Gylda

? - 1304 AE?

Time was indiscernible in the tower, minutes, hours and days all melded into one and, without the sun and moon as a guide, Gylda lost count of the time she spent in the endless library. An unofficial routine took what time she spent awake.

In what she considered the mornings, she would spend time in the atrium with her Many Mother (called such because she insisted she was neither great nor grand). Often she would read or braid Aliana's tresses while her Many Mother would putter about or chatter to the pulsating crystal.

After that she would tuck Aliana under her arm and attempt to map out the expansive shelves of books that spiraled out from the Atrium. She made little headway, and would often get lost. The towering bookcases were arrayed without reason and often paths she had chosen would end abruptly, or open up to vast chambers filled with a strange assortment of artifacts. Gylda could not bring herself to explore these chambers for fear of what they held. When she had first found herself in the Monolith, Many Mother had warned her of these places, saying that their contents were dangerous even for her. When she found herself lost in the vast library she would holler for her Many Mother and always - without exception - her Many Mother would find her, no matter how lost she got herself.

In what she perceived as the evenings she would collect and pile pillows into a nest. Her Many Mother would join her on the downy cushions and tell her stories of the time before the dragons. She would never speak of herself or the adventures she had been on, but focused more on her companions. Gylda laughed when she told her of Koss and his ego, and cried when she told the story of Jora and her brother. It was somehow different hearing the story from someone who had witnessed it firsthand. When the story was finished she somehow always found herself wrapped in the arms of the small human much the same way she held her daughter. Her Many Mother would run her slender fingers through her hair soothingly until sleep took her. Gylda had never felt the loving touch of her mother. All she had ever received from her was a fear of dark places and a hatred of running water. There was a reason she opted to live with her father at a young age. More often than not she would fall asleep to her Many Mother's voice humming or singing quietly. In the moment between sleep and wakefulness she knew absolute peace. Once she stepped over that threshold, however… nothing. She didn't dream, she didn't even get the sense of sleep. One moment she would be lying in her Many Mother's arms, the next she would waken to her Many Mother chattering to the crystal, or reading in a corner.

Gylda worried about her Many Mother. There was something… broken, about her.

The day started like any other. She awoke to the sound of Many Mother arguing with a worn shelf. Ignoring the intense debate she changed Aliana into a borrowed frock of Many Mother's before she donned her own patchwork garments. When she had first arrived all she had to cover her nudity was a torn leather cloak, so Many Mother had set out to create something decent for her to wear. She did this by sewing many of her own outfits together, making a medley of clothing. It wasn't distasteful, just colourful. She wore a pair of varicoloured pants, a billowing white shirt with a blended vest. Standing, she stretched. Her muscles groaned and joints popped as she stretched out her long frame. Grunting, she hoisted her daughter in her arms before making her way to the center of the Atrium, tripping over the many obstacles in her way. Initially she had tried to tidy the cluttered area, but soon resigned herself to the disorder. Many Mother made mess faster than she could clean. She was like a butterfly, fluttering from one unfinished project to another. It frustrated Gylda greatly, but she said nothing, not knowing how long they would be cooped up together. She folded her large frame to sit cross legged and settled Aliana to her lap. She then proceeded to brush her waist length hair then worked on Aliana's crimson tresses, her curls bouncing into a bob as they were released from the brush. She cleared her throat loudly, hoping to interrupt the argument Many Mother was having with herself.

"Um…" said Many Mother, "Was I, ah, doing it again…?"

"It sounded very intense." Gylda replied, her voice soft, she didn't want to embarrass her Many Mother further.

"I am, um, sorry. I forget sometimes."

"It's okay, Many Mother, you've been alone a very long time."

She continued running the brush through Aliana's hair, her tiny head bobbing and moving with the strokes of the brush. Outside the sand roared as it smashed against the hard stone of the monolith. The air inside the monolith was dry, and smelt of ancient things. Since she had climbed the tower, she had never once felt the need to venture the depths below. The library felt safe to her, and didn't have the cold desperation of the moon filled sky pressing down on her. She drew a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. Aliana was so still. Despite being careful, she couldn't help pulling Aliana's small head one way then another when she pulled the brush through her curls. Many Mother watched pensively.

