The guard wasn't kidding.
He marched me into the largest tent, sitting at the crest of the hillside on the other bank of the stream, with his blade at my neck as though he were holding me hostage. Silveredge, who sat calmly at Mikhail's clawed feet, looked up without a single trace of concern. Her hair had been braided up, as many of the other Dragonborn women's hair was, but didn't have the adornments that they did. She'd probably get the full compliment, however, if she went through with the ridiculous wedding to the idiot behind her. Mikhail seemed sleepy and distant, his green eyes half-closed and unfocused as he trailed his fingers through a Human female's hair. The female was busily working with a small pot of brilliant red pigment and a brush, creating wide, swirling patterns that branched upward from Mikhail's feet.
And Aleksei, still chained and held by three guards, stood behind where Mikhail sat. The scale on his left side, including his scarred eye, had been painted absolutely black. The functional eye locked onto me at once with a look of barely-restrained anger, then a strange regret.
"The creature claims that Ivan gave that stone to her to give to your intended," the guard began strongly. "I didn't know what she was capable of, so that is why I come into your presence with my sword drawn."
Mikhail, drawn back from whatever reverie he'd been enraptured in, turned his gaze to his guard, to me, then down to Silveredge. "Go forward. Perhaps Ivan has sent this tool with her so that you may aid her in her conversion."
"There is no doubt," Silveredge responded, getting up at once to take the stone. When she touched it, the darkness receded into a tight ball at the center of the stone, and when she held it with both hands, it disappeared entirely. The reflection of her eyes in the stone was absolutely captivating.
"It's a scrying stone," the guard repeated, as though Silveredge wouldn't know anything about the implement she held in her hands as though it were alive. "Ivan isn't any good at divination, but he keeps it around. He can tell if a female is with child, at least."
"Ivan would like to convince me that his words are true," I said carefully. "He said you would be able to help me with this. I don't know what he expects you to do with it."
Silveredge, without responding, knelt down before me and put the stone in her lap, staring straight down into it as though she would be sucked straight into it at any moment. The guard, not knowing what else to do, forced me to back up a few steps with the blade still kissing-close to my neck.
"I need Ivan here," Silveredge finally said quietly. "I need him to help me."
Mikhail flicked the fingers of his other hand, and someone left the tent to go grab Ivan. I looked up from Silveredge to Aleksei, who seemed to have returned to his own senses. He shifted uneasily in his chains, prompting his guards to stare at me furiously.
"I haven't done anything," I sighed, rolling my eyes upward. "He moves when I'm not present as well, I presume?"
"Refrain from taunting each other, won't you, children?" Mikhail grunted, turning his head slightly and looking back toward the guards. "Ivan will come presently."
As it turned out, Ivan took some time to arrive. When he did come, his eyes were closed, and he had to depend entirely on the Dragonborn female that accompanied him. She led him around me and to the right of Mikhail, then helped him to sit next to Silveredge, who scooted close enough to him to touch shoulders with him. Ivan put himself into a meditative pose, similar to Silveredge's sitting posture, then bowed his head. After a few moments, his entire body slackened, as though he had fallen asleep.
Silveredge looked up at me, and I heard-
Enter.
-as though she had been speaking aloud. Except she wasn't. She closed her eyes, so I did too, and when I did, I saw the camp. It was completely empty, I somehow knew, except for Silveredge, who sat on one side of a very large fire at the center of the camp. I somehow sat at the other side of this large fire, looking at her carefully.
What's going on? I asked. I couldn't hear the sound of my own voice, and the realization that I was somehow telepathically communicating just about terrified me.
We are with Seyashen. Here, you have all of his memories, everything his knows. Ask what you will of him, Silveredge replied.
I want to see his mother, I replied, not knowing what to expect. But in moments, before me stood a slightly shorter, curvier version of my own mother. Her eyes and hair were different in color, but the straight nose, the crooked come-hither smirk and the shape of her lips were precisely the same. Whereas my own mother had more of a effortlessly simple dancer's way about her, this woman seemed more ready to start a brawl. She wore a peasant's blouse with men's trousers, patched and pocketed. While I assumed that most of those pockets held alchemy ingredients or focus stones, there was no mistaking the obvious dirk on her left hip.
This is Imei'ishi as she looked the last time he saw her, approximately twenty five years ago. He admits that she must look older now, perhaps with some grey in her hair, a few wrinkles, and some weight put on, Silveredge commented.
