And so, she quickly became the wandering healer, selling her salves and teas and herbs in each place that she came to, and learning about the local flora and fauna as she roamed. She soon affected the name, Aurell of Many Places. She always gave a small, sad smile when she heard the name, as it reminded her of Theo and Cass’ name for her, many faces. It was not uncommon to hear folk name her Miss Places. Nor was it uncommon for her to have an entourage of fauna in her wake. She often chose to bunk in the stables rather than the inns themselves, though she never shunned the company of her fellow man around the hearth fire. Here she swapped tales and recipes with the other people of the inn, and by morning, there was always a crowd of people wanting to make trades with her before she moved on. And so it was that she made her way from the tiny northern village to the tiny town of Rachel.
She was still on the outskirts of the town, gathering moss and flowers near a stream, when a fox chirped for her attention. She followed him willingly, and was surprised to see him disappear into what seemed at first to be thin air. As she grew closer to the stone embankment next to which she had last seen him, she quickly discovered that it was in fact an over grown stone wall. He had simply passed through a doorway and trotted down the rubble filled hallway. She picked her way cautiously over the detritus, watching as the fox kept turning to wait for her. He disappeared around a corner, and when she turned the same corner, a hush fell over her typically active mind. There are some places that make your breath catch in a way that tells you beyond a shadow of a doubt that the place was Holy. This was one of those places.
It was a rounded room, held up by carved pillars stout enough to have weathered much better than the rest of the crumbling building. In the centre of the room, where a hole in the ceiling let in a beam of dust filtered light, stood a pedestal housing what appeared to be an ancient tome. Before she could step closer for a better look, a voice sounded from the shadows.
“You shouldn’t be here, you know, it’s not right. The Prophesies say that you shouldn’t even be able to find the place. Unless you’re the One, of course, but you couldn’t possibly be, could you?” Aurell turned to find her companion an elderly man in grungy robes, his beard and hair a dingy grey and very much unkempt. The way he was running on at the mouth, he was surely either a madman or a prophet, though from what she had hear d of prophets, they usually didn’t speak so coherently. Which left her with the conclusion that she was trapped underground with a madman.
Before she had time to fret however, her friend the fox appeared again, this time at the feet of the madman, who stooped to pick him up and stroke him as though he were an overgrown cat. Well, so much for the madman idea.
“Just who are you girl?” he demanded, squinting at her now, with suspicion.
“My name is Aurell of Many Places,” she answered, curious as to whom he could be that the fox was so obviously at ease with him. A Wizard perhaps? But she had thought they all resided in Zell, the university city on the far shores of Alganor.
“And just where do you hail from, Miss Places? And don’t get lippy with me about being from all over. We all have a place of origin,” he snarked.
“The first place I remember having lived was village by the name of Netta. It was far to the north of here. Near Mountain’s Reign. Do you know it?” she asked, conversationally.
He frowned, scratching the fox under its chin. “And what brings you to this Holy place, Aurell?” he asked, in a tone that told her that the answer mattered a great deal.
She nodded to the animal in his arms. “I followed our friend here. He lead me here from the woods where I was gathering herbs” she explained. “He wanted to show me something.” Normally she would have kept this last bit to herself, but it was quite obvious to her that this man was not a typical Man.
He nodded, accepting her explanation. “I am Kyross, Keeper of the Book of Aurin,” he announced, and though it was obvious that his words held some great meaning, their weight was lost on her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kyross,” she swept a small curtsy, “I am Aurell of Many Places, a wandering healer and herb seller.” Though her name had some flair to it, her title was somewhat less impressive than his, even if she didn’t know the meaning of it.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You honestly have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
Aurell gave a small shrug accompanied by an apologetic smile. “It is a very impressive title,” she allowed.
He let his arms fall lax in exaggerated shock, leaving the fox to scramble to land on its feet. It chirped at him, annoyed, and ran to Aurell, who opened her arms to allow it to jump into them. She soothed the irritated creature. “Where did you grow up? Under a rock?” he bellowed.
“In a wolf den, actually, so near enough,” she admitted.
That shocked him back into silence, though he did sputter a few times, trying to come up with an appropriate retort. “Well!” was all that he managed. He brushed past her to pace back and forth before the pedestal, seeming to be deep in thought and arguing with himself. If he wasn’t a madman, he was doing a very good impression of one, Aurell thought, stroking the fox in her arms.
He drew up short, kicking up a small cloud of dust from the floor. “Well, there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” he declared, a momentary look of panic fluttering over his features, which did nothing to calm the slight agitation that his pacing and muttering had caused in his audience. The fox tensed in reaction to Aurell’s own physical tension, the tip of his tail and ears twitching, his neck craning to find the danger. Aurell held him firmly in her arms as the old man advanced upon her with purpose. He took a deep breath and let it out, visibly trying to calm himself.
“Aurell, my child, I need to ask a favour of you, knowing that I have not yet earned the right to barter with you,” his voice was soft, and gently pleading. The tone she might use if she were trying to calm a spooked horse.
She remained silent, only quirking an eyebrow in interest, inviting him to go on.
“I’d like to ask you to step up to the Book, and let your hand rest above it. Don’t touch it, mind! Just let your hand hover over the Tome and tell me what you feel,” he implored. She blinked at him. He made it sound like he had just asked her to walk through fire. Something she knew was dangerous, but perfectly safe if done according to the directions of the firewalkers. She had done so at a fair a few towns back, in fact.
“Alright,” she replied, simply, and gently let the fox down to the floor. Kyross looked confused, as if he had expected her to refuse, or at least hesitate.
She wrung her hands as she stepped up next to him, staring at the Book. “Your left hand, please,” he instructed, softly, his eyes locked on her, watching her body language. He had worried she might be simple, to have agreed with such alacrity, but now he could see the hint of fear in her; The tension of uncertainly. This was promising.
She slowly lifted her left hand, breathing deeply and evenly, and trying to dissolve the knot in her stomach by sheer force of will. She flexed her fingers before finally letting her hand hover, palm down, over the closed covers of the Tome. At first, nothing really happened, but then there was a flare of warmth. If she didn’t know any better she’d say that the book were greeting her, that it somehow recognized her. It was all she could do not to flinch away as the warmth tickled over her palm.
Kyross was watching her face, which had lit up with wonder as the Book reacted to her. He gently reached out to take her wrist and draw her hand away, turning it palm up. Aurell gasped as a tracing of glowing silver lines played beneath the skin of her palm.
“We’ve been waiting a very long time for you, Child,” Kyross intoned, nearly in awe.
“What is it?” she wanted to know, equally awed.
“We call in the Mark of Aurin. But it’s what it means that should interest you,” he said, with a bit of teasing in his voice. Again, she gave him that same quirk of the eyebrow, inviting him to go on with his explanation. “You’re the Chosen One, Aurell. It’s you. It was always you. It was always going to be you.”
He said it in that matter of fact way that all prophets seemed to have, though Aurell’s only comparison was when Theo had declared that water was wet and snow was cold. A tone of obvious finality; a statement of fact which broached no argument. She didn’t understand much about what she had just stumbled into, but what she did understand was that her world was about to change.
“You look like you could use a cup of tea,” he said to the girl, whose face had gone ashen. She nodded, and allowed him to lead her by the elbow away from the pedestal and deeper into the ruins, through the maze of tumbled walls and crumbling hallways until they emerged in a sunlit clearing with a quaint little wooden cabin in its centre. Aurell admitted to herself that the place suited him as he lead her inside and sat in her in a chair next to the fire. It wasn’t until then that she realized that the fox had followed them. He curled up around her ankles as Kyross set some water to boiling and took the seat opposite her.
“I have a very long story to tell you, Miss Places, when you’re up to it,” Kyross prodded, gently, as he took down a pouch from the mantle and pulled out the paraphernalia one uses to pack a good pipe. Aurell was struck by a feeling of longing as the smell of the tobacco reached her nostrils.
“Kristoph,” she murmured.
“What was that?” piqued the old man.
“I-I think my father used to smoke a pipe,” she offered, hazily.
“You think?” he wondered. “It sounds to me like you’ve got a story of your own to tell,” he declared. “Why don’t you go first, while we wait for your tea?”
Without prompting, Aurell knew that he wanted to hear the story of her life. And so she reached into her memories as far back as she was able. Unsurprisingly, the first thing she remembered was the picnic.
She told him all that she thought had formed her, ending with her decision to sell the farm and get out to see the world, using her skills with herbs and salves to make her way.
“Well, that certainly explains why you’ve never heard of the Prophesy of the Book of Aurin, and the Chosen One,” he huffed, blowing out a long stream of pipe smoke.
Aurell helped herself to more tea while he brooded, supposedly trying to decide where to begin his own tale.
“You know nothing of the history of our land?” he clarified.
“Very little, Sir. Most of the tales I’ve heard thus far on my travels have been about kings and princes slaying mighty beasts to save the loves of their lives,” she said with a small grin, being, herself, in very little need of a male to save her from any foe.
“Then I shall begin at the beginning, with the Annals of the Bloody Brothers.”
