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The Dream Of A Necromancer
Captain Torghein took a seat by Amadaron’s bed, watching the fair white face, ornated with wild streams of soft black hair. The Necromancer’s face looked strangely calm and peaceful. An odd occurence for someone who just fainted while taking on a torturous punishment ordered by his own father.
Of course, the little stunt he had showed during Lady Amarilla’s visit couldn’t have gone unavenged. However, even through the enchanted binds, stripping Amadaron of all of his power, so he definitely had to feel all the pain, the former Dark Lord had kept an unmoving posture, calm and collected until losing conciousness.
Captain had brought the paralyzed sleeping body back to his cell by himself, tending to his injuries, changing his clothes and laying him in bed, making sure his prisoner had all the comfort. He carefully took off the bells holding Amadaron’s hair together and layed them on a silk handkerchief on the nightstand. He knew who they’d belonged to originally and he honoured that the now almost innocent-looking Heretical Egomaniac trasured the item beyond anything.
Torghein’s sole life purpose has now become to guard the Devious Monster of a Son, there was definitely destiny playing its part and in his hole life that will come, Captain will most likely have never a different goal. If Amadaron escapes, he will retrieve him, if it ever comes to a day they decide to kill him, it will be Captain Torghein who will escort him to the gallows. And then there will be nothing after that.
In Amadaron’s mind, there was peace. He had been enjoying one of the peaceful, happy, however heart-crushing dreams that break you in half when you wake up, realizing, none of that is true anymore...
It was the highlight of spring in Narradia. The few warmer days when blue cherry trees bloomed, kids kept running around trying to catch the flower petals blown all over the place by the wind, just the kind of time he himself would desperately search for a calm and quiet place to read a book under normal circumstances... However, this time, he had company. That person had brought him to a place where he could feel a very strong presence of magic, in the middle of the Largrodian Woods. They sat on a carpet of sparkly, fresh looking grass by a small pond full of water so clear, one couldn’t at first glance recognize whether the sky blue petals falling into it from a nearby cherry tree were floating on its surface or whether they had already drown.
Amadaron watched a tiny fish nibble on one of the leaves, amazed. He turned to the Elf next to him with joy in his eyes. The male looked older than Amadaron, his face wasn’t as round and big eyed as the Eladrin’s, his features were normaly more strict and mature-looking. His long black hair combed away from his face, not one strand misplaced, his eyebrows might have looked stern but the impression was mostly given by its sharp edges and a single wrinkle forming between them almost chronically. A long nose bridge, high sharply-cut cheek bones and lips tightly pursed together unless he had something to say.
A lot of people had claimed that person looked mean, always frowning with a commanding voice... Amadaron knew better.
“Flower-viewing...” Amadaron sighed, stretching his legs and leaned back to rest on his elbows. The air was fresh and the ground somewhat still cold for laying on it carelessly, but he didn’t mind at that moment. “So I’m enjoying the local culture afterall, thanks to you.”
“Don’t talk idly.” The other male said, eyes closed, concentrating on some sort of meditation.
Amadaron sighed. But in reality he was quite pleased that the other had produced the exact reaction he’d been anticipating. “Ah... LanLan-brother... how do you get so boring...”
No reaction.
“Ok, ok, I get it... Not disturbing then...” He turned to lie on his belly and took out a small round ceramic flask from his bag, opening it with a loud pop.
The person he’d called LanLan - already very much disturbed from his meditative practice - had opened one eye for a brief moment to check on the mischieavous one’s behaviour. “I hope that’s not alcohol...” he muttered.
Amadaron smirked. “Of course... noooooo... LanLan-brother, what do you even THINK of me, huh...?” he quickly gulped a few times the rosy and sweet alcoholic drink inside. Then he rolled on his back, his head bumping against the other man’s knee softly.
He stared above into the tree crowns and at the clouds far ahead, an infinite amount of petals surrounding his vision everywhere, he listened to the deep gentle voice above him humming mantras... He was at peace... The future Necromancer wasn’t thinking of death but his heart was celebrating life at that very moment...
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Lord and Spymaster
The wooden door creaked. Of course, Mauricius had heard the footsteps even before that and he knew exactly whom they belonged to. He tried to get up but the Halfling maid fought him to stay laid on his belly so she could apply the stinky grey-mud medicine on his burnt left side of the body.
"Stay down, you fool," the deep voice of Lord Palendryl and his strong presence filled the room. A tall, muscular man with chestnut hair and beard, dressed in his casual wear consisting of dark blue linnen trousers, white linnen shirt decorated with black embroidery and a silver brocade vest.
He nodded at the maid and she quickly exited the room.
"My Lord..." Mauricius shifted with a look somewhat apologetic, wanting to excuse himself for the pitiful state he was in at the moment.
"Silence." Lord Palendryl's voice was firm but kind. He sat down on the bed next to Mauricius and decided to continue where the maid had left off.
Embarrased, Mauricius stayed still, not daring to move. After a few minutes of when Lord Palendryl continued to apply the medicine, Mauricius decided to break the silence: "I am sorry I was unable to follow sir Dayereth... but one of my people should be tailing him right now... I have a report here, it just came..."
Mauricius reached into a bedside drawer and pulled out a small piece of paper with an incripted message. Lord Palendryl took it and scanned it quickly with his eyes. He frowned. "Is it confirmed?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. He's with a fugitive now. But I've seen them talk together about a month ago. I don't think sir Dayereth is interested in the rebelion."
"Hmm..." lord Palendryl frowned. "I don't understand that boy anymore either. But given who he's with, I believe he might really not be planning on joining the civil war at the moment. But who knows what's going on in that stubborn white little head of his." He sighed. "I read your report... I can't imagine what he's going through right now. I'm glad you protected him from all the physical harm but... I'm indepted, Mauricius."
"No, my lord. I've sworn my life to serve you. This is nothing!"
"Getting half your body burnt hardly seems like nothing," lord Palendryl said sternly. "Anyway, I've already asked the Royal Court to send their best doctors to treat you. They should arrive shortly. You're young, you shouldn't get hideous scars that easily." Lord Palendryl got up.
"Concerning Daye's future decisions... I serve the new king under all circumstences. And you swore to protect Daye with your life the day of Hadarai's funeral. I will not relieve you of that duty as long as he's still in Narradia and its neighbouring countries. Is that clear?"
Mauricius forced himself into a sitting position and bowed his head. "Yes sir!"
Lord Palendryl threw the message into the lit fire place.
"I'm glad we understand each other. Get well soon, my friend."
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Scraps of Past V: The Ice Lands’ Tragedy Forgotten in Snow part IX (finale)
I woke up in the middle of the night. I was lying in one of the smaller tents set up on the rocky beach - alone. My mind was still slightly hazy, and my head felt light. I blinked a few times and looked around. I was pretty sure I fell asleep with Lilly curled up together. I could feel my right side colder than the left as someone has left it just moments before.
“Lilly...?” I mumbled, reaching around myself in the furrs with one hand, rubbing my eyes with the other. I got up slowly and felt a chill as the effect of hot berries had started to leave my organism already. I searched for a little while for a dry shirt and pulled it over my head along with a white wollen over-coat. I looked for the boots, noticing, there are only my boots. I crawled out of the tent. It was still dark outside, only sparks remaining of the salve-wood campfires, burning quietly.
I looked aroud for a pair of snow tracks in tiny female version leading from outside our tent and started to follow them. The steps led me outside the village and along the tree line of the forest entrance. After a few minutes of walking, I’d started to panic a little, already fully conscious, I’d started to worry for Lilly and her unstable condition. “Lilly...? Lilly?!” My pace had quickened and unfortunately, my hunch was right. “Lilly!”
About half a mile from the village, I’d finally found her. A small petite figure moving in the snow, the body violently spasming, her face twisted in a desperate and painful grimace, eyes clouded by a veil of unconsciousness.
