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imnotwolverine · 4 years

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The Last Wish

Geralt of Rivia drabble

Listen to: Vaughan Williams - The Lark Ascending

Author’s note: I finished the Witcher 3 and now I feel both happy..and sad. So have some sad fluff on this dreary Sunday ❤️*dreams of living in a vineyard with Geralt*

Word count: 1.650

‘So what do you want?’

He shrugged at the sorceress, golden eyes slowly fluttering shut. ‘It doesn’t matter what I want, Yen.’

‘Oh come on.’ Her elegant finger poked into his side before she flopped onto his chest, that same finger now tracing over his stubble.

Grinning, a low purr escaped his lips. But he didn’t answer. ‘And you?’

‘Hmm.’ She lowered her head to listen to his slow and steady heartbeat. ‘I want everything.’

—

A bird watched the Witcher as he heard the slow rumble of hooves in the distance, their eyes meeting in shared curiosity. The bird being curious for this strange white haired man that had taken residence just weeks earlier. And the Witcher for the clatter of hooves.

Her tiny head tilted sideways as she studied him better. A sweaty brow, disheveled hair, marred and scarred skin that belied his long and lonely life before he settled down here. Her master now.

‘You gonna help me?’ His low voice asked kindly - for such a large man he seemed gentle enough.

The bird remained a moment longer as her head now tilted the other way.

‘Hmm.’ His lips curled in a careful smile. Perhaps he had just made a friend.

‘Milord!’

Nope. There she went, off again, like they always do. The voice calling for him circled in the hot wind as he raised to his feet, finding that it was one of his staff members; the skinny man who had kept up this estate before he had arrived. A good man. But he was obviously not used to a lord like Geralt, his nervous eyes flying over Geralt’s soiled clothing and sweaty brow.

‘Eh..there’s a..visitor, my lord.’

‘A visitor?’ The Witcher wiped his brow as he walked back out of the long green rows, shovel in hand.

‘Aherm..Yes.’ The man eyed his lord’s clothing again. ‘..a lady..’

—

I want everything.

—

A lady. Ciri? Triss? Yen? ..Yen…

His calm Witcher-heart jumped with a dizzying mix of hurt and hope. Could it be? Could it be?! Hastily he peeled off his shirt, throwing it in the general direction of the laundry room before he skid up the steps to his rooms.

‘I’ll be a minute.’ He called over his shoulder, the stairs creaking beneath his heavy footfall.

The stately house was still in dire need of repair, walls brittle and cracks everywhere. But; it was a home. And after long, long years of living in the bitter and gritty conditions of the outdoors, every crumbling wall was more of an opportunity than a problem.

Quickly, the Witcher retrieved some fresh clothing, his rough hands pushing back the loosened strands of hair in his face. Could it be her?

—

‘You are my everything, Yen.’ He whispered, sleep carrying him off after months of insomnia.

—

It had been months, nearly a year, since he had last seen any of them. So, when the hooded figure stepped away from her regal looking horse, Geralt knew none the better who stood here before him.

Could it be her?

‘I like what you’ve done with the place.’ Her sarcastic tongue cut through the silence and thrilled his heart, two violet eyes finding his from behind her richly decorated hood, lips curling into a mischievous smile.

‘Yen.’ He breathed, catching her frame in a perhaps too enthusiastic hug, her mouth letting out a shrill squeak.

For a long moment he just focused on the soft hum of her heart and the scent of lilac and gooseberries. For a moment he had everything, all his wishes fulfilled.

‘Is it okay if I..Geralt! Stop that. If I stay for the night?’ She swatted his arm as a toothy grin stretched on his face.

‘You know you don’t have to ask.’

‘I’m asking you anyways.’ She shrugged, stepping out of the stables and into the sun, her dark tresses dancing in the soft wind, carrying with it that scent.

—

Everything.

—

Darkness caressed them, but he couldn’t sleep. His honeyed eyes watched, lingered, burned. Hoped that if he didn’t blink, she wouldn’t leave. But much too soon birds started to twitter and life as usual returned. Without her, probably. They always leave.

‘Morning.’ A dreamy finger caressed his chest before her eyes cracked open. Enchantingly purple in the low light. ‘You look terrible.’

Ever truthful, this sorceress.

Humming, Geralt shifted somewhat, relieving the ache in his sleeping limbs.

‘You didn’t sleep, hmm?’

He shook his head, refusing to address reality just a moment longer, his eyes just watching her.

The sorceress propped herself up and let that same finger now travel underneath the sheets, following the trail of hair that covered his pale chest. ‘I dreamt of us.’ Her voice was still low and husky.

‘Mmm.’ The Witcher’s tired eyes near skittishly found her gaze, her brows furrowing with a teasing pout.

‘Do you really hate being a lord so much that all you can do is scowl?’ She playfully tilted her head. Like that bird, eyes studying him, while all he did was listen, his ears pricking at the expected sound of horse hooves in the distance. This time not coming, but going, taking with them her. Yen.

But no, she was still here, beneath his fingertips. Just don’t blink, Geralt, don’t blink.

‘I don’t.’ He finally sighed, wrapping her in his arms once more, detesting the thought of her leaving.

Without protest her soft form snuggled back into his embrace, her black curls being twirled between his fingers. Her scent enchanted him and her lips peppered a few airy kisses onto his chest. Like she always did. But it wasn’t enough. Never enough. She’d always leave.

‘You know, I like it here.’ She decided in between soft kisses, her legs now moving to straddle his hip, the sheets sliding down to reveal more olive skin. He burned the beautiful image into his eyes, keeping it locked in his heart, for safe-keeping.

‘You do?’ Geralt muttered, her lips now travelling up, offering him a soft and gentle kiss. So much unlike her spunky character.

‘Perhaps I could stay a while longer..’ Her voice drifted off as she looked into his eyes, those long fingers of her now brushing aside his hair - even though it wasn’t really in the way.

‘I’d like that.’ The Witcher admitted, a hand catching hers so he could kiss her palm.

‘Hmm.’ It was her moment to turn quiet for a moment, both their eyes just gazing, relearning the shapes and lines of each others’ faces. ‘You know what I dreamt about?’

He shook his head, a slow smile finally crawling back up his lips. She was staying a little while longer.

‘I was a bird, drifting in the winds. Until finally I found a vineyard. A little haunted, but it was nothing a Witcher couldn’t fix.’ Her lips also curled into a smile mimicking his. ‘And then I decided it’d make for a nice place to nest.. Even birds need a home you see.’ They both chuckled.

‘A nest? With all your clothes? Must’a been a big one.’ The Witcher teased, earning himself a poke to the chest before the sorceress melted back into his chest, his arms wrapping safely around her, keeping her close. ‘And then what happened?’

‘Then I woke up in a vineyard, with a Witcher in my arms.’

‘Lucky man.’

‘Indeed. And I’m a very lucky woman.’ Her long fingers raked a ticklish path up his ribs, making him sniffle. The quiet morning breezed in through the window, the soft twitter of birds reaching their ears.

A new day was here. And at least for today she’d stay.

Listening to the Witcher’s heartbeat, the sorceress hesitated. ‘I’ve been thinking. Since the djinn was chased off and all...’ The Witcher didn’t respond, though his heart seemed to jump in his chest.

She continued: ‘I still feel it you know.’

‘The djinn?’

‘Ugh. No you silly!’ She settled back up, ‘Us.’

—

‘Do you still feel it?’ The Witcher eyed the sorceress, her eyes gazing out over the snow-covered valley, the icy winds spewing around them.

‘Maybe we should..’ She shrugged and eyed him for a moment. ‘..kiss? To see if it’s..different?’

‘We could do that.’ He already settled closer before the words left his mouth.

The abandoned boat atop these mountains made for an unlikely place of romance and first kisses. But the two lovers didn’t care much. With the winds howling and magic crackling, two hesitant pairs of lips tasted change. It was both different, but also the same, their destinies no longer entwined by the force of Djinns. Just simple, unbridled love.

..Right?

—

‘You mean that?’ His brows furrowed.

‘I do, Geralt. And I’m sorry for leaving you after...’ Her voice trailed off for a moment. ‘I would have given you my last wish too you see....Had I owned one.’ She shrugged lightly. Geralt smiled. Oh, she sure had WANTED to have that last wish. It had been a long obsession to get a child of her own someday. The more silly it was that it was the Witcher who had not only taken the Last Wish, but also got to take care of one white haired princess; Ciri. A surprise, indeed.

Now, with Ciri grown, the Djinn gone and the of them both looking back at well lived lives, one question remained.

‘So what do you want?’ Her question was the same, but his answer different. The sorceresses hands entangled with his as she smiled down at him and the Witcher smiled back. He had thought of her question often, but life didn’t seemed to offer many re-do’s. Especially in love. The more happy he was that she was here and there was no Djinn to mess with them. Him and Yen. The Witcher and the sorceress. His smile grew.

‘You.’

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #drabble #the witcher #blood and wine #geralt of rivia #yen #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt x yen #the last wish #vineyard #and now what am i supposed to do with my life #ugly cries #soft!geralt

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years

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A Hero Among Us-Chapter 13

Previous Chapters on AO3 A special thanks to @statell for all the help

Chapter Thirteen

Warning: Explicit sex

Jamie ordered the entire compound locked down for three days of rest. Every man was torn back with dark hollow eyes. Even Misses Crook looked exhausted and walked to her rooms like a zombie. The rain had stopped for now and Jaime bravely pulled his shirt off and jumped into the frigid lake running the soap over him In haste and jumping out quickly. Claire brought towels to her husband and appreciated his gesture knowing they would be chasing their own piece of heaven and the smell of a clean Jamie was a fast track for her.

The men had moved all of their personal belongings to the new house and there was no reason to ever go back unless they wanted to retrieve the moldy dishes left in the kitchen sink. Jamie watched the men joke their way to the cabins, always lighthearted and too tough to be daunted by any task. He felt immense pride in his kinsmen and vowed to do right by them financially. He felt his wife pulling him to the house where he would show her no mercy taking what he needed from her. He felt a shiver of anticipation race down his spine and sting his balls.

There was something magical about their new bed. The mattress was firm and supportive making him forget his own name at times. The sheets were made from the highest cotton fiber count making them soft and cool to bare flesh. He kissed Claire from her knee to her core, very slowly making her back arch and spread her legs wantonly. Claire dug her fingers into Jamie’s hair and wondered why he was taking so much time.

“Jamie darling, I need you now, please don’t make me wait.”

Jamie was wedged between her thighs an inch from her core snoring loudly.

Claire pressed her hand to her lips to keep the sound of her laughter from waking him. She pulled her legs away from his head and covered him with a sheet before opening the french doors to the gorgeous spring day. She knew he would sleep better if the air was cool in the room. She felt powerful arms reach for her pulling her to his chest, still sound asleep, the man knew he wanted her close to him, conscious or not. Jamie would wake after sleeping through the day and half the night with a hunger for his bride. He worshiped her body for hours sending her on multiple trips into the erotic wind. With the dawn, he growled her name before collapsing into another day-long sleep.

Fortunately Misses Crook was up to receive the fresh fish and turkeys brought by the industrious men who needed meat, and a lot of it. She had three turkeys roasting outside and the fish frying in the kitchen by mid-afternoon.

Cho staked out his enormous garden and was turning the rich black soil to make ready for the seed that was donated by the nearby farms. The owners would have blushed with pride at their own generosity if they knew anything about it. He chose a spot that got full morning sun and he anticipated a huge bounty of tomatoes, corn, squash, lettuce, cauliflower, peppers, and more. Cho was happier than he could ever remember being. He understood the weight of his position here and was grateful for the trust placed on him.

Claire slipped quietly to the nursery and held the stuffed bear to her chest feeling the tears and the pain of her heartbreak. She curled up in the corner surrounded by all the discarded toys and cried her eyes out. The blood this morning was proof of what she already knew. No baby grew deep within her. It was the only thing that would heal this orphan, a family or her own, a child she would never leave, a completion to her own story.

Jamie woke to a gut-wrenching hunger and followed the aroma to the kitchen looking for Claire. He filled his plate and checked in with the men while he ate, still looking for his wife. Returning to the kitchen he looked at Claire’s false smile and swollen eyes and his heart broke. He would never reveal his disappointment to her because she was already so sad with the confirmation she was not pregnant, again. He tried to pull her out for a walk around the property but she returned to their bed to grieve in private.

Jamie walked in the fields that surrounded their property for hours. Just before he stepped on their land again he felt something poke him in the back. He was so lost in his thoughts it caught him off guard and he froze, lifting his arms in surrender. The bloke was taking his time and Jamie felt his anger rise over the assault. He twisted and viciously struck out at the man hearing the scared scream of a horse right before he was launched off his feet by a swift kick to his chest. He watched a white stallion gallop away, swinging its head in anger and kicking into the air. “That is one beautiful horse.”

Jamie held his wife through the night hoping she would find her joy again. Just as he did every month as they lived their heartbreak separately, alone.

For the next two weeks, Jamie brought fresh hay out to where he was accosted by the horse and replenished what had been eaten the night before. He suspected the horse belonged to the previous owners and wanted his comfy stall and daily feed again. Jamie kicked himself for scaring the beast half to death and hoped he could lure it back to the life it was meant to have.

The soft April breeze was warm and scented against Jamie’s face. He sat on the porch off their bedroom and looked at the vineyard below. The first thing he did every morning and the last thing every night was to check the vines. He never considered they wouldn’t grow, it never occurred to him. Now it was all he thought about because the new growth was three weeks late. Ben was away seeing friends and Jamie needed him back before he lost his mind.

The month of May arrived to double Jamie's anxiety over the vines. He stroked Donus and gave both horses a morning apple suddenly feeling his skin start to crawl and his back muscles tense like someone was there and watching him. He could feel this presence, above him, in the hayloft, but continued about his chores. Another five minutes and he definitely saw something move through the cutout above the stalls for hay distribution. Grabbing a rake he brought the claw end down on the edge of the hayloft making a terrible sound. He heard a squeak and dropped the rake to climb into the loft and kill the varmint. Seeing the shadow of something under a pile of hay he viciously grabbed at it shocked to feel a shoe and pulled it away from the hay.

“What are ye doing in my hayloft?”

Long soft curls covered a cowering head. The shirt was torn and the pants were filthy. The shoes had a large hole in the top.

“I asked ye a question, what are ye doing in my hayloft?” Realizing it was just a child he toned his voice down and spoke quietly. When the child raised his head, large blue eyes looked at him from a heavy fringe of lashes. The fear in his eyes seemed to disappear as the boy sat up and started yelling in French. Jamie laughed at the youth.

“So, ye say this is yer land and I am the trespasser? Why think such a thing, ye’re a child. Where are your parents?”

The boy knew he was risking being turned over to the authorities who would lock him into an orphanage which to him was more like a prison. He switched to his broken English and endeavored to look angelic to the man.

“I live here and work for the lady until they left. She told me to go home and I came to the barn after she let the horses go. I have been here ever since but you did not see me, milord, because I am too fast.” The child laughed at that and Jamie bristled at the thought of being observed covertly.

“How do you eat?”

“I steal food and have done so from you milord but I can work for meals and I am very hungry right now.”

The aroma of food cooking filled the air and Jamie was not surprised it made the child’s stomach growl. There was more to learn from this boy but seeing his flesh on bones he decided to feed him before turning him over to the Sheriff.

“C’mon let’s get ye fed. Ye mind yer manners and don’t steal anything or I’ll tan yer hide before givin ye to the law.”

The boy had to strain his neck to see Jamie’s face and he realized he was seeing his first giant which was almost as thrilling as eating. Jamie kept the child away from the Highlanders so he could learn more about how a tiny French boy ended up in America, alone. The kid explained he stowed away on the first ship available when he was running away from an angry merchant. He ate the apples in his pockets and fell asleep until nightfall when he planned to escape but the ship was already moving toward the open sea. He stole food and picked up a bit of English watching the passengers from his hiding place below deck.

“I stayed in the dark for a year, milord and when I could stand it no more I snuck out in daylight because I had to see the sun. A girl saw me just as I was running back to hide. She did not tell but brought me food each day after that.” The boy smiled while stuffing food in his mouth, “she had love for me,” and then he laughed almost choking in the process. Jaime slapped him on the back until he calmed down and started eating again.

“Ye werna on the ship for a year, maybe it felt that long but it wasna.”

“Yes, it was a year.”

“The captain would have to miss America and sail all the way around the world for it to take a year.” Jamie was not used to someone questioning his word and it was making him angry.

Claire saw Jamie sitting in the kitchen and went to him smiling, “Jamie darling, I have been looking for …” She looked at the child who had a drumstick hanging out of his mouth and a spoonful of beans ready to shovel in. His round face and pale blue eyes seemed to enchant her until she found her voice.

“And who is our visitor?”

“What’s yer name kid?” Jamie’s voice was gruff and impatient earning him a cold look from Claire.

“Claudel, milord.”

“Did yer mother give ye that name?”

“I suppose, I did not know which one she was so I could not ask her. The madam allowed me to sleep under the stairs and the ladies all treated me the same, so I never knew. One of the girls died of fever and I cried, just in case it was my mother.”