"Are you, ah, going to explore today?" she asked. The fire of her hair dimming at her troubled thoughts.

"I was thinking of looking beyond the first chamber today. I think there's promise beyond it. Are you sure I can't open any of the boxes there?"

"Um… Yes. Bad things in those, I think… I can't remember what, just that it hurt."

She hugged herself wearily. She was wearing a gown in the style of old Ascalon, a large greatsword was strapped to her back breaking the femininity of the outfit. Gylda had never seen her Many Mother without it. Many Mother mumbled incoherently more often than not. On her lucid days she would disappear from the Atrium and into the vast library that arrayed from their haven. Gylda had tried to follow once, but had gotten hopelessly disoriented. One of the reasons she was so desperately mapping out the infinite library was out of curiosity about her Many Mother.

When Aliana's hair was orderly, Many Mother helped hitch her to Gylda's back with a blanket.

"Be careful," mumbled Many Mother, her small hands trembling as she helped Gylda tie a knot on the blanket, "I, um, I have a bad feeling today… I don't know why."

Her eyes were troubled as they stared up at Gylda.

"Of course, Many Mother."

The day was mostly uneventful. All she found beyond the chamber of forgotten artifacts was row upon row of old books and scrolls. The deeper she went into the unseen beyond, the harder it got to breath. The air was too dry, too aged. It seemed as it the knowledge contained on the shelves loomed over her, watched her. Gylda felt paranoia setting in. She shifted Aliana on her back, made sure the knots holding her in the blanket were still strong, and then turned to go back. When she turned to look for the way she came, it seemed as if the book shelves had shifted, obscuring her path. Gylda's heartbeat jumped in her throat, she was terrified. The path she had taken seemed to creak with the breath of a living thing. Gylda didn't hesitate.

"MANY MOTHER!"

Her voice echoed across the shadowy space, dispelling the uneasy feeling that had taken root in her. She heard a thud and the sound of running feet, before her Many Mother appeared around a corner, greatsword in hand.

Her Many Mother's flaming hair was disheveled. The length of her layered flowing skirt was tucked into her underwear, allowing her to run faster. First she glanced at Gylda, then at the shelves around her.

"I will have none of that." she whispered to the shelves. Her jewel green eyes flared into full luminescence. Her skin, which glowed slightly under normal circumstances, burned with the power of her rage. At her furious command the shelves receded.

"Follow me," she turned and walked forward, not bothering to see if Gylda was following her.

Gylda wasn't sure how long she followed her Many Mother, nor what route they took to the Atrium. She had never seen her Many Mother rage, and the sight of it planted a seed of fear in her heart.

This, thought Gylda, was the renowned warrior who did all those great and terrible things.

When they arrived in the cluttered hospitality of the Atrium, her Many Mother sheathed her sword on her back once more and went to speak to the crystal. Gylda could not hear her words, but could read her body language. Whatever she was saying to the crystal was punctuated with sharp hand gestures and a fierce expression. The flames of her hair became bright with cobalt lacing. She turned sharply to Gylda.

"It is time to sleep."

Gylda didn't argue as her Many Mother helped remove Aliana from her back, nor fight her when she helped ease her and the child to the cushions that suddenly appeared around them. Her Many Mother didn't hold her that night, she didn't tell her stories, nor did she hum or sing. Gylda fell asleep with a heavy heart.

That night she dreamed for the first time since she arrived.

