I was kinda leaning that way anyway. Go for it!
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LadyAnnaLee
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The night was dark. No moon graced the night sky over Azurei and even the stars were veiled by a thin mist of clouds that hung in dark patches across the sky like deeper shadows. And it was quiet. The chirping bugs had stopped their singing and all that could be heard was the delicate whisper of wind. Ajoran awoke to this silence, knowing that he was not alone. Curious, he lit a candle only to find one of the shadows reflecting a new shape back at him.
“Ridahne? What are you doing here?” His voice was groggy and tired, though he slowly stretched and sat up. It wasn’t unusual for her to come over when she was in town, and she did sometimes come in at odd hours but she usually knocked or called for him. What was more, there was a cold, heavy air that night that put him on edge. But she did not turn. She did not come to him.
“I’ve done something I shouldn’t, Ajoran. I wanted you to be the first to know. And I need you to tell Hadian.” Her voice was so soft, so cool, like little ocean waves. Something about it bothered him.
He might have taken it as a joke except her tone was so icy, so distant. He felt his blood run cold. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t move from his place at the edge of his bed, almost afraid to move.
“They will come for me. No one knows I’m here...yet. But they will before long, they’ll guess where I am. And I will be marked for the things I’ve done this night. Promise me you’ll tell Hadian?”
He didn’t like where this was going. “Tell him what, Ridahne?” As if in answer, bells began tolling wildly from the palace and a somber note from a low horn echoed mournfully through the night. Ajoran blanched. “By the Tree, Ridahne...is that for you?”
“I don’t have much time, Ajoran.”
“Ridahne!” His voice was frantic, shaking. “What did you do?” Somewhere deep down, he knew. But he needed her to say it.
She did turn to him then, tears in her eyes. That, more than anything else, made his breath stick in his lungs. “Something terrible, Ajoran. I need you to escort me back.”
“Back!? You...want me to...turn you in? Why? Why would you ask this of me?”
“Because you aren’t involved and I need them to believe that too!” Her voice was sharp. “If you wait with me, they will come here anyway and you could be stripped of your rank, or worse. Even if I didn’t come here, everyone knows about you and I. You have to cut ties with me. Publicly.”
Ajoran’s eyes began to sprout tears now. “No, no, I can’t...Ridahne I—“
“Can’t afford to be with me anymore. Do this and let me go...you have to. I die tomorrow.”
—-
Ridahne’s jubilance at finally finding the Gardener faded markedly when Darin asked that question. Something about the elf hardened for a moment, a stony exterior rising where once there had been ease. “That—“ she bit off the words. Her first instinct was to shut her down, tell her it was none of her business. But frankly it was. Indirectly maybe, but it was now. Darin had a right to know, she supposed. “If you don’t take me as your guardian, I will return to Azurei. I will return to my Sol and tell her I failed my final mission. I will be stripped of my weapons and by them I will be put to death. But look here, human.” Ridahne took a step forward, putting up one bloodied finger. “Do not make your decision on my account. You owe me nothing and my life is no concern of yours. It’s already forfeit and I have accepted my fate. I don’t need your pity; the ruling is no less than I deserve.” She softened a little. “But If you want me by your side, it would be my honor to do so.”
It was then that the constable joined them, approaching cautiously with two other deputies who looked more unnerved than he did. One of the lads had a bow, though he wasn’t keen on using it. “Now miss, I know that horse don’t belong to you…that’s ol’ Jack’s. You’ve got some things back there to answer for, now don’t add horse thieving to—“
“Hush, constable.” She gave him an impatient, withering look, though her posture was relaxed. Only someone trained in combat would be so casual while covered in blood. She held up one bloody hand and, gory as it was, it was still elegant. “No horse thieving here. This one just took a liking to young Martin and saved him from being run through with a few arrows.”
He eyed the cut on Darin’s shoulder and nodded slowly. “Er…right. And them three back in the inn? I don’t know how you do things in your land….er…Azurei, if I’m not mistaken from the tattoos? Anyhow, I don’t know how you folks do it there, but ‘round here, murder is—“
“It wasn’t murder. I know your laws, constable,” Ridahne answered coolly. “I drew my weapon first but did not strike or swing until one of them tried to stab me first. That’s defense, by your laws. Besides, another one tried to shoot down the lad—don’t you think that’s proof enough?”
The constable couldn’t actually argue with that. There was some small chance that she was lying about who swung first since no one actually saw it happen, but he did not feel inclined to call this woman a liar. Not to mention she had a point about the lad. “Er…alright…” anyone else, and he might have demanded a trial or further questioning but he had a gut feeling that was a bad idea, nor was it necessary. “But the barman still has a mess in his tavern. You’ll have to pay for that, you know, for cleaning.”
Ridahne nodded amicably. “Deal. Tell him I’d like to rent a room for the night too.”
The constable nodded slowly and numbly shuffled off, glancing back once to give her a bewildered stare.
Ridahne looked to Darin. “There, that settles that. Look…I need to get clean--I’m sure my ojih is a mess. I’m going to spend the night in that inn, and you’re still welcome to join me. Take the time and think on my offer and decide in the morning. Perhaps you’d like to get to know someone first before letting them follow you through all of Astra.” She gave a dry smile.
“Ridahne? What are you doing here?” His voice was groggy and tired, though he slowly stretched and sat up. It wasn’t unusual for her to come over when she was in town, and she did sometimes come in at odd hours but she usually knocked or called for him. What was more, there was a cold, heavy air that night that put him on edge. But she did not turn. She did not come to him.
