Chain of Souls: Soul's Mirror... the story goes on.

[Cyl]

Haven\'t had any time to read much of \"Souls mirror\" lately.

[John_Thazer]

*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!

[Under the moon]

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.

Cyl, I hope you have time also. It sucks not having free time.

[Under the moon]

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

[Under the moon]

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.

[Efflixi Aduro]

This things still going? Jebus, just write a book and publish it already...

[Under the moon]

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.  

[Cyl]

Yeah I just imagined who would ban the damn best story write on this board, ...

noone.

[Rerogo]

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.

[Faolach]

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!

 

[Under the moon]

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.

[Jotese Erotere]

Are you still at it? This story demands to be finished.

Good work by the way.

[Ardonel]

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.

[Under the moon]

[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.

[Ardonel]

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....