Gylda
Season of the Colossus - 1303 AE
Her body ached, her muscles spasimed and her feet burned where she trod through ice and snow. In her arms, Aliana remained still, if it wasn't for the shuddering breath at her ear, Gylda would believe her child to be dead. Her heart ached at the thought. The women in her family had long been cursed to only have one child, and with Aliana's death, her family, her line would end. But more than that was the knowledge that she could let nothing happen to the sweet child in her arms, a child that had bought love and laughter to a hearth where long there had been none.
She hitched Aliana higher in her arms, tightened her grip on the still child. A putrid scent wafted up from the dead owl that Aliana still clutched in her arms and Gylda was forced to turn her face from the scent.
"Oh baby," she exhaled, "the things you find."
She kissed the top of her head, feeling cold radiating from the small gesture. She bought her hand up to hold Aliana's small head and body closer to her own, tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to speed up her pace, but a wound inflicted by her rage filled mate prevented her from achieving the speed she knew she so desperately needed. Every breath she took was agony, where Aliana was pressed against her chest she knew that she had at least three broken ribs. She knew she couldn't focus on the pain, that if she did she would tumble over and not get up and her cargo was too precious to allow for that. With that in mind she focused every thought, every step solely on reaching her destination.
Her options were few. She couldn't take Aliana to her neighbours at Edenvar's Homestead, knowing that they would react to Aliana much the same way her mate did. She couldn't use the waypoints, not knowing how they would react to the changes Aliana displayed. Her only hope lay with the cantankerous Havroun of Raven. As a necromancer it would be in his power to see and do things that the other Havroun would fear. She took a deep breath, focused on the monotony of walking, and took her bearings from the moon and trees. She headed south, to Heart of the Raven, where she knew that she would be able to find an apprentice of raven, if not the great Weibe himself.
While clear, the night was colder than usual, the moon shone brightly and the landscape was vast and covered in a thick layer of snow. Every now and again, Gylda could hear the explosive bleating of Minotaur as they communicated across the great expanse. Even more fearsome were the Jotan who had taken residence in nearby hills. Gylda prayed to Wolf that they would not sense their passing, she knew that if she passed too close and they caught little Aliana's scent, they would not hesitate to destroy them. She wished she had had time to put on a pair of shoes before leaving, the snow and ice froze her feet and slowed her down as she purposefully made her way through the snow.
Briefly, she turned and looked distantly at the homestead she had called home for the last four winters. She and Olaf had been happy the first 6 months of their union, but like most Norn males the wild had called to him. It had called to him in a way it would never call to her. So he had left. He wondered the paths of the wild, and, when the feeling took him he came home and acted as if the months he had spent away were nothing. He would love her and make love to her, but inevitably the wild would call to him again, and he would leave. The wild never held that call for her, nor any female of her line. Not since two hundred and fifty years ago a young human woman had stumbled into Sifhalla's Great Lodge and stole the heart of Burik the Hunter. Silently Gylda cursed her erstwhile ancestor. She who had cursed every female in her line, she who had created a calamity so huge, and left a responsibility so massive, that the women in her family had kept their association with her a closely guarded secret. From her, Gylda had inherited her fiery locks, her slight height for a Norn, and the curse of only having one child. Once, when the knowledge of her fate became too heavy she had asked her mother's mother the reason why there was only ever one child. Alia told her it was because carrying a Norn babe was too much for the small human, and that when her daughter took her first breath, she took her last. From that point on the curse was set; one girl child was born per generation. Mother, grandmother, great grandmother, these were the women of her family. They lived longer than most Norn, not having the same wanderlust and hankering for glory as their counterparts. Her great grandmother was not sure how old she was, but she could remember being a babe on her mother's back fleeing their home at Sifhalla. Her grandmother, Alia, thought she was born around the time that Zhaitan rose from the depths.
