Blackfridayrule

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Mitaja heard her coming first. Hadian had been in a dead sleep and the sound of hooves thundering up to his small hut would not have woken him if it weren't for the cat, who had been draped over him like a living blanket. She got up and stretched, putting one large paw on Hadian's chest in the process which caused him to groan and sputter a little. But then he did hear the hooves. When he got up and opened the door to peer into the darkness, he saw a white horse approaching and nearly choked on his own tongue; white horses were reserved for the Sol and their Taja. Reason kicked in and he thought for a split second it might be Ajoran. Perhaps the deed had been done, and he had come to give Ridahne's brother his condolences. After all, if things had gone differently, they might have called each other brothers. But the lack of Taja's sash and an overabundance of wavy black hair told him otherwise.

"Ri...dah..ne...?"
"Hadian!" His sister leaped out of the saddle and threw her arms around him, holding tightly.
"Ridahne, the horse! Did you...what did you do?"
"I didn't, I have to send her back. But they wanted me to get here as fast as possible, I've been riding for a full day. Take care of her and then send her on her way, yes?"
"I don't understand...Ridahne..." He gingerly touched the brand new tattoo, swollen and fresh between her eyes. "How are you not dead?"

Ridahne's hands gripped his arms hard. She had so much adrenaline she could hardly stand it. "I had a vision. About...the Tree." Now his hands were gripping her arms. "There is, or is going to be--I don't know--a new gardener. That's all I'm allowed to tell you, but you CAN'T tell anyone else. Nobody. Not even Nyyvai. Come, Hadian! Help me pack!"
The two rushed into the tiny house. "You've been pardoned? But your Ojih...?"
"Doesn't show that, no. I'm not really pardoned, not fully. It depends on my success. I'm sorry, Hadian, I'll need Mitaja."
The older of the two nodded. "Right. Does Ajoran know?" When Ridahne nodded Hadian asked, "Then could, when you're done, could--"
"No." Her tone went suddenly cold and hard. "I'd only bring him shame."
Hadian knew his sister's tone and wisely did not press. "Can I ask where you're going?"

Ridahne had been gathering food and madly stuffing it into a thin cloth sack, but she stopped dead at those words. And, as if for the first time, she realized the enormity of what she was about to undertake and said slowly, "I don't know, Hadian."

---

"Fate can be downright cruel, can't it?" She muttered. Well, at least she wasn't the only miserable sap. Still, some irritating part of her that was still clinging to hope made her think that if her own admission didn't draw out a confession that Darin was the Gardener, then nothing would. Because she isn't. Go figure.

Ridahne turned around again, this time taking the knife with one of her slender, scarred hands. She inspected it, hefted it, even swung it a little. Tsura gave a little leap of his forelegs--not quite rearing but definitely a little hop--and his pace quickened, but Ridahne quickly reigned him in. "Sorry. He's trained for fighting and I'm giving him ideas..." She hefted the weapon some more and turned it around a few times. Then she chuckled. "You stabbed a man with this?" Her laugh grew stronger, more amused. "I gotta hand it to you, that's determination. Good for you. Your first time is always an experience. You hunt and kill animals for food, or you slay an injured horse to spare it from misery, and you think you're ready to kill a man when a situation gets desperate enough. But you're never ready for that first time." She spoke with absolute experience.

Ridahne had killed. Many times. But she had never murdered anyone in cold blood at least, or that's what she told herself the first few times. It remained true even to that day, but after so long it didn't seem to matter anymore. She knew that on the whole, she was doing good, even if it meant spilling blood. There was, after all, some evil that not even the Great Tree could quell, and especially not so far south. Ridahne was there to find those who slipped through the cracks.

"Does that blade suit you? Because you could do better...I'd feel easier leaving you with a real blade and not a kitchen knife...ai, this is barely even sharp!" Ridahne took a smooth stone from one of her saddlebags and began to sharpen the blade right then and there, like it bothered her to even hold a dull blade. In a way, it did. She likened it to someone who spent their life raising elite horses being presented with a mule for racing.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

"Oh you do have one? Well c'mon then, let's see it." Ridahne twisted around in the saddle, craning her head back to face her current traveling companion. She knew that even if it was the best human-made knife in all of Astra, it wouldn't compare to the ones she carried. Elf blades were legendary for their light weight and ability to hold an edge without being brittle. For true weapons and not just knives of utility, the steel was folded repeatedly, adding layers of high-carbon steel until the surface of the metal showed dark lines that ran through the blade like markings on a topographical map.