Kyross spent the day telling her tales of the past, beginning with the prophecy that had set Aurin on her own path in this epic tale. Aurell eventually got hungry and puttered in his pantry for provisions, making them a lunch of cold meats, cheese slices, and fruits. As they ate, he told of Aurin’s Uncle, Anthor, and how he brought together the worst Alganor had to offer, fusing them together with bigotry and hatred. Aurell shed a tear when he told her of first Alkaness’ death, and then Marion’s. She held her breath as he told of Aurin’s cold fury sweeping through the land, and her own Shadow saving her from the darkness. It was nearly time for another meal when Kyross got to Aurin’s trek across the land, intent for Zell, to lay the Book to rest to await the birth of the only one who could destroy it.
“She stopped here in Rachel with the book, distracted by love and the urge to raise a family. And so the Book was laid to rest here, and the brothers of my order have been waiting ever since for the Chosen One to be born,” he concluded.
Until this moment, she had simply been enthralled by the telling of the tale. However, now the point of the story hit home. “Wait a minute. You’re saying that I am the many times great granddaughter of Aurin of Alganor?” she asked, incredulously. “But I have no powers, no magic to speak of!” she insisted.
Kyross raised his own eyebrow. “Oh, really?” he mused, “And what about your bartering skills? Your innate ability to know which herbs will make the best healing salve? Your way with the woodland creatures? The wolves? You yourself admitted they are more than merely wolves.” He paused, and leant forward, “And what about the dreams, Aurell?”
She gasped, covering her mouth. She hadn’t told him about the dreams. She hadn’t told anyone! Not even her parents.
He leaned back in his chair, nodding and smiling, knowingly, almost pityingly. “No one asks to be born into prophesy, child. But here we are,” he spread his arms and bowed his head slightly.
He knocked the ashes from his pipe and tucked it back into its pouch, replacing it on the mantle. He quietly made his way back to the kitchen, preparing the evening meal while Aurell mulled over the weight of what he had just delivered to her. The fox stirred from its place at her feet and crept into her arms. She held him and stroked him while her mind raced, the comfort of him keeping her heart from hammering its way out of her chest.
She had struck out from home with the intention of learning more of the world, and it looked like she had gotten her wish, if even a little sooner than she’d have liked. Her brain felt like mush as she reorganized her thoughts, her views of the world in which she lived, and her apparent role in it.
She was the descendant of the true rulers of Alganor, and some of the most powerful mystics the land had ever known. The dreams now made sense. She was a Seer. Even untrained, she had seen things come to pass before they had come to pass. It had never been much of a struggle to keep it from people, as she had few friends that were not animals. Her adopted parents had known she suffered from restless nights, but simply chalked it up to growing pains. Aurell had ever been a willowy child, but by the time she had walked into Kyross’ life, she was a graceful lass of five foot seven inches and still growing.
She felt oppressed by the weight of responsibility on her shoulders, but quickly got over that, thinking back to Aurin, and what mantle she bore for all of her years, even as a child. At least she had lived a free life until know, marred only by the tragedy of being an orphan three times over. And it really did seem like a trivial tragedy in the face of Aurin’s losses. Aurin hadn’t been much older than herself when she had walked into the ruins of the Cathedral at Ruen to discover her people destroyed, and her mother assassinated.
Aurell squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, resolving to live up to her lineage and make her ancestors proud. After all, how difficult could it be to bear the relic to Zell, destroy it, and take up the mantle of High Queen of Alganor? She laughed out loud then, startling both the cook and the fox in her arms.
“Something funny?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t cracking under the pressure.
“Oh, I’ve just been sitting here wondering how hard it can possibly be to trek across the breadth of Alganor with a n ancient relic bound for the most powerful City in the realm in order to destroy said relic and fulfil an ancient prophecy and then take up the mantle of High Queen of a continent that has lived under government rule for ages unknown,” she said, nonchalantly, wandering into the kitchen area to see what the wizard was up to, for she had finally figured out that that’s what he was. Not a monk, as she had originally wondered, but a wizard, a child of Zell, and a mystic in his own rights.
“Can I help with dinner?” she asked, innocently.
He looked at her, stunned. “You really are the heir, aren’t you?” he scoffed. “Only the progeny of Aurin could have this thrust in her lap and revert to something as mundane as helping with dinner. You really are doing a remarkable job at taking this all in stride, Aurell, I must say,” he said, admiration clear in his voice.
They worked on supper companionably, Kyross muttering at the blade when it bit into his thumb as well as the potato he was trying to peel. Aurell took it gently from him, pulling a whet stone from her pack and putting a new edge on the blade. “Like it wasn’t deadly enough already?”
“You’re much more apt to cut yourself on a dull blade than a sharp one, so long as you know what you’re doing with the blade,” she admonished, a twinkle in her eye.
“Have you got anything for this cut in there?” he asked.
“I’m not wasting my unguents just so you can keep up the ruse, Kyross,” she scoffed.
“Oh?” he queried, looking at her suspiciously.
She waggled her fingers at him. “Use your magic, friend Wizard. It’s not that large a cut,” she insisted. Kyross grumped and put the thump to his mouth, and sure enough, when he pulled it free, the cut was gone. “See? Good as new!” she crowed.
“You, Madame, are entirely too clever for your own good,” he groused.
“All of my parents would agree, wholeheartedly,” she replied, eyes glittering again, half with mirth, half with sorrow. She missed them most when she was being clever. Missed their laughs and groans of frustration.
Aurell spent the next week with the wizard, learning her history and prophesy, and the geography of the land, and some of the more important political machinations. She was impatient to be on the move, but eager to absorb every tidbit he had to offer.
“Why can’t we do this on the road?” she finally asked, groaning with frustration, her feet itching to be on the move.
“We can’t, because I’ll not be with you on the first leg of the journey,” he stated simply.
“Oh,” she commented, some of her excitement deflated.
“Don’t worry, I’ll join you before you reach the forests of Diakka, but I’ve got some other recruits to go stir up,” he explained. She gave him the eyebrow. “There are others spoken of in the Prophesy, the companions to the heir. Some of them we won’t meet until the end of the journey, but some of them are meant to join you along the way. And I happen to know that at least two of them are thoroughly ensconced in their own misery and won’t be joining us without a swift kick to the hind end!” he flustered. “But don’t worry. It’s safe enough going until you reach Diakka. The land and terrain are much like what you’ve already travelled through to make it this far,” he reassured her.
Her lessons finally as complete as they were going to get, for the time being, Aurell and Kyross each packed a bag. Aurell watched, fascinated as Kyross managed to get 5 times as many items as he should ought to have been able to in his rucksack. She was equally fascinated by what he was packing; crystals, powders, vials, books and scrolls. She was sure she had even seen a jar of dried insects go into the pack.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” she declared as she watched him pop an oversized cooking pot into the bag, which shouldn’t have held the pot even if it were entirely empty.
“You’d be amazed what you can grow accustomed to,” he countered, mysteriously.
She settled the last of the items into her own rucksack with a sigh. She wasn’t looking forward to leaving the little cottage, and her new friend, despite the itch in her feet.
Knowing that dragging her feet was pointless, Aurell hefted the bag to her shoulders and slipped into the straps, snugging them tight before picking up her walking stick and heading out of doors to wait for Kyross, the fox quick on her heels. The crisp air of the morning filled her lungs, and in turn, her body with vigour. The moroseness which had clung to her in the cabin dissipated quickly as the journey stretched out before her, her feet once more itching to take the first steps into the rest of her life. By the time Kyross joined her, she was smiling again, and the fox was running between her and the gate which lead to the road.
Kyross was relieved to see that she had bounced back to her normal chipper self, though he had little doubt in her resilience. “Come on then, Girl. I’ll go with you as far as Cyrill,” he said, naming the next town over, “and there we’ll part ways.”
She nodded, still not anxious to have him leave her side, but nonetheless, headed for the gate. The fox was ecstatic, looping figure eights between them as they made their way down the narrow lane towards the main road. Aurell could feel something different in the air as they passed under the bower at the end of the lane, and looked back over her shoulder, curious. She was surprised to find that she could not spot the bower, nor see the lane they had just left.
Kyross chuckled, knowingly. As she turned back to him, he laid a finger aside his nose. “A wizard like’s his privacy,” he explained, simply. She smiled, thinking it a novel trick, one which she would have had to expend several man hours to achieve with hand woven greenery and a pulley system.
Kyross continued his stories as they walked, much to Aurell’s happiness. She was going to miss the sound of the old codger’s voice when it was time to take her leave of him.
“What I wouldn’t give for an Osprey!” he groused, and for a moment, she pulled to a stop, thinking he meant to eat. It must have shown plain on her face, because Kyross was soon doubled over in laughter. “No, no, no, Girl! Not to eat! Never to eat! Only heathens and scoundrels eat the meat of an Avii!” he paused, looking serious for a moment. “And perhaps Dragons, but one can hardly blame the beasts, can we?”
“An Avii?” she wondered, moving along the road once more.
“The Avii are a race of overgrown birds,” he explained, in typical Kyross fashion. “Though they are sentient, and can speak the common tongue. To be truthful, they are a regal and magnificent race. Why they ever chose to serve Man Kind as mounts, messengers and spies, eludes me.”
