Oily water swelled in irridescent layers, painting a rainbow of hues that spread out from one edge of the large wooden basin to the other, lapping gently at the treated hide lining. A foot lounged atop the lined side, lazing back and forth to an unheard rhythym, the toes wiggling in the tepid air. Two lithe arms draped over the basin's side opposite the lone foot, dark against the yellow hide cloth beneath. A mass of deep brown hair floated listlessly over the top of the water, flowing off the crown of a petite head, dwarved by the enormity of the bathing pool.
A sigh slipped from the mouth of the woman in the pool, her eyes closed against the bright light streaming in through the rough-cut windows on either side of her bath enclosure. Her body slipped further down into the water, both arms and foot disappearing beneath the oily surface, giving rise to a rose scent as the water was disturbed.
Somewhere beyond the walls of the chamber, a bell began to toll. Once...Twice...Thrice.
Another sigh escaped her lips, this one heralding a rapid eye flutter that brought the room into view. Other than the sunken tub, two chairs stood sentinel by the door, empty but for a simple white robe. Next to the basin itself, was a short table with a bathcloth on it. She knew it was there because it was always there and this was her chamber. There was nothing else in the white-tiled room.
The bell tolled again, then. Once...Twice...Thrice.
Her attention moved briefly to the water in the bathing pool and she dragged a reluctant finger through it. "I suppose it's time..." she said to herself, keeping a low voice as she stepped sluggishly from the basin, swinging a slender leg over the small ledge. In the process of grabbing for the towel, a hasty knock echoed through the door, reverberating through the chamber. Before she could reply, a second knock followed, more insistent than the last. Dripping auburn hair framed her scowling face as she grabbed the cloth and quickly sluiced the droplets from her lightly-tanned skin. She waited on a third knock but it never came.
Brows knitted, the woman wrung the water from her hair over the pool, listening to the glistening droplets hit the water, smelling the rose aroma waft up one last time. As she scooted quickly to her robe, she snapped her fingers and the robe jumped to life in one fluid movement, meeting her halfway. Another snap of her fingers and the rest of the water evaporated from her tresses. She waited, foot tapping on the tile for a third knock but was unrewarded. Instead, she snapped her fingers and the door slid smoothly, slowly in toward her, allowing her a view of the hallway beyond.
White tiles from the bath extended out a single foot where they met the grey stone that made up the floor of the hallway. The walls were all wooden, planked and hung with furs to protect those who lived within from the cold. It was always cold so far up in the mountains, but she provided for her people and they for her. A majority of the skins were the results of Great Hunts, of Trainings and Feasts. The hallway was the same as it had always been except for one recent addition; her insistent knocker was huddled on the floor, at her feet now that the door was removed. He was a deceptively small boy and, as he looked up at her, his teary eyes widened to the size of a huntsman's shield at her sudden appearance. His clothes were a mess of mud and leaves, making it impossible to discern their original color, but his hair matched hers perfectly, as did his golden eyes.
"Vachten." It was a statement, not a question. She knew exactly who dared knock on her door so audaciously. "Why aren't you at Throwing, Vachten?" This was a question, but it was hurled as an insult. She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for his reply.
"Lady Protector Caliphen..." he began, pulling something from underneath him that was previously hidden.
She stilled him with one hand. "Can you not even call me 'mother' in private?" This time her gaze softened, her words just shy of entreaty, but her arms stayed crossed.
Worrying his lip with his teeth, the boy was clearly torn as he opened his mouth once, then shut it, unsure of what to say. He looked down to his supply bag and finally pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, freshly dappled with tears in various places, thrusting it up at her without looking. A muffled sob was her only vocal reply and, though she tried once or twice to reach him mentally, his mind was closed to her as well. She shook her head, frustrated, surprised, and took the parchment that had so disrupted her day, even before she'd made it to Audiences! Inside, inscribed in fairly plain letters was written:
M'lady First Protector Caliphen of Lupisle,
I write you this letter as a matter of some consequence. It appears that someone
has maliciously undone the life of one of the Great Bears. As a priestess of the
Great Wolf, surely you must have felt the imbalance of late. Surely you wish to
see justice come to pass! Then, since we can all assume the veracity of my last
statement, I ask that you bring yourself and your boy, Vachten, to the village
at sunrise tomorrow morning. May the Great Ones have mercy on us all.
First Sancturate Orphos of Bruinisle
Caliphen's knuckles went white as she gripped the letter, reading and re-reading it. Had she missed some detail? Was there some reason implied but unstated why she and her son must sojourn to Bruinisle? Her mind blurred with thoughts, none of them fully-formed, none of them justifying the letter. She looked down below the letter then, letting both hands fall to her sides, one still clutching the letter. "Vachten..." she began, hesitant.
Another sob heralded new tears from the boy huddled on the floor, rocking back and forth, hugging his knees so tightly that his arms began to lose color, tanned though they were. Caliphen wanted to kneel, to hold her boy, but he was nearly a man, small though he looked. Through the tears, sobs began to sound like words. "I... we... practice... forest..." and he dissolved into tears again.
Eyes raised to the heavens, though she saw only the ceiling above her head, Caliphen closed her eyes and entreated the Greatest of the Great Wolves to strengthen her. Then she looked back down, steeling herself to what would come next. "Come, child. Manhood is almost upon you and you cry like this. It is our duty to answer the call of the First Sancturate, whatever he may want of us. Come now, take my hand." She lowered her free hand down to him, waiting.
It seemed an eternity before his arms unfolded, then his legs, but slowly they did as if he were waking from a deep sleep. A few pitiful sobs still wracked his body, but they came slower and slower as he stood until finally he looked up at her. Unexpected defiance surged out from his eyes and, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hands clench to fists. "I didn't do it." Though his teeth were gritted against each other, his words came through far more clearly. A moment of locked gazes passed and he marched off down the hallway, disappearing around the corner that lead toward their personal chambers.
