In Dreams
By Pyreite
Chapter 1: Eyes like Emeralds
Avallac'h found her inside his laboratory, staring at the tapestry on a wall. A woman of unknown origin that didn't have the look of an Aen Seidhe or an Aen Elle. She had an Aen Seidhe's height, but she was far shorter than the stoutest of the Aen Elle. He thought she might be human, even someone familiar until he saw her in profile. Her features were sharp and angular like the edge of a blade.
Her eyes were over-large beneath thick brows. Her nose was long and wide. Her cheekbones high, her chin pointed and her mouth lush and tempting. He thought her pretty until she turned around. He was reassured by her pointed ears, though he'd never seen an elf so dark.
She reminded him of the Ofieri merchants that traded spices from their homeland.
Her bronzed skin the colour of fertile earth after rain. The contrast was lovely against the silver of her hair that fell down her back in a thick braid. It was her eyes that unnerved him most. He was rooted on the spot when she faced him sly as a fox. Irises the green of emeralds peered back at him beneath pale lashes. He took a step backward, breath catching in his throat.
She resembled a woodland sprite rather than Lara Dorren, but they had the same eyes.
Zireael's eyes.
He'd recognise that shade of green anywhere.
"Who are you?"
She frowned, looking him up and down. She ignored his question, turning on her heel. She walked away silent as a spectre, vanishing from sight. He peered left than right, trying to find her. He was half-convinced she was a ghost until he spied a distortion in the air. It flickered in the candlelight, a faint water-like ripple that was out of place.
He swiped at it, fingers catching on something solid.
He cried out in pain when his arm was twisted then pinned against his back. He was shoved forward and released with an immediacy that astonished him. He stumbled into a bookcase, though he spun on the balls of his feet. Dodging Eredin at court had taught him to have eyes in the back of his head. He preferred to face danger head on than to run from it.
His assailant reappeared in a haze of black smoke, glaring at him in remonstration.
"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to touch what isn't yours? Try it again and I'll do more than twist your arm. I'll break it".
He rubbed his wrist, grimacing. She was stronger than she looked. "You're an intruder in my home. Likely a thief though I can't fathom how you got in. If anyone should be offended than it is I not you".
"That's fair, though you've got nothing worth stealing".
He frowned uncertain if she were telling the truth. He glanced at the tapestry on the far wall, outlining the generations of Lara Dorren's family tree. There the names of her descendants were stitched in silk thread. A wealth of information on the Elder Blood, yet she'd given it but a passing glance. He wasn't sure if her interest had been feigned or genuine.
"You sound certain of that".
"I looked around", she replied with a sincerity that surprised him. "The most interesting thing you have is a wheel of cheese. The wine is terrible, though the bread wasn't too stale. I helped myself, though the meal was far from filling. You eat like a rabbit".
Avallac'h didn't like her tone (or her audacity). "An intruder and a thief. You're digging yourself in deeper with every word. You've made a terrible first impression. But if you don't intend to rob and kill me than why are you here?"
"I needed a place to hide".
He didn't believe her, sensing that something was off. "You're running from someone".
"Let's say that I'd prefer not to be found".
He knew better than to ask why. She could refuse to answer or lie. He learned what he could from her garb, taking note of her pragmatism. This was no sorceress in a silk gown with a sheer décolletage. Her neck, wrists and fingers dripping with jewels in gold or platinum bands.
This woman was armoured like a soldier, all hard lines and symmetry.
She wore a cuirass that reminded him of a leather corset without the lace and stiff boning. It covered her from hip to clavicle, the fit snug but comfortable. She had gauntlets upon her hands, vambraces on her wrists and couters at her elbows. She bore the weight of the pauldrons on her shoulders without complaint. The greaves upon her shins were followed by poleyns on her knees.
Although he was certain portions of her armour were fashioned from steel. The metal shone green-gold, shifting from yellow to verdant at the slightest motion. It seemed almost to glow in the candlelight, as if lit by some ethereal inner-fire. He'd never seen such a thing fashioned by the hands of men or elves. Not even in the forges of the greatest smiths of the Aen Elle.
A disappointment that must've shown upon his face.
She gave him a dirty look, her lip curling in distaste. She didn't greet him or give her name. She appraised him as a farmer might a bull at a market, nose wrinkling as if she found him inadequate. A hasty snort, a shake of her head and she took a seat on his table. She arched an eyebrow expecting him to protest, though it would be of little concern to her if he did.
"Who are you?" he reiterated, to which she replied with a nonchalant shrug.
She sank back onto the tabletop, arms folding across her chest. Her stance was relaxed as one steel-shod boot slid across the other. She made herself comfortable as if she were waiting for someone. Avallac'h had little idea of whom that might be. She seemed unconcerned by his appearance or proximity, so it wasn't him that she was worried about.
He was ready to make demands, his patience wearing thin.
