Iorrjaer

Chapter 10

Granna, stooped and leaning on a cane, stood a silent vigil as she oversaw Captain Allin and his team of soldiers working haphazardly to construct an ramshackled and abandoned house back into functioning shape. The captain had told her a few times that they were not builders or carpenters of any skill, but she still insisted; commanding them to proceed. It did not have to be perfect, it just had to be stable enough for the team that was coming.

As they worked, she made sure to catch sight of their necks and was pleased that the growth was continuing to develop. She could feel her magic connect and bend them to her will. Her control over them was holding and she smiled knowing that she had made the right choice in accepting the magic of the ziggurat.

It had been a strange day when it had awakened and called her forward. She had been in her personal hutment, a spacious shack where she practiced her special craft and busied herself with her alchemy. Victor's sons were young and liked to intrude but she had made sure that her doors were locked and sealed that day. She did not want them seeing what she was doing. Were they to discover her secret, she would have to do to them what she had done to Victor's wife.

In order to keep herself alive and her mind sharp and concentrated, she had to ingest terrible brews of blood and bodily juices from virgins and innocents, as well as blood from rare creatures. It was gruesome work, getting the young blood and/or the blood of a goblin or elf, was even trickier.

She thought that she had procured a goblin and not just any goblin, a goblin of the old world. One that was rumoured to come from the mountains in the north, where those same rumours told of an orc stronghold that was said to be the home of Jörcnir's descendants. A goblin with the blood of Jörcnir would be potent enough for her to brew a concoction that would give her eternal life. However, that goblin was never delivered and her hunter never appeared again.

At her wits end and desperate for another source, she locked herself in her hutment and created wells of magic that she twisted and spun her vile brews within. The mixture and foulness of the magic acted like a catalyst to send the putrid magic back into the astral plane and to the nearest conduit – the ziggurat.

Her desperation kept her going, kept her mixing and pouring her foulness into the brews. She was unaware of the chain reaction she was causing and not long after her capping of her final brew, there was an awakening quake that shook the town. She exited her hutment to see pulses of magical energy coursing through the ziggurat's exterior. Strands of the magical energies worked their way up the ziggurat's walls, stretching like long forgotten fingers, yearning for the sky. Once the energies reached the ziggurat's zenith, a burst of light and magic spilled down into the town and that was when she first heard his voice: Kêdêmel thanking her for the magic he needed to reawaken.

She was flooded with power and knowledge of Kêdêmel's existence and of his imprisonment in a pocket of the astral plane, sealed only by the ziggurat. He showed her the truth of what had happened to him and for the first time in nearly a century, she saw the eyes of the world. A fable that she had been brought up on was the tale of the dragon, Iørr. He was the source of all of the magic that existed in the world and it all came from the astral plane. Any and all magic that was used was an extension of Iørr.

Kêdêmel poured enough of his power into her to keep her strong and keen. He also gave her the tools needed for ensuring his freedom – a parasite to spread to those that she deemed worthy. Soldiers and her own blood were her targets because she knew that they would be loyal to her and that because of her already powerful magic, she could manipulate them with ease.

She was told that she had until the next eclipse, a time when the astral and mortal realms overlapped, to get sacrifices ready and to ensure a potent and capable army for their control. Once freed, he promised power and command in his war upon the mortals. A promise to complete a failed cleansing that was now long overdue.