I'm in! Now to see if I want robots or organics...
Legion02 Member
STATUS: Going to a festival fellas! So for the coming week I won't be able to post. 7 yrs ago- Last Seen: 21 days ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
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DracoLunaris,
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7 yrs ago
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Going to a festival fellas! So for the coming week I won't be able to post.
7 yrs ago
When you marathon Rick & Morty S2 and expected laughs but the ending just slaps you in the face...
7 yrs ago
School's in full "consume all his time"-mode so no posts for just a lil longer. Sorry folks! I promise I'll make up for it in the weekend!
7 yrs ago
Going to take a small break on most of my RPs for maybe a week or so.
8 yrs ago
Not near an actual keyboard until 21/06
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Most Recent Posts
“Here, drink this.” Soleira said as she offered a bowl of stew to the gaunt looking man. He had come from some place north together with his family. All of them looked exhausted. The plague had torn through them. Luckily his son, daughter, wife and grandmother were already looking better. As Soleira helped up the man she put her other arm on his back to support him. From her hand a golden light glowed for just a moment. It looked like how any other Oraeliari would heal someone. Except she cured the plague as well.
“Thank you.” The man said in between a few coughs, before he greedily devoured the meat stew. A necessity, but Soleira didn’t like it. Still, the people and even her own kin that came to her had to regain their strength. At least the people were happy to consume more meat. When Soleira was sure the man could hold himself upright she let him go. Soon the bowl was placed beside him and he went to sleep again. But Soleira was already upon the next patient. She gave her a bowl as well, while she cured the ravaging disease that was seemingly spreading throughout the colorful realm. People had seemingly come from all wind directions. Seeking the four-winged Oraeliari that could cure their illness.
Of course Soleira considered a great honor. To fight this horrible disease in the name of the Sun-mother Oraeliara. Who else would’ve blessed her to cure it? Though she wished others would be blessed with the same powers. At times it felt like too much to bear. To heal the sick and tired until deep into the night. But she couldn’t flatter now. The plague wouldn’t. So while she started looking equally tired as those she healed, she pushed on. Healing human, Oraeliari and even Neiyari that would come seeking to cure their illness. She gladly helped them all.
“My Queen!” Someone standing in the sick hall’s doorway said. Though Soleira didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The sharpness of his voice and the sudden sensation of dread that flowed over her told her everything she needed to know about who stood in the doorframe. “Something is coming from the south. Our scouts… we don’t know what it is.” There was something unfamiliar in his voice. Something Soleira never heard before.
She looked up to look at him. Nolari was always looking as if he was suppressing some great anger. As if he just saw his greatest hatred. He was also young. Born by Neiyari parents, not by the sun-mother herself. But now there was something else in his expression. “What’s the matter?” Soleira asked as she got up. Those helping the sick let her pass as she walked towards Nolari.
“We don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. Like, it’s a mountain in the air.” Nolari said, and Soleira recognized the other expression. Fear.
She remained calm though. She walked out with him and indeed, off in the far southern distance was a blot of blackness. Something deeply contrasting the multicolored clouds and bright sun. It was far still, but coming closer. If it had come this close though, the birds would’ve investigated it already. Some of them were flying over the floating stone and earth. Though none dove down. Put at ease she dismissed Nolari. If the birds didn’t attack then it was no threat. Still, it was a curious sight. With her eyes still on the floating island she walked over towards Kal’s small hovel. Bushes of strange berries were growing near his front door. They had grown fast. Very fast. One berry wouldn’t be too bad right, she thought. So she picked one and ate it. Making sure to spit the seed out in her hand and pocketed it the little seed bag she kept on her at all time. The berry was delicious! And so filling. Like she had just eaten a full meal! Quite satisfied she knocked on Kal’s door and entered.
The old man was packing. He looked up, momentarily surprised to see Soleira standing there. “Yes?” He asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Soleira said. Usually she was free to come in whenever. “There’s something coming for us in the sky. Like an floating island. I was wondering if you knew anything about it?”
“Ah… is it time already?” He opened the window to look outside. “Seems like old age really has made me slow. I’m afraid today is our last day, my dear. I must go. There are other places that will need me.”
“Wait, you’re leaving!?” Soleira exclaimed. “Why are you telling me this only now!? I-I need your help! How else am I going to make Soleras as great as we both want it to be?” She said in disbelief. “Please, stay a few days more. Just so I can prepare a feast! You can’t leave without a feast. I-I forbid it! As your queen I forbid it!”
But Kal just gave her an apologetic smile as he got u and threw his sack of his shoulder and picked up the gnarled staff. “It’s okay, my dear. You’ll do amazing without me. But I’m not yet leaving. Come, let’s go outside and see what this is all about a floating island.” The old man stepped passed Soleira into the sunlight of the Luminant. A bit meekly she followed him.
“Please don’t go.” She pleaded quietly. “I really need you. I can’t do this alone.”
Kal turned to face her. “Yes, you can. You were already leading the humans here before I came along. I just… gave you the right push. I’m sure that without me you’ll still make Soleras into the greatest place on this planet.” He said with a reassuring tone. “But come now. We shouldn’t tarry. Not today. Oh not today.” Kal then said with an almost uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Oh and be sure you bring one of the rainbow eyed people. You will need them from now on.”
Three hours later everyone was gathered further outside the burgeoning village of Soleras. Standing in untouched plains. The floating island was now looming overhead. Now that it was close, Soleira could see the full size of it. It was so much bigger than she thought it was! I threw them all in a dark, slightly colder shadow. “Do you hear something from it ,Kaïon?” She asked the Servant standing beside her. He had the rainbow eyes underneath his closed eyelids.
“There’s something.” He said as he tried to understand the kindred consciousness touching upon his. “It’s not human for sure. It growls but now in anger. I can hear clicks and clacks as well. Whatever is trying to talk it’s thinking in more than just another language. Whatever it is… I never heard it before.”
Kal was just smiling as he looked. He was looking at it as if he was just about to meet an old friend again. The fact that he wasn’t concerned put Soleira a bit on ease. Perhaps the island would just float over and that would be it? Though she doubted it. Kal didn’t gather people until it was important. Everyone was holding their breath and looking up as well. So almost everyone missed the old man tapping his staff three times on the ground. In front of them great roots burst through the ground. The quake knocked people over. Oraeliari and those few Neiyari that kept mostly to themselves still took to the air. Soleira remained standing, finding her balance quickly as she grabbed Kal to steady the old man as well. Above the giant roots coil around each other. Forming a titanic, twisted tree reaching out towards the island. Where the roots released from each other. Soleira could see each coil around the island and drill through it. When finally the ground stopped shaking, the tree spawned looked more like an arm outstretched from the ground. With its hand holding the island in place.
“What just happened?” A very frightened Soleira asked Kal, who still looked with bemusement at what just happened.
The old man looked the right in the eyes when he said: “The gifts are coming.”
Before the four-winged Oraeliari could even think about the strange thing her old friend had just said, light fell from the island and hit the ground beneath. When the blinding light finally dissipated several things stood in the field that hadn’t just a moment ago. They were large. Larger than the average human. They looked lizard like, with hard, dry scales. Wearing nothing but a loincloth.
Everyone armed raise their weapons. The few talented mages that Soleira or Kal had trained readied the spells on their tongues. The creatures before them growled something, and one of them stepped forward. Another series of lights fell down from the island. Once again forming the lizard-like creatures. Except for one. Instead of a lizard, this creature looked like a massive toad standing on hits hindlegs. When it appeared it immediately began to speak in a low, baritone grumbling language. Saying things Soleira couldn’t ever repeat. One of the lizard creatures – one that shared the same rainbow eyes as Kaïon – closed his eyes. Kaïon, having fallen by the quake first looked confused. They his eyes grew wide. He turned to look at Soleira.
“It’s.. greeting you. As Queen.” He said. “No… not just as Queen. It’s calling… There’s something else. I can’t- I don’t understand. The intentions its using with the words. It doesn’t make sense.” But then Kal stepped over to Kaîon and put a hand on his shoulder. “Daughter.” He whispered to the man. Who took a moment and then nodded. “Daughter of magic. It called you daughter of magic.”
“Magic?” Soleira said. She then turned towards the lizards and the bulbous, bipedal toad. “I’m sorry, you must be mistaken.” She said out loud. Kaïon beside her was quick to translate the words towards the other Servant. “I’m a daughter of the sun but… but not of magic.” More lights fell from the island above. Forming more lizards and toads.
The seven bulbous toads that had land so far let out a loud, deep throated rumble, before slowly bending over. Bowing before Soleira. The lizards kneeled and bowed as well. Kaïon looked up at Soleira. “They… insist. You are their queen now. Their god told them to come and that they would be grasped by a tree. When that happened, they were to step over the edge of their island at a specific point. They would land safely and find… and find the daughter of magic. That is what he is telling me.”
“there must be some mistake. I can barely use magic.” The pendant she wore opened up. It had happened a few times before. It somehow knew what it asked of it. But it reassured her, they were speaking the fullest of truth. Soleira looked around, then locked pleading eyes with Kal again.
He just shook his head. “It’s true.” He said. “I knew it the moment I saw you. You never asked why you’re the only of your kin that can perform magic? But it’s okay. I wa- I was told to leave you with a final few gifts.” He reached for within his pocket and took out the Grail. “First I offer you this. It’s an ancient gift. Something that will bless the people of Soleras with bounty beyond your imagining.” Soleira gingerly took the grail with both hands. Her body began to shake a little as tears began to well in her eyes. “And this is tome that will guide you. It contains all you need to know and more. How to build, how to farm, how to rule and how to improve your realm. It’s yours now.” Soleira took it as well.
For a second she looked at the gifts in both her hands, and then at the lizards and toads. More were still falling as stars from the island. Then she turned to Kal. She hugged him as hard as she could as the first few tears began to fall. “I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you so, so much.”
Kal returned the embrace. Much how a father would embrace his daughter. “I will never be far. I promise you that.”
“Thank you.” The man said in between a few coughs, before he greedily devoured the meat stew. A necessity, but Soleira didn’t like it. Still, the people and even her own kin that came to her had to regain their strength. At least the people were happy to consume more meat. When Soleira was sure the man could hold himself upright she let him go. Soon the bowl was placed beside him and he went to sleep again. But Soleira was already upon the next patient. She gave her a bowl as well, while she cured the ravaging disease that was seemingly spreading throughout the colorful realm. People had seemingly come from all wind directions. Seeking the four-winged Oraeliari that could cure their illness.
Of course Soleira considered a great honor. To fight this horrible disease in the name of the Sun-mother Oraeliara. Who else would’ve blessed her to cure it? Though she wished others would be blessed with the same powers. At times it felt like too much to bear. To heal the sick and tired until deep into the night. But she couldn’t flatter now. The plague wouldn’t. So while she started looking equally tired as those she healed, she pushed on. Healing human, Oraeliari and even Neiyari that would come seeking to cure their illness. She gladly helped them all.
“My Queen!” Someone standing in the sick hall’s doorway said. Though Soleira didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The sharpness of his voice and the sudden sensation of dread that flowed over her told her everything she needed to know about who stood in the doorframe. “Something is coming from the south. Our scouts… we don’t know what it is.” There was something unfamiliar in his voice. Something Soleira never heard before.
She looked up to look at him. Nolari was always looking as if he was suppressing some great anger. As if he just saw his greatest hatred. He was also young. Born by Neiyari parents, not by the sun-mother herself. But now there was something else in his expression. “What’s the matter?” Soleira asked as she got up. Those helping the sick let her pass as she walked towards Nolari.
“We don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it. Like, it’s a mountain in the air.” Nolari said, and Soleira recognized the other expression. Fear.
She remained calm though. She walked out with him and indeed, off in the far southern distance was a blot of blackness. Something deeply contrasting the multicolored clouds and bright sun. It was far still, but coming closer. If it had come this close though, the birds would’ve investigated it already. Some of them were flying over the floating stone and earth. Though none dove down. Put at ease she dismissed Nolari. If the birds didn’t attack then it was no threat. Still, it was a curious sight. With her eyes still on the floating island she walked over towards Kal’s small hovel. Bushes of strange berries were growing near his front door. They had grown fast. Very fast. One berry wouldn’t be too bad right, she thought. So she picked one and ate it. Making sure to spit the seed out in her hand and pocketed it the little seed bag she kept on her at all time. The berry was delicious! And so filling. Like she had just eaten a full meal! Quite satisfied she knocked on Kal’s door and entered.
The old man was packing. He looked up, momentarily surprised to see Soleira standing there. “Yes?” He asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Soleira said. Usually she was free to come in whenever. “There’s something coming for us in the sky. Like an floating island. I was wondering if you knew anything about it?”
“Ah… is it time already?” He opened the window to look outside. “Seems like old age really has made me slow. I’m afraid today is our last day, my dear. I must go. There are other places that will need me.”
“Wait, you’re leaving!?” Soleira exclaimed. “Why are you telling me this only now!? I-I need your help! How else am I going to make Soleras as great as we both want it to be?” She said in disbelief. “Please, stay a few days more. Just so I can prepare a feast! You can’t leave without a feast. I-I forbid it! As your queen I forbid it!”
But Kal just gave her an apologetic smile as he got u and threw his sack of his shoulder and picked up the gnarled staff. “It’s okay, my dear. You’ll do amazing without me. But I’m not yet leaving. Come, let’s go outside and see what this is all about a floating island.” The old man stepped passed Soleira into the sunlight of the Luminant. A bit meekly she followed him.
“Please don’t go.” She pleaded quietly. “I really need you. I can’t do this alone.”
Kal turned to face her. “Yes, you can. You were already leading the humans here before I came along. I just… gave you the right push. I’m sure that without me you’ll still make Soleras into the greatest place on this planet.” He said with a reassuring tone. “But come now. We shouldn’t tarry. Not today. Oh not today.” Kal then said with an almost uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “Oh and be sure you bring one of the rainbow eyed people. You will need them from now on.”
~
Three hours later everyone was gathered further outside the burgeoning village of Soleras. Standing in untouched plains. The floating island was now looming overhead. Now that it was close, Soleira could see the full size of it. It was so much bigger than she thought it was! I threw them all in a dark, slightly colder shadow. “Do you hear something from it ,Kaïon?” She asked the Servant standing beside her. He had the rainbow eyes underneath his closed eyelids.
“There’s something.” He said as he tried to understand the kindred consciousness touching upon his. “It’s not human for sure. It growls but now in anger. I can hear clicks and clacks as well. Whatever is trying to talk it’s thinking in more than just another language. Whatever it is… I never heard it before.”
Kal was just smiling as he looked. He was looking at it as if he was just about to meet an old friend again. The fact that he wasn’t concerned put Soleira a bit on ease. Perhaps the island would just float over and that would be it? Though she doubted it. Kal didn’t gather people until it was important. Everyone was holding their breath and looking up as well. So almost everyone missed the old man tapping his staff three times on the ground. In front of them great roots burst through the ground. The quake knocked people over. Oraeliari and those few Neiyari that kept mostly to themselves still took to the air. Soleira remained standing, finding her balance quickly as she grabbed Kal to steady the old man as well. Above the giant roots coil around each other. Forming a titanic, twisted tree reaching out towards the island. Where the roots released from each other. Soleira could see each coil around the island and drill through it. When finally the ground stopped shaking, the tree spawned looked more like an arm outstretched from the ground. With its hand holding the island in place.