But when he opened his mouth, an eerie howling filled the air. It was long, loud and desperate like the wailing of a grieving widow. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He tensed like a coiled spring, flattening himself against the bookshelf. He half-expected a pack of wolves or even a rabid werewolf to bound in the front door.
If an intruder had gotten in than all manner of beasts could too.
"What is that?"
His unexpected guest answered this time around. "Not what", she corrected. "Whom. He's looking for me. Don't stick your head out that door, unless you want to lose it and most of your body".
"I'd rather not".
"You're smarter than you look. I'm surprised considering how easy it was to sneak in here. You're tidy for a bachelor. Although that pair of silk knickers I found in the bedroom made me wonder if you like wearing women's things. They're not yours perchance?"
He reddened. "You rifled through my belongings".
She snorted as if he'd said something amusing. "Of course I did. It's not every night that I happen upon another elf. Let alone someone squirrelling himself away in an underground laboratory near the coast. Your dreams are remarkably detailed for a hermit".
She picked up the fluted stem of a small brass candelabra. It held the melted stump of a wax candle that'd burned down to the wick. A perfect source of light for a few hours of late night reading. He'd neglected to replace it and others on the tabletop beside the mountain of books and paperwork. Researching Lara Dorren's genealogy had kept him busy for the last two hundred years.
"This for example is crisp as if it were carved from marble. Even the wax drippings look real". She lifted the candelabra to her nose, sniffing it like a hound. "It even smells like wax with a side of soot. I can almost taste the smoke as if it were lit".
"Dreams", repeated Avallac'h, his blue eyes narrowing. "You would have me believe that this intrusion into my domain is but a figment of my imagination? My laboratory is warded within and without. You could not have entered it without setting off the aforementioned wards". He paused, thinking back on what he'd said.
"Oh".
She smirked with a smugness that infuriated him. "You're rather slow-witted for someone book-learned. How else did you think we could understand each other? I'm not one of your folk nor do I know your language. Thus you're asleep rather than awake, otherwise communicating would be much more difficult".
"I noticed!" he snapped, disliking her candour. "You're not Aen Seidhe or Aen Elle. You're too skinny for a start. I had thought you were a wight risen from an elven graveyard. But there's a noticeable lack of gauntness in your face".
"Along with what?" she taunted. "Flaking mummified skin, a ribcage that sticks out and a skull with two sunken holes for eyes. I'm a living woman not one of the undead eager to rip apart some poor unfortunate soul. If you can't tell the difference than you've spent too many hours squinting by candlelight. It's made you half-blind".
Avallac'h's left eye twitched. He didn't like her attitude or her tendency to talk back. Women of the Aen Elle were polite in distinguished company. This elven lass had the mouth and mind of a shrew. It grated at him that she didn't care that he was of the Aen Saevherne.
A role and title that'd gained him respect and renown among his own people.
It took much of his self-control not to hiss at her like an irritable tomcat.
"If this is a dream as you claim", he said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Then you must be an oneiromancer".
She arched a silver brow. "Is that what your folk call it? Such a odd name for an old skill". She placed the candelabra back on the table with a dull thunk. "You didn't think any of this was real did you?"
She gestured to the room's high vaulted ceilings and drab brick walls. The mortar had gone black after centuries of exposure to smoke and candle-flame. There were a few pieces of furniture and a handful of soft furnishings. Tables, chairs, shelves, and trunks offered places to sit and store things. The rugs on the floor and tapestries on the walls softened the laboratory's severe lines.
Avallac'h refused to acknowledge her accusation. He knew that she was right, though he was loathe to admit it. She was astute enough to rub his face in it. A fact that annoyed him. If she had known their meeting was part of a dream than why hadn't he?
He gazed about his laboratory, trying to find something out of place. Yet every shelf, book, table, chair, candle, and sheaf of paper was as he'd left it. There was nothing odd that he could see from the ceiling, to the walls, and the rugs upon the floor. If this was a dream than it was an accurate reflection of his memories. So accurate that even the tapestry of Lara Dorren's bloodline had been hung a little crooked.
An affront to his innate perfectionism that he'd never bothered to correct.
"You needn't be too hard on yourself", stated his guest with that grating honesty. "You're seeing what I've drawn from your most recent memories. That's why everything in here looks crisper than a loaf of baked bread straight from the oven. There aren't any imperfections, because you've been asleep for less than an hour".
"How can you know that?" demanded Avallac'h.
She smiled, snapping her fingers.
The room blurred like the faded text in a waterlogged scroll. The details were smudged then fuzzy and indistinct. He saw bright amber flames, the grey of the laboratory walls and the shadows above them. Then everything sharpened into focus. He recognised the lines of his shelves, tables, and chairs.
He also recognised himself, slumped on the table she sat on.