Ajoran had made hers. All three of them. The Teleisun family had historically been bladesmiths for as long as anyone could recall, and Ajoran had taken up the craft in his younger years. He was a soldier now. A high guard of the tribe's matriarch, and for a man, there was no greater honor. But in his days as a smith, he made beautiful blades. When she was still a child by her people's standards, a mere twenty summers, she'd commissioned a sword from him not just because she knew he was good, but because she'd always sort of liked him. And he, her. He crafted it with her in mind and poured each of his feelings about her into that blade. It was a work of living poetry. The knives, he made her some ten years later and they, too were his love letters to her. Those three blades and the carved carnelian pendant she wore around her neck were the only pieces of him she still had left.

Darin asked her who she was looking for, and specifically if she was an elf princess. Ridahne laughed. It was not a mocking sort aimed at the ill-informed, but instead it was again the derisive, hardened laughter of someone who'd long ago lost hope and given way to bitter toil and despair. "No, no elf princesses. At least, not by your definition of 'princess'. In Azurei at least, we have the Sota-Sol--what you might call a queen. She is the absolute ruler of our tribe. And below her are four lesser Sol that oversee their own province, but they answer to the Sota-Sol. Perhaps you can call them princesses, but unlike human royalty, they are not born into the position, they are chosen and groomed over the course of about a hundred years before they are ready to replace their mentor. That's not the case in Eluri and Orosi, they have different systems."

She gave another dark chuckle to herself, shaking her head a bit. "No. She is not Azurei, or even elvish. Rumor has it she's human but that could be speculation. She's a siren, for all I know." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "But you won't believe me if I tell you who she is. Or who she's supposed to be. Maybe you would, I don't know." Her voice was level and the volume was appropriate for speaking to someone directly behind her, but something in it showed her deep-rooted frustration.

For a while, it seemed like she wouldn't offer anything else on the subject. She was quiet, stony even as she guided the horse through the thick forest. But then, after a painful silence, she spoke softly.

"I was supposed to be executed. A disgraced traitor. And the night before I had this stupid vision. I saw the tree and how bad it looked, and a glimpse of what could be if it were to fall. And though we haven't seen it for ages, my people still remember the bitterness of war... but then a voice said to me, said these exact words, 'You will come upon her in the wild. She has The Seed. And she will need your help. Redeem yourself, Child of the Night Sky, and save the land you love.' And suddenly I went from being eight hours from death to being Azurei's secret symbol of hope or something. And at the very hour I was supposed to be beheaded, I was sent home with all speed to collect my horse, my things, and my hunting cat, and was sent on my way with all the blessings of all five Sol. And so for FOUR MONTHS I have been puttering around every overgrown corner of Astra, still publicly marked as a traitor for all my people to see," she gestured to her tattooed face, "and yet set out on a hopeless quest that's supposed to make up for my excuse of a life while conveniently taking me away from everything and everyone I've ever loved. Azurei's living embarrassment, swept under the rug for the world to forget! And for a moment I thought you...I thought maybe you could be her and I got one last cruel surge of hope but that too seems to be fruitless. Like everything else."

Ridahne took a few breaths, realizing as if for the first time that she'd been ranting. Her anger had been evident the whole time, and now that she was done speaking she didn't know what to do with that anger anymore. She wanted to break something, hack something, but nothing was convenient. So instead she looked up to the sky and said, "Ir khalei des'iale na a'aevir!" Though it wasn't apparent what exactly she said, it had the feel of curses and bitter words.

Another few breaths, and she forced herself to gain control. "I don't know why I told you all that." She waved a dismissive hand. "Sorry for unloading my sob story on you, I'm just..." She sighed after spending a significant amount of time searching for the right word. "I'm just very lost." Her voice was soft, low, and whatever fire had flared up a moment ago seemed to have been burned out and quenched.