I hurried to her. It was not the first time I’d seen her in this state. And the only person capable of helping her would be the Chieftain. I threw my overcoat around Lilly and called her several times, trying to wake her up from the trance. After a while I could feel the hostile spiritual energy forming close. A mist-like fluorescence essence started to gather from the snowy nature all around us.
However, I wasn’t able to pick her up and bring her back to the village, not with her convulsing so wildly. I had to run for help and hope she’s going to hold on. So I ran back towards the village... and that was the last I’d seen Lilly alive...
I wasn’t able to help her. I wasn’t able to help almost anyone. When I ran back towards the village, it’d been already in flames. People were screaming, panicking, trying to save their loved ones and themselves... failing.
Hiding in the snowpiles I watched the carnage. We were attacked by one of the wild tribes, mercilessly, without a warning, with most of the senior Shamans out of the village, we couldn’t stand a chance. One of the first impulses of the village people was to hide children and women in the main longhouse but just as they had entered, a huge fire ball collapsed the roof, trapping everyone inside in a flaming hell. The Shamans around immediately casted Bonds of the Clan, hoping to ease the wounds of the insiders by sharing the damage but as noble as the thought was, it was also foolish and cost us even more.
Trembling in the snow, I’d watched the barbarians robbing, destroying, murdering, raping...
Right in front of me, there was the collapsed long-house, engulfed in flames. And there, in the middle of the wooden ruins of the wall closest to me, a little bit to my left I saw movement.
“Mami...”
Mami lied there, trapped under a fallen spar, desperately holding something in her arms. She noticed me, sending calls for help with her eyes... she was holding Erwin...
I looked around, a huge Barbaric warrior noticed her and had been heading her way and about 50 feet away, there on a watchtower, I saw Far’mer aiming his long bow our way while his Spirit hound kept fighting off the attackers climbing their way after him. I knew he saw me, I knew that the attackers will soon crash his Spirit hound and I knew that he’d realised that as well. Still, he stood there, ready to buy me time to run towards his sister.
The Barbarian kept comming closer towards Mami with a hideously pleased expression. My legs were frozen in place, there was no way I could have made it...
And at that moment I felt a surge of energy well-up inside me a strange power resonating from my very core. A deep gentle sound hummed through the whole village. I looked up and stared in awe for a second at the giant Spirit blue whale that had enveloped the whole village in blue light. A lot of mortally wounded Shamans got up at that moment for one last spurt of fight.
My eyes shifted back to Far’mer, his hound had just dispearsed into thin air and a feral-looking warrior had been swinging his axe to burry it deep into Far’mer’s back.
Startled I looked back at Mami, who mouthed at me two words: “Thank you.”
And at that moment I had finally understood what she saw during our first encounter. I jumped to my feet, sliding down the small hill towards her. The Barbarian turned towards me but was stopped by a blue-winged arrow that burried itself into his right shoulder. I didn’t have to turn to look to know that Far’mer’s back was most likely open in half by an axe, since he didn’t get the attackers head or neck. I blinked away the tears, avoided the roaring Barbarian and hurried to Mami.
With all my strenght I leaned against the giant piece of burnt wood, trying to release Mami’s torso from under the fallen roof. To no avail.
“No!” I cried in frustration of my own uselessness. Another arrow stopped the Barbarian in front of us who turned towards the watchtower. Far’mer was kneeling there, blood oozing from his fatal wounds, he had to support his bow against the rail to steady his trembling arms.
“Leave me!” Mami shouted. “Take Erwin and run!”
I whimpered as I took the child from her arms.
“Run...” she whispered with a pained voice, stroking the cheek of the crying toddler one last time. “Hide in the snow...”
I clutched the baby in one arm and Arind’s stone in the other. I turned my back on the village, on the last moments of Erwin’s mother, on the dead silhouette of Far’mer, still drawing his bow, on the blue whale that started falling down on the Shaman village, crushing our homes as well as the enemies, the strong wind that came with it blowing off most of the fire....
I ran as fast as I could in the untouched snow, calling my Bear to stall the Barbarian who decided to pursue us. I haven’t managed to run even 50 feet when I felt a piercing pain and damage to my internal organs as my Bear had been wiped out instantenously. I coughed up some blood but didn’t stop.
After that I heard a loud blast as another huge fire ball hit the village...
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The Start of the Civil War
Truthfully speaking, the real start was something that had been happening for years already. The situation in Narradia slowly escalating, counting the King’s death, aristocratic schemes in who to put on the throne and all the machinations behind Royal Chamber’s closed doors...
Count in the rose pox plague and red maggots wave that hit hard in the most populated areas in 660 aaf (somewhat evading our lands thanks to Palendon and its main population being situated in the middle of deep forests of East-South Narradia), following the Great Fire in Grealon - the second largest city in Narradia situated on the western boarders with a huge population of immigrants that got blamed for half of the city suburbs being turned into ashes...
The young king’s age and his being bound to the Royal Council and the Royal Council not being as respectful of him as the late king Vandin the Great...
The masses had slowly gotten fed up of the weak king and the power of the Royal Council and their innability to stop most of the sudden misfortunes that had befallen the common folk... At least, in their eyes, it had just been the misfortune of poor people while the aristocrats thrived. In these times, nobody remembered sir Dar’lark, Lord of Grealon, who had been mortaly injured while saving the citizens during the Great Fire and his wife who’d died the previous year of rose pox. No one could remember Lady Sylvia of Ran’rashon throwing half her fortune into the search for the red maggot’s cure, gathering the greatest medical minds of the South, after half of her lands and her two children got sick. She also threw herself into volunteer work of nursing. My father helped come up with the Isolation Pact, stopping all the merchant roads for a month - a rather controversal act, however it stopped the spread of red maggots and helped gain the time to come up with a cure.
Certainly, not all aristocrats could be considered good, just as many common people. Thanks to the power-hungry vengenful people on both sides it all escalated in an open riot in Capital in 663 - shortly after I’d left Palendon for good.
I’ve heard, a lot of people died in those 4 days, starting with a 13-year old boy who threw a smoke granade at the Mericelli convoy - the Baroness’ bodyguards not hesitating to kill on sight - and it devided the nation even more. It became a fight with aristocrats and their loayals against the rebels.
On the outside it was presented as a fight for freedom and well-being of the common folk on one side, on the other as an attack on authority that is trying to undermine the very core of Narradia. While in reality there were countless factors involved. Surely, not all aristocrats were chivalrous and had in mind the well-being of their vassals like my father. However, even those Lords and Ladies were pushed to side with the other aristocrats because the enemy didn’t differentiate. Most of the rebels were also crimminals (as I had found out myself) who didn’t have any other place in the world, and overthrowing the current systeme could work in their favor. Such people didn’t want a truce or any sort of compromise.
There was so much intrigue involved... in one of the theories, it had been stated that it’s all a plot of the second Prince Trand as a way out of his life-sentence, some spoke of the curse spoken by the evil Necromancer defeated at the southern borders before I was born...
In the light of the things happening recently, even outside of Narradia, it must be either the worst possible coincidence or it’s all a doing of the evil slowly rising... the beginning of the end of this Age...
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Library of Dreams
It was nice to calmly fall asleep again after defeating a monster and cleansing the cursed place. I'm not even sure why it was so calming, the strange mist could have taken over us again and we would have become Spirits like all the other people in the Avernus Castle... but somehow I felt comfortable. The place was filled with spiritual energy, when I closed my eyes, I could feel them all around me. The Souls. The Spirits. The inhabbitants of this castle. Going around their bussiness as they'd never realized they became something else, thanks to the strange godly substance or just roaming around the place mindlessly with no destination...
It was a happy feeling, because I knew, we'd lifted the curse on this place and they'd soon return to their previous lives.
