“In darkness shall the flame be birthed,
In cold shall the flame be birthed,
From the outcasts shall the flame be birthed,
From the yonderlands shall the flame be birthed.
Fear the flame, fear the harbinger, for it shall consume us all.
- Scribbles of a Frostwind Tribal Seer ”
- Leriszeth Kalissrim, Veronan Exploration Guild, Anthropologist, Wilderness Explorer, “Treks Through the Wildlands, Vol. 3: Frozen Frostwind”
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Moist, that was the first thing Sophie registered when she slammed into the ground, before almost spewing out her guts onto herself. Am I on the ground? Is this ground? So wet, so cold, I love the ground. The ground is great, the ground is good. Sophie muttered repeatedly to herself. Though she felt slightly like an insane person, she fought to hold back the nausea that claimed her stomach. Traveling through a portal by being violently shoved through was not a very smooth process. The chaotic magics within jostled her insides like clay even whilst her skin felt like it would simply melt right off her.
Exhausted, she let her head loll sideways when she caught a glimpse of a small tree hollow right beside her. Inside, a shocked, terrified, confused person stared directly at her, their mouth halfway through a bite of what Sophie assumed to be a biscuit. The person, a girl, looked much like a frightened deer ready to dash away. The stranger had animal fur draped across her neck like a scarf, what appeared to be a hunter’s harness loosely tightened over a ratty faded brown tunic, mud covered trousers, hide boots of a more robust build and a rake resting against the tree. Her pale skin highlighted the surprise on her face, her wide green eyes staring down at Sophie who could only notice how they accentuated the strange girl’s fiery red braid.
The biscuit barely dropped to the floor when the girl scrambled for her rake just as Sophie finally reached a level of awareness that granted her control over her limbs. She pushed herself up just in time to find a trembling farm tool pointed at her gut and a terrified face looking over at her.
“W-who are you?” The girl asked, with a hoarse almost dry sounding voice.
Still a little bewildered, Sophie pointed at herself and looked around, right, of course it's me, who else would it be…where the hells am I?
“Um…” She started, wondering how to explain things when she was cut off.
“Who are you?!” The girl demanded.
“Uhh…I’m…Sophie.” She answered.
There was a silence that hung in the air, like the girl had expected something more. Sophie meanwhile found her eye wandering slightly. The ground was mostly flat if a little slanted downwards, a thin layer of moisture coated the grass on rocks to give them a nice sheen. Hmm? A slope? Her wandering was disturbed by the rake now edging closer, the girl wearing a more hostile look on her face.
“Sophie who?! And what are you doing here?” Her captor growled.
Sophie was about to speak when she frowned, her usual answer always seemed to stir up some contention within people. Yet, now that she was pressed for a response, she was able to find none.
“Err…I’m Sophie, a maid. Like the cooking and cleaning kind. And I’m…” She looked around, “I have no clue where we are. So uhh I guess I’m lost.” She flashed a cheeky smile, hoping to at least reassure the girl of her intentions.
This only seemed to aggravate her as she approached Sophie menacingly, weapon at the ready. “Maid? You’re a…how…why is a servant even here? Lost, pfft. As if I would believe that. Tell me where you came from, I swear I know these paths so if you’re lying…” She waggled the rake at Sophie to emphasise the point.
“Umm magic gone wrong. Portal. Poof and now I’m here…err wherever here is that is.” Sophie stammered a little more unconvincingly than intended.
To her surprise, instead of advancing further, the girl lowered her guard, “Portal?” She asked.
“Uhh…yeah, portal…” Sophie hesitantly replied whilst miming a giant circle, hoping the girl doesn’t just stab her for moving.
The girl sighed visibly and Sophie was confused, if she ever just blurted out that she traveled through a portal to the void, she had an inkling that Blademaster Taurox or even Mila might not act as pleasant towards her anymore.
“Yeah…hah…I got so worried they hired someone to track me down. Portal...heh, as if any of the tribe would dabble in dark magics” The girl lowered her weapon before gesturing at her little tree hollow, “I thought I had gotten spotted following…er…nothing important. But by the stone’s edge, through a portal?”
“Yup…a portal.” Sophie replied blankly.
“Wow…does that mean…you’re also a Vaettagh?”
“Weight…tag?”
“You don’t know what a Vaettaugh is?!” The girl leaned backwards, mouth agape.
“Errr maybe? I mean it might just be described differently where I’m from.”
“Huh! That’s right! Where did you come from?! And how…how do you speak English so well? You must also be a Vaettagh!” The girl exclaimed.
Sophie frowned and ran through her thoughts, why does something sound so familiar…ah! English! We call it new common but Eva did say many outlanders call it English. Oh!? Does this mean this girl is an outlander too? 'Also be a weight tag?' Ah! She must think I’m one of them!
“I’m from Carrador,” Sophie quickly moved to explain, “I-we, that is my friends and I were passing through Melton, which by the way, I don’t want to impose, but is this still Melton?”
“Melton?!” The girl reeled backwards, “Only the lagrians call it that! So you’re from beyond the mountains then?” Her eyes widening in admiration once more.
“Iagrians?”
