The Thief and The Assassin: III
#3 of The Thief and The Assassin
The truth is finally revealed! This is all I currently have written, but I will be continuing this thing at some point. But I have a lot of other stuff in the works at the moment so that get's priority now. Rest assured this is not the end though!
A few hours later, Valerie and Donovan were really quite drunk. They were both staggering through the streets clutching bottles of very expensive wine.
"Why dooo I have to carry the bag?" Donovan slurred, hefting the sack he had slung over his shoulder.
"It'sss... It'sh the gentlemanly thing t'do." Valerie replied.
"How far ish your house?"
"Jusht up thi- this hill."
"Why do you live at the top of a hill!?"
"I like the view."
"Why is there even a hill in a cave! It makes no sense!"
"Why wouldn't there be a hill in a cave?"
"I have drubk... wait... waaaaait... I have drunk... waaay too much of this... dericious wan. Wine. Even. To follow that... uhmm... logic."
"Yeah well...bleeeehhh"
"Don'tchu stick your tongue outtat me lady!"
"I do what I like!"
"Oh really?"
"Yesh! Oh wait... this is my house!"
"Are yousure?"
"This time I am! Look! My key fits and everything!"
The two stumbled through the door, and Valerie managed to get it closed and locked on the third try. Donovan dumped the bag on the floor of the hallway.
"Sho... now that I have you where I want you... how'sh about you and I get better acquainted?" Valerie said, trying to sound seductive. She staggered over to Donovan, tripping over her own feet. She collided with him and he caught her before she could fall over.
"You should be more careful!" Donovan said, holding her up. He was greeted by a loud snore. Donovan let out a deep sigh, carefully lifting the snoring feline over his shoulder. He looked around briefly, before picking up the sack of money and carrying them both up a flight of stairs. He carefully navigated the dark building until he arrived at the bedroom. He carefully deposited his drinking companion on her bed, where she continued to snore quietly. Donovan shook his head and turned towards the door, his eyes leaving faint trails of green luminescence in the air. The girl could certainly drink, that was for sure. As he was about to leave, Donovan paused. He reached into his coat and pulled out a folded scrap of paper. He glanced back at Valerie before walking back to the bed, and dropping the paper on the nightstand. With that he turned and vanished into the night.
The next day Valerie awoke, rolled out of bed, staggered to the window and vomited out of it. After a few moments she staggered back to the bed, grabbed the jug that sat on the nightstand and proceeded to drain its contents. Valerie dropped the jug with a gasp and flopped down on the bed. The jug contained a mixture of water, honey and salt. Something Valerie had found to help relieve hangovers rather effectively. She rubbed her eyes and stared at the ceiling for a while. The giant alchemical sun that hung over the city had been lit, illuminating the entirety of Undercity with a golden, dawn-like glow. Nobody except the Alchemists that had installed it knew quite how it worked, but it definitely helped with living underground. Sitting up slowly, Valerie began peeling off her sticky clothes, dropping them on the floor. She padded naked into the washroom, where lead pipes brought hot water up from geothermal lakes in one of the caves below Undercity. Not everyone in the city could afford this kind of luxury, but then again, Valerie was not 'everyone'. The steaming water cascaded into the deep stone trough that had been carved into the rock wall of the washroom. Valerie slipped into the hot water that smelled faintly of eggs. She let out a long sigh and leaned back. Nothing like a nice hot bath after a night of extremely heavy drinking. She briefly wondered how much money she and Donovan had spent just on wine alone. Speaking of Donovan... Valerie sniffed the air. She couldn't smell him in the building anymore. He had probably left in the night. How he had managed to leave was beyond Valerie. He had probably drunk even more than she had. Maybe he was passed out in a gutter somewhere?
"Wherever he is, he's probably fine." She muttered, dunking her head under the steaming surface of the water.
A while later Valerie got out of the bath, shaking herself off in the washroom, before strolling out back into the bedroom. It was now she noticed Donovan's note. Picking it up she carefully unfolded it.
"Try not to get captured by anymore monarchs, and go easy on the wine."
