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Aelrindel, of Edlenn
‘Nesande’s Moon Daughter’*
‘Hallowed Splendor’
Moira
Go and find out
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There was someone under the low bridge. The air cold and windy. Aelrindel walked carefully over the rocks by the river, not to damage her bare feet. What date is it? She asked the nearby trees and nature sent her a nightingale to tell her all about it.
“It’s too soon,” the sorceress decided and paused to stare at the young boy curled up under the bridge. He’d gathered in the fetus position in order to warm up, but it wouldn’t be easy. Come nightfall, the cold shall kill him. A man appeared on the dirt road, leading a mule that had a small cart behind it. A tall, lanky man, with rich red hair and a beard. He was going to pass over the bridge and cross the river.
Stop here for water, the sorceress whispered and the Northman halted his animal perturbed. He looked left and then right, his eyes staying at the small river’s shores.
Aelrindel moved afore the unknown man could make his decision, a coin toss, left to the Goddess. It was a silly thing, memories worked different than dreams, but she couldn’t help herself.
Her body was buzzing, a strange energy charging it up. The sorceress traveled over the sea, leaped ahead in time, losing track of the memories in the throes of her passion and found them again inside a strange place.
A naked mountain’s shade hang over a shallow lake and two figures were talking with their feet inside the muddy waters. The woman shapely and clad in a long chiton that was completely transparent. The stocky man by her side had short-cut black hair and white skin, under a scaly armour.
“Here she comes,” the woman commented and the sorceress paused ten meters away alarmed. “You need to put a stop to this. I’ve as much right to be here as you do brother.”
“You come with baggage sister,” the man replied and glanced at the frozen witch with huge black eyes. “Your kids are trouble.”
“Can’t you share?”
“No. It just started going well again, but we’re dealing with volatile and fragile stuff here. A wrong turn could create a mess. I’m afraid to look away for fear of what he’ll do next.”
“It’ll break her heart. She’s precious.”
“Not to me,” the man replied and then sighed heavily. “She isn’t. Be happy she’s still breathing. She can take a punch, or two. Maybe she’ll pull it off even, fix the unfixable. I don’t exactly have a paragon of virtue, or some towering intellect to work with. That gnome fucked me up royally. You don’t know the half of it.”
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“Stubborn girl. Go,” the woman said turning to stare at the shaking sorceress. “And find out.”
The sorceress lost sight of the lake and the strange mountain. Oceans changed color, as time moved backwards to the beginning. Over islands and a burning city. The witch screamed for the scenes to slow down, but she was thrust through time again, memories flashing by, increasingly more bizarre. There’s the Troll, Aelrindel thought smiling at the truthful memory, but then an onyx wyvern appeared and shrieked triumphantly over the burning fleet. Ships exploding and burning bodies hurled through the air.
What? The sorceress screamed and willed herself to slow down, her body burning up, moisture leaking out of her pores. Tears and sweat. The woman in the painting opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out and she stood silent on her throne, bleeding black tears.
No.
The hurting witch squealed trying to slow down the rolling back memories. The wind blowing in her face and tearing at her skin. A Gish chuckled swimming in a pool of mud and the weather cooled amidst the huge redwood trees.
The pale Ralnor kept his raised crossbow aimed, but stood unable to fire, a look of wonder on his gaunt face. The crying sorceress gasped and groaned, faltering to her feet and feeling horribly violated, before time hurled her back once more. She landed in a ruined place, amidst sick trees and cracked granite tiles underfoot.
Aelrindel slowly forced herself on bleeding knees and then raised her torn up hands to protect her eyes from the blinding sun that had risen over the ancient ruined temple.
Eodrass Leap, in Oakenfalls. As it is now.
What am I doing here? She wondered realizing this was it. Why here? Aelrindel wondered and barely had time to move out of the large horse’s way. The road-weary man riding it, pulled at the reins to stop it and glanced at the mare right behind him with hard dark-coal eyes.
“Heard that Duke?” The armed man rustled to his stallion, without noticing the sorceress standing a couple of meters away. “It tried to lead us away from the temple. Run in them woods. Aye. Watch us from afar whilst we make camp. You stay here now ‘n keep quiet, while I close with it on foot.”
The sorceress stared at the distant temple curious, then at the sun as it was still early morning, before listening for any sounds, in this realm, this time, or the ones coming after it.
And then she heard something.
Her own voice, coming at broken intervals from a great distance. A dream of a future not yet materialized. Desperately trying to right a wrong and stop a horrible catastrophe retroactively, acting like a god. But she wasn’t one and you couldn’t do that with memories.
They have already happened.
> Take her throne, but please lover, don’t wake the wyvern.
>
> Luthos chuckled, then cut the middle part out. He hummed a silly tune next, paused to blow his clogged large nose with a red scarf and then hid the negative part also.
>
> This, the God of Luck decided, as he had exhausted all other possibilities.
>
> Shall work.
With a furious scream, the hurting witch tossed the deceitful scoundrel away from her using the last of her strength. A moment later her weakened body, from the attempt to travel as far as she could into his memories, fell into a deep stupor inside the dark copse.