Mortality: The Story of Mortanius

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Part Four

The Cult of Avernus

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Mortanius leaned back in his seat and looked out the window as his carriage rolled down the busy cobblestone street. The city of Willendorf was a thriving metropolis, and the main avenue leading into the heart of the city was packed with pedestrians, panhandlers, running children, merchants directing wagons full of goods, minor nobles in carriages like his, and the ever-present city guards. Mortanius remembered when Willendorf was little but a village, not even marked on a map. Now, the city spread across several square miles, the sky was full of the smoke of industry, and the streets were choked with the smell of thousands of citizens.

His carriage was unmarked, so to the thronging mass of humanity outside, he was just another random nobleman on some business errand. Neither the driver of the carriage nor his employer knew who Mortanius was. When he had to travel, he did so without revealing his identity. He used false names at inns and other establishments, and took pains to avoid showing off his wealth to strangers. Some of the other Guardians chose to be more conspicuous when they traveled, delighting in the attention they received, but Mortanius had long since gotten tired of attention. He wanted to remain forgettable and invisible.

That would have been much more difficult five hundred years ago, when the Guardians often gathered at the Temple together and took a more direct involvement in the politics of Nosgoth. Now, however, things were very different.

Mortanius had not seen the other Guardians in almost a year. They lived all across the continent, communicating by letter when they chose to communicate at all. The larger cities of Nosgoth, such as Willendorf, had grown too large and powerful over the past few centuries for the Circle to realistically control or even advise. A tradition of fierce independence and competition had taken hold as the cities increased their power and influence, and few city rulers wanted the Circle of Nine getting involved in their business. And so, the Guardians went their separate ways and spread out across Nosgoth.

In many ways, the Circle was essentially disbanded. They no longer convened at the Temple of the Guardians, which was now the home of the last remnants of the Sarafan Order and several organized guilds of vampire hunters. The Circle only gathered together once a year, in a different city each year, to renew their friendship and catch up on news and other gossip. This year they were meeting in Willendorf, where the Guardian of States, a man named Anarcrothe, lived.

Mortanius leaned back and let out a tired sigh. Four hundred years had passed since the fateful day when the half-breed leader Vorador assassinated six Guardians, an event which came to be known in the histories as the Slaughter of the Circle. Ellendra and Palton and the rest of his friends had died over four centuries ago, but their deaths were still foremost in his mind. The slaughter was a turning point in the history of Nosgoth.

The carriage tipped and lurched over uneven cobblestones, the wheels clacking loudly. Outside, Mortanius heard street vendors shouting, people arguing, horses neighing, and all the other assorted noise of civilization. He disliked the big cities. They were too noisy for him. Much of Nosgoth was still sparsely populated, thankfully, but large urban centers like Willendorf, Avernus, Freeport, and Stahlberg were becoming more common as the centuries passed and the population continued to grow. In another few hundred years, Mortanius wondered if the cities would eventually come to dominate all of Nosgoth.

The problem, from Mortanius’s unique perspective, was that powerful cities frequently came into conflict with each other. This was nothing new, of course. Towns and cities in Nosgoth had been fighting with each other for over a thousand years. For almost as long, ambitious and greedy politicians had unsuccessfully tried to unify large regions in the hopes of creating the first empire of Nosgoth. Mortanius had forgotten the names of hundreds of such men.

The difference now was that modern cities were ten times as large as they were before, and their armies numbered in the tens of thousands. A powerful and charismatic ruler with an army that size could conquer half of Nosgoth. Armies were larger, weapons were more advanced, military strategy was more refined, and city leaders were even more power-hungry and ambitious than their predecessors. To Mortanius, it seemed inevitable that someday a conflict would break out between two cities which would eventually drag all of Nosgoth into war.

And unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing Mortanius could do about it. He was over one thousand years old, he was one of the greatest sorcerers in the world, and yet he was powerless.

The carriage finally rolled to a halt and the driver called down to him.

“My Lord, we’ve reached our destination. Would you like me to help you step down?”

Mortanius opened the door and leaned out. “No, I can manage myself, thank you.”

