Disclaimer: You know the drill, baes.
Chapter 25: A Herald of Looming Chaos
When I finally come to, I am lying spread-eagled on the floor. Tryndemiel is slumped on top of me, dazed eyes staring at my face with confusion. We extricate ourselves from each other and stand up – highly aware that Lord Vrael is watching us with veiled amusement. I dust my coat and try to look dignified, noting that he already closed the box containing Behlaren's Eldunari and he is now in the process of returning it to its hiding place.
"That was… a very interesting experience," Tryndemiel notes, raising his eyebrows.
I snort. "Interesting? Hah."
A ghost of a smile passes across Lord Vrael's fair features. "Now, I am sure that your wisdoms are eager to meet you. Sarminos will be waiting for you outside to introduce and orient you to your new responsibilities."
Sarminos turns out to be a male human, diminuitive and unimposing if it weren't for the fact that he looks every bit like a half-elf like us already. He is dressed in the blue and gold of the wisdoms, his long brown hair kept away from his gray eyes with a simple strip of deep blue cloth. "First Elder, Master Lorekeeper, Seeker," he says in greeting as we head out of the Hall of Records and into the Hall of Memory. "I am Sarminos, Rider of Beran, eldest among the wisdoms currently in attendance."
"Well met, Wisdom Sarminos. I am Ash, Rider of Brand, and this is my husband and Seeker, Tryndemiel." I find it hard to read this soft-spoken man, though I suppose he is trustworthy enough to be given such an important task by Lord Vrael.
Once the First Elder excuses himself, Sarminos shows us the different books containing records of the lifes and times of Riders both old and new – and even shows me my own tome. The book – bound in leather dyed a deep blue – is barely filled yet, though it does mention part of my studies and my apparent achievements in battle. There is also a small note of my wedding to Tryndemiel – which would apparently be completed at a later time, once detail of the occasion have been finalized by the wisdoms.
"We would be honored to hear the story from your own lips soon, Ash-elda," Sarminos says with a wry smile.
I exchange glances with Tryndemiel. He merely inclines his head, letting me make the decision. I turn back to the wisdom. "We shall see if the circumstances permit."
That seems enough for our guide. He shows us the door to a sealed room where news and new records will be sent to me from all over Alagaesia, informing me that I will be receiving a ring from Lord Vrael which will grant me – and only me – access to that part of the Halls. Lastly we are introduced to the handful of other wisdoms in attendance – thirty in all – and try our best to remember their names. I make a mental note of the fact that most of them are humans.
We promise to return early after breakfast tomorrow as there will be an appointment with a seamstress who will be measuring us for our robes. By the time we retire to our room, I am barely able to stand on my own feet.
We only manage to digest the day's events by the time we are safe in each other's arms, beneath the warm blankets of our bed.
"I never knew that half-elves have some trouble with conceiveing," he muses, his breath warm against my hair. "I merely thought that we did not have any children because we were being… careful."
"I assumed as much too," I admit sadly, tightening my hold on him. "I'm afraid of using the concoction our siblings have provided us with, but I'm afraid that it might truly be the only way for us to start a family." I sigh, breathing in his minty scent. "Then again, there are so few of our kind that I would consider having such knowledge of our – our fertility issues – a miracle."
"You are the first half-elven Rider, Ash. Do you think it would make a difference?" The longing in his voice is so real, so thick, that it is almost tangible. It hurts me too. It does.
I'm afraid not, I tell him, closing my eyes. I'm sorry.
Don't be, he responds in kind. Don't you ever think that any of this is your fault.
Life as Master Lorekeeper slowly becomes routine to me. I review news from wisdoms throughout the land, sort those which would be revealed to the rest of the Hall and those that will be sent to the Vaults. Tryndemiel assists me with news that he receives from the Tower's civilian eyes-and-ears.
We receive word from Jotnar of Tear giving birth to a son in mid-fall, whom they have named Caillen. My new tasks, unfortunately, means that we will have to postpone our visit to Du Weldenvarden – unless the Lord and Lady of House Thranduin deign to pay us a visit.
Five springs pass and still we are childless. I know of Tryndemiel's frustration – I feel it in my heart day by day too – but we still have an unspoken consent of not turning to the potion until we are truly desperate.
I indulge myself during my free time by delving further into my mother's history, trying to get to know her better as a way of trying to feel close to her even from beyond her grave. I am a little upset that only a few words have been hastily scribbled about her murder, but then again many secrets are hidden even to the Hall of Memory. Late that night, Tryndemiel and I return to my office – the Hall of Records – and access the Vault.
We are not disappointed. I learn more about the investigations regarding his death – and the reason why an Elder was dismissed from his position shortly after that event. It seems like we were not only involved in a two-way rebellion – we were also involved in a plot to quietly have some high-ranking Riders killed – including Barthfer and my father himself. It seems like it was bungled terribly, though I am painfully aware that Barthfer would still be alive had it not been for my lack of experience during that time.
Immense sorrow and regret fills me, and I could only sit and stare at the tome that contains details of the investigations surrounding that fiasco. I was technically unconscious and recuperating during its timeframe, and no one thought I was important enough to be well-informed. I am learning all of this only now.