“What just happened?” A very frightened Soleira asked Kal, who still looked with bemusement at what just happened.
The old man looked the right in the eyes when he said: “The gifts are coming.”
Before the four-winged Oraeliari could even think about the strange thing her old friend had just said, light fell from the island and hit the ground beneath. When the blinding light finally dissipated several things stood in the field that hadn’t just a moment ago. They were large. Larger than the average human. They looked lizard like, with hard, dry scales. Wearing nothing but a loincloth.
Everyone armed raise their weapons. The few talented mages that Soleira or Kal had trained readied the spells on their tongues. The creatures before them growled something, and one of them stepped forward. Another series of lights fell down from the island. Once again forming the lizard-like creatures. Except for one. Instead of a lizard, this creature looked like a massive toad standing on hits hindlegs. When it appeared it immediately began to speak in a low, baritone grumbling language. Saying things Soleira couldn’t ever repeat. One of the lizard creatures – one that shared the same rainbow eyes as Kaïon – closed his eyes. Kaïon, having fallen by the quake first looked confused. They his eyes grew wide. He turned to look at Soleira.
“It’s.. greeting you. As Queen.” He said. “No… not just as Queen. It’s calling… There’s something else. I can’t- I don’t understand. The intentions its using with the words. It doesn’t make sense.” But then Kal stepped over to Kaîon and put a hand on his shoulder. “Daughter.” He whispered to the man. Who took a moment and then nodded. “Daughter of magic. It called you daughter of magic.”
“Magic?” Soleira said. She then turned towards the lizards and the bulbous, bipedal toad. “I’m sorry, you must be mistaken.” She said out loud. Kaïon beside her was quick to translate the words towards the other Servant. “I’m a daughter of the sun but… but not of magic.” More lights fell from the island above. Forming more lizards and toads.
The seven bulbous toads that had land so far let out a loud, deep throated rumble, before slowly bending over. Bowing before Soleira. The lizards kneeled and bowed as well. Kaïon looked up at Soleira. “They… insist. You are their queen now. Their god told them to come and that they would be grasped by a tree. When that happened, they were to step over the edge of their island at a specific point. They would land safely and find… and find the daughter of magic. That is what he is telling me.”
“there must be some mistake. I can barely use magic.” The pendant she wore opened up. It had happened a few times before. It somehow knew what it asked of it. But it reassured her, they were speaking the fullest of truth. Soleira looked around, then locked pleading eyes with Kal again.
He just shook his head. “It’s true.” He said. “I knew it the moment I saw you. You never asked why you’re the only of your kin that can perform magic? But it’s okay. I wa- I was told to leave you with a final few gifts.” He reached for within his pocket and took out the Grail. “First I offer you this. It’s an ancient gift. Something that will bless the people of Soleras with bounty beyond your imagining.” Soleira gingerly took the grail with both hands. Her body began to shake a little as tears began to well in her eyes. “And this is tome that will guide you. It contains all you need to know and more. How to build, how to farm, how to rule and how to improve your realm. It’s yours now.” Soleira took it as well.
For a second she looked at the gifts in both her hands, and then at the lizards and toads. More were still falling as stars from the island. Then she turned to Kal. She hugged him as hard as she could as the first few tears began to fall. “I’ll miss you. I’ll miss you so, so much.”
Kal returned the embrace. Much how a father would embrace his daughter. “I will never be far. I promise you that.”
People moved around Auriëlle. She never knew they did it. She just walked normally. Unable to see what was happening around her. For weeks she had trained the pulses. Exhausting herself over and over. Enough so she got used to it. Or perhaps the magic she used got used to her. It didn’t matter. With every pulse, it became easier. Soon they began to flow into each other. Giving her moments of sight before she felt like dropping face-first into the ground. Last week though, it stopped affecting her. She could see again.
And she saw fear. Students of the Omniversity kept moving out of her way. Probably because she moved several of them before if they didn’t do so voluntarily. Her strength had returned.
“I want to go back.” She declared as she entered the plaza of Duxus. Who sat exactly where he always sat. Awaiting his next departure. Which would be that night. “You can fly. Take me back.” The sound of stone grinding of stone filled the plaza. Several students in the colonnade turned to look at her and Duxus. There was a strange energy in the mid-afternoon breeze now. Something combative. She never knew how much she missed it.
“I…cannot.” Said Duxus. His large shape had moved slightly. Looking straight down at her. There was no emotion in his voice. Though Auriëlle liked to imagine that he was somehow sounding sad that he couldn’t.
“You can.” She said, resolute, as she started to march forward. Underneath her stone began to break through the tiled floor. Rising up Auriëlle like a staircase being made under her foot. Heading straight for Duxus’ mouth. She had seen it tens of times. How people walked in and out of him. It was easy. And when she was inside, he just had to fly up.
Yet when she rose up to his mouth it was sealed like a tomb. She put her palm against it. “Let me in Duxus.” There was a storm hidden behind her words. She was done with this place. She would escape. Now.
“I… cannot.” Duxus repeated and he took a step backward. So his crystalline eyes could gaze down up Auriëlle again. “My master… demands you… to stay.”
The sorceress’ expression grew dark. “Take. Me. With. You.” She said, slowly. The storm now more apparent in her words. The wind kicked up around her. The students couldn’t understand her probably. But they could see her stance. It was growing hostile. The stone she stood upon began to crumble away. Delivering her back on the same level as the titles.
“I… cannot.” Still, she imagined the sadness in his voice that could not be there.
“Why!?” Auriëlle screamed. Only now did she realize just how massive Duxus was. “I will hurt you if you don’t.” She said as she raised her right arm. Lightning arced over her arm. She didn’t see it but she felt it. The power coursing through her arm. She had forgotten how power felt. How intoxicating it was. How it felt so safe. “I will do it!” She shouted again, though her voice grew shaky. Students all around her began to move away. Even though they didn’t understand her words, her body language was saying more than enough.
“I… cannot… little one. My master… prohibits it. You are… not allowed… to leave… the island… yet.” Duxus spoke in his usual slow, baritone voice. There wasn’t a hint of fear in it. Did he even know fear?
Auriëlle clenched her teeth. The arcs over her arm grew more violent and less controlled. It would slip soon. Like fire used to slip as well. In the past, she didn’t care for that. Control – she thought – was an illusion. Especially with powers like these. She just unleashed everything. But now, making her threats, she knew she couldn’t let it slip. Not with Duxus. “Please.” She pleaded now. “Please take me with you. I cannot stand it here! Please don’t make me hurt you. Please. Please!” Tears were rolling off her cheeks as her voice grew hoarse.
“I… cannot.”
Her arm began to shake. The power kept building up. She couldn’t stop it. “Please don’t make me hurt you. Please I just want to get off this godforsaken rock! This isn’t home, it’s a prison!”
“I… cannot.”
“Please!” A last desperate plea, but she lost control. The reigns slipped from her. Lightning like she had never used shot forward. A terrible crack of thunder carried across the gardens. For a second the bright flash of the lightning dimmed all other light. AurIëlle dropped to her own knees. Her arm was fine, yet she gripped it as if it was broken. She pulsed, again and again. Duxus’ shape was, as always, half-shrouded in smoke disguising a faint glimmer beneath. Nothing happened. No sound, nothing.
“I… cannot… little one. I… wish… I could… help you… but… I cannot.” A slow voice said.
Auriëlle just sobbed as she held her own arm. “I’m sorry.” She stammered. Apologizing for more than just the lightning. Ashamed for the first time in years, she got up and ran away. Her heart grew weak and small. Blind she found her way towards the first garden she had arrived in. The day after her arrival something or somethings had fixed it all. Even the soft moss growing on the stone.
Luckily there was nobody. As she walked passed the stones began to roll around her. Shaking off the thin layer of earth upon which the moss grew. They rolled and moved and dragged across the immaculately kept grass until they fully surrounded and hid Auriëlle, where she fell on her knees and let out a wail. “I can’t take it anymore!” She shouted towards the skies. The blindness, the loneliness. It tore her apart. There was nothing on the island. Nothing that could help her. She didn’t even know why she was here! Inside she was collapsing as she fell over and curled up. It had been so long since she last felt so much pain.
At some point, she woke up. The air was cold enough to get goosebumps from it. When she sat up, she felt the ashes of the grass she destroyed caked on her cheek and side of her body. Stones were still all around her. Hiding her still. Yet the second she thought that they moved by some invisible force. Revealing a familiar shape looming over her.
“You tried to hurt your friend.” The soft, fatherly voice said. It didn’t sound stern, or angry. Just reassuring and a little bit disappointed. “You’re lucky Duxus is such a passive creature. There are other beings like him that would’ve torn you limp by limp for threatening them as you did.”
“Why are you keeping me here?” Auriëlle said. Her strength sapped away again. She winced at her own returned weakness. Was it so easy to get her down again? To break her again?
“By master’s orders, my dear. Please. Come inside.” The headmaster said as he walked up to her, crouched down, and put a hand on her shoulder. Around them, rocks began to roll away again. “It’s awfully cold outside. You wouldn’t want to catch a cold.”
Auriëlle shrugged off the hand. “Maybe I do.” She sneered. “Maybe it will kill me. Maybe I’ll be done with this place.” She pulled up her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Staring straight ahead.
The headmaster just let out a deep, disappointed sigh. “Fourteen weeks you’ve been here already.” He said, sound sterner now. A tone she hadn’t heard before. “Not once did you ask why you’re here?”
“’Cause making me blind wasn’t bad enough. That bitch of a goddess had to lock me up somewhere else as well.” Auriëlle said.
But the headmaster shook his head. “Foolish child.” The sudden hard words surprised Auriëlle who looked at the creature who she thought had endless patience. It even made her look up. “For a hundred days already you’ve been here. Surrounded by power and you’ve been blind to it. Preferring to sulk in your own disability. And when you’ve finally overcome that, you think you should leave. Do you want to know why you are here?”
Auriëlle wanted to hurt him for the way he talked to her. A hundred days ago, if anyone had talked to her that way she would’ve torn them to shreds just for the audacity. Yet she looked upon the headmaster and knew she couldn’t win. Not even with her eyesight back. So she just stared at him. Wearing her anger as a mask.
“You are here to learn about your power. Your true power.”
The stone around them shattered with a single grip. “I am powerful.” Said an by anger consumed Auriëlle. “I am the most powerful sorceress there. Nothing can beat me!”
“You are a child flailing in the mud!” The headmaster shouted. She saw his hand move for a split second. The broken rocks raised up from the ground in an orbit around them. Every piece of gravel and stone floated around. Fire ignited between the stone. First, like a circle that soon turned to form a snake eating its own tail. It coiled around the headmaster and Auriëlle. “You barely comprehend the power that you wield but you are more than foolish, stubborn, arrogant, and blind.” At his command, the stone and fire collapsed to the ground around them. Auriëlle tried to pull up some stones from the ground around her, to protect her from the wave of fire raging straight towards her. Yet the moment the rocks appeared they were torn away from her grip. The heat of the fire was on her skin as she ducked down. Only the fire stopped inches away from her and pulled back again. Like sea waves they began to ebb and flow around her. Until the headmaster closed his fist and a thousand butterflies rose up as bits and pieces of the flames.
“Are you willing to ascend, daughter of magic?” The headmaster then said. His voice was calm and fatherly again. His hand was outstretched. Auriëlle turned to him with equal awe and fear in her eyes. It took a moment, more than a moment, but finally she took his hand and pulled herself upright.
“In ten years our children will be waging this very same war again.” One of Darragh’s Fakir said. They were all sitting around a fire, at the middle of their camp which itself was placed away the Celeviaks. At the edge of the forest. Where they all felt closest to home. Dusk was failing. Most were eating in silent. Until one spoke up to say what they all felt.
“Then they will have to fight it again.” Darragh said. His grim gaze forcing the Fakir to sit down and be quiet again. Deep down though, he knew the man was right. If he ever managed to free Ciara, she would fight this war again. And if whoever ruled then made a stupid decision like they had now, their children would fight that very same war again.
“Then why aren’t we ending it now!?” Shouted another who stood up. “The embers are still burning. We all feel it! We wait until the Celeviaks are gone and fan them again. Burn Ha-Leothe to the ground with everyone in it.” The mans eyes had gotten brighter somehow. They were the eyes of someone who killed and would do it again. All around him there were quiet murmurs of agreement.
“Sit down.” Darragh said softly. It was perhaps that softness that forced the man to do so. “We are not going to break our promise. Jjonveyo decided the people of Ha-Leothe will live and so we shall let them. So sit. Down.” The words left a bitter taste in the mouth. He didn’t believe in them, but he was forced to say them none the less. Yet even now he felt the soft, warm touches of the fire upon him. His heart yearned to turn them into blazes again. He could never give in to those sensations but still, he would’ve done things differently. Kill one in ten of the survivors. Show that those who rise up get slaughtered.
“He must’ve grown soft to get his apprentice back.” Whispered one of the Fakir. But just a little too loud. Darragh heard it. Eyes like a hawk spotting its prey turned to stare at him and the man instantly knew he was heard. For a second they were a soundless battle of the wills. One the man seemingly did not intend to lose. “Have you grown soft to get back Ciara?” He shouted. The Fakir’s murmur and talking quieted down as all of them looked at the two. Wind rustled the trees.
Darragh rose up. Tossing the bowl of food away as he walked over the Fakir. Who rose up as well. Eyes locked. Predator stared down predator. “We shouldn’t fight each other.” Darragh finally said.
“Then we should do what we came here to do!” The Fakri shouted back in his face. “I didn’t understand why you forced us all to come here. To fight for this petty warlord. We are Cenél, not Celeviak! I thought you had sold us out!” Some people around him nodded. “But now I see things differently. I understand, you hear me? I understand.”
“What do you think you understand?” Darragh asked, his voice still hard as stone.
“Your wrath! Look at those curs.” The Fakir pointed up at the hill of Ha-Leothe. “They were preparing for war. They want us dead! Just like you said. There can never be peace between the old tribes and the Dûnans.” Again, many murmured in agreement. “But now that we have a chance to end it once and for all, you refuse it. Why? Would you betray all of us for your leash? No, that’s not you. But you would do it for your adoptive daughter.”
“Careful now.” Darragh said, his voice gaining an edge. “You don’t get to bring my family into this. Ciara is my apprentice. Not my daughter. As much as I love her, I love my people more. Remember that it is me who brought you here. You’ve tasted Dûnan blood. Be sated with it and now be seated, son.” There was a strength emanating from Darragh now. As if the dark gods of winter were looming over his shoulder. The man’s bravery slipped away as he did what was told of him. Then Darragh turned around to face the others. “We are not going to burn Ha-Leothe. We are not going to break our promise. We are not here for the easy choices. We are here to finish this war. If you don’t like what we are doing here you will take your stag and return. You can still be of service to our people by guiding them. But if you stay and you break the promise, I swear to you I will break your hands.” None rose up to defy him. None even rose up to leave. Right now they might look like demoralized, frightened dogs but they were hounds who sniffed their first drop of blood. In time they would be clamoring for more. Darragh could only hope Jjonveyo would be wise enough to give it to them.
