Shadows - Shayde Mel'for

[rohenna]

“Mama!!!”

She sat bolt upright in bed, staring into the darkness with a gasp, unsure if she had cried out loud. Familiar surroundings. Sam, for once not woken by her fitfulness, breathing softly beside her. She slipped quietly from under the covers, pulling a rug around her bare shoulders and moving to the fire burning softly in the grating.

Another dream. It was almost the same, but not quite, and that was what worried her.

These new dreams were similar to the ones that had haunted her since she was a child, only there were shadows, barely noticeable in the corners of the room as the young Shayde watched her mother and grandfather dance; flitting through the edges of her field of vision as the dream shifted to the memories of her mother in the garden, carefully laying herbs into a basket, Eleyne’s fingers long and brown as they guided hers; then as she watched for the thousandth time her mother’s throat cut open, the whispering would begin...

“The shadow world is endless...crosses over other realms...you could visit her... “If you were queen, if you ruled us, you could bring your mother back...” “We know where her soul resides...we could show you...”

Seventeen years of separation. It was tempting. But an illusion, she knew. Her heart ached.

The cloth, it seemed, had found an old doorway into her dreams, one through which Coloth had tormented her since childhood, and the shadows had slipped through. Their whispering was growing louder in her mind, too. She didn’t want to worry anyone. Wanted wholeheartedly for this to be the solution to Thirianna’s problem. But if she didn’t find a way to hold them at bay...

She curled up on the cushions and closed her eyes. Immediately the whispering grew louder. The box lay covered and sealed in the armoire, and as she promised Sam, she would not open it unless he was with her. She would tell him over breakfast of the dream...in the meantime...she kept her eyes closed, now deliberately focussing on the whisperings. After a time she could see them in her minds eye, the faceless shadows moving around in their ethereal dances, twirling almost as slow as time...all the same toneless grey as if drained of colour. She thought of Thirianna. She thought of what Terrah had said: how the shadows could affect you but they could not lift your hand to strike. She thought of Thirianna again, focussed on what the girl had told her...

Then, out of the corner of her mind’s eye...a black figure moved past...a man...not a shadow...She flinched, and the movement caused him to turn, then vanish.

Her eyes opened.

She sat up, suddenly hopeful.

Sam was sleeping soundly. She looked out the window. The first rays of dawn had not yet begun to light the sky. There were hours to wait until she felt right to wake him and tell him. Her excitement simmered, her impatience stirred; she knew there was no chance of sleeping again tonight. Creeping over to the bed, she gazed at him in silence for a while, a soft smile on her face. Then she sighed loudly. Waited. Nothing. She rumpled the covers. He stirred. She waited hopefully. He settled back into a deep sleep. She considered. Leaning over, she took a strand of his bright hair and tickled his nose lightly with it. He snorted, brushed at his nose, then rolled over, his breathing evening out to a peaceful pace. He was worn out from the last few nights, being torn from sleep by her dreams. Her heart swelled with love. Moving to the other side of the bed, she laid a soft kiss on his forehead. Then, dropping the rug she was wrapped in, she picked up his cloak, and so, enveloped in his scent and the warmth of the cloak, slipped quietly from the room, easing the door shut behind her.

When dawn finally broke, hours later, Shayde was laying asleep on her belly on the floor of the library, surrounded by old children’s stories about the shadow realm.

[rohenna]

Her hands were black with mud, her once-blue armour caked in a dark murky blood, and other things she did not wish to think about. Night had fallen, and the battle had stopped as they all retreated to the camp some miles away. Shayde was craving solitude. After the meal was shared among them all, she murmured to the commanding officer about scouting, and took off into the night, making her way silently up a treed ridge until she had a view of the entire valley, Nuarari’s light spilling across it all. Deceptively peaceful, it looked, aside from the last of the carrion birds alighting from the battlefields, likely as they were disturbed by Peralia’s clergy making their way around the last of the fallen.

