Here we go again...be prepared for some creepy stuff to start in this chapter-it gets a little dark. Just bear with me! Also, you've probably noticed that I employed a bit of 3rd person Omniscient narration in this fic. If that bugs you, don't worry-it will start to get a lot more Blaine-heavy as the fic goes on. However, if you guys like the extra perspective, let me know and I'll keep it in future chapters.
Happy reading!
Liam left to return home with a new bounce in his step. He was jubilant—the plan was proceeding just as he had imagined it. Aragorn would free Blaine, he was sure of it; he'd never seen a more honorable group of people, and was confident that his hawk would be happy traveling with them. The elf was a bit standoffish, of course, and seemed reluctant to accept Blaine, but nothing so temporary could dampen the boy's giddy mood. Besides, there wasn't a soul who could dislike his hawk for very long.
Indeed, how could anyone not love Blaine after meeting her? Liam's step faltered. All one had to do was look into her golden eyes, sparkling with sunlight, watch the wind catch her midnight hair…one smile, and no one could deny her. Liam slowed to a stop, stood rigidly upon one of the massive, twisting roots en route to his own tree. He stared at the bark, covered with vibrant, green moss, so preoccupied that he hardly realized where he was: not half a league shy of Breag's own shop, buried in the roots, where she worked at spells and incantations during the day. Had he realized, he would have moved on quickly, for the sight of the dark, forbidding workshop sent shivers down his spine. Yes, he knew better than to linger within reach of the witch, but his mind was darkened by other things.
Liam was finally coming to the realization that, in saving Blaine, he would lose her forever. He did not bother telling himself he would see her again—after all, she could never return to the village, just as he could never leave it. In a moment of self-flattery, Liam wondered if perhaps he was the reason she had stayed so long, but he quickly banished the idea. After all, Blaine had talked much, as a child, of escaping with him—the two of them striking out on their own. How was she to know that he couldn't simply pick up and leave, she who knew him only through their brief, moonlit conversations during his watch.
Liam chuckled bitterly at his preposterous position, took another slow step forward. He loved Blaine, perhaps more than he had loved anything, and she hardly knew a thing about him. She knew he was a healer, and a sentry, and that he was her friend. But he had never told her of a life, a family…nothing. For how could he? He wondered idly what Blaine would think if he revealed all—told her the truth. That he was not born, at all, but conjured by Breag years ago, in secret; that she had taken half of his soul in an ancient, forbidden ritual, sealed it away in herself—an innocent soul to strengthen her magical capacity. Half soul, indeed, he thought with dark humor of Blaine's nickname. If anyone suits the label, I do.
A prickle up his spine and a shadow at the edge of his vision pulled Liam from his bitter self-pity. He whirled around, coppery hair flying, and his blue eyes landed on a condensed shadow perhaps ten feet behind him. To his horror, it began to rustle forward, grotesque in its lopsided movements, and Liam stood frozen in his tracks, heart heavy with dread.
"Did you think we would not find out?" The voice was eerily doubled, as though many beings embodied the figure that drew ever closer, and it rumbled low, like a growl. Liam managed a half step back, and a cold sweat broke out on his brow.
"Wh-who are you?!" he demanded. The voice that was many voices cackled.
"You know who we are." The figure moved a bit closer. Liam swallowed thickly, and realized he did know. For hidden amidst the chorus he could make out one strong voice, clearer than the rest.
"Breag," he whispered in terror, took another step back but his knees gave out and he landed with a painful thump on his back.
"Yes, dear boy, and no." The voices answered. "We are more than Breag the soothsayer…we are Cerlyn…Shaa…Vaarlyne…Firinne!" Liam's eyes widened in horror as what had once been Breag rattled off the names of past soothsayers. She's done it…he thought, mind oddly numb. Since creating him, Breag had sought to "transcend mortality" by pulling spirits from the past into her own body. And yet…he wondered how she had managed it. Eighteen years she had possessed half of his soul, and still not managed to perform the act of necromancy with it.
"What do you want?" he asked, mind buzzing in thought. What had changed to allow her transcendence? She released a blood-curdling cackle.
"We have known for years," she hissed, suddenly sped toward him with tremendous speed so that Liam could hardly draw breath before she stood not an inch from his face. "You have befriended the skin changer—we have seen it! We have seen it!"
"No!" Liam automatically denied; his heart was beating so hard and so fast that he thought it very well might explode from terror. Worse, her nearness had triggered an odd, painful sensation in the space between his heart and his lungs—as though something had reached in and pulled—and his head felt that it would implode.
