Tale One - The Breach

CHAPTER 05

It wasn't the first time April landed on her head after crossing the boundary between worlds. But it was mildly annoying that after a spectacular dive into the Dreaming, like the one in the Border House that morning, she pulled off a rookie level of awkwardness. That is, she would have felt annoyed, if the rest of the journey hadn't been a hellride for both her and her companion, and if she hadn't been in a state of complete shock.

The portal was hovering a few feet above the ground and sent her and Adrian headfirst into warm, soft sand, where, at first, they both lay where they had been thrown, catching their breaths and waiting for their heartbeats to return to anything close to normalcy. April was trying to suppress trembling with what little energy she had left. Her limbs felt like jelly, she didn't think her legs would hold her weight if she tried to stand up. It was all she could do to roll onto her back, so timidly careful, as if her body would fall apart from this simple exertion.

It wasn't just the physical strain that affected her so, but the mental one as well. She had just faced death and its many faces. The last one in particular had been closer than she'd ever gone to it before. For just one second, when the electricity seized her body, she had become convinced, that the said second would've taken her last breath with it as it passed. She had never been shaken so thoroughly to the core.

A few feet away Adrian dragged himself up onto his knees, pressing the hills of his palms to his head and bending over so that his forehead almost touched the sandcovered ground. He groaned loudly.

"Are you okay?" April asked, valiantly trying to keep her hollow voice steady, turning her head slightly to look at him. Adrian nodded with his eyes shut tight.

"We shouldn't have done that..." he finally croaked, still bent, his rounded back rising and falling with every heavy breath he took.

Too exhausted to contemplate which 'that' he meant among the myriad of things from that day's events they shouldn't have done, She merely sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, waiting for relief to seep into her one bit a breath. She willed the sand, the warm sun, sound of waves and distant bird calls from the jungle to have their magical calming effect on her. She didn't even look around properly to make sure they had the right address, so to speak. It sounded close enough and she wanted a few moments of rest more than anything else at that moment. "It was too risky…" Adrian complained again.

"What exactly?" she asked begrudgingly, wishing he'd just stayed quiet for a couple of minutes.

"Shifting, of course!" Came his incredulous voice and despite all the exhaustion, she pulled her upper body up, giving herself uncertain support with her elbows, and stared at him. "Excuse me?!" She exclaimed, indignant and bewildered that the aforementioned decision would be questioned. He stared back, just as surprised by her reaction. "You think we should not have Shifted?!" April asked, expecting it to turn out to be a misunderstanding. It was.

"By the same Shift, is what I mean!" He groaned and sat down, rubbing his temples, "It was an insane thing to do, and we've done too many overly dangerous things today! I don't even know what got into me…" the last words he muttered more to himself than her.

April thought for a second. "So, you mean…" she started slowly, analyzing the implication of his statement, "Two Shifters travelling by the same Shift is... dangerous?"

"Yes!" he moaned, "Didn't you know that?!"

"Not really, no." She answered plainly, leaving him thoroughly puzzled.

"Are you serious?" He seemed to disbelieve what he was hearing, "Did nobody warn you about it, when they taught you how to Shift?"

April let out a high-pitched laughter that sounded somewhat hysterical, "Taught me?! Nobody taught me to Shift. Nobody taught me anything! I was shoved into it without any explanations, Adrian!" she finally sat up properly and drew her knees to her chest.

He stared for a bit. "Really", he shook his head slowly, "you'd think at least a Draic Kin would know better than that."

"Yeah, you'd think…." she muttered sullenly.

Adrian turned to face the sea and assumed a sitting position, mimicking hers. "So, this is the island of the winged storytellers?" He asked after a few minutes.

"I hope so." She drawled. "That's what I was aiming for, at least."

"Do they have a healer here?"

"Probably." She eyed his shoulder. The fabric of his sleeve was torn, the edges were burnt. He was checking it curiously too. She vaguely recalled him seemingly catching a blow in the first round of fire.

"How bad is it?" She asked. He didn't look up to answer.

"Not at all as bad as I'd thought. A slight burn on my skin, it stings, but isn't deep at all. What about you?" He eyed her curiously, did you hit your head hard when you fell?

When I fell? What an oversimplification that was. "I… was… electrocuted." April worded out slowly, in a tone intended as humorous, but deranged. She snorted and let out a low manic laughter such as she'd never heard from her own mouth before. More of it came, when she realized, Adrian couldn't understand what she'd said. He had understood something though, hearing her voice he directed his eyes from his wound to her, full of concern now. He slowly got up and walked the few steps left between them carefully. He knelt beside her, looking worried.

"I'm sorry," his voice was gentler and his speech slower, "you need to explain what that means. Are you all right now?"

So he has caught on. April took a deep breath, once again attempting to release all the tension, fear and self deprecating that had been mounting inside. "Consider me lightning struck," she said airily, watching his pale eyes widen in surprise and fear, "and you don't need to worry about me, unless I start vomiting blood all of a sudden. Or so I think…"

"We should get you to a healer right away!" He was searching her face, thoroughly alarmed, perhaps expecting her to start doing just that. Very briefly she even wondered whether his worries were more about her physical state, or mental.

"I'll be fine," she waved him off, all of a sudden apprehensive of the attention and care she was getting. "I need some time to rest and recover, I guess."

"You can do both much better in a healer's care." he objected, extending his hand to her. "Come on, can you stand?"

