Volume 3, Chapter 11 – Torio: Armored
Dahras watched Torio in shock as she threw herself down into the grass, crying with an intensity that hurt his insides. The other guardinals were looking over at her in alarm and Dahras shook his head lightly, motioning for them to leave her be.
He had never experienced such evil before. The voice had been chilling, filling him with strange feelings of fear, and promise and power... The lupinal shuddered. And what had the voice said about Torio? She knew that voice. She had - had she worked for the man behind that voice? Was that the blackness that followed her?
Dahras hesitated. A part of him wanted to leave her to her misery in the grass, this evil woman who probably deserved nothing less than an unfriendly escort to the Outlands. But as he stared down at her, at her shaking shoulders and her voice full of agonized pain, his heart broke. She had loved the elf.
Bending down, he quickly scooped her up in his strong arms. "Shh Torio, let's get you back to your tent." With rapid strides, he moved through the crowds that magically parted for him until he found Torio's tent. He entered it, still holding her and then sat on the large bed, cradling her while she cried.
Torio vaguely registered that they were moving. As her tent flap closed behind them, her mind attempted to give her a little shake; look at you! You're supposed to be helping these creatures, what are they going to think when they see you sobbing madly like some infant?
"Oh gods." She inhaled raggedly, wiping her hands across her face, her shoulders still shaking from the urge to sob until her entire body was spent. "I apologize," She said, after a moment. "That was..." Embarrassing? Unseemly? Completely unstoppable…
Garius. By the gods, his power must be immense; and his link to her still strong, if he could find her across planes. And he knew what was happening to Sand…
You mean what Sand is partaking in?
Dahras still cradled her where he sat on her bed, and even as she pressed herself to him, there was no comfort to be had from the warm, furred presence holding her. Her body felt immeasurably cold. "The...wizard," she said haltingly. "The story I told you last evening. I was...once...his servant." She swallowed. "That was his voice, in that boat."
Dahras held her tightly to him, stroking her hair gently. "Do not apologize, Torio. You should never have to apologize for letting your heart out. I...I am sure Sand still thinks of you even if he has moved on. I am sure he believes you are safe and happy here and that is the only reason why he has..."
He fell silent for a moment before continuing. "And you are no longer this wizard's servant? He must be very powerful indeed if he can find you here. He must be tapping directly into the Weave..." The lupinal gave her a hug. "We will protect you from him. He will find his evil is nothing more than a small black smudge here! Don't go back to Toril then; stay with us."
Torio sighed. "He has the power of Illefarn behind him now; I can't even begin to fathom what he's capable of." She fell silent for a moment, her stomach churning sickeningly. All this trouble...she was struggling through a war between guardinals and devils to return to Toril, while Sand was...
Dahras' words were a small comfort. She knew Luskan better than anybody; if Sand were still alive it would be only a matter of time before someone had staked a claim to him. And at least now she knew he was alive.
But what if he enjoyed where he was at? The seer had said that the elf was embracing his new mistress, his new life; Luskan had much to offer a wizard of even the remotest power, and Sand was wily enough to work those situations to his advantage. What if she left this plane...this beautiful, unerringly good plane...only to return and find that he'd forgotten her? That he no longer wanted her?
She rubbed her face tiredly, and slipped her arm around the lupinal, hugging him in an uncharacteristic gesture of fondness. "Thank you, for your protection. And your help." She sighed. "I suppose I'll at least think about staying, now. If he...if Sand is occupied elsewhere then my reasons for returning to Toril are quite limited in number."
Dahras patted her head again. "I'm glad you're at least considering staying now. You're a great friend to us. And you really would like it here. There's so much to do; anything you want to do, somebody's probably doing it! Are...are you going to be all right?"
Torio scooted back onto the bed, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes momentarily. "Yes," she said. "I'll be fine, Dahras...why don't you go celebrate with the others?" She forced her mouth into a smile. "I think I'll just rest for a bit. I'm a little tired."
Dahras stood from the bed and said to Torio, "If you need anything, you know the entire tribe...the entire camp! will help you." He turned to exit from the tent and then tossed her his new magical ball. "If you...can't sleep."