Claire was horrified at what she heard. This poor child brought up in a brothel without the care of a mother. She looked at the angelic child and wanted to cry for him.

“You need more food young man. Which is your favorite? I swear you are skin on bones.”

“I like all of it, milady, thank you.” The boy looked into the angry eyes of the giant and tried to redeem himself.

“Six carriages have arrived at the other home milord.”

“How would you know anything about our other home, boy?”

“I see everything milord.”

“Do ye now? Are the vines at the old house growing new shoots yet?”

The boy laughed and pointed at Jamie. “This can never be milord they look normal now but they are dead.”

Jamie’s heart rate shot up as he realized this child had seen them steal the vines and replace them. He now had a keen interest in making him an ally.

“So, ye say ye work for food, how would you like to work here and we keep ye fed?”

“Thank you, milord, you are a savior to me!”

Claire completely missed the hidden threat of their exposure as she was contemplating what to do with the child. “Well, Mister Claudel, you are too young to be outside. Misses Crook will find you a suitable room in the house and you will start your lessons tomorrow.” She looked at Jamie nod his agreement. “Starting with a bath and clean clothes, let’s go.” She motioned for him to follow her and before they were out of sight, the boy turned to Jamie.

“I have watched long enough to see you are good people, I would not have told what I know.”

Jamie just stared at him feeling very manipulated by the little genius. He felt angry and called after the boy, “ye have the name of a lass and I willna use it. From now on yer name is Fergus and ye better jump when ye called.”

“Yes, milord,” was heard from down the hall.

Misses Crook took over scrubbing the child and locked him in the bathroom while she altered some clothing found in the attic. When Fergus emerged for dinner he looked like a respectable boy except for the intelligent gleam in his eye. After supper, Fergus was sent to bed and was out the window and running before the bedroom door clicked closed. He ran into the fields that surrounded the property and whistled a couple of times before a beautiful white horse came out of the brush and stopped in front of him. He stroked its neck and the horse looked behind him and whinnied. Jamie watched the boy from the shadows and gasped as another horse approached Fergus with a very young filly. All three were the same color white and breathtaking. Fergus gave each adult an apple he had stolen from the kitchen and the baby allowed him to stroke her. Jamie watched with interest and followed but once the sunset, he lost him in the dark and gave up. He would say nothing about this until he learned more about the little thief.

The moon rose in the sky providing enough light for Jamie to see the outline of the boy coming back. He held one large, moving sack and a smaller one in the other hand. He set the big sack down every ten or so steps like it was too heavy to carry. Jamie watched him disappear into the barn and when he came out he secured the door behind him. Fergus looked up at the second floor until he spotted one curtain closed, the other open, and knew which room was his.

“Gettin back up isna so easy. Maybe we plant a sturdy ladder to ease yer nightly shenanigans, aye?”

Fergus spun toward Jamie, wide-eyed and terrified. “I’m sorry milord. I had a dark job to do for Misses Crook. She misses her chickens and is sad without them, so I got them for her, they are in the barn.”

The boy talked so fast Jamie could barely understand him. He walked to the barn and there were five chickens pecking at scratch, also brought by Fergus, he assumed.

“Goodnight Fergus. I’m sure ye’ll find a way back up there by morning.”

Jamie was exhausted and couldn’t wait to see his wife. He felt the heavy weight of his responsibilities every day and he didn’t like the complication of the little thief under their roof. He prayed for tolerance, patience, and a means to ingratiate the lad before he figured out how to blackmail them. He rubbed his forehead and counted the stairs left to climb.

Head back, eyes closed he let his thoughts drift in and out, seeing memories of Claire bundled up on the swing kissing his cheek because she could not speak. He smiled, and suddenly his eyes slammed open with a gasp shooting him to his feet so fast he felt dizzy. How could they leave it behind! The swing was still at the old property. He needed to get it back, right away and hoped it had not been noticed by the Randalls. He crept out the backdoor to retrieve the raft holding the lamp up trying to find the rope.

“What are ye doin?”

Jamie nearly shot right out of his skin and almost dropped the lamp. “Christ, Angus, I think yer tryin to kill me sneakin up like that.” Jamie tried to control his ramming heart. “ Since yer here, yer comin with me.”

“Can I come too?”

Jamie whirled on a black figure hunkered down about twenty paces away. He saw the red cheeks first as Rupert stood up and walked toward them. He tipped his bucket of crayfish at the other two men and chuckled. “Where might ye be goin?”

Jamie rolled his eyes and told them about getting the swing for Claire as he pulled the rafts out of the water grass and to the shore. Jamie held his heart and the other two men talked like friends, or maybe enemies, Fergus couldn’t be sure. Crouched low to the ground he peered around the corner of the house and watched them. The men made enough noise to wake the dead, he decided, and when they faced forward to row he snuck quietly onto the third raft and laid down very still.

Fergus was thrilled with his trip across the water. The dark shoreline could barely be seen and the houses stood as black squares in the distance. He felt very lucky these men did fun things like this.

At the opposite shore, Jaime turned around to tie the raft and the sight of Fergus smiling and waving filled him with rage. Fergus jumped from raft to raft until he stood in front of Jamie looking up and smiling. Jamie glared angrily and wondered what kind of message was in the boy’s smiling eyes and face. He had no idea but decided to surrender and stop trying to control the lad. “Keep quiet or ye swim back.”

The white swing was clearly visible in the moonlight and Jamie felt relief it was still there. They worked fast and when the chains came down Jamie caught them quietly. They placed the swing on the raft without taking it apart. They all felt a bit nervous and decided to get away from this shore as quickly as possible.

Jamie pushed his oar deep into the water and felt his beefy back muscles pull it through. He looked back at Fergus holding the swing like it might fall off the raft. Jamie smiled at him and kept rowing. Back at their own shore, he found a perfect secluded yard to hang the swing and hoped Claire would be happy to have it back. Three men and a boy disbanded to their beds happy with the night’s work.

The next morning the butler walked toward the house and noticed the big swing was gone. He pointed to it but none of the servants could remember it being there. Just before noon, Frank senior stood up and stretched asking his wife if she was going to pull her worthless ass out of bed today. She didn’t answer him causing his blood to boil. In a rage, he pushed her from behind and her body was lifeless, literally, she was dead.

Jamie’s eyes opened to a room full of sunshine, one of the rare days his exhaustion won the battle with his eyelids. He wandered outside to check the vines and saw a dozen men throughout vines looking closely at the arms of the plant. Jamie started running feeling a huge relief. The men were smiling as Jamie reached a vine and dropped to his knees to scrutinize the tiny bumps that had grown overnight. A heavy hand came down on his shoulder snapping him back.

“Looks like I got here just in time.”

Jamie looked up at Ben and shook his head no. It was indeed a miracle to know the vines were alive but the budding was a month late. The grapes would never be ready in time. “They are growin too late in the spring Ben.”

“Nonsense! I’ve seen this before after a transplant and mother nature will… ah heck, I don’t want to spoil it for ya!”

“Wait…Ben, it’s alright, I dinna mind if ye spoil it for me.”

Ben smiled indulgently at Jamie. “It will take about a month for the new growth to catch up to vines that started in April. It’s one of nature's miracles, she does not like waste. Speaking of waste, I purchased ten acres of two-year-old vines from the natives on my way back. The vines are already out of the ground and will arrive later today. It’s a long time to be away from the earth but hopefully, we can save some of them and add to the vineyard.”

Jamie’s head was spinning from all he heard in the last ten minutes and Ben saw the vacant expression on his young face.

“These vines are Cabernet Sauvignon and I have a hunch this variety will be very popular. We need to augar at least ten acres on the hills. You might want to ring the bell and get us moving!”

Jamie looked at Ben and suddenly understood. His eyes got huge and he ran for the bell ringing it for all he was worth. As the men gulped porridge and grabbed toast they ran for the equipment barn finding ten augars. Other men were splitting wood for stabilizing poles. Jamie saddled Brimstone to ride into town for supplies.

The same symptoms gripped him with each trip to town. The darkness that invaded his mind laying waste to any joy that had been there, a pounding head, itching hands, and a locked site-Line to the bank where his enemy still drew a salary and a breath. He felt his feet moving and tried to stop himself but this was long overdue. It was time to settle a score and he felt giddy relief it would be over soon. He took a seat and waited, allowing gruesome fantasies about the killing fill his head. He finally asked the manager where Rodney Benson was. The manager lowered his voice saying he was found dead behind the bank four months prior. The killer was never caught. Jamie thanked him and left, passing Frank Randall senior, unbeknownst, on his way out.

Through the summer, the vines grew, the berry clusters were thinned, mother nature was cooperative with healthy amounts of rain, no droughts, and no floods. Misses Randall was buried next to her son. Randall senior and his servants gave up when the vines did not grow and returned to England.

Ned formalized the deed from Romania and filed a new deed in Claire’s name for the old property. She was free to inhabit the house and land, grow and sell her crop, and would hand it over if her husband's surviving family came to claim it. She and Jamie owned both shores and would make the most of them in the coming years.

When Ned returned to the vineyard in late July he requested Jamie and Claire accompany him into town in their best clothes. Misses Crook made a masterpiece of Claire’s hair in the current style and pinned a fancy hat with a large feather to her hair. The dress she wore was one of her best from London. Jamie helped his wife into the carriage to sit with Ned while he and Fergus drove the horses to town.

Thinking their surprise would be dinner at the best restaurant in the region the moods were happy and celebratory. Ned pounded on the roof of the carriage and guided Jamie down a side road. Jamie brought the horses to a stop and looked at the commercial photographer’s building. His heart squeezed so hard he clutched his chest and looked down at Ned helping Claire out of the carriage. When he jumped down the men exchanged a knowing look and Jamie clutched Ned’s hand as if to stop him from leaving.

“Jamie, I came to San Francisco two years ago to find you, or find out what happened to you. It is time for me to return to Scotland and I will make your sister a very happy lady.” Ned looked down and struggled with his emotions. “I am rather invested in your lives now so promise you will write to me. Tears are not good in pictures but I see your love and it is returned. Your father would be so proud of the man you’ve become, you are the best man I’ve known besides Brian, and I hope you never change.”

Jamie was fighting weird and sad emotions that were very foreign to him, or so he thought. Sorrow, abandonment, a final goodbye, a loss in his soul he could drive a train through. He could barely remember a time when Ned was not standing next to his father. It was like having his father back when Ned was there and he didn’t want it to end.

As memories of the past year filled his head he realized that Ned was the driving force to leave their vineyard and move the plants, Ned pushed them to find a new property, Ned found the Romanians, Ned filed the legal papers to secure their claim. Ned came halfway around the world to find him and now it was time to go back.

“Thank ye, Ned. Ye saved us and gave us the best advice. I am grateful and sad to see ye leave. Please tell Jenny I love her and we will visit in three years' time.” Jamie hugged Ned and hoped it would last a lifetime.

For the next hour, they were blinded by flashes of exploding chemicals as the photographer took multiple pictures, including one with Fergus between them.

When Claire finally let go of Ned, Fergus helped her into the carriage. The two men exchanged a long look and a handshake and Ned watched the carriage roll toward their home. The angle of the sun bounced off Jamie’s copper hair until the horizon swallowed them.

Claire cried as she bathed alone. She would miss Ned more deeply than the others knew because he had become like a father in her mind. She imagined her father was just like him; smart, loving, funny, and intensely protective. Realizing Jamie’s heartache would be far greater she ran her special soap over her skin. The scent made Jamie putty in her hands and she would love the sadness from him. She pulled her special robe around her body and combed through her long coils fluffing it around her face.

The bedroom door opened and Jamie looked at his gorgeous wife as she walked toward him. She sat facing him across his lap and prayed he would let her love him. Jamie held her tentatively.

“I need ye lass,” he whispered.

His eyes flicked up to hers and he twisted, lowering her to the bed. Pulling the ties of her robe he let his eyes see every inch of her. He noticed her chest rise and fall with arousal and he knew a kernel of thought planted in her fertile mind would grow without tending. She has been thinking about loving me and her body is ready to chase her release, he thought. He brought his nose to her skin, between her breasts and filled his lungs with her scent feeling his erection snap to attention. He gently pressed her hands to her side when she tried to take control. “Please give me your body, Sassenach, I need ye, my heart hurts as if my own da was leavin me again. He caressed her from neck to core and watched the movement of her ample breasts as his fingers drew closer to her trigger.

“I’m sorry Sassenach,” he whispered. “To relieve my heartache, you must suffer.”

His hot mouth covered her nipple and his tongue danced lazily across it. For the next hour, he held her hands above her head as he touched, tapped, and sucked every inch of her. Claire felt her orgasm was close, brought on by flexing her thighs together. She started to close her eyes and felt it suck her in until Jamie pushed her legs apart with a deep kiss that said: “not yet,there is more I want to touch.” He lifted her body and turned her over, running his hand over her beautiful butt. Pressing his hand under her he gave a stimulating rub that made her moan and move her hips toward him.

“Open yer legs, lass, let me in.”

Jamie grabbed a fist full of hair and thrust into her body, holding her against him. Claire gasped loudly and waited, hoping he would release the pent up arousal caused by his slow loving. He pushed into her several times and wrapped his arm across her chest lifting her to him, back to chest, pushing her legs open with his knees. It was a slave position where he could hold her down and thrust up into her reaching depths that threatened her sanity and his. He pulled out of her abruptly and was under her before she cleared the lust haze that was holding down her brain. He looked up at her smooth flat stomach, the swell of her breasts, hard nipples, head thrown back in ecstasy.

The Sassenach had many sides to her. With Fergus, the men, the horses, or Ben, there was a little shift in her personality to best embrace that moment in time. Throughout, her impeccable manners and grace defined her. Not here. When he pushed her sexually she became a polar opposite of his refined wife. She was a sensual being, needy, greedy, taking what she wanted to feed a hunger only he could satisfy. The contrasting personalities were an endless source of fascination to him.

“Look at me Sassenach. Watch me lick you and hold back as long as you can. If you look away I will stop, love. Tell me yer ready.”

“Ready, yes ready!” She panted and watched Jamie’s tongue claim her inside and out. She was losing her grip and dropped her head back and closed her eyes ready for the release and then nothing. “No!” She moaned “Pleeease Jamie.” She opened her legs even more and looked down at her protruding bud hovering right above his lips. “Open your mouth,” it sounded like an order and Jamie smiled, opening his mouth and pushing his tongue against her core. “Suck it,” was a harsh whisper. His lips closed around it and she felt the brain spinning sensation of his expert attention. When she had completely lost her mind he flipped her and invaded her body with fingers and tongue until she screamed his name for a solid minute. Before she landed back on earth he was able to spin her again and her pussy was stuffed with an over-aroused cock and a voice was telling her to make him come. “Now Sassenach, grind on me, slam yer pussy down on me. Do it. Make me come.” Claire was still half out of her mind and Jamie’s demands fueled her arousal again. Claire leaned far back and brought her feet forward. She touched him where they joined and Jamie pressed into her making her gasp. He looked down and almost lost it, seeing an erotic image he would never forget. Claire was chasing another orgasm and seemed to know exactly what she needed. “Touch it!” Jamie set his fingers on either side of her clit so the harder she rocked him the closer she came to the promised land. He watched her beautiful face and bouncing breasts until he felt the sting of his ejaculation start. He grabbed her hips and forced himself into her body feeling the velvety muscle constrict around him like a strong hand. He moaned into the intense orgasm as her body finished him.

Claire felt him pulse inside of her as he panted for his life. Her body felt like jello and the room spun as he pulled her down next to him. Still panting he looked at her closely and pushed the hair out of her face. He was terrified he had gone too far and he called to her.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, did I hurt ye? Are ye alright Sassenach? To say anything more would incriminate himself for being a brute and he felt wretched inside. He watched closely as she opened her eyes. She smiled at him like they just discovered the lost treasures of King Solomon. An erotic secret between the two of them. She purred, pushing him to his back on the bed and closing her eyes to the exhaustion. Jamie felt overwhelming relief and a new level of trust from his wife. As always, he had a deep desire to dance a jig but she was already in her dreams so he closed his eyes to oblivion.

When Jamie’s eyes opened a few hours later they felt like sandpaper. He dragged himself to the barn to feed the horses, including the beautiful pair of white Arabians and the baby that Fergus lured back into their protection. Fergus fell in beside Jamie as he always did, noticing the giant was quiet and sleepy today. They walked to the flat acreage where the white grapes were nearly bursting. Jamie held his hand out and Fergus pushed the hydrometer into it. Jamie’s eyes had closed, a trick Fergus had seen more than a few times. Milord could remain standing yet fully asleep including body twitching and dreaming. Fergus guided his hand to a cluster where he plucked a grape and started snoring. Fergus continued the test as they had done every morning for a month and his young eyes went wide at the Brix rating. He ran to the bell and yanked it over and over again snapping Jamie’s head up, suddenly wide awake. “Christ, why today?”

Jamie ran into the whites taking multiple Brix readings and agreed with Fergus, it was time.

The cabin doors flew open and the men poured out into the vineyard like a practiced fire drill. Jamie was running for the holding containers and pulling them into the vineyard three at a time. Cho led his Chinese pickers with a quiet dignity until they could no longer stand it and they broke away and started filling their bags.