_ _
Valerie laughed, scrunching up the note and tossing it out of the window. She went over to the bag on the floor and picked it up, emptying its contents onto the bed. Four gold ingots glimmered in the alchemical sunlight. She walked over to a chest at the foot of her bed and opened it, pulling out a clean set of travelling clothes. They consisted of a pair of padded leather trousers, a cotton shirt, a sleeveless leather doublet and a long travellers coat, also made from well-oiled leather. She got dressed in all but the coat and pulled on her boots. She began strapping on her various belts, bandoliers and pouches, slotting the small rectangles of gold into a special pouch on her belt. Once she was done with her pouches containing her 'tools of the trade', she reached into the chest and pulled out a hatchet and attached it firmly to the back of her belt. Then came two long daggers and a boot knife. Valerie had never quite got the hang of swords. She was no slouch in a fight, but open confrontation was not her style. Closing the chest she picked up her coat and headed down stairs and into the kitchen. On the small table to one side of the room was a waxed canvas knapsack with leather buckles and reinforcing. Next to the knapsack were a shortbow and a flat quiver stuffed with arrows. She picked up the quiver and the bow, slotting the bow into a specially constructed sheath attached to the quiver. Strapping the whole ensemble across her back, she pulled on her coat, buckling it closed. Finally she picked up her knapsack and swung it over her shoulders, adjusting the straps to make it comfortable over her bow. After making sure she could draw the bow and reach her arrows, she grabbed her waterskin and looked around the kitchen for a final time. She liked this house, but this quest of hers was rather important too.
"You won't get away from me this time... Donovan." She said aloud, before heading out of the house and in to the city.
***
Valerie stood gazing up at the Spineback Mountains. The mountain range carved a path down the entire length of Erathiel. Its peaks so lofty and remote, no explorers or adventurers had ever managed to conquer them. Valerie had left Undercity two months ago. She had spent a vast amount of time and money tracking Donovan down. He was not easy to find. As soon as he left Undercity, his trail vanished. But now she was closer than she'd ever been. Somewhere in those mountains was his supposed permanent home. Of course, he may not be around at the moment. Campaign season was not yet over, and he was probably still working. Then again, the only major conflict that was currently happening was the Olvar-Abbas war. Valerie looked down the road at the fortified town of Fjällborg, her final stop before heading up into the mountains. Fjällborg was the northernmost inhabited settlement in Erathiel. Beyond it and the mountains, was a vast expanse of empty, frozen tundra known as the Deadlands. A place that was so cold no life existed there. Valerie hoped she wouldn't have to venture too close to that place. Even separated by an entire mountain range, the supernatural cold of that place could be felt even in Fjällborg. It was the height of summer and yet the tough, sparse plants were still covered in frost despite the shining sun. Valerie wasn't sure what to do now she was here though. Yes, she had information that said the mountains above Fjällborg were where Donovan lived, but nothing certain. She would have to make discreet enquiries around town. Of course, the very first thing she was going to do was get a room in an inn or something, and wash approximately two weeks worth of road dust from her fur. Assuming she could find a place to stay of course. The town looked extremely busy, despite it's large size. Passing under the gate, Valerie looked up at the mountains that loomed over the town. They looked very, very tall from down here. Valerie shuddered and hurried along. She spied a large coaching inn, and decided to start her search for a room there.
The inn was busy, which was hardly surprising. It was filled with people arguing, making deals, eating, drinking and just generally living. It was nice, actually. After being essentially alone on the road for two months (aside from the occasional brief stop at a town or village along the way) Valerie welcomed the throng of people. She eventually made it to the bar and enquired about a room. To her surprise they did have a room left.
"...but it's the Lord's Suite. It's rather expensive." The landlord explained, and was very surprised when the dusty, dirty looking traveller before him dropped a very heavy looking pouch onto the bar. Picking up the pouch, he inspected its contents.
"That will do nicely." He said, and gestured to one of his staff.
A few moments later Valerie was alone in her rather large room. She dropped her pack on the floor, and took off her coat. Then she flopped onto the bed. She had requested hot water for at least a wash, so it would be a few minutes until she could be clean again. Rolling over onto her back, Valerie looked up at the ceiling and frowned. She could feel a cold draft. Sitting up she looked towards the window, and nearly fell off the bed. Sitting in the open window was Donovan.
"You know, I don't take kindly to being followed." He said.
"How do you know I followed you?" Valerie replied, struggling to regain her composure "I could be here on a job for all you know."
"True, but I know this town better than it's residents. I know there is nothing here you would be interested in stealing."
"Fine. I did follow you, but it's your own fault you know."
"How, exactly?"
"You intrigue me, Obsidian Blade. You have piqued my curiosity. You are a man of many mysteries and contradictions, and I find that fascinating."
"I see. Well, I will warn you only this once. If you value your life as highly as you value gold, do not pursue me further."
