Some time had passed since Grobnak's encounter with Auril, and he'd felt remiss in his duties to The Apprentice as he'd ordered everyone to gather their things and put the search for the missing Sunite on hold. They'd had some intriguing findings, but no real leads as to Keldon's whereabouts. The encounter with the frigid goddess still plagued his thoughts, the words of her warning still echoing in his mind: You shall be betrayed. By who, and when? It seemed so long ago that it had happened.
He had performed the strongest divination spells that he knew, yet they yielded nothing of what was to come, save that the traitors would be from the church of Talos. That made no sense to him. Destroyers fighting against the Church? They were the strongest supporters of the Jenovese: they of all people sought the fall of the RoK the most. Still, it rang in his thoughts, and the Voice had remained strangely silent until tonight.
"Sseek yyourr counssell, Apposstlle. Thhe watterss of Rrebirthh, aand thhe bllood of tthe pplannet hholld thhe aansswerss youu sseek." The sinuous message from a thousand souls speaking at once rang from within his mind; images flashing in quick succession before his eyes. The divination ritual had been lain bare before him, yet another work of great magick given to him as a reward for his Faith. Quickly, Grobnak fell to his knees to offer praise to The Apprentice for this vision, and to ask for the Elder God's favor on the ritual to come. He would lay there, kneeling in prayer for hours to come, seeking the wisdom of the gods, and the power to do what needed to be done.
As Grobnak prayed, other Chosen of The Apprentice gathered together in the Haon'Dor forest, outside of a hamlet in the Elven Village. For hours they waited, listening to the soft gurgles of an elven infant, and occasionally the high-pitched whine as the child cried. There was no doubt as they waited: the child's life would be sacrificed for the greater good. There was no room for traitors in the Church. They, too, had heard The Voice. They knew what was needed. The child would not be forgotten by The Apprentice. When The Rebirth came, the child would once again be granted a chance at life. When that chance came, the child would be grateful for the fact that his doom didn't lie hanging over his head. Consoling themselves with this knowledge, the Chosen waited, patiently studying the residents of the village.
Others still gathered within the Jihad Compound, hearing the instructions of The Voice, preparing the ceremony for their Talosian leader. Silently at first, they lit the incense within the Chamber of Vows, then began chanting the arcane words called for in the ceremony. Three men left the room in three directions, still chanting the quiet dirge, only to return moments later. One bore an empty tub of silver; the other two plain chalices filled with fluid.
Night fell quickly on the infant's hamlet, and the Chosen acted quickly. Garbed in clothing enchanted to keep their movements silent and invisible, they crept upon the small home, their cracked and scarred faces shining dully in the moonlight. In one deft motion, the leader of the troupe dispelled the protective enchantments protecting the entrance, and snuck within. Another man, straggling behind the others, made silent gestures in the air, manipulating the Weave to prevent any noise from escaping the small home. The struggle was brief, and within only moments the elfin child had been procured. Again, the Chosen consoled themselves with the necessity of the task before them. After the Rebirth, this child would learn to be grateful.
After rising to his feet once more, Grobnak donned his priestly vestments and ventured out into the Chamber of Vows. All was prepared, as it always was when The Voice spoke these days. In some ways Grobnak missed the days when he had only The Voice for company, and others thought him mad. Still, solitude and prayer were privileges he had grown accustomed to, and he had no desire to give either of them up. Stepping heavily into the Chamber, Grobnak inhaled the Vapors, clearing his mind of all thought but that of his Faith, and his desire to see The Rebirth. Stepping before the small silver tub, he uttered the words that would begin the ceremony, "Vitalus donae, judas divinus torael!"
Their voices now threadbare whispers, the Chosen who had begun the chant hours ago stepped forward, the litany still fresh upon their lips. Another Chosen entered the Chamber from the south, the elfin child wailing as he cradled it in his arms before lowering it into the tub laying at the center of the room. Two others also stepped forward, dabbing viscous brown and black fluids on the child's limbs and forehead in the shape of arcanic runes before dumping the contents of their chalices entirely into the tub. The changes in the child were visible as his limbs blackened and the skin cracked in red welts wherever the fluid touched.
The chalice bearers left the room as the other Chosen continued their husky chant. Grobnak began the invocation as they came and went, several times over to empty their cups into the tub. Soon, the infant's screams were silenced as it was submerged and began to die. At the culmination of the ritual, as the child's heart beat its last, Grobnak looked down upon the pool, tears of self-loathing in his demonic eyes, to view those who would betray the nation of Jenova. There, flickering in the brown and black waves above the child's face, were the images of Violent and Wermidon bowing before Talos himself. Grobnak reeled in shock despite his mental preparations for the worst. A fellow Council member and leader of Talos' church! He could never have been prepared for such a devastating blow.
As if sensing Grobnak's presence through the passage of time, his deity seemed to smile at him through the images. Indeed, Grobnak almost felt as though, at the back of his mind, he heard a voice whispering of purging the weak among the Destroyers, though he wasn't certain. The images held before him, as each of the Chosen stepped forward to get their own look at the traitors. Then the images moved forward in time, granting their audience a vision of Wermidon taking a journey, another of Violent seeking him out, and still others of those who had Fallen from Salvation.
Sensing the fading power of the ritual, Grobnak turned a fleeting thought to Emalia and her whereabouts - and whether or not she, a Guardian, could really believe The Truth without betraying the Jenovese to the pressures of her old life. The images flickered and swirled, showing a hazy outline of the young girl on a ship headed toward what appeared to be the sun, accompanied by two others.
A final image appeared before the scene ended; an image of a rose-colored building surrounded by clergy garbed in similarly colored clothing. A Temple of Lathander. Was this the journey she had intended to make? Her image had been unclear. From this, Grobnak knew that any betrayal in Emalia's heart was not yet certain.
Yet she was being attended to by strangers. Grobnak frowned in thought. Action had to be taken.
The Chosen who had spent the past few hours performing and preparing the ritual were already dissembling. They also knew that steps had to be taken against this new threat, and were preparing to do so. Turning to one of his attendants, Grobnak whispered an order to her in a fervent hiss, "A contingent is to be sent to the Forest of Destruction at once! Send only those who follow both the Storm Lord and the RoK. More eyes are needed there."
Passing a small, rectangular ornament to the blistered woman, he continued, "See to it using my seal, Child. You must also return to my chambers within the hour for a message, to be delivered to Nephesh Vishara. His aid is needed in another matter." Grobnak thought of the small halfling slave he'd bought at the Westbridge Pawnshop a two years ago, and what had become of the mute Lathanderite. To think that Emalia was headed toward the very temple he'd sent the boy to only a year ago... . To give him such a boon, surely even Tymora was smiling upon him today.
