|
Starlight |
The
room was unguarded and Kalshann slid inside just as Reyna, the tower's healer,
was leaving. The elderly woman
flashed him a bright, reassuring smile before shuffling out the door, leaving
Kalshann alone with the sleeping young woman on the bed.
Par-Silan had placed Gwynnion in one of the outer rooms of the Tower, and
a single small window lit the room with afternoon sunshine.
The room was almost entirely white, from the color of the walls to the
silk gown they'd clothed her in. The
color of the mage's new Order; though Kalshann wondered if Par-Silan had not
gone a bit overboard with the room. The
old master of the White Robes was clearly happy to have a new convert.
Gwynn was a splash of color in the airy, sanitized purity of the room.
Her pale pink skin and dark hair stood out against the white sheets and
pillows, and Kalshann surveyed the curving shape under the sheets, which twisted
and wrapped around her body. Her
left arm, draped over the pillows, still bore the tattoo of the blue rose, which
he paid particular attention to. It
emblazoned the soft, thin flesh from her wrist to the crook of her elbow, but no
farther, just as it originally had. The
Test had apparently put the tattoo's enchantment in retreat, and it seemed
dormant now. Kal followed the line
of the arm down her body, over the swell of her breasts, and then upwards to her
face. She looked young – younger
than he remembered her seeming.
Circling around the bed, Kalshann watched the peaceful rhythm of her
breathing, and a faint smile broke through the concerned frown he wore.
Gwynnion had been like a ghost when he first saw her, lying on the cold
marble floor of the testing chamber. Her
skin had almost been the color of the white stone, with only the weakest of
colors etching the surface. But now
she seemed to have recovered and was merely sleeping.
Kal's fingers played over the white sheets as he drew closer, smiling
softly. The confession of her heart
and the single night they'd spent together had tipped the balance of her soul,
and he was proud of her for finding the strength to choose her own path.
Proud,
and inestimably relieved that his love had survived.
The young woman stirred as he sat down on the edge of the bed, her soft
green eyes fluttering open, as if from a deep sleep.
Gwynnion focused on him briefly and sighed in recognition, turning
slightly to get a better look at him. Long,
dark auburn hair tumbled across her cheek as she did so, creating a slight veil
across her eyes. He thought she
looked absolutely beautiful, lying there. "Mmmm,
Kalshann..."
Smiling
gently, Kal brushed the stray hair out of her eyes.
"Good morning. Sleep
well?"
"Yes, thank you," Gwynn smiled and yawned, rubbing her eyes
with one delicate hand, "I had nice dreams."
His smile widening, the young man ran a hand over the snowy folds of her
sheets and blankets. "Do you
notice anything different?" he joked, indicating the stark white simplicity
of their surroundings.
Laughing under her breath, the young woman languidly sat up, smoothing
back her long, wavy hair. Reaching
out with her slender fingers spread, she leaned forward and stretched like a
kitten, working the kinks out of her body with a faint groan.
Kal followed the gesture and the shape of her breasts against the thin
gown with faint arousal. Her lack of
self-consciousness was a small but quite pleasant surprise.
Gwynn had always seemed awkward and restrictive with her movement before.
Straightening up, the young woman tossed her head and looked around the
room. Her smile faded for a moment
as she took it in. "Well, I
don't remember how I came to be here. It
is certainly…white. Though I
imagine that was Master Par-Silan's doing."
Master Par-Silan.
Except in the old man's presence, when such things were expected as a
matter of tact, Gwynnion had never used the honorific.
Not even Justarius had always earned such respect from her before.
"What do you
remember?" Kalshann asked softly.
"Mmmm." Jade green
eyes focused on him, thoughtful. They
flicked up and down the length of Kal's body, taking in his appearance with an
appreciative light. Kalshann thought
her eyes were lighter in color than they had been, but there was also something
different about her expression then. Where
Kal had always seen guarded affection and, in the end, a gentle love for him,
there was...distance in her eyes, as if Gwynnion did not entirely recognize him.
Her hand found the fringe of his cloak and idly rubbed the soft material
between her fingers. When she found
her voice, she spoke slowly and distractedly, as if running through a list in
her mind. "To be honest, I
don't remember much of anything after I went into the testing chamber..."
Brow furrowed, Kalshann studied her with a troubled look.
"What about before?"
Frowning slightly, the young woman turned her head to one side and
considered it. Kal already knew the
answer however. There wasn't the
slightest hint of awareness in her expression, no indication at all that she
understood what he was getting at. She
seemed genuinely puzzled by the question, and her frown only deepened as she
tried to recall details from the past few days.
And then the past few months. And
then even farther. A touch of
anxiety crossed her eyes as she looked back to him, at a loss.
Gwynnion didn't remember the night before her Test, Kalshann realized
with a dizzying, sinking sensation, like vertigo.
There wasn't even a flicker of
the feelings they'd shared.
The woman shook her head slowly. "Not
a great deal…I remember…" A
pained look of deep confusion. "Nothing.
Or…I-I don't know. I'm
thinking and feeling differently somehow, I know I am, but I cannot explain it.
I remember, I was wearing the red robes when I went into the Test.
And I know we're in the Towers of High Sorcery in Wayreth.
We came here together to undergo the Test, with our friends and my older
brother, Lanthinel...And...." Gwynn's
voice drifted off. "That's all
I can remember? How long have I been
here?"
The anxiety in Gwynnion's eyes was different from anything she'd shown
before. It wasn't a despairing,
bitter feeling anymore, it was an experience of true dread, one she clearly
wanted to fight against. There was
surprising strength in her eyes, but Kalshann could hardly find his voice,
struck by the blank look of confused worry she gave him.
"Only for a day," he explained in a weak voice, "You were
moved here after the Test at the direction of Justarius and Par-Silan, to be
cared for until you recovered..." He
paused, studying her with a brittle intensity.
"Gwynn. You know me,
yes?"
"Yes, of course," she replied, without hesitation.
But again, there was no indication she understood what he was meaning.
Her bright green eyes widened slightly.
"You're my friend, but..."
A flutter of uncertainty shaded Gwynn's expression, and Kalshann found
himself becoming ill with anger and confusion.
"I don't know how I know you, if you understand me?
I mean, I realize we came here together with the others, but...I don't
remember traveling, or talking to you, or anything else...."
The
uncertainty in her eyes began to resemble fear.
"What has happened to me, Kal? Was
I hurt badly during the Test, is that why I cannot remember?"
A voice cut in sharply before the young man could reply: "Kalshann!"
Glancing over his shoulder, Kal saw Par-Silan standing in the doorway,
his face scrunched in muted anger. Blinking
in surprise, Gwynnion turned to look as well, though by then the old Master of
the White Robes had wiped the expression from his face.
There was still a low rumble of irritation in his voice when he spoke,
however: "Kalshann, I have been looking for you.
I would like to speak to you for a few moments, in private.
Gwynnion needs to rest."
Kalshann hovered for a moment, studying Par-Silan with an angry scowl.
From the old man's tone, it was clearly an order and not a request.
The Master of the White Robes knew about Gwynn's loss of memory, he
understood immediately. He knew and
was possibly responsible for it in some way.
Nodding curtly, the young man glanced back to Gwynnion and warmly pressed
her hand for reassurance. She
clearly did not understand what was going on, and it greatly bothered her.
And regardless of whether or not his love was aware of what was
happening, Kalshann still cared deeply for her.
"I'm sorry, Gwynn," he murmured gently, "I have to go for
now."
"Will I see you again?" the young woman hesitantly asked.
"Yes," Kal assured her in a pained voice, "You definitely
shall."
* * *
"Master
Par-Silan asked us to move your things after the Test," Laila explained in
a tired voice from behind Gwynnion, standing in the doorway to the young woman's
new chambers, "I believe everything of yours should be here.
Aside from some of your clothing and the like, of course, which were
handed over to Master Justarius and the red robes.
It wouldn't do for you to have red robes anymore, now would it?"
Gwynnion
turned and looked over her shoulder at the other woman.
Laila was tall and slightly younger, no more than twenty years old, and
one of the few women close to Gwynn's age amongst the white robes.
She would've thought this would engender a certain friendliness on
Laila's part, but the woman eyed her with a weary, slightly skeptical air, and
the tone of her conversation had been mordant at best.
Gwynnion got the distinct impression Laila didn't like her, didn't
appreciate having to serve her in even this small capacity, and found her
presence quite unwelcome besides. She
didn't know what she could've done to elicit such antipathy, aside from being a
former red robe, though apparently that was enough.
"Thank you, Laila," she smiled, still hoping to salvage the
situation, "I really appreciate your help.
I'm sorry to have troubled you."
"Oh,
no trouble," Laila remarked
dryly, brushing this off. Perhaps it
was the woman's curious staccato accent that made her words seem harsh, Gwynnion
wondered, or perhaps Laila truly disdained her.
Either way, Gwynn doubted she'd made a friend today.
"I was happy to help. Now,
will you need me for anything else? I'm
supposed to assist Master Jerrain with an experiment in about an hour and I
would like time to prepare."
"No,
nothing else," Gwynnion replied lightly, "Thank you again."
Waving
this away, Laila left without a word and closed the door behind her.
Sighing, Gwynnion rested her hands on her hips and looked about the airy,
softly lit room. It was a good bit
larger than where she'd spent yesterday, recovering from the Test and trying to
understand her loss of memory. Sunlight
poured in through a pair of open doors in the far wall, where she saw a balcony
and a small flower garden. A large
bed, piled with pillows of every variety, dominated the wall to her right.
Gwynn didn't know how anyone could sleep with that many pillows and made
a mental note to clear off the bed later. There
was an armoire and a dresser against the opposite wall, as well as a heavy
wooden chest and settee near the door. She
had expected the room to be rather sparsely decorated, and was surprised to see
paintings of apparent elvish make on the walls, a smattering of flower vases and
candles adorning the chamber. The
air was fragrant, adding a peaceful, welcoming touch to the room.
"I'll
have to thank Laila again," Gwynn murmured, walking in a lazy circle to
inspect the room, "This is beautiful…And the flowers…"
The
young woman searched the room at a casual pace, learning the layout and
familiarizing herself with the furnishings, but also hoping to find something
amongst her things that would give her a clue about her past.
The armoire held white robes, of course, as well as a small selection of
sleeping attire and sturdier travel clothing.
These were wholly unfamiliar, though they looked well fitted and
comfortable enough. The dresser
offered underclothing, basic cosmetics and a small selection of perfumes from
various locales, which she sniffed at curiously.
A couple of them were pleasing, though she wondered about her old tastes
as the remainder were rather sharp and bitter.
The paintings were also lovely enough, depicting primarily elven women
engaged in pastoral scenes, bathing in ponds and the like.
To Gwynn, they seemed rather bland, though there was one of a woman in a
long, ribbon-like gown descending the stairs of a temple or castle which
interested her.
Most
of her personal effects seemed to have been collected in the chest, a massive
thing bound in iron and silver which Gwynnion doubted she could even move.
It was unlocked, fortunately, and she found its silver key sitting on a
thick fur blanket which covered the remaining contents.
The young woman pocketed the key and hauled out the blanket, thinking it
would be very useful during the cold nights and chilly mornings.
Certainly more useful than the plethora of pillows.
Wrapped
in a thick, velvet cloth, there was a curved elven sword – a scimitar, Gwynn
thought – which shone as she held it up to the light and studied the intricate
carvings on the blade and hilt. The
weapon confused her – she had no idea she'd ever used a blade before, nor ever
had reason to. And while it was
light enough that she could probably wield it, any knowledge of how to do so was
lost to her. It made her
uncomfortable to hold it, nervously eyeing the keen edge.
Perhaps the sword were gifts or simply ornamental.
Though even that seemed a little odd.
She was tempted to call it out of character, but how could she know?
Deeper
down, Gwynnion discovered what she at first took to be a journal, a finely made
book bound in dyed red leather, and eagerly dug it out from the chest.
Opening the clasp, the young woman flipped through the pages to find it
wasn't a journal at all, but a book of art and poetry.
There were drawings of every variety, from architecture to plants and
landscapes, but few if any sketches of people.
Gwynn doubted the book was her work, most likely a gift or treasure, and
she set it aside to study in greater detail.
There was a scroll case near where the book had lain, holding a
collection of drawings on parchment. From
the style and technique, this art was by a different hand, possibly even hers.
They consisted almost entirely of portraits, primarily sketched women and
studies in clothing, though there were a few men as well.
Kalshann was prominent amongst them.
Gwynnion
paused to examine one of Kalshann's portraits, her brow furrowing slightly in
thought. It was hasty and
imperfectly done, but the young man's features came out clearly.
The quiet, slightly troubled look in the eyes.
The long, wavy black hair. The
full lower lip. The drawing caught
something of the beauty Gwynn had seen in him yesterday, and brought back that
uncertain, half-glimpsed feeling she'd felt at the time, which she'd ascribed to
attraction. She wondered if she'd
felt those feelings before, if they were the reason for the drawings.
Kalshann seemed unhappy and puzzled when he came to visit her, but even
in her mental confusion she hadn't seen anything in him but the worry of a
concerned friend. Perhaps he didn't
know how she'd felt, or perhaps they were simply drawings of an interesting
subject.
Growling
faintly, Gwynnion put the drawings away. Master
Par-Silan told her the loss of her memory was a curse, the price of success in
the Test of High Sorcery, but that it was also a blessing, removing a painful
burden from her soul. Gwynn didn't
know whether to pursue her past or accept the loss as mercy and move on, but she
doubted she had any choice in the matter either way.