Speechless, Caliphen shook her head as the normal order of things began to dissolve around her. For the second time today, her mind raced against the impossible circumstances. Her son in tears, a letter from another First Spirit, a Great Bear dead and Audiences not yet begun! Her morning had certainly turned from blase to interesting far too quickly for her liking. Wrapping the robe more tightly around her and tucking the letter safely away in the outside pocket, she reached out mentally for Lirien who responded in her typical fashion - prompt and courteous.
Moments later the situation was explained and Caliphen was off to her quarters to pack. Lirien would take care of Audiences for as long as necessary, of that Caliphen had no doubt, and it would be announced to all that the Protector and her son were off on an important visit to Bruinisle. As her bare feet padded down the stone floor hallway, she began to wonder exactly what Vachten had gotten her into this time.
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Overhead, the dense canopy of pine trees framed a cloudless sky. Occasionally a chill breeze caressed the vegetation, tickling the fallen leaves and pine needles that lay across the forest floor and bending the branches of the trees like the arms of dancers. The forest was quiet except for the occasional call of a bird flying late to the southerly clime or a lone wolf howling to its brothers from higher up the mountain. This late in the season, the trails and paths saw relatively little use other than hunting. No hunting parties ran the path at the moment, at least none harkening from Lupisle. Instead, Caliphen and Vachten rode abreast of each other, setting a fast loupe down the mountainside just off the main path. Their mounts, oversized wolves as befitting their people, bore them at a rapid pace weaving through trees as they struggled to hold on.
<You could at least try to bump and sway less, Wrishka?> Caliphen called mentally to her mount, trying to keep the desperation from her "voice". The only reply she got was the mental equivalent of a smirk. Sighing inwardly as yet another branch nearly decapitated her, the First Protector dared a glance left at her son. He, like his mother, was dressed in the soft blues and greys that their people preferred and his hair was thonged back to keep it from being torn and pinched by the branches as they fairly well flew past. Judging by the lack of communication, mental or otherwise, he'd displayed toward her since they'd left, Caliphen could tell Vachten was still brooding. Not that she could necessarily blame him, what with the awkward situation they were being placed in, but she did feel slighted that he'd hardly confided even so much as a tiny detail about their current predicament. As First Protector it was her duty to guard her people and Vachten, though her son, was just as much "her people" as anyone else in Lupisle. She knew the other boys gave him trouble, so perhaps this was something like that. Looking over at him, even through his brooding, she could feel his worry. He was making a valiant effort to keep from radiating his feelings, but she was his mother. She'd always known when he was hurting.
Giving a tight hug to Wrishka, indicating the wolf should close the distance with her mate, Caliphen waited until she was a breath away from Vachten and waved a hand to get his attention. He made no physical sign that he'd seen her, but a few seconds later, she felt the touch of his mind on hers. <Mother.> His voice was cold, distant, hardly the son who'd been crying on the doorstep of her bath chambers but a few candlemarks ago. Though taken aback, she'd come face to face with plenty worse than his attitude in the past; she was not about to let it affect her now.
<We're almost there,> she began, still mind-to-mind, attempting to see beyond the words and into his emotions. Since it was impossible to lie in such contact, she was hoping he might give something away, however small. Caliphen could feel that a sigh was coming.
Vachten sighed, <Yes. Almost.> He looked around briefly and made a show of adjusting his pack, then added, less defensively, <I'm sorry to have interrupted your bath.>
With a roll of her eyes, Caliphen shook her mental "head". <My bath is the least of my worries. Did you have anything you needed to...tell me?> Letting the barest bit of hope along the tenuous connection, she dared think, for a second, that he might respond. Silence. Whatever secret her son had hidden would remain hidden for now and she would go into Bruinisle in the relative dark. So be it. She watched as her son moved his mount away from hers, putting physical as well as mental distance between them. So be it, she thought again, returning her attention to the path at hand.
Smoke from the fires of Bruinisle was visible the moment they crossed the next rise, but somehow Caliphen didn't feel any great welcome or comfort at the sight. With hardly a pause to catch their breath, the pair and their mounts bounded down the mountainside at a break-neck pace, down into the unknown.
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As the denseness of the forest receded into sparce woodland, the towering complex of Bruinisle came into view. Seen from above, the village was a massive sprawl of tightly-spaced buildings compressed around tile-lined walkways and dotted with small fishponds. At the forefront was the Bruin Gate, carved from giant stones in the shape of two large bears leaning toward each other, paw to paw, over the main pathway leading into the village. Directly in the center of the village, or nearly so, sat the Temple, just as it did in Lupisle and other villages in the area. The complex of the Temple itself was fairly simple; a perfectly-hewn stone square, two stories high in the middle and one level around the perimeter. The entire village was a melange of browns and greens, blending with the valley within which it'd been built.
Caliphen and Vachten had their mounts slow to a walk at a few hundred feet from the Bruin Gate and stop when they were within shouting distance. Wrishka and her mate begged off entry into the village and headed off toward a cave they knew well from having visited Bruinisle before. The Protector watched them go with a faint sense of unease, but that soon passed. She turned to her son, who was still a head shorter than she, and motioned. "After you, Vachten. It is you they seek, I believe." Keeping her tone even, she couched her words as an insinuation, hoping again to draw knowledge from him. Instead, he simply walked away toward the village.
Lips pursed, she followed behind him at an appropriate pace, letting him have his space. Soon, they were closing on the Gate and a hail shouted out from the gatehouse. "Who calls on Bruinisle?" The voice was clearly male, the words, more ritual than query.