The fox cackled a retort over its shoulder.
“Yes well, we can’t all be aware of our part in the Weft now can we?” he grumped at the creature. Aurell quirked an eyebrow at the exchange. She’d witnessed the fox chatter at the old man before, but this was the first time that Kyross had replied with anything other than a waved hand or grunt of dismissal. Kyross ignored her silent query and continued on.
“At one time, every major steading had a tower for the Avii. The two largest being at the University of Zell and Alkaness’ Hall.”
“Where Aurin grew up,” she commented.
“Yes, that was the seat of power in the old days. Until Anthor had it razed to the ground. He had his brethren tear the place down, stone by stone, declaring that it had been corrupted by the presence of the Humans. He had every intention of building it back up from pure obsidian, but our Queen got to him first, didn’t she!” he chortled with mirth as he did every time he spoke of Anthor’s demise.
“In any case, The Avii were the lifeblood of communication and travel back then. If you had a message to send somewhere far, it went by Avii. If you had a trip to make that needed to be done quickly, you went by Avii. If you had reconnaissance that needed done, it was done by Avii. The Osprey were the most common mount for travel and for war, for that matter. A very regal mount. Though even peasants were permitted to mount an Avii, if the bird thought the reason worthy. There are tales of Avii taking healers into the deep glens and valleys when sickness broke out. Most likely why there weren’t as many rampant fevers as there are today.”
Aurell’s face was momentarily clouded by sorrow.
“Ah, -emh,” he muttered, suddenly aware of what he’d just said. “In any event, an Osprey would be just the thing for this little adventure of ours! But I don’t suppose it would be an epic quest worthy of prophecy if it were going to be that simple, would it?” he snickered, always finding talk of prophecy to be something worthy of mirth, if not outright derision.
“No, I don’t suppose that it would,” she commented. “Nor do I think there would be much chance for you to have an audience for your musings and ramblings, unless you were to shout yourself hoarse,” she teased. Kyross grumped appropriately, and the fox yipped to show his approval of the comment. It was growing more and more apparent to Aurell that there was more to the creature than met the eyes.
As they were both accustomed to travel, they had no need to coddle their bodies by resting often, and so they shared a meal of trail rations on the move, not wanting to lose any momentum on the first day. However, that meant that all too soon, the time came to go their separate ways.
“Come here, girl, and take this.” Kyross was pulling a messenger bag from amongst the items draped over his frail looking frame. Aurell’s eyes went wide as she realized that it was the Tome he was giving unto her keeping.
“But- you’re the Tome Keeper!” she insisted.
“And you’re the Chosen One,” he reasoned. “It was only ever meant to be in my care until you came along. For all intents and purposes, the Book belongs to you now. “ He looped the strap over her head, leaving her to settle it into place. “Remember, you mustn’t touch the covers! Nor the pages for that matter, so don’t get any wild ideas about loopholes’” he admonished.
She pulled him into a hug before he could get out of arm’s reach, and for once, the curmudgeon didn’t complain. He returned the hug with rib cracking enthusiasm, and she beamed through a mist of tears. “I’ll miss you, Wizard,” she whispered.
“And I you, Lass, and I you.” He laid a kiss on her brow before finally slipping from the embrace and shifting his packs on his shoulders. “Until Knell, then,” he said, citing the town on the border of the Diakkan forests.
“Knell,” she agreed with a nod, dashing a wrist across her eyes before the tears could overwhelm her.
He turned and started off on his way, and the fox was suddenly at odds. He skittered between the two travelers, yipping in distress. “Well? Make up your mind, you damn fool creature! You can’t go with both of us!” The poor thing looked heart stricken. He finally leapt into Aurell’s arms, bathed her face with goodbye kisses, before slinking off after his Master.
She wasn’t surprised at the creature’s choice, and couldn’t fault him. In fact, she was relieved to know that the old man would have someone to complain to while they were apart.
She turned to face her own path, not letting herself watch after them until they faded into the horizon. “Well, Friend, it’s just you and I for the moment,” she murmured to the face on her walking stick, running the pad of her thumb over the smooth cheek as she started off. She knew it wouldn’t be long before some woodland creature or another decided to join its path with hers. But until then, she enjoyed the relative silence.
Soon enough, there are birds flying overhead, including hawks and other birds of prey, matching their flight path with the trail she is following. This gets Aurell to daydreaming of the time when Ospreys would have dominated the skies, just as the tales say that Dragons do in the lands of the east! She was looking forward to this trek across Alganor. Now that her eyes had been opened to so many wonders, both past and present, she knew what questions to ask to fuel her curiosity.
It didn’t take long for her to notice the young fawn following her in the underbrush along the side of the trail. She wandered to the far side of the path ro gather a handful of succulent greens, tying them to her belt before returning to the middle of the road.
As she knew it would, the treat coaxes the fawn from under cover. She stepped out into the light of day, sniffing at the scent of newly plucked vegetation. Aurell kept her pace steady, and soon, felt the tug at her belt of the fawn nibbling away. She smiled, imagining the sight they made to any passerby.
Soon, the greens ran out, and the fawn was nuzzling at Aurell’s hand for more. She rewarded her with pettings and scratches, but did not give in to the demands for more. The fawn’s mother would not thank her for feeding the youngling too much rich food. The fawn was son gamboling about around her as she walked, farther and farther from Kyross, and further along the path to her destiny. The satchel around he shoulders suddenly felt heavier, though she knew it to be a trick of emotion rather than any mystical happening. Seeming to sense her sudden shift in mood, the fawn stopped its romping and came to walk beside her for a while, her flank resting against Aurell’s hip, the fawn’s way of holding the girl’s hand.
Eventually, Aurell’s trek took her to the farthest reaches of the deer’s foraging territory. The mother called her fawn back to her side, and she reluctantly bid Aurell farewell. Aurell bent low and nuzzled the creature and kneeled in the dust while she watched her scamper back to her mother’s side under the cover of the dense undergrowth at the side of the road. She nodded, thanking the mother and bidding her farewell as well. The deer, for her part, bowed her head low between outspread legs before leading her fawn into the darkness.
When the sack came down over his head, Kyross weighed his options. He could go for his bag of tricks now, before they stripped him of all of his personal affects, or he could wait and see what was going on. Being the curious sort of fellow that he was, he didn’t put up a fight when they tore his pack and belt pouches from him. It was no ordinary burlap sack over his head, meaning that it did not simply obscure his vision, but blocked it out entirely. He was suddenly less reassured of his ability to slip out of this one unaided. Someone along the chain of command of this plot had a brain, the most dangerous weapon in any foe.
He was hustled into a carriage, which was further proof of wealth as well as brains, not just anyone could afford a carriage, and this one was a plush one, with decent cushions and plush velvet seats. The inside smelled of pipe smoke rather than the sweat or piss it would have reeked of if it were a hired cart. They must have noticed his hands wandering, because next he knew, they were bound together, in front. “Keep those where I can see them,” came the gruff, whispered command. No help there. A whisper very rarely held the natural inflections of the speaker. Someone was quite well trained in the arts of subterfuge.
When the carriage finally came to a stop, Kyross was rushed into a building. The stairs were stone -marble perhaps?- and he could hear the scraping and scuffing that told him that there were other people about, but they too kept their tongues. HE shuffled his way down several hallways and sets of stairs –a large building then- and finally heard a large and heavy door clang shut behind them. He was pressed into a chair, firmly, but not roughly.
His hands were untied, but then he struggled as they were forced into odd restraints on the table top in front of him. Small boxes for each hand, flush with the table, so that he could not so much as crook his finger, and then cuffs at the wrists to keep them in place. Ah, the jig was up then, they knew he was a wizard. By the time the hood came off, he was narrowing down the list of suspects.
Sitting across from him was a rather rotund man with a piggy nose, and beady eyes, too close together. His hands were the size of a hock of ham, and his large, blocky chin stood out past his jowls. “Well, I must admit, Daetha, of all of the people I expected to see in this room with me, your name was not on the list,” Kyross admitted.
“Didn’t you think I had the means?” he whined, imperiously.
Kyross shrugged, “Nor the brains,” he admitted again. He was sure this pompous ass was used to people telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. Well, he was only going to get the Gods’ honest truth from Kyross, whether he wanted to hear it or not.
His jowls quivered at that last jab. “You are addressing the office of the {blah blah government blah]! You will show it its due respect!” he shouted, in a shrill voice that made Kyross wonder if he was a unique as well as a Senator. Which he then took the opportunity to wonder outloud. Daetha brought his hand up in what Kyross thought was going to be a hell of a back handed blow, but restrained himself at the last moment, taking a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily, and letting the breath and the tension out together. It was rather like watching a bowl of pudding melt, which Kyorss again took the opportunity to muse outloud, earning him a dangerous flash of eyes, though Daetha showed no other outwardly evidence of his temper.
“So you’ve finally managed to master those anger management techniques your brother taught you, eh, Daetha? About time, too. You’re likely to blow a gasket, combining your girth with that temper!”
“Enough, Wizard!” declared the Senator, slamming his ham of a fist down on the table. Kyross heard something creak under the strain. “Who is the girl?” He asked, getting straight to the point of this little game.