The loss was irrevocable, Master Par-Silan said, and uncovering the past
would only trouble her more. Still,
even with the dim shadow of knowledge that remained, Gwynnion felt lost and a
little lonely.
Aside
from a few books and some carefully packed potions, the remaining items in the
chest were little things, mementoes probably, which must've been special to her
before but which now seemed trivial and lifeless.
Sighing, the young woman stowed everything back in the chest except for
the book, which she sat on the dresser for later.
She threw most of the bed pillows onto the settee and lay down, closing
her eyes, to try and clear her head. The
fragrance of the flowers was soothing, and she thought she detected a faint
perfume on the blankets; the accumulated scent of her body, presumably.
"Who
was I?" Gwynnion wondered aloud, to no one, "What could be so terrible
that forgetting everything was the only way to overcome it?"
There
was no answer.
*
*
*
Kalshann
arrived last to the gathering, shielding his eyes against the brilliant sunlight
streaming in from the tall, narrow windows that ringed the circular chamber as
he climbed the last few steps into the room.
The others glanced over at his arrival as the young man scanned the
high-ceilinged chamber. Par-Silan
was here, seated against the far wall with a marble, crescent-moon shaped table
before him. Ladonna and Justarius,
who tossed him a grim look of greeting, were seated on either side of him at the
points of the moon. Lanthinel and
Zoe stood together on his right, keeping their distance from the Master of the
White Robes; Lanth with an irritable pinch to his features, Zoe calm-faced and
watchful. Ethan was lounging in one
of several chairs arranged before the table, beside a dark-robed and smiling
Erin and a carefully expressionless Athica, the very model of elven aloofness.
"Sit or stand as you wish, Kalshann," Par-Silan offered by way
of greeting, gesturing to the chairs before him.
His voice was deliberately mild, eyeing the young man's burgundy shirt
and scarlet bracelet which indicated his membership in the red robes, at least
nominally. Kalshann's flaunting of
tradition was not something the old man cared much for.
Kalshann's
brow furrowed, his footfalls resounding through the chamber as he approached the
table. "Where is
Gwynnion?"
"Gwynnion will not be attending this gathering," Par-Silan
informed him, "Nor should she, as we are here to discuss her future."
"How do you mean?" Ethan piped up, his light and relaxed voice
echoing in the room.
Rising to his feet, the white robed master circled around behind
Justarius, who kept his eyes locked on Kalshann – the only member of the red
robes present besides himself – and looked across the faces of the young men
and women around him. "By now I
am sure you all know what has become of your friend – " He gestured
respectfully to Lanthinel, who ignored him.
" – and sister, Gwynnion."
Kalshann frowned.
"While I am sure it has come as something of a surprise," Par-Silan
continued without missing a beat, almost talking to himself as he walked around
Athica, Erin and Ethan, "Like you, young Gwynnion has passed the Test of
High Sorcery. And like you, your
friend has received both a boon and a curse for this accomplishment."
Lanthinel looked up briefly with a slight sneer.
Zoe touched his arm, drawing his attention back to her.
Par-Silan glanced up at Kalshann as he passed by, flirting with a smile
before continuing on. The young man
followed the white robed mage with his eyes, frowning, and tossed a curious
glance at Justarius, who only shook his head and folded his arms across his
chest. "Gwynnion entered the
test wearing the red robes," Par-Silan persisted, "A decision based
not upon her character but upon fear, indecision and self-loathing.
It was her decision during the Test to forget the painful events of her
past, and to embrace a different path. Hence,
Gwynnion now wears the color of her true nature – "
"The white robes,"
Justarius observed dryly.
"Yes." Par-Silan
frowned slightly but didn't look at the other man.
Instead, he clasped his hands in front of him and looked at the younger
mages. "Under Master Justarius,
the choice of allegiance was Gwynnion's to make.
She decided her own future and we have obliged her.
However, this gift does not come without responsibility, on her part and
on yours. From this point on,
Gwynnion must make her own choices and establish a new identity, separate and
apart from the life she once led. She
will remember very little if anything of her past, and the decisions she makes
must not be clouded by such knowledge."
"What are you saying?" Ethan inquired with a touch of
confusion.
"What my good friend is saying," Justarius spoke up with a hint
of annoyance, "Is that the decision has been made to never tell Gwynnion of
her past. She is to start with a
clean slate, if you take my meaning. None
of you are allowed to 'corrupt' that by informing her of the details of her
previous history." He bristled
slightly. "Any of you who
violate this order may be sanctioned by the Council, up to and including
banishment from the Orders of High Sorcery."
"Excommunication," Kalshann muttered.
Justarius smirked and nodded.
"Is that right?"
"That is the price of her gift," Par-Silan countered, rather
amused at arguing morality with him, "She must take the responsibility and
the burden of creating her own life instead of hiding in shadows.
This can not and should not be avoided."
The old man paused with a quiet sigh.
"Gwynnion herself chose this path, and we support it with her best
interests in mind. And she will not
be helpless. Gwynnion will retain
her skill with the Art and whatever common knowledge she would have about the
world."
"She chose this?"
"Yes," Justarius interjected, eyeing the black robed mage with
a hint of amusement, "There was no fairer test than that.
In the end, confronted with the knowledge of her own failings and
her own strengths, the young lady chose to forget her old life and begin
another. A life shaped by the
principles and standards she believed in but felt helpless to meet."
"We have all seen how Gwynnion crippled herself with doubt and
self-loathing," Par-Silan continued, trying to ignore the interruption,
"She is free of that now. Reminders
of her past, particularly her childhood in Silvanesti, will only cause those
doubts to resurface." He waved
a hand in Kal's direction. "Though
as Kalshann knows, Gwynnion will be familiar with most, if not all, of you.
You remain her friends and comrades, and she will likely seek out your
companionship. Your guidance and
compassion will certainly be invaluable to her, but the temptation to discuss
the past with her will likely arise. For
this reason, it is essential that you observe our decree."
"How are we to help someone who doesn't know a thing about us?"
"You will just have to try your best," Par-Silan replied
flatly.
"How
familiar with us will she be, Master Par-Silan?" Athica asked, looking up
at the old man with a languid turn of her head.
The question drew Kalshann's attention to her.
While the elven woman rarely deigned to reveal much emotion to the group,
her pained eyes betrayed the forced calm she showed the group.
Kal knew she and Gwynnion had been close friends before the Test of High
Sorcery, perhaps the only person she felt close to beside himself.
Not only had she forgotten him, but her best friend as well.
"Of
that, we are not certain," Par-Silan answered, "But from most
indications, very little. Gwynnion
should recognize most of you and perhaps feel something of her relationships
with you. But she will have no
memory otherwise." He paused
for a moment. "I understand
that some of you may no longer wish to associate with her.
She is and will be very different. But
that is your choice."
The
room was silent. Ladonna, who had
yet to speak, continued to stare out the windows, apparently indifferent to the
conversation. "I take it there
is no argument with this decision," Kalshann murmured, catching Par-Silan's
eye as he moved around the table to sit once more.
The corner of Justarius' mouth turned upwards in a small, approving
smirk.
"The
matter has been discussed," Justarius explained before Par-Silan could
speak, his voice gravelly, "At some length, I might add.
The decision, regretfully, stands."
By which Kalshann took him to mean that the Master of the Red Robes had
disagreed with his colleagues to no avail. Being
so few in numbers, the red robes – and Justarius by extension, as the head of
their order – were in a severely weakened position in the Orders of High
Sorcery. Though he spoke
judiciously, Justarius never failed to make his feelings plain.
Frowning, Par-Silan tossed him a look before speaking in a louder tone of
voice, reasserting his control of the situation, "If there is nothing else
then, I thank you for your time. You
are free to return to your studies."
*
*
*
As the group of friends dispersed from the room, talking amongst
themselves in low voices, Justarius caught up to Kalshann downstairs and stopped
him with a light hand on his shoulder. The
young man turned to face his elder with a thoughtful frown, earning a small
smile from the red robed mage. "I
take it you are in disagreement with the Council's decision," Justarius
murmured lightly, echoing the apprentice's words.
"More so with the method than the intentions," Kal replied,
sighing.
"I understand," Justarius agreed quietly, walking down the hall
beside the young man, "Like you, I would prefer if the choice was left to
Gwynnion. It is her life and mind, after all.
This type of interference is always troubling, particularly to the extent
that we are talking here. But the
consequences of the Test have always been approached with a heavy hand and
rather too much self-righteousness." He
sighed, glancing over at Kalshann. "Unfortunately,
there are other forces at work here besides simple morality, as I'm sure you
know."
"Politics," Kalshann muttered, running a hand over his thick,
braided black hair.
"Precisely." Justarius
frowned. "I will not lie to
you, Kalshann; before the test, I had favored Gwynnion as my eventual successor.
The politics of good and evil have diminished the ranks of the red robes,
forcing me to retain this position for far too long.
But in the absence of a suitable candidate, I have been at a loss for
alternatives." The mage sighed,
shaking his head. "Though he
would not admit it, Par-Silan has taken great pride in Gwynnion's move into the
white robes. Both for the
strengthening of his position and that of his philosophy."
"I doubt that Lanthinel feels the same way," Kalshann observed
wryly, "He despises Par-Silan for his own curse.
For his sister to have her memory and identity taken from her isn't going
to improve his mood."
Justarius smiled faintly. "Yes,
Lanthinel's bitterness extends well beyond Par-Silan's efforts to curb his own
desire for power. I will not be at
all surprised if Par-Silan seeks to groom Gwynnion as his own successor, much as
I had intended. In her, he would
certainly find a much more cooperative and level-headed apprentice than her
brother . . . "
"Mmmm." Kal
grimaced. "That will definitely
not make him happy."
"Of course not," Justarius smiled humorlessly, "And a
confrontation will be provoked, whether between brother and sister or between
Lanthinel and Par-Silan. That is all
but unavoidable now. However,
Gwynnion's 'rebirth' will change many things amongst you and your friends, more
than most realize." He offered
the young man a playful, almost wicked grin.
"And oftentimes there is nothing I enjoy more than surprising those
who feel they have a comfortable, secure grip on life."
* * *
Kalshann
companions were given the highest floor of the west tower to arrange as their
new accommodations. Lanth’ had set up in the larger of the suites, next to the
communal library, Gwynn seemed quite happy with the small suite that contained
the only balcony and a small garden.
These
are the only one who passed their Test this year, ten apprentices who survived
the ordeal of the Test and emerged from it reborn. Four of the White, Five of
the Black and Kalshann the first of the Red Robes to join in 3 years- so few
that the Masters of the Orders took personal interest in their Testing and now
their training.
*
*
*
During the day the room was dim, light streamed in from the rafters –
but only created pools of light amid the dusty shelves and tables. Those pools
held plants on stands and hanging vines, filling the room with a feeling that
the visitor had entered the heart of a deep forest, and the sun’s light only
reached through the canopy in a few places. Shelves of curio and collected
knowledge stood in various parts of the chamber next to a table or reading
chair- a few with burning candles and a few sitting in darkness. Everywhere the
small silent movements of pseudo-dragons caught her notice. Her first visit up
here had been at night, and it frightened and bewildered her, but she soon
learned the chamber had a life and vibrancy all its own.
A dark red pseudo-dragon approached her from
above, gliding to her feet and purred a greeting. She reached out and it pushed
its head into her hand, nuzzling her palm for a second and shifting its
coloration to match her vibrant white robes. It was being friendly to her, and
showing it recognized her. As she leaned down to pet it the creature’s small
frame moved forward snaking up her arm. Shocked by it’s speed more then
anything else Gwynnion paused to allow it to settle itself. The creature ended
up sitting along her shoulder with the long tail coiled around her arm, and as
she stood up she realized it was purring softly - content to be given the
attention.
“Well you are quite adorable,” she
whispered to it as she continued further into the chamber, “Especially in
white like that.” She was running her fingers along its tail to pet it as the
pair reached the center of the chamber. Four large pillars supported the ceiling
here, placed almost twenty paces apart from each other. Between them shelves and
a table made up two partial walls surrounding a bed- in the shadowed lights she
made out a sleeping form. Kalshann was still asleep, even though it was mid-day.
Unlike the rest of the apprentices, he had many duties at night, and seemed to
prefer those to the studies he was asked to perform during the day.
“Cutinari
il’yla fimma” she danced nimble fingers over the candle, remembering the
patterns as she remembered the words. There was a pause of silence after she
finished but the candle sputtered to life as the magics invoked a small fire to
light it. She had planned to simply wake him up then leave, but as the bed and
his sleeping form were illuminated she thought there would be no harm in talking
to him for a bit- he was supposed to attend the lectures with the rest of them
but those didn’t start for two hours. His bed was strewn with pillows and thin
sheets, no furs or heavy blankets, and he was naked but covered across his
midsection. The light however caused him to stir and while turning away from its
source he uncovered his back and shoulder to her. Thick waves of black hair
interspersed with tight braided locks were lying about him in disarray, though
she knew it was waist length when he stood. His skin was dusky, more so then the
other wizards and apprentices.
The
pseudo-dragon made a faint whirring noise, like a cat's questioning meow, as
Gwynnion stood and stared at the sleeping young man, her fingers itching
restlessly at her side. She traced
the line of his shoulder and back in the air with one hand, feeling a mixture of
guilt and nervous excitement as he continued to sleep, wholly unaware of her
presence. He was quite unlike the
other men in this place, both in personality and in appearance, and she found
this both fascinating and enjoyable. The
tone of the room changed when he was nearby, and while the others reacted to it
with dismay or irritation, it put her strangely at ease.
There wasn't another man here with such bearing and yet such a total lack
of ego or arrogance. The fact that
Kalshann knew her better than she did herself only deepened Gwynn's natural
curiosity that much further.
