Lady of the Lake

-

The barren, snowy tundra was a familiarly alien world to the young lady, who had finally accustomed herself to living in the warm green gardens of Castle Pherae. Some two years after the end of the terrible conflict, the young lady and her husband (the young Marquess Pherae, Eliwood) traveled to the northern land of Ilia on a trip of goodwill. Though the young Marquess' lady had been stricken with illness more frequently as time passed, his presence had given her the strength to be well. The party had come to Ilia at the deadest time, when no lake was left untouched by a sheet of ice, and no sky was free of the blazing white blood of Barigan. The lord, lady, and traveling escorts of Pherae had moved north and had been met with an unrelenting, blinding wall of snow and biting wind, like a bad omen floating in on the breaths of angels.

Florina had told her about her life in Edessa, about the large mountain peaks, and about the Ice Dragon who was said to make the largest mountain in Ilia its home. The Marquess' lady would have felt very empty traveling so far north to the barren wastes if she was not so curious as to see those lands with her own crystalline eyes, one last time.

Every sound was lost to the wind as they marched alongside a range of mountains, the farthest away of which had, in the distance, seemed to have buried all at its feet with a wave of frozen snow. At times the snow blew down from the mountains so viciously that the travelers could barely see their own hands let alone their trail. The Marquess left his wife's side to lead the head of the party, pressing forward without hesitation, cursing his luck for coming at such a stormy time. Somewhere, in the cold wintry wastes where each peak looked alike and each inch of ground looked alike, the young Lady of Pherae fell to her knees, at once burning and freezing inside her large fur wrappings. She tried to stand but was beaten down, and it seemed less the effects of the biting cold than the aura of something else, something incredible, something ancestral, something both beautifully and painfully familiar, as though it were a memory permanently etched into her subconscious. She felt something tremendous, and she whited out, world turning to gray, one soft, frigid hand reaching out to the onward-moving party, oblivious to the fact that, in their bid for survival, she had been left behind.

-

Ninian groaned. Her body immediately began to ache and burn when she opened her eyes, all over, a decentralized tinging that felt strangely like the aftershock of an anima spell wracking her body. She stared at the blank, gray ceiling that looked to be of stone, uneven and jagged in places, with the occasional jutting spike hanging down, threatening her. Time seemed to be flickering in, out, fighting against her as if fighting her was its duty.

Where am I? Where is everyone? Eliwood?

"Mmm? Are you awake?"

Ninian craned her head in the direction of the voice. Her eyes were foggy; she made out only a cloudy blob in a black cloak approaching her, and behind the figure, a bright mass of red that looked like a fire. When Ninian turned her head completely, a cloth fell from her forehead. She opened her mouth to speak but her voice was garbled and weak.

"Shh, don't say anything yet. Good gracious are you out of it! You should really be thankful you ended up where you did."

It sounded to Ninian like a mature woman's voice, crackling and with tinges of age, but comforting. She wriggled a bit under her blanket, a thick cover made of wool. Were it not for her usual soft vestments, she would have found the blanket scratchy and uncomfortable, but it was indeed warm. She felt as though she were laying on soft straw or hay, and her head rested against a large pillow that felt to be stuffed with feathers.

"Who—who aa oo?"

"Mmm?" The foggy figure in the black robe knelt next to Ninian. "What was that, little girl?"

"Who aa—aaa you?"

"I'm just someone," the figure said, and then Ninian was sure the voice was that of a woman. There was a hood partially concealing what appeared to be a graying mass of hair, and a prominent, powerful face punctuated by a large nose. Her smile was eerie but oddly reassuring. "A friend, I would think."

"Aaa—" Ninian was too tired and too weak to be afraid. She pressed her hands gently against the bed to push herself up, but she felt a firm hand press against her chest and keep her down.

"Don't get up yet, lass, you're still too weak. Your fever has gone down, but oh boy, oh boy, do you still need rest." The lady in the black cloak sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you and cook you in a stew—" Ninian nearly gasped, and the lady chuckled to herself— "in fact, let me make you some tea. It might be strong, but whooooo will it work, and you best drink it all."

The woman walked away, and it was an indeterminate period of time later when Ninian felt a hand against the back of her head lift her slowly to a sitting position. She shook some of the sleep out of her eyes and the older woman's frame slid more into focus. She felt a hot liquid slip through her lips and coat her throat when the lady pressed a small ceramic cup against her chin and tipped it in. There was a feeling like an explosion inside Ninian's mouth, and almost instantly her eyes surged open and the entire room burst into focus.