"Lady First Protector Caliphen and..." she paused, drawing her cloak more firmly around her, "And Vachten." Since he seemed not to want to associate himself with her, she would assist him in that.
The gate guard stepped out from the house and bowed. "My lady," he addressed her as she stepped forward and around Vachten, coming to within an armlength of the larger man. "I'd heard word you were coming in the morning... We were not prepared for your arrival today." A small tinge of embarassment colored his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck self-consciously.
Caliphen favored him with a smile. "Gregor, as always, it's a pleasure to see you. We decided on coming today, given the urgency of the situation. Tomorrow morning would've seen us rushed, after all, and it is highly impolite to keep a First Spirit waiting." That last remark was said half in seriousness, half in jest. She was a First Spirit as was the Sancturate.
Gregor took a deep breath, scrunching up his sizeable brow. "Urgency, m'lady? I suppose matters of the temple could be urgent. Not my place to judge," he shrugged, waving her inside. "I believe M'lord left word that you're to house with Anise at the Golden Trout. You know the way?" His brown eyes were gentle, though his body was massive, and he regarded her as one might a daughter rather than a foreign dignitary.
Biting back a smirk, she simply nodded and half-waved her son toward the inner courtyard beyond. "Many thanks again, Gregor. Do tell Hilde that we in Lupisle loved her bread, that we'd love some more if she happens to have a chance?" The guard brightened immediately at that and nodded assent as he lumbered back into the gatehouse, motioning her through.
As mother and son stepped beyond the gate, Caliphen had to struggle not to hold her breath. Something about the size and the chaos of Bruinisle always set her on edge. Perhaps it was that her village was so much smaller, more intimate, less hurried. Perhaps it was that her people always greeted each other with a smile and a nickname, a friendly wave. But then there were also less people under her care than Orphos had in Bruinisle, which made sense, considering that they were farther down the mountain and in a fairer climate overall.
While they waited for a few footcarts to pass on the way home from market, Caliphen noted the sun's descent with a nod. They'd managed perfect timing, thanks to the Lesser Wolves, Wrishka and Hrashe, who'd born them down the mountainside. Now they could settle in with a relative amount of peace, a little extra time and have supper at the inn. For the second time since they'd arrived, she turned to Vachten, motioning toward the correct path for the Inn. "I'm going to the Golden Trout, have you other business to attend to or is supper with your mother not in the cards for tonight?" Her tone was slightly sour as she struggled to keep her frustration from affecting her.
At first, he seemed not to have heard her. His gaze was locked on something across the way in a row of shops, but at last he replied, "I'll be along in a moment. Supper would be fine." The words were devoid of feeling and he walked away, off in the direction he'd been gazing, leaving her standing dumbfounded at the gates of Bruinisle.
The First Protector shrugged off her growing feeling of unease, as she watched him disappear through the door to some shop across the courtyard. A great lump rose in her throat, but she told herself it was just the cold, since the chill breeze had already become an icy wind, blowing down off the moutain. Shaking off her paralysis, she make her way in the opposite direction from her son, toward the Inn where they were to stay, pulling her cloak around her, hustling along the pathway, and nodding to those who she passed but receiving little in the way of acknowledgement herself. Unease threatened to reemerge as she happened upon the Golden Trout, but she fought it off again, instead going inside, hoping that Vachten would be along soon. Perhaps supper would loosen his tongue. As warmth from the Inn wrapped her in a welcome embrace, she briefly considered pouring stiff spirits in her son's cider when he wasn't looking.
Anise, the proprietor, recognized Caliphen immediately from behind the bar and came to greet her before she'd stepped two paces inside the door. An inviting face and the promise of a hot meal saw the First Protector promptly forgetting the "stiff spirits" idea as she was ushered to a room upstairs. With the door closed, she removed her cloak and travelling satchel with the letter in it, and stowed her shoes to the side of the bed. Less than a quarter candlemark later, she was fast asleep.
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From the exterior, "Kilde's" had appeared to be a small shop. On the interior, once past the foyer, the building seemed to extend back quite a ways. Shelves lined every wall, filled with any manner of odd curiosities from books to lamps to figurines that might've been three or four times as old as anyone in Bruinisle now, for all anyone knew. Except that Kilde, presumably the aging woman behind the counter with askew spectacles and a befuddled look, probably knew when she'd acquired each trinket and from whom she'd acquired them.
Vachten entered the dimly lit room quietly and peered about, allowing his eyes time to adjust to the gloomy interior before proceeding. A cheery fire in the fireplace near the counter kept the room unseasonably warm and quickly heated him to the point where he removed his cloak and settled it over his arm. Leaning against a post in the entry, he massaged his temple with his free hand, closing his eyes. He'd only meant to duck in here a moment, out of the scrutiny of his Lady mother, but he was finding he didn't really want to leave. Leaving, of course, meant facing the heavy load of responsibility that'd been heaped on his young shoulders.
Somewhere off to his left, someone cleared their throat, startling him from his reverie. Then a voice. "Excuse me, dear. Would you mind not leaning on the post that holds up the entranceway?" The voice itself was kindly, old, but with a hint of mirth that couldn't be denied. It was Kilde, of course, the owner of the shop.
Blushing faint crimson, the boy quickly stood upright. "My apologies, mum. I was just here for a moment. About to leave, really," he replied, flustered, turning to go.
"Now, now," called the old woman, "I haven't had a visitor in ages. You wouldn't deprive a sack'a'bones some company." She paused, grinning a somewhat toothless grin he couldn't see, then added. "Come now, a nice boy from Lupisle like yourself. What would the Lady Protector say to that, now, I wonder."