She hugged her knees to her body, wakeful and watchful. The black cloth was safe back in Ravenswatch, and her nightmares were unable to manifest as she collapsed exhausted into her camp bed of an evening, catching only a few hours sleep at a time, too keyed up from the battle to relax enough for sleep to come. Her mind raced, thoughts of Sam, Reina and Garet, Thirianna and Ardaion, Elvina, Karis, Selchis, the man in the shadows...they all seemed so far away, like another lifetime.

The Mistress had served to break something fearful in her. She had nearly fallen to pieces, had only been stopped by Celestia's gentle, strengthening magics. Then suddenly, in the centre of another wave of rising undead, something had snapped in her head. Rage flooded through her body, tuned her focus to a sharp point, and she saw nothing but red, hacking and slashing and destroying. Her mother's face rose before her, and the rage turned to a fury that threatened to take the breath out of her. She was not afraid anymore. That part of her was broken, cast away, and replaced with a cold strength.

Gazing up at the moon, the voice of the Mistress floated through her mind, her words to Phelan resonating deep within her. “I will grant you a lifetime with your lovely Naralia”

Even knowing her claim to be untrue, it must have caused an ache in Phelan’s heart. It had given her a twinge of pain, just for a moment, the longing and the inevitability of things given breath for a short time before she swallowed it down, summoning her courage.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a folded piece of parchment, unfolding it carefully, tilting it to the light of the moon. The familiar handwriting brought a soft smile to her face, then a flash of sadness again. “A lifetime...”

Best be grateful for what you have, every moment, Shayde Mel’for.

Slipping the letter into her pocket, she straightened a crumpled piece of blank parchment and her quill and ink from her small pack, and began composing her own letter.

"Dear Sam,

Here I sit, miles above the valley, fields bathed in Nuarari's gentle light, and I wonder how far away you are..."

[rohenna]

It still whispered to her. All the time, now that she was back from the front, back in the house in Ravenswatch. Thirianna’s attacker had been destroyed; she was no longer needed there. When she was told that, standing in the Ravencrest Inn, her eyes had been drawn immediately to the door. She ached suddenly to get back to the cloth, to reassure herself it was still there, because now it wasn’t required, and all through her body her blood sang “they will take it from you” or was it “take us from you”? She couldn’t quite tell. And it didn’t matter. She just knew there was an irresistible luring toward that silver box.

Now she stood in front of the bureau, staring at the box.

On one hand was her promise to Sam. On the other was the whispers growing louder and louder. Harder to resist. Natural curiosity muddied with the craving that the denial was beginning to instil in her. What if..? What if they were right? What if she might be able to learn about them, more than anyone before? What if she might find a way to draw on their skills, their power, bring them through the veil that separated the world and the shadow realm, use them for good? They would make excellent allies against Canas, slipping into places men could not venture, access to information they would not otherwise have...

Remember what this cloth is, Shayde. Remember its alliances. Remember who rules the shadows. Remember how He ruled you, Shayde. How He knows the ways into your mind, your sleep.

But...what if...?

She’d spoken to Celestia on the clifftop that evening, and asked about where to hide things that were to never to be found. She had a list of places, now.

It wouldn’t hurt, surely, just once, to explore. Just before she took it and hid it from the world. Just to see...

She took a deep breath and reached into the bureau, the silver of the box cool in her hands. Tucking it into her pack, she threw on a cloak and slipped out the door of the house.

Outside, it had been raining. The cobblestones were dark with rain; the scent of evaporation rising off the warm stones filled her lungs, that slightly musty, sticky scent of a city mingled with it. It was just another ordinary day.

What could possibly go wrong?

[rohenna]

There was an unusual silence behind those walls that set her stomach tightening uneasily. Ominous, it was. Shayde crouched quietly on the hill overlooking Thrall’s Gate, her hood pulled low, the small basket of harvested herbs set gently down beside her. It was the kind of silence that one often noticed when the wind of a hot day suddenly stopped, dark clouds on the horizon, right before the cooler wind rose and tangled about one’s hair, warning of the storm to come. She hoped that was an inappropriate metaphor. The piece of folded parchment in her pocket led her to speculate that it might be otherwise.