“My apprentice,” he shrugged.
“Then why is she proceeding to Zell while you go in a direction which Is neither towards Zell, nor towards Rachel?” he needled.
“And why should either of those places be high on my list of priorities at the moment?” Kyross wanted to know, fishing to see just how much they knew.
“Don’t play coy with me, Wizard,” he sneered, pulling back his fleshy lips to reveal the pegs of his teeth. Fully human then, most likely. That was a relief, though not really a surprise. The Senators tended to be purists, and they were still in ‘human’ territory. He shifted his girth closer to the table, unable to lean all the way in, and continued. “We know you guard the relic at Rachel. And we know you’ve been waiting for the One. Is she the One that the Prophesies speak of, then? She seems a bit soft to be the progeny of Aurin,” he snorted, only deepening the pig-like picture he painted.
Well, they certainly had down their homework. But then, one does not rule a country like Alganor without knowing how to keep your enemies under surveillance, for that was surely what the Senate would see Aurell as, the enemy. At least, one she had completed the first half of her quest. They were more than content to allow her to get to Zell with the Relic and destroy it. But they would not stand by while some wraith took the crown, seizing the power that the Senate had been wielding since the last of Aurin’s known progeny disappears a dozen decades ago. Or so Daethan proclaimed in that shrill voice of his again.
"And if she were? What then, Daetha? Will you have her killed? Try to coerce her? Or simply buy her as your puppet monarch?"
"Well, that all depends on you, friend Wizard." Daetha sneered. Kyross nose puckered. Aurell's pet name for him souring on Daetha's tongue.
"Oh? How so?" the wizard wanted to know.
"It all depends on how cooperative you are in getting us into her good graces, and letting us get the measure of the girl."
"All without her getting the true measure of you, you mean," Kyross said with derision.
"Let’s just say that we wish to tailor her perception of the senate to suit our ends."
Kyross have him a bland stare. "Shall we add that water is wet and fire is hot to the list of painfully obvious things?" sneered the captive.
"It really won’t due to have you trying to raise my ire, Kyross. its beneath you, and I am above such obvious ploys," Daetha assured him. Kyross didn’t bother raising an eyebrow at that one. If Daetha couldn’t tell he was getting to him, then Kyross wasn’t about to bring that delusion to a close.
"So, will you help us?" the corpulent politician enquired.
"I think I’d like to see my cell now, if you please," came the reticent reply.
Daetha’s face turned several lovely shades of red and purple.
“Puce really isn’t a good colour on you, Senator." Kyross quipped sedately.
Daetha roared to his feet, tearing the door open with strength that his outward softness belied, screaming for the guards to take the traitor to his cell.
The odd hand restraints unfastened wholly from the table and were fastened to a length of chain belted around his waist, keeping his hands tight to his sides. Kyross suddenly longed for the days that washouts from the Wizard Order were executed, rather than have their secrets in the hands of non wizards. Though he supposed it was too late to go back to that practice, that the damage were already done. Still...
The guard escorting him was very careful not to make direct eye contact, despite the hand shackles. More of Daetha’s instructions. It stood to reason that his minions would all be weak minded. How else could you explain their willingness to follow this harebrained plan!
Kyross could have managed the stairs just fine on his own, even with his hands bound, but he saw no point in making things easy for them, and so he feigned incompetence, and had the dear fellow practically carry him down the winding staircase to the dungeon cell that had been prepared for him. By the time they reached the door to the cell, his companion was breathing heavily and sweating beneath his chain mail. Kyross silently hoped he chafed raw.
It wasn't going to be a comfortable stay in the dungeons, thought Kyross, not that he really expected it to be. But you never did know with Daetha. He was the sort to put Kyross up in a suite just to try to win him over, or perhaps to make him suspicious. As it was, Daetha wasn't pulling any punches. In fact, it was quite unlike Daetha to be so.... predictable, which in and of itself make Kyross suspicious.
He settled himself against the wall in the dryest corner of the cell. Unable to use his hands, it suddenly occurred to him that relieving himself was going to be an interesting task. He considered simply messing himself, giving them something else to deal with. However, he’d deal with it when the time came. Until then, he was going to bide his time and conserve his strength.
Kyross was dozing when he heard a key in the lock. He was surprised to see a young tow-headed lad enter with a tray of food and drink. The door clanged shut behind him, and he flinched, though impressively, the tray did not so much as rattle. He toed a stool closer and set the tray down.
"Hello. I’m Robin," he said, with a guileless smile.
"That was expertly done, Master Robin," Kyross congratulated.
"Master insists on nothing less," he said in a sing-song voice that told the man that he was reciting from rote.
"I don’t doubt it," he said with a frown, imagining what methods of instruction Daetha had employed on the poor boy, and if his slightly absent expression were natural, or the results of Daetha tampering with the boys mind.
Daetha had been excommunicated from the Wizarding Order for just that crime when he was still Kyross' student. It would not at all surprise him to discover that he had continued the practice. Yet another reason that Kyross wished the old laws were in effect...
"I’m here to feed you, if you’ll permit, Master Wizard," chimed the boy.
The wizard could be difficult and refuse, but that would be a waste of strength, something that he intended to keep up, so it was really to his benefit to allow the boy to complete his assigned task. "That would be amenable, Master r]Robin. What have you brought me?" Much to his surprise, the boy lifted the rough plate coverings to reveal a gourmet meal, something which might be found on the Senator's table, as opposed to the slop most often served to the rabble occupying the lower reaches of the fort.
"Did you make this yourself, Master Robin?" he teased the boy, sounding genuine, but his eyes sparkling with mischief.
The boy blushed, accordingly, and shook his head adamantly before picking up the knife and fork. "Of course not, Master Wizard! The Master has an expert chef who crafts the meals of the fortress! I am simply a lowly page,” he insisted.
He enjoyed the meal immensely, and told Robin as much, continuing the teasing from earlier. Robin helped him wash up, picking the few bits that had fallen away from the fork, from his beard. He also helped the man use the privy bucket.
"So why do you serve the Master?" he asked, trying to appeal to the boy’s better nature. “Don’t you know that he is a bad man? Do you know what he’s planning to do? Do you know why he has me here?”
__
Once the boy had left him to his rest that night, Kyross closed his eyes and searched the vaults of his mind for a specific window. He tapped at the glass of a particular window, and waited. It wasn’t long before a face looked at him through the glass. Kyross unlatched the portal and stepped back to allow the three foot bundle of blue fur into the vault with him.
“Kyoss Man!” the creature jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, and smothering him in kisses. Kyross gave a belly laugh that none but the Ky could evoke in him.
“Hello Durie, my dear. Thank you for joining me. I need you to give someone a message for me, can you do that?”
The creature’s pink, mostly furless face split into an even bigger grin. “I can do’s that, Kyross Man. Who I going? Where I telling?”
Kyross described Aurell to her, and gave her a good idea of where he thought she should be at this point in her journey. “She was expecting me to meet her at the borders of Diakka, Durie, but I’m not going to make it. I need you to tell her the following.” He gave her the message to pass on. “And Durie, I need you to stay with the girl. But she can’t know you’re there.” The last thing he needed was Durie filling the poor girl’s head with confusing fragments of prophesy without him there to decipher them for her.
The Ky nodded, looking momentarily serious. “Durie tells the girl the words, then, Durie hides!” She giggles and bounces in Kyross’ arms, he hands over her face.
He chuckles. “Exactly! Now off you go, quick, quick! And we’ll join you as soon as we can,” he promises. “Keep her safe, Durie,” he said as he handed her back out the window, fastening in behind her prehensile tail.
Durie pressed her hand to the glass in promise before fading away.
__
Suddenly, the bushes next to Aurell erupted and a small, blue, furry creature landed at her feet. She brandished her staff, raising it in a defensive stance.
“No hurt! Is just Durie! I no big scary monster! I just looking, finding!” assured the monkey-like creature.
Aurell let the stick fall to her side. “I’m sorry, Durie. You startled me!” Aurell placed a hand over her heart, trying to still her heart. “ Can I help you? You said you were looking for something,” the girl offered.
“Yes, yes,” said the tiny furball, bouncing in place. “But who I is finding is hiding,” she admitted with a frown.
“Who are you looking for? Maybe I can help.
“Durie is looking for the Progeny, for AurellOfManyPlaces.” She said it all in one rushing word. “I has a important message from the Kyross Man for her. He tell me find the Progeny, but she is hiding from me. I no see her.” The small creature put her hand to her pink brow and gazed around as though trying to find her quarry.
“Aurell laughed in spite of herself. “Silly creatures, I am Aurell of Many Places. It’s me you’re looking for!” she exclaimed. “What has Friend Wizard sent you to tell me?”
The fuzzball did a few cartwheels, overjoyed at having found its target. Finally it settled down and, for the first time since she had stumbled cross this odd creature, it fell silent. Then it began to recite its message, to her amazement, in Kyross’ voice!
“Aurell, listen carefully. I have been delayed and will not meet with you before you have to enter the forests of Diakka. I need you to push on. I’ll meet you as soon as I am able, and I’ll have friends with me. In the meantime, keep your head down. It seems the Senate has been better informed than I realized. “ Aurell smirked at that obvious statement. “Go with speed and care.”
