The Herald-Mage Lady Elspeth walked down a narrow palace corridor and
pulled at a loose strand of hair, barely visible against the front of her
lavish white uniform. An annoyed frown tugged her lips as she studied the
long, thick white strand. Not that she minded her increasingly frosty mane
too much. It was, after all, an unavoidable side effect of working with
powerful node energies--and she had needed to work with those energies
constantly.
Only a little over a decade after the magic was first broken, and we've nearly completed an entirely new network of ley-lines and nodes Elspeth realized. Thinking back on the years of hard work the Talyedras and Heralds had devoted to restoring magic to the way it was, she was filled with a sense of awe and pride. She herself had put in countless hours helping to craft "streambeds" for mage energies to pool. There were some very strong ley-lines now available in Valdemar. In fact, it was mostly due to the work of Darkwind and herself that the Haven Heartstone continued to flourish despite continual use. Many more ley-lines, and eventually nodes, would grow in power, but that would take time. Despite everything Darkwind and I have been able to accomplish through magic, time is something we can neither speed up nor slow down she thought with a wry grin.
A sudden flood of sound brought Elspeth out of her reverie. Dropping the white hair she was still holding, she stopped and looked about, trying to determine the source of the ruckus. She wasn't left in wonder long. Elspeth turned a nearby corner just in time to see a set of double doors burst open and a little army tumble out.
Elspeth fumed with exasperation. She watched as the "army" of six little boys and girls debated on their next maneuver. All told, it was an adorable sight, given that many of the would-be soldiers wore their own versions of armor. In the case of one little girl, fat pillows were tied to her front and aft like a brigandine, barely allowing her to move. Elspeth was not amused. She watched silently as the children sorted themselves into a line and marched (or ran, depending on leg-length) past her. No few of those shirts were torn or dirty, and Elspeth cringed at what the rooms would look like. She debated whether she really wanted to go through the doors or not.
:.Ashke?.: came a silky strong voice inside her head. :.I thought I sensed you out there. No don't come in quite yet. Herald Master-Thief and now Mage Arkle, the world's greatest warrior, is about to make his move. Oh my. My son has a most vivid imagination. You should hear this speech. .:
:.YOUR son?.: shot back Elspeth wickedly. :.And who was it that was pregnant for nine months, six of which were absolute misery? Who went through hours of pain and suffering? Who... .:
:.Alright, alright. OUR son .: came the amused reply. :. Oop, hold on, it looks like he's about ready to call final strike on me. .:
:. Final strike... OH NO. .: Elspeth had a sudden urge to hit her dear husband. She knew how this would end, and she could almost hear Gwena snickering in the back of her head. Every time they played this particular game, Arkle insisted that his father "die" in a spectacular manner. Darkwind was an indulgent father. Between scattered pillows, blankets and what-not, the room would look like it had been hit by a REAL final strike-- or at least a severe storm. :.Darkwind... .:
:. No worries, Bright One. I'm just going to cast a minor light illusion this time .: replied Darkwind brightly. Elspeth could almost taste the laughter in his mind.
Some how that didn't comfort her. Sighing, Elspeth reminded herself how very much she loved her husband and son. :. Alright just tell me when I can walk in. Kernos, you know it's not node-energies turning my hair white. It's you and Arkle. .:
Only a little over a decade after the magic was first broken, and we've nearly completed an entirely new network of ley-lines and nodes Elspeth realized. Thinking back on the years of hard work the Talyedras and Heralds had devoted to restoring magic to the way it was, she was filled with a sense of awe and pride. She herself had put in countless hours helping to craft "streambeds" for mage energies to pool. There were some very strong ley-lines now available in Valdemar. In fact, it was mostly due to the work of Darkwind and herself that the Haven Heartstone continued to flourish despite continual use. Many more ley-lines, and eventually nodes, would grow in power, but that would take time. Despite everything Darkwind and I have been able to accomplish through magic, time is something we can neither speed up nor slow down she thought with a wry grin.
A sudden flood of sound brought Elspeth out of her reverie. Dropping the white hair she was still holding, she stopped and looked about, trying to determine the source of the ruckus. She wasn't left in wonder long. Elspeth turned a nearby corner just in time to see a set of double doors burst open and a little army tumble out.
Elspeth fumed with exasperation. She watched as the "army" of six little boys and girls debated on their next maneuver. All told, it was an adorable sight, given that many of the would-be soldiers wore their own versions of armor. In the case of one little girl, fat pillows were tied to her front and aft like a brigandine, barely allowing her to move. Elspeth was not amused. She watched silently as the children sorted themselves into a line and marched (or ran, depending on leg-length) past her. No few of those shirts were torn or dirty, and Elspeth cringed at what the rooms would look like. She debated whether she really wanted to go through the doors or not.
:.Ashke?.: came a silky strong voice inside her head. :.I thought I sensed you out there. No don't come in quite yet. Herald Master-Thief and now Mage Arkle, the world's greatest warrior, is about to make his move. Oh my. My son has a most vivid imagination. You should hear this speech. .:
:.YOUR son?.: shot back Elspeth wickedly. :.And who was it that was pregnant for nine months, six of which were absolute misery? Who went through hours of pain and suffering? Who... .:
:.Alright, alright. OUR son .: came the amused reply. :. Oop, hold on, it looks like he's about ready to call final strike on me. .:
:. Final strike... OH NO. .: Elspeth had a sudden urge to hit her dear husband. She knew how this would end, and she could almost hear Gwena snickering in the back of her head. Every time they played this particular game, Arkle insisted that his father "die" in a spectacular manner. Darkwind was an indulgent father. Between scattered pillows, blankets and what-not, the room would look like it had been hit by a REAL final strike-- or at least a severe storm. :.Darkwind... .:
:. No worries, Bright One. I'm just going to cast a minor light illusion this time .: replied Darkwind brightly. Elspeth could almost taste the laughter in his mind.
Some how that didn't comfort her. Sighing, Elspeth reminded herself how very much she loved her husband and son. :. Alright just tell me when I can walk in. Kernos, you know it's not node-energies turning my hair white. It's you and Arkle. .: