If a man claims he does not fear crossing the Shallow River, he is either a liar or one of the people from the Sword Ridge mountains. At the heart of the ancient Empire, the Ridges stand tall, home to the Sara Sikuttu, the indomitable people of the curved blades, since time immemorial. Tough and proud, they are almost always short of stature and hold themselves closest to the gods because of their lofty mountain homes.
Among these mountain folk, men of fighting age are known as the Labirukai, or Unbroken in the common tongues, for their martial lineage stretches back to a time before the Cataclysm. For over three hundred years, the Unbroken have served in the Praetorian Guard of the Empire, fighting in nearly every major conflict since the reign of the early emperors. They have earned a reputation as the most reliable, disciplined, and fearless warriors in the known world.
The term Unbroken has since come to refer exclusively to the Sara Sikuttu who serve away from their mountain homes.
- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.
For the better part of an hour, I sat on the bed in the dark room alone after my companions had left to rest, or perhaps in Elwin’s case, to have a drink before bed. A storm had come clad in the garment of night, a screaming portent perhaps, of things yet to come. Or that is how it felt, at least, as I put up with its clangor from the safety of solid walls.
Kidu had been, at first, surprisingly intractable. He did not, or was not willing to, understand that Cordelia was definitely not the best choice to meet the Necromancer. Elwin and I both tried to persuade him, and though he eventually relented, it was not without discord. I had to pull rank as the leader of the group.
The giant of a man would understand in time.
Throughout the debate, my new weapon lay on the bed like an open question. Elwin suggested that it might be a cursed artifact, but I assured him it was not. My Identify spell could easily determine if it was, as it had with the mask in the market, but I felt no urge to explain this to him.
He would just have to take my word for it for the moment.
On a whim, I decided to leave my room and go downstairs to mingle with the unknown, and to learn more about the city I had found myself in. I nodded to the stout barman Laman and made my way to the backroom to look for Naira. Just as I was about to knock on the door, I heard a familiar voice, muffled through the dark wood.
“...looking like that at this hour. This is madness. And, not a word at all. You should be acting like a woman your age…” Naira’s voice chastised sternly.
There was a bout of tinkling laughter before another voice answered hoarse with emotion, “What would you know of the whispers, mother? You, who sought to chain me with bindings of paper and silk. Oh the irony of it all, for I am free now…”
“Your voice! it has returned?”
“And all that comes with it. I am a child of the storm, and the storm…. it can not be caged. Can not be bound on sheets of paper, stamped and sealed away to a life of humiliating servitude,” came the reply, thick with rebellion.
“You know full well why we did that…”
“And do you know why the Wind blows as it does, mother? No, I would guess not. It does not blow to stay in one place, but to move where it wills.”
The voices belonged to Naira, and at a guess, Zariyah?
“Daughter, this path you choose… you can not, must not walk upon it. You must bind yourself to another, and soon,” Naira advised.
I hung about, wanting to knock but wanting to know more. More laughter followed, and I was tempted to burst in and confirm the truth with my eyes.
"And who would you see me bound to? If that is even my wish."
"The very one who freed you," her mother replied, her tone calm but firm. "I saw how he looked upon you, not uncommon for a man of his years, but more importantly, not many would have made the choice that he did. If anything, that is the mark of a good man, to rise above greed and desires. There are worse fates."
"But mother, that would be so... so... boring," came a retort dripping with disdain. "The man is boring. Everything he does is boring. He is a brute who does not possess an ounce of charm."
"Perhaps that is true," her mother conceded with an exaggerated sigh. "But better to bind yourself to one such as him, a man of good character, than someone who is 'exciting.' Believe me, this I know from the wisdom of years. And, as you well know, his healing gift is worth a king's ransom."
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Though they were far from the truth, the words cut deeper than they should have. Rejection was ever the bitter pill to swallow.
A tap on my shoulder intruded upon my voyeuristic episode. I spun around suddenly, a half-baked excuse already forming on my lips, only to see Elenora. One eyebrow was arched in challenge, or question, and a delicate finger upon her lips urged me to silence.
She pulled me back gently from the door.
“I would have thought it beneath a man of the Temple to eavesdrop,” she commented, inviting explanation on my part.
“I had business with Naira… I felt it would have been ruder to intrude and was just waiting for a good time,” I explained, feeling a little put out by her words.
