I’ve been…. teleported!
First scried, then taken from my army yet to be.
During the travel, or before, or upon landing, I have fire in my hand, wrapping around me like a protective lover. My scimitar is in hand and I have a spell on my lips. Yes, I’m ready for battle even as the world sways and sags. I hear the splash of water, muted when compared to the river I was settling down by. The air is cooler. I’m more north. Forest. But not the Phelmyr. Nor the Vrynmyr, I think.
‘Put your weapons down.’ A male voice. It’s a command from a wizard seated. The might of what he wears is impressive. There’s a woman, crouched. In shocked silence. No. Awe. Her eyes stare in amazement at me. As a child looks to a hero. That’s… unsettling. Her items are literally her hands and the orb in one. A hair comb. And a dagger. The dagger and orb are the strongest she has.
There’s a lake behind me. ‘Where am I?’ I demand, tightening the fire around me.
‘Safe,’ he replies. ‘Come, lets talk.’ He motions to the food before him. His lack of face annoys me. An old Arlanic distrust. He wears a brass mask. I walk slowly, dismissing my fire, I can take theirs. I put my scimitar back into its scabbard upon my leg. The woman is tense, yet begins to relax.
‘You can’t just steal people to talk to them!’ A delicate, very Xystic dialect is used by the demure woman. Her voice is sweet, even as she accuses him. Angry yet almost afraid to show it. ‘First you steal me! Then you steal her! We could have talked through my orb,’ she states then shrinks as he looks sharply at her. She begins to creep silently towards him and sits gracefully on the blanket, taking some of the food. Her black hair is up, in one of those fancy civilised buns. Her clothing is rich blue with black trim, a higher up in the courts it seems, though her feet are bare.
Interesting. Stealing women…. He doesn’t look like a slavery type. ‘Out with it then,’ I snap at him, my lack of patience clearly showing.
I approach and he scoops up food, some of it not right by him and then presents me the plate and gestures that I should sit. I’m annoyed. I have better things to do, but his eyes make me pause. Then grow angrier. His eyes are grey.
A specific grey.
Kane had eyes like this. So does N’Kosh. My sister too. That bitch Kishna. And also my father. But…. no. Not possible. Is it?
The food I look at. It’s meat heavy, savoury, and definitely some of my favourites over time. But not in recent meals. ‘Who are you?’ I ask.
The woman quietly names herself as Shalyndora. I regard her. She doesn’t look elven. The man doesn’t give a name, but a title: the Mage in the Brass Mask. Well, what’s your name? And your face. I get no where. It pisses me off honestly.
The arrogance radiates off of him. I want to take that mask….
I sit. I eat his food. He offers wine, to which I decline. The woman offers nectar, I accept. She pours herself some then fills my goblet. I wait for her to sip hers, which she does. Most mundane poisons do not affect me, fortunately, but still. Some of my ancestors died by poisoning.
’What’s this about? I have people wanting me back,’ I tell them after a swallow. I level a glare at him. He’s in charge, and the one to bring me here. He seems to be assessing me. I don’t shrink back but I bring the fire back to normal levels.
‘Information,’ he says. ‘For you.’
I set down my food, ready to get up and figure my way back to my friends, but I stop and sit back down. ‘The High Inquisitor wants the summoner,’ Shalyndora speaks, looking shyly at me. She stammers and lowers her eyes, ‘Former members of the Triple Threat are now Inquisitors,’ she gives me names of who are hunting me. I frown.
Not good. Not good at all. I know, rather knew most of them. I inhale and stand, ‘I need to get back,’ I look to the mage psion. Yes, I know what he is.
‘I have people enroute to you,’ she looks up at me. ‘Some are Triple Threat. Others are followers of Warmonger and Doll. My husband’s men will teleport in. And, he,’ she nods to the wizard, ‘has agreed to help.’
I arch a brow, ‘How?’ I ask her and she shrinks. Timid creature!
‘I scry,’ she whispers then smiles and looks at me, ’Fyraiia’s antiscrying magic was difficult to slip through,’ she tells me, ‘and fun. It’s what I do. People. Places. Things. I can find it,’ there’s confidence in her. This is her talent. Good. But why would a Seeress help me? Why would he? Too many questions for this angry woman.
He has moved closer, examining me more. ‘Find something?’ I ask with sarcasm dripping.
‘Yes, may I look?’ He motions to my neck. My hand goes there and I drop my eyes.
‘Why?’ I ask him.
‘I need to study it to remove it,’ he says. He seems sincere. I shake my head.
‘I don’t feel like dying tonight. Last person who looked at it caused me to die in agonising white pain,’ I inform them. The woman points out that I’m alive. ‘Pyrico choose to interfere and save me,’ I reply.
The man is still studying, ’I’ll examine it carefully,’ he says reassuringly. I contemplate, sip the nectar, then down it. Finally I nod and kneel. He crouches beside me and I move the hair. He murmurs several incantations and begins to do his thing.