Trailing down through the long grasses to the large fence, she peered through a gap in the timbers to the Temple beyond. It did not look threatening at all; it was hardly ostentatious, a simple stone structure with little ornamentation, yet within those walls...

What...?

Plots to raise an almost dead Empire to its former glory? The delusions that the Church still held a much power as it once did...the idea that the small trickle of refugees from the ruins of the Empire would once again claim dominion over the land...?

All this, perhaps, and in the middle of a war, when unity was at its most crucial? Even in their arrogance, their assumed superiority, they couldn't be so foolish.

What kind of a god would lead his children into a second conflict when the loss of the first meant their very lives? It was one of the first things one learned about war...it cannot be fought effectively on two fronts...

Surely they wouldn't...?

Whatever it was, whatever they were scheming about...it could not be trusted.

Thayne Rhaz could never be trusted either, but perhaps his odd sense of honour might lead him to hold to his word, if this was what they were plotting in that little stone Temple.

Ward Aylows did not wish to see her in the Temple; so be it. She had nothing to learn from it, or him. Not now. She had his gold and his blessing for her Museum...the irony. Laughing softly under her breath, she wondered what Father Minuvas might make of that.

She would be wary, but not afraid. To fear the Church right now was to fear the tantrum of a noisy, spoiled child. No, not fear. She would do what she did best; wait, listen, and watch. Wait and see what storms the silence might bring.

[rohenna]

The leather of her armour needed to be worn in a little more. It was new, and that soft pliability that was customary of old, familiar leather was not quite there yet. It had protested a little as she alighted softly on the ground; almost a squeak as she bent her knees into a landing crouch.

She’d been up on the low walls of Morell following a strange woman who seemed to draw her attention from the moment Shayde saw her. Long black hair, piercing eyes, trying to appear inconspicuous but with a startling beauty that would never allow her to blend in. In addition, Shayde felt a shiver of recognition as she gazed on her features, but she could not recall where she had seen the woman. She wore a long, dark, dirty cloak, and appeared at first to be a large woman, until Shayde’s keen eyes noted she was concealing an infant within the folds of her garment. Their eyes had briefly met across the Gentleman Bastard Inn, and Shayde recognised with a shock that the woman was emanating terror. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the intensity of the fear, and she slowly pushed away her meal, rising from the stool at the bar and slipping her hood up over her head. With one last furtive glance around the Inn, the woman slipped quietly past the bar and out toward the kitchen, nodding discreetly to Laurel on her way past.

Shayde glanced quickly around. Two men, obviously strangers - lacking the look of the Triad or the MacHeaths - stood up from their table in the corner and made quickly for the door; that could just be coincidence, she surmised, but best not risk it. Something was amiss, she knew that much. She moved quietly to the darkest corner of the Inn and slipped into the shadows the moment she knew nobody was looking.

The shadows were noisy today; somewhat restless. While Soap’s black cloth was no longer affecting her, there seemed to be some kind of residue, a door within that was left open a fraction. It seemed to her harmless, but for the disconcerting whispers that found her as she was moving through the edge of the shadow realm in her travels. Each time the words were different, sometimes just fragments. However, this time, they reached her clearly.

“It is moon-mad, blood-poisoned, a dark-dreamer, Shadow-walker. Take a step into this, Shayde-shadow, and the light might have trouble finding you again. We have it. We hold it. It is not meant for the light...your gift would be damnation...”

The words left her slightly shaken, but she slipped out the door nonetheless, her gazing moving around the town square for the figure of the woman. There was no sign of her. Not even a trail leading from the back door of the Inn. Shayde moved quickly to the perimeter of the settlement, scaling the crude stone wall in a moment, and crept along the top. Nothing. She located the two men who had left the Inn before her; they too seemed to have been eluded. Unable to shrug off her uneasiness, she spent the next few hours watching from the walls of the town, to no avail.

[Althalus]

Also from atop the roof of Morell, at times so close as Shayde navigated the walls that she had to hold her breath, a small crouched bundle of doom perched, watching her. Taking in the sights. Though her eyes had full well adjusted to the dark - and she could see better than most in it - she too had lost the figure of the woman as she excited the Inn. The very same woman that had drawn her here. That she had seen in the streets of Cear.

