Chapter Eight: Rest.
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Sëylid
It took her a long time to realize she was truly rescued. It wasn't a trick, a hallucination to ease her pain.
Skaelbrosa, in worse physical pain than she, tried to reassure her whenever he could. But it was infrequent, as the treatments visited on him were agonizing.
They didn't allow her a mirror, or to see her partner. When they found her she was maddened by pain, hunger, and the cold.
All around were the scrabbling of claws on stone. Only she and Dúnedain were left. The werelight they had conjured cast everything in a red glow. It was impossible to tell a pit from a puddle, as she found out when she took a wrong step and fell.
Sëylid would frequently slip into waking dreams of when she and her fellow Riders went underground. Some smell, noise, or a name would reach her and she would become overwhelmed with memory.
She didn't know how long it was before she was allowed to sit up, and see herself – she'd gone to sleep laying down, with bandages over her eyes, and woke up sat up with her eyes uncovered..
Her sword arm was covered in thick padding and bandages – from which emerged quills seemingly made of aquamarine crystal flecked with dry blood. Her wrapped arm was held off from her body, and in place by belts and wooden poles with crescent-shaped rests attached to her cot. When she tried to move it, smaller shards pressed against the bandages in between the bigger ones. A feeling like an electric shock ran up her arm from until she relaxed her muscles.
Sëylid saw that she was in a tent – massive in size, colored gold. But that was all she could see – curtains had been put up to protect her privacy, for they had her in a loose robe with no sleeves under her blankets.
"I hear movement!" A familiar voice – Goda! Called from nearby. "Someone's awake."
There was a soft thwap. {"No dwarvish during lessons."} A female voice responded, familiar and playful.
Sëylid processed for a moment before she realized who that was – Anurin! The head of the Order!
'Please calm down', Skaelbrosa asked her, plaintitive. Pain coated his thoughts like tar. His voice, if put onto a mortal race, would sound as if it were inches from crying. But dragons couldn't cry.
Anymore.
In the seconds it took Sëylid to calm down, the head of her Order parted the curtains and pulled them shut behind her. {"First of all, I'm glad you came back to us safely."} Anurin looked her over, created a werelight on the tip of her pointer finger to make Sëylid follow it, and made sure her other arm was fully functional. At one point she had Sëylid squeeze her hand as hard as she could.
When Anurin pulled her hand away, Sëylid slipped into memories again.
Mial's hand slipped from hers. She raced down the rough cavern after the screaming.
{"It's a trick! She's gone!"} Sëylid shouted after her as Dúnedain urged her to keep going.
{"Help me! Somebody! Please!"} Thaecosdi's voice rang out from the caves Mial had just run down. It sounded so much like her, but it was a trick.
Goda had warned them, they could mimic voices.
Anurin had eyes only for Sëylid when she snapped back to the present. She stood, beside the cot, without pity in her eyes – only understanding. {"We know something bad happened down there. And we'll want to hear about it – but only when you're ready."}
{"Thank you,"} Sëylid responded. The memories had her heart hammering, her breathing out of control. It took her a moment to calm down enough that she didn't fear her heart would burst in her chest. {"Skaelbrosa?"}
The Grand Master's lips tightened. {"Regrowing his wings will… be difficult. And painful. But it can be done. Honestly, getting all those shards out of your arm worries me more."}
Sëylid strengthened her mind to not recall how Skaelbrosa lost his wings – lest her partner feel it across their bond. That left her unable to fight the memory of Isildûr's aquamarine exploding into her arm from the surface.
More energy than she had ever known flooded her. The crystal longed to be free, but it had forgotten how. It knew Sëylid had the knowledge it lacked, so it gave her its seemingly infinite energy to free them.
Lightning arched along Isildûr's blade, gathered at the aquamarine in its pommel, and exploded as too much energy filled the gem. Sëylid's arm was impaled many times, but she didn't care.
Freedom was a word away.
{"Rise!"}
{"I'm taking over as Goda and Thuviel's teacher."} Anurin said, as Sëylid came back to the present. {"But Goda's about two meters over, and will be for a couple months. You two can chat as you like. Skaelbrosa's over in the opposite direction, I'm going to go see him in a minute. If you have any questions, shout and I'll come skipping. Not running."}
"Hey while you're conscious, what's a five letter word for feeling sorrow or regret in the ancient language?" Goda's voice called from over the curtain. "Doing a crossword here!"
