Rubrum Arcane

Inner Secrets: Act I

Three. Seven. Nine. Three. Seven. Nine. Three. Seven. Nine. The demon was back. Traec leaned back in his chair, in that wearisome kind of way. The sigh that left his throat resounded in disharmony with the creaking from the chair. A strange pressure had implanted itself in his chest.

Sometimes the demon came back. At night, always at night. It gently slipped into his head and allured the others. The smaller demons. He looked down at the large, calloused and scarred hands, and for a second he forgot that they belonged to him. The thick silver-touched scars were like the veins in bedrock, or the slots in an old pine. Traec used to think that they symbolized all the mistakes he had made in his life. All the demons that refused to leave him. The demons who were his memories and the memories that were his demons.

He scratched his short, bone white hair and tilted forwards, over the little round table he always sat by when he carved. He picked up his crafting knife, and what would eventually become the girl's talisman, and continued to carve. Three. Seven. Nine. Three. Seven. Nine. First, three slow delicate carvings that left three leaf-thin slivers, dancing like snowflakes towards the wooden floor. Then seven, like a gentle wind, just as deep as it should be. Finally, nine, where the blade was in a perfect angle. Not like the dabblers from Armand. Wood crafting had its own magic and there were rules. There are rules if you want to create something with a soul. There were no exceptions.

He was supposed to finish the chairs that Ingria had ordered, but the vigour was not there today. Traec was an old man now and the rust of time had made his back stiff, his fingers sore and his joints shaky. In addition, as a splendid gift to his already heavy mind, the demons where there to torment him today. The memories he would offer a leg to get rid of, had been there so long that he had given up the hope of them ever leaving his gods damned head. The biggest demon was also the worst. He always heard it inside of his skull, dancing and making an awful lot of noise. Trying to strangle him every night.

A dead woman. The memories of her fixed eyes, like sapphires in a sea of ​​blackness. The beautiful, beloved woman he once had by his side. The only one he would move mountains and empty all the rivers in the world for. Except the girl of course. For her, he would ensnare the very stars.

It was a cloudy day and waves of fog slowly heaved themselves between the gap of the two mountains, across the valley. Traec watched from the cabin window. His eyes followed the road down to the narrow valley. The village houses forced themselves onto the beautiful landscape, like ticks. Like pocks on the leaves of a diseased birch. For some reason Traec hated that view. The road wound its way further up on the other side, between the mountains and disappeared into the distance. This day it was impossible to see, even if Oye from the village tried.

The demon continued to dance in his house. Still whistling that melancholic melody. The pressure over Traecs chest had become more intense and it seemed difficult for the lungs to take in enough air. A tingling, like small vibrations, shot out of his chest. The knife slipped. The metal bedded itself deep into the leathery skin above the thumb. The drops of blood hit the leaf-thin wood chips and for a brief moment, it resembled boats awashed by red waves. Traec swore and put the hand to his mouth. A new scar, a new memory, and somewhere there in the dark, a new demon.

Where did I put that damned ointment. The tingling feeling from his chest continued and it made him wary, for he had never in his long life felt this feeling before. He kept muttering curses to himself.

Just as he was about to put the blade in its sheath, he heard something. Outside. The door bashed open, and as it hit the inner wall, the hinges wailed like awoken ghosts. In an instant his fist tightened around the knife. Without thinking, Traec had risen, turning the chair over in the process. In the doorway stood two men. One of them was veiled by a gray hood and they both wore daggers in their belts.

One of them was mortally wounded.