Then it happens! The pain, not as bad as before. Almost as bad as when it was applied. I close my eyes and begin to do controlled breathing to move pass the pain. My hands move onto my knees and clench. It’s a pulling feeling, like pulling roots out of the earth. The pain increases gradually, I’m refusing to cry out. The roots are barbed. And still it pulls, slowly, excruciatingly slowly, out of my flesh. I feel blood trickle out. I start to crumple but remain silent as the sweat begins to bead upon my brow, back, between my breasts. My fists tighten, my breathing shortens, but I remain silent as the barbs become electrical. Finally I gasp as my flesh feels like it’s being torn. My wings come out and hit him, hard. My tail darts to slice him. Instinctively I want him to stop, but I know I mustn’t. I growl through clenched teeth and get my appendages under order. I heave my breath and gasp again as more tearing happens. My fists clench tighter, talons digging in.
Then it just stops. I begin to fall forward. His hand catches my shoulder to keep me upright. I’m breathing hard. I’m tired. The woman is staring at me without fear. But with pity. No sympathy, she offers me a drink. Shakingly I take it and sip. ‘What did you do?’ I ask once I find my voice.
‘I removed it,’ he states. I’m surprised. Why?!? Then I see his hand. It’s there. I stand and refuse the dizziness.
‘What have you done?’ I demand of him. Rage coming back, giving me strength. ‘Tempering could have destroyed my weapon’s sheath! It could have killed me!’
‘It didn’t though,’ he states. I want to hit him. My fists flex and unflex.
’You’re an idiot! The bastard that dares to claim ownership uses that to track me! Now he’ll track you. His will follow and the Kabal behind them! You are a damned fool. Did you not think this through? You now endanger your people.’
’You’re welcome,’ he’s studying me yet again. ‘Your ordeals clearly have ruined your gratitude.’
‘Oh Pyrico, keep me from doing something reckless,’ I growl through teeth in my Mother’s tongue, looking up to the heavens, honestly seeking help to be civil.
‘Pyrico, I suspect is busy right now.’ His reply is in Xystic.
My head snaps to him. Father? Yes! No! A mix of emotions boils in me. My fist comes back then snaps forward hitting him in the lower chest. ‘You leave us as Strom falls! We looked for you and Mother, leaving a trail! And now you come to help?! After we needed you! Now you come? Where’s Mother? Did you finally kill her?’ Rage, it seems wins. I had to take care of my siblings, and I failed horribly. My words are still in my Mother’s language, the woman doesn’t need to know our business. She in fact has retreated to the water, seeking refuge. A water seeress?
He rubs the spot I punched, ‘What did you say?’ He asks. Am I mistaken? No. He’s playing ignorance, and I want to hit him again.
Instead I growl in the tongue of trade, ‘I only know of one wizard psion. He had a habit of trying to kill my mother.’ I keep my uncertainty to myself. Angry tears form, but i don’t shed them. I force myself back into Ameira skin.
‘I can see why you would be angry if you thought I the man who tried to kill your mother,’ it’s almost gentle. Who in the Infernal Pits if the Abyss is this bastard!? I nod, turn away and study the seeress.
‘Perhaps it’s time to go back to our companions.’ She nods, and then is gone. But I’m still here. I found upon him again. ’I’m needed!’ I snarl.
‘Cool yourself and lets talk further.’ I head to the water and wash up. Water is warm and calming.
‘Thank you Syrenia,’ I whisper to the water. I’m calmer, the mark is gone. I move to the fire to dry up and braid my hair in a new style. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
‘I would like to look at your leg tattoo.’
‘No. Absolutely no. You said you wanted to look at my neck tattoo and instead you rip it out and wear it on your hand. You did not ask permission. You did not speak truth of your intention.’ I refuse to budge, I know it has tracking even though he says no, it doesn’t. Maybe Pyrico changed it? Or the mark he took makes him blind?
I refuse and threaten further violence. He comments that I have changed. I snarl how would he know, my anger returning. Is this Dizmot? Did he manage to kill my Mother, Vryntaea? I shake my head to clear it.
‘I must apologize, not all of mine will come to your aid,’ he says. I shrug, not having expected any aid given that I struck him.
Instead, I offer, ‘If any of yours fall, I will bring them back to full life.I will need their names and chosen Gods, but I can and will do it.’ He declines, ‘By what right do you sent this offer? If they do not want to rreturn they won’t and I will ensure their Gods take them. There are no true Gods of death.’
He says he’ll discuss it. We discuss Shalyndora. I comment that she has power to her, and may be the Chosen of Syrenia or the Seeress, or both. He seems perplexed but agree that she is a scathing protege. Good, I have people and books for her to find. We talk about the missing Gods and my plot to bring them back, my plot to save my brothers. Dreams of grandeur.
And then finally, he allows me to return to mine, after giving me yet more food. And salt water candy, my favourite.I do hate teleporting.