Though the castle looked empty, it was full of life to me. Ennie wanted to go to the castle library and I'd gone with her. She was running around, looking for interesting magic scrolls while I picked out a few books of the Avernus' family history, hoping to find something concerning the Well. It was fascinating that some power could change people into Spirits and back and that I, thanks to the mist, was able to access their realm... which was my second time since the Initiation Ritual and this time I'd been there as a spiritual being myself. However, what was even more amazing was that the mist could bring the Spirits back into reality, and as people again! Wasn't this a step closer to finishing my study?
But before I knew it, my head lolled down on one of the books I'd been reading from and with the reassuring feeling of a familiar power surrounding me and the quick steps of my best friend dancing around with scrolls in her arms, I'd soon fallen into a deep sleep.
Once again, I was... in THAT library... thousands of ancient books surrounding me, as I stood there, holding the handrail in the second floor, looking down to the lower levels below my feet. It was nightime but the full-moon shined brightly through the cirular window in the roof, making the whole place bask in the cold blueish light of the night sky.
For some reason, I wasn't afraid. There was no one but me, no eerie music in the back ground, no cannibal wanting to taste the innards of an Eladrin.
I knew, this was a dream somehow and I'd wonder why do I come back here again and again. Of course, I'd played with the thought of comming back here in reality as well. There was so much knowledge hidden from the world in here... maybe, with the help of others, we'd be able to defeat the Cannibal and save the books... I walked around the library, my left hand scanning the shelves and various book covers... maybe, there would also be an answer to what the Sorceress Lydia was up to, something about the beginning of our Age, great beasts, civil wars, bandits going berserk, a huge Elven sword, genius smiths...
I sat down on a wooden stool, thinking. They have a beast armor, a sword, they most likely know what kind of beast they want to summon... they are summoning necrotic powers... But who's the Rider? Who can fight with a sword that only one person is able to take in their hands and that person is still safely secured in dwarven dungeons... who else? Will they summon some kind of demonic lord?
I sighed and looked around. The library became lively as it passed midnight. Loads of spectral figures went about their bussiness, carrying books, searching for books, studying books...
Who is Lydia working for? And why would they want to summon the end of this Age? This might be a bit too much on Damian...
I got up and walked towards a huge colourful mosaic window at the southern end of the library. I wasn't happy about the one thing that became clear... we will sooner or later have to ask for help someone with influence. As Ennie had mentioned, asking my father who was also a man with powerfull standing in the Royal Court was one of the first choices. Now even Lord Avernus is indebted to us...
I wasn't doubting the fact, that father would believe us. But would he manage have Narradia's troups enter a foreign country - which is a huge political step, especially at this time. Aside from Lord Avernus, we have no political ally in here.
Which is actually me counting that the situation in Narradia ALLOWS my father to negotiate and send an army somewhere else... with the civil war in full bloom, the rebels targetting the aristocrats...
What if next time, they plan an assassination on my father they succeed... I don't even know if my only family is still alive...
I felt tears start to well-up in my eyes.
My country of origin, a place I can't go back to because everyone hates Dayereth Palendryl. Having a bounty on my head AND being an aristocrat... everybody wants me dead or chained... there is no side to join in the civil war even if I wanted to come back. The people I love standing on opposite sides...
I took a deep breath. Ok, ok, calm down. What about other possibilities? Ennie is somewhat of a noble origin from somewhere in Lordaeron but she doesn't talk about her family situagion much... where else?
I watched the colorfully distorted night scenery outside through the uneven glass pieces of the mosaic window with Elven motives, dating by my guess maybe 200 years back.
Knowing how to contact my mother, I could venture to Fey Wild and beg her side of the family for help, the Wizzards and Socerers... but I knew very little of them, not too mention, I knew nothing of where in the vast Fey Wild I was supposed to look for the House of the famous Sorcerer and scholar Hadarai of Fey Wild. Maybe through the orphanage of his brother, a Narradia's hero of old times Dayereth the Dragonslayer? Is he even still alive? And where in Narradia is the orphanage and how much time do I even have left to summon an army to defeat Lydia? The more time we waste, the more time we're giving her to harvest power...
We sent for help from Lordaeron but will it even come? Won't they just wait at their own boarders?
"Where are you, mom, when I need you...? WHERE ARE YOU?!" I yelled, frustrated, the mosaic pieces comming appart, flying in all directions.
I woke up still in the library of the Avernus castle. It was the middle of the night, and there was just me left. Just me and the silent bits of mist rolling around quietly under my feet. I felt a part of the book engraved in my face as I slept soundly on it and noticed a blanket around my shoulders.
"The library of MY dreams is quite unique..." I mumbled and headed to my bedroom for the night.
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Siblings’ of Fey Wild
A few months after Amarilla left for Fey Wild...
Amadaron of Fey Wild. "The Archmagister of Forbidden Arts" as he'd been called by his followers, " The Necromancer" as known by his former enemies and people who'd feared him when he was at the peak of his power. As always at this time of day, he'd sit by the desk, turning the pages of a previously carefully selected book by his captors, such as to not help him in any way to cultivate his sorcery skills, a book that wouldn't play on any kind of emotion that might interest him in wanting to break free...
Every other day, he'd comply his captors and try to be interested in the boring book because when your enemy thinks, you'd given up that's the true time to plan things but today was different. He felt restless. He knew someone will come see him today. Someone, he hadn't seen since he became a prisoner in this fancy study that his own family had built for him.
After a while he got up and walked across the room towards shelves with books. He loosened the red ribbon with two bells holding his long black hair up in a ponytail to not get in his way when he's studying and retied it loosely at the end of his hair, that streched as far the small of his back. The bells chimed gently at the movements, filling Amadaron's heart unconciously with precious memories of a long lost one.
He then adjusted the oil lamp on the highest shelve to illuminate the room better and turnt right to face the big canopy bed, seemingly in thought as he stared at the robe prepared on it. Shall he switch to a more formal dark blue, embroidered attire and make the reunion more official or should he stay in his black silk robe with red hemming looking more casual and relaxed and pretend he doesn't at all care about the imprisonment? Besides, it is still classy, elegant and sort of "dark-lordish"... And Amadaron was a man of style. If he was declared "The Necromancer", he should look his part. After a few more minutes he decided for the later, and he took the other choice and placed it among his other clothes into a massive ebony wardrobe, decorated with carved Eladrin flower motives.
As he closed the door, he heard footsteps getting closer. He turned around. The illusion of a fourth wall with "doors" disappered, showing the barrs glowing with a ton of supressimg spells and two figures approaching from accross the hall.
Amadaron walked toward the steel barrs smirking. He knew exactly who those two were even from mere silhuettes. The man on the left was Captain Torghein, man who's sole purpose was to guard him - the evil Necromancer - until the end of times. Even though, this was the Fey Wild, Torghein was a mere Elf with hardly any Eladrin predecesors. He was a loyal dog to Amadaron's father and sadly, a very skillfull warrior and war strategist. It might have been a waste to have him dedicate his life to overseeing the imprisonment of a single prisoner... however, as years went by, one thing that showed was that Captain Torghein was the only one capable of figuring out Amadaron's escape plans... Amadarom himself saw this as a sort of entertainment. Afterall, an Elf won't live as long as Eladrin and in the end, the age will catch up to him. Amadaron was a patient man and will still have had centuries in front of himself unlike the smart and skillfull captain. Captain Torghein was as usual dressed in his enchanted leather brigantine, decorated with complicated ornaments, a red tunic - the colour of his rank, white trousers and leather boots, comfortable for both combat and long travels. Captain's long auburn hair was tied up in a strict-looking pony tail and his frowned sharp-edged, yet youthful face was scarred all the way from his hairline, over his left eye to the middle of his cheek. The eye on this side was slightly less brown than the other, lacking the same brightness as it was half blind. Amadaron have had felt a surge of joy and excitment whenever he saw the scar as this was his own doing. On the other hand, the dark blue demonically enchanted sword - one of the most powerful weapons in the entire Fey Wild - a sword which ownership belonged to Amadaron originally, swinging by Captain's waist was not a delighful sight.