That night, Darragh walked away from the camp. Sleep was not for him anymore. He kept having nightmares about Ciara. Tortured, in pain. He should be praying, but it felt as if the gods stopped listening some time ago. Perhaps since he first voted to spare the Dûnans. Still, he made his way towards the camp away from the Celeviaks and Cenél. Where no more than thirty men and women lived. Half of them asleep. Others kept guard. Their hair and skin were different than Darragh’s pale complexion. Foreigners, all of them. Though foreigners with the sense to keep their distance. Yet as Darragh walked in he couldn’t help but note the eyes. They all had the same, intense, purposeful eyes that Keyleigh had. Eyes that had seen perhaps too much.
“Men always come when their daughters die.” Said Keyleigh. She was sitting by the fire. In her hand she held wet clay shaping it into a tablet. Her back was turned to Darragh. “Women come because of both their sons and daughters, but men like you only fall when their daughter is gone.”
“What do you mean?” Darragh said. As he stepped closer. Some of the strangers gave him so passing glances but mostly let him be.
“You’re starting to doubt your gods. Men only do that when their daughters die, because they’re not supposed to die, do they? A son perishes in battle is a natural thing. Accepted from the second they pick up a sword. A daughter… that cuts deeper. Especially to fathers.” Keyleigh explained as she kept working the clay. Making sure it was a s square as possible as it laid upon the piece of bark.
But the Fakir still didn’t understand. Truth be told, he didn’t know why he came. Keyleigh seemed to always have the answers to questions but now he wasn’t so sure of her wisdom. “My daughter’s been dead for years.”
“Your first one, yes. But only now is the sting of your surrogate daughter hurting you. Don’t lie to yourself, Darragh. You miss Ciara. You miss having her around. You miss the light of her smile.” Keyleigh said as she took a stylus in the shame Darragh had never seen before and started drawing lines in the clay.
“How do you know how she looked?” His mind bid him to walk away. She was a witch. Had to be. Yet his heart told him to step closer. To listen to her. She had the answers.
“Because people told me.” Keyleigh turned to face him. She cast him the same smile but hers didn’t light up at all. Instead it seemingly sucked out the light. Making everything look even more grim. “Everyone told me of Ciara and her golden smile. Sun-touched, some even dared to say. It is a shame she will die. But that is not why you’ve come. So sit and tell me why you’re really here.”
Darragh did as bit, thought didn’t like the way she asked him to. As if she was his master. Few people could talk to him this way, but he allowed it for now. “I’ve come to talk about your magic.” He said as he looked at her. “What you did with fire, you mimicked our rituals. Spoke our words. Who taught you?”
“In your rituals? Nobody.” Keyleigh said, playful like a kitten but she never took her eyes off the clay she was engraving. Deeper lines were woven together with smaller ones.
“Then who taught you magic?” Darragh grew more insistent. “It is dangerous what you’re doing. Uncontrolled. Whoever taught you is wrong. You must control your powers. Especially fire.”
“Do I?” Keyleigh put a finger her lip. An innocent gesture. Then a wicked grin grew on her lips. “I was taught magic by a woman who didn’t care about control. Oh you should’ve seen her Darragh. How she danced with flames and lightning. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen. She wasn’t afraid of her own power. Like you are.”
Darragh felt himself grow angry. “I am not afraid of my own power.” He stated, trying to bite back the anger. He needed her, after all. Even if he wasn’t sure for what. He still needed her. “Magic is a gift of the gods. We should respect it. Fear it, in the case of fire. It’s a miracle the fire hadn’t spread. Do you believe the same folly Jjonveyo believes? That a mere trench protected everything around it?”
Keyleigh let out a sharp laugh. “The gods? Didn’t they smite me down now? The gods don’t rule your magic, Darragh. You’ll learn that soon enough. As for the fire, I know exactly why the fires didn’t cross the trench and it was no miracle. Yes, Darragh, I know it was you who kept it contained. You and your closed people.”
“Wait, how do you know? I made sure to hide it. To keep my magic at the mere fringes of the magical control of others.” Darragh asked. Both impressed and a little frightened.
“I felt it. You can hide your magic from you kin perhaps, but not from me. You know this modesty if yours, it can be a way of vanity as well.” But then Keyleigh was interrupted by someone who whispered something in her ear. She just nodded when he was done and put down the bark carrying the clay square beside the fire. “As much as I enjoy your late night talks, Darragh, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave. We have matters to attend to.”
For the first time now, he saw her grow serious. Suddenly around him there was a bustle of activity. Several embers of fires were raked open. The white and black ashes were scooped up and placed in bowls and mixed with water. One of which was handed to Keyleigh. “What are you doing?” He asked.
“Preparing. You shouldn’t be here.” She started to sound worried even now. “You must move. Go. These are things my people must do.” She kept ushering him away. Towards the edge of the camp.
Darragh managed to look back and saw several people pick up long, dark, hooded cloaks.They stepped to one of four people holding the cups with ash-paste. Which rubbed it on their brows in the form of an arch. Only when he saw the knives and axes did he start walking away from the firelight. Into the darkness that was spread between camps. Keyleighs people kept moving and running around. Until suddenly the whole camp was abandoned.
“Then they will have to fight it again.” Darragh said. His grim gaze forcing the Fakir to sit down and be quiet again. Deep down though, he knew the man was right. If he ever managed to free Ciara, she would fight this war again. And if whoever ruled then made a stupid decision like they had now, their children would fight that very same war again.
“Then why aren’t we ending it now!?” Shouted another who stood up. “The embers are still burning. We all feel it! We wait until the Celeviaks are gone and fan them again. Burn Ha-Leothe to the ground with everyone in it.” The mans eyes had gotten brighter somehow. They were the eyes of someone who killed and would do it again. All around him there were quiet murmurs of agreement.
“Sit down.” Darragh said softly. It was perhaps that softness that forced the man to do so. “We are not going to break our promise. Jjonveyo decided the people of Ha-Leothe will live and so we shall let them. So sit. Down.” The words left a bitter taste in the mouth. He didn’t believe in them, but he was forced to say them none the less. Yet even now he felt the soft, warm touches of the fire upon him. His heart yearned to turn them into blazes again. He could never give in to those sensations but still, he would’ve done things differently. Kill one in ten of the survivors. Show that those who rise up get slaughtered.
“He must’ve grown soft to get his apprentice back.” Whispered one of the Fakir. But just a little too loud. Darragh heard it. Eyes like a hawk spotting its prey turned to stare at him and the man instantly knew he was heard. For a second they were a soundless battle of the wills. One the man seemingly did not intend to lose. “Have you grown soft to get back Ciara?” He shouted. The Fakir’s murmur and talking quieted down as all of them looked at the two. Wind rustled the trees.
Darragh rose up. Tossing the bowl of food away as he walked over the Fakir. Who rose up as well. Eyes locked. Predator stared down predator. “We shouldn’t fight each other.” Darragh finally said.
“Then we should do what we came here to do!” The Fakri shouted back in his face. “I didn’t understand why you forced us all to come here. To fight for this petty warlord. We are Cenél, not Celeviak! I thought you had sold us out!” Some people around him nodded. “But now I see things differently. I understand, you hear me? I understand.”
“What do you think you understand?” Darragh asked, his voice still hard as stone.
“Your wrath! Look at those curs.” The Fakir pointed up at the hill of Ha-Leothe. “They were preparing for war. They want us dead! Just like you said. There can never be peace between the old tribes and the Dûnans.” Again, many murmured in agreement. “But now that we have a chance to end it once and for all, you refuse it. Why? Would you betray all of us for your leash? No, that’s not you. But you would do it for your adoptive daughter.”
“Careful now.” Darragh said, his voice gaining an edge. “You don’t get to bring my family into this. Ciara is my apprentice. Not my daughter. As much as I love her, I love my people more. Remember that it is me who brought you here. You’ve tasted Dûnan blood. Be sated with it and now be seated, son.” There was a strength emanating from Darragh now. As if the dark gods of winter were looming over his shoulder. The man’s bravery slipped away as he did what was told of him. Then Darragh turned around to face the others. “We are not going to burn Ha-Leothe. We are not going to break our promise. We are not here for the easy choices. We are here to finish this war. If you don’t like what we are doing here you will take your stag and return. You can still be of service to our people by guiding them. But if you stay and you break the promise, I swear to you I will break your hands.” None rose up to defy him. None even rose up to leave. Right now they might look like demoralized, frightened dogs but they were hounds who sniffed their first drop of blood. In time they would be clamoring for more. Darragh could only hope Jjonveyo would be wise enough to give it to them.
That night, Darragh walked away from the camp. Sleep was not for him anymore. He kept having nightmares about Ciara. Tortured, in pain. He should be praying, but it felt as if the gods stopped listening some time ago. Perhaps since he first voted to spare the Dûnans. Still, he made his way towards the camp away from the Celeviaks and Cenél. Where no more than thirty men and women lived. Half of them asleep. Others kept guard. Their hair and skin were different than Darragh’s pale complexion. Foreigners, all of them. Though foreigners with the sense to keep their distance. Yet as Darragh walked in he couldn’t help but note the eyes. They all had the same, intense, purposeful eyes that Keyleigh had. Eyes that had seen perhaps too much.
“Men always come when their daughters die.” Said Keyleigh. She was sitting by the fire. In her hand she held wet clay shaping it into a tablet. Her back was turned to Darragh. “Women come because of both their sons and daughters, but men like you only fall when their daughter is gone.”
“What do you mean?” Darragh said. As he stepped closer. Some of the strangers gave him so passing glances but mostly let him be.
“You’re starting to doubt your gods. Men only do that when their daughters die, because they’re not supposed to die, do they? A son perishes in battle is a natural thing. Accepted from the second they pick up a sword. A daughter… that cuts deeper. Especially to fathers.” Keyleigh explained as she kept working the clay. Making sure it was a s square as possible as it laid upon the piece of bark.
But the Fakir still didn’t understand. Truth be told, he didn’t know why he came. Keyleigh seemed to always have the answers to questions but now he wasn’t so sure of her wisdom. “My daughter’s been dead for years.”
“Your first one, yes. But only now is the sting of your surrogate daughter hurting you. Don’t lie to yourself, Darragh. You miss Ciara. You miss having her around. You miss the light of her smile.” Keyleigh said as she took a stylus in the shame Darragh had never seen before and started drawing lines in the clay.
“How do you know how she looked?” His mind bid him to walk away. She was a witch. Had to be. Yet his heart told him to step closer. To listen to her. She had the answers.
“Because people told me.” Keyleigh turned to face him. She cast him the same smile but hers didn’t light up at all. Instead it seemingly sucked out the light. Making everything look even more grim. “Everyone told me of Ciara and her golden smile. Sun-touched, some even dared to say. It is a shame she will die. But that is not why you’ve come. So sit and tell me why you’re really here.”
Darragh did as bit, thought didn’t like the way she asked him to. As if she was his master. Few people could talk to him this way, but he allowed it for now. “I’ve come to talk about your magic.” He said as he looked at her. “What you did with fire, you mimicked our rituals. Spoke our words. Who taught you?”
“In your rituals? Nobody.” Keyleigh said, playful like a kitten but she never took her eyes off the clay she was engraving. Deeper lines were woven together with smaller ones.
“Then who taught you magic?” Darragh grew more insistent. “It is dangerous what you’re doing. Uncontrolled. Whoever taught you is wrong. You must control your powers. Especially fire.”
“Do I?” Keyleigh put a finger her lip. An innocent gesture. Then a wicked grin grew on her lips. “I was taught magic by a woman who didn’t care about control. Oh you should’ve seen her Darragh. How she danced with flames and lightning. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen. She wasn’t afraid of her own power. Like you are.”
Darragh felt himself grow angry. “I am not afraid of my own power.” He stated, trying to bite back the anger. He needed her, after all. Even if he wasn’t sure for what. He still needed her. “Magic is a gift of the gods. We should respect it. Fear it, in the case of fire. It’s a miracle the fire hadn’t spread. Do you believe the same folly Jjonveyo believes? That a mere trench protected everything around it?”
Keyleigh let out a sharp laugh. “The gods? Didn’t they smite me down now? The gods don’t rule your magic, Darragh. You’ll learn that soon enough. As for the fire, I know exactly why the fires didn’t cross the trench and it was no miracle. Yes, Darragh, I know it was you who kept it contained. You and your closed people.”
“Wait, how do you know? I made sure to hide it. To keep my magic at the mere fringes of the magical control of others.” Darragh asked. Both impressed and a little frightened.
“I felt it. You can hide your magic from you kin perhaps, but not from me. You know this modesty if yours, it can be a way of vanity as well.” But then Keyleigh was interrupted by someone who whispered something in her ear. She just nodded when he was done and put down the bark carrying the clay square beside the fire. “As much as I enjoy your late night talks, Darragh, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave. We have matters to attend to.”
For the first time now, he saw her grow serious. Suddenly around him there was a bustle of activity. Several embers of fires were raked open. The white and black ashes were scooped up and placed in bowls and mixed with water. One of which was handed to Keyleigh. “What are you doing?” He asked.
“Preparing. You shouldn’t be here.” She started to sound worried even now. “You must move. Go. These are things my people must do.” She kept ushering him away. Towards the edge of the camp.
Darragh managed to look back and saw several people pick up long, dark, hooded cloaks.They stepped to one of four people holding the cups with ash-paste. Which rubbed it on their brows in the form of an arch. Only when he saw the knives and axes did he start walking away from the firelight. Into the darkness that was spread between camps. Keyleighs people kept moving and running around. Until suddenly the whole camp was abandoned.
Auriëlle was tossing pebbles off the cliffside into the water below. Trying to hear the soft plunges over the violent waves clashing upon the rock. The plaza stretching behind her was empty. She knew the center of it bared a symbol of a giant lobster, which itself had lines carved over itself. Rays flowed from it and the edges of the plaza showed coasts the great beast was to visit.
Another pebble fell from the edge down. A pulse travelled across the mana. Faint and utterly unnoticeable. The pings and touches flowed back to the sorceress. For a moment she saw the world. Less in some ways. Without color. Things that lived and breath were near-shapeless masses. Walking clouds. Those who could cast magic had a dim light to them. It was as Duxus had described, months ago. At the same time she saw more than what others would. She saw the other side of the hedge. What was beyond a wall.
Sadly the pulse was just that, a pulse. A moment of reality. Before it faded again. Her mind became adept at holding onto everything that was sensed but it wasn’t sight. Not really. Another pebble fell from over the cliff. This time, her pulse caught it mid-air. Reality dictated that the pebble would fall down. Yet from the momentary grasp of the world the stone could be going up or down.
She sensed something else as well. A cloud with light shining from it approaching her from behind.
“He will be gone for a few more days still.” The voice, the Headmaster, said. “Perhaps you could find other ways to fill your days, rather than waiting for him here.”
“I like the waiting.” Auriëlle said. She had nothing else to do really. The rest of the people here couldn’t understand her. And they in turn spoke utter gibberish. Duxus and the Headmaster were the only ones who understood her, and she got to liking Duxus vastly more.
