PlaneShift
Fan Area => Roleplaying (Communitive Storywriting) => Topic started by: Under the moon on March 29, 2005, 11:41:21 pm
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Update, Oct 13, 07
Added the start of chapter 11, Woven Shadows. I can not promise to have it finished soon.
Update, Sep 13, 07
Started fixing the format changes due to the forum change.
UPDATE, October 22nd, 05
Chapter ten, 'Between Dreams' finished. On to page two.
As always, thank you for reading.
Info on this story.
This is a continuation of my story Chain of Souls (http://www.hydlaaplaza.com/smf/index.php?topic=11668.0)... which you should read first, or you won't have a clue what's going on here. This, however, is not the continuation I promised. That one will have to wait... *edit*... for this-> Chain of Souls III; Path of Fate (link fixed) (http://www.hydlaaplaza.com/smf/index.php?topic=17056.0) Yes, I have started the third CoS story. Enjoy.
**Addendum April 19th, 2012** I did not forget about you. However, I will not be completing the stories on this forum, nor, in fact, in the PS universe at all. I will make a summery of an ending for them, so you know how the PS version ends. I now plan on... de-planeshift-ifying all three stories in an edit, and publishing elsewhere. Actually, not a lot deals with PS in the first place, so that part of the editing will be minimal. I will leave these versions on the PS site, however, unless there is some conflict in rights. The new version will not have the same ending, and will carry on in a different way.
So, without further ado...
CHAIN OF SOULS: SOUL'S MIRROR
~Prologue~
Sabrene sighed as she looked into the mirror. Her new lavender dress was very pretty, but far too fancy for her, with all its frills and lace. To her, the freckled face above the pearled neck did not seem right, and not at all happy either. Luckily, she hadn't been forced to wear one of those awful flowered hats her mother had taken to lately. She made a face. Her mother always told her that the clothing makes the Lady. She stared into her own eyes, her face turning to a little girls pout. What if she didn't want to be a Lady. Sighing again, she walked to the window, the annoying swish swish of the dress hounding her every step. It was so unfair. None of them understood her; not even her father, who would give her the moon if he could. The laughing of the young boys playing in the street drew her attention. One of the boys glanced up at her second story window. He seemed of her age, though she didn't think of boys all that much, being dirty and loud most of the time... or too stuck on themselves to be any fun at all. His unruly brown hair flew back as he redoubled his efforts at getting the ball passed his friends. He was one of the 'common' children, as her mother called them, and not kindly. Her chin came to rest on her arms folded across the sill. He was common, but... he was free. He didn't live in a prison of rules and fancy cloth. He wasn't expected to be prim and proper at all time. Why was he better than she was. At least, that is the way she saw things. It was unfair.
The boys suddenly stopped as another boy swaggered up to them. Her head came up. Now that was different. Maybe today wouldn't be a total waste after all. The new boy was taller than the others, but the interesting part was that he wore a blue coat nearly as embroidered as her dress. Sabrene smiled, waiting for the inevitable fight. 'Highborns' never played with 'commoners'. The boys began talking, the taller one waving his hands grandly in the air. One of the other boys sneered and pointed to the fancy coat, saying something. She leaned a little further out the window. Soon they would be rolling on the ground pummeling each other; boys were so childish. She blinked. Instead of tackling the boy for the comment, as she expected, the taller one walked over to a large muddy puddle and began scooping up handfuls of thick mud and rubbing them on his fancy coat. He then held his arms wide and shrugged his shoulders. The other boys looked at each other, then shrugged themselves. The brown haired boy that had glanced at her window earlier shook his head with a laugh and kicked the ball to the highborn, who kicked it back. She couldn't believe her eyes; they were actually playing together. Her mother would have an apoplexy at the sight. It wasn't fair! She should be down there, not him. How could the world be so cruel? Her eyes fell on the one tree that reached over the stone wall. Maybe It wasn't so cruel after all.
A little while later found Sabrene climbing the tree. It had quite a few branches, so it was easier than she had first thought it would be, even with her dress tied up to her thighs. She grinned at the thought of her mother seeing her, and fainting cold. When she reached the top, it occurred to her that maybe she had not thought out her plan completely. It was quite a long drop to the other side of the stone wall, and no branches. Maybe she should turn back. She looked back up at her window, imagining herself there, sad and alone. No! She would not go back; she was too close. Sabrene carefully lowered herself to the top of the wall. Now that she could see the other side, it didn't seem so high after all, and the stones were rougher than the inside. She could do this. But as she began lowering herself over the edge her foot slipped on a loose peice of moss. Her scrambling fingers found nothing to grasp. She didn't even have time to scream before she hit the large puddle at the bottom with a loud splash. Dirty water flew in all directions, completely soaking her. Sabrene held out her dripping arms in shock. When her mother found out about this... She heard a noise in front of her and slowly pulled her sodden red-gold hair out of her eyes. The boy with the unruly brown hair stood before her. He was going the laugh, she knew it. Her eyes searched for an escape, somewhere...anywhere to hide. But he didn't laugh. He silently held out his hand. At first, she didn't understand; she just sat there in the oozing mud. Slowly, she held out her own hand, still suspecting a trick. He took her hand and pulled her out of the puddle, not saying a word. He had brown eyes, she could see now. Big, beautiful, brown eyes. She didn't know how long she stood there staring into his eyes, maybe forever, but she suddenly felt something in her hands. She looked down to see the boys' ball. Slow understanding came over her, then a smile. They had excepted her. She looked back up at the boy. He wasn't so dirty after all. "I am Sabrene," she said shyly. The boy smiled back. He had a wonderful smile.
"I am..."
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As you can obviously see, this is Sabrene's tale. Soul's Mirror=Dentali=Sabrene's spear, if you missed that. So I ask a little favor form the forum ladies. (I already have the help of one...Thanks) Being a guy, I generally don't have a clue what goes in the female mind. So if I make any mistakes, or you see something that you would change/add, PM me. I want to make this story the best it can be.
Thank you for your time.
*edit for Sept. 07. In the all the time I have been writing the CoS stories, not one person has PMed me to say I am writing anything wrong or requested any changes. So, I thank you all deeply for your confidence in me.
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Chapter one-
~Forever Lost~
"AEDEN!" Sabrene's scream filled her own ears and echoed the despair in her soul. She knew it wouldn't help, but the scream ripped itself from her throat, blinding her with tears. But she could still see. The scene played over and over in her head. "Aeden...please!" she cried, sobbing against the shattered railing. Her only answer was the howling wind tearing at her rain soaked dress. It gave her no comforting words telling her everything would be right; no arms to hold her and sooth her pain. There was nothing; not even the ripples remained where he had vanished into the dark water. She felt an emptiness grow inside her. A hole that had once been filled with hope and love. He was gone...she had lost him. The ship heaved, groaning as it was hit by swell after swell coming not from the open water, but from directly beneath the ship itself. From that cursed helm. But none of that mattered now. The sea could take her too, if it wanted.
As if in answer, the deck lurched under her, snapping what was left of the weakened post she clung to. Then she was falling into nothing. She would have her release…if she could just see his smile one last time. A jolt coursed through her right arm, suddenly halting her fall. Sabrene opened her eyes, blinking away the tears to see what had caught her arm. She blinked again. It couldn’t be. Aeden smiled at her as he held her hand, keeping her from falling. Was it really him? He nodded slowly, his shoulder length brown hair falling into his face. He reached down with his other hand, touching her face. His brown eyes filled with happiness, but also a deep haunted sorrow.
“You fell,” Sabrene whispered. How could this be?
He looked down at the water, then where the railing had been. The anguish that passed over his face tore at her heart. It was the same look he had as he had fallen away from her. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if to block out the memories. When he opened them again, his gaze fell on her hand. His lips moved, but no sound emerged. He looked into her eyes once more…and let go.
“Aeden!” Sabrene shouted, her hands reaching futilely for his. Instead, her left hand came up to hit something hard and round next to her right. She realized she was not falling. Something was in her right hand, holding her up. Aeden looked behind him, then stood slowly, his form beginning to fade. As he faded, the Dentali appeared in her hand, or maybe it had been there all along. Its three sharp points were sunk deeply into the white wood of the hull, forming a perfect triangle. The spear had saved her, though she had not called it. Her eyes found Aeden’s again, just before he disappeared completely. He had called the spear, he must have. His lips moved again. She knew what the words were this time, though he still made not a sound. He had said them to her twice before, she could never forget.
“Syr ven ae.”
Then he was gone. Sabrene stared at the empty space. He wanted her to live, and he was alive. He had to be. Somehow he found a way to tell her, to live. That must have been why he came back; to save her. Sabrene grabbed the spear with her other hand. She had to live for him, if for nothing else. The ship lurched again, listing towards her, slanting the spear shaft downwards. Her hands slid down the rain slick shaft a few inches before she got her grip. The deck was so close, but she knew if she tried to move she wouldn’t be able to hold on. She would not let go; there had to be someone left on the ship.
“Can someone hear me?” she called. The effort of speaking caused her grip to slide a little. But she couldn’t give up. She was too close. “Anybody?”
Sabrene thought she heard loud thumps above her. Then a deep voice boomed, “Lady Sabrene?” It was a familiar voice, like thunder at the bottom of a barrel, and reminded her of…spices? Jakkar?
“Jakkar? Help me…please.”
Suddenly, a huge stony hand engulfed her wrists. “Let go, Lady Sabrene, I have you. I will keep you safe.” Her grip slipped, but the huge hand kept her from falling. She hung in its grasp, the boiling water far below. “See? Safe.” Sabrene looked up into one of the ugliest faces she had ever seen. And the friendliest. A wide grin full of pride split Jakkar’s stony face from ear to ear. That would be if he had ears. He didn’t move, though, just crouched at the edge, grinning for all his worth, holding her wrists.
“Pull me up?” Sabrene asked finally.
Jakkar’s grin faded instantly, replaced by what she could only assume was sheepish embarrassment. “Sorry, Lady Sabrene,” he said, lifting her to the deck. “Excitement makes me forget sometimes.” He set her on her feet. “But never a good recipe. I never forget…” his voice faded as Sabrene looked at him. He was huge. His semi-rough skin reminded her of the blue-green rocks that her father’s townhouse was made from. Even to the same little flecks of black and gray. And just as solid too. “Sometimes I talk too much.”
Sabrene couldn’t help herself. Overcome with relief, she wrapped her arms around the Kran, hugging him, her head only coming halfway up his massive chest. “Thank you Jakkar.” That was all she could say as she thought of how close death had come. Her thoughts went back to the fenki girl and Aeden’s last words before he fell. What death had already taken. She shook her head against Jakkar’s chest. He couldn’t have meant what he said. He just couldn’t.
“Ah…Lady Sabrene…?” She realized she was squeezing Jakkar harder than she had intended. If stone was warm, but softer than rock, that is how he felt. She stepped back. “Are you fine now?” he asked awkwardly.
“Yes Jakkar.” The ship heaved again, though less severe, reminding Sabrene that she was not safe yet. If safety could found. She saw several people running towards her. Two Diaboli and a Dwarf. Her friends.
“Burgas, Yore, Lady Ree’ann, what are you doing up here?” Jakkar asked. “It isn’t safe.”
Sabrene looked behind them, searching for Ellese. But to no avail.
“It isn’t any safer below decks, Jakkar, what with all the cargo and all,” Burgas said, sliding to a stop on the slick deck despite his heavy soled boots. “Almost spilled my ale when the bucking started.” He saw Sabrene’s look. “Ellese went below to see who she could help.” He glanced around himself. “Where’s Aeden?” His eyes went to the gaping hole in the railing before quickly flicking back to Sabrene. “He didn’t…”
“He is alive,” Sabrene answered hastily, forestalling any questions. She didn’t want to think of the answers right now. If she had any.
“What happened?” Yore asked, eyeing the turbulent, flashing mist. The rain had eased up, but only slightly.
“The helm went over board…I think Laanx tried to take it.” Sabrene shivered, remembering the last she met the masked god. Aeden had said he was an Ancient, not a god. But there was a power to him. Something deep and frightening.
Yore's eyes snapped to her. "You are sure?" he asked, his voice intense. There was something else too, like he knew...
The ship listed back to the broken railing again, but this time it didn't stop. Sabrene felt her feet slip out from under her, but Jakkar grabbed her around the waist as she fell. He dropped to one knee, trying to hold his footing. Burgas slid past, but at the last moment, pulled his smaller, single-bit war-ax from its loop and slammed it into the deck, halting his fall. Somehow, though, Ree’ann and Yore remained standing with her hand on his shoulder, the deck at an impossible angle beneath their feet. Sabrene didn’t have time to think on it, for Jakkar began inching down the deck , losing his battle against the steep incline.
“No!” he boomed, rising a fist high overhead. “Safe!” He brought his fist down, shattering the floorboards as he punched a hole through them. He hooked his elbow in the hole and pushed Sabrene up to it, letting her get her grip before reaching down to Burgas. “Grab hold, Burgas!”
“Sabrene!” Yore’s call pulled her attention away from the Dwarf. He pointed at the dark water below, which was now clearly visible over the edge of the steeply slanted deck. A large shadow moved in its depths. An enormous shadow. Sabrene stared. Something was alive down there. “Cast in the Dentali! It will stave off the power!”
Jakkar was just pulling Burgas to the hole. He looked down to where Sabrene had fallen earlier. “I will get it, Lady Sabrene. You stay safe.” He began to remove his arm from the hole, but Sabrene held it where it was. He didn’t know about the Joining, about her gift. He looked at her questioningly as she raised her free hand over her head, much as he had. But instead of bringing it back down, she concentrated on her spear, calling it. Sabrene’s skin began to burn as she reached for the Dentali in her mind. The pain built to nearly unbearable before the spear materialized in her hand. Jakkar’s mouth dropped open, but she didn’t have time to explain. The shadow rose almost to the surface again. The water began to bulge upwards as the shadow pushed it out of the way. It was going to breach! Terror grasping her heart, Sabrene threw her weapon. The Dentali disappeared into the water with hardly a splash. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the entire ship shuttered, vibrating beneath her fingers. The water quivered in a thousand, thousand ripples. Flashes of light came from the depths of the dark water, like subdued lightning, outlining the…thing just beneath the surface. Shock blinded all other thought as the size of it.
The ship righted itself abruptly, throwing Sabrene on top of Burgas and making her lose sight of the water. The wind stopped almost instantly, the gentle glow returning to the surrounding mist. Sabrene sighed with relief. It was over. She rolled off the Dwarf onto the now nearly level deck. Ree’ann and Yore ran to them, helping everyone to their feet.
“What was that…thing?” Sabrene asked, for lack of a better word to call it. Nothing living could be that big…could it?
Yore stepped to the edge, looking down at the now crystal clear water in a distracted way. “It was the helm,” he answered, though it almost seemed as if he was talking just to himself. “This sea was created by a god, an Ancient, as was the helm.” Yore visibly tore his eyes off the water to look at Sabrene before he continued. “When they touched, the helm absorbed the power of the sea, turning it to evil as it once did with Yamuel. But your spear was made to cancel out the power of the Ancients, so you halted the change before it was complete. We owe you our lives.” Sabrene shook her head. She did that? No, it was Jakkar whom saved them, kept them safe. It occurred to her that Yore had told her to cast in the spear, and now it was him explaining what had happened. Not Ree’ann. And he was calling ‘gods’ Ancients, just as Aeden and Ree’ann had. What was going on?
“How do you know this?” Burgas asked, no doubt drawing the same conclusions. He stared at Yore like he had never seen him before. His eyes flashed to Ree’ann. “What have you done to him?” There was a low threat in his voice.
“Easy, Burgas,” Yore answered, holding up his hands calmingly. “Ree’ann did nothing. It was Aeden and Yamuel. When they healed me, Yamuel gave his life to me, and with it, his memories. I am still the same Diaboli who tried to kill you the day you married my sister.”
Sabrene blinked. Did she hear that right? But instead of getting angry, Burgas simply barked a humorless laugh. “I suppose you’re the same at that. You and Aeden should have told us, though.”
Sabrene felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Ree’ann, worry in her eyes. “Where is Aeden?” The words brought back the memory of his fall, but also of him reaching down to her. Sabrene looked out over the water into the engulfing mist. She could feel him. There was only one answer to give.
“He is alive.”
~end of chapter one~
Thank you for reading!
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~What Lies Hidden~
Jakkar shook his head in confusion as Sabrene finished talking a few hours later. “If you say, then it is so, Lady Sabrene.”
Sabrene was sure she would have done no different, being told the same story. Now that she thought back on it, it was rather unbelievable. Portals, gods, ancient powers. Who could possibly believe all that without a grain of doubt, or a hill of it. Even she didn’t know if she believed it completely herself. She looked around the ship’s broken deck. People of all the races wandered about aimlessly now that the injured had been taken below to be cared for. No one was sure how many were lost in the storm…she wasn’t sure they really wanted to know, by the looks on their faces. She didn’t want to know. One little Enki girl was too much for her already. Ellese walked past with Burgas, a ledger and ink quill in her hands. She had come from below decks more than an hour before, trying to sort out the chaos. She stopped as Sabrene motioned to her. She had to know one thing.