"Why not? How will you stop me? Will you kill me?"
"No. But the Mountains are not nearly so kind. The cold of the Deadlands is ever present on these peaks. Cold enough to freeze blood in veins."
"You seem to manage alright. I'm sure I'll be fine."
"I'm not... never mind. I have warned you. It is your life, do with it what you will."
With that he was gone. Valerie ran to the window and looked out. There was no sign of him anywhere.
"You are not what, I wonder?" she mused aloud, closing the window.
That evening, after having a very thorough wash, Valerie was out stalking the streets of Fjällborg. Unlike most cities and towns Fjällborg was a little different during the evenings. For one, the market in the town square didn't actually close. Lanterns were strung out across the streets from houses and the markets stalls and shops stayed open. The evening market was a little different to the daytime market though. The air was filled with the smell of mulled wine and cider, baking pies and sweet pastries. Valerie had assumed it was some kind of festival, but on questioning a local, she was informed that this was normal. Because they were so far north, even in the summer the days were short. So the markets stayed open when it got dark. In order to entice people into the cold nights and to their stalls, merchants and shopkeepers had started to sell food and drink that 'warmed the body and spirit'. It had become something of a tradition. Valerie had only ever seen markets like this during midsummer festivals, never as a regular event. She walked through the crowds marveling at the creativity the residents had put into the market. The lanterns had glass of different colours, changing the colour of the light from the oil soaked wicks. She had to stop several times to buy pastries and mulled wine from different vendors. Her salivating mouth wouldn't have forgiven her if she hadn't. She eventually found herself before small shop that looked like it had what she was looking for. Ducking through the door she emerged in room that was crammed from floor to ceiling with mountaineering equipment. The burly bear behind the counter looked up when she entered.
"Welcome!" he said with a rather toothy smile and a booming voice. "What can I help you with this fine evening?"
"I want to climb the mountain."
"Which one?"
"The one The Obsidian Blade lives on."
The bear didn't stop smiling, but his features seemed to set.
"I'm not sure I follow you."
Valerie sighed. Normally she would engage in a bit of banter, but tonight she was full of pastries and mulled wine, and had no desire save for returning to her room at the inn and sleeping.
"The sign above your shop has a small symbol in the upper right hand corner. Most people would assume it was just a design. I on the other hand, know it is the mark of Horatio of Farmouth, the head of the Northern Raiders."
"Well that's all very pretty miss, but I still have no idea what you're saying." the bear replied. He wasn't smiling anymore.
"Yes you do. You've even got the Raider's brand on your left forearm."
The bear hastily pulled down his sleeves.
"Who the hells are you?" the bear snarled. Valerie noticed one of his hands move slightly along the countertop he stood behind. She sighed again and reached into her top, pulling out the silver fang on its chain.
"This answer your question?" she said
"Why yes. It does in fact."
The curtain behind the counter twitched aside, revealing a rather lavishly dressed red fox beastman.
"I never would have guessed the infamous Silver Fang would pay little old me a visit." He said, looking Valerie up and down with yellow eyes.
"Horatio of Farmouth, I presume?" Valerie asked, tucking the necklace back into her shirt.
"You assume correctly, my dear. I had thought the authorities had finally tracked me down to this little hidey-hole. Now then, how may I help you? I should mention that both myself and the raiders are lying low for a bit."
"I'm after your services as an information broker, actually."
"I see! Burton, fetch me some mulled cider please." The bear nodded and ducked through the curtain, leaving Valerie and Horatio alone.
"I'm after the location of The Obsidian Blade's hideout."
"Yeeess... I heard as much." Horatio said, rubbing his chin. "What could Erathiel's most enigmatic thief want with its most feared killer for hire?"
"That isn't important. What is important is the location of his hideout."
"Indeed."
There was a thud. Horatio looked down at the gold ingot on the counter.
"You understand I don't know his exact location? I only know the most likely location he could be."
There was another thud. Horatio pulled a thin knife from his belt and carefully prodded the leather bag that now lay next to the gold ingot. It made a sound rather similar to very big precious stones.
"The only place he could be is Castle Wintersun. It is an abandoned fortress high in the mountains. The place is ancient. Far older than Fjällborg, although nobody knows quite how old it actually is."
"How do I get to it?"
"By yourself?"
"I'm not stupid. I mean to hire a team."
"You tell anyone you're heading up to Castle Wintersun, and the people in this town will laugh you out of the taverns. It doesn't matter how much gold and gems you throw at them either. Nobody goes up there."