In Dark Seas We Sail

Berlin took the wine, realizing as if for the first time that they were alone on deck. Which was...nice. Nicer, now that they had a bottle between them. He swigged it. The stuff tasted like grape piss but...not entirely in an unpleasant way. Whether that was objectively true, or he'd just learned to appreciate it over the years, Berlin couldn't guess. "Handled?" That, admittedly, wasn't the answer Berlin had hoped for...though he wasn't sure what he was supposed to realistically expect. "Uban's a likable sort. Probably remains true even with...large...creatures. What exactly did you get drunk out there, Pieter?" The question was asked out of curiosity rather than a need to know. He was glad they had a heading though. In theory, he could have had Rohaan fly patrols all day in search of the ships, but the exhausted lad wouldn't be able to do much in the way of rigging, so they'd be down a member. All of it translated to losing time, but now he had a direction. The chase was on, now.

--

Rohaan always thought the creaking of the ship's timbers made a kind of tune. Not one he could whistle out, not one he could describe. But it hummed along all the same like the whisper of wind or the pounding of waves on the shore. Each note punctuated by the soft sway of the hammock back and forth. He was back asleep in minutes. Nestled in beside Uban and borrowing a little of his warmth, he drifted back off to a dreamless sleep as his body struggled to recuperate from all he'd done today.

Even Uban let his eyes close a bit, as the sway of a hammock and the creak of the ship was a call he had not the will to ignore. Though he never fully went off to sleep, not really, he dozed very lightly. It was nice, now that he was coming down from all the adrenaline. That was an experience he'd not soon forget. But as he heard footsteps, he peeled one eye open to find Hana exiting her room.

"Oi!" he said softly. "What've you been up to?" The question was relaxed; a casual curiosity. At his words, Rohaan stirred back awake, but seeing Hana and not knowing really how to interact with her at the moment (or in general, really) he stayed silent and occasionally stole glances at her. Uban hooked a thumb at the lad. "Found a rat in my bed. Tried to shoo it away but I lost that battle." He smiled a little at his own joke.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne gave a little nod. "Darin," she repeated. "Hm, forgot some humans didn't have family names. Not that it's important anyway. It's been twenty years since I've been to the human lands. I've forgotten a lot of things about it." Ridahne didn't look to be a day over thirty, though something about those eyes of her suggested otherwise. Elves were not immortal (the question always irritated Ridahne when she was asked by some drunkard at a small town tavern) but they did live for hundreds of years. Ridahne was a very young hundred and three.

Mitaja, who had disappeared for a while, emerged from the underbrush a little ahead of them, shared eye contact with her handler for a moment, and then vanished as quickly as she'd come. "Greyrock? Mmm..." Ridahne craned her head back to try and steal a peek at the sun, then around at her surroundings. "An hour, at this pace. Tsura has good paces, he can run very fast for a long time, but not with two and all my gear." Ridahne patted the buckskin gelding's neck. "You're stiff. I can feel you on the saddle. Relax a bit at the hips and you'll be more comfortable. And if you're going to continue this...journey, you should know how to use a weapon, or you'll get robbed again. I happen to be a specialist with blades, I can teach you some things and help you find a little dagger that suits you." The sword on her back was easily visible, and now that Darin was up close she was able to see the delicate silver inlay into the dark, polished handle and the single raw sapphire set into the leather scabbard. But Ridahne lifted her sleeveless gray shirt a little at the back to reveal her two knives. Only part of them were visible under the fabric when she lifted it, but by their size and something about the worn look of them, they were clearly not meant for hunting and shaving kindling. They were for fighting.

"You don't strike me as the fighting type and, from what I remember, most human females don't fight. Right? Pity. But you need to know how to defend yourself if you'll be on the road for any length of time. There won't always be a Veerkari'e to save you." Her accent got extra thick whenever she spoke her own language, even just one word of it.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ajoran looked good in the Taja sash. His whole uniform made him look rather handsome, Ridahne thought, though she refused to look at him now. For the last two hours, she'd been looking everywhere but at him. Currently, she'd been studying a shaft of moonlight that cut across her cell wall.