“Did you find Jhayda’s mother yet?” Sabrene asked quietly. She had asked the same twice before. This time she told herself she wouldn’t cry.
Ellese looked at her ledger, but Sabrene could see by her face that she already know the answer. “I…I am sorry, Sabrene. She was in the cargo hold looking for Jhayda when the storm hit. A crate fell on her. She died not long after we found her.”
“Did you…?” Sabrene couldn’t finish. The tears were coming, she could feel them. If only she had searched herself. Maybe then…
“No,” Burgas answered, then cleared his throat roughly. “We didn’t tell her. But I think she knew. You can’t hide that kind of thing from a mother.” He put his head down, a great weariness settling over him. Ellese wrapped her arm around his thick shoulders.
“We did right by her. I would ask the same,” she said, then nodded to Sabrene and led him away, her grip tightening as if she was never going to let him go again.
“Sad tidings,” Jakkar rumbled from behind her, startling her for a moment. She had forgotten he was there. “But there was nothing you could have done. You can not blame yourself.” Wiping her eyes quickly, Sabrene turned to find him shaking his head at the deck. Despite his words, the big Kran seemed to take each death to heart, blaming himself for not being able to save more than he had. She had learned that he had already saved three other people before coming to her aid at the railing. Then, after the storm had passed, he had run himself tirelessly until everyone on board was safe. Since then, he stayed at her side, protecting her, though he wouldn’t admit to it. Somehow she had found herself telling him her whole story. She felt like she could trust him, like the brother she never had. But he looked so weary, now that she was getting used to reading his odd features. She wouldn’t have him tipping over on her account.
“Jakkar, why don’t you rest a while. I’ll be fine,” she said, scrubbing her eyes again.
“You are sure, Lady Sabrene?” He glanced at the surrounding mist as if he suspected it still hid something. Sabrene felt a chill. Maybe it did. There was a sense in the air. Like something was watching her. Maybe Jakkar didn’t look so tired after all. No, that wasn’t fair to him. She was perfectly capable of defending herself. ‘Are you?’ the little voice of doubt asked her. She shook it off.
“Yes. You can…” a light breeze brushed her cheek, followed by a incomprehensible whisper, like a thousand voices at once. She spun in the direction it came from. There was nothing there but the ship’s prow. “Do you hear that?” Jakkar laughed behind her. She turned back to him, wondering what would cause such a relieved sound. He too, was looking over the prow.
“Indeed, Lady Sabrene. The whispers of Shaln Vae.” He pointed back to the broken ship’s prow with an enormous grin. “We have come to safety at last. My home.”
Sabrene turned back slowly. Shaln Vae? She would finally see what was hidden behind the mist. Nothing, though, could have prepared her for it.
The mist parted before the prow, a grand curtain to a grander view. Her lips parted in awe. Huge, gleaming white towers appeared before her, marching along a tall wall of the same stone, their flared tops reached impossibly towards a glowing dome of bluish mist high over head. A broad expanse of lush green shoreline curved away in both directions to form what must have been an enormous, perfectly round island. Long sweeps and gentle curves made the towers seem almost to have been grown, rather than built. Cerulean blue markings matching the ship’s accented the rounded edges of tall flutes carved into their sides. Beyond the towers and wall rose great flattened domes of the same blue coloring as the markings. Enormous white stone buttresses crossed the domes, supporting their unimaginable weight. It was the most beautiful city she had ever seen. Not even Keer could compare.
Jakkar walked up next to her, bringing her out of her reverie. A low rumbling sound emerged from him. “Something is wrong.” He pointed to one of the towers. “The windows are gone, as well as the balconies. I see not a soul anywhere.”
Sabrene squinted at a Dock that was identical to the one they had left. With one difference…nothing moved. No people, no animals, no cargo. It felt wrong, just as Jakkar had said. A movement out of the corner of her eye drew her attention. “Jakkar, look!” A ship indistinguishable from their own, though still whole, slipped silently into the mist far down the way. There were many people on board. And something else. Large, mounted crossbows dotted the sides, each one armed and manned. Rows of tall staffs filled in the spaces between the weapons with something hanging from their tips. Sabrene squinted for a better view just as the ship vanished. Lanterns…
“Something is very wrong.” Jakkar said. Sabrene felt the deep worry in his voice. It mirrored her own.
Others began coming to the ship’s prow. Some staring in wonder, others looking around at each other with the same worry as Jakkar. The ones who had been here before, Sabrene thought. They started quiet conversations, pointing to the city. A few of them slowly backed away and headed for the raised bulwark at the rear of the ship, likely going to one of the large taverns below decks to see if any drink was left un-spilled or broken. The apprehension soon began to spread to the people who were just seeing Shaln Vae for the first time, causing a disquieting silence to settle over the growing crowd. Occasionally, the whispers returned, making the silence seem all the more complete. Sabrene shivered. The whispers carried a hard edge of warning, a deep foreboding fear. Jakkar must have heard it too. His gaze was on the mist dome high above, a frown on his face.
“Caution,” he said, causing several people to give a start. “They urge caution. Never before have I heard them utter anything other than peace and calm. I fear something dreadful has happened since last I was here.”
Everyone was looking at him, except for the other Kran on board. They were also gazing at the mist above, some of them nodding at his words, others not even seeming to hear as the stared upwards. After that, no one spoke as the Dock rapidly approached. Sabrene frowned. Given the ship’s great mass, even without the missing outrigger, its speed seemed too great to her.
“Jakkar?” She asked. The ship showed no sign of slowing, almost as if it fled in blind terror from what was hidden in the mist. It wasn’t going to stop. The whispers screamed.
“To the rear of the vessel!” someone shouted suddenly.
Sabrene had no time to move. Jakkar spun, quicker than she would have thought possible, scooping her under one of his great arms. His bare feet pounded the deck as he began running away from the fast approaching shore.
“Faster!” he bellowed, snatching up a young Diaboli boy by the tail as he fell. The boy hollered, but made no effort to struggle free.
They almost made it to the bulwark when Sabrene heard the terrifying roar of splintering wood and shattering stone. Even though he was at a full run, Jakkar flew backwards as the deck heaved and buckled beneath his feet, the ship coming to a violent, shuddering stop. Sabrene found herself and the boy pressed to his chest, the Kran folding himself over them protectively. For a moment, she felt weightless as the cool air streamed passed her face. Then Jakkar struck the deck with the sound of splintering wood, sliding a few paces before finally coming to a stop. Then everything was still, except for Jakkar’s heaving chest beneath her. Slowly, the Kran released his grip, letting her and the boy go. The boy hopped up, the whites showing all around his eyes in shock. Sabrene stood more slowly, so as not to hurt Jakkar further. She hoped he was not hurt badly, he had hit so hard.
“Are you hurt, Jakkar?” she asked, her voice shaken.
To her amazement, he put his arms down and pushed himself into a sitting position. She followed his gaze down the long splintered trench of buckled boards he had made in the fall. He then reached back, touching his massive shoulders tentatively. He sighed, a low, rumbling, relieved sound.
“Nothing that a little time won’t heal, Lady Sabrene.” He looked around the deck where other people were pulling themselves to their feet. Voices began calling for help, but some of the fallen didn’t move. Sabrene closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She didn’t know how much more death she could take. She felt a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to see Jakkar standing before her. He had an understanding look, if she judged right, Kran were hard to read. At that moment, Ree’ann, Yore, Ellese, and a limping Burgas exited from one of the three bulwark doors looking rougher for the wear, but alive. Sabrene felt a wave of relief wash over her.
“See to your friends, Lady Sabrene. I will…”
Sabrene put her hand on his arm, stopping him. How could she stand aside when so many needed help? When she could help. “I can manage. They need us both.” She looked over the broken deck again, steeling herself. She could do this. She had to. Jakkar nodded and walked towards the nearest man who hadn’t yet risen. To her great relief, he was still alive. She just hoped she wouldn’t be sick when they found someone who wasn’t. It was too much to hope that everyone had survived.
~end of chapter two~
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Chapter three-
~Whispers~
Sabrene let Jakkar hand her down to what was left of the Dock, holding the flowered hat Aeden had given her to her head with her other hand. Jakkar had found it for her, caught on one of the splintered deck boards. It was her most prized possession now, even though she had hated it the instant she saw it at the shop. She hadn’t had the heart to tell Aeden that when he bought it, and had to quickly shush Ellese to keep her from telling the truth. The hat reminded her too much of the horrible hats her mother had taken to when she was a child. Her mother still wore them to this day, even though the style had thankfully passed years ago. But Aeden had given her this one. And that made all the difference. That made it beautiful.
Sabrene’s foot slipped on a loose flake of stone. Silly girl, you’ll break your neck if you can’t keep your mind at hand. She looked around, still surprised at the amount of damage the ship had caused the Dock. The massive stone piles leaned away from the ship, looking near to falling. A long stretch off the end of the Dock was simply gone, swallowed by the deeper waters. But it could have been far worse. Luckily for all on board, the ship had collided with the massive stones at a slight angle near the shore, softening the blow considerably. If they had hit either the shore or the Dock directly, Sabrene was sure there would have been far fewer survivors easing themselves onto the stone next to her. The death toll alone from below decks was enough to bring tears to her eyes, if she let herself dwell on it. Jakkar reached down with the Diaboli boy, placing him gently in her bare arms, as the dress’s sleeves and half the skirt were missing to make bandages for the wounded. His parents were some of those from below who didn’t make it. He had not uttered a word since the collision. Her heart ached for him. Who will care for you now?
“I will take him,” Ellese said from next to her, holding out her arms.
Sabrene nodded, handing her the boy. Ellese was a good woman, even if she did have some odd ideas about men and relationships. Her cheeks felt hot, remembering some of Ellese’s suggestions about Aeden. But that must come from being Diaboli. Her eyes went to Ree’aan and Yore, who were standing a short distance away. Why was Ree’ann different? Besides the blue-grey coloring of her skin, instead of coal black, she was nearly identical to the other Diaboli. But her manner was completely different. Sabrene wished Aeden had told her more before he… She shook her head. No sense dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Now was all that mattered; and getting the injured the help they needed. Jakkar was helping another Kran to the stone, his leg covered with spider-webbing cracks oozing a thick fluid. He reached the ground and started limping away. Jakkar shook his head.
“That may never heal completely,” he whispered to Sabrene. “But he has his life.”
“Some might call that a fair trade,” Burgas said from next to him, still on the deck.
Dwarves were the stuff of the bedrock, to Sabrene’s mind. Even with his own limp, he had not rested until every last person was cared for. She could see why Ellese loved him…if he would just cut off that horrid, thick, black beard. Men should not cover their faces with such monstrosities. Sabrene shook her head again. She must really be rattled, to have her mind wander so. Burgas surveyed the deck behind him one last time.
“Seems we have everyone.”
Everyone but the dead, Sabrene thought to herself. Those had been left lined up on the deck, wrapped in whatever could be found. Some in just their own cloaks. Almost a quarter of the passengers, not counting those who went over board. She closed her eyes, repeating something to herself that her father had once told her. Care for the living, for the dead have no cares. She looked out over the open water and into the mist. Aeden was still alive. Somehow, he had to be.
Jakkar thumped down on the stone next to her, then reached up to give Burgas a hand. The Kran was almost four times as large as the Dwarf, but they treated each other as equals. Once set down, Burgas frowned down the Dock to where a set of enormous blue gates remained silent and closed. Sabrene followed his gaze, understanding the look. Someone should have come by now. It must have been over an hour since the wreck now. They had to have heard the crash. Even the deaf would have felt it.
The ethereal whispers called again, but the edge of warning was gone now. A breeze brushed Sabrene’s cheek, as before, but somehow it felt like a gentle greeting this time. She looked over to Jakkar. He nodded at her unspoken question.
“It is a welcome. We are safe now.”
As if heralded by his words, a loud bang and the sound of cranks and chains emerged from the gates. A moment later, they began to swing ponderously outwards, accompanied by a tremendous screeching of long unused hinges. Jakkar frowned, but began to walk forward. Ree’aan and Yore joined him after a glance at each other. What is going on there? Burgas shrugged up at Sabrene, then put his arm around Ellese’s waist, the two of them moving forward together. Sabrene gave the sea one last long look before following them. He had to be alive.
As the gates came fully open, Sabrene saw that four white robed figures stood at its base. As one, they stepped forward. Ten paces from the door, they stopped, waiting for the visitors to approach. Jakkar was shaking his head in apparent confusion. He stopped a few paces away from them. A man took one step further than the Kran, as most of the survivors had followed. Those that could walk still, anyway. The man had a strong, sure look about him, the sword’s hilt sticking above the sheath on his back showed the wear of much use.
“Why did you not greet us?” he asked with a hard edge of anger to his voice, “What has happened here.”
The white-cloaked heads swiveled to each other before coming back to rest on the man. To Sabrene, the motions seemed confused and uncertain. The center one on the right took a small step forward. A nervous step?
“We…don’t greet returning ships.” a younger man’s voice said most uncertainly from the deep cowl. “I…I ask where you hail from.”
“Are you daft?” the man from the boat said incredulously. “We come from Ylaikum. This Dock goes no other place. Tell me straight, what is going on here.”
The heads again bent towards each other, whispering nervously. Sabrene’s brow furrowed. What kind of guards were these? Her father would have had them scrubbing with the maids. The cloaked figure on the far left stepped forward and spoke in a woman’s voice, also young and nervous sounding.
“No ship has come from Ylaikum in almost one-thousand tides, not since the Great Darkness.” Her head turned to the listing, twisted ship. “One never returned to us.”
The figure next to her grabbed her arm. “You’re not saying that is…” a shocked man’s voice said.
“That is exactly what I am saying, Niddel. Look at the Runes. It’s the Faarinok.” She spoke as if she only half believed what she was saying. “The Lost Ship.”
The figure on the far right dropped to the ground, its body going limp without revealing its gender. The first speaker wavered as if he were about to follow. The man from the ship stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. He shoved his grizzled face almost into the low cowl.
“You’re saying no ship has ported here in five-hundred years? How can this be possible? Answer me!”
His only answer was the cloaked man fainting cold in his grasp. Despite his clenched jaw, the swordman kept the young man from falling and slowly eased him to the ground. The remaining two began backing slowly towards the gate. The swordman came back to his feet and took a step towards them, but was halted by a clattering sound approaching from the other side of the gate. What appeared made Sabrene step back involuntarily. She felt more than heard the crowd step back with her. A group of twenty lightly armored soldiers came riding out onto the Dock. Their armor was nearly all blue enameled, with white edges and a long, blue-fringed, white shortcape. Long pointed bills extended out over a vertically creased faceguard bearing rows of short vertical slits for the eyes and mouth. Each man held a trident lance at a perfect angle, readied to be lowered in an instant. Sabrene had seen enough of her fathers solders to know that these men were well trained and dangerous. But that is not what made her step back with the rest of the crowd. The soldiers didn’t ride horses, though she hadn't seen any in Ylaikum either. These creatures came as a complete shock, so foreign they were.
~end of chapter three.
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Chapter four-
~Highborn~
Ree’ann calmly watched the creatures stride sinuously through the gate, not stepping back with the rest of the crowd. She had seen many kinds of beasts before, on many different worlds, but these were new even to her. The only thing she could compare them to were the tiny red centipedes from her home that would rush out from under a lifted rock. But only vaguely, and a thousand times larger, easily equaling or surpassing a horse in height, and near twice in length, with two massive legs -instead of a hundred- a little more than halfway back the segmented, plate-like, grayish-blue body. The legs ended in enormous three-clawed feet, two claws forward, the third pointed back. A set of reddish, segmented feelers sprouted from the base at the back of the creatures’ heads, both ending in single vicious barbs. On the things’ wedge shaped heads, there were four large, solid-blue multifaceted eyes protruding above the feelers, two on each side, giving her the disturbing feeling of being watched. Rows of long thin teeth for sifting, rather than biting, like that of some of the ocean dwelling creatures of other worlds, lined a large mouth, which stretched nearly halfway back on the head. A strange appendage of the same color and structure as the feelers folded back from each of the creatures’ four forearm-length segments in front of the riders, totaling eight in all. The soldiers rode in deep saddles just in front of the large legs, their own legs pinned under the folded back appendages. Even with her dwindling powers, she could feel the gentleness of the beasts. He eyes went to the soldiers. That is where the true dangers lie. She felt only duty and determination from them.
Yore touched her shoulder, reassuring her of his presence. His hand did comfort her, but at the same time it disturbed her that he knew it would comfort her. Sometimes it seemed he knew her better than she knew herself. Yet she knew nothing of him. He was not Yamuel. He never could be. Yamuel was dead. She shrugged of Yore’s hand. It didn’t bring so much comfort after all.
