The click-clack of boot heels echoed throughout the high domed chamber, sounding out the rhythmic pacing of a woman deep in thought. Normally, her presence in this chamber would be accompanied by soft music of such exquisite quality that it had no rival in this or any realm known. Normally, she would walk the circle of this chamber, marveling, at length, at the minute detail in every carved marble column, the painstaking craftsmanship of the silver, gold, and mithril mosaic that covered the floor. She would stare up at the high domed ceiling for hours, watching the scene shift from dawn to dusk and back again. Day and night played out in mere hours, the moon chasing the sun like a lusty lover…or perhaps a mother trying in vain to protect an unruly son.
The unforeseen pun made her laugh, the first in four long days. In times past, the Chamber of Sun and Moon was a place for relaxation, a place to forget the trials of one's day, and take pleasure in simpler things. Such times, however, seemed long forgotten now; much like the music she would enjoy here in those days. Perhaps it was all for the better, too many had chided her for her love of such music, the craft of old enemies.
*"But that was then, and this is now,"* the voice of a young man came, unbidden in her mind, *"even the eldest among us must strain a tired memory to recall such events in full." * She smiled at the memory, despite the slight quiver of her lower lip, and a tear that slid down her silken cheek. In her mind, she responded as she had so many times before. *"Sweet child, though memory might be tired in some, as you say, the desperation of the time still rings true for those who lived it. Many of us here were young, as you are now, in the days of the Great Exodus, and it is the duty of the eldest to remind us what we fled from, so that the mistakes of the past would not repeat themselves tomorrow."*
*"How come we don't make peace, mother?"* the young voice asked, just as it had the last time. *"The Teachers all say how the others don't have the benefit of long memory as we do. Maybe they've all forgotten to hunt us, and we can be friends!"* She laughed then, both in the memory and out loud.
*"My darling son, who among us would undertake such a grand quest?"* she had regretted asking then, and even more so now.
*"Well, maybe I could do it. I've always wanted to meet the Stout Ones beneath the mountain!"* The boy in her mind's eye puffed out his chest, his then scrawny arms tight to his sides and chin thrust out, trying for all the world to look the part of a proud soldier. Soft golden hair falling about his beautiful copper skinned face, and framing a pair of gleaming golden eyes.
*"Perhaps you shall, someday."* She laughed. "Perhaps you shall." She cried, openly now, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently. So overtaken was she, by this reverie, that she did not even hear the ringing footsteps of her visitor coming to her comfort.
"My Lady Airyastola…" the rest of his comment trailed off as the Lady wailed in despair and turned in a blur to cling to the man's chest.
"Tell me you've found him, Rothar! Even…if…it…be a lie! Please…" the last was lost in a choking sob, as Rothar held his Lady's head to his chest with a large, yet very gentle hand. Twice he opened his mouth, only to close it again, unable to bring a comforting word to mind. He truly was not suited to comforting a saddened heart, though he had had much practice in the passing days. Finally, unable to think of anything fitting, he decided business was best. As a member of the Ruling Council, Lady Airyastola always appreciated getting straight to business, no matter what a grief stricken heart might say.
"We've combed this, and every isle, my Lady. Every inch has been scoured by good and loyal men, but no sign of you son has been found." He said it as gently as he could, he too was over come by emotion; though where the mother felt sadness he was filled with anger. He hated losing a pupil, especially one with such promising skill with a sword, but what angered him above all was the lose of a child he cared for as a son. As Lady Airyastola hoped for the safe return of her son, Rothar feared the worst; his Lady was not without enemies.
Airyastola pulled away from his chest, her sobbing slowed as she wiped at her tears with a silk handkerchief. She took a step away from Rothar, smoothing delicate hands down a simple dress of blue silk, a modest array of diamonds in a starburst pattern adorned the bodice surrounded by gold embroidery. She was a stunning beauty, even when grief stricken. Gold red hair fell in ringlets around her smooth milky-skinned face, over her shoulders, and down to the middle of her back. Of course being who, and what she was, her appearance was something that could be changed at a whim.
Her tenderness coupled with the dainty façade she often took made many an enemy think less of her, the look in her eyes at that moment was anything but dainty or tender. Cold fire danced in her eyes, rising with her regained composure, as she settled a very commanding look on Rothar.
"You say you have scoured every isle?" Her tone demanded a very detailed answer.
Rothar drew himself to attention, all gestures of familiarity vanishing. He ceased being a friend in need, and on the instant became a soldier reporting to his Commander. His relief was palpable. In her current form, Rothar towered over the Lady Airyastola at over six and a half feet tall, yet in her presence he felt smaller than small. To others of his caste he was imposing, dark hair cut short stood at attention above two cold blue eyes that revielded no secrets, and a face scarred by battle. Leather creaked as his broad chest, protected by a mithril breastplate bearing Sun and Cloud sigil of House Golden Breeze, puffed out, strong arms thick with muscle held tight to his side. The hilt of a Greatsword extended over his left shoulder, a serpentine shape playing down the well-tooled leather grip ended in a terrible snarling many fanged lizards head. The blood spilled by that blade was legendary.