Claire was aware of the shouts and happy whoops outside and quickly surmised the harvest had begun. She was numb to it and pressed herself deeper into the corner of the nursery. Hot fat tears shimmered in her eyes until they spilled over, one after the other. Tucking her thighs up close to her chest she laid her head on her knees and gave into the sobs as she grieved her empty womb. When she could cry no more the nursery door would be closed for another month and someday, many months, she hoped.

By mid-morning, she felt strong enough to join Jamie and offer her help. With a fresh rag in hand she Pulled the used rag away she saw several drops of blood on an otherwise clean rag. She stared at it wondering what to make of it. Normally, her first day was a heavy flow. She counted on her fingers and stood stunned realizing her courses should have started a week ago. Stabbing her legs into breeches she bound her painful breasts, shoved her hair into her hat and lifted her leg to slide down the banister. Opting instead to walk down the stairs, she wondered if this was her first time descending to the first floor on her feet.

Claire waited as long as she could before walking into the vineyard to request time with Cho. He looked up from his vine and dropped his bag to rise and bow. Through crimson cheeks from embarrassment, Claire told Cho exactly what was happening. She laid on the mats in his home and nodded her head at the packet of needles he held up. She squeezed her eyes shut and was surprised when Cho asked her to sit up. She felt nothing and wondered if he decided not to do the treatment. It took little time for Cho to see the direction of her Chi.

Claire stared at Cho with wide eyes that started to tear up. She was afraid to ask but could not stop the tears. Cho took her hands, “there is life in your womb Mistress, your Chi flows through it. Congratulations.” He helped Claire to her feet and saw the light shining in her eyes. This child would be blessed with the love of a strong mother, he thought. He smiled to himself and returned to the vineyard.

Misses Crook watched the mayhem from the window, still a bit heartbroken by Ned’s departure. She watched Claire walk slowly toward Jamie and rolled her eyes sternly at her breeches and hair piled under a hat. Lost in her own thoughts, she watched Claire whisper in Jamie’s ear and he dropped to his knees hugging her. Misses Crook’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes went wide. “Sweet Jesus, there’s a bairn comin!”

Jamie held his beautiful wife in the middle of the chaos and felt his tears of joy coming. He led Claire to their rooms and stripped her before pressing his head to her abdomen. He was flushed and starry-eyed, suddenly pulling her to the bed and tucking her in protectively. Claire was giggling so hard she could hardly speak. When she would try to climb out from the quilts he would pull her back with a determined, happy face.

“Jamie darling, I will not take to my bed, there is too much to do and I am very healthy. Please don’t worry or it will be a very long year, my love.” She kissed her hero with all of her heart and they locked eyes for a long minute. “Now, get back to work before all the men decide to abandon the grapes as you just did.” He hugged her once more and ran from the room.

Fergus had a hooked tool and his canvas bag was a bit longer than he was, so he dragged it from one plant to the other. When he saw Jamie he reached clear to the bottom and pulled out a cluster triumphantly. Jamie looked at the sun bouncing off the sharp edge of the hook and wondered if this was a good idea, and then laughed at his ignorance. How could he ever assume control over this weird and wonderful little kid. Fergus laughed and pointed at Jamie, “milord was sleeping and I read the number and pulled the bell. It is lucky I am here!”

“Aye, very lucky. Now get back to work.”

#outlander fanfiction outlander fanfic jamie and claire

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askbeelzebub · 4 years

Note

178 👀

178. “Don’t do it. If you attack now, then I won’t be able to keep you safe.”

And

82: “I was made to destroy! Not to fix, but to break!”

More Dagon and Bee angst because I can

———

“Dagon?”

Dagon froze. Clearly, she had not expected Beelzebub to catch her, trying to sneak out the window. A weapon in hand, a bag of tricks and surely a lot of magic inside slung around her shoulder. She was running. That didn’t surprise Beelzebub so much as it ached.

“Milord...” Dagon turned to look at them. Her eyes were red from tears.

“What are you doing?” They asked, even though they knew.

“I have to find her.” Dagon responded. “Bee, I need her. I love her.”

And you think i dont? Beelzebub thought tiredly. “I know.” They said quietly instead.

“Then you understand why I can’t just stay here. Why I cant waste her time. Every minute we hide is a minute He spends hurting her. He needs to pay.”

“So this is about revenge, too.”

“Of course it is!” Dagon snapped, baring sharp teeth. “Isn’t that what we deserve, after everything?!”

“Probably.” Beelzebub felt defeated, and exhausted, and they wanted to go back to their room to hide in Gabriels arms and pretend to sleep. “But you’re going on your own. He’ll kill you. And we still have OASIS to think about.”

Dagon was clearly in no mood for reason. “I don’t care. OASIS is your thing, not mine.”

That stung. And maybe Dagon could tell, because they could see the instant regret on her face. Beelzebub took a deep breath. “It’s our thing and you know it. Don’t say stuff you’re going to regret.”

“Don’t try to stop me from doing what’s right.”

“Getting yourself killed isn’t what’s right. You’re not fixing anything by putting yourself in danger.”

Dagon shook her head, as if refusing their words, their presence. “I don’t need to fix what’s going on, I need to destroy the threat.”

“Dagon-“

“I was made to destroy! Not to fix, but to break!” Dagon snarled, storming out of the window and towards them. Getting in their face for the first time ever. “That’s what She made me for, and She’s gone now isn’t She?! So what the fuck is even the point of pretending to be some sort of hero I’m not?!”

“Dagon, just-“

“Don’t act like you need me here when you don’t, you have your brother and your fiancé, I’ve never mattered! I’ve been nothing but a force of destruction since I fucking Fell so why won’t you just let me do my job?!”

“YOU DO MATTER!” Beelzebubs voice raised. “TO ME!”

Dagon shut up, eyes widening. Beelzebub never yelled.

Beelzebub took a moment. Eyes closing tight. Unable to look at her right now. When they did speak, it was in a calmer voice. “You do matter.” They repeated. “You’re one of my best friends.”

Dagon stared at the floor.

“Dagon, please.” Beelzebub whispered. “I need you here.”

“I need her here.” Dagon responded, looking back at them.

“Don’t do it. If you attack now, then I won’t be able to keep you safe.” Beelzebub took her hands in theirs. “She’d want you to be safe. She loves you. I love you. Please.”

Dagons expression crumpled. Beelzebub moved to grab her as she sunk to the floor. Hiding her face in their shoulder, her shoulders moved in a sob.

“Don’t leave.” Beelzebub pleaded quietly. “Please.”

Dagon didn’t respond.

(( @ask-leviathan-infernal-sib @ask-asmodeus-infernal-sib @ask-the-bringer-of-storms @ask-pepper-galadriel-moonchild @ask-warlock-dowling @ask-the-ineffable-being :))) -Mod))

#good omens #beelzebub #dagon #writing prompts #my writing #mammon #where have the days gone?

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chrysalispen · 5 years

Text

Prompt #14 - Scour

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? — Only the monstrous anger of the guns. --Wilfred Owen, “Anthem for Doomed Youth”

It was mid-afternoon, yet the land looked as though it were full dark.

The Carteneau Flats lay shrouded in shadow as the two armies faced each other across the field. Overhead the sky had taken on a decidedly ominous cast of red and black, as the crimson orb that had plagued her dreams of late descended towards the star. As it continued its slow descent it turned the ever-present cloudbanks over Mor Dhona to a boiling stew.

Dalamud, now terrifyingly close, was so large it filled the sky.

Several bells had passed since Eorzea's allied city-states and freelance adventurer companies had sounded the charge, and the tribunus augusticlavius had given the order to fire upon their front lines--and the battle showed no signs of abating, were the sounds from without the infirmary pavilion anything to judge by. The din had been chaotic and overwhelming at first before the sheer scope of the noise had finally dulled her ears, become background noise, something almost but not quite mundane: the desperate roar of humanity, dying on both sides of the field.

There was a short series of muffled sounds, a series of flat, sharp reports fired into the air in a way that made her eardrums twinge unpleasantly. The acrid stink of cordite and burnt ceruleum fuel rankled her nose and burned her throat. She let out a dry cough, placing the sound at last: one of the vanguard warmachina had fired mortars into the Maelstrom ranks, somewhere not too distant.

"Laskaris! Look alive and bring me that infusion! Red bottle on the top shelf!"

A sudden explosion shook the ground and sent a quick blast of heat and ash through the ceruleum-coated canvas flaps of the pavilion tent.

The medicus stumbled, nearly losing her footing before she was able to catch a nearby support. She clenched her teeth, heart pounding. She'd not been in a proper fight since she'd enlisted, had not expected to see any action at all in truth, all things considered. And then the VIIth Legion had been deployed to Eorzea, and she had found herself first in Castrum Novum, then here in these desolate plains on the edge of a massive escarpment overlooking a lush rainforest---one whose beauty she couldn't even appreciate.

Her first battle, and 'twas like there would be plenty more, and she could ill afford to show cowardice in the face of it.

As she gathered the syringes another explosion rattled the reagents on the makeshift shelves. Aurelia had to lunge forward, quickly catching a stray alembic to keep it from jittering off the metal surface of a nearby supply table and onto her foot. Weak cries of alarm echoed from the rear corners of the pavilion, where the medical teams with healing magic labored over their patients.

"We need more of the salts!" bellowed the tall, grizzled salt-and-pepper man in his chirurgeon's whites, swiping the sweat and grime away from his third eye and off his brow with the back of his sleeve. Cassius lux Rossi was the senior chirurgeon over her cohort, a hardened veteran who'd served in the imperial army since before she was born, and his tone brooked no argument. He watched her with his sharp, severe gray eyes as she hurried over with the supplies, shouting orders to the assembly of medicus teams working furiously at their stations. "Third Cohort, put your backs into it! You've the aether to spare, no reason to clutch your pearls over a little tremor!"

"We're running low on reagents for the antiseptic, milord," she said, placing them on the table in front of him.

"We're running low on bloody everything," came her superior's terse retort. It was tinged with strain, however, and Aurelia realized he was as tired and frightened by the circumstances as anyone else. The chirurgeon ran a hand through his greying hair, cut regulation-short. "There's naught for it now; no way in hells is a supply transport making it to us through this godsdamned mess. We'll have to make do. Now stay alert; they'll need us to go out and collect wounded soon."

Aurelia tried not to wince at that. Hearing the battle was bad enough; she really didn't want to see it, but she knew better than to say so.

"Hand me that bottle. The green one."

She did. He shook it, paused, then began to work the cork from the opening.

"Damned pigheaded Eorzeans," Cassius grunted as he gave it a twist. There was a pop and the tube was opened with little effort. He took one of the syringes and began to coax the plunger back, the liquid swirling into the tiny opening of the needle. "You'd think this lot would've seen reason and surrendered by now. Were it not for their sellswords we'd have taken this hells-forsaken scrap of land the moment the first castrum went up. Don't suppose it means much in the end. Once Lord van Darnus takes the field, they'll see their folly soon enough. Especially with the XIVth's reinforcements."

"If he takes the field," Aurelia murmured. Someone said the legatus hadn't actually been seen in nearly a fortnight, and that was odd because Nael van Darnus was fond of catching his forces unawares with surprise inspections. But there was some operation only the higher-ups knew about at Novum; if he'd have been anywhere he'd have come there. It was all very strange.

And those dreams you've had lately aren't?

Resolutely she shoved that question into the recesses of her mind for later consideration and suppressed a sigh. Were she to be honest, nothing had seemed to go right since the Legion had set foot in this godsforsaken place.

"He will," her commander said rather sharply, "and we'll make short work of these barbarians, mark me, girl. He---oh hells, what now?" A miqo'te man in a pot helmet had thrust his head through the entrance and was waving to signal the chirurgeon down. "Don't stand there flailing at me! State your business."

"We need your people!"

"I've no medics to spare. If you can wait--"

"Due respect, sir, but it can't wait. Enemy thaumaturges're ripping the warmachina to pieces. There's two reapers out of commission from short circuits, a third crushed five men underfoot when it fell, and one that went up in flames just now... it's a right mess out here."

Cassius sighed again.

"Very well. You there, let the pilus priori know we’re sending people. Laskaris, Shifting Sand -- you two go on and join the active unit, and for pity's sake don't forget the alchemics. 'Tis like you'll need them for a few of those poor bastards. Don't let those men leave the heavy lifting to you two either. They've working arms, they can haul that field kit about."

Aurelia had no time to pin up her hair; she barely managed to twist the braid up into a hasty bun before she had to yank her helm on and sling the heavy squad kit across her body on its coated leather strapping. No magical flames would be able to sear it, and that was by design, for some of the reageants and alchemics they used were quite flammable.

The runner who'd been sent for the medicus team flung open the pavilion flap without ceremony. He was already breaking into a sprint, heading towards the melee. The others ran close on his heels, Aurelia straggling a couple of fulms behind as she stared with horror at the battlefield through the protection of tempered glass. Dead and wounded from both armies littered the field, crumpled upon the ground with their tattered standards at half-attention and their armor and weapons in ruins.

The exoskeleton of a magitek reaper a scant few yalms away was wreathed in flame, probably the source of the explosion they'd heard a few moments ago. She heard shrieks of terror and pain, high-pitched and frantic. Her footsteps faltered for only a moment before there was a loud popping noise as the rivets gave beneath the heat, and then---nothing.

She realized she'd just heard the last agonized moments of a man as he was cooked alive, and squeezed her eyes shut.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, making her jump with a strained gasp and clutch at her field kit. It was only the squad leader, doubling back to see why she had not followed.

"Let it go," Luca rem Manius said, not unkindly. "Worry about the ones we can still save. This way. Watch your step and if there's another salvo, take cover."

Aurelia hurried after him, trying not to trip or step on the mangled corpses that littered the field. So much blood had been shed that it had mixed with the dirt and formed a coppery, stinking sludge under their feet. The biohazard filters their engineering teams had worked into the standard-issue helm she wore kept out most of the stench, but her stomach turned all the same.

A flash of lights and shouts not a quarter-malm ahead, and the whistling thumps of mortars and anti-magic guns, told her the fight still raged apace. The senior medicus seemed to pause mid-step, glancing back at her over one bulky shoulder.

"This is your first deployment, isn't it?"

Although she could glimpse nothing of his expression, the weary droop of his shoulders and his businesslike demeanor belied his words. She began to speak and then realized she'd forgotten to switch on the speaker. Hastily she toggled the communication array so that he could hear her. "Aye, ser, it is."

"Thought as much. First battle's always the roughest. Make sure to keep your wits and your strength about you," he said. "You'll need them all before our work is done. And take it from an old hand at this---don't try to eat anything tonight. It'll just come right back up, trust m-"

The surge of scarlet uniforms came from nowhere, the angry roar of Eorzeans cresting at them like a wave. Swearing, the pilus drew his weapon, and that was the last Aurelia saw of him. She stumbled backwards, the kit digging into her shoulder, as a unit from her cohort met them with gunblade and aether of their own, and she realized with an icy stab of misgiving that she was alone-

And then the scraping sound of shearing metal filled her ears. Slowly, forgetting the chaos around her for the moment, she looked up into the sky.

A brilliant arc of bright blue lights flickered over the surface of the crimson moon in a pattern that was as beautiful as it was unnatural, outlining the curvature of Dalamud's sphere. The lights grew brighter, thicker, as the moon seemed to shudder and separate and---

--crack apart.

A piece of shrapnel, lengthwise as large as an imperial dreadnought, shot out of the bottom curve of the crimson moon. It didn't drop down onto the plain below so much as puncture it, blasted into the earth like a chambered round fired out of a gunblade.

With that single massive blow it cratered the earth around its landing, and a blinding wave of dirt and debris rose in its wake, flying a good quarter-malm away from the point of impact. The resulting shockwave took Aurelia off her feet and sent her flying backwards to land in the stinking mud, near the corpse of a man in Maelstrom regalia, draped over a chocobo.

Clutching her bag, she struggled to regain her footing, impaired by the weight of her armor. Something had changed. Something was different. It took her a few moments to realize why: for the first time in many bells, an ominous hush had descended upon the plain.

Fear formed a hard, cold stone in the pit of her belly, and her skin prickled painfully. It felt like every hair on her body was trying to stand on end. The silence was a weight on her breath, pressing against her lungs, pinning her feet to the ground and leaving her limbs paralyzed, unable to take any action. The medicus swallowed thickly past the sudden lump in her throat, the rapid triphammer beat of her own heart drowning out all other sound.

This was not a respite, but a prelude.

"Pilus?" she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

And then the silence was broken at last.

CRACK!

CRACK!!

Above, the sounds echoed as the interlaced blue lights widened, then flared white hot, and fire-roses blossomed in their wake as what she finally realized were interlocking metal joints gave way under the pressure of whatever it was that had lain dormant inside the gargantuan sphere.

The ground beneath her feet rumbled ominously---and then she saw the dragon that loomed at its zenith, an oracle of oncoming disaster.

Massive wings, their breadth spanning the size of an entire city, were outlined in horrifically clear detail against the crimson and gray of the clouds overhead. A piercing roar split the skies and shattered the silence.