The two white-robed figures still standing spun at the creatures’ fast approach. One of the soldiers moved his mount forward and removed his helm as the rest pulled up using long reins. She heard Sabrene give a small sigh of relief at the sight of a human face. Ree’ann smiled inside. The girl had much to learn yet. She turned back to study the young soldier. Straight black hair curved around a young, and she had to admit, handsome face. His dark eyes quickly surveyed the wreck and crowd, though she thought they may have paused on her an instant longer than the others. He had an air of confidence about him, despite his youthful features. She thought him to be only a few years older than the girl, Sabrene, if she had to guess.
“Vanguard Lowen,” the robed woman said, relief heavy in her voice, even though the man’s head snapped up at the mention of his name. Ree’aan could feel a slight anger arise in him as well. “We didn’t know what…”
Lowen held up a brisk hand without taking his eyes off the crowd, silencing her instantly. “Be at ease, Watcher,” he commanded, putting an odd emphasis on her title. “Report what you know of this. Then I shall take over.”
“They’re from Yliakum!” the robed man called Niddel burst out, clearly panicking.
Having lived with and studied humans for generations, Ree’ann saw the slight twitch of surprise in Lowen’s expression. Not so confident after all, though he hid it well. A leader always needed to look in control, even if he wasn’t. Yamuel had taught her that. A slight change in Sabrene’s expression told Ree’ann that the girl had seen it also.
Lowen stood up in his saddle, addressing himself to the Watchers. “Take your fellows to the Gatehouse and tell no one of this until one of the Highguard gives you leave,” he ordered. They paused for a moment, caught between wanting to go or stay. Lowen made the choice for them. “Now!” he snapped, using a well refined Voice of Command. The two Watchers jumped and rushed over to their fainted comrades. “Yhuke, Jenif, Rohgelless, Donafin; dismount. Escort the Watchers to the Gatehouse. Make sure they speak to no one.”
The named soldiers nodded and shifted in their saddles. In response, their creatures lowered themselves nearly to the ground, spreading the odd, bug-like limbs to release the men’s legs. Ree’ann watched the fascinating creatures with interest. Between the four limbs on each side, stretched gossamer, nearly transparent webbing resembling that of a giant riverfly. Thick black veins pulsed as they filled with blood, stiffening the ‘wings’. She could think of nothing else to call them, though they were far too small for flight. Somehow, though, the beasts felt incomplete. The men dismounted and began helping drag the other Watchers away. The creatures merely raised themselves back up and stood there, waiting. Lowen watched the whole affair from his saddle, waiting until the Watchers were out of hearing before speaking again.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you into the city yet,” he said, raising his voice so all could hear. “If you will…”
“We have wounded,” Sabrene said suddenly. The impulsive girl would get them all in deep if she didn’t watch her tongue. Lowen’s eyes locked on to hers, irritation flashing at being interrupted. Sabrene’s face quirked, almost as if she was amused as he continued staring at her, trying to force her to drop her eyes. Ree’ann almost frowned. What was that girl up to?
“You have sent for aid, I assume, Vanguard Lowen?” Sabrene went on calmly, apparently unaffected by his gaze. Her tone left no question as to who she thought was in charge, and it was not Lowen.
Lowen blinked, Ree’ann was sure he heard the Command in her voice. But where did the girl learn it? A question for another time. Now was time to step in before the girl went too far, no matter their pact. Before she could open her mouth, though, Yore placed his hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly. ‘Let this play out,’ his expression said. She stiffened at the ease at which she could read his thoughts just from his face. The only other being she had been able to do that with…No, he is not Yamuel. Quit acting the fool, woman. Get a hold of yourself. He has no control over you. Despite her thoughts, she found herself giving a miniscule acquiescing nod. She would follow his lead…for now.
Lowen swiftly recovered his poise. “Yes, my Lady, but carts are not so fast as Nantherei. These gates have not been used in generations, so resources were diverted elsewhere. It will take some time for help to arrive, Lady…?” His words were careful, yet strong. This was no kitten to be trifled with, but Yore kept his hand on Ree’ann’s arm, holding her to silence. She noticed a very slight, almost reluctant pause before Sabrene answered.
“Highborn Lady Sabrene, of House Shalcoen. Daughter of Highborn Lord Darret, Overseer of the Ten Circles,” Sabrene said formally, inclining her head and looking every inch the Lady she claimed to be, despite her torn dress and uncouth hair. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Ree’ann caught her own eyes widening. Could this girl, this Fen’rohdain, actually be a Highborn Lady? Not that human hierarchy really mattered, but this came as a complete surprise. Nothing about the girl until this moment had indicated anything of the sort. This could complicate matters.
Sabrene stepped forward, placing herself ahead of the swordsman, who was staring at her in quite a perplexed manner, his anger of a few moments before fully forgotten. She raised an questioning eyebrow at the guardsman, who seemed to be just as shocked, though he hid it much better. He quickly shifted in his saddle, the Nantherei creature lowering and releasing him. Ree’ann watched him dismount, seeing the carefully concealed uncertainty move across his face. He apparently did not know what to make of Sabrene, using his dismount to give himself time to think. He bowed deeply from the waist once he reached the ground, his right arm behind his back, the other crossing his chain covered stomach. An ancient bow, if Ree’ann remembered right.
“Lowen Travarit, Third Captain of the Vanguard, in your service, Lady Shalcoen,” he said after raising from his bow. He had a clipped, precise way of speaking each and every word, the confidence returning to his voice as he returned the formal greeting.
Sabrene studied, no, surveyed the other soldiers where they still sat on their nantherei; a queen it rags, as it were, inspecting her men. Wherever her gaze fell, the soldiers straightened visibly in their saddles. They knew authority when they saw it, and Sabrene, Ree’ann had to admit, glowed with it. Thinking back on her own behavior and decisions of the past week, perhaps it would be best to let the girl handle the situation. Everything she herself had done, always ended in pain. Ree’ann felt Yore’s hand leave her arm and shivered. He knew her too well for her liking, but somehow, she still found his presence comforting. His hand had felt right resting on her arm, and now that it was gone, she almost wished it back. That is what scared her the most.
“You handle your men well, Captain Travarit,” Sabrene intoned, “If you would have them guard the gates, I have questions that need answering, as I’m certain you do also.”
Lowen paused, considering her, before signaling to his men. One of them moved his mount forward.
“Your command, Sir?” a woman’s voice asked rigidly in the same clipped voice. Not men, then. Ree’ann glanced at the other soldiers, wondering how many other women were hidden under the blue armor. Now that she thought about it, one of the soldiers named earlier had walked with a decidedly feminine gate. If she could…Ree’ann shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She suddenly realized what she was trying to do, to fill her mind with thoughts other than that of Yore. What mattered now was Sabrene, and what she was conspiring. But the girl brought back thoughts of Aeden, and he of Yamuel. She missed Yamuel so much it hurt. He had told her goodbye, to move on, but she hadn’t given up hope that he may have come back to her somehow. But now he was dead. Only his memories remained, locked inside of Yore. She would never hear his kind voice again. There was nothing to fill the great void where her heart had once beat in tune with his. Just the despair of being the broken half of a whole. Ree’ann gave a start as she became aware of someone speaking to her.
“Ree’ann, are you well?” Sabrene asked , her voice pitched so as only Yore and Ree’ann could hear. Ree’ann saw that the female soldier was already mounted and leading the others back to the gate, the empty mounts in tow. What else had she missed?
“Yes,” Ree’ann answered, “My mind wandered…” She stopped as she saw Sabrene’s quick glance at Yore. Apparently the girl knew exactly what she had been thinking of. She was not the only one to have suffered a loss recently, thought the girl refused to admit the loss. The objects of their pact were both gone now, but that did not cancel the fact that it had been made. “What did you wish of me, Cassaren?”
“I asked you if you would accompany me with Lowen, Jakkar, and Kell…the swordsman,” Sabrene answered her, adding the last part at the look of confusion that must have painted her face. She had missed a lot. “I need your experience and knowledge, but if you need time…”
“No,” Ree’ann said quickly. She needed to stay close to the girl, for more reasons than just the pact. And maybe it would take her mind off other things. “I can manage.”
Sabrene nodded and turned to Yore. “If you would stay with Burgas and Ellese to keep the crowd calm until help comes.”
“I ask to come also,” Yore cut Sabrene off gently. He wouldn’t look to Ree’ann, though she knew that she was the reason he asked. He had promised to never leave her side, even if she never accepted him. How could she accept him? Sabrene gave her a look telling her silently it was her choice. After a moment, Ree’ann nodded. For some reason, the thought of leaving Yore behind twisted her stomach in knots.
Sabrene nodded again, turning back to Lowen, who was waiting patiently by himself. It occurred to Ree’ann that she wasn’t acting the Lady to them, just Lowen. What was she up to? She almost disgraced herself with a jump as she felt something pressed into her palm. She looked down to see Yore’s black handkerchief in her hand.
“Dry your eyes, Sahr’amaernu,” Yore said, still looking straight ahead. He had not looked at her the entire time. “It hurts me to see you cry.”
Ree’ann dabbed the wetness from cheeks and quickly followed Sabrene and Lowen as they walked towards the gatehouse, Sabrene lightly holding his arm. She didn’t want Yore to see her face, or she may very well have started crying again. He had no right to call her that, only Yamuel had that right. ‘Sahr’amaernu’…my little one. She took a deep trembling breath. He had no right.
End of chapter four
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Chapter five-
~A Question of Answers~
By the time they reached the gatehouse, Ree’ann managed to calm her pounding heart and force the tears to stop. It was not as easy to control her emotions anymore, now that the Ancient’s Aura had left her…no, had been stolen from her. She was no longer a ‘god’ as some leaser beings had called her. She was one of those lesser beings that she had once cared for. A mortal, almost able to feel the minutes creep by, bringing her closer to her inescapable death. She didn’t know how they could suffer it, knowing age and death would bring about their fall. Ree’ann took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart again. She would bear it, because she had to.
Lowen stopped at the heavy wooden door just on the inside of the large gates. Another wall twenty paces away blocked any more view of the city, though Ree’ann had hardly taken notice of it since they had left the ship. She tried to concentrate her thoughts on how to deal with the girl, but Yore kept trying to slip in. Why did he have to call her that? She shook off that line of thought as Lowen pushed the door open. It didn’t matter. This door must have had a bit more use that the large gates, for it swung open with ease, the boards polished to a dull sheen. Lowen held the door with a slight bow as Sabrene entered. He then motioned for Ree’ann and the others to go in ahead of him.
Inside the spacious room, the four Vanguard soldiers Lowen had dispatched earlier sat at their leisure around one of several large tables, their helms resting in front of them. The Watchers sat nervously around another of the tables near the back wall, where a complicated set of large gears and winches were attached to the thick stone, with heavy chains running over the winches and through holes in the ceiling. The soldiers moved to rise, but Lowen made a small gesture, causing them to sit back and resume their quiet conversation. Ree’ann took note that one of them was a young woman, her blond hair cut short and severe. Rather than pretty, she was hansom, almost to the point of being masculine, with a strong, square face and blue eyes that could chip steel at a glance. The other soldiers were all men, though of greatly varied looks. One older, missing most of his gray hair, another young, with fiery red hair and a cocky grin. The last sat quietly, dark in hair and skin, a serious brooding look to him. Ree’ann had no doubt, though, that they could handle the pair of curved short-swords crossed at each of their backs, and the matching pair of curved daggers at their belts.
“My Lady Shalcoen?” Lowen said as he pulled back a chair on a table halfway between the Watchers and the Guards. Sabrene inclined her head and let him hand her down into the seat. Ree’ann watched her every move. If she was not a Highborn, as she said, then she had spent much time around them. A maid, perhaps. That seemed more likely in Ree’ann’s mind, the girl being more at ease with the commoners, and not at all comfortable with playing the Lady. As long as Lowen did not see what she saw in the girl, she should do fine.
Lowen took the chair opposite Sabrene after asking her leave. Kell did the same, though hesitantly, and took the chair to the left side of the table after unstrapping his sword and laying it on the floor. Ree’ann hesitated, then walked behind Sabrene, taking a position at the girl’s right shoulder. If she wished to be a Lady now, then so be it. In three days she would have her answers, when the Oath reversed. Until then, the girl was her master. To Ree’ann’s surprise, Yore stood at Sabrene’s other shoulder. Lowen looked at them with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“You will not sit?”
“A handmaiden does not sit in her Lady’s presence,” Ree’ann said, trying to sound demure, her eyes downcast just enough that she could see Lowen’s face.
“Nor does a handservent,” Yore intoned, sounding for all the world like he had served the girl for all his life. Ree’ann almost forgot herself, having to resist the urge to stare at him. What was he doing? He had no part in the Oath. Unless… unless he was doing this to stay close to her. She didn’t know why, but the thought set her heart beating faster. Control yourself, woman. He means nothing. He is nothing. His memories do not change anything. What was wrong with her, if she couldn’t control her simplest emotions?
“I see,” Lowen said, “Then if you wish, my Lady, we can…”
He never finished his thought, for the door swung open suddenly. A tall, thin man in well-cut, black and silver robes entered, followed by several guards in heavy armor which only vaguely resembled Lowen’s. The Vanguard soldiers immediately stood, grabbing their helms off the floor and snapping to attention. But there was something of resentment in their looks as they did, and a sense of hostility filled the air. The blond woman’s jaw was clenched in open anger, her eyes burning in fury. The man glanced around the room pompously before his eyes settled on Lowen. His lip curled slightly.
“Captain Travarit, remove your…Vanguard from this room,” he said, giving the word ‘Vanguard’ a twist of contempt.
Lowen stood slowly, shadows of anger moving across his face. “Yes, High Councilor Raddoch.” He jerked his head at the door, signaling his people to leave. They saluted smartly, banging doubled fists against their chests and strolled out the door in no hurry, eyeing the other armored soldiers with unveiled malice. Ree’ann was sure Raddoch’s guards shared the look behind their helms, even to the point of resting hands on the single longswords at their waists.
“My Lady,” Lowen said turning to Sabrene with a bow, “We will talk again.” He started towards the door, but Raddoch grabbed his arm.
“You will speak to no one, unless I order it, Captain.” he nearly spat the last word.
Lowen jerked his arm away and stalked outside, slamming the door behind him. Raddoch watched him go with a self satisfied smile on his face. He then turned to Sabrene. His eyes took in her ragged clothing and unkempt hair, his smile never slipping. Ree’ann recognized a predator when she saw one, and the man’s long nose, narrow face, and slicked-back, black hair only added to the effect. His grin deepened as he strolled leisurely across the room to stop at their table. He rested his knuckles on the table, ignoring Ree’ann and Yore. Some good would come from being a servant, it seemed.
“So, my Lady,” Raddoch said in a slightly condescending voice, “Would you tell me how this ship came to be here. Such a great personage as yourself should know more than enough to explain everything to my liking.” His voice gained an edge of near laughter as he spoke. He apparently believed Sabrene to be a Lady as much as a rock could fly. His eyebrow twitched in anger as Sabrene calmly folded her hands on the table in silence. “Speak girl, I have no time for games. If you do not wish a night in the cells, you will…”
A low rumbling to the side of the table cut him off. His eyes widened as Jakkar stepped forward, the Kran’s eyes hard with anger. Ree’aan had forgotten about the kran in the turnings and tossing of her own mind. The two guards flanking Raddoch moved their hands to hilts as the Kran towered over them.
“You will not address the Highborn Lady Sabrene as such again,” Jakkar rumbled, anger seething in his voice. Ree’ann still did not understand why the Kran had taken to the girl as he did, but perhaps it could be used in some way. She saw that Raddoch’s face had gone livid with outrage and perhaps more than a little fear. If the Kran did not get them all killed first.
“Do you know who I am?!” Raddoch nearly shouted. He started to stand straight, but Sabrene suddenly speaking froze him.
“You are the High Councilor Raddoch,” she said calmly, though her cool voice carried the edge of anger, “A wise and civil person of high standing, willing to forgive the words of my guardian. He has been through a great ordeal, and I am willing to let this pass,” a little more anger slipped through, “this once. He has been known to take rash action before, when he thought me to be endangered. But I know he can rest easy with your guards here to protect me.”
Ree’ann almost blinked in surprise, Raddoch did. With that short statement, the girl had chastised the Councilor, given him an egress, placed herself above him, threatened him, then thrust her safety firmly in his hands. More importantly, by the look dawning in Raddoch’s eyes, she had proven herself to the man. And to others, it seemed, as Kell spoke from his side of the table.
“Many died aboard that ship, and many more would have if not for Lady Sabrene and her vassals. I do not speak for all the others, but I am her man.” Kell nodded at Sabrene, who inclined her head in return, accepting his words.
Raddoch studied the two for a moment before bowing his head. “I truly apologize for doubting you, my Lady. I fear this event has shaken us all into behaving poorly. Answers can come later. For now, there are people that need to be cared for. We will speak again after you have refreshed yourself. A few of my best men will accompany you, if you do not mind.” He signaled to his guards, taking Sabrene’s acceptance for granted.
“Not at all, High Councilor,” Sabrene said, the anger of before completely gone. Ree’ann began to wonder if it was ever truly there, or had been an act from the start. The girl was proving to be very surprising.
Raddoch nodded, a small smile at the corners of his mouth. “Very good. Rest assured, my Lady, the finest apartments are at your disposal. One of my personal carriages that will take you.”