She eyed him for a second, considering it. She could stand, she was sure of it. Considering their injuries, medical treatment was well advised. Their many cuts and bruises needed some professional attention, perhaps even magical, if they were lucky enough to get any. But to walk all the way from the shore to the Alatien village, walking all those winding narrow paths and rope climbing all the way up to the cliffs? Even the thought of it was daunting.

"No." She said after a few seconds and lay down again, ignoring his outstretched hand. "I'm not moving from this spot for now. Healers can wait."

Adrian fidgeted in place. "I know you're tired, but…" He started feebly. She wasn't going to listen though.

"That's right." A few tremors passing through her again. "I'm tired, more than anything else. I don't care about pain or injuries at the moment," she put her bloodied fist to her chest, cradling it with the other palm, "I'm pretty sure my life's not in any imminent danger right now, and neither is yours. I won't move until I've had some rest." Her friend contemplated it for a while. Then slowly backed away a few steps and sat himself down on the sand again.

"If you say so." He finally surrendered.

"Thank you." April closed her eyes. It was hard to relax when her mind kept going over all the events of the day. The shadow of the disaster of her self-imposed mission lay thick over her. "This must've been the most spectacular failure of my life." She muttered under her breath after a while. Adrian huffed but didn't say a word.

For a while they just lay on the sand, warming themselves in the Sun, listening to the waves and taking a much desired rest. April could feel her own heartbeat, twice as strong as usual, as if trying to get attention.

After a few minutes she sat up and opened the satchel, slowly withdrawing the only prize she'd received for the day's troubles - the address of the man who might have been on a post that provided him a nice view of dragons fighting each other mid air. It was pathetic. She pursed her lips and shook her head. He'd better have some precious intel for me, she thought bitterly, some heat resettling into her body out of sheer anger.

Her process of mentally kicking herself was interrupted by Adrian's uncertain voice, "I think we might have company."

"What?" April quickly looked around. Then she Looked at him. His gaze was directed not anywhere on the ground level but up. She followed it with her own, already anticipating what, or whom she was about to see up there. Three Alatiens were circling above them. They were high enough to be easily mistaken for large birds of prey, but April recognized their outlines, having been acquainted with them in person. "You're right," she told Adrian, "those are the Alatiens." The winged creatures were slowly descending. They didn't land though. Once they were close enough that April could tell for certain they were three men with Spears in their hands, they turned and flew up and away, over the jungles, heading to the peaking center of Alais.

"They were armed." Adrian observed.

"Probably the guards," she deduced. "Don't worry about them, they're peaceful and friendly."

"Have they gone to report us somewhere?"

"Probably. Their village was that way, all the way up in the cliffs. It looks like that's where they're headed." They watched the direction the Alatiens took, turning into three black dots soon due the speed of their departure.

"Perhaps it's time we pay them a visit then?" He asked covertly, his excitement was not very well concealed.

"Yeah, yeah." She rolled her eyes, "Let's go and do that. We do need some medical treatment sooner or later. And I don't mind real hospitality for a change."

"You're having a disagreement with the Vestrum." Adrian noted, as they got up and started to drag their tired feet to the jungles, catching a venomous edge in that last sentence.

April snorted, "He doesn't trust me," she said, "I'm pretty sure he doesn't believe a word I say, he just stares at me with that… that expression and... judges my plans and refuses to help me."

"He's not the trustiest person," he agreed, "and he can seem… unnerving sometimes. But I'm sure he's a good man, he sheltered us and shared his bread with us without us even asking."

She hated to admit that it was true. "He's still infuriating." she muttered, kicking a pebble out of the way. "And as much as he loves to share with us, he didn't lend me my… I mean, Gordon's Talisman when I asked for it. I mean, it's not like I asked for a piece of accessory, I actually needed it for practical purposes. Considering what we went through, I'm sure we could have used it!"

"That talisman," Adrian said with sudden assuredness, "you should never have parted with it."

April had no idea how to take that unexpected declaration. "What choice did I have?"

"It's yours by right."

"What?.. No," she shook her head, "it belongs to the Thirteenth Guardian, remember? I told you…"

"It's attuned to you though, not to the Thirteenth Guardian", he replied matter-of-factly.

She stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him, forcing him to halt too. "Attuned?.." she prompted, unable to puzzle out the meaning of his words on her own.

"Yes." He nodded importantly, "It's an ancient object carrying great power. Such things can sometimes… connect in a way, with their wielder, or someone of their own choosing."

"Their own choosing?" She was absolutely bewildered now, "Are you trying to tell me, that it has a mind of its own or something?"

"Not exactly, no." He scratched his head. "It's very difficult to put in words. Objects of that nature can accrue certain... awareness, they can register affinity. It has this sort of connection with you, I could feel it when you pulled it out. There was resistance from it when the Vestrum took it from you. Your affinity is quite strong."

April suddenly became aware that she was listening with her jaw dropped. She snapped it.

"You know, I could have used that knowledge yesterday, when he took it from me." She said, her voice low and accusing. Adrian looked at her sheepishly, "I'll tell him when we get back.", he promised.

She sighed, frustrated. He really reminded her of Owen sometimes. He too knew how to make that guilty face that made her regret she ever reprimanded him. "Well… Thanks in advance." She offered.

He grinned, easily mollified. "Thank me when I give you your treasure back."

