Elespeth snorted and folded her arms. Leave it to Hadwin to not only take a mile with the inch he was given, but to take it entirely in the wrong direction. “No--that isn’t why we despise you,” she told him with a flat and austere countenance. “We take issue with your shameless displays of… well, absolutely everything. Whether you are taunting someone with their fears or throwing them off guard because you’re taking off your damned close in a public space.” She shook her head, and scratched the back of her neck. “But… I suppose there is not denying that your unabashed lack of shame does liken you to the necromancer. I am sure the two of you would get along swimmingly, should you meet.”
Dropping her arms to her sides, she glanced one last time over her shoulder at the door of Teselin’s current dwelling. “I don’t offer trust or confidence lightly. So I suggest you don’t abuse it and prove me a fool for throwing you a bone.” The former Atvanian was about to leave, when Hadwin’s final comment stopped her short. She could have sworn her heart faltered. No; he’s playing me, a reassuring voice tried to placate her, in light of the ceremony that had taken place tonight. We couldn’t be more connected, not after strengthening our bond…
And yet, despite their precautions… what reason would the shapeshifter have for lying to her about something so specific?
Turning back to him, Elespeth didn’t bother to wipe her face clean of suspicion and concern. But neither did she accuse him of lying; it wasn’t reasonable, or rational, after everything he had just divulged. “...what do you mean?” The topic was too serious and too sensitive to be discussed from afar. The former knight closed the distance between them on quick feet, her face already drained of the radiance that it had accumulated that evening. “If you’re talking about… the Serpent, then I already know. He’s already shared his concerns with me. That is why we chose to have this ceremony tonight, before we must part ways and deal with the evacuation one one hand, and Solveig on the other. If I cannot be near him to keep him grounded, then I want to be able to reach him from afar.” She looked down at her hand, the bandages stained a dark burgundy from her blood. It had worked--she had felt it work, just as she had felt the entire world move when they made love, so strong was their renewed connection.
But what if it wasn’t enough?”
“Or… are you referring to something else? What did you see, Hadwin?” Although she managed to keep her panic under wraps, she could not tame the urgency in her tone, green eyes sharp with concern. “What do you mean he is slipping? If there is something else going on that I do not know about, and that Alster will not tell me, then you must let me know. I won’t be with him to keep the Serpent’s influence in check when he leads Stella D’Mare’s population to safety, then that could mean he and everyone else will be at risk. It may mean… that we’ll have to make changes in our plan.”
Pressing her lips together, she glanced in the direction of the celebration, where witchlight glowed and music hovered on the air. Of course, she would find a reason to spoil tonight’s last fleeting chance at happiness… and, of course, she would find it through Hadwin. “If it isn’t safe to leave him alone, then either someone else will need to be in charge of leading Rigases and D’Marians away from the city, or I will have to pass off my role in handling Solveig to Sigrid. She has already offered to help on my behalf… of course, I refused, for it is not her fight, and I’d personally love to see the Captain of the Forbanne go down. But if it is necessary, we may need to make this switch. So you need to tell me what he won’t tell me.” And then she added, after a pause, “I’m willing to try and learn to trust you, again. So if that matters to you at all… then we can start off again on the right foot, right now, if you’ll tell me what I should be wary of.”
In spite of the bravado she spouted about her awe-inspiring waltzing skills, the Dawn warrior was engulfed by a moment of nervousness as she took one of Naimah’s hands, and placed her other hand at her lower back, drawing her close. What if she completely messed this up and stepped on her toes? Sigrid was by no means practiced in courtship, however meaningful or insignificant, and Naimah, on the other hand, was a master of quickly finding out what it was people wanted. Particularly among so many well-practiced and upstanding Rigases who had had the opportunity to hone their skills for years, what if she stood out for the gap in quality?
“I have a confession; I lied to you.” She said, with an apologetic smile. “I am likely only passable at the waltz… hopefully enough not to make any glaring mistakes. But I figure it is better to be honest, up front, than to disappoint you later. I’ll offer you this window of opportunity to back out, should you so choose.”
But Naimah was already dedicated to the prospect of this dance, and did not pursue the offer to find a more suitable partner. Of course, this put the pressure on Sigrid, but she took up position, and as soon as the music started… well, she seemed to remember exactly what she was doing. Sigrid took in the rhythm and movement of the song, and adjusted her own movements accordingly, leading her Kariji companion in a more than just passable waltz. Naimah must have noticed, for her compliment seemed genuine, and made the Dawn warrior blush. “What can I say? Alster is a fair and capable teacher. And I suppose I am a dutiful and attentive student. To be honest… this is more nerve-wracking than when I danced with Haraldur’s wife, Eyraille’s Skyknight princess.” A light laugh tore from her lungs. “In that circumstance, I didn’t have a choice. And Vega is practiced enough to make the both of us look good. I’ve got more to lose, putting my dance reputation on the line by trying to impress you.”
She twirled Naimah out and spun her back into her arms. Strange, how they had only met some hours ago, and yet this did not feel unusual or awkward at all. “I think Alster is feeling remorse for trying to get me to dance with another woman, back in Eyraille. She reminded me too much of the woman who broke my heart, so… well, I ran in the other direction.” Sigrid chuckled. It was easy to laugh about the situation now, but at the time, it had been paralyzing. “I wouldn’t put it past him to invite you to his wedding. He wants the whole world to witness his union with Elespeth; he made that much clear, this evening.”
At her mention of being evaluated, Sigrid started, looking this way and that to see if the Rigas caster’s eyes really were judging her form, but found herself gently redirected by Naimah’s hand on her cheek. She wondered if the Kariji woman could feel the way her touch warmed her blood beneath the surface.
It came as a relief that she took no offense to the personal question, and Sigrid was able to gain more insight about the alluring woman in her arms by her answer. It made perfect sense; had she continued her life as a traditional Kariji woman, then there wouldn’t have been a choice, and she’d likely have a husband. Strange, how such a terrible turn of events in her life could ultimately have provided her more freedom than she would have had, otherwise. The freedom to choose, to drift where she pleased, and toward what--or rather, who--pleased her.
“There are plenty of tall people here, you know,” the Dawn warrior countered, loving her sly smile all the same. “Don’t tell me the only reason I caught your eye is because I am tall. Or else I might begin to think I really have nothing better going for me. Though if it was enough to attract your company… then I suppose I have nothing to complain about.”
When the song drew to an end, Sigrid bowed and took Naimah’s hand, where she planted a kiss above her fingers. “I can’t thank you enough for the dance,” she said, and gratitude saturated her voice. “I’d like to hope it will not be our last.”
With the Kariji woman at her side, the Dawn warrior regrouped with Alster and her cousin, the former who decided to pass judgment on her form, after all. Of course, she couldn’t take it seriously for even a moment. She’d come to know Alster too well already in the time they’d spent together, and he was too soft-hearted to mean any of the words that he so carefully tried to put across as stern and uninterested. “Sounds like Haraldur is still bitter about the fact that I danced with his lovely wife better than he did,” she joked. “Not to worry, Haraldur. I don’t intend to compete with you over who has more mastery of a waltz.”
It did not come as any surprise to her when Alster mentioned Haraldur had made an appearance to them, and found himself amid disagreements of sorts. Haraldur was right; he was the type to thrive off of risks and chaos. Just as it had thrilled him to shove Naimah in her direction, and stand back to see what happened. Catastrophic or otherwise, the outcome would have entertained him… and yet, she couldn’t thank him enough for that gamble. “Protective? That isn’t a trait I pegged him to have. I do hope the young summoner is all right, though.”
What did strike her as surprising was the Rigas caster’s sudden departure to attend an “errand”. Sigrid exchanged a look with Haraldur, and she knew that he was thinking along the same lines as she was: that Alster wasn’t lying, but whatever he was up to, it was worth worrying about if he was secretive about it. “Where will you be? I can send her in your direction.” She suggested, but Alster was already on his way, heading in the direction of the tomb, where the rites of the ceremony had taken place. A thoughtful frown creased the Dawn warrior’s brow. “Strange that he would leave a crucial errand for the night of his fiance’s ceremony,” she commented to whomever was listening. “Though I suppose time is of the essence. Though… Haraldur,” She turned to her cousin and clapped him affectionately on the shoulder. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you, for keeping an eye on Hadwin this evening and taking the responsibility off my hands. I owe you.”
Just moments after Alster’s departure, Elespeth returned, spotting Haraldur, the Dawn warrior, and her companion. Strangely, she did not see Alster among them. “I think the young summoner will be all right. Oddly enough, Hadwin was seeing to her needs. Much though I am still baffled by it… I think Alster was right. Somehow, he cares for her, while he rolls his eyes at the rest of the world.” She shrugged her shoulders, looking as confused as she felt. “The important thing is Teselin is safe. Though where is Alster?”
“He just left to run an errand,” Sigrid explained. “He did not say what, in particular; something urgent that has to do with the evacuation. He didn’t say when he would be back.”
“I see…” A look of concern passed Elespeth’s features. She rolled her shoulders back to appear more relaxed, knowing well that she likely wasn’t fooling anyone.
Noting the furrow of the former knight’s brow, Sigrid offered, “I cannot imagine he will be long, on a night that is supposed to be yours, Elespeth.” And although Alster did not ask that Elespeth be sent his way, if she asked after him, it was not the Dawn warrior’s place to cover for him if he did not want to be found. Had that been the case, then he should have been more forthright about his ‘errand’. “He looked as though he were headed toward that tomb you all descended into, earlier this evening.”
“The tomb?” Now that concern was mixed with surprise, and none of it was good. What business did he possibly have in Rigel’s tomb now? Chara had not made mention of needing him for any errands, this evening. Something felt… off. “Well, if it is an errand concerning the evacuation, perhaps I can be of help. Thank you, Sigrid.”
Before anyone could change her mind, she headed after Alster, her heart in her throat from the apprehension of wondering what he was up to.
“So what you’re saying,” the wolf-shifter rested a casual free hand into his jerkin pocket, “is you take issue with me, as a person. By extension--other wolf-shifters. Because,” he tutted, but it smacked against his pipe stem and made no sound, “how am I supposed to seamlessly transition from wolf into human, or vice versa, without disrobing? Hmm? One learns to shed their shame when situations require vulnerability. In this case, nakedness. Might as well enjoy the awkward encounters. Of all the times I’ve been found with my pants down, at least now it’s on my own terms. Sorry if it offends you--but I make sure to landscape down there. To lessen the trauma, you understand.” Or to heighten the experience--it all depended on the person. Setting, as well, played a major role. “And I can’t help what I see, Rigas. Pointing out your fears is akin to telling me I’ve got a smudge of dirt on my face. Wouldn’t you want to know, so you can clean it off? Again,” he pretended to puff an air of smoke, “might as well enjoy what I see; otherwise it’s going to be one hellish, unbearable life. We can’t all be blessed with morals. Or a clear head.”
Speaking of a clear head--or lack thereof--the subject of Alster Rigas gave her pause. As it well should. When she redistributed her attention from walking away to walking toward him, he pulled the pipe out of his mouth, for better ease of conveying what he saw.
“Oh, so now you’re interested in my Fearsight. When the smudge is on your beau’s face. I couldn’t tell you much else,” he said, dismissively. “I got a quick look. And since I can only piece together his psyche through fears, it’s not a complete mapping. But damn, does he have plenty to fear.” A low whistle corkscrewed from his mouth. “Within, it’s unfathomable and depthless. A void, populated by crooked creatures, not of this realm. In fact, it’s hard to know where his fears begin and where the Serpent’s ends, since they’re linked and all. One of his principle fears is of coming apart. He’s giving pieces of himself away, becoming less and less. He gave a piece to you. He fears he can’t stop, and he fears what will happen if he does stop. He’ll keep giving himself away, and when he’s done, all you’ll have left of your bond is one solitary crumb. But there’s no question; you have only one aspect of him. His consciousness is vast. Unknowable. Ancient. Because he’s not all human. Again,” he drummed a few knuckles against his temple, “that could be the Serpent I’m reading. They overlap. If I had to guess, though--it applies to both Alster the man and Alster the entity. He’s a real puzzle to solve. And he hurts my head. A lot.”
He leaned back on his heels, rocking with the long-gone rhythms of a jig. “You’ll make better sense of it than me. Could be nothing, in the end. Figure I’d give you a warning because, contrary to your regard of me, I stand by my assertion: I’m on your side. Say what you will about trust and all that rot, but I’ve been honest with you since day one.” He reslotted the pipe stem into his mouth. “But you’ve no reason to believe me--why invest your faith in a gambler and a swindler, you ask? Because I know people. I might not get it right all the time, but I have a pretty high success rate. Take my counsel as you will. Again,” he swept into a ludicrous bow, hand all flourish, like a butterfly that metamorphosed into an appendage, “congratulations are in order, Elespeth Rigas. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Resuming past her, the way he’d come, he stepped through the doors of Main House to outside, to celebrate the final dregs of the evening.
Short as their time on the dance floor was, Naimah approved of Sigrid’s moves, warrior fit and made of power. It was not the power fed by force, however. Not like a hammer flailing in its quest to pound objects into the earth. It was a power from a free-flowing stream, which skipped around staid rocks and boulders and focused its path into the sea. Never did the waltz feel stagnant. Never was she bobbing alone in a mill pond with nary a ripple. Whether Sigrid was a good dancer, or merely attentive, was irrelevant. She had no other frame of reference, as she never waltzed before. To her memory, anyway. But for her first (memorable) waltz, was glad to share it with a partner such a Sigrid.
“Tallness is not the only reason,” Naimah countered. “I am quite tall, myself. Tall for Kariji. Taller than my would-be husband, were I still living as a respectable woman. It is nice to have someone on my level, or close to it. But if you recall, I first mentioned your blonde hair and blue eyes. Your beauty. And your warrior’s physique. So if we are going by physical compliments by order of chronology, your height ranks fairly low on the list.”
When the dance concluded, Naimah’s smile almost touched her ears in reaction to the kiss upon her hand. Sigrid was courting her, like a proper high-society lady. Clients seldom took the care to treat her like a woman, or even a person deserving respect. She’d surrendered the right, the moment she soiled her body for the first time. “A warrior and a gentlewoman,” she giggled, and curtsied. “I would very much love another dance with you, in the future.”
In returning to Sigrid’s friends, which had dwindled to two, Naimah listened to the back-and-forth between Alster Rigas and the Eyraillian Prince. They were delightful to observe, an inclusive group, as Sigrid claimed, and they cared for the Dawn Warrior as close friends and family would: with gentle teasing.
“An entire kingdom would disagree with you, Sigrid,” Haraldur said, expression triumphant. “Nobody but Vega and I were there to see you dance in Eyraille. And since crowds are the ultimate discerners of taste--majority rules on this one. No one can deny the Wind and the Green Spirit.”
Naimah kept silent but apt, an interested bystander in the sampling of Sigrid’s life among close companions. However, no matter their cordial attitudes and tolerance of her presence, she remained an outsider. She had no one waiting for her amidst the crowd, but Sigrid was not alone. Even when they addressed Hadwin, the strange character who approached her with an even stranger proposal, she was grateful for his interference. And though the others saw him as a nuisance more than an ally, for her and Sigrid, his orchestrations played to their favor.
“What else was I going to do tonight? Drink?” Haraldur stroked a thumb over his wedding band and the embossed branches of the metalwork tree. “I’m determined to pass one day sober. Watching the mongrel gave me something productive to do.”
After Alster dipped out of the crowd for nebulous reasons, Elespeth rematerialized a few minutes later with news on the mongrel in question. She was right. It was baffling. Baffling, and yet--not completely incongruous. Even despicable people developed weaknesses. The necromancer was special to Teselin, and though the girl could befriend a raging stampede that aimed to trample her, Vitali had to have done something right to earn her unconditional trust. Hadwin was an older brother, and it showed. Unfortunately, Haraldur could relate.
“Good to know Teselin is safe. As for Alster--” He mirrored Sigrid’s comment, and her concerns, when Elespeth shriveled from the news, as though expecting a suspicious-sounding response. “I thought it was odd, too. He expressed no indication of urgency before. It came on suddenly, and not long after you left. I can confirm he was heading there, too. We’ll be around if you need us for anything.” But by then, she was already veering towards Rigel’s tomb, her gait troubled and clipped. He frowned over at Sigrid and her companion. “I wonder what’s going on?”
Two guards protected the entrance to Rigel’s tomb, but Alster had no trouble convincing them to let him pass. Rigel wants me here, he thought. And he’ll make it easy for me to return.
Descending the stone-carved steps, he pressed a bloody palm to the thick, vaulted doors. Slipping inside the space afforded him, he waited until the opening sealed shut behind him, before continuing to the sepulchre, and beyond, the Blood Seal.
“Rigel,” he said aloud, his voice two versions of itself: one crisp and resonant, the other hollow and tinny. The echo in the cavern, of his soul. Always present, but only apparent in the proper environment. “Rigel,” he repeated. “She’ll be looking for me. I’m here to do as you asked. To protect the Blood Seal. But you can’t allow her inside. I need concentration, and she’ll stop me.” The tapestry rolled up from the far wall, and with his blood-streaked hand, he activated the seal, pulsating red, complex in its geometrical design. “We both know this is the best method. If Mollengard infiltrates the estate, and this tomb, they can’t have the Seal. The Rigas legacy will end. The power will go to them. The lives of active Rigases who are attached to this spell-form...they’ll lose their magic and their years, won’t they?”
Silence pervaded the tomb, but it was silence with an answer. The temperature dipped. He huffed white breath in the dimness, shivering from the sudden chill.
“I know the risks. But I can handle it. I carry the Serpent in me, and Elespeth’s heart. I have room. I’ll hide what I know--from myself. Implant a lie. Believe the lie. If Mollengard captures me, I’ll tell them where to go. And they’ll perish.” He rested his forehead against the S-shaped sigil and closed his eyes. “Serpent, I’m giving you more power. But it’s conditional. Rigel is its keeper. If you do not cooperate--if we do not cooperate--this will all be for nothing.”
Some time later, a time he was unable to track, but which numbered curiously in the minutes, and not hours, Alster removed himself from the wall and, shakily, bounded to the heavy door across the cavern, which he opened with the imprint of his hand. On the other side of the rumbling door stood Elespeth, who was understandably worried.
“How long have you been waiting?” She told him, and he dipped his head, contrite. “I’m sorry, El. When you left to check on Teselin, an...idea came over me, and it wouldn’t leave my head unless I executed it. I knew it wouldn’t take long, and I wanted it done sooner than later. Here. I’ll show you what I did.” He took her hand with his steel one and led her inside the tomb and across, to the wall which housed the Rigel Blood Seal. He laid his bloody hand on the stone surface, and nothing happened. Again, he tried, but to no avail. It did not activate.
“It’s no longer accessible by blood,” he explained, eyes scanning the blank wall. “I’ve shielded it by rewriting the Seal over the original. And if Mollengard should break through my barriers, the dummy Seal will activate, instead. When it does, a portal will open and suck them into the Serpent’s realm. Anyone who tampers with the Seal will find themselves...displaced.” A shade of the unfamiliar caught in his voice, but did not invade. It merely...perched. Lingered.
“I didn’t want to wait. If we had to act sooner and evacuate immediately, we can’t let Mollengard obtain the Seal’s power for itself. And with no Rigases left in Stella D’Mare, they’re doubly barred from any access. The city and its secrets will remain safe for our eventual return.” Together, they turned from the wall and made their way to the doors. “As a precaution, I locked you outside. Spells of this caliber take intense concentration. Fortunately, casting this complex series of traps has seemed to exhaust all my excess discharge. I’m no longer shocking you. See?” To demonstrate, he stole a quick kiss from her lips. “I haven’t informed Chara, yet, of what I did. I can’t imagine she’ll be happy I didn’t detail my involvement beforehand, but Teselin reminded me that the energies tonight are ripe. High emotions and a dense population of casters, all gathered above our heads. Now was the most opportune time for spell-work.” They shimmied out of the stone doors; they ground shut.
“Are you ready to return above ground? There’s still plenty of merriment left to squeeze, El. And I’ll more than make up for it, after making you worry down here for me. I’m sorry for not communicating better with you; it was spur of the moment on my end.” He reached up to straighten the star-studded tiara that sat on her crown. “This is your night. Let’s make it as memorable as possible.
“I take issue with the fact you are so cavalier about it,” Elespeth muttered, shaking her head. “The least you could do is give a heads’ up that you’re about to strip naked. Call me a prude all you want, but not everyone will feel so inclined to admire your unclothed body, regardless of your ‘landscaping’.” She wrinkled her nose at the term, but let out a sigh and decided to let the matter drop, though. She was nitpicking, and as frustrating as the man’s shameless indecency was, it wasn’t the root of the problem. “But it’s not about that; not entirely. I understand your Sight may not be voluntary, but no, it isn’t like a smudge on someone’s face. Fear is an ugly wound that everyone tries to hide, and that no one wants anyone else to notice. Do you truly think I want a stranger to know that my dead brother haunts my dreams? How was it helpful to me that you knew how distraught I was in Stella D’Mare, without Alster or anyone I could readily trust? Or that I was instrumental in my brother’s death because I lived, and he died in my place? You point out a smudge because it is easily wiped away--but fear isn’t. It’s embedded deep, and it doesn’t stop festering by drawing attention to it. It only humiliates its victim.
“And before you go on to detail your success with interfering in Sigrid’s life, after pinpointing her fears and haunts,” she went on, knowing well that was a point that Hadwin was dying to drop in his defense, “you know as well as I do that you were betting on a gamble. You had no idea how it would work out, throwing a whore in her direction to see if it would all come together in her favor. It could have been a disaster--you just got lucky.”
Since she was on a roll, getting a load off of her chest, she added, “And what doesn’t help, Hadwin, is that you act as though you shouldn’t be trusted. So how can you blame any of us for second-guessing your intentions all the time? What exactly do you think to achieve with unabashed transparency you could change your mind at any time?” Heaving a sigh, Elespeth decided to stop there. Hadwin was who he was, and no amount of pointing out his flaws would change it, and she had said all that she’d wanted to say, all the thoughts that had crossed her mind with relation to the shape-shifter. There were no words left. “The only reason I am willing to trust you now is because I believe that you truly care about Teselin. You cared about her when nobody else in this city did--not even me, really. But you did.”
When he dismissed Alster’s fears as something that he could hardly distinguish as being human or otherwise, it only further exacerbated Elespeth’s concerns. She tried to think back to when they had first met: he’d been a wreck, then, basking in so much self-doubt and self-loathing (none of which was helped by Chara’s incessant criticism) that it had been like chiseling away at diamond, just to get through to him enough to befriend him. But back then, he had been all of himself; he had been human, with only Alster Rigas in his head, no one and nothing else. And now, when she looked at him, someone who had become so confident and assured in his plans, and so strong… it was difficult to swallow that she no longer knew who, or what she was seeing. Whether the confidence was Alster’s own, or the Serpent’s influence, or something else entirely. It isn’t a matter of who I am marrying, anymore, she thought dismally, but what I am marrying.
And yet, knowing all that she did not, and knowing that Mariana’s curse would ultimately have led to his demise, she wouldn’t have changed a thing. She’d still have allowed this to happen, knowing that he would lose himself, and that she would begin to lose him, fragment by fragment.
So much for an enjoyable evening.
“You are able to discern all of that? Just by seeing his fears?” Any self-righteousness that had been clinging to Elespeth’s voice, face or form in any way seemed to slough off as the shapeshifter delivered that hard-to-swallow reality check. “Are you making a prediction based on what you saw, or are you merely voicing what he fears might happen? I renewed my connection to Alster Rigas, this evening… not to the Serpent. So that I can reach him when I need him, and when he needs me. We’re linked--so deeply that I could feel what he was feeling after the ceremony. And as long as we are linked, he cannot disappear, because that would mean that I would disappear with him. We’ve become two halves of the same coin. I need to believe that the Alster I know won’t dwindle to nothing…”
But understandably, Hadwin could only take his insight as far as it would go. He was no diviner like Tivia, and while she should have been reassured at his forthright honesty (especially considering that Alster likely never would have divulged it), his words only left her feeling more uncertain and afraid for her future with Alster.