I looked over Elenora, her blonde hair tied in a loose braided bun. She had cleaned up admirably, her youthful features returning like fresh morning dew. Dressed in the loose clothes that were common in this city, she cut quite a striking image. Although she was a bit too slender and waifish for my personal tastes, I could objectively appreciate that she was an attractive woman.
“So you say…” she said doubtfully. She gave me a dazzling smile that caught me off guard. “You can tell me all about it over something pleasant,” she offered, taking me by the arm and dragging me, unresisting, to an open table.
A good thing too, for a few seconds later, Zariyah burst from the back room like a sudden squall. Her eyes blazed with fresh anger, and her tread was heavy with ire. She looked at me, saw my present company, and her expression turned to one of utter dismissal, a sneer marring her delicate features.
With a haughty air, she crossed the common room. To the astonishment of everyone who had taken shelter here, she opened the door to the night and, clad only in thin cloth, stepped out into the wet howl of the storm.
“As a humble woman who has once sold her smile, I think that one likes you,” drawled Elenora, her tone languid and teasing.
Though there was no venom in her jibe, a small flare of irritation sparked within me. To sell one’s smile? What on earth did she mean by that?
The blonde woman regarded me for a moment before her voice and expression softened with sympathy. “What’s her story then?”
I drew a breath through clenched teeth before forcing myself to relax. “Where should I begin…”
“Laman, darling… something to wet our throats, if you would?” Elenora asked sweetly, turning away from me and resetting her smile. “I feel like this is going to be a rather lengthy tale…”
“There is really not much to it…” I answered, telling her what I knew of the mystery that was Zariyah.
*****
With a heavy heart, I told my tale. Elenora listened intently as I recounted my time with the red-eyed Hazagadami girl. She interrupted me only a few times to question me about a certain point here and there. I spared few details, painting the tale as well as I could with the brush of memory.
As time wore on, I found myself speaking not just of her, but of my own burdens and sorrows. It was not the wine that loosened my tongue, rather it was the rare, almost forgotten comfort of having someone truly listen, someone willing to listen to all of my troubles.
With my high Constitution, alcohol did little for me, save to quench my thirst.
When she excused herself from my company, I almost pathetically begged her to stay longer. Was this, too, a result of an attractive woman's wiles? I shook my head to get rid of such silly thoughts.
I stayed a while longer, telling myself that I was reviewing the events of the past few days and that I was preparing myself for tomorrow. In truth, however, I was most likely waiting for Zariyah.
But stock boredom eventually won out over shallow worry. With an annoyed huff, I returned to my room. Moments later there was a small knock on my door. Could it be? I wildly raced to the door and opened it.
However, instead of Zariyah, I found Larynda in front of my room. I did my best to hide my disappointment and gave the girl a weak smile.
“What brings you here at this hour?” I asked.
The girl fidgeted for a moment before producing a curious object from her bag. It looked to be a construct of circular wire arranged in concentric circles. Bird feathers dangled from the bottom half of its circumference.
“Just, um, well I know you don’t sleep so well. Kidu and Elwin always say like you have nightmares and all. So, um, I made this for you…” Larynda offered hesitantly.
“What is it?” I replied, doing my best to remain pleasant.
“It’s a dreamcatcher! You hang it up next to your window and it will make sure no bad dreams come, I promise!” she said eagerly.
“Why thank you, Larynda. This is a most welcome gift,” I replied, patting her on the head. “I will have to get you something, too, one day.”
She preened under my praise, visibly puffing up.
Whether or not this world was real, there was no denying the link between it and mine. The Necromancer had alluded to as much with his explanation of ‘Visitors.’ The presence of humans and Terran animals such as horses also supported this. My very presence was evidence of the fact.
This was just another surprising example.
“But, tomorrow is a long day and we both need our rest. Does Cordelia know you are still up…?” I warned.
The girl visibly paled, gave me a quick goodnight, and swiftly went back to her room. Little did she know that Cordelia had more than likely left already.
I had to be at my best tomorrow, and required rest to make sure that I had sufficient Stamina and Mana for whatever next presented itself to me.
Generally annoyed at the world, I threw the dreamcatcher in the corner. Silly superstitions.
Flopping on the bed, I soon fell into a deep and troubled sleep.