"Why did you come?" Her voice echoed through the red stone halls even though she spoke softly.
Ajoran sighed. "I didn't want you to do this alone, Ridahne."
"You should have. You are a Taja, one of the few guardians of the Sota-Sol herself. A place of honor. Your place is not with me."
Ajoran shook his head, a tiny, sad smile touching his lips. "I knew you'd say that." Silence. The two were normally very comfortable, if not pleased with communal silence between them but tonight was different. The silence made Ridahne think of the other times they had sat quietly together, and that hurt more than even her impending death. She refused to break down for anyone to see. She would die tomorrow. But she would go with her head high.

"Do you regret it?" Ajoran asked.
Ridahne sighed heavily and let her head roll upon her shoulders so that she now stared at the wall beside her. "No." Her tone was resolute. Hard. Unmoving.
Ajoran said nothing for a moment, just drank in the sight of her. Blessed Tree, she was stubborn. She was fire and she was stone. And he loved her for it. He wanted to tell her that in his heart of hearts, he thought she'd done the right thing, but he couldn't. Not as a Taja. Another slow, sad smile. "Knew you'd say that too."

--

That night had completely changed the trajectory of her life. It had literally saved it. Whether or not she deserved to be saved, Ridahne felt that was up for debate. But she was nonetheless, all because of a stupid vision. A vision she was growing to hate with every passing day. Maybe it was a false one--such things had happened before. Except...it felt so real. There in that dark cell, and even in front of each of the Sol, in front of Ajoran, Ridahne was absolutely certain it was real. But now...

Some reasonable part of her tried to explain to herself that it was just her anger getting the better of her. Of course it was real, she was just frustrated that fulfilling the vision was taking so long. She'd known about the existence of a Seed even before there appeared to be one--or at least before the rumors started. That had to be worth something.

And yet, she'd been traveling for four months in search of some girl in the wild who needed her help. No name to go by, not even a region. The girl could be a siren, an elf, or a human for all she knew, though she had learned from rumor that supposedly the bearer of the Seed was human. Still, they could all be wrong. After all, no one had actually seen her, and that made Ridahne feel like she was chasing a ghost. Perhaps she was never actually meant to find this person at all, and the only reason she was spared from death was so she could live out her long elvish years in bitter seclusion, banished from her home and everything she'd ever loved.

REALLY GREAT, ANCESTORS. She thought bitterly, mentally screaming into the sky. THANKS FOR THAT, THANKS A LOT.

The elf gave a derisive, bitter laugh. "In Greyrock? I doubt it. This phantom I've been searching for has eluded me for four months. And I'm a good tracker, by Azurei standards. For a moment I thought she'd be you. Don't know if you've heard this, but some elves--the Eluri mostly but sometimes the Azurei also--occasionally get blessed--" she said this with tangible virulence "--with visions. Mine specified I'd find this phantom in the wild, which is why I thought..." Another defeated sigh. "No. She won't be in Greyrock."

Ridahne gave her a withering look that clearly read: you left home and you don't know how to ride...?. And once again a tiny flare of hope blossomed inside her chest. What if she was? Why wouldn't she reveal herself? How was she supposed to convince her she was there to help? Or maybe she just really was a naive farm girl. She'd thought that if she did ever find this person, the clouds would part and a bolt of sunlight would beam down upon them both and reveal their purpose to one another, and she wouldn't have to squeeze the information out of her under threat of an Urala cat's teeth.

Just one more cruel dig from fate.

But then she saw her taking a few slow steps back, and Ridahne could see the anxiety on her face. "Look," she said with the tone and expression of someone jaded by years of strife who now saw no reason to dance around the truth. "If I wanted to kill you or rob you, I could have done it three times over by now. I am what southern humans call 'a Ghost of the Sands'. Veerkari'e, in my language, just means female warrior. But humans lost in the desert start to get poetic." She shrugged. "Whatever you call me, I know my way around a blade, so if I'd wanted to, I could have. But I haven't, and I don't intend to, whoever you are." Ridahne thought for a moment before adding, "Even if you were who I thought you were, that's not why I'm here." She said this pointedly, making eye contact with the girl with those striking amber eyes of hers. But she said nothing else on the matter.