Stabbing agony lanced through her ears. The Garlean clapped her gauntleted hands to the sides of her helm and dropped to her knees in the muck with a pained cry. Everything about that awful sound tried to drain the will from her limbs, sapping her strength, divesting her of the ability to do anything but tremble in place. It was the unbridled fury and hatred of a multitude of dragons, echoing down over countless millennia, powering the thing in the sky.

The eikon burst forth from the guts of the moon with a mighty roar, shattering the remains of Dalamud into fire and aether.

Shrapnel pelted down in a deadly rain upon the battlefield with a series of high-pitched whistles, slamming into cliffsides and soldiers alike, tossing them into the air like indifferently maintained toys.

Now there was noise aplenty -- noise, and fire, and thunder, and the grinding roar of falling debris. Terrified screams erupted from Garleans and Eorzeans alike as the lines of the Grand Companies and the VIIth Imperial Legion broke and scattered like frightened ants before the might of the vengeful creature that had emerged from its prison.

Before Aurelia's horrified eyes, a huge chunk of warped, flaming metal slammed into the hillside that had housed the infirmary pavilions, setting both of them ablaze almost immediately. Overhead, the eikon shrieked its battle cry again, mingled rage and triumph.

Pinpoints of fire streaked through the tortured sky, launched from the points of its wings, exploding upon contact with the land, scouring everything it touched.

"Retreat!" someone close at hand cried. "Save yourselves!"

Whether it was a legionnaire, an Eorzean, or even one of the sellsword adventurers, Aurelia couldn't tell. Not through the smoke and the fire and the loud groaning rumble beneath her feet and the utter chaos that had enfolded all of them.

Completely blinded now, unable to see sky or land, she ran, looking for an escape route. If she could just find somewhere to shield herself from the blasts, she could be safe. But there was no safety here, not in this eviscerated hellscape.

Something was hurtling through the air towards her. She saw something metal. Black.

The object slammed into her, head, back, legs. A searing pain lanced in a white-hot bolt through her hip to her ankle, down her left side-

-and then there was nothing.

#FFxivWrite2019 #the seventh umbral calamity

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fableweaver · 5 years

Text

Arc of the Dwarven Warden

Darin stood in the back of the meeting hall of the King of Daun watching the proceedings wearily. The meeting hall was a smaller rectangular room on one side of the keep, tall windows looking out over the city. It had been only two days since Isra’s Night, and Dylan had sent word out to the neighboring lords to come to Dun Eald.

The Duke of Dubghal’s steward had arrived; Keegan Dubghal was a man in his later years with sharp intelligent green eyes. There was also Slaine, Countess of Dun Ahern, an old woman bent under her years. Darin was surprised she had managed to make the journey even though she lived less than a day’s ride away. Orrin, Baron of Dun Séagha, had come the furthest, having ridden from his keep along the coast. The Count Weill, Lorcán was already here looking grim.

All these lords were those that had been loyal to Epona, the older generation that had controlled the kingdom before the King’s Wars. None of the younger generation were in power yet, it was their children that had looked to Dylan and followed him seeking new roads. None of them held the power over their lands however, and Darin saw how this had isolated the king from the lords of his lands. He had only paid heed to the young and not the old who still held rule over their keeps.

Epona sat at the table at her son’s side, which seemed to have some effect on the lords. At his side with her head down the Lady Bree sat next to her father.

“You had better explain yourself Dylan,” Lorcán said angrily. “I’d like to hear your reason for raping my daughter before I kill you.”

“Lord Weill I give no excuses, what I did was wrong, and I offer you whatever I can to make amends for what I did,” Dylan said sincerely. “Right now, however is not the time to discuss…”

“I will not listen to anything else until this matter is settled,” Lorcán said angrily.

“What do you want then milord?” Epona asked smoothly. “My son’s life? He is your king.”

“No king of mine to rape my daughter while we were a guest to his house!” Weill shouted.

“Lord Weill I offer to take her as my wife, so she has not been dishonored,” Dylan said.

“I will not have my daughter marry a whelp like you!” Lorcán shouted.

“I accept,” Bree said in a small voice and her father turned to her surprised. “I accept his proposal.”

Silence greeted this and Darin noted that Dylan had a slight blush over his cheeks. He didn’t understand what was going on, only that some customs of these people had been broken. He understood rape, it rarely happened among the dwarves, but it did happen. What he didn’t understand was this talk of honor and marriage. What was marriage? Maybe he didn’t grasp the language as well as he had thought.

“Lady Bree, I thank you for your consideration,” Dylan said bowing his head to her.

“I will not stand for this!” Lorcán said angrily. His eyes shot about the room, looking for means of argument and settled on Donar and Darin. “Lord Dwarf,” Lorcán said hotly. “You are an outsider here, what is your view on this matter?”

Darin tried not to wince at the question, wondering how Donar would answer. He glanced at Donar and saw him scowling. He stepped forward and took his seat at the table, Darin joining him glad there was a cushion added to the seat so they both sat level with the lords there. Donar sighed heavily and looked at Lorcán grimly.

“Lord Weill, I’m afraid I do not know how to answer you,” Donar said calmly. “Simply because I’m afraid I don’t understand your customs or laws.”

“Pretend then that this matter happened in your own lands,” Lorcán pressed. “What would be the punishment then?”

“Nothing of the like has involved our king,” Donar answered. “It simply would not happen, our king is chosen by magical means among our chiefs and the Morrah Stone does not ever make the mistake of the choice of a king.”

“Then if it were one of your chiefs surely this is possible?” Lorcán said.

“A trial would be held then even if the accused were one of our chiefs or the lowliest miner,” Donar answered. “Another chief would stand as judge and witnesses would be heard. If the man were found guilty his sentence would be castration even if he were a chief.”

“Castration?” Dylan said paling and Darin saw several of the men at the table flinch. “What then would you do for heirs if the chief had no sons to take on after him?”

“We do not inherit the title the same way you here do,” Donar answered. “The chiefs of the clans are always the reborn souls of the original chiefs of the clans. Our children do not inherit our titles. Our captains search for us after we die when we are reborn; they raise us and train us to take on our roles once more. It is the destiny of our spirits that is claimed through every life.”

Darin saw the disbelief in the Daunish and decided to keep them on point.

“Clearly you cannot adapt our laws as your titles are inherited through a blood line and not through rebirth,” Darin said. “So, our laws are moot in this matter. Explain your laws to us. What is this about dishonor to the Lady Bree? And what is this marriage you talk of?”

Darin feared he had crossed a line by asking this because the look of astonishment across the table made him worry. It was the queen who answered him, sounding calm.

“Marriage has been key to many of the Kingdoms before even the gods were introduced. It is the joining of two people, whether they be man or woman or of the same gender, in their spirits until death parts them with oaths taken. Some kingdoms same gender marriages are illegal and against the gods, in others they are common. Here it is not unheard of but not extremely common.

“This is where the dishonor comes in. A woman that lies with a man before marriage is seen as unclean like a whore who sells her body for the use by men for money. Even if it was by rape a woman who is not a virgin is not seen as a proper maiden to be married.”

Darin realized his mouth was hanging open and quickly closed it. He suddenly understood Pepper much better now, her aversion to men and her shyness. She had been raised to believe only a husband could lay with her in that way. Yet she had lain with Darin, which he now couldn’t understand her motivations.

“I’m sorry but I cannot understand your positions on this,” Donar said frowning. “Among the clans of dwarves women are warriors, they are leaders, they are honored among our people. We do not have marriage, at least not by oaths as we know how these hold power in the Elder Magic. Many do mate for life, yet some do not. A woman may have a lover of any choice and any number, it is not wrong for her to do so. There is no dishonor for a woman to lie with whomever she chooses. And woe to the man that even tries to take what is not his.”

Chastised silence echoed over those gathered here, even the Lady Bree seemed to consider Donar’s words.

“We do not live in your lands,” Lorcán said at last. “Here in Daun my daughter has been dishonored and I will not have her marry the man that did it to her.”

He glared at Dylan who did not meet his eyes. Instead he looked at the Lady Bree.

“Lady Bree,” Dylan said, and she turned to him. “What Lord Donar says is right; I never took your honor for it is not something I could take. No one can take that from you, it is your decision on what shall be done about this matter. I will marry you if you would have me; if not then I will not marry until I have your leave to do so or you are married to another. Let us find love, either in each other or another. Do you consent to this milady?”

Bree hesitated, turning to her father. Lorcán glared at Dylan, but Darin noted he looked a little less angry than he had before.

“I do,” Bree said. “Only if my father agrees as well. Please father, this is not the time to let this tear us apart.”

“Fine,” Lorcán said. “But you may not marry unless you have my leave as well.”

“Agreed,” Dylan said sounding relieved. “Now may we move on to matters of war?”

“Of course,” Lorcán said. All eyes turned toward Donar and Darin again. Thus began a lesson of war, Donar and Darin instructing the Daunish on what they needed to do to prepare. They also told them all they knew about Orcs, the grim details did not please those who listened.

“Orcs are creatures of darkness, in more ways than one,” Donar said. “They cannot live in daylight; it blinds them and burns their skin. Their skin is molted often, blue and black. Their blood is black, and we have found it is very flammable. They eat any type of meat they can, including dwarf or even their own kind. Their language is close to the beast tongue, grunts an growls being their only words.

“We have learned that they can breed with anything. A few dwarf women had been kidnapped and one escaped to tell us her tale before she died of her wounds. They kept them prisoner and raped them, and somehow, they bore children to the Orcs. The gestation took only a few months and the woman would bear many children like a littler before dying. We believe this is the only way they reproduce, is the capture of other creatures to bear male children. Since they have multiplied so much, we believe they use seals or bears to give birth to their litters.

“There are no female Orcs or so I’ve heard but we do not know for sure. They enjoy pain, torturing those they capture before they eat them. It is a mercy to kill a warrior before he can be dragged off.”

“Enough,” Dylan said looking gray. “I think we gather that these creatures are evil.”

Donar nodded and they turned conversation back to preparations. The main trouble seemed to be how far apart the people were. If a call to war came it would take the people weeks to gather and by that time the Orcs could have marched all the way to Dun Eald. Winter also was a hindrance; an army could not survive out on the northern moors during winter. Training was another issue few men were warriors.

“I think I have a solution,” Donar said, having been thinking on this problem the whole ride south. “You need a fortification that will hold against the Orcs to the north. They dare not leave a heavily fortified keep at their backs, and you can use it as a base of operation for your scouts. Three forts would be best, if you can fortify three places to keep watch and hold your armies you will be able to stop the Orcs before they get into your lands.”

“Three places,” Dylan said examining the map. “Dun Glas will be one, and Dun Carr along the coast. But I cannot think of one for the east.”

“What about Orna?” Darin said.

“There is nothing there,” Keegan said. “And I heard that is doubly true now. A fire burned the moors for leagues.”

“Dragon fire,” Darin said, and related in short, the events that happened there. “You can build on the bones of the dragon and make a keep that can withstand any army.”

“This will be a feat of many,” Dylan said sounding tired. “I am not sure there will be enough of us.”

“Then we call for aid,” Epona said simply. “Nyrgard will aid us if we call for them.”

“And how would they come to our aid?” Orrin asked. “The mountain passes are closed.”

“Mountain passes?” Donar asked interested. On the table key to their discussion was a map of Daun. Orrin pointed on the map along the eastern border a forest and then mountains. Darin knew those mountains and forests to be home to the giants before men came. Some of the giants had fled north to the Dwarven Mountains, many though had stayed behind. He was sure though that like the others all the giants had fallen into a slumber after the Phay had marched. Donar grinned as he looked at the map.

“Jonar’s Road,” Donar said. “It is an old underground road. Its entrance could be found here just north of the forest, and it runs down through the mountains, to the water on the other side.”

“Does it lead to Hólmsted?” Orrin asked amazed.

“I don’t know where that is but if it is along the bay then it might be possible, we can reach it from there,” Donar said. “Can these Nyrgarders make a difference?”

“All in the world,” Dylan answered. “Nyrgard is known for warriors; almost every man knows how to fight even if they are a farmer or a miner. They fought the most in the King’s Wars in the northern alliance. Do you think you can move an army through this road?”

“I’m not sure what condition it is in but we will see,” Donar said.

“Is this wise?” Keegan asked. “Inviting a foreign army into our lands?”

“Better them than the Orcs,” Dylan answered. “And Nyrgard has been our allies of late; we have not gone to war with them for centuries. Will you go as my messenger to them Lord Donar?”

“I will, but I will need all my men and the guide that came with us,” Donar answered. “He speaks other languages better than us.”

“We’ve noticed,” Epona said with a slight grin. “You’ve been mispronouncing many words.”

Donar blushed but let it slide; Darin knew they had been slowly improving their language skills over time.

“We will see you provisioned,” Dylan said. “And I will send a guard with you.”

“No every man will be needed here,” Donar said. “We will spend a few more days going over fortifications, but we should leave before heavy snows fall.”

“I request that you at least take Conor with you,” Dylan said and Conor turned to him surprised.

“I’m needed here at your side Dylan!” Conor said.

“This is a diplomatic mission Conor,” Dylan said. “It would be an insult to King Sten if I did not send a representative from my own house. Given my only blood family is my mother, who I’m sure has the spirit for the journey but not the body; you are the only one I can ask to do this. You can do more on this mission than here at my side.”

Darin felt sympathy for Conor knowing how he felt, a direct order that contradicted his duty tore into the heart. Conor bowed his head to Dylan.

“I will do as you command,” Conor said lowly.

“We will be glad of the aid,” Donar said.

Grimly those at the table nodded and Donar and Darin began to go over how to fortify a keep for an assault. It wasn’t long before the women left the room, too weary to continue. They talked long into the night before at last they all retired. They rose early the next few days and spent the entire time in deliberations and preparations. Messages were written and sent by bird out over the kingdom, calling the people for aid and preparation.

Darin was surprised by how much thought had to go into all of this. In Mímisbrunnr they had everything they needed and the mountain was well fortified. But here the population was spread out and supplies came from everywhere. The thought of his home sent a chill over Darin. He only hoped most of his people survived.

One night as Darin walked sleepily back to bed, having left Donar and Dylan still discussing things over the fire, he saw a shadow walking down the hall. Suspicious he followed the person as they made their way through the halls of the keep. The man wasn’t making his way to a room however, but to the desolate garden that had been the Queen’s. Out in the moon light Darin saw it was Ronan who had been slinking through the halls and he felt a tremor of fear then. What was he doing slinking around?

Darin followed him through the garden until he stopped under a window. He took down his crwth and began to play a soft melody. It wasn’t long when the window opened, and the Lady Bree leaned out. Her red hair was free of her braid and fell well past her shoulders in tight red curls. She wore only a thin night gown, the white cloth barely hiding her dark skin underneath. Ronan stopped playing to gaze up at her, though she could not return his gaze.

“Lady Bree,” Ronan said her name like it was his salvation. “I wanted to see you, and I knew this was the best way to call to you.”

“You played at the festival Isra’s Night,” Bree said softly.

“Yes milady,” Ronan said overjoyed.

“The crwth, you travel much if you play something so sturdy,” Bree said.

“Yes milady,” Ronan answered. “My father was Rhodin, but I did not inherit the eyes, only the wander lust. Come down milady so we might talk better.”

“No, I do not think it wise,” Bree said in a small voice.

“Because of the king?” Ronan said this bitterly. “Milady I do not care what he did to you. You are beautiful and your music comes from the heart. He is a bastard to attack you like that.”

“It was my fault,” Bree said in a small voice.

“No!” Ronan shouted. “The fault is his!”

“Hush, you’ll wake my father,” Bree said. “It is my fault only because I went with him. I never had anyone flatter me so and though I did not know what he intended I went with him all the same.”

Ronan looked ready to shout again so Darin reached over and broke a twig. The sound made Ronan stop and turn, but he did not see Darin hidden in the bushes.

“You should go,” Bree said turning away from the window.

“Wait milady!” Ronan hissed and Bree stopped only so he wouldn’t shout. “I love you Lady Bree, with all my heart.”

“I’m sorry,” Bree said. “I cannot answer your feelings.”

Before Ronan could argue more, she closed her window and shutters. Desolate Ronan walked away but Darin saw his fists were clenched.

“What will you do?” Darin asked stepping out from the bushes. Ronan jumped and glared at him sullenly.

“So, you heard?” Ronan asked.

“I heard,” Darin answered. “And I think you do not love her.”

“I love her more than that bastard!” Ronan said hotly.

“You hate him for hurting her, but you are hurting her more right now,” Darin said. “Right now, she needs a friend not another man protesting his love for her as if he owns her.”

Chastised Ronan turned away looking beaten.

“Donar has ordered you to come with us on our mission to Nyrgard,” Darin said.

“I can’t leave her to Dylan!” Ronan said angrily.

“And what will you do here Ronan?” Darin asked. “Continue to try to seduce Bree? Is that really the best way to help her?”

“Then what should I do?” Ronan asked challengingly.

“Leave her be to think about what she had been through and what she wants to do,” Darin answered. “I think it best to leave her alone. Dylan will be busy with the preparations for war, he’ll leave her be as well and I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“How do you know so much about women?” Ronan asked.