And did Imei'ishi tell him what Seya'ani was like? I asked quietly. The image of Imei'ishi disappeared, and I heard-
"She was taller than I am- she was always taller than all of us growing up. She had the perfect looks- just the right smile, just the right thickness, and carried herself like a queen everywhere she went. Everyone could always tell she was first born. And she was incredible with natural magic, had arcane energy sparking at her fingertips practically before she could speak. But her temper was bad. Once you got on her nerves, there was nothing you could do to appease her. What's worse, her attitude got into everything she did, just everything. Spells would backfire or suddenly become twice as powerful, stews would spoil or suddenly burst into flame, easily-caught animals would scurry away at the softest of her footsteps. That's why you must be very, very careful-"
And abruptly, the memory ceased.
Did she name him after my mother? I asked, now pretty much completely sure of the answer.
Yes, Silveredge replied after a long delay.
And he wasn't careful, was he? I sighed, again sure of the answer. You did this to yourself. You blinded yourself and walked right into the arms of the Dragonborn. Practically sat down and let them take you apart. Why?
You've asked two questions, Silveredge replied with a slightly altered tone. Which one did you want an answer to?
What did he do to make himself think that he deserves the situation he's in right now, that's what I want an answer to, I spat bitterly. There was a terrible pause. And then there came the same vision as I'd seen when Mikhail had looked at me, in much greater detail. I could see the blackened stones in the watch towers crumbling under the near-dead soldiers- and as soon as they hit the ground, they arose again, forming an army of shambling, charred undead. Those who hadn't died yet screamed in the combined horror of seeing their territory so utterly destroyed and the comrades that they'd just been fighting with now rising again to plant swords through their heads and spines. And at the center of the howls of pain and fear, the reanimation, the burning and the crumbling was one little golden eyed Tiefling boy, probably not much older than eight or nine years, screaming in a hideous rage. As I looked around in his memory, wondering why he'd seen fit to let Mikhail see it, I realized something.
The soldiers weren't Dragonborn. They were Humans and Tieflings.
You turned around and attacked your own empire? I asked.
Yes, Silveredge replied.
Why? I demanded.
And in response, I saw the same walls, intact and perfectly whole, with a jeering crowd beneath them, watching a spike-horned male Tiefling being marched to a hanging. He'd clearly been beaten mercilessly, and his blood soaked through his clothes. His hair was cut short and almost matted with blood, yet he held his head high as he was placed on the stool that would shortly be kicked out from under him.
"Let him swing!"
"He doesn't deserve to speak!"
"Traitor! Thief!"
But in spite of their words, the condemned was allowed to speak.
"The disease that once infected our ancient leaders has now trickled down to the babes in our arms. All that I have done, I have done in the name of Bael Turath- a name that should have been forgotten, along with the names of hundreds of other kingdoms and empires of its day, some thousand years ago."
It will never be forgotten, I breathed, not feeling in any way patriotic. I felt winded. As though someone had recently punched me in the chest. Please, I don't want to see your father hang.
And Silveredge replied, Neither did he.
You can undo your blindness, can't you?
And after another long pause, Silveredge admitted, That's in the school of conjuration.
You're an excellent conjurer, I snorted. You have both necromancy and conjuration talent in spades, that's what your mother was so worried about. But you don't want to see. You remove the blindness, and then you put it right back, like a blindfold, so that you don't go on a rampage again. Right?
Yes, Silveredge replied after another long silence. He observes that you are quite like his father in your pursuit of the whole truth of things.
I guess Imei'ishi was less than pleased with your response, I sighed quietly. She didn't kick you out, did she?
No, Silveredge smiled. Imei'ishi wanted to help him control himself in another way, but his ability grew faster than she could develop her enchantment skills. Since the family had been classified as enemies of the empire, she could not send him outside the home for proper conjuration training, and no one anywhere trusts necromancers. And his rage mounted higher and higher until outsiders began catching on fire when he looked at them. He left a note and ran away, leaving destruction in his wake, until he was captured.
By Baator, the nutcase has done one positive thing, then. In fact, an incredibly positive thing. You seem quite well in hand now- why don't you leave? I asked hopefully.
He is not sure, Silveredge said, sounding a little uncertain of that answer herself.
You've got to be tired by now- how do we-
And I found that Silveredge was holding me in her arms with a rather concerned look on her face. I sat up with a start.
"Where is Ivan?" I charged. "And his stone? What happened?"
"Ivan and his stone are back in his tent, where they have been for a while now," Silveredge explained quietly. "Thank Bahamut you have awakened. You neither ate, nor drank, nor moved in three whole days- the witch of the dawn has just thought to scratch at this fourth morning."
"Praise be to Bahamut," a few voices said from various places in the tent.
Silveredge gave me a tiny pinch, and I stammered out, "Yes, um, praise to Bahamut."
"And so it seems that Ivan has worked a miracle," I heard Mikhail say from somewhere beyond me. "The creature now gives praise to Bahamut, as should we all. I knew this would come to pass. Soon the Bloodtalon shall be restored to his proper place with us, and the Rites of Rebirth and Unification shall proceed!"
No comments:
Post a Comment