Mage the Awakening - Left-Hand Path

Mage the Awakening - Left-Hand Path, new World of Darkness, Mage - The Awakening

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//-->"It wouldn't be magic's cutting edge if itdidn't make someone bleed,"-- Carbon, founder ofthe Cloud Infinite ReapersAll societies have rules--even societies of mages. But rules were made to bebroken. For the Awakened, shattered laws raise sinister forces. The Left-Hand Path tempts sorcerers with forbidden power, fulfilling their desires at therisk of ostracism, madness or damnation. In exile, more of them thrive than thePentacle admits, challenging the peril to their souls ... and uniting incommon cause. Look Beneath the SurfaceA Character Book for Mage: The Awakening™••The magical practices banned byConsilium and orderDetails on Apostates and Heretics,mages on the fringe of Awakenedsociety•Secrets of the Mad, dangerous andobsessed mages whose Wisdomfailed•The hidden threat of the Tremereliches, their goal of summoning theSixth Watchtower and their methodsof Reaping souls•The history, society, philosophy, andpowers of the Scelesti, mages whoworship the AbyssThe Price of DisobedienceTwo bored women sitat the other end of the table. One’s important,and that’s fine, but the other doesn’t leave when Iwalk up. That’s not.“You’re Knonsu?”She uses my Shadow Name, but it some-how annoys me nonetheless. I glance down,stifling my annoyance by taking in the pattern at myfeet. They’ve put a new carpet down in the living room at Cor-mant House: Afghan, enchanted. It includes some subtle sigils thatprogram a Prime whammy into the weave—I guess someone’s gota yen for yarn as part of their craft. I’m less than pleased with thechange. The Ebon Noose’s meeting room used to be a non-magicalshabby chic kind of thing. Now I’m standing on an ostentatiousfucking landmine.“Yeah. The Censor.” I doff my hat with the bad hand; itcovers the missing fingers. “I made an appointment with theHierarch, but you’re here ….” I tap the side of my leg with theother hand, against the stone in my pocket.“Khumeia.”“I know who you are.” I find an insincere smile makespeople wonder if I’m lying or just a bastard, and I’m notparticular which she infers right now. “Has there been,say, a change in government?”“No. The Nemean has taken a sabbatical tocontemplate the Mysteries. I’m acting as a sort oflead Provost until he comes back.” She doesn’tlook up. She’s looking for me on her tablet.“Maybethat man contem-plated the origin of a blood spatter on his tie once. Thatsounds unusually mystical for him.”“He’s a second degree Master. Believe what youlike—ah. Here you are. You’re following up on theChicago problem.”“That’s right. With all due respect, I’d rather notdiscuss it in the living room. Do you have a study orsomething?” My fingers itch—the ones the cannibalbit off. I’m going to need a spell to cure phantom limb.Maybe I’ll get an actual phantom limb, even. “It concernsyour Secret Concord.”She stands abruptly, and I can see I finally have herfull attention. “Athena? Hold my calls. Come this way, Mr.Khonsu.”As I follow her, I chuckle at the odd construction and kindof space out, to be honest. As soon as I close the door, I lose mygrip on my hat and it falls to the floor. She turns and scowls.“Christ, sorry Ma’am. It’s just this hand.” I hold it up toshow her.“I had a problem with an extremity once. What’s wrongwith yours?”“Don’t you see? Touch it for yourself.”I don’t know why I screamed at Athena to leave. She de-serves better. Her family’s served us for a long, long time. Heavyis the head that wears the crown, especially when it’s still techni-cally attached to someone else’s head.Let me look at my notes. I had a Techgnostic improvethe voice recognition on my tablet last year. Except forscrambled bits at the beginning and end, it recoded ev-erything that asshole mystagogue had to say.They’redefinitely from an Abyssal Verge near here. Thewritings we recovered connect it to your SecretConcord. Now if could just get a look at it,we could deal with your cannibal problemonce and for all.I mount the tablet in my car andsay, “Read the rest.” So it does—the voicesounds funny, a bit hypnotic. I kind of spaceout, to be honest, and by the time I start think-ing again I’ve driven past the Lodge.Heavy is the head . . . the head needs a drink. Idrive by the bars until I hit one by the harbor. It’s got aterrible plastic lobster for a sign.I order beer. I never drink beer, and I’d never look back atsome dude in jeans who’s obviously sizing me up.After the third glance he comes to sit with me.“You’d be even prettier if you didn’t frown like that. My name’sJoe.” That’s a pickup artist’s line. He’s got a cheap, easy smile.