Gwynn
caught herself tracing the shape of his body under the sheets, her slender white
hand against his darker skin, and drew back.
The young woman glanced around the chamber once more, now thrown into
flickering shadows by the light of the candle.
It was very different from her quarters farther down, the few bright and
airy rooms she could claim as her own, and this thought reproachfully brought
her back to her senses. Kalshann was
different. Though he was never
anything but friendly and considerate, she felt he was strangely aloof since
their first meeting, after the Test. In
the time since, Gwynn had precious few occasions to visit his chambers or break
the veil shielding the intimately private world he maintained, separate from the
others. Perhaps he had been asked to
leave her be by Justarius, or even Par-Silan.
Or perhaps – like the others – he found her to be too much of a
stranger now.
The
pseudo-dragon's surprisingly soft snout brushed her ear pointedly, either
seeking attention or questioning her. She
stroked its tail as an afterthought, which it seemed to find reassuring, and
studied the young man's naked back and shiny black hair with curiosity and
lurking arousal. Walking slowly and
lightly so as not to awaken him, Gwynn made a languid circle around the bed to
take in the rest of him. She smiled
faintly to herself as she followed the lean, strong arm he draped over his
middle with her eyes, scanning upwards to his face.
Kalshann's features were more peaceful in sleep than they ever were
otherwise, his expression still and rather sweet, a broken wave of hair falling
across his lightly stubbled cheek. "What
are you dreaming about, I wonder?" Gwynn murmured absently, her voice
almost lost under the gentle purring of the creature on her shoulder.
With
a slight shake of her head, Gwynnion made her way back to the other side of the
bed. She doubted that Kalshann would
appreciate her secretive inspection nor the violation of his privacy that it
represented. The young woman eased
onto the bed behind him, hoping to wake him gently, and had to brush off the
desire to lay beside him for a while, listening to his breathing and staring at
his back, just to know what it would be like.
At times like this, she sorely missed her memories.
To remember all the things she must have felt, the people she must have
loved, the cherished, nurtured moments that people hold on to, that make them
who they are. Surely there must have
been someone in her life before? Perhaps
even Kalshann?
Shaking
her head at her own thoughts, Gwynn sighed.
"Kalshann,"
she whispered softly, as if she half-hoped he wouldn't hear her.
When there was no immediate response, she delicately touched his shoulder
and repeated herself more loudly. "Kalshann
. . .?"
With
a faint noise, the young man rolled over onto his back and, looked up at her,
seemingly unconcerned by either her presence or his near nakedness.
But his expression changed as he focused on Gwynnion above him, on her
normally pale, delicate features warmed by the soft glow of candlelight.
And at the marble-white pseudo-dragon perched on her shoulder, which even
now was nuzzling the long, dark hair framing her face.
His eyes reflected momentary confusion and then a softening as Gwynn now
found herself to be the one being studied. "I
thought I should come wake you," she explained in a quiet voice, "For
the lectures this afternoon."
"That
is very kind of you," Kalshann murmured, "Though you took your
time."
Gwynnion
blinked in momentary surprise, wondering how long he had been aware of her
presence, but did not look away. "I
was hesitant to wake you . . . I know you have much to do in the evenings, and
you seemed to be sleeping peacefully."
"It's alright," he
assured her, his gaze drifting as his voice trailed off for a moment. His eyes
followed the contour of hair falling across her face.
In the dim flickering candle’s light the red and golden hue of her hair
turned to burnished brass amid the snow white folds of her robes and the
alabaster of her skin. Moments like
this showed him how changed she was. She was a new person but even so she was an
ancient soul - and she was still a good friend.
“Are you well?” she asked
cautiously. His eyes refocused to hers and for a brief moment they spoke without
words. He apologized to her with
that glance, though she did not understand why.
“I’m well and again I thank
you,” he yawned and began stretching forward, his arms sliding over the sheets
and pulling his muscles tight then slowly relaxing and relishing the simple
pleasure of relaxation. “How long till I need to be up?”
He pulled himself up and stretched back slightly, Gwynn noticed the
ornate tattoo on his shoulder and upper arm- though she couldn’t make out what
form it was of before she looked away, realizing she was staring.
“It is only the first hour of
mid-day. Agora begins the lesson in
two hours,” she stated as she lit another candle with the first. “I can
leave you to make ready – ” she began to say as she heard the soft flap of a
few pseudo-dragons approach. One carried a bundle of clothes dropping on his
bed, while another landed holding a small tome, wrapped in red-dyed leather.
“No need, I’ll be ready in
a moment.” He rummaged through the clothing and found a shirt, taking a moment
he slide it on then pulled his hair through- it fell in waves about his head.
She glanced around the tables and tried to avoid looking at him while he
dressed, even though the sheets of his bed covered him.
“How do you – ” She
paused and looked for the right way to ask the question. “Why do they obey
you?” Slowly running her hand
along the pale white wing of the pseudo-dragon on her shoulder still. “No one
else seems to have any luck with managing them?”
“Others think they are
animals- simple beasts.” He smiled at her as he began working a small comb
through his hair. “I just talk to them- help them.” He reached over and
gently ran a finger along the neck of the one who brought the book. It rolled
into a purr and chirped something aloud. A chatter of others echoed the first in
the darkness, Gwynn suddenly felt like she was in a room full of small children
playing in the darkness around her.
“I learned their language
while I spent a few years in the ruins of Even, on
Her thoughts leapt to his
reference of his past, and before she knew it she was asking, “Was I there?”
She paused, taking a step back, unsure if she should be asking.
“Did you know me by then?” Her voice wavered slightly as she realized
what she was doing – she had been stripped of her memories for a reason. Par-Silan
had told her it was ‘For a purpose’ but she could not let the
opportunity go to waste. Kalshann knew her – knew who she had been.
As if he was reading her
thoughts he looked away “Yes, you were there Gwynn’. I’ve known you for
about 10 years now- well I should say I knew you.” He weakly smiled at the
surrounding darkness; she saw a bit of the fear and trepidation she was feeling
within him. “Sometimes I see the person I knew in your actions or the way you
say things. Sometimes I see a
wonderful new person – full of energy and life.” He was at a loss for the
words to continue. He looked at her again slowly a mixture of guilt and sadness
on his face.
“We shouldn’t be talking
about this. The White Council said you shouldn’t know of your past – ” He
paused and leaned his head to one side, thoughts roaming in his eyes. His
expression changed as he flashed a quick smirk, a look of conspiracy on his
face. “But if you wish it, I will tell you some things.”
“Then
I wish to know, Kalshann,” she whispered.
She tried to keep her voice controlled and steady but it wavered even so.
"Please?"
“Come
here, sit Gwynnion.” He moved a few pillows aside to allow her room to sit on
the edge of the bed. “I have something for you-” he then made a faint
whirring noise to one of the small dragons. Gwynn edged closer to the bed but
paused before sitting, her thoughts became a jumble of mixed emotions. As she
eased onto the bed she became very aware that he was still mostly undressed,
though covered by the burgundy-dyed sheets. The white colored dragon took the
moment to slide off her shoulder and onto her lap. She thought of moving it but
the creatures’ soft purr was enough reason to let it be for the moment.
A
slight blush came to her as she asked Kalshann, “What is it?”
Kalshann
only smiled and held out his tattooed arm. Blinking, she stared at the image in
surprise to find it was a coiled serpent or dragon.
She jumped slightly when the burnished red of the pseudo dragon landed on
his arm in a quick flurry of movement - it was holding a small wooden box about
the size of her hand. Kalshann smiled and played with the pseudo-dragon
affectionately for a second before it flew off. The box was tied shut with a
simple leather strip, and as he opened it she saw the earrings and jewelry it
contained. It was a jewelry box- his jewelry box.
“When
we first became friends we were distant, you had a few people you talked to but
you usually kept to your self. By the time we ended up in
“When
we left on the ship to get here you gave me this.”
He pulled a small object out of the box then put the rest aside. “It
was from a friend to a friend- just a simple gift of something you treasured
greatly.” She could tell it was on a chain, but she could not tell more from
the way he was holding it and the lighting. “You have passed your Test, and so
I offer to return it. Think of it as a way to reaffirm old ties and rebuilding
what we have lost?” He smiled at her, a look of warmth and happiness. “I
will answer any questions I can if you would be willing to take it?”
“O-of
course, I… thank you.” She mumbled self-consciously and then put her hand
over her face to hide the small bit of embarrassment she was experiencing.
“Turn
a bit – ” He moved forward and with one hand reached out for her hair.
“And hold your hair to one side – ” Deftly his hand slid between her hair
and neck, gently grazing her soft skin with the warmth and touch of his hand and
fingers. Then moving out to pull her ample hair away so she could hold it. As
she pulled her hair up and away from her neck he pulled in close and moved both
hands to either side of her neck. The slight chill of the necklace quickly
followed the warmth of his hands. She was about a foot from him, his warmth
telling her as he faced away. She hadn’t been this close to anyone- at least
since the Test. As he finished he took the handfuls of hair from her and began
smoothing them out behind her.
She
looked down at first, the small single emerald set amid gold sparkled back at
her, shimmering a rich dark green from the dim light. She then turned to face
Kalshann, to thank him but stopped the moment she had turned. Gwynnion looked at
him, his hair framing his face and the flickering light of the candles giving
his tan skin a deep shade. His eyes however surprised her the most; they
conveyed a simple happiness she had never seen in him before. Only a foot or two
from her now, his hand went up to run a gentle finger along the pendent and
chain.
“You
are beautiful,” he stated honestly, “And
now for your questions?”
Gwynnion
looked away for a moment to steady her breathing, wondering if the young man
knew her confusion of feelings by just that slight touch.
The purring of the white pseudo-dragon thrummed softly in her lap, and
she absently ran a hand over the creature's back, in search of the right
questions to ask. Kalshann had only
just begun to draw his hand back when she brought hers up to clasp it gently,
her skin smooth and cool against his warmth.
Her green eyes were shining as she looked back to him, trying to catch
her voice. "Thank you, Kalshann,"
Gwynn murmured.
His
smile widened slightly before becoming peaceful again.
He said nothing, waiting.
"Old
ties," Gwynn whispered thoughtfully, her eyes roaming over his features.
How could he be so familiar and yet so strange?
The slightest emotion in his eyes stirred flickers of recognition and
forgotten feelings within her. She
lightly rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb, relishing this simple touch,
something sorely missing since the test. "Par-Silan
has told me that a person is more than just the sum of their memories, that how
I live and who I am now is more important. And
I believe him. But without memories,
without. . " A slight wince
crossed her face as she paused, finding the words.
"Connections, I have felt at a loss to find myself in this place.
Other people know me, I do not know them.
And those who would know me best have seemed . . distant . . . "
"For
different reasons," Kalshann offered gently, watching the candlelight play
in the shower of hair spilling down her back.
Her delicate touch slowed but became deeper as the young woman listened,
long, slender fingers stroking over his hand and wrist in a caress.
He knew Gwynnion had been lonely and did not immediately pull away,
understanding her need for closeness. Even
as it subtly changed the tone of the moment.
"And not all who knew you are friends, of course."
"Yes,
I am mindful of that," Gwynn replied with a faint frown.
"Most
of them will obey the wishes of the Council," Kalshann continued in a
softer voice, squeezing her hand, "Or they will avoid you because they no
longer recognize you. For all the
vaunted wisdom in this place, many can see no further than the surface.
Or they do not care to look." His
voice hardened for a moment, but he shook off whatever bitter feeling rose in
him. "Some are simply afraid of
you. In many ways, you are very
different from who you once were, and this changes things amongst those who knew
you. Also, Par-Silan has taken great
interest in you, so they will be cautious."
The
woman nodded, hair slipping forward to fall on either side of her face in soft
waves. Her lips parted as she
started to speak but reconsidered with a sound like a weak sigh, conflicting
emotions flashing across her eyes. Against
the stark white of her robes, the auburn of her hair and the rose of her lips
were rich and vibrant. Kalshann felt
a momentary urge to brush her lower lip with his fingers and feel the texture
there, but let it pass in silence. When
Gwynn spoke, it was low and quiet, trying to conceal her nervousness with a
facade of control. But he only found
her voice to be softer that way, more intimate.
"Then
perhaps I should not seek to rebuild what is lost," she murmured, "Or
make the same connections I once had. At
least, not as they once were, if I am so different . . . But try instead to make
new bonds with those I care about, and who care about me.
Perhaps that is what Par-Silan desires.
Why this has happened to me." Candlelight
danced in her thoughtful eyes as she studied him.
"Maybe that way I can find myself."
Smiling
faintly, Kalshann brushed a wave of hair out of Gwynn's eyes with a slow sweep
of his hand, combing his fingers into the thick, silken waves as he smoothed it
out behind her. His hand plunged
back in again, winding his fingers through her hair despite himself.
"You're not nearly as lost as you pretend, Gwynn, and you are much
stronger. Even without memories, you
are someone beautiful, and I am happy to remain your friend, if that is what you
wish."
Kalshann
looked away slightly, trailing his fingers through her hair as he withdrew his
hand. This close, the fragrance of
her hair and skin surrounded him, heady with the warmth of her body.
The pseudo-dragon in the young woman's lap drowsily lifted its head to
give him a curious look, resting its chin on her thigh like a cat to peer at
him. "But I agree.
You're not the same person. You
should not try to recreate your old life."
A smile flickered across his features as he looked back at her.
"So no questions then, I take it?"
"I
will always have questions,"
Gwynnion replied wryly.
"And
I will answer them, if I can," the young man offered with a grin.
Gwynn
flashed a small, reserved smile, which Kalshann found to be very familiar –
and oddly comforting as well. Even
before the test, it was something he hadn't seen from her in ages.
Only this time the smile didn't fade, as it always had before, buried
underneath that tired and troubled expression she used to wear.
Instead, her lips parted in a wondering expression as her gaze swept over
his shining black hair and warm eyes. There
was a hint of ache in that look, something he also vaguely recognized.
"Why was I so distant?" she whispered, "Before?"
Kalshann
shook his head slightly, conscious of the direction in which that line of
questioning could lead. There were
certain things, after all, that he would not make Gwynnion aware of.
Such realizations threatened to unravel the person she was now, at least
this early in her life. But he knew
he should give her an answer just the same.
"In many ways, I think you were afraid," he allowed in a gentle
tone, "So afraid of being alone that you couldn't allow yourself to grow
close to others and risk getting hurt. So
you remained detached yet involved. Your
choice of the red robes was an extension of that."
"But
you said we became close," Gwynn murmured.
"With
time, yes," he nodded, adding, "But there was much you kept from
us."
The
young woman's brow furrowed unhappily. "That
does not sound like a close friend."
Kalshann
smiled softly and touched her cheek. "Then
be different."
Nodding,
Gwynnion closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his palm, his fingertips
grazing over her skin. When her eyes
opened, they were soft and unfocused. He
didn't realize she was holding her breath until it poured out over his wrist in
a warm, slow sigh. Kalshann made a
faint noise in the back of his throat as Gwynn reluctantly pulled his hand away,
clasping it loosely between them. "Please,
tell me more," she murmured, "What was I like?"
Kalshann
paused before he began to speak. His free hand ran through his hair as he
recomposed his thoughts, then let out a soft sigh, Gwynn was rather surprised by
the slight look of turmoil on his face as he pushed himself back to relax
against a few of the pillows.
“You
were too quiet and rather shy.” As he spoke, his tone held the emotion of
someone remembering a time now lost. Gwynn felt the familiar pang of regret for
not knowing what had passed between them. The regret of not knowing why she
thought of him as a close friend. “But you were a strong person, and you had
your own way of looking at the world.” He paused while a pseudo-dragon made
itself comfortable against his shoulder, sliding its tail across his chest and
curled against his other side.
“There
was a joy of life in you- but it was well hidden from others, you were too
afraid to let us know what your feelings and dreams truly were.” He said as he
played absentmindedly with the dragon. “So you had two different sides to
yourself. ” His voice had tensed a bit in the last statement. She could tell
he was unsure about continuing, worried he was treading too close to something.
“Why?”
she whispered, hoping he wouldn’t stop now. She ran her fingers across the
palm of his hand, feeling the worn textures and calluses and realized his hands
were nothing like the other wizards who had soft supple fingers. Kalshann looked
down to consider his answer, and then looked up at the darkness above.
“I
can share almost anything about your past to you, except that.” He said
softly, hoping it would not be a hollow answer- hoping it did not become a wall
between her and what she was seeking. “I don’t know if I agree with the
results, but we both took our Tests- risked our lives.” He looked at her
fearful she would not understand. “We all carry a curse- something that we
will never be rid of-” he started to apologize but she raised her hand to stop
him.
“Kalshann,
I understand,” she smiled warmly- surprising him. “I do not know what
burdens others bear but I accept there are things I will not know- not until
Par-Silan feels I am ready.” The reaction on Kalshann’s face caused her
smile to turn into a short giggle. He was relieved beyond words; he just smiled
at her and pulled her forward slightly to give her a quick hug. It was over
before she realized it, and he smiled happily as he leaned back onto the
pillows.
“That
makes this so much easier.” He laughed with her as he rearranged the pillows.
He
took a moment to yawn and stretch his arms over his head. The pseudo-dragon
moved next to him, laying its head on his leg.
“Alright…”
He mulled the few thoughts in his head for a brief second before continuing.
“You enjoyed writing, poetry and short stories. I think I still have a few
poems you’d given me but they are back at Even.” He smiled a quick grin to
her, half in apology for not having them and half to assure her he would share
them when he could. “You and your brother never got along all that well, he is
rough to be around sometimes and you to had a lot of turmoil as children.” He
gave her hand a quick squeeze before he continued.
“About
two years ago you began learning to play the harp, you learned to speak Kender
from Poker when you and Lath went looking for something-” he raised his hands
about to mimic one of Lanthinel’s more graceful movements “magical in the
mountains.”
Gwynn’
laughed at the gesture and realized he had begun rambling, “Where were you?”
“What?”
He stopped his next train of thought and looked at her.
“While
we-” she duplicated the hand motion “-looked for whatever in the mountains,
what were you doing?” Her eyes danced with a youthful curiosity, something
Kalshann found hard to resist.
“I
was studying,” He said delicately, realizing her secrets were not the only
thing endangered by that playful curiosity in her eyes.
“With
Tython?” She brought up the name of the elderly teacher that had taught them
the basics of the Art. She had no idea what the man looked like, but
descriptions and vague recollections of him gave her a good impression of the
kind old man.
“No
with a diviner named Cassandra- you never had the chance to meet her, none of
you did.” He smiled, omitting a few pieces of information but not telling a
lie.
“Did
we find what we were looking for?” She continued, accepting the answer to her
question even if she suspected there was more then he was sharing.
“Yes
and no, you found the ruined castle, I think it was called Mordanier. I don’t
think you found whatever magics the castle may have hidden though. You did
collect a pair of paintings and a few other little works of art though.” He
shrugged slightly “It was one of the few times you and he went out on your
own- without Ethan or I around.”
“Most
of the time we went as a group to Bethfield, the little village. They didn’t
like the idea of us living too close to town anyway.” He paused then smiled,
remembering the past they shared. “Though you and I mostly just entertained
the village children while we were there-
“You
think that’s funny eh?” He laughed with her. Marveling at the brightness and
honesty of her demeanor. She was quite different now, but she was also finally
happy.
“Yes,
just imagining him using Na’di-sheol Incantations to seem spooky and
intimidating.” She said the last part in a mocking voice and wigging her
fingers, getting Kalshann to laugh in return.
“You're
not far off,” he said between breaths.
"It
is good to know there was once something playful in him," Gwynnion murmured
wryly, "Even if only in a small way."
The young woman looked away into the darkness as their laughter quieted,
tilting her head back with a faint smile to find the chinks in the ceiling where
sunlight streamed through. Her
expression grew wistful as Kalshann watched, furtively tracing her candlelit
profile. The soft gleam of her eyes
to the delicate curves of her mouth, and then over the half-hidden shape of her
figure underneath the white robes. Her
fingernails skimmed over his hand as she absently stroked it.
"And I don't remember any of it," she whispered, searching the
gloom.
"I
know." Kalshann turned his hand
over to give hers a warm press. It
pained him that there was little else he could say.
He could entertain her with stories about their pasts for hours, but they
would be just that – stories. There
was no bringing her or her memories back; such a thing would only hurt and
confuse her further. Buried in Gwynn,
he knew there was still a faint hope that someday she might remember, when she
was "ready" in her eyes or someone else's.
But the young man knew this would likely never be allowed.
"Not
a word of Kender – " Gwynnion glanced down at her free hand, moving her
fingers experimentally before dropping it in her lap.
"And these hands would likely be useless at the strings of a harp.
Or with pen to paper . . . It is such an odd thing to be a stranger to
your own life." She glanced
over at him with a soft smile and shook her head, the candle flames dancing in
her eyes. There was a shadow in her
expression, but no true unhappiness, only a tender seriousness that belied her
otherwise light demeanor. "Don't
worry about me, Kalshann. It does
not bother me overly much. And I
thank you for sharing these things with me."
"I
do not wish to hurt you," he replied with a tinge of regret, squeezing her
hand. There was some danger to
revisiting the past, Kalshann knew. Every
piece of information opened the possibility of deepening her curiosity and
rekindling some of the pain and self-doubt she once had, if she allowed it to.
Hair
swung against Gwynn's back and shoulders as she shook her head again, and he
watched a wave of it tumble across her cheek, the ends of it curling against the
swell of her breast. "You
aren't," she assured him lightly, "You are only making clear the
connections I feel but do not understand."
She stroked the bridge between Kalshann's thumb and forefinger with the
ball of her thumb. The pseudo-dragon
on the young man's shoulder whirred faintly in his ear, its head weaving back
and forth as it leisurely glanced between the two of them.
"And
you are not a stranger to your life," he murmured, "You are much as
you always were in some ways, only free of old burdens.
In your laughter and smiles, I see the same person who sang songs to the
children of Bethfield, or who asked me to listen while you played the harp late
in the evenings. Those things are
still a part of you. Do not allow
your lack of memory to overshadow your future."
"I
won't, believe me," she informed him in a quiet voice, "I might have
been afraid once, but I am not anymore."
Smiling, Gwynn lifted his hand and placed a soft kiss there.
Kalshann stirred as he felt her lips brush against his skin, her breath
warm as she pressed the hand to her cheek. He
started to say her name, seeking to smother the pang of arousal this produced by
making some small joke about her presence here in his bedchambers, but then she
spoke again, her voice low and intimate. "Thank
you for trusting me, Kalshann, where the others have not."
"You
are still my friend," Kalshann told her, brushing her cheek with his
fingers. "And give them time.
All of our lives are changing – they always are.
You are very different, yes, but they see the same things in you that I
do. The same beauty and joy . . .
They only need time to come to know this side of you.
I know Ethan welcomes you, though he doesn't understand.
And for whatever difficulties you and Lanthinel had in the past, he still
loves you in his way." A slight
smile crossed his face. "Such
connections are not easily broken."
Gwynnion's
lips parted in a soft smile as she nodded, studying him.
The young man's expression had softened, his eyes faintly drowsy and
thoughtful. He caught her quick
glance over the length of his reclining figure, eyeing the splash of sheets,
which covered his body. A ripple of
warmth went through him. "I
agree," she offered in a breath, "I have felt that connection to you
since you came to visit me after the Test . . . At times, I feel like I can
almost touch a memory, but the feeling fades too quickly.
The sound of your voice stirs something, the look in your eyes . .
."
The
young woman paused in thought, looking away slightly with a blush, and the sweep
of hair across her face shaded her eyes. Frowning
slightly, Kalshann brushed the hair away to meet her gaze, both curious and
cautious about the emotion in her voice. Almost
of their own accord, his fingers traced a slow curve down her cheek, jaw and
throat, exploring the soft skin there. Her
words slowed as she considered them carefully, her voice becoming delicate.
A veiled emotion haunted her eyes. "Tell
me, Kalshann, were we only friends? As
close as we were, did the possibilities of more never arise between us?"
“Gwynnion.”
He gently turned her head to look into her eyes, but nothing further came out of
his mouth. The gentle touch of his
fingers went from her chin to cheek, then lightly brushing her full lips with
the slightest touch, eliciting a faint, sighing moan from her. Then, pulling his
hand away, his glance turned away from her, breaking the moment by returning his
gaze to the dragon curled up next to him.
The
burnished red of the pseudo-dragon rippled with shades of deep blue along its
back as it looked at Kalshann and then toward the young woman.
Gwynn’ realized the creature was talking to Kalshann, and she could
guess it had something to do with the awkward situation they were quickly
placing themselves in. As she
watched, Gwynn found herself torn between finding more of her past and exploring
the smolder of emotions she found within herself when he looked at her.
“Do
you perhaps know anything of the connection you feel to me?” He asked her in
between purrs and chirps to the little dragon. Something she had noticed about
Kalshann, he was always skilled at answering someone’s questions with another
question. Though others found it frustrating she found a childish charm in it
usually. After all, when she made
the effort to share her private thoughts and feelings, he answered with
unflinching honesty and openness. That
was more than could be said for most individuals and seeming friends she knew
here.
“I
don’t know if I can explain it.” She
paused, watching the ivory tail of the dragon in her lap sway back and forth,
gliding across the soft fabric of the sheets. “While I remember the others, I
only remember their names, what their relationship was with me.
That’s all though, no emotions or empathy.”
“With
everyone? Even Lanth or Athica?”
“Well,
with Athica I do have fleeting recollections," Gwynn explained slowly, her
eyes scanning the darkness as she reached for something in her memory, "But
she has shied away from me since the Test. I
have the sense that this has hurt her somehow, but I do not know why and she
will not share her feelings with me. Lanth
and the others are more . . ." She searched for the right words.
“More like I read them from a story book.
There are some faint feelings, but nothing that I can easily grasp.”
“And
between us there is more emotion – more of a connection for you? More empathy
and feeling?” He paused,
considering the question as much as waiting for her answer.
Kalshann was not sure how Gwynnion’s Curse and Gift had been performed,
any more than he did for the others', but he was certain that the same soul
remained within her - the same soul he knew from the years before.
“Yes,
like we are familiar.” Gwynn whispered this as she looked up at him, seeking
some unknown explanation but finding only the urge to touch him.
Something came into her expression then, her lip trembling as she
searched his face. Kalshann knew
that look, like a fragile shell slowly cracking.
Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke, though she tried to control it.
“When I see you, even when talking with you, there is a feeling . . .
You seem far away, unreachable, and that . . hurts me.
I can almost forget it at other times, with other people, but it is
always there when I see you again."
A
flicker of pain touched Kalshann's expression, but he did not look away from
her, enthralled by the ache in the young woman's voice.
She was almost staring through him now, green eyes focused on something
distant, and one delicate hand came up to clutch the necklace.
He felt himself tensing the closer Gwynnion came to breaking through,
afraid yet hopeful. "I know
this sounds like a flight of girlish fancy," Gwynn said, sounding small,
"But sometimes I can not see you without . . . "
Her
voice trailed off to silence, losing the words in a flash of realization.
Always before when searching her mind she had found only vague
recollections, but they were indistinct and lost amid her new thoughts and
feelings. This new life of hers,
with all of its confusion and emotion, blinded her to the past.
But this was different – she remembered
this. There had been a journey
aboard a ship of some kind, and under a canopy of starlight she and Kalshann had
met. They spoke in soft voices –
something about stars and poetry – but it was much too brief; before she knew
it, he was walking away. As he
always had, because her voice choked on the words when he was close.
But she did say it this time, only too softly to be heard over the wind
and the sails, dying inside.
I
love you.
The
memory lanced across Gwynnion's mind. She
had been a coward and never told him, and then the Test all but wiped the
feelings from her soul, leaving her with only an empty corner of her heart she
didn't know how to fill. Now she
realized that it was that half-sensed longing that brought her here to
Kalshann's chambers in the first place. Gwynn
watched the memory play over in her mind's eye, the feelings flooding her.
Her eyes watered with slow tears, just as they had that night under the
stars, alone. Convinced that she
would never tell him the truth, all her years of hopes and dreams, and hating
herself for that weakness.
"Gwynn,
are you alright?" Kalshann murmured anxiously, leaning in to gently touch
her shoulder. She closed her eyes,
sending a spill of tears down her cheek. The
young woman was shaking, her breathing ragged, and he gingerly wiped away the
tears from her cheek, drying the small path they created along her face.
A small sigh of relief escaped him as her hands came up to cradle his,
holding it tight against her warm cheek. A
hot breath, like a moan, poured out of her.
Brow furrowed, Kal brushed aside the long auburn hair in front of her
eyes with a gentle caress, and whispered, "You worried me."
"Kalshann,"
Gwynn breathed, meeting his eyes. He
was struck by the passion and conviction he saw there, despite her tears.
"I love you."
The
young man was taken aback, a flash of wonder running through him.
"I've loved you for years," she continued in a stronger voice,
"But I was always too afraid to tell you."
She blinked, her brow furrowing, and squeezed the gold and emerald
pendant in one small fist. "I
was going to tell you when I gave you this, but I couldn't.
I felt like I was suffocating. And
the same that night, when you came to me on the ship . . . "
Shaking
his head slightly, Kalshann purred to the pair pseudo-dragons under his breath
and they reluctantly scurried away, flying back into the darkness above.
Kal moved closer to the young woman before him and cupped her face in his
hands. The night before Gwynnion’s
Test came back to him, as well as the moment on the Lliandri.
To soft green eyes and a faint voice aching with the frustration and
sadness that once dominated her life. Her
feelings had survived the Curse and drawn her back to him, without her even
knowing why.
Even
as Kal watched, the seductive sensuality she had shown him earlier was
deepening. Her eyes, bright with
weak tears, darted over his features with newfound longing.
Gwynn looked flushed and warm in the flickering candlelight, and he
watched a stray lick of red hair fall free and brush her mouth.
He gently smoothed it away, only to start stroking her lower lip with his
thumb, relishing the softness there. "It
killed me inside, not being able to tell you," she whispered, closing her
eyes under his touch, "And it was almost stolen from me . . . "
Brow
furrowed, Kalshann murmured, "You remember that?"
"Yes,"
Gwynn nodded with a fragile smile, "I know it."
The
young man smiled faintly, even as he explored the texture of her full lower lip
in light strokes. Part of him had to
wonder whether Gwynnion would ever have remembered this on her own, if he hadn't
violated the Council's decree and shared the past with her.
Like Justarius, he cared little for Par-Silan's command – Gwynnion's
mind and soul were her own, and only she had the right to decide if she would
know the past or not. Though now
that the door was opened, what else might Gwynnion remember?
"Do you recall anything else?" Kalshann asked softly.
The
young woman paused as she puzzled over this question.
For a moment, Kal thought she touched upon something more, but it was
fleeting. Gwynn shook her head no,
eyeing him hopefully as she tried to guess at his feelings.
Wondering, with the shadow of her former self in her eyes, whether her
confession would mean anything to the solitary, mischievous man in front of her.
Or even what it meant to love a man she knew so well but barely
remembered. Her hands ran over
Kalshann's cheeks and over his shoulders, half-amazed at being so near to him.
"I know there is more," Gwynn sighed, "I can feel it at
the edge of my awareness, but I can't reach it yet."
Smiling
gently, Kalshann pulled Gwynnion into an embrace, closing his eyes as she
pressed her cheek to his shoulder with a soft sound.
His hands slid down her back, exploring the delicate warmth of her body.
This close, with Gwynn's soft body crushed against him and her scent
surrounding him, he found himself falling into the arousal that had been lurking
within him. Turning his head,
Kalshann pressed his face into her hair and inhaled its thick, subtle fragrance
with a sigh.
The
young man drew back slightly to look Gwynnion in the eyes, running his fingers
back over her cheek and into her hair, letting it glide silkily through his
fingers. A slow, vulnerable smile
crept across her face as she stared up at him, seeing the mingled desire and
relief in his eyes. Almost
unconsciously, Kalshann coiled his fingers into the fine hair at the back of
Gwynn's neck and met her mouth with a languorous, delicate kiss.
It lasted for the briefest of moments before they tentatively drew apart,
Kal pressing his forehead to hers.
The
room was quiet except for the sounds of their breathing.
"Kalshann,"
she whispered, "I have wanted to know you since you came to see me, after
the Test . . . I have wanted to be close to you.
Even without these memories, I know I would have fallen in love with you
again. The Curse could not change
that."
"I
believe you," Kalshann replied, with a flash of his earlier, sardonic grin,
"Since you hesitated before waking me, and circled my bed while I was
sleeping . . . “ He smiled at the soft laugh this earned from Gwynn, glancing
meaningfully up toward the rafters. "They
tell me everything they see, you know."
She
gave him a quiet, girlish smile laced with unabashed desire, without a hint of
embarrassment and offering up no justifications for her actions.
Kalshann combed his fingers through her hair in long, slow motions,
taking pleasure in its cool softness and the red gold color it shone in the
candlelight. He could make out all
the fine details in her features. The
wispy strands at her hairline, the tenderness in her eyes, the texture of her
mouth. His smile softened and he met
Gwynnion's eyes.
Kalshann
smoothed her hair back from her bright green eyes.
Cupping her face in his hands, he drew close.
So close that he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin,
drinking in the fragrance of her body. His
voice was low and tender.
"Gwynnion,”
he smiled softly, “I love you as well…"
*
*
*
Ethan
frowned as he climbed the last few steps and arrived at the door to his friend
Kalshann's chambers. Neither he nor
Gwynnion had arrived to lectures that afternoon, and Agora – who was never
pleased to have a single student ignore her sessions, let alone two – had sent
him in search of the wayward apprentices. Happy
as Ethan was to help, he would've appreciated it more if his friends had
bothered to show up and spare him from having to listen to Agora's vociferous
complaints. Particularly Gwynnion.
While he hadn't spent much time with the young woman, she so far seemed
far more cooperative and obedient than she used to be, and her absence was all
the more puzzling for it. Everyone
rather expected Kalshann to be a handful, but not the sweet-natured white robed
girl.
The young man could only assume that Kal was
being a bad influence on Gwynnion, an idea which brought a smirk to his face.
Gwynn never used to have difficulty being contrary or indifferent to
responsibilities – she was a red robe, after all – and she and Kalshann were
once quite a lot alike in some ways. That
had all changed with the Test of High Sorcery, of course, though Par-Silan would
definitely not be pleased if Kal was drawing out that side of her again.
Shaking his head, the young man rapped loudly on the door, hard enough
that it rattled in its frame. Unlike
most of the mages here, Ethan understood the importance and usefulness of sheer
strength. "Kalshann!" he
called, "Kalshann, if you're in there, open the door."
"No need for that," a young man's
voice murmured behind him, "I'm sure he can hear you well enough, and
there's been enough noise lately as it is."
Ethan glanced cautiously over his shoulder
– the number of sneaks in the towers was surprisingly high, and soft voices
often announced trouble – and then turned about fully when he realized who it
was.
"What are you doing here?" Ethan
inquired dubiously.
"Most likely," Ethan agreed with a
frown, "But what about Gwynn?"
"I've no idea," Erin remarked
dryly, the tail of his cloak swaying around his legs as he leisurely closed the
distance with Ethan, "I saw her a few hours ago, on my way to Master Oki's
lecture, but I've been busy since then. Perhaps
she's with Par-Silan, since the old man has taken such an interest in her.
Who knows? I may have passed
her in the halls earlier and never realized it."
A wry smile crossed his face. "Gwynnion
is usually very quiet, you know."
Ethan gave the young man an odd look, hardly
prepared to take his word. For a
black robe, Kalshann's cousin could be remarkably straightforward and honest
when it suited him. But
"Anything's possible,"
There was a soft thunk as the door was
unlocked and swung open upon near darkness with the creak of old wood.
Kalshann stood in the doorway, dressed in a crumpled burgundy shirt and
loose, dark pants with his long, black hair mussed as if from sleep.
He blinked, squinting at the light in the hallway, before focusing on
Erin and Ethan with a slight frown. "Good
morning, Kal,"
Kalshann ran a hand over his face and back
through his hair. "Wonderful."
"I take it you overslept,"
"Well, something like that," Kal
murmured, flirting with a smile. Starting
to get accustomed to the light, he studied his cousin's knowing smile and caught
the sidelong glance which
"Mistress Agora would also like to see
Gwynnion. Do you know where she
is?" Ethan inquired, stepping forward to cut off any further interruptions
from
"Yes," Kalshann acknowledged, with
a serious smile and without any reservations.
He never cared to play these foolish mind games when the truth was more
than sufficient, and regardless of the consequences, he wasn't about to hide it.
Besides,
Ethan couldn't resist a quick grin at being
right. "Wake her?"
"I take it you've been making friends
with Master Par-Silan's protégé,"
"At the moment, I'm hardly concerned
with the opinions of others," Kalshann countered with a slight smirk,
"Though I am sure Agora does not care to be kept waiting.
Now if you will excuse me, I need to get dressed."
*
*
*
Kalshann strode lightly into Master Justarius' library, the sound of his
footfalls lost upon the exotic carpeting and rugs which covered the floor in
artful arrangements. Unlike Par-Silan's
bright and open chambers, the room was lit by only two tall windows, casting
dusty shafts of sunlight which failed to penetrate deeply into the surrounding
gloom. The rest of the room, tomes,
furniture and other belongings, were all shadows, grey and indistinct.
Normally, Kalshann enjoyed the ambience of this place and the many small
wonders hidden in odd corners, but there was a heavy feeling to the air today.
The young man couldn't help but frown suspiciously at the sight of a
small pseudo-dragon basking on one of the windowsills, near a monumental series
of book-lined shelves. As he
approached the heavy wooden desk near the center of the room, Justarius appeared
on his right, walking slowly and deliberately through the room with a bundle of
papers in hand. The old man's red
robes shone crimson as he entered the pool of sunlight and moved to sit at the
desk, smiling mildly at Kalshann as he did so.
"You asked to see me, Master?"
Kalshann murmured, nodding respectfully.
"Yes, indeed I did," Justarius
smiled, gesturing toward a leather chair. His
eyes flicked over the young man in examination, as if searching for something on
his person. "Come, sit, young
Kalshann. No need to waste your
strength by standing there idle. Believe
me, when you are my age, you will need all the strength you can get."
The old man indicated a silver tray on his desk.
"Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you," Kalshann replied,
shaking his head slightly. The
pseudo-dragon at the window glanced in his direction with a leisurely swoop of
its head. It was a black shape
against the brilliant sunshine outside. His
eyes narrowed as he looked back to Justarius, who poured himself a drink,
cradling the green earthenware flash between his hands.
"May I ask what this is about, Master?
I was attending Oki's lecture when you had me summoned."
The old man nodded and sipped his drink,
speaking with a touch of dry humor. "Of
course you may ask, Kalshann. I have
no intention of keeping you in suspense, as it were, nor of interrupting your
studies any longer than necessary. To
answer your question, I've asked you here to discuss your future."
There was a slight pause as Justarius gingerly set the flask down on the
table without looking at him. "And
that of young Gwynnion, whose company, I take it, you have recently
enjoyed."
Kalshann frowned but kept his silence,
eyeing the mage warily.
"There is no need to be coy, Kalshann,"
Justarius remarked with a chuckle in his weathered voice, "One way or
another, I eventually find out everything that happens in these towers."
He tilted his head subtly toward the pseudo-dragon at its window perch,
his tone lightening with amusement. "And
the two of you were hardly discreet, I might add.
Gwynnion could be heard at quite some distance . . ."
"I take it you disapprove?"
Kalshann murmured flatly.
Justarius smiled faintly, though his eyes
remained sharp. "I would not do
you the disservice of lying to you, Kalshann," he replied as he took
another sip of tea, the folds of his robes swaying as he held the flask up to
the light to admire its soft sheen, "You know that.
So put your mind at ease, young man; this place has seen enough mind
games already. No, I do not approve.
But it is hardly my place to make such judgments, whether I agree with
your decisions or not. I was once a
young man like yourself, and beauty is always hard to resist."
Kalshann leaned back, a slip of dark hair
sliding across his eyes as he studied the old man.
Justarius' frankness had inspired the young man's confidence in him to
begin with, though Kal knew better than to trust him implicitly.