Now, in the pale moonlight, clinging to a child that had been taken by something so unthinkingly other, aching from head to foot from wounds inflicted on her by the one person she thought she could trust to keep her safe, now, Gylda thought of home. Of the smell of varnish and freshly felled trees, the warmth of Olaf's back as she snuggled up against it in sleep, the clear well that was fed from the nearby Shadowhorn springs. She remembered all these things as she stared back at her home, now so distant from her. The child in her arms motionless and lost, skin clammy and cold to the touch. It was then Gylda made up her mind; wounded as she was she would never make it to Ravens shrine, and even if she did, there was precious little the Havroun would be able to do with her child save give it safe passage into the Mists. She adjusted the little one in her arms, moving her from her side to her chest, then like when she was a child, she flopped backwards onto the snow. She wrapped her shivering arms around the blood soaked child, suffered another gust of decaying flesh from the owl, then staring up at the glory of the night sky, and began to sing the naming song. She didn't think she would remember all the words, but now, with death so close that it was breathing down her neck, she remembered and sang of the spirits and their true names and nature. Her voice was hoarse and broken, but in her arms Aliana relaxed as the melody engulfed her. It was a song so old it was forgotten by all Norn born after the exodus. Alia had taught it to her once while she lay with her head on her lap. With the song came the memory of Alia's house, of her soft hands and the smell of wood smoke. Now, lying in the snow waiting for deaths last handshake, caressing the hair of her only child, singing the song, now for the first time since she left her father's hearth, Gylda felt peace.
"That was lovely," said a voice, "I wonder where you heard it, I can't say I've heard that variation before and I thought I had heard them all… Why are you lying in the snow?"
"It seemed like a good place to lie," breathed Gylda, her hands rubbing up and down Aliana's back. She felt a slight thud and saw a puff of snow wafting in the air. Gylda watched it for a moment, and then closed her eyes. She focused on the sound of her breathing and that of Aliana. The night was cold and already her body was wracked with shivers. Concentrating on the simple act of breathing, she slowly shut down systems she wouldn't need. Legs, too painful, arms, needed to keep Aliana warm, head, needed to control the system, chest, focus on the lung that worked. Slowly she worked her way through her body, exercising mental and physical restraint.
"That's bloody marvelous" said the voice, "I can barely feel your life force. Where on earth does a Norn learn a skill like that?"
It laughed explosively, the sound was grating. It bounced off of the surrounding mountains and echoed in the stillness of the night, a nearby herd of Minotaur were awakened and frightened by the suddenness of it. Gylda heard their bleating of surprise and felt the earth shake as they stampeded near where they lay.
Gylda turned her face slightly to the left and opened her eyes to stare into a pair so pale they were almost white, they glowed with a slight luminescence, leaving a trail of light as it moved its head to gain a comfortable position on the hand it leaned on. The face they occupied was entirely unremarkable, it was neither young nor old, neither male nor female, and, with the exception of the eyes, completely Norn.
"I was wondering when you would come see me" she exhaled.
It chuckled, the sound reverberating deeply in its chest, and rubbed its sharply callused hand across its jaw. Vaguely, Gylda noticed that it had no hair on its body; both head and form were completely free of it.
"It's not every day that a scion of that woman allow themself to get so close to death" It chuckled. "And to get two, it must be Wintersday!"
It ran its hand up Aliana's back, stopping to caress the soft teal tresses of her hair. Gylda snapped her hand up and grasped its wrist. Where her hand touched she burned. Ice as cold as the coldest winter's night filled her fingers, rendering her hand numb. She could feel it spreading slowly up her arm towards her heart. She locked eyes with the thing, the pale green of her orbs meeting its unnatural ones.
"I am near enough to death", she said, and "What is it you want?"
"An age ago a young hunter from Sifhalla called to me." It said, "I must admit, at the time I was surprised, not many know of my existence, and even then the number who knew of me where limited to the Havroun."