Durie shook her head, coming back to herself. “You understood his words?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I be leaving then. Bye bye!” Before the girl could protest, the messenger had faded into nothing. She shook her head in amazement, thinking to herself, “So that’s a Ky…”
From nearby, Durie watched the girl, her head tilted to one side. She should have been able to tell it was her. Should have been able to hear her memories. Even the quiet ones. Durie twisted her tail in her hands, disturbed by this anomaly. She would have to ask Kyross Man about the Progeny’s hiding memories. He would be able to explain to Durie.
They spent several minutes after every meal for the next three days doing the same routine, Robin eventually blushing and bowing out of the cell, saying that he had to get back to work.
It was on the morning of the fourth day that something was different about Robin when he came in. He hurried Kyross through his meal, a simple, but flavourful porridge, soft boiled eggs, and fresh fruit with hot tea.
“What has got you so excitable, Master Robin?” Kyross asked, concerned that he had gotten the boy in trouble.
“We have to hurry!” he finally flustered. “The tea won’t work for long!” Kyross looked to the tea cup, worried that the boy had just dosed him with something. “No, no, Master Wizard, not yours, the guards’!”
Ah! So his work had finally paid off! The boy was going to help him escape!
“What is the plan, Master Robin?” Kyross asked, getting to his feet.
The boy laid out his masterful plan. He had dosed the guards with a potion of susceptibility, allowing them to sneak past without being stopped, because they wouldn’t challenge whatever excuse they were fed. He’d leave the chain and shackles on for the moment, and even had the hood tucked into the pocket of his doublet.
Robin lead the wizard out into the hallway, leading him by the elbow to guide him past obstacles. Kyross expected to be bumped into things left right and centre, however was pleasantly surprised to discover that the young man was exceptionally good as a shepheard, giving him ample warning of any people or obstacles that they encountered in plenty of time for him to
navigate them.
The prisoner was unsure of how well the boy’s susceptibility tea was going to work, However, he had few other choices than to trust the lad’s open face and endearing platitudes would gain them at least the courtyard, if not the stables, and then the roadways out of town.
Kyross heard the lad confront his first guard, listening as he spoke smoothly to him, informing him that he was taking the prisoner out to stretch his legs and gain some fresh air, on the Master’s Orders. No one gainsayed the lad. In fact, they all treat him like some adored younger cousin.
The wizard felt the cool breeze of a door open to the out of doors. It was a mite difficult to restrain himself from hurrying along the hall at this point, but somehow he managed.
The boy looked on in wonder, greatly confused by the one sided conversation, and the sudden appearance of the creature, and the wizards obvious familiarity with the beast. “He won’t bite us then?” was the only thing he could think to ask.
“No. Demetrius is many things, but a biter is not one of them. At least, he’s never bitten a friend,” he finishes.
The boy holds his hands close to his chest, eyeing the fox suspiciously. The fox reacts by rolling onto its back, twisting it’s spine to produce a cute and innocent posture, his feet in the air, belly exposed, and tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. This was enough to distract the boy from the fact that the mouth was lined with needle sharp teeth. He reached out to pet the fox’s belly, who chirped and trilled in approval.
“Jester!” Kyross accused, and tossed a few branches and logs on the fire before flopping back down on his bedroll. That was when it came back to Robin just how this day had started.
“What should you have known, Master Wizard?” He prodded, his curiosity not to be swayed.
Kyross frown deepened and he glared at the boy, who now had the fox’s head in his lap and was tickling his chin. “You’re like a dog with a bone, aren’t you? Are you always that keen to know things?” he wanted to know.
“The Master says it is one of my redeeming qualities, that even though I am easily detoured, I am not easily deterred,” he grins at his own play on words.
“ ‘As slow as the brothers are fast’,” he intones, and at first Robin is unsure who he’s addressing, but the resonance of prophesy is difficult to mistake as anything but what it was.
“We’re looking for fast brothers then? That’s why we’re going to the race track?” Robin asked, excited by the prospect.
“Yes, but that’s not the point I’m making,” Kyross waved off the comment with mild irritation. “Do you know anyone whom i might have encountered on my way here who you might classify as slow?” Kyross asked, tapping into his store of infinite patience. He watched the tumblers fall into place in the boy’s mind as he understood that he was the person in question. Robin fumbled for a moment, unsure if he should be horribly offended or greatly flattered.
“Do you mean to say that I am part of your great prophesy?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Certainly it must be someone else. I am put a lowly page! I have no place in prophesy!” he insisted. Demetrius took this opportunity to set his paw on the boy’s cheek.
“Our furry friend would tend to disagree. And I have learned the hard way not to ignore his advice on matters of prophesy,” the old man warned.
“Does he really talk to you?” Robin asked in a hushed voice, staring into the creature’s eyes.
“Unfortunately, It’s getting him to cease his incessant nattering that’s the trick,” the old man grumbled, tugging the blanket over his lap. “Well, Demetrius, are you going to let the boy get up? That pot isn’t going to fill itself with water,” Kyross bellyached.
The fox squirmed out of the Robin’s lap, and stood up to stretch languidly, before shaking it’s whole body, fluffing it’s fur up. Robin stood and mimicked him, thinking to himself that he should probably have skipped the shaking. “Doesn’t that make you dizzy?” he asked the fox, whose reply was simply to grin at the boy and scamper off in search of his own breakfast.
“Well, Master Robin?” Kyross prompts, eyeing the empty pot.
The boy hurries to fill the pot from the nearby creek and sets it on the bed of coals, building up the fire around it. He feeds and waters the horses and pony while he waits for the water to heat, and digs into the packs for ingredients for the breakfast pottage. He dumps the oats into the now bubbling water and stirs them with a large spoon, his arms cording under the strain as it thickens. He adds a bit of water, and then pours in honey, cinnamon, dried apple, dried berries, and some other herbs for flavour and energy.
By the time Robin is dishing out the pottage into rough wooden bowls, the fox has returned, licking his chops, a few stray feathers stuck here and there to its fur. It sets about licking the rowdy fur into place, grooming out the feathers and any other detritus that has been accumulated during its hunt.
Kyross and Robin ate in relative silence, Robin finishing first and taking the dishes to the creek to wash them, coming back for Kyross’. “Thank you, boy. That was empowering! Just the thing to begin a quest!” The Wizard stands and stretches, his old bones popping and groaning in protest, but soon, his movements become more fluid as he continues the movements taught to him my the Form Master. It was an old method of stretching as well as meditating that one of the forefathers of the Wizarding Order had picked up during his time abroad, back when Dragons and Avii were much more prevalent, and the borders of Alganor were not shunned my outsiders for fear of persecution. Kyross sighed. If the Senate had their way, the bigotry of the days of the Elf/Man wars would be as prevalent as the days of Arin and Anthor. The only thing really staying in their way was that Governing bodies rarely survived the uproar of wartimes. The Senate preferred to stay in power, as was evident by their stirrings upon learning of the discovery of Aurell!
Kyross gave up his attempts at meditation and turned to see what the boy was up to. He discovered that the boy had struck camp and was just snuffing out the last of the fire with dirt, the site already swept to scrub it of the details of their presence. By the looks of Demitrius’ tail, he had had a part in that particular detail.
“Well, we best be off, lad.” Kyross threw his leg over his mount, and was pleased when the mount didn’t repeat its trick from the day before of dancing around in circles. “Decided to be civilized today, have you?” he asked, stroking the horse’s neck
Robin scurried to mount his own horse, and was a mite startled when the fox lept up to curl up between his back and bedroll.
“Layabout,” mumbled Kyross as he wheeled his mount towards the road.
Kyross made use of the time on the road for raceplace to ask Robin about his up brininging. He was an orphan, of course. Raised in an orphanage in one of the bigger dungheaps to be found along he majour biways. The Master had come for him 5 years ago, on this 6th birthday. He had offered him a warmber bed, clothes without holes, and food without maggots it in. It seemed like heaven to Robin, who quickly agreed, never bothering to wonder why the Master would want him out of all of the other boys at the orphanage.
He had begun what the Master called his ‘training’ almost right away. Spending several hours a day locked away with candles that smelled funny and crystals that gave off odd sounds and colours. Kyross’ brow furrowed deeper and deeper with each detail, until he had to stop to rub his tempbels and the bridge of his nose, having given himself a headache. He should have asked Aurell if she had a cure for that before he’d sent her on her way, he thought to himself as he massaged the back of his neck.
“So what made you decide to come with me then, young Master Robin?” Kyross enquired, seeing no reason why the lad would want to abandon his home and Master.
“Well, it’s like you said, isn’t it? That the Master is a bad man and wants to do bad things?” he made it sound like a question. “The teachers at the orphanage always taught us that no matter what else, we would always be good boys, and not goodly behaved, but with good hearts.” He frowned. “I thought that because he took me in, the Master was a good hearted man.” His lower lip quivered. “I didn’t mean to be a bad boy, Master Wizard, honest I didn’t!” There were tears in his eyes and in his voice as he plead for forgiveness.
