Northen Tharagya - A Watchtower.
"Dominus! Dominus Denwyn!"
The sharp featured tracker lifted his head, giving Adonai a dry look.
"I presume Erebos finally reported in."
"Not quite, Dom."
Failed Rescue.
Active Characters:
- Rachel.
You fiercely protest, but the vigil forces a gag nearly down your throat.
You desperately fight against the choking feeling, and try to remain calm and collected.
This is all so wrong, this is going terribly wrong. You must explain. They must listen to you. They...
Sethos!
Somehow he managed to track you down: he is creeping behind the guardsman; if he could only strike the vigil down, you could free Vega and...
No! Sethos! No!!!
Struck Down.
Active Characters:
- Sethos.
Last thing you remember, was the burly vigil smacking you right in your head.
You curse your unreliable powers; you nearly fried a man, back in the wood, when you only wanted to repel him away.
Now you needed to give the captor a good jolt, and your energies unexpectedly waned.
You feel frustration building up. They tied and threw you up in a cabin not unlike Rachel's.
You are lost, but you are not alone: you can hear a soft snoring, close by; struggling against the jingling, elaborate bondage, you turn to your side and recognize a familiar shape.
Vega!
A perverse pleasure fills you: there he is, the blundering, trustless warrior.
He accused your leading the guards in, but he couldn't fight for his own good.
There he lies, in a well tied heap.
Spite subsides, and despair gives in to rational thought.
He could still help you: it is only a matter of time, before you can release a new burst of arcane vibes.
You are so furious you could melt iron!
To your chagrin you realize they actually bound you with metal chains.
This is going to be thougher than you expected...
Aching Head.
Active Character:
- Vega.
Oh, cursed kids...
Whyever did you choose to save the pampered brat...?
Whyever did you allow the skinny boy to stay...?
Ouch, your head throbs.
You feel your limbs numb, incapable of movement.
Oh, no! Not this!
For a brief, awfully long, heartbeat, you believed you were dead, or, worse, paralyzed.
You saw fighters with sundered spines reduced to motionless husks, helpless and cursed with a fate worse than death itself.
Luckily - relatively speaking - you realize you've been tied. Chained, actually.
You can struggle against the bonds, and your limbs promptly respond.
Even the wounded leg seems in working order: it hurts, but it is nowhere as painful as it was before.
Somebody tended it - and from the spinning head and the urge to throw up, sedated you as well.
You try and regain your bearings. A twisted shape is dangling from a pole, in the middle of the room.
It cries through a cloth muffle; its voice sounds sharp and strikingly feminine.
You turn to your side, fighting to sit up.
Rachel!
Your body finally stops cooperating.
You slump back, drained.
Imprisoned!
"I hope you enjoy being together."
With a clang and a creak the door is open, and a slender, cloaked figure strides inside.
Rachel, Sethos and Vega struggle to glare back at their jailer.
"Very considerate of you," chuckles, addressing to Sethos "to join us, young sir."
The man allows himself a laugh.
"As it seems, you tricked my men into believing you were headed north, to the Barak Sea."
He steps toward Sethos, rubbing his hands together.
"It was a cunning and daring plan."
He kneels beside the boy.
"Unfortunately, whatever luck you had, abandoned you when you arrived here."
He delicately caresses Sethos's forehead, where the vigil struck him.
"Gods know what possessed you into facing a guardsman twice your weight, in unarmed combat."
Sethos cringes at the touch; the cloaked man stands, chuckling to himself.
"Or maybe, you simply got lost. You bungled into our outpost, and hoped your trick would work twice."
Sethos stares at the man, throwing curses through his gag.
"Don't do that. You don't know what you are playing with, young sir."
The cloaked man strides over Vega, ignoring the dangling body.
"Dominus Reynaldus."
The swordsman glares at the Aygosian tracker.
"I apologize for the uncomfortable accomodation."
The figure kneels beside Vega, shaking his head.
"Let me check the bandages."
Vega jumps as deft, prying fingers palpate his recovering leg.
"Hoc, it should heal nicely. You shouldn't exert it too much."
The cloaked man stands again, tapping his hand on the chin.
"We want to you to arrive at full health, where we are sending you to."
Vega growls, and for a short, blissful moment, he can feel his muscle bulge.
Unfortunately, the chains hold fast.
"Ah! Dulcis in fundo. The mind of the covenant."
The tracker steps over the tied dancer.
"You claim you are no slave. Yet you dress up as an Ankyra and your travel in the company of two rogue practitioners of the Arcane Arts."
Denwyn shakes his head, in mock disappointment.
"Do you realize the dangers of wielding powers you don't fully understand, young lady?"
The tracker approaches Rachel's feet.
"Ah, this is all so dark, in here."
"Adonai!"
The vigil peeks through the door.
"Hoc, Magister?"
"Adonai, bring me a Lapis."
"Hoc!"
Denwyn caresses Rachel's soles; his touch is surprisingly soft - Rachel must fight to suppress the tormenting sensation of stranger hands fiddling with her extremities.
"Dominus."
The vigil brings in a small, roundish object, covered in a black cloth.
Denwyn nods and Adonai gets out, closing the door behind.
The cabin is now completely dark, save for a blade of light from the setting sun, filtering through the uneven door panes.
The Aygosian Magister opens the pouch, and places a cold, smooth stone on Rachel's soles.
The object feels like a well-cut gemstone. Rachel stares back at Denwyn, quizzically.
Denwyn flashes a smile: the stone is getting warmer.
Rachel can feel a tingle, almost a tickling through her feet.
To Sethos's and Vega's disbelief, the Lapis is also getting brighter: it looks like a tiny round candleflame, in the tracker's hands.
Denwyn gently brushes it against Rachel's feet, slowly going from heels to toes, balls to arches, back again on the soles.
The tingling is becoming stronger: Rachel yelps and fights against her bonds.
Denwyn finally releases the stone, and raises it for everybody to see.
The sensation lingers on for a while.
"Thank you, Domina."
He winks at Rachel, and kisses her toes.
"Behold..."
Denwyn narrows his eyes.
"The Power of the Ancients."
Doomed.
"This is why I cannot let you go."
Denwyn concluded, juggling the Lapis between his fingers.
"Aygosian Elders * hold nature to be composed of tiny particles."
He repeats, gazing into the gemstone.
"They called them... 'atoms'".
His hands clasp over the small stone.
"With proper rituals, the atoms' natural inclination, the 'klinamen', could be adjusted." he raises his hands. "Even changed."
He closes his eyes, muttering to himself.
"And the embridled power..." he points the stone towards the wall "released."
The gemstone flashes briefly, then a bolt of light gushes forth, striking the wall.
"This was just a small fraction of your own power, young lady."
Rachel stares at the smouldering hole in the planks.
A scared vigil peeks through, checking all is fine.
Denwyn gestures back.
"With all my efforts, I am barely able to scorch it..."
"You," he points at Rachel "could pierce through it."
He slumps back, almost drained.
"Ah... experienced Varamynes can wield great powers... they devote their life to the Art."
He is almost speaking to himself.
"But they can affect only so many atoms, before their klinamen is switched, and the power in a given area effectively spent."
"But you..." he clambers to his feet.
"And you... even you!" he gestures at Sethos and Vega.
"You are different!" he stares at Rachel like a madman.
"You can fuel atoms with your own natural power, renewing them, and allowing their klinamen to be exploited times and times again!"
The gemstone's glow slowly subsides; Denwyn's face is shrouded in darkness once again.
"This is why..." he delicately removes the gags "I cannot let you go."
*
See Lucretius - De Rerum Natura. 