His head was pillowed on his forearms, his eyes closed in slumber. A line of drool glistened at the corner of his mouth. Avallac'h blushed when she leered at his bare chest. The collar of his nightshirt had fallen open to reveal his tattooed clavicle. He thought it would impress until she told him exactly what she thought.
"Maker's arse. Your vallaslin is ugly. Was the one who designed it near-sighted and fumble-fingered? I've never seen such crooked lines or shakier curves. Your clan's blood-writer is absolute shit at their craft".
Avallac'h took umbrage, his face purpling. He'd had enough of her rudeness. "Those markings are protective wards not tattoos! Wards that I designed and cast onto my own skin! How dare you insult my spellwork!"
She shrugged her shoulders, unfazed that she'd caused offence. "It's still ugly. Couldn't you have given more thought to the aesthetics? Once you strip out of your clothes, no one is going to find those marks attractive. That you're thin as a twig without an ounce of muscle on you doesn't help either".
"I beg your pardon!"
She looked him up and down again, shaking her head as if she'd found him lacking. "Your face is a masterpiece chiselled out of marble. Your eyes are the intense blue of aquamarines plucked from the heart of a mountain. It's a pity you're skinnier than a plucked chicken. I like my men pretty, but you've hardly got any meat on your bones".
He blushed, blinking at her like an owl. His eyes so wide she could see the whites of his sclera. He was shocked and insulted by her sincerity. The compliments backhanded and accusatory as if he'd purposefully made himself unattractive. While two out of three wasn't bad, he could tell that she was still unsatisfied.
"You've never lifted a sword or drawn a bow in your life. You're a mage not a warrior. A scholar too if the number of books you own is any sign. You've spent your life sitting on your arse, reading about other people's accomplishments. That's the preference of scholars who think they can write history without being part of it".
Avallac'h's lip curled with indignation. He jabbed a finger at the archway that led into his laboratory. He was done being hospitable. She'd insulted him several times without remorse, a first in several hundred years. He hadn't been this angry since he'd found out the love of his life had bedded a human.
"Out!"
She bowed her head. "As you wish. I've never stayed where I wasn't wanted. He should be gone by now anyhow, so the danger is passed". She pressed two fingers to her lips, blowing him a kiss in farewell.
Then she vanished from sight in a burst of black smoke.
When the haze cleared, she was gone like a wraith in the wind. Avallac'h looked left and right, trying to find that odd distortion in the air. He saw something flicker in the candlelight then disappear out the corner of his eye. He turned his head, gasping when he felt the brush of lips upon his cheek. The kiss was chaste and without affection, though he still flushed to the pointed tips of his ears.
He didn't see her leave by the door, nor did he hear the clip of her heels in retreat.
She was there one moment then gone. It was disconcerting enough to rouse him from sleep. He awoke with a start, blinking blearily in the gloom. He glanced about the room, flinching when he spied a flash of light. He squinted until his eyes adjusted, the world bleeding into focus.
He saw the rows of candles on the bench beneath the tapestry of the Hen Ichaer.
"Oh", he groaned, letting his head fall into the palm of his hand. "It was a dream". He paused then, brows furrowing when he spied something strange. There on the table under his arms was a brass candelabra, no larger than his hand. Inside it was a single wax candle melted down to the wick.
Avallac'h reached for it, remembering the woman he'd met.
A silver-haired shrew with eyes like emeralds, a sting for a tongue and a frankness that'd bruised. She'd been lovely to look at until she'd opened her mouth. He was half-convinced that she'd been a venomous asp in disguise. He wrapped his fingers around the candelabra, thinking to examine it up close. He flinched, snatching his hand back.
The brass was hot to the touch.
He glanced about his laboratory with sudden dread. Had he been alone? It was impossible to tell with everything in its proper place. The shelves were full of books, the rugs were on the floor and the walls were covered in tapestries. His refuge was as he'd left it before he'd dozed off into a troubled sleep.
"Oh", he grumbled, shoving aside the open book he'd perused. Its pages were covered in tiny black writing resembling chicken-scratch. "No more reading about obscure elven folklore before bed. I have had enough of wolves, asps and urban legends. I need to get a proper night's rest".
He pushed back his chair, groaning as he got to his feet.
The rug muffled his footfalls, though he never once noticed the statuette he'd acquired. It was small, made of obsidian and carved in the shape of a wolf. It sat upon his table beside the abandoned book, its eyes flashing red then dimming. Avallac'h trudged through his abode, yawning as he retired for the night. His bedroom door opened with a click as he stepped through it.
It closed soon after.
Outside the laboratory, beyond the wards near the beach. A black wolf with eyes like rubies sniffed the ground, its wet nose quivering. It smelt salt, sand and sea as the tide rolled inland. It followed a trail of faint footprints not washed away by the waves. The scent of pine needles, blade-oil and the feminine musk of his beloved were fading.
She'd been here a few hours ago, though he knew not where she'd gone.