The balmy heat of her enclosed garden caressed her tan skin, warming it with its generous touch. The gentle hum of the force field sizzled as it held a snowstorm at bay, beyond it; the world was a swirling white frenzy masking the lodge she shared with Olaf. Breathing deeply, Gylda took in the scent of freshly tilled earth, mulch, fertilizer and, best of all, the smell of things growing. She felt the rich dark soil crumble between her fingers as she fought to remove a weed from smothering her precious omnomberries. She sat back, weed in hand, with a feeling of triumph. Endenvar had insisted that she would never be able to sustain the omnomberries. She felt a keen sense of pride in proving him wrong. She tossed the weed into the growing pile and gazed over at her daughter. She was sitting nearby, her face and hands covered in the rich soil that surrounded them; in her hands she held a miniature spade in imitation of Gylda. She looked up then, the depth in her green eyes sparkling, and smiled broadly, her even milk teeth white and perfect. Gylda's throat closed with emotion. She never could have believed she could love anything as much as she loved her child. When she was pregnant she was so scared she would be like her mother, that she would reject Aliana as her mother had rejected her.

Shifting slightly, she snagged a ripe strawberry and offered it to Aliana, before she could accept it Gylda reminded her gently.

"What do we say?" she asked.

Aliana's pale green eyes met hers; she frowned, and then smiled. It was like watching the sun peak out from clouds on a rainy day.

"Than' you mamma."

Her words still held the slightly slurred quality of the littlest of children. Gylda smiled, and then handed Aliana the strawberry. It was so large that Aliana had to cup it in both hands.

"It's a pleasure baby." she said.

Juice from the strawberry mixed with the dark soil on her face and hands, turning it into a sweet mud. Between bites, Aliana would chatter to Gylda in her unintelligible language, a constant jabber of gibberish that required nothing more than an 'Ah' or 'Oh?' from Gylda.

Gylda leaned back on her hands and stared at the swirling snow outside the dome. She felt relaxed, at peace and happy. She breathed in the smell of her garden once more, contentment filling her.

If she hadn't been staring into the snow smothered sky at that exact moment, she would have missed the massive shadow of an owl as it passed overhead. Gylda frowned and squinted up at the swirling sky, not believing her eyes. Its screech shot across the garden from behind her. Gylda sat straight and put her arms protectively around her daughter. Sensing her tension, Aliana stopped talking and looked up to her mother, the strawberry forgotten in her hands. As Gylda craned her neck to see behind her, a large shadow disentangled itself from the snowstorm. Visibility beyond the force field was poor and Gylda could barely make out what was coming towards them. Cautiously, Gylda stood and turned so she could see the oncoming shadow properly. She slid Aliana behind her; she felt a strawberry juice soaked hand curl into the soft cloth of her skirts, tagging against them gently. Looking down she could see Aliana peeking out at the shadow from behind her.

Her eyes strained as she watched the shadow begin to emerge into the light of the garden, away from the howling storm. Gingerly, it stepped through the hissing shield.

"So this is your happy place." It grunted; its voice gravelly with disuse.

It, she, was tall, almost as tall as Olaf. Her face was hard and careworn. Her features looked carved from stone. If Gylda had to guess, she'd place the Norn at middle age. A large tribal tattoo of a wolf mid leap crawled from her neck to her left cheek. Her storm grey eyes were hard and pitiless as they regarded her. The shape and colour familiar to Gylda only because she had seen a warmer version on her mate. She wore dark armor made from boiled leather. It was hard and unadorned save for an inlay of a flowering Iris on her breast. A tasseled leather skirt that reached her knees was the only concession she allowed for femininity. Under it, her legs were clad in hard leather. A thick dark braid hung carelessly over her right shoulder, a long downy feather woven into the leather cord that kept its mass in place. She could see a large painted greatsword hilt protruding over her shoulder.