It appeared as though suddenly, the tiny black wrapped figure was on the ground, unheard whispers still prodding her.

"We miss you, You miss us, You remember. We know you cannot forget. Cannot forget that she took us from you."

Keeping one eye on the half-elf and one left to scan for the woman with her baby was not enough, and soon, she lost them both.

[rohenna]

She’d seen the woman again. Scurrying, hunched over her precious bundle, cloaked and silent, even though her gait was slightly awkward with what she was carrying. And so the shadows were being noisy again. These whispers were broken fragments, nonsensical phrases that seemed random and incomplete, but at such an intrusive volume that she had to stop a couple of times to clear her head, slipping out into the moonlight in plain view.

“Stole her from us...she was safe....betrayer...she remembers...revenge stalks like a hungry cat...cannot forget...”

Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement. The woman was moving toward the water. Shayde scampered over the roof and dropped onto the cobblestones with a soft thud. A sudden flush of heat on the back of her neck, like a warm breath, caused her to look around. Nothing. Refocussing, she headed down to the Docks, looking wildly around, seeking a glimpse of the woman in the cloak. Again, nothing. Cursing quietly, she climbed halfway up the high stone wall on the pier and glanced around. A smaller shadow caught her attention, and then it was gone. Half the size of the mysterious woman, familiar somehow...and gone again in a flicker of shades.

Moving back into the shadow realm, she caught another glimpse of the smaller figure some distance away now, moving fast. The whispers grew louder, like the rush of water tumbling over a waterfall.

“Misses us...took her away...your time is coming, bitch...remembers us...cannot forget...stole what made her safe and strong...love is a lie...”

Gasping, she stepped back to the world again, the light of the sun glinting in her eyes, causing her to turn her head away sharply. As she did so, she bumped heavily into somebody. Murmuring apologies, she looked up to see the face of the dark haired beauty looking off into the distance, right past her as if she hadn’t noticed Shayde collide with her. The terror emanating from the woman hit Shayde like a wall, and she tumbled to the ground, gasping, overwhelmed, her eyes closing for a second as if in pain. A hand reached down to help her up. Shayde took it, rising to her feet, then looked her rescuer in the face. A kindly old man was smiling up at her.

“That was quite a tumble for a pointy eared lass, your kind are normally a lot more nimble, eh?”

Shayde murmured a vague reply, glancing around for the woman, but to no avail. Her gaze dropped to her feet, where a small piece of linen had tumbled. She reached for it. Rough between her fingers, she noticed markings on the small triangular piece. No, not markings...letters...part of a piece of writing...

“...black souled one shall be born...
...unlock the gateway...
...sealed for eternity...
...queen or slave...
...born unto...”

[rohenna]

She didn’t go straight home. First of all because her injuries prevented her from moving too fast, but mostly because, she suspected later, she was in a mild state of shock.

His eyes had changed back for just a brief moment. From her vantage point pressed against the rock face, immersed to her neck in water, she saw her own grief echoed in his face. Go now, she though. Go. Already the struggle was back in his eyes as she pushed quietly off from the rock, moving as quickly as she could through the water to the opposite bank. She followed the river downstream for some distance; unaware of time, or anything other than the dull ache in her chest and the need to be away from that place.

Stopping for water late in the afternoon, she caught her reflection in the glassy surface of the water, and choked back a cry. Her throat was bruised from his hands. There was a cut above one eye. She sat back on the bank, curled her knees up to her body and sobbed.

Some time later the pain of her shoulder returned, and she sat, teeth chattering, shaking with an unknown cold that spread over her skin, competing with the burning fire of the slash marks in her flesh. Her mind was a fog. She saw his orange eyes every time she closed her eyes. Heard that cold cold voice...”I will kill you for that” after her knife slashed the tendon in his arm. His flaming scimitar. She shuddered. Her skin felt clammy. Her heart did not seem to want to slow down. Think, Shayde. Gathering some kindling, she slowly built a small fire by the water, huddling close to it as she made a calming tea. A little later, some quick made stew in her belly, a degree of warmth began to move through her limbs, and she was able to focus on cleaning her wounds.

