#or. no i guess the sylph elder was there

[shalpilot]

adhd simulator

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #25: Silver Lining

(Edited 10/27/2021. Now on Ao3.)

“We’re only here for a night or two, Mother,” Dark Autumn said as she herded her companions through the door. “Once we’ve handled our mission.”

“Well, we have plenty of space,” Singing Willow answered, wondering if it was about the sylphs that were eluding the Adders’ attempts at the new tempering cure. “You all look weary enough to need it. Iron dear, can you see them into rooms? I’ll start on dinner for this crowd.”

“Yes, love,” Iron Summer said in his low rumble. He led the adventurers into the hall leading to the bedrooms, no longer occupied by children long since grown. Dark followed along, mostly to make sure everyone behaved.

Dark was the seventh of their ten, yet Sing reflected the girl carried herself as if an elder sibling. Always so reserved and serious, she had often preferred to be alone, the constant company and noise of their large family at odds with her nature. Sing had quickly stopped worrying and considered that having one quiet loner child was a blessing; Dark had rarely caused or gotten into trouble. Finding her was simply a matter of checking her favorite haunts, anywhere the rest of her brothers and sisters were not if she had the chance to slip away for even half a bell. Otherwise she could grow testy, so best to let her be.

Now, as an adult, Dark was still quiet and enjoyed her own space and privacy, but was less of a loner. She was patient and easily slipped into elder sister mode for her adventuring companions. In this case, members of her free company, Gage Acquisitions.

After assigning rooms, her husband and daughter led everyone outside to take a tour of the property and perhaps do light work for Iron; Sing recognized C’oretta–that pink-clad girl still had far too much energy–but the brunette woman with green face paint was new. Erick Gage had stopped by before, but there was something different about the usually cocksure boy, Sing thought; she’d have to look into that later and ask Iron his opinion, see if there was aught they could do. It took her a moment to recall Ioh’juhn’s name; the Keeper man was pleasant enough but always left Sing feeling a tad uneasy. Meya was as primly respectful as usual. The hrothgar must have been the Lennier that Dark had mentioned.

“Dinner will be at the sixth bell,” Sing declared as they all tromped out, leaving her space and quiet to work. It wasn’t long before she realized there was a presence in her kitchen. She glanced up to see Aeryn Striker at the door, hesitating to enter Sing’s domain. “Something wrong, dear?” Sing asked. She might need to give the Warrior of Light a pre-meal snack; not for the first time, Sing thought the girl was too skinny for the demands the world placed upon her.

Aeryn shook her head. “I wondered if you wanted a hand.”

“More hands do make the work lighter and quicker,” Sing said. “Peel and chop the vegetables; I’ll handle the meat. We won’t tell Violet it’s pork.” Sing winked, though only got a vague smile from Aeryn. That was concerning.

They worked mostly in silence, Sing humming as she sliced and seasoned the cuts, arranging them on a sheet to broil in the oven. She knew it was not unusual for Aeryn to be quiet, but there was a familiar weight in the air, one Sing had dealt with many times before in her maternal career.

She washed her hands and checked on Aeryn’s work. “Excellent job as always,” Sing said, eyeing the neat piles of peeled and chopped vegetables and herbs. “If perhaps more than we’ll need.”

Aeryn blinked as she paused, setting down the knife. “Guess I fell into it.”

“It happens when one’s mind is occupied. We’ll find something to do with all this. So what’s troubling you?”

Aeryn frowned and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“There’s one thing you’re not good at,” Sing said dryly. “You’re a poor liar, dear.”

Aeryn huffed out a brief laugh. “I’m not good at plenty of things, actually.”

“Of course; even the Warrior of Light can’t be perfect. But deflection ill suits you, Aeryn.”

The girl chewed on her lip. “Don’t suppose you know what to do about family secrets?”

“Mm, can’t think of any from mine. There either were none, or they were so well buried they stayed that way–and now no longer matter, if that’s the case.”

Aeryn frowned. “Does it matter if it changes everything you thought you knew about yourself?”

“Does it?” Sing asked, leaning against the counter. “If someone walked up to me tomorrow and said my grandfather was actually a sea wolf from Sharlayan with whom Grandmama had a torrid affair, what about how I’ve lived until now changes? What of my prior choices have been affected? ‘Twould be new information I may use going forward–or I may not. Perhaps I’ll find I have new cousins, and we can become friends. I may have a few new questions about family medical history. In the end, though, I choose my life and how to live it. Not my ancestors, and whatever errors they made.”

“I suppose. I know many Ishgardians struggling with that lately. Myself included.”

“It makes sense that it does, given the changes the nation goes through now, that do affect them. It didn’t bother you before, learning about the secret history of your father’s people.” Aeryn flinched, Sing noted. “Something’s changed?”

“A recent adventure,” Aeryn said. “Someone…dear to me was withholding knowledge of my childhood, my family. The Echo never showed me until all this came to a head. It’s been more or less sorted, but I don’t know how to feel about the lie.”

“Did this someone claim a satisfactory reason for it?”

Aeryn’s lips quirked. “A promise to a dead man. Protecting me from political issues it might cause. His own fear at what I’d say and do when I found out his part in it.”

“Hmm. I suppose it seemed like a good idea,” Sing said. “Goodness knows we do foolish things for those we care about. And if he’s dear to you, I can only presume you’re dear to him.”

Aeryn shrugged. “I guess.” She leaned on the counter too, though it wasn’t as easy, with the kitchen being sized for Sing. Aeryn looked like a little girl trying to mimic her elders. “Suppose I’m not sure what to do from here.”

“I’d wager what you’ve always done,” Sing said. “Take care of others and complete every chore and adventure that comes your way.” She got a small, sheepish smile from the hyur, at least. “And perhaps see this as an opportunity.”

Aeryn looked up with her usual quizzical expression.

“You’ve learned something new; it’s up to you to decide what that means going forward, dear. Not only about yourself, but about your friend. It makes for a good point to sit and chat, especially if your temper’s cooled enough to worry so.”

“What if he doesn’t want to talk?”

“Well then, you’ve still learned something about where you stand. Given those you choose to be closest to you, I think that’s a distant concern. If nothing else, perhaps you can each get the chance to listen.”

Aeryn gave it a long thought. While she did, Sing continued with dinner preparations. Hyur and miqo’te didn’t eat as much as growing roegadyn children, but she wasn’t sure about viera or hrothgar. Violet needed snacks to keep her sated, being an infant behemoth (when was anyone going to discuss that with C’oretta?).

“You’re definitely an optimist,” Aeryn mused, watching Sing work.

“So I’ve been told,” Sing said. “Matron knows it made it easier to raise my herd of children that way; if I’d only seen the downside of things…well, I doubt we’d have had such a large family, or one at all.”

“Dark’s like you,” Aeryn said. “She’ll point out the possible problems and issues, but still hopes for the best, regardless.”

“Good,” Sing replied. “If nothing else, I can say I did that right, when standing at Thal’s gates.” She looked at Aeryn and smiled. “You’re an optimist too; that’s why this situation with your friend is eating at you.”

Aeryn gave her another quizzical look.

“You want to believe the best, but part of you fears the worst. It’s always there, lurking on the fringes, no matter how you smile.”

Aeryn nodded.

“Maybe it will go wrong, or you’ll fail,” Sing said, shrugging. “Much as we hope for everything to turn out…Well, Dark points out the possibilities for a reason. It makes it easier to pick up the pieces after, find what’s still workable, and move on from there.”

“You think so?”

“Have any of the tragedies you’ve gone through ended your life entirely? And have they led to only more bad–or have positive things followed, too?”

She let Aeryn ponder that for a moment. There was more than enough to do yet to keep Sing busy meanwhile.

“I suppose,” Aeryn said slowly. “There have been some good things that came from terrible events I wish had been different. Ryne is the most important; if everything with Minfilia hadn’t happened, if all on the First…” She shook her head. “But I hate having to pay so dear a price for what’s equally precious.”

“I agree,” Sing answered. “But the world rarely gives us that choice, so we must find, or make, our points of light to counter the dark, lest we drown in it.”

“So see these revelations about my family as an opportunity, and a chance to reconnect with my friend,” Aeryn said.

“About all you can do, dear,” Sing said. “While I know it seems the world’s defined you by your deeds, only you really get to decide who you are, and what this new information means, what it changes–if anything. Perhaps you simply have a ‘why’ that you did not before.”

The chronometer chimed to warn it was fifteen til six; they must have talked over the half-hour bell, as Sing didn’t recall hearing it. Aeryn pushed off the counter and used her foot to pull out the step-stool from underneath it so she could reach the higher shelves. “I’ll set the table,” she said, taking down dishes. “Thanks, Sing.”

“Anytime, dear,” Sing said with a smile. She had only told Aeryn what she already knew, but sometimes one needed to affirm a child’s opinion.

Sing finished preparing dinner as Iron, Dark, and the others returned, raucously talking, arguing, and laughing. Sing remembered when her many children were all still at home and making half as much noise. As she called over the din reminders to wash up before they sat at her table, please and thank you, she sent a brief prayer to the Twelve.

Protection for her daughter and these friends of hers, but also thanks that despite the various twists, turns, and tragedies in their young lives, they were here now under her roof. They were safe and sound and together, even if for a single night’s respite.

Just one moment of light, Sing thought. Hopefully it would be enough, when next they felt overwhelmed by their adventures.

[yume-x-hanabi]

The Birth of Milla “Maxwell” #1

Chapter One

In a remote corner of Auj Oule, the country that covered the northern side of Rieze Maxia, lied a village where the Maxwell faith still remained strong: Nia Khera. This village was built by fervent believers of the spirit Maxwell, facing the Nia Khera Hallowmont, characterized by its stable spirit clime. A spirit clime was a special phenomenon in Rieze Maxia where spirits influenced the environment.

At the foot of the Hallowmont, at about a one-hour walk from the village, there was a shrine erected in honor of Maxwell. An old man entered the shrine, followed by a little boy with unsteady steps. The man walked to the center of the shrine, prostrated himself toward the altar, and spoke without raising his head.

“Lord Maxwell, I have come today with good news. Please take a look at this boy. At the tender age of two, he was seen conversing with monsters.”

The little boy was looking around the shrine restlessly. The old man put his hand on the boy’s head and made him kneel and bow his head toward the altar.

Facing the two was a young girl. She listened to the elder with a bored look and only replied “I see.”

“I was thinking that this boy, Ivar, would make a good handmaid for you, Lord Maxwell. He will serve and protect you.”

“No thanks.”

In contrast to the girl’s stiff and formal reply, her voice was cute like you would expect a six years old’s voice to be.

“...I beg your pardon?”

“I have the Four. So no thanks.”

“Yes, but... There are things that even the honorable four great spirits cannot help you with. Please reconsider.”

The girl—Milla—picked a book from the pile that was at her side and started reading it, showing the elder she was not interested in continuing the conversation.

Suddenly, the four shadows hovering around her materialized. They were the great spirit of fire Efreet, the great spirit of water Undine, the great spirit of wind Sylph and the great spirit of earth Gnome. Milla, whom the inhabitants of Nia Khera revered, was protected and raised by these four spirits.

Undine crouched down in front of Milla. “Milla, the elder is right. There are things that we spirits cannot provide you as a human. You will need a handmaid.”

Gnome rolled to Milla’s side. “What will you become if we cannot be there for you?”

“I’ll be fine with just you four.”

Sylph stretched out in the air and spoke impatiently, “But what about when we’re away? It’s time you got it into your head that you are Maxwell.”

“I know I’m Maxwell, but...” Milla trailed off. To tell the truth, she was intrigued by this handmaid business. But she knew that if she showed genuine interest, the ‘Maxwell awareness’ lecture would start without fault. Milla puffed her cheeks. She loved the Four, but she didn’t like it when they were harping on the same subject all the time.

She turned her back to them and straightened her posture, pretending to be reading more intently than before. Efreet, who had until then stayed out of the discussion, folded his arms and commented, “She’s a stubborn child.”

For as far as Milla remembered, the Four had always raised her with talks of her ‘awareness as Maxwell’, so she did not doubt that she was Maxwell, and knew that she was going to be the boss of all spirits when she grew up. But she did not truly understand what this ‘Maxwell awareness’ was. However often they taught her about it, no matter how many books she read, she could not find the answer in her shrine.

This is why one day, when the Four were away, she sneaked out of the shrine and went to Nia Khera. There were many humans in the village, and her curiosity was piqued by children around her age playing games she did not know. She felt the urge to play with them, but she did not know how to approach them.

By observing them, she noticed that a kid they called “it” had to find the other children while they were hiding. She wanted to ask them to let her join them, but for some reason she hesitated. Maybe she was not sure she had correctly guessed the rules, maybe she was afraid to talk to humans she met for the first time, or maybe she felt that such an act would go against the so-called ‘Maxwell awareness’… Milla herself was not sure why she held back. When she was debating whether to walk up to them, an old woman saw her and called out “Lord Maxwell!” Startled, Milla ran away, back to her shrine.

When she reached the shrine, she brushed the dust off her clothes so that the Four would not suspect anything. However, upon their return, they noticed that she was not her usual self and interrogated her about it. For the first time in her life, Milla ‘lied’. She read in a book that lying was part of human nature. When she thought about that, she could barely keep her excitement contained. In a way, her interest in humans was born that day.

Remembering that event, Milla slowly shifted her gaze from her book to sneak a peek behind her. When she did, she saw that the elder and Ivar were already gone. The Four’s lecture was over as well. The next moment, she heard a terrible scream, one that she could still hear when she covered her ears with her hands. She felt a piercing pain in her ears. Looking at the Four, she saw that they could hear it too.

“Undine! What’s happening? It hurts!”

“You can hear it too?” Undine asked, not bothering to hide her surprise.

“It not surprising, given how many lesser spirits just died in one go. It’s the first time it’s so intense,” Sylph explained.

“This spyrix is really powerful,” Gnome added.

“Spyrix? What’s that?”

Undine tried to reassure her. “Milla, you should not worry about this yet.”

“Wait, Undine. It might a good time to tell her about it.”

Undine and the other two understood why Efreet said that. It must mean that the time when she would realize what being Maxwell meant was coming closer. The three spirits nodded to Efreet, who then faced Milla and started talking in an uncharacteristically calm and soft voice.

“Milla, you came to the human world chasing after a specific group of people. But because you had to create a human body for yourself, you lost your memories of before...”

For some reason, there was some hesitation in Efreet’s voice.

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Little Saint

The desert sands of the Ró-Yie flew by under the wings of the Sylphs as Demi flew. Vega kept pace with her, flying with ease as the Sylphs gave her winds to soar on. Demi found the travel relaxing, but not as enjoyable as riding her Pennam. She could also sleep while the Sylph flew her through the air, finding it surprisingly easy. So, the leagues dropped away easily, Demi guiding the Sylph with little more than her will.

At last she arrived at the eastern dunes of the Ró-Yie, Demi able to see out over the dunes and the great encampment in the valley. What must have been five clans of Dunesmen had gathered, numbering well over five thousand strong. Their Tylidae roamed around in another nearby valley, tended by the Dunesmen.

Demi commanded the winds to lower her, the Sylphs gently setting her down just outside of the encampment. She heard shouts and saw the sentries running, some towards her and others into camp. Demi held out her staff and Vega alit, ruffling her feathers as two Dunesmen approached. Both wore the laminar bronze armor and helms of the Dunesmen over their kaftan, their veils drawn up over their faces, so Demi could not read their henna.

Both carried long spears, but neither put to bear on Demi. She bowed to them and they both bowed in return.

“I am Demi rah Kartal, I am here to speak to the elders of the Dunesmen in a call for war.”

“Welcome Prophet of the Sands,” the sentry on the left said. “Come, you are welcome here.”

Demi nodded, and followed the man into the camp as he led the way. The Dunesmen stopped to stare as she walked past, whispers rising like bees after her. The sentry took her to a large central tent, leading her into the spacious room. There waited five Dunesmen, three men and two women. They had obviously just gathered, one of the men still dusty from the desert.

“Welcome Prophet of the Sands,” the eldest man said with a bow, the others joining him in the greeting. Though he was the eldest here the Dunesman seemed hail, his silver hair cropped short and skin like dried leather. The others were of varying ages, the youngest man in his middling years. All wore the bronze armor of the Dunesmen, their helms set before them on the carpet where they knelt.

Demi knelt before them and bowed, looking back up to see them watching her the way adults watched children who showed promise, with admiration but little expectations.

“My name is Demi rah Kartal of the Pinmen.”

“And the Prophet of the Sands,” the eldest woman said. She was middling years, hair just beginning to gray and cropped short to her head for a helm. Her henna was rich however, marks of beauty and pride over her face. “Or do you make no claim to the title?”

“I cannot claim what has been given to me and not earned,” Demi answered.

“Do you know how the leaders of the Dunesmen are selected?” the eldest woman asked, and Demi shook her head puzzled by this turn in questions. “By battle. We earn our places as the leaders of our people.”

Demi nodded, noting the looks she received now were more guarded, she had surprised them and impressed them.

“I am Maha rah Dhai,” the eldest woman said, the one with the markings of beauty.

“Baqi rah Sabe,” the youngest man said with a bow of his head.