“I’ve done something I shouldn’t, Ajoran. I wanted you to be the first to know. And I need you to tell Hadian.” Her voice was so soft, so cool, like little ocean waves. Something about it bothered him.
He might have taken it as a joke except her tone was so icy, so distant. He felt his blood run cold. “What are you talking about?” He didn’t move from his place at the edge of his bed, almost afraid to move.
“They will come for me. No one knows I’m here...yet. But they will before long, they’ll guess where I am. And I will be marked for the things I’ve done this night. Promise me you’ll tell Hadian?”
He didn’t like where this was going. “Tell him what, Ridahne?” As if in answer, bells began tolling wildly from the palace and a somber note from a low horn echoed mournfully through the night. Ajoran blanched. “By the Tree, Ridahne...is that for you?”
“I don’t have much time, Ajoran.”
“Ridahne!” His voice was frantic, shaking. “What did you do?” Somewhere deep down, he knew. But he needed her to say it.
She did turn to him then, tears in her eyes. That, more than anything else, made his breath stick in his lungs. “Something terrible, Ajoran. I need you to escort me back.”
“Back!? You...want me to...turn you in? Why? Why would you ask this of me?”
“Because you aren’t involved and I need them to believe that too!” Her voice was sharp. “If you wait with me, they will come here anyway and you could be stripped of your rank, or worse. Even if I didn’t come here, everyone knows about you and I. You have to cut ties with me. Publicly.”
Ajoran’s eyes began to sprout tears now. “No, no, I can’t...Ridahne I—“
“Can’t afford to be with me anymore. Do this and let me go...you have to. I die tomorrow.”
—-
Ridahne’s jubilance at finally finding the Gardener faded markedly when Darin asked that question. Something about the elf hardened for a moment, a stony exterior rising where once there had been ease. “That—“ she bit off the words. Her first instinct was to shut her down, tell her it was none of her business. But frankly it was. Indirectly maybe, but it was now. Darin had a right to know, she supposed. “If you don’t take me as your guardian, I will return to Azurei. I will return to my Sol and tell her I failed my final mission. I will be stripped of my weapons and by them I will be put to death. But look here, human.” Ridahne took a step forward, putting up one bloodied finger. “Do not make your decision on my account. You owe me nothing and my life is no concern of yours. It’s already forfeit and I have accepted my fate. I don’t need your pity; the ruling is no less than I deserve.” She softened a little. “But If you want me by your side, it would be my honor to do so.”
It was then that the constable joined them, approaching cautiously with two other deputies who looked more unnerved than he did. One of the lads had a bow, though he wasn’t keen on using it. “Now miss, I know that horse don’t belong to you…that’s ol’ Jack’s. You’ve got some things back there to answer for, now don’t add horse thieving to—“
“Hush, constable.” She gave him an impatient, withering look, though her posture was relaxed. Only someone trained in combat would be so casual while covered in blood. She held up one bloody hand and, gory as it was, it was still elegant. “No horse thieving here. This one just took a liking to young Martin and saved him from being run through with a few arrows.”
He eyed the cut on Darin’s shoulder and nodded slowly. “Er…right. And them three back in the inn? I don’t know how you do things in your land….er…Azurei, if I’m not mistaken from the tattoos? Anyhow, I don’t know how you folks do it there, but ‘round here, murder is—“
“It wasn’t murder. I know your laws, constable,” Ridahne answered coolly. “I drew my weapon first but did not strike or swing until one of them tried to stab me first. That’s defense, by your laws. Besides, another one tried to shoot down the lad—don’t you think that’s proof enough?”
The constable couldn’t actually argue with that. There was some small chance that she was lying about who swung first since no one actually saw it happen, but he did not feel inclined to call this woman a liar. Not to mention she had a point about the lad. “Er…alright…” anyone else, and he might have demanded a trial or further questioning but he had a gut feeling that was a bad idea, nor was it necessary. “But the barman still has a mess in his tavern. You’ll have to pay for that, you know, for cleaning.”
Ridahne nodded amicably. “Deal. Tell him I’d like to rent a room for the night too.”
The constable nodded slowly and numbly shuffled off, glancing back once to give her a bewildered stare.
Ridahne looked to Darin. “There, that settles that. Look…I need to get clean--I’m sure my ojih is a mess. I’m going to spend the night in that inn, and you’re still welcome to join me. Take the time and think on my offer and decide in the morning. Perhaps you’d like to get to know someone first before letting them follow you through all of Astra.” She gave a dry smile.
Ridahne smiled, making a wide, sweeping gesture at herself. "Young human, tattoos always mean something." She herself was covered in them, though none were as ornate or precise as the ones on her face. "If you ever got one, you'd realize why one does not just get one, or at least not ones on the face. I'll have to go back and look at Luke's but they weren't of any style I recognized." Red, too, seemed like an odd color to her, though that was probably only because Azurei did not use red ink in their own tattoos.
Ridahne studied her, shaking her head a little. "You ARE Ri'atal. That has nothing to do with your ability, or your confidence. It has to do with..." she trailed off, not willing to say it out loud in case someone else was listening. "But this is why I was sent here! I don't know if the vision came from my ancestors or the previous..." Again, she trailed off. "But I'm here, and fate has brought me to you. You have a job to do, and mine is to see that you succeed. But only if you will have me. This is your quest and it is not my place to decide for you, but if you will have me, I am here and I will serve with honor." Ridahne did not mention that if Darin refused her help, then the elf was honor-bound to return home and, having failed in her duty, would await execution once more. Her crime would not be so easily forgiven and never forgotten, though this quest was the only hope she had to continue living. She wouldn't tell her that. She wanted the decision to be real, to come from her and not from a sense of guilt or responsibility. "Again I ask. Will you have me as your guardian?"
