Disclaimer: The world of Velgarth and the concepts and ideas relating to it such as Heralds, Companions and the kingdom of Valdemar are the property of the author Mercedes Lackey.
Well… this is a bit of the old past-life building for one of my alters— Companion Kykiri over at In Companion's Field, in fact… and, as for Myet… he just happens to be the past life of a certain recently Chosen called Syvin who is one hundred percent the lovely Firefox's alter. She gave me permission to write this bit of melancholic one-shot using her alters so no wagging fingers at me for stealing things…
How Did it…How did it come to this?
That thought— that phrase— echoes around my mind all the time, so much so that it has become a part of me.
A part of me…
A thing, a feeling— something I can hold to myself to keep away the darkness. Sometimes I wish I didn't—didn't feel anymore, didn't anything anymore. But I know that's wrong, that the nothingness and blackness that pull at my tattered soul are the source of those vague yearnings.
The dull and overcast grey sky suits the ache that twines it's bitter tendrils throughout me and my shadowed blue eyes raise from blank examination of the grass to gaze at the sky. Despite the heavy clouds, there is a lightening that indicates where the hidden sun is keeping court— giving a wash of flickering shades that stretch from horizon to horizon and encompass every variation between white and black possible.
He would have said it was beautiful—he always saw the beauty in things, his inner artist delighting in everything around him as he moved through life with infinite grace.
How…
A question and a mantra.
…did it come to this?
A slight breeze shivers around me, rustling the tree branches of the copse just behind be and turning the grass before me into a rippling sea of green. I stay in the Field most of the time now, only venturing into the Stables in the harshest of weather. The others think I'm slightly odd… if I'm honest, I know that they think me more than slightly odd.
I don't blame them.
I… by all rights I shouldn't be here— sometimes I wish I wasn't still here, that I had died four years ago.
Four years.
Four years ago today.
He was—is— called Daveki and he was my Chosen.
Half my soul and all of my heart as far removed from this mundane reality as sure as the stars light up the sky.
The light wind stirs the grass around me fitfully and I shake my head slowly, trying to subdue the flat emptiness inside me, before heading towards the Stables. One slow step at a time— each silver hoof placed with exacting precision as I continue the illusion of the past four years, continue pretending that single-minded concentration keeps the wolves of grief away more than a hair's breadth from tearing me apart.
How did it…?
The wind sows quietly past me, carrying with it the sharp scent of winter and rain.
Despite my slow, measured pace the fence that borders the edge of the Field nearest to the wood and stone sprawl of the Palace and the three Collegia appears in front of my nose within short order and I fix one of the weather-bleached wooden spars with dull blue eyes and subject it to the same fierce concentration to which I devoted walking over here in the first place.
The wood is grey and faded and smooth. You can still see the faint marks on it where the person who built it sawed and planed it to shape, although the slight angles that make up the curve of the whole have been worn down by the elements and a countless hoard of feet and hands belonging to the excited and the hopeful.
A sigh, low and silent, and I turn slowly to the left, heading for the gap in the fence that lies opposite the simple flat bridge that spans the river and leads into the yard in front of the Stables. A steady chiming fills my ears as I cross the yard— Companion hooves sound like bells.
The kind of bell in question depends on your perspective.
Entering the warm wooden building my hooves are muffled by the thick layer of straw and wood shavings laid down against the encroaching cold of the year's end and I stop just inside the doorway and blink slowly.
Keep focused, concentrate on one thing at a time.
My tail twitches once as I assess my surroundings and move deliberately towards a likely looking bucket hung against one of the wooden interior walls. It is half-full of grains and I mechanically start to eat.
One mouthful at a time, one thought at a time.
Always one… always alone…
…did it come…?
Denial and acceptance.
I ignore the other occupants of the open area and, by and large, they ignore the neglected and unbalanced presence of me. A pair of mares, standing near to one of the squat iron stoves that provide heating to the Stables trade significant looks with each other and cast covert glances at me, before studiously pretending that they weren't. The final Companion in the warm glow created by the fire in the stoves and the glassed in lamps raises his head from a hayrack and I can sense that his sapphire eyes are appraising me.
:Thaddie?: The Mindvoice is deep and resonant and echoes in a breathy fashion, right on the edge of hearing.
:Dadero.: I acknowledge the Groveborn with my own flat Mindvoice, rusty from disuse and keep my mind resolutely focused on the tasteless and dry contents of the bucket under my nose. I know that, if I were to look up at him, Dadero's eyes would be filled with compassion, and a hint of understanding, after all— he's lost Chosen too.
It's not the same; it never could be the same.
I don't want compassion and understanding, not now… not today. He senses this, I think, and sighs softly before leaving the Stables and heading outside. I'm glad, all the things that he could say were said four years ago. I don't remember most of it— I was in too much pain, spiralling out of control— but one thing stayed with me.
One thing…
…everything happens for a reason Thaddie…
Cold comfort then, and cold comfort now, but one of the few paltry defensives I have against the wolves that skirt the edge of my mind and hunt through my dreams.