Justarius
took a moment to pour himself another cup of tea, the steam rising up to
disappear into darkness. "No,
it is your lack of discretion and forethought which troubles me most," he
explained, "While I do not pretend to fully understand your pasts, Gwynnion
is a young woman.
Young women develop attachments easily, and are ready with their
affection with those they know and like. I
would not deny you such pleasures." He
paused, sighing, and leveled a serious and slightly weary look at the young man
across from him. "But it is past time that you understood your own
importance. And hers as well."
"We
are your chosen successors," Kalshann smirked, "I know that."
"I
have told you as much," Justarius nodded with a wry smile, "But I do
not think you appreciate the implications of that statement.
Gwynnion is Par-Silan's ablest and most cooperative student – or, at
least, so he believes – and he will not brook your interference.
Par-Silan perceives the possibility, as he does with her brother,
Lanthinel, that Gwynn's allegiance is on shaky ground.
After all, she entered Wayreth wearing the red robes, and he will not
allow the risk that, one way or another, she might turn back through a
relationship with you."
"And
you're worried she might do the same thing with me," Kalshann observed
dryly.
Justarius
sighed and eased back in his chair to share a tired look with the young man.
"I would be lying if I disagreed with you.
But I trust you, Kalshann. To
some extent, I have no choice but to trust you.
And there are concerns of greater importance."
The old man rubbed his temple, considering his words.
"While I agree with your decision to tell Gwynn about her past, it
violated the council's decree, and it will not be difficult for Par-Silan to
discover this. He will pursue
sanctions against you for disobeying his commands, and in the process seek to
remove your influence on Gwynnion."
"Not
to mention eliminate your most likely successor," Kalshann sighed, shaking
his head in disgust.
"Precisely."
Justarius took a sip of tea. "Par-Silan
will either seek to expel you or remove Gwynnion to a place of safety.
Somewhere that he can keep an eye on her and make sure she is trained as
he sees fit."
Kalshann
grimaced. "And naturally, you
would prefer it if Gwynn left."
The
old man shrugged slightly. "Our
order is in danger of dying out, Kalshann, and I do not care to leave matters in
the hands of those who cannot see farther than their own self-righteous
philosophies. If there is anything
sorely lacking in this world, my friend, it is perspective and balance.
Something which, until now, I saw clearly in you."
Justarius released a long breath, looking drawn and exhausted, and his
tone became more blunt. "It
would do my heart good to see you and Gwynn happy, Kalshann, and I wish matters
were so simple. But the situation is
far more precarious than that, and we are long overdue for an upheaval."
"Then
what do you want me to do?" Kalshann inquired grimly.
"I
will not tell you to stop seeing her," Justarius advised him, "That is
a matter for you to decide. However,
I will make certain that when Par-Silan
discovers your relationship and learns that you violated the council's orders
– as he will shortly, I assure you – that Gwynn is removed from Wayreth in
exchange for your security, to which Par-Silan will readily agree.
As will Gwynnion, since she will not allow you to be expelled for her
sake. Little comfort, I know, but it
is the best that can be offered. In
time, if your feelings for each other are true, you may well resume your
relationship under better circumstances."
"So
basically we have no choice," Kalshann muttered, "Am I right,
Master?"
Justarius
waved this off. "You always
have a choice, my young apprentice, but this is the only course of action which
will not irreparably harm the two of you."
"And
which offers the most benefit to you," Kalshann remarked.
The
old man shrugged and set the empty flask down on the tabletop.
"Of course."
*
*
*
Unlike all of the others in the room Kalshann wore only a crimson band
around his wrist to show he was of the Red Order. Around him robes and cloaks of
black red and white mingled, some of the younger mages boasted loudly while the
older mages spoke in hushed tones. The simple green and brown clothing he had on
meant he was avoided by others- the old because he was breaking tradition and
the young for fear of being associated with him. As he sat himself down on one
of the dozen of benches that surrounded the amphitheater. He laid the small
satchel he carried under the stone bench and rested for a second.
“I wouldn’t have expected to see you
here.” A rustle of black velvet robes and the soft sent of willow trees
accompanied the voice. Zoë stood behind him, having quietly approached as he
settled in, she wore an almost decadent amount of jewelry to accent the
revealing black velvet and her seductive figure. Of course the soft predator
grin she always used smiled at him from the delicate features of her face.
“You shouldn’t expect anything from me-
“ Kalshann chided her, obviously uninterested in continuing the conversation
but knowing she would try once again to get under his skin. She was a Black
Robe. But no higher in the Order then he, and she had ingratiated herself to one
of his friends during their Test. Lanthinel had found a fondness for her, even
if she had passed into the foul study of Black Magic, their journey during the
Test had given them time to bond- to understand and even appreciate each other.
“We are two of the newest apprentices.”
She sat on the bench and leaned slightly against him in one fluid motion. The
sent of willow trees came from her hair and more exotic scents danced around her
when he was this close. “We should be more amiable toward each other.” She
touched his arm to steady her movement as she swung her legs and the hem of her
robes around to sit facing forward. “You are Lanth’s companion and friend so
I feel I should at least try being the same to you.” She swung her long black
bangs away from her face and pulled her head back to allow the thick shiny locks
to slide down along her back with the rest of her waist length mane.
“Your relationship with Lanth’ is
between you and him - I care for him greatly but you I don’t know - and I
don’t trust you.” He gave her as
warm and honest a smile as he could, she was a viper and he refused to let his
guard down around her.
“Honesty
and directness.” She gave me a wry smile, a look of innocent playfulness.
“Have you spent time in the lands of Solamnia? They have similar forthright
practices.”
“No I haven’t had the pleasure.” He
lied to her, speaking nonchalantly and returning his attention to the rest of
the room. “Now if you’re so curious about my past go and pry the information
from Lanth’ and leave me alone.” He paused for a moment and looked back at
her “Please?”
“My apologies- I didn’t mean to
offend,” she nodded to him, but did not rise. He suspected she planned to do
this the entire lecture. “I was not meaning to pry - ” She reached out and
caressed his arm and shoulder. “Merely being friendly.” From the corner of
his eye he saw three men wearing black eyeing him suspiciously. Zoë had become
quite the darling within her Order, and no doubt they disliked the attention
Kalshann was receiving.
“Don’t worry about them,” she
whispered to him in a conspiratorial tone, “They worry about me - ” She
feigned concern as she turned and smiled to them.
“Associating with someone who is so … ” She paused as if looking
for a way not to insult him.
Outcast? Deviant? Perhaps simply being a
Red Robe? The
thoughts danced silently between them unspoken. “Who is so handsome and strong
willed.” The coy smile returned to her face as she purred the comment to him.
Kalshann did not know what game she was playing- and did not wish to find out.
He let a soft sigh escape him as he returned to paying attention to the room.
Others had begun to settle down, seating themselves in small groups to listen to
the lecture. Though no one sat near the two of them a few sidelong glances made
their way to the bench they occupied. Kalshann noticed
“How have your studies gone Kalshann?”
Zoë quietly asked, apparently deciding he was not paying her enough attention.
“Well, unlike the other Orders there are a
dozen teachers for each of the apprentices among the Red Robes.”
He remarked, glancing at her as he leaned forward resting his elbows on
his knees. He knew she was probing
for something he knew, but he had too many secrets and not enough information.
“Well I hope you study hard- I have meet
with that elven woman Diandra- she is a poor sorceress from what I have seen,
you should be set to become very prominent among your small Order.” She said
leaning into him again, the sent of willows and warmth of her form pressing
against him. If she was not who she was Kalshann would find himself slightly
attracted to her- but he knew too much of her past to make that mistake.
Again a small pause of silence as she
searched for another way to engage him, and draw his attention to her. This time
she chose something more personal.
“By the way- I have been meaning to ask;
what does Kalshann mean? I’ve not been able to place the name since I met
you?” As she asked he straightened and faced her, a brief look of surprise on
his face.
“It means ‘Wolf-Prince’,” he said,
almost cautious to continue but chose to anyway despite any suspicions.
“Though really it would be accurate to say ‘Kal-Prince’, the Kals are a
wolf like creature from myth in my village.”
“Mmmm… ” She mulled the meaning over
in her mind then asked, “Would you be willing to tell me the myth?
I’ve never heard of these creatures?”
“I would be willing,” he lied, “Though
I only know some of the stories- and to tell you the truth they are rather
boring.” He said as if admitting a
dark secret.
Zoë’s eyes narrowed slightly and she gave
him an examining look. “You play this game well Kalshann?”
she finally stated, showing a bit of her guarded self and not the
glamorous façade she had been using.
“I think that is the first nice thing
you’ve ever said to me,” Kalshann gave her a quick smirk and returned to
gazing around the room. At the far side of the room a lone figure entered the
garden, dressed in a simple white robe and cloak, carrying a small writing set
as she entered. Kalshann recognized the long tresses of auburn and red hair.
Gwynnion noticed him quickly; since his clothing alone made him easy to spot,
waving slightly with a fond smile as she moved to approach him.
Kalshann returned the wave, but made it clear by his expression and a
tilt of his head that his present company would be trouble.
"I see you've made friends with the
child, Gwynnion," Zoë commented, leaning bodily into Kalshann to wave to
the young woman as well. Gwynn's
eyes narrowed warily as she returned the gesture with a small smile.
"She looks so young amongst all the other students, doesn't she?
I suppose Master Justarius was very disappointed when he lost her; there
are precious few members of your Order as it is…"
*
*
*
He
was perched in a small garden sitting atop a large squat tower that comprised
one of the two gatehouses that lead to the immense spires in the center of
Wayreth. The garden gave a beautiful view of the huge triple spires of the
The Oath you made
Success in the Test bears with it three
things, the duality of a blessing and a curse and the promise of new life-new
understanding. His blessing was a tome, an ancient treasure the other mages knew
little about- given to him by Justarius the head of the Red Order. Some say
Justarius can see the future, some say he is unfit for his duties- having spend
many years trying to live a dual life - that of wizard and soldier. Kalshann
believed he was one of the few people to be trusted in this place. Justarius
also was the one to bequeath him his curse, an Oath he knew he would one day
fulfill. It is a terrible and dark thing to know the future, even in portions
and segments- and it is worse to only know your part in it and nothing more.
The slow progress of the party he was
watching slowed, they were making camp planning to continue tomorrow no doubt to
reach the alabaster and marble monolith that dominated the sky line of the
valley.
“Loki.” He whispered to the small
pseudo-dragon crouched around his feet; the small head of the creature looked up
at him and purred a response to him. Loki had been the first friend Kalshann had
made here- others considered the little dragons to be pets or pests but they
held a bit of intelligence and compassion behind their serpent-like eyes. Loki
was going to be an experiment to a black robe sorcerer named Marius until
Kalshann freed the little creature, since then it was a constant companion to
the apprentice.
“Could
you do me a favor?” Kalshann softly ran a finger along its neck gently petting
it. “Bring this to those travelers?” he showed the little beast a braid of
red white and black leathers. It was a simple thing, but after traveling across
the vastness of Ansalon the little token would give them hope- and allow them to
know for sure they have reached their destination. Remembering his own journey
to this place no less then three months ago he knew that the little signs would
mean a lot.
Loki
looked out to the small campfire the travelers were setting up and then back at
Kalshann, growling a bit then chirping it clasped the braid in a claw and took
to flight in the dusk-light of sunset. Kalshann watched as the creature flew
into the growing darkness to vanish. The trip would take it most the night and
when the travelers woke in the morning they would find a little sign that they
have been seen and are welcome.
“Perhaps
it’s breaking a law of the Tower, but compassion is more important then
law.” He smiled to himself as he whispered the words. He didn’t know if he
was simply saying it to make the words more real for himself or if he was
practicing the quote for when he would be brought before Justarius for the
breach.
“You
really do need to stop talking to yourself dear cousin.” The voice startled
Kalshann;
“Well
if I go senile I should finally fit in here.” Pushing the heavy thoughts from
his mind Kalshann laughed, rising to greet him, clasping hands and then perching
on the parapet leaving the small bench for his companion. “What can I do for
you- no one comes to these gardens except me, and the people who are looking for
me?”
“Of
course, I have two reasons to seek an audience with -”
“Then
I am at your service” Kalshann bowed his head slightly. He and Erin both had
troubles, though of different kinds. While many sought to have Kalshann banished
from the Order, Erin suffered the heavy weight of being the apprentice among the
black robes who showed ‘the most promise’ and with that unspoken title came
many dangers, including knives in the shadows.
“There
is a Master of the Black named Marius, he knows of a way to find out who
attempted to poison me” A bit of anger rose in his voice as he mentioned the
most recent attempt against him he had suffered. Without Kalshann’s knowledge
of herbalism and druidic magics he would have surely died. “However he wants
to know of the antidote I used to survive in the first place.”
“That
is not a problem” Kalshann smiled “I’ve got a few books you can borrow-
they will show you the process you’d need to know. The ingredients are rare-
but every one knows you to be resourceful.”
“Of
course.”
“You
mentioned a second matter?” Kalshann said distantly, pausing to look out into
the growing darkness and scan the encampment. They had set up along a cliff face
so their fire cast a red glow against the valley wall, in the rising moon light
of Lunitari it had the effect of looking like a ghostly reflection of the red
moon above.
A
sign? Kalshann thought silently. Perhaps another red robe is among them?
“I’m
sorry- you were saying?” Kalshann muttered as he turned back to look at his
cousin.
Kalshann
at first only laughed, but soon the realization came to him that ‘Lovers’
was as good a word for he and Gwynnion as any others. “Yes- a lover…
Gwynnion-”
“Yes-”
“You
mean she was that loud?”
*
*
*
"Tell
me, Gwynn," Par-Silan asked, turning to look at the white-clad woman as she
walked beside him, "What are your feelings for the young man, Kalshann?"