Gritting his teeth, Vachten turned to regard the shopkeep where she sat, enthroned, behind the counter. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he could see that Kilde was swathed in blankets, sitting rather immobile behind the counter. To each side of her were piles, presumably yet to be sifted through merchandise. "I..." he started, then stopped. No excuse would do. She knew who he was and had wounded his pride. Leaving was no longer an option. "No, old woman, I wouldn't dream of depriving you of company, however droll mine might be."
She cackled out a laugh. "Oh, child. No one as young as you should be so heavily burdened." Shaking her head, she tapped her spectacles and smiled at him, displaying her lack of teeth. "These old eyes see more than you know, to be sure."
"I'm sure they see plenty, mum," he replied, moving toward the counter. "But my Lady mother has requested my presence at supper and I think she'd like nothing more than that I be on my way so as to not make her wait." Outwardly, he was managing to be polite but, on the inside, he was beginning to feel more trapped in here. And to think he'd hoped to escape his mother's scrunity! How quickly that had changed.
Narrowing her eyes as he approached, she nodded. "I see. Well then perhaps you'd better be on your way. Tomorrow is a... monumental day. For all of us." She paused to yawn, but continued, "It's not often we see someone touched by Wolf and Bear."
At her first words of dismissal, he'd been turning to leave, but the second half of her statement caused his veins to run icy. His heartbeat doubled in an instantly and he whirled back to face her. "But... what... who..." he stammered, taking to steps forward and placing his hands on the counter. "What do you know of the burden I bear, woman!" He was yelling, but he couldn't help himself. This situation was beyond him and here he was, being mocked by a crone.
Making a great show of leafing through an old manuscript, Kilde smiled, not bothering to turn her head as she answered him. "So much anger. You'll have to cool that temper before tomorrow, boy. Orphos'll have your innards strung over the village gate if you don't." All mirth was gone from her tone and, when she finally did turn to regard him, he saw her eyes for the first time. Kilde was blind, or nearly so. Both pupils were milky and greyish behind her spectacles.
In that instant, all that Vachten had rushed out of him and he sagged on the counter, glad that he'd placed his hands there a moment ago, even in anger. "Mum, how is it that you do not see and yet... you See?" With no reserves left and still his mother to face this evening, he was beginning to bow beneath the weight of his many burdens.
A heavy sigh. "How do you Speak without opening your mouth? Yes, I know of the Temple's gift, no need to be surprised on top of being torn and spent. I was not born this way, lad, but I was born sickly. One of my many sicknesses caused this," she indicated her eyes behind the wire frames, which he saw had no glass. "They took me to the Temple, to Great Orphos the Sancturate... But he, even with all the gifts of the Greatest of the Great Bears, could not lift the blindness. Instead, he told me my destiny was to bear a different kind of sight. That the Great Bears themselves had something in mind for me." She turned to regard him, seeming to look through him rather than at him. "So here I am, in my shop of curios, nearly forty winters later and my family all gone. I see my destiny upon me, as do you." Now she paused, shaking her head. "I did not think you'd be so young."
"I do not understand, mum," Vachten confessed, feeling more tired with every passing moment spent in the shop. "Touched by Wolf and Bear? You see without seeing... Can you tell me nothing that will aid me?" He was pleading now, hating himself for it. Not once in all his life had he broken down with his mother, but this place was not Lupisle and this Kilde was not his mother. No, he was alone, or nearly so, for the first time since his birth. That thought chilled him more than some mysterious destiny he was supposed to fulfill.
"No," Kilde replied firmly. "I cannot help you, nor can I explain. I can see the work of both totems on you. You are being protected, yes, and guided too. What happens tomorrow, what will happen...I cannot say. I see possibilities, not exact happenings, you know. Your Speech is far more powerful than my Sight." Now she smiled, again a kindly smile as she'd shown when he arrived. "I do have something for you, though."
Bewildered, Vachten opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "I knew you'd be coming sooner or later, so I saved this for you." He watched as she slid from her stool, carrying her many blankets with her. She dug around beneath her counter for a few moments, unseen, and came back up with a rolled mat of some variety. "Here it is," she announced, toddling around the corner of the counter to present it to him. She was several heads shorter than he was, which surprised him and yet didn't really surprised him.
"What is it?" he said, taking the thing gingerly.
"Well it's not going to bite you, if that's what you're worried about!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "No, we had a trader come through some years back. It's a carp-et, he called it, said they'd been woven for meditation. I told him it sounded more to do with fishing, which suited us here just fine, so I bought it off him because it seemed right. Turns out I was right," she laughed again, seeming rather proud of herself and pushed her useless specs back up on her scrunched nose. "Well unroll it!"
Embarassed for the second time in the space of a candlemark, Vachten did as he was bade and unrolled the carpet. The backing was a mat of some sort of reeds stitched together, but when he turned it around, his breath caught in a sharp intake. On the carpet, in intricate detail, was a solid rendering of a bear and wolf, locked together. Whether they were in battle or some sort of bizarre dance was impossible to tell, but he felt immediately drawn to the design, almost comforted by it. "I, I don't know what to say, mum," he replied awkwardly.
She waved a dismissive hand at him as he rolled the carpet back up again. "Think nothing of it. Call it a gift. You'll not be getting many of those for a long while, I think." Teetering back around the counter, she resituated herself on the stool and shot him a grin. "Besides, you look like one who could use some meditation, or at least a little peace of mind. Take it and go have that supper with your mother. She could use some peace as well, lad." Kilde waved him off again, nodding her head. "Send her my regards... she probably doesn't remember me."
Vachten decided to let that last statement slide, cryptic though it was. He thanked Kilde one last time and shuffled out of the store and back into the cold, night air. Gripping the rolled carpet in one hand, he took a deep breath, letting it out in one white puff, and hurried off down the pathway he'd seen his mother point toward before he'd gone into the shop. He hoped she wasn't too upset at his tardiness, but the events of the last candlemark had left him rather bewildered.