Anurin took a deep breath, hopped on one foot to remove one of her fuzzy slippers, and left the curtains quickly.
"Ack!" Goda was seemingly under assault seconds later from a flurry of soft thwap noises. "La chancla!"
{"No dwarvish during lessons!"}
Sëylid was able to laugh a bit, as she imagined Anurin beating the human softly with a slipper. Her amusement was sent across to Skaelbrosa who seemed glad for the distraction.
'Hit him some more,' the pale blue dragon sent to anyone in the vicinity. 'It makes growing my wings back hurt less.'
--
Thuviel
Fira-ebrithil was dead. After having lost so much, it felt more like a weight on his neck than another devastating blow. Perhaps he had started to grow numb.
Anurin replaced Fira as his instructor. Before the massacre, he would have been terrified of the prospect of being apprenticed to the Grand Master of the Riders. But, whenever those old anxieties would rear up he remembered Nami's face.
She was terrified to the point of tears, and still tried to protect him. She had acted as a Rider should, in that moment.
Thuviel wouldn't risk bringing shame upon her by association with a coward.
Though Goda wasn't allowed to move much, he instructed Thuviel in the monstertötungs cane combat via word and mental communication.
Nami had a soft voice in her mind – like mist. Goda's was titanic in scope, like a nation of people all at once.
Monstertötungs canes had two primary styles of combat. The one Goda had most used was called 'chanting bird' once translated. It was designed for meticulous dismantling of the ra'zac one fought. It relied heavily on anticipation, one had to imagine where and how the enemy would move as they started to move.
Chanting bird did not block hits, it deflected them away from the body. The whole cane was used to accomplish deflection and retaliatory strikes. Priority targets were the joints. Just like when Goda had fought Yidun.
The second style was translated as 'flowing fountain'. And it used primarily the crook and tip of the cane. Goda shared memories of the style in action, as he couldn't demonstrate it and Thuviel wasn't considered advanced enough for it.
Thuviel saw the crook of the monstertötungs cane spun around the hunter's wrist to build momentum, then lash out with it to smash through ra'zac chitin. Flowing fountain was how human hunters would build up enough force to hit with comparable strength to an elf – but it was risky.
One mistake would cause the monstertötungs cane to go flying, which left the hunter unarmed.
Goda described it was a sadistic style of combat – one which a hunter would only use when they wished to use ra'zac as live bait for their parents. Or when the relevant hunter was, bluntly, pissed beyond all reason.
Before Sëylid was brought to the tent, Thuviel asked Goda: "Why didn't you cry after our friends died?"
Goda's response was put softly, but horrified Thuviel to imagine. "I'm younger than you are, in years lived. I've seen thousands of people die to ra'zac. Thousands. It will be years – potentially decades – before I feel safe enough to cry about it."
Thuviel couldn't fault that line of logic.
After Sëylid returned, and Thuviel learned Fira was dead, Thuviel asked Goda to show him how to do the tiny braids he used in his hair.
Five braids, for both of them. Mansa: Didn't say goodbye. Minne: Didn't say goodbye. Lisbet: Didn't say goodbye. Fira: Didn't say goodbye. Nami: Didn't react in time.
Thuviel paid Goda back for the instruction and braids by helping him to learn the ancient language according to Anurin's lessons.
She was eccentric to put a fine point on it. Often she would teach rhetoric by way of questions. She used odd games to teach language. Ludicrous situations to teach maths was another favorite of hers.
Fira was very top-down with her education methods, she taught the most efficient ways to reach a level of skill. Anurin meanwhile favored a lateral approach. With little interest in making new friends, Thuviel spent weeks in the healer's tent as they ministered to Goda and Sëylid's injuries.
Thuviel sat beside Goda's cot, a writing slate on his lap while he contemplated the linguistic lesson Anurin had put to him. She had given Goda and Thuviel riddles to solve.