It was immediately following her conversation with Hadwin that Elespeth hurried back to where she had left Alster, only to find that he was no longer among their friends. Both Sigrid and Haraldur had confirmed he’d left in the direction of the tomb, and though she couldn’t say why, or that she knew what he meant to do, it left her feeling deeply concerned. No more fleeing, no more secrets, no more lies… Hadn’t that been their promise, to one another? What was so important that he had to take time out of this special night to do it, without communicating it to her at some point? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t had ample opportunity…
It’s not right. Something’s not right. In her hurried steps toward Rigel’s tomb, Elespeth gently pressed on one of her wounded hands: the one with which she had strengthened her bond to Alster. The one with which she was supposed to feel his presence, his state of mind and health, the one through which she could reach him. She realized with startling terror that, for the first time that night--for the first time in quite a while--she could not feel him at all.
When she reached the tomb, she did not hesitate to approach the two guards, who took in her startled and urgent countenance with confusion. “Is Alster down there?” She asked, and no sooner did one of them offer a nod that she picked up her skirt and descended the stairs, making her way toward the vaulted doors. Fresh blood glistened where he must have gained entry, but otherwise they remained solidly shut. But I am a Rigas now, she reminded herself, and began to unwrap one of her bloody hands. Shouldn’t I be able to open it?
As curious as she was desperate, Elespeth pressed her hand over the already bloodied handprint and held her breath--but nothing happened. Even with Alster’s blood mixed into her own, the doors would not open for her.
“Alster--Alster, are you in there?” She called, but of course there was no answer. “What is going on? You have to tell me! You promised there would be no more secrets…”
In a futile attempt to be heard, she pounded her fists upon the doors, but only came away with bloodied knuckles, and no answer from the other side. Choked by her own fear, the former Atvanian knight was at a loss as to what to do now, but sink to her knees and wait. Wait for him to return, and tell her that nothing was the matter, that she needn’t worry about his “errand” in Rigel’s tomb…
She wasn’t sure how long she waited, sitting on the ground, her knees pulled to her chest, before the doors finally opened, and Alster emerged. “No more secrets, Alster. You promised me that we would have no more secrets…” She said to him, in a small, hurt voice. “Why did you not tell me? Did you think I would try to stop you?”
As if to make it up to her in the aftermath, he offered to show her what he had done. Climbing to her feet, she took his steel hand and ventured back into the tomb, where he led her towards the Rigas Seal. He demonstrated the change in its activation, by which blood no longer worked. “You’ve turned this place into a trap.” She thought out loud, and could not deny that it was a rather ingenious plan. He had thought ahead, to the worst case scenario, and prevented it from happening. “No… it makes perfect sense, Alster. I’m sorry. I overreacted…” She pressed a hand to her brow and shook her head. “Whatever you did down here… I couldn’t feel you. Not through our bond, and I worried something terrible had happened… There hasn’t been a moment that I haven’t been able to feed you even distantly since the first time we mixed our blood.”
He was being honest with her; she could see it in his blue eyes, and his explanation made perfect sense. It has been a spur of the moment stroke of genius, and one that needed to be acted upon as soon as possible, for there was no telling that they may see the need to evacuate at any given moment. So… why did something still feel so off? Like there was still something he was not telling her? Hadwin’s gotten into my head, she surmised at last to try and extinguish her unease. He’s gotten me paranoid. He doesn’t even know or understand what he saw… I cannot take his word for anything.
“It isn’t just my night. It’s everyone’s.” She corrected him with a soft smile. “Everyone who came to celebrate, this night belongs to them, as one of the final fond memories of this place before they must leave it for an undetermined amount of time. Though, there is one person who I have not seen celebrating…”
After they climbed the stairs an exited the tomb for the second time that evening, Elespeth looked down at the hand that had accepted her gift of an extended life, unwrapping it to take note of the damage. Chara had cut a tight, clean line carefully across the middle of her palm. It stung, but had already ceased pouring blood. As gentle as when Alster had cut her other palm, to strengthen their bond. “I haven’t seen Chara all evening, since the ceremony. It might be best to find her now and tell her what you have done. I am… concerned for her. For how she is taking this exodus. No one, particularly her, should have to be alone tonight.”
Sigrid had noted Naimah’s curiosity on the topic of Hadwin, and when Elespeth had left, she ventured to explain what little she knew: that he had been causing a stir in the city for quite some time, and anyone who knew him certainly had an opinion of him. But frankly, she was as new to this inside information as the Kariji woman was, and ultimately, there was little else she could tell her. Not to mention, she did not wish to spend the evening discussing drama that hardly involved her. She’d let Hadwin have his fun; she expected he would see fit to leave her alone. Until he wanted her protection.
To the Dawn warrior’s delight, their first waltz certainly had not been their last. As the evening progressed, the music had changed in the favor a handful of times, at which point Sigrid had seized the opportunity to have another dance with her Kariji companion, who seemed perfectly content spending the evening in whatever way made Sigrid most comfortable. By the end of one of their following dances (which had entailed far fewer nerves, and more of the dance floor at their disposal, since a few denizens had passed out in chairs or behind the curtains), Sigrid was even a little breathless from it all. It was more difficult than it appeared to coordinate graceful movements with quick embellishments.
“I never thought I would hear myself say I am winded from dancing,” she laughed, her chest heaving with the intake and expelling of breath, “But… I am winded from dancing. Do you mind if we sit down?”
For the second time that evening, they made their way behind the curtains, and Sigrid all but collapsed upon one of the cushions. The humidity had long since tamed the curls from blonde hair, which now hung in unruly waves as a result of their dancing. “This was the night that I should have had years ago. It should have been like this… instead, I had my heart broken and my pride wounded irreparably. But somehow, none of that seems as significant anymore…” She reached out and tucked a loose strand of dark hair behind Naimah’s ear, her fingertips brushing her slender neck. “I’ll be honest, I don’t want it to end. But maybe it doesn’t need to. I meant it, when I said I want to see you again.” With a smile, she took one of Naimah’s hands in her own. “You’re more incredible than you give yourself credit for. And I’ve… grown very fond of you, this evening. And I don’t mean I’m merely smitten by your beauty--although you are beautiful, to a deadly degree, though of course you already know that…”
A blush tinted her cheeks as she trailed off. “I am not good with words, and I have no idea how to say what I want to say. So I’m just going to say it: I’d like to pick up where we left off, earlier. If… of course, you’re still interested.” Her hand drifted to Naimah’s knee. Though almost imperceptible, it trembled slightly. This was easily the most terrifying and most exciting situation she’d ever willingly put herself in. Wouldn’t Hadwin be proud, that she was facing her fears head-on? “And, provided I can see you again, tomorrow. You are worth investing more than a single night to get to know.”
Another storm formulated in the pit of Elespeth’s stomach. It roiled and kicked before traveling into her throat and mouth, to boom with thunder intensity. But to Hadwin, the thunder was less of a boom and more of a deflated “pop” from an innocuous cloud whose shadow fell on an area too small for it to matter. Hadwin stared at his pipe, traced the grains of its wood finish, scratched the back of his ear, checked the scuffing of his boots and picked at a hangnail, all while spittles of rain and the angry roars of a cat stormed around him. How...adorable. “Next time, I’ll carry blindfolds in my pocket and hand them out to all the potential victims of my grotesque exhibitionism. I’ll even tie them around the ruff of my neck while I’m out gallivanting as a wolf. There’s no excuse on my part, here. When I need to transform into a human and there’s no place to duck and hide, or no clothes for me to wear, I’ll be glad for those blindfolds. Anything to stop me from committing the dire crime of indecency.” He knew he was acting like a little shit, but Elespeth brought it out in him, and throwing back what she lobbed at him was a new, and satisfying, pastime of his. If she wanted to play verbal fisticuffs, he would play to win.
“You do realize you’re explaining ‘fear’ to someone who is intimate with it every day, right?” he said, with the lazy roll of his tongue. “I know, Bronwyn--that’s your new name, by the way. I use the analogy because your explanation of fear is something immutable and impossible to fight. By demonizing it, you inflate your opponent to a size you can’t see over, let alone defeat. Calling fear ‘ugly’ makes it that much uglier, because you’ve given it more power. Treat it like an inconvenience and it’s far easier to cope with. See, you can wipe off a smudge, but another will appear in its place. And another. And another. You’ll never be clean for long, but you’re not doomed to a lifetime of dirt, either. I mean, unless you want that for yourself. Some people do because they figure, ‘what’s the point? I’m just going to get dirty again.’ All I see are these smudges, and by pointing them out to people, I’ll telling them--they’ve got some shit to clean. Some stains are more obvious than others, and some are forever embedded beneath your fingernails--but it’s good to be reminded of them, in case you’ve forgotten, or you’ve gotten so comfortable with the aesthetic that it’s a resigned fixture in your life. Someone’s gotta be the herald, trumpeting the truth.” He grinned, his prominent canines pointed and ready to tear. “And I’m all too willing to carry that important burden.”
He buffed the side of his pipe bowl against his jerkin, wiping it of any smoky residue. “Of course it was a gamble, Brownling. What isn’t? If you’re out mastering what terrifies you, do you think it can be done without a little risk, and uncertainty?” His shoulders lifted, in dismissive unison. “Yeah, I got lucky. I’m a lucky guy, because I manufacture luck. I seek out fortune; I don’t let it come to me. I also know how to lose, if it all goes wrong. I said I’d find the blonde warrior a woman, and I did. I never promised her a fairytale ending. Besides, I was only the catalyst. Siggy did the rest on her own.”
Putting aside his pipe, he threaded his fingers and cracked them backwards until they released a staccato of sounds. “Good to know that my very existence is untrustworthy,” he concluded, with a flippant chuckle, before shifting to the subject of Alster Rigas. “There’s some speculation in there, of course. I see the fears, sometimes in detail, sometimes in the abstract, and I interpret. Fill in the blanks. A little like divination, you could say. Looking at a deck of cards, how they’re arranged on the table, how they fit with each other, and what they depict. That’s why I invite you to take what I say however you will. But what is indisputable, from my glimpse, is that he fears he’s coming apart now. That you’re not enough. That no one is enough, because other forces call more strongly. He bonded with you as a safety net, but he’s like me in one essential way: he’s attracted to trouble. And my prediction is...he’ll find it.”
He left his conversation at that, and slipped away. Outside, he went--because he still needed to find Chara.
Alster kept a gentle hold on Elespeth, as if in physical reassurance that his flash decision to weave a trap in Rigel’s tomb was only that, and nothing insidious. He understood her worry, for he didn’t have the best reputation when it came to running off to make reckless choices, and failing to communicate them until too late. Frowning, he caught the bloody bruises on her knuckles, and lifted her affected hand into the etherea light. “Was this caused by banging on the door? El…” He folded his good hand over the injury, and a warm, tingling sensation washed over her; flesh, weaved into wholeness. Once restored, he kissed the formerly damaged knuckles, moving his lips over each ridge and valley. “I wasn’t thinking,” he breathed an apology. It stirred the fine hairs on the back of her hand. “To pull a disappearing act without any advance warning. I had assumed the wolf-shifter would occupy your attention longer, and I’d have the time to slip in and out of the tomb without your knowing I was away. I need to stop underestimating how attuned you are to me--especially now.”
He idled at the bottom of the stairs, delaying their climb to the top, to bask in true privacy of the cavern and its vast emptiness. “I needed to tap into the Serpent’s location, in my spell-work, to set up the portal trap,” he explained. “To do that, It needed to...overtake me, I suppose. And now that Rigel Rigas inputted his insights on my relationship with the Serpent--I think I know where I go, when I,” he hesitated, “retreat. You can’t feel me, because I’m far. Too far for our physical bodies to gauge. If I am a splinter in the Serpent’s mind--then that’s where I travel. Into Its mind. I wink out of this realm, this dimension, and end up there. I don’t have definitive proof it happens, because I have no memory of the Serpent’s homeworld, but if our bond flickers when the Serpent inhabits me, then...it makes sense.” Despite the heaviness of the subject, Alster’s tone was thoughtful. Curious. And detached. Like he was explaining the life and condition of somebody else.
“I know this celebration is for Stella D’Mare,” he said, as they ascended the stairs and emerged from the cave mouth. “But it was made in your name, and everyone knows it.” At mention of Chara, Alster nodded, and with his hand linked to her oath hand, returned her to the celebration proper. It didn’t take them long to locate Chara, who was spitting orders at the tray attendants while simultaneously discussing evacuation plans to the Council secretary, who was jotting notes on a sheaf of parchment. When Alster and Elespeth appeared in her line of vision, she dismissed herself from the cloud of needy people and their supreme incompetence, trying not to look relieved for the interruption.
“Well?” She darted a glance from Alster, then to Elespeth, where it settled. “How are you enjoying your first Rigas soiree? It is hardly an adequate replacement for our past glory, but you know no better, anyway. This,” she waved a frustrated hand at the sky, “in comparison, is so patchwork and rushed. If I do not keep constant vigil, this blasted celebration is liable to burn to the ground!”
“Have you been able to steal yourself a reprieve?” Alster asked.
“Oh, not I. The mongrel stole it for me, though.” She chewed the inside of her mouth like a bad memory.
“Hadwin? He was here?” He exchanged a look with Elespeth. “He’s everywhere tonight, it seems. What did he say?”
“Oh, he asked for his pardon, in the only way he knows how. I told him I would, under the condition that Haraldur watch him for the remainder of the night, and personally escort him to our meeting tomorrow afternoon. He agreed. Then he asked me for a dance--and walked away cackling like a madman before I could send a guard to break his arm for the offense.”
He did not miss the context behind the exchange. Hadwin could see fears, and Alster knew how much Chara cherished the waltz. She likely longed to spin on the dance floor, to remember her carefree Stella D’Mare days with a trusted partner at her side. And he was that partner. The two of them danced quite frequently, in their youth. Back when the possibilities between them were promising. Marriage was in their future--and they didn’t mind that it would be to each other.
Offering out his prosthetic hand, he dipped into a bow. “Would you like to dance, Chara?”
She stared at him. He met her eyes and smiled boyishly. She sighed, and took his hand. “I am conscripting your fiance, Elespeth,” she said, loftily, though her eyes stung with nostalgia. “I may not return him.”
After Alster Rigas, Elespeth Rigas, and Prince Sorde all dispersed, each with their own reasons, Sigrid and Naimah were left, yet again, to their own devices. Since tasting a nibble of the Dawn Warrior’s presence on the dance floor, she wanted more. So they elected to remain, hopping along to various jigs and reels until the music shifted to the more favorable waltz. There, she followed, learning the steps by rote memory, allowing the other woman to guide her through the mistakes--or integrate them into the dance. Welcoming the lilting cadence of the orchestra, itself a rolling, patriotic paean to the ocean waves (as most of the songs that evening were traditional D’Marian or popular in the city), Naimah closed her eyes and imagined herself on a boat lolling to sea. She’d never been in the open water before, but the way in which Sigrid rocked her and tilted her backwards, she had no trouble with the vision. Beyond the music, the sea tickled her ears with salty promises. Let her take you, it said. Fall into the water.
It was dangerous. She could sink. Dip far beneath the surface, and drown. But she could also float. Never bond with your clients, an inner voice warned. You are running a business. It is merely a transaction. Do not succumb to your emotions, and you will survive.
But she was not a client. Sigrid was a woman, a warrior, a companion, an answer to loneliness, stalwart, and honest, and worth her every attention. If I fall, then I fall. Again, I have nothing to lose.
So when Sigrid announced they retire to the privacy curtains, after about an hour of dancing, Naimah did not hesitate. They found an availability in a quiet corner, and Naimah tucked her tired legs from beneath her gown.
“I cannot believe we danced for half the night, nor can I believe I still have enough energy to keep my eyes open,” she said, with a giggle. She leaned into Sigrid’s fingers on her cheek. “I am honored to have contributed to your evening. Heartbreak is hard to erase, and even when you’ve moved on, it is still capable of stinging. If I am able to help you forget the pain, if for a while, then I consider my presence here a success. Of course...it is not solely about you, either. I, too, have developed a deep fondness for you, Sigrid Sorenson. And this will not be our only evening together, I assure you.” When the other woman touched her knee, she smiled. Tenderly, she moved forward to cup either side of Sigrid’s cheeks with her hands, and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Where we left off, hmm?” One manicured fingernail tickled along her jawline. “Don’t be afraid,” she whispered, her top lip brushing against her bottom lip. “I’ll be gentle. Tell me what you dislike or like...and I will stop, or,” she purred, “give you more.”
He fears he is coming apart, now. It was all Elespeth could do to swallow her dread as Alster explained exactly how he had managed to secure the trap in Rigel’s tomb. Or could he truly say that he had been the one to secure it, when he’d had to yield to the Serpent’s control? The very thought incited a shudder throughout her body, and though she tried to hide her discomfort from what he’d divulged, the concern was plain on her face. Hadwin’s words, however a reach they might be, continued to haunt her. She’d forgotten about her injured knuckles, until he took her hand and brought it into the light, and cast a shameful glance downward toward her sandaled feet. “I wasn’t thinking, either,” she admitted, realizing now that he likely wouldn’t have heard her knocking. “I become reckless when I worry. I just… didn’t know what was going on. And I feared the worst, when I could not feel you, anymore…”
When he began to explain the specifics of what he had done, however, it became very apparent as to why he had chosen not to breathe a word of it to her. Because Elespeth could not guarantee that she wouldn’t have tried to stop him. After the glimpse that she had seen just that morning, that moment she had realized she was no longer addressing her fiance, but something else entirely, she could not imagine allowing Alster to willingly yielding control to the foreign thing that had invaded his mind. Practically leaving his own body, voluntarily, to some unknown and unreachable place…
“And… you thought it worth the risk?” She breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you mean to say that these instances… such as earlier, when I had to shake sense back into you… You weren’t even there? You were… somewhere else?” The idea that even for a moment, he had been entirely gone struck her with fear so intense that she shuddered again. It terrified her more than the notion that he might be a prisoner in his own body, something else perceiving the world through his eyes. “What if… what if you didn’t come back?”
Taking his flesh-and-blood hand in her own, she in turn brought Alster’s knuckles to her lips, pressing an irreverent kiss upon his tanned flesh. “Those times that I cannot feel you… I’ve never felt so alone. It’s like I have forgotten what existence is like without you in my life. I don’t want to go back to that… because there is nothing to which I can go back. I am not a Tameris anymore; I am a Rigas. And with my past discarded, the only thing left for me is my future. You are my future...”
Feeling overwhelmed by what was befalling her fiance, Elespeth was happy to turn the topic to Chara. Someone else who was in desperate need of companionship, company to ward off the isolation and pain that accompanied it. Chara was not one to knowingly exhibit signs of weakness to anyone; like a wild animal, if she showed that she was slipping, then that was when her enemies would take note and pounce. But although they’d had their differences, Elespeth was not her enemy, and neither was Alster. And just because she chose to take the strong route and not divulge her pain to either of them did not mean they did not notice, or that they would not attempt to help, in any way they could.
They found the Rigas head multi-tasking and micro-managing, as she was apt to her in her position, given the dire circumstances hanging over their heads like lightning about to strike. She was scowling, her brow furrowed, as she simultaneously directed assistances (whom she likely deemed incompetent), whilst attempting to hash out details with someone the former knight recognized as belonging to the Rigas council. On noting the appearance of Alster and his fiance, Chara dismissed herself and approached them. “Patchwork? You call developing all of this,” Elespeth spread her arms wide, indicating the decor, the dance floor, the lights and the food, “inadequate? This morning, you did not wake up knowing that tonight was going to happen, and you pulled it all together in less than a day. I don’t care that I might have missed Stella D’Mare and Rigas parties in their limelight, Chara. This is…” Her voice softened a little, and she bowed her head in gratitude. “It’s more than anyone has ever done for me. And if not for me, but for Alster, I am sure he will agree it is more than he could have hoped for, given such short notice. And along with everything else on your plate, at that. Your efforts are beyond commendable, Chara.”
At the mention of Hadwin, who must have sought out Chara at the same time that Elespeth had sought out Alster, the former Atvanian warrior could not help but roll her eyes in shared frustration. “If it makes you feel any better, he has been around meddling in everyone’s evening, it seems. I spent a good quarter of an hour telling him that he is a shameful disgrace, though I suppose that only egged him on.” She did not preface the apology she had made him around that same time. It was easier to relate to Chara through dislike of the man than put up a defense for him. Teselin had that covered, in any case. “Feel fortunate that asking you for pardon and then a dance is the only affront he has committed toward you this evening… Alster and I did not get off so easily.” But she did not care to elaborate on that, given her disheveled appearance, Chara was intelligent enough to put the pieces together.
What did he see? She couldn’t help but wonder, knowing he sensitivity of the wolf-man’s fearsight, and that all it took was a glance to bore into that part of someone’s mind that they wanted no one to know. Whatever it was, Chara would never tell her--and she would never be so bold as to ask.
When Alster extended an olive branch and himself asked the Rigas head for a dance, Elespeth did not even bat an eyelash. On the contrary, a warm feeling of pride flooded her chest. There was no end to Alster’s kindness, to his eye for someone in need, whatever that need might be. She saw the look in Chara’s eyes, that pause as she seemed to be remembering something far away, long ago. “I have had him all evening. I suppose I can allow you a moment with him… not too long, though. And see that you do not dance too close, or I might become jealous and ruin the party with a temper tantrum.” She winked and chuckled, and took a step back as Alster led his former fiancee to the dance floor. While she had been joking, the way that they moved as the song progressed did strike a chord of envy in her. They were so flawless, so practiced, and… they looked good, together. It was no wonder they had been betrothed, intended for one another. And if it weren’t for Lilica, who had gradually stolen Chara’s heart, she might have almost felt bad for stealing Alster away from her. Almost.
Sigrid felt as though she’d taken a dive off of a cliff and fallen from a great distance, with no way of knowing how to keep herself safe, or whether she would survive the fall. But instead of the icy ocean or the hard, unforgiving rocky terrain, the Dawn warrior was instead met with soft skin, pliant lips, and the sweet and salty tang of desire thick in the air. Weak with the surge of emotions running amok inside of her, she gave herself over to Naimah completely, discarding her fears and concerns along with every thread of her clothing. The Kaiji woman, for all she condemned herself for it, was skilled at what she did. She was patient, observant, playful and bold, and all the right amount of each of those things to someone like Sigrid, who was treading uncharted territory. In their union, Sigrid even learned things about herself that she hadn’t known before, beyond what she liked and what she could do without. Such as the tension she carried in her shoulders and lower back, something she hadn’t noticed before, all which released at the touch of Naimah’s gentle hands, or the voices of doubt in her head that had all gone silent the moment her companion kissed her.
She wasn’t quiet about it, either. Didn’t hold back the vocalizations of her pleasure, regardless of who might have been listening late that evening. And when at last she came down from it all, she hadn’t the strength nor the inclination to move from their safe space on the cushions, shielded by gauzy curtains to maintain their privacy. That was where she drifted, and eventually fell asleep next to Naimah, the Kariji woman tangled in her arms and legs. Sigrid didn’t move again until early morning birds sang their songs at sunrise, waking her from a deep and peaceful slumber. At first, the Dawn warrior was disoriented, having forgotten precisely where she was and how she’d ended up there--and then doubly bewildered when she saw Naimah’s beautiful form, lying naked next to her.
Given her circumstances, a brief reality check was in order, and Sigrid dug her fingernails into the back of her neck to ascertain she was not dreaming. How was this real? Did last night really happen? Had she fallen asleep in the arms of a beautiful woman, of whom she had rapidly grown so fond, despite knowing her for only a night?
A giddy, light-headedness overcame the Dawn warrior, and she almost wanted to laugh aloud. This was real--it had happened, and it had happened to her! And all because Hadwin had insisted on finding her the opportunity to mend that broken heart that so plagued her… She wondered if it would go to his head if she thanked him.
Unfortunately, she could not bask in the moment for long. Prior to planning that celebration on Elespeth’s behalf, Chara had arranged for a meeting early that afternoon, and no extent of exhaustion or hangover would suffice an an excuse. And she had duties to fulfill before all of that came to pass. She had to leave, but she did not want Naimah to wake up wondering where she had gone. Thinking that she had used her up and left when she was satisfied, like her clients did, so after pulling her leggings and tunic back on, she gently shook the Kariji woman awake. “I’m afraid I have duties to attend to, shortly, but I’d hope you’d let me accompany you back to Alster’s villa. You might achieve a more restful sleep in a real bed.” She grinned a little and retrieved Naimah’s gown for her, helping her back into the garment. Her dark hair was askew in the most attractive of ways, and seeing her so sensually tousled made Sigrid’s blood begin to run hot again, but she knew well enough to keep desire at bay--for now.