“Karim rah Hakim,” the eldest man growled.

“Sana rah Dirka,” the younger woman said, her eyes like stones.

“Rais rah Sair,” the man of middling years said. “You are here to call us to war to Evalon.”

“Yes, so you know of the siege?”

“Of course,” Maha said.

“And done nothing.” Demi said, it was not a question.

“No, payment was not offered,” Maha answered. “But now that you are here, we can discuss it. What payment has the King offered for our services.”

Demi was silent, the King of course had not sent her, and she had no means by which to offer payment. She wasn’t sure if she could lie to them, but of course she had to speak.

“The King did not send me,” Demi said. “The Sect did, I will be negotiating for Grand Sect Samson.”

“Ah in that case we can really negotiate,” Maha said with a wicked grin leaning forward. “The coffers of Regis are deep.”

“I would not say we have that much at our disposal,” Demi said, knowing that Samson said Regis had cut off funds and they only had what the Sect in Evalon had. She did not know how much that was, she hadn’t been anticipating negotiating payment.

“A jest,” Maha said grinning. “Now…”

“You are not here with promise of payment,” Karim said and Maha turned to him shocked.

“I will do what I can to…”

“Do not lie child,” Karim said, his voice dry like the winds. “You went out of the city in desperation to gather those that you could, this is a call to war that comes from those unable to pay.”

“Yes,” Demi said at last. “I left the city in the hopes that I could gather those needed with my words alone. Evalon will fall and so will Xin and then the rest of the Nine. We must fight.”

“The King wouldn’t allow Evalon to fall,” Baqi said.

“He will not allow his palace to fall,” Demi answered. “The rest of the city is another matter.”

“You speak this as if you have spoken to the King,” Karim said. “So, I am to guess that your words did not rouse him to battle. Why then do you think it will rouse us?”

Demi sat silent, unsure what Karim was looking for in an answer if he was even looking for one at all. He could be simply raising the question, so the others considered it, her answer could be meaningless.

“I went out because I had to,” Demi answered. “I acknowledge much of this maybe a fool’s errand, but what then? Evalon will fall if I were to stay and just fight. I had to at least try or I could not face those dying on the walls as we speak. I could not face the gods. I could not face myself. I am here to speak because others call me Prophet, so I will be their Prophet.”

Silence met her speech, the men and women of the Dunesmen digesting her words without showing how they were taking them.

“A pretty speech,” Karim said, “but we cannot risk the lives of our people without some form of benefit.”

“I believe there is benefit,” Baqi said. “The Prophet is right, if Evalon were to fall we would suffer.”

“But we would still gain nothing and lose lives,” Maha argued.

“We could gain were we to take from the Pridesmen,” Sana said with a wicked glint in her eye.

“So, we are to be common bandits now?” Karim said with distain.

“Enough!” Demi said, not loudly but with enough force to turn heads to her. “Chief Rais, you have not spoken on this, what do you feel should be done?”

The others turned to Rais, who had been sitting calmly through the whole exchange. Other than his first statement he had been silent, and Demi got the sense that this man was watching everything very carefully. He bowed to her, a slight smile on his lips now.

“Valid points have been made on both sides, to aid Evalon or to avoid conflict,” Rais said. “Benefit can be had for both, and loss can be had for both. I believe however it is the Gods’ will that should decide our course. If you really are a Prophet, then you can give us a sign that the Gods favor you.”

As the other chiefs murmured their agreement Demi watched Rais wondering what he was planning. She could think of several ways she could prove she was favored by the Gods, flying or calling on other of the wild kin. She had not tried to command the Salamandra, but she was sure she could get them to do a few tricks to please the chiefs. Rais knew she could prove she was a prophet, they all did, so why the test?

“If I prove to you I am favored by the Gods, you will aid Evalon without payment?” Demi asked to clarify.

“Yes, but proving you are favored by the gods will take more than mere tricks,” Rais said his grin wicked now. “How do we know you do not have some mage enchantment on you that lets you fly as you had to arrive here? No, you must cast a miracle to prove you really are God blessed.”

“What kind of miracle?” Demi asked and knew she stepped into a trap by Rais’ grin.

“Come with me,” Rais said as he stood. The other chiefs rose as well, looking puzzled. Demi stood and followed, the other chiefs letting her fall into step next to Rais. He led the way out of the tent and through the camp, Dunesmen stopping watching them pass and some even hurrying to follow.

Rais led the way through the camp and out into the sands. The Dunesmen lived in the Ró-Yie, the rolling dunes of sand of the center of Xin. The dunes rose above them as they walked through a valley of the sands. Demi wondered how far they were going until she saw their destination ahead after a bend of the dunes. In an oval shaped valley stood a megalith of stone. It was a great standing pillar, Demi unsure if it were manmade or natural. As they approached more detail became apparent.

The pillar of stone was made up of fossils of giant millipedes, creatures the size of Tylidae they must have been related. The millipedes were all fossils of stone, writhing and crawling over the pillar of stone so much Demi was sure the whole pillar was made up of the creatures.

“The Attemsi,” Rais said. “They are related to the Tylidae, an older race no doubt, none living have been seen for generations.”

“Very impressive,” Demi said glancing at Rais sideways. “I take it they are the miracle you want.”

“If you can restore these creatures to life you would truly be god blessed,” Rais answered. “And the Pridesmen could hardly stand a chance against the Attemsi.”

Demi eyed the fossils seeing the wicked pincers and jaws of the Attemsi. Even just their size would be enough to overpower anything. Demi could hardly tell how big any of them truly were given how entangled they were. She had no idea how she would restore them to life and if it were even possible. All she knew of the Elder Magic was commanding the Wild Kin, a simple task of asking them and they obeyed. How to restore life to the stone creatures before her?

Feeling the eyes of all the Dunesmen on her Demi walked forward to the pillar until she could place her hand on the stone. It was hot still with Sol’s wrath, the black basalt flecked with specks of quartz like stars. She hoped that like the other times, something would just happen. She felt the stone under her hand grow hotter, something in her stirring as well. She felt a heat spreading from her navel, and soon the heat of the rock grew so hot the air rippled. Her hand did not burn, so Demi kept it in place as the air began to swell and ripple with the heat.

In the distance Demi heard a familiar sound, the groaning song of the dunes as they began to shift and moan. It grew louder, louder than she had ever heard them and the ground beneath her feet began to tremble like a frightened child. She stared up at the pillar and realized the movement she now saw was more than just the heat waves coming off the stone. Legs began to twitch and the many coils of stone began to groan and writhe.

Demi didn’t dare move even as rocks and stone began to fall from the pillar. Where she stood was a center of calm in this storm, she was the nexus and as long as she stood still she hoped she would be safe. Still she craned her head back to watch as the tower began to crumble, the individual Attemsi peeling away to writhe on the ground like worms. Dust rose and Demi knew she would be lost to sight, but she kept still as the tower continued to crumble and the Attemsi awaken.

At last the lowest one stirred and pulled away from her writhing on the ground before her. She waited, watching these giant creatures warily. She saw now they were no longer stone but were still a matt black in color. Their thousands of legs twitched, and their antennae unfurled as they scented the air. As one they became aware of Demi, massive heads turning towards her. She was surrounded by the Attemsi, she had nowhere to run.

She held stock still as they moved closer, their great pincers clacking together. Their long antennae unfurled, thick feathering things that seemed far too delicate for such massive creatures. Though they crawled on their bellies on their legs they still stood six spans tall, one could swallow Demi whole. Their antennae touched her, brushing against her as they investigated. Their antennae felt like feathers brushing against her skin, the feeling almost familiar to Demi.

Then they withdrew, Demi opening her eyes to see them standing around her calmly. She turned and started to walk back and the Attemsi moved aside so she could walk out of their midst to the waiting Dunesmen. The Dunesmen had gathered in a great number, all starring at her in absolute awe.

“There is your miracle,” Demi said to Rais. “Now you will ride to war.”

He fell to his knees, only just changing the motion to one of supplication rather than weakness. The rest followed quickly; heads bowed to her.

“Yes Prophet,” Rais said, his voice hoarse. “We will ride immediately.”

“Good, I have more of the nomads to gather,” Demi said. “I will see you on the field of battle in Evalon.”

“Yes Prophet,” Rais said.

Demi nodded and walked away towards the dunes where she would be able to summon winds strong enough to lift her. She realized as she walked away however that payment had not been negotiated with the Dunesmen, yet she knew they would show to the battle. She also had a feeling that to the other tribes she was going to have to complete more miracles in order to gain their aid; stories alone would not win the day.

She reached a dune top and called down the sylphs, the little Wild Kin lifting her up into the air, so she had a view of the valley below. The Dunesmen were working to coral the Attemsi who seemed surprisingly docile to the Dunesmen. It seemed the same methods of command worked for the cousins.

She turned to the south then, fixing in her mind the Ró-Urt, the great salt pan to the south east of the dunes. She had little hope of motivating the Galesmen to war, they were not a martial people at all. She even doubted they could be any help, but she had to hope they could aid Evalon in their own way. Once again she flew for days before at last she saw the white line of the salt pan on the horizon.

She was reminded then that she had first arrived to the Ró-Urt flying, and though she could not see the Wild Kin at the time they had saved her. She wondered if they had known what she was then, if not why had they saved her?

She flew for the day until she spotted a small caravan being drawn by the winds. She swooped low, kicking up a cloud of white dust, hearing men shouting. She landed and turned to see the caravan had stopped as well, men hurrying to meet her. As soon as they reached her they fell to their knees in supplication; it seemed the Galesmen might be the easiest to convince though they might be the least useful.

“Prophet of the Sands and Winds,” the lead man said, still on his knees with his head down. “We welcome you.”

“It is good to be welcomed,” Demi said. “Please rise.”

The men and women before her rose, though they still stood with eyes downcast a feat of which Demi found interesting considering she stood shorter than most here.

“I have come as the herald to war,” Demi said to them. “I am not a Prophet of peace sadly, but one of blood.”

“It is known to us of what you bring and it is not blood,” the leader said. “You are the bringer of far more than that, this is only a time of transition into something more.”

“What do you mean?” Demi asked puzzled by this twist of conversation.

“The stones have gathered Prophet,” the man answered pointing to the east. “The Palace of Glass stands once more.”

Demi felt a thrill as she turned to look to the east as if she could see the fabled palace from here. Of course she could not see it, the legendary drifting Palace of Glass only lived in the Tales of the Lost, the legendary city that the Chain Breaker had led all the freed slaves to.

“What do you mean about the stones?” Demi asked breathlessly, unable to tear her eyes from the horizon. “How does the Palace stand again? Was it destroyed before?”

“We keepers of the winds know more than others about the Palace of Glass,” the man said. “For many of us our blood is of those who once followed Tí Re Laricar.”

Demi looked at him then, having never heard such a thing before. Looking at the man now she realized he was telling her a great secret of his people, and that she must keep it.

“I am Hamid rah Sail,” he said bowing to her. “The child of men and women who were once slaves.”

“That is why the Galesmen worship the Wind Gods then?” Demi said. “Because the wind is always free.”

“Yes, and we live by their grace,” Hamid answered. “And it is the secret to the Palace of Glass, for the wind is what blows the wandering stones to where the Palace lies and it forms again when they gather.”

“So that is the meaning of the wandering stones,” Demi said. “When I last spoke to the Galesmen they made it sound a mystery.”

“To some it is,” Hamid answered. “And you were a stranger. We keep the secret in loyalty Tí Re Laricar, he freed our ancestors so we own him our freedom.”

“You are telling me now,” Demi said.

“Now you are the Prophet of the Sands and Winds,” Hamid answered.

“Why?” Demi asked breathless. “Why do you tell me now when the palace had appeared?”

“Because our legends say one will come seeking the palace,” Hamid answered. “One who is Tí Re Laricar reborn. You are now called the Chain Breaker are you not?”

Demi only nodded turning back to the desert looking at the horizon. She could see nothing, sense nothing either, if she was meant to go to the palace it did not call to her. Then she remembered what she was and knew that she was not who the Galesmen thought she was.

“I am not Tí Re Laricar reborn,” Demi said turning back to Hamid. “I am a new spirit, one that has not be born to this world ever before. I am not the one seeking the palace, it is another.”

“I see,” Hamid said breathlessly, his face bloodless under his henna.

“I will keep this all a secret,” Demi said. “You did not tell me needlessly, for I feel though I am not the one you thought, I am still close to them. Thank you for telling me.”

“You know then who we are awaiting?” Hamid asked hopefully.

“I do not know their name,” Demi answered. “But I know them in spirit. They will come seeking the palace soon.”

“Then we must be here to guide them,” Hamid said nodding and Demi’s heart fell. “We cannot go to war.”

Demi was tempted to argue but looking at Hamid she realized it would be impossible. Their loyalty was to their ancestors and the man that freed them, they would await the one that the palace was forming for.

“Very well,” Demi said sadly.

“Not all must stay,” Hamid said with a wane smile. “We can spare a few for the battle I am sure.”

Demi doubted it would be many and if any would be of worth.

“Your offer is kind, but I feel it is merely out of obligation,” Demi answered. “I will not take those who are not willing. Your task at hand is far greater I believe than the one I herald. Stay, many will be needed so the seeker may find guidance anywhere.”

“Thank you, Prophet,” Hamid said bowing. “We will not forget this.”

“No, you are not a people to forget anything are you?” Demi said and Hamid smiled wanly.

“We may at least treat you to food and water Prophet,” Hamid said bowing to her. “We are not so discourteous as to abstain from such a hospitality.”

Demi had not eaten or rested since she had set out, except a few mouthfuls of water and food, having skipped that hospitality with the Dunesmen.

“I would be honored,” Demi said bowing.

“The honor is ours,” Hamid said with a wry grin. “Come.”

While they had been talking the rest of the tribe had been setting up camp and tents. Familiar already with the ways of the Galesmen Demi let Hamid lead her through the budding camp to a fire side where water was already heating. Demi sat and waited as food was prepared over the fire. She watched the everyday motions of the camp, feeling both at home and lonely at the same time, the curse of a guest. The meal prepared was a simple one of rice, toasted sesame cakes, and salted fish. There was only water to drink, Demi wished there were kaffa. Her meal finished Demi sat and listened to the wind chimes of the Galesmen, a woman playing the flute to join the music of the wind.

Demi closed her eyes and despite the different music and the smell of salt on the wind, she felt at home or at the least at peace. Home was not a place, it was found in company, music, and the love of those you were with. Demi realized her home was changing now, it had grown to include more than just the people of her tribe. Her people were her home now.

The music finished and soon Demi was given a tent to rest in. The next day Demi left the Galesmen, able to travel faster on the winds alone.

“Swift travels to you Prophet,” Hamid said bowing to her.

“And to you,” Demi said softly feeling the winds pulling at her. Already the sylphs had gathered, clouds of salt dust flying in their wake.

“War has come but you have come as well,” Hamid said. “Farewell.”

Demi could only bow as the sylphs lifted her up, a cloud of salt dust rising in her wake. As she rose up into the sky she looked to the east briefly and saw a glint of light off a surface. She looked again but it was gone, a dust storm to the east covering the glimpse she had. Disappointed, Demi headed south. She had traveled this way before, but now through the air she saw the salt pan in a much different light.

It was dusk, but as Sol set and Lun rose Demi saw the beauty of the salt pan as Lun’s wane light lit the white expanse like a sea of silver light. With light below her and the dark night sky above full of stars Demi felt like she flew through another world. Even the misty aether between world could not compare to this strange beauty around her.

She did not rest and flew through Lun’s light into Eha’s twilight of dawn, her world now one of light and sky like she was in Empyria itself. As Eha’s time grew gold with the blessing of Sol, Demi saw the shadow of the canyon lands on the horizon. Distance from the sky proved that though she could see her destination didn’t mean she was close. It took all day of flying before Demi reached the canyon and rather than navigate it at night she had the winds set her down and made camp in the shelter of some rocks.

As Eha’s time came again in the early light Demi set out on the winds through the canyon. As she flew other birds joined her and Vega, ravens flying alongside her. The ravens eyed her warily for a time before they flew on their way, Demi wondering what they had made of her. She continued on, other ravens flying over to investigate her before flying off once more. They seemed to be the only birds of the canyon, that or the others took no interest in a flying human.

Finding the camp of the Zarman was difficult, she had been blindfolded and they kept it well hidden. From the air everything looked different, but Demi hoped she could spot the landmark of the rock bridge over the canyon. They also kept hidden on purpose, making finding them even harder. The sylph flew her on, Demi scanning the rocks and canyon walls for signs of the Zarman. She looked for smoke, snakes, and the rock bridge. Still even having been there before Demi nearly flew past the spot.

She recognized the stone bridge just as she flew over it, seeing a distant Zarman in the tower. The man shouted something Demi could not hear over the wind and started to climb down the tower. Demi veered and turned around so she could fly down to the bridge. Landing on the narrow strip of land in the gusting winds proved difficult, but Demi managed to jump just in time to land safely. She turned to see the Zarman had gotten down onto the bridge and was staring at her slack jawed. Demi heard Vega squawk and turned to see her flying towards her. She held out her staff and the palm-nut vulture alit. Turning back to the Zarman she found he was still staring at her, though now his mouth was closed.