“Of course.” The headmaster said before he walked away again. It wasn’t the first time he suggested she did something else. In truth she had no idea what he meant. He was talking about magic but she couldn’t do spells. Nothing ever worked for her. Besides, with the power she commanded through cheer sorcery, why would she ever need spells?
As usual her mind began to wander around again. She tried to remember Ha-Dûna but it felt faded. There were the megaliths but half of them had no real shape in her mind. She had forgotten them, even though she didn’t want to. Especially now. Words had been fleeing as well, but the feelings lingered. Hopelessness. Doubt. Confusion. The goddess asking whether or not she really wanted to follow the path she took. That one question lingered the strongest.
Would she have it any other way? A god took from her any chance for a normal life and back then she had lamented that fact. Back then she was scared. She would’ve rather huddled up in some hut far away from everywhere. Eat from the land she tended. Or hide in the deep shadows of a city. Working in some forgotten corner as a scribe. Carn had made things bearable and even fun back then. Carn… she missed him. And every time she thought of him her heart ached. Was he dead? Was he at peace now?
Another pebble fell from the edge down. A pulse travelled across the mana. Faint and utterly unnoticeable. The pings and touches flowed back to the sorceress. For a moment she saw the world. Less in some ways. Without color. Things that lived and breath were near-shapeless masses. Walking clouds. Those who could cast magic had a dim light to them. It was as Duxus had described, months ago. At the same time she saw more than what others would. She saw the other side of the hedge. What was beyond a wall.
Sadly the pulse was just that, a pulse. A moment of reality. Before it faded again. Her mind became adept at holding onto everything that was sensed but it wasn’t sight. Not really. Another pebble fell from over the cliff. This time, her pulse caught it mid-air. Reality dictated that the pebble would fall down. Yet from the momentary grasp of the world the stone could be going up or down.
She sensed something else as well. A cloud with light shining from it approaching her from behind.
“He will be gone for a few more days still.” The voice, the Headmaster, said. “Perhaps you could find other ways to fill your days, rather than waiting for him here.”
“I like the waiting.” Auriëlle said. She had nothing else to do really. The rest of the people here couldn’t understand her. And they in turn spoke utter gibberish. Duxus and the Headmaster were the only ones who understood her, and she got to liking Duxus vastly more.
“Of course.” The headmaster said before he walked away again. It wasn’t the first time he suggested she did something else. In truth she had no idea what he meant. He was talking about magic but she couldn’t do spells. Nothing ever worked for her. Besides, with the power she commanded through cheer sorcery, why would she ever need spells?
As usual her mind began to wander around again. She tried to remember Ha-Dûna but it felt faded. There were the megaliths but half of them had no real shape in her mind. She had forgotten them, even though she didn’t want to. Especially now. Words had been fleeing as well, but the feelings lingered. Hopelessness. Doubt. Confusion. The goddess asking whether or not she really wanted to follow the path she took. That one question lingered the strongest.
Would she have it any other way? A god took from her any chance for a normal life and back then she had lamented that fact. Back then she was scared. She would’ve rather huddled up in some hut far away from everywhere. Eat from the land she tended. Or hide in the deep shadows of a city. Working in some forgotten corner as a scribe. Carn had made things bearable and even fun back then. Carn… she missed him. And every time she thought of him her heart ached. Was he dead? Was he at peace now?
“it is decided then.” Said the elder Fakir. A title he none could doubt about. His long hairs were gray and even white. His well-tended beard ran down from his gaunt, wrinkled face. One could mistake him for being tired, but Darragh knew the old man still had more life in him than one would think.
Many of the Fakir around grunted. Perhaps not all in agreement but certaintly all in acceptance. Even grim-faced Darragh had resigned himself to the fact that the Cenél could no longer stand alone. The irony was perhaps that the now growing infamous tithe requests of the Čeleviak Tsardom would be paid by the food and tools given by the Dûnans.
Darragh’s eyes wandered over the shape-sung trees standing around the grave. With his back towards the dark, deep cave. They were in the shape of the Cenél gods and goddesses. Each painted with the colors of their seasons. Bright green was painted upon the shape of a young woman, holding a babe in her arms, Seva. Vibrant yellow was painted on the twin gods of summer: Orrai, god warmth and the fullness of life and his brother Malgog, god of war and martial prowess. Finally orange was painted on the trees of Mnim and Hunim. Only winter wasn’t visible. Those gods resided in the cold, dark cave. Where icy blue was painted not on living trees but on cold, uncaring rock.
The Fakir were moving out of the grove. Heading towards their people to deliver the news. Soon enough a messenger would be send towards the Tsardom. A request for aid, in return to swearing fealty to the Tsar. It still laid wrong with Darragh, but he knew they had no other choice now. Not when the Dûnans were clamoring for war again. They had been too trusting. Blinded by the perceived kindness of Boudicca. Had all been an act? She, Hilda, the peace they wanted to maintain? How long had she prepared this farce?
“Will you remain again?” Asked another Fakir. She was younger. Between the age of Darragh and Ciara.
Darragh nodded. “There is nothing else I can do but pray now.”
“Trust the gods brother.” She said, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it for a second. Before she walked away again.
Moments later Darragh stood alone amid the circle of statue-trees. There weren’t even birds daring to break the silence.
“I should burn every single one of you.” Darragh said out loud to the gods and their trees. “She loved all of you. Every season of every year since she was a little girl sat here on her knees, praying to you!” He pointed down to where he had seen her so many times. Even in the dark nights of winter, when she shivered because of the snow that she was kneeling in she kept praying. Giving her thanks to the gods that had now abandoned her.
“And for what? You left her.” He began pacing past the trees. “Our people are suffering. We lost so many before. Now you bring this abomination to our woods and we are blamed for it as well. What would you have me do? Should I have purged them three decades ago? Should I have voted? Break the tie? Let the drums of war roar? I chose peace that day.” He stopped in front of Malgog’s tree. The god of war stood strong and stern. A tree-shaped bush crouched at his feet. “As you taught us. Never squander lives. Never beg for vengeance. Strive always for peace first. You taught me that. And when I chose peace the first time, you took my daughter for it. And when I chose peace again, you took my apprentice.” And then he spat at the tree.
“Gods rarely take insults like those well.” Said a new voice. A young voice. Darragh turned to face it. At the edge of the grove stood a woman. She was young. Barely thirty, probably younger. Holding a gnarled branch. The Fakir would’ve dismissed her entirely if not for her eyes. Her deep, dark, piercing eyes. Eyes that he had seen so many times before, but in men and women.
“Who are you?” He asked with careful curiosity. Keeping the moss-covered stones marking the center of the grove in between them.
The woman didn’t appear to approach him either. She just smiled. “I’ve worn many names. These days I go by the name of Keylaigh.” She said, then her eyes turned towards Malgog. “He, above all, is a dangerous sort. Toxic and vile. Have you ever heard of the tale of the two brothers?”
Darragh frowned. As a Fakir he had heard all the tales there were. Some that had been forgotten for years by others now. Yet the story of the two brothers did not ring familiar.
“In a faraway land Malgog had two favored sons. Removed from each other at a young age. One searched for the other for years. Until Malgog gave him a sign where to find him. In a grand city. Larger than even the Dûnans could build. A place protected by a mountain. In there he would find his younger brother. Only if he would attack it though. And attack he did. The eldest gathered his armies. The might of the land rose with him against the city. When the gate finally fell, he found his younger brother. Armed with a hammer standing in the front line. Ready to defend his city.”
“You lie.” Darragh said, though his tone notably absent of poison. “There is no such tale. I would’ve known.”
“There are many things you don’t know. You don’t yet know that these gods don’t care. The ones that do you’ve kept hidden.” The woman said with a taunting smile.
Darragh looked behind him. Into the dark cave. He could faintly see the outlines of the stone crudely carved into the shape of Irra. Goddess of the Night and moon. Watcher against dark magic. Though Darragh knew the names that he would find past her. Sovas and Ynea. Death and Winter. “What do you know about the gods?”
A smirk grew on the woman’s face. “Many things.” She said. A white owl came flying down from the canopy and perched itself upon her gnarled staff. It looked at Darragh with two icy-blue eyes. They looked different than from any other animal he knew. For a second silence reigned once more. Before the owl looked like it was satisfied and flew up again towards the branches where it vanished. “Think on what you want, Darragh of the Cenél and then think of what you are willing to give up to get it.” With those words said the woman turned and walked away again. Leaving Darragh alone in the grove he still wished to burn. Yet now the shape-trees of the gods felt hollow. Their eyes closed. Where he first felt their presence around, he now felt truly and thoroughly alone.
Many of the Fakir around grunted. Perhaps not all in agreement but certaintly all in acceptance. Even grim-faced Darragh had resigned himself to the fact that the Cenél could no longer stand alone. The irony was perhaps that the now growing infamous tithe requests of the Čeleviak Tsardom would be paid by the food and tools given by the Dûnans.
Darragh’s eyes wandered over the shape-sung trees standing around the grave. With his back towards the dark, deep cave. They were in the shape of the Cenél gods and goddesses. Each painted with the colors of their seasons. Bright green was painted upon the shape of a young woman, holding a babe in her arms, Seva. Vibrant yellow was painted on the twin gods of summer: Orrai, god warmth and the fullness of life and his brother Malgog, god of war and martial prowess. Finally orange was painted on the trees of Mnim and Hunim. Only winter wasn’t visible. Those gods resided in the cold, dark cave. Where icy blue was painted not on living trees but on cold, uncaring rock.
The Fakir were moving out of the grove. Heading towards their people to deliver the news. Soon enough a messenger would be send towards the Tsardom. A request for aid, in return to swearing fealty to the Tsar. It still laid wrong with Darragh, but he knew they had no other choice now. Not when the Dûnans were clamoring for war again. They had been too trusting. Blinded by the perceived kindness of Boudicca. Had all been an act? She, Hilda, the peace they wanted to maintain? How long had she prepared this farce?
“Will you remain again?” Asked another Fakir. She was younger. Between the age of Darragh and Ciara.
Darragh nodded. “There is nothing else I can do but pray now.”
“Trust the gods brother.” She said, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it for a second. Before she walked away again.
Moments later Darragh stood alone amid the circle of statue-trees. There weren’t even birds daring to break the silence.
“I should burn every single one of you.” Darragh said out loud to the gods and their trees. “She loved all of you. Every season of every year since she was a little girl sat here on her knees, praying to you!” He pointed down to where he had seen her so many times. Even in the dark nights of winter, when she shivered because of the snow that she was kneeling in she kept praying. Giving her thanks to the gods that had now abandoned her.
“And for what? You left her.” He began pacing past the trees. “Our people are suffering. We lost so many before. Now you bring this abomination to our woods and we are blamed for it as well. What would you have me do? Should I have purged them three decades ago? Should I have voted? Break the tie? Let the drums of war roar? I chose peace that day.” He stopped in front of Malgog’s tree. The god of war stood strong and stern. A tree-shaped bush crouched at his feet. “As you taught us. Never squander lives. Never beg for vengeance. Strive always for peace first. You taught me that. And when I chose peace the first time, you took my daughter for it. And when I chose peace again, you took my apprentice.” And then he spat at the tree.
“Gods rarely take insults like those well.” Said a new voice. A young voice. Darragh turned to face it. At the edge of the grove stood a woman. She was young. Barely thirty, probably younger. Holding a gnarled branch. The Fakir would’ve dismissed her entirely if not for her eyes. Her deep, dark, piercing eyes. Eyes that he had seen so many times before, but in men and women.
“Who are you?” He asked with careful curiosity. Keeping the moss-covered stones marking the center of the grove in between them.
The woman didn’t appear to approach him either. She just smiled. “I’ve worn many names. These days I go by the name of Keylaigh.” She said, then her eyes turned towards Malgog. “He, above all, is a dangerous sort. Toxic and vile. Have you ever heard of the tale of the two brothers?”
Darragh frowned. As a Fakir he had heard all the tales there were. Some that had been forgotten for years by others now. Yet the story of the two brothers did not ring familiar.
“In a faraway land Malgog had two favored sons. Removed from each other at a young age. One searched for the other for years. Until Malgog gave him a sign where to find him. In a grand city. Larger than even the Dûnans could build. A place protected by a mountain. In there he would find his younger brother. Only if he would attack it though. And attack he did. The eldest gathered his armies. The might of the land rose with him against the city. When the gate finally fell, he found his younger brother. Armed with a hammer standing in the front line. Ready to defend his city.”
“You lie.” Darragh said, though his tone notably absent of poison. “There is no such tale. I would’ve known.”
“There are many things you don’t know. You don’t yet know that these gods don’t care. The ones that do you’ve kept hidden.” The woman said with a taunting smile.
Darragh looked behind him. Into the dark cave. He could faintly see the outlines of the stone crudely carved into the shape of Irra. Goddess of the Night and moon. Watcher against dark magic. Though Darragh knew the names that he would find past her. Sovas and Ynea. Death and Winter. “What do you know about the gods?”
A smirk grew on the woman’s face. “Many things.” She said. A white owl came flying down from the canopy and perched itself upon her gnarled staff. It looked at Darragh with two icy-blue eyes. They looked different than from any other animal he knew. For a second silence reigned once more. Before the owl looked like it was satisfied and flew up again towards the branches where it vanished. “Think on what you want, Darragh of the Cenél and then think of what you are willing to give up to get it.” With those words said the woman turned and walked away again. Leaving Darragh alone in the grove he still wished to burn. Yet now the shape-trees of the gods felt hollow. Their eyes closed. Where he first felt their presence around, he now felt truly and thoroughly alone.
Rock and stone. Evergreen trees. The Winds coalesced into a single point. Creating a form that was vaguely humanoid, but translucent and brimming with power. A mimic of the other, more mortal looking avatars. The confines were already putting a strain upon the Avatar and its divine controller. But it stepped forward. Into a cave from which it had seen the bright glow of something divine so great in power, it could no longer be overlooked. Nature gave way to mortal carvings. Creating a long hallway inside. Flanked by braziers on both sides. The divine senses of the avatar saw the events depicted on the stone walls. Painted on them as murals. Legends. Wars. Stuff of destiny from when the gods were gone. Yet he still lit the fires. Bright, yellow light banished the darkness and announced the coming of something to whoever would live in a place like this.
No creature cried out. The avatar pressed on. Floating through the venerable hall until it came upon a room with a throne. The throne sat atop a dais. Qael stopped the winds for a second before it. The throne alone would be a great enough gift for his daughter. It wouldn’t be enough though. Not for her. No throne in all of Galbar would be enough for her. But it would’ve been a good, solid foundation. But he wasn’t here for the stone chair. He pressed on. The heavy stone behind the throne’s dais was already moved. Revealing the stairs down which the Winds descended.
Down there things were both more and less impressive. Barracks and a kitchen. Ancient weapons and armor laid waiting. How long until banditry would come and loot the place clean? Qael was surprised they hadn’t already. The cobwebbed shields were all painted the same: a gate enveloped in light. The symbol of a dying faith.
One thing did catch his attention. A statue, covered with dust and spiderwebs. Not of a man, or troll, or rare thumblings. But unmistakingly of a night elf. Up in Qael’s own realm, he cocked his head. “How curious.” He said out loud, as the etheric fingers of the winds traced over the elven features. How did they know? One of his siblings had to have shown them. Why he could not say. The figure didn’t point up towards the throne room though. Or towards some other place. It pointed at a large, sealed doorway off the side.