When both of them were decent, they departed from the curtained area, taking note that they hadn’t been the only ones to fall asleep under the starlight, in the mild air. So this was how Stella D’Mare’s infamous parties ended… Well, at least they were among the norm.
Arriving at Alster’s villa, Sigrid took Naimah’s hands in her own. “I’ll see you early this evening, then?” She asked to confirm, blue eyes already sparkling at the prospect of seeing her again, when they hadn’t yet parted. “We can walk the gardens, like you suggested. I haven’t seen much of the city yet; perhaps you can show me what is worth seeing before we must all leave it behind. In return… I would be happy to show you around Braighdath, when we meet there. It doesn’t boast about being as exquisite as Stella D’Mare, but it has wonders in its own right.”
Stealing a quick kiss from Naimah’s lips before they parted, Sigrid set out toward her own bedchambers shared with her cousin, to see if Haraldur was yet readying himself for his meeting that afternoon. She found him just as he was leaving, dressed and not without a shortsword strapped to his back. “All prepared for this afternoon, I see. Where are you off to now?” She asked him, and when he explained that Chara had insisted he keep an eye on Hadwin during their meeting, she smiled apologetically. “I suppose that is my doing. I was assigned to keep him in line, until I… well, got distracted, for lack of better words. I don’t mind taking that burden back off of your hands. It was kind of you to take it off of mine, last evening.”
Thinking back on the events of the celebration, and what she had heard but had not been privy to seeing, she added, “Have you heard anything of the young summoner? I hope she is faring better, today.”
“I calculated the risks,” Alster said. Though his voice was low in the cave, the acoustics amplified the sound into full color. “I cannot let It control me. Slither Its way inside me, without my consent. Instead of fighting, I decided to...work alongside It. What It wants and what I want...I’m afraid that it’s the same. Yes, it’s for different reasons, but,” he traced the lines of his segmented steel digits, as slippery as scales, “we’re...similar. In this realm, the Serpent left its imprint. Its thousands’ year stain on the earth. In me. I am the residue. I am what remains...of the Serpent.” He shared his revelatory yet speculative information with scholarly calm, but a furrow appeared between his brows, and his bright eyes lost their luster. He was not yet accepting of the knowledge, but what did it matter? Did he ever have a choice? Death...or my humanity. A trade. What’s life...without constant sacrifice? That’s all I ever am. Something to break, over and over and over again. Take me, oh fates, and destroy me. ...It won’t be for long.
“I’ll always come back to you,” he reassured her, sliding his wounded hand into hers. They heated and throbbed, little heartbeats syncopated to each other. “You’re still able to reach me. Only some of my consciousness retreats, I think.” He did not mention that it was the essential part. The part that made him Alster. “The splinter wedged in me from the Serpent, and the splinter of me wedged in It--that’s all there is. A sliver of influence. Though,” he paused, “the Serpent is much older than me, more primordial, and Its compulsion, hypnotizing. A splinter of that caliber, in any man, is significant, but other holds are stronger. Yours,” he whispered. “With you here, I...have no choice but to be strong. I can’t go back, either. To what used to be. There’s nothing but forward, for me. The future is ours, Elespeth. And I’ve gone too far to see the end, alone.” He pressed on her lips...and delivered her a small shock. When he withdrew, a trace of the devil-may-care hooked into his smile. “A sampling for next time. My magic longs to taste you, Elespeth. Always.”
After emerging from the tomb, they sought Chara, who balked at Elespeth’s well-meaning compliments. It was a painstaking process, to prepare for the celebration, but she was far from proud of the result. She, however, let slide the harsh self-judgment, and accepted the she-warrior’s favoring words. For an impromptu reception, utilizing half her resources under a fraction of the time and implementing creative alternatives to the unobtainable, it was...passable.
“Of course you would approve, Elespeth; you have no other frame of reference with which to compare, so I must excuse your ignorance. Though--thank you, nonetheless. I spun as much gold as possible out of what straw I had. It’s mostly straw.”
“But it’s the finest, most exquisite straw in all the land,” Alster remarked, then to Elespeth, added, “Rigas parties are horrific affairs. You’re lucky; this is the best one yet. Has something to do with the saturation of non-Rigas attendees, I’m sure.”
“Do remember, Alster, that the Rigases you so belittle are soon to be your subjects,” Chara said, as he escorted her to the dance floor. They will look to you as a savior, a position that you, being you, are only too eager to reclaim.”
“You know me so well.” He encircled his arms, steel and flesh, around her waist. “Elespeth’s watching us.” His eyes glimmered with mischief. “Let’s show her how we dance, together.”
She smiled conspiratorially. “I take it all back. You’re a devil.”
Once the music trilled its first note, they glided on the floor, the ends of her bell-shaped dress fanning into a broader bell, which tolled in time with the beat. True to his word, Alster sweetened their waltz with little flourishes: dips, twirls, complex step matching, and wide, elegant circles. They laughed from the exhilaration, falling into rosy memories when life was less complicated. When their friendship was unbreakable and their love, crowning. Out on the perfumed lawns outside of Main House, they practiced, tripping over themselves and bumping their foreheads in the attempt. Back then, they also laughed, untroubled and unaware of the thunderheads forming overhead.
“You always wanted to lead,” he said, and it was uncertain if he meant the dance, or her status as Rigas Head. “What’s changed?”
She followed him into a spin. “I’m learning...how to trust. So I will trust that you are not, and you will not, tarnish my reputation.”
“You mean I have not, already? By associating with you?”
“If I ever came off that way, I...regret my actions,” she whispered. “I let politics swing my opinion of you, in the past. I did not trust you, before. I...am sorry. I was not supportive enough.” Her eyes were overbright. When the waltz reached its terminus, Alster slipped her into a hug. “Be careful.” A surprise laugh burst from her lips. A tear pooled under her lid. “Or Elespeth will throw a temper tantrum.”
He shook his head. “She’ll forgive me.” He craned his head backwards, at the multi-colored eterea lights that shone in competition with the stars in the clear night sky. “We still have each other, Chara. Our family. And the spirit of Stella D’Mare lives on in us. It’s not over.” She nodded, gripping his shoulder tightly. “I’ll make sure that it isn’t.”
As expected, the celebration wore on well into the night, even after Alster, Elespeth, and Chara retired (the latter put one of the council members in charge, sampled a few wine glasses, and tottered off to her villa for much-needed sleep). Haraldur, unfortunate in his task to accompany Hadwin, withstood bawdy, drunken dances with women (and some men), sex behind the privacy curtains (he was invited to “watch,” but he firmly declined), and finally, his return to Teselin’s door. Alone and unburdened at last, he drew out a flask of whiskey, and drank until his thoughts soothed, and rested on the prospect of returning to Eyraille with Vega, and later, his children. He did not totter to bed, or find sleep, but rather stood outside the young summoner’s door in a guard-like position. There was no way out the spelled windows; the door was the sole entrance and exit. Should the miserable creature depart in the thick of the night, he wouldn’t venture far.
In his idleness, he allowed himself to wonder about Sigrid and her companion. He lost track of them in the crowd, between his duty as a glorified nanny and the persistent bluster of activities.
Meanwhile, Sigrid was undergoing an education. It was different from swordplay, or dancing, though many times, the former two were viable forms of foreplay. Now, as Naimah shed her clothes and unpinned her hair from its weave, she introduced the warrior to a new partnership, one that incorporated the finesse of dance, the endurance of swordplay, and the passion of conversation. Lips moved as though speaking, but they did not. They latched, and sucked. Teeth grazed, and tongues waggled in silence. Legs parted, but did not pirouette, or arabsesque. Hands flexed not with weapons, but with each other. Fingers scratched and massaged. Hearts pounded. And finally, the silence expounded. Not without words, but with fits of pleasure, which joined a chorus of other celebratory hoots, hollers, and moans. It was a climax that everyone shared--in their own way.
The morning birds twittered their songs as Naimah awakened in Sigrid’s arms. Unlike the Dawn warrior, she was fully aware of what had transpired the night before, and was pleased to see she was not only present (most clients left afterward), but that she had been the one to wake her. A small relief, in the grand scheme of her life, but it was confirmation that she made the right decision. Sigrid was the right decision.
As she rose from the tangle of the blonde woman’s arms, she tried, without success, to pile her volume of dark hair into an updo, and instead, let it fall past her shoulders in a wild tangle. Together, they helped each other back into their clothes, and headed out of the curtained area, taking care not to step on any errant limbs of sprawled-out, unconscious revelers, who littered the lawn and the dance floor.
“Yes, I would love for you to accompany me,” she whispered. Leading Sigrid to a roundabout path, which cleared them of the spread of exhausted people, they cut through a garden, into another trellised walkway, and eventually, ended up beside the cliffside villas.
“At dusk, then, she promised. “There is not much for you to see, unfortunately. The rest of the city outside the Rigas estate is mostly in ruins, and highly guarded by Mollengard soldiers on patrol. I’d show you the beach, but...it could be dangerous. Lady Chara is strict about the comings and goings of any D’Marians rehomed here behind the Rigas gates. We are not free to roam--in case Mollengard should stop us for questioning, and learn of our plans to leave. But,” she managed a smile, “there are gardens, and other secrets, I am sure. Perhaps you can ask Alster, since the two of you are friends. Well,” she returned Sigrid’s kiss, “until then,” and she retreated to the portico of Alster’s villa, closing the door gently behind her.
When Sigrid returned to her shared guest-chambers, Haraldur was adding a few extra weapons to his belt. He craned his head to the door when Sigrid entered. “There you are. How was your evening?” A knowing smile crossed his haggard face, as he gave her ruffled clothes a onceover. “I haven’t slept. I was standing guard in front of Teselin’s chambers for the latter part of the evening. I came back only to grab a few more weapons. And to stare at this, but not touch any of it,” he thumbed over to the collection of whiskey-filled flasks lined at his bedside table. “Can’t afford to lose any balance, or wit. Not with this character at large.” Mechanically, he stood from the bed and wandered to the door. “He’s with the summoner. Hasn’t left the room, though who knows? He could’ve sneaked out the moment I left to relieve myself. I’m heading there, now, if you’d like to join, and see how she’s faring.”
When she suggested taking over for him, he sighed, and shook his head wearily. “It’s fine, Sigrid. I wouldn’t know what to do with my newly emancipated time anyway. I can’t sleep unless I drink, and I won’t sleep well if I drink. Might as well finish my ‘shift.’ But thank you.”
After closing the door behind them, he led her to Teselin’s chambers, which was nearby, in the next hallway. He knocked a few times on the summoner’s door, half-expecting her to be asleep asleep, as it was early in the morning. But the latch clicked, and the door opened, and the girl was standing on the other side, awake and pleasant of face--as usual. Beside her was a wolf, which looked excitedly between Haraldur and Sigrid, tail swishing side to side. Well, at least the shifter didn’t escape while he was away.
“Good, maybe you’ll stay that way,” he muttered to the wolf, who responded with a barking laugh. Raising his eyes to the summoner’s level, he said, “Good morning, Teselin. I don’t know if you’ve been informed, but Chara is holding a meeting this afternoon, after lunch. Are you feeling a bit better after last night?”
The wolf loped in the hallway and sidled up to Sigrid, sticking his wet nose into her wrinkled clothes. Without warning, he jumped on her, one paw interacting with her hand in some canine equivalent of approval. Then, he licked her face.
It may have been from the late night and early morning, or the memory of that surreal feeling of holding Naimah in her arms, kissing her, tasting her, and knowing that she would see her again. Whatever the reason, Sigrid couldn’t help but admit she was not feeling fully alert, but rather, somewhere within a distracted, contemplative state. It took a moment for her to understand the reason by Haraldur’s smirk, as he took in her rumpled tunic and the unruly waves of her blonde hair, which had been perfectly curled the night before. She felt her neck grow warm with… well, not quite embarrassment. She was by no means embarrassed for the fact she’d finally bedded another woman. It might even have been more along the lines of pride. “My evening went… well, thank you. Perhaps the most I have ever enjoyed myself at a celebration. I think it broke my curse.” Her mouth twitched into a grin. “Something tells me that going forward, I will not be so apprehensive about festivities and dancing. I am only sorry that I was unable to bring this attitude to your impromptu wedding, Haraldur. Though for that I do, in part, assign blame to your fierce wife for scaring the very life force out of me.”
Her smile faltered at the sight of dark bags under her cousin’s eyes, and a hint of remorse stirred in the pit of her stomach. “You haven’t slept at all? Haraldur, that is terrible… certainly Lady Chara did not expect you to sacrifice precious sleep just to keep an eye on the shape-shifter? Especially if the summoner is keeping him in check. I cannot see him acting out profoundly in her presence; she seems too sensitive to tolerate that.”
Figuring the Eyraillian prince could use some company (more favorable than that of the wolf man, at least), she accompanied him to the entrance of Teselin’s bedchambers. After a brief pause following a knock on her door, the young summoner answered, looking far more bright-eyed and relaxed than she had the night before. “Haraldur--Sigrid, good morning!” She greeted the two of them, already clad in a long tunic and leggings, looking ready and prepared to take on the day. “How are the both of you? Did you enjoy the festivities, last night?”
“We did--thank you, Teselin.” Sigrid smiled kindly. So this young girl with fresh, bright eyes, a diminutive stature, and a kind and pleasant disposition was the deadly summoner that they planned to use to their advantage against Mollengard? She hardly looked the type capable of hurting anyone, let alone wanting to do harm. Then again… those were, at times, the most dangerous people of all. The ones who did not look dangerous.
The young summoner nodded at Haraldur’s question, casting a sheepish look down at her boots. “Yes, I am well today. I… apologize that I retreated so hastily, last night. Please do not feel that it was any fault of yours, or anyone else’s, for that matter. I just… I had a bad feeling. And it was safer to retreat. But I am fine--Hadwin kept me company. I wasn’t alone.” She smiled down at the wolf, who had taken a curious interest in Sigrid, burying his nose in her tunic and sniffing. Whatever scent he caught seemed to excite him, and he jumped upon her and licked her face. It took the Dawn warrior off guard, and the weight of the wolf knocked her off of her feet.
“Boundaries, Hadwin!” She chastised him, shaking her head and pushing his muzzle away with her hand. Did he… know? Was it really so obvious what she and Naimah had gotten up to at the night’s end? If Haraldur had been able to make an educated guess, based on the state of her clothing, then it stood to reason that Hadwin knew exactly why her once perfectly-pressed indigo tunic was rumpled and wrinkled, her once perfectly coiled blonde hair not hung down her back in messy, relaxed waves, and why she sported small, albeit visible mark near her neck, earned during the more frenzied moments of her intimate union with Naimah. She’d have to be more careful about showing those obvious signs, in the future; a surefire sign of someone painfully inexperienced.
“Hadwin,” Teselin chastised him gently, and tugged at the scruff of his neck to pull him off of Sigrid, who looked particularly surprised and bewildered at his antics. The young summoner was no longer surprised by the shape-shifter’s antics, knowing him as well as she did. “This is why people take issue with you… well one of the reasons,” she said to him, knowing well that he likely already knew, and didn’t really care.
Picking herself up off of the ground, Sigrid rubbed her backside, which had hit the stone hard on her tailbone. There would be a bruise later, without a doubt. “No harm done.” The Dawn warrior said, despite not looking particularly happy about being knocked over. At the same time, she knew well that the wolf man had been the catalyst that had changed her evening (and her morning, for that matter) from tolerable to unforgettable, in the best possible way. She owed him her gratitude; even if she wasn’t about to show it, lest it get to his head.
Clearing her throat, Teselin diverted the subject from Hadwin’s behaviour, in favour of answering the Eyraillin prince’s question. “Chara did mention a meeting, yesterday. I will certainly attend; and so will Hadwin. I’m holding you to your promise,” she said briefly to the shapeshifter, arching an eyebrow, before turning back to Haraldur. “I realize that Chara has asked you to keep an eye on him, but honestly, he didn’t really cause any trouble, last night. Nor will he, today. At least, not when he is with me. And…” Her own brows gathered together in concern. “You don’t look as though you have slept very much… Before the meeting, you should get some sleep. I hope you were not up all night, just to keep watch…”
“She is right. You do look awful.” Sigrid teased her cousin, gently elbowing him in the ribs. “If you’re so concerned about keeping the wolf man in check, I’ll be that extra pair of eyes, for a while. You won’t be of any use to anyone if you’re too tired to comprehend what we are discussing.” Turning to Teselin, the Dawn warrior mentioned, “The both of you should go find something to eat, in the meantime. I will meet up with you afterwards, before the meeting. Lady Chara requires that someone other than yourself escore Hadwin to and from the meeting; no offense, of course."
The young summoner shook her head. “None taken, not at all. Chara has made her expectations clear. We will happily oblige.”
When Sigrid and Haraldur took their leave, Teselin sighed and looked down at the wolf, who mischievously wagged his tail at her. “Just because you know what someone has been up to does not make it alright to point it out,” she reminded him, knowing that she clearly meant Sigrid. “That’s how you make enemies, Hadwin. If Sigrid wants to make it public knowledge, then she will be the one to come forth. But if it is true that she has only just recently become comfortable in just dancing with a woman… now is not the time to make it clear that you know she’s done more.”
Watching Alster and Chara dance had been particularly eye-opening for Elespeth. Even if it was only one dance, the former knight was able to perceive a lifetime of their experiences together. From the people they had once been, to the people they were now. The feelings that stirred in her heart were a mixture of curiosity and sadness, for a number of reasons. For knowing that her existence, and her introduction into Alster’s life, had turned both of their worlds upside-down. Up until she and her betrothed had garnered interest in one another, an interest that had developed from friendship into fierce love, Chara had been his intended. And, in her own way… Elespeth knew she had loved him. Despite the bite of her words or her sometimes questionable courses of action, she loved in the ways that she knew how, ways which were often incompatible with others ideas of the emotion. She saw it in the way she interacted with Lilica; that cool, somewhat disinterested, and almost harsh demeanor that carried with it an unyielding care that made itself known, whenever she’d glanced at the dark mage out of the corner of her eye. Lilica must have seen it, herself, for Chara’s lapses in respectable behaviour had never seemed to bother her. She was able to see beyond it, to what really lay in Chara Rigas’s heart.
Elespeth was seeing it for herself right now, for the first time. The way the Rigas head laughed and took risks on the dance floor, showing off to no one in particular. She and Alster must have danced a good deal, in their past, to know one another’s movements by heart. It was almost enough to make her look down at her engagement ring, one that had once belonged to Alster’s mother, and wonder why it was on her hand, at all. It shouldn’t be mine; it should be Chara’s, something quietly whispered in her mind. It would have been, if not for me. But the dissolution of Alster and Chara’s romance (if ever romance had been a part of it) had not been one-sided. Certainly, Alster had met her, a runaway knight from Atvany, and had gradually transferred his affections over to her, but so too had Lilica managed to steal Chara’s heart. The two Rigas casters twirling on the dance floor had no regrets for their past correspondences and affections; but so, too, had they both moved on, in happy (and relatively healthy) ways. And they remained a crucial part of one another’s lives.
Her eyes were misty by the time Alster returned. The former knight smiled. “You did a beautiful thing, Alster Rigas. You gave her a reason to smile, tonight.” She said to him, cupping his cheek with one of her hands. Her face portraying a mix of emotions, she softly confessed, “I know I’ve never said as much, but a part of me feels guilty for tearing you away from her. Do you ever wonder… where you would be, had things turned out differently? Had this ring been on Chara’s hand, instead of mine?” She dropped her hand and glanced at the glittering stones of her ring once again. “I don’t know where I would be, honestly. Maybe alive; wandering, probably, hiding from my kingdom, taking on alises to stay safe. But I don’t know if I’d have been happy. And Lilica…” She exhaled slowly. “I don’t know where she would be, without Chara. Falling in love has given her the hope that she seemed to be lacking, all her life…”
With a half-hearted smile, she shook her head. “I don’t know that things played out as they did for a reason. But… I cannot say that I am unhappy with how it all panned out. No one has been left broken-hearted. And… I’d like to think that Chara will be happier when she reunites with Lilica.”
They spent the remainder of the evening dancing and enjoying one another’s company, until the both of them grew too tired to stand upright for long, and eventually retired to their room in Chara’s villa. As exhausted as she was satisfied, the Atvanian warrior slept well next to Alster, awakening late the next morning, well after the sun crested the horizon. Realizing she had fallen asleep with her face painted in the colours that Chara had applied, she silently slipped out of bed and made for the wash basin in the bathing chambers. Only when her face was clean of the foreign colors, and she was looking like herself again, did she return to dress in something that suited a warrior--not a debutant.
Alster was awake when she returned, and she smiled brightly, moving to the side of the bed to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Sorry you did not wake up to the stranger you fell asleep next to,” she teased, referring to her made-up face. “I told you it wouldn’t last forever. You’ll have to settle with my plain face and practical attire, today.”
Picking up a plain tunic and pair of trousers, she shed her gown from the night before and donned the far less stylish, yet far more comfortable and familiar garb, along with her sturdy leather boots. “We should hurry if we want to have some lunch, before the meeting,” she mentioned, casting a look over her shoulder. “Something tells me Chara will not forgive tardiness.”
“She tends to do that, yeah,” Haraldur agreed to Sigrid’s assessment of Vega, a fond smile lighting at the memory of the Eyraillian princess, the Skyknight Commander, the Wind, his wife. A mother. “You’re lucky to escape when you did. I don’t imagine pregnancy will be kind to her.” He pressed a thumb on his ring, released, and concentrated not on the sky, for it was concealed by the roof, but on the ground, where his feet tread. Eyraille was too far, now. He would miss its spring.
“I’ve been known to go days without significant sleep,” he dismissed, with the roll of a shrug. “Like I said, I had nothing better to do. I learned a lot about myself last night, in the wolf-man’s company. For instance, if offered, I will not watch other people have sex.” His words were dry and drone-like, in the languid, monotonous manner of one who has not slept for some hours. Shaking his head to clear his lapsing moment of filter-free conversation, he knocked on Teselin’s door and was unsurprised to see the young girl, ebullient and energetic in her morning readiness. No doubt she was a morning person. Or an everything person.
“‘Enjoy’ is a strong word.” He shot a look at the tail-wagging wolf. The creature lolled his tongue out of his muzzle and appeared supremely unfazed, but his calculated aloofness transformed, upon seeing Sigrid in her mussed-up dress. Before he could wrangle the wolf, the creature was on his hindquarters, front paws pressed up against her arms, and tongue flapping against her cheek. The surprise of the encounter knocked her to the marble floor, and Haraldur, famed for catching people before they interacted with any hard surface, failed in securing her in time, his reactive instinct too sluggish from lack of sleep. Once Teselin knocked the wolf away, he crouched over and helped the Dawn Warrior to her feet. “Are you all right?” Despite the rubbing of her tail bone, she affirmed her well-being. With a sigh, he turned his steely gaze to the wolf, but said nothing. The wolf sat on his haunches, a gesture that at least promised sedentary inaction--for now.
“Trouble--no, not trouble,” Haraldur said, “but he doesn’t like to be told what to do, either. And that can cause its own trouble.” The wolf grunted, as if in agreement. “Best to treat him like a wild animal at all times. A muzzle is helpful.” The wolf snapped open his jaws, for emphasis. “You know, I will take that nap. You’re right, Sigrid. If I can’t even buffer your fall from a would-be wolf,” the wolf bared his teeth at the statement, “then what use will I be at a meeting? Excuse me.” He dipped his head in retreat to Teselin and departed with Sigrid.
Alone again with Teselin, the wolf tilted his head up at the girl, who chided him for behavior which, frankly, he did not agree was incriminating in the least. Rising from his haunches, he padded out of the hallway and reentered her chambers, heading for the corner of the farthermost room. Once out of sight, the rendering sound of breaking bones split in the room’s deadened air. Popping joints, sickly cracks, and twisting flesh, all at once. Several minutes later, he returned in his human skin, wearing a pair of trousers but nothing more. Every bare-footed step cracked, not from the uneven creak of the floor, but from his body. He ran two hands over his red-brown hair, which in the shuffle from animal to man, threw it in complete disarray, like he had stepped out of a massive windstorm. He located his jerkin and boots on the floor beside Teselin’s bed, and hauled them over to the other side. Sitting down, he was happy to hear a creak emanating separate from himself. The wood-frame groaned.