She recognized him but knew she had not learned his name, one of the people she had seen in the camp but not learned their name during her brief stay with the Zarmen.

“Greetings,” Demi said when the silence went on too long. “Do you remember me?”

“Yes Prophet,” he said hoarsely before clearing his throat to continue. “Yes, come with me and I will take you to Zade.”

She had to wait for him to approach and pass her on the bridge of stone, the Zarman edging around her carefully. Demi would have thought it was because of Vega, though now she as sure it was because of her own presence that the man showed such caution. She followed him back over the bridge and into the caves of the canyon. Inside it was cool after the heat of the canyon, and it took a moment for Demi’s eyes to adjust.

The camp was much smaller than the last time she had been there, it seemed only the old and very young remained. The man that accompanied her seemed hail until Demi realized one eye strayed and that he must be blind in that eye. He led her to the main tent, still set up though there were fewer to tend to it. The perturbed air did not ease as they entered the main tent where the leaders of the clan should have been. Instead it was empty of all but an elder and a child.

Zade sat with a young girl of the Zarmen, the girl serving her tea and sesame cakes. Demi sat and the girl served her as well, Demi waiting until she finished and left with the scout. Alone she and Zade sat and ate, saying nothing until they finished their food.

“I’m insulted that you would think the Zarmen would send no aid,” Zade said breaking the silence. Demi met her stare and knew Zade was only half joking, war was too grim a subject to warrant too much humor.

“I apologize,” Demi said with a bow.

“Come now I was only joking,” Zade said tersely.

“So, you have sent out your tribes to Evalon,” Demi said and Zade nodded. “Yet they have not arrived.”

“We are not the swiftest of the tribes if you recall,” Zade said, her tone sharp.

“Yes of course,” Demi said bowing her head. “How long ago did they leave?”

“When the siege first began,” Zade answered. “They should be arriving at Evalon soon.”

Demi resisted pointing out how long that had been, taking a sip of her kaffa instead. Telling by the scowl on Zade’s face she knew what was went unsaid but responded in kind by her own sip of kaffa. Silence lasted a beat too long before Zade faced her again with eyes like a snake’s.

“How do you think the Holy city is fairing without the Prophet of the Sands?” Zade said dryly.

“I do not know, and I am sure neither do you,” Demi answered.

“I can imagine,” Zade said dryly. “You held them together.”

“And hope of my return is what holds them still,” Demi answered.

“Hope is a thin thread to hang lives upon,” Zade warned.

“Yet they have been holding,” Demi answered. “Or we would know if they had not.”

“How?” Zade asked, an eyebrow raised.

“The omens would ripple across the aether,” Demi answered, or at least she had hoped. Zade didn’t seem to believe her but did not speak her doubt.

“So, you have wasted your time coming to those who have already gone to your aid,” Zade said. “You came here for nothing.”

“No, not nothing,” Demi answered. “There is another reason I came here.”

“Oh?” Zade said surprised. Demi hesitated, unsure if she should voice her idea or not.

“I wish to speak with the Serpent King,” Demi said at last, a beat of silence lasting longer than she thought it would.

“Speak with…” Zade said. “Well far be it from me to stop you.”

She didn’t seem to believe it was possible, and Demi decided not to dissuade her.

“Then I will take my leave,” Demi said bowing.

“You may rest here when you return,” Zade said.

“Thank you,” Demi said as she stood, Zade watching her go passively. She exited the tent to find the Zarman that had stayed behind waiting for her. They were mostly children no older than five, a few sickly or crippled youths, and some elderly adults. Just the few who could not make the journey to the Holy City, enough to care for one another. No one said anything as she left the cavern out onto the stone bridge towards the pinnacle in the middle of the canyon. It was near Ebbing hour prayers now, Sol setting in the west.

Demi reached the tower and climbed, reaching the top just in time to cast her prayers into Empyeria before she called the Sylphs down to lift her out towards the Ró-Ky, the Dead Sands. Flying out over the canyon and then the gray sands was seamless, but Demi’s heart skipped a beat as she passed over the deadly sands below. She had nearly died by the Snake Sand, and she was now flying over enough of it to turn her to a statue.

She flew high, seeing the dust of the sands flying below her. She followed the winding remains of bones through the sand, the remains of the great coils of the Serpent King like giant megaliths of stone. She thought she would have to fly far, but soon the true scale of the Serpent King set in and she realized it would take her longer than she thought to find the head of the Serpent King. Nearly an hour of flying and at last she saw the center of the coils of the Serpent King.

Standing in the center of the coil of bones rose the remains of the Serpent’s King head. The shape of the skull told her the Serpent King must have been like a viper, a wedge-shaped skull with fangs two stories tall. Demi dared to fly low, the sylphs blowing away the Snake Sand so it did not touch her. She hovered before the gaping maw of the Serpent King, his fangs like twin pillars before her.

“Hail!” Demi shouted, her voice resonating over the desert. She saw the air ripple, the sands vibrate, and bones rattle at her call.  A moment of silence lasted thick in the air, before Demi felt her ears pop and the tension release.

“You disturb my slumber,” the Serpent King said, his voice a soft whisper in the air, like the deep rumble of the dunes. “Leave.”

That one word rippled with such power Demi was thrown back into the air, the sylphs scrambling to keep her aloft. They brought her back and she hovered again over the Serpent King’s maw.

“She lives still,” Demi said, and sensed the attention of the Serpent King on her. “Kur.”

The sands rumbled and Demi realized the Serpent King was turning in the sands, his bones shifting.

“And so do I,” The Serpent King answered. “Did she send you?”

“No, I come with my own reasons,” Demi answered. “I seek your aid.”

“Aid?” The Serpent King laughed, a dry rumble of the sands. “Why would I aid you? Do you promise me aid in return against Kur?”

“No, I promise nothing,” Demi answered.

“Yet you come with a reason I should aid you,” the Serpent King answered, sensing her unsaid words.

“I have met the one who is called by one name of the Sandman,” Demi said, unsure if the Serpent King would be at all interested. “A soul eater called the Crippled One has stolen his name.”

“Stolen…” The Serpent King whispered again in a soft hiss of sand. “And he asked you young one of aid?”

“Of what little I could give I offered,” Demi answered. “You know the Sandman.”

“Yes,” the Serpent King said but did not elaborate. “Very well, I will aid you, but I will need power.”

“I will have your word,” Demi said. “And your name.”

The Serpent King hiss angrily, the sands shifting dangerously.

“You would dare…”

“I will have what is needed to aid the Sandman,” Demi said. “Or I will not free you.”

The Serpent King hissed angrily for a time, shifting about in the sands crossly. Then he settled seemingly like a pouting child.

“Very well,” the Serpent King answered. “My word on my name Sha-lan K’ar.”

Demi felt the power of his name and took it like a weaver with chaff. Taking the name she called power from the aether, instinctively knowing how to do what she was doing. Weaving the name with the power she gathered she let it drop into the sands, pulling it together. The sands whispered, growing louder into a cacophony of hissing as the sands writhed below her. Then the sound began to slow until it faded into nothing but silence. Demi looked below her, seeking movement.

In Lun’s light at last she saw a viper slithering out of the sands. Demi could tell it was no ordinary viper, first it was twice the size and second it had a mane of scales. It was a dark gray like the snake sand, its eyes a deep purple as it looked up at Demi. Cautiously Demi had the sylphs lower her towards the serpent. It raised its head, it forked tongue flicking out to catch her scent.

Demi did not need to be told that even in this form the Serpent King had great power, she could feel it in his gaze. She held out her arm and the Serpent King slithered up to wrap around her chest and shoulders. Demi knew he could squeeze her to death easily, yet he did not tighten any more than needed around her. His head came even with hers, one eye facing her as he tipped his head to the side.

“Well, lead on little one,” the Serpent King said.

“Very well,” Demi said. “Sha.”

The Serpent King blinked at her shortening his name, but she commanded the Sylphs to carry them off before he could respond. They flew back over the sands, nothing having changed after the Serpent King’s resurrection. The dead sands still seemed just as dead as before, Demi guessing the resurrection of the Serpent King had not changed the nature of the snake sand. So, she did not land until she was once more past the canyon. She walked back to the Zarman’s camp to Zade’s tent.

The Zarman all froze and stared at Sha, fear obvious in their eyes. Zade did not stand when Demi stood before her, she sat frozen as if poisoned by snake sand.

“Speak with,” Zade breathed. “You said you would just speak with him.”

“Do your people not hold him in high regards?” Demi asked.

“We hold him in fear,” Zade answered. “I do not believe you know what you have done.”

“Settle your heart youngling,” Sha said in a sibilant whisper. “These are matters of greater spirits than your own, and beyond your concerns. Do not concern yourself with the movements of giants.”

“I do for fear of being crushed,” Zade answered. “And will guard my own, do not think me so ignorant.”

Sha clicked his tongue; he didn’t seem to care what Zade thought.

“I should go,” Demi said regretfully. “I thank you again for the aid of the Zarman.”

“I hope you do not come to regret your actions Demi,” Zade said. “What you have awakened is no small serpent.”

Demi simply bowed and left the tent, going outside once more and calling upon the sylphs.

“Now we go to Kur?” Sha asked.

“No,” Demi answered. “There are more clans to call upon, and I will not take you to Kur.”

“Won’t you?” Sha said, tightening his coils.

“No,” Demi said firmly looking Sha in the eye. “You are greatly reduced, no matter your power now, you would not be able to face Kur.”

“So is she,” Sha answered, bearing his fangs. “And the battle we will wage will never end.”

“Why?” Demi asked. “What do you hold against Kur?”

“We both wish to reside in Miread, this world of the physical realm hold pleasures of the senses unlike many that are on the lines. Our spirits are so old and great we both cannot reside here lest Miread falls into the aether to be swept away.”

“But you are both lessened,” Demi said.

“We are still great, no matter the forms we take here or the time that has passed,” Sha answered. “We have both been between here and the lines in slumber after our battle, when Kur awakens only one of us can stay here. I will be the one to reside in Miread.”

Demi was silent, wondering what impact she had upon Miread.

“Are all great spirits like you Sha?” Demi asked.

“You mean are you?” Sha asked. “You are a young one yet, I expect you could reside in Miread for some time. Some spirits care little for the physical senses, like the Sandman who lives in his dreams. Others like Kur who dream her children and reside in Miread, seek to exist.”

“And those like you?” Demi asked, but Sha only answered with a sly snake grin. “Do you know my origins?”

“No, why would I?” Sha asked. “I can tell what you are, that does not mean I know where you came from. There are many greater spirits of the aether and worlds beyond.”

Demi let it go then, wondering if she ever learn where her spirit came from. What was she doing in Miread? What did her greater existence mean? What would become of her if her body died in Miread? She had no idea, and these greater questions seemed beyond her.

They flew for days over the sands once more, Vega her companion once more, heading for the lands of the Horse Lords. They arrived at Rising Hour prayers, Sol just gracing the horizon and lighting the sands with a gentle glow. His light caught on the great clouds of dust from the herds of horses, the Lords were on the move. Demi flew over them, having the sylphs blow away the dust in the air so she was seen. Shouts rang out and she descended onto a nearby standing rock, pitted and worn away by the winds and sands. She sat as the Horse Lords approached, the stone about as tall as a horse itself putting her at eye level of the three men who approached. Vega lit on the rock next to her and began to preen, uninterested in the men riding up to them. Sha stayed coiled around her, impossible to miss.

She only recognized one, Renze hadn’t changed from the last she had seen him. The other two were of a kind as Renze, braided hair with charms, henna of power and nobility, in their prime of life not young but not old. None dismounted though Demi doubted it was out of disrespect given her position on the rock.

“Hail, Prophet of the Sands,” Renze said bowing low in the saddle, his companions following suit.

“Hail though we have met before Renze,” Demi said.

“I know,” Renze said. “You have changed much and now I call you the truth of what you are. I’ve heard your tale from you in person, and more of it from others as it has grown.”

“Then you have heard I call the tribes to war,” Demi said her gaze intent.

“We have heard so,” another of the men said dourly.

“And you ride for war now,” Demi said, but the men did not answer. They looked away under her gaze, unable to meet her penetrating eyes. “You do not ride for war.”

“Our horses fear the Pantra,” Renze answered. “We would be of little use unmounted.”

“Yet you ride north?” Demi said puzzled. This time Renze meet her gaze, his eyes sharp.

“My line was once one of the kings of Xin,” he said boldly. “I would make it so once more.”

Demi knew the king’s Xin had shifted families, after treachery or usurpation, she was not surprised to the find clans of the Horse Lords had once resided in Evalon. What she was surprised about was the fact that it seemed they would stoop so low as to wait for Evalon to be weakened by war and then take the holy city for themselves.

“You are no better than the Hyena,” Demi said, her voice dark with loathing. “Even those as Vega give burial to the dead, but you would take a prize after it has been mauled by another. Go then, take your spoils, but hear me now, if any of the Horse Lord ever sits on the throne of Xin their line will wither, their heard diminish, and all they hold dear will be ash.”

The horses shied and danced, a ripple spreading out over the sands and the air hummed with Demi’s prediction. The Horse Lords cried out and lowered their heads, but Demi ignored them. Calling the sylphs to her she took to the air, not looking back as she flew up into the sky and away.

“Your curse holds power,” Sha warned.

“I know,” Demi said gravely. “I did not speak out of rash anger, nor a need to make them go to battle. I spoke the truth of what would come of such cowardice.”

“Or what you believed,” Sha answered. “They could have prospered, but your word will make it so they never will.”

“Then so be it,” Demi said. “I will not force them down such a path, but if they turn away from the throne then my word will not hold.”

“So long as you know the power you hold,” Sha answered. “Those like us must use caution, often words of power cut both ways.”

Demi did not answer, she knew in her bones what she had done was true. Whatever she might be, she knew she could always trust herself.

“Well, now where do we go?” Sha asked.

“The Wickerfolk,” Demi answered. They flew for days over the desert, once passing a great sandstorm, boiling with lighting and great clouds of sand. Demi could now see the greater sylph that resided in the storm, marveling at the might of the great nature spirit.

“Those spirits are spirits of Miread,” Sha said seeing her interest. “They are the richness of this world given life and mind, though a mind even I don’t fully grasp. Greater ones like that reside high in the sky, floating languidly until something draws them down. I do know what draws them down, or why it angers them so, but when they are close to the ground they rage and storm like that one there. Do not approach it, it is very dangerous. It takes a great deal of power to turn away such a spirit, or even impart your will upon it.”

Demi nodded and gave the greater sylph a wide birth. They arrived at the Arc River, and Demi followed it until she found a vast fleet of river rafts heading down stream. She a lit on one easily, facing the three men of the craft who bowed low.

“I come with the call to war.”

“It is a call we cannot answer,” an elderly Wickerfolk answered, his skin like dried leather and hena barely visible for his wrinkles. “Go on Prophet, you must return to the Holy City. You have done all needed, they need you now.”

Demi wanted to argue, to call them to war, but then she looked around at the gathered Wickerfolk and realized what little use they would be. No weapons, no mounts, no hot blood for battle. They were doing the wisest thing for them, fleeing along the river away form battle.

“May the Arc protect you,” Demi said, once again ripples spreading from her words.

“And may you be victorious,” the old man answered. Demi nodded and took flight once more.

“Now where?” Sha asked.

“Evalon,” Demi answered. “He was right, it is time for war.”

Sha’s answer was to hiss and bear his fangs, his eyes bright with the coming challenge. Demi’s faced the rising sun, flying for the holy city with her mind bent towards the red light of dawn.

[knight-kat-blog]

This Means War

The Goblet, Rendezvous of Stars Mansion, Thanalan

Kiht’s feet slowly pressed against the hardwood floor as she sat up on the edge of her bed. Her groggy gaze examined the infirmary room with mild confusion, but the look soon faded from her face, and her attention turned to her legs.

She slowly put pressure on them as she stood. Her tentative movements betrayed her hesitation, but she continued in anticipation. Nothing happened. She hopped in place a few times as if testing her legs, but she didn’t wince or feel pain. She let out a sigh of relief, and her manner grew pensive.

Her head hung slightly low as she stood motionless. Moments passed before she drew a knife from her belt. Her casual, tribal clothes were all she wore to sleep, but even in safety, Kiht was always armed. She studied her blade - a clean, steel hunting knife with a handle made of ancient wood. A raptor eye insignia had been carved into the handle. Slowly, her head lifted with intent, and she slipped the blade back into its sheath on her belt.

She gathered a white linkpearl from her satchel bag left next to the bed then brought it to life with her own aether before speaking into it “Tefh, are you there?”

“Aye sis, I’m ‘ere. What do you need?”

“I need a specific set of my belongings brought to the Shroud,” Kiht said then paused. “And I need my raptors. Meet me in South Shroud in the Lower Paths, and bring Jahk, Arri and Kedha’a.”

“Must be some serious shite goin’ on for you,” Tefh responded.

“Indeed, shite I am ready to help put an end to.”

 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lower Paths, South Shroud

The forest greeted Kiht with its usual, consistent sounds. Birds chirped, frogs croaked and giant tortoises rumbled in the distance. The Lower Paths maintained an eerie stillness as much life could be heard, but not easily seen.

