lost humanity is avenged.” 
Sighing, she glanced upwards at the towering spellwork vortex they had created. 
“Do you think it’s big enough?” she asked. 
“It was big enough twenty minutes ago. Everything since then has just been pompous overkill,” Emrys smiled. “If you’re satisfied with it, we can manifest it now.” 
Still gazing skywards, she slowly turned her head back and forth, before nodding in approval. Emrys nodded in turn, and produced a deep purple rose from within his sable robes. He raised it to his face, took a savoury sniff of it, and then whispered a soft incantation before tossing it into the Sand below. 
Before it even hit the ground, it disintegrated into innumerable desiccated fragments that became swept up in the Miasmal vortex. The vortex rapidly expanded outwards, growing to a diameter of over forty feet. The Megalith vanished as the vortex shifted into yet another version of the Adderwood where it could grow unimpeded. The vortex spun around faster and faster, its vaporous spirals growing thicker and more condensed until it resembled a small tornado. With a single thundercrack that echoed throughout the entire forest, the vortex solidified into a deep purple volcanic stone, leaving a thirteen-story spire in its wake.
The outside of the spire looked like blooming, thorny rose vines snaking around each other in a double helix. Windows and balcony doors were made of thinner, paler, and translucent segments of volcanic glass. At the very top of the spire was an observation deck capped with a stained-glass roof that made it look like a rose blossom with a tall, spiral steeple that seemed to be almost phosphorescent in the gleaming moonlight. 
Within the spire, Petra and Emrys set their feet upon the ground and began eagerly appraising their creation. There was a single stairwell in the center, a spiral staircase along the side, corkscrewing all the way up to the top. Elaborate relief sculptures embellished the thick stone walls, illuminated by the strange, flickering light of violet salt lamps. 
“Oh – my – god!” Petra gasped, spinning around in astonishment as she tried to take in as much detail as she could. “I love it! I love it!”  
“Not a bad place to call home,” Emrys said as he nodded in approval. “I dare say it’s a bit of an upgrade from the old sanctum. Better than staying in Adderwood Manor, at any rate.”
“The Omphalosium! We have to check the Omphalosium!” Petra shouted excitedly, racing up the stairs and passing every chamber until she reached the very top. 
Beneath the stained-glass ceiling of the watchtower room, the floor was bare except for a single pedestal at its center. Atop the pedestal sat a large sphere which somewhat resembled a celestial globe, comprised of multiple concentric crystalline spheres and bronze rings. Each slowly wobbled about on its own accord, the glowing stars and constellations shifting slowly as they did so. Surrounding the globe were nine complex dialling mechanisms that appeared to be some form of astrolabes. 
Petra immediately ran straight over to the device, peering into the globe with an intense curiosity. 
“Emrys? Emrys! Is it working?” she demanded eagerly. 
Emrys calmly walked up to the globe, and gently set his hand upon it.
“It is,” he said with a satisfied nod. “The Adderwood has always been a nexus between worlds, but too wild and chaotic to be a true hub for wanderers. The Order never had the ability to realize the full potential of the Adderwood, and they bound my power to ensure that I couldn’t either. But now, every potential pathway that runs through the Adderwood is threaded through this spire. From this room, we can map them, direct them, choose which ones to bring to fruition, and which ones to cull. It can serve as a lighthouse to our allies, and a guard tower against our enemies. From here, we can travel the worlds, or bring the worlds to us.”     
He spun the globe around, setting the astrolabes around it and the skylight above it spinning as well. The skylight lit up with constellations all its own, projecting them downwards into specifically carved glyphs in the floor. As the astrolabes locked into place, Petra noticed that nine arched doorways of intertwining stone vines lined the perimeter of the watchtower room, each with an astrolabe above it that spun in unison with one on the pedestal. When all the spinning finally stopped and all stood still, one of the doorways swung open, revealing an inky black portal of billowing mist.
The portal wasn’t open for more than a few seconds before a tall, hunchbacked being came striding through. Its head possessed only a singular, cyclopean orifice which held a glowing, wispy orb at the center of its skull. A pair of long, fanged tentacles hung down almost to its waist, sets of spiracles and tendrils running all along their length. It stood upon digitigrade feet and had seven clawed digits split between its two hands, one of which held an ornate staff. Its ostentatious robes and cephalopod-like skin were each a golden brown, and both shone eerily in the violet let of the spire. 