"So how do I get to it?"
"The path is not actually that difficult. There is a road that leads right up the castle."
"So why is it so dangerous? Why does nobody go up there?"
"The Deadlands. They lie on the other side of these mountains and the higher you go, the smaller the barrier is. You'll probably freeze solid before you even reach the castle."
"I have already prepared for that."
"Oh?"
"Suffice it to say, there is a very wealthy mage somewhere in the country, buying more drink and whores than he's ever even seen."
"Clearly your rumoured fortunes exceed even the tales, if you can afford the services of a mage."
Valerie just smiled.
Burton returned with a steaming clay jug and a goblet. He set them down on the counter and left again. The fox poured himself a goblet and took a sip.
"So there you have it. I've told you all I can. I would still advise against it. I hear he doesn't like people trying to follow him."
"Did you hear that after you had people try and follow him?"
"Perhaps. Now then, I shall have a map drawn up for you and sent along to...?"
"The Giant's Toe. Lord's Suite."
"And the name?"
"Lady Jennifer."
"Lady Jennifer?"
"I'm sure you have pseudonyms as well."
"Many. Very well then. I shall have the map sent to you on the morrow."
"My thanks."
"And good luck. You will need it I think."
The next day, at about midday, Valerie sat on the rocky slopes of the mountain, studying the map. Fjällborg was a child's play house below her, each building seemingly shrunk to a fraction of its original size. Valerie had expected it to get colder the higher she climbed, but if anything it had actually got warmer. The bright summer sun was actually having an effect up here. Looking down at the countryside below, she could see why the valley floor was so cold. Fjällborg was shrouded in the near permanent shadow of the mountains. Not the most sensible of places to build a town perhaps, but it was prosperous so it probably didn't matter too much. Folding up the map and placing it in her shoulder bag, Valerie got up and resumed her trek up the mountain. She had bought a sturdy walking stick before leaving the town and was now extremely glad she had. The lower slopes of the mountain were littered with boulders and uneven tracks made by animals and hunters. Walking without the aid of a stout staff would have been much more difficult. Looking up, Valerie could see the snowy slopes of the mountain. Stick or no stick, that was going to be a challenge. She shifted her bag into a more comfortable position. There had been a gift with the map. A set of clothing made from thick furs. It was an overcoat, trousers and a pair of thick gloves with a note saying "You'll be needing these, magical solution or not.". Valerie had confidence in the mage's craft, but she had taken the clothing too. Better to be safe than a frozen corpse at the top of a gods-forsaken mountain.
That night she set up camp in a small cave to shelter from the elements. It was actually a place where two large boulders had fallen together, making a natural stone tent, but Valerie wasn't going to argue semantics when it came to shelter. The ground outside the rocky refuge was covered in a light dusting of snow. The occasional tuft of hardy grass poked through. Valerie sat by her small fire, organizing the things in her pack. If the map was anything to go by, and she was able to keep up her current pace, she should reach the castle in about two days. She reached into the bag and pulled out a small wooden box. She opened it and carefully pulled out the wool padding inside. Glinting in the firelight was an amulet. It was a golden disc connected to a golden chain the air around it rippled slightly, like the road on a hot summer's day. She lifted it out of the box and slipped it over her head. Her body immediately filled with warmth, a soft golden glow spreading over her body that eventually faded into her fur. Clearly it had been money well spent, but it would be truly tested when she reach the real cold. As she lay down to sleep, she looked out into the darkness. Frowning she sat back up and squinted. She was certain she could see two tiny little pinpoints of green light. She blinked and they were gone. Shaking her head she lay back down.
Towards the end of the second day, the castle came into view. Valerie was just able to make it out with the naked eye. A black tower silhouetted against the white snow. It was the third day that things started to get bad. The sky was blue and the sun shone, but no warmth was hitting the snow. Valerie crunched through it, the frozen powder reaching her knees in some places. The weather seemed ideal, but that was the problem. The air was silent save for the sound of Valerie moving through the snow. Everything around her was still and dead. It was also much colder than it should be. At one point she had been climbing a ridge, and on arriving at the top, she met with her first view of The Deadlands. Stretching away from the mountains as far as the eye could see was a dead white plain. There were no features, no trees, no mountains, no settlements, and no animals. There was nothing. A gust of wind had blown in from the Deadlands just then. Valerie had shielded her face, and when she lowered her arm she saw her fur clothes were covered in frost. Brushing it off, she quickly dropped just below the top of the ridge. That had been cold. But not nearly as cold as it was now. A thick blanket of freezing fog had descended on the mountain, reducing visibility to zero. The snow had frozen solid in places, making the going much tougher. Valerie's breath came in short gasps as she stumbled over the hard snow. Her breath turned into fog on leaving her mouth, but as soon as it left her hood, it crystallised and fell to the ground as snow. There was no sound but the sound of her struggles. The eerie silence was almost as bad as the incredible cold. She was sure that if she didn't have the amulet she would have frozen to death by now. Not only that, but she was certain something was following her. Sometimes when she glanced back, she was sure she could see a dark shape in the fog.