“I pointed nothing out,” he said, pressing the wrinkles out of his jerkin. “All I did was sniff her clothes, and give her a friendly greeting. Goes to show where your mind was heading, Tes, hmm?” He winked, but didn’t elaborate, as he would with someone like Elespeth. “I didn’t think she’d fall over. Are canines so foreign in this region of the world that people don’t know what to do when it’s acting like a canine? Actually,” he remedied, “I could have sniffed her ass, but that wouldn’t go down well among polite company, would it? Tell me,” he tossed on his jerkin, “how else was I to greet our ‘friends’? I figured I’d be more dog-like to show off a ‘tamer’ disposition, but even the hunters among us weren’t impressed. Also, it’s been addressed, by our newly-crowned Rigas, might I add, that I shouldn’t transform or appear naked in front of anyone. So as you can see, my options for communication were severely limited.”
After buttoning and buckling up his jerkin, he slipped on his boots and stood, stretching arms heavenward and arching his back in an impressive show of flexibility. “When I’m a man, I’m a man. When I’m a wolf, I’m a wolf. Cognizance and consciousness transfer, yes, but ultimately, when I’m a wolf, I’m not acting like a man. The same rules don’t apply.” He wandered over to the wash basin and splashed his face a few times, running trickles of it through his hair to style it in place. “But since your mind has already careened there, I’ll give you this. Yes, our darling Siggy smelled like sex. And I couldn’t be more proud.”
At the conclusion of the waltz, Chara returned Alster to his fiancee, handing him over like a prize, with her hand cradling his prosthesis. When they neared, she sat it into Elespeth’s open palm, flesh and steel reunited, where they belonged. “One dance was enough,” she huffed, reverting to the proud, unimpressed persona of Lady Chara. “He remains profoundly insufferable, even when he is not speaking. For the love of the heavens above, take him.” Elespeth did not need to be told twice, and Chara, satisfied, smiled appraisingly at the two linked arms. “And stay that way. Now, I must attend to my affairs. I cannot be apart from the menagerie for more than five minutes, lest the animals escape their enclosure and I will have to sweep excrement from the ground.” She nodded once to Elespeth and twice to Alster, who exchanged their unspoken exchange with the same level of subtlety: a nod, and a wink. Turning to meet Elespeth’s eyes, his mouth twisted in concern when moisture formed a thin filter over her slate green irises. “Elespeth…” But he didn’t need to prompt her. Her confession spilled over her lips, revealing the thoughts which his and Chara’s dance had triggered into being. Both of his arms slipped around her waist, pushing her so close, that their foreheads touched.
“If things had turned out differently...if I had wed Chara, and you were elsewhere, if we had never met, or went our separate ways,” he breathed, then sighed, “I’d be dead. I don’t mean to sound dramatic, but it’s the truth. I’d be dead. Look at all the times you saved my life. Even if I had survived on my own, it wouldn’t be for long. The Serpent was supposed to be where it ended. Much as I hesitate to use the word, I believe I was destined to die, with the fall of Stella D’Mare. I would have let it happen. I wanted it; to be a sacrifice. To find peace.” He kissed her brow. “But all of that has changed. You are my peace, Elespeth. Death doesn’t have you waiting for me. Not the Elespeth who I’m holding in my arms. So...if you want to believe our meeting happened for a reason, then yes, I’ll agree with you. And Chara agrees, too. That is why she’s no longer bitter; she knows you’re good for me, because you’re my savior. Perhaps Chara is Lilica’s savior, too. I don’t know who would have reached out to her, in Chara’s place. It worked out for all of us.” He lifted her left hand and traced a finger over the inlaid diamonds of her ring. “Never doubt us, Elespeth. Never doubt your place, here.” The sonorous notes of another waltz sang in the string section, and Alster stepped back, but didn’t release her hand. “Here. I’ll teach you how to waltz better than Chara. Though, with how coordinated we are, together, it won’t be a challenge at all.”
They danced, and they danced some more, until their feet protested and they collapsed together in their shared bed at Chara’s villa, curled into each other’s arms in happiness and safety. As he drifted into serene unconsciousness, the Serpent slithered out of the ocean, a black-scaled monstrosity that whipped waves with Its tail, and crashed them against the cliff-side shore. Its swirling, acidic orange eyes bore their weight on Alster.
“You want to go there,” It said, no longer speaking brokenly. Its words were as smooth as a waltz. “To my world. You want to influence it, as I have influenced your realm. To remember what you see there...I can show you.” Ocean spray spat out of the water like venom, dripping on him and around him, on the sand. He looked beyond, at the stormy horizon, at where the Serpent emerged.
“In there?” he said, doubtfully.
“Into the abyss. Yes. It is where gods await. Come, and you will unite with the familiar. It is your second home, is it not?” Its impossibly long tongue slithered, and scraped the sky. “Visit your home. They welcome you.”
Alster nodded, and stepped into the abyss.
It was a world of monsters--and he was one of them. A Serpent.
That morning, he awoke to the bouncing of the feather-bed beneath him. He fluttered open his eyes, checking, to make sure, that he wasn’t covered with black-iridescent scales. No scales, and all limbs (minus one) were accounted for. The morning sun was bright on his face, a drastic departure from the muted white stars that cast their pall upon a ravaged land. “Those two stars,” the Serpent had whispered, “are Alster, and your Elespeth. From afar, they shine. We are all...connected.”
He was not given long to rebuild his composure when his fiancee stepped into the room, face washed of its paint and a sensible outfit draped over her arm. He mirrored her bright smile and reflected her kiss with one of equal love, before she sensed anything amiss. “I think I’ll manage,” he said, standing from the bed and scrubbing away at the residual grease left in his hair, and the vestiges of kohl lined around his eyes, with generous splashes of water. Dabbing at himself with a clean wash rag, he turned to Elespeth, plain-faced, like her, and his fringe of hair, though spiky from the water, reprising their position over his forehead. “Here’s my dramatic de-transformation,” he said, sweeping off his elaborately threaded tunic, for effect. “Now we’ll be unremarkable, together. Well,” he remedied, staring at his prosthetic arm, “some things will forever remain conspicuous.” After slipping on a new tunic and trousers, both well-made by Rigas standards, but far less ceremonial, his eyes flicked to the door which led to the outside terrace. “Why don’t you go without me? I,” he paused, “need a moment.” At her worried look, he smiled reassuringly. “It was a nightmare. I’ll meet you there. Save me some food.” He stepped into his boots and opened the door to take in the sweet ocean air. Home, home, home, his mind chanted. This is home. I am home. Not there. That place was...was…
Beautiful.
The pavilion outside Main House, surrounded by sleeping revelers and the recently awakened, served military rations for lunch. Having exhausted the finest cuisine for last night, supplies shifted to the utilitarian Mollengardian fare. Salted pork, hardtack, and gruel dominated the menu, mixed with the leftover hors d'oeuvres from the celebration. Wine, too, remained, but were reserved for first-comers. Luckily for Hadwin and Teselin, they were among the first on the queue, and ended up walking from the pavilion with more wine than food.
“A shame I need two bottles of the stuff to make any significant dent up in in my headspace.” He swished the goblet in his hand in a practiced, genteel gesture, sniffed its heady, varied notes of spice and cherry...and slurped half the contents in one gulp.
They found an empty patch of lawn and sat, rearranging their plates and goblets. He wasn’t sitting for long, before he saw Sigrid approach, balancing her own trays of food and water. She’d since changed her outfit to a plain, clean tunic, washed the smell of sex out of her skin, and redid her hair into the long rope braid she favored. He lolloped over and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Siggy! Just who I wanted to see! So sorry for earlier; guess I’m not a pup anymore. Don’t know my own strength! Or ferocity. Your secret’s safe with me, or, well, among those who already figured it out.” He grinned, but without its sinister barbed tips that usually accompanied the look. He did not bare teeth, the way an animal did when it meant aggression. It was a wide smile, friendly, and pleased with her outcome. “You don’t have to tell me a thing. I see it. Or rather, I don’t see it. There’s a fear that’s dampened in you. A faded indication of smoke. Still there, but less...suffocating. Here,” he led her to the spot where he and Teselin had chosen. He lifted his goblet, and placed it in her hand. “Have a sip, on me. Or the whole damn thing, I don’t care!”
As she had expected, Hadwin appeared relatively nonplussed at her gentle chiding of his antics. The wolf meandered casually from the hallway, where he had literally knocked poor Sigrid off of her feet, and the nauseating sound of cracking bones and popping joints filled the otherwise still silence of the room. Teselin cringed and grimaced at the sounds; while Hadwin had long since grown used to the sensations, likely out of the sheer necessity of his unique existence, the young summoner could only wonder what it felt like for your bones to break, to fuse into a different position entirely, and then break all over again with the shift back. The shapeshifter made it look all too easy, but those sounds told a different story.
“My mind isn’t heading anywhere, Hadwin--I just know you.” Teselin pouted, when the wolf man returned in human form, explaining away his questionable behaviour, as he always did. “I get that you were trying to come across as friendly, but… I don’t think that Haraldur will be warming to you, anytime soon. And just because Sigrid promised to protect you does not mean she wants to be jumped on. As much as I hate to say it, I am not sure that these people are going to like you any more as a wolf than they do as a person…” She felt terrible putting it in those terms, particularly as someone who did like him, as both a wolf and a man, for her own reasons. But there were all details that she suspected Hadwin was already aware of, and his argument was merely yet another opportunity to debate for the sake of it. “Next time, maybe just… I don’t know, wag your tail? Approach without jumping on someone’s body? You have a flare for the dramatic, and I am afraid it goes rather unappreciated among this crowd. Although…”
She smiled apologetically and sighed, taking a seat on her bed. “I am afraid that Elespeth is correct, in her way of thinking. Nudity also isn’t a way to win anyone over… which should really go without saying.” Teselin scratched the back of her neck. “But it makes me happy to see that you’re trying. Anyway, Sigrid did not seem offended that you jumped on her. I just wouldn’t try your luck and make a habit of it, if she is truly going to be your bodyguard and keep you safe.”
Standing from her bed, the young summoner made for the door, her stomach growling from opting to catch more sleep and skip breakfast, though her eager feet came to a halt when Hadwin confirmed precisely what she’d suspected from his actions. A deep flush crept into her cheeks, and she pressed a long sigh from her lungs. “I highly suspect that is something Sigrid does not want either of us to know,” she groaned, shaking her bashful head. “Or else she’d have said something, herself. Let us both do her a favor and not make mention of it. Do you think you can do that?”
Fortunately, they were not late to the day’s second meal, and had relatively versatile pickings as far as the food went. While Hadwin helped himself to leftover wine, the young summoner took a helping of salted meat and some leftover hors d’oeuvres. Since she’d left the festivities relatively earlier, the previous night, she’d missed the chance at sampling them while they were fresh, and seized the opportunity to do so now, before everything had been picked over.
“Well… it is only noon. Not quite, even,” Teselin commented as they took a seat on the lawn, and she began picking at her plate. “Do you really need to give yourself a head rush so early, anyway? I wouldn’t advise it, prior to the meeting that Chara expects us all to attend not long after lunch…”
Her words trailed off when she realized he wasn’t listening; rather, his attention span was more attuned to that of a hyperactive dog (not that she would ever tell him as much), and he’d caught sight of a far more rewarding stimulus. Sure enough, gathering food onto her plate was none other than his newly appointed body guard, dressed in a fresh tunic and trousers, her enviable locks of pale blonde hair pulled back into a rope braid. The Dawn warrior didn’t stand a breath of a chance to escape before Hadwin was on his feet, traipsing over to her, swinging an arm around her shoulders like she was a familiar old friend. You’re lucky she isn’t as touchy as Elespeth, Teselin thought, knowing well that that very behaviour would lead to injury, were he to try it on anyone else. At least Sigrid appeared to see him as relatively harmless… For a warrior of her stature, that was a lucky break for someone like Hadwin.
Sigrid was quietly thankful she wasn’t holding anything too heavy when an uninvited arm encircled her shoulders, almost causing her full plate to upset. That may well have given reason for her to become cross with the shape-shifter; after last night, she had worked up quite an appetite… for numerous reasons. “Hadwin,” she greeted him politely, though not entirely enthusiastic that he never ceased to be able to find her in a crowd. She was among blonde-haired, pale-eyed Rigases; just how much could she stand out, in a place like Stella D’Mare?
“Nice to see you’ve decided to walk on two feet again. Not that you are any more predictable as a human than you are as a wolf…” She gingerly rubbed her backside, where her tailbone still ached from the tumble she had taken. “No harm done, though. In the future… maybe hold off on jumping at me. I’ll pet your head, if you’re lucky.”
The Dawn warrior managed a coy half-grin, shaky to begin with, and one that altogether faded when he mentioned her ‘secret’. Immediately, she felt heat blossom in her chest, and rise to her neck and cheeks. A considerable downside to being genetically fair-skinned and pale-haired, she was never able to hide her parasympathetic responses to spiked emotions such as embarrassment. “My ‘secret’? If my secret, you mean that I willingly and happily danced with a lovely woman, then rest assured, that is no secret. In fact,” she added, hoping to derail the path his mind was obviously taking, “I plan to see her again tonight, to walk the gardens. Take in what beauty there is left in this place, before we must all depart.”
She knew well that her dances with Naimah were not what Hadwin had been referring to, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why she was so hesitant to admit it, or wear it with pride. Sigrid Sorenson wasn’t particularly a private person, had changed clothes in front of her sisters within the Dawn Guard, and was not particularly prudish or embarrassed around the topic of sex for any reason. So why, then, was it so difficult for her to share her experience with Naimah? Was she really so shallow as to having others assume that she’d resorted to soliciting a whore’s services, for lack of any better luck? Or was it more than that?
No; she was not ashamed. Not of Naimah or her profession, or for letting Naimah be her first intimate experience. It had nothing to do with bashfulness or embarrassment. On the contrary, what she’d experienced… it had felt sacred, to her. A decision not easily made, for someone like her, meaning when she had set her heart on it, it had been more than an impulse acting on desire. Last night still felt surreal, to her; like a dream, and an irrational part of her feared that if she talked about it too much, or focused on it too hard, it would begin to fade. Or that whatever connection she had made with the Kariji woman would become transient, and that once again, she’d find she’d invested herself too much, too far, and become hurt…
The truth was, it was too new for her to be yet secure with what had occurred last night, or how things would move forward, but she suspected that would come with time. In the span of a single night, she had faced and spited her fear of having her heart broken again. That was an admirable feat, in and of itself; Hadwin couldn’t expect too much of her in such a short amount of time.
“Thank you, but I think I’ll hold off on imbibing until after Lady Chara’s meeting.” The Dawn warrior politely declined as Hadwin led her over to where Teselin was sitting and picking at her meal.
“See, Hadwin? You are the only one thinking about drinking before a pivotal meeting.” The young summoner teased with a grin. “Well… maybe Haraldur, as well. I don’t often see him without a flask, nearby. But to my knowledge, he is still sleeping.”
“Try me again after this meeting, depending on how it goes.” Sigrid chuckled, figuring there was no harm in situating herself near the two of them for lunch. Turning to Hadwin, she looked as though she wanted to say something, but hesitated. At last, she said, “At risk of having this go to your head… I owe you thanks. There is no possible way I’d ever have met Naimah on my own. And even if you were just playing off a gamble in hopes that it would not end terribly, you deserve my gratitude. However,” a fierce sheen glimmered in her eyes, and she prodded his chest with an index finger. “I do not recommend you play peoples’ hearts like you play cards. Just because it happened to work out for me does not mean it will for someone else. So in the future, you’d do well to mind your own business, shapeshifter.”
Choosing to follow after her moments after she departed for lunch, Elespeth couldn’t help but feel that aggravating splinter of concern for her betrothed and how he was faring, particularly after that secret ritual that had him locked inside of Rigel’s tomb. Worrying for Alster was nothing new to the former knight, particularly with his history of simply forgetting to care about the value of his own life, but those concerns had grown stronger, of late. And their renewed bond, by blood, wasn’t even enough to assuage them. Because she no longer knew what she was up against; and it was more than just the Serpent.
But Alster never let on, at least, not that day. True to his word, he did join her for lunch, eventually, meeting up with Haraldur who looked as though he had just awoken from a nap in search of something to eat before he missed his chance entirely. They ate together, spoke of trivial and inconsequential things, topics that did not incite concern, for that was surely to come with the impending meeting. Elespeth asked after Vega, whether they had chosen names for the children, and whether or not he hoped for sons or daughters, or one of each, all which he was happy to discuss. Though as the sun moved from its central position high in the sky, their time for idle banter ran out--and together, they made their way to Chara’s villa.
The Rigas head, understandably (and unsurprisingly) was waiting for them, flouting her usual impatience, despite that they were more or less on time. Not long after their arrival, Teselin and Hadwin, followed closed by Sigrid, made their entrance, as well.
Following Chara’s instructions when it was confirmed everyone was present, Sigrid flipped a latch on the door to lock it and prevent anyone from walking in during their exchange of sensitive information, while Alster cast a muffling spell to soften their words to prying ears. When the area was deemed as secure as it could possibly be, the small group looked to Chara.
“I imagine this is our last chance to collaborate before the exodus,” Elespeth mentioned, knowing how close they were all to separating, again. How close she was to having to part from Alster, after just getting him back. “So whatever needs to be said and discussed should be said now. We no longer have the luxury of time.”
“They’re such a conservative crowd, is why,” Hadwin whined to Teselin good-naturedly, on the subject of the Rigases and their small host of allies. “They only celebrate differences which are socially acceptable, you notice that? Can’t be lively, or touchy, or honest. Sad to say, but Mollengard, the nation of structure and formations of agonizing pinpoint geometric accuracy...far more lenient. Not saying I’m with them or anything,” he clarified, “but they knew how to… ‘use’ me properly. That’s a dirty word,” he balked, with a gagging tongue. “You catch my meaning, though. The lot of you, however, are trying to box me. To shrink me into a corner and play nice. This situation is too desperate for honor or politesse. I mean, you’re throwing a tidal wave on them. Chaos unleashed and all. I’d like in on some of that fun. So,” he ran a thumb over one of his pronounced eyeteeth, “I can’t say I’m going to endear myself to them, not when they’ve already solidified their opinion of me. But if they let me do my thing, I can promise that you’ll all have the results you want.”
After securing their food, Teselin and Hadwin settled on the lawn, but he didn’t stay put for long. Sigrid was easy to spot for her stature, taller and bulkier than the average Rigas, her skin tone, which was easily several shades paler than the tanned and olive-skinned populace of Stella D’Mare, and for the desaturated tone of her blonde hair, a far-cry from the rich gold and sand-colored tresses of her neighbors. He was on her in moments, and, like his canine counterpart, Hadwin “pounced” on her with all the familiarity of a best friend or brother.
“Oh--stop!” he guffawed, taking her comment on his unpredictable behavior as a compliment. “You flatter me. Well, I’ve got a reputation to uphold, so who knows what the wolf will do, next? For you, though,” he winked, “I’ll curb my urges. Maybe extend the same courtesy to your stone-faced cousin, for the pleasure of putting up with me last night.”
As she drew away from the line with her plate of food in tact, his arm steered her in the direction of the place he and Teselin had reserved. “You weren’t planning to eat alone, were you? Thought you were assigned to watch me or something. Don’t worry; it doesn’t have to be painful!” He pressed her shoulders towards the ground, positioning her between himself and Teselin. At her blush, a wine-stain that complemented the goblet he held upright in her honor, his grin broadened. “Of course not. The two of you were some pair on the dance floor! Me and Teselin here got to see it for ourselves. It was inspiring. And a walk in the garden?” He nudged Sigrid. “Look at you! The story writes itself.” Perhaps out of respect for Teselin, or for Sigrid’s fear of ruining a good thing by announcing her truth, he didn’t press the issue, or make mention of the distinct smell that still lingered on her skin: of sweat, of womanly fluids, and of pheromones.
Taking swig gulp of his wine, he swished it around in his mouth as a means to freshen his breath--or to exaggerate its disposability to Teselin. With a gulp so large, it expanded his throat into a sizeable lump, he let forth a satisfied sigh and pressed his hands into the soft grass. “Nobody can out-drink me,” he bragged, “and this little nothing will hardly impair my ability to waggle my mouth at a meeting. I wouldn’t worry about the Forbanne prince either; a man like him was built to juggle around whiskey barrels. In fact, I’d love to drink him under the table. I asked him last night, but he pretended like he didn’t hear me.” He shrugged, and swished more wine into his mouth.
Then, came what he was not rightfully expecting, out of a member of a group which more or less despised him. “Did you say what I think you said? I have impeccable hearing, Siggy, but sometimes I hallucinate. Could you say that again?” With hesitation, she repeated her sentiments, and he responded with a grin so huge, it looked about to eat the sun. He ignored the ferocity of her gaze, and the prodding of his chest, as he toasted to her and drank the remains of his wine. “You know, Siggy, we live in a world where it’s impossible not to impact people in some way, unless you go off to rot in the woods as a hermit. Even then, your presence affects the trees, the animals--any resources you drain. We can’t even breathe without affecting, without harming. In that vein, by existing, I meddle in others’ business. Because I’m alive, I’ll always harm. So, my point here is,” he waved a placid and dismissive arm at the Dawn Warrior, “let me have this one, without all the fire-laden threats and tongue-spitting. Just give me this moment to bask in a meddling gone right.”
Alster took a half hour to refresh his perspective, to ground, and center, and remember what made him human, before regrouping with Elespeth on the lawn. All the glowing etherea balls and witchlights had since extinguished from last night, and the litter of disposed trays and goblets, removed. The remembrance tree remained, as well as the slate dance floor and the privacy curtains. Aside from the three mainstays, much of what occurred the night before had been swept clean and disassembled. He joined Elespeth, who was in the middle of conversation with Haraldur. The Sorde prince’s eyelids sagged and his speech, drained, but otherwise, he was awake and unaffected by the stupor of alcohol. Nodding to her questions, he answered with a sliver of lightheartedness he hadn’t seen much of since the Equinox Festival. However, his words carried a bittersweet finish to them. While Vega and his unborn children awaited him in Eyraille, his future, insofar as their plan to defeat Solveig went, was unknown, because there was no guarantee of success, or survival. Alster’s eyes lowered to Elespeth’s ring. She’ll live, he told himself. She’ll live, and he’ll live, and Sigrid will live, because my will is behind them. My will won’t let them die.
Later, when they finished eating and disposed of their trays and goblets, Alster, Elespeth, and Haraldur headed for Chara’s villa. The Rigas Head, as a holdover from last night, was stirring with nervous energy. Her eyes were bloodshot, and an opened bottle of wine guarded her spot on the table, around where they were all to gather and sit. Not long after their arrival, Sigrid, Teselin, and Hadwin entered through the doors. With all the precautions set in place (locked doors, shuttered windows, silencing spells), Chara presided over her position at the table’s head, and ordered them all to sit.
“Yes,” she said, in agreement with Elespeth. “We may not have another chance to discuss our plans going forward, so now is the time to reinforce every chink in the chain. I intend to hammer out any weakness until our strategies are smooth and show little margin for error. Now,” she nodded towards Alster, “Alster has ensured a failsafe against Mollengardian invasion, should they penetrate the gates. The Rigas Blood-Seal will not be compromised. They cannot acquire our pool of celestial magic while we are afar. Our legacy is secure, even if our city is not. Our hope is that this discovery will discourage Mollengard from holding our city indefinitely.”
“It won’t,” Haraldur said. “Mollengard has been wanting to expand into the south for decades. With Andalari and Tadasun under their control, it’s unlikely they’ll part from Stella D’Mare, even if the city and their fleets are ravaged by a tidal wave. Discovery of your family’s Blood-Seal may have been their initial goal, but they won’t surrender the land unless,” he paused, then shook his head.. “...They won’t surrender.”