And the female accompanying the Captain... was none other than Amadaron's own twin sister... Amarilla. A lot of people always commented on how the two of them are similar but truthfully, except for the violet pupiless irises Amadaron himself never saw anysimilarities. To him, they were like day and night. She used to be a cheerful, sparkling girl with snow white hair and a radiant personality, running around the fresh wilderness of Fey Wild, playing with any living thing she could find while Amadaron kept shutting himself in his room full of books, sullenly studying, complaining about every disturbance, and during official dinners, hiding his shy look behind locks of dark black hair. But that was the past. Towards the Amarilla here and now, however, he felt a strange kinship well up inside himself.
"Oh, my DEAR sister!" he exclaimed with a pained look and strode towards the bars, careful not to touch them. "I'm so happy to see you, yet I feel deepest sorrow for your loss! I know what it means to lose someone close..." The small bells in his hair chimed as he stopped maybe a foot from Amarilla.
She looked at him. Yes, there were no signs of the cheerful, happy and bright sister, he'd once known. This was but a hollow shell of a person...
"I would have written my condolences but sadly, my captors do not let me send or receive any messages... But I highly doubt you'd come here to hear them yourself. Afterall, I've never once heard from you ever since your beloved husband had me brought here in chains." the last words Amadaron almost spitted. "How's that mongrel, by the way... Trust me, if it were HIS death, I'd proudly sign in as a conspirator but my sister's children... I'd never..."
"I know..." Amarilla spoke finally, though in a quiet trembling voice.
Amadaron felt a wave of relief somehow. So her being here must be the OTHER matter... He turned around and stepped away a little towards the middle of the room, speaking with his back to them, carefully selecting his words.
"I'd heard... you managed to make a real carnage... they say all the assassins were killed by you in one single spell..." He looked back at her reaction and smirked. "How did it feel? Taking so many lives at once, every living thing in a mile perimeter around yourself. What a marvelous sight it must have been... all the life just freezing on the spot. I know why you came, you came to confirm you're not me..."
Amarilla's violet eyes kept staring blankly at the floor.
"I even heard your other son has an inclination towards magic... Looks like our mother's madness will happily bloom, won't it?" Amadaron started laughing.
"No, stop it!" Amarilla yelled, finally showing some kind of emotion. "I won't turn evil like you! And Dayereth won't become a Sorcerer..."
"Evil like me? Dear sister, I'd say, that's quite a subjective view... you think your husband is SO good, huh...? How many lost their lives in his political pursuit of the well-being of his country? And you think our father who's imprisoning his own son for ETERNITY is not evil? A sister, who never once came to see me?! What about what our oh-so-great father did to mother, huh? The famous scholar and Sorcerer doing something so vile! Where's GOOD in THAT?!"
The siblings now stared down each other, again, facing the opposite sides of things. Amadaron first took a deep breath, straightening his back, trying to act calm again. “You see, my dearest sister... There is a difference in our own respective evilness. You could say, I do prefer the way of “the end justifies the means”. My ends were about bringing someone back to life. Doesn’t sound THAT evil to me. Wouldn’t you say, so, Captain?” Amadaron jovially turned to the unmoving silent man beside Amarilla, smirking. “What were your ends, Amie? Revenge? Death?”
Suddenly and swiftly he reached his hand through the magical barrier surrounding the barrs, catching Amarilla’s pale hand, looking deeply into her eyes that locked with his in surprise. He felt a jolt of excruating pain as his magical force had immediately started to get sucked out of his body. From the corner of his eyes he could see Captain Torghein reaching for the demonic sword.
The two of us combined can surely bring your son back!
Amarilla’s eyes widened as she heard the single sentence inside her mind. She quickly pulled her arm back as Amadaron released his grip to avoid the dark blue blade of the enchanted demonic sword, laughing.
“The meeting is at its end!” Captain Torghein stated fiercely.
Amadaron smirked weakly and stumbled back a few feet to sit down on a chair, watching the two leave.
"The evil in the West is rising, Amarilla! There'll be a new Age coming soon, do choose your side wisely! Damn... the barriers sure are strong..."
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Scraps of Past V: The Ice Lands’ Tragedy Forgotten in Snow part VIIIb
“Tell us once more, Damian!” Sinma laughed when her brother Sitran and Far’mer joined the circle around the bonfire after unloading what they’d brought.
The war colours became fuzzy with all the sweat running down from us all comming back from the hunt. In the comfortable haziness of the uplifting smokes comming from the fire-wood - most likely a special kind of fire-wood I shifted from my seat next to Lily that she’d save for me and skipped to sit next to Far’mer. I almost tripped but Sirtran caught me by arm and helped me sit down, smirking. “It’s easy to tell, you’re here just a short time. Not used to salvebark, huh?”
I chuckled, looking up at him as he sat down next to me. Both his and Far’mer’s smeared warpaint made them look almost like demons but somehow I didn’t find that scary.
“Damian, c’mon! You can talk so well! Besides, Sek is already all over Gilda!” someone exclaimed, interrupting me in my admiration of the two handsome men sitting next to me on both sides.
“Okay...” I liked the attention, I liked feeling appreciated, I liked being praised... and I felt amazing at that moment... “Well, so Sek told me to draw the boar towards him, right? I called upon the Bear and he emmerged! Rawr!” I shifted with both of my arms up, imitating a bear standing on two legs. Both the young adults and children around the fire laughed - most likely, my impression of a bear was probably on the cute side... rather than intimidating.
"The boar jumped up and started running away. Then Sek's giant eagle Spirit appeared, directing the bewildred animal right at him. Sek stoood there with his spear and the boar was heading straight towards him. It was the boar or Sek at that moment. Those few seconds felt like eternity, they stared into each other's eyes, none of them moving an inch to the side to avoid the uninevitable collision. And then... Sek aimed his spear!" I imitated the movement with my arms. "And threw the weapon right in between the two dark and desperate eyes and bam! The boar was dead. Instantly." A round of applause started, for the third time today.
And then someone yelled: "To the water!" And everyone - including me - got up and ran for the shore to jump into the freezing water of tthe Ice Lands' ocean.
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Amadaron the Necromancer
official name: Amadaron of Fey Wild
abilities: necrotic magic and various forbidden arts
background: older brother of Lady Amarilla the Fair Sorceress, beautiful daughter of the free Fey Wild, son of Hadarai the Wise, after getting a taste of the forbidden arts he’d decided to (literally) raise trouble at the Southern borders of Narradia
race: Eladrin
body type: slender, tall, elegant
skin tone: fair
hair: long straight black
eyes: violet Eladrian
whereabouts: last time seen as he had been brought in chains back to Fey Wild after he’d been subdued by Nicholas Palendryl and his company (Amarrila the Fair Sorceress, Drake the Huntsman, Mauricius Krell, Mountain Bear, Krem Silverblood, etc.)
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Narradians’ Dreams
I’ve heard about the dldream theory once from Master Erik in Capitol’s Workshop. I used to go see him often during holidays while working on an assignment from the Academy about connecting man-made objects with magic and enchantments. His workshop was the grandest, filled with the most ambitious and mostly incomplete inventions. Starting from simple mechanical light toys for kids, expanding to this huge bronze warrior with movable arms and legs, a surely unstoppable force, if only someone were to find a power strong enough to move it. In theory, this would be possible with an object filled with enough magicka, however obtaining such an enchanted amulet would be near impossible and far too costly. And the king, no-matter-how-young, with my father as one of his most trusted advisors wouldn’t found a search for a “Holy Grail”, however he did claim that if Master Erik would ever manage to run this monstrous weapon without magical power, he would put most of his fortune into making a whole mechanical army. Most of the people in the room had laughed that day, however, Master Erik took the king's words to his heart, pouring almost every coin into designing the hydraulics and researching the right source of natural force to power the Collosus.