"Do not deny it!" the voices shrieked, apparently thrilled with his weak attempt. "We know! But never fear," the voice was sudden quiet, a soft growl. "We can use you still. Yes…" she broke off into another otherworldly cackled. "To lose you…she will break! Broken! And the travelers…" a hooked, shadowy claw reached forward, stopped a fraction of an inch from Liam's forehead. His breathing came heavy and shallow. "You will stand against them…stop them! Yes, for they have what we want…"
In a sudden burst of pain and desperation, Liam scrambled backward and somehow found his feet. In near mindless panic, he dashed over the roots toward his home—though why he thought he would be safe there, he didn't know. Unfortunately, the creature Breag was far faster than the human soothsayer had ever been, and she flew at him in a blur of darkness, shoved her hands into the middle of his back, and Liam was sent sprawling. He landed hard, head smacked against rough bark, and the edges of his vision went black. The world was closing in. Well, but I knew my time was limited…
Breag's finger stabbed him in the forehead, and suddenly Liam's body was on fire. He imagined he could hear a horrible, tearing sound—as though each of his organs were trying to escape in separate directions. He couldn't hold back an agonized scream before collapsing back to the ground. His own pain echoed back at him, and he stared foggily up into the darkness of Breag's face before his eyes landed on a glimmer of white—a handprint deep within Breag's shadowed form. He felt his face contort with confusion. A white hand…he knew that stood for something…but it slipped away. All at once his vision was filled with midnight feathers and a gaze of sunlight.
Sorry, Blaine, he thought with a last tear. I meant to see you off…
ڿ
Blaine returned to the traveler's door early the next morning, freshly bathed, wearing clean clothes and slightly winded. She had grown accustomed to having wings at her disposal, and forgot what a bother a canopy village could be without them.
"Blaine, come in," Aragorn greeted her at the door. Blaine offered a half-bow and stepped into the room. She noticed with some relief that her "nest" had been cleared away, and Liam had vacated the dwelling. Yesterday and the night before were a hazy blend in her mind, like a bizarre daydream, but she remembered her confusion at Liam's sudden friendship with the travelers, and didn't wish to dwell on it.
"The chief has summoned you to council," Blaine informed Aragorn.
"Council? Why?"
"He wishes to hear of your plans," Blaine explained. "And no doubt to give you provisions, perhaps ask after the fate of the world before you leave us. I assume you intend to be on your way soon." Blaine couldn't completely hide the disappointment from her voice, or the longing. What she wouldn't give to go with them…
"No later than tonight," the elf's cool voice sounded from the doorway into the next room. Blaine gave him a nod in greeting.
"Well, the council will not last long," she assured. "And, chief permitting, I will help you prepare for your journey afterwards." Aragorn smiled at her offer, but shook his head.
"We are all but packed as of this morning," he informed her. Blaine smiled.
"I see…well then, I will take you to council." With that she turned to exit the dwelling, waiting to make sure her charges followed her. She led them all the way down the tree and to the forest floor, only to direct them to another tree, more monstrous than any of the others. It would take Blaine's wingspan nearly five times over to span the width of the trunk.
"This is lath fea—a spirit oak." She laid a hand against the smooth, white bark, looked up into the labyrinthine branches, covered in dark emerald leaves. "Anything important—council meetings, rituals, trials are all held here." With that, she walked part way around the tree until she found the doorway nestled between the giant, twisting roots. She led her party in, closed the door behind them, and started up the staircase set into the interior wall.
When they reached the council chamber—a discrete oval, half built into the trunk, half out on a limb and open to the sky—most of the council members had arrived. The chief and Breag sat in the raised chairs at the far end of the chamber, sheltered by the trunk. The other members—respected elders of the village-fanned out from there, but left more seats empty than full.
"Is this really your council?" Gimli whispered to her under the pre-council chatter. Blaine nodded with a shrug.
"The council was once an honored aspect of life here, but over the years it has faded to little more than a small meeting of elders—a small percentage of a population more focused on the simplicity of forest life." She gestured through the window, where the roots of the village were visible. As they watched, throngs of villagers emerged from trees, and the marketplace swarmed to life.
"How many are you?" Aragorn asked, clearly surprised by the instant crowds.
"Over two thousand now, I believe."
"Two thousand!" the dwarf exclaimed. Blaine shushed him with a light chuckle, pointed to the three open seats near the chief.