"Aah! Where—where am I?"

"How are you feeling?"

Ninian stretched her arms. Beside her bed was the woman, whom Ninian could now see with startling clarity. She mustn't have been more than sixty, mid-fifties probably, or so Ninian gathered. Her head and part of her face was shrouded by her large, draping black cloak, but Ninian could see well enough the beginning of wrinkles on her face beside her large nose, the mysterious twists of her mouth when she smiled, and her odd eyes that seemed to be staring at everything on her at once.

They were in what looked to Ninian to be a cavern of some sort. Still sipping gingerly from her cup of tea—every sip made the strength return and the burning subside—, she briefly looked behind her. There was a wooden table further back with some strange items, a bookcase against a side wall, a small stone shelf with what looked like blankets on it, and what looked like the inside of a wooden façade, with a little door leading outside. Turning back, Ninian saw that behind the cloaked woman there was a large pot suspended above a roaring fire, another table behind, and what seemed to be a passageway shrouded by darkness.

"Um..." Ninian had planned to say nothing, but one look at the woman's eyes and her sudden feeling of anxiety passed. "I'm feeling…um, better. I've been getting ill much more frequently lately, but I feel fine now." Ninian said. The old woman looked at her intently; the girl felt uncomfortable beneath her stare. "Thank you."

" 'Twas nothing, really," the woman said, and turned to walk away.

"Um, wait!" Ninian called out, and the old woman stopped and turned around. "Who are you? I don't—even know your name."

"Hold on a moment," the woman said. "I should put out this fire. I can always rekindle it later."

The woman turned to the fire. She rose her two arms into the air and held her palms out, and the large fire suddenly began to ripple and shudder as if stirred by a sudden wind. Then, there were four wisps of jet-black energy that rose from the ground, spiraled upward, carrying with them a horrible howling noise, coalescing into a perfect sphere that surrounded the fire. The old woman stood immobile, not a muscle in her body moving even as her cloak rustled and flapped as if a wind had again blown through. Then, she jerked both of her arms down and the ball of black energy shrunk and imploded in upon itself, and when it had gone, so too had the entire raging flame, leaving behind not even a single wisp of gray smoke behind. The cauldron still hung suspended above, untouched, and was still.

"There," said the woman. She turned to Ninian, and spoke as if a menial chore had been accomplished, and that equally uninteresting tasks were now to be performed. Ninian stared wide-eyed, her tiny fingers barely clutching onto her half-empty cup of tea.

"I—I—that—" Ninian swallowed, her hand pointing to where the fire had been. Her voice squeaked. "How did—that was—"

"Oh, never mind that," the old woman said, brushing it off with a motion of her hand. "Or haven't you ever seen dark magic before?"

"D-dark magic? Well…well, I've seen it, but—"

"A great, great, and terrible power. The best kind! But you shouldn't be afraid. I, at least, know what I'm doing. Only the weak and foolish let such a power control them." She laughed dryly, and turned away. There was a silence for a moment, then Ninian again asked the old lady her name.

"Ah, people, they call me many things," the old woman replied. "Some call me the Mountain Hermit, some call me Nimue, some call me Niime…I'm not really sure what my name is…probably comes from some ancient foreign language or some such thing. Well, it doesn't really matter anyway."

"I think I might have heard that name somewhere before, but I can't remember at all. Um…what—what should I call you?"

"Not like it matters…oh, just call me Niime, it seems to have caught on, though personally I think Nimue makes more sense given the etymology."

"Um, what?"

"Never mind," Niime said, shaking her head, waving her hand. "It's nothing, just a lonely hermit mumbling to herself like she always does. Everyone's a fool nowadays, honestly, even little old me. Now, you wanted to know where you are?"

Ninian nodded.

"I suppose I could tell you, young lady. I assume you at least know you're in Ilia?"

"Yes, I know," Ninian said, folding her arms in her lap. "I was on a trip of goodwill with—" Ninian stopped, gasped, and started to say "Never mind" when Niime interrupted.

"Oh, I know, you do not have to hide anything from me. You were traveling with the lord of Pherae and his cadre, weren't you? From Lycia?"

"Um, yes. But how did you—"

"Don't worry about that," Niime said. She pulled up a wooden chair and sat beside the still bed-ridden Ninian, urging her to drink more tea with an impatient wave of her hand. "They're all safe, don't you worry. And so are you. If I had wanted to use you for some insidious purpose, I probably would have done so already." Niime laughed dryly. "But I haven't. I can't think of any place you would rather be right now—well, except maybe home."