With a mere thought, magic began to move the stone. The very air inside was older than anything else within the cave here. The revealed room was different from the barracks and kitchens. It was made from solid stone. Inside were two tombs. Damp and parts of them covered by moss. The winds floated inside. Undeterred. The first coffin, the largest one, showed a night elf again. Death or sleeping, Qael couldn’t be sure. Maybe both? The other coffin was that of a thumbling. Tiny. But no less intricately carved. The old runic script revealed their names to Qael’Naath in an instant: Saint Oyticon and Saint Bartholomew. “You are a long way from home.” The god whispered back in his own realm as the wind’s ethereal hand traveled over the top of the tomb.
He would’ve smashed it open. To see if the corpse it held really was that of a night elf. But something else caught his attention. Not death, but life. Beyond the coffins was a pedestal, holding the object he was looking for: the grail. And sitting beside it was a thumbling. Still breathing.
The ghostly figure of the winds moved forward. Passing through the houllin berry bush casting the room in a soft glow. “A worthy gift.” It said out loud in the tomb as it approached the grail. “And you must be something of a protector then, are you not?” it asked the thumbling.
Old blind eyes opened, a million wrinkles forming around the toothless mouth of the thumbling. A coughing laugh sounded, “I’m more of a janitor these days, too stubborn to stop clinging to the past.”
Qael in his realm was surprised to find the little thing to be blind. The ethereal shape stopped approaching the grail and instead watched the thumbling. Was this what mortals called empathy? Or was it curiosity? The god of magic couldn’t tell. “And what past might that be?”
“The Thumblings have always been small,” The old thumbling started, “So big things like gods, heroes and kings often never notice us -- a curse you may be thinking but nay! In these cracks and crevices you find untouched glens and groves where we can play and sing and dance just like we did at the start of time itself, untouched by the injustice and cruel chance of the world and its benefactors.” The thumbling shifted, “So you see, those who noticed this wanted to join in on the song -- and so our way of life spread to the larger folk, but the OTHER larger folk who thought of different dances weren’t too found of this one so old, and eventually this way of life was whittled back down to the groves and cracks and glens -- BUT!” Standing up the thumbling cast a big smile, “When the way of the Golden Light was still cast on the others, we had ourselves feasts, and love, and summers, and happiness -- treasured memories too fond to let go.” He wiggled his nose and leaned against the cup, “The world is a cruel one, where random chance can end what few sparks light the darkness of this existence.”
“You’re kin are very insightful to realize these truths.” Qael said as the winds began to shift. Losing grip on the singular, humanoid form. It slowly began to dissolve into a cloud-like shape again. “Us, the gods, have done too little to nurture places where one can sing and dance.” Not even Qael has done that, he realized. Not really. Though he hoped Soleras would be a place that could feast without real fear about whether or not they could eat the next week then. His divine senses peered back at the grail. “You understand that I wish to take this gift of… presumingly your Light?”
“You won’t take it,” The thumbling predicted, “You will receive it.” With little hands he pushed the Grail slightly, unable to lift it in his frailty and size. “It brought abundance to the memories of old, but back then it too lived in a crack between the sights of the larger folk -- I cannot say if I am gifting a blessing or a curse, but I hope it is as much of a blessing to you as it was to me.”
For a second the cloud moved backward. Seemingly away from the thumbling and the grail. A manifestation of Qael’s own surprise. That a mortal would give such a power so freely. But then the cloud moved forward again. Magic lifted the grail up. Taking it within the cloud and filling it with a handful of houllin berries Qael knew would bring prosperity to the future empire. “You are a generous creature. Tell me, what is your name?”
“Tim. I’m a thumbling,” Tim answered simply. “What’s yours?”
“My name matters not. It should not be known by mortals.” Qael said, meaning every word. “Tim the thumbling. been a loyal custodian for this grail and you know its lore and history better than I ever will. I cannot imagine you would want to live out your last few days in some damp cave. So I offer you this: you can join the grail at its new place. At the right hand of my daughter. In a realm she is making where one can dance and sing and feast as your ancestors have. What say you?”
“It’s a mighty fine offer, and I thank you for it,” Tim said sincerely. “But I am a tired soul, and with the grail in new hands and a new future on the wake of the world, it would be time for an old relic like me to get some sleep, same as the Saints.”
“Very well then.” The grail vanished in a flash of chromatic light. Moved from the tomb miles down north in an instant. There it appeared upon the ground of Kal’s hamlet for the other extension of Qael’Naath to find it.
“Goodbye, Tim the thumbling.” The cloud said. “May my brother of death offer you a tranquil time beyond life.” With those words spoken, the cloud rushed out. As if it was carried by a storm’s wind.
“Farewell,” Tim said, laying on his back. He scooted against the pedestal until he was comfortable, and then closed his blind eyes - a big toothless smile frozen on his face.
No creature cried out. The avatar pressed on. Floating through the venerable hall until it came upon a room with a throne. The throne sat atop a dais. Qael stopped the winds for a second before it. The throne alone would be a great enough gift for his daughter. It wouldn’t be enough though. Not for her. No throne in all of Galbar would be enough for her. But it would’ve been a good, solid foundation. But he wasn’t here for the stone chair. He pressed on. The heavy stone behind the throne’s dais was already moved. Revealing the stairs down which the Winds descended.
Down there things were both more and less impressive. Barracks and a kitchen. Ancient weapons and armor laid waiting. How long until banditry would come and loot the place clean? Qael was surprised they hadn’t already. The cobwebbed shields were all painted the same: a gate enveloped in light. The symbol of a dying faith.
One thing did catch his attention. A statue, covered with dust and spiderwebs. Not of a man, or troll, or rare thumblings. But unmistakingly of a night elf. Up in Qael’s own realm, he cocked his head. “How curious.” He said out loud, as the etheric fingers of the winds traced over the elven features. How did they know? One of his siblings had to have shown them. Why he could not say. The figure didn’t point up towards the throne room though. Or towards some other place. It pointed at a large, sealed doorway off the side.
With a mere thought, magic began to move the stone. The very air inside was older than anything else within the cave here. The revealed room was different from the barracks and kitchens. It was made from solid stone. Inside were two tombs. Damp and parts of them covered by moss. The winds floated inside. Undeterred. The first coffin, the largest one, showed a night elf again. Death or sleeping, Qael couldn’t be sure. Maybe both? The other coffin was that of a thumbling. Tiny. But no less intricately carved. The old runic script revealed their names to Qael’Naath in an instant: Saint Oyticon and Saint Bartholomew. “You are a long way from home.” The god whispered back in his own realm as the wind’s ethereal hand traveled over the top of the tomb.
He would’ve smashed it open. To see if the corpse it held really was that of a night elf. But something else caught his attention. Not death, but life. Beyond the coffins was a pedestal, holding the object he was looking for: the grail. And sitting beside it was a thumbling. Still breathing.
The ghostly figure of the winds moved forward. Passing through the houllin berry bush casting the room in a soft glow. “A worthy gift.” It said out loud in the tomb as it approached the grail. “And you must be something of a protector then, are you not?” it asked the thumbling.
Old blind eyes opened, a million wrinkles forming around the toothless mouth of the thumbling. A coughing laugh sounded, “I’m more of a janitor these days, too stubborn to stop clinging to the past.”
Qael in his realm was surprised to find the little thing to be blind. The ethereal shape stopped approaching the grail and instead watched the thumbling. Was this what mortals called empathy? Or was it curiosity? The god of magic couldn’t tell. “And what past might that be?”
“The Thumblings have always been small,” The old thumbling started, “So big things like gods, heroes and kings often never notice us -- a curse you may be thinking but nay! In these cracks and crevices you find untouched glens and groves where we can play and sing and dance just like we did at the start of time itself, untouched by the injustice and cruel chance of the world and its benefactors.” The thumbling shifted, “So you see, those who noticed this wanted to join in on the song -- and so our way of life spread to the larger folk, but the OTHER larger folk who thought of different dances weren’t too found of this one so old, and eventually this way of life was whittled back down to the groves and cracks and glens -- BUT!” Standing up the thumbling cast a big smile, “When the way of the Golden Light was still cast on the others, we had ourselves feasts, and love, and summers, and happiness -- treasured memories too fond to let go.” He wiggled his nose and leaned against the cup, “The world is a cruel one, where random chance can end what few sparks light the darkness of this existence.”
“You’re kin are very insightful to realize these truths.” Qael said as the winds began to shift. Losing grip on the singular, humanoid form. It slowly began to dissolve into a cloud-like shape again. “Us, the gods, have done too little to nurture places where one can sing and dance.” Not even Qael has done that, he realized. Not really. Though he hoped Soleras would be a place that could feast without real fear about whether or not they could eat the next week then. His divine senses peered back at the grail. “You understand that I wish to take this gift of… presumingly your Light?”
“You won’t take it,” The thumbling predicted, “You will receive it.” With little hands he pushed the Grail slightly, unable to lift it in his frailty and size. “It brought abundance to the memories of old, but back then it too lived in a crack between the sights of the larger folk -- I cannot say if I am gifting a blessing or a curse, but I hope it is as much of a blessing to you as it was to me.”
For a second the cloud moved backward. Seemingly away from the thumbling and the grail. A manifestation of Qael’s own surprise. That a mortal would give such a power so freely. But then the cloud moved forward again. Magic lifted the grail up. Taking it within the cloud and filling it with a handful of houllin berries Qael knew would bring prosperity to the future empire. “You are a generous creature. Tell me, what is your name?”
“Tim. I’m a thumbling,” Tim answered simply. “What’s yours?”
“My name matters not. It should not be known by mortals.” Qael said, meaning every word. “Tim the thumbling. been a loyal custodian for this grail and you know its lore and history better than I ever will. I cannot imagine you would want to live out your last few days in some damp cave. So I offer you this: you can join the grail at its new place. At the right hand of my daughter. In a realm she is making where one can dance and sing and feast as your ancestors have. What say you?”
“It’s a mighty fine offer, and I thank you for it,” Tim said sincerely. “But I am a tired soul, and with the grail in new hands and a new future on the wake of the world, it would be time for an old relic like me to get some sleep, same as the Saints.”
“Very well then.” The grail vanished in a flash of chromatic light. Moved from the tomb miles down north in an instant. There it appeared upon the ground of Kal’s hamlet for the other extension of Qael’Naath to find it.
“Goodbye, Tim the thumbling.” The cloud said. “May my brother of death offer you a tranquil time beyond life.” With those words spoken, the cloud rushed out. As if it was carried by a storm’s wind.
“Farewell,” Tim said, laying on his back. He scooted against the pedestal until he was comfortable, and then closed his blind eyes - a big toothless smile frozen on his face.
“Study the eyes.” Darragh said from the benches. Dressed in his heavy cloak. Ciara sat next to him. Leaning forward to focus on the fight. “Eyes of wolves. Already studying the weight of every step.” True warriors. Darragh had no love to spare for Ha-Dûna, but he would not take away the skill of their warriors. Especially not the likes of Boudicca. Blessed by the gods, more than once. People behind him squirmed through. Shouting and waving their cups of mead. The pungent smell was offensive to the old Cenél.
Ciara had an owl’s eyes. Sometimes Darragh thought she saw more than most should. They were trained on Boudicca and the Leoness. The young girl had been shielded from the war only a spare few years ago. Violence like this attracted her still. “Boudicca will win.”
Darragh found that too swift a decision. Duels like these could be influenced by hidden powers. It was why he kept muttering his spells with a natural piece of quartz in his hand. The swirling power of the world that the Cenél beckoned in their rituals was oddly calm. There was no mage here to influence the duel. For now, at least.
Then the drums started. All around the Cenél, people became quiet. Even the drunkards were pulled down and in their intoxicated mind they found the discipline to shut their mouth. Darragh’s heart felt like it stopped. Despite the silence, there was a tension in the benches. “Be careful.” He whispered. To himself, to Ciara, to Boudicca. The ritual of the Kaer started and Darragh began to quietly pray to his own gods. His eyes trained upon the druid. Weighting every sentence and remembering every god praised.
The drums thundered.
“She’s winning.” A smiling Ciara said as she leaned even further. The fight continued. One side giving into mortal exhaustion. The Leoness was weakening but still fierce. She did not give in easily. Yet Darragh's attention was drawn away. The Quartz piece in his hand. For a second he thought he saw a faint glimmer from it. A hint, a touch.
“Something moved.” He whispered. His eyes started looking around. Suddenly he was far too aware of the mounting pressure. More than that of mortals. Something moved through the aether. A terrible sense of foreboding started overwhelming the Fakir. He grabbed Ciara by the shoulder, who looked backwards. Annoyed that her master had to disturb her in a moment like this. But his wild eyes tipped her off. One glance was enough for his own ominous feeling to spread.
Her attention was drawn back towards the arena though. Boudicca stood with a spear at Hilda’s throat. They exchanged words. Ciara thought she heard the word ‘yield’. But something shifted again. The Leoness’ stance didn’t drop in submission.
“Something’s wrong.” Darragh said. His eyes still scanning the cheering and shouting crowds around. Their chants started to shift. Frowns formed. Then his attention was drawn as well. Towards the Leoness. Spouting her truths. Blood drained from Ciara’s face as she heard the words and looked back at him. Darragh looked stoic. He felt vindicated, yet at the same time knew what just happened. New seeds of war came budding up. He hoped the sanndatr would kill those thoughts quickly.
She watered them with blood instead. He pursed his lips. This was bad. Very bad. He and Ciara would have to flee Ha-Dûna tonight. Shrouded in darkness. His worst fear was becoming a reality. He grabbed his apprentice by the arm and started dragging her towards the exit. Pushing people aside. Ciara let herself be pulled, but her eyes were still on the duel below.
And then he stopped. Begging it not to be true. Ciara, concerned, turned to face him. He held up the quartz piece. It was glowing. Both of their eyes turned towards the duel. Boudicca had just pierced Hilda a second time. The crowd was quiet. Darragh was amongst the first to see the blackening of the wound though. He pulled Ciara close. “Run. Run back to the Cenél. Tell them what happened here.”
“What about you!” The girl shouted, already being pushed onwards by her master. Her heart started beating faster. She had smelled the scent of danger. It was putrid. Vomit and blood and angry spit. Her blood turned hot in her veins as the world seemed to slow. Her senses dulled a little. Except for her hearing, which started to pick up random words and shouts.
“I will be right behind you. Just go! Go!” They were nearing the exit. He released Ciara who dutifully pushed on. The quartz crystal was completely bright now as horrid tumours formed on Hilda’s arm. Darragh stood stunned as he witnessed the transformation. Seconds later, its rampage started.
Hundreds of Dûnans started pushing and tearing at each other to get out first. Darragh cast off his heavy cloak as he marched forward. For his age he was still strong. Like all Cenél had to be. He managed to push aside and fight his way through towards an exit. Ciara was nowhere to be seen. “Gods protect her.” He muttered before he made his own way towards the gates amongst the mob of shouts and fear.