Absently it broke her grip on its arm and ran its hands up and down Aliana's back, its caress soft enough as not to disturb her rest. Though Gylda would not admit it, the weight of her child was causing her great pain, and the cold of it had alleviated some of the agony that burned through her. As she listened to it, the world began to grow dim; the pain in her limbs was slowly beginning to ease. Shock, she knew. Instead of worrying about her impending demise, she focused on the creature, listening intently as it continued its story.
"He was desperate, however, and so he performed ritual, and begged an audience." It chuckled once more. "I must admit, the only reason I allowed it was my curiosity, and so I allowed myself to be called."
It paused, pressing together lips that were neither thick nor thin. It bought hairless brows together in a frown, the luminescence of its eyes dimming. In the night, a Minotaur let out a scream as something dark and dangerous stalked it. Gylda knew if it wasn't for the Watcher, the creatures of the night would be upon them in an instant.
"What I saw, I was glad never to see again. You see, this hunter, this young boorish fool, had fallen in love with a human and impregnated her. Something I thought I would never witness in my long life. Humans and Norn are incompatible. Both may be humanoid, but physically… Well, the differences are vast. And so I came to this young hunters call and saw a female swollen with pregnancy, the child within fighting to get out, bruising and breaking her bones. Her body had been sucked dry of nutrient, and her limbs were like twigs. One touch of my hand and they would have broken." It sighed, "I must admit I was furious."
It said this without inflection, as if it meant nothing. Gylda knew, however, that the anger of a thing such as this must be terrible to behold. She licked her lips, felt their roughness, and asked;
"What then?"
"I attempted to destroy her much like your mate attempted to destroy your whelp."
"Obviously you failed."
"Obviously I did."
Its hand moved to her, its fingers were ice where they touched her; first it ran its hand down one arm then up the other. Gylda was too weak to fight it and instead lay still, waiting for it to finish its story. It bought its hand to her hair, touching the mangled mess of it.
"It looks like blood on newly formed snow." It whispered, "Beautiful."
It focused its eyes on the movement of its hand through her tresses, attempting to untangle the red mass.
"Your many times removed mother had hair like this, it glowed like fire where every other part of her had fallen to decay. You inherited both her eyes and hair, colouring I have not seen in three generations of your family line."
"You attempted to destroy her…" Gylda prodded, trying to get this strange creature to come to the point. It bought its attention back to her, its exceedingly androgynous face focused entirely on hers.
"Mother Owl intervened."
"And?" she urged, wanting it to finish its story, she didn't have long in this world. She needed to aid Aliana into the Mists before she left it.
"I should have known the young hunter would have called upon her as well, how else would he have known of my existence?"
It collapsed back onto the powdery snow and stared at the majesty of the night sky. Stars burned brightly about them in a sky that was clear and bright, the moon shone like a beacon reflecting off of the snow and giving everything an eerie glow. Her companion lay like this for a moment before continuing its story.
"Look at her soul, said Mother Owl, see how it glows'." said the Watcher, "So I did."
The Watcher bought his hand up and scratched its nose. Gylda's field of vision faded; slowly the lights of the stars began to go out one by one. Her arms, where it had touched them, had become so numb she could not move them. Wrapped as they were about Aliana, she could feel the breath of her daughter becoming slower. The dead owl pressed uncomfortably between them.
"It burned." it said "Its light was all encompassing. In the second it took me to see it, I saw all that she had accomplished, both good and bad. The Searing, which forced her to become who she became, the sinking of Orr… She faced Shiro Tagachi in Cantha and helped do away with the Afflicted, she was there to bear witness to the Rise and Fall of Abaddon, to aid in the ascension of Kormir to godhood, and as payment for that privilege she allowed something terribly evil to exist in the world, though she did not live long enough to view the consequence of that action. She then travelled to the Shiverpeaks where I think she sought solace, or perhaps the fallen ruler that she helped aid when she left her home the first time. Whatever her reason, she found no peace here. Instead she became embroiled in the affairs of the Dwarves as they sought to vanquish the Great Destroyer, their enemy of old. She met the centaur Ventari, and was one of the few to see the Pale Tree as nothing but a sprout. She got entangled in the battles of the Ebon Vanguard and found that not all Charr were evil oppressors. She met and aided Jora when her brother became entangled in the dark forces created by Jormag. She was one of the first humans to become involved with the tricky Asura. And finally she aided the Dwarves in their ritual to destroy Primordus when he began to stir in the deep places. All of this she did in her short lifespan. One small human had had more adventure and had a greater legend than any I had ever seen. 'Do you see?' asked Mother Owl, 'Do you understand why this human can't just die, can you imagine if she would pass this spirit to her child? What she would achieve? Long you have wondered the Wilds, alone and without a companion. With this child perhaps you will find what you have long sought.'" It took a deep breath, scrubbed its hand across its face, and said; "I will admit I was conflicted."