Ninian looked around again, and then up at the ceiling, where the stone icicles still hung down menacingly like long daggers.

"You were lucky I found you when I did. You were unconscious, and when I brought you back here, you felt like you had a raging fever. That's why I had put that cold cloth on your head. You seem to be much better now. Before, you were thrashing about in your sleep—you looked miserable! You kept mumbling on and on—'Lord Eliwood! Oh, Lord Eliwood, where are you?'" Niime imitated a young girl's voice, and Ninian seemed embarrassed at what she had apparently said while incapacitated. "How bad I would feel," Niime continued, "if you hadn't made it! Oh!"

Ninian took a large drink from her cup. "I see." She changed the subject promptly. "Um, how long have I been here?"

"By my reckoning, I would say two days."

"Two days? Oh no, Lord Eliwood must be fraught with worry!"

Niime seemed to smile slightly under her hood, her eyes still watching. "Such a loyal wife, aren't you? Ha ha. Well, don't worry about it. Once you get better, we'll help the marquess find you. You'll be back in his warm arms making love to him in no time, so I swear."

The tips of Ninian's cheeks turned rose and her free hand rubbed her hair. "Well, that's not exactly what we'd—well—"

"Oh, you don't have to lie for my sake. I'm not so old as to abhor such things, I know how people work! Without that, I wouldn't have my little grandson, and I would not have had my son."

"Son? Grandson? You have—"

"The point I am trying to make is," Niime said, leaning forward in her chair, putting her face near Ninian's, allowing the girl to more clearly see the face behind the cloak, "that a beautiful young damsel like you should be indulging in the basest pleasures of life. Spirits know the young men need such things."

"Ah, but Lord Eliwood hasn't really…hasn't really talked about—"

"You mean to say that not once has your lord asked you to bear his children? To continue his lineage?" Niime sat up and chuckled quietly to herself. If she was several parts amused, Ninian was equal parts confused and embarrassed. Niime continued, "That is an important thing, especially for the young lord of a province in Lycia, to have a child! And of course, to bear children, one must…heh, but you probably already know about that."

"Um…"

"Honestly, you don't still believe that babies are brought to their parents on the wings of a pegasus, do you?" Niime sighed.

"No, I know where children come from," Ninian said, quickly drinking the rest of her cooling tea, setting her glass down, looking at her lap. Then, forcefully, "I'm not stupid."

"Hm? Oh ho, maybe I was mistaken. I see then."

"I'm sorry," Ninian said meekly. "I didn't mean to sound angry. But I do know where—where children come from."

"It would seem so. After all, you've blushed more in this conversation than I have in my entire life!"

"It is just that—Lord Eliwood has always spoken of his desire to be a father to his children as Lord Elbert was to him, but we've never…"

"Never once?" Niime said. "I suppose I should take your word for it. You do seem a sweet, innocent girl, so I guess it wouldn't be too difficult to believe that you're a virgin."

Ninian looked away.

"It's been a while since I came here, to this place," Niime said, looking toward the wooden facade that shielded her little hermitage from the cold outside. "I remember when I was a young lady. I hope my memory never leaves me, even when I become an old bag. I'll be the toughest old lady in all of Ilia, mark my words!"

Ninian lay back against her pillow.

"Ah, that's it. Get some more rest."

Niime began to rise when Ninian rose a hand in the air.

"No, please keep talking, elder," she said. "I enjoy hearing you speak."

"Elder? Enjoy hearing me? Hah! Unless I'm speaking on the intricacies of ancient magicks, I don't think anyone has ever told me they enjoyed hearing me talk. What a polite one you are, hm? I'm flattered. I admit, I don't usually talk much. Well, maybe I can tell you about this place, I suppose. I built the wooden front of my little retreat myself, with a little help. I built it during the good times, and it's lasted me through the bad. I lived here, raised a family, and I will probably die here as well. I couldn't have asked for anything more."

Ninian sat up briefly, spoke, and returned to her position lying down. "What is down in the dark part of the hall?"