Not too far up the path, he found the Golden Trout by the sign out front and shook his head in a vain attempt to clear out the muzziness he was feeling. As he entered the Inn, he couldn’t help but wonder how had a little hunting trip gone so wrong. Once inside and wrapped in warmth, though, Vachten barely noticed as he was quickly shown up the stairs to the room by one of the serving girls. Everything was beginning to blur together in one mushy mess, but as he opened the door and found his mother asleep on the bed, he silently thanked the Greatest of the Great Wolves that he wouldn't have to endure her interrogation tonight. If Kilde had been right, he had far worse trials ahead of him in the morning.
Stowing his things beneath his bed, carpet included, Vachten settled himself into a chair after pouring a glass of cider from the pitcher that'd been left on the table. As an afterthought, he grabbed at one of the rolled up concoctions of meat and cheese from the serving tray and managed to snag a moment's peace as he took supper alone, listening to his mother's shallow breaths. What tomorrow would bring apparently no one could say, not even someone gifted with Sight like Kilde. Staring out the room's only window, off into the dark distance, he only hoped he was still alive at the end of it all.
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An aroma that whispered of crushed pine needles and newfallen snow tickled at Vachten's consciousness. From somewhere in the distance, he heard voices speaking, coaxing, offering him mere hints of words, wafting out to him as though through a long tunnel. He strained to hear them yet never caught more than small snippets of speech. As he focused, he thought he heard his mother's voice calling desperately to him, panicked, but something was already tugging him up and up, away from all that.
His eyelids flickered, slowly at first, then more deliberately as he attempted to blink the haziness of sleep from his eyes. The insistent voices grew closer and closer until he could make out two distinct voices from the previous cacophony, one male, the other, female.
"There now," said the first voice, female, with a hint of a smile.
"Finally," spoke the second with some disapproval.
At last, Vachten sputtered fully awake as though splashed with icy water, eyes wide as he surveyed the room. Subtle tones of blue covered everything, deepening the shadows, muting all light. He was still perched in the chair where he'd eaten supper a few hours ago, but the food trays and cider pitcher had been removed. His bed was perfectly empty and so was his mother's, neither seeming to have been touched at all. Startled, he almost called out, but the blueness of the room resolved into two figures on opposite sides of his peripheral vision.
In the other chair, across the table, sat a large woman. Her eyes glowed brightly, even in the hazy twilight dimness, and her hair was plaited away from her round face in two braids. She was physically massive, easily a head or two above his mother's height, with a rotund figure that spoke of regular excersize. A simple tunic was all that Vachten could see of her attire, but the lack of lighting kept him from discerning the embroidery upon it. Every time he thought he had a clear look at it, he felt it slide and slip away beneath his eyes. She smiled at him, as though they shared some vague secret he couldn't quite remember.
Leaning on the window frame, his male visitor was thin by comparison with lean musculature on a wirey frame. His nose was long, set on a thin face with lips that likely never smiled. Where the woman's eyes had reflected light, this one's eyes seemed to drink in the darkness. Long and flowing, his dark tresses fluttered over his shoulders and chest, reaching all the way to his waist. His vest and trous left his chest exposed, but he shrunk not at all from the cold even though he wore no boots or shoes of any kind. His lean form was wiry and worn and his posture spoke purely of challenge. "Ye've made us wait long enough, child," he intoned.
Though Vachten longed to ask a thousand questions, nothing came. He stared, stricken, between his two "visitors" for some moments before sputtering out, "Who... why... I..."
"You see now, Wroshen," tisked the woman, causing Vachten's head to swerve her direction. "All we've done is startled the boy." Her eyes gazed heaven-ward for a moment before regarding him. "Vachten? How are you faring, lad?"
Vachten's mouth worked and his mind raced, but still no sound came out. Something seemed familiar about this pair, but he couldn't put his finger on it and that frustrated him. Finally, he shook his head. "I... no. Awkward. I mean, this is awkward."
From behind him, he heard a snort. "This was all your idea, Larya. I knew better than to bother with this. Besides, everything will work itself out tomorrow," Wroshen replied, derisively.
"No, this is important. Vachten, we've met before and I can see you remember us. Try... Try to remember more?" Larya, the woman, prompted him with a brief smile. Her voice was soft, reminding him somewhat of his mother.
And then it hit him. "Mother? What've you done with my mother?" Sudden purpose filled him with coherency.
"She's just gone for a time, boy. Great spirits, but you're awfully dense." Wroshen again.
Before Vachten could respond, Larya sighed, "He doesn't really remember, Wroshen. I suppose we'll just have to trust his spirit to remember." She looked past Vachten for a moment, staring up at Wroshen, then looked back to Vachten again. "We need to be leaving now but don't fret, your mother will return shortly." The great woman heaved herself from the chair and moved to stand an armlength away from her companion. "We know you'll do what's right. After all, your instincts have always been right."
Wroshen grumbled, but made no reply. Larya offered him one last smile and Vachten began to feel sleepy again. His eyelids drooped just slightly, blurring the image of the two figures in front of him. The whispers crashed in on his ears, lulling him back into the chair; they spoke to him of comfort, of sleep and rest, but as he finally settled down a question threatened to shoot from his mouth and sat him bolt upright, staring into nothingness. His midnight callers had vanished.
Within his view, the room was wrapped in a comfortable darkness, bathed in moonlight only near the open window. As Vachten sat, chest heaving, staring around in an attempt to pierce the shadows, he saw his mother's form beneath the sheets of her bed and saw her turn over as though in uneasy sleep. He gulped guiltily and resolved to be more quiet for fear of truly waking her.