Ridahne slid one foot out of the stirrup for the girl to use and held out her hand. "By the way, if you want to convince people you are a boy, you'll have to rough up those hands a bit more. The wilderness has done some of the work for you, and some people might not notice, but I can tell you that boy's hands don't look like yours." As she said this, she wiggled her own slender fingers, one of which bore a silver ring. "I'm Ridahne, by the way. Ridahne Torzinei. C'mon. I'll buy you a drink and a hot meal when we get to Greyrock. You look like you could use one and...I did tackle you with a hundred and thirty pound cat." There was a quirk of her lips that was almost a smile.

Ridahne was still torn about how she felt about this girl. Good sense, frustration, and a lack of hope made her almost certain this was not Astra's new Gardener, but some irritating gut feeling made her unwilling to give up just yet. Only now that she'd exhausted her 'blunt' card, she had to play the long game.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne inwardly deflated, but years of training kept her exterior unchanging. Just a journey for her mother? Ridahne really hoped she could sort of shock the answer out of her, as she guessed the new Gardener would not be quick to reveal her identity to a stranger on the road, not with all the people out there who sought to hinder her, which was why she was even out here in the first place. It was also the only reason she was still alive, she told herself. It took her until then to remember that she was...well...intimidating. Not only were elves in general tall and could be described as 'exotic' by most humans, the Azurei clan were fierce, heavily tattooed, and generally a little rough around the edges. One had to be in order to survive the desert wastes. But even among her own clan, Ridahne was often described as a bit intense. She had a wild spirit to begin with but then growing up poor, losing her mother at an early age and then eventually her father, her warrior's training and the lifestyle that came with that, and all the time spent alone in the Dust Sea, hardened her. Life had seen fit to make her aggressive, loud, and blunt, and while it had saved her life before, at the moment it was getting in the way.

She had to think through this differently.

"Oh..." she said letting some of her genuine defeat show through a bit. Her eyes still watched the girl's face, but with a short whistle she called off her hunting cat, who obediently left the human to go rub up against a tree. "And that's...all you're doing?" She hoped that wasn't the case. Ridahne wanted so desperately for this person to be the one she'd been looking for, she couldn't just give up that easily, even though she might be wrong about her. Except...no. She wasn't wrong. She knew it. Ridahne just knew it. But she had to get it out of her, she had to be certain. "Mm. How long have you been away?"

Ridahne checked her saddlebags and the gear inside of them before deftly mounting her horse, Tsura. "Where are you headed?" she asked with a little bit of a resigned sigh. A real fear that the girl wasn't being evasive settled in her stomach. Maybe she wasn't the one. Maybe Ridahne had just been overeager. "I can take you as far as Greyrock, if you feel like giving your legs a rest. I figure I owe you a little for making Mitaja pin you down...sorry about that by the way. I don't normally jump strangers...it's just...I've spent a very long time in wild country looking for someone. Four months, actually. She needs my help, see. And for a moment I thought...I'd hoped..." She gave a very real sigh. This wasn't so much a ruse anymore; with every word she spoke she realized how ridiculous the idea sounded. What were the odds that she would actually stumble on this mystical Gardener, right here, right now? No matter what the stupid, accursed vision had said, Ridahne was beginning to believe that she'd never find what she'd been looking for. And the bitterness that had been clouding her all day slipped back into her chest.

This was a fool's errand. And she was the chief fool.

Head hung a little bit, she almost imperceptibly shook her head, dark waves swaying a little. "Forget it," she grumbled. "You want a ride or not?"

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Ridahne tied her hair back loosely with a piece of cloth and with a wave, ushered Mitaja out of the way. The cat lay beside the horse, which was so used to her presence that he didn’t even notice.

“I could help you get down, yeah.” She let that statement hang for a moment before, with a glimmer in her amber eyes she said, “but I think I might let you hang there for a bit until you learn your lesson.” Of course she said this as she stalked back to her horse with long legs and took a coil of rope from the saddle. “Everyone underestimates the wild...” she said as she began climbing the tree the human was stuck in. She’d climbed things her whole life, so a knobbly tree with vine clusters was no problem for her long limbs and practiced fingers. “Nobody seems to realize how dangerous it is, because the woods and mountains don’t seem so scary when they’re close to home or on the road. But when you begin to get really far out there, the realization eventually dawns that there is no one to help you when you fail. You got lucky this time.”