Chara nodded at the grave news, but was unfazed by his pessimistic prognostication. “We have begun the evacuation of the infirm and elderly, in small groups, led by our most gifted of concealers. They will be directed to the forested estate of our benefactor, fetched by roc, and ferried over to Braighdath. We hope to clear the majority of them before the events of our major evacuation, which will take place five days’ hence. Either the Forbanne outside Stella D’Mare have been fooled by our magic misdirection, or they have been instructed by their fearless Captain to let us slide without retaliation. Whatever the case, it appears mass evacuation will not be so difficult to coordinate. I will leave that to you, Alster.”
“As for the tidal wave,” she flicked her eyes to Teselin, “I will accompany you outside the gates of the estate. We will wait for a signal flare before proceeding with the attack. The signal flare is dependent on the status of Captain Solveig’s defeat,” she gestured to Haraldur, Sigrid, Elespeth, and Hadwin. “Whether you fail or succeed, the tidal wave will take place, as scheduled, with the aim to cripple as many of Mollengard’s fleets as feasible.” Her icy glare rested on the wolf-shifter. “Do you have it, mongrel?”
Hadwin scoffed. “And here I thought, by sitting by and saying nothing, I’d be spared the vitriol.” He shuffled through his inside pockets and pulled out a small bundle. “Oh, right. Here, Bron-Bron, this is for you.” He unraveled the fabric around the bundle and tossed the long strip over to Elespeth. It was a blindfold. Now free of the fabric, a small amber vial rolled around on his fingertips. He slammed it on the table, a Checkmate with the pawn. “Devil’s draught, one vial.” He slid it towards Chara. “Good for three soaked blades, with a dram leftover for whatever your heart desires.”
The Rigas Head plucked the vial from the table, watching the caustic liquid slosh up against the smoked glass. “And how am I to know this is not poison, or dyed water?”
“It is poison,” he affirmed. “Just not the kind that kills you or fucks with your organs. It’s a temporary rewrite of your cognitive functions. Some would call that alcohol, but no, this is the real deal. Deadly nightshade and some other undisclosed components. If you’re still looking on feeding it to Tes here to help with summoning the tidal wave, then no, I’m not offering you a false product.”
She curled her fingers around the vial. “And this is all of it?”
He nodded. “All of it.”
“So here is where I open the table to informal discussion. We know we must corner Solveig, inject her with the draught, and trigger a fear response. What we have not decided is how to isolate her while ensuring no one will interrupt and come to her aid.”
“She’s never alone. Not even in bed,” Hadwin said.
“You said she’s alone when taking a shit,” Haraldur said, raising an eyebrow.
“I used that joke already; didn’t think you’d appreciate it a second time. But to give a serious response to your pressing inquiry--the door to her throne is guarded, too. Also, you can’t predict a turd. Unless,” he offered, “you poison the food. Spread a dysentery epidemic.”
“Stool warfare?” Haraldur said, blandly.
“Ha, good one,” he grinned. “But hey, you need to say the piss-poor ideas first, stimulate the senses, start up a dialogue. They’ll come pouring in, I’m sure.”
“Couldn’t we invite her to the estate under the guise of a meeting?” Alster suggested. “She already knows the evacuation is taking place. Chara, you could request her presence, feigning the need for her assistance. Yes, she won’t come alone, but if she’s operating independent of Mollengard, she won’t bring many with her. She’d want to stave off suspicion. We can corner them in a room which we’ve trapped beforehand. Then, we dispatch them on our own turf.”
“That’s dependent on too many factors,” Chara said. “We’d have to lure her to the estate, and there’s a chance that she’ll send a proxy. We can’t anticipate the number of delegates she’ll bring, nor can we trust that she’ll enter the room we’ve chosen for our ‘meeting.’”
“Folks,” Hadwin interjected, his voice butter-smooth and sugar-sweet, “it’s obvious. Solveig loves her Forbanne. So send her a Forbanne she can fix.” He pointed to Haraldur.
Haraldur’s shoulders stiffened defensively. “And what would you have me do?”
“Surrender to her. She’ll know you for who you are. Rather, what you were. She’ll want to help reform your ‘roots.’ You’ll make an excellent distraction. Also, I know Solveig’s schedule--roughly. Where she’ll be at any given time, and with whom. She is absurdly punctual, and because of that, she’s predictable. It’s been a while, so I’ll have to scout the area anew, to confirm the constancy of her schedule, and to check if there’s some abandoned building we can lure her inside. Of course,” he leaned back in his chair, “to do this, you’ll need to remove my leash, and let me go free.”
Sigrid looked to Haraldur, at his grim predilection with regard to Mollengard’s intentions for Stella D’Mare, and how easily they would give up. Having been spared the country’s tyranny at such a young age, her account of their notorious appetite for conquering and assimilating were all through secondary accounts, none experiences of her own. It took quite a gall to refuse to surrender; some would call it bold or brave, and others, stupid. Even the Dawn Guard knew when to call a losing battle to mitigate damage. Mollengard truly believed that it could take what it wanted, and keep it. Would nothing short of completely annihilating every Mollengardian on D’Marian soil stop them? Would that even be enough?
“If that is true, and Mollengard will not be dissuaded by the lock on your family’s blood seal, then at least we can take solace in knowing that they will want the city to remain intact,” Sigrid added after a moment. “It will give us something to return to. Something worth taking back, when we have a better plan and resources. As grave as it seems, it is not so dire as it could be. Should Mollengard choose to level the city entirely… that would not be something easily dealt with, in the aftermath. But let us focus on the forefront of this plan, first.”
Nodding to Alster, she reiterated Chara’s comment, “so the evacuation is up to you. You have the aid of Eyraille’s rocs, Galeyn’s night steeds, and Braighdath’s Dawn Guard to facilitate to the best of their ability. And you,” she looked to Teselin, her jaw moving side to side in uncertainty. “...you are really able to do that? To summon a tidal wave that could devastate Mollengard’s fleets?”
The young summoner squirmed in her boots, upon which she fixed her gaze, instead of the questioning faces of her comrades. “In theory. Well, not so much a theory that it can be done--because it can. I know this, because I’ve done worse,” she noted. “The tricky part will be hauling it back before it can do irreparable damage to the city, as well. But… I think with a little bit of help,” she looked to Alster and smiled shyly, “I can pull it offer. Perhaps even without the devil’s draught.”
Speaking of the infamous poison that supposedly subdued the mind to do another’s bidding, the Dawn warrior watched curiously as Chara turned turned the vial over in her hands. There seemed so little of it; it must have been potent. “So this is what is supposed to turn the tables for us?” She asked, looking to Hadwin and Elespeth, the two who were most familiar with this part of the plan. “How does it work?”
“Ideally, it should put her under our influence. That is, if we can manage to nic her with a tainted blade. That said, we need her alive.” She glanced at the tightly wrapped sword across Sigrid’s back, one that she was so loathe to part with, for fear of it wreaking havoc while out of her hands. Alster had debriefed her on the situation with Gaolithe, and while she hadn’t pried for details from the Dawn warrior, she’d heard enough to be convinced that it was as much a weapon of surefire fatality as it was made out to be. “I won’t tell you not to bring that sword; who knows what we will face, and it night well come in handy. Though I do suggest you also find a lighter ordinary blade to taint for the sake of getting the poison in Solveig’s bloodstream. I’m not convinced one of us will successfully cut through her flesh, but between two of us, the odds are better. Meanwhile,” The former knight pressed her lips together, her brow furrowed. “We will have to take care not to get in each other’s way… Injuring an ally isn’t uncommon in battle, but should one of us fall victim to that poison, then this part of the plan will be entirely compromised.”
“Well, lucky for us, I happen to specialize in unified combat. It is what the Dawn Guard is known for: we win because we attack as a unit, know the way one another moves so as to complement their tactics and avoid injury.” Sigrid explained with a grin. “Come find me, after this meeting, and I will show you how we might avoid stepping on one another’s toes, while increasing our chances in getting a hit on Solveig.”
Unfortunately, Elespeth had neither the time nor space to be excited over the opportunity to train with a member of the Dawn Guard, a warrior clan that she had respected and idolized for several years, now. Because this entire segment of the plan was all contingent on getting Solveig alone--which, evidently, was more impossible than they’d originally thought.
The former knight wrinkled her nose. “What level of insecure must you be to demand a guard when relieving yourself?” She muttered, shaking her head. “Sounds like she doesn’t even trust her own men.”
“Well… we might just have to concede to the possibility that we won’t find her alone.” Sigrid mentioned, her mouth a thin, straight line. “If we summon her here, to the estate, she isn’t stupid enough to come alone. Even if we use Haraldur’s history to draw her out, she won’t come without reinforcements; why would she, when she has an entire army of Forbanne at her disposal?” The Dawn warrior rolled her shoulders back, shifting Gaolithe’s hilt with the movement. “I say the best that we can do is prepare to face her reinforcements. Fortunately…” She reached behind her, gingerly touching the hilt of the enchanted blade. “I have a weapon that might just be able to take on a few Forbanne. But, we are already getting ahead of ourselves. Haraldur,”
Turning to her cousin, Sigrid’s expression softened. “Is this something you are willing to do? You have a wife and unborn children, waiting for you back in Eyraille, and this plan is dangerous enough without jeopardizing you, further. Nobody here is going to blame you for refusing.”
“If this is the route we take… then I will personally see to it that nothing happens to him.” Elespeth’s promise was firm and saltwart. Haraldur had been a comrade and friend for a long time; for about as long as she had known Alster, and they had shared similar trials and tribulations throughout the Mad Prince’s rule, and everything that it had led to. Perhaps she did not know his experience with Mollengard as intimately as Vega, but she knew his sentiments were dire enough that he had fled Stella D’Mare at the first sight of Mollegardian ships, when the Serpent had wreaked havoc on the city. Throwing him back into the fire, to lure out one of the conquering nation’s most notorious Captains, was akin to forcing her to face her family in the aftermath of her brother’s death. That was not something she could bear to do, and could only imagine how the former mercenary must be feeling about this. “You’ve saved my ass enough times on the battlefield,” she added, with a lopsided grin. “Frankly, I owe you. And no one is in this alone.”
Teselin, who had been relatively silent whilst the others deliberated amongst themselves, finally spoke up, her voice soft and contemplative. “Hadwin… you might actually be on to something. Not about Haraldur, but in poisoning the food. Or, maybe even better, the water.”
Everyone turned a curious and confused look on the young summoner, whose face flushed at suddenly being at the center of their attention. “What is the end game, here? Beyond apprehending Solveig, and taking the Forbanne to ourselves. Beyond evacuating Stella D’Mare to keep its denizens safe… Chara, you yourself expressed hope that whatever it is Alster did to the Rigas blood seal would be enough to dissuade Mollengard from setting roots, here. But as Haraldur said, if there is anything to be benefitted from this place, whether it is the magic or the land, they will not give up. But… what if the land was inhospitable? Enough that it wouldn’t be possible to stay here?”
“What are you suggesting? That we poison the streams and rivers that supply every well in Stella D’Mare?” Elespeth asked skeptically. “We want this place to remain in tact so that we can come back to it, Teselin. Ruining our water supply would be akin to cutting off our nose to spite our face. Even with magic, who knows how long it would take to purify the water again so that this city can be hospitable for us?”
“I don’t mean poison so much as I mean… well, making it far less than optimal for the soil. Depleting it of its ability to nourish the city’s crops. I could do it.” For once, it wasn’t with uncertainty that she spoke, but with confidence. “I’ve changed and manipulated elements on a grander scale. This would be at a foundational level. When it is safe to return, and Mollengard has lost interest, I could reverse the effects.”
“Pardon my ignorance--I do not stand as magically adept, and I know little of your abilities, Teselin,” Sigrid said, “but does being a summoner entail changing the properties of water? It sounds rather like instant alchemy.”
Of course, the young summoner was not offended. She only smiled. “Another of my brothers happens to be a renown alchemist; perhaps I picked something up through inheritance. But I will say this much.” Teselin’s smile faded, and she folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve created something out of nothingness, before. Matter where it didn’t previously exist. I don’t know how I did it, and I don’t know that I could do it again. The point it, attracting or dispelling precisely what I want from Stella D’Mare’s water to fail the crops and the soil does not feel like such a far stretch. I think I could do it. That is,” she looked to Chara again, “if that is of interest to you. I am already messing with water in one capacity; it wouldn’t be a far stretch for me to do both.”
“Returning the water to its former state would then be contingent on your survival, Teselin. I don’t know that anyone else would be capable of reversing what you did to it.” Sigrid brought to light after a moment’s thought. “Not that I imagine anyone here doesn’t want the lot of us to survive, but you will need to take care in the aftermath.”
“Regardless of what she does or doesn’t do to the water, we cannot allow Mollengard to get her hands on her, anyway.” Elespeth added, folding her arms. “I don’t want to think about what they would do with their power. And, not to change the subject from an equally worthy topic, but returning to the issue of Solveig…” She shifted uneasily, scuffing her boots on the marble floors, “Say the plan goes swimmingly. We managed to get the Devil’s draught into her bloodstream, she becomes suggestible, and hands control of the Forbanne over to us. What then? What the hell are we supposed to do with something like Solveig? We cannot catch up to the rest of you and take her into Galeyn; she does not need to see the power that kingdom has to offer.”
“Then take her to Braighdath.” The Dawn warrior offered, looking relatively nonplussed. “If she is a prisoner, then the Dawn Guard can keep an eye on her, keep her at bay. That is, if you feel the need to keep her alive, after she serves her purpose. Call me barbaric, but…” Sigrid pressed her lips together, something dangerous glimmering in her pale, sapphire eyes. “I’ll gladly bear the burden of suffering her blood on my hands.” Even if only for the mere relation to the reason she had never gotten to know her own family. Solveig might not have been directly responsible, but her parents were lost to her, forever, and Haraldur had lost years to the Forbanne that he would never get back. Someone needed to pay.
Surrender to her. The lash of the wolf-man’s words whipped Haraldur with the force of the blows that formed worm-burrows all across his back. He could feel them now, writhing beneath his skin, splitting his flesh into furrows, into canyons so deep, the crimson river did not overflow and trickle free, but riveted down his spine, into the delta. Drip, drip drip, the blood created oceans beneath his feet. He could drown in its reflection, in his reflection. Warped from ripples, the blood revealed his true heart. Monster. Monster. We killed the man. We drained him out of you. See him drip. See him soak into the ground. We trample on the man. He is a grave.
Several concerned glances blinked Haraldur into awareness. His fingers, unbeknownst to him, had twirled around his wedding band like wayward vines clinging to the only solid structure in a barren landscape. An uneven breath puttered into his nostrils, a stutter, which provided him little air. Only noise.
Why was he in Stella D’Mare? What was there to prove with a physical presence, that he couldn’t do remotely? Eyraille possessed a resonance stone; his original plan was to sit behind it and offer advice and instruction. Why such a drastic departure from the safe course? Because of the hope in the late Atli’s eyes. The desperation weighing on his comrades’ backs, crooking them into premature surrender. He wanted a better world for the children. For Vega, and Eyraille. And...
His eyes inexplicably sought the wolf-man’s. They were yellow reflecting pools of an unknown composition. Acid. Urine. Sun-glow. Ichor, dripping from the toes of some conquered god. The man’s bushy eyebrow rose, as if in a challenge. He shook away the hypnotic gaze, and released his clawing fingers from their sole comfort. His reason for coming to Stella D’Mare...was to conquer the Mollengard that thralled his mind. A continuous presence. We own you. We own you. Forever Forbanne.
No.
They will never have me again. This is my chance...to own myself. I won’t be afraid. I’m done with running...
“I’ll do it,” he said, and the room was once again breathable. The wolf-man smiled. The concerned glances normalized. “If this plan amounts to controlling whatever Forbanne will follow my leadership, then I can’t allow for any weakness. They’re more likely to break away from Solveig if the challenger faces her head-on. So,” he narrowed a determined gaze at Sigrid, “include me with your training. I’m fighting alongside you two.”
“Long live Prince Sorde!” Hadwin slapped his hand on the table and let out a ‘huzzah!’ “Now, this leaves one loose end; the venue. This comes down to your discretion, Lady Chara. Do we orchestrate a little play-area for our venerable captain, or do we bring the fight to her?”
Before the Rigas Head could answer, Alster weighed in. “I’d be willing to let you run reconnaissance, Hadwin, and report your findings, on the condition that you swear a blood oath.” He glanced over at Chara and tilted his head. A mutual understanding passed between the two cousins.
“Yes,” came Chara’s tight-lipped reply. “Yes, a blood oath will suffice. But not to Teselin, for you have already made your loyalties clear.” She dropped her hand on the table, palm up. “To me.”
“Well, Hadwin cracked his knuckles and leaned on his elbows, intrigued, “this took an interesting turn. Sacrificing one leash for another, hm?”
“It’s to make sure you stay trustworthy,” Alster offered. “Once you satisfy your end of the deal, the oath is broken, and it’ll have no more power over you. Though, there might be a few lasting effects.”
“I’m not any happier about it than you, mongrel,” Chara growled. “But I am serious about the safety of my people, and the success of this plan. So--after our meeting ajourns, do stick around.” She smiled conspiratorially at Alster. “Not that you have a choice. Alster warded my villa with blood magic. Only the voluntary spilling of Rigas blood will release you from your new prison.”
“Glad I’m not the only one with trust issues.” He looked sourly to Chara, then to Alster. “Well-played, Serpent.”
Alster’s smile was unfamiliar. “I know something about fears, too, Hadwin Kavanagh. Come back to me after you’ve lived a few thousand years.”
An eerie silence swallowed all discussion at the table, until the wolf-shifter laughed away the mutual trepidation and resumed their planning. “So, the devil’s draught works like this,” he began. “It won’t take a piddling scratch with a poison-slicked weapon to get Solveig’s undying--well, day long--dedication. She’ll need to be afraid, and as our liberated Forbanne here knows, it’s not so easy to induce. So I’ll be there to project whatever hellscape I find fitting for the Captain, because three soldiers sure as shit won’t be enough to frighten her into subjugation. Once she’s under the draught’s influence, she’ll fall to the compulsion of the first person who speaks an order. Since she’s so toweringly huge, I recommend more than one poke of the draught, if you can manage it.”
“Once we send you into Mollengardian territory to find the ideal ambuscade of which you speak, do us all a favor and avoid capture,” Chara said to Hadwin, in warning. “You are a wanted man, and I have invested too much to lose out on your ‘unique skill-set.’”
“Aw, watch it, Chara; that almost sounded like an endorsement.” Hadwin tsked in approval. “Yeah, I’ll find you the sweet-spot. If you can whip up another resonance stone, I can report on the go, and I can pinpoint the position where I want our intrepid soldiers to meet. They’ll be on stand-by, I assume, until we’ve got our sight on Solveig.”
“And I daresay I can afford to send out a few more reinforcements,” Chara nodded. “With a concealer caster, even. He will be able to enshroud you until the appointed time and place.”
With one leg of the plan reaching some semblance of order, Teselin, who’d been a thoughtful observer among the group, spoke of a strategy separate from the parts already mentioned: poisoning the land to vacate Mollengard’s population.
Haraldur was the first to comment. “If you do that, Teselin, if you use your method to stunt or deaden crop growth by tampering with the water, then yes, there’s no reason for Mollengard to stay. But they’re possessive of their toys. If they can’t have Stella D’Mare, then nobody will. They’ll burn the city to the ground and salt the earth.”
Chara’s jaw flexed, then tightened. “After the work they put forth into requisitioning it for their own purposes? They would destroy a geographically significant strip of land?”
“Leaving it vacant is far less strategic. They’ll anticipate its former citizens, or opportunistic interlopers, to claim the city. Why afford their enemies the chance? Better to wipe it off the map and render it inhospitable for generations to come. Besides, they’ll still be able to use the harbor.”
Chara balanced a hand on the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping her sitting upright. “We cannot have that, no. Especially as there are a number of D’Marians who refuse to evacuate with us. They are far more susceptible to starvation than the resourceful Mollengardians, who have conquered our Tadasuni and Andalarian neighbors. Far better to dirty their water supply and infect them all with dysentery or whatever you were prattling on about,” she flicked her fingers towards Hadwin as though flicking stray droplets of water at him.
“In theory, it’s not a bad proposition,” Alster said, the familiar returning to his green and blue mottled eyes. “I’ve been turning around a similar idea of my own, though it pertains to ‘freezing’ the land in time, or transforming it into a weapon that will suck the life-breath from our Mollengardian aggressors. Similar to what I did to Messino and his men on the battlefield,” he said, turning to capture Elespeth’s attention. “I would have to make use of the Blood-Seal in its entirety, as a power source, though I’m afraid it’ll only recognize Rigases and no other D’Marians, when in activation. The lives of our remaining citizenry will be forfeit. But my magic has influence, and I can circumvent the by blood rule. When I used the phantom phoenix on the battlefield, I commanded it to kill everyone but my allies, and it obliged. Anyway,” he shook his head, “I don’t have the time to research and plan out the logistics or the likelihood of success. I’ve never tackled anything on such a large scale before. Well,” he shrugged self-consciously, “on top of opening and closing portals into far-off realms. I know nothing can be done now; we’re far too busy with the evacuation, the tidal wave, and with Captain Solveig. But,” his eyes settled on Teselin, “it’s possible we can collaborate, and plan for the future, in preparation for our return.”
“Yes; let us consider the most pressing matters, first. The evacuation is of import,” Chara said, in agreement. “We must remove as many of our citizens from Stella D’Mare, first. When we’ve reached safe haven, we shall plan methods by which to reclaim our stolen land. But,” she rose from the table, “if we have exhausted our minds, and if no one has any further questions or comments, the meeting is adjourned. By no means are we done planning, but in an official capacity, yes. This will be our final meeting. Should you need to contact me, you may knock on my door, or seek me or Alster in a crowd. Now,” she headed for the front door, and opened it wide, “do what you must, to dedicate your focus to the tasks at hand. Except for you,” she pointed to the outlier, who had stood with everyone else and was in the queue for the exit, “I told you that leaving was not permitted.”
“Would you say I’m curious to know what happens to me if I step past the threshold?” Hadwin said with a lopsided grin.
“It’s not a bluff, if that is what you’re thinking,” Chara crossed her arms, her expression placid. “But go on. I dare you to walk through the door.”
Hadwin didn’t flinch or hesitate. He spun his heels towards the door-jamb and, once the area was clear, slid a foot past the invisible line delineating inside from outside. A sudden wall of force blew him backwards ten feet, knocking him off balance and throwing him against the opposite wall. “Hah!’ The wolf-man exclaimed, pushing from the floor and dusting off his jerkin as though it were the only damage he incurred. “A shielding spell.”
“My specialty.” Alster, who remained inside the villa, said.
"Is this revenge for kissing your fiancee?"
The Rigas caster shrugged. "Maybe."
“You are lucky it did not sear off your foot," Chara said. "Now,” she drew a ceremonial dagger from her belt, set a rag upon the foyer, and closed the front door, “I will exact my blood oath from you.” She unsheathed the dagger. “In it, you will swear your fealty to me and by extension, those with whom I am allied. Do this, and we shall trust you implicitly. Do not, and say hello to your brand new cage.”
“Nothing to it,” he said, breezily. “You backed me into a corner, anyway. I’m trustworthy to your cause, so slicing my hand isn’t going to ruin my day, or any nefarious plans I have against you lot.” He drew out his hand. “So, fealty it is.”
“Haraldur…” The look that had befallen the Eyraillian prince did not surpass Sigrid’s attention. She could see it in his eyes: the conflict, the terror, that feeling of being caught between a rock and an even more menacing rock. There was no good decision, and no favourable outcome. To refuse would remove a viable plan from their narrow list of plausible options. But to agree… who knew what would come of it? Who know that it would even work, and that he would walk away, unscathed, after facing a part of his past that he so desperately wished to put behind him, and keep it there. A myriad of emotions crossed his face in a span of a minute, and the Dawn warrior wondered if he was even mentally present in the group, here and now. “Haraldur, are you alright?”
I’ll do it, he finally agreed, determination overshadowing the fear in his green eyes. It might not have been the right decision, but there was no right decision in a plan so rooted in luck and timing as theirs. Nonetheless, Sigrid offered a tight smile. “Of course. We will train together. Synchronicity and intuition on behalf of each other will be paramount… especially if I am to wield Gaolithe.”