It was then that an odd sensation on the bottoms of his bare feet caught his attention, causing him to look down. In a pool of stark moonlight beneath his feet, was the carpet that Kilde has presented to him earlier in the evening, the carpet made for meditation. As Vachten peered down at it quizzically, the wolf and bear seemed to stare up at him in kind. Shaking his head, he sat back up, sure that he'd rolled it and stowed it beneath the bed earlier. Perhaps he'd been sleepwalking again. His mother once told him he'd done that as a child, that he still did so under times of stress and worry. Well, tonight surely qualified.
He got up from the chair somewhat stiffly, again rolled up the carpet and tied it securely before placing it under his bed for the second time in one evening. Suddenly exhausted, he laid down as he was, not bothering to change out of his travelling clothes. As sleep claimed him, he never heard his mother stir to wakefulness in the bed next to his.
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Midnight came and passed without consequence, seeing all but the most hardy indoor or asleep. Those who traipsed the paths of Bruinisle at such an hour were few though an occasional late-night caller could be found. Animal calls broke out infrequently, but the night was mostly silent. In Caliphen's room, a cool breeze blew through the open window, stirring curtains and bedsheets. A low, inconstant murmur displaced the silence occasionally, yet never materialized into a full sound. Shadows wrapped everything in a dull blanket, muting all color except where a brilliant patch of moonlight extended from the window, across the floor beneath the table.
With one hand to her head, Caliphen rose amid rumpled sheets, attempting to look down despite the lack of illumination, and sighed deeply. Swinging her feet from bed to floor, she touched down upon the wooden boards slowly so as not to ellicit any creaking. Both hands moved to pad at her clothes, noting by touch alone that she'd never bothered to change. Startled by a sudden thought, she looked behind her at the next bed and sagged with relief. Her son had made his way after all and was asleep in his clothes, just as his mother had been. She spared him a smile, though he could not see it.
Turning back around, she rose quickly, snapping her fingers to call on her boots and cloak then winced as the buckle clanked against the floor. She froze, suddenly fearing discovery but her son's snoring never ceased. Continuing, Caliphen freed her footwear and tugged each shoe on. There was no doubt in her mind where she was going; her dreams had given her inspiration. As she'd already been asleep several candlemarks and, since sunrise was yet far away, the Protector decided to do some digging of her own in the last place she might've thought to look this afternoon. She would go to the Temple and confront Orphos directly.
Swiftly wrapping her cloak around her, she ducked from the room and shut the door with a slight 'wuff', cringing at even that quiet noise. Checking the hallway, she listened outside her door for one more moment before moving away slowly, satisfied. Finally, she turned and made haste down the stairs. No one was in the main room at this hour and even the night maid was asleep at the bar. Caliphen made a quick sign of blessing over the room and stepped out the front door, into the chill night.
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A full moon illuminated the cloudy sky from grey to a vague pink and, though it was still clearly nighttime, the entire village of Bruinisle was awash in an unearthly glare. Mist clung low to the ground, whispering over vegetation, leaving irridescent trails on the stone pathways. The chill wind from earlier in the evening had receded into a stiff breeze that tugged at cloaks, draperies and any other cloth left exposed. Nearly all windows were shuttered and latched, all homes were dark and most residents, asleep. A few of the taverns had way-lights posted at their entries, but most of those had been put out as well. The village was large and it had seen several periods of growth over the last few years but it was still out of the way and far enough up the mountain that the only winter traffic it truly saw were hunting parties.
Sequestered comfortably in his study, behind a large desk carved completely from one piece of oak, sat Lord Orphos, Sancturate of Bruinisle. It had often been said that first impressions of the man blew all expectations firmly away. Perhaps it was his strong physique and robust form, that his arms and legs held a firm strength, that he towered over even the most hardy guardsman. Or perhaps, despite all those things, it was the fact that he was those things and still a Sancturate. He was certainly nothing like his predecessor, that was clear from the picture of Lord Nichos still reverently displayed on the study wall behind the desk. Where Orphos was the paragon of health, Nichos had been thin, almost sickly. His skin was pale, even with long exposure to the sun and his eyes were a chilling blue that always seemed to stare through people. He'd never smiled and, while Nichos and Orphos had that in common, that was the end of their similarities. Bruinisle had held a three day feast when Orphos accepted the titleof Sancturate and it was rare to find anyone who'd ever mourned Nichos passing.
Reclining in his chair, the Sancturate stared off toward the door, a mug of something sitting off to one side of his desk that had been long forgotten. Fingers steepled and feet upon the desktop, he sat unmoving, unperturbed even when the door opened before his dusky eyes to admit a temple initiate in her green house robe. Only when she cleared her throat and quickly cast her eyes to the rug beneath her feet did he even remotely stir and acknowledge her presence. Removing his feet from the desk, Orphos straightened himself in his chair, taking one deep breath before addressing the girl. "Good evening, Adele, what can I do for you?" His voice was rich and tended to rumble, but tonight he made an attempt to keep quiet, not bothering to project.
Gulping, the girl stared at her feet, shuffling them back and forth on the rug. Though her hands were behind her back, she was obviously rubbing them together by the movements of her arms and shoulders. Finally, after a moment, she replied, "I... I could not sleep, m'lord. I was having those dreams again. The..." she faltered and it sounded something like a hiccup, but she continued, "The ones I came to you about...before." The last word was almost a whisper, fearful.
Pushing his chair back a foot, Orphos stood, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his red and brown robes before approaching the girl. Three strides carried his massive form to her side. She was small, fair-haired with two braids wound tightly against her head. When he approached, she stiffened but said nothing more. The Sancturate slid one finger beneath her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. For a bare moment, she resisted but acquiesed anyway, her gaze soon caught up in hers. "The dreams..." he whispered back, modulating his voice into something soothing as Nichos had taught him to do. "The dreams mean nothing, Adele..." He projected peace of mind into those fearful eyes, then, continuing, "The dreams will melt away now, will leave you in peace. They mean nothing... nothing..."