They shuffled off without saying anything else, dragging their tired feet. They were just at the edge of the thick growth, when flapping of large wings drew their attention. The three Alatiens they'd seen before were back and this time, they didn't settle for observing the guests from afar. They descended right in front of them, throwing gusts of wind and sand around them. Once their feet touched the ground, they promptly folded their wings in graceful synchrony and one of the group stepped forward, bowing.

"Good afternoon, humans." He said to them both and turned to address April in particular, "You must be the Windbringer."

"I am!" She confirmed eagerly, pleased to have been recognized, although she didn't recognize any of them.

"The Teller wishes to speak with you."

"How does she know I'm here?" She asked, surprised.

"We've reported your arrival. The teller remembered and recognized your description, given to her by us. Would you be so kind as to come with us to her dwelling?"

"Are you going to walk?.." She eyed them uncertainly. Her words seemed to amuse them.

"No, Windbringer," the Alatien chuckled. "One of us will carry you." At these words the other two bowed to her, in a polite at-your-service kind of gesture.

"Oh…" April was not all that comfortable with the idea, but neither did she know what more efficient way of travelling to suggest. She looked at Adrian questioningly. He merely shrugged. "Okay," she turned to the Alatiens, "we'll go with you."

"Our pardons, Windbringer," the winged man raised a hand, "only you are to go with us. You would know, that we don't allow humans in our village. You are an understandable exception, of course, but your companion will have to remain here."

April looked at Adrian again, his cheeks looked a bit flushed, he opened his mouth, with the intention to argue, no doubt, but closed it without saying a word. She understood. Even though the words of protest didn't spill from his lips, she could hear them, feel them, as surely as if he'd objected in his own voice. He was the Twelfth Guardian of the Balance. Magical races, if nobody else, should've given him recognition and respect he deserved. If he didn't speak of it, it was because, just maybe, he was suffering the same unhealthy reluctance to take credit for his actions, which had been plaguing her lately. It was impossible for her not to feel for him when his plight hit so close to home.

"Well, you're just gonna have to make another exception then." She said firmly, turning to the Alatien that spoke to them as a leader. "This is the Twelfth Guardian of the Balance," she was satisfied to see surprise and awe settling on their faces, "and he's my friend. I'm not going anywhere without him."

The Alatiens looked uncertain. They probably had direct orders, but it was an unforeseen situation, and the Guardian's status obviously had some weight. They fidgeted in place, even stared at the man in question, only now paying him the proper attention. Their leader was the first to recover his wits. "My apologies, if I was impolite, Guardian," he said, bowing deeply to him personally, his accomplices following his lead. Adrian repeated the motion with a hardly noticeable smile, although April couldn't help thinking that he looked very pleased and even a touch smug for the respect he was finally receiving. "It is a great honor to meet you. I suppose, it… should be acceptable for you to join the Windbringer on this visit." The guard still sounded a little unsure, but the decision had been made regardless.

On the order of their leader the other two Alatiens grabbed either one of them at the waist and with powerful motions of their batlike wings rose high into the sky.

In other circumstances April would've felt very awkward, locked in a tight embrace with some of the strangest strangers in the worlds. But the joy of flight soon took over and it was all she could do to hope her carrier wouldn't drop her, while she marveled at the incredible experience. She had flown to space in a spaceship. She had used magical potions to float carelessly across a windy chasm, as well as to race up a huge tower as if she were a cat hopping up a tree. This was completely different. They soared over the treetops, she could see their own shadows gliding on thick green foliage below. Cool wind beating into her face and sweeping through her hair was refreshing. She could feel the adrenaline rush throughout her whole body, she was seized by the thrill of it so strongly, she almost forgot all her injuries and worries, as if no problem could ever weigh her down again. She had never felt so free, piercing the air like an arrow. There was just something special about wrestling with the gravity. She was almost ready to cry when they glimpsed the familiar landscape of the city etched deep into the cliffside. Their leader rushed way past them, already in the Teller's abode by the time their group landed, to notify her of the guests' arrival.

"Welcome to our village, Guardian." She heard from the Alatien that had carried Adrian.

"Thank you." He nodded appreciatively, looking around. The architecture wasn't something that could surprise him, as April well knew, but he was still taking great interest in everything he saw - eyeing a soldier here, a potter at work there. There weren't many of them about. April looked around as well, to see if she could spot any familiar faces while they waited. The few people she remembered were nowhere to be seen. The Alatien soldier came back soon.

"I've told the Teller about your arrival, Windbringer." He said grimly. "But after learning of your injured state she ordered that you must be attended by our healer and given time to rest. You're also invited to share our dinner after you see her. I hope you will accept our hospitality."

"Of course." April answered at once, grateful as she could be.

They had to walk across the courtyard, along the walls and around the main bulk of the castle. A healer met them right outside a small tower in which they were ushered gently and sent to separate wards for examination.

The small chamber to which April was taken, smelled of herbs, seafood and mildew. There was no real bed. A rather tall mattress stuffed with straw laying on the floor did its job instead. The healer who was to tend to her wounds was a middle aged (as far as she could judge, it was hard to be sure with their skin being generally wrinkled) Alatien female. She made April sit on the mattress and sat herself crossed legged in front of her. She carefully removed the pitiful wrappings soaked in blood. The sharp vision the Alatiens would boast with came in pretty handy while treating wounds. She easily spotted a tiny shard of broken plastic stuck in her hand that April would never have noticed on her own and removed it with extra care. She conjured a few bottles of liquids and ointment and with a practiced hand scrubbed the wound clean, sanitized it, smeared a thin layer of some beige ointment and put a large, green leaf with sturdy and wrinkled surface to it, before wrapping clean linen cloth around the palm, securing her handiwork. Then she proceeded to tending to lesser wounds and bruises, of which April had many.