Ridahne tossed the rope over a higher branch and with one of the dangling ends she tied a secure loop around one of the human’s ankles. She would have gone for the waist usually, but the ankle was what she could reach... she hoisted the rope until tension was taken off the vines and then with a practiced hand, she drew a knife from behind her back as if it had come from nowhere and sliced the remaining vines in one swift swipe. Her rope held firm and she lowered the young stranger down to the ground one fistful of rope at a time. She then deftly descended, sheathed her large knife, and began coiling the rope.

Mitaja swept in then, sniffing the human’s face with her large black nose. The cat’s face had black streaks under each eye as if she had once cried ink, and each foreleg had two black rings just under the elbow. And then, after the cat had given him a thorough sniff, she began to purr and push her large head under the stranger’s hand.

“Mitaja likes you. That’s something.” Ridahne leaned against her horse, inspecting the human with her bright eyes. “You don’t look too beat up. How do you feel?” Her eyes traveled up and down, assessing her condition, when she noticed the boy’s hands. They were slim and smooth, not rough like a boy’s would be—not one of that age. And it occurred to Ridahne that she’d mistaken the human for a boy.

“Oh...you’re a girl? Apologies, I mistook you. Probably safer like that on the road though. Speaking of, what is a girl who doesn’t know how to use a knife, disguised as a boy, doing all the way out here? Where are you going? If it isn’t far, you can—“

It was like she’d been struck by a stone. “You will come upon her in the wild.”

Ridahne stopped dead, mouth open, sharp eyes fixed on the girl. Could it be...? Finally? Her eyes narrowed and she took a very slow, very measured step forward. “What....are you doing out here...?” She asked slowly. Suspiciously. She knew. And she could see worry spreading across the girl’s face, but she couldn’t afford to have her bolt...

“Mitaja, hold!” The trained hunting cat leapt onto the human, pinning her down with her great weight, though beyond that she did not move. Ridahne came closer, her whole look and tone growing suddenly intense. “She won’t touch you until I tell her. So answer me honest. Where are you going and why?” She had to make sure it was really her. And tact was never one of her strong points—this was the only way she knew. She had to know.

Please, Great Tree, let this be her.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

On the eve of her own execution, Ridahne Torzinei had slipped into an uncomfortably real dream that had then turned...different. What had begun as slightly changed but very believable images of past reality suddenly became something new, something she hadn’t seen before.

She saw the tree. The leaves fell unseasonably early and were a dark brown color, not the usual painted reds and golds of autumn. The bark was crumbling and the wispy branches in its great heights were wilted and dropping. She felt the pain of it even as she saw it, and a darkness creeping closer like the shadow of a hungry beast towards a dying campfire.

“No!” She’d cried out, both in dream and in reality.

The tree was dying. Everyone knew that. Her people could feel it. But she had never seen it except in tapestries or grand paintings, except then. And she was convinced she was seeing it as it was, not as she imagined it. Or, she thought, as it might become—she didn’t actually know how far the decay of the dying tree had spread.

She heard the clash of steel and the wet squelching sound she knew came with killing. She heard shouts, pounding hooves, bells…

And then a voice.

It was indistinct—neither male nor female, young nor old, loud nor quiet. It just was. And deep within Ridahne’s bones she could hear—or feel?—the words spoken to her so clearly:

“You will come upon her in the wild. She has The Seed. And she will need your help. Redeem yourself, Child of the Night Sky, and save the land you love.”

She jolted awake and was about to call for a guard, but one was already there. Ajoran. His hands were curled around the bars and his mouth hung open slightly, brows knitted in concern. She didn’t have to tell him she’d had a vision, because he knew her well and knew her urgent yet bewildered expression. She’d never had a vision before and they weren’t even common among the Azurei tribe—the Children of the Night Sky. The Eluri, the elven tribe to Azurei’s east also known as The Children of the Wind, did more of that sort of thing, and the Children of the Dawn Sky—the Orosi—never did at all. But still, visions amongst the Azurei were not unheard of.