No doubt to your own residences. Ree’ann could almost hear the inner workings of the man’s mind as he figured the girl into his plans, as she knew he was doing. She had never met a politician who did not try the same. She only hoped the girl was ready.
End of chapter five...maybe. I might add some more to the end to equilize the timeline between this and the next chapter.
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now i dont want to target this thread/story specifically, good example as it is, how are any of these stories RPs? are any of them written commutitively? very few. maybe there should be a category for fan fics.
Its still a good story though Moon, continue to write it by all means.
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I do ask for the community's input/changes, though I very rarely get any. No one visits this part of the forum often. The last (and only) RP thread I took part in is 'Tavern tales', which consisted of myself and two others. That's it. But it was very enjoyable and helped to develope my story greatly.
Maybe there should be a 'Fan Stories' subforum, but that's not likely to happen, as it would be used even less than this one.
Thank you for your compliment. Were you refering to just this story, or 'Chain of souls', which comes right before this one?
And I will continue to write to its very end. That I promise, as I did with the last. Come hell or high water. Then on to the next tale. :)
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Sorry this took so long, but I was stumped at the end of last chapter. I guess I still am, so I just went to this one. Perhaps I may add more to the last, perhaps not.
Chapter six-
~Sleeping With Vipers~
Lowen slammed the door behind himself as he left the guardhouse. That bastard! He balled his fist and punched the stone wall, fury deadening the pain of the impact.
“Sir?” Lara Donafin asked from behind him, slow seething anger in her own voice.
Lowen turned to see his fellow Vanguard standing around him. Lara looked as if she wished to charge back into the room, the muscles in her square jaw working in fury. Perhaps she would have if not for Hailen Jenif’s hand on her arm. The dark man seemed to be one of the only ones to temper her anger of late. Especially since the new orders had come down, putting the Vanguard under the direct control of the Highguard. They had only answered to the Regent before, the Highguard being not much more than poorly trained militia. And now the boot licking lackeys were placed above them. Above him! He would put any one of his men against any two of theirs, even with that new heavy armor. He was almost tempted to let Lara go back in just to teach them a lesson, if not that it would be her -and his- death sentences. That was another of the new laws. Any Vanguard caught engaging a Highguard would be put to death, along with their superiors. No trial, no Justice, just an execution. It was the only thing keeping the Vanguard from tearing them apart. Not the execution, but the fact that those above would die also. Honor would not allow that. Luckily, there had been no fighting as of yet. At least, none reported. Lowen shook his head. It would do no good to start today. There were those that did need him.
He looked past his men to the sad scene behind them. The refuges from the ship looked lost and frightened, huddled together in one great bunch. He could hear soft crying coming from more than one place. Not a person helped them. He glanced to the gates, anger flashing again as he saw not his own men guarding them, but more Highguard on foot. His own soldiers sat on their mounts to one side. Anger deepened at the sight of the aid carts lined up on the other side of the gate, blocked by Raddoch’s men. That he would not stand for. He took a step towards the gate, but stopped. He was sure Lara would not be able to hold her temper if it came to an argument.
“Donafin, go to those people. Assure them aid will be there shortly.”
Lara’s jaw set stubbornly. “Sir, I can better serve you…”
Lowen cut her off. “Lara, don’t make it an order.”
Lara quickly glanced around at the use of her first name in public. It was against Vanguard Code, but Lowen knew he needed her to comply quickly, and asking her as a friend would calm her better than an order from a superior. It did seem to work, the woman nodding once and turning to the crowd. But the look in her eyes could have shattered stone with frost as she did. Perhaps she was not best suited for the task. In her present mood, she may even cause a panic.
“Go with her Jenif. Try to keep her calm. These people have been through enough.”
Hailen saluted and ran after her. Lowen began walking towards the Highguard blockade, his steps showing little of the anger swelling inside. Kalebben Yhuke and Rett Rohgelless followed closely. The older man opened his mouth, likely to recite one of his endless supply of old sayings. More than likely something about the rashness of youth.
“Yhuke, I don’t feel like hearing it right now.”
The old man smiled. “That is when you need to hear it the most.”
Rett laughed out loud, throwing back his red unruly hair. “He got you there, Lowen. You better watch your back for the next couple a days with Donafin. She’s got that look in her eyes again.”
Lowen couldn’t help but grin. Rett always knew what to say to lighten the mood. He added a jab of his own. “It was your arm she broke. You never should have said she had ‘pretty eyes and a face like an anvil’.”
Rett grinned back, though he did rub his right arm. “I think it was the pretty eyes part that got me.”
Lowen shook his head with amusement. Knowing Lara, he was probably right. The woman took pride in being more manly than most men. He didn’t know how her husband put up with it. Though she would likely stuff him in a boot if he complained. Lowen’s grin widened at the thought. The grin still held as he stopped in front of the Highguard leader.
“Move your men. Let the carts pass.” Lowen said through his grin.
The man must have thought he was crazy by the long pause before he answered. “You have no authority to give orders to me.”
“Let’s call it a request then.”
“My orders are to stay here. No one passes. The High Councilor’s orders.”
Lowen’s grin slipped a tiny bit, but he cemented it in place. He was sure that the guard could see that it didn’t reach his eyes anymore. “I am sure Raddoch did not mean the carts. These people need help.”
“No one passes. This tide dredge can go straight back where they came from before I take orders from a Nan-rider.”
Lowen heard his men shift behind him at the insult. His own grin was gone. That is the way you want it, so be it. “You will move your men now.”
“Or what? You can’t do a damn thing to me.”
Lowen raised his fist in the air and gave three quick signs. ‘Single line, on me, ready attack’. He heard a clattering behind him, then silence. He didn’t need to turn to know that his mounted Vanguard instantly reacted, quickly forming a perfect line, lances all held at the same angle. They would show these mutts what real soldiers looked like. Already, the Highguard’s poor discipline began to show, some shifted nervously from foot to foot, others whispering to each other. Lowen felt like spitting in disgust. Only the leader seemed unaffected.
“You think to frighten me? I know the laws. You and your superiors would be dead before nightfall.”
Lowen fixed the man with a cold stare. The fool had no idea who he was dealing with. “My men will give their lives to help these people. The Code allows no less. Death may find us, but it will find you first. I am these men’s superior, so I suffer their fate. But I will be standing aside in this fight, so those above me will not. Now move aside.” He signaled again, ‘Lower lance’.
The sound of his men setting lances was brought to his ears, along with the whisper of four swords being drawn at his sides. The man in front of Lowen squared his shoulders and glanced back, as if counting his numbers. Lowen didn’t need to. Even at twice his own numbers, he knew that his mounted men could sweep these scullions aside with few or no losses. The leader apparently knew it too by the way he cleared his throat before answering.
“You’re…you’re bluffing.”
“A man who bluffs with his life is a fool who sleeps with vipers,” Kalebben intoned.
Lowen’s grin returned, though wolfish this time. His heart began beating faster in anticipation. “Am I?” ‘Advance, one step’ Fifteen steps sounded in unison. The man swallowed hard. “If I close my hand, you die. Now move…your…men.”
The man paused, his helm transfixed on Lowen’s raised hand. Suddenly, he turned to his men. “Stand aside! Move! Now!,” he shouted, his voice almost in a panic.
The solders needed no more prodding, some moving before their leader had even turned. The spit-dogs cursed and shoved trying to get out the way, many falling to the ground in hurry. Lowen was disgusted by the lack of anything resembling training or discipline. Ten of his men could have taken the entire bunch -without their Nantherei. If not for their sheer numbers, he was sure Lara could have taken them all to task. Not that the numbers could overwhelm her, but the fact that she would pass out from exhaustion before dispatching them all. And they were supposed to be the City’s first line of defense now. They would be lucky not to soil themselves when the dark ships came again.
Rett stepped to Lowen’s side and smoothly sheathed his swords with a grin. “Too bad they don’t have more backbone, Sir, I could have done with a scrap. Not like we’re going to see any action soon, what with the new orders and all. What do you think he would have done if he thought you were bluffing for sure?”
“He would have died,” Kalebben answered solemnly without pause.
Lowen nodded. The old man had seen his share of fighting, and knew when to back down and when to push. This situation fell into the latter. Death before dishonor. The heart of the Code. He heard running footsteps behind him and turned to see Lara trotting easily past the mounted soldiers. The stony look on her face belayed the graceful sway of her body. That stony look was directed at Lowen.
“Incoming, Sir,” Rett said formally, though amusement heavily tinged his words.
“Some battles you choose, some are chosen for you,” Kalebben quoted.
Silently, Lowen thanked them for their votes of confidence. He would have to pay them back later. Perhaps they could use a day mucking the Nantherei bogs -or a practice session with Lara. Judging by the look on her face as she came to a stop before them, they would prefer the first. Lowen spoke before she could.
“Why are you not with the refugees, Donafin?”
Lara scowled at him. “First Rider Jenif ordered me here. He said I was…frightening the people.”
Lowen could believe it. She damn near frightened him when she found something to put her in a foul mood. She opened her mouth -likely to start a tirade- but he forestalled the argument with an order. “Bring the carts forward, Donafin. Make certain no one interferes with their passing.” That was not likely. The woman had quite the reputation for sudden violence, some of it more than justifiable. The reputation, that was, not the violence.
Lara saluted and headed for the carts, though Lowen could hear her teeth grinding from three paces away. Everyone was just going to have to walk light around the woman for the next few days -and avoid the sparring ring. There was nothing else to it.
“Our orders, Sir?” Rett asked. The look on his face as his eyes followed Lara showed that he, too, would be avoiding the sparring ring for a spell.
Lowen glanced around, finally settling on the Highguard soldiers milling about the clear space before the gate. “See if you can get some of those dogs to be of use. There are a lot of people that need help.”
“Yes Sir.” Kalebben and Rett responded in unison, then strode off towards the men.
Lowen didn’t think they would get any resistance with his own Vanguard towering above them. Which reminded him. He made a few quick signs and watched with pride as the mounted men split into two groups with practiced precision and formed up on either side of the path. Hailen Jenif strode into that wide gap from the refugee’s side, a dwarf following close behind the dark man with purposeful strides.
One of those Diaboli women glided at the short man’s side. Lowen went to meet them, studying the dwarf and the coal black woman. Very few dwarves remained in Shaln Vae. Something to do with ‘too much air’, he had heard a few of the remaining ones say. Though Lowen couldn’t for the life of him figure out how you could have too much air. The Diaboli were another matter altogether, as there were none on the Island anymore -and hadn’t been any for generations. Occasionally, he had heard of one passing though, but had never seen one himself. He had thought the rumors of their beauty had been exaggerated , but now he could see that he was wrong. The woman was stunning beyond belief, with her lithe, shapely body and sculptured features. Lowen wondered if those other rumors were also true. The ones that said you would need a strong bed and thick walls if ever caught alone with one of the women. He was sure that they were just rumors. Before he could take that thought further, Hailen brought the two before him, saluting smartly.
“These two wished to speak with you, Sir,” Hailen announced. Whatever he said, he seemed to turn it into an announcement. Lowen still could never figure out how the man kept Lara in check when even her own husband could not.
“Very good, Jenif. Carry on.”
Hailen saluted with an announced, “Your command,” and strode back towards the refugees. Another thing about the man, he never seemed to move without striding.
Lowen turned to the odd visitors, let the silence drag on a little before speaking. It was a tactic he often used to great effect on others, using their own silence to make them more agreeing. The dwarf raised an amused eyebrow, having none of it. Lowen quickly reassessed the short man. The familiar way he balanced his weapons showed that the man was used to using them. His confidence indicated previous experience with soldiers. A mercenary, perhaps? On second thought, he didn’t appear to be affected by authority. Neither did the woman at his side, sporting form-hugging black clothing obviously intended to blend into shadows, and a pair of long fancy knives strapped to her shapely thighs. Too fancy for common brigands or guards. So that left one choice. Bounty hunters. Most soldiers found the type distasteful, but he found them fascinating. Especially this one.
Lowen bowed over the woman’s hand, just short of brushing it with a kiss. “Forgive my rudeness, mistress. I fear we have been less than hospitable. I will be sure to personally make up for the inconvenience. You have my word.”
The woman’s lips twitched towards a smile. “That means a great deal to Burgas and myself. We will keep it in mind, won’t we.”
“That we will, Ellese. T’is a good thing to know. We’ll be hold’n you to that,” Burgas responded.
Lowen felt that there was more to these two than met the eye. He was going to have to tread lightly. If he could get the woman alone, he was sure he could get any answers he needed. Just listening to women often got him what he needed to know. He was a very good listener. “Ellese is it? I am at your service miss Ellese. Anything you need, ask.”
Ellese’s expression turned somber. Lowen saw her head half turn back to the decimated ship before giving a small shake. “Some needs can never be met, Goodmaster Lowen.” She raised here eyes back to Lowen, full of hurt, despair, and vulnerability. But there was also a slow heat, inviting without asking. He almost blinked at the direct look.
“If you are in need of somewhere to rest…” Lowen began, but was cut off.
“No. I don’t wish to close my eyes. I fear what I may see. The nightmares will be long in passing, the nights even longer.”
Lowen felt like clearing his throat, just barely keeping his composure. Apparently the rumors were true. He had never encountered a woman like this. If she could set his blood afire just with a few words and a glance, then what…
Burgas clearing his throat snapped Lowen’s attention to the short but heavily muscled man. “What we need right now, my boy, is to know what happened to Sabrene. You came out’a that room mighty angry, and I would know why.”
Lowen stiffened. He had forgotten about the Lady Sabrene Shalcoen. Truly flabbergasted for the first time, Lowen could not think of an answer. New orders and laws this morning, the Lost Ship appearing, his humiliation at the hands of Raddoch, the face-off with the Highguard, and now this Ellese tossing sultry looks his way, it was a wonder he was still sane. Duty. I still have duty. Even if it is to that bastard Raddoch. “I am truly sorry, but I am under orders not to speak of it.”
Ellese shifted her body ever so slightly, but the effect proved difficult to ignore. Suddenly her every curve jumped out at him, her sapphire eyes now peeking out from lowered eyelashes. “Please,” she said, her voice low and plaintive.
Lowen tore his eyes away from the woman, fixing them on Burgas instead. He saw that the dwarf was grinning for all his worth. So that was their game. Hell if it wasn’t working, even still. Lowen changed his mind about getting Ellese alone for questioning. She would more likely have him divulging all he knew, instead of the other way around, and glad to do it. He found himself wanting to look in her direction again, but resisted the impulse. A truly dangerous woman indeed. “I…” Lowen started to make another apology but he changed it quickly as the door opened on the gatehouse, “see your Lady now. You may ask her yourself.” Indeed, Sabrene did emerge from the building, followed by the Kran, the swordsman, the Diaboli that looked so similar to Ellese he was sure they were siblings, and that oddly beautiful gray-skinned Diaboli. He had never heard of one of their kind with gray skin. But it was the Lady herself that drew his attention. Perhaps she was not se perfect in body as the Diaboli, but you could cut a hair on the difference. Tan skin and fiery red-gold hair tipped the scales in her direction, and her jade eyes easily offset any exoticness of the Diaboli. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. And she had a power and intelligence about her that he found…
What am I doing!? She’s a Lady, or Highborn, or whatever. You have no right to look on her that way!
I know, but…
But nothing. She would never even notice me. And it is far beyond improper. What was I thinking?
I wasn’t, that’s what. Duty. I have duty. Nothing else matters.
Not even a warm beautiful…
Enough!
Lowen shook his head, trying to shake of the internal argument. It never did any good arguing with himself anyways. He always seemed to lose.
“Sir Lowen?” Ellese asked, her voice back to normal and her pose not so… Don’t even start. “Are you well?”
“I am fine,” Lowen answered, hoping that his voice did not betray what he had been thinking. Ellese’s small smile told him he failed miserably.
“Well then, I will take your advise and ask her myself. Good day Sir Lowen,” Ellese said, giving his name one last caress that put a lump in his throat. She turned away, walking with what Lowen thought to be a more than deliberate sway.
“By the Gods,” Lowen said, half to himself.
Burgas laughed. “Aye, my wife does have that effect on most men…and some women. Good day also.” The dwarf followed his wife to the others.
Wife? And he just…
A long, low whistle turned Lowen away from the scene. He probably shouldn’t have been watching anymore anyways. Rett stood a few steps away, his red eyebrows climbing nearly to his hairline.
“Sir, you are one lucky man.” Rett, for one, enjoyed the look of a beautiful woman, and he made sure they knew it…to varied effects. He had gotten into trouble on more than one occasion because of it. He also spent the least amount of time sleeping at the barracks. Right now Lowen figured he must have been as stunned as he was.
“Hands off, Rohgelless. She’s married to the dwarf.”
Rett whistled again. “I changed my mind. He’s one lucky man.”
“What did you want?” Lowen asked, hoping to head off any conversation at the moment. He would hear more than enough once they reached the barracks.
“Oh. Just that we have mobilized the Highguard, even their ‘leader’. Jenif has them under his thumb right now. They are actually behaving quite respectable now that you scared some sense into um.”