He cast a quick spell and stepped off, gently floating down to the sidewalk. He wore a glossy black jacket and trousers, with silver and maroon trim. Anyone who passed him on the street might think he was about fifty years old, the slight touch of gray hair at his temples giving him a distinguished look. Going against popular fashion, he chose not to wear rings or other jewelry, and his shoes were simple and flat-soled, unlike the high-heeled boots some of the more ostentatious noblemen wore.

The sidewalk in front of Haubridge Manor was empty. It was located in an upper-class neighborhood which saw few pedestrians. Mortanius guessed that the mansion was built about two centuries before, but he wasn’t sure. The building had a grim, overbearing feel to it. The front gate, currently open and waiting for him and the other visitors, was made of heavy black iron and topped with spikes. The mansion itself was solid gray stone with recessed windows and a sharp overhanging roof. Mortanius frowned and began walking to the front door.

“My Lord, do you need anything else?” the driver asked.

“No, that will be all. I’ll be here the rest of the day. You may return to your employer.”

“Yes, my Lord. Have a good day.”

The carriage clattered away and Mortanius took one more look around before ascending the steps to the door. A servant opened it before he could knock.

“May I take your coat, my Lord?” the servant asked as he stepped inside. She wore a plain black uniform and her long blonde hair hung down her back in a complex braid.

He shook his head. “No, thank you.”

The floor of the main hallway was marble, so clean and polished that he could practically see his reflection in it. A glittering chandelier hung overhead. Voices filtered from a nearby room.

“Is everyone else already here?” he asked.

“No, my Lord. The Guardian of Time and the Guardian of Energy are yet to arrive.”

Mortanius nodded and walked down the hall, his leather shoes not making any sound. He turned a corner and entered a large sitting room with several cushioned chairs roughly arranged around a low table, which was covered in wine glasses and a tray of fruit and other refreshments. Bookshelves lined the walls.

“Ah, look who it is,” Anarcrothe announced with a grin. He was a tall man with long, curly reddish-\blonde hair and chiseled good looks. He set his drink down as Mortanius entered the room, and stuck out his hand. Mortanius embraced it and nodded in greeting.

“Good to see you, old man. How was your trip?”

“Long and boring,” Mortanius replied. He looked over at the other five Guardians in the room and said, “Greetings, everyone. I thought I’d be fashionably late, but it looks like I’m right on time.”

“Moebius will be the last to show up, I’m sure,” Anarcrothe said with a grin. “I think he does it on purpose as some kind of ironic joke.”

“That would not surprise me at all,” Mortanius agreed.

A dark-haired woman in a form-fitting purple evening dress strode forward and held out her hand as well. Mortanius obediently took it and gave her fingers a quick kiss. “Azimuth, you look stunning, as always.”

“Just for you, Mortanius,” Azimuth replied in a silken voice. “How are you? It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.” Her lips shone bright red and her green eyes were outlined in makeup. Diamond earrings decorated her ears, and a diamond necklace hung around her neck. The necklace featured a silver pendant marked with the vampiric rune for the Dimension Pillar, and it rested comfortably in the space between her breasts. The neckline of her dress was almost low enough to be considered improper in polite company.

Mortanius did not allow his eyes to stray as he smiled and said, “It’s only been a year. That’s barely any time at all for people like us.”

Two of the other Guardians gathered in Anarcrothe’s sitting room were Ariel, the Guardian of Balance, and Nupraptor, the Guardian of Mind. Ariel was a pale, stone-faced woman with short blonde hair. Nupraptor, her lover, hovered at her side, his hand on her shoulder. He was tall and lanky, with dark hair and a perpetual frown. They both nodded politely but said nothing.

Seated in one of the chairs nearby was a burly-looking man who looked entirely out of place in a mansion such as this. While the others wore expensive clothing equal to their station, he wore a sleeveless fur jacket and deerskin pants. His black hair hung down his back in a greasy tangle, and his chin was rough and unshaven. He was the Guardian of Nature, and his name was Bane.

He raised a mug of ale in Mortanius’s direction. “Have a drink, Mortanius. Sit with us and tell us of your adventures.”

“Alas,” Mortanius said apologetically, “my adventures are in the past. This year has been rather uneventful. I would prefer to hear what everyone else is up to.”