She stood in the open with an alert gaze, and a spear leaning on her shoulder. She watched the tree line as she awaited to see if the next Moon-keepers to emerge would be poachers or family. Figures approaching down the road soon answered her. Three Keeper women and one Keeper man with two raptors in tow came into view, and Kiht breathed a sigh of relief.

“Kiht, what’s goin’ on?” asked the only red-headed Keeper in the group. Jahk’s small stature contrasted her perpetually irritable expression.

The two raptors let out high-pitched calls and dashed to Kiht’s side to greet her. Their small winglets flapped wildly as they bowed their heads to the touch of her hands. She pulled two small fish from her satchel, and then gave each raptor a tasty reward for their loyalty. “I missed you two,” she muttered softly to them then regarded her cousin.

“A friend of mine has been attacked. I am dealing with smart voidsent, and they are far more organized than your typical horde.” Kiht closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but all that came of her moment of pause was a scowl. “I will not stand for it,” she growled. “There are many reasons to -hate- this group of voidsent, but it became personal now.”

“We’re with you, cousin, I brough’ the war paint. Let’s murder these monsters!” Jahk interjected.

“You want to drag the family into this?” Kedha’a added.

“Shut it, male,” Jahk blurted out as she swiftly turned to face Ked, and just as Kiht opened her mouth to speak.

“-You- shut it,” he responded.

“Silence for a Gods dammed tick!” Kiht shouted as she balled her fists. “I do -not- want the family dragged into this. This is not just some gathering of voidsent in the Shroud. It is a group that infests a noble house of Ishgard. We are not going to just -raid- it or some shite like that.”

The four Keepers all regarded Kiht with surprised faces. Though Ked’s face could only be guessed at due to his ash mask that he almost always wore.

“I brought you here not to help me fight, but to bring my raptors, pass me my things and relay a message to Matron Kihra. They may be tracking me, so I cannot stay with the family. I think it best that the family resettle to one of the secret points.”

“Nay, let us ‘elp you. That’s what families are for. I’ve killed voidsent before!” Jahk eagerly objected as she leaned forward to emphasize her willingness.

“Nay, Jahk. Our family needs to rebuild. We have taken enough losses fighting the battles of others,” Kiht responded as she crossed her arms.

“Then why do you fight the battles of others?” Ked asked in his usual, calm tone.

“Because this was never supposed to be a battle. It began as a mere favor to a friend, and it was never supposed to be dangerous. But it grew into the shite it has now, and what kind of reputation would the Jakkya gain if we backed out of something just because it got dangerous?” Kiht shook her head several times. “Nay, I started on this without the consent of the family, so I will not suddenly drag them into it just because things have gotten dangerous.”

The four Keepers regarded Kiht quietly as a moment passed. Eventually, Arri took a step forward. The lengthy bangs of her black hair nearly shrouded the concern in her blue eyes.  “Even if you started on it alone, you don’t ‘ave to finish it alone,” she said without hiding the worry in her voice.  

Kiht grew a slight smile as her gaze settled on the youngest of the five Keepers present. “Worry not; I am not alone in this. I will count on you four to watch over the family.”

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East Shroud greeted Kiht and her raptors much like South Shroud. The usual cacophony of bird and insect noises were like many kinds of chimes and bells all ringing to different influences. The many paths through the area of the forest were starting to over-grow with weeds, and the Keeper passed scarce Gridanian patrols. The tension once held in the air by the presence of the Garleans occupying Castrum Orriens was gone, and this patch of the Shroud no longer presented itself as a potential warzone.

After a time of traveling, she spotted the familiar sight of glowing fungi and manipulated plant-like structures of Little Solace. The thick canopies of East Shroud kept the area dim which made the glow of the Sylph settlement appear brighter. Fireflies hovered around the settlement, dancing through the air akin to how the Sylphs themselves often interacted with each other.

Once Kiht closed a respectable distance between her and the settlement’s entrance, she glanced to each of her raptors and spoke to them in a series of clicks in whistles while relieving them of their saddle-packs. The raptors moved off as they understood the Huntspeak commands. The larger Shroud raptor dashed off to encircle the Sylph settlement while the smaller grass raptor moved the opposite direction.

Kiht drew out a dark object from her satchel belt - a wooden whistle shaped like a bird of prey. She blew on it gently to create a shrill whistle that stood out from the sounds of birds and bugs, and after pocketing the whistle, she held out her arm like an inviting tree branch.

Moments later, a small falcon landed on Kiht’s arm. The Keeper smiled and met the gaze of his yellow irises with her blue ones. The two stared at each other for uncounted moments. Sounds of the forest were drowned out by her focus on Haru, and his focus on her rendered him motionless like a statue.

No commands were spoken, but something unheard and unseen prompted Haru to open his wings and lift off into the air with purpose. Kiht watched him fly off beyond the canopies as she lowered her arm. The sounds of the forest soon returned to her notice. She continued to the entrance of Little Solace after picking up several of her packs.

Two Sylphs tasked with watching the entrance regarded Kiht with their expressionless faces. Their dark eyes betrayed nothing, but the subtle motions they made as they hovered were dances of wariness. Kiht glanced to each Sylph but spoke no words. She halted and dropped her packs then unbuckled most of her armor.

The Keeper was free of all physical burdens besides her clothing. Her expression held a neutral tranquility, and she slowly raised her hand as if to examine it. Her motion was soon followed by the extending of her arm and subtle shifting of her hips. One foot stepped at an angle different from the other, and her lower legs crossed to send her into a slow twirl.

Kiht moved her arms as if they were gliding through water, her tail trailed behind her like a ribbon and her body shifted with each step and further twirling. Her graceful dance grew faster and faster, but moments later, she stopped. Her gaze returned to the Sylph guards.

“This one greets walking one”, one of the guards said while changing her hovering motions to a less subtle series of movements that betrayed more energy and less fear.

“This walking one is known walking one,” the other guard added while motioning in a similar dance.

“Indeed, I have trade to offer. I would like to trade goods for other goods and trade for shelter,” Kiht responded.

The Sylphs turned to each other then back to Kiht. “For shelter, walking one must speak to elder one.”

The Miqo’te bowed her head. “Very well.”

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Little Solace was crowded with Sylphs, and the biggest open space was the path that lead through the settlement. The social plant-people danced about, turning mundane daily tasks into displays of art and expression. However, Kiht found the one isolated corner of the settlement between two rock formations near a small river. She unpacked a large assortment of gear and objects from three travel packs then took a cross-legged seat on the grassy ground.

As Kiht’s raptors patrolled a respectable distance from Little Solace to avoid scaring the Sylphs, Haru circled in the sky above to keep a bird’s eye view on the settlement and surrounding area. The Keeper huntress unpacked a whetstone to sharpen her steel hunting knife and trio of spears. Tedious bells later, she found her two knives made of mythril. She poured an aether crystal concoction onto the blades to help the whetstone sharpen the special metal.

Once the weapons were done being tended, she crushed red berries in a small ceramic bowl with a finger-shaped stone and collected river water to dilute the substance which took on the color of blood. As she let the substance settle in the bowl, she soaked a cloth in river water then wiped clean the black paint markings around her eyes.

When finished, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the calm-flowing river water. Her clear face looked back at her with an appearance far more innocent than she was. Her short hair and unmarked face stirred memories in her mind.

“I remember you,” she mused quietly to herself. “I thought I had not changed, but you… You feel like a lifetime ago.”

She pushed herself away from the water’s edge then sat in front of her bowl of red paint made from Soldier’s Sore berries. Her fingers dipped into the substance and slowly drew out a tiny portion. She regarded the paint for a moment with a pensive gaze.            

“Whatever is left of my old innocence must remain buried a while longer,” she declared to herself then began to apply the paint to her face. “By the light of the Moon, and amidst the sacred Twelveswood, I swear to you, Menphina, that I will serve you as a warrior,” she prayed with a determined tone. “This has gone far beyond Verad.”

Once the markings were done, she let the poisonous paint dry on her skin. Fortunately, it was only poisonous if consumed. Next, she took her mythril knives and unscrewed the endcaps of the handles. She affixed a Sylph glamor into a slot inside each cap then screwed them back onto the knives. She slipped the blades into twin sheathes on her lower back, and they suddenly disappeared from sight. She repeated the task with four throwing knives and sheathed her only unglamored steel knife on her thigh boot.

Kiht took up her double-bladed spear and disassembled it back into twin batons that she slipped into holsters on her back. Her other two spears were retrieved from their place on the ground then bound together with twine. She slung them over her shoulder like she would another pack then gathered up the rest of her stuff.

The Sylphs in the settlement continued their usual antics as Kiht made her way out. After a sun’s preparation, she was no longer in need of their shelter. The Keeper paced out the entrance to Little Solace then let out a whistle soon after. Moments passed before Dirk and Estoc rushed to her position.

She secured the packs to the raptors’ saddles then continued onward down the path in which she came. It was time to return to Vylbrand. 

@dubiousduskwight  

[eorzeaisnotcrash]

(ARR Diary #8) We respect our elders

Before Joceline can join the Order of the Twin Adder, she is sent a few screens over to help some people who were in an airship crash. The Empire already has some lackeys closing in on the survivors. I cut them good, and find I’ve saved this game’s incarnations of Biggs and Wedge. This game’s incarnation of Cid is their boss. They’re not sure where he is at the moment, though...

JoJo heads back to the Serpents’ Nest and scares the guys there by promising to strike down our shared enemies and drink of their blood. They give me a hunting log, just like the Lancers’ Guild. I gain new ranks based on how many targets I take out, and when I get higher ranks I can buy some very useful items. I also get a chocobo! His name is Steelbeak.

When I return to the Hall of Justice, they send me right back out to the Shire, right back to the precinct. At least I have a mount to make the trip go faster. The sylphs have yet to start any mess, and both groups of JoJo’s employers hope to keep it that way. So after learning a little about sylph culture and finding some nice drug to bribe them with, I take my first official trip to Little Solace. I do a lot of dancing for these (admittedly cute) people. One of them takes the opportunity to play a prank on poor JoJo. But since this is an RPG, when I kill enough of the local monsters, plus some Imperials encroaching upon the area, the sylphs finally start to become somewhat friendly. JoJo saves the prankster’s buddy from Ramuh-worshippers, and he now trusts her enough to come out and say their elder has gone missing. Three guesses as to why.

Hunting for clues, JoJo meets Buscarron again and runs more fun errands. The man tells her it’s very likely somebody in the area has sold out to the Empire and is feeding them information. We’ve been shooting and stabbing at each other, but now I go talk to some Redbelly and Coeurlclaw poachers after one of Buscarron’s pals suggests it, and they agree to keep an eye out for the sake of everybody’s favorite proprietor. Laurentius, a Wood Wailer stationed in the area, has scored big-time at the Gold Saucer... naah, he’s totally been taking bribes from the Empire. JoJo confronts him, and after attempting to evade her for a little bit, he has the nerve to shout, “Garleans! I’ve brought the Hyur bitch!”

Excuse you?

...hmm, my WoL is beautiful, intelligent, tenacious, compassionate, and horny. (Like Jolyne!) All right, then, Larry. The acrostic does check out. But I’m still going to crack your teeth for being a sellout. Thank goodness I spoke to the poachers, because they show up and help fight all the Imperials Laurentius calls. When they’re all gone, he is seized with regret and goes to turn himself in. I admit in this case Buscarron shows more compassion than I do, but I just have so little love for people like this.

And now we know where the sylph elder is! JoJo enters the Thousand Maws of Toto-Rak and finds pools of poison, sticky webs, exploding pods, and plenty of mites. Ew. A particularly big one awaits me at the end, thanks to Lahabrea the scumbag Ascian. When the nasty creature is dead (the diremite, not the Ascian), Elder Frixio is freed from one of the pods. He lets me know that he had been trying to hide from the Imperials who had already harmed or killed several of his people, and he gives me another crystal and the warning that my fate is likely to be a very cruel one. Thanks, Elder. JoJo will sleep well tonight.

Buscarron gives JoJo another present for the sylphs, who ask her to stand at the bridge leading into their territory and observe how the tempered ones are just hovering there, making no move to grab any sacrifices for Ramuh. This being Final Fantasy, I’m sure I’ll encounter him later on anyway, but for now we have one less primal to worry about. JoJo lets her Serpent boss and her Scion boss know things are okay... oh, and a sylph joins us at the Hall of Justice! Her name is Noraxia.

[fableweaver]

Arc of the White Sorceress

Arc of the White Enchantress

The evening was a blustery cold spring evening. Martel shivered thinking of that cloak she had seen back in the village and wishing she had asked for it. Her clothes were good, but not as warm as she would have hoped. They had flown from the village by the cliffs along the coast for nine days now, passing other villages. They had flown at night along the coast, Shankar and Durai leading the way through the night. Martel had seen lights of villages, and some lighthouses along the cliffs, but they avoided these places and camped in the wild. They were at last only one night away from Myr.

“I was thinking we should approach Myr carefully,” Xavier said as he finished strapping Kavi’s harness and bags on. “We should fly past it to land on the eastern side; there should be sea cliffs you can rest in.”

“Why fly past?” Kalyani asked.

“I thought of a story to explain who the mage children are and why I am with them,” Xavier answered. “But it only works if we are seen approaching from the east. I also need to go into the city alone first to get a few things. Martel.”

She hurried over when he called her name, Martel seeing him look at her pensively.

“What was your family name?” Xavier asked.

“My full name is Martel Sanna Voranos,” she answered. “Both my parents were dukes and after Atlas many families were left without heirs so I took both my parent’s surnames to preserve both houses.”

“Interesting,” Xavier said nodding. “Well for the sake of anonymity you’ll be a baroness now. You’re the daughter of a baron of little settlement by the Aldan border. Your father has decided to let you travel to Myr to see the city. The rest of the children are craftsmen’s children who live in the small village as well. I am your chaperone, a loyal servant who has served your family since they live close to the Aldan border.”

“Alright,” Martel answered, putting the details in her mind.

“Good,” Xavier said. “Make sure the others understand it as well later. Now let’s get going.”

They mounted and Xavier changed into a bird. Martel was absolutely astounded by that magic and wanted to learn it herself. She had tried but was unable to even touch the Elder Magic like Xavier could. She decided when she was older she would try to make a sigil that let her do the same. They flew through the night and around midnight they passed Myr.

Martel sat up, getting a face full of wind, and looked out at the city of Mages. It wasn’t as big as she thought it would be, but she was seeing it from the sky. Lights blazed everywhere in the city as it lay nestled in the curve of a bay. Martel could just make out the palace and a great tower across from it. That tower had to be the library Xavier had mentioned. Her heart pounded and she wished she could leap down and run into the city.

Sadly she sat back and they passed the mage city in the night to land in a sheltered cove further down the coast. It was the dog hours of the morning and everyone was yawning, especially the children. Martel was helping the children settle down for the night when she heard Xavier talking with Kalyani.

“You stay here and I’ll be back soon,” Xavier said as he checked his pockets and weapons. “I’ll be back before daybreak.”

“What is it you need to get in the city?” Kalyani asked.

“Clothes and real money,” Xavier answered idly.

“Get me some clothes as well then,” Kalyani said and Xavier laughed.

“I don’t think I’ll find anything that will fit you Kalyani.”

“You will, just get me some women’s clothes. I am right in guessing it is strange for human women to go about unclothed?”

Xavier stared at her in dawning realization.

“You mean… A skin?” Xavier asked. “You can take human form?”

“Of course, I tried a few times when you were not around,” Kalyani said. “I would like to see this city of mages.”

Xavier stared at her before he laughed and nodded.

“Alright but only you Kalyani,” Xavier said.

“I’m the only one that can do it,” she answered. “Raja can take control here for now.”

“I’ll be back shortly,” Xavier said. He took his bird form and took off into the night. Martel walked over to Kalyani.

“Thank you for coming with us,” Martel said and the griffin turned to her.

“I am interested in what your people have made,” Kalyani said. “If they are anything like you Martel then I bet it is a very interesting city.”

She blushed under the compliment.

“I can’t wait,” Martel said.

“Get some sleep, you’ll need it for the morning,” Kalyani said.

Martel nodded and returned to the sleeping rug with the other children. Morning came and they made breakfast, Xavier returning just as they started eating. Martel bit her tongue from barraging him with questions, seeing he was carrying a bag. He sat and she gave him a piece of travel bread and sausage which he promptly wolfed down.

“Did you get what you needed?” Martel asked when he finished.

“And more,” Xavier said. “News the most important. Tomorrow is the King’s one hundredth birthday; the festival will give us great cover for entering the city. Mages are arriving in droves from over the kingdom so we’ll blend right in. And there will be a great festival, the only time mages have a festival is to celebrate themselves and never the gods.”

“A festival?” Castor said puzzled. “What is a festival?”

“A celebration,” Xavier answered his eyes suddenly sad. “There will be tricks, feasting, dancing, music, feats of wonder, and much more.”

“What is dancing?” Nike asked raising her hand.

“You’ll see,” Xavier said. “Kalyani, let’s get changed so we can go.”