{'In my pocket I have a surprise. This surprise goes from your hips to your thighs, and would look pleasing to certain eyes. To other eyes, it elicits cries. Cries of shock and fear at this surprise! Everyone should have something like this, if they are wise. The surprise is yours, you should apologize. What have I got in my pocket?'}
{"I think this is a knife,"} Thuviel said and looked up at Goda. {"Doesn't this sound like a knife, to you?"}
Goda looked up from his slate to look at Thuviel's. His eyes narrowed behind his lens ornament – a tool to fix damaged eyesight. {"I… think that's too obvious."}
{"What's too obvious?"} Sëylid asked, from the other side of the curtain. She listened to Thuviel repeat the riddle, then gave her opinion. {"A knife does sound too obvious to be the answer."}
Thuviel sighed and held his head in his hands. {"But nothing else makes sense. What could be so small, be something everyone should have, and cause shock and fear?"}
{"You might need to rest your brain a bit."} Goda shrugged. {"Take your mind off it, do something else, and come back later mentally refreshed."}
That was something Goda continued to hammer home: Rest. His problems with his joints and back were a result of insufficient rest, he said. Rest would make Thuviel recover faster, think more efficiently, and have better reaction time.
So, absent anything else to do for his lessons, Thuviel got up to do rounds for the injured in the tent. He refilled Skaelbrosa's water and added winterberries to his medicine so it would be palatable. He changed Sëylid's bandages on her impaled arm, and refreshed the poultices on Goda's back and knees.
Then, he started on the laundry. With so many injured in the tent, there was always a plethora of linens in need of cleaning. But he also handled his own laundry and Anurin's. Which, he discovered, were put into the same wicker basket rather than their own – at some point, Thuviel's basket had been appropriated by bandages in need of cleaning.
While Thuviel was hanging their laundry to dry in the tent's warm air, he had a revelation. Like his thoughts had been slightly off-center earlier and suddenly snapped into place. Anurin's clothes featured overlarge pockets – he'd found smaller articles inside them when he went to hang up her clothes. Socks, ribbons, and so on.
With a face redder than winterberries, Thuviel quickly trotted back into Goda's section of the tent and picked up his slate. Without a word to his friend, he wrote his answer to Anurin's riddle. {'Smallclothes.'}
He returned to the laundry, and took extra care to double-check all the pockets for items ready to dry.
--
Sëylid
Goda hummed a chipper tune as he read scrolls in his cot, and Sëylid read books in hers.
Anurin had taken down the curtains that separated the two, once Sëylid had the final shards of Isildûr's aquamarine gemstone removed from her arm. Many times, they thought the shards had all been removed but found that smaller pieces remained – because the smaller pieces grew into spines again.
The aquamarine was filled with so much energy that it forced the gemstone to grow and move like a living thing – until it was drained. That was how they finally ended the painful growths – Sëylid tapped into the fragments and drained them to power a spell to remove them.
Months after the fact, and everyone who went to the Southern Isles told her that the crystal she'd raised to escape the caves was still there. It floated high above, and radiated its pale light.
Not once did Goda ask her for details, or offer condemnation for the loss of life she suffered. He never even asked for details on the ra'zac or lethrblaka. For that Sëylid was grateful.
She'd tried to talk about it, volunteer the information. But when she did, she was lost in memories – the pain came back fresh.
Skaelbrosa thrashed as two of the lethrblaka pulled the wings from his shoulders, and sent him into the sea. His pain was white hot – she couldn't touch his mind at all. The lethrblaka shrieked and dropped Skaelbrosa's wings, the dragon's blood had burned their feet – set them alight.
They burned to death by inches, afraid to douse themselves in the cold water.
Both her pain, and Skaelbrosa's. It came back, fresh as if it had just happened.
To repay Goda letting her process it on her own, she had refrained from asking about the massacre. Anurin told them that afterward the construction for the city had been expedited. With magic, the buildings could be constructed quickly. Defensive structures in the event of further ra'zac activity were the first ones to go up. However a lot of the early work went into the intended sewer system.
Because it would be annoying to build the sewers after the fact, and because it would be effective traps for ra'zac. Their avoidance of the light would entice them in, where wards would trap them.
And furthermore – a plan for civilian settlement was put together. The Giddo architects and their families had been promised the ability to settle in Doru Araeba or elsewhere on Vroengard, at their leisure. But Anurin had convinced the Elders to allow more civilians to come to the island.