It turned once more onto its side, rested its head on its hand and watched Gylda with those faintly glowing eyes. Her breath was low and shallow; in her arms Aliana hardly drew breath herself. Absently she thought how strange it was that she would die like this, in the company of this thing. It smiled at her, showing teeth that were even and clean, its incisors slightly longer than normal, but otherwise beatific.
"It was Mother Owl who convinced me. She was always a speaker of truth, the mother of wisdom, a mother to us all really. So I offered the human a deal. I would save her child's life, but not hers. I would allow its existence, but not protect it. I explained briefly (very briefly as she was dying much like you are.) that her child would be an abomination. That besides Mother Owl she would never be accepted by the other Spirits. Even in Grenths embrace your many times mother was brave. She agreed to our bargain, allowing me to consume her life force and birth the young one into the world. The young hunter protested loudly only to be silenced by Owl. So it came about that on her child's first breath, that woman took her last. Thus the only surviving human/Norn hybrid was born. The hunter named her Mika; she had hair of fire and eyes of green meadows. I watched her grow, saw the caution she always had in lingering in her eyes, saw the spirit she inherited from her mother and the strength she inherited from her father. It came about that she took a mate, a Norn of extraordinary strength and power; from him she had your great grandmother. Shortly after your great grandmother was born a chance was given to display the spirit of her mother, to see if she had inherited her tenacity and strength of will. Jormag rose from northern reaches of the Shiverpeak Mountains, his coming forever changing Tyria. The Norn rejoiced in his rising, believing that they would easily conquer this foe. As usual, they chose to face him alone, as solitary hunters, instead of the fearsome army they could be. Mika watched her brethren seek their glory and instead of listening to the singing of her Norn blood, she chose the path a human would take; instead of facing the beast as I expected, Mika chose to flee. She left her mate and his family to the Elder Dragon and went south, stopping only when she could no longer hear the destruction wrought by the elder dragon. I must admit, I was very disappointed."
The Watcher sighed loudly, a gust of frigid air blew into her face, its breath smelt of forests and lakes, of places unexplored and those found, it smelt of caves and dark places. She bought her death glazed eyes to its, staring into them as only someone on their last could stare.
"You didn't kill her though." She whispered - her voice an imitation of what it had been. The blood that had seeped from her wounds spread in a frozen puddle around her.
"No. I didn't. Although I was sorely tempted to. It was Mother Owl who cautioned me against it. It is my one regret that I did not foresee her sacrifice. Had I known it would be the last time I would see Owl, I would have asked her more. I would have asked her what promise she could see in this poor excuse for a Norn. It wasn't long after we spoke that she was swallowed by the Elder Dragon in an attempt to save the rest of the Norn. Mika met the survivors when they came from the north. They were broken, their spirits crushed. Her mate did not return. When she saw they were settled in the hollow that became Hoelbrak she gifted her child to an apprentice of Wolf and took her life shortly after. So I took my gaze from her and instead focused on your great grandmother, who had hair as golden as sunlight, and eyes the colour of leaves in autumn. While she did not inherit her grandmother's spirit or her father's strength, she was wild. She had a lust for adventure that was unquenchable, unseen I followed her as she plundered her way through Tyria. She strayed from the wild paths, choosing instead the ocean and its depths. While on shore leave she became pregnant with Alia, your grandmother. Her father is unknown to anyone save I. Alia used to toddle around the deck while her mother blustered and threatened her crew into order. Alia inherited her coloring from her father and had hair and eyes as black as a Raven's wing, her skin was kissed by the sun and as brown as a nut. She was your great grandmother's pride and joy, and ultimately her weakness. When Zhaitan rose from the depths your great grandmothers eyes glowed with a lust for destruction I hadn't seen in a generation. Finally, I thought, a Norn worthy of me. She was ready, she would take Zhaitan by the teeth, and he would never see her coming. "
"What happened?"