I have to warn them. We have to save him.

[rohenna]

The first few days of their marriage passed in a heady daze of laughter, love and seclusion at her little cottage on the edge of the forest. Shayde had delighted in finally bringing Sam back to her childhood home, revelling in his curiosity as he made himself at home, sharpening the old axe, splitting a pile of logs, and making a verbal list of all the things that needed fixing up around the place. By the end of the fourth evening she remarked to him that he looked younger than he had in all the time she’d known him; his brow was smooth and his laughter flowed more freely.

They’d walked into town later the first week on the day of the village market, when it became apparent to both of them that Reina’s farewell food baskets were depleted. The villagers welcomed Sam with a mixture of curiosity, admiration, and amusement. The village women jostled at each other in the rush to meet little Shayde Mel’for’s Colonel husband; murmurs of “Isn’t he handsome?” and “If I were twenty years younger...nay...even ten, for that one...” drifting across to Shayde, who stood chuckling quietly a few feet back from the commotion while her new husband was drawn down again and again by wrinkled hands toward different sets of puckered old lips. Her laughter spilled forth as an unknown hand reached for Sam’s buttock in the fray.

A peace she had never known filled her that afternoon as they made their way home.

Then, that night, as Nuarari’s gaze spilled soft light through the dormer window of the tiny upstairs bedroom, her peace shattered.

She woke, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding from a nightmare she could remember only fragments of. Slipping silently out of bed, she pulled a blanket over her shoulders and made her way downstairs to the glowing hearth, poking at the coals until a flame appeared, then she slipped into the soft, worn chair beside it. Its familiar scent grounded her a little.

The wind picked up outside. The air grew crisp, tight; a storm was approaching. Shutters began to creak, and she rose, pulling on a woollen gown she had intended to wash, closing the windows one by one.

She looked out into the night. The woman was there, cloaked and hooded, her pale face lifted to the moon in fear. Shayde gasped. Instead of fright, she was overcome with a poignant ache, a unfamiliar longing, and a sense of the woman’s fear, the same emotion that emanated from her every time they crossed paths. She took a deep breath and slipped out the door into the night.

The woman turned luminous eyes on Shayde, pulling her cloak over the infant that she held to her chest. The two of them gazed at each other for a few moments in silence, then the woman spoke, her eyes darting around edgily as the words fell from her lips.

“You have what they seek.” The infant stirred, and Shayde’s eyes were drawn to the bundle beneath the woman’s cloak. The latter drew back a little, shaking her head. “You cannot see it. You carry it within you.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Shayde’s eyes drifted again to the opening of the cloak, her chin lifting as she attempted to catch a glimpse of the child. The ache within her increased. A strange longing. But again, the woman drew back, turning the child a little away from Shayde.

“It does not exist here yet. You cannot see it. You carry it within you.” The woman glanced furtively over her shoulder, then back to Shayde, her pupils dilating with growing fear. Shayde’s hands went involuntarily to her belly where a cold fear began to form. Clouds passed over the moon and the night shadows shifted, blending slowly into one large, grey darkness. “They know. They wait. You cannot give it life. That is all I can tell you for now...” She glanced up at the moon, then around them both, her head turning sharply as a hunting cat’s. She whispered “they come...go inside...now!” and vanished.

Shayde fled inside, barring the door, her heart pounding. She did not know precisely what the woman meant by “they”, but her instincts told her not to wait to find out. Moving to the fire, she added logs until the fireplace was blazing, then set about lighting all the lamps, trying her hardest not to give in to the rising fear within. “They know, they wait. You cannot give it life...” The words had seemed familiar, and as it struck Shayde exactly where and when she had heard them, she sank to the floor of the hearth, her face drained of colour, her arms wrapping around her belly. “We have it. We hold it. It is not meant for the light...your gift would be damnation...”

That simply could not be what they meant. It could not be.