Soon it came down to stripping off most of her clothing and receiving random dots and stripes of herbal medication all over her body. Whatever substances the healer applied, it burned. April had to make an effort not to whine or wince at any point, failing from time to time. When it was finally done, She received a small dress-like garment instead of her own clothes, which were taken to be made a bit more decent looking again. It was loose, lightweight and had two incisions on the back, for wings she didn't possess. All in all it was quite reminiscent of a hospital gown and, as silly as it was to be bothered by something so insignificant, April was bothered very much.

When the healer left her to her devices, suggesting a few hours of bed rest, April was suddenly overwhelmed by the sense of being very profoundly ill, both in body and mind. Every single stressful thing that had happened to her from the smallest to the greatest, felt like a jab dealt with a sharp weapon, damage proportional to impact, and being left alone with herself, having nothing more to distract herself with - everything else had been temporarily pushed aside in favor of necessary grooming - she feared she might be flattened by the weight of it all. She sat down, knees weak and heart fluttering, on the tall mattress, leaning back onto the wall, hugging herself. Hard cold stone soothed some discomfort in her spine and back she hadn't noticed before. She pulled her legs up and closed her eyes, trying to disconnect from her worries, events that had passed and the ones that had yet to pass. Soon she found she had started trembling. Whether it was truly cold in that room, or her control over herself had finally collapsed, allowing all the anti-stress mechanisms come alive all at once, she didn't know. She couldn't set her jaw firm and steady, and couldn't make her teeth stop chattering without opening her mouth. She discovered that she hadn't truly given herself a chance to address her distress, but now without people hovering around her, without an immediate goal to strive for, and an immediate danger fast on her heels, she had finally abandoned control and the tension just poured out of the tiny pocket in her mind she'd kept it in. Tremors passed through her in waves again and again. She let them.

When the healer finally returned to check on her - God knew how long afterwards, she neither could nor cared to make an effort for something so unimportant as tracking hours - April was curled up as ball like as humanly possible on that puritan cot, no longer trembling, eyes shut and feeling more powerless than she'd ever felt before. There was a clank near her and when she lifted her eyelids just a smidgen, she saw a clay pot of extraordinary craftsmanship, adorned with beautiful floral etchings set on a nearby table. Her caretaker exited again without saying anything. Steam rose from the pot and filled the room with the fragrance of field flowers, more reminiscent of cold misty mountains than of sunny sea shores. She inhaled deeply and slowly, the scent felt invigorating. Some of the numbness from her breakdown started to lift. Her thoughts started to gather but they were far from pleasant. She tried to drift off to sleep instead, but only half succeeded, hovering between dream and awakening.

After a while – no telling how long exactly - there was a careful knock on the wooden door that echoed through the chamber. She made an effort to answer. It came out as a weird mash of vowels and consonants even she couldn't decode. The door creaked open and Adrian peeked inside very carefully. "May I come in?" he asked. April made a purring kind of sound that constituted for verbal approval. The man stepped in carefully. "How are you feeling?" He almost whispered, his voice subdued as if in some sort of reverence.

"Been better." She drew out. "I'll be fine." she added after a quiet second. "Look," she sat up slowly, trying to clear drowsiness out of her head. The Twelfth Guardian sat down awkwardly on the floor before her. She let out a long, deep sigh. "I'm sorry for the way I've behaved." Adrian's face looked honestly puzzled. He seemed to want to inquire the meaning of her apology, but April stopped him. "I was reckless, I dragged you along on this crazy adventure and put both of us in danger."

This time the man's face was a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Has your memory become foggy from all we've been through?" he asked almost humorously, perhaps unsure whether or not to exclude the possibility that it was exactly the case, "It was my own decision. You tried your best to get rid of me and go alone. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah well…" April shrugged and sniffed, "that was a stupid idea too. I don't know what I was hoping to find. What I hoped I could do against this huge… machine… this cult…"

"Why?" Adrian started, "You have already…"

"Please don't!" she cut him off. She already knew what he would say and had no patience left for such 'encouragement', "It was different before, okay? I had allies, I had directions, instructions, I had help. Heck, I could even say that I was used like a pawn and someone else moved me where ever they wanted!.." She had to stop to draw a breath and cover her eyes with her bandaged hand for a few moments. She was not unaware of what she'd just said and whose words she'd repeated, even though she had spent so much time and energy trying to expel them out of her head, telling herself it simply wasn't true. "I'm on my own now." She added more quietly.

Adrian seemed to want to say something. Indicating himself as her ally, perhaps? If it was that, he decided against it for some reason, and a dull pang of guilt reminded her to say, "I didn't even try to look for you." Seeing his inquiring look she clarified: "After we Shifted. You were late and I just decided to go without you. You could have been in grave danger for all I knew."

"Oh, that?" A nervous chuckle escaped him. "No, you didn't need to worry. I wasn't in any danger, as far as I could see. I merely had an unintentional detour before Shifting back."

"A detour?" she blinked and his smile grew wide. Eyes suddenly alight with excitement.