A
smile immediately touched Gwynnion's lips and she looked out over the small
garden before answering. Her hair
shone a soft, lustrous red in the sunlight as it fell against her snow white
robes and across her pale cheek, and she brushed it back while considering her
words carefully. The old man could
not help but smile as well at the faint blush his question produced, the
sweetness of a young girl. "I'm
in love with him, Master Par-Silan," Gwynn murmured, looking up.
"Love?"
the mage echoed with a hint of disbelief, clasping his hands in front of him.
He squinted as he glanced up at the thin, high clouds passing overhead,
"How can you love someone you barely know?"
"But
I do know him," Gwynnion countered, her voice rising, "I have loved
him for many years, Master. Since
long before the test."
Par-Silan
nodded curtly with a knowing smile. "He
told you this, did he?"
"No,
Master," Gwynn replied softly, hair swaying against her back as she shook
her head, "Kalshann has always believed we were only friends; I kept my
feelings from him before the test, out of fear.
It has only been recently that I have begun to remember these things,
with his help. He has been kind
enough to share some of our history together . . . He had no idea until I told
him."
The
smile faded from Par-Silan's expression as he turned to study Gwynnion, his eyes
slightly pained. "Yes, I know.
Kalshann has admitted as much to Master Justarius, who shared the
information with me." He sighed
unhappily. "And what of him?
What are his feelings for you, if you know?
Does he love you as well?"
"Yes,"
the young woman smiled softly.
"That
is regrettable," Par-Silan murmured.
Gwynnion
glanced up sharply, her brow furrowed. "Why?
What do you mean?"
"By
discussing the past with you, Kalshann has gone against the council's strict
instructions," the old man explained, slowing to stop and clasp Gwynn's
shoulders gently, "He and the others were commanded not to reveal such
things, for your own good. Your
memory was taken from you for a reason, Gwynnion.
You have been given a second chance at life, but there is much pain and
confusion in your past that will only hurt you now."
"Such
as my love for him?" Gwynn argued, "Kalshann has helped me a great
deal."
Par-Silan
cocked his head, his voice even but laced with frustration.
"Kalshann has opened the door to your past, Gwynn, and that is a
very dangerous thing. Regardless of
his intentions, as a member of the Orders, he is bound to observe and respect
the commands of the council. He has
failed to do so and must bear the responsibility for his actions, just as you or
any other student here would."
Her
eyes narrowing, Gwynnion shook her head and brushed the old man's hands off of
her shoulders. "I asked Kalshann to tell me about my past, Master.
It was my decision.
Without my past, without him, I have felt empty from the moment I woke up
here. He has done nothing
wrong."
"I
know that you love him, Gwynn," Par-Silan murmured, "But you cannot
protect Kalshann from the consequences of his own actions.
He knew what he was doing, and he made the choice to go against our
wishes. Such things are hard to
understand sometimes, I know, but they cannot be changed."
"You
cannot punish him for this," Gwynn retorted.
"Gwynnion,"
Par-Silan said loudly, snapping her backwards a step.
The old man glared at her for a moment before relenting with a deep
breath, lowering his voice. "Gwynnion,
it is not your place to argue the rulings of the council.
Like Kalshann, you are under our authority and you will respect the decisions we make, regardless of whether you agree
or disagree with them. He will be
punished and that is the end of it. Do
you understand me?"
Gwynnion
glared silently at him, her dark green eyes smoldering.
"I
think that perhaps Kalshann has been more harmful to you than you believe,"
Par-Silan frowned, "Or will allow yourself to believe.
To some extent, I can understand Kalshann's actions, especially in light
of your feelings for each other. Because
of that, and because of his value to the Orders, I will not seek to have him
expelled. But he will
be punished nonetheless."
The
white robed mage took a step forward, looking down at the slender young woman.
"This does not make me happy, but I think it would be a good idea if
the two of you were kept apart for some time," he sighed, "To give you
a chance to think on this and your life without distractions.
And to remember the importance of respect for your elders.
Master Justarius will not agree to remove Kalshann from his supervision,
but as Master of the white robes, I have the power to send you where I
wish."
"I
love him," Gwynnion growled softly, "You can't do this."
"I
will do what I think is best," Par-Silan admonished her, "I know of
someone, a good friend of mine, who is an excellent teacher.
I think you would do well to stay with her for a time."
He started to lay a hand on her shoulder but thought better of it.
"I am only trying to help you, Gwynn."
*
*
*
Kalshann's footfalls echoed in the empty chamber as he walked in a slow
circle, tracing the design in the floor, and occasionally glancing upwards at
the vaulted dome above. It was a
gorgeous place, actually, a palace of white, green and earthen-colored marble,
the walls crawling with rose vines and greenery.
In fact, the plants were the primary decoration.
They had virtually been allowed to run riot, the stone cracking as vines
and other plants burrowed into the structure.
A soft shaft of gold sunlight lit the room from the atrium's skylight,
high above. It was, at the very
least, a refreshing change from the stereotypical wizard's tower.
Oddly intimate for all its vast space, with an appreciation for time and
nature's changes rather than the sheer perfection many wizards seemed to desire.
The
young man's long hair and cloak swayed as he turned toward the sound of
footsteps. He knew it was a woman
before she even appeared through the arched doorway on his right, the rhythm and
click of her shoes told him as much. She
was tallish with very long, dark brown hair coiled back into a seashell shape
with ivory clasps, a streak of silver and white running throughout.
Her white skin was tinged green at the fringes of her ears –
half-elven, he noted – and chin, blending into the gown-like green and blue
robes draped over her slender body. A
smile touched her mouth as she neared, extending a hand of greeting, which
Kalshann took and politely kissed. In
contrast to the rest of her, the woman's eyes were a soft violet.
"Sir
Kalshann," she said lightly, "I am Eilune Danaen."
"Just
Kalshann," the young man smiled, "If you don't mind."
Eilune
flashed a relieved grin and nodded. Her
voice took on a more relaxed, musical tone as she spoke.
"Not at all. I'm always
happy to meet someone whose ego does not require stroking.
We don’t receive many visitors here aside from representatives of
Wayreth and the occasional mercenary seeking our services, both of whom are
usually more prideful than they truly deserve."
"This
place is rather remote," Kalshann observed, looking about.
"On
purpose, of course," Eilune replied, "I'm rather active in the affairs
of the world, as I'm sure you know, and it is important to have somewhere that I
won't be disturbed. At least not
very often.” A wry smile crossed
her face. “Most of the girls here
do not appreciate my house’s isolation, Gwynnion included.
But they do come here for a reason, and it is not to socialize . . .
"
Kalshann
nodded distantly, looking up as a small bird took flight from a hidden nest,
crossing the vast empty space of the dome before disappearing again.
“I never knew this place existed until Gwynn was sent here.
It was my understanding that there are only three universities in Ansalon
which provided students to the Conclave?”
“That
is technically true,” Eilune agreed, her voice tinged with sarcasm, “My
house offers education and a safe haven to girls and young women, many of whom
are orphaned or incapable of finding a teacher for whatever reason.
Of course, we teach only white robed mages here, which is part of the
reason Par-Silan asked me to teach Gwynnion, I’m sure.
Sadly, we have yet to receive recognition from the Conclave for our
efforts. It is primarily a matter of
politics, I’m afraid.”
“I
understand,” Kalshann smirked, “I’m sure your remoteness had something to
do with Par-Silan’s decision as well.”
Eilune
looked askance at the young man, smiling faintly.
“Doubtless you are correct, Kalshann.
And to be quite honest, I sympathize with the situation which you and
young Gwynnion have fallen into. Unfortunately,
while I have some leeway within the Conclave and the white robes, even I must do
as Par-Silan directs. Still, while
you might disagree, I feel Gwynn is benefiting greatly from her time here.
Both of you have led rather tumultuous lives by my understanding, and she
has desperately needed stability.”
“Actually,
I think I would agree,” Kal replied softly.
“I
know this must be difficult for the two of you,” Eilune continued in a gentler
tone, “I know it is for Gwynnion. I
am pleased to aid the two of you in any way I can.
And I am more than happy to be her teacher.
She is very bright, if rather undisciplined, and I have to admire her
openness. In fact, I am quite proud
of her.”
Smiling,
Kalshann nodded. “I take it her
memory’s returning?”
“In fragments,” Eilune allowed, “And
haphazardly at best. I have spoken
with both Par-Silan and Justarius on this matter and they have explained much of
the situation to me, particularly her Test.
I am not surprised that her memory is so uneven.”
She eyed the young man thoughtfully.
“You should know, Kalshann, that the changes wrought by her Test run
deep. You should also bear in mind
that Gwynnion is still maturing. The
effects on her memory are only one aspect of this, though I cannot explain it
further. The mark of the blue rose
on her left arm is more than simply a reminder of her Test, as I’m sure you
know.”
“Yes,” Kalshann murmured, “Master
Justarius said as much.”
“As I expected,” Eilune replied,
“Though I imagine you would like to see her now.
Gwynnion is in the arbor at the moment, down that corridor."
The woman gestured leisurely in the opposite direction from which she
came, through another archway. "We
expected that you would arrive earlier. She
has been quite eager to see you again."
Kalshann offered her an apologetic smile.
"We had some trouble on the way here.
There's a lot of fighting to the east and it's making it hard to get
around."
"Is it safe to travel then?"
Eilune inquired, "Very few know we are even here, let alone will make the
effort to reach us, and thus far the war has yet to touch us here.
But with the return of the dragons, I do not know how much longer our
security will last. Still, if you
would like, you may remain here for a time.”
"I doubt that will be necessary,"
Kalshann smiled, “But thank you for the offer."
Eilune cocked her head slightly in
deference, and her eyes flicked over him as if considering something.
"There is no need. As
has often been observed by others, we do not stand on formalities here, Kalshann,
only simple notions of courtesy and kindness.”
A gentle smile touched her mouth. “Over
time, my apprentices become like daughters to me.
And while Gwynnion has been with us for a relatively short time, I would
be delighted to help the two of you in any way I can."
“Thank you,” Kalshann smiled, “You are
very kind.”
Eilune lightly dismissed this.
“I have no need of compliments, Kalshann.
I will leave you to speak with Gwynn, as I have some matters to attend
to. Be mindful of the other girls,
however, should you meet them. Her
friends, Janna and Silune, have been here for quite some time and have gone
largely without the company of men. You
may cause something of a stir by your presence.”
Kalshann gave her a sidelong glance, vaguely
uneasy.
“No need for such looks,” Eilune
grinned, touching his shoulder, “The girls will not bother you overly much.
Feel free to explore my home if you like.
We have little in the way of secrets here, after all.”
*
*
*
Kalshann shaded his eyes as he entered the garden, which sat on a roughly
oval-shaped extension of the plateau surrounded by craggy cliff faces.
The air was fragrant with jasmine and honeysuckle and the abundant
flowers which dotted the area, and had the soothing scent of a recent
thunderstorm. A cobblestone path
circled the edge of the garden, past a reflecting pool and fountain in the
center, and toward the shady arbor at the far end.
It was there that he saw the slender figure of a young woman, dressed in
a gleaming white robe. She was
sitting in a patch of grass under the latticework, looking away from him and in
the direction of a far away waterfall.
He paused a moment, absorbing the peaceful
atmosphere, before walking across the grass toward her.
Like the rest of Eilune's home, the garden had less of the feel of a
wizard's tower, or even a convent, than of an ancient acropolis.
The buildings and other manmade structures were obviously allowed to
crumble and weather in favor of growing plants, vines and natural forces.
There was no statuary or elaborate decorations other than the plants; the
fountain was almost an anachronism here. So
long as the interiors were clean and intact, little other attention was given to
them. He had to imagine it was like
living in a well-maintained ruin.
Though he was virtually silent, the woman turned her head at his approach. At first, he could only make out her mouth and jaw under her cowl, but she brushed this back with a smile. Gwynnion looked radiant, her milky white skin seemingly purer against the contrast of her dark hair, and she looked up at him with gleaming, deep green eyes. Kalshann slowed as she rose to her feet in one fluid motion, breaking into a bright, girlish smile. "Kalshann," she called, "Where have you been?"
*
*
*
By
the reflecting pool in the monastery garden, Gwynnion calmly performed her
morning exercises. The vista of
misty mountains surrounded her, as it had for the past two years, but for the
moment the young woman was blind to it, her mind focused only on following the
slow, graceful movements, as taught to her.
And as she'd come to teach the young women and girls who came here after
her. The exercises were a stylized
version of the combat form which other women were trained in, saveta,
but this gentler art, while mimicking the hand and foot blows of a
combatant, was more like a dance. Not
that it wasn't strenuous. Even in
the cool air, Gwynnion was sweating, the thin material of her exercise outfit
clinging to her body here and there, and her braided auburn hair was damp.
This
art was a form of meditation as much as exercise, a skill which had become
almost second nature to Gwynnion during her time here.
At first she had practiced in the halls with the other women, but she had
come to prefer the garden, and she brought initiates out here to teach them in
nature rather than in the crumbling marble halls of the monastery itself.
Granted, the place itself didn't matter once you mastered the skill –
your mind was almost indifferent to your surroundings during practice – but
Gwynn enjoyed the quiet beauty here. Some
of the white robe students pursued the art with enthusiasm while others found it
tedious. Gwynnion considered it a
necessity, a way to clear her mind and quiet her heart.
Without the patience and control it taught, she wouldn't have lasted long
here.
In
a slow sweep, Gwynnion finished the dance. She
was immediately alert again, releasing a slow, deep breath as she looked around
at the mountains. Running both hands
over her hair, the young woman was grateful for the stillness.