Such as the Amusel people she had first met at the Jiet river's north shore, some Surdoni and Ceunon Broddrings. Elves from Du Weldenvarden that disagreed with the Rider's banishment had been the ones to suggest widespread civilian settlement.
The Riders would be a state unto themselves, rulers of a country and peacekeepers across the continent all the same.
Some dwarves had even agreed to come and live in Vroengard for a time, to set up passes and tunnels through the island's mountains. Only the wild dragons had thus far remained at arm's length – likely, for the best.
Sëylid had oscillated between fear and hope at the news. Fear, because her mate and their children could be among those who would come to live in the city. And hope for the exact same reason.
What would they say, when they saw her? She would be physically well again by that time, but the mental scars would still linger. Sëylid would likely still slip into memories at random, become unresponsive for minutes at a time. And Skaelbrosa would still be in the process of growing his wings back a year from then.
It would be an estimated two years after their regrowth that he would even be able to start learning how to fly once more.
Her clumsiness would be only worsened by her lapses into the events on Bierland. Would her mate finally get fed up with that, and end their union? Would her children be ashamed to be associated with her for such weakness?
'You're thinking too loudly,' Skaelbrosa sighed. Months of growth had reduced the pain that coated his mind – reduced, but not removed. 'Rithis would've left you long before now if his annoyance could grow to outweigh his love for you. Distract yourself, or go to sleep.'
Sëylid frowned in his general direction, then turned her head to Goda. For the first three months he'd been only allowed to rest on his stomach, but once he could start the process of retraining his legs he was allowed to lay on his back.
In a scant few minutes, Thuviel would return with Anurin to start another round of that painful training. And she would be released from the tent to return to her own. Not to return to full service, but to have bodily autonomy again. She wanted to say something, since she would see him less as his recovery moved him more to Anurin's circle than hers.
Goda beat her to it.
"It's partly my fault that all this happened. And since you're getting out today, I want to apologize to you and pretty-boy."
Skaelbrosa arched his neck over the tops of the curtains to glower at Goda. 'Apology accepted. When I get you, I'll give you the option of quick or painless.'
Goda blew him a kiss, then met Sëylid's confused gaze. "When we first got here… I was supposed to ask you to teach me to scry. So I could show you places I knew ra'zac were." His shoulders lowered, his dour expression became sorrowful. "But I forgot. I only remembered when I read an old journal entry of mine."
Sëylid felt a bit of warmth bloom in her chest at the attempt to shoulder some of the blame, and shook her head. "I should have scried the Southern Islands as soon as you mentioned being attacked there."
"Maybe you would have if I wasn't being needlessly confrontational."
"I wouldn't say it was needless – you'd just come off a massacre and been attacked again."
"Yes, but I may have been a bit too -- "
'I will set the both of you on fire if you don't knock it off right now.' Skaelbrosa, sick of their nonsense, put an end to their attempt to shoulder blame with a rumbling snarl. He winced afterward. 'Ow. Okay. Growled too much. Wing bones hurt. Set yourselves on fire, I need to go back to laying down. Ow.' Then his head vanished behind the curtains again.
"Last I will say on this," Sëylid said with her finger raised. "We both admit to having made mistakes. And… we've both paid for those mistakes." She looked down at her sword arm – and was momentarily lost in the memory of how Dúnedain had looked at her, helpless, as she fell down a pit.
Down, deep into the earth where she found the living crystal.
"...You going anywhere with that, or…?" Goda twirled his hand in a gesture to keep talking.
"No, that's what I meant to say. We made mistakes, and paid for them."
"That's an incomplete thought, though. You had a little past and present, but left out any future in that."
"What are you talking about it's entirely -- "
When Anurin and Thuviel arrived, minutes later, both Sëylid and Goda had minor singes, soot, and grumpy expressions.
---
Yes, Sëylid's adventures in the caves of Bierland are not going to be discussed now. She needs to process the trauma, reach the point where she's willing to talk about it. Especially because some sort of crystal was involved in her surviving.
There will be a bit of an actual timeskip between 8 and 9, not terribly long just enough to get this city finished.
Chapters 8, 9, and 10 are going to be pressure release from the drama of 6 and 7. Then I can start building pressure again with 11.