“I need to speak with the Sota-Sol immediately.”
“Ridahne…” Ajoran said softly. “She won’t see you…she wants you dead. A vision won’t change that…”
Her eyes were hard, unmoving, set with the kind of unbreaking, determined fire that made Ajoran love her in the first place. “This one will. Tell her it’s about The Great Tree.”

That was four months ago. The Sota-Sol was interested in her vision, and in a shocking turn of events, Ridahne was…kind of pardoned. Sort of. She was no less guilty of her transgressions and the fresh tattoo added to the pattern on her face was proof of that. But she’d been given a chance to redeem herself and prove herself worthy to her Sol, and was sent on a highly secret mission to find the bearer of the Seed. Except at the time, there was no Seed. The Gardener was male—the same one that had been for many years—and there had never been any talk, speculation, whisper, rumor, or thought of a seed, much less a bearer. And with that kind of vague hopelessness Ridahne set out on a long, directionless trek through the other elven tribes and their lands. She spent some time in the Dust Sea of North Azurei, figuring that was a horrible wilderness to be caught in and she did know how to navigate it. But nothing. So she wandered north to the human lands feeling increasingly stupid as each day passed without news or sign.

But then her efforts proved worthwhile when she began to hear consistent rumors of a new Gardener and a Seed. Yet no one seemed to know exactly where to find her, so Ridahne roamed the wilds for three months, checking taverns regularly for news. And as time slipped away without any further sign or hope, the bitterness crept over her again. She hadn’t been executed…but now she was exiled. Doomed to spend her life wandering until she and the tree both withered away into nothing.

At least, that’s how she felt that afternoon as she plodded dutifully along the thick, overgrown forest path that was dark under the shadow of a great cliff to her left. Her hunting cat, Mitaja, had been sleuthing around for interesting morsels and every so often, Ridahne would see the massive feline peer back at her through ferns and brush.

—

The large beige and black cat padded up to where the human was dangling and struggling up above and sat beneath her, patiently flicking her black-ringed tail. The cat yawned, showing very large, powerful teeth and a rough curling tongue and her gold-green eyes studied the human intently. And then she gave a very loud yowl, and repeated the noise a few times as if calling more of her kindred to the scene of a future meal. Except the animal that answered her call was not another cat, it was a horse. Seated atop the creamy tan horse with black socks, mane and tail, was a tall, slim woman with darker russet skin that suggested she came from the south. She had wavy dark hair that reached her collarbone and a multitude of tattoos of varying styles, the most notable and unique of which were the many that formed a pattern on her face; black, blue, and even some white. A silver ring was in her nose and many more in her pointed ears. She carried a short sword that was obviously visible and sheathed in a leather scabbard across her back and, unseen under her indigo shirt, were two knives strapped to her lower back. But the sword was not the thing about her appearance that made her seem intimidating, nor was it her long scarred fingers or her confident air. It was her eyes. Amber colored like fresh honey, they stood out against her sun darkened skin and exuded a piercing quality. Those eyes looked up at the human with an amused glimmer.

“What do we have here…?” If her appearance didn’t give away that he was elvish, her southern accent did. Ridahne sighed. Too often she ran into poorly prepared vagabonds who decided tramping the wilderness with no idea of what they were doing was a good idea. She saw no gear to speak of and they were too far from the nearest town for this human to be a wandering local. She shook her head slowly. “Idiot boy. Fell from the cliff, didn’t you?” The giant cat reared up and put her paws on the trunk of the tree, attempting to get close enough to sniff. Ridahne dismounted and stood beside the cat, stroking her silky short fur. “Don’t you have a knife? Blessed Tree, did you honestly come all the way out here without any supplies?”

In Dark Seas We Sail

Uban listened quietly, still rowing only out of force of habit, not because he was paying attention. Not to that. He couldn’t imagine watching his friends die like that, knowing he only survived by luck or some extra strength or force of will. But mostly luck, he guessed. And he could’t imagine someone thinking that throwing lives away like expendable coin was okay. His own life had been devalued at one point, but that was because he had technically committed a serious crime and it wasn’t like they all wanted him dead. No, he couldn’t quite imagine that.

He wanted to thank Pieter for not being that way, but he didn’t feel the time was right.

