To Answer to Things Unasked
14th of February 2007 A.D.
After Sophia heals Harry —
another thing I can't do, I need to up my game— the seven of you make it onto the eerie shore with nothing in sight to mark it apart from any other deserted patch of gravel tumbling into the sea: the boar is long since gone and the marks of Harry's trial are starting to heal under your very eyes. What does it say about the spirit that it had chosen to let the marks of human habitation fade with the natural passage of time instead of erasing them as soon as their builders have left? Olivia finds the sign: Wells and Cooper Cannery written out in blocky black script, long since turned grey with age. There aren't any obvious trinkets strewn about, nothing valuable enough that it was not taken over the water.
These then were the ones who had left towards the end of the eighteen hundreds, the ones who had '
given the island naught but fear and suspicion'. You wonder where the others are, the ones who'd died of cholera, you wonder if they had gotten a human burial or if the spirit in its sorrow had simply taken everything remaining of them into itself, but now is not the time to tarry. Harry says to hurry and this is his place, as sure as Sanctuary is yours. Do the others realize just how much of himself Harry had put into the hasty ritual, how much he has sacrificed? This now was his place, a Warden in more than one way to whatever lies below, never until death to claim a hill because he likes how the stars look from its summit, nor a river because of how refreshing the water tastes. Dad probably does and Lydia as well from the sympathetic look she throws him when he's not looking so as not to hurt his pride, but not Olivia, still less Murphy. Maybe it's better this way. Even Harry does not know quite what he's inherited... and from the way those mystery spirits had reacted the fewer people know the better.
After a short trek, just enough to stretch your legs you'd have once said, only now your legs no longer need stretching, they can just keep going and going forever, you make it to the top of the hill and the squat unlovely tower enthroned upon it. It fits the land a lot more then the ruins on the shore do. Moss grows on its walls and toadstools in its shadow, the poisonous kind, but that's not what draws your eye, it's the stones themselves. On a closer look there really is no reason why anyone would cut them like that at an angle. Sure they all fit together... they all fit together.
"Really? That's how they made it?" You start to laugh, more in relief that Harry had made it through that OK than amusement and it's only when Dad asks you what's the matter that you can explain. "The tower wasn't built here, it was drawn out of the bedrock with magic, then some wizard carved it up so that it would look like it came in pieces, only he was sloppy with some of the cuts which is how you get these improbable 'stone' shapes that no mason would have trusted if they actually came out of a quarry like that. It's just really funny to imagine some wizard standing here and carving up their tower like a turkey and then having to put mortar in the cracks for form."
Maybe you'd have added more to the observation if it hadn't been for the whistling that starts up, getting louder and louder as you approach the structure. Looking up you see what looks like a weathervane, that's moving
without wind. It has five markers not four, at first you think they are celestial sings: the sun, the moon, the stars, but why are there two suns, three? One is yellow-not-quite-gold, but the second is silver tarnished black and the last is
brass weathered green.
"Er... Harry I think your new tower has a me-detector, it's a little noisy though, you might want to switch it off."
He looks at it for a moment then shouts to the air: "Is this what you wanted me to see Alfred? She's on the guest list don't worry."
"Alfred like the butler in Batman?" Lydia asks, it's funnier that she does it because she's not trying to tease Harry, just happy to have gotten the reference.
Detective M... Karin laughs in spite of herself. "She's got your number Harry."
"Well I have to call it something and Demonreach is a little formal don't you think?" He asks as the weathervane stops spinning. The smile freezes on his face like someone had socked him in the chin.
In an instant the giant is here again, not bothering with the theatrics of taking shape:
"Will you be releasing the others then, the Dark One and the Secret Keeper?"
"No!" Harry almost shouts. "No... no releasing of prisoners. Do you have a green stone that's.. er... made of fire and sympathy?"
"You said no releasing prisoners, reason for inconsistency?"
"Because that's not really a prisoner is it? You didn't put it wherever prisoners go, it's just a dangerous tool, a piece of something even more dangerous that shouldn't be around here, but it is. You can feel him, right? The flame mountain guy?"
"Yes."
"Figured you're on the same wavelength..." This time Demonreach does not let him finish.
"No. Pretender! Lie that has forgotten itself."
"Well if it stays in two pieces it might remember the wrong thing at the wrong time and then it will come here and make a mess. I'm sure you can take him big guy, but humans like their lake 65, maybe 75 degrees in summer, not boiling you know?"
"I knew humans once, before he took it from me."
"The humans?" Harry asks, confused, but the spirit does not answer.
"I think it means the knowing... the knowledge of humans." Lydia says quietly. "Spirits can be altered with the right spell, made to think differently, feel differently to forget who they were..."
That reminds you of Bob, missing a piece of himself that he doesn't want back and it reminds you again of the account in her father's library, the name next to the very journal entry that recounted the tale of the island's inhabitants. An awful suspicion strikes you, one you: "Was the Warden before this Heinrich Kemmler?"
Slowly, menacingly the cloaked figure turns to look at you, blazing green eyes trapping yours.
"Yes."
Kemmler used to run this place and there's a 'Dark One' and a 'Secret Keeper', like you in maximum containment. Testing out whether angels come when called has never been more tempting, but something tells you this is not a decision for Heaven to make. This is a decision for man, one man in particular, who would not even be here if you hadn't asked him to.
A small green stone falls at Harry's feet, rolling towards him on the uneven ground. At least we have what we came here to find, you think.
That and so much more.
What do you do next?
[] Take the Grace back to Embermane
[] Help Harry look through his new domain, it should be safe enough for you
[] Write in
OOC: I've been waiting a while for you guys to get here. If there is any place in all of Dresdenverse that would have Exalts under lock and key it would be Demonreach and it would be the 'fun' ones.