As he spoke, he looked past Bane and the others to the silent figure standing at the other end of the room. It was a figure clad in dark gray armor and a full helm, his arms crossed over his chest. A visitor to the mansion might incorrectly assume that it was merely a suit of decorative armor placed in the room as a conversation piece. But Mortanius knew better.

“Malek,” he said. “Greetings to you as well.”

“And to you, Mortanius,” the Guardian of Conflict replied evenly. His voice sounded almost natural, and from behind the eye slits in the great helm, Mortanius could almost detect a shimmer of light reflecting off his eyes. But Malek no longer had eyes.

Truth be told, Mortanius had no idea how much of Malek’s physical body remained after more than four hundred years. Surely, the body hidden underneath the armor was little more than a skeleton with a few scraps of dry flesh clinging to the bones. But Malek never removed his armor, and no one ever asked him to. All of the Guardians knew that Malek was long dead, but they were so accustomed to it that it did not bother them. None of the other Guardians beside Mortanius and Moebius had ever known Malek when he was alive. The others had only ever known him as an undead suit of armor.

Mortanius could not fathom how Malek tolerated such an existence, but he had long since stopped trying to understand. During the first few years of Malek’s undeath, Mortanius offered several times to end the spell that bound his body to the armor, but Malek always declined. He claimed that he had accepted his fate. Eventually, Mortanius stopped offering. He had not brought up the subject in more than three centuries.

“Come, come, have a seat,” Azimuth said, leading him to a chair. When he sat down, she placed her hand on his leg and leaned in to speak. “I’m working on some fascinating experiments that you might be interested in. But I’d love to hear about your own projects first.”

Anarcrothe handed him a glass of wine and sat down as well. “You don’t have to give us any specific details. Your experiments are always a bit grim, if you don’t mind me saying so,” he chuckled.

“I’m working on a few little things,” Mortanius said evasively. “Nothing important.”

Nupraptor snorted in response. “Modest and humble, as always.”

“Secretive, more like it,” Ariel murmured, sipping her drink.

“I just don’t want to bore anyone,” Mortanius said, glancing at her. “And I know how easily bored you both are.”

“Bored to death,” Ariel said casually, and her lover Nupraptor smiled.

Anarcrothe interrupted, “Before you got here, Mortanius, I was talking about my trip last summer along the coast. Did you know that Meridian has opened a museum with vampiric artifacts? They have some incredible exhibits there.”

Mortanius admired his friend for trying to subtly defuse the situation, but he had no interest in sharing barbs with Ariel and Nupraptor. Listening to Anarcrothe talk about his trip was a far more relaxing pastime, so he lounged in his seat and drank his wine as Anarcrothe regaled them with a story about his travels.

Ariel was the Guardian of Balance. Like her predecessor Ellendra, she was blonde, but their similarities ended there. Ellendra had been kind and generous and smart, despite being fickle and moody at times. Even at her most frustrating, she was optimistic and eager to learn new things, and she admitted her own faults and apologized when necessary. Ariel, on the other hand, was arrogant and rude and humorless. She looked upon the rest of the Circle with an expression of barely-disguised contempt, never missed an opportunity to insult someone, and hated doing work of any kind. To Mortanius’s knowledge, she spent most of her free time drinking wine and ordering around her numerous personal servants.

Nupraptor, the Guardian of Mind, was scarcely any better. He and Ariel were practically made for each other. Mortanius had never known two more self-centered, cynical, and bitter people. He had no idea how two Guardians, who he had helped raise from childhood, could have grown into such unpleasant adults. Sometimes he wished that they would decline their invitation to the gathering each year, but they always showed up even though they never had anything nice to say to anyone.

Once Anarcrothe’s story was finished, the conversation gradually split up into separate discussions. Anarcrothe and Bane began to talk about possible sea voyages across the ocean, while Ariel and Nupraptor whispered to each other and drank wine.

Azimuth sat close by Mortanius and chatted with him. She occasionally ran her fingers through her long, dark hair. “So, tell me what you’re working on. Unlike some people, I promise I won’t get bored.”

He smiled. “Well, if you insist. I’m doing research about the souls of animals. They aren’t as interesting as human souls, of course, but it’s something new that I haven’t studied very much.”