Valerie hauled herself up over an icy shelf, and lay gasping in the snow. The air was incredibly thin and it was getting hard to breath. As she lay there, the fog began to clear. The fog was so thick and cold, it trickled past her like a liquid. She watched it rush past her face until it was gone. Pushing herself upright she looked down and saw the fog forming a thick blanket just below the ledge she had climbed over. It looked like a roiling sea of clouds. Turning around and looking up the mountains, she saw the sky above her, it was blue, fading to midnight. She could even see a few stars. How high was she? How long had she been climbing for? Valerie had suspected there was something strange about this mountain, and about that fog. It seemed too... alive. But she could see the castle clearly now. It was built into the side of the mountain. It's black walls shining strangely. She had only ever seen one type of material glisten like that, and that was Donovan's Obsidian dagger. Could the entire castle be made out of the stuff? Just then, a powerful gust of wind blew down the mountain. Valerie dug her claws into the frozen snow to stop her from blowing away. The gust seemed to cut through her thick furs, right down to her bones, making her shiver. Looking up, she shook the frost from her clothes, and tried to move. But she couldn't she tugged her arm, but her claws had become frozen to the snow. She could feel the amulet growing hotter as the magic struggled to fend off the icy cold that was now seeping into her clothes. She could see ice slowly beginning to climb up her glove. With a mighty heave, she ripped her hand from the snow. Panting, she looked at her hand. There was frozen blood on her glove. Looking back at the snow she saw she had left three of her claws behind. Despite the burning pain that was now shooting through her arm. She reached into her furs and pulled out the amulet. She leaned forwards and touched it against the snow trapping her other paw. The amulet began to glow brightly, but the ice refused to melt.
Then with mounting horror Valerie saw the golden glow beginning to fade. The warmth the amulet had been providing was slowly being replaced by freezing cold. She hastily withdrew the amulet from the snow, but as she did so, it shattered in her hand. The cold hit her like a physical blow. She collapsed onto the snow. She could feel ice beginning to spread up her legs and over her arms. She tried to move but the extreme cold was rapidly draining her strength. She was also finding it really hard to breath now. Like the cold was sucking air out of her lungs. She drew as much breath as she could into her lungs, and screamed. She screamed for as long and as loudly as she was able. Her breath spent, and with blackness darkening her vision, she slumped into the snow.
A strange noise awoke Valerie. She didn't want to wake up. She felt warm and comfortable. Then she remembered the thing that made her pass out was being frozen alive. She was suddenly fully conscious. She jerked up, but found herself oddly restrained. Her surroundings were dark, but her feline eyes began to adjust quickly.
"Shield your eyes."
"Wha-... D-Donovan? Is that you?"
"Shield your eyes."
Valerie did as she was told. Even with her eyes closed she saw the light come on. She slowly opened her eyes, giving them time to adjust to the light. The room she was in slowly swam into focus. And it was a very strange room. Everything was white and smooth. All the surfaces were rounded, and sections of the walls and ceilings appeared to be illuminated. She looked down and saw she was encased in some kind of white padded pod, with only her head uncovered. She assumed this was the thing keeping her warm. Donovan stood in one corner of the room, his hand on an illuminated panel. He took his hand away and the panel faded from view. He was wearing a long silvery robe, it was held closed by a loosely tied silver sash. It was strange to see him in anything other than leather and dirt. There was something strange about this room too. It smelled too like... sweet alcohol? But not like the alcohol you would drink, somehow.
"Where am I?"
"My home. You finally found it, even after I told you not too. It nearly killed you too."
"But you must have rescued me."
"I did. You were nearly dead when I found you. Fortunately I got to you before the ice got further than your knee."
"What do you mean? My leg feels fine."