I liked the dusty workshop. One could just hide there among the boxes with tons of various compartments, tiny wheels and bizzardly shaped levers and listen to the mechanical tick tocks of gadgets around. The whole Workshop Quarter was amazing as the Capitol was more into inventions of man than the magical nonsense of the Academy.
But Master Erik wasn’t only educated in mechanics, he was a great philosopher of his own. I remember this one particular conversation about dreams. It was almost evening and Lisa - Master Erik’s young wife had just brought us some refreshing winter apple ciders. I sat on this huge wooden crate, sipping apple cider, swinging legs in the air, not caring anymore that my white knee-socks and shorts weren’t white anymore after today filled with me running after Master Erik everywhere. I felt quite spent but I was enjoying myself like never before. At that time I wished I never had to go back to the Academy. I wasn’t an inventor, or even an artisant but these people showed me kindness and warmness that I hadn’t felt ever since mother left.
“You see, Dayereth, the dreams you have when you sleep... They’re something more, you know,” he took a smudgy old piece of cloth and tried to wipe his big hands, stained in black oil. His red beard kept jumping up and down as he talked, his shiny bald head reflecting the dimm light of a lamp above our heads. The tiny chair he was sitting on looked like it won’t last trying to hold this mountain-of-a-man.
“I’ve heard people saying, the dreams are a mirror of what’s to come. Of people who had dreams of natural disasters that came true, of people who survived thanks to a warning from a dream... But Daye, those are all people who will tell you about “having a dream” only after it all happens, right? No, little one, I don’t think the dreams are mirages of future. Hell, the future would be hella weird and erotic if it were to happen according to my dreams!” He started laughing in a deep voice. Lisa just rolled her eyes and nudged his arm, trying to make him behave in front of me.
Well, I looked younger but I was already a teenager. And by now, I definitely wasn’t going to be amazed or apalled by Master Erik’s behaviour.
“The dreams, Daye, they’re actually a part of yourself. All of it. Every single detail of the dream is a part of you. It reflects the things you think about and the things you don't even know you're thinking about."
Lisa sighed. "Enough drinking, dear. You're speaking nonsense again..."
"Let me finish, woman!" He exclaimed and chuckled at her reaction. "So you say, you dreamed of fighting and killing a huge panther... but you know, no matter how vicious the monster, it's still a part of yourself. So by stabbing it, you're just tearing appart yourself, disillusioned, because you think you're doing a good thing, something to save yourself. But you're not. You're just ignoring crushing your own heart, standing in the pool of your own blood, above an invisible corpse of a non-existent enemy." With a loud gulp he finished his cider, staring at my face, searching for a reaction.
I tried to grasp all that's been said, thinking carefully before finally reacting. "So what does 'killing a part of myself' mean, then?"
"I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe there's a part of yourself that wants to be set free. Maybe you're supressing something. It's yours to figure out, I'm just an technician," he laughed.
Lisa sighed. "You tease... now he will worry about it. Don't mind him, Dayereth. He's just a silly old man." She ruffled my hair.
So... what I thought of being a heroic dream might have been me fighting against myself in delusion...
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Scraps of Past V: The Ice Lands’ Tragedy Forgotten in Snow part VIIIa
It was the Night of the Hunters. A week before, most of the older Shamans - including Mami’s husband Barck - and Hunters went South to find jobs and trade the money they make for some of the southern merchandise. For the Shaman tribe, this kind of life-style had been a relatively new thing. Until just a few decades ago this clan had been the same warrior clan, like all the other savage-tribes around. Battling each other, there were constantly fewer and fewer tribes, commiting genocide among themselves.
However, at the time when the latest Chieftain was still a teenage girl, a prophecy had been spoken by the Seer. That if they continue fighting on like this, the whole Clan will be wiped out. It was a great decision for the proud warriors and what inspired them the most had been the fierce attack of a barbarian Kah’luk tribe - sworn enemies to the Shaman tribe.
Choosing to survive, they abandoned their homes and life-style, trying to settle down. Though the Kah’luk tribe had never shared their sentiments and went after the now-peaceful Shamans with all their might. Even nowadays the Shamans had to move frequently to avoid a blood-bath.
The Night of the Hunters was a perfect demonstration of how the tribe used to be spontaneous, unrestricted, cruel, primal and wild in the past. Were it not soiled by the after-events, I would consider it the best night of my life.
This event takes place during the first month of the year, the season of hot-berries. So in preparation for this day, the girls gather tons of theses rarities. But let me first explain the effect of this somewhat peculiar berry. Hot berries speed up the metabolism, releasing lots of energy of the body into heat, making even Ice Lands' toughest weather a summer walk. Of course, for a Shaman event, it is not only hot-berries to gather. It is mostly various hallucinogenic mushrooms and the bark of a blue oak, all resources helpful to us Shamans in enhancing our connection to the Spirit World, blurring the borders of our world and the Spirit Realm.
The whole Clan gets ready for the Night of the Hunters together. A night of wild sensuous dancing, crazy adrenaline heroicism, sharing visions of Spirits around the fire and naked swimming in freezing deadly waters of the Ice Lands' Sea under the influence of the hot-berries.
I was a bit nervous about the whole event prior to it, however, excited all the more.
Me and Far’mer were preparing together in his home. I was dressed only in boots and some sort of loincloth made of fox furrs - like all the other males - gulping down hot-berries to keep myself warm. Far’mer then helped me with war paint and entangled a few bird feathers in my hair. Blue - the same he used for his flight feathers. I sort of felt like his younger brother, it was a nice feeling.
“So the first is the hunt? But I can’t hunt at all...” I worried.
“It’s ok. You will use your bear to lure the animals to us,” he smiled and when I opened my mouth to ask some other stupid question he quickly put some sort of herb on my tongue.
With a small surprise I let the thin leave dissolve itself on my tongue. “What is...” But somehow I couldn’t care less anymore. “Far’mer, let me put paint on you, too!” I took the bowls of red, black and blue colours from the table.
“That’s the spirit,” he smiled.
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The horns and drums sounded. The women of the tribe were standing on both sides, making a way for the men heading to the forest. It was somehow spectacular to see the whole tribe - otherwise heavily clothed - now without a care in the world, with so much skin exposed. Women in light short dresses, and green twigs in their hair, men shirtless with furrs around their waist, both decorated by various colours, often determining the families or friendships.
The young men and women were eyeing each other, already making plans in their minds for tonight. I noticed Lily waving at me cutely, so I waved back, still kind of hazed. I remember, I could easily feel all the excitement around me, from the hunt, from the evening that were to come...
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The hunt itself was crazy. With our senses hightened, we were so much closer to the animals than normally, it felt like we were actually able to think like them. It was as if we knew exactly, what each animal would do.
Sek’dan’n - a boy of my age - was especially looking forward to tonight, given his beloved Gilda had probably promised him the moon if he comes back successful tonight.
“Hey, Damian!“ he called to me while we were sneaking through the bushes about 100 meters from a lone boar. “Get him to come at me...”
“What? Shouldn’t we wait for Far’mer and the others?”
“Nonsense, man. This one is mine. I can feel it. Today’s my day.”
I looked at him and saw the determination in his eyes. “You’re crazy, Sek...”
He cheerfully nodded at me as if I just gave him a praise and moved to a different location, getting his spear ready for attack.
I took a deep breath and summoned Bear right next to the boar. The Bear roared loudly and stood up on two legs. The frightened boar started running right towards Sek. I closed my eyes.
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Thoughts on Damian: Mauricius, the Spymaster of House Palendryl
To me, an orphan raised among the warriors of a Nomadic tribe who'd probably kidnapped me and killed my parents when I was a toddler, Master Palendryl and Mistress Amarilla were like a dreamed family. Though Master was maybe 10 years older than me, I've always seen him as a sort of a father figure.