Lowen had not even heard the carts passing behind him, being distracted by other things. But now he turned to see the carts being loaded with moaning injured. Other carts were making their to the massive ship. Those carts would be silent. He only hoped there was less of them.
“Sir? Raddoch.”
Lowen looked back to the Gatehouse to see the Councilor standing in the doorway, his face a fury.
“We better handle this. Fall in.”
Rett took up position at Lowen’s right as he strode towards Raddoch. Before he could reach them, though, the Lady Sabrene glided over to the man and began speaking. Lowen only heard the last of what she said as he approached.
“…such an efficient way. I thank you.”
Raddoch was smiling by the end of what she said. “Yes my Lady, they do me proud. I was just upset that we could not come sooner.” He gestured grandly to his own men helping the injured into the carts. Though Lowen was sure that he could also see Hailen and Kaleben giving the orders. “You will be in good hands with them. Better than others.” The look he directed at Lowen’s mounted men left no doubt who he was referring to. Lowen suddenly realized how bad it must look, with Raddock’s men helping and his own just sitting there on their Nantherei. At least he was sure how it must look to the Lady, even if not the truth. But he learned long ago that in politics, appearances were everything. The Lady Sabrene saved face for him though.
“It is good you keep some of your men back for defenses also. There is something out in that mist. A nightmare. I would hate to see my people face it once more unprepared.”
Raddoch looked shocked; shocked as Lowen himself felt. The mist creatures did this? It was impossible. They had never been able to actually damage one of the great ships. Never. Raddoch recovered from the shock first.
“We should not speak of this here, my Lady. There are too many fearful ears for it to fall on.”
Sabrene glanced at the people before nodding. “Agreed. If you will excuse me, I must see to my people.”
Lowen’s look followed her as she began walking back to the crowd. Even in the rags that were left of her dress, no one with any sense could see her for anything other than the lady she was. They were indeed ‘her people’. But there was something different about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Nor would he be able to with Raddoch’s order. Thinking of the worm made Lowen turn back to him. He found Raddoch glaring at him with barely constrained anger and a look that said this was not over. Lowen merely nodded his head, which he was sure infuriated the man further, but at this point the did not care. The Councilor could be damned for what he was doing to the Vanguard. But Lowen was also sure the man would somehow turn this to his favor. Somehow he always did.
Lowen turned at the sound of Rett clearing his throat. “What is it n…” Lowen’s words were cut short by Ellese standing at Rett’s side.
The Diaboli’s mouth quirked up in that smile again as Lowen stumbled in his mind for something to say, but she saved him the trouble, speaking while his wits were still tied in a double knot.
“Captain Travarit,” she said, rolling his name across her tongue, “My Lady Sabrene wishes to speak with you in private after the people have been cared for and we are settled in rooms.”
Lowen glanced at Rett, who was grinning ear to ear. His red-headed friend raised one hand slightly to make a battle signal where Ellese couldn‘t see it.. ‘All forward’.
Trying to keep his composure, Lowen answered as formally as he could. “I will see if I can accommodate, Ma’am. A simple soldier such as myself is not fit to be seen with a Lady.” Then what were you doing taking her into the guardhouse? And thinking…
“That is why in private, my dear boy,” Ellese’s answer was just as smooth and casual as his was stiff and formal, “Politics are funny that way. She will make arrangements. You just be a good boy and follow orders. Leave the rest up to me.” Ellese smiled a smile to melt the hearts of the most hardened army and spun gracefully on her toes, heading back the way she came. A few steps away, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. “A nice long…talk…with a handsome young man is just what the Lady needs now. Do remember to shave.” She finished with a wink and swayed her way back to the carts.
“By the gods,” Rett said, awe in his voice, “I would love to bandy words with that woman any day. And her mistess…” he whistled long and low to accentuate his point. A rascally grin came over his face. “Make sure you are polite when you meet her ‘in private’. You know how Ladies can be.”
Rett made two more hand signals. Lowen frowned. What does he mean by ‘Take the flanks’ and ‘Come from…He blinked in shock as he realized what Rett was implying.
“That is enough Rohgelless. We will not speak of this further. You will forget whatever you think you may have heard,” Hard chance of that. “If I hear any of this repeated from any source, I will personally see that Donafin has you as a sparing partner for the next ten-night.” That should put some fear into him.
Indeed it did, wiping the smile from Rett’s face as he glanced involuntarily to where Lara was glaring down any poor Highguard who happened to cross her path.
“Yes Sir. If it means that much to you.”
“It does. Dismissed.”
Lowen watched his man solute smartly before joining the others in keeping tabs on the Highguard. He hated berating his friends like that, and Rett was one of his closest, but rumors like that had a way of spreading and twisting until all involved suffered. He didn’t need that right now…or ever. He just hoped he could silence the little voice in the back of his head that wished for the rumor to be truth. Shaking off the feeling of being trapped somehow, he began walking towards the towering, twisted hull of the once great ship. Wrapped bodies were already being handed down to the waiting carts. He would find silence there.
End of chapter Six.
*addition for Sept 15, 07. Thanks goes out to acraig for increasing the character limit in posts so that i did not have to break this chapter up in edit
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Ok, the last chapter was all about Lowen, a millitary type guy. This chapter comes from the opposite side of the fence. I hope you like it.
Chapter seven-
~Sage Advice~
Sabrene sighed as she closed the door behind her, leaving the two Highguard standing in the hall. She leaned tiredly against the door, the polished wood feeling like shards of glass to her still sensitive skin. A gift of her Joining. They said it would fade in a few weeks, but she was beginning to have her doubts. Even the smoothest silk of her now ravaged dress was only just tolerable. She closed her heavy eyelids. Shades I need sleep. Being a Lady was harder than she remembered, though in truth, she had lust been a Lord’s daughter. She had never had any responsibilities as such. All she had ever been asked to do was stand straight and stop fidgeting. Then as she grew older, her only task was to stand at her father and mother’s sides at formal gatherings. That was the life I gave up for Aeden. I never wanted it. All I ever wanted was to stand by his side. Oh gods, where are you, my Aeden, my beloved. Please be safe. Her heart ached for him, more now than ever. Just as she thought they could finally put the secrets behind them and live a happy life, everything was destroyed. But it would all turn out right. It had to, just like all the stories. Aeden loved her, he told her so. Love conquered all, didn’t it? Somehow the old saying brought her no comfort. The dead on the ship saw to that. Love had not saved them, nothing did. Please be alive. Sabrene could not silence the small voice of doubt that threatened to shatter all her dreams. Not even her friends believed him alive. They pretended they did, but she could see the looks in their eyes, and they cut her to the bone. He has to be alive. But how could he? I saw him…NO! He is alive. He saved me. He will come for me. She ignored the fact that her own thoughts sounded childish even to her, but it was her only hope. She squeezed her eyes even tighter, hoping to stem the flood of tears building behind her eyelids. She knew the reason behind them, but dared not even give thought to it. That would make it real, and she couldn’t handle that right now.
“Lady Sabrene?”
Jakkar’s worried voice brought her eyes open. She blinked a few times to chase off any tears that had tried to form and looked to the huge Kran. He stood in the middle of the room between Ellese and Ree’ann, dwarfing the women with his height. But his own height was in turn dwarfed by the ceiling more than his own height again above his head. But Sabrene was used to the excess, being raised in the homes of one of the richest men in the Circle. Nothing in this room was new to her, from the elaborately carved trim with its rows of marching beasts, to the sculptured fireplace that even Jakkar would only have to duck his head a bit to fit into. It all reminded her of the home she left behind. But right at that instant, she would have settled for the dirtiest straw hovel if it put Aeden at her side. She pushed herself off the door with another sigh as the pain from the pressure faded.
“I am all right, Jakkar. Just a little tired, sore, and dirty. Nothing a bath and nap won’t fix right up.” Sabrene tried to keep her voice chipper, but the glances that Ellese and Ree’ann exchanged showed they saw through her facade. “Really, please. All I need right now is rest.”
Ellese shook her head, the long black braid swaying down her back. “Rest can wait, dear. Right now you need to talk. It does no good to hide from your pain.”
Sabrene frowned. How did they know about the Joining? She had never told them. “It is not as bad as it seems,” she lied with a shrug. Her movement caused the dress to shift on her shoulders, giving her the feeling of burn weeds across her back. It is worse. “My teachers said it would fade in a few weeks, but never completely. It is a sacrifice all Guardians make.”
Ellese looked at her in the oddest way, as if wondering weather she had complete control of her senses. Ree’ann glanced at the other Diaboli woman with a look of understanding then back at Sabrene.
“I don’t think she was talking about your armor Sabrene, though if you would have told me earlier, I could have helped with that at least. She was talking about a deeper pain.”
Aeden. The thought came unbidden. That was the pain. But she would rather face ten times her other pain than face that now. To talk about it made it even more real than just thinking it.
“I…I know you mean well, but…” Sabrene started, but Ellese stepped forward, clicking her tongue.
“None of that now. You take advice were it is given, whether you heed it or not. I know what you are going through right now, and hiding from the truth does far more damage than facing it. Believe me, I have been there.”
Sabrene looked from face to face, even to Jakkar, but the Kran only nodded his huge head.
“It will help to talk,” he said solemnly.
Sabrene felt something akin to panic rising up inside her. Oh shades, they are going to say it. She turned quickly form them and began walking briskly past the huge couch to the doors where she thought the bedchambers must be. “There is nothing to talk about. When Aeden returns…”
The next words froze her mid-stride. “He is not coming back,” Ellese said, bluntly but gently.
The words hung in the air, pounding in Sabrene’s ears, burning a hollow in her heart. It was real now. She had to face it. The tears she had fought so hard to stop before rushed back with a vengeance. She closed her eyes to stop them, wishing with all her might that those words would cease echoing in her head. He is not coming back. It was what she had been avoiding since he vanished into the water. Hoping against hope that she would never have to think those words, lest hear them aloud. He is not coming back. The words haunted her, mocking and taunting, crushing the last thread of hope she had clung to.
“You can’t say that,” Sabrene whispered. He did come back. He did…
“I can and will, sweet,” Ellese consoled, a deep pain in her own voice now, “You need to hear it. Even if he still lived, there would be no way he could come to this place. Only the Ships know the way. You need to accept the truth. He is dead to you.”
Sabrene felt her legs give out from under her, her knees hitting the polished floor with pain that barely registered. Each word had hit her like a hammer blow. Deep in her heart, she knew them to be true. She couldn’t hide from it anymore. A deep well opened inside her, pouring out her fears and despair. He is not coming back. He is dead to you. She hardly felt the huge gentle hands that lifted her off the floor onto the soft cushions of the couch.
“That’s it, sweet, let it out.”
The tears came, an unstoppable tide of anguish.
Sabrene felt a hand stroking her hair. She had no idea how long she had been crying with her head on Ellese’s lap, but it seemed an eternity. She stifled a last few sniffles and slowly sat up. Her insides felt as raw and tore up as her skin, though she was sure neither showed a mark. How could such a pain not leave a mark? She felt as if she should be black and blue from head to toe, inside and out. Surely the pain in her heart would never heal. As if hearing her thoughts, Ellese spoke up.
“It will fade eventually. But the price is the same as your armor. It will never fade completely. I won’t lie to you.”
Sabrene wiped her eyes with what was left of her sleeve, surely leaving a dark smudge across her face. But she didn’t care. She didn’t know if she could ever care again. For the first time in her life, she was alone. Ellese stood, brushing off her form-fitting black leggings with perhaps more vigor than needed. Jakkar sat on the floor to one side, his eyes full of sadness. Ree’ann was at one of the windows with a far away pained look of her own. Sabrene remembered holding her in much the same way as Ellese had just done for herself, not two nights passed. Ree’ann had also lost much. Sabrene didn’t know how the gray woman held herself together, losing the one love of her life. She didn’t know how she herself would go on. Nearly her entire life had been devoted to winning Aeden. What do I do now? Again the black woman seemed to read her mind.
“I can only give you one more piece of advice, and this goes for you too, Ree’ann,” Ellese stated matter-of-factly.
Ree’ann’s head came up with a start, apparently startled from her own thoughts. She gave Ellese a level look. “And that would be..?” There was a slight warning in her tone.
Ellese took a deep breath. “Move on. The quicker the better. There is one good way to cure a broken heart, and many a man willing.”
Sabrene was to shocked to respond, not even knowing if there was a response, or even wanting to respond. Ree’ann was under no such compunction. She stood, fury and indignation warring on her face.
“You dare to suggest that I..? Do you know how old I am, woman? I was born before your race ever came to Yliakum! I was considered a goddess to an entire people! How dare you…”
“How many men have you been with?” Ellese interrupted calmly, letting the tirade wash around her. The effect was dramatic and immediate. Ree’ann stood with her mouth hanging open in a very un-goddess-like way. Her lips worked vainly, trying to form some sort of coherent words, but only silence graced the room until Ellese spoke again. “I thought as much. From the way you were shining about Aeden, Sabrene, I assume the answer is the same?” Sabrene was sure her eyes were as big as Ree’ann’s about now. She couldn’t answer if she tried. Ellese nodded to herself. “Yes then. Now you both listen to me. I don’t care how old or young you are, a woman is a woman, and it is not healthy to dwell on the past. I know this personally. If not for Burgas coming along when he did…well that is a tale for another time. But I am happy now, and I got over my pain. Yore is a good man, and loves you. I would be glad to see my brother happy. It pains him to see you this way, Ree’ann. I don’t know how, but that night he almost died changed him. He belongs to you forever. All you need to do is take him.”
Ree’ann’s face turned a lighter shade of gray as Ellese talked, shock draining the blood from her face. Finally, as Ellese finished speaking, the gray woman closed her mouth with a sharp ‘click’. She blinked a few times before speaking, her composer of countless centuries completely broken.
“I…need to leave,” she finally said in a weak, almost scared voice. She rushed to the door, stumbling twice, and opened it just enough to slip through. She never looked back.
“I don’t think she expected to hear that,” Jakkar said from his seat on the floor. He seemed rather calm about the entire situation.
“Expected, no. But it was something she needed to hear. I’ve seen too many good women ruined by pining over what is lost. I won’t have that happen to the woman my brother loves. Or any other woman if I can help it.”
Sabrene tried to make herself small on the couch, hoping in vain that Ellese would forget she was there. She knew what kind of advice was coming, and it scared her half to death. But Ellese did not forget her.
“As for you, sweet, a lovely girl like yourself will have no shortage of suitors. That handsome young Captain for one. I have already put a few thoughts in his head. Any that weren’t there already. He should be quite pliable.”
Sabrene’s mouth dropped open. You WHAT!? How could…when…? Now she knew how Ree’ann felt. Like a fish caught in a landslide, staring down the unstoppable boulder that was Ellese. She almost shouted the only words she could think. “I will not be unfaithful!”
Ellese laughed. “Is that how you see it? A man can own your heart, but not your body. Sometimes that man is not about when the need arises.”
It took a moment for Sabrene to grasp what Ellese was saying. When she did, she almost choked on her words. “But you’re married to Burgas. How can he..?” She didn’t know how to finish. She didn’t have to.
“Burgas knew before he asked me to marry him. I made sure of that. Sometimes it is necessary to use certain skills when in my line of work. And sometimes my husband is so very far away from me, and I miss him. I always make it up to him though.”
The woman said it all with no shade of shame at all. When Sabrene could speak again, her voice sounded high pitched and hoarse. “Please leave me.”
Ellese raised an admonishing finger. “I may be playing along, Sabrene, but you are not really my Lady. I don’t take orders.”
“I… it wasn’t and order. It was a request…from a friend.”
Ellese smiled. “In that case, by your leave, my Lady?” she said with a curtsy. She walked to the door and slipped out similarly to the way Ree’ann had. But before she shut the door, she poked her head back in. “Consider my words, Sabrene.” With that, the door clicked closed.
What Sabrene did consider was throwing a pillow at the door. She even had it halfway raised before she stopped herself. Instead, she crammed it back on the couch with a little more force than necessary. Wretched woman! How can she…? How can she what? Tell you the truth? She is right and you know it. Sabrene took a deep shuddering breath and wiped her eyes again.
“How could she even say that?” she asked.
“Ellese seems a wise woman, my Lady. She only wishes you well.”
Jakkar answering startled her. She had forgotten the Kran was in the room. Sabrene would have laughed at the thought of forgetting the huge mass of a Kran, but in her pain she could find no humor. Will I ever laugh again? She turned to Jakkar, who still had himself seated on the floor. Even with him on the floor and her on the couch, she still almost had to look up at him. “You…you agree with her?”
Jakkar shrugged his massive shoulders. “To some extent, my Lady. I…do not believe Aeden to be dead. I do not know why. Somehow… ack. I cannot explain it, but he is not dead. I know it just as I know you sit before me. There is a connection between us. Between you , Aeden and all the Kran. The same connection Kran feel with the Lemurs. It was always assumed to be that way because of how the two gods brought us to life…but now I am not so sure.”