“I know no more than you,” Darin answered. He thought of Pepper and knew he didn’t understand her. “I just thought that if I were her, I would prefer to be alone.”

Ronan didn’t answer but seemed to consider what he said. Darin couldn’t help but think about Pepper. She had only wanted to be alone, yet when he had respected that she had followed him. He wondered what she had been through, and how that had drawn her to him. What had drawn him to her then? Her vulnerability, her bravery, her willingness to help those she knew so little about. Darin walked back to his bed but got little sleep that night thinking over Pepper and missing her.

A few days later and it came time for them to leave. It was early dawn, the sky still dark with cloud cover. Only Dylan and Epona had come to bid them farewell, Darin noting Ronan staring up at the keep forlornly. Conor looked just as forlorn as Ronan, bidding farewell to Dylan like a dog bidding goodbye to his master. There was little ceremony; that would have only taken time that they did not want to waste.

“Safe and swift travels to you,” Dylan said bowing to them.

“We wish you luck,” Donar answered bowing in turn. They turned and mounted, Ronan and Conor riding larger horses while the dwarves still rode their ponies. The party of six rode out of the keep and through the city, passing the Holly King. Darin bowed to the tree as they rode past. Dylan had removed the guard and now people could gather under the bows of the tree, though at the moment the square was deserted.

Darin wondered about Meredydd they had not seen her since Isra’s Night. They rode out of the city without seeing her and Darin put her behind them. Riding out over the moors again Ronan led the way along the east road.

“So, do you know exactly where this road is?” Ronan asked as they rode.

“I know where it lies,” Donar said. “Or at least how it will be marked. It will be north of the forest in the foothills of the mountains.”

“There are few towns there,” Conor said. “There aren’t even shepherds in those hills; the grass isn’t very good for grazing.”

“There used to be a few villages from the silver mines,” Ronan said. “But those died when the mines dried up.”

“If so then how has no one found this road?” Conor asked turning to Donar.

“I don’t know,” Donar answered with a shrug.

“How long will it take to get there?” Darin asked.

“About five days if we ride hard,” Ronan answered.

“Then we ride hard,” Conor said and spurred his horse on.

They had packed light, Conor discarding his full armor for simple mail but he still carried his glaive. Those five days they stopped at village inns when they could, spreading word of the coming danger and the need to prepare. They passed by serval homes of the lords, some little more than long houses and others more like wooden forts. Conor would ride off to speak with the lords, urging them on and catching up with them later. He seemed determined to finish this mission as quickly as he could and return to Dylan’s side.

After five days as predicted they arrive in the foot hills of the Ionnfell Mountains, just ahead of a snow storm. The clouds were looming down on them and flurries of snow fell dancing in the wind. Darin could see sylphs playing with snowflakes, shaping them into special shapes as they fell. The mountains couldn’t be seen through the gloom, the hills barely discernable.

“Where is this marker?” Conor shouted over the wind.

“Close,” Donar answered. “We passed the forest yesterday; the marker should be near here. Look for a stone arrow.”

Donar wasn’t sure what to look for so just kept his eyes peeled for something different. It wasn’t long before Ronan gave a shout and pointed ahead. Through the gloom of falling snow they could just see a shape rising on the peak of a hill. Riding up Darin saw the standing stone was tall and narrow, looking like a fallen shard of glass or maybe an arrow if it were a simple arrow.

“This way,” Donar said turning his pony down the hill into a gully. They followed riding down into a stone gulch. They had to dismount and lead their horses and ponies, the rocks icy and slick with snow. Eventually they reached a dead end, a tumble of stones blocking their path.

“I hope we are not digging master dwarf,” Conor said angrily. “I don’t know about your kind but we Daunish aren’t built for digging.”

“There will be no need for that,” Bgrim said with a grin that made Darin back away from him as he began taking out his munitions bag. Hakk and Donar noticed as well and quickly backed away as Bgrim began laying breakers and fuses. They backed away a good distance, taking shelter behind some boulders.

“Keep ahold of the horses,” Donar ordered.

“And your head down,” Hakk growled. “I hate it when he gets that look in his eyes.”

Darin nodded as Bgrim finished laying the charges and lit the fuse. Bgrim ran for it, a wicked grin on his face, and then the breakers exploded. It was a deafening explosion, more dust and debris than fire. Bgrim was thrown from his feet, landing and covering his head. Darin barely kept hold on his pony, and as the dust settled, he calmed the animal.

Hakk walked over and helped Bgrim to his feet, the dwarf brushing himself off and righting his spectacles. Conor and Ronan were staring in awe, Ronan’s hands shaking as he nervously adjusted his cloak.

“You like setting it close, don’t you?” Hakk growled and Bgrim looked a bit sheepish.

“I cut the fuses a bit short is all,” Bgrim said.

“You know you’re calm as a rock most of the time but when it comes to explosions you lose your head,” Donar said with a slight grin.

“And one day he’s going to lose it literally,” Darin added.

Hakk didn’t answer, turning his attention to the tunnel and so did everyone else. At first the tunnel was narrow; it was hard to persuade the horses and ponies in. Ronan and Conor had to duck getting through the opening but once past the entrance the tunnel was level and large. They lit their sunstones and a few lamps and saw how large it truly was. It was carven, large enough to let three carts to pass abreast and just as tall.

“This was carven by the giants to be used as a road during the winter to get from one side of the mountains to the other,” Bgrim said, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

“I guess giants really were big,” Ronan said in a small voice and Bgrim laughed.

“This was only used by children, the adults did not need it,” Bgrim said and Ronan paled.

“Is that true?” Darin asked in a low voice in Dwarvish, but Bgrim only grinned and would not answer.

Once over the strangeness of the tunnel the horses and ponies eventually consented to be ridden again. The tunnel was strait and even, barely changing as they rode through it. Occasionally there was a dip or turn, but otherwise the tunnel did not change much as they traveled it. They stopped to rest when they grew weary, but once again they lost track of the days in the underground. Darin and the others were used to it, but he noticed Ronan and Conor jump at shadows or growing weary.

On horseback on an even road they traveled swiftly, Bgrim riding ahead to look for cave ins or sinkholes. The giants had dug true however and the road continued unbroken under the mountains. Darin heard Bgrim returning but did not see his light which was a strange sign. Had they been back home he would see that as a sign that the scout had found Orcs ahead in the tunnels, covering his light so he would not be spotted. For a moment the thought of Orcs made Darin reach for his sword, but he knew they could not be here.

“What is it?” Donar asked lowly when Bgrim joined them; he too had caught the alternate meaning to Bgrim hiding his light.

“Voices ahead,” Bgrim answered. “They’re speaking in a language I don’t understand. There are many of them; I would guess at least ten men.”

“Nyrgarders?” Ronan asked. “Did they speak like this?” He spoke a guttural language, more vowels and his voice coming more from the throat.

“Yes,” Bgrim said. “I smelled a fire as well and roasting meat, burning meat more like it. They stink as well it smells like they’ve been living in this cave. Do Nyrgarders live in caves?”

“No but mountain bandits do,” Conor answered frowning. “Nyrgard has many that take up residence in caves during the winter and then raid in the summer.”

“Bgrim and Darin, go on ahead and see what we’re dealing with,” Donar ordered. “See if there are any other exits, I want to avoid a fight if we can.”

“I’ll go too,” Ronan said but Darin stopped him.

“Can you see in the dark?” Darin asked. “We can so you’ll only slow us down.”

Ronan frowned but nodded and Darin dismounted. Bgrim did so as well and Darin put out his sun stone with a tap of his finger. They moved off silently over the road, leaving the light of the others behind. It was nearly an hour until Darin at last heard and smelled the signs that Bgrim had. He wrinkled his nose; it smelled like the men were living in their own filth.

The echoing walls soon brought the men’s voices to them, but they were speaking in Nyrgardic so Darin could not understand them. Soon light became apparent and the tunnel ended in a dead end. The light and voices came from above, and the smell from the ground. It looked like the men thought this was nothing more than a pit and used it as their latrine. Luckily it was confined to one corner and they stepped around it to get to the wall.

There were enough handholds that Darin and Bgrim were able to climb up the wall and peek over the edge into the cavern beyond. The cavern was round, Darin unable to see an exit in the leaping shadows along the wall. A fire lit the cavern, meat roasting over the flames. Ten men sat about the cavern, all wearing ragged furs and rusty mail. They were even taller than Conor, beefy and broad of shoulder.

They were at their ease around the fire, eating the roasting meat and drinking from a keg they kept nearby. Darin felt Bgrim tap his arm and saw him point to a corner of the cavern. Darin squinted to try and see through the shifting shadows, and when he did he felt his stomach tighten. A man was on top of a young girl, holding her down as he had his way with her. Darin reached for his sword, pulling himself up onto the ledge, but Bgrim pulled him back.

They climbed back down and hurried down the tunnel to speak in the dark.

“We cannot rush into this Darin,” Bgrim said. “We are outnumbered two to one. Let’s look for a side tunnel.”

“What?” Darin said outraged, barely keeping his voice down. “You’re going to abandon her? They’re raping her.”

“A side tunnel may lead us around them so we can flank them,” Bgrim said. “We need to use our heads Darin, outsmarting those men is the only way to beat them.”

“Alright,” Darin said with an effort of will. They turned away and continued to look for another path. Sadly, however it looked like there was none. The ledge was tall, but they still might be able to wrest the horses up it. So Bgrim and Darin hurried back to report their findings. When they reported about the captive girl Ronan and Conor both reacted rashly.

“We need to move now!” Conor shouted.

“They’re raping her as we speak, and you just walked away!” Ronan shouted.

“Enough!” Donar bellowed and both fell silent. “Keep your voices down; we do not want to lose the element of surprise. We picket the horses here and continue on foot. Smother your lights, Hakk guide Conor and Bgrim guide Ronan. When we get to the camp of the bandits, we’ll see what is happening before we make our move.”

Sullenly Conor and Ronan complied. They hobbled the horses and went off through the dark tunnel. This time when Darin was sure they were close to the camp they met only a dim light and silence. He and Donar climbed the wall this time and looked out at the camp. The men were now all asleep, snoring around the coals of their fire.

Movement drew Darin’s eye and he saw the pale gleam of skin. The girl stood wearing nothing but rags, going over to the fire. She added a few logs and the fire caught again, embers rising up in a cloud. Donar hissed and the girl looked up startled. Seeing them she hurried over, Darin relived she had not shouted.

She moved silently and when she was close enough Darin saw the abuse she had suffered. Her fair skin was bruised and battered, old yellow bruises mingling with fresh purple ones. Her golden hair was matted, and her blue eyes shown through the dark circles under her eyes. She held her rags about her with shaking hands; they did little to cover her. She was tall though, taller than Pepper and maybe as tall as Ronan.

She knelt before them, leaning down to look at them.

“We’re here to save you,” Donar said lowly and she hushed him.

“Not so loud,” she hissed. “They’ll hear you.”

“It does not matter,” Donar said as he pulled himself up onto the ledge. He turned and gave Darin a hand up before signaling to the others below. The girl gaped at them as Hakk, Bgrim, Conor, and Ronan climbed up as well.

“Stay back,” Ronan whispered to her.

“And don’t look,” Conor added as he drew his sword. As silently as they could the men drew their weapons and walked up to their prey. Darin was a warrior and so hated sneaking up on a man and not engaging in fair combat. But he had learned after years of battle with the Orcs that you had to take every advantage given to you. Each man picked a victim spreading out; Darin standing over his victim trying not to look at the man’s sleeping face.

Quickly so their conscience did not hinder them, or their victims did not wake they struck. Darin killed his man with a quick stab to the throat and turned to the next. The man woke and sat up just in time to meet Darin’s blade in his eye. He screamed and Darin slit his throat to cut the cries off. Darin turned ready for the next ,but the others had already dispatched them with quick efficient strikes. In a matter of moments elven men lay dead.

Darin wiped his sword clean on the furs of one of his kills and sheathed his blade.

“Too easy a death for men like these,” Conor said with disgust as he kicked the limp form of one of the men. “They died like pigs.”

“Well these men must not be great warriors otherwise they would not be hiding in some cave living like animals,” Ronan said. “Milady, are you alright?” He turned to the girl who was now cowering in a corner. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

He knelt next to her and Darin saw the girl’s eyes flash. She drew Ronan’s dagger from his belt and held it at his throat, her hands no longer shaking.

“You will not touch me!” she shouted, her eyes burning.

“I mean you no harm milady,” Ronan said softly soothingly. Darin stepped forward and pulled Ronan back away from the dagger. The girl held the blade out before her, intent on defending herself.

“I told you, you do not have the right intent,” Darin said lowly to Ronan. He crouched down before the girl but did not extend a hand or offer any comfort. Instead he met her eyes as hard as it was and kept the contact.

“We mean you no harm,” Darin said firmly. “We came to your aid because it was the right thing to do, not to seek anything from you. You owe us nothing, not even your life or freedom. You may keep the dagger, but none here will touch you I swear.”

She stared into his eyes and Darin could feel her trying to trust his words. He waited; it was all he could do.

“My name is Ingrid,” she said at last. “Daughter of Iounn Baroness of Stóstund.”

“I am Darin, Captain to Chief Donar of the Emir Clan,” he said indicating Donar. “This is Hakk and Bgrim of the Emir clan, Sir Conor Knight to King Dylan of Daun, and Ronan the minstrel.”

Ingrid only nodded again, and Darin turned away.

“We should get rid of these bodies and bring the horses up,” Donar said. Ignoring Ingrid, they set about cleaning up the cavern and bringing the horses up from the tunnel. Ronan and Conor’s horses could be persuaded to jump the ledge, but the ponies were too short. Eventually through a pulley of ropes they managed to pull the four ponies up and settle all the horses.

They were tempted to dump the bodies down into their own filth, until Donar pointed out they would be traveling back this way. So, they dragged the bodies out into the night and threw them into the snow along the side of the mountain. Going back into the cavern they found the fire going again, and meat roasting. Ingrid sat by the fire tending to the meat, Ronan’s stolen dagger resting next to her.

“We’ve extra clothes and armor,” Donar said to her, careful to approach. “Water and soap as well.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, reaching for the knife. Darin stepped between her and Donar.

“You can change and wash down in the tunnel,” Darin said. “Here’s a light you can use. You’ll see any of us coming from there.”

She looked at the sun stone he held out doubtfully. Darin activated it so a soft glow came from the heart of the crystal and Ingrid stared at it amazed. She snatched it from his hand and held it as if it might be hot. Donar came over with one of the packs and offered it to her. Ingrid took it and the dagger, going off to the dark hole where the tunnel was.

“You really do have a way with women,” Ronan said amazed. Darin didn’t answer; he had no idea why his words reached her when others did not.

“She’s been through a lot,” Donar said sadly. “Will she survive?”

“She already has,” Darin answered, loud enough for Ingrid to hear. “She may not know it now, but she has survived the worst of it.”

She didn’t turn or react, Darin unsure if his words had sunk in or not. They sat by the fire and began to eat, the meat coming from a deer the bandits had slain. There wasn’t much left but with their own provisions they were able to make a decent meal. When Ingrid returned, she was clean and dressed in Ronan’s spare clothes which were baggy but better than her rags. Conor offered her food but she shook her head. Darin offered and she took the trail bread and roast meat from him.

“Do you know where we are?” Darin asked Ingrid once they had all eaten. “We are trying to reach Hólmsted.”

“We are three weeks ride away from Hólmsted,” Ingrid said. “Or about that.”

“Three weeks!” Conor said.

“Travel through mountains can be slow,” Donar said.

“There is a faster way,” Ingrid said. “We are only three days from a fishing village along the coast. If the weather is clear a ship could take you to Hólmsted in a week.”

“We’ll hope for clear weather,” Donar said. “It’ll take us some time to get through all that snow we saw.”

“The bandits had cleared a path mostly through the pass to the village,” Ingrid said. “They wanted a clear path to a ready supply of ale.”

“Does the village know about them?” Darin asked, afraid they were in league.

“Not that I gathered when I passed through,” Ingrid said. “I was traveling the north road three days ago and passed through the fishing village, it’s called Longport. I bought supplies there and no one said anything about bandits. When I left, riding south, I came upon them as they were riding north. They… took a liking to me.”

She swallowed and looked away, overcome.

“What were you doing riding alone?” Conor asked and Ingrid winced at his tone.

“I ran away from home,” she said in a small voice, but continued in her defense. “You don’t understand. My brother wanted me to marry a stupid knight like him, but I’ve always wanted to be a bard. Mother said I could marry a bard but Sigur wanted to have more fighting men around. And Ragna agreed with him! But only because she didn’t want to argue about it, she’s always taking his side now. And Frida just doesn’t understand…”

“Alright,” Darin said cutting the tirade off. “So, you were running from a bad marriage?”

“I just want to be a bard,” Ingrid said looking at her hands. “I was doing well too I had managed to get this far on my own. If I hadn’t run into those men…”

“If you hadn’t been a woman alone this wouldn’t have happened at all,” Ronan said putting his foot right into the pot.

“I’ll have you know I killed two of them before they took me!” Ingrid said hotly. “I’m not some tiny Daunish woman you can bend over your knee. I know how to handle myself in a fight.”