"Yes, remember I told you about the secret facilities in the temple?" he leaned forward a bit, his tone turned more conspiratory, "I tried to Shift to one of them, but it probably had protection from accessing it this way. I missed, ended up in a completely different and very interesting place."

"Either way," April held up a hand, before she could be sidetracked, "I didn't know that. I didn't know what had happened to you and I didn't make it my priority to find out." She fixed him with what she felt must've been the most pitiful look she had ever given anyone, one her friends might have called puppy eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." He shrugged carelessly. "Now, are you well enough to go visit the Teller? It's the afternoon already."

She was given some time to bring herself in order. Her much abused clothing had been quickly mended, washed and dried in the sun by then. When a guard came to fetch her and her friend, she almost felt presentable.

"The Teller will see you both," The Alatien told them as they stood at the foot of stairs leading to the Teller's premises, "but please be aware that she is in a frail state. Healers advised her to be resting, but she was insistent on speaking with the Windbringer. She says it is very important. Do try to be considerate to her health." He gestured to the doorway of the main tower. April and Adrian marched up the stairs, with their escort, until right at the entrance he turned and left, returning to his duties. It didn't take too long to walk up the winding stairs leading to the throne room. They stopped in the entrance, waiting for their presence to be acknowledged.

"Welcome back to our village, Windbringer!" Said a familiar voice of the old Teller, a little weaker and more tired than she remembered, but audibly joyful. "And welcome, our second guest, Guardian of the Balance!" She said, still more excited, "Welcome back to our world."

The two greeted her politely. "It's an honor to meet you." Adrian said, although April rather thought there was more pride than humility in his voice.

"I'm glad to see you again." April told the old woman.

"Come closer, children," the Teller beckoned them with one wrinkled hand, "come closer where I can see you better and you can sit down and rest your legs." They approached the throne and seated themselves down on the floor close to her feet, where sunlight coming from the nearby window illuminated them, allowing their host's tired old eyes to see them. The Teller leaned forward a bit and looked them up and down, taking in the scratches and bruises on their skin covered with medicine and April's heavily bandaged hand and disheveled hair. Her birdlike eyes widened seeing their terrible condition. "Oh my!" She said, her crackling voice full of worry, "If I had known better about your condition, I would've told them to allow you a good day's rest before summoning you here!" They quickly uttered something along the lines of "it's nothing" and "we're fine". "Are you sure?" She asked them, concerned and uncertain.

"It's okay," April assured her, "We don't have any serious injuries, and we've seen the healers, nothing even hurts anymore," as if to give her bluff away, her hand sent a shot of stinging pain that extended well past her wrist and she suddenly became aware of a few other minor cuts prickling and itching again. Still she pressed on, "We'll have plenty of time for rest. Right now sitting down is more than enough." In truth, even considering the rest she'd received earlier, sitting down didn't feel nearly good enough to compensate for the abuse her body had received and to amend the damage, but the sight of the Teller had concerned her. During the few days she hadn't seen the old Alatien, the latter had become a thinner, her wrinkles more pronounced, her back was more bent and her eyes sunk. April noticed her hands trembling when making more or less pronounced gestures with them. It was clear that either some sickness or some other calamity had taken a toll on her. The guard had been right, the woman was in a frail state indeed.

"Well then," the Teller said, "if you're sure…" She adjusted herself in her seat, the movement seemed to take a lot of effort. "I'm guessing you have both gone through some peril before coming here." They nodded. "It must be quite a story." She rewarded them with a kind smile.

"It's not a very fortunate one," Adrian answered.

"That doesn't mean it's not good, or worth telling." The Teller riposted, still smiling.

With an exchange of one resigned look they set to the task of telling her about the reason and the objective of their adventure, their confused flight and narrow escape. It was difficult to explain everything, stops and digressions had to be made in order to explain some of the technology of Stark. Adrian did most of the talking. His perception of Stark was more similar to that of an Arcadian anyway, therefore more understandable for the Alatien. April would interfere to correct things he got wrong, or if the Teller asked them to explain something beyond his capacity. She listened with extraordinary attention, her eyes not wandering away from their faces for a second. Beyond those eyes April could see the mind of the chief storyteller at work, absorbing the story, taking it apart and reassembling, translating it into her own words for later telling, reshaping it into life lessons for generations to come. April briefly wondered what variations their venture would spawn in the nearest centuries, what philosophy the Alatiens would weave into it. Don't go biting off more than you can chew? She smiled bitterly to herself as Adrian finished telling of their hasty escape through a shared Shift.

"Hmm…" the Teller hummed thoughtfully. "That's quite an adventure for one morning. And I see the disappointment in your eyes," she swept her gaze from one to the other.

"Well, we kind of failed..." Adrian said.

"Have you now?" The old woman cocked her head to the side. "As far as I understood, you found the whereabouts of a person who might have the knowledge you seek. And it was a difficult path both there and back, full of dangers you've both barely survived."

"Yes, but there was so much more we could've found there!" April exclaimed, "All the secrets of the Vanguard we could've acquired is now in hands of… I don't even know who!"

"A pity," the Teller nodded sympathetically, "but it was not something in your power to prevent. Your rivals had the opportunities you didn't - a head start, when you had to hide for your lives, they held the place for their own while you had to risk your lives and injure yourselves to break in. There's no shame in being outmatched."