He gave a weak smile. “Those things get sloshed?” He started to laugh, but then he recalled that not everyone was pleasant or amusing when drunk. “Stars above, I hope they aren’t anything like my ol’ Da when he drinks.” But even this was a bit of a joke, so his smile stayed even after the brief chuckle fizzled out. But then his smile did fade and melted into a more sober expression as he said, “If you think I’m worthy, I’d be honored to take up the helm.”

—

Rohaan thought he would listen in to gain some insight, and for a while he thought he’d get it even through all the sharp banter. But in the end, he just found himself…angry? Though at what, he couldn’t quite figure out. Some detached part of him that was not mired by exhaustion wanted to jump in and defend one of them but…to be honest, he had no idea which one he felt was to blame, and which one he felt he should defend.

This just served to confuse him in an uncomfortable, irritating sort of way so he tried to shut it out and go back to sleep now that he knew he wasn’t going to learn anything about the Barizians and what he would be up against. But…

”Is that what you're going to do to Rohaan after you're done civilizing him?”
“We shoot rabid dogs in Elbar.”

Rohaan didn’t like the way his stomach twisted. It got tight and uncomfortable and like a wave of strong nausea he just gritted his teeth and waited for it to pass. Did she mean him, or Wheel..? He didn’t know. And it might have just been his unfamiliarity with her and the kind of automatic fear that feeling brought with it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been called a rabid dog.

Rohaan physically shook his head, curls bouncing as he tried to shake away the tension in his gut. He didn’t want that right now. He just wanted to relax and forget about it.

—

The two men returned to find only Berlin on deck. And after giving their Captain their new heading, Uban studied Berlin and asked, “Do you know about this stuff? About what this one does?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Pieter. “And the kinds of things he gets up to? About….” He looked down at his feet as if he could see through the deck and straight down to the ocean floor. “About what’s down there?”
Berlin chuckled drily. “No, lad. Only about half a clue, which is why I have him. Someone’s gotta navigate the dark seas. Anyhow, take a few moments to regroup—We’ll be underway in half an hour.”
“Aye, Captain.” And Uban disappeared down below.

Berlin looked at his longtime friend. “So? How’d he do?” He asked when the younger man was out of earshot.

Uban strode down to his own little corner of the ship’s underbelly only to find that his hammock was occupied. He stood over it, looking down at the spray of pale curls that spilled out from under the blanket. “Seems I’ve got a thief!” He gently rattled one of the ropes holding it up, earning a disgruntled moan from Rohaan. “I’ll stitch him up in the canvas and make him walk the plank, that’s what I’ll do!” He playfully gathered the edges of the hammock and folded them in.
“Nooo, dooon’t….”
It wasn’t the equally playful reaction he expected, so Uban let go of the canvas and instead scooted onto the hammock beside him. “Wheel kick your ass?” He asked more softly, tucking one of his arms under his head and letting the other dangle off the side.
Rohaan sighed. “Maybe. We started with a sword and a s…h..eild. Shield?”
“Aye, that’s the word. Damn, no wonder you’re in a bad way. Swords are big. How’d you do?”
Rohaan gave a little shrug where he lay. “Bad. I put a dent in the gunnel. Don’t tell Ca-mm.”
Uban couldn’t help laughing. “I won’t. You got bruises, then?”
”Eroa.”
“What’s that one mean?” Uban asked. He didn’t know vokurian like Berlin did, who could speak it with the boy almost as well as the boy could speak Carisian, but he picked things up from time to time.
“Very many. What did you do?”

Uban took a breath and thought for a moment as he absently pushed the hammock to swing back and forth with a couple fingers pressed against the floor to push against. “We uh, sort of summoned a giant sea turtle, got it drunk and then I very nearly got us killed with sheer stupidity. You know. No big deal. Normal stuff.” Each turned his head to exchange a look with the other; Rohaan poorly concealed his own twisted smile.
“Was it big?”
“Uh, yeah. Bigger than this ship. I thought for sure it was going to eat us both.”
“Whoa…”

The two continued to lay next to each other in amiable silence, Uban gently pushing off the floor with his fingertips and Rohaan twirling a loose thread from the blanket around his finger.

The Tree of Astra (LadyAnnaLee and Blackfridayrule)

Hooray!