There were times, while deep in the dance, that Gwynn caught glimpses of
old memories, as if silencing her mind withdrew a curtain separating her from
her former self. At other times her
mind seemed to go elsewhere, and whether it was truth or imagination, she would
momentarily see her far away love going about his daily affairs.
Today there was simply nothing. Her
earlier anxiety, the rapid thrumming of thoughts and plans, was gone.
And with it, any doubts about her chosen course of action.
"I'm
leaving," she announced.
"I
know," another voice answered, "You've been meaning to do so for two
years."
Turning,
Gwynnion saw the head of the monastery, Eilune Danaen, standing on the opposite
side of the fountain. The elven
woman was ill, more ill than she would ever let on, but remained perfectly still
and composed. Almost serene.
She seemed translucent in her long white robes, her dark hair streaked
with silver, as if she were gradually losing substance.
Which Gwynnion thought she might be.
Despite the shadows around her eyes and the pale blue tinge to her skin,
Eilune did not look old. Simply
worn. "You shouldn't be out
here, Mistress," Gwynnion chided her gently, "It's chilly and damp,
and I do not want you to become ill."
"While
I'm proud of you for taking on responsibility, Gwynnion," Eilune countered
mildly, "This is my house and my
school."
The
young woman grinned and nodded, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
Eilune quietly circled around the fountain to join her, walking with a
smooth, almost floating gait. The
matriarch was one of the most – if not the
most – skilled individuals in the white robes' secret arts, without which
her deteriorating health would quickly overcome her.
To the untrained eye, she might have seemed to glide on the wind, but
Gwynnion saw the slight faltering of her steps here and there which betrayed her
weakness. Though she tried not to
stare. "If you wish to
leave," Eilune murmured, "That is certainly your right.
There is more that I could teach you, but you already know all you need
to learn here. Only a dedicated few
remain here much longer than this. For
most, the practice of magic is paramount, not the arts of saveta."
"Master Par-Silan will not
approve," Gwynn observed.
"Master Par-Silan asked me to train you
in the manner he saw fitting," Eilune replied dryly, "To prepare you
for the position of power and authority he wishes you to take over from him.
I have done so to the best of my ability, and above and beyond this, I
have tried to instill the Virtues in you."
She paused, smiling gently, and brushed a stray lock of hair from the
young woman's face. "But you
have grown a great deal since you first came here, Gwynn.
You are not a child, you are your own woman, and if Master Par-Silan
expects me to mold your personality further, he will be sorely disappointed.
Besides, you would make a poor choice for leadership of the white robes
if you were so easily cowed and manipulated."
"True," Gwynnion smiled,
"Then I have your blessing?"
"To do what?" Eilune asked in a
light tone, "While I believe you require experience in the larger world, I
am curious about your aims?"
Gwynnion cocked her head to one side,
considering how to answer the question, and walked in a slow circle to keep air
circulating over her warm body. "I
am missing the first twenty years of my life, Mistress, if not more.
Hearing about what I once did is not enough.
Those experiences, those accomplishments are no longer really part of me.
The words of others are enticing, but they ring hollow…"
A soft smile touched her features as she turned back to Eilune.
"I may never be able to get those memories back, but I can at least
have some experiences of my own."
"You would like an adventure," Eilune nodded wearily, but with
a hint of amusement, "And to discover more of your past, I suspect.
This I understand, Gwynnion. But
adventure is a foolhardy, dangerous and often deadly preoccupation of the young,
and not something to be embarked upon lightly."
She shook her head with a faint smile, sitting down on the rim of the
fountain. "I won't keep you
from it, Gwynn. But I will give you
this advice: Whatever you might discover about your past, it does not change who
you are now.
It cannot detract from or undo all you have made of yourself.
The past is in the past."
"I understand that, Mistress,"
said Gwynnion, "And I know who I
am. But I have spent most of my life
– that I can remember – cooped up here or in the Towers of High Sorcery at
Wayreth. I want to see
the world around us, to visit the places I have been before, free of whatever
burdens were on me then. When I see
Kalshann again, I would like a thousand stories to share with him about what
I've seen and done in all the time we've been apart.
I want to look out into the world and see that I have made a difference
beyond studying and the politics of the Orders…"
The young woman laughed, the bright sound echoing about the empty garden.
"Perhaps I just wish to prove that I am
my own woman, that I will not be controlled by Master Par-Silan or anyone
else."
Eilune chuckled under her breath.
"Par-Silan was foolish if he thought I could expunge this youthful
exuberance and audacity from you…" Sighing,
the elven woman looked up at her student with sharp, violet eyes.
"You have my blessing to leave, Gwynnion, but know what you're
walking into. The world is hostile
enough to ordinary individuals, but especially so toward sorcery and sorcerers.
Your half-elven blood will only make this more difficult."
She sighed. "I know a
man who may help you obtain passage to wherever you desire, but beyond that you
will be on your own. I do not want
you to come to harm, Gwynnion. More
than most of the students here, you are like a daughter to me."
Gwynnion smiled.
"I would be glad for any aid you could provide, Mistress."
"Of course," Eilune replied
softly, "And if you survive this 'adventure', I think you would make an
admirable leader." Shaking her
head, the elven woman asked in a louder voice, "Where do you intend to
go?"
"Solamnia first," Gwynnion replied
thoughtfully, "It is close and I would like to see the ancient home of the
Knights. If aid is needed somewhere,
they may know best where I should go. Then
to Ergoth, to see the place where my friends and I lived.
From there, I wish to find my parents…That will not be a simple task,
however, as I know virtually nothing about them and Lanthinel would not answer
my inquiries. Lanth and I are young
still, and barring some unforeseen tragedy, they should still be alive.
The Qualenestri and Silvanesti may know more, and I would very much like
to see the elven lands anyway…"
"Bear in mind, Gwynnion," Eilune
advised with a wry smile, "That once you begin a journey, it rarely leads
to where you expected. You may also
find it difficult to obtain aid from the elves.
Most of my people believe that having children with humans is a dilution
of our race. The few half-elves such
as yourself receive a chilly welcome at best; many would prefer to ignore your
existence rather than acknowledge a 'pollution' of the elven blood.
I, of course, sharply disagree with my brothers and sisters, but it is a
common view amongst our kind. You
will receive a warmer reception from humans, of course, but a half-elven
sorceress will still be a target of suspicion, particularly in some of the less
civilized lands… "
*
*
*
After spending most of the day secluded in his inn room, Oskar emerged
the next night and made his way to the sea barbarians’ tavern for the sake of
refreshment and being somewhere besides bed.
His joints were stiff and sore, and he still carried a few cuts and
bruises from the fight, but most of the visible damage was healed.
Enough so that he felt the urge to go out and clear his head a bit,
regardless of how his body complained. After
all, his only human contact today had been with Gwynnion, stopping in briefly to
look after him and tend to his wounds, and while he was comfortable with a
certain amount of loneliness, he tired quickly of the boredom and the quiet of
the inn.
He stretched as he walked, working the kinks
out of his neck and back, and breathed deeply of the refreshingly cool night
air. While this hadn’t turned out
to be the most pleasant city he’d ever visited, it looked lovely enough under
the silvery light of Solinari, riding high and full in the sky above.
It was peacefully quiet after the bustle of Palanthus, bringing the night
sounds of wind and animals into focus, but he still found himself looking
forward to their departure from this place.
There was more than enough greed and intrigue in this city, enough to
sour Thorn’s disposition and excite Thomas’, and anyway, the open road
seemed enticing after the bloody events of last night.
Along the road to the tavern, not far from
where they were staying, Oskar happened across Gwynnion sitting alone, perfectly
in the center of the small cobblestone square.
There was no mistaking or overlooking her, dressed as she was in her
bright white robes, but in the silver light she seemed more ethereal than usual,
almost ghostly. But as he slowed to
study her, he observed she was dressed differently than usual, exchanging her
silk gown and robe for a simpler shirt and pants of loose white cloth.
Her cloak was pulled tight around her body to ward off the chill, the hem
pooling in her lap, and a plain pair of sandals sat beside her.
Oskar had seen her enter this trance before, on the road, but she spoke
little of it. They naturally assumed
it was a habit Gwynn learned in the monastery.
Running a hand over his short hair, Oskar
turned and approached the young woman. She
looked healthier than she had earlier, the bruise on her cheek having faded and
the faint color returned to her skin. A
quicker recovery than Oskar had expected after seeing her fall last night.
Gwynnion was delicate, seemingly more fragile than she had been before
her Test, but while he knew the fight had shaken her, she’d come to show some
of the strength he remembered at Bethfield.
A good start, he thought. She
and Alexis were slowly growing up, even as Thorn curled in on himself like a
burned piece of paper.
“What can I do for you, Okar?” she murmured, opening her eyes.
Gwynn’s voice was calm, fuller than her usual soft tone.
A lot like her old self actually. But
then the warm smile spread across her features and the illusion was gone.
“I was on my way to have a drink,” he
replied mildly, scratching his beard, “I saw you and I wondered what you were
doing?”
“Listening.”
Her voice remained the same. Firm,
unhurried.
Oskar crooked a small smile.
“Listening to what?”
“The wind,” Gwynnion offered, “The
city. Your footsteps coming here.
My breathing. My heartbeat.
Everything, nothing. Emptying
myself of thoughts.”
“What?” he teased, “You haven’t been
emptied of enough already?”
She smiled at the tease but looked away,
dark hair brushing across her face. The
subject of her memory was one she approached with frankness and conviction, but
Oskar knew it troubled her all the same. “It’s
a technique to clear the mind,” she explained amiably, “No thoughts or
feelings, just perceptions. Becoming
part of the world by silencing yourself, so all you perceive is your
environment.” Gwynn laughed
slightly. “Sometimes not even
that. It helps me focus and relax.
And sometimes...”
Her voice trailed off, lost in thought.
Grimacing at the soreness in his legs, Oskar
squatted down. “Yes?”
Gwynnion’s smile returned and she shook
her head. “In a way, it helps me
know myself better. Sometimes I’m
briefly flooded by images from old nightmares and dreams, like they were
absolutely real. And oftentimes when
I come out of it, I find that I understand a problem or feeling better than I
did before. But mostly I just
listen.”
“Listening implies you expect an
answer,” Oskar observed.
“Yes.”
Her smile was gentle.
He lifted his eyebrows. “From
whom?”
Gwynn cocked her head slightly, considering
the question. Her tone grew
uncertain. “Before the Cataclysm,
the Daughters of Solinari trained and prepared initiates to join the priesthood
of the god of white magic. Those
ways are still taught, but today the monastery serves primarily as a refuge for
young girls and women mages of the white robes.
Solinari, or at least the white moon, still influences our lives.
But even Mistress Danaen has never spoken with the god, she is only a
student of those who once did in centuries past...”
“So you listen for him,” Oskar said.
“Yes,” she nodded, smiling faintly,
“And to myself.”
Brushing hair back behind her ear, the young
woman looked up at him with still green eyes.
Oskar marveled at how different she was, both in her openness and peace.
Most times, she had somewhat of a childlike, innocent demeanor, like many
trivial young women he had known. He
liked this quiet strength about her far more.
It was the bedrock of her character, which not even the loss of her
memory could take away from her. With
the cold harshness of her former self stripped away, her potential shone all the
brighter. Now if they could only get
her to wear something besides white...
“You think I’m naïve,” Gwynnion
murmured, as if reading his thoughts.
“For listening for your god?” Oskar
frowned in bemusement, “Not at all. From
what we’ve seen, I think you have a chance of getting your answer someday.”
The half-elf smiled wryly.
“That’s not what I meant, Oskar.”
There was a pause as he mulled this over.
“No, I think you are young. So
are the others, except for Thorn, but he has his own issues to deal with.
But I don’t hold it against you, Gwynnion.
You and Alexis are learning. So
is Thomas in his own way. For which
I am glad.” Oskar lay a hand on
the young woman’s shoulder, smiling. “I
know you were frightened last night, but you still faced the horde and did your
best. I’m proud of you.
And I respect anyone who can conjure up a five-headed beast out of thin
air.”
Gwynn laughed.
“Thank you.”
After a moment, she sighed.
“I miss Kalshann.”
Oskar raised his eyebrows slightly.
Her readiness to talk about her personal life still surprised him
occasionally. “If you want, you
can go join him. If he’s anywhere
close by, we might even accompany you there...”
“No, I have an obligation to my
friends,” she countered, shaking her head, “Particularly to you and Alexis.
And if there is a war coming...” Gwynnion
smiled. “I will be more useful
with you and the others right now. It’s
just that Kal and I had so little time together before I was sent away.
We can only send messages to each other on occasion...”
“He’s a good man,” Oskar said, stiffly
rising to his feet, “And the two of you will be together again, I’m sure.
In the meantime, I’m glad to have your company, Gwynnion.”
Offering his hand, he helped Gwynn to her
feet as well.
“And I yours,” she smiled.
“Thank you,” Oskar nodded, a small smile
playing on his lips, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some drinking to
do.”
*
*
*
Gwynnion
lay back in the bathtub, letting the warm sunlight from the window bathe her
face and shoulders, thinking in a vague and distant way about her and the
group’s plans for the day. Her
long auburn hair was wound back and held in place by a long silver pin, and she
draped her arms along the sides of the tub, gradually sinking further into the
hot, murky water. Puck lay curled up
on the small bed, resting upon the blue pillow Alexis had given him for saving
her life. Now and then his wings
would twitch in his sleep, but the moody tressym seemed to share her contentment
for the moment. They would be on the
road again all too soon.