“Ahh my apologies, it’s like ummm under landers…ah! Low landers! You’re from the lowlands!?”
“Err I guess? Does this mean we’re in the mountains?” Sophie asked, a tinge of concern rising within her, oh shit, where the hells did the portal throw me out at?
“Yes! Or well sort of, we’re at the foothills see lowlander? That way is up, and down below past the treeline is the golden tower city.” The girl spread her arms, the rake almost completely forgotten as she swung it with reckless abandon.
Golden tower city? Ah! “You mean Melisgrad?!” Sophie gasped, “How close is it!?
How own surprise startled the girl who retreated back into a more defensive stance, “Hey, hey lowlander, question for question. How do you know English? A Vaettagh? But I thought Vaettagh could only be human, at least that’s what all the seers and chiefs say.”
“My people?”
“Your kind, the Hartire, elves, the pointy eared folk.” The girl replied with some hesitation, a sliver of jealousy in her voice.
“Har-tear?” Sophie murmured to herself, what a peculiar name, “Weigh tag? I’m sorry, I still don’t know what it means. But I can tell you that what you call English is actually what most people call Common, or New Common if you’re of nobility. As for me, I’m just a half elf, nothing too special. ” Sophie mustered up a small smile and found the girl nodding along.
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“What? Common?! So you mean it’s the spoken language?! Wow.” The girl lost herself in thought, “Ah! Right Vaettagh…ummm…how do I say it so you’d understand.” She scratched her head in thought, unconsciously throwing her rake to the ground.
Sophie cocked her head at the tinge of amusement that ran through her veins, she seems so...scattered. She almost gave a light chuckle before she felt another unwelcome thought creep into her head that made her grimace, kind of like me sometimes, yikes.
“It means being loved or hand picked by the local spirits or perhaps shown favor to by Kargarthax the Alfather of life.” The girl struggled to explain, her hand nervously toying with her braid.
Shown favor by spirits or the Alfather? Hmmm, “So would you say it’s like…being chosen by the Goddess? Or in this case by the spirits?”
“Yes!” The fiery redhead jumped to life enthusiastically, “Yes! Spirit chosen! You’re spirit chosen like me!”
Sophie smiled at how happy the stranger seemed, and though she was loath to burst her bubble, she moved to clarify the truth, “Well, not exactly, I’m just a maid you know? I’m sure you are though, given that you called it English, since most outworlders tend to call it that, at least if my friend’s correct.”
Her companion froze, before deflating slightly and then narrowing her eyes, “Outworlder?”
“You know…people from Earth? Or another world?”
At that the girl knit her brows together before her face scrunched up with pain. “Mmm…Earth…” She muttered just as her expression started to glaze over.
Sophie watched curiously as the girl seemed to lose focus before letting out a shriek that made her jump in her skin.
“I-I can’t…can’t remember…I see…who are you! Why are you here! Stay away!” She spun around at Sophie, her hands scrambling for the rake, “D-don’t touch me! Why can’t I remember? What is this?!” Her howls turning into menacing growls.
Sophie’s gut churned at how the girl seemed to suddenly jitter, her body growing stiff as if she was being puppeted like a marionette. The frantic motions and shock giving way to a fury filled visage that slowly contorted her features. By the Goddess, Sophie whispered under her breath, what do I do?
When the girl reached for her rake, Sophie knew she had to either run or act. But, knowing that she still didn’t exactly know where she was going, she dashed in and tackled the strange girl.
The sudden burst of energy surprised her target. She slammed into her, wrapping her arms around the girl in a bear hug and bringing them both tumbling to the ground. Only now realising that this girl was an outlander and likely to break her arms, she found the girl weakly squirming instead.
“L-let go of me! What are you doing?!” The girl roared, “I-I…I can’t…can’t remember anything.” She dropped her voice as her wriggling decreased, “My…head is so fuzzy.”
Worried, Sophie continued to hold her even as her struggling slowly came to stop, allowing the half elf to direct her body down to a resting position. Oof, a bit of muscle, and a rake, oh a farmhand maybe? But a farmhand that feels so frail? And an outlander too! That doesn't make sense, Eva was...well Eva's Eva.
“Shhh, shhh. Easy there, easy. I’ve got you.” Sophie reassured her new charge.
“Ugh…so blurry…ahh…you…” The girl grimaced in pain and Sophie held on a little more soothingly, “Ah! Elf…” The girl murmured and passed out.
Sophie just looked down at the strange girl in her arm, a singular thought whirling around her mind, why does this feel so familiar?
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Aryana was having a bad time. She could see strange images and flashes in her mind. They appeared in waves, pictures of a world that only existed in dreams, of high skylines and dazzling night lights. Then an insipid darkness would crawl up from the depths beyond, turning the images into a twisted version of itself, covered with the lingering sensation of hatred and fury. It bit its jaws deep into her heart, every second turning into an agonising moment that lasted for eternity. She hated the very thought of dreams themselves, nothing more than the wretched vileness that lurked within her mind.