Kalyani nodded, grinning as everyone turned to her. She did what Xavier did when he was about to change form, she closed her eyes and stood perfectly still. A shimmer appeared in the air before her, and Kalyani stepped into it. One instant she was a griffin, the next a woman stood in her place. She was tall; nearly seven spans, her skin a burnished bronze. Her hair was jet black with a white streak in her forelock. Her eyebrows were bushy, and trailed like the points of her beard had, and her nose was pointed like a beak. Her eyes were green and slit like a cat’s, sparkling as she looked at them.

She was shapely, and Martel noticed Xavier staring at her with his mouth hanging open. She glanced at Lycus and the other boys and they too were staring agape.

“Right,” Xavier said looking away and clearing his throat. “Impressive Kalyani. I’m not sure what race you look like but with that height you’d have to have some Nyrgardic blood in you. Maybe we can say you’re from Xin. And your eyes are like a Rhodin’s.”

“It matters little,” Kalyani said. “But perhaps I should have some clothes now?”

Xavier took the pack and handed her the clothes she needed. She dressed in a tunic and pants, a pair of leather sandals, and a wide belt just under her tits. Xavier changed as well, he wore a tunic and pants as well, soft soled boots and a belt around his waist. Martel realized they were dressed the same and wondered why.

“This is how slaves or servants dress in Dridia,” Xavier said as if sensing her thoughts.

“Slaves?” Martel asked.

“Slaves are like servants, but they are not allowed to leave their professions or be paid for their labor,” Xavier said his tone dead. “I was once a slave.”

Martel didn’t understand, why could they not leave? She couldn’t see the difference between a servant and a slave.

“Come, we are wasting the day,” Kalyani said. “How long will it take to walk to the city?”

“A few hours,” Xavier answered. “We should arrive by midday.”

“Raja, you are in charge while I am gone,” Kalyani said. “If an emergency comes we will send word by sylph.”

“Safe travels,” Raja said with a bow of his head. They bid farewell to the griffins and left the cove climbing up the rocks to the grassy hills of the coast. For a while they walked through nothing but hills, the city not even in sight. Then they joined a road, a paved expanse stretching as far as she could see in both directions. There were a few carts traveling down the road, pulled by big creatures Martel hadn’t seen before.

“Form up into two lines and pair off,” Xavier said. “And walk along the side of the road. Hold hands and don’t get separated.”

The paired off and Martel held Lycus’ hand as Xavier took the lead and Kalyani took the rear of the line. Melissa held hands with Kalyani at the end of the line since they had an odd number. They walked on the side of the road, carts passing them with the drivers looking at them with mild interest as they passed. Martel saw some of the colorful wagons again, driven by the strange people with the cat like eyes.

“Xavier what are those animals?” Martel asked pointing to the animals that pulled the carts. He looked back at her and smiled.

“That one is a horse,” he answered. “The ones with the horns are oxen.”

Martel passed the words along to the others behind her, who were all staring like she had. As they walked more and more carts passed them. Some were laden with straw or hey, some with vegetables; one even had pigs like Xavier had bought at the village. One cart went by much different than the rest; it was ornate and covered in gold trim and sigils.

“What is that?” Martel asked as it passed by.

“A carriage,” Xavier answered. “A wealthy mage is riding in that.”

“I want one,” Martel said amazed and Xavier laughed.

“I’ll get you one someday Martel,” Lycus said and she smiled at him.

Some of the people that passed them rode on the horses rather than a cart. Soon they were joined by others on foot like them. Some carts were pulled by only a person, these seeming poorer versions of the carts. Martel was amazed at the people. She had seen a few mages, though they were of lesser power than she was used to since they didn’t even glow with power. There were also people with darker skin and black hair. The ones with the cat like eyes varied so much in looks their only common feature between them were their strange eyes. She also saw some very tall people with pale skin and yellow or brown hair. And there were some people of smaller stature with olive skin and black hair.

She pointed to each and Xavier told her their races, Martel passing the information along back to the other children. They were all so overwhelmed they were silent as they stared, so many questions in their minds they couldn’t voice them. At last they crested a rise and looked down at the city of Myr.

The city sparkled in the sunshine from thousands of glass windows. The buildings were great structures with pillars or domes, towering above the streets of the city. The city rested on two hills with a valley and the bay between them: on the far hill stood the palace of grand white marble and towering pillars. Over everything was the great tower, the top of which disappeared into the clouds.

“Myr, The City of Glass,” Xavier said. “Come on, we’re holding up traffic.”

He marched on down the hill and Martel hurried to follow, dragging Lycus with her. He was still staring as they walked, tears in his eyes. Martel turned to see Kalyani urging the other children on and they hurried after them. The ground leveled out and they started to pass a few outlying buildings, warehouses or stables. Martel moved closer to Lycus as the crowds became denser and they approached the city gate. It was a great arch like structure, the iron gate open to the flow of traffic.

They passed guards wearing livery that Martel had never seen before. Once past the gate the city buildings closed around them. The streets weren’t narrow, but the buildings were tall, none stood shorter than five stories. Martel resisted the impulse to crane her neck back to see the tops of the buildings.

The people they passed were of the same mix as before, but there were more mages. As they walked Martel noticed there were golems as well, some dressed like people but their featureless clay faces gave them away. She saw thousands of sigils on the walls and people, feeling the hum of the High Magic on her skin. She saw gargoyles perched on buildings, and even a few flying carpets pass by overhead.

She started to notice a difference in the people. Some were dressed like Xavier, those of a different race than the mages. When one passed them by she got a good look at him and noticed he had a sigil around his neck. She read it briefly as he passed and was puzzled to notice it was a constricting type of sigil, a seal.

“Xavier, why do some of the people have sigils around their necks?” Martel asked. She had noticed others, but the one around the neck was the most common and on the most amount of people.

“That’s a slave sigil,” Xavier answered not turning around, his tone was dark again. “It constricts if the wearer disobeys or tries to escape.”

“Constricts?” Martel asked startled. “But isn’t that painful?”

“Yes, it is,” Xavier answered. He kept walking and Martel was forced to follow.

“It’s a collar,” Lycus said and Martel looked at him. His face was dull, his glow low as his heart sank. “Martel, they’re wearing collars.”

She looked around horrified. Sure these people were different, they weren’t mages, but she could clearly see they were people. Some moved with a deliberate slowness, some as if they carried a great burden though they carried nothing physically. Others didn’t seem bothered at all, their faces set in mild platitude. Others even smiled or laughed. Yet Martel felt her mind reeling at the thought that these people were magically forced to do as they were told.

“Martel,” Lycus said tugging on her sleeve. He pointed and she followed his finger to a woman sitting in the lee of a set of stairs out of the crowd. She was skeletal and thin, her clothes filthy and flies buzzed about her. A child sat in her lap, its belly distended and limbs thin. They were both of the Elmerian race as Xavier had called it, tan skin and dark hair. As people passed her she held out a hand to them asking for aid.

“Xavier!” Martel said alarmed as she tugged on his tunic. He stopped and turned to her reaching for his sword. “Look, we have to help her!” Martel said as she pointed. Xavier looked and frowned shaking his head.

“Help who?” He asked.

“That woman and her child,” Martel said shocked. He looked again and frowned deeper.

“I’m surprised she’s here, I’d thought the guards would have cleared the streets of beggars,” Xavier said puzzled.

“Aren’t we going to help her?” Lycus asked. “She looks like she’s starving.”

Xavier didn’t answer because as they spoke two men walked up to the woman. They were wearing the same livery the guards at the gate had been wearing. Martel gave a sigh of relief to see the guards had come to help the woman. The sigh strangled in her throat as the woman cringed away shielding her child as the two guards grabbed her. She moaned and struggled, but they dragged her away like she was a wild animal. Most of the people they passed didn’t even turn to look.

“Where are they taking her?” Lycus asked. “She’ll be alright won’t she?”

“They’re taking her to Hole,” Xavier answered as he turned away. “And no, she won’t be alright.”

Martel wanted to ask him more but the words caught in her throat. Xavier sounded desolate, and from the brief look she had seen on his face he seemed broken. They walked on, Martel looking around at the city with a new eye. It was beautiful, but now she wondered what it had cost to make this city.

“I don’t think I want to live here anymore,” Lycus said lowly.

“Me neither,” Martel said. She looked back at the children to see they too had seen the woman dragged away and had understood what Xavier had said.

Xavier led the way through the confusing streets and uphill. They stayed away from the valley and bay, walking instead along the hill that stood on the east side of the city. Xavier stopped dead and Martel walked into him, Lycus steading her. She looked to see he was staring up at a building across the street, Martel noticing the sign read Peony House.

“Xavier?” Martel asked when he hadn’t moved for a few minutes.

“This was Zaire’s home,” Xavier said in a small voice and Martel felt her heart constrict. He sighed heavily and turned away from the building, leading the way down the street. Martel looked back at the building, wondering what he had once had there.

At last they arrived at a little red building standing only five stories. It was nestled between two other bigger buildings at the dead end of a street. A fountain with a fish spitting water out in a stream sat in the cul-de-sac, the sign over the door reading Traveler’s Landing. Xavier walked in, a bell ringing, and he held the door for the children to enter.

Inside it was a homey feeling, the walls wood paneled and room bright with mage lights and a fire in the hearth. Several chairs and tables sat around the room, a few men and women sitting around the room. Only one person took notice of them as they entered, a portly tiny woman that stood shorter than Martel. She had brown skin but dark red hair, her green eyes as bright as spring grass. She wore a dress and apron, a kerchief tied over her hair which was braided into two plaits.

“Greetins travelers!” She said brightly as she hurried up wiping her hands on her apron. “Welcome ta the Traveler’s Landin.”

She spoke with an odd accent, her words drawled out thickly.

“Greetings matron,” Xavier said. “We are looking for lodging and I was told you have rooms, do you have a room big enough for us all? Beds don’t matter; we’d like to stay together.”

“O course!” the woman answered warmly. “Not many travelers make it all the way up the hill ta my modest establishment. Name’s Rois, what might I call ye?”

“Xavier, this is my mistress Martel daughter of the Baron Sanna Voranos,” Xavier said. “And this is her betrothed Lycus. I’d introduce the children but there are many as you can see. By the door there is my colleague Kalyani. We are both free servants in the lady’s employ.”

“O course sir,” Rois said nodding. “Well I have a room plenty big enough fer all ye, beds too. That be ifn ye don’t mind the attic.”

Xavier looked to Martel and she blushed.

“The attic is fine,” Martel said timidly and Rois smiled at her.

“Ye be a shy lass fer a mage,” Rois said smiling.

“We are from a barony at the edge of the Aldan forest,” Xavier said. “My family has served hers for generations. This is Lady Martel’s first visit to Myr.”

“O course,” Rois said with a giggle. “Well come along then.”

She led the way to the stairs, going all the way to the top. She unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and let them into the room. Other than the low eves, the room was spacious, twelve beds lined along both sides of the room. It was clean and dust free, smelling powerfully of herbs. A round window stood on the opposite side of the room looking out over the bay and city.

“Will this be ta yer liking?” Rois said.

“It will thank you,” Xavier said. Coins exchanged hands and Rois handed over the key.

“There will be supper at five,” Rois said. “Though I suspect ye’ll wanna go ta the festival, it’s been goin all week!”

“Thank you,” Xavier said. “Yes we’ll be going to the festival.”

“Ye weren’t invited were ye?” Rois asked Martel. “Ta the King’s birthday party?”

“N-no,” Martel stammered and blushed some more.

“I’m afraid Lady Martel is a low level Baroness,” Xavier said. “She stands to inherit very little. I doubt the King even knows of her barony.”

“O course,” Rois said, she seemed to say that a lot. “Well I leave ye ta rest, have a pleasant stay.”

She bowed and left, Xavier closing the door after her. They set their packs down and began clamoring for beds, arguing over who could take what. Eventually they settled on Nike and Xenia sharing one bed, while Melissa and Jove another.

“Are you alright in that skin Kalyani?” Xavier asked.

“I should not sleep in it,” Kalyani said. “Would it be alright if I shed it and sleep in the middle of the room?”

“As long as we lock the door yes,” Xavier said.

“I wanna sleep with Kalyani!” Melissa said. “Jove picks his nose.”

“Do not!” Jove shouted quickly removing his finger from his nose where it had been.

“I do not mind,” Kalyani said. “You can sleep under my wing little one.”

Melissa cheered and hugged her. Kalyani’s face took on a loving glow and Martel realized it was the first time she could read Kalyani’s expressions well. Despite having lived with the Griffins for a long time she still couldn’t read their faces very well.

“I’d like to go to the library while I have the chance,” Xavier said looking out the window. “What about you Martel? Do you want to come to the library with me or explore the city? We’ll be here for a few days at least so you have time to do both.”

“I want to explore,” Martel said excited and the children cheered in agreement.

“Then you can explore all you like,” Xavier said nodding.

“You won’t be coming with us?” Martel asked startled.

“I can’t move around the city freely,” Xavier said. “I’m a wanted man by both the outlaws and the laws. The less I wander around the better. Besides you are mages in the capital of mages, you’ll be safe enough here. With the king’s birthday most of the streets have been cleared of any danger. Kalyani, do you want to go with the children or me?”

“I would like to go with you,” Kalyani answered. “The search for the song is my priority. But are you sure it is wise to leave the children unsupervised?”

“They aren’t, Martel and Lycus are looking after them,” Xavier answered. “And they have been on their own for a long time before they met me.”

“You were so adamant that the world is dangerous,” Lycus said.

“I still am and it still is,” Xavier said. “But I’ve been thinking thanks to you Lycus. I can’t babysit you and shelter you for all your lives, if I do you will never learn to live in the world on your own. So I’m letting you face Myr on your own, granted the city is safer than it could ever be right now.”

“But what about the bad powerful mages you mentioned,” Lycus asked. “Won’t they try to take us?”

“As long as you stay on this side of the city none of them will notice you,” Xavier said. “They’re all at the palace attending the King’s birthday celebration. I know it is still possible however so if anyone takes notice of your powers do whatever you can to escape or to lie your way out of the situation. And stay away from the valley and the docks along the bay, those places are not for children.

“The festival is going on all over the city so I’ll draw a sigil in this room that you can use as a beacon to get back here.”

Xavier drew a sigil in pure power on the floor, making sure all the children knew the answering sigil that would lead them back to this spot.

“If you get lost just draw the sigil and it will lead you back here,” Xavier said. “And one last thing, don’t eat too many sweets.��

“What are sweets?” Xenia asked.

“You’ll see,” Xavier answered with a grin. “Martel, here is some money.”

Xavier handed her a string with coins on it. There were a lot of copper coins on the string; one side had a wreath of oak leaves and acorns, the other letters and numbers. There were silver coins as well; these had grape leaves and grapes on them.

“The copper ones are copper pieces,” Xavier said. “Two hundred of those equals one of the silver coins which are called silver royals. Fifty royals equals one gold crown.”

“What are the names and numbers?” Martel asked interested.

“The year they were minted and the High King under which they were minted,” Xavier answered. “A bit of history, most of the Nine Kingdom’s current money was minted under the High King Anan Alvar, he became known as the Gold King in the history of the Kingdoms.”

Martel nodded; Xavier had taught them a bit about the Kingdoms but not much. She couldn’t even name all nine. She did understand though that each kingdom had their own king, who was only answerable to the High King of the nine. He had also said he had come from the old line of the kings, those that used to be Aldan before another line took over the throne.

“The pieces are more common to spend and I only gave you two royals so spend it wisely,” Xavier said. “Don’t spend it all, that money is all I will give you for this trip to the city.”

“Alright,” Martel said sensing he was testing her. If she spent all the money in one day she could tell he would be disappointed in her. In fact this whole thing felt like it was a test, like he wanted to see how well she would do looking after the children alone. Well she could do it, she had been watching after them for ten years since she was six.

“Come on Kalyani,” Xavier said heading for the door.

“Wait,” Martel said startled. “Aren’t you going to take us to the festival?”

“You can find the way,” Xavier answered. Before Martel could object he left, Kalyani following him with a slight grin on her face.

“Now what?” Lycus asked just as stunned.

“Maybe I can use a sigil,” Martel said trying to think.

“Why not just ask the round lady?” Xenia said. “She lives here.”

“The innkeeper?” Martel asked as she frowned to think. Xavier said she could find the way herself, but maybe he did mean for her to ask directions. After all she hadn’t been very good at talking when she had first talked to the innkeeper. “Alright, is everyone ready?”

“Ready!” the children shouted and Martel shushed them.

“Then let’s form two lines like before,” Martel said. She made a set of three with Melissa between Xenia and Nike at the end to make sure everyone had a partner. “Now everyone keep track of your partner, it’s just like hunting.”

“Yea but this is better,” Castor said excited.

“Lycus you’re the rear guard while I’ll take the lead,” Martel said and Lycus saluted like they had used to. She grinned at him and turned to lead the way back downstairs. Rois was busy wiping down a table as they came in and Martel straitened her back as she walked up to her.

“Excuse me matron,” Martel said, trying to imitate Xavier’s tone. “We have need to go to the festival, perhaps you could direct us?”

Rois looked at her with a beaming smile, tittering a moment before answering brightly.