April wanted to argue with this. She wanted to say that it wasn't about shame, that it was about losing the opportunity that would never be presented to them again, but the Teller, closing her eyes and sighing, held her hand up, halting her objections and demanding silence. "I understand, dear," she nodded, "don't think I don't, but arguing about this is pointless and tiring, for me as well as for you. I want to use what's left of my strength a little better than that." The old woman fell silent, thinking to herself. Searching for something in her memory, stroking her chin absentmindedly. April was once again caught thinking how much weaker The Teller looked compared to how she remembered her. The light entered the room from a different angle and lit her wrinkles in a way that every line stood out, she even shuddered a few times so that April felt the need to ask if she was feeling alright and if it was better to give her some rest and return later. But the Teller shook her head, smiling bitterly. "I'm certain I won't be less aged if you come back later," she said. "The truth is, my young Windbringer, that my life is coming to an end and... no!" She raised a talon when April opened her mouth, "Do not argue with me on this, child. I know my time is up and I'm at peace with that. I have much to be grateful for. I've had a long life, I've heard countless stories, I've witnessed great changes starting in this world, I've had the honor of having met you two," at this she cast an adoring smile on both, "and my mind has preserved its sharpness long enough for me to tell you one last story. No Alatien can ever give a gift more precious than a story. I do hope the story I have in mind serves you well... Would you like to hear it?"

Truth be told, April didn't feel much like listening to a story just then, but she couldn't say it out loud so as to not hurt the sweet woman's feelings. The Teller sounded so earnest, she knew the old Alatien was truly giving them this story from her heart. So she nodded, trying to seem as enthusiastic as she could, listening to one story wouldn't kill her, she thought. Adrian gave his verbal approval as well. He, at least, sounded sincere.

The Teller sunk back into her chair, her eyelids half closed, eyes staring vaguely into nothingness. April and Adrian exchanged a look and Adrian shrugged slightly. After a couple minutes she finally spoke again.

"Forgive me," she apologized in a quiet voice, "this is a rare story, rarely told by our people and perhaps no longer told by those who told it first, in the mysterious distant lands from which it traveled to us. One might forget it easily, but the Teller will remember… Let's see…" She took a deep breath.

"This is my Tale, the Tale of Gods, and I will tell it to you in my own words, as it was told to me by my Predecessor, in her words.

In long forgotten times, when humans were young, Gods and Goddesses would walk the land, just like mortals. The world had only just been born and they took great interest in it. In such time three Gods once met, when during their travelling they, by fate or accident, chose to tread the same path.

One was the God of Calamity. The God that sought to gain respect through fear. Many malignant deeds were done by his hand, many times he had sent disease or enemy forces to wherever he wanted, dealing destruction and imminent death to all who displeased him. People feared him and offered many sacrifices to avoid his wrath.

Another was the God of Duty. It was his task to show every living being its place and role in the great puzzle of the world, which he had done. He had ruled which plant should bring sweet fruit and which would give poison, what animal would be in servitude and what would hunt, which Gods stood above others and which mortals would be bestowed the honor of joining the ranks of the divine.

The third one was the lesser of the three and was no true God, but a demigod. One who was born as mortal, but ascended into divinity through the will of the God that governed the All. In his human life he had been a fearless and noble warrior who always stood up for the poor and downtrodden, defended the innocent that were powerless to defend themselves, and his death was in great self sacrifice to his people. For this he was deemed worthy to be reborn as a divine being and once his fate was done, he kept doing the same things for the good of all people.

The three greeted each other respectfully and decided to journey together to wherever the path would lead them. And so they did. They talked about the world, and the underworld and the heavens. They talked of Gods and mortals, of all things that roamed the earth. But most of all they talked about themselves and what they'd done in this world and what names they had earned among the mankind. As their conversation went on, it turned into an argument and the question arose: which one of them had the greatest name? For as they knew, among all the treasures in the world anyone could earn, the name was the most precious of all.

As the afternoon Sun got hotter, so did their little debate and soon each burned with the desire to prove that he above all had gained the greatest name, fame, and respect in the mortal world. Their opportunity came very soon. As they walked among the blue mountains and green valleys, a vast field appeared before them, lush with golden wheat, waving like sea in the breeze. In it a single man - a simple peasant was working, his back was bent and his forehead was sweaty. He paid no heed to the unexpected guests. The three were delighted at the sight of him. It was the opportunity to prove their worth.

'Here it is, the man who will settle this for us!' said the God of Duty to the others. 'Let's test him. May it be a fair test. We'll each go to the man and ask him to share the simple fair he has with him for a meal break. No force, no treachery or threat must be used from any of us. Whomever he is more eager to pay the courtesy, whose will he obeys most willingly - has the most respectful name among the mortals.'

'Then I'll go first!' said the God of Calamity enthusiastically. 'You will see him fall down on his knees, trembling before me, offering me everything he has.' He went to the man and called the greeting words. The man returned the greeting politely.

'My good man,' said the God, his eyes glinting, 'I want you to share your food and drink with me.'

The peasant found it odd to receive such a request without a word of plea, as if it were an order. So he asked: 'And who might you be, traveler?' The God told him his sacred name, but instead of falling to his knees and starting to tremble in fear the man straightened his back and brought his chin up, proud and defiant. Fire burnt in his eyes. 'You dare to approach me and tell me I must share my food with you?!' He growled, 'You, who brings bloodshed and misery to all the land! You, who inspires deception and evokes grief to us all! Begone, or know that only by force you may take my provisions, I will not willingly share with you!'