Apparently the horse's name was Talbot, and it was either incredibly intelligent or exquisitely trained. Ridahne guessed the former as she looked the animal over again. "You know..." she began as the horse stubbornly rejected the enclosure, "My people tell of a family--humans--who once bred the best horses in all of Astra. The name of their line has been lost for centuries, but my people call the descendants the Isfali. Legend has it that they chose their own riders and suffered no other. They did not spook in the night and their gaits were smooth and strong. I think...I think this...Talbot? Is of the Isfali...but I could be wrong..."
Ridahne stepped forward, offering a cupped hand to the horse to sniff and inspect. She spoke to the animal in her own jagged language, telling him how fine he was in the elvish way.
Ridahne studied her, shaking her head a little. "You ARE Ri'atal. That has nothing to do with your ability, or your confidence. It has to do with..." she trailed off, not willing to say it out loud in case someone else was listening. "But this is why I was sent here! I don't know if the vision came from my ancestors or the previous..." Again, she trailed off. "But I'm here, and fate has brought me to you. You have a job to do, and mine is to see that you succeed. But only if you will have me. This is your quest and it is not my place to decide for you, but if you will have me, I am here and I will serve with honor." Ridahne did not mention that if Darin refused her help, then the elf was honor-bound to return home and, having failed in her duty, would await execution once more. Her crime would not be so easily forgiven and never forgotten, though this quest was the only hope she had to continue living. She wouldn't tell her that. She wanted the decision to be real, to come from her and not from a sense of guilt or responsibility. "Again I ask. Will you have me as your guardian?"
Apparently the horse's name was Talbot, and it was either incredibly intelligent or exquisitely trained. Ridahne guessed the former as she looked the animal over again. "You know..." she began as the horse stubbornly rejected the enclosure, "My people tell of a family--humans--who once bred the best horses in all of Astra. The name of their line has been lost for centuries, but my people call the descendants the Isfali. Legend has it that they chose their own riders and suffered no other. They did not spook in the night and their gaits were smooth and strong. I think...I think this...Talbot? Is of the Isfali...but I could be wrong..."
Ridahne stepped forward, offering a cupped hand to the horse to sniff and inspect. She spoke to the animal in her own jagged language, telling him how fine he was in the elvish way.
Rohaan felt like he'd died overnight. If he thought he was sore that evening, his body reminded him that it could get so much worse the next morning. Usually full of energy, he was very subdued and slow as he ate breakfast and went about his usual chores. If shields made his arms feel like that, then he decided then and there that he did not like them. But of course, he wasn't about to tell Wheel that, and whenever the man passed him he stood up straight and tried to pretend like he wasn't in pain and his bruises didn't bother him.
"I ought to make Wheel work you every night. You're much better behaved when you're spent." Berlin smiled, slapping the boy's chest with one big bear-paw of a hand and earning a soft, 'oof' sound. In retaliation, Rohaan punched Berlin's leg, but he was smiling.
"Is it true that Uban and Pieter saw a big turtle? Like a really really really big one?"
Berlin nodded. "Yep. I haven't seen one but I hear they're the size of a house. Also..." the captain leaned in closer, his tone growing soft and conspiratorial. "I found something for you. Something special."
"Rum!?" Rohaan beamed.
Berlin snorted, thinking for a moment that he and his crew had created a ten year old alcoholic-to-be, and shook his head. "Nah, something more special than that. Here." Berlin handed him a little rectangular object wrapped in waxed paper. The boy unwrapped it excitedly but frowned up at Berlin when he saw the smooth, dark brown brick inside.
"You got me...mud...? Or...is it some kind of special stone?" The boy held it out in his palm, scrutinizing it.
"Sweet Tevira, boy, did I never introduce you to chocolate?"
Rohaan's frown deepened. "Ch...oc--say it again?"
Berlin looked like he'd just made some kind of grievous error and clapped one hand to his brow, eyes horrified. "I've obviously failed you, my boy! What kind of guardian am I? It's like caramel, it's a sweet. You eat it."
"Car...a..mel?"
"Sun and stars, lad! We've got some work to do. Well go on, eat it!" The captain watched eagerly as the boy took a timid bite and chewed slowly. Rohaan's initial scowl made Berlin fear he didn't care for it, but then he started to chuckle as he watched the young shifter's expression evolve from one of absolute confusion to one of delight.
"It's good!" The boy wrapped the rest back up, no doubt to stash away somewhere hidden to enjoy later.
"I'm only sorry I hadn't told you about it sooner. I just didn't think...anyway, I've got a favor to ask of you. We're two days out from the Barizians, but I don't want to walk in there blind. Tonight when the stars are out, will you fly overhead and see what we're dealing with? It'd be quite the distance, but I'll excuse you from morning chores tomorrow if you do. Are you up for it?"
Rohaan considered this for a while. He wanted to, and he knew it would help them when it came time to engage. But he was very sore. Then again, depending on what form he chose, flight would potentially use different muscles.
"Hana might have something for your sore muscles, if you ask nicely..." The boy glowered. "C'mon Rheoaan, she's not out to get you."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know. And you trust me, right?"