[Althalus]

She had been watching the man with the foppish clothes and the foolishly fat purse for the past few blocks as she followed him through the pleasant night in Cear. A storm brewed off the coast of the docks behind her, but it was leagues away still, and it did little to distract her from the dandy and her prize. The Trades and Commons were filled with the sounds, sights and smells of people, some running errands for their masters, others bringing wares to markets, and still more holding hands and perusing the storefronts.

In the hustle and the bustle, the shadow who was Soap moved her lithe figure smoothly through the throng, navigating the crowd with the precision of a surgeon. Another block brought her within striking distance of the purse, and she watched as the man turned to appreciate the handcrafted charms in the window of the barbarian witch's shop.

A smile broke on the face of the tiny pickpocket, well beneath the black hat that hid her hair and face from casual observation from citizens and guards alike. It's almost too easy, she thought to herself, her hand concealing the ring upon which was set a tiny razor worn along the inside of her finger as she reached out for the fat pouch.

The crack of thunder shattered her focus, and the wind rose up from behind her threatening to take her hat right off her head. Moreover, the clap seemed to have struck her in the chest, carrying her a few steps beyond her mark. Holding the broadbrimmed hat tightly to her head, she walked on by the brightly coloured peackock, hiding the fact that she was gasping for breath.

Something's changed, was all she could think, turning her path off the main thoroughfare and ducking into an alley for respite from the storm. She fought the urge to run to the nearest lamp - to take comfort in the light.

[rohenna]

Double posted, please delete

[rohenna]

In her dream she was walking through the ash coloured murk of the shadow realm, seeking the baby, her aching heart seeming to be moving outside of her body with longing. Her feet made soft, padding sounds; a flat noise with no resonance. There was nothing substantial to echo from. Eyes watched. She could feel them.

A definite movement. She looked closer. The woman, Lyre-lei, was moving rapidly toward her, her body moving more awkwardly than usual, her arms empty, her eyes wild. When she reached Shayde, her whispers sounded like a howling wind, as if her voice was being stretched.

“Someone took it! I didn’t see...” Lyre-lei fell to her knees, her hand pressed against her ribcage. Viscous black fluid leaked from between her fingers and she looked at it dazedly. “They extinguished my light. Found it...doused it...then took the babe...”

A shudder passed through Shayde’s body. Her tongue felt thick suddenly, and her voice didn’t seem to work. She sank to her knees in front of Lyre-lei, staring at her hand mutely. The black substance on Lyre-lei's hand and ribs caught her attention, and she reached for it, her fingertips darkening as they grew wet.

Lyre’lei looked up at her, her eyes pained.

‘Find her. The dancer. The one they move out of the way for. The one they see. Might know.” Shayde shook her head slowly in confusion. “The Queen...she calls herself the Queen...” Then, distractedly “by the hand of a queen...or slave...”
Lyre-lei sat down suddenly.

“Oh gods. Gods preserve us. I wonder if she’s not a part of this.”

Before she could begin to grasp what was happening, Lyre-lei was tugging her toward the light.

As they reached it, she was plunged out of her dream and into wakefulness, sitting bolt upright in bed and screaming before collapsing in wrenching sobs. She was alone, and her fingertips were covered in blood.

[rohenna]

The mid morning sun streamed through the windows of the little schoolroom. The students, ranging in age from eight to thirteen, shifted restlessly in their seats, the lure of the bright day proving too much for their concentration.

They were learning about the effects of war on the economy of a nation, and Shayde realised she was losing their interest as she recited lists and read aloud from heavy tomes. One of the boys, a lad about eight, had dozed off on his desk toward the back of the room, and her attention was drawn by the soft giggles of nearby children. She stopped speaking, mid-sentence, and moved noiselessly to his side, rousing him gently.

His eyes opened and he looked around, dazed for a few seconds until his eyes met Shayde’s, and horror crept over his face. ‘I...I’m sorry miss, me mam had me out lambin’ with ‘er las’ night til sun came up. Twelve of ‘em, miss...sorry...more ter come...”