Ever since he first became aware of the powers his Pillar granted him, Mortanius had known that animals had souls. The first soul he had ever touched was the soul of a rabbit. All animals, from fish to birds to wolves, had souls. Even insects had souls, although they were little more than tiny, insignificant blips of spiritual energy.

Mortanius’s common observations showed that when an animal died, its soul moved on to the same kind of animal. The soul of a dog, once free, would inhabit another dog. But this was not a law of nature, he learned. He could very easily force the soul of a dead animal into a different animal; a dog soul into a pig, or an eagle soul into a deer, or a cow soul into a trout. His experiments showed that doing so had little effect on the behavior of the animal in question. A newborn puppy given the soul of a sparrow still behaved like a perfectly normal puppy. This showed that a soul, while incredibly important as the source of life and sentience, was not a pattern or a template for how an animal behaved.

However, the soul of an animal could not be implanted into a human being. Mortanius could move souls around with ease, and had no trouble implanting a specific soul into a child who was just being born, but no matter how hard he tried to force the soul of an animal into a baby, it never worked. The soul would not stick, and instead a regular human soul would appear from somewhere else in Nosgoth to inhabit the newborn child.

He explained some of this Azimuth, who listened patiently, her chin propped up in her hand. “It’s hard to believe that there’s anything about the afterlife that you don’t already know,” she said with a soft smile. “But I suppose there’s always more to discover, right? New things to learn, new experiences to try out.”

“Always,” Mortanius said. “And what about you? You said earlier that you were working on something fascinating.”

“Yes, I’m very proud of it,” Azimuth replied enthusiastically. “It’s so exciting. I’ve been working on it for a few years now, but I think I’m nearly done. It’s a magical device. I’ve never tried to make one before, but so far it’s turning out even better than I anticipated.”

“Wonderful,” Mortanius said. “I’m happy for you. I know how difficult it can be to enchant magical items. How does it work?”

“Well, it will enhance my ability to detect other planes of existence. I can sense them and sometimes look into them, of course, just as you can look into the spirit world, but it’s incredibly difficult for me to focus for any length of time. The device will stabilize my powers and allow me to look into other dimensions for longer periods.”

Azimuth’s predecessor as Guardian of Dimension was Rashard, who Mortanius regrettably did not get to know very well before his tragic death in the Slaughter of the Circle. But the Dimension Guardian before him was Thesandrine, who Mortanius knew quite well. In their long friendship, she had told Mortanius much about her powers, and so he knew something of the dimensions that existed parallel to the one Nosgoth occupied. Thesandrine had once told him that there were possibly hundreds of other planes of existence, although she believed that the vast majority of them were empty universes, devoid of life.

A few, however, were not. As far as Mortanius knew, Thesandrine had never been able to study one particular dimension long enough to learn about its native life. As Azimuth said, it was difficult to maintain a visual connection to the other dimensions for very long, although why that was the case was still unknown. By comparison, Mortanius’s ability to look into the spirit world was nearly effortless.

“That’s very impressive,” he said. “I think congratulations are in order.”

Azimuth grinned. “I was going to tell you all about it last time we met in Avernus, but it was still unfinished. Now it’s almost complete.”

“You said you’ve been working on it for a few years?”

“Well, more like thirty or forty years,” Azimuth laughed.

“I remember Moebius once told me that he was building a similar kind of artifact for viewing the passage of time. I don’t think he ever finished it, and that was hundreds of years ago. If you built yours in just a few decades, that’s quite an accomplishment.”

“Thank you. It means a lot coming from you. So you’ll come and visit me in Avernus very soon, to come and see it?”

“Of course,” Mortanius said.

“Wonderful,” Azimuth purred, leaning back in her chair. “I can’t wait to show you everything.”

Mortanius was thinking of a response to that, when they all heard the front door open and the servant speaking to someone in the hall. A few moments later, the Guardian of Energy, a thin and fussy woman named DeJoule, came into the room.

“Hello, everyone. I’m sorry I’m late,” she said.

She greeted everyone, shaking their hands or giving them a quick embrace. She even greeted Malek warmly and wished him well. Then she took a seat and began munching on some pastries that one of the other servants had brought in, as the other Guardians politely questioned what she had been doing the past year.

Not long afterward, Moebius arrived last, just as Anarcrothe predicted.

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