But the matter of the wolf man’s credibility was still largely up in the air, and that was a detail that no one could ignore. After all, the only person in the room who seemed to trust him implicitly was Teselin, and… well, she was perhaps not the best judge of character, given her disposition to want to trust. But as Alster put forth a very reasonable and logical solution, Elespeth couldn’t help but break into a grin. “Now that is something we should have considered long ago.” She said, looking sidelong at Hadwin. “What do you have to lose? If you really are loyal to us--the rest of us, and not just Teselin, that is--then it shouldn’t make any difference. And like Alster said, as soon as you fulfill your end of the bargain, you’ll be free of it.” She almost made mention of how Alster had told her Lilica had bound Vitali to her by blood oath, as well, and that it had worked out well for that party (save for Vitali, of course, who evidently was suffering an unfortunate fate), but she thought better of it with Teselin present. She might not have invested as much faith in the young summoner as the others, but she also hadn’t the inclination to be cruel to her.
The temporary relief from the notion of putting a magical ‘leash’ on the wolf man through blood oath was not long-lived, however. First, the Atvanian knight’s anger spiked when Hadwin had the gall to refer to Alster as the Serpent; as if they were synonymous, when in fact they could not be more different, and she felt more than a little impelled to come to her fiance’s rescue and chastise the shapeshifter, as had become her role, it seemed. But that was not what bothered her the most. It was Alster’s smooth response to Hadwin’s no-so-innocent remark--if you could at all say it came from Alster. The smile he wore did not belong to him, nor did the undertones of his voice. It was enough to make her freeze in position, eyes on him, as if expecting the worst was to come.
And she was not alone--and not the only one to notice. The entire room fell silent, all eyes on Alster following that remark. Those in the know were aware of exactly what had caused him to speak so out of character, while those who were not privy to his unwanted dual-consciousness, such as Teselin, simply looked confused. No one said a word, until Hadwin dared to speak up again, changing the subject as if nothing had happened, and nothing was out of the ordinary. And, for the first time… Elespeth had to admit she was glad for his banter.
“So… we not only need to manage to get a hit on Solveig, but we need several?” The former knight raised her eyebrows and blew air from between her lips. “Well, between the three of us… I’d say, maybe, we have a chance.”
“It will be three on one, provided reinforcements aren’t in the way,” Sigrid mentioned, not looking nearly as uncertain as Elespeth and Haraldur. “Who cares if she commands the Forbanne? She is one person. And not invincible, unless there is something I don’t know.”
Both Elespeth and Haraldur exchanged a worried look, and the former said, “Have you seen her? I’ve only run into her a handful of times, and I am willingly to bed good, solid money that she is bigger than Haraldur. She may be just one person, but it will take the three of us to so much as match her, if we can even do that.”
“So she is large. All the better; more surface area to connect with a blade.” The Dawn warrior shrugged, nonplussed despite the general consensus of the room that Captain Solveig was a force to be reckoned with. “I believe you when you say she is dangerous; and in fact, I haven’t had any run-ins with this Mollengardian Captain, or I daresay I’d already have antagonized her. But going in, afraid of her, is not going to lead us to victory. Trust me.” She offered her cousin and the newly-minted Rigas a confident smile. “If our job is to get in a few hits, then we’ve got this. Wait ‘til I show you how to fight like a Dawn warrior.”
On the side-topic of devising a way to dissuade Mollengard from laying their roots into Stella D’Mare’s soil, Teselin was not surprised to have her idea shot down by Haraldur’s reasoning. She wasn’t nearly as familiar with the mannerisms and tendencies of the conquering nation, but felt that she should weigh in, being a part of the plan to overcome them. And the thought of so many people losing their home to that despicable nation… Just looking at Chara, and the way she seemed to wilt more and more every day, as their mass exodus neared, it made her want to make a difference. The tidal wave would devastate the fleets, but beyond that, it was not a long-term solution. “Of course; it was a silly idea,” she amended, shrinking back into her place on the settee. “I know little about Mollengard, admittedly, except for that they are terrible… I’d hoped there would be a way for the D’Marians to return, without having to kick out those who clearly do not belong.”
The young summoner did not expect anyone to speak in favor of her plan; not even Alster, who, to her surprise, was not as quick to shut her down as the rest. His thoughts relied a good deal more on magic and less on letting the land die on its own, due to magically-induced interferences, and though she hadn’t an inkling as to what he was referring to with regard to his past feats, his idea sounded… well, phenomenal. She’d known he was something beyond ordinary before she’d even met him, solely based on what others had told her. Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle anew with awe.
“Of course,” she said, unable to filter the surprise from her voice. “I can hardly imagine how you would think to pull that off, but if it is within my abilities to help, I would be more than happy to collaborate. Perhaps in addition to something that would also take into consideration the safety of those who refuse to leave… a shame that they will not be part of the evacuation. But, of course,” she offered a small smile. “We can discuss this later.”
There didn’t seem to be any more to discuss, though, particularly with a great lack of any further ideas on top of what the small lot had already brainstormed. Alster would lead the evacuation in Chara’s stead, whilst the Rigas head accompanied Teselin as she performed the deadly feat of summoning a tidal wave to obliterate Mollengard’s fleets. Meanwhile, it was up to Haraldur, Sigrid, and Elespeth to injure Captain Solveig and introduce the Devil’s draught to her veins, Hadwin to frighten her into submission, and Haralur to demand she pass ownership and leadership of the Forbanne over to him. And somehow, all of this was supposed to tie together, bringing them back to each other, eventually. It was by no meals foolproof or even properly fleshed out; but it was all they had, and there was no time to wipe to slate clean and think of something better.
“Come on,” Sigrid said, clapping a hand on Elespeth’s and Haraldur’s shoulders. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ll teach you what I can about fighting with, and as, a Dawn warrior. It’s a bit different from what you are probably used to, but if the three of us are going up against Solveig, every single movement we make will need to be intuitive to the three of us. That will be our strength and our advantage… and I only hope I have enough time to show you what I mean.”
The three warriors departed, and Teselin watched as Hadwin looked as though he wished to trail after them, only to be sent flying against the wall by whatever magic the Rigas casters had put in place. The young summoner winced on his behalf, and wished there was something she could do or say, but Chara’s rules were her own… and Hadwin had agreed to them.
Blood magic was not something that she dealt it, and while she was not particularly squeamish, Teselin chose to look away as the two sliced their own flesh. Is it not enough that he is implicitly loyal to me? She wanted to ask, for Hadwin was well aware that she allied herself wholly to Chara and her plan, and meaning harm to her allies would undoubtedly mean harm to her. But it was a moot point, and soon they were done, with a newm invisible leash around Hadwin’s neck to keep him in check. She’d have felt sorry for him, if she thought for a moment he wanted that.
Without a word, she reached for the shapeshifter’s injured hand as he passed, and wrapped it in a spare handkerchief she’d found on her person to staunch the bloodflow. But her eyes were on Alster. “I want to take you up on your offer. To find a way to make Stella D’Mare completely inhospitable to Mollengard, but not to the point where it will be rendered useless to its native citizens. Maybe not right now, but do keep me in mind when the time comes. I am not sure how I can help, exactly, but… I know that I can. In the meantime, though…”
The young summoner stood from the settee and brushed the wrinkles out of her tunic as she faced Alster. It was too big on her, for her frame lingered in that awkward stage between being too big for a child, yet too small for an average-sized adult, meaning that almost everything she wore was on the larger and the longer side. Her diminutive stature, rail-thin and not unlike Lilica, did not help. “If you have a moment… I’d love for your help, again. In inciting and stopping my powers at will. I’m sorry I tired so early, during our last attempt…” A small flush crept into her cheeks. “I promise that won’t happen this time. But summoning a tidal wave is useless if I am not able to stop what I start. Your guidance would be invaluable.”
“All right,” Hadwin chewed the inside of his mouth. “So how’s this going to work?”
“Like this.” Chara wrenched the shifter’s hand forward and aggressively bit the blade into his flesh. He didn’t flinch, or look away from the outpouring of blood streaming from his palm, and in fact, appeared mildly intrigued. The Rigas head pressed the dagger into his uninjured hand and directed him to do the same. With a compliant nod, he sliced a sliver down her palm, then added a few staves to the original line until satisfied with the result. He returned the dagger. Chara raised the palm to her eyes, expression souring. “Did you...draw a picture!?”
“It’s a star,” he said, smiling in the proud way a child would, when sharing his creation to a parent. “Is that against the ritual? Like the gouge you scooped out of my hand?” She grit her teeth, but said nothing. “I mean, if you’re leaving your mark on me, naturally, it goes both ways. My fealty means your protection.”
“And your fealty means I can ask you to die for me, so do comprehend your current position.” She pressed her star-shaped wound to Hadwin’s deep furrow. “Swear to me your fealty, for as long as we are in Stella D’Mare. Swear it, by the name of your dear sister.”
He frowned. “Now, now, isn’t that in bad taste? I can’t be swearing on the life of someone I can’t verify is even alive.”
The Rigas Head sighed her frustration. “It is symbolic. Do not besmirch the sanctity of our ritual, or we will have to start it anew.”
His eyes drifted to their bloody handshake. Something desperate lingered there, but only for a flicker. His voice was quiet, yet solemn. “I, Hadwin Kavanagh, swear on the life of Rowen Kavanagh, to offer my fealty to you, Chara Rigas.” For good measure, he bowed his head. Then, out of the side of his mouth, he whispered, “did I pass?”
She silenced him with a glare. “I, Chara Rigas, accept the fealty of Hadwin Kavanagh, and do hereby place him under my protection.” Their intermixed blood dripped on the rag spread beneath their feet, pooling together into one puddle. In unison, they drew back their arms, as if mutually bitten.
“That’s it? No fanfare?”
“It’s not a blasted parade!” She fetched another clean rag and staunched her wound.
“So how does it feel to know you’ll always have my blood inside of you?” he said, his tone slow, sultry, and smiling.
“Like I’ll forever remain unclean.”
“It’s not that bad. Some wolf’s blood will do you good!” When Teselin approached with a rag and wrapped his injury, he patted her shoulder with his remaining hand. “Aw, thanks, chickadee. But it’s not necessary. It’ll heal right quick; benefits of shapeshifting.”
Alster, who observed the proceedings with a silent air, caught Teselin’s gaze and filtered closer to the small crowd gathered at the foyer. But Chara was already leaving, with Hadwin (who was no longer trapped inside the villa), in tow, to discuss further reconnaissance plans. With the living quarters vacated save for themselves, he invited Teselin to sit with him on the nearby divan.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” he said, his face still breaking apart its sheen of apathy that had settled when the Serpent took residence. “I’m not fully aware of what I said or did, but I could tell by the tense silence, that it happened again. The Serpent sometimes...manifests in me. We’re bonded with one another, and Its influence is palpable. While our relationship is more or less mutually agreed upon, there are interesting side-effects that I’m continually discovering.” He slotted his flesh and blood fingers between his steel digits. “It’s a learning process. You needn’t worry about Its resurgence, though. I’m grounding myself as we speak.”
He was grateful for her shift in subject, and as she made mention of the idea she posed at the table, his eyes settled on the high ceiling, in thought. “I’m in agreement with the idea of weaponizing Stella D’Mare, or making it inhospitable for Mollengard to live. If Haraldur’s assessment is correct, and he’s been among the Forbanne, so I trust his counsel, Mollengard won’t preserve the city if their problems outweigh their gains. But if we cut off the city from time and space, or trap them inside a massive dome through which there is no escape…” he removed his gaze from its fixed location and eyed Teselin, “then you could use your magic to deaden the land, or similar. If you’re confident in this ability of yours, and I’m confident in my shielding, then we can combine these two forces of ours. By trapping them inside, they’ll consider their every resource as precious, and won’t set fire to or otherwise ruin the only place that is keeping them alive. Of course, this doesn’t factor in the D’Marians we’re leaving behind, but we’ll have time to refine our plan when we regroup after the evacuation. But in the meantime...”
Standing in concert with Teselin, Alster led her to the back of the villa, where a door opened out to the terrace. The day was unseasonably chilly, a biting wind which threw his hair into disarray and caused his steel arm to retreat beneath his flesh and blood arm for warmth. Overcast clouds blotted the sun, darkening the sea beneath them into a roiling mass of ink. The crash of waves and the spatter of sea spray arced in patterns of blood from the cliffsides, an eerie sight reminiscent of his dream--before the Serpent arrived and whisked him to Its homeworld. The pumping of longing still pattered against his chest. Would he ever had considered a dark and forlorn planet to possess so much...wonder? Stella D’Mare currently reflected the Serpent realm, best as it could, but its efforts were a pale interpretation of the melancholic majesty, which existed far beyond the stars.
“Tidal energies.” He gripped the railing, eyes never straying from the tumble and roar of the overstimulated ocean. “They are a powerful energy, one that can be felt and heard from far away. A rattle of sound so distinct, that if we place a conch shell to our ears, we can hear it, no matter how far we are from its source. It is persistent, and it runs on cycles. Yet, it is mercurial, and unpredictable. Both states of being are key in understanding its nature. Like most forces of this world and beyond, these energies are dual in light and darkness. You will perform poorly if you accept only one aspect of its energy. That would be like accepting the light from the sun, but not its heat. You’re liable to get burned by rejecting this essential attribute of the sun. With the tides, you’ll drown. It sounds simple enough, but,” he turned to face Teselin, “an essential part of this process is for you to accept your own nature, both light and dark. To approach the yawning gap in the center of your universe, where your magic congregates, and to be its master of all. We don’t have time, I’m afraid, to condense years of training into several days of learning, so we’ll focus primarily on the tides, and attune your magic to this specific energy--so much so, that when we delve into your mind, and visit the font of your magic, it will manifest as an ocean pulled to ebb and flow by the moon.”
“Fortunately, tidal energies are a finite resource. Think about it.” One wave crashed, followed by another, carving into the smooth dips of a large hunk of eaten stone. “You are summoning one large wave. Once it swells, and descends, that’s it. After you release the wave, it’s out of your hands. You can’t add to what’s already in motion. No...stopping it isn’t the problem, Teselin. It’s starting it.” He swept his good arm to indicate the beach, and the line of Mollengardian tents flapping with enough bluster so as to blow away. “The shoreline will recede, in preparation for your surge, but it’s up to you to estimate how much will land on Stella D’Mare’s shores. If you’re overambitious, it’s possible to drain miles of shoreline from here to Atvany, and flood other places like the Fallow Islands. Essentially, you’re tampering with nature--and it has consequences. A tidal wave here is a tidal wave elsewhere.”
His steel hand positioned itself between her shoulder blades, a warm, inviting pressure which betrayed its cold and hardened appearance. “I know I’ve expressed my warnings, and practicing is likely the last thing you want to do now, but you’re safe here, Teselin. The estate dampens all magic aside from those possessed of Rigas blood, and my physical connection to you will help me to guide and direct your magic. But look below, and further to the east, at the jutting promontory on the far shore. The one with the narrow wedge-shape. See how the waves crash aggressively against its surface? I want you to trigger a wave high enough to reach the summit of the promontory. We’ll need practical experience to prepare you for what’s to come. Don’t worry,” his steel hand pressed on her back with a reassuring squeeze, “you are free to practice, on my watch. I won’t let anything bad happen.”
The trio of warriors did not need to fetch any weapons for practice, as they traveled to a flattened space behind Main House to practice. Even if Elespeth and Sigrid carried nothing more than a dagger, Haraldur had strapped and sheathed enough blades for the three of them. Unsheathing his bastard sword, his preferred weapon, he idly tested its weight in both left and right hands. “If fighting as part of a team is anything similar to dancing, you’ll find that I’m going to need every ounce of patience from you two,” he said, with the quirk of a smile. Far from any disposition capable of dispensing jokes, his attempt at lightheartedness fell flat, a mere scrape that sparked within the monotone; not enough to overturn the deadness in his voice.
“Could one of you care to explain what’s going on with Alster?” He threw his sword into the air and caught it, handle first, each time. Juggling knives was another circus act he was sometimes called to do, and it stuck with him, though it was a degree less useful or impressive than throwing blindfolded. “Does his behavior have anything at all to do with the sudden ‘errand’ he needed to run? And should we be concerned? We already have too many unknown variables. But if he’s cracking, then,” he hesitated, “might as well continue to let him crack in that direction. Chaining the wolf-man to an owner and strategizing methods for weaponizing Stella D’Mare...we need a tactician of that ilk, with few qualms about utilizing what’s necessary, without moral quandary. That reasoning extends to all of us.” He leveled a solemn gaze on Sigrid and Elespeth. “Mollengard won’t take the high road. There’s no reason for us to do so, either. When facing Solveig, we use every advantage afforded to us. We fight dirty and dishonorably. That means,” he exchanged a meaningful glance with Sigrid, “would you use Gaolithe, for this cause?”
Not waiting for an answer, he added, in a long, low sigh, “thank you. For your support. For joining me in this fight. It goes both ways, too. I’ll do whatever I can to protect the two of you. I meant it when I said I won’t let Mollengard destroy anything else; your lives, included.”
Left behind with Alster, as the others filtered out to deal with more pressing matters, Teselin was happy to be in Alster’s presence. Aside from Hadwin, she didn’t feel entirely comfortable around the others, however much she respected them. They either underestimated what she could do, or overestimated to the point at which it was suggested she couldn’t be trusted (not that she entirely blamed them). Alster, at least, had enough faith in her to choose to help her. Did not believe she was doomed, either way, or that it was her destiny to doom everyone else. For someone of his magical caliber to have that faith in her… It gave her hope that, somehow, she could ascend from the jumble of power that acted of its own will, dwelling inside of her. And that the people of Stella D’Mare might be able to benefit from her abilities, in the meantime.
“I… I am not sure I entirely understand how the Serpent still affects you.” The young summoner confessed, taking a place a his side. “That you banished it back to its dimension, yet you were still somehow able to become linked to it. But… it did not scare or worry me, what you said--what It said. I think that we are all on the same side; you, me, the Serpent… I do not think that it means you or anyone else harm. But I am sure you are already well aware of that, or you wouldn’t have agreed to merge with it.”
Looking down at the toes of her boots, she paused, both encouraged that he did not think it entirely mad to turn Stella D’Mare into a weapon, of sorts, yet discouraged that she truly did not know how she could contribute. “I’d like to think that my magic is much like the Serpent. That it does not mean to be good or evil, dichotomously, but that it just… is. It just exists, and with its existence is the potential to bring great good, and great harm.” She sighed and rolled her shoulders back, turning to face him with an expression that mirrored her concern. “I don’t know what I can or cannot do. But given what I know, what I have already seen come of these abilities… I am willing to bet that there is little I cannot do. And I am not speaking out of ego, either. Alone, I don’t know how I can help, but alongside you… I think you’re right. I’ll find a way to deaden the land. You find a way to shield it. The remaining D’Marians is an issue best left with Chara, I believe.”
This was, however, considering that all went well. That they were still alive to return to this land, that her tidal wave did not wipe the city out completely. And that was the issue that they needed to focus on, at present.
Teselin followed Alster to the back of the villa, dark eyes settling on the wine-dark sea in the distance. The Rigas caster’s words, about the cyclical nature of the tides, was reassuring in his honesty. He did not spell miracles out to her, did not sugarcoat the very real danger at her fingertips. But… he believed in her. He trusted her. Enough to encourage her to try--to practice.
“I can’t control what happens after the wave forms…” She reiterated what he’d told her, already stiff in the shoulders with nervousness. “But… it’s far enough away from the developed mainland. Even if it goes wrong… well, better it go wrong now than later.”
She took a breath, and focused. Focused on the rocking of the waves, the surge of their force as they crashed against the shoreline. As usual, fear threatened to overtake her, but with Alster nearby, she didn’t feel quite so helpless. Whatever occurred, she believed he’d have the power to make it stop--even if it wasn’t true. She had to believe it. Ultimately, it was a thought to what might happen if she did not succeed in this endeavor. Proving useless to the Rigases and D’Marians, possessing all this power with no way to make it benefit the people who needed it… A subtle anger stirred beneath her skin. I won’t be useless. I won’t be helpless. She projected that anger onto the uneasy waters, gripped the sea with invisible hands… and wrenched from it a wave that cleared the promontory.
The rest of the water rippled and riled in response, at which point Teselin remembered to let go. The release of the wave felt like she’d just lifted a weight from her chest. Her breaths were laboured, and beads of sweat had formed on her brow; she wiped them away with her sleeve. “I’m fine; I’m fine. It’s the villa. My body doesn’t perform well when my magic is dampened,” she explained. “But, on the bright side… if I could pull that off here, when I am not standing in optimal conditions… I feel more assured that when the time comes, that tidal wave won’t be as impossible as I’d thought.”
Despite the gravity of the reality that faced them, this this was no friendly sparring match or training session to pass the time and keep up levels of fitness, Elespeth could not help but feel the extent of excitement that a child does on their celebrated birthday. Even before she had begun her training as a knight, under her older brother’s supervision, she had spent hours long after her bed times read tales and histories involving the legendary warriors of the Dawn Guard. From their stalwart dedication to their honour, their infallible and irrevocable brotherhood, to their unique and united style of fighting as a single, unbeatable unit, the former Atvanian knight remembered daydreaming about traveling to solitary Braighdath someday and begging to be a part of them, especially if Atvany would not allow her to follow in her brother’s footsteps.
Even years after, when she had become an established knight, that yearning call had not faded in her ears, and still she wondered what it might have been like to be one of them. Or if she even ever had what it takes. And, wouldn’t fate have it that today, with the help of a well-established Dawn warrior, she would find out.
As Sigrid most certainly was not about to train with Gaolithe, she unsheathed a shortsword she had strapped to her hip, and Elespeth unsheathed the longer blade strapped across her back. Of all of them, Haraldur’s blade was both the longest and heaviest. The differences in weaponry weren’t a noteworthy problem, but it would throw off the synchronicity that they had to learn. That said, it was unlikely that they would all be using the same type of blade when they did at last face Captain Solveig, so now was the time to work out the kinks. “You know, dancing isn’t a bad analogy,” the Dawn warrior commented, trying the unfamiliar blade in her hand. Loathe as she was to admit it, since having handled Gaolithe for the first time, no other sword felt… right. Even if Gaolithe was the last weapon she wished to wield. “There is no way that we three are going to perfect a Dawn Guard formation in the short amount of time we have; it takes years to fight among them flawlessly, and our technique is always changing, to accommodate the time and need. But the key is knowing how each and every one of your comrades moves, and moving to complement it. We are not just working alongside one another; we are working to be an extension of one another.”
“When Alster and I first met, in a war led by the mad prince Messino of Atvany, we were expected to fight as a compound unit.” Elespeth commented, rolling her shoulders back to shake out their tension. “Magic and melee offense. It was… interesting. We were far from perfect at it, but I think I might have an idea of what you mean. I was the sword, and with his magic, I--we--became more than our weapons.”
“Exactly. That is the thinking that inspires the Daw Guard and our fighting style. Because when you fight us, you are never really fighting just one--but neither are you fighting a group. You are fighting a unified whole, one where a single person makes up for another person’s flaw or weakness. This is what makes us perfect; and, highly exclusive, as you can imagine.” Sigrid explained. “We are brothers and sisters for a reason. We are compatible fighters, friends, and family. You must be all three, or nothing at all.”
A slow grin crept across Elespeth’s face, and she couldn’t help but ask, “So, are Haraldur and I going to essentially find out if we would be successful Dawn warriors?” She gave the Eyraillian prince a nudge in the ribs.
Sigrid laughed and returned her grin. “I suppose in a way… well, yes. Except that this is not a test. We have to learn to fight, united. I am not interested in whether you are capable of becoming a Dawn warrior, as it stands. I am here to make you fit the mold.”
That nostalgic rush of excitement that Elespeth felt suddenly dampened when Haraldur brought up Alster’s behaviour. The rational part of her knew that the former mercenary did not mean anything by his words, which implied her fiance’s fast-paced path toward insanity; it was an innocent question, and frankly, not one that could go ignored. She often forgot that not everyone was privy to Alster’s unique situation, and the desperate thing he’d had to do in order to save his life--to fulfill his promise that he would come back to her. Nonetheless, she felt her defenses go up, on behalf of the both of them. “He isn’t ‘cracking’; Alster isn’t going insane.” Her words and tone were sharper than she’d intended, the sensitive topic reaching a less than tolerant part of her nerves. “He… had to make a difficult decision. His magic was killing him, slowly, and since he dispelled the Serpent from this world, he’s failed to sever his connection to it. So… he merged with it, in a way. In that their consciousnesses are accessible to one another. Sometimes… It comes through. It’s not difficult to tell when that occurs. But he is still Alster. He hasn’t changed; he’s just become… more.” More than he ever wanted to be…
Sensing a growing tension in the air, Sigrid lay a hand upon Elespeth’s shoulder. “You don’t need to convince either of us that Alster is still the person he has always been,” she assured her. “I know this. I was with him at the time that this occurred. I may not have known him before, as you have, but the man who I know as Alster Rigas is not the same as the Serpent with whom he now shares a consciousness. Haraldur was merely asking for clarification; he was in Eyraille when all of this occurred. Even most of Stella D’Mare is not aware of the change.”