After his own moment for composure Rothar answered. "Aye my Lady, every isle. Thunder Lake, Foresthome," he paused, drawing in a long, deep breath, "even the Molten Isle, my Lady."
"What news from the Lady of Molten Isle?" The fire in her eyes grew, and was no long cold, but a white-hot living thing that threatened to consume the world if the news to come was not to her liking.
"Lady Terrastur regrets to inform the Lady of House Golden Breeze that her son has not found his way to her isle, however if he does, she assures the Lady that he will be returned with all due haste to the waiting arms of a grateful mother." Rothar braced himself for the torrent of Airyastola's anger, but it did not come.
She looked at him hard for a handful of moments then spoke. "The scent of things unsaid hangs heavy about you Rothar. What is it you fear to say?" Rothar did not believe that terrible flame could grow anymore without spilling forth, but indeed it did. It bade him tell all.
"She also bids me, in all kindness, to remind you that when her own mate, Theramaximus, disappeared in the Exodus no effort was raised to seek him out. She also called me to remind you that her mate was the ruling male of her clan, and your son, with all due respect, is youngling of the half-blooded." Now he was sure her fury would explode outward and consume him as she flew in a screaming torrent of blood and ash to claw at the underbelly of Lady Terrastur. Even still, her temper held, though admittedly it took some visible effort. After a moment, she continued her previous fevered pacing, as if to burn off some of her rage through movement. After a long moment, she stopped in front of Rothar, who had not moved a hair's width.
"There is more." It was not a question.
Rothar steeled himself, then spoke the last. "She suggests that, since the Council has not moved to resolve such situations in the past, you take matters into your own hands, and begin the search anew…in other realms." The final three words were spoken in a near whisper, as if he feared others might hear.
Lady Airyastola arched an eyebrow, then turned on her heel and strode to the open-air balcony beyond the carved marble columns. There she stood, hands on the railing, staring out over the landscape of the Jeweled Isle. Everywhere she looked, impossibly tall towers stood with expansive archways and carved columns, their domed tops covered in sparkling arrays of gems. Beyond them could be seen the sea, a perfect clear blue plane of rolling waves, glittering as if it too were covered in jewels. And many miles out from the shore stood the forever tall gray billowing fog that the stray pirates and other seafarers called Sky Fall. A fitting name to be sure, for it did look as though the heavens themselves fell here to touch the waters around the Many Isles. The Sky Fall was a shield, or at least she has thought so all her life, but now she agreed with her son, the Sky Fall was a cage!
Rothar spent a good long time staring at the back of his Lady. He had no intention of interfering in her thought process after having seen the murder in her eyes. Airyastola had a temper true enough, but this was something truly unwholesome. Death itself might very well have run from such a sight. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration, after all, he had survived that stare. Minutes ticked by, and Rothar deciding it prudent to council his Lady on the next course of action, strode to the railing beside Airyastola and spoke.
"You know what she was implying by her words." He said as he mentally prepared himself for orders that could very well mean his death at the hands of the council.
"All kindness and due respect indeed," she spat, "of course I know what she was implying. The thought had crossed my mind a time or two, but I dared not dwell on it. The crime of leaving these isles carries the sentence of death." The last sentence left her in a whisper, and with it, all anger fled her, only to be supplanted by the return of grief. She turned to regard Rothar with pleading eyes already beginning to well up with tears.
"Strong magic has impeded our ability to locate him by means other than sight, and we have scoured everything this side of the Sky Fall." Having said that, Rothar knew what he must do next.
"If he has indeed left these isles," Airyastola began, sounding much less like the ruling Lady of House Golden Breeze, and more like a lost child, "the magic that keeps him safe from detection will soon wear away, and my son will be found."
"Better for him to be found by someone he knows, than by a stranger sent to kill him." Rothar replied.
"I could never order one to perform such a task." She said, tears now flowing freely from her eyes only to fall heavy from her chin.
"Aye, such a dangerous endeavor must needs a volunteer. One who loves the boy as much as you do. Though you could never know such an individual by name, lest his fate become your own." Rothar wiped away at his Lady's tears with one gentle gloved finger before continuing. "I must take my leave, my Lady, there is still the business of finding your son. It is taxing work, so I do not expect I shall see you for some time, but I will send my lieutenant to report to you."
"Thank you." was all she could manage.
Rothar saluted his Lady and, turning on his heel, walked out of the Chamber of Sun and Moon for the last time. Lady Airyastola stood facing the sea once more, delivering a prayer to the Scaled Lord.