I manage one last, dry mouthful and grit my teeth together as a brief burst of weak sunlight flares a square across the floor. Clamping down, and concentrating on walking, I turn and ghost my way back out to the yard, the unseen attention of the young mares following me cautiously. The sun has lost its battle with the clouds, and the last rays of the brief breakthrough are quickly strangled by the random drifting of the clouds, which are also beginning to darken.
As I reach the Field the first drops of cold water hit the ground, announcing the start of an icy mist of rain. I ignore it and fix darkened blue eyes on my distant goal, concentration set on getting from here to there and nothing else.
Not many people— either the four or two-legged variety— come here unless called, so I have the silent area before the temple all to myself. Locking my legs and halting I gaze up at the simple white tower and the shadowed shape of the terrible, terrible Bell and I concentrate on remembering.
…this?
Four years ago, a Companion and her Chosen pranced happily beneath the late autumn sun, kicking dust up from the road as they easily outdistanced their mentors, laugher colouring the air and making both minds fizz.
Daveki had just earned his Whites and neither of us could be happier.
Prancing became a canter, which turned into a lope as we both revelled at the speed and the feel of the sharp wind cutting through us— I don't know how long it was before we smelled the smoke. I know I scented it before him, and I needed know urging to track it. He was a Herald and I was a Companion, after all.
We burst, alone, onto a scene of devastation. The wind had been flattening the smoke whilst feeding the flames and the farm house we stumbled to a halt in front of was well ablaze, a crowd of ash-streaked and shocked people staring numbly at it, silent tears making pale tracks down their cheeks and the hideous crackling sound of the fire underscored by periodic thudding sounds from the inferno before us.
That should have been it. I wish that was it.
I wish that faint, terror-filled wail hadn't pierced the smoke and called an answering moan from the people—
He was off my back and running flat out towards the building before I even realised it. Half of my horror-stricken stare was fixed on the white-clad figure darting through the flame-wreathed doorway, and half was dragged to the upstairs window—
—to the glimpse of a face and a hand—
Ominous creaking and groaning began as charred wood and fire-cracked stone started to lose it's battle with gravity.
I was halfway into a stumbling run when a blast of hot air thundered past me, accompanied by a roar straight from hell as sparks and smoke blew horizontally past me—
No—
Flames leapt skywards as exquisite pain raced through my body, followed fast by the phantom caress of loving flames.
No!
The agony spider-webbed it's way across my heart and soul and I Felt him reach for me—
—Felt the silent and weeping goodbye—
:Daveki!:
I ran, trying to get away from it, away from it all—
There was nothing but darkness and—
—and confusion and—
—baying of spirit-wolves for the longest time until—
Reality came dripping back—
—harsh and edged with bitter sadness—
—carried on the back of a sombre and resonant Mindvoice—
:…I know it doesn't feel like it, but everything happens for a reason Thaddie…:
How did it come to this, Daveki? Why did that happen? We had hardly any time at all…
Neither the tower nor the Bell answers my silent questions and I shudder silently, dislodging some of the water that is soaking into me. The drizzle of before has turned into proper rain and I hadn't even noticed in my grief, my mourning…
My remembering…
One. Always one and always alone—
Except that I'm not.
There's another figure standing in front of the temple, arms wrapped tightly around his thin frame as he stares silently up at the obscuring shadow that hides the Bell. Somehow, I know that the droplets running down his face aren't just the rain and—
I know more— he's alone too, fighting the same spirit-wolves made of shadow, focusing on one thing at a time and fighting against the flat and empty depths of the blackness.
His name is Myet.
The name drifts into my head and I stare blankly at his hunched over shoulders in shock. They are shaking.
I know him and—
I want him, like nothing I've never wanted before in my life. Two instead of one; someone to mourn with and to fight the shadows of dreams and wolves of imagining with… and… to heal with?
Yes.
I step towards him hesitantly, his fierce introspection and the obscuring rains keeping him from noticing me until I'm beside him. And then; he has noticed, and I find myself locking glazed blue eyes with eyes of deep green and I know in my heart and in my soul that he feels what I feel, in more ways than can be described.
The understanding floods through his own eyes and he reaches for me as I reach for him.
:Not to forget, never to forget.: I say softly, still staring at him, oblivious to the sleeting rain around us.
:Never to forget—: he echoes softly, :to remember.:
:To remember, Chosen.: I whisper.
Hesitant arms enfold my neck and we turn to stare back up at the temple and the Bell as memories and feelings begin to flit between us.
Two, not one, and never alone.
How did it come to this?
How?
Because everything happens for a reason.
~~~~~
Incidentally, this is only really half of the story— the companion piece to this will be called …Come to This? And is going to be Myet's PoV
Yup… flogging a dead horse, I know, I know… but I don't care ~huggles her angsty idea in a possessive fashion~
Just a note- I've signed up for NaNoWriMo 2003, so I probably won't be round much during November, as I'll mostly be attempting to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days! Woo! If you really need to get into contact with me, then either poke me via email, or yell at me via my LiveJournal (relevant hyperlinks and so on are on my profile page).