"Alia." It said, its hand rhythmically clenching and unclenching. "When your great grandmother saw the magnitude of Zhaitans reach, she feared for her child. So instead of facing him like she sorely desired, she chose to forsake the sea."
The Watcher's turned its gaze to her and stared into her green orbs; she was blind, seeing nothing but their shining luminescence. Aliana's breath hitched once, then stilled in her arms. It placed its hand on her head, ran it through her teal tresses, and then pumped a surge of power into her. She resumed breathing once more, but each breath she took was shallow and weak.
"Alia was more of a disappointment. She never left the hearth her mother built. She was studious and walked the path of a shaman even though she was never formally accepted by any of the Spirits of the Wild; she stunk of human despite how she looked. Your mother followed her mother in her trade, and I despaired because the wanderlust, the thirst for adventure, was gone. Twice the women before you had the opportunity to change the world, and twice they chose to run from their destiny, their fate. That woman took every opportunity she was ever given, she helped any who asked for it, never once taking into account the harm it would cause her. In her last hour, as I drained her of her essence, still she fought against me. She was stronger than any I had ever encountered. Her will was absolute. Had she been a Norn, I would never have bothered waiting on your runty lineage to produce something similar… "
It paused, clearly upset. For a while it was silent as it contemplated the woman and child before it. Both a breath away from entering the Mists, Gylda was as still as a corpse and just as pale. Her sun kissed skin had lost its colour leaving her looking like an abandoned doll. A frozen pool of blood surrounded her, it soaked into her hair and stained her skin red where it touched her, her pale green eyes were glazed and had the sheen of death in their depths. If not for the rhythmic movement of her hand on Aliana's back, it would think she had left this world.
"That's when you were born. The first thing I saw of you was your hair, blood red and whisping about your head like an angry cloud. You screamed and brawled and occasionally set fire to the house. You gave me hope, hope that maybe; finally, there might be a Norn with the same spirit as that woman." It sighed. "Again I was disappointed. You were the first in your family to be able to work elemental forces, but chose to hide that skill as if it were a dark secret, something to be ashamed of. Instead of the life of adventure you clearly yearned from a young age, you suppressed your desire, and chose a life of solitude. Only the blustering and begging of that fool Norn you call a mate took you from your home. But by then whatever spark you had as a child was long extinguished."
It touched Aliana's back, gently caressing its cold surface.
"She showed the same promise. I promised myself that this time I would be more proactive, that I would steal her away from you if I had to. That I would take that spark and nurture it into a flame, an inferno. But I was too late. The thing that holds your daughter's soul is too dear for me to intervene. Even now I couldn't save her, even if I wanted to, and believe me, I want to."
Gylda's unseeing eyes glanced its way, looking and finding confirmation of its statement. she drew a sharp breath, if it couldn't save her child then nothing in this world could. The Watcher moved his hand along Aliana's back, then stilled over where Gylda's stomach would be. She felt the cold of its touch through her child's still body and on her very flesh.
"Hope is not lost just yet." It said, a smile twisting its mouth in a pantomime. "Tonight you lay with your mate. The curse takes a day to set in. Already two lives are beginning to form within you. Now I must ask you Gylda Thillian of the Sunspear Lodge… Would you like to make a deal?"