Shayde’s voice was gentle as she patted his shoulder lightly. “You may go home in a few moments, Geremy, but I want your full attention for a minute. That goes for all of you.” Her voice lifted for the last sentence as she moved toward the front of the room, stopping in front of a map of Dasaria and surrounding lands.

“Geremy, you were up all night with your mother, correct?”

The boy looked puzzled, replying cautiously “I just said...er...yes miss. Just me and me mam.”

“And where is your father? Your older brothers? Your sister? Why are they not helping you?” The boy looked even more puzzled, but answered tentatively.

“Went to fight, miss, in the war ‘gainst Canas. Ain’t none left but me an’ me mam.” He grew a little bolder. “I’d go too, only mam said I’m too young an’ she’d ‘ave none left ter ‘elp ‘er run the farm.”

Shayde nodded slowly. “Of course, of course.” Moving silently to her desk, she turned, facing them, and pulled herself up lightly to sit on the desktop, her legs crossing at the ankles. She noted the other students rising interest, most likely due to a hope that punishment was impending. Chuckling softly to herself at the thought, she continued.

“Geremy, why is it that you have so many sheep to tend when there is only the two of you to tend them, and two of you to feed?”

“Because miss, the meat goes ter the market, then ter the soldiers after its dried, an’ the wool gets sold off ter make cloaks an’ things for the soldiers once shearin’ is through.” He added shyly “Me mam’s proud we’s helpin’ the war like that.”

Shayde smiled softly. “So she should be. Were our soldiers not fed, they would die before Canas got close. Were they not clothed, they would die of exposure before they could lift their weapons. It is hard work running a farm of any size, let alone with just two of you and such a large flock to tend.”

The boy nodded slowly. “Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.”

She paused again, looking around the room.

“ A show of hands, please...who has family members who have joined the war effort and are fighting at the front?”
The majority of hands shot into the air. Shayde smiled. “Then I pray that Teshalia’s Luck might shine on them as they fight. They do fine and noble work.”

Those who did not raise their hands began to look self-conscious or defiant. “As do those who remain behind. The miners. The smiths. Those who own orchards, dairies, mills. They give up their sons, daughters, brothers, husbands, to the war, and work harder than ever to supply not only the requirements of the people, but of the soldiers, with dried meat, fish, cheese, bread and ale, weapons and uniforms. So you see, children, war is a time when all resources we have are stretched. Where the things that are normally produced to feed large families and villages are diverted to our troops, while families left behind work harder for less for themselves, all the time worrying for their loved ones far away...risking their lives to keep our people safe. On top of this, we have refugees from beyond the Whitesand Wastes, we have orphans made by Canas, we have wounded by the thousands. All these who cannot yet work and require support from us all...”

Some of the children were sitting straighter in their chairs, others had set down the inkpots and quills they were toying with, and were listening closely.

“So you see, you are all fighting the war in your own ways. You are all soldiers fighting for our nation, and its freedom from the tyranny of Canas. You are the unnamed regiment. Never forget that. It is a heavy burden to bear, and you all share the load, working together for the betterment of our people and the future of our nation.”

She closed her eyes as a wave of weariness swamped her, and she waved her hand dismissively at them all. “Just for today, you can go home early. Rest. Tell your families what you learned here, and be proud.”

Slipping off the desk, without waiting for the room to empty, she moved to the rear door of the room, into the little sitting room she and Sam used when they were there, and sank onto the seat by the fire, suddenly overcome. Between breaths, she murmured prayers to various gods and goddesses, all the same prayer.

“Please, give clarity to those who need it, before it is too late.”

[rohenna]

There were two letters delivered to the farm that day. One was a missive from Reina, another one from a contact near Lendose, and they both spoke of the same news that had the village marketplace abuzz like excited flies all day. Twins to the Royal couple. Whispers of “no true birth” - Lord Avgral’s footman’s indiscreet murmurings; she supposed by now he had lost his job, poor fellow...if not his head...regardless of any truth in such stories. When she met the Lady Alvinne, she had been struck by the Royal consort’s grace, strength and resolve. The rumours seemed merely the trivial, attempted undermining that always surrounded those of high birth. Shayde felt a wave of weariness wash over her. Could they not let alone even this joyous occasion? Was everything to be spoiled by ill-wishers? She took a deep breath, and shook her head, focusing instead on the good news.