“You should have run away not faced odds that were against your favor,” Conor said.

“Enough,” Donar said angrily. “She has obviously reaped the consequences of her actions; there is no need to add salt to her wounds. I think she has learned from this experience enough as it is.”

Chastised Ronan and Conor backed off. Darin agreed with the points they had made, but Donar was right; there was no need to remind Ingrid of her mistakes.

“We cannot return you home,” Donar said to Ingrid. “We have pressing matters in Hólmsted and do not have the time to take you back.”

“I’m going with you to Hólmsted,” Ingrid said before Donar could suggest anything else. “That was where I was going in the first place. My mother is there.”

“The Baroness of Stóstund,” Darin said.

“She went to the Court of Legends to…” She stopped suddenly and looked at them, seeming to realize something. “Why do you need to go to Hólmsted?”

“It is matters of the kingdoms not something…”

Darin stopped Conor with a wave of his hand and looked at Ingrid closely. She knew something, and he gathered she had realized they were dwarves and not just short men.

“War is coming from the north,” Darin said. “It is a long story, but an army of creatures known as Orcs is moving south and threaten Daun. We go to the king of Nyrgard to ask him to send an army to aid Daun. This movement is all caused because the Phay mean to march.”

Ingrid flinched, and Darin knew then she had knowledge that was important. He did not ask her, but instead met her eyes even after she looked away he stared at her.

“My father had gifted my mother with a dragon egg on their wedding night,” Ingrid said softly and Darin felt a thrill of anticipation. “She said it was a fossil, but after my father died she sang to it and it came to life. The dragon called himself Hors…”

“Hors!” Bgrim said too surprised to keep his tongue. “He was reborn!”

“You know him?” Ingrid said puzzled.

“Later,” Donar said leaning forward. “Continue.”

“Hors said he needed to travel the world and seek news,” Ingrid said. “He said only my mother and my sister Lofn could help him. So, they left to Hólmsted I think, I hope they are still there but if not I’ll find news of them there.”

“Hors has been reborn,” Bgrim said amazed.

“Who is Hors?” Conor asked.

“The dragon king,” Donar answered. “He went missing when the Phay marched to Tir Aesclinn, no one knew why not even Melanthios who was closest to him. Melanthios is the black dragon that burned the moors to the north. It’s a bit complicated, but he was forged again into a blade that the green witch Pepper carries. Melanthios is probably still searching for Hors. He may be in Hólmsted with Pepper.”

Darin felt such a thrill of hope when he heard that, he forgot to breathe for a moment.

“If they knew Hors was there then yes,” Bgrim said. “But how would they know? And as Ingrid said she does not know if her mother is still in Hólmsted.”

Hope died just as fast as it came.

“Either way our quest is still the same,” Conor said. “Hólmsted, we must report to the king and call him to war.”

“We should rest then,” Donar said. “I know there are more questions and stories to be shared but that can be done as we travel, for now we should get some rest.”

Everyone nodded and muttered, Hakk going to the entrance to stand guard. Darin saw Ingrid move far away to sleep the dagger still drawn in her hand. He sighed and lay by the fire, going to sleep easily.

They woke the next day to find the sky outside clear and snow fresh. They had been underground for only ten days, a vast improvement over the weeks it would have taken to travel overland. The snow wasn’t as deep along the path the bandits had previously cut, and they found it only a little difficult to ride through. Conor and Ronan rode ahead cutting a path with their heavier horses. Darin was surprised once more to have Ingrid ride with him. He had offered to ride double with another, and she could take his pony. Her own had fled when she had been taken by the bandits, who had been on foot. She however didn’t seem to mind riding with him.

Though the passes were just barely clear enough they still had a hard three days ride down into the village. They crested a rise and Darin saw a full view of Thorrak Bay spread before them. The waters were gray in the midday light, waves cresting white. Below in the shelter of a sea wall was the village of Longport. It was a cluster of only fifteen cottages, huddled together in the shelter of the stone outcropping.

Darin couldn’t see any boats, but he knew nothing of sailing. Maybe they were out on the bay or stored away somewhere. They rode down to the village and were greeted by a cold wind blowing in off the bay. A few villagers were going about their chores and stopped when they saw them riding in. One man hurried forward to greet these new comers, holding a harpoon incase these people meant harm.

“Hail travelers,” he said warily. “Who are you and how have you ridden through passes which have closed with snow?”

They dismounted Darin surprised by how tall the man that had greeted them was. Darin would have to stand on Hakk’s shoulders to be eye level with the man. He held his harpoon at ease, but it was obvious if any tried to challenge him, he would fight back.

“We are emissaries for the King of Daun,” Conor answered and introduced their party.

“Thought you were those bandits that set up in the mountain,” the man said relaxing. “My name is Holger I am chief of the village. What brings you here?”

“We seek passage to Hólmsted,” Donar answered. “We have an urgent message for the King of Nyrgard. Would any be willing to sail us there?”

“The King eh?” Holger said tugging on his beard thoughtfully. “I can guess you would see such a sailor rewarded for his efforts of sailing through such dangerous winter weather?”

“We would see such a man richly rewarded for his bravery,” Conor said. “By the king himself.”

“Very well,” Holger said with a grin. “I’ll take you to Hólmsted; it is my civic duty after all. Come, my ship is this way.”

Darin wondered where since there were no ships out on the water. Holger led the way through the village, and they passed the villagers who came out to see what was going on. Children stared from the shelter of their parent’s shadows; the parents stare just as awed as their children’s. They passed off their horses to some of the villagers and continued to follow Holger.

They arrived at the beach to find several ships beached there, protected by tarps thrown over them. Holger stopped at the biggest there and patted the hull fondly.

“This be her, Storm Bane,” Holger said fondly. “It’ll take a few days to make her sea worthy and scavenge a crew from the whimpering fools here that call themselves sailors.”

“We are in your hands Captain Holger,” Conor said and Holger beamed. Darin looked out to sea nervously; he had never seen so much water in his life. He felt a hand on his shoulder and Darin turned to see Ingrid standing next to him looking out to the water as well. She looked forlorn, a tear falling down her cheek.

“I both want to see my mother and don’t,” Ingrid said lowly. They were alone, the others occupied by talking details with Holger. “She’ll be so disappointed.”

“She’s your mother,” Darin said, though his mother had died when he had been too young to remember her much.

“I know but I’m not sure I can face her,” Ingrid said. There were many things he could tell her, comforting mentions of mothers or scathing scolding for her mistakes. None of these felt right and Darin searched for something to say.

“I’ll go with you to face her,” Darin said. To him it felt a lame offer, but Ingrid seemed heartened by it. She simply nodded and continued to stare out at sea. Darin stood by her as the sea wind tugged at them, smelling of salt and brine, a winter’s chill on the wind.

#fantasy #series #writing #please read #fairies #dragons

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randomabiling · 7 years

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Just wanted to share a preview of a little old fic that’s bouncing around in the chaos of my brain. Hopefully you see it soon on fanfic.net. If I can get the rest of it into words!

1964

Lettie shouldered the door open, the thick oak groaning in protest as it swung slowly away. The front hall echoed with the sound of her entrance, a ghostly announcement of her arrival. She stood in the saloon alone and it seemed more cold cavernous than she recalled, the limestone arches and intricate carvings more tomb-like than homey. Her memory conjured the team of staff members that swarmed the house in her youth, silently scurrying in the background and she wondered for a moment when they had all gone. Lettie half expected to see other signs of neglect, sheets over the furniture, a layer of grime coating the top of the mantel, spiderwebs criss-crossing the ornate gold of the wall sconces. Thankfully, other than the faint, musty smell that had always clung to the centuries old artifacts, reminiscent of the dank that hung in a museum, everything looked as she had remembered it, only less warm, less soft.

Tucking her bags in a corner by the staircase, Lettie crept toward the library doors, peeking through the crack, like she had when she was a child. The room was empty, still, but she pushed in anyway, hoping to find a clue as to where everyone was, not that that they were expecting her. Only George had been aware of her plans.

Standing on the fraying Persian carpet, the sun filtered in through the windows casting a golden light on the room. Particles of dust danced in its rays, tickling her nose until Lettie sneezed loudly, disturbing the sanctity of the room. Just standing in the house, the feeling seeped into her bones. A tingling began in her fingers, a nervous urge to leave. Her chest caved in and the air she breathed in was stale, lacking the proper amount of oxygen. It had been a mistake to come. Faintly, she thought she could hear laughter, though she was sure there hadn’t been any in this room in quite some time.

“May I help you?”

The nasal voice held the drip of condescension and Lettie would recognize anywhere. She pivoted on her heel and had to refrain from blinking rapidly at the man standing at attention. Though his black hair was now more salt than pepper, and the wrinkles on his face carved deep crevices around his sharp features, he had the same rigid posture, same pursed lips.

“Mr. Barrow. It’s me, Miss Lettie.” It sounded odd, referring to herself in such a way and she instantly felt like a six year old. Her toes even began to squirm in her shoes, her left foot drilling a hole in the carpet behind her right as she fidgeted in his presence.

The old butler’s face leaned forward and recognition widened his eyes. “Miss Lettie?! Well isn’t this a surprise! I wasn’t aware or we would have been ready.”

Lettie smiled and shrugged. “Not many are in the know.”

Barrow nodded uncertainly and cleared his throat. “Is there a bag you’d like to have brought up to your old room?”

His question caught Lettie off guard. She hadn’t thought of anything here belonging to her in a very long time.

“Um..yes, yes that would be fine.”

Thomas nodded again and turned to leave but he paused and faced her again. “You sound just like...you’re the mirror image of Lady Grantham.”

Lettie held onto the breath filling her lungs while her hand rose up and she fingered the ringlets that grazed her shoulders, locks that had been blown out to perfection before she’d boarded the plane in New York. Three hours in the English humidity had her hair twisting back up again, her curls bouncing gladly in their defiance.

“Where’s his Lordship?”

Mr Barrow’s smile fell in increments. “He’s out back. He likes to have his tea outside when the weather permits.”

That bit of trivia made Lettie inexplicably happy, as though getting outside were a sure sign of health, and she advanced to the back of the house, exiting through the small passage off of the music room. She saw him instantly, he facing away from her. His back was as broad as she remembered, though his shoulders seemed to scoop forward a little too much. The hair grazing the collar of his dressing gown was whiter than snow. Seeing him in his paisley bathrobe, his slippered feet in the middle of the day twisted her gut. He’d never allow it, normally.

The wrought iron garden table was laid out with a sparse tea service; a pot, his cup, a sandwich tray. He sat in one chair with another placed across from him, as though he were waiting for someone to join him. The familiar ache throbbed in Lettie’s side, and still, after all these years away and all the years before that, Granny’s absence was like a dark vacuum sucking the color out of Downton, the pain as fresh as when she took her last breath.

“Hello Donk,” Lettie’s voice was thin, crackling and she swallowed hard.

Though her grandfather did not move in response, the portly woman standing off to his side did. By her serious expression and her dull clothes, Lettie guessed her to be a nurse or attendant of some sort. The woman looked her up and down, as though she were some intruder to the afternoon’s solitude. Lettie clasped her hands tightly in front of her, annoyed at the way they trembled. She was a grown woman acting like a scared child.

“I’m Lettie...Violet…” Lettie stated, shoring her voice up with a false strength. “His Lordship’s granddaughter.”

“Hmm…” the woman responded, unconvinced. “I’ve been here five years and I’ve only ever met Miss Sybbie and Miss Marigold.”

Lettie’s eyes fluttered rapidly, pushing back the tears. They’d not even mentioned her, in all of this time.

“I’ve been in America. I’m Lady Mary’s youngest daughter.” Her mother’s name felt foreign and bitter in her mouth.

“Maud, who are you talking to?” Donk’s question startled both of the women and the nurse named Maud smiled joylessly down at the older man.

“A young woman says she’s your granddaughter, milord.” Maud replied.

Donk gripped the arm of his chair and used it to twist himself around. Lettie held her breath as they both stared at one another. His face was so much older than she remembered, and the flesh sagged from the structure of his bones wearily. His head twitched with palsy upon his neck and the sharp blue eyes she remembered were cloudy, with cataracts or confusion, Lettie couldn’t say. They stared at one another without saying a word and in the silence the hazy film seemed to dissipate, the blue iris’s clearing. Donk pushed himself off of his chair and with the support of a cane, shuffled closer to her. This close, Lettie could see the liver spots dotting his translucent skin, thin and dry like tissue paper. The watery eyes in his face were wide, unblinking, the intensity of his gaze growing stronger. Donk’s chin began to quiver.

“Cora?” He whispered, his quaking hand coming up as though pulled by the string of a marionette.

Lettie clasped it between her own hands, before his fingers could reach her face, before they could tenderly stroke her soft cheek, as she had seen him do to Granny so many times before. Her heart felt too heavy in her chest, the space too small as it hammered wildly against her ribcage. The nausea that had been plaguing her for weeks awoke with his words and her mouth salivated as her throat constricted. She pushed down the urge to vomit.

“No, Donk.” Lettie shook her head. “It’s me...it’s Lettie.”

#Cora Crawley #Robert Crawley #Cobert #Downton Abbey

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vvintery-blog · 7 years

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3 Generations of Butlers:

Chrom: Frederick please get me some tea. Frederick: Here is tea infused with the blood of a black bear, peppered in crystals, and sprinkled with a hint of mint Milord.

Corrin: Jakob please get me some tea. Jakob: Yes m’lady. (He says, as he bites off the hand of anyone who attempts to touch the pot and cup in preparation.)

Kairyuu: Felix please get me some tea. Felix: HERE IS YOUR TEA MILORD ALSO I DID SORT OF A BAD JOB SO LET ME BECOME THE TEA AND LIQUEFY MYSELF. *sets self on fire because that’s something the Ice Tribe can apparently do*

#❆ ( ᴍᴇʟᴛɪɴɢ. | OOC. )#{ I love it regardless. }

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fableweaver · 5 years

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Arc of the Witch Twins

They arrived in Middleton just as Loris predicted, He Who Burns had just set yet the sky was still stained red with the blood of the departed sun. Middleton was a large village by Daunish standards, white washed cottages with thatched or shingled roofs. People were just starting to gather for the nightly socialization at the local tavern. The tavern resided in the inn of course, and they had to ride past people on foot to get to the stable yard.

They dismounted and a boy hurried forward to take the horses, Loris passing him a copper. Bailey joined Pepper as they followed Loris and Orus into the inn. Orus walked into the inn as if he owned it, and the innkeeper hurried forward. The tavern room was crowded with people, and conversation died instantly as Orus walked in. Bailey hung back with Pepper keeping out of sight but it was hardly necessary, all eyes were on the prince.

“Milord,” the innkeeper said. He was a fat sweaty Markian man, his face flushed and red. “How may I serve you tonight? A room perhaps?”

“Your best,” Orus answered. “One for me and the ranger and another for the two women. See that a bath is drawn for them and we’ll eat in our rooms.”

He handed over the coin for the room and the innkeeper bowed, leading them away upstairs. Bailey saw people whisper and stare as they passed, wondering what they would make of this happening. The inn had three stories, and the innkeeper led them up to the second story where the nicer rooms resided. He led the way to the end of the hall and unlocked the door.

Bailey had never been in an inn before and found the room well-furnished and spacious, a fire burning at the grate. Fine tapestries and drapes covered the wood paneled walls, rugs covering the wood floors. This seemed to be a sitting room, chairs and sofas over the room. Two other doors at either side of the room led to others.

“That will be your room,” Orus said, pointing to the door to the left. “The maid should be up soon with the bath water.”

Pepper glanced at Bailey with a look that said he’s used to giving orders. Bailey grinned back at her and they went over to the room. Inside was a lovely bedroom, a large four post bed dominating the room. A fire already burned here and a brass tub stood nearby.

“This be nice,” Pepper said impressed. “Guess travelin with a prince has its perks.”

She shed the packs onto a table and then her sword and mail. Bailey took off her cloak and hung it up, unwrapping Matt from her chest. Matt stretched as she unwrapped him on the bed, rolling onto his belly so he could kick his legs. Pepper wrinkled her nose as Bailey changed his soiled diaper.

A knock came to the door and Pepper answered it. A young Markian girl came in bent under a yoke with two full buckets. She said nothing as she went to the tub and dumped the water in and quickly left. The water was steaming, but it looked like it would take at least ten buckets to fill the tub.

“It’ll take forever fer her ta fill that,” Pepper said. “I’ll go help.”

Bailey left her to do her work, sitting on the bed with Matt in her lap and played with him. She was still surprised by how big he was getting now, he was nearly able to sit up and crawl. She wondered, not for the first time, if she was doing alright as a mother. Her decision to leave and search for the song was not one of a mother, but Bailey had felt it was still the right thing to do. Yet as she held her child she wondered how this had affected him. He looked at her with deep indigo eyes and smiled, not a care in the world. She smiled back and felt the same for a moment.

With Pepper’s help she and the maid filled the tub twice as fast, the girl thanking Pepper profusely.