When he bought me off of the clan and showed me warmness and kindness that has always been in his nature, I pledged myself to his services and stayed in the shadows by his side ever since.
I clearly remember the day Dayereth was born. I was the one who broke the news to Lord Palendryl. However, a tough night preceeded it.
It was a beautiful star-filled night and I was guarding Lady Amarilla's quarters when I heard her enter the balcony and call my name in a pained whisper. I immediately jumped from a nearby tree in front of her asking what happened.
Lord was out on an official bussiness and Lady insisted I hadn't come find him. She wanted as few people to know she's went into labour as possible to not alarm the whole Palendon.
I ran as fast as I could through the moonlit streets to bring in the midwife. Throughout the labour, there was only Lady Amarilla, the midwife, one trusted maid and me - freaking out the whole time, running around the place to get hot water, towels, herbs, pillows...
Thinking about it now, then after the midwife and Lady Amarilla, I was the first one to hold the soft, delicate and precious little baby.
"He has eyes and hair like you, Lady... and he's all whitish..." I held Dayereth like a porcelain doll, afraid to drop him. I felt proud, we managed to born him alright, even though it was hardly my doing.
Hadarai's assassination happened while I was on a mission abroad. Later investigation showed, there was a spy among our people. I dealt with him personally but there was no way to bring the happy household back together.
That time I was also assigned as Dayereth's personal shadow guard, which showed that I was the only person Lord Palendryl fully trusted. I or one of my men were alwys following little master wherever he went, unnoticed and untraceable. However, we weren't there to report on him or to ever truly reveal ourselves unless there was an imminent death threat. We weren't spying on him, we were simply securing the perimeter.
Watching young master grow up, I found myself caring for him and his clumsy, nature-loving, introverted and naïve personality became very dear to me.
Of course, Dayereth never knew, I was watching over him, he saw me only at few official gatherings.
When he entered the Academy, Lord Palendryl sent me away on an abroad mission. A Wizzard Academy seemed like a safe enough place.
But after a few years, Dayereth came back unhappy, rebelious and somewhat scared. His father couldn't understood his fraility, even though he tried. They were like fire and water. But both stubborn.
That was definitely the one time Lady Amarilla was needed but not even then did she come back.
Of course, the accusations against Dayereth were false and Lord Palendryl knew it because I was the one who presented him with all the evidence. But he thought this was the best way to convince the young delicate master to go into politics rather than the dangers of adventuring. But yet again he was wrong.
I was ordered not to follow young master when he left. However, after about a month later, Lord Palendryl changed his mind and sent me after him.
I've caught up to him soon after he re-entered Narradian borders. Several times I had to mislead the bounty hunters on his tail.
On orders from Palendon I'd also sent several of my men to find out the whereabouts of the Cannibal-man's library and to inform local aristocrat's of this problem.
I'd watched Dayereth - or now travelling under the name "Damian" - work on the apple fields and of course I'd noticed his meet-up with Hadarai's former companion and nowadays a wanted fugitive connected to the rebellion. At first, I'd wondered what to do. I could have him arrested pretty easily. But young master looked so happy after speaking with him, I decided to postpone my decision. Besides, it actually looked like he successfully led several bounty hunters that were after Dayereth astray. An ally in looking after the trouble-seeking danger-attracting all-around-wanted half-Eladrin was truly a welcomed miracle.
The massacre that occured later in the Shaman tribe village had caught even me off guard. There was probably more to it than a simple inter-tribe squabble and generations of hatred. The tribe that attacked was led by a high-level fire Sorcerer, much more powerful than any barbaric tribe could summon or afford. My investigation was, however, cut short by this magician. When I just got rid of a savage pursuing young master, a strong explosion broke right next to me and though I've tried to evade it, I was badly injured in the proccess and had to retreat. Miraculously, Dayereth managed to hide with a bunch of children without needing any further assistace from the half-dead me.
From that time on I was unable to continue my pursuit and had to send my falcon to Palendon with a report of my whereabouts and the recent events...
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Mauricius Krell
official title: Spymaster of House Palendryl
abilities: unknown
background: unknown, Lord Palendryl brought him in one day to this position, the common believe is that he knew him from his adventurous days
body type: slender, tall, athletic
clothing style: comfortable, free to move around in and probably lots of places to hide hidden blades in, dark coloured mostly, fashion more southern than narradian
skin tone: darker than your avarage Narradian, might come from a desert or tropical country
hair: dark brown
eyes: azure blue
weapon of choice: unknown, but has been seen using all kinds of blades at a very high level, has probably mastered long-distance weapons as well
number of subordinates: unknown
whereabouts: right now unknown, but has spent about two months recuperating from his injuries in Palendon - the castle of Lord Palendryl after comming back from a mission up North
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A Political Secret
This is one of my last memories with Hadarai. It was also the first time I'd ever felt so terrified, at least according to what I can remember.It must have happened two or three months before Hadarai's assassination. We were visitting the Capitol because of some official bussiness. Having freshly entered my 8th year of existence, I didn't really care about all the stuff happening around me, I just wanted to play with my brother and pouted a lot because father took him away from me all the time to learn more about being a responsible adult.
Hadarai would always make time for me, though.
It was shortly after the corronation of prince Robert. My father had just been appointed as one of his main advisors - much to the dismay of the other aristocratic families, which is also why we would visit the Capitol almost every month.
My favourite play, at the time, was hide-and-seek. Me and Hadarai would run around the palace, searching for new great places to hide or for one another. This time, I'd wandered to the chambers near the Royal wing. I knew, Hadarai was following closely behind me because I'd heard him call my name. Quietly chuckling I ran towards one of the doors and peeked inside if it's free to hide myself in.
It was a private study, hidden away from the main halls. However, it had been occupied. Through the crack in the door I could see the very much married Baronness of the Mericelli Clan - also a member of the Royal Council (just as my father) lying on a sofa and a young man, kneeling in front of her, kissing her feet.
The woman noticed me and and chuckled. "We have a visitor, Your Highness..."
And the man turned towards the door. At the same time my eyes got covered by my brother's hand. But I still managed to notice that the man in front of the Baronness was the 16-year-old king himself.
Thinking about it now, it wasn't a surprise. The Baroness's clan had always had the biggest military strenght having her favour you was the most crucial thing for a ruler. However politically strategical, still highly socially inappropriate and publicly needed to remain a secret at all cost, especially in the prudent Narradia where a known affair could undermine even a king.
I heard King Robert straighten up and walk slowly towards us.
Hadarai quickly hurried with an apology. "I am so very sorry for my kid-brother. He wandered here by mistake and I'm sure he didn't mean to enter, had he known this room was occupied." Hadarai bowed, deeply, making me flex my torso as well. I stayed silent, somehow, I felt I'd made a huge mistake, so I just followed my older brother's lead.
The king stopped just few centimeters in front of us. I could feel the brocade fabric of his clothes graze my cheek. He and my brother were about the same age, same height, same stature so he leaned to his ear, whispering coldly and hatefully just above my head.
"Curiosity killed the cat..."
After that the door slammed shut right in front of us.
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Before the Civil War
It was a simple rutine that I'd repeat with my mother while visiting the Capital on various occassions.
On the mornings when most of the town's folk went to pray to Erathis the city's guardian deity, including my father and brother (though my family’s region consisted mostly of Melora's followers), my mother would dress herself and me in simple-looking clothes and we both headed outside to the slums' area. It was fun for me because the one order I was given as soon as we slipped out of the Guest Wing and to the garden behind castle's black kitchen, stated: "Play in the puddles and mud as much as you can." I'd always run around and jump into all the filthy puddles I could find, staining the white linnen fabric of my clothes. I had to be careful, however, so that my hood wouldn't come off, revealing my white hair and pointy elvish ears. My mother also hid her hair under a simple hooded cloak, making sure, not even her unsual eyes could be seen from under it. Eladrins were so scarse in this part of the continent that someone might recognize us at first glance.