"Oh, just a few small, small side rooms. Nothing spacious, nothing like the villas of Etruria or the stained-glass halls of a cathedral. Just side rooms where certain useless things occupy space. I don't usually have many visitors here. The ones who do come just want to bask in my knowledge. It figures." Niime laughed softly. "What would they want with me, honestly? I'm just a frail, spindly little woman, after all. Oh, you could knock me over with a broom. I have never prided myself on my physical endurance. I will probably go into a village one day and be randomly thrown into prison, knowing my luck. Hah!"

"I see. You must be lonely here."

"Hm. It is—" Niime paused, and looked up at the stone ceiling. When she did not immediately respond, Ninian sat up and saw that the elder woman was sitting almost motionless, shoulders relaxed. When she lowered her head to look at Ninian, her face was stern, her eyebrows narrowed, looking into Ninian's eyes as though daring the girl to break the gaze.

"E-Elder?"

"That is—" Niime sighed. "It is incomprehensibly lonely. There are unfathomable depths one must descend in order to achieve certain goals. For the longest time, there has been such a pervasive loneliness in my heart, and it is something I have done of my own volition…and without regrets. I am lucky I was not so weak as to succumb to it."

"Elder?"

"Oh, just call me Niime," she said. "You don't have to trouble yourself with such things, but…learn to treasure everything you've ever known. When you understand what it feels like to lose something important, then you might know what it feels like to lose everything important, and what it feels like to make that decision yourself. That is the cost of power."

Ninian was silent.

"I'm sure that you could do anything you wished, as long as you were bold enough not to care about the consequences. But there are some things not to be trifled with. I hope you understand that. If you're foolish and weak, you will be beaten back, and left behind will be the survivors of one's stupidity, survivors like my grandson, thank the darkness he is asleep now. There are some who plunge headfirst into the dark arts underestimating its power, underestimating the power of their own emotions, and those people are inexorably beaten back, their souls ripped from their bodies by their own ignorance. That one son of mine, I thought he actually had some sense when he began to delve into the darkest depths of knowledge, but—well, the darkness didn't get to him, maybe even the opposite."

"About your son," Ninian said quietly after an awkward moment had passed. "If I may ask...who is your son?"

"Who was my son, you mean. And, an idiot. He was too nice for his own good, the nice kit of the litter, which is why I'm surprised he made it as far as he did. He left his son nearly alone in the world because there were things he had to protect, not even risking himself to gain something greater, no. He was a fool." Niime tilted her head downward and paused. "You seem like a nice young lady. Make sure you're not too nice. If you're a girl and too nice, you're likely to be violated. If you're a boy and too nice, you're likely to end up dead. That's the way of evil and of darkness, to prey on the kind and the naive. As it should be, mind you."

"I see. Um, and your son is—"

"Was," Niime again corrected. "Far too nice, yes 'Twould be a warm, warm day in Ilia when you'd see me give my life to save someone else's. Well, I suppose some sacrifices are worth making, but not his. Bloody hell, I'm getting worked up over this, am I not? It wasn't long ago. In fact, it was very recently. Maybe it was because he was the last one. Hmph." The old woman brushed her forehead off with a hand, then chuckled nonchalantly. "Anyway, I was like you when I was about your age, but when I was my son's age, I would be taking suckers like nice old him for everything they were worth!"

"What do you mean?"

"It's amazing how easy it is to catch a nice guy with a few kind words and some skin as bait. I used to get a lot of free meals and free money off men back then. See, I used to be quite a looker! I used to go down to the lake with the poor wretches, dance a little, and they would fall for me like off a cliff!" Niime laughed. "Would you believe that young thing is the same shriveled old hag you see now? Hah! Well, I suppose I'm not that old yet, wait about twenty years or so…"

Ninian stayed silent. Her shoulders slumped but she continued looking at the old lady. She was frightening, but in a way, something about her told Ninian that there was a power in the old lady's heart that would keep her safe. This place felt different, Ninian realized, than the snowy wastes of Ilia. There was a different aura here, something far less familiar, a feeling of being encapsulated by a small sphere of safety around which lay nothing but pure blackness. She didn't feel pain, but for reasons she could not fathom, she did not feel as powerful here.

"I did love him though, my son. Maybe if everyone in the world was like him, then…oh, screw it. What's done is done. If you end up dead, though, I'd never forgive you. I guess I'm not quite as strong as I fancy myself. I get weak in the knees to cute things, especially if they're so polite." Niime looked at Ninian and smiled slightly. "Oh well. If everything were easy, life wouldn't be any fun. Less troublesome, but no fun. What do you think about that?"

"I—maybe you're right, Lady Niime."