Elespeth’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she took a breath and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry; I am still learning to deal with it, myself. One moment I will be speaking to him, and the next, it is the Serpent who speaks back…” She shook her head slowly. “But It does not mean him harm. Things could have turned out much worse. I am grateful just to have him back.”
“As you should be. It is no easy task, parting from a loved one during such a tense and dangerous time. Now, if you are both ready, let’s begin this trial by fire. I’d like to be finished before nightfall.”
The former knight nodded, then asked innocently, “Do you have commitments this evening?”
She did not miss the flush that crept into Sigrid’s cheeks. “I have arrangements with Naimah, this evening,” the Dawn warrior explained, her tone struggling to portray casual nonchalance, but both Elespeth and Haraldur knew otherwise. The Atvanian warrior grinned.
“She looks good, on your arm,” she said to her, sharing a smile with Haraldur. “The two of you were phenomenal on the dance floor, last night. Be sure to send her our regards.”
“Of course. Now, enough discussion about my life.” Wielding her blade, she turned to her two comrades. “Show me how you hold your weapons. We will start from the mechanics, and work from there. As for Gaolithe...” Her lips pressed into a thin line. "There is no honour in refusing to use a weapon that has lent itself to me for a reason. If the time and situation is right... I will wield it. But that time is not right now."
As Teselin had stated, Alster was aware of his relationship with the Serpent. Perhaps not well aware, but aware enough to determine his role within their shared bond. They could not do physical harm to each other, and while psychological harm to himself or to others was another matter entirely, the otherworldly beast, he was sure, did not do it out of malice. However crooked the union, they were a team, and the adjustment period between a planar human and an otherplanar creature would take some time. As long as the Serpent did not wreck devastation while in his guise, or sabotage important matters, he would fare fine. While it was true the Serpent was not particularly malicious, It did not operate with full understanding of societal cues, or the concept of morality, so it was difficult to determine what constituted as “sabotage” or “devastation.” The creature destroyed Stella D’Mare in Its rampage, yet insisted that It was “looking” for him. What accidents would occur in the future, if the “well-meaning” Serpent continuously ignored human empathy, and built Its entire planar-by-proxy life calculating reasons for ruthless schemes or selfishly ejecting his consciousness for the singular pleasure of enjoying a new perspective--with limbs? No. He wasn’t worried that It meant him harm. But it could do him and others harm, if Alster wasn’t careful.
“Exactly,” he said. “Magic is a tool, as I’ve mentioned before. It’s neither good nor bad, because those concepts are constructs of society. In nature, there is no such thing. There is only survival. This magic of yours did not choose to exist, but it’s here, and it belongs to you. It is your tool, not just for survival, but for whatever you need it to do.” He posed her closer to the railing on the terrace, at an advantageous vantage point. “Now...guide the wave to the height of the promontory.”
Magic flowed through his prosthetic fingers, warm, pulsing, and sharp with electricity. Eyes unfocused and half-closed, he concentrated not on the ocean, but on Teselin, imagining his connection to her via tether. If she strayed, he’d pull on the magical reins he’d weaved about her, and stop the outpouring of her energy--were it possible. She overpowered him, a point that the magic-hungry aspect of himself loathed to admit. But as his father once shared, back when he was alive, power meant nothing without skill. He had the skill, while she was still learning. Raw and wild as her power was, it was subject to persuasion, and wrangling by a stronger, more developed force. Her magic followed the will of its master, fueled by the emotions of fear, uncertainty, frustration, and confusion. The summoner’s turmoil, as dense as a maelstrom, was highly influenceable. At her current iteration, she was stoppable. Presently, he thought, with some trepidation. But once she realizes her powers, or loses complete control...
He didn’t finish his inner musings, for when he looked beyond, the wave bubbled out of the ocean dark and leaped over the promontory in a less-than-graceful crash that was loud enough to hear from their platform atop an inset mountain. As he released his arm, he sidled beside her, leaning against the railing to watch if another wave would churn free and repeat the actions of its predecessor. It did not.
“Good effort,” he said, with a complimentary nod. “You did that, without my guiding you at all. We’ll rest, for now, and try again in a few minutes. I want to keep this up until exhaustion sets in. Then, in the coming days, I’ll take you outside the estate, and we’ll practice without the dampening effects of the estate tying you down. And remember;” he jerked his head toward the ocean, “when you summon the tidal wave, if you happen to summon its twin, you’ll be pulling essential resources from the ocean. The more you pull, the worse the damage--possibly worldwide. One can localize a storm, though to do so, you’re sapping moisture from other areas, and depriving them of much-needed rain. But to summon a wave, which is connected to the broader expanse of ocean, sea, and waterways--the aftermath can and likely will trickle down...somewhere.” His eyes softened around the edges, his apathy at last wearing off.
“I’m not telling you this with the express purpose of frightening you. Only to instill the responsibility behind your summoning magic. You and I...we’re not creating energy. Even your nightmare came from another plane where the energy stemmed. We’re only utilizing what’s at our disposal. I draw power from the sun, moon, and stars. From celestial events: eclipses, meteor showers, solar flares, the aurora. With my chthonic magic, I draw from this plane; I draw from death. Your magic draws from everything conceivable, even from other planes. It can be viewed as infinite energy, for the universe has no end or beginning. But for simplicity sake, we’ll be drawing energy directly from this plane and this plane alone, which means...we must keep in mind the fragility of this realm. Absorb this lesson, consciously, and unconsciously. It may help you if you ever find yourself losing control.”
Attention drifting to the promontory, he tilted his head at the jutting rock-face, calculating its height in his head, alongside the elevation of Stella D’Mare’s uppermost hill. “I can determine how high and wide your tidal wave should be, to toll the correct amount of damage, nothing more or less. Having a general guideline in your head may help with your manifestation process. But,” he scratched the side of his nose sheepishly, “one lesson at a time. I’m sorry for the overwhelming amount of information. Let’s focus solely on your wave summoning for today.”
As Sigrid explained the significance of fighting as three individual parts of a connected system, he tried to visualize the concept. A frustrated furrow appeared between his brows. “As Forbanne, our method of teamwork was to listen to our captain, or whoever was in charge of our unit--and hence, our minds. We functioned as a swarm, aware of each other and of the orders implanted in our heads. It was not conscious coordination that kept us together, though. Indoctrination and control. But,” he shrugged, “you already know that. Perhaps in retaliation, when I escaped the claw-grips of their influence, I focused on solitary pursuits, which translated into a solitary fighting style. Without the orders of my superiors implanted in my head, my sword did not discriminate enemy from ally. And so, it was better to fight alone. Could be why it took me some time to understand the waltz,” he said, with a wry smile. “It wasn’t the steps that confused me. It was the partnership. The question and answer. The mirroring. The implicit trust. In dancing, you’re rendered vulnerable to the mercies of your partner...and I’ve been taught to counter weakness, or threats to my vulnerability, with violence. I’ve gotten better since my Forbanne days,” he balanced the pommel of his sword with his palm. “Out of necessity, but...you may have your work cut out for you, Sigrid. Much as I’d like to prove my mettle as a prospecting Dawn warrior,” he released the pommel and snatched the handle before the blade clattered to the ground, “I still fight like a lone mercenary. That’s why I didn’t join the compound unit,” he said, head turning to address Elespeth’s comment. “Would’ve been great for my hypothetical partner. They’d be able to shoot spells around me, with wild abandon, and not even mar my skin. But I couldn’t take the risk of turning my blade on them. ...It’s happened before,” he muttered, eyes fixed on his killing hand, veins bulging from gripping the sword in white-knuckled tightness.
“I’m not restricted to any one weapon,” he said through his self-imposed silence, which he had spurred on in contemplation of his long, endless days of rehabilitation. His subject shift to a more productive angle was inspired by his observation of the other two warriors and their preferred weapons: a short sword and a thinner blade with an elegant taper. “Keep in mind, I’m a walking armory. A one-man army. You need it, I have it, and can use it.” He withdrew a short sword, its make similar in style to Sigrid’s, only a bit heavier. “I’ll adjust to whatever style is most compatible to you two.”
Before commencing their practice, Elespeth latched to his concerns over Alster in predictable fashion. She was defensive of his implied words, and he couldn’t blame her; not when the worry manifested in her worn eyes, threadbare and chilled. “I didn’t mean to assume he was going insane, Elespeth. Forgive me. I had no other frame of reference. From my perspective, I saw different forces at play. Though...it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around what you just said. Merging his consciousness with the Serpent, I,” he shook his head, “it sounds like the hive-mind of the Forbanne, controlled by their Master. Though I don’t rightly understand the relationship between the Serpent and Alster Rigas, I’m also in agreement. He’s still...there. And helpful as ever. I won’t ever forget what he did for Vega and the children. So rest assured, Elespeth; he has my loyalty.”
Positioning his bastard sword in the killing hand and short sword in the other, he turned to Sigrid to prepare for the demonstration of his movements, but stopped at mention of the Kariji companion from the night before. “Oh?” His eyebrow lifted and, like Elespeth, a smile etched across his face. “Naimah is a lucky woman, to have the dedication of a Dawn Warrior. I’ll try not to exhaust you too much, then, so you’ll have enough pep for tonight.” He sheathed his bastard sword and flipped his short sword into his killing hand. “I’ll start with this. Depending on how it goes, I’ll switch to my other weapon. Since the Dawn Guard is all about balance, and I fight for myself in battle, best to start at my least destructive. Don’t want to sabotage our training before it even begins.”
“Well, if you’re used to training alone, then this is going to be a whole new experience for you, cousin.” Sigrid informed Haraldur, before clearing her throat and straightening her shoulders. “Enough talk about my personal affairs; I need you both to first observe. Watch my movements, and I’ll show you how to complement them.”
The trio trained for the better part of the day, only stopping to rehydrate. Sigrid was a rigorous teacher, one that did not allow weakness or flaws to go unnoticed. She corrected each and every wrong move that the Eyraillian prince and the newly named Rigas made, which, understandably, created an air of frustration--but when the day came that they had to implement these skills, there would be no room for error. And Haraldur and Elespeth needed to recognize that.
“Alright--stop,” the blonde-haired Dawn warrior said at last, as the day was nearing its end. The three were exhausted, spent in more ways than they had imagined; Sigrid, from dredging up the patience to train two people who were used to fighting very differently, and Haraldur and Elespeth from feeling as though their inherent skills didn’t matter. “Honestly… it was not all bad. You’ve both got potential, but we need to work on it, and we do not have a lot of time. You,” she nodded to Elespeth, “Get out of your head, and into mine. You’re still not thinking like part of a whole; you still see yourself as separate, and you can’t, if we’re to pull this off unscathed and unaffected by accidently falling victim to Devil’s draught. And you…”
Sigrid sighed at Haraldur, and laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder. “I need you to get into your head. I don’t know where your mind has been today, but it is not in the present. I know you are preoccupied with concern, but no amount of worry will change our outcome for the better; just for the worst.” She offered a smile she hoped was reassuring. “Have faith in me, in Elespeth, and in yourself. And bring your concentration, tomorrow--that goes for both of you. After breakfast, barring anything urgent, I want to see you here again. We’ll coordinate this, even if it kills me.”
“I promise we’ll make you proud, Sigrid.” The former Atvanian knight told her, and she meant every word. Now she understood how Teselin felt, yearning for Chara’s approval. “You can count on us. Want to find something to eat before it is all picked over?”
“I can’t; I promised Naimah I’d see her at dusk. And right now I look and smell like I’ve been training all day.” The Dawn warrior said, wrinkling her nose. “And so have the two of you--in case you don’t know.”
“Well, you’re nothing if not honest, Sigrid Sorenson.” Elespeth snorted, and sidled up next to Haraldur. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning--no excuses, we promise.”
Taking her leave of the field with her mercenary friend, she couldn’t help but ask, once Sigrid was well out of earshot. “...do we smell that bad? After the conditions that war has put us through, I’m not honestly sure I can tell the difference, anymore.”
“I understand.” Teselin watched the frothy, white aftermath of her efforts as it settled upon the restless water. Even from where she stood, on the terrace of this balcony, she could feet the spray of ocean water upon the air, mere particles that had floated up to meet her, the one who had tampered with them. “There is only so much control that I can exert over what my powers might tap into. I don’t really have a way to control what happens beyond the initial summoning. But… if everyone believes that the costs might be worth the benefit, even just a little, enough to give us some form of advantage… I’ll do it. I need to believe this will make a difference that tips the scales in our favor.”
But what if the anger isn’t enough? What if the fear isn’t enough, when the time comes? She feared. It was something that she should tell Alster, seek his input, but she was afraid of losing his favor or confidence in her. At this point, it was only the thought of what might happen if she didn’t summon the tidal wave, what would happen if she was too afraid to try, that seemed to light a match under her magic to activate it. How long had she spent with the citrus trees in this city, on her arrival, just to get them to bear fruit? Or to summon rain, when the soil really needed it? Her magic did not speak the language of her will; it spoke the language of visceral emotion. And that was what made it--and her--so dangerous.
“You think you can do that? Tell me how high, how powerful the wave must be for everything to work out ideally?” Teselin turned to Alster again, who looked thoughtfully out to sea. He’d lived almost a hundred years, if what Chara and Elespeth had told her was true. Her feet hadn’t even tread the earth for two decades, yet; of course he would know how to temper magic, and the damage it might do. And with that guidance… If she gave her magic a path to follow, perhaps it would obey. Perhaps it would not act out so blindly and destructively. “I guess… it all comes down to if I can channel the energies around us to follow that path. Not to lash out from heightened emotion, but direction. I guess we’ll know, the closer the day comes. And if I’m not ready…” The young summoner pressed her lips together, remembering the small, amber vial that Hadwin had handed to Chara during their meeting. There was enough of that poison to take down Solveig and put her own free will in another’s hands. “Then at least we have a contingency plan.” One that I hope we will not have to resort to.
Returning her attention to the deep waters beyond, Teselin curled her fingers on the railing. “I want to try again.”
And she did--again and again, despite the dampening effect that the Rigas estate had on her wild magic. It was an uncomfortable feeling, not unlike what she’d felt during her night in the dungeons. Like something was literally trying to crawl out of her skin, yearning to reach further and further, abhorring its containment. Nonetheless, she performed to the best of her ability, summoning wave after wave at heights that Alster dictated. They stood back each time to observe the effects; whether it hit too hard or not hard enough, how the water beyond responded, the amount of land that it covered.
How long they stood there, Teselin performing under less than ideal conditions, and Alster coaching her to the best of his ability as someone who did not share in the same type of magic, was anyone’s guess. But it was nearing evening, the sun not yet ready to set, when Elespeth and Haraldur dropped by, following their day-long training with Sigrid. Immediately, the former knight realized that they hadn’t been the only ones training.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything--some of the guards said we might find you here. That you haven’t left… I imagine the both of you must be hungry.”
Stepping forward several paces, she froze in place when her eyes fell upon the state of the summoner. While still standing, it looked as though she was holding herself up by the rail on the balcony. Her pale skin was even paler, perspiration beaded her brow, and her breathing was belaboured, as if she’d just been running for her life. But her eyes did not reflect her current state of being; they were like two smouldering coals, full of determination. Frankly… it frightened her.
“Teselin,” she breathed, looking from the young summoner to Alster, and to the sea beyond. She immediately understood. “Your powers… you’ve been practicing, under Alster’s guidance?” But she already knew the answer. Elespeth put a hand on her arm. “That is responsible of you, by all means, but… I think you’ve had enough for today. You haven’t eaten anything today, have you?”
“Not yet. I haven’t gotten it right.” Teselin countered. It was more than just an argument; she was actually shutting Elespeth down. “I’m still standing. I’m just starting to understand… I need to keep trying…”
For a moment, Elespeth didn’t know how to react, and remained frozen where she was standing, mouth agape in awe. Was this the same young woman who had begged Chara Rigas for sanctuary, with such desperate hope in her eyes? Shaking off her stupor, the former knight did not let her arm drop. In fact, she took Teselin’s other arm, and turned the young girl toward her. “You’re done, Teselin,” she spoke firmly, now, hoping the edge in her voice would shock the young summoner back to her senses. “You’ve done enough. At this rate, you will burn yourself out before we need you most--do you understand?”
A beat passed before Teselin reacted. The fire in her eyes dimmed, her shoulders relaxed, and she turned her face toward the ground. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, and her voice sounded hoarse from exertion. “I didn’t realize… I was just beginning to become comfortable with it, I didn’t want to stop. We had something good going…”
Pressing her lips together, Elespeth gently led the young summoner forward, toward Haraldur, whom she asked, “Could you see that she gets something to eat and retires to her room?” Of course, the Eyraillian prince was happy to oblige, and Teselin did not argue this time, following the large man out of Chara’s villa, and leaving Alster and Elespeth alone.
She didn’t know what to say--not at first, with Haraldur’s words still so fresh in her mind. We need a tactician of that ilk, with few qualms about utilizing what’s necessary, without moral quandary. He was not wrong, but this was Alster Rigas; and there were limitations to his breach in moral code. Whatever had happened here today, whatever Teselin had done under his supervision, it had to have been of her own stubborn will. The summoner was so desperate to prove herself, and with the timeline so short, she could easily imagine that Alster, out of pity, might have seen fit to oblige her. There was no possible way it could have been the other way around; not even with his link to the Serpent’s consciousness.
She had to believe that.
“I’m sorry you got stuck playing teacher all day,” she offered a small smile. It was a little on the shaky side. “She is… determined. But she’s also rather fragile. I’m not sure how her own magic has not yet done her in. She also doesn’t fare well within the Rigas estates; we discovered early on that dampening her magic makes her very sick. I should have been clear about that before you tutored her, today.”
Elespeth wrapped an arm around the Rigas caster’s waist and kissed his cheek. “Well, in any case… is she showing promise? If anyone should be training her, I have the most faith in you. Maybe you can make something of her dysfunctional powers. But… for now, you should go and get something to eat, as well. And so should I, if I’m leading by example. Come on.”
Slipping her arm from his back to his flesh and blood hand, she led him out the door, and tried to put the sorry state of the young summoner out of her mind. “Sigrid said I look as bad as I smell, after a day of training, though; I understand if you don’t want to be seen with me right now.” She teased, her mouth flashing a half-grin. “If it suits you better, I’ll bathe and catch up with you, if you’ll save me a spot and something good to eat.”
Haraldur fell into Sigrid’s teachings without complaint, taking criticisms and orders with all the obedience of a well-trained soldier. He listened to her specific instruction, readjusted his footing and his form, and followed the Dawn Warrior technique of swordplay. Only, he didn’t adapt to the most important lesson Sigrid was most interested in passing along: cooperation and teamwork. He unconsciously separated from the formation, his mind singular in its thoughts. I am a weapon. I need no others before me. They will slow me down. They will hurt in my stead. I fight alone, to end the Masters.
His preoccupation with finding his own way disrupted their collective style. On several occasions, he clipped Elespeth with the blunt of his short sword, or hurtled towards Sigrid until she dodged from his warpath and he stumbled. The hours were long and unforgiving to him, but he persisted, silent and empty of mind. A Forbanne receptive to influence, but incapable of thinking of himself as an extension of Elespeth and Sigrid. He was not. Though talented at following orders, tweaking his style, and rotating through different weapons, it was his mindset which was obstinate in his beliefs. I am a weapon. Weapons do not think at the behest of others. We are disposable. Fodder does not belong in a team. Fodder fights to kill, lest we are killed.
When the sun touched the rolling hills opposite the ocean, Sigrid called their training to an end. Like Elespeth, Haraldur was sweat-soaked and hunched from exertion, though he managed to straighten his shoulders to accept her assessment with some sliver of dignity. “I retreated, yes,” he admitted with a nod. “I usually do, when fighting. I rely on my body, not my mind. It’s all unconscious, instinctual movement. All the better for the Masters to influence me,” he said, a thought spoken aloud, which induced shivers down his arms. What if he encountered Solveig, and, after revealing his previous Forbanne status, surrendered to her thrall? What if it were that simple? His escape, his life since then, the refugees, his first marriage, Vega, the children--it would all be for naught. If he could not control himself in the presence of his old captors, his life was forfeit.
“I’ll do better, next time,” he said, voice rumbling with the promise desperation alone could give. It bespoke of premature loss walking in tandem with the optimism of necessity. He had no choice but to trust. It was the only way to preserve his freedom.
Wishing Sigrid well on her rendezvous with Naimah, Haraldur joined Elespeth, presumably in the direction of Chara’s villa, where they last saw Alster. It wasn’t until she looked at him expectantly that he realized she was talking to him. He blinked; his jaw worked, but nothing sounded from his mouth. He shook his head to clear the fog. “What? Oh...nothing out of the ordinary. I’m not one to ask; I’ve been smelling shit my whole life. We get a pass, though, Elespeth.” He gave her a wry smile. “No one expects warriors to look or smell decent.”
Alster scanned the promontory, tilting his head in appraisal. Silent numbers caught on his tongue. He took a wide swept of the mainland, surveying with unblinking eyes. His good hand raised above his head, an impromptu measuring stick. Fingers popped from his closed fist. One, two, three, four. Counting. Finally, he returned to Teselin and her attentive, open stance, lowering his hand back to the railing. “I’ll be able to determine the size and scale, to the best of my ability. I’ll have to run some formulas on paper first, but I’ll have an answer for you come tomorrow. Perhaps I can build a model, or recreate its look in a meditative dream state, and project the image to you. The latter sounds more promising. If you can internalize the appearance of the wave, with the summoning, it may be more apt to maintain its form. Less margin for error. And--it’s no longer a nebulous, abstract concept. The wave exists in your mind. You need only bring it to being, in this realm.”
He spent the next few hours with Teselin, drilling her on repetitious practice. He monitored her summoned waves, suggested methods for better shape creation, and led her into quick meditation practice in an attempt to clear the doubts in her head. He needed for Teselin to exhibit confidence, if not for her magic as a whole, then at least in the manipulation of tidal energy. In those hours, he disciplined her, despite the gradual sluggishness in her quick approach to bone-weary exhaustion. He afforded her few breaks, and of the breaks he offered, they were brief. Time was so precious, and they had so little of it with which to work. Were it up to him, he’d encourage her to use the devil’s draught, for his current teaching methods hovered dangerously close to that of Debine Rigas, and it worried at him. Her daily magical regimen consisted of working until mental and physical collapse. It was to build his endurance, she assured him. If he performed with less than her grueling expectations, she sent him to bed without dinner, or worse, locked him inside the windowless room, alone, in cloying, uncomfortable darkness, where the Serpent spoke to him of loneliness.
You were always in my head, slithering around with your words. I...never had the chance to ignore you.
To counter Debine’s harsh teachings (I will not be like her, he chanted to himself), he offered encouragements and smiles, water, when needed, and a few leftover pastries, for snacks. Often, he asked after her health, suggesting she retire for the day, but she rejected his concerns, and he didn’t press them. Were he a better person, he’d insist, but she wanted to be there, and he was invested in her success. She was slated to summon the tidal wave in five days’ time, and it was a necessity to engage in expedited practice, however much he preferred a spaced out series of sessions over the span of months, and years. This is different, he reassured himself. This is an urgent situation. I need to prepare her as much as I can. I am not like my mother. I am not her.
Darkness resumed its spread over the land, dimming his and Teselin’s view of the ocean and intensifying the chill that pervaded in the persistent breeze. Alster placed his steel hand on the nape of the summoner’s neck. Coursed through with magical warmth, it provided a quick reprieve from the weather, though did not to lessen the redness that spread across her cheeks or the frozen tips of her fingers. He was in a state no better, though nowhere near as spent as she.