People fled to their houses or other places of safety. Men who could armed themselves with spears to fight the demon should it come for their homes. Darragh kept running. Pushing on.Wielding the panic in his heart. Only when he saw the gate did he realize he had left everything. The bark carvings he was working on. The gnarled staff his own Fakir master had given him decades ago. Not for a second did he think about going back. But the gate was already closing. Keeping everyone in to control the chaos.
“Let me through!” Darragh demanded as he stopped to simply walk towards them. Making himself look as big and imposing as possible.
“Get back to your house! You’re safest there.” The guard said. Raising their spears. It was clear from their faces that they didn’t want to hurt anyone. But they would if they had to.
So would Darragh. “I’m really sorry about this. Spredhadh beram a-march.” From the haft of the spear bramble sprouted. Wrapping itself around the man’s hand and lacerating the skin. He dropped in pain. Another stepped aside. But one who was closing the gate turned and pulled his axe from his belt and started to walk towards Darragh.
“No more magic.” He said. He looked veteran. Did he fight in the first wars? Probably. “Nobody died. You can still appeal to the sanndatr, mage.” He didn’t spit the word as Darragh had thought he would. The man held no malice towards the sacred rites.
Which made the next spell so much harder to cast. “I’m really sorry son.” Darragh said as he pulled up the sleeve around his left arm. Revealing burned scared flesh in the form of endless coiling swirls. Darragh reached out with his hand and closed his fist. The burned skin on Darragh’s arm sizzled for a second and the Fakir grimaced.
In an instant the guard’s clothes caught fire. He screamed. Few things were worse than the scream of a burning man. But Darragh had to survive. He pushed aside the burning man, who started rolling over the ground as his fellow guards ran over and tried to extinguish the fire. The Fakir managed to flee through the gates and into the Highlands. Where he kept running. Running until his legs couldn’t carry him anymore. Until he dropped down to his knees and then to the ground. It was already dusk.
Ha-Dûna had to be miles behind him as he laid down, exhausted in the grace. He didn’t want to sleep. Sleep here would kill him. Wolves or Dûnans. But his body couldn’t go anymore. In the distance he swore he heard something approaching. It sounded like hooves. Was it the end? Would he die like this? Maybe he had to. Maybe it was his time. If so he would gladly accept it. His eyes closed. “Sovas take me gently. Ynea hold me close.” He whispered as a final prayer when the hooves were dangerously close.
But they stopped, and he then heard the sound of footsteps approaching. “Already praying to the Winter Gods?” A teasing voice said.
Darragh looked up at the extended arm, and then further up. Into the eyes of another of his kin.
“You have a lot to explain Fakir. But we should get you out of here first.”
Darragh nodded and pulled himself upwards with the extended aid. “Did you find Ciara as well?”
The riders looked at each other and shrugged. “You’re the only Cenél that came from Ha-Dûna.”
Finally, after hours upon hours of brutal beatdowns of ruffians and several calming spells Ha-Dûna once again return to peace - but there was no peace to be found. The people flocked around their sanndatr on a stone, mad as they were with complaints and accusations. At least fifteen people had been killed and tens more were wounded and being tended to by the druids. Boudicca’s voice couldn’t carry over the crowd, and it took several minutes for her and her staff to quiet them down.
“Please! Be calm, my people - we are safe now; the monster is gone!”
“This is what she gets! This is the cost of blasphemy!” There sounded roars of agreement and violent prayers to the gods. Boudicca frowned and tried to quiet them down again.
“Remember, ev- QUIET! Remember, everyone! The Gospel of Sorrow says that--”
“She sinned and the gods saw fit to make her an example! This is what happens when we stray from the path!” yelled a cloaked druid in the crowd. Boudicca grit her teeth and was about to retort when there came a runner, red-faced with exhaustion and frustration and screaming his lungs out:
“SANNDATR! SANNDATR!”
“What?! What is it?!”
“BETRAYAL!” shouted the runner and shoved his way through the crowd. “IT WAS NOT THE GODS! It was Darragh, the Demonspawn of Cenél!”
The crowd turned to him in disbelief; Boudicca, too, was shocked. “What?! What do you mean, ‘it was Darragh’?!”
“When, when the monster appeared, he stormed out of the arena and ran to the gate - there, he killed one of our guards and maimed the other before making his escape!”
“It makes sense!” declared one of the druids. “Darragh hated our people - such was no secret - and the evil Cenél have always practiced the cursed arts!”
“But to do such evil onto one’s hosts… Have they no decency?!”
“The witch that came with him must have helped!”
Boudicca didn’t try to calm the growing rage among the masses anymore. She felt something, something pumping deep within her body and growing larger by the second. She had known this feeling many, many times before, but it had been even more years since last time she had. Now, it returned with a vengeance, and she felt her hand squeeze the hilt of her sword.
Rage.
She quieted the crowd again, her darkened eyes giving her a frightful authority that could pacify leons. Looked towards the east and grit her teeth openly, the area sporting a terrifying silence. Then, she licked her front teeth and glared at the masses. “... Is that how they treat their hosts in Cenél lands…?” She stepped down from the stone and the people parted like a valley before her. Slowly, she walked towards the east, stopping a few paces away. “... Unforgivable. We took them in as though they were our brother and sister. We sent their people supplies, tools and weapons in hopes that our bond would heal again. Is this the price of naïvité?” She flexed her fingers so her leather gloves groaned. “I see now how blind I have been…” The others closed in around her, listening in quiet admiration. “If you still trust me after I let such a blatant traitor in among us, then I swear an oath to you here and now.” She drew her sword and hefted it to the sky, lifting her opposite hand up. As she spoke, she scored her palm open, blood flowing down her arm and dripping into the grass. “I swear to you, my people, that the Cenél will not know peace from my wrath from this day. They have so callously stabbed us in the back, so we will show them -true- dignity and gut them from the front!”
The Dûnans roared their agreement and Boudicca raised her sword higher. “We will burn their petty villages to the ground; their weak will be servants in our temples where they can learn the -only- faith, and the blood of their strong will bring fertility to our crops for years to come! They will be reduced to nothing, their memory lost on the wind along with their blasphemous ways!”
“BOUDICCA, BOUDICCA, BOUDICCA!” chanted the people. Then came another yell, this one also different enough to catch the sanndatr’s attention. It was a woman dragging another by the hair.
“Sanndatr! We found this one trying to escape!” The crowd grew rabid with murderous intent. It was Ciara, black-eyed and beaten. Boudicca offered her not a shred of pity; she sheathed her sword and snarled.
“Lock her in the Temple of Truth. She will disclose everything she knows about her people, or meet eternal suffering in the afterlife.” With that, she turned to the city again. The time had come once again to prepare for war.
Ciara had an owl’s eyes. Sometimes Darragh thought she saw more than most should. They were trained on Boudicca and the Leoness. The young girl had been shielded from the war only a spare few years ago. Violence like this attracted her still. “Boudicca will win.”
Darragh found that too swift a decision. Duels like these could be influenced by hidden powers. It was why he kept muttering his spells with a natural piece of quartz in his hand. The swirling power of the world that the Cenél beckoned in their rituals was oddly calm. There was no mage here to influence the duel. For now, at least.
Then the drums started. All around the Cenél, people became quiet. Even the drunkards were pulled down and in their intoxicated mind they found the discipline to shut their mouth. Darragh’s heart felt like it stopped. Despite the silence, there was a tension in the benches. “Be careful.” He whispered. To himself, to Ciara, to Boudicca. The ritual of the Kaer started and Darragh began to quietly pray to his own gods. His eyes trained upon the druid. Weighting every sentence and remembering every god praised.
The drums thundered.
“She’s winning.” A smiling Ciara said as she leaned even further. The fight continued. One side giving into mortal exhaustion. The Leoness was weakening but still fierce. She did not give in easily. Yet Darragh's attention was drawn away. The Quartz piece in his hand. For a second he thought he saw a faint glimmer from it. A hint, a touch.
“Something moved.” He whispered. His eyes started looking around. Suddenly he was far too aware of the mounting pressure. More than that of mortals. Something moved through the aether. A terrible sense of foreboding started overwhelming the Fakir. He grabbed Ciara by the shoulder, who looked backwards. Annoyed that her master had to disturb her in a moment like this. But his wild eyes tipped her off. One glance was enough for his own ominous feeling to spread.
Her attention was drawn back towards the arena though. Boudicca stood with a spear at Hilda’s throat. They exchanged words. Ciara thought she heard the word ‘yield’. But something shifted again. The Leoness’ stance didn’t drop in submission.
“Something’s wrong.” Darragh said. His eyes still scanning the cheering and shouting crowds around. Their chants started to shift. Frowns formed. Then his attention was drawn as well. Towards the Leoness. Spouting her truths. Blood drained from Ciara’s face as she heard the words and looked back at him. Darragh looked stoic. He felt vindicated, yet at the same time knew what just happened. New seeds of war came budding up. He hoped the sanndatr would kill those thoughts quickly.
She watered them with blood instead. He pursed his lips. This was bad. Very bad. He and Ciara would have to flee Ha-Dûna tonight. Shrouded in darkness. His worst fear was becoming a reality. He grabbed his apprentice by the arm and started dragging her towards the exit. Pushing people aside. Ciara let herself be pulled, but her eyes were still on the duel below.
And then he stopped. Begging it not to be true. Ciara, concerned, turned to face him. He held up the quartz piece. It was glowing. Both of their eyes turned towards the duel. Boudicca had just pierced Hilda a second time. The crowd was quiet. Darragh was amongst the first to see the blackening of the wound though. He pulled Ciara close. “Run. Run back to the Cenél. Tell them what happened here.”
“What about you!” The girl shouted, already being pushed onwards by her master. Her heart started beating faster. She had smelled the scent of danger. It was putrid. Vomit and blood and angry spit. Her blood turned hot in her veins as the world seemed to slow. Her senses dulled a little. Except for her hearing, which started to pick up random words and shouts.
“I will be right behind you. Just go! Go!” They were nearing the exit. He released Ciara who dutifully pushed on. The quartz crystal was completely bright now as horrid tumours formed on Hilda’s arm. Darragh stood stunned as he witnessed the transformation. Seconds later, its rampage started.
Hundreds of Dûnans started pushing and tearing at each other to get out first. Darragh cast off his heavy cloak as he marched forward. For his age he was still strong. Like all Cenél had to be. He managed to push aside and fight his way through towards an exit. Ciara was nowhere to be seen. “Gods protect her.” He muttered before he made his own way towards the gates amongst the mob of shouts and fear.
People fled to their houses or other places of safety. Men who could armed themselves with spears to fight the demon should it come for their homes. Darragh kept running. Pushing on.Wielding the panic in his heart. Only when he saw the gate did he realize he had left everything. The bark carvings he was working on. The gnarled staff his own Fakir master had given him decades ago. Not for a second did he think about going back. But the gate was already closing. Keeping everyone in to control the chaos.
“Let me through!” Darragh demanded as he stopped to simply walk towards them. Making himself look as big and imposing as possible.
“Get back to your house! You’re safest there.” The guard said. Raising their spears. It was clear from their faces that they didn’t want to hurt anyone. But they would if they had to.
So would Darragh. “I’m really sorry about this. Spredhadh beram a-march.” From the haft of the spear bramble sprouted. Wrapping itself around the man’s hand and lacerating the skin. He dropped in pain. Another stepped aside. But one who was closing the gate turned and pulled his axe from his belt and started to walk towards Darragh.
“No more magic.” He said. He looked veteran. Did he fight in the first wars? Probably. “Nobody died. You can still appeal to the sanndatr, mage.” He didn’t spit the word as Darragh had thought he would. The man held no malice towards the sacred rites.
Which made the next spell so much harder to cast. “I’m really sorry son.” Darragh said as he pulled up the sleeve around his left arm. Revealing burned scared flesh in the form of endless coiling swirls. Darragh reached out with his hand and closed his fist. The burned skin on Darragh’s arm sizzled for a second and the Fakir grimaced.
In an instant the guard’s clothes caught fire. He screamed. Few things were worse than the scream of a burning man. But Darragh had to survive. He pushed aside the burning man, who started rolling over the ground as his fellow guards ran over and tried to extinguish the fire. The Fakir managed to flee through the gates and into the Highlands. Where he kept running. Running until his legs couldn’t carry him anymore. Until he dropped down to his knees and then to the ground. It was already dusk.
Ha-Dûna had to be miles behind him as he laid down, exhausted in the grace. He didn’t want to sleep. Sleep here would kill him. Wolves or Dûnans. But his body couldn’t go anymore. In the distance he swore he heard something approaching. It sounded like hooves. Was it the end? Would he die like this? Maybe he had to. Maybe it was his time. If so he would gladly accept it. His eyes closed. “Sovas take me gently. Ynea hold me close.” He whispered as a final prayer when the hooves were dangerously close.
But they stopped, and he then heard the sound of footsteps approaching. “Already praying to the Winter Gods?” A teasing voice said.
Darragh looked up at the extended arm, and then further up. Into the eyes of another of his kin.
“You have a lot to explain Fakir. But we should get you out of here first.”
Darragh nodded and pulled himself upwards with the extended aid. “Did you find Ciara as well?”
The riders looked at each other and shrugged. “You’re the only Cenél that came from Ha-Dûna.”
Finally, after hours upon hours of brutal beatdowns of ruffians and several calming spells Ha-Dûna once again return to peace - but there was no peace to be found. The people flocked around their sanndatr on a stone, mad as they were with complaints and accusations. At least fifteen people had been killed and tens more were wounded and being tended to by the druids. Boudicca’s voice couldn’t carry over the crowd, and it took several minutes for her and her staff to quiet them down.
“Please! Be calm, my people - we are safe now; the monster is gone!”
“This is what she gets! This is the cost of blasphemy!” There sounded roars of agreement and violent prayers to the gods. Boudicca frowned and tried to quiet them down again.
“Remember, ev- QUIET! Remember, everyone! The Gospel of Sorrow says that--”
“She sinned and the gods saw fit to make her an example! This is what happens when we stray from the path!” yelled a cloaked druid in the crowd. Boudicca grit her teeth and was about to retort when there came a runner, red-faced with exhaustion and frustration and screaming his lungs out:
“SANNDATR! SANNDATR!”
“What?! What is it?!”
“BETRAYAL!” shouted the runner and shoved his way through the crowd. “IT WAS NOT THE GODS! It was Darragh, the Demonspawn of Cenél!”
The crowd turned to him in disbelief; Boudicca, too, was shocked. “What?! What do you mean, ‘it was Darragh’?!”
“When, when the monster appeared, he stormed out of the arena and ran to the gate - there, he killed one of our guards and maimed the other before making his escape!”
“It makes sense!” declared one of the druids. “Darragh hated our people - such was no secret - and the evil Cenél have always practiced the cursed arts!”
“But to do such evil onto one’s hosts… Have they no decency?!”
“The witch that came with him must have helped!”
Boudicca didn’t try to calm the growing rage among the masses anymore. She felt something, something pumping deep within her body and growing larger by the second. She had known this feeling many, many times before, but it had been even more years since last time she had. Now, it returned with a vengeance, and she felt her hand squeeze the hilt of her sword.
Rage.