Yet she couldn’t rouse herself from her thoughts, couldn’t tear herself away from the horror that consumed her heart. Despite the darkness, she felt a sense of comfort in the anger, comfort in the shadows that wrapped themselves around her. For through it all, she hated the way her tribe glanced at her even more. Their looks of derision every time they saw her, the seers and the ways they leered at her like some plump sacrifice, or the chief at how he only ever saw her as a threat. At least in the dreams, there were moments of rest, little islets of light within the dark ocean. In reality, she couldn’t escape.
Ah! I was following the delegation! The sudden thought burst into her mind, cracking the thin separation between dreams and reality. I remember…I remember there being an elf? But why would an elf be… “up here…” She muttered as she finally awoke, the pounding in her head a strong motivator for her to return to sleep.
Groggy and in pain, her eyes opened to a warm fire crackling gently in front of her, what appeared to be a black haired hartire sat stocking the flames, seemingly unaware of Aryana’s presence. The hartire’s pointed ears mystified her, long had she heard of the mysterious pointy eared hartire from whispers she gleaned from the villagers, to have been able to have on projected so close to her in her mind’s eye seemed surreal. They were described as tall, lithe, majestic and otherworldly; this one seemed to fit those for her.
She watched as the hartire absently toyed with their ponytail, a little red bow holding it together. How she then looked up longingly towards the sky, the same way that the storytellers had described the hatires as children of the stars. Even whilst she looked up, Aryana could see the firelight reflect off her eyes, the faint glint of a striking jewel like blue highlighted upon her face. Though the coming night was chilly, there was a strange sense of warmth that emanated not just from the fire but from the hartire as well. Such a sight brought a small smile to her face, to have been able to dream of such things was a small blessing indeed, to have seen the hatires that the other village children had only speculated about would make them all jealous.
If any of them even remembered me, the sobering thought forced her to recall the purpose of her trip. She had hated being left out, hated being confined to her parent’s small farmstead, and hated the obligations placed upon her when they died young. Eventually the breaking point came sooner rather than later and she had snuck out with the bare essentials, trailing the tribe’s delegation using what few skills she had. Oh by the spirits! The horror of failing brought her back to life with a startled gasp.
Faint noises grew louder and as her eyes gradually refocused on her surroundings, they landed on the hartire that checked up on her, huh? It’s…real! Ahh! She quickly tried scrambling backwards only to be pressed up against a tree, her flailing limbs making a small shield in front of her.
“Easy, easy, I’m here to help.” The black haired hatire reassured her, “You’ve been out a while so take it slow.”
Aryana was taken aback, here she was, cowering in front of one of these mythical creatures, with a voice that sang like honey, and it was just trying to be friendly. Seeing the hatire kneel down to examine her, she was struck by just how mythical they truly seemed. This one didn’t just have the slanted eyes she normally pictured, this one had two mesmerising sapphire jewels that drew Aryana’s gaze in. Is this…is she even…real?
She reached out a trembling hand and to her own surprise and the hatire’s, she moved to touch the creature. It looked back curiously, blue eyes shining brightly as it seemed to squirm at her approach, but nonetheless allowed her to give a gentle caress of the arms. Wow, it’s real…in the spirits name it’s real!? She recoiled in fear at how offensive this must’ve seemed, her mind racing on ways to apologize or run when the hatire broke the silent struggle.
“Heheh, I don’t know if you remember it all. But I’m Sophie, the half elven maid from Carrador, got umm lost on my way through Melton. Are you…alright?” The elf shyly introduced herself.
Aryana’s hair stood on end at being addressed, the sweat either from her nightmares or stress poured down her brow. A tense silence emerged as her guest stared at her quizzically and it took another few moments before memories of their first encounter came to the surface, bringing about a flustered blush on her face at how embarrassingly she conducted herself, towards a hatire at that!
“I-I’m fine…” She stammered out, “Umm…ahh…you’re ha-hatire, and you’re here?!”
“Hatire? I’m guessing that means elf?” Sophie replied with a cocked head, the situation still tense but more amusing than expected.
Aryana nervously nodded, still mortified at how disrespectful she was when she felt a small hand rest on her arm.
“You alright?” Sophie asked, her voice much softer than before, “Must’ve been one saint damned nightmare huh?” She hung her head a little lower and gave a dark chuckle, “I go through the same too, different things though, I’d imagine.”
Aryana narrowed her eyes in suspicion before sensing no malice or ill will, giving a small sigh of her own.
“I-I’m Aryana, I…I’m sorry for how rude I was earlier.” She murmured.
Sophie flashed a small smile before she tried to hide her tired expression by looking over towards the fire.
“It’s fine, we all have our moments eh?”
There was a hauntedness in the elf’s voice that calmed Aryana. There was pain, pain that she could feel as well. At least this encounter turned out to be friendly and she doesn’t seem connected to the tribal delegations, perhaps the hartire is truly lost. Wordlessly, she traded a brief nod with Sophie and settled back down around the fire, a faint hint of true drowsiness washing over her.
So it was that the two settled down for the night, two strangers with their own troubles on a lonely mountainside. But whilst Sophie was lost recollecting her thoughts on all that happened in the void, Aryana had one last concerning thought pass her mind before she drifted off, I wonder if people would see the smoke?