“O course,” Rois said. “When ye leave here take a left on the road until ye reach Downin street, it be the main road n much wider than the rest n it be marked. Head south along that all the way down the hill n ye’ll reach the festival what bein held fer the workin class here. It be a real treat.”

“Thank you matron,” Martel said smiling back at her.

“O course!” Rois said laughing.

Feeling much more confident now, Martel led the way out of the inn and followed Rois’ directions. The streets were marked with sigils and with signs in the Dridian language and they found Downing Street easily. From there it was just a matter of following the crowds. Down the hill they reached a grand open square with an obelisk in the center. The square was full of people, mostly mages. Flying carpets flew overhead, and sigils blazed with colored lights and spheres to entertain.

At first they just stood back at the edge and stared in awe of the great multitude of people, overwhelmed with the sights and sounds. Music was playing, enhanced with sigils, and Martel had never heard music since she was a little girl. She saw mages of all ages around in the crowd, all of them of weak power. She even saw some that were so weak they weren’t even bleached, their hair and eyes holding some amount of color. Yet the look on all their faces was of wonder and joy so she could not feel pity for their lack of power. If anything seeing familiar features even those that were colored made her want to run into the crowd and embrace them.

A tug on her sleeve woke her and she looked to see Lycus next to her.

“Let’s get something to eat,” he said, his eyes as bright as rubies. She nodded and he went to take his place at the end of the line again. They stirred the others into wakefulness and braved the crowd. It was pressing at first but once they joined the flow it went easier. There were thousands of tents and little booths set up along the edge of the crowds, all selling marvelous things.

There were booths of enchanted objects, magic mirrors, glass flowers, bottles of every shape and size, crystal balls, magic carpets, talismans, wind knots, intricate clockwork, musical instruments that played on their own, sound shells, and much more. Looking at all these wondrous things made Martel realize that it didn’t matter that some of the mages around her were weak in power. Looking at the sellers of the objects many were of weak powers. It didn’t take much power to enchant an object, and once done the enchantment would keep going for as long as it had power. Any mage could use these objects, giving them their own power.

It didn’t matter how much power a mage had, just how they used it.

Passing these booths they crossed into the food stalls and were greeted with the greatest smells in the world. The food stalls were manned by servants or slaves, making foods that Martel had never seen before. There was meat roasted on sticks, breads of thousands of shapes and designs, vegetables and fruits cut and cooked into strange breads or other forms. There were foods from all over the kingdoms, and Martel had never seen such foods. It was overwhelming and none of them knew which to choose first.

Luckily there were servants standing by each stall with a tray of samples. They went by each stall trying everything, cleaning out each tray as they went along. Then Martel gave each child a coin and told them to go buy their favorite and to meet back at the foot of the obelisk. She went and bought what the vendor called chicken and waffles. It was a favorite of Hyria apparently, a piece of chicken battered and fried in oil before it was served wrapped in a cake cooked on a hot iron and slathered with honey.

She arrived over at the obelisk and sat on the stairs under its shadow, the others quickly joining her with their prizes. Martel did a head count and was relived to find all twelve children there. They shared bites around as they ate, enjoying the strange new food.

“I’m thirsty,” Jove said when they finished. Martel looked around for somewhere to get water, but didn’t see anything. So she went over to a nearby slave.

“Sir, can you tell me where some water is?” she asked politely. The man smiled at her and nodded.

“O’er there is a fountain miss,” the man said pointing. “Just under that blue bubble.”

“Thank you,” Martel said spotting the blue float sigil. She paused then looking at the man, he was Elmerian and older with gray in his hair. “Does it hurt?” She asked suddenly.

“Does what hurt?” the man asked startled.

“The sigil around your neck,” Martel asked. She saw a moment of surprise in his eyes with a touch of fear before he quickly covered it.

“No miss I hardly feel it,” he said a mild smile on his face. “Thank you so much of your concern but I like it the way it is now.”

“But…”

“Please miss,” the man said with genuine fear. “I can still be useful I swear it.”

“What happens if you aren’t useful?” Martel asked afraid. His eyes were fearful and he looked like he didn’t want to answer. Then Martel saw the sigil activate on his throat and constrict, the man gasping.

“I’ll be thrown away miss,” he was forced to answer. Martel felt her gore rise as she realized she had just inadvertently caused the man pain.

“I’m sorry,” Martel said. “Please I was only trying to help.”

“Yes miss,” the man said nodding to her. “Thank you miss.”

His groveling seemed even worse so Martel turned away and went back to the others.

“What’s wrong?” Lycus asked. Martel told him and he looked back at the old man. “Maybe we could remove his sigil.”

“And then what?” Martel asked. “Where would he go? I think he’s been a slave all his life. I want to help but…”

“There is a king right?” Lycus said. “Maybe he could fix this.”

“I think he lets it happen,” Martel said. “I’m starting to understand what Xavier meant about the Kingdoms.”

“Then there needs to be a new king,” Lycus said. “A good king. Or maybe a queen.”

He looked at her and Martel felt her face flush. Rather than entertain his suggestion she turned away and led the way to the water fountain.

It was a great fountain of water colored by sigils and the children were able to drink their fill and wash their sticky hands. When they were done they continued to explore the festival. There were performers of acrobatics, and they got to see what dancing was and participate though none of them were any good at it. They joined other children in games and dancing, mages and servant children playing together because children did not care about such things.

Hours passed and the sun went down, but the mage lights of the city made sure the festival could continue. When it started to get late after they had dinner Martel realized they should return to the inn. So she called everyone together and did a head count, only to find she was one short.

“Where is Melissa?” Martel said worried.

“I haven’t seen her,” Lycus said afraid as he looked around. “What if someone took her?”

Martel felt fear then and quickly stamped down on it. She needed to stay calm and she needed to think. She decided to use a seeking sigil, a sigil designed to find lost objects. It usually only worked in small places like in a house, but Martel didn’t have much of a choice. She drew the sigil and let it fly, the sigil flying out trailing a thread of power back to her. The line of power glowed white a moment before turning blue, it had found her.

“Come on!” Martel said hurrying to follow the thread of power. They didn’t have far to go, just outside of the crowds along one of the open streets. Melissa stood looking up at another mage. The mage was dressed in fine robes dripping in silver coins, her long white hair kept back with a silver circlet. Melissa turned and waved as Martel rushed up and pulled her back from the mage woman.

“Are you this child’s sister?” the woman asked. She was beautiful, thin and delicate like porcelain.

“I am her guardian,” Martel answered wrapping her arms around Melissa. This woman was a mage of power, though her power was lesser than Martel’s. “Who are you?”

“Careful child,” the woman said coolly. “You should speak with respect to a Princess of Dridia.”

“Princess?” Martel said surprised. “You?”

“Yes me,” the woman said waspishly. “Do you not know your own princess when you see her?”

“I am from a small barony on the Aldan border,” Martel said in a small voice. “I did not know. What is your name?”

“Country bumpkin,” the woman hissed. “I am Ileana Myrddin daughter to the King Nicias Myrddin whose birthday celebration you are attending whelp.”

“I am sorry milady,” Martel said bowing low. “I am an ignorant country girl and did not know better.”

“Indeed,” Ileana said angrily before she felt silent. Martel rose and looked at her to see she was examining her. “Where did you say you were from again? You have quite a bit of power for a lowly baroness.”

Martel felt her blood draining from her face in fear; Ileana was looking at her shrewdly.

“My power pales in comparison to your milady,” Martel said lowering her eyes. “You must just be sensing the power of the air around us, or your own power reflecting off the sigils here.”

She put all her will in banking her own inner fire, scrambling to hide it. Weather it was her explanation, her efforts in hiding her power, or simply the dim light of the street, Ileana turned away.

“No matter,” Ileana said. “I don’t even know why I bothered.”

“Thank you milady for your notice,” Martel said but Ileana was already turning away to her carriage. Martel waited until she was gone before she pulled Melissa away after her. The others waited hidden behind a stoop having watched the whole thing afraid. Martel noticed Lycus sheath his sword as she joined them and realized he had been waiting for things to turn sour before he came in to rescue her.

“Thank you for having my back,” Martel said.

“I knew you could handle it,” he answered smiling at her. She couldn’t smile back; instead she cast the return sigil to lead them back to the inn. They returned back and hurried up to the room, ignoring Rois’ greeting. Martel started to make sure everyone was ready for bed when Xavier and Kalyani returned.

“Can you lock the door?” Kalyani said to Xavier. “I need to take this skin off.”

Xavier nodded and did so, adding a seal to the door as well. Kalyani returned to griffin form and Martel found the sight of a griffin inside odd. Kalyani curled up on the carpet in the middle of the room and soon was joined by several of the children, Melissa among them. They pilled blankets and pillows around the griffin until they were around her in one big nest.

“How did it go?” Xavier asked and Martel turned to him. He was grinning at her which faded when he saw her face. She buried her face in his chest and he wrapped his arms around her, comforting her as she tried to control her fear. Then she told him about the festival, the slave she talked to, and about Ileana. He felt his tension at the mention of the princess and when she finished she looked up at him.

“Do you know her?”

“I know her brother well,” Xavier answered darkly. “It was a good thing you managed to escape her attention.” Martel nodded and he looked at her closer. “I’m sorry Martel that you’ve had to see what you’ve seen. But part of me is glad that you are so horrified by the treatment of the slaves here. It means that you aren’t like the mages of power here, it means you have a heart.”

She looked away wishing she didn’t have a heart because it was hurting right now. She decided to change the subject.

“How did the search in the library go?” Martel asked and heard Kalyani snort with distain.

“I will take us years to search through all those books,” Kalyani said. “What is the point of saving all that knowledge when it ends up like a forest?”

“We realized how daunting the task is,” Xavier answered. “I’m beginning to think it was just sheer luck that I had even found Rena’s journal in the first place.”

“Maybe I could come tomorrow and help?” Martel said. “I really want to see the library.”

“Sure but I don’t think we’ll get much work done if we turn it into a school field trip,” Xavier said dryly.

“We’ll behave!” Castor said.

“Promise,” Alex added.

“That’s really reassuring,” Xavier said sarcastically and rolled his eyes, the children laughing. “Now it’s time for bed.”

There was a general boo around the room, but they settled down into their beds all the same. Martel noticed Xavier standing by the window looking out over the city and joined him there. She looked out the window at the city lit with magic, still feeling awe at it all despite the darker parts of it she had seen.

“You did well today,” Xavier said and she looked at him to see he was looking at her with pride.

“You followed us?” Martel asked.

“Just until you got to the festival,” Xavier said. “I don’t think you realize how proud of you I am. You spoke to Rois like she was the superior one and not yourself. And how you said you spoke to the slave as well was impressive.”

“I don’t understand,” Martel said.

“Then let me ask you, why did you speak to Rois with such respect?” Xavier asked.

“Because my father taught me to be polite to adults and people of authority,” Martel answered. “Isn’t everyone supposed to be polite?”

“Yes, but not everyone is,” Xavier answered. “Especially when they have been taught that they are more important than others. Yes many children are always taught to be polite, but because you grew up alone you didn’t see how mages really treat servants and slaves. To them the servant or slave are little better than animals, used for labor and are meant to be ignored. They are beaten if they don’t obey until they do, and their spirit breaks. I sometimes thought some slaves really were like animals when their spirit was broken.  

“But you’re not like them Martel, you treated the servants and slaves like people.”

“They are people,” Martel said. “Even when their spirit is broken.”

“Yes I know,” Xavier said as he nodded and looked out the window again. “Why did you see them as people when they are so different from you?”

Martel had to think about that because she had just instinctively assumed every person she had first seen when coming to this land was an equal to her and needed to be treated with respect. And then she remembered the griffins.

“I learned the Griffins were people,” Martel said and Xavier smiled. “And they look a lot different. I could see the people here were different Xavier but I don’t see how that would mean that they deserved to be treated any less than you or me.”

“You really don’t do you?” Xavier said.

“Well for instance if we caught two squirrels and one had black fur and one had gray fur would I have to skin them differently?” Martel asked using the only analogy she could think of. “Their fur is a different color but they’re both squirrels so you skin them and cook them the same way.”

“So you skin and cook people the same way?” Xavier asked grinning at her.

“You know what I mean,” Martel said her cheeks glowing with irritation knowing he was poking fun at her. “Why should people be treated differently just because they look different? I understand treating someone bad because they are a bad person, but a person can’t help the way they were born.”

“You know the mages though treat all other races as inferior,” Xavier said; “Because they don’t have the High Magic. Do you think that the other races are inferior because they don’t have magic?”

Again she had to think of a proper response.

“The High Magic is great, and I’ve seen how great the Elder Magic is too so I don’t think either is better than the other. I don’t know how someone could live without magic since I’ve had it all my life. I imagine they don’t miss it since they never had it in the first place.

“But today I saw some acrobats doing amazing tricks and dancing. I could never do anything they did, and none of them were mages. So I think that everyone has their own skills and talents, some have magic and some don’t, and some of those skills are better or more important, and some people don’t have any talents I guess…”

Xavier was laughing now and she blushed more.

“I think what you are trying to say is every person has their own worth and deserves to be treated at least as a person at a basic level,” Xavier said and Martel nodded.

“Yes exactly,” Martel said. “I value Lycus more than a stranger, but there is still a basic level of decency that I treat everyone with.”

“And that Martel is what makes you a bigger person than all of the mages here,” Xavier said smiling at her.

“Not all of them are bad Xavier,” Martel said frowning at him. “We made tons of friends at the festival today. Everyone was really nice and kind.”

“Those were all the craftsmen,” Xavier said. “What about mages then? Should weaker mages be treated lesser than powerful mages?”

“No, because weaker mages can be just as powerful if they know how to use what they have at their disposal,” Martel answered. “I saw some marvelous enchantments today and even if a mage doesn’t have the power to make the sigil they have the power to use it.”

“And alter it,” Xavier said and Martel looked at him interested. “My lover managed to alter a sigil designed to make a homunculus into a gate sigil.”

“Mab’s tits!” Martel said and Xavier looked at her startled. “Sorry, I heard Raja use that swear once.”

“It’s an odd turn of phrase,” Xavier said as he laughed.

“But you do understand how impressive that is right?” Martel asked.

“Yes, it takes a genius to do that level of sigil work,” Xavier said. “It’s like making a time piece out of a clock work bird. The pieces are there but you’re not making it out of scratch. You have to know how the bird works, and then decide how you will make the time piece work.”

“That is a lot more complicated than simply making it from scratch,” Martel said.

“Zaire was a colored mage,” Xavier said, his face sad. “She had very little power, yet she was a genius with sigils. Her talent was wasted doing errands for petty mages.”

“What was she like?” Martel asked, wanting to hear more. Xavier was quiet a moment and she feared he wouldn’t answer her.

“She was the daughter of an astronomer and a carpet weaver,” Xavier said at last. He told her about Zaire’s past, how they had met, how the prince had held them captive, how Zaire had orchestrated their escape, and how she had died in the ship wreck.  

“She was like me, but good, while I always look for the bad in things she looked for the good. When she died… the only thing that kept me going was knowing it was what she would have wanted. Then I learned about the Phay and found you and the children. I found a purpose again, people that need me, so I feel better about life again.

“I just wish she was here.”

He said the last sentence in a painful whisper, like even voicing the thought gave him pain. Martel felt tears rolling down her cheeks and went to hug Xavier. He returned her embrace, tears of his own in his eyes.

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Blind Warrior

Arc of the Blind Warrior

The wagon stopped, and Ian strained his ears for voices. Hidden in the bed of one of the wagons in a secret compartment Ian lay with Will on his chest. The space was like a coffin and Ian would have felt closed in if his sight wasn’t already dark. It was too early for them to stop, and he worried they were going through some sort of check point.

He heard voices muffled so he couldn’t catch any words. He heard the wagon door open and held his breath. Will was luckily asleep and wasn’t woken by the sound. The door closed, and Ian let his breath out and continued to wait. The wagon at last lurched and continued down the bumpy road. Ian was glad of the pair of pillows and bedding under him as the wagon bumped along. He could almost sleep accept for the occasional sharp bump. Will however slept soundly, Ian enjoying the feeling of his little heartbeats against his ribs.

At last the wagon stopped, this time for camp. The door opened, and the hatch was pulled open. Ian felt light on his face but could see nothing.

“We’re past the boarder,” Taras said. “Do you need help getting out of there?”

“Aye thanks,” Ian said holding out a hand. It was a bit hard pulling himself out of the compartment, the hatch only large enough for his head and shoulders to get out first. He handed Will to Taras, the babe starting to fuss now that they had stopped.

“You looked quite cozy in there,” Taras said after Ian got out. He handed Will back almost distastefully, Ian cradling his child.

“I hope I can ride now,” Ian said, he had been comfortable in the compartment but cramped. It was long enough for him to lay out in but narrow and shallow.

“Maybe,” Taras said darkly.

“He just did what he kenned were right,” Ian said. Taras had been hard on Glen, and because of him the High Sect had spread word of their escape. Taras didn’t answer, he just took the lamp and left. Ian sighed and followed him; once again as he set foot on the ground he felt the change.

Ever since he had let the gnome possess him Ian’s sense of the world had changed greatly. Shapes dotted the darkness he had lived in since his vision was ruined. The shapes appeared like spots before one’s eyes when they looked into a bright light, yet they had shape. Yet he knew his vision was not coming back as he could ‘see’ things behind him as well as before him.