She quieted the crowd again, her darkened eyes giving her a frightful authority that could pacify leons. Looked towards the east and grit her teeth openly, the area sporting a terrifying silence. Then, she licked her front teeth and glared at the masses. “... Is that how they treat their hosts in Cenél lands…?” She stepped down from the stone and the people parted like a valley before her. Slowly, she walked towards the east, stopping a few paces away. “... Unforgivable. We took them in as though they were our brother and sister. We sent their people supplies, tools and weapons in hopes that our bond would heal again. Is this the price of naïvité?” She flexed her fingers so her leather gloves groaned. “I see now how blind I have been…” The others closed in around her, listening in quiet admiration. “If you still trust me after I let such a blatant traitor in among us, then I swear an oath to you here and now.” She drew her sword and hefted it to the sky, lifting her opposite hand up. As she spoke, she scored her palm open, blood flowing down her arm and dripping into the grass. “I swear to you, my people, that the Cenél will not know peace from my wrath from this day. They have so callously stabbed us in the back, so we will show them -true- dignity and gut them from the front!”
The Dûnans roared their agreement and Boudicca raised her sword higher. “We will burn their petty villages to the ground; their weak will be servants in our temples where they can learn the -only- faith, and the blood of their strong will bring fertility to our crops for years to come! They will be reduced to nothing, their memory lost on the wind along with their blasphemous ways!”
“BOUDICCA, BOUDICCA, BOUDICCA!” chanted the people. Then came another yell, this one also different enough to catch the sanndatr’s attention. It was a woman dragging another by the hair.
“Sanndatr! We found this one trying to escape!” The crowd grew rabid with murderous intent. It was Ciara, black-eyed and beaten. Boudicca offered her not a shred of pity; she sheathed her sword and snarled.
“Lock her in the Temple of Truth. She will disclose everything she knows about her people, or meet eternal suffering in the afterlife.” With that, she turned to the city again. The time had come once again to prepare for war.
Old Friends, Old Feelings
The Ball
Hel & Skadi
“You can go.” Hel stood over a corpse lying on the cold steel of the autopsy table. Bright, luminescent lights beamed down over it. The cadaver looked oddly peaceful, even with a bullet hole in between his eyes. The mortuarium in of itself was an oddly bright and open place. While the rooms where they performed their autopsies had those cold, sterile white tiles the antechamber before it was made of a more pleasant wood and windows. Though with the massive bulbs hanging over the steel slab, it felt like day. While in fact, it had just passed 7 a.m.
A girl looked up from behind a nearby cold, steel desk as she wrote something. “Are you sure, Mrs- I mean miss Krogh.” Jessie, the girl, brushed aside her long auburn hair as she spoke. It looked a little endearing. “I can stay. I don’t really like parties.” That was a lie, and Hel knew it. The girl had far too many wild party stories to not like parties. Though she didn’t really know why she would die. For the past few weeks now, she had joined Hel as an intern while she studied anatomy as a major.
“It’s okay.” Hel said as she walked up to the girl and took the clipboard she was holding on the desk. Her eyes scanned through the form. It was filled in perfectly. Her eyes turned to look at an anticipating Jessie. “Yeah, you’ve done more than enough for me today. Go and enjoy yourself. It’s a Friday evening, after all.” Hel said as she was about to turn around and walk back towards the corpse. The cause of death was simple enough, even if you forwent Occam’s Razor. All she had to do was draw blood and get it to the lab.
“Thank you!” The girl squealed as she suddenly rounded the desk and hugged Hel tightly. Surprising the older goddess of death. As a reaction, she almost hugged the girl back but then pulled back. Not wanting to subject her to any freezing embrace. Instead, she just lightly put her own head against the girls. A moment later, Jessie released her and ran towards the changing rooms to throw off the PP&E. Leaving Hel alone in the mortuarium.
The goddess just continued with her work. Drawing blood and other needed tissue samples for the lab. From the corner of her mind, she heard Jessie shout: “See you next week!” From Jessie. She just smiled and raised a bloody hand to wave at her as she left. Maybe she should remove the bullet as well. So she didn’t need to do it on Monday. With that done, she realized the labs probably closed already. For a second, she looked at the samples of blood sitting on her desk. It was getting late, but she could do them. She could tend to the graves later tonight. They wouldn’t run away.
The bloodwork didn’t take so long. Though Hel found herself stare out the window from time to time as she waited for a centrifuge or some other machine to finish its cycle. The sun was already down, casting the whole world in a familiar sensing shroud. Maybe she could take a little stroll through the city. Walk along the water. Hear the siren call of the waves. Maybe later, after she tended to the graves.
The fates had other plans when Skadi’s message made Hel’s ancient flip phone buzz. She frowned as she read the message. She loved Skadi dearly, but the Jötunn had a strange habit of bothering the goddess of death at times with things she preferred not to be bothered by. The message didn’t even attempt to hide away the lie. For a moment she just wanted to put down the phone and ignore it. But then guilt started gnawing at her. She couldn’t see her own family for obvious reasons, but she had no such reason not to see Skadi, and it had been ages since she last saw her Norse friend. It was unfair of Hel to ignore her now even if she felt apprehension about the party in every fiber of her body.
I’ll be there in an hour. She texted back as she got into her Mercedes. And as promised, an hour later a very friendly Uber delivered her to the party’s main entrance. Which was flanked on both sides by scores of photographers that were as utterly disinterested in her as she was in them. The goddess walked across the red carpet as if it was laid out specifically for her and showed her invitation to those at the door. Who graciously let her pass. Inside though she garnered more attention. Despite the fact that Hel felt like she was dressed for a fight. Chainmail was replaced by a black dress, the kohl around her eyes was replaced by impeccable eyeliner and her hair that normally was braided in the fashion of a shieldmaiden now hung loose down her shoulders. Skadi was easy enough to find.
Hel approached her, making sure she walked into her view before ever being near. She flashed the Jôtunn a small smile. “You know that Draugr are a real danger, right?” she said, only half-joking.
An innocent smile tugged the corners of Skadi’s lips up as she gave a diligent nod. Yes, of course, the Draugr were plagues upon this earth, but- “Being so dutiful and neglecting your friends and yourself is also dangerous, Hel.” Skadi met her friend the rest of the way and threw a friendly arm around her shoulders in a quick side hug. Showing her affections came easily to the Goddess, but she was aware Hel didn’t always have an easy time accepting said affections, so she kept it brief.
“Well, you look gorgeous. Is slaying ghost-monsters in designer brands a requirement for the seance?” The question was utterly playful, and Skadi made quick work of snagging champagne from a passing tray for the two of them to enjoy, “Here it’s expensive, so it’s good.” Skadi passed the flute to her friends before leading them closer to the outskirts of the busybodies networking and schmoozing, “I needed someone reliable to be here when all of this goes to shit. Can’t bring all the gods to one place without madness quickly following- if the last four conclaves have been any indication.”
The goddess of the dead turned a little red at the mention of her dress. “Well…It’s just… I don’t think they would’ve let me in wearing leather armor.” She knew Skadi was joking… probably. The Jötunn goddess was one of the few of the Norse pantheon that she could talk to freely. While she didn’t do it often enough, she did believe she knew her well enough to know when she was joking. Or so she hoped. Hel let herself be guided away from the main mass of people. Something she was grateful for. Then she got a glass of champagne thrust in her hands. “Oh I… I really shouldn’t.” And with a quick hand she managed to place the still full glass on a pass waiter carrying away empty glasses.
She was, however, not as gullible as Skadi might make her out to be. “I’m very happy to see you again.” She said, even though she hadn’t returned the hug. Skadi understood that about Hel a long time ago, luckily. “But…why did we have to meet here?” She then asked. The huntress knew full well that a party like this, with so many people, was not something for Hel. The living were so… alive. The dead were easier to care for. Easier to be around. Simpler. Calmer. Right now, despite the classical music play she felt a pressure in the room. Bearing down on her, expending her energy with every step taken and word said. She finally stopped Skadi and turned to face her, still with a bright smile on her face. “And before you try to lie-“ She raised her hand to keep the energetic huntress quiet for a bit longer. “I know you too well to have you pretend like you wouldn’t love the madness that will come soon enough. And when the time comes, it’s not like you really need me.”
Skadi’s eyes briefly trailed to a certain oblivious honey blonde haired man, eyes narrowing slightly with annoyance before returning to Hel. The history between them all was complicated, but especially between Hel and Baldr, well- Hel and everyone. Skiing along snow-capped mountains and rocketing downhill away from the loneliness that always chased after her was a choice she made as a goddess and something she was thankful to be rid of when she was “born” into this new life. Watching Hel continue her ways of isolation hurt Skadi in a way she couldn’t find the words to rationalize, and so she tried to pull Hel out of it little by little. Her meddling’s current goal was to melt the ice around the goddess’s heart, but her supporting crew provided more burden than they did aid.
Skadi couldn’t reveal her plan to Hel, not now at least, “I would never pretend not to be amused by the dealings of men. They’re interesting creatures, but sometimes I crave a more dependable and enjoyable company. Plus, nothing beats the company of the keeper of the dead who likes to pretend to hate you.” Skadi replied easily and bumped her hip into Hel’s as she nodded her head towards Thanatos and Baldr, “Added bonus is you make Than squirm like no one else can, and he’s already annoying me tonight. Don’t you have a little school girl crush on him or something? Or is it the “beloved by all” that reminds you of the heart in your chest?”
Hel playfully rolled her eyes at the hip bump to make her turn to look at Thanatos. She didn’t understand the problem. He brought clean deaths! Every death he caused went peacefully on its way. None of them ever became draugr. Even recently an elderly woman told her she’s grateful for his final blessing. It took the pain away. She was looking at him as the small smile formed. She’d have to tell him that, he would probably love to hear it.
Then her eyes fell upon Baldr. Skadi’s teasing words suddenly sounded distant. For a second Hel became dangerously aware of her own beating heart, and how it was beating just a little bit more forceful now. He was talking with Thanatos. The sight gave her a pang of yearning. Of wanting to be in the place of Thanatos, with all of Baldr’s attention on her again. Like in the old days down in Helheim. But that same memory conjured up the pleas of Freya and the other Aesir for him to return. “I had to let go.” She whispered. Even then she knew she had to let him go.
She turned away again when she realized her face was growing hot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She quickly rebutted Skadi with a smile, but her idle fingers were fidgeting. She needed something to do. Work to distract her. “Baldr and I are just friends.” A friend to meet up with. But only alone. Never surrounded by other people. She wasn’t good with other people. “Yeah, just friends.” If she repeated it often enough, would she finally start feeling like it?
“Oh? Is that so?” Skadi held back her smirk as she leaned closer to Hel, studying her expression for a moment before quickly pulling herself away. The faintest tinting of pink of Hel’s cheeks filled Skadi with a feeling of victory, “Well then, what are you waiting for, go say hi to your friends! I’ll catch up after I track down a glass of Sauvignon!”
Skadi pushed her palm against her friend’s back in an encouraging way before she was twirling off after her next whim.
The goddess of death didn’t entirely register what just happened. One moment she was talking with Skadi, then the goddess of the hunt shoved her towards Thanatos and Baldr. Hel turned around again, and moved to hide behind one of the columns. Trying to find her rather insistent friend. “You know I can’t talk to him with people around.” She said even though Skadi was nowhere around. No, no she couldn’t talk to him now. After all, it would be rude. Yes, rude! Rude because Thanatos and him were probably having a riveting conversation. Who was she to interrupt that? No, no she would say ‘hi’ later. When there were less people around. Or maybe tomorrow, over breakfast. Her eyes darted around, trying to find some familiar faces to hide amongst. She spotted no-one but she couldn’t stay here, in the almost-open where she could be found. Swallowing her own unease she stepped off into the same crowd forming around the bar after Skadi. Knowing there was no way to find the huntress.
“How about Zenith?” Kal asked, sitting on his rock. Soleira was just taking a break in the shade of the trees near him.
She perked up and turned to look at him. “What about it?”
“Your way of magic.” Kal said. “You say you control the wind so far.” Soleira nodded. “And the way you perform it… it’s gentle. Calming. A simple question. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s more like… a view of life. The idea that you shouldn’t force anything. You flow with whatever happens and so achieve more magical power. Not because you take it but because you ask for it.”
Soleira just smiled. “People seem to like talking about deeper things with me lately.” She quipped. Which brought a smile on Kal’s face as well. But then she got a little bit more serious. “I like it. Zenith. Height, right?” She looked up at the multi-colored sky. “Maybe it would give me control over more as well.” She wished she could manipulate light someday. Fracture it like water would and cast a rainbow of colors upon the land. “But maybe it should be about more than just magic. You said my viewpoint on life gives me the ability to control magic. What if Zenith isn’t just about using that viewpoint. What if Zenith is about attaining that viewpoint as well.”
The old man leaned back against the stone as to make himself comfortable before motioning at her: “Please then, teach us.”
The Oraeliari was surprised for a second, and then tried to gather her thoughts to make some eloquent teachings. Like Kiim’Jaav’Guul had done. It didn’t really work. So she just decided to talk truly. “It starts with that.” She said, pointing at the earth.
Kal raised an eyebrow. “Farming?”
“No. Well… yes. Tending a field. By hand. It gives you time, you know. Lets you reflect upon things. It’s good exercise as well. Which is important if you want to think clearly.” Something she realized some years ago. “And you do it together. With everyone around you. There will be too much food coming from the field you work but that’s also part of the thinking. It’s selflessness. Everything made in excess goes to other people.”
The old man rubbed his chin. “And this is your idea for the viewpoint?” He asked, without any judgement.
“Well, it’s the start.” Soleira said, visibly looking happier for finally having pulled those ideas together. “So… what’s yours called?”
Kal had already been looking out towards the horizon. Pondering upon Zenith. How he might help it. Improve it a little. Make it a genuine path for mortals to walk upon. The question took him by surprise as well. “My way? Oh you mean…” The arrogance. The confidence. Demanding the world to change for you. Be unyielding and unmoving. “I… never thought about it. I’ve always just called it sorcery. Thinking it as the only way to use it.” That was no longer true, and he realized sorcery simply wouldn’t cut it anymore. In regards of the ideas of Zenith it was polar opposite though. “Nadir.” He finally said. “I think I’ll call it Nadir.”
Again the two carried their discussions long into the night. This time though, Soleira woke up in her own bed. For days on Soleira would first help with the ards and oxen before sitting in the shade and talking at length about how she saw the world and how it related to magic. It didn’t take long before people gathered around them. With sticks the two of them began to explain each their viewpoints as they drew into the dirt. Quickly realizing that they weren’t in opposition but complimentary to each other. Where before the concepts were thought separate, they were then taught in relation to each other. Sadly, that started to draw ire.
It was on a cloudy day when the two were talking as much to each other as they were with the people around them when two people approached the group. “Telinar Timor has summoned your presence.” The two said. Kal, confused, looked at Soleira. Who looked a bit pale. “They’re… mages. They use magic. Normally they stick around in their villages and such. I didn’t think they’d ever come to Soleras.” Kal cocked an eyebrow at that, but decided to play along for now. The two of them followed the two men towards the edge of the quickly growing village. There they met a small gathering of people. Each looking rather richly dressed for the area. With visible gold jewelry. Soleira, been given the title of Queen, didn’t even have anything silver on her. Save for the golden pendant of course.