As the Norn with the wolf tattoo drew near to where Gylda stood, her breath became short as panic burned its way through her body. Pure unadulterated malice flowed off the woman in waves. Gylda was frozen by the intensity of it. It was only Aliana's small whimper from behind her that spurred her into action. With a shout to alert Olaf of the danger, she threw her hands out in a defensive position and called to the elemental powers that swirled within her. Desperately she summoned them to the fore, cursing her unwillingness to learn to harness them to their full capacity when she was younger. Now, when she was without weapon or hope, they would be the perfect weapon to protect Aliana. As it was, the most she could hope to do was overwhelm her enemy with sheer raw power. She called a ring of fire to shield them, pushing all the power she could muster into its walls. The Norn with the wolf tattoo barely hesitated. She stepped over the flaming mass as one would a crack on tiles. Gylda gasped and tried once more to call the power from within her. Aliana pressed her small face into her mother's skirts, too frightened to look. Gylda focused fire into her palms, nurtured it, and then flung it at the woman who walked so casually towards them.

The woman raised a gauntleted hand.

"Stop." One word, softly spoken, without inflection.

In a moment, everything did. Nothing moved. The ball of fire was held suspended in its arc through the air. The snowflakes that were falling in frenzy paused. Even the gentle hum of the force field stopped. Time was held suspended.

Gylda couldn't move. Her arms and hands were flung before her in the motion of casting. Every muscle, every motion, paused, while the woman resumed her journey forward. Hatred overwhelmed Gylda as the woman caught and held her gaze. In the sanctity of her head, Gylda screamed. The woman sidestepped the flaming ball and ignored Gylda as she bent down until she was eye level with Aliana. Gylda fought desperately against the spell holding her. Her muscles ached where she tried to force them into movement, a scream caught in her throat. She was powerless and could do nothing but watch as the woman gently pulled the child from behind her. At her touch the child could move again, she whimpered and cried and clutched at Gylda, but could do nothing to free herself from the woman's grasp. She picked Aliana up and cradled her in her arms. Aliana fought and cried out, her small arms reaching desperately for her mother.

"No," she cried, her child's voice desperate, "No! Mamma, help. Help!"

Gylda's heart was breaking, she couldn't move. Her throat closed with emotion as she fought against the spell holding her.

The woman stood, her tall body unfolding until she was at her full height, nearly two heads taller than Gylda. She looked down at her, her storm grey eyes cold as they stared into Gylda's.

"I am taking her now," said the woman, her voice was like boulders falling on gravel. In the garden where time was suspended, they seemed to crack and echo.

With that, she turned and made her way back from where she came. Aliana's green eyes were desperate and forlorn as they gazed at Gylda over the woman's shoulder. Gylda knew fear like no other. She couldn't stop her.

At the edge of the force field a small shadow met the woman. She looked down at the figure and spoke. Gylda could not hear what was being said, only the bark of the woman's voice in reply to the beyond. The woman nodded once, and then stepped over the force field and into the snowstorm. The suspended snowflakes drifted slowly back into motion in her wake.

Gylda watched the woman until she could no longer see the darkness of her receding shadow. A tear fought its way through the spell holding her and ran down her cheek.

"You are dreaming." said Aliana.

Gylda looked down. Her daughter stood next to her. Her teal tresses came only to her knee. She was standing with blood covered hands clasped behind her back, watching the disappearance of the woman and child. She was wearing a torn night dress that came to her knees. Blood covered her feet and calves. She looked up and the lump in Gylda's throat grew thicker. Blank vacant green eyes met hers. Whatever remained of her child was gone. There was something there, but not. It wore Aliana's skin, but not her spirit.

"We don't have long, so listen. You're forgetting something. It's eating you, you just don't know it." her voice was a child's voice, but her words were far beyond her age, "You need to remember, and you don't have long. This will be the last time you see me. I only came as a courtesy to the child whose flesh I wear."

As she stared, one of Aliana's green orbs began to change; crystalline blue took root at its center and slowly invaded her iris until Gylda was staring into a green and blue orb. The thing that once was Aliana smiled.

She touched Gylda gently on the leg, releasing her from the spell. Gylda fell to the floor, her muscles aching from holding the same position.

"Good bye Gylda Thillian." said the child that wasn't. "Thank you for your sacrifice."

With that the child transformed into a brilliant white owl with feathers of crystal ice, its heterochromic eyes met hers. It screeched once, a sound that filled Gylda with great sorrow and pain, and then took off into the snow filled sky. Its massive wings beat against the frigid air, causing a gale of snow and ice.