"...de'i," Rohaan nodded.
"Think about all the people who have tried to hurt you. Did any of them save your life first?"
"Je."
"Did any of them teach you how to read?"
Rohaan sighed. "You ask her."
Berlin laughed. "No! That's not how this works. You want it, you gotta ask. Anyway, think you can do a fly-by for me? You can't be seen, that's very important."
Rohaan mused for a moment, then nodded. "Aye Ca-mm."
--
Uban was at the wheel with Berlin's telescope in one hand and a map pinned to the helm with another. He was a decent navigator--far better than he was a cook. Seeing Hana beckon him, he stashed the telescope and rolled up the map, handed both to a passing Berlin, and joined her, looking at the pistol she held.
"We gonna shoot someone?" he beamed, then more seriously asked, "What's this for?" The sun was high and warm, so Uban hadn't bothered with shoes, and he'd broken out his spare shirt since his other one stank of sweat and saltwater too much for even his tolerance. This one was dark burgundy and actually had a little bit of embroidery around the open collar; clearly it was a small prize from a prior plundering.
"I ought to make Wheel work you every night. You're much better behaved when you're spent." Berlin smiled, slapping the boy's chest with one big bear-paw of a hand and earning a soft, 'oof' sound. In retaliation, Rohaan punched Berlin's leg, but he was smiling.
"Is it true that Uban and Pieter saw a big turtle? Like a really really really big one?"
Berlin nodded. "Yep. I haven't seen one but I hear they're the size of a house. Also..." the captain leaned in closer, his tone growing soft and conspiratorial. "I found something for you. Something special."
"Rum!?" Rohaan beamed.
Berlin snorted, thinking for a moment that he and his crew had created a ten year old alcoholic-to-be, and shook his head. "Nah, something more special than that. Here." Berlin handed him a little rectangular object wrapped in waxed paper. The boy unwrapped it excitedly but frowned up at Berlin when he saw the smooth, dark brown brick inside.
"You got me...mud...? Or...is it some kind of special stone?" The boy held it out in his palm, scrutinizing it.
"Sweet Tevira, boy, did I never introduce you to chocolate?"
Rohaan's frown deepened. "Ch...oc--say it again?"
Berlin looked like he'd just made some kind of grievous error and clapped one hand to his brow, eyes horrified. "I've obviously failed you, my boy! What kind of guardian am I? It's like caramel, it's a sweet. You eat it."
"Car...a..mel?"
"Sun and stars, lad! We've got some work to do. Well go on, eat it!" The captain watched eagerly as the boy took a timid bite and chewed slowly. Rohaan's initial scowl made Berlin fear he didn't care for it, but then he started to chuckle as he watched the young shifter's expression evolve from one of absolute confusion to one of delight.
"It's good!" The boy wrapped the rest back up, no doubt to stash away somewhere hidden to enjoy later.
"I'm only sorry I hadn't told you about it sooner. I just didn't think...anyway, I've got a favor to ask of you. We're two days out from the Barizians, but I don't want to walk in there blind. Tonight when the stars are out, will you fly overhead and see what we're dealing with? It'd be quite the distance, but I'll excuse you from morning chores tomorrow if you do. Are you up for it?"
Rohaan considered this for a while. He wanted to, and he knew it would help them when it came time to engage. But he was very sore. Then again, depending on what form he chose, flight would potentially use different muscles.
"Hana might have something for your sore muscles, if you ask nicely..." The boy glowered. "C'mon Rheoaan, she's not out to get you."
"How do you know?"
"Because I know. And you trust me, right?"
"...de'i," Rohaan nodded.
"Think about all the people who have tried to hurt you. Did any of them save your life first?"
"Je."
"Did any of them teach you how to read?"
Rohaan sighed. "You ask her."
Berlin laughed. "No! That's not how this works. You want it, you gotta ask. Anyway, think you can do a fly-by for me? You can't be seen, that's very important."
Rohaan mused for a moment, then nodded. "Aye Ca-mm."
--
Uban was at the wheel with Berlin's telescope in one hand and a map pinned to the helm with another. He was a decent navigator--far better than he was a cook. Seeing Hana beckon him, he stashed the telescope and rolled up the map, handed both to a passing Berlin, and joined her, looking at the pistol she held.
"We gonna shoot someone?" he beamed, then more seriously asked, "What's this for?" The sun was high and warm, so Uban hadn't bothered with shoes, and he'd broken out his spare shirt since his other one stank of sweat and saltwater too much for even his tolerance. This one was dark burgundy and actually had a little bit of embroidery around the open collar; clearly it was a small prize from a prior plundering.
Ridahne was tall and light on her feet, not to mention athletic. So it didn't take many long strides for her to reach Darin, though she was fairly confused about what she saw. Darin was astride a horse--and not Tsura--which was especially odd because the girl had said she didn't ride. And where did this horse come from anyway? And then she noticed the blood on her shoulder.
"Ai!" She exclaimed as she ran up, looking like the stuff of nightmares come to life. She was spattered in blood, red mixing in with her black, white, and blue facial tattoos to make grim patterns. She was alert, which, considering she already had a kind of intense air about her, made her outright intimidating. Intimidating, but graceful in her own right. Her sword appeared to weigh nothing in her hands, her feet were sure and confident, and she moved like flowing water.