Sabrene stared at the Kran. He gave her an answer to a question she had not even asked. Ree’ann. She was a goddess once. An Ancient. She created our bloodlines. That is why I can feel him…how I know he lives. “Thank you Jakkar,” she said quietly, “You give me hope.”
Instead of smiling, though, Jakkar shook his head. “That was not my intention, Lady Sabrene.”
“But…”
“I am sorry, my Lady, but Lady Ellese was right. Without the ships…there is no way, here or back.”
“I saw another ship…”
The Kran shook his head again, sadly. “None of those go to Yliakum. Only one ship had that task.”
Sabrene scoured her memory, searching for some hope to latch on to. “Burgas told me the were other Docks in Yliakum. One of those…”
“No, my Lady. Those all go elsewhere. They have no crossing path. I hate to give you such hurtful news, but there is no other.”
Sabrene lifted her chin defensively. There had to be a way. “Then what do you expect me to do? I can’t just give up on him! No after so long!” She didn’t even realize she was shouting at the end.
Jakkar stood slowly, pain evident on his face. Not his own pain, Sabrene knew, but pain for her. He lowered his head so as not to meet her eyes.
“Move on, my Lady. There are many paths to happiness. Do not become mired in the one that leads to grief.”
The Kran walked to the door, each step a hollow thump that echoed Sabrene’s own heart. He opened the door and left, leaving her alone. More alone than she had ever felt in her life. The room felt…empty. Like her life. Her hope, her love, all for nothing. They are right. They are all right. Why can’t you except it? Bend your stubborn neck for one in your life and give in. But something deep inside would not let her give in. An unbending core of steel, holding on to the last vestiges of hope.
No! I will not let him die! Not while he still lives. Not while I live.
Sabrene remembered something her father had once told her. Where there is life, there is hope.
-End of chapter seven-
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Chapter eight-
~Lines Drawn on Water~
Sabrene waited until the last steaming kettle of water was added to the spacious copper tub by the seemingly endless line of servants. She had not seen any of her friends again since they had left nearly an hour before, though she didn’t know if she even could face them. It hurt, knowing none of them believed Aeden would ever return. Why couldn’t they just believe as she did? All she wanted was a smile and someone to tell her everything would turn out right, just as her father had as a child.
You are not a child anymore.
Her own thoughts sounded suspiciously like her mother, who never seemed to think her daughter grew up fast enough…or at all. She quashed the voice, though the doubts still remained. How long could she keep this up? How long before her hope became her prison? How long will I be alone?
“As long as you wish, my Lady,” a diminutive enkiduki woman answered.
A moment passed before Sabrene realized she had asked the last question aloud. She nodded her head, trying to keep her poise. It was to the servants she had to look the Lady to, even more than the nobility. Her father had taught her that also. Believe in yourself, and others will follow that belief. Oh how she missed him. He had always known just what to say to make her smile… just as Aeden had. She missed them both. The maid still stood next to the doorway, waiting for any request or command.
“That will be all, miss…?”
The old Fenki smiled, bobbing a small curtsy despite her bowed back. “Sahggi, my Lady. If you are needing anything else, ring the bell and old Sahggi will come running.”
Sabrene’s mouth quirked up almost into a smile at the thought of the bent woman running, let alone a fast walk. Sahggi grinned.
“I knew there had to be a smile under that pretty pout. You keep close to old Sahggi, an you will do just fine.”
Bobbing another small curtsy, the woman slipped out the door with more spry in her step than Sabrene had thought possible. Perhaps she could still run. Sabrene had the sudden vision of the old Fenki tossing about with a ball of yarn, tossing and chasing as a kitten would. The thought made her laugh out loud. She walked to the steaming tub, thankful for the old woman’s jibe. Reaching the tub, she trailed her hand across the water’s surface, sending ripples spreading across it’s surface. The ripples rebounded from the thick copper sides, only to collide with each other at random angles near the center again. How long had it been since she had had a real bath? Three days before the Portal… her mind shied away from that thought… another six to get through the caves… as near as she could tell, being unconscious part of the time… two days journey to the Dock, and another to come here. Twelve days. Only twelve days. It didn’t seem possible that so much could have happened in just so short a time. She had finally professed her love for Aeden… and found out he returned her feelings. It was all she ever wanted. Shaking her head, she banished that line of thought, knowing it would only bring despair. What she needed now was a clear mind and a good soaking. The one bit of advice she ever took to heart from her mother was that a good bath would solve almost anything.
Sabrene tried doubling her arms behind her back to get at the row of tiny buttons up the back, but stopped with a grimace as her skin pulled at the odd position, shooting sharp stabs of pain across the skin of her shoulders and chest. Perhaps she shouldn’t have sent Sahggi away so soon. Sabrene resisted the urge to ring the tiny bell hanging on the side of the tub. Instead, she spotted a small knife on a tray a fruit laid out on the table on the other side. With a sigh, she picked up the blade, testing its edge. The dress is ruined anyways. There is nothing else to do about it. With another sigh, she began cutting her dress off, regretting the loss of the green silk. She had liked the way Aeden had looked at her in it. For the first time in her life, she had let herself be a woman to his eyes. As the last scraps fell to the floor, she couldn’t stop herself from imaging the look on his face if he would have entered the room at that very moment. The bumbling way he would try to keep his eyes on her face. The way his tongue stumbled over itself, not letting a coherent word in endwise. But that lead to wishing he actually would come in. And wishing reminded her how much she missed him, washing away any thoughts of joy old Sahggi had placed upon her. Sadly, she let her slip follow what was left of the dress to the floor.
Sabrene slid slowly into the steaming water of the nearly overflowing bath, pain crawling along her skin every moment of the way. Even though it felt near to torture, she welcomed the pain. It let her know she was still alive… could still feel. Knots and soreness flowed out of her as the heat began to sooth the bruises of the last few hours, which still seemed an eternity. She settled down in the water until only her face remained above the rippling surface, her long hair flowing out in all directions. The noises of the world drown out, listening to her own heart beat, she could almost pretend that none of it had ever happened. If she tried hard enough, she could just hear the echoes of those left behind. Her father, her mother, all of her friends. Her friends… would she ever she them again? Con, with his unbending pride and dignity, always there to lend a smile… Ulaisha, who she had cried with so many nights, afraid her parents would find out her secrets and take her away from Aeden. Oh how she missed Ulie. If she could just talk with her one last time…just to tell her she was alive. Her mind wandered, exhaustion washing the last of the pain from her body, sleep taking the hurt from her mind.
...
Sabrene opened her eyes to the sound of a fleepicker tapping it’s tiny beak on a branch overhead. A blue sky outlined the blue and black bird, clouds drawing their long forms behind it. A sky. Why didn’t that feel right? The wind whispered in her ear, and the feeling soon passed, leaving only a sense of gentle peace behind. The little bird finally became aware of her presence and gave an angry twitter as it flew away. Sabrene’s eyes followed it as it fluttered across the open meadow, vanishing into the claw-like trees on the other side. Dead trees. Dread filled her at the sight of those trees. Almost a panic. This is where it all began. Sabrene shuddered at the thought, though she didn’t understand its meaning. What had begun here? A light breeze stroked her hair as she stood, dread fading from her mind, along with the thought. She tried remembering what she had been thinking of, but soon even wondered why she was trying to remember. Then even that faded. The grass was thick and tall in the meadow, just right for running barefoot through. Before Sabrene knew it, she was running, though she couldn’t remember taking a step. She laughed as the wind whipped her hair out, felt pure joy in just the freedom of movement. An odd sound brought her to a stop. Not that she stopped running, she simply was not anymore. Curious, she followed the noise. Something about it pulled at her heart. Something familiar. The wind pushed at her back, urging her forward until she reached a large stone slab at the exact center of the clearing. Then it ceased, as if it had taken her as far as it could. Sabrene frowned. At the center of the stone sat a woman in a long white dress, her face in her hands, crying.
“Why do you cry?” Sabrene asked the woman. I didn’t seem right for anyone to cry on such a beautiful day as this.
The woman looked up, shock plainly on her face between the wet lines of tears. The crying came to a hesitant end.
“Sa…Sabrene?” Disbelief saturated the woman’s voice as she answered.
Sabrene stood confused for a moment. Was that her name? The wind washed over the grass at her feet, tickling her feet with its long blades. Confusion faded. Of course that was her name. She studied the other woman before answering. The woman looked to be a few years older then herself, maybe as many as five years. Her features were delicate, her face long and palely beautiful. Straight blond hair hung down to her shoulders, the ends cut raggedly. That meant something. But what?
“How do you know me?” Sabrene asked cautiously.
The woman jumped to her feet.
“It is you! Oh shades I’ve missed you! Where have you…” The woman stopped, the joy of a moment before fading, washed away be some realization. “This is a dream… isn’t it?”
Dream? But how…? Confusion stumbled through Sabrene’s mind, trying to cast light on the woman’s words. “It is…a dream?”
The woman shook her head and sat down heavily. “It has to be a dream. You are dead.”
Dead? Then…what…no, this is my dream. I am Sabrene. I am not dead. And you are… Sabrene’s thoughts fell into place, the wind brushing her hair. It couldn’t be. This woman was too old by a few years. How could she be…
“Ulie?” Sabrene said in a small trembling voice.
The woman turned to her. “You are still the same as I remember you. I am glad I still can. You have no idea how hard it was to see you die… and not even have a body to mourn. It is almost too hard to see you now.”
“I’m not dead, Ulie! This is not your dream. It is mine. Why are you older? I have only been gone for twelve days.” Sabrene knew that she should be waking up. Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen when you knew you were dreaming?
Ulaisha shook her head again, closing her eyes. “Twelve days? I has been three years. Con and I married. I have a son now. Why do you taunt me? Why can’t I wake up?”
Three years. The words echoed in Sabrene’s ears. But the rest of what Ulie said sank in.
“You have…a son?”
Ulaisha raised her eyes a little. “Yes.”
“How…how old is he?”
“A week from now will be his first name day,” Pride filled Ulaisha’s voice, but also a great sadness.
A year then. “Have you chosen a name?”
Pride faded, replaced only by sorrow. “Con wanted to name his first son after… but we…don’t know his name. How can a name be lost? It was cruel enough that you were taken from us, but why his name?”
Tears fell from her eyes again as she finished, the words being dredged from the depths of sorrow. Sabrene rushed to her side. Three years or no, this was still her Ulie. She took the crying woman’s hands, looking into her eyes.
“Aeden,” Sabrene said simply, “Call him Aeden.”
Ulaisha looked down at the hands gripping her own. “Aeden? It is a good name. But why?”
“Because he would want it that way.”
Ulaisha let her head sink. “He. You mean the one we lost with you. When both of you died. I don’t know why I’m even talking to you. You aren’t here.”
“I AM here, Ulie! I didn’t die. Neither of us did!”
The last part Sabrene said with such vehemence that Ulaisha’s head snapped up. She ripped her hands from Sabrene’s roughly.
“You did die. I saw it. No one else did. You leapt into that…thing after him and the beast. You died! Why did you go? Why did you leave us? Why?!”
Grief tore through the woman’s voice as she spoke. Sabrene couldn’t talk for a long moment, her own feeling warring inside. But one emotion won out. The one that made her whole.
“I love him Ulie. And he loves me.”
“The dead can not love,” Ulaisha whispered.
Sabrene felt like screaming. How could she prove that she was not dead? How…? Her eyes fell upon her own arm and the long green silk covering it. Her dress. Of course!
“Ulie, look at me.” Sabrene waited while the other woman slowly complied. “What do you see?”
“I see you. A ghost.”
“What am I wearing?” Sabrene held her arms out to give the other woman a better look. She was wearing the beautiful fine green silk dress she had just sliced to ribbons on the floor. Long oval cutouts adorned the shoulders, another just above her breasts. The first dress she had ever worn for Aeden. “What do you see?”
Ulaisha looked at her in confusion, a small frown on her face. “A dress. A Lady’s dress.”
“Have you ever seen me wear one like this?”
“No, but…”
“Have you ever seen anyone were one like this?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean…”
“Ulie, it means everything. You are my best friend and the sweetest person I have ever known, but when it comes to clothing you are a complete loss. You could never imagine something as lovely as this.”
Anger sprouted on Ulaisha’s face, but was immediately drown by something else. Understanding. In an instant, Sabrene found the woman in her arms, sobbing joyfully.
“It is you. It really is.”
-End of chapter eight.
If you are confused...good. That means you will read the next chapter which will expain everything. It would have been in this one, but it was allready getting just too darn long.
<editation> Um...well...the next chapter explains none of the above. You\'ll have to wait for the one after that, ~Between Dreams~. Sorry. :)
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Perhaps you should think about making a site and just updating it there instead of on this secret part of the forums, perhaps you would get more people looking and input from out of the community.
P.S - Just because you don\'t get input all the time doesn\'t mean some of us aren\'t reading..
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*kneels down in praying position*
Please keep on writing, I really like your writing but,..., but
*points at school and starts crying*
P.S.: rofl, man the things I say sometimes :D
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@Depth> I will be posting my stories on Fictionpress or something or other soon, but I will also keep them updated here for the community.
I also know that there are people reading my stories, some with more devotion than others *nods at Cyl, who will be in my third tale* But even if there is no one, you can be assured that I will keep writing these stories to the end. Why? Because I want to know how the story unfolds as well as you. The end is already written, but it is the journey that really matters to me.
The reason I ask for feedback is so I can improve my writing. So each and every tale I tell can be better than the last. (note that this one is in paragraphs, due a suggestion in the last ;)) I don\'t need people worshiping the ground I walk on, like Draklar seems to think he needs at times. If you remember, during my last story, when I received no feedback for quite a time, I did not threaten to stop writing and leave. Instead, I threatened to make my story longer...which I did, by at least two chapters, and spawning this tale (which I never intended to write) and an entirely new city.
I know my stories are good, (Forsteer and Cyl and many others told me so, so it must be true) but they could be so much better, in my highly critical eye, anyways. So I ask people to point out my mistakes. Especially in this story, since it will be written greatly from the female PoV,(oops, let something slip there) which I am not famialiar with, being male. That is why I ask for the forum Ladies\' feedback.
That\'s about it.
@Cyl>Well...maybe it would be OK to have one person worship the ground I walk on. XD Though I\'m not sure what the carp you\'re blathering about. ;) I never ever said I would stop writing. And what\'s with the school?
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Personally I don\'t find a need to tell people whats wrong with their stories and stuff like that, its not my story and I would want to tell someone to shut the hell up if they told me how to tell my story. You understand what I am saying you don\'t need feedback like maybe you should use less description or pull out of the 3rd character view. Tell the story how you see it and just look to us to clap or boo ^^
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So I shall...so I shall. I will just assume that you are all clapping, if you don\'t mind. :]
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Haven\'t had any time to read much of \"Souls mirror\" lately.
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*John joins the conversation.*
Great stories, great, unfortunatly I did not had to time read it all throughout. But current sytuation with me is such that I rarely get time to do anything. But at June the 27th, my chains shall be broken!
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Why, howdy John! Glad to see you like my stuff. Good luck with being free in 12 more days! ;)Maybe I can get a few more chapters done by then. :D
Cyl, I hope you have time also. It sucks not having free time.
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Sorry folks. I have neglected this story for far too long. I had planned on a chapter from Lowen?s view next, but another character wished to be heard first, since I have practically ignored him since I introduced him last story. I also came to the sudden realization that I never gave his last name. So here you go. Enjoy.
Chapter nine-
~Too Much Air~
Burgas flattened himself against the wall as another of the guards strolled by the shadowed alley. Not that it was necessary, he scoffed, as the fools never even looked to the side. Highguard indeed. How these half-trained cubs came to be the guardians of this city was beyond his knowledge, but was something he intended to find out this night. If there was one thing Burgas Fhlin could not abide by, it was not knowing both sides of the coin before the toss.
The guard turned the next corner without so much of a glance in Burgas’s direction, just as all the others had done. Burgas shook his head with disgust before dashing across the street with hardly a sound, despite his slight limp and the rough cobblestones in this part of the city. Most thought Dwarves to by clumsy, noisy, stupid creatures, likely to trip on their own beards if making any attempt at stealth. That thought made Burgas grin through his own bushy beard, as most of those rumors came from Dwarves themselves, in way of keeping the other races off balance. Perhaps in some ways, the tactic worked too well. Luckily for him, Ellese had seen through all that, and accepted his proposal all those years ago.
Burgas slipped into the next alley with as little noise as he had left the last, his train of thought not interfering with his skulking skills in the least. This is what he trained all his life for, though he had never thought to use these skills in such a way as this. As he crept through the darkness, his mind wandered back to the events of the day, odd as they were. The great Ship casting itself against the cities shore was enough to make the strongest man shudder. There had been fear in the air; he had felt it. The Ship had been afraid, if that made any sense. How could a thing made of board and beam feel fear? And yet, there it was.