What was an appropriate gift for such an event? She had little skill in knitting, crocheting, or sewing. Being royal infants, she supposed they had everything they could want. Her gaze fell upon the thick leather tome; her mother’s herbal healing notes. The pages crackled as she turned them. There it was. She’d had time to restock the drawers with supplies since returning to the farm weeks ago, and her search was rewarded; burdock root for skin infections; the antiseptic wonder of powdered myrrh; calendula, lavender, and chamomile for gentle healing of soft, new skin.

There were those small, ornate glass jars given to her as a gift on one of her travels around Dasaria; a glass maker and his wife housed her for the night, and they all spoke long into the evening of her hopes for the Museum. The next evening she returned to find the beautiful coloured glass jars waiting for her; a gift from a couple with a dream of a different future for Dasaria. Shayde gently boiled them to sterilize them, then spooned her prepared salves into each one.

As the afternoon sun faded to a pale blue luminosity, Shayde eased herself into the chair at her writing desk and began to pen a note of congratulations.

[rohenna]

The priestess was reluctant to hand over the silver box.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Her golden flecked eyes trailed down to Shayde’s burgeoning belly. Shayde nodded, unable to meet her gaze. “I need to do it, and now. I have but two moons remaining...”

The woman’s fingers slid free, and she nodded. “I would like to bless the babe before you go...take the light of Rel into the darkness with you.” It was a question of sorts, and Shayde nodded her assent.

The blessings given, Shayde hurried back to the small room in the Inn. Nobody would disturb her here. She stocked the fire, then set the box on the hearth before her. The silver surface appeared gold in the firelight, setting her face aglow as she opened it, drawing out the black cloth folded within. She tied it around one wrist, then glanced down at the three rings on her fingers; talismans, anchors to this realm. His name came to her lips, the ache of wanting him near her stealing her breath for a moment. He is not here. But he is alive. You have that comfort at least. This needs to be done, now. She exhaled. Placing both hands on her belly, she whispered the name that had come to her mind for the life inside her, secretly, then she lay down on the soft rug and sank into slumber.

They were there, all around her, the whispers soft like gentle caresses over her skin. She remembered the lure, now, the sweet, intoxicating draw of their murmured promises; her hands reached out to them and she surrendered.

“The Queen...she waits...you came...you brought the Gift...we hold it for you...bringer of the key...guardian of the gate...the time nears...you must not bring it to Light...damnation...”

Her conscious mind let go of any resistance she felt, yet deep within her an animal instinct rose; fierce, primitive...and it joined with the wild thing inside of her heart. I would die for my child.

They led her on, between crumbling grey stone buildings and across ash-coloured expanses. Time and distance meant little; her feet did not weary. The colourful, living world seemed so remote. Only the odd flashes of bright coloured hair interrupted the noisy silence of the whispering shadows.

A strange light appeared ahead. Something deep within her felt drawn to it. Her mind wondered abstractedly at the pull. The wild thing in her heart began to shift. The shadows drew her closer. There were three things she noticed at once, again, vaguely, as if they held no importance for her. One was the light, glowing in a small orb that floated a few feet above the ground; this one she was drawn to. The other two she surveyed with something lesser – a mild curiosity – a small dark figure with a hat, and a tall figure about the same height as herself. The tall figure screamed, but no sound emitted. (viewtopic.php?f=2&t=12562&p=125920#p125920)

The light flickered.

The shadows whispered. “Open the gate! The light of its soul makes us stronger. It must be dispersed. Fracture it and scatter it and open the gate. We have waited!”

Within her, the wild thing roared. Light from the orb caught her moonstone ring and drew her attention...a flash of bright hair, a bond stronger than life...the babe...the babe! She cried out, and stepped toward the orb...

...Then woke, gasping, the child within her shifting as she was thrust out of sleep.