Torio waited until the lupinal was gone before laying back against her bed; she fingered the ball in her hands lightly, her heart thrumming painfully in her chest. They acted as if they would accept her, here; she could make a new start, and even if Garius could reach her, Dahras had said they could keep her safe.
Images of Sand, writhing with a strange lover, someone else touching his body, kissing him, riding against him...she slammed her eyes shut, pushing them from her mind as the grief and rage rose in her chest, threatening to drive her mad. It was beyond the pinpricks of jealousy she had felt at the party when Gweynn had shown a marked interest in Sand. It consumed her, raged along her veins until she was shaking with it, her fingers trembling as they toyed with Dahras' ball. Returning would mean leaving behind fantastical, amazing creatures that wanted her here, for a world where most people who knew her name hated her for it; returning to servitude and subterfuge, lies and trickery and playing a never ending game of survival. She watched the light play off her bracelet, almost forgotten in the greater marvels that surrounded her. Sand was the only thing that would tie her to that world willingly.
Torio would forget him, in time. She was already having trouble in the mornings when she woke up, not remember exactly what she was trying to do...only that it was urgent, that she needed to do it badly. Every morning the thoughts were longer in coming to her, and she realized that if she chose to stay, every name, place, memory she had of Toril would fade into the back of her mind. But that urgent feeling...that feeling that there was something, something she needed to do, somewhere she needed to be, would always be there every morning. Even if she forgot Sand eventually, she would know that something was missing; and she would never know what it was.
Well, I have to know. Even if it meant the rest of her life spent wandering Toril, hiding from those who would destroy her for her past and constantly running from those who would exploit her future, at least she would know if he still wanted her...if he still loves you.
She tossed the ball into the air experimentally as she lay back on the bed, her thoughts buzzing dully through her head, the noise from the camp outside trickling in through the thin tent walls.
The noises of the chattering creatures faded away as the moon rose higher in the sky. One by one, additional torchlights were extinguished; only the low murmuring voices of those patrolling could be heard, with the occasional snuffling from an equinal. And as surely as the day before, the moon finished her travels across the sky and the sun began his, peaking up from the horizon and bathing the lush green field in a golden light.
Brandobras trotted up to Torio's tent just as the majority of the creatures were stirring from theirs. He had heard about what had happened the night before; or at least rumors. The encampment was sympathetic though there were stirrings of wariness.
"...did you feel the great evil..."
"...I heard she was an evil mage back on..."
"...no no, she loves a mage..."
"...Lucan trusts her..."
"...I want to know what Prince Talisid says first..."
"...she's here to help, that's all I need to know..."
The halfling called through the flap, "Torio, dear? I have some lovely breakfast for you..."
Torio awoke with a start, Brandobras' voice floating through the fabric across the entryway. She muttered something akin to "Mmmnnfsnni..." and stumbled off of the bed; her thoughts were scattered, disjointed as she pushed open the flap, rubbing her eyes.
"Come in," she said blearily. The halfling was carrying a plate of steaming food, and she could see over his shoulder where the mess line was set up, creatures from all over the camp gathering and preparing to eat. She took the food gratefully. "Have you eaten already? What is the word on the two companions we're waiting for?" She sat on the edge of the bed, digging in ravenously; she still felt drained, empty, from the day before, but she filled the void beneath her chest for the moment with food.
Brandobras took a seat in front of her, on the ground, patting his belly. "Never fear, Torio, a halfling has always eaten. Except when he has not!" He leaned back, saying, "Duke Windheir shall be here by the afternoon; Lord Rhanok is expected later than that." He pulled a pipe from his pocket and began blowing translucent bubbles into the air. "Everybody is quite excited. The Five Companions haven't been united under a common banner in quite a long time. You are witnessing a piece of Elysian history in the making. There's even rumors that Prince Talisid will lead the charge himself. The mustevals have been busy with their reports, everyone is preparing their weapons and armor for battle. You would think we fight this afternoon instead of...well...later."