“Mathom-meister!” Emrys greeted enthusiastically, gesturing proudly to all that surrounded them. “How did we do?” 
The being slowly swivelled his head from one side to the other, his tentacles poised upwards like snakes about to strike. With his free hand, he reached into his robes and pulled out another astrolabe, waving it back and forth and reading it like a compass. 
“The nexus is stable,” he announced, before moving on to inspect the pedestal itself. “Your Omphalosium is… crude, but adequate. The décor is atrocious, but that’s a strictly personal opinion and outside of my professional purview. You two followed my instructions as well as I could have hoped for non-Zarathustrans. Adderwood Spire should serve well as a base to explore this branch of the World Tree.”
“Hmmm. I’m not sure we want to call it ‘Adderwood Spire’, Adderwood being so strongly associated with the Ophion Occult Order. We want it associated with us,” Emrys said.  
“How about ‘The Shadowed Spire’?” Petra suggested, briefly transitioning into her shadow form and appearing at Mathom-meister’s side. “Shadows are kind of our thing.”
“The spire is yours, as per our agreement. Call it what you wish,” Mathom-meister replied. “So long as you keep in mind that when we find the Darlings, while the honour of slaying them may fall to you, their playroom is mine. And that is a name I will most certainly be changing to one more to my liking.”
He began to telekinetically spin the celestial globe around and around, casting projections of rotating constellations onto the entire chamber. 
“Magnificent. Truly Magnificent. You two have done me a great service,” he said, ravenously peering into the spinning globe. “With our combined knowledge and powers, we will tame the monsters that haunt these worlds. We will purge them of abominations like the Darlings, safeguard them from the encroaching Black Bile and other Outer Horrors, and ensure they are forever untouched by the festering rot of – ”
His monologue was cut short by the sound of tired footsteps and laboured breathing ascending the staircase. The three of them all turned to see an exhausted Fenwick forcing his way up the final steps. 
“Bioelectrically enhanced physique, and she sends the portly bloke to climb to the top of the bloody spire. I miss the Grand Adderman already,” he panted, bending over as he tried to catch his breath. “… don’t tell her I said that. Oy there, you must be Mathom-meister. Fenwick Humberton, Arch Adderman, at your service.”
“Fenwick! Glad you didn’t have any trouble finding the place,” Emrys greeted. “I’m sure the reason Ivy sent you is because of your head for navigating the Adderwood.”
“True enough, true enough,” he nodded reluctantly. “Still though; thirteen stories, and no lift? You’re a monster. This has to be a violation of some kind of accessibility act. Anyway, Ivy wants you to know that we got all the Head Addermen to sign your Covenant, so the Order’s officially yours. If you’re done with the spire for now, she’d like you to come down and shake some hands, make a speech, do a Q&A, stuff like that. There’s punch and cookies, if that sweetens the pot. It is store-brand punch, mind you – ninety-nine pence a can – because nothing was going to be good enough for that lot anyway so why even bother? Might help to humanize you a bit, if you partake in the refreshments. Only time any of us ever saw the Grand Adderman consume anything was when he was sucking the essence out of a ritual sacrifice. I won’t miss that. They’d literally start to mummify before they had even stopped screaming. Nasty stuff, I tell you. Nasty stuff.” 
“I suppose it would be a good idea to formally introduce ourselves to the chapter heads while they’re all in one place,” Emrys agreed. 
“And I’m at least still human enough that I can’t say no to free cookies,” Petra added. 
“What about you, Mathom-meister?” Emrys asked. “Would you like to join us?”
“The internal affairs of this middling cult you’ve co-opted are no concern of mine, and solid foods offer me no temptation,” he replied, gesturing with the fangs of his tentacles. “I will, however, accompany you as a display of our alliance to your underlings to help consolidate your power. And if – and only if – I deem it appealing, I may partake in this ‘ninety-nine pence punch’, as well.”          
Category:Weird
Category:The Vesper's Bell