*"Lord lend your strength to my champion, Rothar, as he leaves the protection of this place for the realms of men, and lead him safely to my son, Rauwin, who may already be there."*
So engrossed in prayer was she, that she never heard the breastplate bearing her house sigil fall to the silver, gold, and mithril mosaic…she didn't need to.
The unforeseen pun made her laugh, the first in four long days. In times past, the Chamber of Sun and Moon was a place for relaxation, a place to forget the trials of one's day, and take pleasure in simpler things. Such times, however, seemed long forgotten now; much like the music she would enjoy here in those days. Perhaps it was all for the better, too many had chided her for her love of such music, the craft of old enemies.
*"But that was then, and this is now,"* the voice of a young man came, unbidden in her mind, *"even the eldest among us must strain a tired memory to recall such events in full." * She smiled at the memory, despite the slight quiver of her lower lip, and a tear that slid down her silken cheek. In her mind, she responded as she had so many times before. *"Sweet child, though memory might be tired in some, as you say, the desperation of the time still rings true for those who lived it. Many of us here were young, as you are now, in the days of the Great Exodus, and it is the duty of the eldest to remind us what we fled from, so that the mistakes of the past would not repeat themselves tomorrow."*
*"How come we don't make peace, mother?"* the young voice asked, just as it had the last time. *"The Teachers all say how the others don't have the benefit of long memory as we do. Maybe they've all forgotten to hunt us, and we can be friends!"* She laughed then, both in the memory and out loud.
*"My darling son, who among us would undertake such a grand quest?"* she had regretted asking then, and even more so now.
*"Well, maybe I could do it. I've always wanted to meet the Stout Ones beneath the mountain!"* The boy in her mind's eye puffed out his chest, his then scrawny arms tight to his sides and chin thrust out, trying for all the world to look the part of a proud soldier. Soft golden hair falling about his beautiful copper skinned face, and framing a pair of gleaming golden eyes.
*"Perhaps you shall, someday."* She laughed. "Perhaps you shall." She cried, openly now, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently. So overtaken was she, by this reverie, that she did not even hear the ringing footsteps of her visitor coming to her comfort.
"My Lady Airyastola…" the rest of his comment trailed off as the Lady wailed in despair and turned in a blur to cling to the man's chest.
"Tell me you've found him, Rothar! Even…if…it…be a lie! Please…" the last was lost in a choking sob, as Rothar held his Lady's head to his chest with a large, yet very gentle hand. Twice he opened his mouth, only to close it again, unable to bring a comforting word to mind. He truly was not suited to comforting a saddened heart, though he had had much practice in the passing days. Finally, unable to think of anything fitting, he decided business was best. As a member of the Ruling Council, Lady Airyastola always appreciated getting straight to business, no matter what a grief stricken heart might say.
"We've combed this, and every isle, my Lady. Every inch has been scoured by good and loyal men, but no sign of you son has been found." He said it as gently as he could, he too was over come by emotion; though where the mother felt sadness he was filled with anger. He hated losing a pupil, especially one with such promising skill with a sword, but what angered him above all was the lose of a child he cared for as a son. As Lady Airyastola hoped for the safe return of her son, Rothar feared the worst; his Lady was not without enemies.
Airyastola pulled away from his chest, her sobbing slowed as she wiped at her tears with a silk handkerchief. She took a step away from Rothar, smoothing delicate hands down a simple dress of blue silk, a modest array of diamonds in a starburst pattern adorned the bodice surrounded by gold embroidery. She was a stunning beauty, even when grief stricken. Gold red hair fell in ringlets around her smooth milky-skinned face, over her shoulders, and down to the middle of her back. Of course being who, and what she was, her appearance was something that could be changed at a whim.
Her tenderness coupled with the dainty façade she often took made many an enemy think less of her, the look in her eyes at that moment was anything but dainty or tender. Cold fire danced in her eyes, rising with her regained composure, as she settled a very commanding look on Rothar.
"You say you have scoured every isle?" Her tone demanded a very detailed answer.
Rothar drew himself to attention, all gestures of familiarity vanishing. He ceased being a friend in need, and on the instant became a soldier reporting to his Commander. His relief was palpable. In her current form, Rothar towered over the Lady Airyastola at over six and a half feet tall, yet in her presence he felt smaller than small. To others of his caste he was imposing, dark hair cut short stood at attention above two cold blue eyes that revielded no secrets, and a face scarred by battle. Leather creaked as his broad chest, protected by a mithril breastplate bearing Sun and Cloud sigil of House Golden Breeze, puffed out, strong arms thick with muscle held tight to his side. The hilt of a Greatsword extended over his left shoulder, a serpentine shape playing down the well-tooled leather grip ended in a terrible snarling many fanged lizards head. The blood spilled by that blade was legendary.