The God was aghast. The man's words and his attitude were nothing like he'd expected. He hadn't imagined that after all the fear he had sawn in the lands of mortals, a common peasant would dare to stand up to him. Yet there he was - a simple lowlife standing up to him with the fierceness worthy of a warrior God. But he could not break his promise, he had given his word to the God of Duty not to use force or treachery, so he backed away, angry.

The God of Duty stepped forward next, approaching the peasant confidently. He gave his greetings with a kind smile and said: 'Would you share your meal with me, my good man?' The man looked at him warily: 'Who are you then, stranger?' The God named himself and watched how his eyes went wide in surprise, but then the man furrowed his thick brow and his stubborn face was full of indignation. 'So you deign to come to us, do you?' he hissed, 'How much we pray to you, how much sacrifice we make in your name and honor, yet you turn a blind eye on our suffering, a deaf ear to our cries and turn your back on us! You, most capable of helping us never do it! You have no care to spare for us as you sit on your high seat of power. I will not share my meal with you." And he stood facing the God of Duty with the same defiance he had given the God of Calamity before him. The God was taken aback by the unexpected reproach where he had expected gratitude and respect. But he had also vowed not to use force or treachery to get his prize, so he went back to his mates, disappointed.

At last the third contestant stepped forward to try his luck. He marched straight up to the man and gave his greetings, as well as his request. The peasant, quite annoyed by then, had an impudent response ready, but as he opened his mouth to speak it, he halted and looked the demigod before him up and down, eyeing the chain mail he wore peeking out from beneath his cape, a mighty spear on his back and finally his face. He asked hesitantly, 'Who are you? Have I not seen your face before?' The God grinned broadly at him, he felt some recognition too.

'You very well might have, my good man,' he said, 'and I gather you wore your chain mail over your linen cloth, and wielded sword and shield instead of hoe and shovel. And you were a face among many, hence the difficulty of remembering you.'

As he said it, the peasant's face lit up in fierce joy. He ripped his hat off his head and took a knee, putting his right fist to his heart. 'I be thrice damned for not knowing your blessed face the moment I looked at it, my God! How many battles did my brethren have to fight against an oncoming enemy and you were always the first to come to our aid when we cried to the heavens. I implore you to take my whole meal and drink my wine! How would I not share my simple fare with whom I've shared so many battlefields!' With this he stood up and ran to a nearby tree where he had put his things, snatching up bread and wine he had brought with him. He gave it all to the demigod happily. The demigod broke the bread in halves and took three swings of the sweet wine, thanking him deeply and bidding goodbye. When he and his two companions - one shamefaced and one jealous to eternity - left, the peasant still stood there for a long time, watching his hero's departure, trying to imprint the moment in his memory."

The whole time the Teller talked, the listeners were silent, even breathing quietly. April didn't know whether or not Adrian felt the same, but she found herself entranced. A few words in and the Teller's voice and the story it told seemed to be the only thing that existed in the world. It could've been magic, which should have been an inherent part of anyone of the magical races. Or, it could've been her own exhaustion that no longer allowed her extend attention to anything other than the primary target of her interest. It could've been both at the same time. Either way she sat motionless, leaning sideways onto a wall, peering at the Teller and feeling as if she'd become an empty dish to be filled, with the words, sentences, meaning.

When the Teller sighed and hung her head, nobody spoke for a while, April waited patiently for her to continue. The way she knew Alatien's stories, there were always the last words of wisdom, the lessons - the reason of telling them in the first place - worded out for the listener. But this one wasn't like that. The story had simply stopped. She stirred.

"That was… very interesting." She said after a while, feeling that 'interesting' was nowhere near the word she was looking for.

"It's an ancient story," the Teller said slowly and quietly, without looking up at her, "and rare… There are very few stories we tell that aren't about our own people."

"Why?" Adrian wondered aloud.

"When we tell our stories over and over again, in our own words, they change. The change comes from the nature of each individual storyteller, from the way they understood the lesson, the emotions it stirred. Every time we retell it, we add something from our very soul, remove something that is alien to us, until one day, so many have retold it and poured their souls into it, every word of it speaks of us, our minds, our spirit, our way of life and understanding of the world around us. I have only told this particular story twice in my life - once when the Teller before me taught it to me and now once more. It has changed very little since the day it came to our island. It still carries the spirit of the people within whom it was born, who were human, and perhaps it will speak to you more than it does to Alatiens." She lifted her tired eyes at Adrian and fixed him with her stare, then switched her gaze to April, who felt as if the Teller was searching her soul. Then the wrinkled frown turned into a sad, but kind smile. "You have such hard times ahead of you," she said looking from one to the other. "The worlds are stepping into the age of great changes and that requires more care than people are willing to take most of the time." She coughed and took a deep breath. April was starting to feel uncomfortable, sitting there with a hostess that seemed on the brink of collapsing. Guests were not in the greatest shape either, of course, but that only reinforced the feeling that this was not the time to be having this conversation. Still, the Teller went on, pouring her concerns out to them, as maybe she had been keeping them to herself for too long. "I am sorry to be leaving my children now, but the burden of guiding them into the new age will have to go to my successor. I can only hope she does well."

"Are you worried about the Alatiens and the Maerum? I mean, being reunited?" April asked tentatively.