“Greetings friends, greetings.” A man wearing a mask said. On his back he carried a strange construct of feathers. Seemingly meant to mimic folded wings. Compared to Soleira’s real wings they looked utterly ridiculous. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Telinar Timor. I understand that you are a stranger to these lands.” He said, pointing his staff at Kal. Who chuckled but nodded. “Well then. Allow me to explain. A Telinar, as I am, asks the gods for help and pay the price required. So we may shape the world.”
“So you’re a druid? You drank from the horn?” Kal asked.
“The horn? Oh you must mean that wretched thing that cuts you off from the gods their anima. Oh heavens no. We would never stoop so low. Though it is interesting that you know of it. Anyway, no we mostly work the anima as the gods see fit for us. But enough about me. Some goodhearted people have told me a few things about the two of you. Claiming you have found a new way to manipulate the anima. Tell me, is it true?”
Soleira stepped forth. “It is.” She said, undeterred by the rather condescending tone of the man. “Zenith and Nadir. Strength and compassion. Demand and ask. And it works.”
“Hmm, I’m sure it does.” The Telinar said. “You may not grasp it yet, but what you are using is probably demonic and dangerous. Use it too much and you will summon a demon, which will devour you whole.”
“I…” Soleira looked shocked at the man. Summon a demon? She heard stories but.. she never felt as if her own magic was in any way so evil. “I didn’t know.”
“Ah, there are many things you don’t know my child.” The man said.
Kal could almost feel the vile smile burning through his mask. But then noticed something. His eyes. Not one color but a hundred, fractured like glass shattered in his eyes. His squinted. “He’s lying.” Kal said as he stepped forward.
The Telinar looked at him. “I will allow that, stranger. But I am not. Both of you are playing with dangerous powers you’d best avoid.”
“Another lie.” Kal said, as he now stood right in front of the masked man. Though he was quite a bit smaller considering the mortal body’s age. “The magic we practice is the same magic you use. In fact, it has nothing to do with the gods. You’re not asking anything of them. You’re using anima, and I would be insulted if you pretend you had any connection to any god.”
For a second the two men waged a silent war of wills. They stared each other down. Seeing who would relent first. Neither did. Finally Timor spoke up: “Very well, stranger. I will prove to you my power. A duel of magic. Do you accept.”
“I do.”
Five minutes later they stood opposite of each other. Twenty meters stood between them. A brazier was burning in front of the Telinar. Soleira stood on the sidelines, clutching the amulet the Three had given her not so long ago. Afraid of what was about to happen. Why did people always have to fight!?
With a silent signal the battle commenced. Except Kal did nothing. He just stood there, grinning.
Timor spared no time to pull out the image of a bear with a half-moon carved on it’s belly and crushed it in his hands, letting the crumbled pieces fall into the brazier. For a second a pale white light flickered around him. Then he conjured out a clay tablet showing three arrows, each copper-tipped. He flicked a knife across a fingertip and coated it with blood, before throwing into the smoldering brazier as well. Strangely enough, the tablet ignited instantly. Bright blue flames consumed it whole. Leaving nothing but ash. From three points in the ground around Kal giant stone triangles emerged and roared straight towards Kal. Slamming around him. Apparently the Telinar wanted to be sure. Because he also conjured up a red gem and tossed it in the brazier. It burned in much the same way as the tablet. Fire burst from between the stone. Engulfing everything that had been within.
“Kal!” Soleira screamed.
For a second the Telinar had a satisfied grin on his face. Until the brazier before him flickered and went out.
“Not bad.”
Everyone could hear coming from the rock formation where Kal stood just a moment ago. Part of it began to move and crumble. Revealing an utterly untouched Kal walking out of the makeshift stone tomb. The stone inside was entirely blackened but not even his hair was singed. “If you were on the right side of history I could make you impress me. As it stands though, you and your people seem to be suffering under some delusions of grandeur. I suppose I will have to make an example out of you.” He drew his stone knife from his belt and slowly started walking towards a desperate Telinar. Who threw carved objects of bone, clay and wood into the extinguished brazier. With every step he became visibly more desperate, but nothing ignited in blue flames.
Eventually he snatched off the very small, golden pendant from his neck and raised it up. “Gods give me strength in exchange for this gold!” He shouted out. For a second everyone stood completely still. Waiting for something to happen.
“Let’s end this charade.” Qael raised a single hand and roots of trees burst from the ground. Wrapping themselves around the man’s arms and spreading them out. The grabbed him by the throat and pushed him down to his knees. He was pleading. Qael, up in his own realm watching through the mortal’s eyes, began to see why Auriëlle loved this so much. Kal back on Galbar raised his knife to strike down at the man.
As it came down, it bounced off a suddenly appearing light-blue translucent shield. His eyes grew wide as he looked at Soleira. She had been crying. Tears still streamed down her face but there was only determination in her eyes. “Don’t kill him, Kal. Please.”
“He stands against our creation. Against what we made.” Kal said.
“I know.” Soleira said as she stepped closer. “But I can’t let you kill him.”
Kal and Qael, neither fully understood the turmoil that was raging inside them now. “I’m doing this for Zenith and Nadir. I’m doing this for you.” The Telinar deserved to die. But at the same time he never wanted to go against his own daughter. Even now he could see the sadness in her eyes.
“And I’m doing this for us.” Soleira said, still determined. “If you kill him now, Zenith and Nadir will forever be tainted. Made on a base of blood. I can’t let that happen. Please, please put the knife down.” Kal realized she wasn’t telling or ordering him, as she should as queen, but she was pleading with him.
His heart shrunk in his chest. He looked at the stone knife in his hand. After a second he dropped it. The sharp point fell down into the earth. He started walking away from the scene. With a single tap of his staff the roots coiled off of the Telinar. Who fell over onto the ground. Though when he stood beside Soleira he stopped: “Remember, he tried to kill me and you didn’t stop him then. You will have to act faster, Soleira.” And then he walked away.
She perked up and turned to look at him. “What about it?”
“Your way of magic.” Kal said. “You say you control the wind so far.” Soleira nodded. “And the way you perform it… it’s gentle. Calming. A simple question. But maybe it’s more than that. Maybe it’s more like… a view of life. The idea that you shouldn’t force anything. You flow with whatever happens and so achieve more magical power. Not because you take it but because you ask for it.”
Soleira just smiled. “People seem to like talking about deeper things with me lately.” She quipped. Which brought a smile on Kal’s face as well. But then she got a little bit more serious. “I like it. Zenith. Height, right?” She looked up at the multi-colored sky. “Maybe it would give me control over more as well.” She wished she could manipulate light someday. Fracture it like water would and cast a rainbow of colors upon the land. “But maybe it should be about more than just magic. You said my viewpoint on life gives me the ability to control magic. What if Zenith isn’t just about using that viewpoint. What if Zenith is about attaining that viewpoint as well.”
The old man leaned back against the stone as to make himself comfortable before motioning at her: “Please then, teach us.”
The Oraeliari was surprised for a second, and then tried to gather her thoughts to make some eloquent teachings. Like Kiim’Jaav’Guul had done. It didn’t really work. So she just decided to talk truly. “It starts with that.” She said, pointing at the earth.
Kal raised an eyebrow. “Farming?”
“No. Well… yes. Tending a field. By hand. It gives you time, you know. Lets you reflect upon things. It’s good exercise as well. Which is important if you want to think clearly.” Something she realized some years ago. “And you do it together. With everyone around you. There will be too much food coming from the field you work but that’s also part of the thinking. It’s selflessness. Everything made in excess goes to other people.”
The old man rubbed his chin. “And this is your idea for the viewpoint?” He asked, without any judgement.
“Well, it’s the start.” Soleira said, visibly looking happier for finally having pulled those ideas together. “So… what’s yours called?”
Kal had already been looking out towards the horizon. Pondering upon Zenith. How he might help it. Improve it a little. Make it a genuine path for mortals to walk upon. The question took him by surprise as well. “My way? Oh you mean…” The arrogance. The confidence. Demanding the world to change for you. Be unyielding and unmoving. “I… never thought about it. I’ve always just called it sorcery. Thinking it as the only way to use it.” That was no longer true, and he realized sorcery simply wouldn’t cut it anymore. In regards of the ideas of Zenith it was polar opposite though. “Nadir.” He finally said. “I think I’ll call it Nadir.”
Again the two carried their discussions long into the night. This time though, Soleira woke up in her own bed. For days on Soleira would first help with the ards and oxen before sitting in the shade and talking at length about how she saw the world and how it related to magic. It didn’t take long before people gathered around them. With sticks the two of them began to explain each their viewpoints as they drew into the dirt. Quickly realizing that they weren’t in opposition but complimentary to each other. Where before the concepts were thought separate, they were then taught in relation to each other. Sadly, that started to draw ire.
It was on a cloudy day when the two were talking as much to each other as they were with the people around them when two people approached the group. “Telinar Timor has summoned your presence.” The two said. Kal, confused, looked at Soleira. Who looked a bit pale. “They’re… mages. They use magic. Normally they stick around in their villages and such. I didn’t think they’d ever come to Soleras.” Kal cocked an eyebrow at that, but decided to play along for now. The two of them followed the two men towards the edge of the quickly growing village. There they met a small gathering of people. Each looking rather richly dressed for the area. With visible gold jewelry. Soleira, been given the title of Queen, didn’t even have anything silver on her. Save for the golden pendant of course.
“Greetings friends, greetings.” A man wearing a mask said. On his back he carried a strange construct of feathers. Seemingly meant to mimic folded wings. Compared to Soleira’s real wings they looked utterly ridiculous. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Telinar Timor. I understand that you are a stranger to these lands.” He said, pointing his staff at Kal. Who chuckled but nodded. “Well then. Allow me to explain. A Telinar, as I am, asks the gods for help and pay the price required. So we may shape the world.”
“So you’re a druid? You drank from the horn?” Kal asked.
“The horn? Oh you must mean that wretched thing that cuts you off from the gods their anima. Oh heavens no. We would never stoop so low. Though it is interesting that you know of it. Anyway, no we mostly work the anima as the gods see fit for us. But enough about me. Some goodhearted people have told me a few things about the two of you. Claiming you have found a new way to manipulate the anima. Tell me, is it true?”
Soleira stepped forth. “It is.” She said, undeterred by the rather condescending tone of the man. “Zenith and Nadir. Strength and compassion. Demand and ask. And it works.”
“Hmm, I’m sure it does.” The Telinar said. “You may not grasp it yet, but what you are using is probably demonic and dangerous. Use it too much and you will summon a demon, which will devour you whole.”
“I…” Soleira looked shocked at the man. Summon a demon? She heard stories but.. she never felt as if her own magic was in any way so evil. “I didn’t know.”
“Ah, there are many things you don’t know my child.” The man said.
Kal could almost feel the vile smile burning through his mask. But then noticed something. His eyes. Not one color but a hundred, fractured like glass shattered in his eyes. His squinted. “He’s lying.” Kal said as he stepped forward.
The Telinar looked at him. “I will allow that, stranger. But I am not. Both of you are playing with dangerous powers you’d best avoid.”
“Another lie.” Kal said, as he now stood right in front of the masked man. Though he was quite a bit smaller considering the mortal body’s age. “The magic we practice is the same magic you use. In fact, it has nothing to do with the gods. You’re not asking anything of them. You’re using anima, and I would be insulted if you pretend you had any connection to any god.”
For a second the two men waged a silent war of wills. They stared each other down. Seeing who would relent first. Neither did. Finally Timor spoke up: “Very well, stranger. I will prove to you my power. A duel of magic. Do you accept.”
“I do.”
Five minutes later they stood opposite of each other. Twenty meters stood between them. A brazier was burning in front of the Telinar. Soleira stood on the sidelines, clutching the amulet the Three had given her not so long ago. Afraid of what was about to happen. Why did people always have to fight!?
With a silent signal the battle commenced. Except Kal did nothing. He just stood there, grinning.
Timor spared no time to pull out the image of a bear with a half-moon carved on it’s belly and crushed it in his hands, letting the crumbled pieces fall into the brazier. For a second a pale white light flickered around him. Then he conjured out a clay tablet showing three arrows, each copper-tipped. He flicked a knife across a fingertip and coated it with blood, before throwing into the smoldering brazier as well. Strangely enough, the tablet ignited instantly. Bright blue flames consumed it whole. Leaving nothing but ash. From three points in the ground around Kal giant stone triangles emerged and roared straight towards Kal. Slamming around him. Apparently the Telinar wanted to be sure. Because he also conjured up a red gem and tossed it in the brazier. It burned in much the same way as the tablet. Fire burst from between the stone. Engulfing everything that had been within.
“Kal!” Soleira screamed.
For a second the Telinar had a satisfied grin on his face. Until the brazier before him flickered and went out.
“Not bad.”
Everyone could hear coming from the rock formation where Kal stood just a moment ago. Part of it began to move and crumble. Revealing an utterly untouched Kal walking out of the makeshift stone tomb. The stone inside was entirely blackened but not even his hair was singed. “If you were on the right side of history I could make you impress me. As it stands though, you and your people seem to be suffering under some delusions of grandeur. I suppose I will have to make an example out of you.” He drew his stone knife from his belt and slowly started walking towards a desperate Telinar. Who threw carved objects of bone, clay and wood into the extinguished brazier. With every step he became visibly more desperate, but nothing ignited in blue flames.
Eventually he snatched off the very small, golden pendant from his neck and raised it up. “Gods give me strength in exchange for this gold!” He shouted out. For a second everyone stood completely still. Waiting for something to happen.
“Let’s end this charade.” Qael raised a single hand and roots of trees burst from the ground. Wrapping themselves around the man’s arms and spreading them out. The grabbed him by the throat and pushed him down to his knees. He was pleading. Qael, up in his own realm watching through the mortal’s eyes, began to see why Auriëlle loved this so much. Kal back on Galbar raised his knife to strike down at the man.
As it came down, it bounced off a suddenly appearing light-blue translucent shield. His eyes grew wide as he looked at Soleira. She had been crying. Tears still streamed down her face but there was only determination in her eyes. “Don’t kill him, Kal. Please.”
“He stands against our creation. Against what we made.” Kal said.
“I know.” Soleira said as she stepped closer. “But I can’t let you kill him.”
Kal and Qael, neither fully understood the turmoil that was raging inside them now. “I’m doing this for Zenith and Nadir. I’m doing this for you.” The Telinar deserved to die. But at the same time he never wanted to go against his own daughter. Even now he could see the sadness in her eyes.
“And I’m doing this for us.” Soleira said, still determined. “If you kill him now, Zenith and Nadir will forever be tainted. Made on a base of blood. I can’t let that happen. Please, please put the knife down.” Kal realized she wasn’t telling or ordering him, as she should as queen, but she was pleading with him.
His heart shrunk in his chest. He looked at the stone knife in his hand. After a second he dropped it. The sharp point fell down into the earth. He started walking away from the scene. With a single tap of his staff the roots coiled off of the Telinar. Who fell over onto the ground. Though when he stood beside Soleira he stopped: “Remember, he tried to kill me and you didn’t stop him then. You will have to act faster, Soleira.” And then he walked away.
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