“Did your teachers ever tell you what to do if you found yourself on the wrong path? On the path away from being good hearted?” Kyross asked the boy, gently.
“They, they said we should apologize to the people we’d hurt along the way, and do our best to undo the wrong we’d done,” came the reply.
“Well, there you have it then! You’re already well on your way to doing just that!” assured Kyross. “I forgive you, Son. And if you stick with me, I’ll do my best to make sure that, together, we wipe out the bad things which that Master of yours has done, alright?”
The boy nodded emphatically, dashing the tears from his eyes with his wrist and beaming at the Wizard. Kyross made eye contact with the Demetrius before turning from the boy and trotting ahead for a spell.
This was too easy, he thought to himself. But then, Daetha had done well to empty the boy’s head of anything that might resemble personality or backbone, so he shouldn’t be quite so surprised. But how did that make him any better than his ex-student, if he were taking advantage of Daetha’s handiwork?
As he struggled with his conscience, Kyross felt a feeling of peace overcome him. “Trust in the Prophesy, Friend Wizard. Trust in yourself.”
It had been quite a while since he’d heard the disembodied voice of his youth, goading him on to greatness. The ethereal female voice had always been there in times of doubt, encouraging him and promising him that if he could just trust himself, all would be well. The best advice he had ever been given, and something that he handed down to each and every one of his students and apprentices.
Kyross took a deep breath and let it out, expelling his worry and fear. He let he boy catch up with him and turned a warm smile on him. “How would you like to learn to make a bow?” he asked the boy.
By the time they were ready to make camp that night, Robin had made a workable bow from items that Kyross had in his pack, and items they found along the trail. Demetrius finally roused himself from his place on the boy’s horse and disappeared into the undergrowth around the camp, intent on hunting for his supper. This time, Kyross set up camp and sent the boy off to shoot them something for the pot, trusting to Demetrius to keep the boy out of trouble.
Elsewhere, Aurell was making good progress, making good time to the next village, and trading some unguents for a space in the stable to hang her hammock, and a warm bowl of stew for her belly. She was quiet around the hearth fire that night, following her instincts to listen and take the measure of the people in this town. There was something stirring, she could feel it as soon as she parted the curtain that kept the cool fall air out of the establishment. There was a tension here that there hadn’t been at any of the last stops on her trek.
Spooning up her dinner and nursing her watered down mead, she thought fondly of Lyle and Mina for a few moments of thanksgiving before tuning into the talk going on around her. There was a lot of talk about the Senate, and changes that they were talking about. Talk of a reigning monarch once again, according to the prophesies of the Seers of Zell.
Aurell had heard some talk of the Senate, and had had to ask what it was, having lived her life so far out of the way of central society. The governing body and how it was managed confused her. She couldn’t understand how so many different opinions could coalesce into one ruling body, into one active decision that had the best welfare of the majority as well as compassion for the minority in mind.
There was unrest in the civilian population, it seemed. When once the Senators had the full support of their constituents, it seemed that many had turned their favours away in anticipation of the returning monarchy.
The Senate appeared confused as to why the hearts of the people were so easily turned from them. The general consensus at the hearth fire seemed to be that Alganor was a land steeped in traditions. Any semblance of the treasured past that they were able to recapture, they were more than willing to depart from modern ways to do so, so long as it was not to the detriment of the people. And many of the constituents appeared to have long standing grudges with the governing body concerning the lack of address to their concerns. They had heard tales of times when their many times removed grandparents had had audience with the Royal Hearers of Woes or, even the ruling Monarchy themselves!
“Those were the days!” came the cry, over and over again.
Finally, Aurell spoke up.
“Any word as to who this monarch is or from whence they hail?” she asks, seeking to find out how much they knew about her part in this affair.
“The Seers say that the Scion of Aurin will appear at the Towers of Zell before the harvest on the next sun,” came the reply.
Aurell did her best to keep the relief from her face, as she nodded in acknowledgment. She was safe enough for the moment, however, Aurell made note to introduce herself my some name other than the name her brother had given her, and to give her place or origin s something other than Netta.
No sooner had she thought this, when the server woman came to take her empty bowl and refill her mug. “I don’t remember seeing you in these parts before, child,” she comments, loud enough for all to hear, “Who re your people?” There was no malice behind the words. It may have sprung up in a time of bigotry and war, but the greeting was simply a way of asking after a person’s background for curiosity’s sake these days. Aurell tried not to squirm as all eyes in the vicinity turned to her.
“My name is Deedra, she lied with ease, "I'm from Morin," she completed the lie with the name of a town close enough to her own to give her local knowledge, should she be questioned, but far enough away that few of those here would ever have had cause to go there nor would they know anyone from the region.
"Good country up there, I hear," said the server, We've had a few bards come through here from that neck of the woods. They have nothing but majestic things to say about the landscapes thereabouts," she said, inviting further corroboration from Aurell.
"Certainly,” she agreed.” The cliffs at Waa'tii are my favourite. I knew an artisan who used to hike from one end of the valley to the other every day, stopping all along the way to sketch different vistas that the different vantage points along the valley floor provided," she supplied, faithfully.
"Is it true there are still cave trolls up that way?" asked one of the other travellers.
"I’ve never seen their sign, myself, and I have trekked the length and breadth of the region several times, though the land spans far and wide, and there have been rumours passed down since the time of my many times removed grandparents,” she allowed.
“And what brings you to these parts, young Deedra, and all on your own!”
The question was innocent enough, but Aurell played it safe.
"Oh, my Uncle will be joining me on the morrow. We're off to the trade park at Jubilee," she explained, naming the great Trade Fair of the Gypsies. “He is an apothecary, you see, and I’m his apprentice. He’s been teaching me a thing or two about herbs and potions. He wanted me to get a chance to learn from one of the herbal women of the tribes before he passes the shop on to me." She spun the tale with such ease, and her features were so comely, that no one thought to disbelieve the girl.
“I’m not sure well have room for him,” the server frets.
“No trouble, Mother. He has a hammock of his own. Where do you think I developed the habit?” she said with a wink.
This seemed to settle their curiosity for the moment and she was able to go back to listening. There was a small rush of questions as she called it a night, people coming to her quietly, asking for a potion for this rash or that ailment. She promised to leave them with the matron before she cleared her tab on the morrow, taking their coins gratefully.
It never ceased to amaze her that they were so willing to give her their gold before the merchandise had changed hands. But then, she supposed in many cases, what they were really paying for was her discretion. People hated to admit that they had ailments of any sort. It made them appear weak before their compatriots, their rivals, their families. Or so they thought. I would have surprised many of them to know how many of their cohorts also sought her trade skills.
As she lay in her hammock that night, it occurred to her that these were her people. That at the end of this road she was on was a thrown and a crown with her name emblazoned upon them. She would be expected to rule them all with a fair and even hand. Well, that was hopefully not going to be any problem. The only true bias she had ever fostered was that men behaved more beastly that the beasts they so feared.
She found herself missing her Wolf-Mother then, and so she rose from her bedclothes to do something that she rarely did. She walked out into the night, wrapped tight in her cloak against the chill, and looked up into the heavens. The starts were thick, and the moon was swelling in the east. It wasn’t full yet, wouldn’t be for another four days or more. But just looking up at the moon helped. She knew that wherever they were, her family was under that same moon, under those same stars.
Her tranquility restored, Aurell returned to her hammock and passed the rest of the night undisturbed.
She woke before dawn to pack her things, and deliver the merchandise to the innkeeper, and clear her tab. She still had a fair number of coins jingling at her belt when the tally was cleared, and so she gave the woman an extra for herself, a sure way to buy her silence, should anyone ask what time she left or which way she’d gone. It was sort of an unwritten code of the road among travellers and their keepers.
“Fare thee well, Deedra, Lass,” the woman wrapped her in a matronly hug. “May the old gods keep your way.” Aurell kissed her knuckles in thanks, and slipped out to the stables to the road. She had been tempted to purchase a horse to hurry her way, wanting to put as much of this restless terrain behind her as possible, but then she would end up at Diakka long before Kyross expected her. No, she would stick to the plan.
She picked up her usual, long, smooth gait that ate up the miles with ease, her walking stick tapping softly on the hard packed trail. There was a touch of frost this morning, making everything glitter like jewels, and her breath puff out like that of the dragons in the mendicants’ tales.
She wondered how Kyross’ progress was faring.
Kyross was of a mind to leave the lad with the mounts, as he wasn’t sure he could trust the lad not to wander off, however, as it stood, the lads eyes lit up like fireworks at the roar of the crowds as they stood in the stables outside of the arena.
“Oh alright then!” he flustered, and the boy looked at him, confused.
“Master Wizard?”
“Nothing, just, let’s go. You be sure to stick to my side like glue, mind! I don’t have time to track you down in all this!” he gesticulated around them. This was only the stables, and already the hustle and bustle was evident as people brushed and jostled them as they passed by.
Kyross was still considering tying a length of cord between their belts, but Robin did him one better, he simply slipped his hand into the larger one of his companion, and held on as they wove their way through the crowd toward the entrance. At first Kyross frowned, but then he imagined that damned fox berating him for his reaction, and so he relaxed, holding the boys hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, guiding him gently up the stairs while he craned his neck looking about them, returning the favour from his time in the dungeons of leading him carefully and securely past all of the obstacles.