Tryndemiel stands beside me, his presence warm and comforting. He is breathing heavily – an attempt to suppress dark emotions from overwhelming him – and he takes my hand a little too roughly. "We had no idea of this either," he murmurs in a ragged voice. "The scholars all talked and talked and talked – unfortunately we had no proof that any of our speculations ever held true."
My dreams this night are filled of nightmares – nightmares of that day that I first experienced true battle.
I awaken to a stormy morning. Everything that we do is punctuated by thunder and lightning while the torrential dowpour preventing smaller dragons from flying off to hunt. I am once again wearing Tryndemiel's cloak over my blue and gold robes. I insist that he keeps it as I have my own and yet he refuses, saying that it fits me better. He contents himself with wearing the blue and gold cloak that matches his robes.
The atmosphere in the Tower is hushed. The world outside is awash with vivid colors brought about by the rain and yet the weather bringsa somber mood to everyone. I check the letters left on my desk first of all when I arrive in my office, glad that the damp smell outside has not yet seeped into my Hall of Records. Most of them are news that I shall have to sift through later, but one of them makes my blood run cold.
It did not have the seal that most letters from wisdoms have, but I am well-aware that the sender is among the newest to join their ranks. It only contained only five words – five words that brought shivers down my spine in the most unpleasant way. I will see you soon. I wouldn't mind if it came from someone close to me – but it is from Kifain, whom I have not seen since I finished my studies in Ilirea. Even then he was merely a sullen part of the periphery.
Tryndemiel peers at the letter over my shoulder. I could sense his rage and annoyance even though I merely keep a minimal connection between our minds. "What does he want from us now?" he asks quietly. "Do you want me to beat some sense into him?"
I press my lips together into a grim smile. "I would appreciate that, but no. He will kill you if he realizes that we are married."
His honey eyes darken as he looks away. Sometimes I wish I were a Rider too, he muses.
"You could toothless and crippled and I would not care," I growl. "But I want you to be safe. I don't want him to do anything to you that we will all regret. Please."
He looks away – sadness and fear overwhelming his heart. "If he does anything to harm you, I will slit his throat."
"And I would expect nothing less from you," I tell him.
We hear a knock on the door. Tryndemiel shoots me a worried glance and opens it. Before us is one of the younger elf wisdoms, Formora. I think her mate is a warrior named Kialandi. She bows to me and smiles beatifically. "Master Lorekeeper, Wisdom Kifain has arrived from Belatona and seeks your audience."
Kifain strides into the room, his pale hair longer and now tied back by a simple red ribbon. His dark eyes stare at me hungrily as he shoves Formora aside and I supress the urge to shudder. I keep my back straight in an attempt to make sure that my appearance is dignified. I dismiss Formora, who shoots the newcomer a dirty look as she flounces out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
"Wisdom Kifain, I believe that there are urgent matters that we must attend to?" I ask, assuming the role of Master Lorekeeper. After five years of facing and leading people who are far older than me, he is no challenge at all. "I am Master Lorekeeper now. I know we are childhood acquaintances but if this is not something critical then perhaps we could discuss it once we have finished our tasks for the day – maybe somewhere outside this Hall of Memory. It would reflect poorly of me if I were to use it for personal matters such as this."
An ugly look crosses Kifain's face as his eyes flit between Tryndemiel and I. "Very well, Ash."
"That's Master Lorekeeper Ash to you, wisdom, so long as you are in these halls." Tryndemiel's voice is a low purr – far from his playfully boyish cadence – and it reminds me of the wolfhound he is repeatedly compared to. "Vallahin, would you like me to escort the wisdom out of this room?"
"That won't be necessary," I tell him, anxiety rising due to the way that the situation is quickly escalating. "Wisdom Kifain, we must observe propriety within the Hall of Records and the Hall of Memory. Remember that. Meet me at the Water Gardens outside of the city tonight after dinnertime. No one shall overhear anything we may have to say there."
Kifain bows low – I am sure he is mocking me – and tilts his head. "As you wish, Master Lorekeeper, Seeker." He turns his back on us, his lurid pink cloak swishing behind him as he leaves the room.
A short update. Sorry. October has been busier than expected and my schedule is a tight mess right now. I can't even go on a date with all the shit-ton of work and random appointments I'm facing! Urgh.
No worries, we've legitimately met Ash and Tryn's twins in Bloodwar. Heehee. I'm sure they deserve an adorable reunion in the future.
The memory loss post-Fall does have something to do with the events of last chapter. Partly.
I hope Kifain's appearance doesn't disappoint! There will be a follow-up to this next chapter!
The next chapter might be a little disturbing, so I'm apologizing in advance.
PS: Do I have Filipino readers here? Have any of you watched General Moon - er, Heneral Luna? It's been more than a month and I still haven't gotten over it. Especially those absolute baes that are Rusca, Paco, Joven, and Gregorgeous, er, Goyong. Oh, and Mr. Mabini is an absolute puppy.
Read and review, as always!