Torio watched the bubbles float through the air as she swallowed a mouthful of food. She flicked out a finger, popping one of the bubbles floating too close to her head, and wrinkled her nose as the sticky substance sprayed gently down, misting her face. She rubbed her cheeks against her sleeve, saying dryly, "I suppose it's an honor to be a part of Elysian history, then; if we're going to die, why not everyone die together?" Now that was something Sand would say. She ate another forkful, and then stood, holding her hand down to the halfling to help him up. "I suppose I could speak to the mustevals you claim are bringing in reports; would you like to come with me?" She smiled slightly. "Or do you have weapons and armor to prepare as well?"
"Well - we don't expect the devilish armies to attack within the next two or three days, that much is for certain." Brandobras gave her a laugh at her comment about dying together. "Now that is a very...Prime Material plane thing to say, Torio." They exited the tent together and were greeted with a scene of organized chaos. It seemed the encampment size had nearly doubled sometime between the time Torio went to sleep and now.
Brandobras continued blowing bubbles, doing his best at looking wise and dignified. "Well - I can certainly go with you if you wish to speak to the mustevals. Not all of them speak Common; I can translate the Celestial for you. And don't you joke about weapons and armors, missy. We're all getting weapons and armor, even you." He began moving towards a small semi-circle of tents where the mustevals were squeaking and darting around. They looked up as Torio approached, waving their paws at her. Immediately, a pair ran up to her with a stack of parchments, squeaking excitedly. Brandobras translated, "From the avoral scouts along the borders, just came in a few minutes ago."
Torio staggered slightly under the weight of the parchments, but quickly sat down, spreading them out on the short, clipped grass beneath her. Some of the reports were in Celestial..."Brandobras! Translate these?" She pushed the incomprehensible parchments towards the halfling, and began pouring over the ones she could understand...
...quiet on the borders, no sign of activity whatsoever...
...possible attack from within Elysium? Least suspected way of...
...an eye on the cities, most vulnerable to attack with the armies pulled out into the countryside...
...no sign of the hostages, and we lost one more on last evening's sweep of the northern River...
Torio pursed her lips, her expression darkened. Nomadic battle tactics would be slightly more complicated if the devils decided to take on a city instead of attack the army proper. Was this what they were being distracted from?
She glanced at the halfling. "Any luck with those?"
Brandobras was muttering quietly to himself. "Oh yes yes...just a moment...my Celestial is a little rough...but it seems as though there are concerns about us collecting all in one location like at this encampment and there are suggestions of spreading us out into a few, larger units so that no matter where they attack from, we are never more than half a days walk or boat ride..." He bent over a few more pieces of paper. "Suggestions about increasing the number of avoral scouts, the usual about warning the citizens and the River merchants to be cautious..."
He looked up at her, narrowing his eyes. "What do you make of this? What will you advise the War Council tonight?"
Torio rubbed her hand across her face, shutting her eyes and frowning. "The large encampment will most definitely need to be broken up once the plans are made. Gathered together like this it would only take one strong battle to wipe out everyone." She ran a hand through her short hair, vaguely remember the days when she would brush it meticulously until it shone and fell around her face smoothly, fastidious about her appearance. She dreaded what she would see now if faced with a mirror. A haggard woman? A tired sinner? A discarded lover...
Stop thinking like that, Torio. Luskan is Luskan.
And look how easily you embraced it in the end, yourself.
She let out an exasperated breath, blowing the foremost strands of hair away from her face. "I'm not sure," she said honestly. "I'll have to think on it, maybe read over other reports. There's no easy answer to this; in the end I suppose we'll just have to be flexible. And prepared."
Brandobras tucked his pieces of parchment in with hers. "Yes; I suppose in the end that's all we can do." He stood, stretching his back. "Well, I'm about ready for a second breakfast. Care to join me? If not, I know Chaksa has some things for you."
Torio snorted at him, swatting at him with half-hearted playfulness. "Heavens forbid I interfere with second breakfast," she said sourly, but she chuckled. "Go! I'll find Chaksa, you veritable black hole." She gathered up the reports and handed them back to the mustevals before wandering off through the camp, trying to catch sight of where the lupinals had set up.
She saw the flash of furred muzzles between tents, and soon dodged her way past stakes and ropes, catching sight of a pair of yellow eyes. "Chaksa," she said in greeting, wondering belatedly if Dahras had informed her of her slight episode the day before.