“Ya’r imaginin’ things.” Burgas mumbled to himself, knowing full well he wasn’t. He had learned to trust his instincts over the years, and now they were itching like a roll in a burnberry patch. Something was not right in this city. He glanced up at the slightly glowing dome of mist far overhead, then quickly down again. That was something he did not want to think about. Somehow he knew there was no cavern roof up there. No rock, no cavern, just air. Air forever. Burgas felt his head grow light and resisted the urge to grab onto something. He banished the image of his stout, muscled form being torn from the ground and swallowed by all that air. “Too much air,” he growled with an uncomfortable roll of his thick shoulders.
“I have heard that stated before, but never understood what it meant.”
Burgas whirled to the source of the voice, his hands instinctively going to his now empty sheaths and loops. He silently cursed the Highguard for confiscating the weapons of all those on the Ship as he shifted his balance for hand-to-hand combat. A man in a plain brown cloak stood just out of lunging distance, though his stance also spoke of a readiness to move suddenly and violently.
“Easy there, Goodman, if I intended on bringing you in, you would be halfway to the cells by now,” the man said calmly, holding out his hands to show they carried no arms.
The initial shock of the moment worn off, Burgas studied the man’s face for a moment, recognition wasting no time in coming. “Captain Travarit. What brings you out this eve?” he asked casually, wondering how fast he could reach the man if he had to.
“Lowen will suffice. And it is you I seek, my good Dwarf. Or more to the point, what you know,” Lowen answered just as casually, though Burgas could sense the man tensing, likely seeing something of his own thoughts.
The Dwarf forced his muscles to relax, knowing full well if it came to a fight, he would likely lose to this man. Partially out of habit, he hooked his thumbs in his empty ax loops. For some reason, it seemed to make others think he was calm and not ready for a fight. It did not have that affect on Lowen, though, as the man still stayed just out off easy reach. Burgas quickly went through a few starts at verbal sparring in his head before deciding to lay it out blunt.
“What’a ya want with me then? If you have questions, then ask. If I have the answers, then you may be in luck this day.”
Lowen grinned, a genuinely friendly expression that reached his eyes.
“Well said, Goodman. I do indeed have questions, though my throat is parched from the long walk you set me on. Perhaps you would be in the mood for a mug of good ale?”
Lowen glanced at the building to the right, his look carrying a meaning Burgas knew all too well. They where being watched, and not by the friendly sort. He considered his options, settling on the one that was least likely to end with his head handed to him at the end of the night. This Lowen chap had already proved himself to be a good man down at the docks, and his instincts told Burgas he could be trusted.
“A’ways in the mood for a good ale,” Burgas stated with a grin, “As long as it truly be good ale, and not some of that watered down elvish drell.”
Lowen laughed. “There haven’t been any Elves in Shaln Vae for generations, let alone elvish ale. Come, I know of just the place a small company can wet a thirst, if you don’t mind a few friends along.”
A man stepped from around the corner behind Lowen, his body draped in a nearly identical cloak. His thick mane of red hair named him as another of the Vanguard soldiers Burgas remembered from the Dock though he hadn’t learned the man’s name. Burgas grunted.
“Looks to be I need improving on my skulking skills,” he said, shaking his head ruefully as he wondered how many more men would be getting the drop on him this night.
“Nay, Dwarf,” a deep voice spoke from directly behind him.
Burgas whirled so fast he nearly lost his balance, his fist coming up instinctively to strike at the figure only a short step away, despite the fact it towered over him. To his great surprise, instead of connecting just under the ribs as he intended, his fist stopped short with a sharp smack as it was caught on the palm of the figure’s right hand. Like fluid lightning, the other hand snaked in to catch Burgas just above his elbow. The hand closed about his fist, and suddenly he found himself facedown on the damp stone of the alley, seemingly without passing through the intervening space. Burgas struggled against his captor, only to have his shoulder twisted to nearly the point of dislocating. This is what he got for trusting.
“Lara, the Sea take you!” Lowen nearly shouted, though with his voice pitched as to not carry far. “Let him up now. We are not in the game of abusing refugees.”
Lara? Bugas thought to himself in surprise. As he was pulled to his feet by the same hands that had so quickly introduced him to the ground, he saw his assailant was indeed the same deep voiced woman from the Dock. Though now she was dressed in the same drab brown garb as the men, instead of the blue and white armor. She nodded her head in a sort of forced apology, though Burgas was not sure if it was meant for him. He rolled his shoulder to test for injury as the woman stepped back.
“You move fast. Any faster and that blow may have landed,” Lara stated as a matter of fact. “And you are harder to track than a shadow in the dark. We almost lost you no less than three times.”
The fiery haired man grinned. “She says she’s sorry.” He stepped forward and proffered a hand. “The name’s Rett Rohgelles, the lady giving me the iced blade look is Lara Donafin, and you already know our good captain Lowen. A good few ales, and I’m sure you’ll be calling us brothers, even Lara.” Rett glanced at the plain-faced woman and his grin widened. “Maybe especially Lara.”
Instead of going into a rage, as Burgas expected, Lara barked a short laugh and showed her teeth in a wide smile, though even that looked square and plain. This was one woman he didn’t think he would want to tangle with again. Tough as stone, she was. Burgas studied each face in turn, looking for any sign of ill will. Rett’s ready smile seemed quite genuine, while Lara’s serious, squared off features showed no further intent of violence. And he had already decided he could trust this Lowen. Finally, he cleared his throat with a roll of his shoulders and took Rett’s hand in a firm grip.
“Burgas Fhlin, remember it,” he said in the traditional Dwarven greeting, then continued on in what was also deemed as traditional Dwarven behavior. “Now, I heard mention of good ale…”
~~~
Burgas pushed his mug aside, nothing but a few flecks of foam left on the bottom. Not a bad ale after all, though nothing compared the darks back home…if there was such a place any more. According to those white veiled ‘Watchers’ back at the gate, over five hundred years had passed. Even the stone and beam house he built with his own hands would be long taken by vine and tree. And his only son…
“I could use another of these,” Burgas said, tipping his mug towards Lowen.
Lowen nodded and raised his hand to rather round woman behind the long, polished wood bar. She nodded back with a smile, moving to bring another pitcher.
Rett leaned over and gave Burgas a pat on the shoulder. “By the look on your face, you could use more than just one.”
Burgas grunted and rolled his shoulders, a nervous habit he had never been able to break. “Too much ale is never good for conversation. Ya wanted me for somethin’, brought me here, halfway across yur city to this cozy little bar. I’m not thinking it was for the ale, fine as it may be. Ya want to know somethin’ I know, an ya don’t want others to know ya know it. Out with it.”
Lara, sitting with her heavy boots crossed on another chair, barked a laugh. “Straight to the point, this one is. I like him.” She swung her feet off the chair with a thump to face Burgas. “A favor for a favor, a word for a word. Tell us of your home, and we’ll talk of ours.”
Rett grinned. “Seems he’s not the only one with a blunt tongue, Lara. Sometime I wonder if you swallowed a smith’s hammer.”
The barkeep waddled over to the table personally with two full pitchers. Burgas noted that none of the tavern maids came near enough to hear any of the conversation. So this was a meeting place for these folks, and used often. He quickly put together the need for information and secrecy, and what he had seen earlier at the Dock. The Vanguard were not on the high ground, it seemed. If they thought a new come Dwarf from a land not heard from in five centuries could be of help, then they must indeed be in dire straights. As the barkeep left again, Burgas muddled over what he should tell them.
Lowen, who had been quiet up until now, took up one of the pitchers and filled the mugs before speaking low and seriously. “I’ll not take you for a fool, Goodmaster Burgas. Nor shall I hold you out as one. This city has become a poisonous pit of corruption. Our vaunted Council cares nothing for the security of this city, only their own wealth and power. You and your people are going to be used to that means, no matter the cost to you. You will be offered empty promises and twisted truths.”
Burgas grunted. “You offer any different? From what ya say, you wish to use ‘my’ people no less than this Council you speak of.”
Instead of getting indignant, as he expected, Lowen merely leaned back in his chair. “We do intend to use you, but not for our own benefit. We are Vanguard soldiers, sworn on our blood to uphold justice and the Code. The Council’s corruption has undermined the power of the Regent, whose duty was to protect the people. My people.” Lowen’s voice turned cold. “I will not stand by and watch as my own city is befouled by the likes of Raddoch. I ask for your help, and offer our aid.”
Burgas took a long drink from his mug to give himself time to think. Generally, he liked to stay out of politics, unless the price proved high enough, but this time it looked as if it would be thrust upon him. From what he had learned so far, if he did not decide which side of the coin to choose, one would be chosen for him. He never liked to be forced. Time to choose.
“All right, what do you need of me?”
Though Lowen and the others neither moved nor changed expression, a thick tension seemed to bleed from the air. Whatever he had just signed up for, Burgas was sure it would prove to be an interesting trip.
Lowen slid his mug away from himself. “What we need is information. I need to know about your people and leaders. The Council will find a way to exploit them, and I do not wish that. There are factions in the Council, each at the other’s throats. No few have been cut already. Any new power will have them stirring like a fresh turned corpse full of maggots. If I can gain the ear of that person…”
“You speak of the Lady Sabrene,” Burgas interrupted, a disturbing feeling creeping from the back of his mind. If they planned on hanging the girl out as bait, then he would have no part of it. He wasn’t even sure if Sabrene was the Lady she claimed to be. Any power hungry vulture would tear her apart, if she was indeed just playing the part. He had seen what happens when folks placed themselves on a higher rung than they belonged. Like that fool man who convinced an entire village he was Octarch. Burgas could still remember the man’s pleas as they tossed him down the nearest waste shaft, trussed like a swine. There was not a chance he would let something happen to the girl. He had grown fond of her in the last week. She was made of good stock.
Lowen leaned back in his chair. “I see you don’t like the thought. I don’t like it either, but she will be brought into the pit of vipers whether I do it or no. Raddoch knows she is a Lady of your lands, so too will the rest of the Council before the night is out. In one day’s time, there will not be a soul in Shaln Vae that does not know who she is. In a week, rumors will be claiming Lady Sabrene is the Regent’s new bride, or a goddess of the Mist. The pieces have been set in motion, Goodmaster Fhlin, It is up to us to see how we can move them.”
Burgas rolled his shoulders again. He was really going to have to learn to stop doing that. The lad was right, one way or the other. Damn the girl, why did she have to step forward like that? All of this could have been avoided. Well, if this was how he could best help her, then so be it. “So then, if I be a piece, then how do you wish me to move?”
Lowen paused before answering, sharing a short glance with his two companions. Something mush have passed in those glances, as Lara’s stony face turned to icy fury, while Rett’s smile was replaced by a dour frown. Lowen looked back to Burgas, a slow burning anger in his own eyes. But something else also Burgas didn’t expect. Shame.
“We have been…” Lowen paused at the sound of Lara grinding her teeth, but continued, his eyes locked to the Dwarf’s “…commanded[/I],” the word dripped pure venom, “to have no contact with any of the survivors of the shipwreck. Just speaking to you is all our lives are worth. We need someone close to the Lady that can deliver any word we may have. If you could ask her…”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Ellese asked in her sultriest voice from a beam just overhead.
The sound of dropped pottery breaking on the floor sounded from no less than two places, accompanied by a startled gasp from maids carrying them. The round barkeep herself didn’t even seem to notice the sound as she stared in shock at the Diaboli woman crouched on the thick beam overhead. Lara was on her feet in an instant, a short dagger in each hand. Rett fell backwards with his chair, though he turned the fall into a roll and came back up in a half crouch, his own daggers in his hands. The reaction in the small tavern was exactly as Burgas expected, what with his wife seeming to appear silently out of nowhere. His sharp eyes quickly spotted the small, vented window high in the rafters where she must have come in, though he could never quite figure out how she made it through such small spaces without a sound.
“What took you so long?” Burgas asked nonchalantly, trying to settle the mood.
Ellese smiled sweetly, which made Burgas feel anything but nonchalant. The woman could near set him afire with the right smile.
“I had to give someone some advice she didn’t want to hear. If our new friends would put up their blades, I would find a chair more comfortable.”
Lowen raised one hand, to which Rett and Lara quickly sheathed their knives. Ellese turned her smile to him before dropping lightly to the table. Rett righted his own chair for her to sit, watching with ever widening eyes as she slid sinuous off the table to accept it. Lara slowly sat back down on her own chair, though her eyes followed Ellese’s every move as if she were a dangerous beast loose amongst children. If these were enemies, that look would be quite appropriate. Rett began pulling up chair from another table, but Ellese stopped him.
“That won’t be necessary, dear. Captain Lowen shall be leaving us now. He shan’t want to be late.”
Lowen cleared his throat roughly, making Burgas grin. His wife really had a way with men.
“Leaving?” Lowen asked. “What makes you think I am leaving?”
Ellese’s smile turned amused, and perhaps a little devious. “Well dear, you can’t very well ask the Lady Sabrene any questions from here, now can you?”
“You don’t understand…” Lowen started, but Ellese continued on.
“Don’t you worry about the guards. I had a little talk with them. The sally gate on the garden wing is unlocked.”
“But…”
“If anybody inquires, the Lady Sabrene sent for you. No one will stop you.”
Ellese paused, as if waiting for Lowen to respond. Burgas wasn’t sure if he could, by the look of him. The poor lad looked Kran-pummeled. Add that to the smile she was giving him, and the boy was lucky he was still sane.
“Well then, you had better be off. There is an old handmaiden by the name of Sahggi who will be quite put out if you are late.”
Lowen still had not moved. Lara reached over and put her hand on his forearm.
“Sir, this is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”
“Indeed,” Rett said through a grin, though Burgas was sure he and Lara were not talking about the same opportunity.
Burgas looked at his wife, wondering what she had planned this time, and if the lad would make it out in one piece.
~end of chapter nine
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Chapter ten-
~Between Dreams~
Lowen raised his hand to the thick wood of the ornately carved door for what seemed the hundredth time. It hovered there, only a hand’s width away from touching the shape of winged beast, either long dead or born of myth, it’s head crowned with a huge mane of fur and spikes. The creature’s claws clutched the limp body of a three-eyed serpent entwined with flowers, crushing it in a death grip. Lowen frowned as a stray memory from his childhood floated to the surface. The legend of Gyn and Qholdian, told as a sleeptale to many a young child, and favored by mothers all. The beast, Gyn was not crushing the serpent, he was saving her. In the tale, Qholdian was the beautiful daughter of a great lord, but was stolen from him by an evil mage, as children’s tales go. One of the mages soldiers, a brave and handsome lad of course, fell in love with the maid. They kept their love a secret, for fear of the mage’s wroth. But all the meetings in the night, all the hiding was for naught, for…
Lowen shook his head, his hand dropping to his side yet again. What am I doing?
You are stalling. That is what you are doing. You have faced the Mist creatures till none stood but yourself. You have seen more bloody battles on the Planes of Asarion than any man should, yet you can’t face a single woman who holds not even a knife.
She is a Highborn, whatever that may be. Far beyond the scope of a mere soldier. I should be flogged for even thinking of her as more than such.
Lowen brought his hand to the door, resting it lightly on the carving. All he had to do now was push. ‘Go right in. The Lady awaits you,’ the old bent Fenkidukia had said. That had been more than a quarter hour ago. But he stood at this doorway yet, like a fresh recruit at the door of the taskmaster after breaking curfew. Like a fool.
I am no fool. Nor is this Lady Shalcoen. She wishes to know the dangers of this isle. That is all.
That is not what the Diaboli woman implied. The high need comfort as well as the low, she had said. It gets very lonely…
Lowen ground his teeth to block out the sound of his own thoughts repeating Ellese’s words. Startlingly, it worked. Perhaps it was not the bad habit he had always thought it of Lara. Before the thoughts could gain momentum again, he took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The light scent of melting wax and tora oil rushed to greet his nose, a pleasant, easing odor. Wide candles of white wax rested about the room, their flames licking the bottoms of shallow, liquid-filled copper bowls. Besides the scent, the candles provided the only light in the room, a flickering giving life to the shadows dancing on the walls. Though not dark, it proved only fraction as bright as the light thrown off by mirrored lanterns in the room behind him, partially obscuring his vision until his eyes could adjust. He scanned the large room quickly, searching for any danger. A habit ingrained into the mind of every Vanguard soldier. Surprise meant death to men in his line of work. His eyes dismissed the chests and enormous copper tub in one darkened corner of the room, passed over the luxurious bed draped with shear, white laced curtains, before pausing at the metalwork vines and glass of the wide doors to the balcony. That is where any danger would come. The lay of the room imprinted itself on his mind, along with how to use its features if one or more assailants…
Stop it! There is no danger here. There is nothing. No one. Not even the woman. Looks to be I’ve made this trip for nothing. Unless…
Lowen glanced back into the sitting room he had just exited. Nothing.
Unless this is a trap. Could Raddoch have corrupted the Dwarf and Diaboli already? Even the Lady Shalcoen? No one would call foul if I was to die in this room today…
Lowen closed the door softy. Soldier’s instincts took over as he crept to the balcony, placing his feet so as to keep his balance in best form at every moment, his hands raised slightly to catch any blow that may come. Ears straining, awaiting the sounding of the alarm bells, he eased up to the glass. A clear view to both sides showed no one waiting in the shadows of the balcony, though a curve farther down could hide anything. Lowen suddenly realized the fine target he made, outlined against the faded light of the nighttime Mist, still bright compared to the fitful candles. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the feeling of imagined eyes on him. If a strike where to come now…
“Connely?”