"There was another..." she said, mostly to herself as she looked around. Were they still there? She didn't see a body, though she did see a crushed bow nearby. Ridahne studied Darin again, eyes wandering to the strange horse. Blessed Tree, if it wasn't a magnificent horse. She knew something of horses, so she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this one was of an incredibly high bloodline. And it seemed to like Darin an awful lot.
That's when it hit her.
Mark with his odd Teal eyes, the stallion, Ridahne's chance meeting with her in the wilderness. There was no longer any doubt in Ridahne's mind and no amount of reasoning would convince her otherwise: She had finally found The Gardener. The woman rounded on her, mouth still open, and though she was well out of range, Ridahne used her sword to point at Darin like it was an extension of her finger. "You..." she said slowly, eyes narrowing a little. "By the Tree, it's...you." She said the last part softly, not wanting to draw additional attention to them. Ridahne almost looked like, maybe, she could cry at any moment. "I finally...I mean...I've spent so long and I thought for sure it was hopeless but you're here and--" Her eyes widened and the sword came up again, pointing accusatorially at Darin. And though Ridahne scowled and looked a bloody mess, there was a distinct lack of true venom in her body language, her tone, and her expression. In fact, something about her almost seemed...jovial. Playful. "You held out on me!" she shouted, realizing that Darin knew this whole time why Ridahne had come here. "I told you my whole stupid sob story and you said nothing! You were gonna let me go wander the wilds until I withered away and died, weren't you! Ai!"
Ridahne laughed incredulously, bringing one red, sticky hand to her forehead. "I had my suspicions but..." She let out the rest of her breath in a puff of air, shaking her head. She then began to speak rapidly in Azurian before taking a breath, straightening, and in a very formal tone she said softly, "On behalf of the elf tribes and of my Azurei kin, I name you Ri'atal--the Hope of Many. I, Ridahne Torzinei, offer my life and my blade. I will sacrifice either so that you will succeed. Accept me as your guardian and I will guide you and protect you as best as I am able. Will you have me?"
In a moment she thought of her vision and its call to help Darin, but also to save the land she loved in the process. Without the tree, Azurei would fall. She knew it, everyone knew it. And in that moment, losing it felt like the most painful thing she could possibly imagine. Not only was Azurei her home, it was such a beautiful place, and though she hadn't been there for months now she could clearly recall its heat, the sand, the white-capped mountains to one side and the sparkling coast to the other...
A very young, small Ridahne sat in the red sand of the shore, her feet digging little ruts in the moist section of beach. Beside her, a young Hadian lay back with his arms under his head. His face was swollen and the fresh black tattoo on the side of his jaw looked angry and red around the edges, but he was beaming. It was his first. The two watched the sun slip over the horizon, casting an orange hue over the already russet landscape, turning the land to flame. A sweet scent wafted on the sea breeze, mixing with salt and woodsmoke; the haeli flowers were in bloom this time of year.
A single tear did escape as she thought of home, of the events that had led her to this one moment, and she wiped it away briskly. Her finger came away smeared red and she realized that her face and her ojih were probably covered in blood. "Oh!" she gasped, looking horrified. "My ojih! It's..." she made an attempt to wipe her face again but it only made it worse. "It isn't clean, I shouldn't have done this without it clean, ai! Water!" She looked around frantically and spotted a nearby rain barrel which she immediately used to scrub her face and her hands clean. "I'm sorry, that was incredibly disrespectful of me..." Embarrassed, she added, "how's your shoulder? It doesn't look too bad but we might want to get it sewn up."
"Ai!" She exclaimed as she ran up, looking like the stuff of nightmares come to life. She was spattered in blood, red mixing in with her black, white, and blue facial tattoos to make grim patterns. She was alert, which, considering she already had a kind of intense air about her, made her outright intimidating. Intimidating, but graceful in her own right. Her sword appeared to weigh nothing in her hands, her feet were sure and confident, and she moved like flowing water.
"There was another..." she said, mostly to herself as she looked around. Were they still there? She didn't see a body, though she did see a crushed bow nearby. Ridahne studied Darin again, eyes wandering to the strange horse. Blessed Tree, if it wasn't a magnificent horse. She knew something of horses, so she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this one was of an incredibly high bloodline. And it seemed to like Darin an awful lot.
That's when it hit her.
Mark with his odd Teal eyes, the stallion, Ridahne's chance meeting with her in the wilderness. There was no longer any doubt in Ridahne's mind and no amount of reasoning would convince her otherwise: She had finally found The Gardener. The woman rounded on her, mouth still open, and though she was well out of range, Ridahne used her sword to point at Darin like it was an extension of her finger. "You..." she said slowly, eyes narrowing a little. "By the Tree, it's...you." She said the last part softly, not wanting to draw additional attention to them. Ridahne almost looked like, maybe, she could cry at any moment. "I finally...I mean...I've spent so long and I thought for sure it was hopeless but you're here and--" Her eyes widened and the sword came up again, pointing accusatorially at Darin. And though Ridahne scowled and looked a bloody mess, there was a distinct lack of true venom in her body language, her tone, and her expression. In fact, something about her almost seemed...jovial. Playful. "You held out on me!" she shouted, realizing that Darin knew this whole time why Ridahne had come here. "I told you my whole stupid sob story and you said nothing! You were gonna let me go wander the wilds until I withered away and died, weren't you! Ai!"
Ridahne laughed incredulously, bringing one red, sticky hand to her forehead. "I had my suspicions but..." She let out the rest of her breath in a puff of air, shaking her head. She then began to speak rapidly in Azurian before taking a breath, straightening, and in a very formal tone she said softly, "On behalf of the elf tribes and of my Azurei kin, I name you Ri'atal--the Hope of Many. I, Ridahne Torzinei, offer my life and my blade. I will sacrifice either so that you will succeed. Accept me as your guardian and I will guide you and protect you as best as I am able. Will you have me?"