Donovan sighed. He walked over to a counter and a glowing blue rectangle appeared in front of him. It looked like some kind of illusion. The surface of the rectangle was crawling with strange symbols and lines. Donovan touched an area of the rectangle and a small square area glowed red. The pod around Valerie opened and folded away. She looked down at herself. She was wearing a white robe, similar to what Donovan was wearing. But that didn't grab her attention. She looked down at her legs and her eyes widened. Then she remembered what had happened to her hands, and she brought them up too. She gasped.
"W-what... happened?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"The ice had already destroyed parts of your body. I had to amputate and replace them."
"M-my hands... my... legs..."
"To be more specific" Your right foot up to the ankle, your left leg up to the knee, your left hand up to the wrist, your right arm up to the shoulder, your right ear and your right eye."
Valerie was speechless. Her mouth hung open slightly. The 'replacements' Donovan was talking about were made out of some kind of black metal. They looked like a strange, figure hugging armour.
"But... I can feel with these! My fingers... look! They move like my normal fingers! And my toes! And... and I can hear and see normally! Not even magic can make fake body parts like that!"
"That's because this isn't magic."
"Then what is it?"
"Ah... that will take some explaining. Follow me."
Valerie carefully swung her legs off the bed, placing her weight gingerly on her strange metal feet. They clicked against the floor, but she could feel she was standing on the floor. Taking an experimental step, she found her limbs responding like normal limbs. She carefully pushed up the loose white sleeve of her robe. Her entire arm was made from the same, impossibly sleek black armour. She could see the unbelievably intricate joints what allowed her arm to move. The armour flowed over contours like her flesh and blood arm, giving the impression of muscle under skin. She cautiously prodded her metal arm with her flesh and blood hand. It even felt hard like armour. She looked up at Donovan, who was waiting for her by a door she was certain hadn't been there a moment ago. She quickly followed him, her feet clicking on the floor. They emerged into a strange corridor. Unlike the white room, the corridor was different. All the surfaces were still smooth, but they were plain metal, or at least they looked like plain metal. She followed Donovan down the corridor to a door at the end. The door slid silently open as he approached. The room beyond was large, but dimly lit.
"Lights." Donovan said.
The room lit up. The ceilings and floors were white, but the walls were black, with panels in them that lit up with the strange symbols. There were strange glass cylinders lining the walls, and odd metal ropes and pipes ran across the ceiling to these tanks. There were workstations with neatly organized devices of strange design. While Valerie was marveling at the strangeness of the room, Donovan had walked to the middle of the room and removed his robe. He had his back to Valerie when she turned around.
"You know, as nice as your arse is, what the bloody hells are you doing?" She asked
Donovan's skin rippled. The pinkish colour changing to shiny silver.
"First of all... I am not human. Nor am I like any creature in this world."
His voice had changed. It sounded like it did when he wore his mask. The silver skin began to recede. Valerie was put in mind of quicksilver, sloshing around in it's strange way in an alchemists flask. Valerie watched in wonder as the silver fluid washed away revealing the same black armour that replaced her limbs. Except it were not just an arm and a leg. Donovan was made out of the stuff. The silver was all gone now. Leaving what was underneath. Skin peeled back, Donovan turned. He was wearing the mask Valerie had seen him wear in Olvar. Then she realised the truth. This was his face. The glowing green eyes fixed on her as she stared, open mouthed at him. It looked like armour, and even fitted together like armour, but it couldn't be. It was too form fitting. He looked like... like...
"Are... are you some kind of automaton?" She asked slowly.
"No. And at the same time yes." He replied. The four small slits were his mouth should have been lit up when he spoke.
Valerie continued to stare. In the center of his chest was a golden hexagon. From each corner of the hexagon ran a golden line, tracing out angular paths on his body. The line from the tip of the hexagon ran up his chest and neck, coming to a stop just below his 'mouth'. The two corners at the top of the hexagon sent lines up across his chest, over his shoulders and down his arms, forming circles around his elbows and splitting into five lines as they ran over his hands and ended at his finger tips. The two bottom corners of the hexagon sent lines down over his abdomen and down his legs. The same pattern on his arms repeated with his legs, with circles around the knees and lines terminating at each toe. The final line from the bottom tip of the hexagon ran down his chest and abdomen, and ended just at his waist. A pulse of green light emanated from the central hexagon, running down the golden lines and illuminating them all with a faint green glow. This, along with the glowing eyes and mouth gave him a somewhat ethereal look.
"You... I..."
"Speechless?" Donovan asked
Valerie nodded.
"Then I think now would be a good time to tell you everything."