Gylda woke. Her eyes burning with unshed tears. Desperately she fumbled in the cushioned embrace of the bed for her child, her arms tightened around her still waist as she pulled her to her, she held her close and breathed in the smell of wild things, old wood, and under that the baby fresh smell all infants carried. She pulled her closer and ran her hand through her crimson tresses. Once she felt reassured her child was safe she stood and kicked the pillows from her bath as she began to pace, she felt trapped, helpless. This place was oppressive, she could feel the endless rows of books pressing down on her until her breath came in short hollow gasps. In her arms, her child remained motionless, jostling occasionally with a slight clanking as Gylda's breath failed her.

Sensing her distress, Many Mother came to see what was troubling her. She no longer projected the fierce anger of earlier. Her skin and eyes had reverted to their dull glow. She grasped Gylda's hand as she passed her and held it with a hand that was without warmth, despite her fiery hair. The sound of the sand crushing against the barricade of the Monolith was all consuming. Even at the top of the tower, she could hear the rushing crush of it against the structure. On the tabletops, objects rattled and clunked as the sand threw itself against the structure.

"Shhh… Shhh… Come, child. It's not so bad. The first couple of decades are difficult, but I promise you it gets better."

Gylda was inconsolable. There was something, something important, that she had to remember. It was something to do with the quiet child in her arms. The more she picked at the blank space in her memory, the more desperate she became. Black spots flew in front of her eyes and her heart felt like it would beat its way out of her chest.

"There is something important, Many Mother,' she whispered, 'something I am forgetting. I can't… I can't remember. I keep trying but I am blank. It's like a scabbed wound that I keep picking at. What's wrong with me?"

Many Mother shook her head, the bright flame of her hair dimmed; darkening the Atrium. Gylda surrendered herself to the fear gnawing at her. She sunk to the hard floor. As a Norn, she had a natural immunity to cold climes, but this place was cold unlike anything she had known. It was cold like the Watcher was. It was ice and snow… snow, there was snow where she had been. Blood, snow, sadness and desperation, the fragment of memory chocked her. Beside her, Many Mother stood, her body was tense and fear shone from her jeweled eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and watched helplessly as Gylda fought through the panic that clawed at her. Gylda folded into herself. There was something...something important.

She tightened her embrace around Aliana, the small child was unmoving against her chest - she rustled and clanked as her position was jostled closer to her mother. Many Mother's jeweled eyes dropped to the child in Gylda's arms and filled with pity. She tentatively took a step closer to Gylda, and, when she saw no adverse reaction, took another until she was within arms reach. Gently she put her small hands on either side of Gylda's face and lifted it until she could look her in the eyes.

"Please don't open this door," said Many Mother, "Please keep these things secret from yourself. There is a reason your mind is trying to forget, it needs time to come to terms with this situation. Please Gylda, please, just for a while, please, don't open that door inside."

"I can't leave it Many Mother," she said, "if I do it will tear me apart, there is something…"

"Oh, Burrik," muttered Many Mother, her voice broken, "Why do all our children have to be so like me?!"

With that Gylda felt a surge of power flow into her from her Many Mother's cool hands. She dropped the child in her arms and instead grasped her Many Mother's thin wrists, trying desperately to break their grasp. They were steel.

The atrium faded as Many Mother's eyes seemed to take the place of her world.

"Sleep." whispered Many Mother, her voice filled with command. So Gylda did.

She folded onto the floor, her head hitting its hard surface with a thump. Many Mother let her go when she was sure Gylda was asleep. Carefully she positioned a pillow under her head. Once she had made sure that Gylda was comfortable, she retrieved the doll that had fallen from her arms. Being careful not to disturb her, she wrapped Gylda's arms around the marionette. She pressed a kiss against her forehead then made her way to the pulsating crystal.

"You," she muttered to it, "have a very sick sense humour."