The man at the gate took their entrance fee and wished them luck in their betting with a large, genuine smile. He was a height with Robin, with sallow grey skin, telling Kyross that he was not to be trusted, and so he tucked his coin purse deeper into the folds of his robe, and checked the knot on it as they wended their way to some seats.
A booming voice proclaimed that the next race would begin in five minutes should they wish to make any further bets. Kyross beckoned over one of the roving bet takers. “Two gold on the twins,” he spouted, seeing the odds, and daring the youth to argue with him. It was a relay event, with live fire. Which he happened to know would be just what the doctor ordered for the twins. “And I’d like to send a favour,” he insisted, handing over a simple pair of medallions. That the youth did raise a brow at, as it was usually females who sent favours. “Oh just do it, already!” Kyross blustered, and settled back into his seat.
As the youth moved off to deliver the tokens, Kyross hoped the twins wouldn’t lose in sheer spite, knowing that he were in the audience, and likely to bet on them. It might just appeal to their perverse sense of humour.
“Who are the Twins?” Robin wanted to know.
“Old acquaintances,” Kyross said, vaguely. “Hush and watch, now.”
Furgus was taking the first leg, and came bursting out of the lees with a flurry of feathers. Not his own. He would have gathered a couple of fists full from the gutters. Let it never be said that Furgus of Alganor did not have a sense for the dramatic. He flew through the spires and constructed obstacles, arrows pelting down at him from above, below, ahead and behind. The other three riders that had entered the arena with him were largely ignored, despite the bellowing of their riders, infuriated at being left so far behind, so early in the race.
Furgus winged around the arena, the buzz of his flight feathers clearly audible above the roar of the crowd as his wingtips nearly brushed the heads of the onlookers. By the time he had tagged his brother and it was Fritz’s turn to wing around the arena, the other riders still has several lengths to go to reach the end of the course. Furgus stood calmly tucking a few ruffled feathers back into place, while the others in his heat were pulling arrows from their mounts’ armour.
Fritz could have made a big show of his lead. He could have taken the time to entertain the crowd and rub it into his foe faces. But that would not have been the honourable thing to do, and no matter how low the osprey had fallen, they still clung to their honour with beak and talon. Fritz dashed through the obstacles, choosing to scream in fury at the last row of bowmen, rather than dive at them or break through them. The tactic worked as they, to a ma, dropped their bows to cover their ears, along with many of those in the nearby audience, and then dove out of the way as the 12 foot wingspanned bird plummeted through their bottleneck to tumble over the finish line with a grace belying the awkwardness of the maneuver.
Robin leapt to his feet, applauding and whooping with excitement. The brothers took their victory lap, now making us of the lack of arrow fire to show off for the crowd, swooping and diving in the close quarters.
There were whoops and whistles of approval from the crowd and then a standing ovation when they roosted to take their flourishing bows.
"Leave it to an Avii to go out with a bang," commented Kyross. He pocketed the winnings that the page hauled to him. it seems not many had bet on the underdogs today, making the odds and the winnings, quite steep.
"What will you do with all of that gold, master wizard?" the boy asked, his eyes wide with awe.
"We'll need a few things before we get underway," the man answered, cryptically. "Come on, we'd best get going to the roosts or well never get through for the adoring fans."
Kyross waggled his fingers to get them into the roosts unmolested, and stalked to the slot set aside for the twins, grumbling all the while about he smell and the piles of pellets that had been let to pile up in the corners.
They didn’t have long to wait before a stirring of air currents announced the return of today's champions.
"Hail, Friend Wizard!" came the exuberant welcome from Fritz. He enveloped the wizard with one massive wing, rubbing his beak across the old man’s beard, amid half-hearted protests. When Fritz released him, he was smiling through his grumbles as he smoothed his hair and bear, picking a few loose feathers from his cloak. Furgus for his part was much more sedate in his greeting of his old friend, bowing his head in acknowledgment without any of the physical affection shown by his brother.
Friend wizard. Someone who didn’t know Furgus might think him quite underwhelmed by the reunion, however there was more warmth in the dour Avii’s voice than Kyross could remember ever having heard, and it touched him deeply to be the wind that fanned that spark of feeling to life in the habitually cold feathered Brethren.
Furgus, he returned, his voice full of an answering warmth, however, he restrained his urge to hug the great feathered brute.
Robin watched these proceedings from a few steps behind, ever the mindful servant. And who is the young one, Wizard? Surely this is not the Progeny? There was a hint of terrified disappointment at the edge of Furgus’ voice.
“Ah, may I present, Master Robin, the sloth to your stallion,” said Kyross, beckoning robin closer.
The words held no particular meaning to Robin, other than flowery praise which made him blush. To be compared to these two magnificent creatures in any way was an honour he did not feel worthy of. However, the wizard’s turn of phrase had both Avii snapping their heads round in disbelief. They each eyed Kyross and the boy in turn.
“You’ve finally figured it out then? The last verse?” Fritz asked, needlessly.
“It is an honour to meet you, Friend Robin.” Robin’s blush deepenedto be called friend by such great creatures.
“The honour is all mine, Master Avii.”
“Ah, so you recognize them, do you? Well, it’s good to see that Daetha hasn’t been totally wasting your tutelage,” remarked Kyross.
“Daetha!” came the outraged cry in unison.
“Nothing to worry about, my friends. You can hear all about it on the journey,” he waved off their concern. “Are you ready to leave, my brothers?” he asked of the two.
“There is a matter of some few loose ends with the Warden, but it shouldn’t take us more than a few minutes,” Furgus declared with an ominous shade to his voice.
“Have you any objections to my purchasing a pair of saddles?” he asked, circumspectly.
“None at all, Friend Wizard. We have been awaiting your call for some time. We are at your service.” With that, they dropped simultaneous, sweeping bows.
“I take it that the leather worker on site has your measurements and will have something suitable?”
“Aye, he should. Just tell him the Ice Devil and his Sparky brother need to be outfitted for travel. That will get you what you need without hassle,” Furgus promised.
“Ah, many thanks for the insider tip.” He gave a mock bow and hustled Robin off with him to the errand while the two saw to their business, which was likely to get bloody if the Warden pushed his luck, as well Kyross knew. He’d been in enough of these establishments to know that the Warden would be loathe to let them go on the tail of such a win without chance to get his gold back. However, only a foolish man tries to detain an Avii, and a suicidal one, a pair of them.
As if the Avii didn’t look fierce enough all on their own, decked out in their travelling gear as Fugus has dubbed it, they looked positively lethal. Robin and Kyross shared a shudder at the sight of them, though for different reasons. Robin was thinking to himself that he hoped very much not to incidentally displease one of them, Kyross was taken back to the days when Avii swarmed the skies and their war cries made foes flee in terror. While he himself had never been witness to such, there were scrolls of old which held the memories of some of the mages which had rode with Marion in eras gone by.
“Come on, boy. It’s time to rejoin Aurell!” Kyross sprang forward with an agility that belied his age, and leapt into the saddle on Furgus’ back, leaving the less terrifying mount for the hesitant page. Furgus waited until the boy was securely mounted before rearing back and giving a piercing cry prior to bursting into the air amid a flurry of straw and other debris. Kyross whooped as they soared into the air.
Robin gulped, audibly, and Fritz turned to meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, young Master Robin. You’re in good hands with old Fritz. I won’t try to keep up with my brother’s antics,” he promised the boy, who visibly relaxed. Certain that his passenger was as prepared as he was going to be, Fritz turned front and departed the ground with a powerful, yet gentle beat of his wings.
His breath was still taken away as they climbed into the air, but Robin felt his fear turn swiftly to exhilaration as he felt the Avii’s body rushing with power beneath him.
Aurell made a point of avoiding the populated areas after that. It simply wasn’t worth the risk of running into someone who really did not appreciate the idea of the Monarchy coming back after all of this time, or some religious zealot, or whatever else a long lost relative of the most famous monarch in the history of Alganor had to worry about.
It was one thing to navigate the trails on her own, but Aurell was beginning to miss Kyross’ guidance when it came to navigating the people. She was sure that he had to have more experience than she dealing with uproarious situations.
She hated how easily she had lied to those people in the last town. The words had fallen from her tongue so easily, and they had lapped it up like honey. She was very uncertain as to how that boded for her reign as Queen.
Her conscience kept her up that night, her sleep restless where she had set her hammock high in the branches of a sturdy oak tree, close to the trunk, sheltered from the wind by the dense foliage and many branches of the ancient tree.
It wasn’t until well into the still part of the night that she finally found some peace.
After watching her toss and turn all night, a frown creasing her brow, Durie finally approached the sleeping Progeny and laid her hands on the girl’s temples. Reaching into her dreams, Durie wiped away the worry and the stress, and replaced it with happy feelings and memories from her youth. She smiled, pleased with herself, as she watched the deep creases in Aurell’s brow smooth out. She nestled in close to the girl, and drifted off with her.