The matron of the pack looked up. "Ah Torio! I am so glad to see you. Come." She gestured and led them towards the back of the encampment. "Our armorers require your measurements for your armor. Don't worry, it will be so light it'll be like you're wearing your regular clothes."
An older lupinal gestured to Torio to raise her arms. "Rather glad that you're smaller and not bigger than the armor. Easier to cut away pieces of leather than it is to tack it on. Got this from a half-elf a few tents over." He lifted a set of simple leather armor, glossy with purple and gold runes and tucked it around her body, tightening straps and showing her how to manage. "Pull this one first...then clip this here...you want this tighter..." until Torio was wearing a slightly oversized outfit. The lupinal tapped his teeth absentmindedly. "I can make some adjustments for you, make it fit better. But...what do you think? It'll protect you from elemental damage."
It felt awkward and cumbersome; she could feel the boiled leather constricting her flesh, even though it fell too long in some places and bunched uncomfortably in others. But, the image of her standing on a battlefield wearing only trews and a tunic..."It's acceptable," she said, twisting and bending slightly to get the feel of it. "I'm no expert on armor; I'll have to bow to your better...much better...judgement on this." She looked down at herself, momentarily awed; where were the elaborate gowns, the heeled slippers, the delicate jewelry now?
Surprisingly, she found herself wondering what Lorne would think, of all people. The brutish bastard was dead and gone, but she was strangely curious to hear what he would have had to say about Garius' Luskan courtesan, and avoider of all things related to senseless violence, striding around bedecked in magic armor.
"It will suit me fine," she said quietly.
Chaksa nodded approvingly. "Once we have fitted it more appropriately for you, you should learn to wear it well, practice walking and moving with it so that it does not hinder you on the battlefield. Though..." she added thoughtfully, "You will certainly not be on the frontlines. In fact, we all pray you don't actually have to do any fighting and will be organizing troop movement and tactics. And tending to the wounded. The minute you must wade into battle, human, will indicate desperate times for us indeed." She gave a warm laugh, her snout wrinkling up.
The lupinal armorer helped Torio out of her armor before pointing to a long series of golden tents. "The leonals have the best weapons though many will likely be too large for you. The musteval weapons may be better suited for you; I am not sure how you fight, Torio. I certainly hope it's not barehanded like the equinals!"
Torio snorted. "Barehanded?" She chuckled, holding her small hand up for inspection. "Ah, my friend...you mean you wouldn't run in terror when faced with these on the battlefield?" She stepped out of the last bit of armor, rubbing her ribs slightly where the leather had bunched against her skin. "I and proficient enough with a small blade, I suppose. And functional with a staff." She shrugged a little helplessly. "Some others I know how to hold properly, but I've no experience in them." She couldn't help but smirking towards Chaksa. "So I deeply appreciate keeping me away from the heat of the battle."
Torio thanked the lupinal armorer, and moved towards the tent flap. "I'll try the mustevals; but I will let any equinal I know, sir armorer, of your admiration for their battle tactics." She smiled at him slightly, her voice dry. "How long will it take to adjust the armor? Should I come back this evening?"
The armorer looked up from studying the armor. "Definitely come back this evening. You should wear the armor to the War Council that's being planned tonight. It would be most appropriate, I think. A chance to show off some lupinal craftmanship as well!"
Chaksa began guiding Torio towards the musteval weaponsmith, saying with a motherly caution, "You...seem to be holding well, considering. I am very sorry, Torio, to hear the news. But you have the knowledge that he is alive. My own mate was killed many years ago; I have not found his soul to be reunited with it yet."
Torio glanced at the lupinal from the corner of her eye as they walked, her face hardening slightly. "The place that he's in...that Sand's in...I know it very well. It's a city where anything; money, merchandise, people, sex, love, hate, magic, life...death...all of it can be bartered for and traded at the drop of a hat." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "And the source of the news has been known to twist truths around until they're indistinguishable from lies." They passed a small group of equinals that stared at them as they walked by.
Her heart sat heavily in her chest as she fell silent for a moment. But the seer had said that Sand embraces his new mistress...the sickening, hot, furious feeling filled her once again, and she shook her head, asking gently, "Your mate died here, then? Where would his soul go, if you could be reunited with him?"