“Nowt, thank ye fer the soap,” Pepper said pleased as she held up a bucket which held a few washcloths, goat’s milk soap, a hair brush, and a bottle of shampoo from Lir which must have been expensive. She had several towels draped over one arm, along with some fresh clothes. “Will ye wash our clothes too?”

“Yes ma’am,” the girl said shyly as bowed. They stripped and handed over their clothes, the girl blushing to see them naked. The water of the tub was tepid, but better than cold. They took turns in the tub, Bailey washing Matt as well in the tub. He made a very nervous face as they entered the water, and nearly cried when Bailey washed his downy hair.

“He baint like the water,” Pepper said.

“He were fine in streams,” Bailey said but she finished washing Matt and got out. They dried off with the towels and brushed out each other’s hair, Bailey still playing with Matt. Pepper looked at her sister with her child still a bit disappointed. When she had thought of Bailey as a mother she had expected her to be more earthy and soothing, instead she was either a bundle of nerves or a fool playing with her child like he was a toy.

“Sos what are we gonna tell em?” Bailey asked lowly taking Pepper out of her contemplation.

“As little as possible,” Pepper answered as she braided Bailey’s hair. Pepper still wore hers in a single braid but Bailey wore hers in two. “Let mine do the talkin.”

“Aye, but they’ll have questions,” Bailey said. “I can make em ferget any doubts.”

“How?” Pepper asked but Bailey just winked. “Alright ye have yer fun. What’ll we do after we reach Warren? I kennin we should leave afore we get there, steel horses n run.”

“Glen said horse theft be a hangin offense,” Bailey said. “Let’s see what we can do after we get ta Warren afore we decide ta run.”

“Alright,” Pepper said and they dressed. The clothes were Markian, fine cotton skirts and tunics almost stiff with embroidery. It felt nice to be in clean clothes though the clothes fit was a bit odd. The skirts and tunics were a bit looser around the frame than Daunish clothes, the fabric sewn to be more billowy. Bailey dressed Matt in the baby gown that the maid had brought as well, probably an old set from when she had been a baby.

Out in the sitting room the men had washed as well though not in a bath, and now sat at the table where supper was being served. Thick ham and beans stew joined pretzel bread and cheese on the table. The men hadn’t waited and had already started to eat. They sat and Pepper served Bailey before herself. They ate in silence, Pepper noting the men were drinking beer. Neither seemed drunk so Pepper let it go, drinking water.

“So, why were you with Taras?” Loris said once they finished eating.

“It be a bit o a story,” Pepper answered. “Mine sister n I be goin ta Alda ta visit our kin. Sos we went ta the Rhodin ta travel with em. Un Rhodin named Kree agreed ta take us cause she were Aldan as well. We met Taras in Nyrgard, he kenned Kree seems. Kree asked him ta see us through the Mark, we had silver ta pay him n he agreed.

“We were travelin through the borderlands when Taras said he had some business in some old Daunish ruin. Told us ta wait fer him n if he baint come out ta deliver that tube ta a Ranger er King. We heard screams n battle sos we ran. Our horses gave out though n we were forced ta walk. That be all we ken.”

Loris frowned and Orus leaned forward glaring at Pepper.

“There are a lot of holes in your story,” Orus said crossly. “For one there is…”

He stopped dead his eyes going to Bailey startled and Loris blushed. Pepper turned to see Bailey had started to nurse Matt, her tunic open and exposing her tits. Pepper tried not to grin; it looked like all questions had fled from the men’s minds.

“What be in the tube?” Pepper asked innocently.

“Ah… A name,” Loris said, dragging his eyes from Bailey’s chest with effort. “The name of Taras’ successor.”

“I kenned the king chose his ranger?” Pepper asked.

“He does but he usually chooses the one the last ranger chose,” Loris answered, his eyes drifting again. Orus was staring dumbly; maybe not even aware he was staring.

“Who be it?” Pepper asked.

“A man named Jurner,” Loris answered. “He’s practically King’s Ranger already anyways considering how often Taras disappears.”

He was frowning again, looking back at Bailey seeming to look at her harder. Bailey lifted Matt up, her tunic still slightly open, and stood.

“I kennin Matt be ready fer bed,” Bailey said. “N so be I. Ye comin Pepper?”

“Aye,” Pepper said relieved as she stood. “Goodnight.”

Before either man could argue they left for their own room. Pepper nearly burst out laughing as soon as the door closed behind them and smothered it under her hand.

“The look on the prince’s face,” Pepper said giggling. “It were like he never seen tits afore. What made ye ken o that?”

“Seen men goggle afore,” Bailey answered. “Figured it would drive everything else from their minds. I hope that story holds up.”

“Long as they baint get the chance ta keep askin questions,” Pepper said. She went over and retrieved Melanthios from the table. She felt his own amusement, guessing he could observe what was going on around him. “Ye keep watch Melanthios,” Pepper said as she propped him up against the door.

:Wait, I’m not just some…: Pepper did not hear the rest of his statement as she let him go. She and Bailey went over to the bed, both feeling sleepy after their meal. Pepper curled up under the tick quilt and looked over at Bailey who snuggled down with Matt. They hadn’t slept in the same bed for years, but Pepper still remembered sharing a bed with Bailey all through their childhood. Bailey looked up at her and remembered as well. She moved over under the covers and pulled Pepper over so they lay side-by-side, arms and hips touching. Matt lay between them but Pepper didn’t mind.

They fell asleep together, a dreamless sleep on a comfortable feather stuffed mattress. Pepper woke first and had a sense of familiar warmth turning to see Bailey asleep next to her. Bailey woke as the same time and turned to Pepper smiling at her. Nothing was needed to be said, and they both got up. Matt woke with them; he had slept soundly all night, and now snuggled against Bailey as she held him.

“Can I hold him?” Pepper asked as they climbed out of bed. Bailey nodded and handed him over to Pepper and Matt sat in her arms staring up at her blankly. “Ye be worried baint ye?” Pepper asked seeing the way Bailey looked at Matt. “Bout Will n Ian.”

“Aye, but now it be in the back o my mind,” Bailey said. “I ken it’ll always be with mine, maybe even after we find em. But I find it be somewhat I can live with. But ifn they died…”

“They won’t,” Pepper said with confidence. Ian had pulled them from dragon fire, while she still thought he was a tree stump she had to admit he had his strengths. Then Pepper thought of Darin. She wasn’t worried about him, though she was sure he was facing greater dangers than she or Bailey. Instead at the thought of him she felt a slight ache of loneliness, and missed his calm dependability. Bailey smiled at her sister and they left the room. Outside the prince and ranger were already up and the maid was setting their table with breakfast. The maid smiled at them and finished setting the table.

“Your clothes are dry milady,” she said with a curtsy. “I’ll go fetch them now.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said with a smile. They sat at the table with the men, Pepper still holding Matt on her lap. Pepper’s eyes were on the food, white bread, steak, fried eggs, and sausages were for breakfast. Pepper was surprised by the meat and didn’t feel like such a heavy breakfast. She chose eggs and sausage, spreading butter on her bread.

“Did you sleep well Pepper?” She heard Loris ask.

“Aye,” Pepper answered looking up at him to see he had been looking at Bailey. Startled Loris looked at Pepper and then Bailey who laughed.

“Ye got us confused?” Bailey asked and Loris blushed.

“Pepper was holding the babe…” Loris said lamely.

“I be her sister sos o course I would hold her child sometimes,” Pepper said. “We look plenty different.”

“You really don’t,” Orus said shaking his head. “I’ve met twins before, but none like you two. I could at least tell them apart a lot of the time, and they would dress differently as well.”

“We wear our hair different,” Bailey said. “In Daun women who be married wear their hair in twin plaits while unmarried women wear it in un.”

“Yes but your bangs are the same, and the same shade of gray,” Loris said seeming determined to defend himself. “You two are built the same too.”

“Nowt we baint be,” Pepper said. “I be thinner…” She looked at Bailey and realized after losing the baby weight and the time they had gone walking through the wild she was almost as thin as Pepper. “Well I still only have un breast while Bailey’s be heavy with milk.”

“What?” Loris said surprised. Pepper frowned at him and passed Matt over to Bailey. She opened her tunic and unashamed showed the men her chest. Both stared openly and Baily looked as well to see the neat scar along Pepper’s right side where she had cut away her breast.

“I took the oath o a warrior maiden,” Pepper said. “I gained strength n speed fer mine sacrifice o flesh.”

“This is something you do in Daun?” Loris said in awe as Pepper closed her tunic. She paused and Bailey realized they couldn’t tell them about the dwarves.

“It be an ancient tradition,” Bailey said. “Un that few practice any more. We be from the marchlands o the moors n in touch with the old ways.”

“Why be so extreme?” Orus asked shaking his head. “Or why not just cut off both, no man would want you now.”

Pepper glared at him, her fists clenched. “I baint be a woman pretendin ta be a man, the other be a guardian ta mine heart. I ken some men who baint be bothered by it n actually find it attractive.”

“What man…”

“Alright,” Loris said cutting Orus off. “We are sorry for insulting you milady.”

“Fine,” Orus said letting it go. “Well since you had been traveling with Taras I feel we should keep up his promise to you to at least get you as far as Warren. You did deliver his last message so it is the least we could do.”

“We thank ye for it,” Bailey said as she bowed to him. “We be honored ta travel in the company o a prince o the Mark.”

“Speaking of nobility, you said you were visiting your kin in Alda. Who are your kin?” Loris asked his eyes narrow and shrewd.

Before either of them had to answer him, the maid entered carrying Bailey and Pepper’s clothes.

“Your things are ready milady,” the maid said smiling, unaware of her interruption.

“We should get dressed sos we can get goin,” Bailey said standing. Pepper saw Loris glaring after them as they returned to their rooms with the maid. “Thank ye,” Bailey said to her as she took her clothes.

“You’re welcome milady,” the girl said. She curtsied and left leaving Bailey and Pepper to dress.

“That were close,” Pepper said worried. “Maybe we should ken up a name ta give him.”

“He assumes we be nobles,” Bailey said. “We’d have to give him a noble’s name or he won’t believe us. Only I baint ken any o the noble houses o Alda other than Alvar n Tira-Dora.”

Pepper turned to Melanthios and picked him up. :Do ye ken any Aldan houses?:

:No, the names have probably changed over time and there weren’t nobles back in my time: Melanthios answered.

“We’ll ken o somewhat,” Pepper said aloud as she strapped the sword on. They finished dressing and went back out to find the men were ready to leave. They left the inn, again stares following them as they walked out through the tavern. The horses were ready and saddled, and Bailey was surprised to see two gray mules along with the two horses.

“We can’t ride double the whole way back to Warren,” Orus said. “I saw to acquiring a couple of mules for you.”

“Thank ye very much,” Bailey said. Orus seemed to watch her a moment, but when she said nothing more he shrugged and turned to his own horse. They all mounted and rode off out of the village, following the road. They traveled at a good pace, neither rough nor slow. Orus and Loris were silent as they traveled, though Bailey and Pepper would talk together in Daunish so the men couldn’t understand them. Loris and Orus did the same however, talking together in Markian.

:Can ye understand em?: Pepper asked Melanthios as they rode.

:No more than you can: Melanthios answered.

:I baint like em talkin without mine understandin em: Pepper answered.

:They probably are just speaking of matters they don’t want you to know about: Melanthios answered. :You don’t know they are talking about you.:

Pepper suspected though sometimes they were talking about Bailey and her by the way Loris glanced back at them. She glared back, but there was nothing she could do about the glances.

The Mark was a strange country to both the sisters. The land was mostly flat with a few hills here or there, and farms spread over these hills. There were more trees here as wind blockers, protecting the fields of wheat, barley, and cotton. Some fields were grazing fields, great herds of cattle chewing contently on the grass.

Bailey realized what set this land apart from Daun, it was all settled land. None of the land she was seeing had been untouched by the hands of men. In Daun the moors were wild; even if she took the sheep out to graze there she had no control over what grew out on the moors. Here all the plots of land were tended, all the trees served a purpose, and all the animals were under the sway of men. Bailey felt strangely exposed in these tame lands.

They traveled through the Mark, past villages and other travelers, for three days until at last they reached Warren. Bailey knew they were close to the city though by the change in the earth around them. Her head snapped up and she stood in her stirrup, one hand going over Matt protectively. Pepper sensed it shortly after Bailey, her hand dropping to Melanthios.

“Ye feel that baint ye?” Bailey said in Daunish and Pepper nodded. “What be it?”

“I baint be sure,” Pepper answered. :Melanthios?:

:The earth powers are imbalanced: he answered. :Something is ahead that is causing it.:

“Stop!” Pepper called out to the prince and ranger. Startled they both reigned in their mounts and turned to her.

“What is it?” Orus asked reaching for his sword and looking around for attack. Loris had drawn his bow and an arrow so fast Pepper hadn’t seen him do it.

“There be somewhat ahead,” Pepper said. “Somewhat dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” Orus asked. “There is nothing ahead but Warren. What makes you think there is something ahead of us?”

Pepper scowled unwilling to answer, but at the same time unwilling to proceed without knowing what the source of the discord was.

“Oh…” Bailey said in understanding. “Pepper, it be the broken wall. Taras mentioned it, the broken wall o living stone.”

“Living stone?” Pepper asked puzzled.

:I know of it: Melanthios said. :Living Stone is earth that is too much earth, it is saturated in the powers of the earth so that it is almost living. It has been around before the Phay, made when Miread was formed. It was the first of the earth to form, and I believe it was what attracted the Phay to Miread in the first place.:

“Are we moving on or what?” Loris asked.

“Aye, sorry we just were feelin a bit odd,” Bailey answered. Loris frowned, but said nothing as he turned his horse and they proceeded up the road. The road they were on turned a bend and joined a larger byway that lead straight into the city of Warren. Both Bailey and Pepper almost winced as they looked at the city and the wall around it.

The great hole in the wall was filled with an obvious patch of rubble and cement, the scaffolding still surrounding the construction of the wall. Both witches could sense this repair was doing little for the discordant note that hummed through the earth and the living stone wall.

“We’ve tried to repair the break but I fear the wall will never be the same as it once was,” Orus said sadly gazing at the city bitterly. “Our city is broken.” He turned then to them and his sadness faded with shock. “Are you two alright? You look pale.”

Neither answered as the discordant note was making their teeth ache and ears ring. Pepper put her hand to Melanthios, breathing heavily.

:Do somewhat: she commanded the dragon.

:I alone don’t have the power: Melanthios answered and Pepper turned to Bailey. Her eyes widened to see Bailey sitting up and taking on the stance of earth singing.

“Bailey…” Pepper gasped and her sister turned her. Bailey’s eyes blazed with power and she nodded to her.

“Tagether,” Bailey said softly. “We can do it tagether.”

“Aye,” Pepper said though she feared she didn’t have the power. She had never mastered the earth singing, it was a difficult skill of the Elder Magic to master. She felt Melanthios’ spirit around her and realized he was offering her help.

They both dismounted both wincing as their feet touched the ground and they could feel the discordant note even more. Bailey and Pepper took off their boots and stockings, tucking them up on their saddles.

“What are you doing?” Orus asked as he dismounted and walked over to them. Bailey answered him by unwrapping Matt from her chest and handing him over. Startled Orus held Matt like he was a dog.

“Hold him,” Bailey said. “We have work ta do.”

Orus looked ready to argue when Pepper drew Melanthios. He came out of the scabbard with a ring of steel, but the note did not fade.

“Melanthios,” Pepper breathed his name and the ringing rose. Loris dismounted as well but stood back, staring at them in awe.

They walked on down the dusty road, both feeling the note of discord in the earth as they walked. The twins were so immersed in the earth singing they took no notice of the people around them. The traffic parted and people stared in awe as they walked by, Orus and Loris following after them leading the horses and mules. As they walked they locked in on the discordant tune, focusing all their power on it. When they reached the gates they could feel it vibrating through their very bones.

They looked at each other and then at the wall raising their hands, Bailey her right and Pepper her left, holding their hands up as if in benediction.

“We will mend what has been sundered,” they said in unison. Then Pepper stepped forward through the gate and turned to face Bailey, the wall between them. Both turned in unison to the left away from the broken section of the wall and began walking. When they reached the wall they raised their hands and trailed their fingers along the wall. Their feet beat a rhythm as they walked every other step long and then short.

Both were too immersed in the power to notice the affect it had. The people of the city stared because both witches were shimmering like heat waves. The sound in the air was a droning sound that they could feel through their bones and chests, and if one stood still long enough they could feel the earth trembling under their feet. Dust rose and birds took flight, cats fled and dogs barked throughout the city.

More and more people left their homes, feeling the strangeness of the air and seeking the source. Many stood by and watched Bailey and Pepper walk along the wall, but none dared to stop them. Orus stood at the gate holding Matt while Loris raced for the palace. He called the king out to see what was happening, by that time Bailey and Pepper had walked half way around the city.

Still the discordant note was there, but Bailey and Pepper had been gathering the power of the wall as they walked along it. As they passed each gate they stopped and stepped in a pattern that was a ward. They were two thirds around the city when the king came riding over to them. Pepper was on the inside of the wall so it was her he approached, riding a great black charger.

“Stop!” The King of the Mark commanded. “What are you doing to the wall of Warren?”