The shapes were all living things, but none with definition or detail. Mostly everything was gray of various shades except for those with the Elder Magic or the Wild Kin. The Wild Kin’s color depended on what they were, gnomes were earth tones, sylphs warm pastels, salamanders bright red, and undines blue (he guessed since they had not passed any streams). Old trees had the Elder Magic he found, some a dark steady green in his ‘vision’.

It seemed connected to the ground somehow too; in the wagon he saw nothing until his feet touched the ground. He could ‘see’ gnomes clearer than other Wild Kin, and trees and plants better than people. The gnome that had guided him before had not returned, but Ian didn’t really need it. Movement was strange to process, and Ian was still getting used to this new perspective and to understand everything he perceived. Dead things were black to him, the wagons holding no color or form in his perception.

“Ian.” He turned at the sound of his name, ‘seeing’ Bailey. She was much brighter than the Wild Kin, with more color of shifting hues. He could also ‘see’ Will and Matt, though they were more like muzzy shadows of color.

“Bailey, I ken Will wants ye,” Ian said, and they switched children. Bailey had been in another wagon, hidden in another compartment like Ian. The Rhodin knew the most about smuggling, their wagons having thousands of hidden compartments and caches. They had known what roads to take avoiding the main highways.

“He slept well,” Bailey said as she rocked Will. Matt was wide awake, his hands reaching for Ian’s braid and tugging on it.

“Matt will be out in a blink,” Ian said sure that he had been up the entire ride.

“Aye,” Bailey said somehow managing to sound both tired and happy at the same time. They went to sit by the communal fire, Bailey leading Ian. It was strange; he could ‘see’ the salamanders in the fire, but not the fire itself. Glen was already there, Ian could ‘see’ him as a blueish blur. The rest were gray blurs that Ian couldn’t tell apart unless they spoke, he couldn’t even perceive gender.

There were about twenty other Rhodin, six wagons were their homes. Ian hadn’t gotten to know any of them; it was hard when he couldn’t see them. They had been traveling for ten days, most of that time Ian had spent in the compartment. As they sat around the fire one of the Rhodin started to make a stew. Another began to play a tune on a flute, a pattering song of wandering notes. Ian leaned against a tree and with Matt in his arms he was soon asleep, Matt dropping off with him.

The next few days were once again spent cooped up in the compartment of the wagon. Taras had wanted to be safe, but on the fourth he relented and let Bailey and Ian ride out in the open. They were riding through the Holt Forest now, Ian’s senses absorbed by the confusing array of trees and plants. This place had Elder Magic permeating everything, not in great amounts but everywhere. It was hard for him to sort through all he was sensing, but he was learning.

He rode a donkey tied to one of the wagons, Ian just glad to be out of that box he didn’t complain. Will usually rode with him swaddled to his chest. Other than a few quarks the two babes seemed no more complicated than pooping and eating. Ian imagined though they would be much different when they got older; if they got older.

The Autumnal Equinox, known as Fhómhair in Daun, came and left unmarked on the road. Ian missed the feast and celebration that went on to honor the harvest. In Daun there would have been feasts and games out on the moors, a gathering of people from leagues around. On fruitful years the festival sometimes lasted days. Ian couldn’t help but muse over past festivals, especially the most recent a year past.

He and Bailey had been married half a year then, and still getting used to each other. For the first time Ian got fully drunk at that festival. His father often drank and when he drank he became angry. So, Ian had never gotten drunk in fear of becoming like his father. Yet that time he had wanted to feel at ease with Bailey after months of discomfort between the two. It turned out Ian was a happy drunk; he had sung off key tunes most of the night and Bailey laughed over it for days after. That night had been one of the things to ease some of the discomfort of their arranged marriage.

The festival went by unmarked and Ian mourned the loss of those they had spent it with. His sorrow was quickly forgotten because two days after they had ridden into the Holt Forest, Matt fell ill.

“What be wrong with em?” Ian asked as they sat by the fire. Matt was wailing, and Ian could feel something wrong with the babe.

“He has a fever,” Bailey said worried as she cradled Matt. “Best keep Will away, we baint ken ifn it’ll spread.”

“Will he be alright?” Ian asked worried, but Bailey didn’t answer. He couldn’t ‘see’ enough detail to read her expression, but her body language and silence spoke her worry. Twins died easily, often because they were small, and the mother couldn’t care for both.

“Ye n Pepper be fine,” Ian said encouragingly.

“We baint travel across the Kingdoms when we were wee,” Bailey answered. “N Muriel said we came close sometimes.”

“Ye be Aldan Bailey, n sos be the boys,” Ian said, Bailey needed hope. “They be hardy.”

She didn’t say anything and just sat cradling Matt. Ian let her be, taking Will away so he didn’t get sick too. The next day Matt’s fever was worse, Bailey refusing to ride out.

“We don’t have time to linger around here!” Taras shouted at Bailey as Matt cried.

“The throne goin anywhere Taras?” Bailey asked her voice low. Ian shivered, Bailey only ever yelled at Pepper when she was angry, to everyone else her voice got dangerously low. “I baint movin til Matt’s better, ye can move on without mine if ye have such a bee in yer pants.”

“I’ll move you…”

Taras was cut off as Bailey kicked him, Ian barely following the motion, but by Taras’ grunt he guessed she got him right in the nuts. He heard a few of the other Rhodin snicker, and camp went back to normal.

“Looks like we’re staying here for a few days,” Kree said humorously. “I could use the rest; those border guards were rough.”

Bailey’s mood didn’t lighten as she tended to Matt. Ian couldn’t help as he had his hands full with Will. Bailey only spared a few minutes to nurse him, so Ian was left with caring for Will by himself.

“H-how are you h-holding up?” Glen asked that night by the fire.

“I be fine it be Will who be upset,” Ian said. Will had been crying for most of the day and now only managed a weak whimper. “He misses Bailey.”

“He f-feels Matt’s p-pain,” Glen said, and Ian turned to him. He found he could almost guess where someone’s eyes were by the darker shades of their aura. “They’re t-twins after all.”

“Aye might be that,” Ian said never having considered that. He had little energy to think over how his children were something he couldn’t quite understand.

They camped for two days, Bailey isolated with Matt in Kree’s wagon. Ian slept in one of the other wagons with Glen in another bunk, most of the other Rhodin shared tents if they were displaced from their beds.

“Ian!” Bailey shouted waking him. Ian sat up so suddenly he hit his head on the low ceiling of the bunk. “Ian his fever broke!” Bailey said excited as she shook him, and Will cried as he was woken up. Bailey took Will and handed Ian Matt. Matt was limp and asleep in his arms, but his aura no longer looked wrong. Bailey happily calmed Will who quickly settled in her arms.

“I baint ken hows ye do that,” Ian said holding Matt tenderly.

“Do what?” Bailey asked sitting next to him on the bunk.

“Get him ta calm so easily,” Ian said. Will was already quiet, rooting against Bailey’s breasts. He heard more than saw her open her shirt, so she could nurse.

“I kennin it be cause I have tits,” Bailey said lightly. Ian laughed a little and Bailey rested her head on his shoulder. Her breathing steadied, and she was asleep even as Will took his fill. Ian sighed and laid Bailey down, nestling Will and Matt in her arms before lying out on the floor of the wagon.

The next day Bailey still insisted on resting at least one more day to make sure Matt was alright. Taras didn’t argue this time; he was still walking a bit tenderly from Bailey’s last kick. Ian woke from a nap in the wagon to find Bailey gone.

“Where be Bailey?” Ian asked Glen who was sitting by the fire. It was cold out, frost on the ground and the smell of forest mold strong and heady. Glen held Will, Ian had left Matt in the warmer wagon.

“She w-went to l-look for h-herbs,” Glen answered. Ian didn’t need to ask why she went alone, Bailey was like that.

“Can ye go ta our wagon ta watch the babes?” Ian asked, and Glen nodded.

“Y-yes, s-sorry I forgot you are b-blind,” Glen said as he stood.

“Nowt as much anymore,” Ian answered as he turned and left before Glen could question him. The woods proved to be a confusing array of colors to Ian’s sense, but he noticed that day by day the colors were dulling. He guessed it was because He Who Reaps was asserting his power and the trees were beginning to go dormant. Not all were like that; those that still had color Ian guessed were evergreens.

He walked following no path as he couldn’t see any path. He was following a general sense he had of Bailey, hoping the sense would lead him true. Sure enough, as he rounded a bend past a great evergreen he saw Bailey’s familiar aura bent gathering herbs. He walked up to her and just as she straitened he wrapped his arms around her hips and kissed her cheek.

“Ian, ye scared mine,” Bailey said as she jumped and dropped her herbs. She smelled of crushed rosemary and other scents Ian didn’t know the name to. “What ye be doin out here?”

“I followed ye,” Ian answered whispering in her ear. “Been awhile since we’ve been alone like.”

He moved his hands up her hips, along her belly, and towards her chest.

“Ian,” Bailey gasped, moving against his hands trying to get away.

“What? What be wrong?” Ian asked puzzled, but she wouldn’t look at him.

“I be fat,” Bailey whispered, and Ian sighed in relief. He gripped her around the belly then, feeling her flesh under her clothes.

“So? I like it, especially this part,” He whispered in her ear as he reached up to grasp a breast. He kissed her behind the ear where he knew she liked it and she gasped.

“Aye ye wicked man,” Bailey said humorously and turned to wrap an arm over his shoulders. They found a dry spot under a pine tree, the ground soft with a fragrant bed of needles. The day was cool still with He Who Burns only warming the air slightly. They kept their clothes on mostly but took their time together. Ian savored every moment, knowing they would have little time together alone now. When they finished Ian leaned against the trunk of the tree catching his breath. Bailey sat in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder.

Ian sensed someone out in the woods, movement of a living thing drawing his attention. Turning his attention to it he realized it was human, and in a moment,  he recognized Taras’ aura.

“Bailey, Taras be out there,” Ian said tracking him with his mind. He was surprised how far he could sense, Taras was moving towards them with purpose. “He be comin now.”

“Aye,” Bailey said as she got up to straighten her clothes and gather her herbs. Ian started to do the same, but Bailey fixed them for him since he could hardly tell. “Ye have pine needles in yer hair,” Bailey whispered lovingly as she brushed the needles out of his hair. He couldn’t help, but smile back to her, but Taras’ footsteps broke the moment. Bailey turned from him to leave the shelter of the pine boughs, Ian close behind her.

Taras came into the clearing just as they left the pine tree, Ian unable to read his expression.

“I’m surprised you forgave him so quickly,” Taras said. “After all he and Kree have been shaking her wagon for some time.”

“Shut it Taras,” Bailey said, her tone low and dangerous again. “I ken ye’ve been lyin bout Ian n Kree. I talked ta Kree, she said ye been the only un ta shake her wagon.”

“Irrelevant,” Taras said callously. “You swore to sire the next heir to the High Throne, which means marrying another man and sharing his bed.”

“I swore nowt,” Bailey said calmly. “Ye ken that, ye be the only un ta swear an oath ta mine that ye’d let Ian n mine babes come with mine.”

“I never said I’d sit by and let you get pregnant again!” Taras snapped.

“I baint plan ta,” Bailey answered, and Ian gathered Taras was caught off guard. “I been gatherin herbs ta prevent gettin with child gain. Mine babes still be young n twins, they need all mine power n milk ta stay alive. Gettin with child gain be too dangerous.”

Ian felt her turn to him and he smiled back at her. He didn’t mind, she was right, and he agreed it should be that way. Taras didn’t seem to know how to respond, probably because Bailey had just stolen every objection he had.

“Ye’ll leave mine and Ian be,” Bailey said. “We’ll go along ta Alda with ye.”

With that Bailey marched back to camp, Ian about to follow her when Taras stepped in his path.

“I’ll have a word with you,” Taras said and Bailey stopped, turning back about to argue.

“Go on Bailey,” Ian said. “I’ll be along shortly.”

Bailey reluctantly left, Taras waiting for her to go before turning back to Ian. He could only ‘see’ Taras as a gray shape as he had no Elder Magic, but the shades were shifting in ways Ian didn’t understand.

“You’re awfully calm about the fact that Bailey will soon be married to someone else.”

“Cause it baint gonna ta happen,” Ian answered. “Bailey baint gonna ta do what ye say.”

“You’re so sure of that,” Taras said, his voice suggesting he was grinning. “You two may be young lovers, but your marriage was arranged. Just wait until Bailey meets her kin, and the noble men of Alda. Few women could resist the lure of an Aldan man.”

Ian was unwilling to admit how uncomfortable that thought made him. He trusted Bailey; it was himself he had doubts about. How could she love someone like him? He ‘looked’ back at Taras and knew he was overjoyed at his score against him.

“N what o ye?” Ian asked catching Taras off guard. “Why ye goin ta such extents? Ye traveled half the kingdoms, dragged a woman with two babes in her arms with ye, n even tried ta kill a Grand Sect. Fer what?”

“For my Kingdom,” Tara answered flatly.

“All this fer patriotism?” Ian asked skeptically. “I baint believe that. It has ta be personal this grudge o yers.”

Tara was silent, so long Ian thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he sighed almost wearily.

“I’m nothing, no family, no name, just a ward of the Mark,” Taras answered. “In the Mark orphans are given the surname ‘Law’ until they claim a trade or a family of their own. I never gained a family, and my trade is one that cannot be claimed as I am a servant not a man of my own. You said it has to be personal, my only family is the Mark.”

Ian realized he spoke the truth, for Taras all he ever had was his kingdom. He had fought in the King’s Wars. Ian hadn’t been alive for the wars, but he father has spoken of them. Daun, Nyrgard, and the Mark had gathered behind the house Sinistra as their King. His father had said it was a chance for the northern kingdoms to set apart from those of the east and south. Land had been taken from the north for a long time, and trade agreements often were skewed to the south. Many men had desired to gain freedom in those wars.

The bitter loss had been worse by the many deaths, but it was the Mark that had suffered the most. Warren had been breached and thousands of innocents had died in that battle. Ian didn’t need to see to know Taras’ pain. He had been in the thick of that battle; he had seen his people die.

“I be sorry,” Ian said remorsefully.

“Never assume passion has only one face,” Taras said before he turned away to go back to camp, Ian following him silently.

They set out the next day, once again traveling at a slow pace. Ian rode behind Kree’s wagon, so he heard when Taras rode up to Kree to speak with her.

“We can go faster,” Taras said to her from his horse.

“We can but I thought you wanted to stay hidden,” Kree answered. “No one knows you left in a Rhodin caravan unless they guessed it, which isn’t too hard to infer in the first place. We Rhodin live our lives on the road, there is no destination for us, so we travel at our own pace. If we go faster it will seem odd.”

“Only to other Rhodin who know your ways,” Taras objected. “And there is no one around to mark our pace.”

“We are not traveling alone Taras,” Kree objected. “You will have to get all the waggoneers to agree, and I object to a faster pace as well.”

“We need to…”

“Do what?” Kree asked. “The throne isn’t going anywhere as Bailey said. And she would still have to get with child and give birth before your revolution can even get started, not to mention gather the support of other lords and kings. Why are you in such a rush?”

“I’ve been away from the Mark for a long time,” Taras answered. “I made sure the Rangers could run without me but not indefinitely. I’m needed in the Mark.”

“Then you can ride ahead,” Kree answered pertly. “I’ll see Bailey to Alda.”

Taras didn’t answer but neither did he ride ahead, Ian sensing his divided loyalties. He kept with them for the next four days until they reached the village of Dramund. Ian sensed many people here, and less permanent buildings. There was a flood of people to towns like these in the change in season, men all getting ready for the hunting season. Ian was overwhelmed by the scents, sounds, and the strange ‘sight’ he had.

He guessed there was a village proper surrounded by a veritable village of tents and wagons. Many were Rhodin and as they rode through the traffic their caravan headed for the northern part of town. A Rhodin camp was here, telling by the music and welcoming calls from the people there. The donkey Ian rode stopped when Kree stopped her wagon and he dismounted. Ian was able to ‘see’ better with his feet on the ground so he walked around Kree’s wagon to find Bailey.

He found her not far away handing her horse over to another Rhodin. She turned at his approach and took his hand. She seemed about to speak when Taras’ shout stopped her.

“A week!” Taras shouted. “We already stopped for three days before.”

“We need rest and to resupply,” Kree said levelly. “This is our way Taras, if you don’t like it leave.”

“You can move faster than this Kree I know it!” Taras shouted. “You’ve been dragging your feet all this time and I demand to know why!”

“Yes and I won’t go where you plan to!” Kree answered her volume reaching his. They had gathered a crowd, but in the middle of a Rhodin camp they were all Rhodin. Ian wondered what they were talking about but dared not ask.

“Fine, I won’t ask you to then,” Taras said lowly. “I’ll buy horses and be on my way with Bailey.”

“Pass along my words to Greng,” Kree said. “You can stay in camp until you leave.”

“Where will you go?” Taras asked. “Just so I know where to reach you.”

“I’m going to winter in Hólmsted,” Kree answered. “It’s safer there surrounded by mountains.”