They stood now before a row of tiny, white tents. A small pinkish white musteval ran up to them, bounding across the small patch of grass. Her pink eyes glittered in the sunlight as her nose twitched, the whiskers moving rapidly in the air. "Outsider! Lady Chaksa! Welcome to musteval weapons area! Look freely!"
Chaksa picked up an elegantly curved kukri, testing the weight and balance in her hand before replying. "My mate was killed in a battle in the Beastlands, against demons. I fear his soul wanders those lands, lost." She looked sad for a moment and then brightened up, looking at Torio. "Well if this source twists truths, perhaps then Sand has not taken a new lover. Perhaps its like...poetry, where one word can mean another? Seers are never known to speak frankly either."
Torio touched the hilt of a wicked looking shortsword; the metal was so highly polished she could see her own reflection, her gray, hollowed, burning eyes staring back at her along a sharpened steel edge. "Perhaps it is," she acquiesced, thinking of the elven poetry she had poured over. A'melamin...
It hurt to think of Sand reciting poetry even for a moment, and she cleared her tightening throat, determined not to show weakness...it was hard enough when one was short, fleshy, armorless and without snapping jaws, tearing teeth, sharp claws or glorious wings. Not only am I soft and human, but now I'm maudlin as well...
"Perhaps your mate is trying to find his way back?" she suggested quietly, picking up the sword and examining the edge in the sunlight. "With all these portals opening, who knows, Chaksa." She watched the lupinal covertly for a moment. Torio had no illusions about her ability (or lack thereof) to comfort others, but she felt a strange, tugging kinship with this utterly alien creature.
She smiled wryly. "I've been told stories about a prismatic dragon on my world, that allows lovers to find each other in the afterlife, never knowing separation." She chuckled lightly. "More likely a fable than not, but if you've ever a mind to, you could find her, and ask." Torio sighed. "Perhaps I'll even go with you."
The lupinal smiled down at the human, who was struggling so hard to be supportive. "I can only trust that where ever he is and whatever he is doing, he is doing a greater good and the gods will one day lead us together again. They must have a reason for this separation." She put the kukri back down. "Your story of the dragon is very beautiful. If it ever comes to that...Torio...I will journey with you. For now, let us hold hope in our hearts." She picked up a thin rapier and jabbed it into the air, the blade making a sharp wooshing noise. She turned to the musteval, "Your weapons here are superb. My compliments."
Torio smiled slightly in amusement as she caught the musteval's whiskers twitching pleased at Chaksa's comment, her own fingers dancing lightly over numerous blades set out for display. She absently listened to the musteval and Chaksa speak quietly over a few weapons, making her way around the displays. Beautiful story, yes...but it wasn't her story. It belonged to a few sailors on a ship that was probably lying on the bottom of the Sea of Swords by now.
She lifted the hilt of one elongated dagger; the blade ran almost twelve inches long, and it curved in a wavy pattern; the edges were immaculately sharp, and for a moment she stared in awe. "How is that even possible?" She asked.
The musteval was in front of her almost instantly. "They sharpen the steel in layers," she said, her pink eyes gleaming at her amiably. "It's called a kris. The waves in the blade are called luks; they maximize the size of the wounds caused by such a small weapon, while still maintaining the balance and weight." The musteval winked. "For those of us who don't have great hulking muscles to throw around."
Torio's eyes followed the sinuous curves of the blade. The metal gleamed and rippled like water, and unlike the other weapons, her reflection was nowhere to be seen. She looked up at Chaksa, her fingers touching the hilt lightly. "I think I found what I needed."
The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of activity. Dahras had insisted upon training with Torio in how to wield her weapons; Brandobras would regularly bring her updates on what the musteval scouts were reporting. As the afternoon wore on, suddenly the sunlight was blocked out by large shadows. The entire encampment looked up - Duke Windheir and the avoral army were here. By dinner, the marching cervidal footsoldiers had swelled their ranks; Lord Rhanok nearly immediately went into the large central tents with the other companions.
Nearly 300 creatures, large and small, gathered in the defence of Elysium.