"Please, my lords. Your seats await." She directed. Gimli obediently walked toward his seat with a mumbled "two thousand!" Legolas strode away without so much as a glance at Blaine, and Aragorn followed, pausing only briefly on the way to lay a gentle hand on her uninjured shoulder. She smiled, watched them take their seats, and shifted smoothly to exit the chamber. Before she passed the door, however, a shrill whistle caught her attention. Blaine turned to see Breag calling her over.
"You will sit on this council, leath anam," the witch said with an unsettling smile. Heart pounding at the ominous order, Blaine moved slowly totake her expected position: a lofted platform directly above the chief. As a child, she had dared to rain feathers, among other things, down on many a chief's head. As with many things, she had since learned to simply perch there and preen her feathers. And yet, on this occasion there had been something strange in the soothsayer's tone—an odd glee that set Blaine's nerves on edge—and the young hawk watched the council proceedings with an unusually focused gaze.
"Today marks the turning of the month," the chief announced as a beginning of the meeting. The din in the chamber immediately quieted. "As always, many things must be discussed. However, before we begin, I would like to address a rumor that has reached our ears. I call the travelers Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas to council." He looked pointedly at the three and gestured to the raised platform in the middle of the chamber. With hesitant glances between themselves, the travelers moved slowly to stand before the chief.
"I will first ask after your plans," the soothsayer began. "Once you leave us, that is."
"We will journey to recover our friends, of course," Aragorn answered, eyes firm. He intended to say no more on the matter. Thankfully, the chief let the matter slide. Blaine watched with an odd tension. Something was definitely wrong…
"We would have you stay a bit longer, and provide you with provisions for your journey." The chief's voice was suddenly sly, though his words were innocent, and Aragorn chose his words carefully.
"We are grateful, my lord, but we must be on our way," he assured then council. "We cannot afford the slightest delay." Suddenly he paused, cast a glance to Blaine. "Regarding the matter of our departure," he began again, eyes trained on the hawk, but suddenly Breag released a screech to rival a Nazgul and flung an arched finger toward the travelers.
"You see how they are corrupted, my lord!" she shrieked, eyes wide in triumph. For a moment the council was quiet, and confused glances were traded all around, not least between Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. "Did I not warn you of leaving them with that leath anam? You see how they glance to her, deny our answers…they mean to free her!" The elders murmured amongst themselves, all clearly bewildered. For, no matter which way Blaine looked at it, Breag's sudden claim seemed preposterous, bordering on senile. And yet the hawk noticed, with a chill that ruffled her feathers, the chief was smiling, nodding in encouragement of the soothsayer's outburst. Blaine turned her gaze on Aragorn, found that he returned it steadily, grey eyes hard. Her heart sank, and she vehemently shook her head, but Aragorn and his companions stepped forward with resolution.
"We owe her a debt," he explained. "The hawk was injured while tracking Orcs on our behalf!"
"Blood claim," one of the elders whispered, and the words passed as a ripple through the council. Blaine was frozen in shock, claws curled around the edge of her pedestal, body angled forward and feathers ruffled.
"It is not your claim," Breag said with a wicked grin. "You did not give the order." At that, Aragorn stood back, at a loss. Breag's smile widened to reveal sharp, yellowing teeth. She seized upon Aragorn and the council's confusion, rose to her feet. "The hawk has corrupted the travelers," she declared. "We must cleanse them, or the village will be forfeit!"
Blaine could hardly believe what she was hearing. Surely this was some terrible nightmare…perhaps her injury had made her feverish. And yet, no matter her denial, she could not seem to wake up. She stared around the council; a couple of the elders seemed uncertain, but the vast majority shook their heads sadly at the travelers. Their superstitions were too deeply ingrained.
"You have no proof!" Gimli tried at last, waving a heavy hand furiously at Breag. The soothsayer smiled and an evil shadow seemed to fall over her face as she nodded to the chief.
"Call forth the witness!" he commanded. Witness? What witness? Blaine thought, panicked. Her mind whirled, trying to remember anyone who might have betrayed her. How could they when no one knew? The door to the chamber opened with a creak, and the council fell instantly silent. Blaine's head snapped to the side…and her beak fell open. She was so shocked, she pitched forward off of her pedestal, had to snap out her wings to brace her fall, painfully jarring her injury. She hardly registered the pain.
The witness shut the door quietly behind him, walked across the chamber floor to kneel directly in front of Aragorn, who watched him with mingled horror and deep sorrow. The witness looked up at the chief, rose to his feet slowly, deliberately.
"Liam, son of Lief, called as witness, my lord."
Dun, dun, dun! I told you it got a little dark...and we're not out of the woods, yet!