These trips were also a secret from both father and Hadarai. Nowadays, I can finally understand why.
At this time, soon after the corronation of king Robert, third son of the deceased king Vandin the Great, the country fell into troubles. It was thanks to the Third Prince's brothers and also the growing power of nobility... such as my family's and others. (Of course, my father wasn't a troublemaker, he was a strong loyalist, trying to guide the young king, even though he himself hadn't been sitting by the Royal Council's table for very long.)
The instability and starting conflicts that recently ignited the flame of civil war came mostly from the very unfortunate situation forecomming the corronation of the Third Prince.
The death of king Vandin was a sudden one while he just fell down of his horse during a hunt and just like that, he was dead. No signs of wounds or poison.
You see, in Narradia, the king cannot rule without the support of Royal Council, so even with the inherited right to rule, one still needs to be voted in.
The first-in-line, Bertoldt, was a strong candidate to be the next king of Narradia and its collonies, as he was both strong and wise and most of the Royal Council favoured him.
However, an unknown assassin ended Bertoldt's life just before the ceremony and all the leads presented by the third prince and some of the nobles somehow revealed the second brother Trand to be the mastermind behind it.
This - of course - was a strong argument against prince Trand and even though some nobles were on his side, he lost the vote 4:8. Which left the youngest 16-year-old prince Robert as the only option and somehow he'd been voted in even without a guardian.
So with a dead king, a dead prince and another prince with life-sentence in prison, nobles in disarray... these were the beginnings of many political struggles in which my family got entangled as well, in the end.
My mother was never one for politics but she understood that with country's inner instability comes less money, more jobless people, more beggars and crowds, hunger and diseases in overgrown slums of the Capitol. So whenever there was no one to notice us, me and my mother would venture to the poor and shady alleys, offering to treat injuries , help cure the sick or simply leave some money on the doorsteps of the families with lots of children. I loved my kind mother and I loved having a secret. Besides oftentimes, I was lucky to find other childrem my age to play with.
Sometimes we would meet this man. An elven mercenary. I've never found out where does my mother know him from but from the bits of conversations I'd overheard, they must have known each other from the times when my mother and father were still travelling adventurers. Yes, there were times when I was older, when I wondered whether these two weren't secretly lovers. Besides, a lot of people had uttered over the years under their breath (but not so I couldn't hear) that I just CAN'T be my father's son, since we've got nothing in common both skill-wise and appearence-wise. I couldn't agree more, there was nothing human in me aside from my ageing and from my Eladrin mother I had apparently inherited only the looks. Plus my petitness and small stature somehow went off the rails in both races.
No, I don't think my mother would betray father. No. She decided to stay here and not go back to Fey Wild because of him... though in the end she still left... I don't know. But watching my father's solemn face I've always hoped she'd loved him as much as he did love her. So... maybe it's just my wishful thinking. She left us and what, where and with whom she is now? I have no idea...
Actually three or four years after Hadarai's death, I'd venture to the slums by myself to search for this elven mercenary. Wrapping a scarf around my ears and hair, throwing on me the “poorest”-looking clothes I could find, I slipped out of the Royal castle through the same route, me and my mother used before.
I wandered downtown, looking around the streets. It wasn’t as I’ve remembered it. The downtown or the slums... there was no difference, beggars everywhere, diseased people coughing in front of the clinics, some lying in the alleys... and I’m pretty sure, I saw a dead body near an irrigation ditch...
Trying to keep my head down, as to not expose my feminine elven features, purple eyes and lips pursed in a near-vomitting cringe I rushed to where I remembered my mother used to meet the elven mercenary. Near a pub called “The Last Gambit”, quite a poetic and somewhat nihilistic name, given by an inn keeper infamously known for almost killing a cheating gambler.
I’d finally reached the pub, holding onto a magical amulet in my pocket that I’d been using as a Wizzard novice to help me conjure magic. Not that the two or three spells I’ve been able to use - including setting a piece of paper on fire - would help me if I were to be attacked with or without a weapon by basically anyone stronger than me... so except the ones lying around infested with red maggots... everyone.
Taking a deep breath, I entered. It didn’t matter whether it was midday outside. The windows had probably never been washed, so the inside of the tavern had to be lit by candles. With one glance, I quickly understood, this was a den of bounty hunters and those who called themseves that disguising the fact they work as assassins and robbers... people with no morals, taking money for whatever job they are offered, be it stealing, arson, rape, kidnapping or murder.
I wanted to turn around and leave but I’d heard the door open and close behind me, knowing, it would be too obvious and eye-catching, trying to fit in the narrow stairs with another person behind me entering, so I hurriedly head for the bar, deciding to just ask about the mercenary and maybe hints of my mother and then run for it.
A scatchy-looking and probably disease-infested female prostitute winked at me as I passed her by. I forced a smile and tried to not react facially to the terrible odour that surrounded her.
Approaching the bar, trying to look as natural as possible, I rested my elbows on the counter. Unfortunately, the counter was too tall and my elbows ended up at the same height as my sholders, so to make a somewhat believable pose, I layed my forearms on the counter and rested my chin on my hands.
The owner looked down at me, while cleaning the wooden tankards with a rag that might have as well been used on the floor before.
“You look too clean to be looking for customers here, boy, the times are desperate, huh?” he spitted into the tankard and continued on rubbing the cloth over it.
“What...?” at first I didn’t understand what meant.
“Didn’t know kids like you had to dive into this bussiness, condolences. Honestly speaking, I think, YOU might be able to get yourself a customer in the Upper City, you know. That is if you’re on your own... Oh! Or are you a new one from the brothel at the end of the street? Damn! Hatchet - that fucker! I didn’t know he was dealing in kids!”
Oh! So this is what he meant! He thought I was a male prostitute... I’d never seen one in my life before, so I couldn’t really say whether I looked like one or not. However, the concern of a six-feet tall giant, bear-style bearded and hairy inn keeper was admirable and somewhat touching, easing the stress, I’d felt ever since entering this pub. I decided, not to agree nor disagree with his theory and started discribing the mercenary and my mother, asking whether he’d seen them before, working magic with the upward cute stare I’d trained before on the kitchen maids whenever I craved more candy. That and the pity the owner had felt for me ever since he saw me enter, were the only bargaining tools I had.
Sadly, no valid information was provided, only a filthy mug of some goat milk that I had accepted out of courtesy. I turned from the counter, holding the mug and suddenly someone had hooked arms with me, pulling me towards the entrance and out. I barely managed to put the mug on one of the tables we passed by, probably spilling most of the milk.
The tall stranger in leather cloak, with a hat hiding most of his face, surrounded by the sickeningly herbal smell of some exotic tobacco kept pulling me behind him with ease even as I started struggling. “Release me! Who are you? What are you doing?! Let... me.. go!”
The man stopped and turned to me, aside from oily long black curly hair and an unkempt stubble, I couldn’t really make out any distinctive features in the shadow of his leather hat’s wide brim. “I’m saving your tiny ass, Your Highness.”
“W-what...?” I think my mouth had been gaping for a few seconds then. “N-no! I’m no aristocrat! I work... I work at the end of the street... There!” I pointed towards a house with red lantern above the door.
I think the man rolled his eyes before sighing. “Okay... I will take you there, then.” And he started walking, dragging me with him.
“N-no! Wait!” Somehow an idea struck me, what if they actually accept me as a prostitute there...?
The man stopped.
“I was just...” I looked at the muddy road under my feet.
“Looking for your mother. As always.” He started walking with me back towards the Upper City. “Kids like you can’t do anything else anyway. Just accept it for your own good. She left. She’s not comming back.”