When he finished speaking, she was staring up at him blankly, seemingly held up by his finger until he removed that and still her head was tilted up toward his. Unable to resist, he leaned over and planted a soft kiss on her forehead before moving away and back to his desk. When he was seated again and comfortable, he considered her from across the room. To his eyes, the kiss on her forehead glowed a deep red. She couldn't see him; her gaze was staring up at where he had been moments ago. Shaking his head, he pondered leaving her there to look upon at his leisure, but he had more important things to consider tonight. Instead, he snapped his fingers, taking a perverse inner pleasure as she sputtered once, finding her head at such an odd angle.
As a sleeper waking from a dream, the girl peered around, raised a hand to her head and soon realized where she was. "M'lord..." she spat out, suddenly embarrassed. "I... how..."
"You're fine, Adele. I called you up here, do you not remember?" he lied smoothly, waving a hand at her in dismissal. "You've brought me my tea now back to sleep with you." He took the mug in hand, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes..." she whispered to herself, finding the false memory he'd planted with the kiss and nodding, suddenly reassured. Remembering nothing of the real reason for her coming to him tonight, she bowed slightly and excused herself in silence.
When she was gone, Orphos turned to the picture of Nichos and offered the old man a malicious grin. "Don't you see all the things you could have become, you doddering fool!" Turning back to his desk to put the mug down, the Sancturate opened his mouth but a single chime forced his lips closed again. What now, he thought to himself, reaching a hand to a hidden drawer just beneath the desk and withdrawing a plated mirror. Setting the glass down, he stared into its depths, tracing the outer edge with his finger until it glowed that same deep red as the kiss he'd given Adele. No one else could see the aura but him.
Inside the glass, a picture began to form, showing him the front gates to the temple and the gatehouse beside it. Eyes narrowing, he struggled to make out the caller who had a hand gripping the gate and was shaking it. "Who the..." Orphos spoke aloud, leaning in closer to watch the miniature scene just as the guard appeared from the gatehouse to confront the visitor.
"Wha's the big idea clangerin' on the gate at this hour? Who's out there,
com'n now, show ye'self!" The guard's voice was male, clearly irritated.
"I was beginning to think I'd get no answer tonight, granfa," noted the
visitor to the guard, "Please, though, I must see the Sancturate. It's
a matter of some urgency."
That voice, he knew, was familiar and definitely female. The Sancturate closed his eyes, attempting to place a face with the voice, listening to the rest of the exchange without looking.
"Umhuh," came the reply from the guard. "Look, mum. The Sancturate is
sleepin' as any good'un should. Which," a pause "Is where ye should be, no?"
The old man sighed and offered one last comment. "G'night mum and fare ye
well. Come back at sunrise..."
"Now you wait just a moment, granfa. I've been as polite as I can be, given
the hour, but I'll not be put off. I demand to see Orphos. He's called me
all the way from Lupisle, the least he could do is see me at my chosen hour."
Orphos' eyes flew open at that last statement. The identity of his mystery guest had been nearly upon him, but her words had cemented it. So, Protector Caliphen was here to see him. Letting out a laugh, he waved his hand over the mirror until it blanked completely and he put the device away. She couldn't have offered him a better card to play unless she'd sent her son trussed up like a boar and left Vachten at his doorstep.
Taking a quick moment to compose himself, Orphos let one last gleeful spark flare in his eyes before he stifled it and prepared to receive the Lady. Again, he pushed the mug aside, forgotten, and straightened his robes. With one hand, he smoothed down his dark hair just as a knock reverberated through the door to his study. "Come," he projected calmly, thinking perhaps he should've left Adele where she was. It would be a shame to have no witnesses to his best performance ever.
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Shouts and screams hounded Vachten's consciousness, assailing him with vague taunts and jeers, reverberating through his mental scape as he tried desperately to shut them out. A long tunnel stretched out before him, hazy at the edges though somehow he knew that death lurked beyond his vision. Running, he clamped his hands over his ears but it did no good. His legs bore him onward yet no distance lessened the fury of the ambiguous crowd he could not see and the imminent danger waiting for him in the shadows.
Suddenly, a light flickered, dimly at first but then brightening farther up the foggy path. Curious, he veered course to meet it. As he gained on the light, the taunting and the fear receded, leaving him in relative peace just as a whisper of his name caught his ear. He stopped, nearly to the light itself when the call came again. And again and again and...
Vachten's eyes flashed open in that moment, revealing his mother's face leaning over his prone form. Several things hit him instantly - he'd been asleep, he was now awake, his mother's face was red and tear-streaked and she looked angry. Glancing around without turning his head, the inn room came into view, reminding him that he was not at home. He was in Bruinisle and he was hours away from something monumental. And his mother was angry. Sheepishly, acutely aware that her anger was directed at him, he moved his gaze in her direction until she was staring right into his eyes. Before he could even acknowledge her, she stopped him.
"How dare you," Caliphen began, sniffing, her voice low and dangerous. "How dare you bring me all the way here and not even tell me what you'd done." The amber color of her eyes seemed darker than usual, the pupils dilated, her eyes widened and the whites shot through with filaments of red.
Gulping down the cold lump suddenly rising in his throat, Vachten opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came. He wanted to assure her, desperately, that he had no idea why they were here yet it was as if his tongue was completely swollen.
"Nothing?" Eyes narrowed to slits and nostrils flared, she looked like a beast about to charge. Her hands gripped the bed blanket, knuckles white, and Vachten half wondered if she wasn't about to tear it to shreds. He felt very small as she continued, "Do you know where I've been for the past two candlemarks, Vachten? Do you know who I had to ask about this entire mess since you wouldn't confide in me?" Caliphen's voice threatened to rise to shrillness, but she calmed herself, not waiting on his reply. "I was at the Temple." The last word came out with all the vileness of a curse.