In a moment she thought of her vision and its call to help Darin, but also to save the land she loved in the process. Without the tree, Azurei would fall. She knew it, everyone knew it. And in that moment, losing it felt like the most painful thing she could possibly imagine. Not only was Azurei her home, it was such a beautiful place, and though she hadn't been there for months now she could clearly recall its heat, the sand, the white-capped mountains to one side and the sparkling coast to the other...
A very young, small Ridahne sat in the red sand of the shore, her feet digging little ruts in the moist section of beach. Beside her, a young Hadian lay back with his arms under his head. His face was swollen and the fresh black tattoo on the side of his jaw looked angry and red around the edges, but he was beaming. It was his first. The two watched the sun slip over the horizon, casting an orange hue over the already russet landscape, turning the land to flame. A sweet scent wafted on the sea breeze, mixing with salt and woodsmoke; the haeli flowers were in bloom this time of year.
A single tear did escape as she thought of home, of the events that had led her to this one moment, and she wiped it away briskly. Her finger came away smeared red and she realized that her face and her ojih were probably covered in blood. "Oh!" she gasped, looking horrified. "My ojih! It's..." she made an attempt to wipe her face again but it only made it worse. "It isn't clean, I shouldn't have done this without it clean, ai! Water!" She looked around frantically and spotted a nearby rain barrel which she immediately used to scrub her face and her hands clean. "I'm sorry, that was incredibly disrespectful of me..." Embarrassed, she added, "how's your shoulder? It doesn't look too bad but we might want to get it sewn up."
Ridahne gave him a dark, sardonic laughter. She knew all too well how fruitless the search was for the Gardener, though in the back of her mind she had a growing feeling like she had found her. But that wasn't important right now. Right now, she had rats to deal with. She found their presence irritating and insulting and she did not like the way he spoke to her, nor did she appreciate that Luke person shuffling around behind her. He'd have to be the first to go. But more than that, she knew deep down in her core that these people needed to die. They were evil in a way she'd never quite felt before.
"Didn't mean to upset me? You did a piss poor job of that. I would think that if you 'meant no offense' you'd have picked up on my warnings to BACK OFF." She took a step forward towards Mark. "That lad's got nothing to do with you. But you've got a score to settle with ME. I did warn you. You should have listened." She took another step forward, raising her blade just a little, and this accomplished exactly what she wanted. Behind her, Luke decided to make his move and the moment she heard the ring of steel being drawn, she feigned a move forward and instead doubled back with her knife, stabbing the man in the chest. Blood gushed. Her hand and blade came away bright, wet red. She heard the barman exclaim something from where he'd been watching from the kitchen door, but her eyes were only for the two left.
Mark reeled back as Sarah reached for her own weapon. There was no way she'd have time to string her bow if Ridahne decided to focus on her, which she appeared to, so she had to improvise. She grabbed an arrow and tried to stab with it, but Ridahne saw the move coming and slashed at it with her knife, snapping the wood in two cleanly. Ridahne reached behind her and drew her sword, the longer, elegant blade glinting in the sunlight through the windows. Mark lunged, now with a knife of his own, but Ridahne was ready for him. She swung out with her sword, the blade singing like a nightingale as it slapped his away; his blade was nicked, but hers remained whole and sharp. Then Sarah was on her again, one hand wrapped around another arrow and the other around a very small boot knife. Surely, the two thought, they could best her if they worked together.
But they did not know Ridahne.
She parried a few blows from each of them, one with each hand, and then struck out with her sword to smoothly and cleanly cleave Sarah's knife-bearing hand off. The flesh dropped to the wood floor with a wet smack and Sarah reeled back, struggling to find her breath. A quick swipe of Ridahne's knife, and she struggled a little harder. Blood streamed down a deep cut in her throat, and she dropped. Ridahne rounded on Mark, who looked decidedly less confident than he had before. He backed up a step, but Ridahne followed. She was spattered with blood, including her inked face, and the expression on her face was somewhere between a smile and a snarl. It was the look of a hungry wolf cornering her prey. She advanced on him as he continued to move back until he felt the wall behind him. She had him cornered.
"They never listen," she growled ominously. "I told you to leave us alone. I told you I'd take a hand. Did you listen?" She shook her head and came a step closer. "No, of course not. You picked the wrong person to fight, Mark." Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. "I am Ridahne. I am fire and I am stone. I am your death." A quick swing with her sword and Mark's head thudded to the floor, followed by the rest of him.
The barman had sent for the constable during all this commotion, and it was at this moment that the man finally arrived. He bust open the front door, causing the elf warrior to wheel around, dark hair flinging around her and sticking to her face where it was spattered by blood. The portly man's mouth dropped. He was used to tavern brawls and drunken disputes, maybe some theft, but not...this. The woman before him was sleek and dangerous, and the blood made her look downright crazed. "I..." he sputtered, unsure of what to do. What was he going to do, arrest her?
"They attacked first." She wiped her knife clean on Mark's pant leg and sheathed it, though she kept her sword out. "Stand aside."
The man fumbled. "Um..."
"I don't like having to repeat myself, Constable. Don't test me, I won't ask again." The man immediately stepped aside and Ridahne pushed past him, running off in the direction of the stables to find Darin.