After his own moment for composure Rothar answered. "Aye my Lady, every isle. Thunder Lake, Foresthome," he paused, drawing in a long, deep breath, "even the Molten Isle, my Lady."
"What news from the Lady of Molten Isle?" The fire in her eyes grew, and was no long cold, but a white-hot living thing that threatened to consume the world if the news to come was not to her liking.
"Lady Terrastur regrets to inform the Lady of House Golden Breeze that her son has not found his way to her isle, however if he does, she assures the Lady that he will be returned with all due haste to the waiting arms of a grateful mother." Rothar braced himself for the torrent of Airyastola's anger, but it did not come.
She looked at him hard for a handful of moments then spoke. "The scent of things unsaid hangs heavy about you Rothar. What is it you fear to say?" Rothar did not believe that terrible flame could grow anymore without spilling forth, but indeed it did. It bade him tell all.
"She also bids me, in all kindness, to remind you that when her own mate, Theramaximus, disappeared in the Exodus no effort was raised to seek him out. She also called me to remind you that her mate was the ruling male of her clan, and your son, with all due respect, is youngling of the half-blooded." Now he was sure her fury would explode outward and consume him as she flew in a screaming torrent of blood and ash to claw at the underbelly of Lady Terrastur. Even still, her temper held, though admittedly it took some visible effort. After a moment, she continued her previous fevered pacing, as if to burn off some of her rage through movement. After a long moment, she stopped in front of Rothar, who had not moved a hair's width.
"There is more." It was not a question.
Rothar steeled himself, then spoke the last. "She suggests that, since the Council has not moved to resolve such situations in the past, you take matters into your own hands, and begin the search anew…in other realms." The final three words were spoken in a near whisper, as if he feared others might hear.
Lady Airyastola arched an eyebrow, then turned on her heel and strode to the open-air balcony beyond the carved marble columns. There she stood, hands on the railing, staring out over the landscape of the Jeweled Isle. Everywhere she looked, impossibly tall towers stood with expansive archways and carved columns, their domed tops covered in sparkling arrays of gems. Beyond them could be seen the sea, a perfect clear blue plane of rolling waves, glittering as if it too were covered in jewels. And many miles out from the shore stood the forever tall gray billowing fog that the stray pirates and other seafarers called Sky Fall. A fitting name to be sure, for it did look as though the heavens themselves fell here to touch the waters around the Many Isles. The Sky Fall was a shield, or at least she has thought so all her life, but now she agreed with her son, the Sky Fall was a cage!
Rothar spent a good long time staring at the back of his Lady. He had no intention of interfering in her thought process after having seen the murder in her eyes. Airyastola had a temper true enough, but this was something truly unwholesome. Death itself might very well have run from such a sight. Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration, after all, he had survived that stare. Minutes ticked by, and Rothar deciding it prudent to council his Lady on the next course of action, strode to the railing beside Airyastola and spoke.
"You know what she was implying by her words." He said as he mentally prepared himself for orders that could very well mean his death at the hands of the council.
"All kindness and due respect indeed," she spat, "of course I know what she was implying. The thought had crossed my mind a time or two, but I dared not dwell on it. The crime of leaving these isles carries the sentence of death." The last sentence left her in a whisper, and with it, all anger fled her, only to be supplanted by the return of grief. She turned to regard Rothar with pleading eyes already beginning to well up with tears.
"Strong magic has impeded our ability to locate him by means other than sight, and we have scoured everything this side of the Sky Fall." Having said that, Rothar knew what he must do next.
"If he has indeed left these isles," Airyastola began, sounding much less like the ruling Lady of House Golden Breeze, and more like a lost child, "the magic that keeps him safe from detection will soon wear away, and my son will be found."
"Better for him to be found by someone he knows, than by a stranger sent to kill him." Rothar replied.
"I could never order one to perform such a task." She said, tears now flowing freely from her eyes only to fall heavy from her chin.
"Aye, such a dangerous endeavor must needs a volunteer. One who loves the boy as much as you do. Though you could never know such an individual by name, lest his fate become your own." Rothar wiped away at his Lady's tears with one gentle gloved finger before continuing. "I must take my leave, my Lady, there is still the business of finding your son. It is taxing work, so I do not expect I shall see you for some time, but I will send my lieutenant to report to you."
"Thank you." was all she could manage.
Rothar saluted his Lady and, turning on his heel, walked out of the Chamber of Sun and Moon for the last time. Lady Airyastola stood facing the sea once more, delivering a prayer to the Scaled Lord.
*"Lord lend your strength to my champion, Rothar, as he leaves the protection of this place for the realms of men, and lead him safely to my son, Rauwin, who may already be there."*
So engrossed in prayer was she, that she never heard the breastplate bearing her house sigil fall to the silver, gold, and mithril mosaic…she didn't need to.