Shrinking back, Vachten cowered under his mother's icy stare. In all his young life, he'd never seen her so angry. She was shaking, nearly to tears and on the verge of hystery but still no words flew glibly from his lips. No comforting phrases, no explanations did he have, though he longed to say something, anything that might stop this torment he'd woken into. Instead, he shook his head, wishing his bed would swallow him, that the demons from his dreams had taken him. Anything but this.
Finally, seeing some reaction from him, Caliphen let go of the sheet, smoothing the fabric once before standing. Stiffly, she moved away from the bed, away from him and turned, seeking support on the table a few steps behind her. One hand moved to her eyes, shielding him from those fiery orbs, but by the way she was still shaking, by her lack of speech, he could tell she was near to tears or freshly crying. At last, a few words choked out from beneath her hand, muffled. "He... he told me he has witnesses, Vach..." Her tone was so near a whisper, it was barely audible. "Witnesses that... that... they saw you kill him." Lowering her hand, Caliphen's lower lip trembled as she cast her gaze once more on her son. "Did you? Is it true? Will Orphos expose you as a murderer before the crowd tomorrow and have your life as justice or... or..." She didn't finish, but she didn't have to. The pained look in her eyes, that pleading, entreating stare was enough. Hands clasped beneath her jaw, Caliphen waited, her entire body vibrating with emotion.
Willing his body to action, Vachten dared rise to a seated position as his mind raced against the accusation that had just been heaped upon him. A murderer? Witnesses? What in all the world was his mother blabbering about? But something had her in its grip, that much he knew, and he had to force his tongue to move so he tell her the truth about the hunting trip and make everything right. This whole mess could only be about that trip. Opening his mouth to let the truth come forth, he found himself held frozen. He could see his mother's entreaty turning to suspicion as he tried desperately to force out the words but he couldn't even move his tongue. Railing against the immobile muscles in his mouth, Vachten's thoughts blurred. He couldn't speak!
Fighting the despair and fear that threatened to well up inside, Vachten refused to give up. If his mouth wouldn't talk, then he'd try another route. Gently, so as not to startle her, he brushed a mental "finger" against his mother's mind, trying to catch her attention. She was wound tighter than a cornered rabbit, but he had to try. When she showed no signs of noting his presence, he tried again, more insistently. Still nothing. Worry overwhelmed him as he made a third attempt, this time with as much force as he could muster, practically shouting at her mentally. For his efforts, a flare of blood red flashed in the space behind his eyes, knocking him back with a physical force that laid him down on the bed again. Dazed, he tried blinking but found it impossible to clear the glowing afterimage of a crimson kiss that winked in and out of his mental scape. He'd never known his mother had defenses like that!
Caliphen was at his side in an instant, maternal instinct overwhelming her distress. Though he couldn't see her, he could hear her and felt her touch on his forehead. "Vachten! Great Wolf's Tail, Vachten!" Heedless of the volume of her voice, she called to him again, sniffling when she said his name.
"Ma..." was all he could get out in reply as the red image began to fade and his tongue broke free of its paralysis. "I..." he tried again, finding each word to be a fight. "I'm sorry..." As his vision completely cleared and he stared up at his mother's tear-stained face, her puffy cheeks and reddened eyes, he nearly started crying himself.
"Vach..." she began, stroking his forehead, "What's happened to you? I used to know you. At least," she paused, looking away from him now to the open window. "I used to think I knew you..." A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she stood away from him for the second time and took a step back, eyeing him fearfully. "I need some time, time to think." Her gaze switched back over him again, flighty, not wanting to really settle on him. She wrapped her cloak around her tightly, clutching it hard in one fist. "I'll see you at sunrise at the Temple," she added in a huff of breath, turned on her heel and disappeared out the door. He thought he heard a sob as she left.
As Vachten watched his mother go, saw the door squeeze shut, eclipsing her form, her words echoed in his ears. I used to think I knew you. Something inside him finally wrenched free and he sat up in that instant and called out, "Mother!" pouring his heart, his need, into the call. The silence swallowed up the word as though he'd never yelled at all and he knew she wasn't going to return. Remorse caught in his breast, constricting his throat as tears began to fall from his eyes. "Mother..." he said again, to the room, barely noting the pinkish tinge that false dawn cast on everything as he grabbed his knees to his chest and buried his face in the blanket fabric.
Sobbing into the sheet, Vachten felt overwhelmed and buried beneath the weight of the events surrounding him. His mother had left him, he had no real friends here and the Sancturate was ready to condemn him to death, if his mother's pointed questions were to be believed. Somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach, a coldness began to seap, chilling him from head to toe. He'd been shut out, torn down and was just candlemarks away from being sacrificed for something he'd never done.
When the sobs finally receded, leaving him spent and tired, he rose from the bed and went to the window, gazing out over the village of Bruinisle in contempt. With his hands clenching the sill, he pondered jumping out and running off into the hills, finding his mount, Hrashe, and escaping out into the world. He knew he'd be sealing his guilt in everyone's mind, but no one believed him anyway. He was completely alone now. The tears threatened to return but he forcibly shoved them away. "No more..." he vowed to himself, watching as the merchants outside began to ready for yet another day. No, running away was not an option this time. His mother would not be there to save him, he was alone, but he would do what he could. Certainty filled him with purpose and he closed and shuttered the window.
As he turned to ready himself for the trials to come, Vachten remembered his earlier wish after he'd visited with Kilde - to come out of this whole ordeal alive. Shaking his head, he thought to himself on how all he really wanted now was just a moment's peace aside from the terrible storm he was about to face.