"Didn't mean to upset me? You did a piss poor job of that. I would think that if you 'meant no offense' you'd have picked up on my warnings to BACK OFF." She took a step forward towards Mark. "That lad's got nothing to do with you. But you've got a score to settle with ME. I did warn you. You should have listened." She took another step forward, raising her blade just a little, and this accomplished exactly what she wanted. Behind her, Luke decided to make his move and the moment she heard the ring of steel being drawn, she feigned a move forward and instead doubled back with her knife, stabbing the man in the chest. Blood gushed. Her hand and blade came away bright, wet red. She heard the barman exclaim something from where he'd been watching from the kitchen door, but her eyes were only for the two left.
Mark reeled back as Sarah reached for her own weapon. There was no way she'd have time to string her bow if Ridahne decided to focus on her, which she appeared to, so she had to improvise. She grabbed an arrow and tried to stab with it, but Ridahne saw the move coming and slashed at it with her knife, snapping the wood in two cleanly. Ridahne reached behind her and drew her sword, the longer, elegant blade glinting in the sunlight through the windows. Mark lunged, now with a knife of his own, but Ridahne was ready for him. She swung out with her sword, the blade singing like a nightingale as it slapped his away; his blade was nicked, but hers remained whole and sharp. Then Sarah was on her again, one hand wrapped around another arrow and the other around a very small boot knife. Surely, the two thought, they could best her if they worked together.
But they did not know Ridahne.
She parried a few blows from each of them, one with each hand, and then struck out with her sword to smoothly and cleanly cleave Sarah's knife-bearing hand off. The flesh dropped to the wood floor with a wet smack and Sarah reeled back, struggling to find her breath. A quick swipe of Ridahne's knife, and she struggled a little harder. Blood streamed down a deep cut in her throat, and she dropped. Ridahne rounded on Mark, who looked decidedly less confident than he had before. He backed up a step, but Ridahne followed. She was spattered with blood, including her inked face, and the expression on her face was somewhere between a smile and a snarl. It was the look of a hungry wolf cornering her prey. She advanced on him as he continued to move back until he felt the wall behind him. She had him cornered.
"They never listen," she growled ominously. "I told you to leave us alone. I told you I'd take a hand. Did you listen?" She shook her head and came a step closer. "No, of course not. You picked the wrong person to fight, Mark." Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. "I am Ridahne. I am fire and I am stone. I am your death." A quick swing with her sword and Mark's head thudded to the floor, followed by the rest of him.
The barman had sent for the constable during all this commotion, and it was at this moment that the man finally arrived. He bust open the front door, causing the elf warrior to wheel around, dark hair flinging around her and sticking to her face where it was spattered by blood. The portly man's mouth dropped. He was used to tavern brawls and drunken disputes, maybe some theft, but not...this. The woman before him was sleek and dangerous, and the blood made her look downright crazed. "I..." he sputtered, unsure of what to do. What was he going to do, arrest her?
"They attacked first." She wiped her knife clean on Mark's pant leg and sheathed it, though she kept her sword out. "Stand aside."
The man fumbled. "Um..."
"I don't like having to repeat myself, Constable. Don't test me, I won't ask again." The man immediately stepped aside and Ridahne pushed past him, running off in the direction of the stables to find Darin.
Oh you did, I didn’t see!
Sweet! Sounds good
Sweet! Sounds good
I think one of them will escape once they see they’re outclassed and deport back. Doubt she’d intentionally leave one alive lol.
You wanna get a poster in or should I just go for it?
You wanna get a poster in or should I just go for it?
Alright cool. Free reign to kill/maim?
Uban had opened his mouth to say something but the intake of air stuck in his throat when she bowed and excused herself. Watching her go, he let loose the breath in an exasperated sigh. Rolling over, he looked at Rohaan. "NOW look what you've done. You can't go fly off the handle like that, Rohaan. C'mon."
The boy was indignant and though he kept his volume low, his pitch went up a bit. "But she was rude first!"
"She didn't know! She never had nobody explain it to her, not proper. Now you went and made her nervous--you do that to people you know. You can be a scary little shit sometimes."
Rohaan folded his arms, glowering. "Good."
"No, it ain't." Uban's tone was firm, but cool and calm. He had learned long ago that escalating with Rohaan never led anywhere productive and could outright be dangerous. "She's probably heard all kinds of stories--just like we all did--about how vokurians are demons."
"But I'm not a demon!" Rohaan demanded, a tiny, tiny note of desperation in his voice, as if he had to convince Uban. "I'm a person..."
Uban softened. "I know. We all know that because we know you. And she wants to believe that too, I know it. But when you snap all the time," he made a biting motion with his hand, repeatedly striking Rohaan's arm with it to illustrate his point, "It makes it really hard for people to see that. Right?"
Rohaan was silent, musing over what exactly he wanted to say. His lack of clarity in this frustrated him. Finally he spat, "But I don't trust her."
Uban nodded knowingly. "I understand. You don't have to, and no one will make you. But you gotta give her a chance. You didn't trust me either, did you?"
"...No..."
"And Berlin trusts her. I trust her. She saved your life. Doesn't that count for something?"
It did. But Rohaan wasn't ready to admit it out loud. "I don't want to get hurt."
Uban blinked at him for a moment. Emotional honesty was not a strength of Rohaan's, and on the few occasions it did happen, it usually only scratched the surface of what was happening in the boy's head. What was it like, he thought, to be so widely hated and despised? To be so fearful for his own life and safety so often? "She wouldn't hurt you, Rohaan."