Lowen spun instantly, his twin curved daggers in his hands before he thought to even draw them. Two heartbeats passed as the fire of the candles glinted on the razor edges of the knives. Two heartbeats more before he realized the source of the question, asked as if still on the edges of sleep.
“Lady Shalcoen?” Lowen asked, his eyes strafing the room trying to find from where she had spoken. The sound of rippling water drew his attention to the copper tub in the darkened corner. For a moment, he saw an ethereal green glow beneath the water’s surface, just barely bright enough to illuminate a woman’s features reflecting upon the water. Lowen froze, thought and motion coming to and abrupt halt. He had not been prepared for anything such as this. For the first time, he took into account where he stood. He was in a Lady’s bedchamber, after dark, with the woman still in her bath. His mind shuddered back into motion, apologies clashing upon thoughts of escape upon the overwhelming fact that he stood not five paces away from…
Settle yourself, fool. You are running in circles. Think!
“First Captain Travarit?” The lady asked, her voice sounding confused and on the waking edge of slumber. “What are you doing here?” She hesitated for a moment, the water shifting as the note of fear increased in her voice. “What are your intentions with those?”
Lowen frowned in confusion until he realized he still held his daggers before himself. Swiftly, he sheathed the blades, missing with one and tearing the fabric of his tunic before sliding it into its leathers.
“I apologize for intruding, Lady Shalcoen. If I had known you where…” Lowen stopped, not knowing how to continue. She had requested his presence immediately. The old handmaid had told him to go right in. Ellese had more than implied that talk was not what he had been asked here for. This was going to be his death when the Council learned of it. Taking a deep breath, he continued cautiously. “I was told you requested my attendance, my Lady. I can see you were not expecting me so soon. If…”
“Told by whom? I…Ellese.” Her voice took on a hard edge as she spoke the Diaboli’s name.
A long, silent moment passed, giving Lowen the impression of being studied from the darkness. What was this game he had been caught in? By the Lady Shalcoen’s reaction, she had known nothing of this encounter…or had at least disapproved of it. Bad news on either account for a soldier caught in the high winds of politics. What Lowen wouldn’t give at that moment to be facing something with blade or tooth…something he could fight back against. The feeling of being watched from that dark corner began to set him on edge.
“Lady Shal…” Lowen started, but recalled how Burgas and Ellese had been referring to her, with her first name as the honorific. “Lady Sabrene,” he continued, “I can come at a later date, if it pleases you.”
“That,” Sabrene paused, her voice seemed almost unsure for the first time since he had met her. Somehow, he also got the impression that his words had brought her back from some deep thought, like she had forgotten he was even here. “That won’t be necessary. I do wish to talk with you. My…handmaid must have misunderstood my words about the timing. But since you are here, I have some questions you may answer for me.”
Lowen heard the water move, once again reminding him that Sabrene rested in her bath. He dropped his eyes to be sure he didn’t inadvertently see anything he should not, despite the darkness. The water stirred again, a little quicker this time, followed by a small, irritated noise and something that sounded of a muffle curse. “My Lady? If I may assist you?” Lowen offered without thinking, though how he could assist a nude woman who could easily send him to the stocks for the slightest insult was beyond him. Even the asking could be taken as an insult.
“It seems as if my handmaid has forgotten to set me out a robe,” Sabrene responded, the irritation in her voice heightening at the word ‘forgotten’. “Ellese and I will be having a few words when she returns.”
The pieces of the puzzle all clicked together in Lowen’s head. This was a set up, a trap, though not as he had first thought. Apparently, lady Sabrene’s servants thought she could use some companionship, and as soon as possible. In his experience, only a few circumstances called for such, and only one of those fit what was happening here; she had not been alone on that ship.
“Captain?” Her voice took on a new tone to Lowen, though unchanged from before. Beneath the strength, beneath the pride, rested a well-hidden pain. “If you could please…”
Lowen snapped to attention and spoke before she could finish. “Yes, of course. I will await you in the Sitting room.” He began moving back to the door.
“Wait. I…wished to ask if you could search the wardrobe for me. I…well…”
The water splashed, likely from Sabrene dropping her hand into it irksomely. Lowen wished she would stop doing that. It only served to remind him that she was indeed immersed in the bath, under only the cover of darkness and water. And now she was forced to ask for his aid. Lowen shook his head. He could understand her awkward situation perfectly. Ellese was very good at this, it seemed. And he was likely going to end up with his head in a bucket for it too. Stifling a sigh of resignation, he bowed slightly. “As you wish.”
The wardrobe proved to be nearly half the size of the spacious bedchamber, and well stocked as well. That is all he could think of it as, was ‘stocked’. It did contain clothing fit for any Lady…but also sized for any Lady. Apparently, Raddoch had used these apartments before and frequently, and liked to dress his trophies in the finest garb. Though of the most costly and luxurious materials, a good third of the attire would not be fit to be seen wearing in public view. The thought sickened Lowen to his core, knowing that that foul beast’s intentions were likely no different with the Lady Sabrene. Not if he could put a stop to it. No wonder the room had been locked. A problem remedied by Lowen’s nimble fingers and lockpick tools. Sometimes it was necessary to have skills of the sort when keeping the peace.
Finally, Lowen found a simple white robe of thick quilted embroidery that he hoped would fit. He didn’t think he could even touch most of the other garments. Picking up his lamp, he returned to the bedchamber. Standing with the robe in his hands, he was not sure how to proceed. He carefully kept his eyes from Sabrene, as the added light in the room would no doubt bring an uncomfortable amount of illumination to her covering darkness.
“Lady Sabrene, I have found a suitable garment, if it pleases you.”
“It will be fine,” Sabrene responded, maybe a little hastily. “Please leave it on the stand. I will meet you in the sitting room momentarily.”
Lowen did as she asked, giving another bow while keeping his eyes on the floor. He would only have to reach out a hand to touch the thick copper of the tub, so close he was. Something on the floor caught his eye. It looked to be the shredded remains of the dress Sabrene had been wearing earlier. Why…? He banished the question from his mind. The ways of the High were not for a soldier to try to grasp. With a quick “My Lady,” Lowen passed back into the sitting room, relief washing over him as the door clicked shut behind him. Relief…and a muddled ball of emotions he tried to stomp down quickly before they could take root.
Be glad if you live through this night, fool. She may yet demand your head for the humiliation you have caused her. And Raddoch will surely have it if he discovers you here. The lady will not be the only one having a talk with this Ellese. I do not like being made the fool.
Lowen sat at the edge of one of the stiff cushioned chairs, his chin in his hand as he often did when confronting something the needed puzzling out. There was still something about Sabrene he couldn’t quite grasp. Her reactions to the events of the day were all proper and as expected of a Highborn, as she called herself, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow it did not fit her. And then there were these folks that claimed to be her servants. The only one he could truly see in the role was Ree’ann, the demure gray Diaboli. Ellese, Burgas, and Yore were obviously something else, though they seemed genuine in their claim of service to Sabrene. A thought lost in the moments of shock back the bedchamber resurfaced.
What was that glow? I know I saw it. What mysteries did these people bring back with them? Who was Sabrene?
As if answering his thoughts, the woman in question pushed open the door quietly. The robe he had found for her fit well enough, though made for a slightly taller woman. Sabrene paused for a moment before she crossed the room to take a seat neither too close for intimate conversation, nor too far away too seem in cold avoidance. A diplomatic position, given the circumstances. Lowen couldn’t help notice her bare toes peeking out from under the dragging robe as she crossed the floor. He should have found her some slippers or…
Stop thinking! Keep your wits or you will have more to worry about than slippers.
“Captain Travarit,” Sabrene started, her voice oddly hesitant and unsure, “What can you tell me about dreams?”
Lowen found himself caught off guard by the question. He had not been expecting anything of the sort, though he was certain what she was asking about. The Whispers. He looked at her to find her dazzling jade eyes on him, seeming even more dazzling framed by her damp darkened hair hanging long over the white robe. There was a pleading in those eyes. She did not look the lady to Lowen now, just a woman who needed to know if what she saw was real.
“You heard the wind in your dream? A dream that seemed more real than any other?” Lowen asked gently. He continued on when she nodded ever so slightly, as if afraid to move. “It is a part of the lingering magic of this isle. They are called the Whispers by most, and come in times of great trepidation and stress. No one ever has the same vision, but the message is always the same.”
“Which is?” Sabrene whispered through barely parted lips.
Lowen chose his next words carefully. “They give hope to those who need it the most. The visions people see can be from their own lives, or the lives of others. Sometimes they show what has been, at other what will be. They show you what you need to see.”
“How…how is that possible? Are…was it real?”
“I’ll not pretend I understand, Lady Sabrene.” It still felt odd, addressing a near stranger by her first name. “From the past, the dreams are real. Some say that they touch the dreams of others who have been long dead. Those that touch what has not come yet…they only show what may be. Some say what should be. This isle is a bridge somehow, between other places, and maybe between other times as well. Or perhaps it is the Mist that forms the bridge. I cannot tell you that one way or the other.”
Lowen looked down at his hands, remembering the one time the Whispers had touched his own dreams. He couldn’t tell her that sometimes hope came with a price.
“She was real… Thank you.”
There was a hitch in Sabrene’s voice that made Lowen look up. The tears on her face told him that perhaps he didn’t have to tell her after all. He didn’t think she would take kindly to watching her cry, so stood to go. She didn’t even seem to notice as he walked to the door. As Lowen closed the door behind him and turned down the dim corridor, one thought kept repeating though his mind. Sometimes hope could be the cruelest thing of all.
~~~
Ree’ann opened her eyes, confused at first by the odd light coming from the impossibly huge crystal hanging from the roof of the equally impossibly huge cavern. Memory blended with reality as the confusion faded. Ylaikum.
“I am dreaming,” she said to herself. She had always had the ability to realize and control her dreams, but somehow this one was different. Why had she dreamed herself back to this moon forsaken land? A light wind passed her ear, whispering, beckoning. It tickled a few long tufts of grass and flowers, swirling in place next to the path at Ree’ann’s bare feet. Somehow, she knew it wanted her to follow. Indeed, as she stepped forward, the swirl of wind moved on to the next tuft of foliage, then the next, keeping just ahead of her. She followed the dancing breeze for a good amount of time, always a few steps behind. Then, suddenly, it vanished. Ree’ann stopped, a frown coming to her face. Why did it stop here? She ran her eyes over her surroundings, looking for anything out of place. Then her eyes froze. A young Diaboli woman rested with her back to a thick tree not far from the path. Ree’ann’s frown deepened. All of the Diaboli she had seen since her awakening had that cursed deep-black skin, whereas this girl’s skin was a grayish lavender. Though even with the odd color, there was something familiar about her. Maybe it was the way her hair hung over one shoulder in a long, jet-black braid, as Ellese was fond of wearing hers.
The wind returned, sending a swirl of flower petals around the young woman. Her eyes slowly opened to reveal the most startling violet color Ree’aan had ever seen besides her own. The woman’s lips spread in a beautiful, joyous smile when she saw Ree’ann. Her voice was soft and kind as she broke the silence.
“I have been waiting for you…Mother.”
End of chapter ten. Frogive the typos, as much of this was written while I should have been sleeping. I\'ll fix any I find later. And as always, thank you for reading.
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This things still going? Jebus, just write a book and publish it already...
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Damnit, Efflixi! Now my readers shall be aflicted with the sight of your bananas forever. xD
ps. This story will only end two ways. One, I finish. Two, I die. But you\'ll not be rid of me till one of those things happen....unless they ban me. :D
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Yeah I just imagined who would ban the damn best story write on this board, ...
noone.
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This has got to qualify as one of the longest pages I\'ve ever seen. And it was good enough for me to read it all. Write more or I\'ll sic the NPC mafia on you.
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This story is great! I love it. But will it ever be updated again? the last post was in 2005. This may be thread necromancy, but I just had to ask. The story is so addictive!
\\o// \\o// \\o//
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No worries. I am still writing..... Just very slowly. If you will notice, I did just edit/rewrite my first story not so long ago. This story is due for the same treatment before the new chapter is finished.
(btw, the new chapter is called 'Woven Shadows'. )
And as always, thank you for reading.
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Are you still at it? This story demands to be finished.
Good work by the way.
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Ok UTM, I realize that you have other commitments, but I really would like to see more to this story.
PLEASE!
PS - The COS stories are fascinating to me. I read the first one four times already.
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[ok, folks, normally I don't post a chapter until it is finished... but I have not posted another chapter in such a long time, I will make an exception this time. This is a chapter I started about a month ago, but have not had time to finish. As Ardonel said, yes, 'other' things have been keeping me busy (blame Xillix). I can not guaranty that this chapter will be finished any time soon, but I will do my best. I give you... Sabrene again.]
Chapter eleven-
~Woven Shadows~
Sabrene gave a start at the click of the latch closing on her door. She glanced quickly around the room, and was startled that Lowen was gone, though she had not even heard him get up. Half of her was glad he had left…but the other half did not wish to be alone right then. Even though Ellese had set her up in the most rude of ways, she did find the Captain’s presence comforting in a way. The man had never wavered in his confidence in a most embarrassing situation. Nor had he tried to ply an advantage out of it either. Not that he would have gotten far, Sabrene assured herself quickly. Besides, the man was a perfect gentlemen. Maybe that is why he reminded her a bit of Con. In the confusion of just waking, she had even thought he was Con as he stood before the balcony doors.
Sabrene wiped her eyes on one of the too long sleeves of the white robe and stifled her last few sniffles. ‘Crying never did anything but ruin a pretty face’ her mother’s admonishing voice echoed in her head, not helping her mood one bit. ‘Cry when you can, but stand when you must’ a gentler voice whispered to her, reminding her of strong hands lifting her from ground as a child, and huge arm holding her tight. The smell of fresh velvet and pipe smoke filled her memory, bringing with it the calm, safe feeling in a way only one person could.
“Thank you, Father,” Sabrene whispered to the empty room.
Hundreds were dead, and thousands without hope. It was their right to cry, not hers. Children had lost entire families, and families had lost children. By her own actions, they now looked to her for guidance and hope in an endless hour of darkness. Like it or not, she was their leader now, and they were her people. Stand when you must. Sabrene stood, though her jaw clenched at the action and the pain the movement brought to her Armorbound skin. She would do them no good sulking alone in her room. What she needed now was knowledge, and she had just let the one who could give it to her walk right out the door. Her chin came up in determination as she took a long breath. The thick rugs absorbed all noise from her footsteps as she made her way to the door. For a moment, she stood with her hand against the door.
“There will be time to cry later,” she said quietly to herself, and turned the latch.
...to be finished, and likely edited.
Thanks for sticking with me through these years. You have no idea how much it means to me.
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Once again, I know that you have other concerns that
necessitate your energy in other areas (you are really busy),
but this chapter, and even this story are crying to be
completed (I even hear it).
I realize that you may not be aware of how much of a cult
following you have, but there is one.
(For anyone who wants to join this cult, PM me or catch me IG.)
As always, waiting (im)patiently for more....
PS - You're awesome UTM!
PSS - The cult thing is not serious....or maybe....
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I read the story again. Still hoping on a continuation.
Best of luck
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/me wanders in and closes the door behind himself to the forlorn sound of long unused hinges. He walks slowly across the room, leaving lonely footprints in the heavy dust lingering on the hardwood floor. Only one tiny ray of light casts itself through a boarded window, fighting to be seen despite the gloom pressing in from the dark corners of the room. Its piercing glow falls triumphantly on a simple desk towards the back of the room, which holds but a single item. The light strikes this item, gifting it with a blossom of luminosity... some would say a near halo. He slowly reaches the desk and extends his hand to the object... a simple feather quill...
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No special thing for the bad guy. They just need to be really powerful and really...well...evildoi
Adrianne suddenly turned back towards the mirror. She thought she had seen some kind of image, like before, out of the corner of her eye. She jerked her head downwards, pretending nothing was there.
Its all in my head... she kept mumbling to herself. Theres nothing there but my reflection.
Unfortunately, her curiousity got the best of her and her wandering red eyes darted back to the mirror. She indeed had seen another image in the mirror.
This one was of a strange meeting, between a group of what appeared to be soldiers. They were all scrunched into a secret hiding place of some kind in a forest type of area.
She held her sketchbook up against the wall the mirror was on, and began to sketch out the image, her pencil making weird scratching sounds as it quickly moved across the paper. This is too weird...
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Yay 2010!
Great story Underthemoon. It's not common that I catch myself reading something all the way through. ;D Tres bien, and keep at it, I say! \\o//
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Thanks Oronec. That means a lot to me. I have been planning on continuing this story, and have even drafted the rest of this chapter. However, I have a new little baby to look after right now, so writing is really not center stage. I can't make any promises when you will get the next update, but hang in there. It will come someday. :D
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Immersive, well-written. You are a writer, and far more talented one than the meat of them already publishing today. So why the hell aren't you writing novels fool?