By the time Aurell woke, much more refreshed than she had thought possible after a largely restless night, Durie had long ago climbed out of the hammock and into the branches above. She watched the girl with a satisfied look on her face. Durie had done well. She had helped the Progeny and not talked to her. Kyross would be proud, she thought. For her part, Aurell went about the business of breaking camp, and slithering down the trunk of the tree. She set out again, her usual cloud of birds and other creatures quickly falling into step with her.
It was a good thing she was starveling through wooded trails for the mpst part, Aurell thought. It would not due to have this entourage as she travelled in the open. She was afraid it would draw too much attention to herself. Little did she know that such things were very common place the closer she drew to Diakka. The Fairy folk of the Diakkan forests were second only to the ancient lines of the Earth Elves for their affinity with nature.
Durie entertained herself by counting the number of steps that Aurell took as they progressed. It would be fun to report to Kyross later, and would likely make his beard curl. She giggled at the prospect of getting the old man wound up.
Durie krept closer when they neared the boarders of Diakka, not sure what the forest’s affinity was, and therefore, what it’s reaction to Aurell might be. Durie was relieved when the bowers which marked the entrance did nothing more than rain sweet smelling petals on the traveler’s hair as she passed beneath. The reached out to tickler her belly when Durie passed.
She giggled and petted them in greeting, scurrying along to catch up with Aurell.
It didn’t take much to catch her up. Aurell had slowed her pace significantly and was looking about her in awe. She had heard fairy tales growing up, as had all children, she assumed, but nothing that prepared her for the reality of walking within the borders of the Diakkan Fairy Forests themselves! The very air felt alive! The entire forest had the same feeling that the glen in the woods had when she followed the wolves on their hunt. The same as the cavern which she’d met Kyross in. There was something holy about these woods.
Aurell was very careful where she put her feet and her staff as she walked along the path. It was not a clearly marked trail, and yet, she did not seem to have any difficulties following it. Durie watched from the branches above her, very impressed with the ease in which her feet found the Way.
The small creatures which melted out of the dimness at the trees’ feet were fascinating and other worldly. Like something from a dream. She was shocked to see many of the creatures that Mina, Lyle, Cass, Theo and the travelling bards had told her of as a child.
When it was time to make camp that night, she suddenly realized that she had no idea what the forest’s reaction would be if she were to start a fire. She didn’t fret, simply sat cross legged in the mossy patch off of the Way, and reached out with her heart, as she did when she prayed to the Gods. She sat for long moments with her staff across her lap, her hands held loosely, palm up on her knees. Her meditation was interrupted by an odd sound. When she opened her eyes, all around her, there were branches raining from the tree tops. All of them dead growth, dry and leafless. She smiled broadly and thanked the forest with another silent thought. As she collected the forest’s gift of firewood, and therefore of warmth, she caressed each tree that she passed. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have sworn that she felt a pulse beneath her fingers as she passed….
There were a few green branches in the bunch. These she laid out as a base of the rocky bowl she had found to build her fire. The Green leaves would prevent harsh scorching of the rock.
She kept her fire small and contained, respectful of the lush growth around her. She made herself a traveller’s pottage, using grains and berries that she had gathered before she entered the forests. A piece of sharp cheese and some watered mead was the perfect companion to the meal.
The creatures were very curious about what she was eating, and she left them the pot to examine and taste as they would, once she’d had her fill. She smiled indulgently at them, as a doting parent might. She kept a close eye on her pack though. It wouldn’t do to have them spread her herbs and unguents all over the forest floor. When she was ready to call it a night, she wrapped herself, and her pack, tightly in her cloak after banking the fire.
Her hollow stayed very warm. It was almost as if the forest has closed itself around her to keep the heat in, and the cool evening breeze at bay. But that wasn’t possible was it? She chuckled. Sure, and it wasn’t possible to have the forest rain firewood on you after a prayer for guidance.
Durie watched the girl with pride, and kept the more insistent critters from tossing her belongings all over the place once she was asleep with a harsh hiss that was most unbecoming of the Ky! Or so Kyross would have teased had he been here. She curled up in the hollow of the girl’s crooked legs with many other of the forest’s inhabitants about them.
Aurell woke feeling cozy and well rested. She felt the creatures about her shift as she stretched. She giggled to discover that she had been almost completely enveloped in a pile of warm bodies. She needn’t have banked the fire, it would seem! She gave the brave ones a gentle pat, pet, or belly rub where due before rising to see to her own needs.
Durie had long since returned to her perch in the treetops. She was touched to see the love that Aurell spared for the critters around her. Especially knowing what sort of treachery many of them were guilty of in the times of the Wars. But then, the child wouldn’t know of that, would she? But would her actions change even if she did?
Durie was beginning to get a sense of the girl, through her actions, and through her dreams at night. She was honestly beginning to think that the old biases would not affect the girl’s actions. Her love ran deeper than the past. Deeper than the rift that had torn the heart from her ancestor.
Her second day when much as her first had. She made the conscious decision to avoid eating any of her dried meats, or to do any hunting while in this forest. It just somehow seemed the respectful thing to do. Durie silently applauded her when she saw the girl pass over the meat in her supplies.
The last of the summer’s heat seemed to be shining down on her today, as the sun peeked through the foliage of the forest above her. She had wrapped her cloak and fastened it to her pack, and loosened the ties at her wrists and throat, folding up her sleeves and letting the neck of her shift billow with the occasional breeze. Her entourage seemed to have grown over night, and soon they were parading down the trail, with Aurell humming under her breath. Her dreams had been filled with strange songs. She guessed they must have been lullabies from on of her parents. She fell to singing the lilting tunes, the foreign words dripping from her tongue with ease, tho she had no knowledge of what their meaning must be.
It was true that many lullabies were in fact passed down from days of war and torment, so they had a brutal quality to them,. Why one would choose such horrors to sing one’s child to sleep was often questioned, but really, it was the voice that mattered, not the tales. Children’s minds were things of memory and emotion, not analysis and recrimination.
And so it was that Aurell of many places traipsed through the deepest parts of the Diakkan forest with an ever growing accompaniment of fey creatures to keep her entertained, warm at night, and company in the stillness of the twilight, singing half remembered songs, making new friends, and adding to her supply of herbs, roots, seeds and leaves. Many of which her friends brought her, and she packaged away, meaning to ask Kyross about their uses.
As it happened, she needn’t wait for that lesson. Some of her companions began to peel off as the path she was following became wider, and more travelled. She continued with caution as some of those who had stayed seemed to grow more solemn. They were obviously encroaching on something resembling civilisation in the Fey Lands. She had the sneaking suspicion she was about to make the acquaintance of some of the The Fey Folk that the bard had been relation to. With his copper waterfall of hair, and his violet eyes and caramel skin.
No sooner had this suspicion occurred to her, than a rustling in the undergrowth to her left was accompanied by the eerie stillness of the remainder of her newfound friends. She turned, slowly, cautiously, her hands in plain sight, as unthreatening as she could manage to be with a staff taller than her own head in her hand. The shadows beneath the trees melted to reveal three tall, lanky figures. Each had a quiver of arrows slung over their shoulder, and bows in their hands. Only one of the three had his drawn back to his cheek, prepared to loose in her direction.
The leader of the three, a female, lowered her weapon, frowning at the sight before her, a wandering waife draped in several specimens of the fauna which typically populated the surrounding woods. Aurell could understand her perplexity. “Greetings, fellow woodsmen,” Aurell greeted in a low, friendly tone, her eyes flickering between the three, despite her overall calm demeanor.
The leader turned her head to see the bowmen still with his sites on Aurell and hissed something at him. He looked like he might argue, but a quirk of her eyebrow and he let the tension off of the drawstring with a muttered complaint. Aurell immediately drew a deeper breath, letting the last vestiges of tension out of her own body.
“Greetings, TRaveller. What brings you to this part of the woods?” she asked Aurell. Before she had a chance to answer, a tiny winged Fey vacated the nest it had made of Aurell’s tresses and alighted upon the offered finger of the last of the trio. A sound like a burbling stream filled the air as the tiny creature communicated to it’s more humanoid brethren.
“She’s a Druid?” she asked, perplexed.
Aurell couldn’t help but laugh. “No, not quite,” she supplied. “A healer, yes. A woodsman, yes. But far from a Druid.”
“Nia’th disagrees. She says you have the scent of the Forest to you.”
“One does tend to smell a bit mossy after many days and nights spent curled in the bole of a tree,” she supplied.
“That is not the kind of smell that Nia’th is talking about,” clarified the leader. She was small compared to her compatriots. A head shorter than the male, and half that than the other girl, for she was surely a girlchild, and yet, she radiated authority.
Now it was Aurell’s turn to be perplexed. Her brow crinkled and this time the girl laughed, finally slinging her bow over her shoulder and stepping out into the last vestiges of golden daylight. Aurell had been correct; the girls shining copper hair fell off her shoulders in a pool mirroring the setting sun. Her eyes sparkled with her sudden mirth, twinkling like amethysts in gold settings.
“Come, friend Aurell, join us for evening meal, and we can swap tails and you can tell us more about being not-a-druid.” She hooked her arm with Aurell’s and she was surprised to find that her host was a height with her, making her comrades in arms much taller than herself.