Moments later, Elespeth and Haraldur appeared through the back doors to the terrace, but their attention didn’t focus on him for long. Their eyes drifted toward the summoner, arms weaved against the railing in an attempt to remain upright. Her knees buckled and shivered from the exertion, yet, she returned the dual looks of concern with fire that no amount of ocean waves could douse. A thin sheen of pride for the summoner burrowed its way into his surface thoughts. But it quickly wore away when Elespeth took charge and commanded Teselin to rest for the remainder of the evening.
“We wouldn’t be able to proceed for much longer anyway,” Alster contributed with a nod. “It’s getting dark, and we’d have no more ocean visibility. You did fine work, Teselin. We’re making marked progress. Come see me tomorrow, when you’re well-rested, and we’ll pick up from where we left off.” He nodded to Haraldur, who directed Teselin out of the villa, both hands firmly positioned on her shoulders. Now alone with Elespeth, Alster herded her inside, where it was warmer, and closed the door to the terrace. Running his prosthesis up and down his flesh arm, his neck, his cheeks, and any area which formed a chill, his efforts to warm himself paled in comparison to the kiss from his fiancee. He smiled, and returned one upon her lips.
“No...it was fine. I wanted to teach her. Sounds like...smells like, you were hard at work, yourself. How did training with your childhood hero go?” But the receptiveness of his expression faded, sloughing away like serpent scales, when he sensed the trepidation in her questions involving Teselin. He saw it in her stance, in the uncertainty of her smile, of her fierceness to protect the summoner from...from him. She...doubted him. Doubted his teachings. His sanity.
Retreating a step, he broke free of her arms. Hurt crossed over his brow. “Do you? Do you have faith in me? I see different, Elespeth. I saw how you looked at Teselin, as though she’d been abused, under my tutelage. I know she’s fragile, and that the dampening effects of the estate contribute to her sickly state. But she wanted to learn, and she needs to learn, so she won’t fail in five days’ time. I’m not abusing her, El. I’m not like her. I’m not like Debine.”
His eyes widened at his statement spoken out loud. He stepped further back from Elespeth, and forced a preoccupation with running a hand through his hair, which had been tossed about for hours and was rendered a windblown mess.
“I’m still me,” he muttered, more out of reassurance than of truth. “Doesn’t our bond prove that?” With a sigh, he dropped a defeated hand to his side. “Do what you want, El. I’m not hungry.” Brushing past her, he opened the front door, and left without her.
In midst of traveling between Chara’s villa and the pavillon that was serving dinner, Haraldur stiffened, when the wolf-shifter loped out of the gathering dark, towards them, a plate piled with food. The etherea lights hovered above their heads, casting an eerie shadow upon Hadwin’s face. It was eerie, insofar as it did not shield the preternatural glow from his yellow-gold eyes. The shadow quickly retreated, however, when the man drew his attention to Teselin.
“Hey there, you scamp. Rough training day? You look peaky. Here.” He about handed the summoner the plate of food, but seeing as Haraldur was practically holding her upright, he thought better of it. With a head jerk, he led them to a spot on the lawn, where Teselin all but collapsed on the grass.
“Wow. That rough?” He set the plate of food beside her, and leaned back on his hands. “Go and help yourself. I can always get another. Get yourself something, too, big fellow.” Haraldur frowned, and hesitated, but with a promise of return, stood and waited on the food queue. With the warrior gone, Hadwin sidled closer to Teselin, in case she actually did collapse and needed his shoulder, or a supportive arm. “Alster Rigas ran you ragged, it looks like. Did you learn anything?” He captured the tips of her fingers in his hands and proceeded to rub the chill out of them. “You should tell him.” He tilted his head, eyes flashing knowingly. “He’s still going to help you, even if you express your doubts about the tidal wave. Your fears aren’t going to vanish, no, but they’ll be easier to deal with, if you can entrust them to someone.” He shrugged. “I won’t operate under the delusion that it’s me. Nothing to entrust when I’ve already stolen it all."
Elespeth couldn’t help but grin, sheepishly looking down at her boots. It was really no secret, how a part of her, even as a grown woman, idolized the Dawn Guard, and as such, idolized Sigrid Sorenson. “Is it that obvious?” She asked with a chuckle, and shook her head. “Well… it went as I expected it would. The Dawn Guard are a very different breed of warriors who draw on unity as their strength. Haraldur and I are too used to fighting on our own and defending ourselves to make the cut at this stage in our lives, but Sigrid is going to continue to work with us. We can’t bet getting in one another’s way with blades tainted by Devil’s draught… and we nicked one another one too many times for me to feel confident, just yet.”
Shrugging, she added, “Hopefully we’ll work out the major kinks in a few days. Sigrid Sorenson is a ruthless teacher. I am glad you seemed to have luck with Teselin, though.”
In truth, Elespeth hadn’t doubted him because she hadn’t wanted to. That, and she knew Teselin’s temperament, and her stubborn dedication to a cause that she deemed worthy. The young summoner had idolized the idea of Alster Rigas before she’d even met him, knowing him for his accomplishments, and his magical prowess. Of course she would keep going, despite her exhaustion, and the dampening effects on her magic merely by standing within the Rigas estate. Had he told her as much, that the girl had insisted she stay and train for as long as possible, she’d have believed him. But somehow, he’d seen that tiny seed of doubt in her eyes; one that she hadn’t thought had continue to linger.
“Alster…” She stood, shocked and confused, as her betrothed pulled away from her embrace. “Of course I have faith in you--why would you ask that?” The former knight searched his face, trying to understand what exactly had triggered his hurt. She hadn’t accused him of anything, yet here he stood, acting as though she were ready to prosecute him for a crime she hadn’t even witnessed. “I… I agreed to marry you. I took your name and extended my life just to be with you… How can you assume I’ve suddenly lost my faith in you."
Elespeth took a step toward him, but his footfalls receded as hers advanced. A sharp feeling cut through the pit of her stomach; he was actually rejecting her, over… over what? Something he had perceived? “No--no, Alster, I know Teselin. I’ve seen her work herself to exhaustion before, when she sent word to Eyraille to enlist their help. If this was her idea, if you were to tell me she insisted on staying here all day under your tutelage, then I would believe you. Because she doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. I sent her away to protect her from herself, not… not from you.” But then… why did you let her stay? Why did you not send her away, when her health was failing? That nagging question wouldn’t leave her alone. Because a part of her had to admit… much though she did not want to face this truth, the Alster Rigas she knew would not subject a child--yes, Teselin was still more a child than adult--to hours of training that would do her harm. Tell me that it was her idea… tell me that she wouldn’t let you walk away from her, her eyes pleaded. But he didn’t say it.
“I didn’t… I never accused you of abusing her, Alster.” Elespeth’s voice was soft, hurting. She didn’t understand this defensive side of him; it wasn’t one she was familiar with. “I didn’t know Debine--you’ve hardly spoken to me of your mother. Why would you think I would liken you to her?”
He didn’t give her an answer. Brushing off her invitation to eat, Alster pushed past her, and into the hallway. “Alster, wait!” She called, hurrying after him, but he was intent on putting distance between them, and something told her that chasing after his long strides and hurried footfalls would not help the situation. So she stood and watched his figure recede, until he was out of sight.
It hadn’t occurred to her before--not in full, at least. But the former knight couldn’t help but wonder if the man who walked away from her was, in fact, the same man she’d agreed to marry.
Teselin did not fight off Haraldur as he led her away from Chara’s villa, primarily because she didn’t have the strength, and wasn’t sure that she could walk on her own without his help. An odd feeling of weightlessness had occurred to her on leaving her lesson with Alster, like she could not quite feel her own footfalls as they hit the ground. Her fingers and toes had long since grown numb from the cold, yet another sort of numbness had overtaken her; the sort that exhaustion brings, when you just weren’t fully aware of your surroundings anymore, and existed in a state that was not asleep, yet hardly constituted as being awake.
It was a moment before familiarity registered when Hadwin entered their space. She didn’t even feel the Eyraillian prince’s grip on her shoulders tighten at the shapeshifter’s arrival. “Hadwin.” She breathed his name, a gentle smile on her face. Something about his presence was reassuring, enough to put her at ease. She wasn’t entirely sure it didn’t have something to do with his eerie similarities to her brother. “I’m fine; I had a productive day… I made important gains.”
To deny that she was beyond hungry wouldn’t have been credible, but the fact was that she was so beyond basic hunger that she’d stopped feeling it hours ago, and attributed the cramps in her stomach to the other aches that ailed her body. When Haraldur and Hadwin led her to an unoccupied spot on the soft grass, the cushioning beneath her body was so inviting that she did not even try to sit upright. The young summoner slouched forward, resting her upper body on her knees, and let her eyelids close. “No… Alster helped me, today. He gave me direction. It was working… I think I was getting somewhere. Maybe I could have gotten further…”
Teselin hadn’t realized how cold her fingers were until Hadwin wrapped his hands around them. When had she become so cold? In her current state, feeling anything at all, whether it was hot or cold or the ground beneath her, was too dull to distinguish. “Alster already knows my doubts. He knows it all.” She informed him, from her slumped position on her knees. “I can’t exactly hide it… my uncertainty. He knows what I’m afraid of. So do you; so does everyone, because it is obvious. But he… Alster believes in me. He believes that I can make a difference, and harness this in time.” A smile spread across her pale lips. “If he believes in me… someone of his magical caliber… then maybe I will learn to believe in myself. I think he can help me get there.”
“...Teselin. Hadwin.” While Haraldur was still off finding a plate of food for himself, Elespeth, hair still damp from washing the day off of her, approached the two. Her slate green eyes settled on the young summoner with concern. “Are you well?” The question was, of course, directed at the girl, who looked as though she would fall asleep on herself. Unfortunately, Elespeth couldn’t let her do that just yet. “Teselin… sit up. I… want to ask you something.”
Emitting a soft groan from somewhere deep in her throat, the young summoner, with Hadwin’s help, forced herself into an upright position, her sleepy eyes fixed on Elespeth. “If you’re here to reprimand me… please save it for later. I’m not of the right mind to take it with grace.”
“I am not here to reprimand you. What you choose to do with your magic, and how you choose to train, is entirely your choice.” Elespeth took a seat in front of her, eyes flicking briefly to Hadwin, before settling on Teselin. How had the girl seemed to have shrunk so much since this morning? It was like she was… fading. Literally, into nothing. “Your training with Alster… was this, was today… at your request? Did he stay with you all day because he was obliging your wishes?”
Teselin did not respond right away. Whether it was a result of her weariness, or because she was thinking how to carefully consider her words, Elespeth did not know, and would not find out. “I asked Alster to help me. From the moment I met him… I made it clear I sought his advice. And he obliged.”
“So, today, he…” The words felt sour on her tongue, such that she hated to speak them, especially before Hadwin. But the way Alster had stalked off after accusations she had not even rightly made… well, it had caused her to wonder. To ponder the worst. “He did not… make you stay, for that amount of time? You were there by choice, every minute?”
“Of course I was. Every minute counts; I don’t have much time…”
“And he let you rest? He reminded you to eat?” Elespeth did not like the sallowness of Teselin’s cheeks, or the way that her tunic seemed to fit even looser than it had this morning. “Did he, at any point, suggest that you stop?”
“Yes--of course, all of these things. What are you saying?” The young summoner frowned, brows furrowed in confusion. “Do you think that Alster forced me to train? I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to seek his guidance. He understands me; he understands what it is like to have unparalleled magic and the consequences it can bring. I’d have trained longer, if you hadn’t hauled me away…”
The Atvanian warrior pursed her lips. “I know you would have. Which is why I am setting ground rules for you, right now. And Hadwin will also reinforce them.” She turned her gaze on the wolf man. “You will, if you care for her as much as you claim to. Teselin, I won’t argue the importance of getting you ready in such a short amount of time. But you are going to need to learn to take care of yourself better, if you are striving for these feats. First and foremost, I want you to eat three times a day--and I don’t mean snacky. Hefty meals that will keep up your strength, since your magic saps it from you as mercilessly as physical labour. You can start with finishing this plate.” She nodded to the plate full of food that Hadwin had set next to her.”
That elicited another groan from the young summoner. “Tonight? I don’t know if I can…”
“You will; I am not giving you a choice, if you are going to push yourself to your limits.” The former knight said with resolve. She would not budge. “Second, I want you resting eight to ten hours a night. And to take fifteen minutes or more to catch your breath when you are training. If at any point you feel as though you cannot stand up on your own, then you will rest until you can--do you understand?”
“Since when do you think you can make these demands of me?” Teselin demanded, that flicker of fire from earlier briefly resurfacing. “Who do you think you are?”
“The person who can convince Alster to stop training you altogether if you do not cooperate. You want to be useful to us? Then you’d better still be standing in five days’ time.” She didn’t say any more, before turning, and making to leave the clearing.
Startled, Teselin called after her, “Where are you going?”
“To communicate to Alster precisely what I communicated to the two of you. And I mean what I said; you will follow suit if you want to keep up with this ridiculous training.”
It was not a bluff, either. Now that Elespeth felt reassured with Teselin’s confirmation that this had been her idea, she was more at ease with the notion of approaching Alster again. Of course he’d looked out for the girl--her sad state of being was entirely her own fault, for lack of food and rest. Surely what had occurred earlier was only a misunderstanding; she would apologize, tell him she’d spoken to Teselin, and he would agree that the young summoner needed to compensate for all of her training with adequate food and rest. Because he was her Alster, the person who cared for everyone, and who never hesitated to lend a hand. He would understand her point of view… he had to.
She found him sitting in the remnants of the Rigas gardens after sunset, likely still sulking, she imagined. For that, Elespeth approached with caution. “Alster… can we talk?” She asked him, but did not wait for an answer before divulging, “I spoke with Teselin. She told me exactly what I’d suspected: that she was the sole driving force toward her own exhaustion. Please believe me when I say I know this was all about her and had nothing to do with you. I know you; I know the way you think, and you always look out for everyone’s best interests.”
Clasping her hands in front of her, she stepped past the scarcely budding flora, her dark, damp tresses of hair hanging down her shoulders and back. She hadn’t bothered to put it in a braid. “I did tell her that I insist she take regular meals and get adequate rest; as much as I respect a person’s right to autonomy, she has forfeited that right, letting herself crumble to the extent that she has. I am not sure she thinks much of me, but… she respects you. Idolizes you, even. Maybe you can mention that we spoke? She is more likely to agree if she suspects we are on the same page.” Elespeth smiled, but it was as fleeting as the soft sigh that she pressed from her lungs. “I am sorry. If somehow, I made you feel culpable, earlier, that was not my intent… I couldn’t think that of you, Alster. I hope you know that.”
Hadwin sucked in a breath as he scooped her icy hands into his in an attempt to massage the life back into them. “Fuck, kid. Was it part of your training to plunge your mittens into frozen water for the past few hours? Because that’s what they feel like. I can’t say I know the rigors of this type of training...or any training, really,” he shrugged, “never had the patience, but you’re looking a little ‘beyond,’ if you know what I mean. Out there.” He positioned them beneath the plate of food, still warm from the heap of mutton piled on it, and kept them there. As he did, he listened to her favorable overview of Alster Rigas and his all-seeing, all-knowing ways. Were she any other person, he’d dump all over her current favorite person with dark, hidden truths, but he was not in the business of killing her heroes when she needed them most. Besides, any incriminating information on the snake-charmer would pass through her like smoke from his pipe. So attuned to reading only the good in people, himself included, she’d be unfazed by his insights, or dismiss them altogether. Besides--besmirching his character was sure to incense Chara, and she owned his ass. Best to keep his more divisive thoughts to himself, for now.
“Knowing your fears is one thing, Tes. But one thing I can’t know is how you’d word them. How you’d express them. Everyone may be well-aware by your actions, but unless you speak those vulnerabilities out loud, to a sympathetic party, they won’t get the air-out time they need. And they’ll turn stale, and crusty. So you should tell him--and if he’s worth his salt, he’ll continue to believe in you. But what do I know?” He shrugged. “Not an avid observer of human nature or nothin’.
From beneath the etherea lights, Elespeth emerged, striding over to them with a purpose. At first, he believed she targeted him for the injustice of contaminating the air she breathed by his mere presence, but her focus was locked on the young summoner beside him. And by the wisps that danced over her green eyes, he could see why. In a demanding tone, she bid Teselin move to a sitting position. Wrapping an arm around her, Hadwin pressed the girl to his chest in a warm side-embrace. “What brings you by, Bronwyn?” He asked, a knowing cadence raising the inflection of his voice. As expected, she focused her sudden inquiry on her training with Alster. Her questions probed, and by their nature, cast her beloved fiance in an ambiguous pall. He raised an eyebrow at the warrior. Apparently, he didn’t need to say a word against Alster Rigas; she was playing his jury and executioner swimmingly, herself.
“Ground rules?” He chuckled at the term. “What a ridiculous notion. She’s an adult. People her age marry and birth children. Being crowned with the Rigas name has made you entitled. I was wondering how soon it’d take for you to start behaving like our exalted Chara--long may she reign,” he added, in exaggerated deference to his new captor. Before he could say another word on the subject, Elespeth was already ambling off, going, as stated, to her fiance, to inform him of her conversation with the summoner.
“That poor sod,” he said, watching the woman’s retreating form in the crepuscular air. “Dealing with her as his to-be wife. I wonder if she throws juvenile ultimatums at his feet, too.” He cracked his neck, and craned it towards Teselin. “Unfortunately,” he sighed, “she may be right about a few things. She’s still a self-righteous prat, but she’s got your best interests. Now if she thinks I’m going to enforce anything, then she can go suck a lime. But,” he returned the food tray to her lap, “you can’t fight monsters at no-strength, kid. You may have god-like magic, but it’s trapped within a mortal body. If not for yourself, at least put on the appearance and do as she asks so she’ll get off your case. That’s how I dealt with my nagging older sister. Well,” he smiled deviously, “sometimes. To give her the illusion of control. Now,” he jerked his head to her plate, “do a canine proud, and wolf up this plate of food. I know you’ve got a wild beast roaring in your stomach right now, waiting to be unleashed. Don’t worry; I’ll wait.”
In the remains of the Rigas garden, one of many, Alster hunkered on a stone bench, twirling a plucked rose between his fingers. Some wild animal had snapped it off the bush (perhaps it was the wolf-shifter on a hyperactive rampage), and he scooped it from the ground. A precious thing, green in the cocoon of its bud, and cruelly removed from any chance at a long life. Sure, he could manufacture its longevity, fill a vase with water and slide the stem into its sustaining pool, but what would be the point? He’d be preserving a life in captivity, a lone flower, trapped to survive, when it had been ready to die.
Though he would not admit it to Elespeth anymore, sometimes he thought of his life as borrowed, preserved in an urn where ashes should fill. He owed the Serpent years, centuries, even. No doubt where he belonged, truly, after finalizing his pact with the otherworldly entity.
But today, his mind, for once, did not dwell on the questionable influence of the Serpent, forever present, and forever whispering. It lingered to his mother--the first monster. It surprised him that after decades of shouldering her abuse, he was lucid enough to understand that she abused him, mercilessly. She took advantage of his desperation to please her, and forced him into inhumane training regimens, depriving him of sleep, food, water, or light, if he erred. If he cried, she’d lash him, then heal the bruises so other Rigases wouldn’t suspect her violent methods. For much of his childhood, she isolated him from children his age, opening him to verbal abuses in the form of taunts. He was standoffish, they said. A pretentious show-off. Privileged in magic. Gifted at birth and thus, too different. Too other. When he ran home and told his mother, she snorted. “They are jealous,” she said. “Jealous of your power. Of you. If only they knew the truth, worm that you are. A weakling. Unfit for the magic that I have slaved to provide you, in calculating the position of the planets and timing the solar eclipse that heralded your birth. It was all a waste, Alster. You are a waste.”
He hung his head, and closed his eyes. He knew better, now, but the words still pricked like the thorn grazing his flesh and blood thumb. Never again did he wish to feel so cowed, so low, and lowly, or useless. But there remained weakness in him. A split, in his values. Was it possible to sustain a kind, gentle demeanor, and be perceived as powerful? Respected? He wasn’t sure, but if he let go of that essential piece of him, he’d invite the abuse of Debine Rigas into his heart, and transfer it to Teselin. The optimistic summoner, who looked to him as a godsend, who relied on him, and entrusted herself to his care...I can never do to you what she did to me, and yet...am I? Worse yet, if he abandoned his “weakness” ...I lose Elespeth.
He opened his eyes when the rustle of underbrush alerted him to an arrival. Her arrival. Straightening his hunch, he sat, straight-backed and at her full attention. “Elespeth…” He nodded at her request, and slid aside on the bench to make room for her, if she chose to sit. The rose stem rolled around his fingertips anew.
“That’s fine,” he said, his eyes trained on the shriveling bud. “I’ll let her know, tomorrow. If she idolizes me as much as you say, then I should be able to get through to her.” He rubbed his thumb over the thorn, scrawling nonsense runes into his skin. Silence cast a leaden weight on his tongue, slackening his jaw and tilting his head ever downward, away from her appraising eyes. Finally, he sighed, and the weight lifted.
“Even if it wasn’t your intent, you’re right to think the worst of me.” He raised his eyes, and caught her gaze. “I projected on you earlier, and I’m sorry, El. It’s me. I was too strict on her. I employed methods that my mother...that she often did to me.” His pressure on the thorn drew blood. “I tried to course correct, but it was too late. By the time you arrived, it took all her strength to stand, and I looked past her infirmity, in favor of results. How could I call myself a healer, if I ignore the demands of someone’s bodily limitations? And yet,” he dropped the rose, and pressed a knuckle to his upper row of teeth, “there’s no place...for softness, El. Not now. Not when we have five days. Not when she’s taken it upon herself to summon the tidal wave. What will it do, if I stay as I’ve always been? I can’t. It’s too...it’s too much. Too exhausting. The Alster of the past could manage it, but now,” he shook his head, “I have power, and leadership responsibilities. I have a girl who’s relying on me to be strong for her. The traits to which you’ve grown so accustomed...they stemmed from a lifetime feeling like it was my due to please others. A lifetime of repenting for my sins. It took only recently for me to realize...that I need to stand for myself, or I’ll fall apart. I fear that there’s already so little of me left.”
He picked the rose from the ground, twisted the bud from the stem, and wove it into Elespeth’s damp hair. His flesh and blood fingers played with her loose tendrils with a tickling gentleness. “I’m trying to stay who I am for you, El. The Alster you fell in love with. But if I change, and you don’t like what I become,” his eyes grew luminous and sad, twin pools of a depthless world-weariness, “will you still love me? Will you still want me?”
Meanwhile, Naimah, donning a simple woolen dress in preparation for the brisk evening, emerged from Alster’s villa and waited at the outer entrance to the garden, which conveniently started a few steps away from the portico. Her mass of dark curls framed her face and cascaded down her back, loose and hanging free. For the occasion, she painted her lips and rimmed kohl around her eyes, but it was a mild application, different from last night, and different from the face she’d wear for clients. She wanted to be at her most authentic for the upcoming meeting with Sigrid Sorenson, sans the pomp of saturated color and flashy jewelry. However, she began to second-guess her choices, when she caught her reflection in the pond beside her. The sky was an orange-pink as the sun sequestered below the horizon, enough to see the simplicity of her garb, and her bare face. For so long, she wore fanciful “costumes” and paint as armor. To cry was to crack the paint. But now...little separated her from the woman hiding within. While Sigrid insisted her love of authenticity, that was because she hadn’t seen Naimah as anything but the stunning, albeit broken woman from the celebration. Rejection...was a possibility.
The orange and pink subsided to a husky purple. Clouds from the mountains rolled in, graying the sky into premature darkness. She shivered, but not from the cold. What if her punctuality was too literal, and she was expected much later in the evening? Worst yet, what if Sigrid never arrived? What if it were all a ploy? She was a warrior who valued honor, and whores were anything but upstanding, celebrated citizens. It could be her version of shaming. Humiliation, in the form of rejection. But then she remembered her tale of the woman who did just that, revealing her preferences to all of Braighdath in the most indecorous way possible, and it reassured her. Sigrid would arrive, as planned. Abandonment wasn’t likely. She’d come. She’d come…
And she did.
“I was starting to think you would not show,” she said to the Dawn Warrior, in a trickle of nervous laughter. “But perhaps you thought the same of me. I am glad we could allay each other’s concerns. How has your day been, so far?