Taras just nodded and turned to leave.

“Take Will,” Ian said to Bailey. “I should go after him.”

“Aye,” Bailey said as she untied Will’s swaddle. Ian started off after Taras and was surprised when Glen followed him.

“Ye comin too?” Ian asked.

“I owe h-him,” Glen answered and took Ian’s elbow. With Glen’s guidance they followed Taras. While Ian could sort of see he couldn’t keep up with most of what he perceived. Not only that but he couldn’t see wagons or fences as well and nearly ran into them if not for Glen. Glen though was proving a poor guide as several times they walked through mud puddles and were nearly run over by carts.

Taras went to a tavern in the village, Ian and Glen hot on his heels. Entering the tavern Ian was greeted with the sour smell of ale and unwashed bodies mixed with the warm smoky scent of roasting meat and cooking food. Glen led him to a table through the maze of people and sat down.

“Why’d you follow me?” Taras asked as they sat. A bar maid came over set down three tankards. Ian took a drink to find sour ale; he drank anyways though he preferred Daunish cider.

“W-we wanted to m-make sure you w-were alright,” Glen answered sounding worried. Taras didn’t answer, Ian hearing him take a long pull from his tankard. Ian knew to say nothing, and so just let his sense wander over the room trying to sort out everything he sensed. He was getting better at discerning shapes, and he found the more practice he had the clearer things became.

The door to the tavern opened and someone new walked in. Ian turned surprised as the person appeared in color to him, they had the Elder Magic. Other than that, he couldn’t be sure who they were or even their gender.  

“I be right back,” Ian said as he stood and made his way cautiously through the room to the person. They were talking to the tavern keeper, but Ian couldn’t hear until he was close.

“…a Daunish family with twin babes, they would be traveling south. The woman would look just like me.”

Ian hurried forward having recognized the voice and grabbed Pepper by the elbow. She pulled away, and Ian felt her land a solid blow to his jaw. He stumbled back a step but kept his feet.

“Ian!” Pepper said surprised.

“Sorry fer startlin ye,” Ian said holding his tender jaw. “Ye’ve gotten stronger.”

“Where be Bailey?” Pepper asked eagerly.

“Back in the Rhodin camp,” Ian answered. “Best get Glen n Taras n go.”

“Glen n Taras?” Pepper asked puzzled.

“Aye,” Ian said and turned. “Taras! Come ere!”

Ian sensed Glen and Taras rise from their table and come over.

“Don’t just call me over like…” Taras started to say but stopped when he saw Pepper. “Bailey you should stay in camp.”

“I be Bailey’s twin sister Pepper.”

“Pepper this be Taras Law n Glen De Modeste,” Ian said past Taras’ stunned silence.

“Grandmother Meadhbh?” Pepper said surprised when she saw Glen.

“Yes I g-guess,” Glen said. “Bailey s-says I am your g-grandmother r-reborn.”

“But how?” Pepper asked amazed.

“Let’s go back to camp and talk things over with your sister,” Taras said about to take Pepper’s arm, but she smacked his hand away. They left the tavern and headed back to camp. Ian nearly walked into a wagon, but Pepper pulled him away in time. She took his arm almost reluctantly.

“Ye really be blind,” Pepper said as they walked.

“Aye but mine powers be tryin ta work through it. I can sort o see, just vague shapes n some colors ifn someun has the Elder Magic.”

“Powers? Ye have the Elder Magic?”

“Aye, ye kenned I were a seventh son.”

“Aye just didn’t ken ye’d actually get any o the powers,” Pepper muttered seeming irritated. Ian smiled at her and took her hand on his arm in his own.

“Bailey ’ll be glad ye be here,” Ian said but Pepper said nothing. They arrived back in camp and Ian saw Bailey walking near a fire pit. She stopped dead when she saw them, and Pepper raced forward. Ian wished he could have seen Bailey’s face as she and her sister embraced, pressing their foreheads together and laughing.

“Pepper, what ye doin here!” Bailey asked at last.

“I came back ta help ye,” Pepper answered. “Be this yer son?”

“Aye this be Matt,” Bailey said with such pride Ian felt warmer. “O’er there be Will ifn ye want ta hold him.”

Ian sensed Pepper’s apprehension, but Bailey handed her Matt and picked up Will from the basket he rested in. They bent over the children like women did and laughed.

“Ian,” Bailey called. “Ye should see the looks on their faces. Will n Matt be confused there be two o mine now.”

“Aye,” Ian said walking over to stand next to them. He wished he could see the look on the babe’s faces of confusion from two of their mother before them.  

“I’d like to know why there are two of you now as well,” Taras said dryly.

“Aye well it be a long story,” Pepper said. “Let’s sit.”

They all sat by the fire pit on various camp chairs or seats that were common in a large Rhodin camp. Pepper started with her story: travel through the mountains, meeting the dwarves, the choosing of their king, the forging of Melanthios, the sacrifice of her breast, her decision to leave, and what she learned from Arnor. Ian looked to the sword that Pepper carried and sure enough it burned in his vision nearly white. He didn’t want to touch the dragon blade; he was still afraid of the black dragon.

“Sos we need ta find Hors as well as the song n Eileen reborn,” Bailey said when Pepper finished. “Melanthios be sure?”

“Aye, but why did ye leave Daun?” Pepper asked.

“That be another story,” Bailey said and told her sister about their mother. Ian couldn’t see Pepper’s reaction, but he guessed it wasn’t good.

“A princess o Alda?” Pepper said when Bailey finished. “Bailey I kennin this Taras be fibbin. Ye baint really believe our ma were a princess?”

“There be the ring Pepper,” Bailey said. “N our ma died givin birth ta us, we baint ken anything o her. I believe Taras be right, n ifn nowt we’ll learn the truth in Alda.”

“Ye really ken that be the best place ta look?” Pepper asked.

“It be the safest in the least,” Bailey answered. “Alda’s boarders have been guarded since the King’s Wars.”

“There is more though,” Taras said urgently. “Since you are of the royal line both of you can bear the heir to the High Throne. We can finally be rid of the Regarian rule.”

“I baint ken any un will follow a half Daunish King,” Pepper said. “N Bailey’s boys be twins, baint that bad fer succession?”

“Bailey’s boys are bastards,” Taras answered. “Since she never married in a Sect they are bastards and she can marry legitimately now.”

“She be married already!” Pepper said shocked.

“Well there is an easier solution,” Taras said. “You never married at all I take it?”

“Nowt!” Bailey said forcefully. “Pepper ye baint have ta marry at all.”

Ian though guessed what was going through Pepper’s mind. Bailey had agreed to marry so her sister didn’t have to, now it was Pepper’s turn to do the favor.

“We can decide later,” Ian said, and they turned to him. “After all neither o ye even met the man Taras says ye should marry.”

“Aye, ye be right,” Bailey said sounding relieved. “Who do ye intend any hows Taras?”

“There are many possible matches,” Taras answered.

“Ye baint even have any un in mind do ye?” Pepper asked laughing. “This plan o yers seems half baked at best.”

“It baint matter,” Bailey said. “It be a long way ta Alda.”

“Aye,” Pepper said soberly. Glen suddenly sneezed and Ian looked at him as he shuffled his feet shyly. “What o him? I see Grandmother Meadhbh in him.”

“I am Meadhbh r-reborn,” Glen said.

“But she died only six n ten years back,” Pepper argued.

“We baint ken why er hows, but Meadhbh were reborn early,” Bailey said. “I kennin it might o been un o the Elder Phay behind it.”

“I see,” Pepper said. Ian saw her reach for Melanthios and saw their aura change as they communicated silently. “Melanthios says he kens ye Glen.”

“H-how?” Glen asked surprised.

“Ye be the reborn spirit o Lailoken the Oracle,” Pepper said. “He kenned ye when ye were Lailoken, met ye only unce. He heard though ye were the lover o Arke the Color Weaver.”

Glen’s aura shifted suddenly, and Ian realized that all this time his spirit hadn’t been sitting right in his skin. Now he was right for a few heartbeats and Ian could almost feel the power of his spirit. Then he lost whatever peace he found and his spirit faded to the way it was before.

“I h-have to be alone n-now,” Glen said as he stood and left. He tripped over a dog on his way out of the camp, nearly falling on his face and the dog growled at him.

“He be un awkward duck,” Pepper said shaking her head. “Come on Bailey, I want ta talk ta ye more in private like.”

Bailey and Pepper went off to Kree’s wagon with Will and Matt to talk probably in more detail of the time they had been apart. Ian was left alone with Taras by the fire.

“So you think that Pepper will marry to bear the heir for her sister?” Taras asked Ian.

“I baint be sure,” Ian answered. “It’ll depend on the man.”

Taras sighed wearily and Ian could feel his worry in that sound. “I’m going to go buy horses, we leave tomorrow.”

Taras stood and left, Ian sitting by the fire and watching the shadows of salamanders dancing in the fire. Bailey and Pepper spent the whole night together and Ian was left alone to sleep in one of the tents. He didn’t mind so much since he got a full night’s sleep for once free of Will or Matt’s crying. The next morning was cooler than usual, Ian feeling mist on his skin when he left the tent.

He found a Rhodin frying some bacon and eggs, joining the man at the fire and sharing the meal. The man didn’t say anything, but Ian felt his stare as they ate. Ian nodded his thanks and went to look for the others. He found Taras saddling the horses near the horse coral. Ian counted eight horses, guessing three were pack animals.

“Ye need any help?” Ian asked.

“Not from a blind man,” Taras answered mildly. “You could go get your wife and her sister. See if you can find that wayward holy man too.”

Ian just nodded and went over to Kree’s wagon. He only knew it was Kree’s because of the location, he couldn’t see any details of the wagons to tell them apart. He knocked and waited, Bailey and Pepper emerging shortly already ready.

“Ye take the babe,” Pepper said handing over Will. She helped swaddle him onto Ian as Will reached out to tug on Ian’s beard. Ian laughed a little and made a face at Will who laughed as well. “Ye be good with em,” Pepper said.

“Aye well it be easier when they be babes,” Ian answered. Pepper didn’t respond verbally, turning away to grab a quick breakfast. They returned to the horses to find Kree there with Glen as well.

“I didn’t want you to forget him,” Kree said as they came up.

“Thank ye,” Bailey said. “Fer everything.”

“Glad to see someone is grateful,” Kree said loudly over to Taras who didn’t answer this gibe. “Walk well green witch.”

“Fair travels ta ye Kree,” Bailey said and Kree left with a wave.

“How’d ye find my horse?” Pepper asked.

“There are few stables in a town like this,” Taras answered. “A big lug like this was hard to miss and I asked the stable master if he was yours. Now mount up, we have a long way to go and I’m not going to drag my feet anymore.”

They mounted up, Ian needing a bit of help to get his foot in the stirrup. This time he had the reigns to his horse, but it followed the others without his prompting, so he let it have its head. They rode out of town, Ian glad to be back to the more peaceful woods. Taras seemed to know the back roads as well as the Rhodin because he quickly led them off the main highway and into the woods.

They rode for some time in silence, their pace a steady walk. Ian wasn’t surprised Taras rode ahead a little, no doubt to seek out danger or a better path. He was surprised when Pepper pulled her horse up next to his.

“Can I ask ye somewhat?” Pepper asked.

“Ye just did,” Ian joked and felt Pepper glare at him. “Aye go ahead.”

“When did ye ken ye loved Bailey?” Pepper asked Ian surprised by her question. Bailey was far enough ahead that Ian knew she couldn’t hear them.

“I guess it were when I were bout ta lose her,” Ian answered thinking it over. “It were more like I realized then I loved her all along.”

“What bout when ye first saw her?”

“Like in the tales?” Ian asked with a laugh. He though over when he had first saw Bailey, at a festival three years ago. “When I first saw Bailey she were with ye. I couldn’t tell ye two apart.”

“What did ye think o us?”

“That ye were gorgeous,” Ian answered. “Then I realized ye two were inseparable, any man that’d marry un o ye would always be second place.”

“Sos why did ye agree ta marry Bailey?” Pepper asked.

“Ta be free o mine father,” Ian answered simply. He had agreed because it got him and his mother away from his father. He still remembered that argument, it was the first time his mother had stood up to his father. She had threatened to tell everyone about Ardal’s abuse if he didn’t let her go, he agreed because Norah had gotten old. With her gone Ardal could sleep around as much as he liked.

“Then what did ye ken when ye met Bailey on yer weddin day?” Pepper asked.

Ian wasn’t sure he could answer her, not because he didn’t know but because Pepper might take it the wrong way. Ian had been elated to be free of his father and have his mother safe. He also gained standing as Fergal’s heir since Fergal had no sons to inherit. He had been so happy at the idea he hadn’t even thought of the marriage until the day of the wedding. Then he had been faced with a scared seventeen-year-old girl who was to be his wife. He hadn’t considered what it would have been like for her until he met her. Bailey had seemed calm and serine in public, but when it had been time to take to their wedding bed her calm vanished.

Ian couldn’t tell Pepper how Bailey had wept when they were alone, how terrified she really had been. It had been his first time as well, though he had been excited about the whole thing rather than scared. Out in the moors a marriage wasn’t complete unless it was consummated, so despite Bailey’s fear Ian had to procced. That night he admired her courage to face what she feared. He had promised her that night that he would never touch her again; he never wanted to hurt her like his father hurt his mother.

“Tell mine,” Pepper said lowly and Ian sighed.

“I kenned her be a scared seven n ten girl married ta a man she never met,” Ian said. “I felt guilty.”

“Ta rape her,” Pepper hissed, and Ian felt like she had slapped him.

“After our night tagether I promised her ta never touch her gain,” Ian said, not denying Pepper’s accusation. “I swore she could have her space cause I kenned she baint ever love mine. Ye ken what she said?”

“Nowt,” Pepper said softly.

“She said hows could we ever grow ta love each other ifn we baint try,” Ian said. “She said I made her realize that but I baint ken how.”

“Cause ye were gentle that night,” Bailey said, and Ian jumped not having realized she had come close. “I could tell ye didn’t want ta hurt mine n I realized ye were kind. I wanted ta get ta ken ye n when I did I fell in love with ye.”

Ian felt his face burn and a smile tug at his lips. He cleared his throat and turned to Pepper.

“Why did ye want ta ken this?” Ian asked.

“Cause she baint ken ifn she be in love er nowt,” Bailey answered, and Pepper cried out at her sister.

“Ye swore ye baint tell!”

“Love? With who? She went ta the mountains n…” Ian trailed off as he made the connection. “A dwarf? Ye be in love with a dwarf?”

“Nowt!” Pepper shouted embarrassed. “Baint mock mine!”

“Sorry,” Ian said trying not to grin. He wanted to meet this dwarf who had won Pepper over; he had never thought Pepper would fall for someone. He knew his marriage to Bailey had been hard on Pepper; that was why he had never blamed Pepper for all her insults at him. He had also feared Bailey growing to hate him if Pepper hated him. He had never wanted to get between Bailey and Pepper.

“His name be Darin,” Pepper said lowly. “He be a warrior n the captain o Donar the chief o the Emir clan.”

“I’d like ta meet him,” Ian said.

“I left him,” Pepper said her regret obvious. “We had different paths.”

“Ye’ll meet again,” Bailey said knowingly. They rode in silence then, Pepper seeming to brood. Ian let the silence be, nearly dosing off in the saddle until Pepper once again spoke.

“Ian, Melanthios wants ta talk ta ye,” Pepper said nudging him with her knee.

“How?” Ian asked puzzled and not entirely sure he wanted to talk to the black dragon.

“Just hold out yer hand,” Pepper said, and Ian complied. Pepper put the hilt of a sword in his hand and Ian instinctively took hold.

:Greetings blind one: the voice seemed to ring in Ian’s head, deep and penetrating like the reverberation from a drum. :I offer my condolences and apology on your lost sight. I cannot ask for your forgiveness, but I ask for your aid for my kin. I offer you power in return for your suffering, power in the Elder Magic that may aid you in repairing your sight.:

Ian was shocked, and he had no doubt that Melanthios could heal his sight. However, he still felt the innate fear of the dragon, memories of burning people and a giant dragon hard to forget. He knew Melanthios made the offer out of guilt, not some way to force Ian into aiding the Phay. He knew this because Melanthios let him feel as he felt.

“Nowt,” Ian said at last. “Forgiveness may come in its own time Melanthios, but I baint ask ye ta change mine any more than ye already have. I wish ta remain mine own man.”

:Very well,: Melanthios said. :I made the same sort of offer to your wife, she refused as well.:

“N Pepper?” Ian asked lowly.

:She only has me do what needs to be done, I could give her much greater power but she refuses to accept that. Those who seek power for power’s sake should not wield it.:

“Here Pepper,” Ian said holding the blade back over to Pepper who took it. “Thank ye.”

“Thank ye fer listenin,” Pepper said. “He really baint be all that bad.”

“I baint hate him Pepper,” Ian said. “I fear him.”

Pepper didn’t answer, and Ian couldn’t gage her mood from what he perceived of her. He still wasn’t sure he had done the right thing, but he knew that had he accepted Melanthios’ offer he would be a much different man for it. They rode on, everyone brooding over their own inner turmoil and the road ahead.