Pepper could not answer; she did not even hear him she was so deep in her trance. But Melanthios who was aiding her had enough presence of mind to hear the king. Using Pepper’s mouth he answered him.

“We are Green Witches of the Moors,” he said with Pepper’s mouth, her voice resonating with alternate notes from the working. “And we will mend what has been sundered.”

“You mean you will fix the wall?” the King asked but Melanthios didn’t have the power or mind to spare him. Pepper kept walking oblivious to the people that crowed around to see what was happening. The wall itself was vibrating now, dust falling from the stones and the guards fleeing in fear.

“What do we do sire?” Loris asked afraid. King Lonna frowned and dismounted, marching up to Pepper. He stepped around the sword she held in her arm and tried to grab her shoulder. The moment his hand met her flesh his hand went numb. Startled he pulled back and winced at the painful tingling sensation as if his hand had gone asleep. Loris had run up after him drawing his dagger.

“No,” Lonna said. “Let them be, I fear it is too late to stop them.”

“Mend what has been sundered,” Loris said. “Do they really mean to mend the wall?”

“I think so, but whether or not they can…”

The true test came when they at last made the full cycle of the city and approached the break in the wall. The air began to thin with the tension as Bailey and Pepper approached the rough stone section of the wall. The stone masons had tried to repair it with the broken rubble of the wall and hold it together with cement, but it was clear this was not a whole repair. Sweat broke out on both their brows as they reached the broken section, their steps faltering.

Everyone that watched held their breath as the two walked between the scaffolding. Dust rose more and loose stones began to fall from the wall. A woman cried out as the scaffolding shook, the wall quivering like an arrow. Bailey and Pepper could feel the broken note reaching a peek as they tried to set it to the right tune. Their power strained at the note and with an almost euphoric release the tension died. The balance returned and with more power to their stride they kept walking.

Though the note was set to rights there was still much to be done. They had to set the vibrations of the earth to the right tune and so kept walking. The broken wall seemed to almost sigh in relief and in tiny minute ways the stone began to knit itself into the right form. The twins kept walking until they reached the gate they started at. Orus still waited there, his father joining him. When Bailey approached he tried to hand Matt back to her.

Bailey did not respond as she and Pepper did another step and turned. This time Bailey walked right and Pepper kept her course left as they walked in tandem.

“How long are they going to walk?” Orus asked.

“I guess as long as it takes,” Lonna answered his son. “Take the child to your mother; I will see guards set to watch these two as they work.”

Orus only nodded as he turned to take Matt back to the keep. The child was quiet in his arms, yet awake as he stared after his mother. Bailey and Pepper walked around the city of Warren two more times, guards watching them and making sure no one bothered them. He Who Burns set as they walked and twilight fell over the city. The Grinning One rose high by the time the twins had walked around the city three times.

They reached the gate they had entered through and once again stepped in pattern. This time they stopped and stomped three times to release the working. Then they both fell unconscious to the ground, their powers drained.

Bailey woke warm and comfortable in a large feather mattress. For a moment she did not remember where she was or how she had gotten here. Looking around she saw nothing but white cotton curtains lit by the early morning light. Her whole body ached like she had strained every muscle, and even her bones seemed to hurt. Groaning she started to sit up when the curtains suddenly opened a flooded the bed with light.

Blinking against the light Bailey looked up to see a woman with black hair streaked with gray. She had sharp features, but was noble looking with dark hazel eyes. She said nothing as she leaned down and helped Bailey drink from a cup of water. She turned away and Bailey spoke out.

“Wait, where be mine babe?”

“He is in the other room,” the woman answered smoothly. “You should rest.”

“Nowt, I need Matt, please,” Bailey said, her breasts aching with milk. The woman nodded as she leaned over again and helped Bailey sit, propping her up with pillows. She turned and left, returning with Matt in her arms. Matt smiled and cried out wordlessly Bailey smiling in turn. The woman set Matt in her arms and she held him close, Matt routing for a breast. Bailey opened her shirt, a nightshirt not her regular clothes, and let him feed.

“I remember boys,” the woman said smiling. “Always hungry.”

“I be Bailey, who be ye?”

“Queen Crega Lonna,” the woman answered and Bailey felt her jaw drop. Before she could say anything in response a groan next to her made her turn. Bailey realized Pepper had slept next to her and was now waking. Crega went around the bed and helped Pepper drink some water before laying her back down.

“Where be we?” Pepper asked looking around.

“Lonna Keep in the center of the city of Warren,” Crega answered. “I am Queen Crega Lonna, you are in my care. Now you two should get some rest.”

Bailey wanted to argue that they had just woken, but already weariness weighed on her. They had both used a great deal of power to mend the wall, it was no wonder they were exhausted. Crega took Matt and they both slid back under the covers. Crega closed the curtains, a darker curtain drawn to shut out the light. Just as Bailey was slipping off to sleep she realized her mother’s ring was gone. Her blood going cold Bailey feared speaking out, Pepper would only try to fight if she found out they might know who they were. Feeling discontent and worried Bailey slipped off into a dreamless sleep.

She woke when the curtains opened again, but this time the only light came from lamps and candles.

“What time be it?” Bailey muttered sleepily.

“Just after sunset,” Crega answered. “It is Isra’s Night.”

Isra’s Night, Talamh the night of the dead. Bailey sat up feeling more awake. Though her body still ached she didn’t feel as tired, and was able to stand. She turned and saw Pepper was on her feet already, searching for Melanthios.

“We have costumes and masks prepared for you,” Crega said waving over to two gowns draped over chairs. “Dress and a servant will lead you to the dining hall. Your child sleeps in the next room.”

Before they could say anything in response Crega turned on her heel with a swirl of her gown and left them to change.

“What should we do?” Pepper asked glaring after Crega. “I baint find Melanthios.”

“We get changed first,” Bailey answered feeling vulnerable in only a night gown. Pepper nodded and they turned to the cloths that had been laid out for them. They were matching Markian style gowns, heavy embroidery along the hems with long bell sleeves and skirts that brushed the floor. Dressing in them both found the gowns had been tailored for them, Pepper’s fit to hide her missing breast.

“They must have worked fast ta make these fit,” Bailey said. The gowns had probably already been made but they had been fixed to fit the twins perfectly.

“Anyun that could make this embroidery must sew fast,” Pepper said, as she held up her sleeve. The embroidery was wonderfully intricate and so detailed she could hardly follow the pattern with her eyes. Bailey admired the skill it must have taken to make such detailed needle work; Pepper just wished the gown was easier to move in. Their masks were cloth and also embroidered, but seemed to not depict any particular character or animal like Daunish masks. Their masks were only half masks covering just their eyes and noses.

They left the bedroom out into a sitting room, Bailey hurrying over to Matt who slept in a bassinette. Pepper was surprised to see propped up next to the cradle was Melanthios. She picked up the dragon blade as Bailey gently lifted Matt so she did not wake him.

:I made sure to guard the child: Melanthios said answering Pepper’s silent inquiry. :The men sought to take me away so I made sure they could not lift me. They left me by the cradle because I made sure that was the only place they could put me down.:

He sent an image of Orus trying to lift the dragon blade, but could not as if the blade weighed as great deal.

:I baint kenned ye could do that: Pepper answered.

“Ye cast a sleep ward o’er Matt Melanthios,” Bailey said approvingly.

:I can lift it when you need: Melanthios answered and Pepper relayed the message.

“Fer now let him sleep,” Bailey said. “I wanna keep him with mine but he needs his rest.”

“We should go ta the hall now,” Pepper said eager to see what was to become of them. Would they be turned over to the Sect and burned? Or would they be heroes for mending the wall?

Bailey could only nod, she hadn’t told Pepper about their mother’s missing ring yet. They left their room out into the hallway where a servant was waiting. The servant wore a half mask as well; he bowed to them and without a word led them off into the keep. The hallways were straight but narrow so they had to walk single file along the hall. The servant led them through several hallways and down some stairs until they heard the sound of music and conversation.

They entered a grand hall lit by fires and candles. Tapestries and banners hung along the walls and from the rafters, bearing the crests of the noble houses of the Mark. The hall was filled with people, the dining table pushed back along one wall to make room for everyone. Conversation died when Bailey and Pepper entered the room and the crowd parted so the servant could lead them through.

No one spoke as they walked through the opening in the crowd towards a dais that had been set up for the king’s throne. King Cyril Lonna was a big man, broad of shoulders and meaty of girth. His face was wide with a square jaw; his beard and hair streaked with white making him seem like his crest of a badger. To his left sat Crega looking regal and calm. To his right was his eldest son, Orus next to him. Next to Crega sat another of the princes, Pepper noting that the young man held his sword arm close to his side as if it pained him. All wore half masks embroidered with gold and silver thread.

Bailey and Pepper reached the foot of the throne and both curtsied to the king. Pepper kept one hand on her sword while Bailey kept one holding Matt. They straitened and looked at the king to see him frowning at them.

“Welcome witches of the moors,” King Lonna said, his deep voice echoing through the silence of the hall. “Or shall I call you by your names? Bailey and Pepper Alvar.”

Lonna held out his hand and dropped a silver ring before them, the silence in the hall so great everyone could clearly hear the sound of the silver bouncing off the stone floor. Bailey bent and retrieved the ring, holding it close. Pepper glared up at Lonna defiantly, but still dared not draw Melanthios. There were armed knights about in the room, dressed in armor and armed with glaives.

“Ye can call us as ye please,” Bailey answered. “Aye this be our mother’s ring, n aye we’ve been told she were Eileen V Alvar. Taras Law believed us ta be the lost heirs n sought ta bring us ta Alda sos we could birth new kings ta over throw the Regarian rule.”

Lonna watched them, the whole room tense with the foreboding air. He nodded and leaned back in his throne, his decision made.

“Get out,” Lonna said lowly and the twins stared at him surprised.

“What?” Pepper asked startled.

“I said get out,” Lonna answered. “Leave Warren and the Mark as fast as you can, I don’t care where.”

“Father!” the injured prince shouted as he leapt to his feet. “You can’t mean that! These women are the answer to our prayers. With them we have an heir again, we can overthrow the Regarians with them.”

“Do not argue with me Ashe!” Lonna shouted leaping to his feet. “You do not know what the King’s wars were like, and this time you say we should fight without aid of the other kingdoms. We will not go to war with the Regarians.”

“Look what they did to me father!” Ashe shouted as he held out his sword arm. Pepper gave a start to see his arm ended in a stump, his hand had been cut off. “You know this and yet you do nothing. You let that bastard Drasir mutilate your son and steal your daughter and you do nothing.”

“We will remain here and dig in,” Lonna answered. “With the wall repaired we can defend ourselves once more. Leave this matter Ashe.”

The prince only turned away from his father and sat back in his chair seeming sullen. Lonna turned back to the twins scowling more.

“I told you two to get out of here,” Lonna said. Pepper was ready to demand at least horses or for him to wait until morning when Bailey stopped her. She realized what the King was doing, he was saving them. He could have turned them over to the Sect or the Regarians knowing who and what they were, but he was letting them go. At the same time if he sheltered them any longer the High King could claim he was aiding them.

“We thank ye fer yer aid so far,” Bailey said. “We leave ye with a warnin, an evil spirit is seekin the end o men. The Phay mean ta march n this spirit seeks ta consume them all, n Miread as well. He be kenned as the Crippled Un upon the lines, here his human followers call him Kal Ba’el. He has armies o Orcs ta the north n seeks ta make war with Daun.”

Whispers rose among the crowd, Lonna raising his hand and silence fell again.

“I will take your warning,” Lonna said coolly. “Now leave.”

“Yes majesty,” Bailey said and looked to Pepper. She could tell by the look on her face Melanthios was telling her about the how the King was letting them go. Still glaring Pepper turned with Bailey and they walked out of the hall.

“We be lucky,” Bailey whispered as they left the dining hall and walked through a hallway towards the courtyard.

“He could have given us the night,” Pepper said.

“Isra’s night be the perfect night ta leave,” Bailey said. “With all the drinkin no un will remember which way we went.”

“What bout our things er horses?” Pepper asked. They stepped out into the courtyard and were greeted with a strange sight. Loris sat on his horse along with nine other rangers. Two highland horses waited saddled and ready, their saddle bags full. The men all wore molted green gray cloaks and simple leather half masks.

“Milady,” Loris said with a bow. “We are to escort you to the border as your guards.”

“I take it back,” Pepper said impressed.

“Ye kenned bout our mother’s ring baint ye Loris,” Bailey said.

“I saw it when you fed your son,” Loris answered. “Not in enough detail, but I had my suspicions. Every one of the rangers knew who Taras searched for on his secret missions. When he went missing for so long chasing another lead many said he had found them. Then you two showed up, it wasn’t hard for me to put two and two together.”

“Thank ye fer yer aid,” Bailey said to him.

“Aye thank ye fer kickin us out on Isra’s night,” Pepper muttered. “We baint even get ta feast at all.”

“Just wait milady,” Loris said with a grin. Pepper only sighed and shook her head, going up to her horse to mount. Bailey did the same, spreading her skirts out around her.

“Baint we at least change afore we go?” Pepper asked as she arranged her skirts around her legs.

“No milady,” Loris said. “You shouldn’t change until we get out of the city.”

Pepper scowled at him, but he turned away towards the gates. They rode up to the gates as they opened and they saw what Loris had been hinting at. The streets were crowded with people, all in masks and costume. Only they weren’t filling the street, rather they lined the street like they waited for a parade to go past. As the gates opened the crowd of waiting people erupted into cheers and applause.

Awed Bailey and Pepper rode at a walk past the crowds, Loris leading the way with the rest of the rangers following them. The people they passed cheered and clapped, throwing confetti and daisies. Some they passed hurried forward and gave them sweet bread, cheese, and skewered meat. The twins ate in the saddle as they rode through the city, seeing all of Warren had come out to do them honor.

Bailey realized Loris was leading them in a round route through the city on purpose, all of the city wanted to thank them. Bailey looked back up at the palace on the hill, sending a silent thanks to the King. They rode for most of the night through the city, often even stopping to receive the thanks of the people and gifts. Both accepted the gifts and thanks, Bailey being gracious while Pepper was boisterous.

It was late by the time they left the city riding out onto the road where farmers too celebrated and had heard of the witches’ miracle. Loris kept them moving until it was well past the middle of the night and past the people. They rode off the road at one point and up to a stone cottage like building.

“This is a waystation,” Loris said as they dismounted. “A past king of the Mark made them set up over the kingdom for any wayward soul or the soldiers and rangers of the kingdom. Most are gone but there are some still around. We’ll rest here for tonight.”

“What shall we do with these gowns?” Pepper asked as she dismounted.

“The gowns we can leave here and some of the king’s men will be by later to collect them,” Loris answered. “Your clothes and armor are in the saddle bags.”

“Thank ye,” Bailey said. “Fer all ye be doin fer us.”

“You did far more for us,” Loris said. Bailey looked around then at all the men as they worked to unsaddle the horses and rub them down. Two came to lead away Bailey and Pepper’s horses to tend to them, Loris turned away about to do the same.

“Wait,” Bailey said and Loris turned to her. For a moment Bailey was reminded of Taras, the cloak these men wore and the way they moved even seemed the same. She was reminded then that Taras Law had died for her, her sister, and her child; and she knew so little about him. “Can ye tell us about Taras? This be Isra’s Night, a fine night ta speak o the dead.”

“Yes, but I would like the truth about his death from you,” Loris answered. “I know there is more than you told us before.”

“We would like to hear as well,” another of the rangers said.

“What bout restin?” Pepper asked Bailey.

“I baint be tired be ye?” Bailey answered and Pepper sighed. The men set up a fire outside of the small waystation and once the horses were settled everyone gathered around the fire. Bailey told them how Taras had found her, the birth of her children, and then their journey south. She told them about the meeting in the old Daunish keep and how Taras had saved them.

“You are sure he is dead?” Loris asked when she finished.

“Aye,” Bailey answered. “We heard his screams; I ken a death cry when I hear un.”

“It just seems impossible,” Loris said with a wry grin. “He always seemed invincible. He was a hero of the King’s Wars. He gained the trust of the Kings when he saved a contingent of soldiers from ambush and even turned the tides…”

Soon all the men around the fire were sharing stories of Taras’ life, they had all fought with him and worked with him after over the Mark in the duties as rangers. From the stories Bailey and Pepper gathered Taras had been just the same surly and serious person through his life. None of the stories were funny or compromising, rather they were praises and it became obvious these men held Taras in awe. From their talk a legend had died, not just a man.

They spoke so much of him Bailey thought his shade just might appear. She almost wished he had, she felt guilt over his death. She knew there had been nothing she could have done, but part of her wished she would have had the power to help Taras escape with them.

She grew tired and Pepper led her off, leaving the men to talk of Taras and tell tales of other dead comrades over the fire. The two women went to the little cottage and went to sleep, Matt still asleep under Melanthios’ spell. Both went to sleep feeling not only the loss of Taras on their hearts, but of their loved ones dead in the fire. Isra’s night was the night the dead were said to wander, but at the time both felt the desire to see those who had died if only one last time.

#Fantasy series #series #fantasy #writing #please read #fairies #dragons

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