Niime sighed, narrowed her eyes and looked intently at Ninian. Niime scanned the younger woman, looked into her eyes, seemingly trying to look into the depths of her soul.

"Lady Niime?"

"Hmm…about you…there was something I was wondering about for a while now..." Niime stopped. "No, it can't be." She turned her head, continuing to mutter softly. "Much too docile…can't be one of them, even though I feel something strong…even if it is...I can't act rashly anyway, that would be infinitely foolish. Such a thing here…impossible."

"Lady Niime?"

"It's nothing, don't mind me. I hope I'm not going senile at this young age, mumbling to myself. I haven't used all those bitter herbal remedies for nothing, I hope! Are you feeling better, child?"

Ninian nodded. "Yes, I'm feeling much better."

"Good. When I found you, and brought you back…I had my doubts as to whether you would survive. I'm glad you did, though. You're tougher than you look, I'll give you that. You don't look like a fighter."

"Um…" Ninian held her hands to her heart. "Thank you. Thank you so much for saving my life."

"It was nothing. Next time be careful when traveling in the cold. But if I might ask you one question?"

Ninian brushed her hair. Niime watched her closely, looking into her eyes, perhaps staring into her heart and her soul. Then, Ninian said, "Of course."

"Have you…" Niime seemed hesitant for a moment, as if debating something within herself. "Have you heard the story of the Ice Dragon?"

"Um, Ice Dragon. I've...I've heard the story, yes."

"An interesting tale, it is. There's an old legend kin to us elder mages that says that there will be a time of great conflict, and during this time the Ice Dragon, the legendary creature of Ilia, will leave, only to one day return, return to its rightful home. They say there will be a great surge of power and then the Ice Dragon will fade away, leaving the peaks of Ilia to fend for themselves, and passing on the strength of the Ice Dragon to the next generation. A grand tale, it is."

"I...I have not heard that legend, elder," Ninian said, and she looked away.

Niime nodded slowly. "I see. Well, it is a rather obscure story, even for those living in Ilia. It is not your fault. Not to be helped, I suppose, hrm? Now, I would guess that your lord husband is searching for you frantically. Would you like to travel with me to Edessa, and see if we could reunite you two? He will be waiting for you there. I am sure of it."

Ninian's eyes brightened. "Ah, yes! Thank you! That would be very nice. Thank you!"

"Well, it's not much of a bother. Not as if the cold bothers me anymore. My little crying obligation in the back room can spend a few hours alone without bawling, can't he? After all, he does have some certain company. Stand up, girl."

Ninian stood, and she followed Niime to a small stone shelf where several blankets and coats sat. Niime stopped and turned about, looking directly at Ninian, putting a hand on the girl's chin to direct her eyes and still her head.

"Listen to me. You have quite an inner strength, something that not even I can feel properly. Well, that is likely because there is a light in your heart. Regardless, it is that power inside you that kept you alive…and led me to you. Without feeling that strength, I would have never found you lying where you were. Maybe it was fate, if there is such a thing. So don't doubt your inner strength, girl. Don't be so modest that you become weak, understand?"

Ninian nodded. "I understand."

Niime continued. "Here's my advice for you: Life your life to its fullest. You never know when some crazy fool or an avalanche is going to up and kill you, so you might as well live every day as if you were going to croak the next. You're getting to be the age where things like that can take wing in a child. That means don't be so nice, take your lordly husband to the edge of a lake and dance nude for him like a good wife, bear your lord a child, go out to merry revelries and orgies, indulge in liquor…just don't be a fool about it. Live your life the way you wish to live it, eh?"

"All right," Ninian said, nodding, quickly overcoming any embarrassment, and instead finding the elderly hermit rather funny. She smiled. "I'll remember what you said. Thank you!"

"Hey, now! Don't talk like you're going out there by yourself! I'll lead you down the mountain. Like holy hell I'll have nursed you to health just to send you out there alone! Now that would be stupid."

"But won't you be cold?"

Niime smiled and clicked her tongue. "Ooh, child. Let's just say that when you've learned as much as I have, the cold doesn't bother you as much. Besides, did I not already say the cold doesn't bother me? I am actually a little surprised it bothers you so...ah, but never mind."

Niime threw a heavy woolen shawl and then Ninian's now-dry fur coat over Ninian's shoulders, and wrapped one arm around her.

"At least take comfort," Niime said, leading Ninian to the door, "in the fact that I'll probably roll over and die long before you will. Probably."