Editing Garuk - Second Vision

Garuk’s sleep was fitful, as though he was wracked with a raging fever.  Pain swept through him like he was shocked by electrical energy. Shimmering silver-blue waves swept before his eyes, accompanied by the sound of rushing air - or water (Garuk still could not decide). Zerthimon again came into focus floating above a silver pool of still liquid.  He was dressed in finely made but simple clothes of somewhat subdues colours - dark blues, lilac and silver stood out. As ever, he seemed to be gazing into the unknown; once again, Garuk was ‘pulled’ into the great Gith’s mind. 
 
He looked upon an open expanse of shimmering light of all hues and, again, struggled to make much sense of the sight: depth was impossible to discern, orientation was also difficult to gauge as he seemed to gently spin, clockwise.  Slowly, the image before him became clear, as Zerthimon raised a hand and extended his index finger, “See!” Garuk’s mind echoed.  

Once again, he saw the Githyanki war band. Dresses as ever in their brightly burnished and bejewelled armour, twelve of them formed a circle around the thirteenth. The central figure was a little taller and a little thinner than his companions, but otherwise unremarkable. He had the same two-handed sword, which was stowed across his back, the same overly decorated armour, the same beautifully manicured hair and nearly the same opulent jewellery.  This Gith – the central one – Garuk had seen in his last vision; here again he wore a thick metal chain around his neck with two black stone squares at the end.  Each was but two inches or so square and both were covered in golden lines and shapes, but this time Garuk recognised them:                                                                                                 


They stood in a large, rectangular room; each of the 12 Githyankie faced a closed, iron-bound door. Garuk recognised the room immediately – the Temple at the Heart of the Prime.  Each began to chant in an ancient language that Garuk recalled from his time at the monastery. Although he was not often brought into the central circles of the Attala, he recognised the prayers of the highest of the order. The ‘song’, he was once told, gave the most powerful enlightenment, and which Garuk believed showed them their enemies or, at least, their intentions. That was how the Attala knew where to strike, knew where the Githyankie were across all Planes and Dimensions. The chant grew in intensity, pitch and rhythm. 

As Garuk watched, the Gith brough out sharp skinning blades. The knives were each unique in their own fashion - clearly, they did not belong to the creatures that now held them.  In unison, the Githyankie cut their forearms deeply; the chant stopped, and their blood flowed onto the floor before the door they faced. The chant began again, but this time it had altered. No longer was it the comforting tones and gently weaving patterns of Garuk’s youth; this was something altogether different.  As Garuk watched and listened the runes above each door changed, almost imperceptibly.     

Two Githyankie began to clutch at their throats, gasping, desperately trying to cling onto life. None of Garuk’s enemy came to the aid of their companions, as they collapsed and writhed on the floor, gulping and convulsing uncontrollably. Still bleeding and keeping up the chant, the living Gith moved, almost like in a dance, changing to face other doors.  The movement was complex and unprepared, Garuk failed to keep track of where each Gith finished the dance.  The only one that didn’t not move (or cut himself for that matter) was the central figure – the leader.   
As he watched, the central Gith reached into his leather pouch and again produced the ‘device’:  the 3-inch diameter, flattened spherical object.  Again, this was what Zerthimon appeared most interested in, as the vision enlarged in Garuk’s mind to expose the object’s detail more clearly.  It had not changed: the spheroid was smooth copper on one side and highly detailed, gem encrusted metal on the other. Again, the Githyanki placed it carefully in his palm, smooth side down and gripped it firmly by sliding his fingers into the indents at the side. The shimmering dome of silver-blue light swirled again but this time was shot through with ‘sparks’ of red and black.  The Gith twisted it open - again, dividing it into two equal halves. Garuk realised that the smooth, black square with gold etching, which occupied the space between each sunken setting, corresponded to the 6 rune stones he had seen.  Once again, the Githyankie leader took two purple gems from the top and placed them into corresponding settings on the bottom half before closing the device and reforming the oblate spheroid.  

The centre of the device shimmered bright silver momentarily before red and brown light swirled into the centre, turning it purple.  Garuk’s mind was then taken to the edge of a forest; looking through the trees he saw a clearing, at the centre of which fire sprang up. Wind rushed towards the blaze, howling through the tall pines and eucalyptus as they sprang into flame.  Swiftly, sparks and burning bark swirled and eddied all around on the rushing wind, creating more pools of fire wherever they came to rest. Smoke filled the space between the blaze and Garuk felt his throat constrict. He gasped, convulsed and began to panic, before Zerthimon’s voice said, “You are not there my child, not then anyway…”

Breathing again, Garuk looked on.  At the centre of the inferno, in the clearing, stood the demon Garuk saw in his last vision; however, he was not alone.  It seemed wherever the fire reached a high intensity, similar demons sprang up and flew through the forest.  Their eyes burned with malice and insane joy; their massive, black bulks were born on huge bat-like wings which fanned the blaze. They were wreathed in flame and bellowed with joy as the inferno grew and grew. Garuk saw the forest fauna run in panic, many already alight – their fate sealed.  Some larger creatures were lifted by the demons who subsequently took great chunks out of them or pulled them apart and discarded them into the fiery hell. Everywhere Garuk looked, demons sprang – emerging from the fire or the gathering smoke.  

The shimmering silver light came back to Garuk’s mind. It changed slowly, many colours sprung out of the centre of his vision paused momentarily, as if needing some appreciation, before becoming part of the mix of swirling light. Calmed by the display and the once-again gentle chant of the Attala, Garuk breathed more easily.  He heard the same rushing noise, underlaying the chant, but this time he was certain that it was water.