“Hi Joe. Why don’t we cut the ritual? I’ll take you to my carand we can go, well, wherever you want.” My smile feels cheap,too. Joe doesn’t seem nearly as surprised as he should be. By theArchitect, what the hell am I doing?Ten minutes later, while we wrestle in the back seat. I turnto one side; the stone in my jeans stabs me. My grunt sets off mytablet. Now I recognize the voice. It’s not the mystagogue’s. It’smine. How? It almost takes my mind off Joe. He’s whisperingsomething about the “blood of the lamb” and yanking at some-thing stuck in his top of his boot.Could I have taken her? I don’t know. But that computer ofhers started talking about the Temple of the Devourer and the man-dogs. It’s a bit of a blur, but I must have run for it. I don’t fuck menor Awakened, only insects without wings. I fly them to Heaven, likeJesus, except that they learn that in the end, love’s a lie. That guidesthem to the real Heaven, in the Darkness.Maybe she’s a Baalath—that makes sense. Someone wasbound to go for the Temple eventually. She felt strong, once Icalled the Sight. I’ve always been too scared to claim the Temple.I’d have to show the Red Word I was worthy. Together, though . . .we could hunt together too, and send the women-bugs to Heaven.I can’t hunt in Boston tonight. Danvers feels good. I’venever hunted there. Wonder why? Maybe I’ll B&E it tonight.That really makes the insects chirp, until I get the gag on them.I heard ghosts made Danvers Asylum dangerous for Awakenedfolks to visit, but they built apartments around there ages ago.Wikipedia says they just capped the old tunnels. I canpunch through concrete, if I want.I gave myself an owl’s vision, but walking in the dark tun-nels still disorients me. I kind of space out, to be honest, and bythe time I start thinking again, there’s this glow.A Hallow, down here.I start digging. My arms are still as strong as they were when Ihit the concrete. It takes me 20 minutes to rip out the floor planks,get down to the level of the trunk and pull it up. I tear the lid right offand—why?—I take the stone out of my jeans.I think I’ve seen the stone before. It’s rough, but the sigilslook old and smooth. When I make my eyes see the Shadow, Ican make out two thin, red lines whipping out, into the eyes ofthe corpse in the trunk.He twitches. It seems right to wait until he blinks. Hisclothes look old, like from a British drama on PBS.He exhales a rotten wind.“You Scelesti keep your promises.” He sits up, stiffly, releas-ing a cloud of dust. “You’re not known for that. Then again,neither are we. The old kingdom perishes. A new onerises.”“And the tower?” Why am I saying that?“You’ll get your key to the kingdom, as theConcord promises, once the Baron from theOther Side comes home. First, I need moresouls.” His colorless eyes flash. “I seeyou’ve got more.”Do I? I don’t even know what I’mgoing to say when I open my mouth, butthe shadows ripple before I can talk. Maskedpeople tear out of them. They’re fast.I open my eyes and run a hand along my face. I’mso smooth. I usually shave everything. Hair belongs to myselves. Where are they? I can’t hear them sing and scream.“Kenosia, you did very well.” I’m lying in a bed; the voicecomes from a hag’s face above: a stone mask, fanged and grinning.“Who? I’m not anyone right now. I need to be someone totalk to you.” My head hurts. What am I supposed to say whenI’m not anyone?“You’re a holy pilgrim, love. I’m Culsu. Like you, I passedthrough the Veils and became Faceless.” She places a gloved hand onmy chest. “But I wasn’t brave enough to make your commitment.”That helps order my thoughts. “I’m the Veil, nothing more.”I smile, like a child getting a question right.My fingers and toes are numb. I feel so sleepy. I’m not usedto feeling things when I’m not a person.“You are Legion: a pilgrim on the harder, Left-Handedpath. You became so holy, my love, that you couldn’t worshipas just one person. In your devotion you told us about the Con-cord, the old Tremere rising, and what the other orders know. Inone night, you exceeded years of our efforts.”“My legs are cold, Culsu. I can’t move them.”“You borrowed three souls. Two of them might be missed.We’ll return them carefully, anonymously. But we can’t let themknow about you . . . and you’re very strong. Too strong to con-trol, and too holy to make promises you can keep.”“I could stop the poison whenever I want.” The cold’s gone,and now I feel like the bed has dropped out from under me.Culsu’s mask swims in the sky.“I know, love.”“Culsu?”She takes off her mask. She has beautiful eyes.“Will I see everyone I ever was?”By David Brookshaw and Malcolm Sheppard [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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