"Well, that too, of course. It isn't going to be easy to send all the memories of our bloody feud into oblivion, even if every single one of us were willing to, and not many are."

"But…" She argued feebly, "you were one people once. Surely you can live in peace again, just like you did before! Once they all realize that…" The Teller shook her head slowly and let out a slow, soft, bitter chuckle.

"You're still so very young, Windbringer." She smiled kindly at her, "Youthful inexperience can easily delude you, or prevent you from seeing the picture in all its complexity. Alatiens and Maerums may have been one people a very long time ago, but those times are not even in our memory anymore. We do not think and live the same way and people as different as us can often find it hard to stay agreed. And our people… they..." She sighed yet again, each time she did it, more traces of hidden pain escaped her and April became more and more ashamed for taking the woman's time and energy, even though it was the latter insisting on it, not her or Adrian. "What you did for us was invaluable, child." The Teller concluded. "It was a start in a new direction, on the path to our destiny. But how we fare on this new road, nobody knows. We may succeed, we may fail. It's a challenge we must face though. Do not be disheartened, Windbringer," she leaned towards her, voice growing gentler and eyes full of compassion, extending one taloned, trembling hand which April carefully took in hers, "No matter how this goes, we will be grateful for the chance you gave us, for restoring our lost history and reviving the ancient knowledge we had so foolishly forgotten." April found it hard to keep an eye contact and not to hang her head in misguided shame she herself couldn't understand the exact reason of.

When they finally left the Teller's abode, She was subdued and feeling tired as if she had gone through some trying ordeal. Adrian was quiet too, marching beside her, but he had the appearance of a man struggling with a difficult math question. They walked silently to the gate leading out in the courtyard, where one of the guards was waiting for them to escort them to the dinner table that had been laid out for them in the backyard in a shade of palm trees.

"What do you think she meant to tell us by that tale?" He asked after a while, eyeing her sideways.

"I don't know…" April shrugged, "doing your best is what counts? Something like that?"

"Hm… perhaps." He mumbled.

As if on cue, her stomach let out a loud, lengthy groan the moment they were in the vicinity of their dinner. She had left without breakfast. She noticed the golden tint to the rays that fell shimmering on the stone walls, signaling the Sun' tilt to the southwest, and wondered how long she had laid on that mattress in the healer's wards, or how long she'd spent in the Teller's abode. The supper she'd eaten the day before seemed ages ago.

There was hardly a chance they'd break the table etiquette, they soon found out. Alatiens, as expected, had a lot of dishes of their own making to lay out on their tables, but there were no knives and forks. Only spoons in their bowls of soup. Fish, bird meat and fruit assortments, which had been provided in abundance for the honored guests, were meant to be eaten with bare hands and they were not attended during the meal. Locals had been very busy at work lately, recovering from the events from the past few days, their guard had explained before departing himself. And many able hands had been set to work outside the village – though not very enthusiastically – to bring the old dwellings of their and Maerums' shared ancestors in living conditions.

Over the course of the meal April managed to pry a few more details from Adrian about the mysterious detour he'd had on his way to the Grendel Avenue.

"Where did you end up?" She asked between munches.

"I'm not quite sure. It must have been the oldest part of the temple's structure, if it even was a part of the temple. The place hadn't been tended for centuries, perhaps, thousands of years even. There were stone crypts and it all led out in an enormous cave."

"Why didn't you Shift back right away?"

"I was distracted."

"Distracted?"

"Yes, I felt something highly unusual and had to check." He threw her a mischievous smile that suggested he wanted to be questioned about it. She gave in.

"What was it?"

"I felt a great and strange power emanating from somewhere. I couldn't help myself, I went looking for it."

"A great, strange power?.." April wondered as she nibbled a little bird's wing. "Was it like that thing we found in the Vanguard HQ? You know, when we found that magical machinery?"

"Yes, and no." He said thoughtfully, "It felt different, though it was just as clearly, not magic, but something else."

"Where was it coming from?"

"I don't know, I never found the source. Either it was too far or too well concealed and I had no time. I had to Shift back to you."

"Well, thanks for your consideration, that was a little anticlimactic though."

"I was thinking of going back at a later time, investigate further."

"Yeah, we have to finish our ongoing investigation first." April sniffed. The former Guardian only nodded, devouring a bowl of soup. They didn't speak much more while they dined in the courtyard.

"Sentinels have a lot of things to protect." Adrian noted as they started on the sweet tropical fruit they had for dessert, "Not all of them are for general public."

April huffed a breath but chose not to comment that statement otherwise, instead, she busied herself with finishing the last bits of her meal.

Well into the afternoon, fed and refreshed, they headed to the beach. A few Alatiens were flying overhead. Otherwise there was no audience to witness their portal making.

The damage dealt to the anti-Shifting technology of the MTI building must have been either irreparable, or, at the very least, sizable. Two passages through the dimension of dreams manifested themselves side by side without a moment's hesitation. April was loath to leave the isle, which, as if on purpose, looked more magical than ever – the sky, sand and waves aglow with the warm golden Sunlight in August's late afternoon.

Adrian shifted first. April was about to step into her own light, when a thought halted her and she turned her gaze towards the sea, her mind's eye searching its depths and the horizon. There was her kin asleep on the ocean floor somewhere not too far, she knew. She almost closed the Shift in her contemplation, until she reached the decision. "I'll come back with the news." She muttered under her breath, almost sure that her words were heard, and followed her friend back to their wrecked world.