I wasn’t surprised he started talking like he knew me. If he’d recognized me - whatever gave me away - he’d must have heard of our family’s tragedy. Everybody in the palace talked about it... over and over... how I’m a poor child... that my mother is terrible for leaving a child behind... how my father is pitiful...
“I just want to ask her...” I mumbled.
“You won’t get an answer you want to hear anyway,” he pulled on my arm, so a passing carriage wouldn’t splash mud on me. “You have to think, however. You’re just acting like a snobbish brat now. What were you thinking? Half of the pub got that you’re high-class. Leather boots and such clean clothes, seriously? Besides, even like this you could pass as a royal princess with that baby face of yours. There were three guys getting ready to rob you as soon as you’d get out of there.”
“W-what...?”
“Counting the prostitute.”
“What...?! Three GUYS?!” That was a bit too much for me, so I tried to change the subject. “So... seems like you do know your way around...”
“No, I don’t know that mercenary of yours nor would I tell you if I’d known. Do you think information comes cheap?”
“So what do you get from saving me? Did my father hire you to watch me?” I highly doubted that.
“No, he didn’t. But he did hire a guy that let you slip into the den of wolves, so I wouldn’t trust your father’s judgement much. I’m saving you because it’s more convinient for me...” We passed by the Golden Frog Inn and entered the Upper City.
“I see, so there was someone after me... and either am I a genius sneaking legend or he had a better offer to “let me get in danger”?”
“In which you successfully cooperated, yes.”
“So by exposing this information to my father and saving me, you hope to get a thick reward.”
“That’s about it. Aren’t you a bit too chatty for your own good?”
“I believe, it’s one of my merits.”
He sighed. “Oh, you rich kids...”
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Scraps of Past V: The Ice Lands’ Tragedy Forgotten in Snow part VII
When I woke up, Grisha had been sitting by my side, anxiously watching my every breath.
“I guess... the ritual went well...?” I mumbled, eyes still closed. Somehow even without opening my eyes, I could feel everything around me. All that’s a part of nature, somehow I felt it all. The light breeze under the doorway, the few rays of moonlight comming in through the small window, flowers in the pots around growing milimeter by milimeter... all the roddents around the settlement, the birds high up in the sky... My senses were still sharpened.
“Yes, Damian, dear, it worked.” She stroked my chin.
“You should try having Lily undergo the ritual as well,” I sat up. “You can be sure now your NEW ritual might just work...”
“Oh, Damian...” she looked down. “I never planned on you becoming my guinea pig... I just...”
“You just couldn’t bring yourself to try it first on your granddaughter. I understand. I’m glad it worked though...” I sat up and laughed nervously.
Grisha smiled at me. “You should rest now. Tomorrow starts the festival of young people like yourself. You got to enjoy it.”
I nodded and let her tuck me back under the furrs.
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Scraps of Past V: The Ice Lands’ Tragedy Forgotten in Snow part VI
Grisha thought I was special. That I am the first one she knew who didn't bond with their Spirit Companion without any consequences. She wanted to study why that was. Was it because I only called upon my Spirit Companion until I was a teenager? But there were all those strange stories from my past that might have indicated I've been protected by Spirits since long before. However, she'd never heard of anyone like that from outside the Clan. It was supposed to be the Clan's side-effect of their members being so strongly connected to the Spirit Realm.
When I've heard from her about the two spirits who aren't very strong but have a very strong desire to protect me, I thought I had my answer. Arind and Hadarai had been with me all along and when I'd used the Shaman magic for the first time, they transformed into a form that was meant to protect me. I've never had any strong connection to Spirit Realm so the other - probably much stronger - Spirits had left me be.
Everyone thought I was special. At the time, there were two members of the Clan suffering the curse. A 10 year-old boy and Lily, Chieftain’s granddaughter, two years younger than me. She wasn't a candidate for the ritual, as there was a very slim chance of her surviving it. She was completely unstable. None could predict when her next seizure might happen and if it wouldn't be the last, if the Spirits tear her soul appart. There always had to be a higher level Shaman around to supress the seizure, so Lily never really left the village nowadays.
I thought I was special. Grisha had wanted to study my and the Bear's condition so she put off the Initiation Ritual that was supposed to normalize things among us and create a proper bond.
Oftentimes after learning about Shamans from Grisha, I would visit Lily as well. She was close to me in age and I knew Grisha and her daughter might have been eyeing me as a possible marriage candidate. I actually didn't mind. Lily and I were friends and the more days past, the more I became inclined into staying with the Clan.
But we were all wrong. The problem might not have been the people but the place itself or maybe just the timing was bad... I can only speculate now.
I remember sitting by the fire, watching the flame dance. I think Far’mer was telling me something while checking his arrows. His Spirit Hound was enjoying the warmness of the fireplace by my feet.
I was thinking about Lily and the fact that if I marry her, I won’t be a prey to bounty hunters and Naarn family’s ambitions anymore. Maybe I will be allowed to come home...? But would I want to? I would be a better father than my dad. Definitely. And a good husband! I wouldn’t mind if my wife got the children elsewhere. I would just take care of them and she could spend her free time with her lover... Actually, could it be all three of us living together...?
“Far’mer, would you like to live with me and Lily...?” my vision got a bit blurry and I had to blink a few times to focus on the glowing charcoal.
“Damian...? What are you talking about?” Far’mer came up to me and concernly bend down to examine my face. “Do you feel alright?”
I tried to get up but the whole world started spinning so I hurriedly sat back on the pillow. “I’m... a bit wobbly...”
Far’mer helped me get seated steadily again and put a nicely cold hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up, friend. C’mon, let’s have the Chieftain look at you.”
And that is all I remember from that evening. The next time I woke up, I was already being fed herbs for the Initiation Ritual. I was told that when Far’mer brought me outside, there was my Bear waiting, all bloody, because he kept ripping the hair out of his body. When he saw me getting carried, the Bear wanted to attack Far’mer and because I was already in a bad condition, they didn’t want to fight my Bear to deal any more damage to me. It was messy...
And it just proved I was no one special...
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Dream of the Cabbage Smoke
The library was on fire. In the middle of it all. There he was, playing the grand piano like always... the same melody... sad and needing... desperate...
Above us, there was a Phoenix, shaped like a person I know. But there was no consciousness of her own. It was just the phoenix, burning everything around mercilessly.
The Bear was shielding me from the flames and through his cold radiant self, I saw the destruction and end... it was... frightening... but magnificent...
I tried to reach through the Bear but he stopped me with his gaze.
"It's ok, she won't hurt me... she's a friend," I said but no sound came out. The Bear understood me, however, looking kindly at my tiny self.
And why wouldn't she hurt you?
"What? Who's this? Who's talking?" I looked around frantically.
Do you deserve to be her friend? What about the lives you've ruined already? Arind... killed instead of you...
"No..."
Your mother left after your brother's death because she knew you weren't worth it...
"No... that's not true..."
You remember how Amarius reacted when you chose Shamanry. The White Bear bears unluckiness... Narradia despised you... Your father didn't believe your words, you were just a troublemaker for everyone, letting down the people who cared... Used by the rest to seize power... just a tool...
"No! Amarius was just scared and... father only thought of what was best for me in his eyes...!"
I yelled, surprised by my own words, it was probably the first time I'd ever defended them.
What about Ice Lands and their silly tradition... did you really save the tribe?
"No... I didn't..."
Far'mer died protecting you.
"No, he died protecting his sister's child, not me... I... I..."
You drove Cassios - the person who put you back together - to betray his closest friends...
"They were planning to assassinate my father... and they'd be killed surely... I... I did them a favour..."
Tsk, tsk... Aren't you just making excuses, little piggy...?
There he was, the Cannibal, right in front of me, Bear's fur stood up in alert. And he started to growl...
I froze up in fear, staring straight in the eyes of horror, with flames burning the rare pages all around us to nothingness...
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