"She said she was gonna light Wheel on fire..."
Uban tried not to but he couldn't help laughing. "Really now? Huh...I'd like to see that," he said, knowing fire would probably do little to Wheel except irritate him.
Rohaan waved a hand. "Well Wheel is...different, he can do that kinda thing. What--" Rohaan let out a defeated breath, took a moment, then started again. "What if she lit me on fire? Would she?"
Uban stared. Another rare moment of clarity, and a tough question. Not that the answer was tough to give, but it was an ugly thing to try and wrestle with all the same. That was how the boy thought. Day in. Day out. But Uban began to understand. He'd overheard something that bothered him, something that scared him, and his way of coping was to lash out. The man shook his head. "Stars above, Rohaan...no, she wouldn't do that. She's one of us now. And we look after our own."
That quieted the boy. He didn't say anything else, just leaned back in the hammock and quietly sorted through what Uban had said. It was nearly half an hour of this silence before Rohaan said softly, "Uban?"
The man had been half asleep but at the sound of his name he forced one eye open, raising his eyebrows as if lifting them would drag his eyelids open too. "Mmm?"
"Can you help me with something?" Rohaan explained his thoughts to Uban, who did indeed help the boy. It took some time and diligent effort, but soon Rohaan slid off the hammock and padded over to Hana's door, sliding something under it before climbing back up into the hammock beside Uban. It was a little piece of parchment. Written on it in the wobbliest, most rudimentary penmanship was one single misspelled word.
Sory
--
The next morning held sunshine and a healthy wind that made all of them feel a sense of momentum and vigor. It wasn't just the motion of the ship cutting merrily through the waves, but a feeling like things were going to happen that day, and like they were getting closer to their goal. Their mission felt more real, more imminent instead of a far off ideal they hoped to someday reach. This battle would happen, and thanks to the turtle's heading, it would be sooner rather than later.
The boy was indignant and though he kept his volume low, his pitch went up a bit. "But she was rude first!"
"She didn't know! She never had nobody explain it to her, not proper. Now you went and made her nervous--you do that to people you know. You can be a scary little shit sometimes."
Rohaan folded his arms, glowering. "Good."
"No, it ain't." Uban's tone was firm, but cool and calm. He had learned long ago that escalating with Rohaan never led anywhere productive and could outright be dangerous. "She's probably heard all kinds of stories--just like we all did--about how vokurians are demons."
"But I'm not a demon!" Rohaan demanded, a tiny, tiny note of desperation in his voice, as if he had to convince Uban. "I'm a person..."
Uban softened. "I know. We all know that because we know you. And she wants to believe that too, I know it. But when you snap all the time," he made a biting motion with his hand, repeatedly striking Rohaan's arm with it to illustrate his point, "It makes it really hard for people to see that. Right?"
Rohaan was silent, musing over what exactly he wanted to say. His lack of clarity in this frustrated him. Finally he spat, "But I don't trust her."
Uban nodded knowingly. "I understand. You don't have to, and no one will make you. But you gotta give her a chance. You didn't trust me either, did you?"
"...No..."
"And Berlin trusts her. I trust her. She saved your life. Doesn't that count for something?"
It did. But Rohaan wasn't ready to admit it out loud. "I don't want to get hurt."
Uban blinked at him for a moment. Emotional honesty was not a strength of Rohaan's, and on the few occasions it did happen, it usually only scratched the surface of what was happening in the boy's head. What was it like, he thought, to be so widely hated and despised? To be so fearful for his own life and safety so often? "She wouldn't hurt you, Rohaan."
"She said she was gonna light Wheel on fire..."
Uban tried not to but he couldn't help laughing. "Really now? Huh...I'd like to see that," he said, knowing fire would probably do little to Wheel except irritate him.
Rohaan waved a hand. "Well Wheel is...different, he can do that kinda thing. What--" Rohaan let out a defeated breath, took a moment, then started again. "What if she lit me on fire? Would she?"
Uban stared. Another rare moment of clarity, and a tough question. Not that the answer was tough to give, but it was an ugly thing to try and wrestle with all the same. That was how the boy thought. Day in. Day out. But Uban began to understand. He'd overheard something that bothered him, something that scared him, and his way of coping was to lash out. The man shook his head. "Stars above, Rohaan...no, she wouldn't do that. She's one of us now. And we look after our own."
That quieted the boy. He didn't say anything else, just leaned back in the hammock and quietly sorted through what Uban had said. It was nearly half an hour of this silence before Rohaan said softly, "Uban?"
The man had been half asleep but at the sound of his name he forced one eye open, raising his eyebrows as if lifting them would drag his eyelids open too. "Mmm?"
"Can you help me with something?" Rohaan explained his thoughts to Uban, who did indeed help the boy. It took some time and diligent effort, but soon Rohaan slid off the hammock and padded over to Hana's door, sliding something under it before climbing back up into the hammock beside Uban. It was a little piece of parchment. Written on it in the wobbliest, most rudimentary penmanship was one single misspelled word.
Sory
--
The next morning held sunshine and a healthy wind that made all of them feel a sense of momentum and vigor. It wasn't just the motion of the ship cutting merrily through the waves, but a feeling like things were going to happen that day, and like they were getting closer to their goal. Their mission felt more real, more imminent instead of a far off ideal they hoped to someday reach. This battle would happen, and thanks to the turtle's heading, it would be sooner rather than later.
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