by Lexy Wolfe
"Skyfire did say the bond Storm has to the drizar is stronger than any he's heard about before." Reaching over to pick up the chitan by its tail, he held it up to look at the hissing creature. "His toys are not for you to chew on. Go outside and find a rock." The tiny creature hissed balefully, but obediently flew outside. "Only thing more obnoxious than Chitta is that forest sprite of Terrence's."
Mureln followed its flight path into the grassy area out front. "He's right about Storm and the drizar's bond. Just so you know, the time to worry is if those beasts are awake and waiting for them out there. Really worry if they are waiting for you without them."
Jaison chuckled, looking up at the bard. "You speak from experience?" he stated more than asked, laughing more at the Vodani's expression. His smile faded as he looked back to Izkynder. "Until Almek brought all of you to Fortress, I used to consider myself rather accomplished as a Guardian. Since then, I have felt like I am the Adept."
Mureln smiled faintly, eyes on his fingers as he picked out an idle tune. "You are no different than we are. You are a master in the Guardian arts, but novice in others. We are masters in our own arts, but novices as Guardians."
"No, it is... more than that. Each race has something they are naturally stronger at than others. I am better at some things than other Guardians simply because of my Vodani or Desanti blood. But I don't know much about either of my own peoples. I would be as much an outlander to the Desanti... or the Vodani... as the other nations are. My wanderings have only extended to Sevmana."
Mureln looked up, his expression sympathetic. "You are very much like Storm, you know. You began walking your life's path at a very young age. On top of that, you are both Vodani and Desanti. But you never really learned what it meant to be either."
"True. I never really lived as either. And I was too afraid to face them to approach either to learn more." Jaison could not help but smile a little at Izkynder as the boy pulled a key block at the bottom of the tower, sending the wooden objects spilling across the rug. "I have much to learn."
"At least you have plenty of time as a Guardian to learn." Mureln looked back down to his mandolin as he modulated into a different tune. "Even Almek said he had much to learn about the Desanti. You know more than he does because you did live among them. Perhaps you might join us when we leave once our testing is completed and we are ready to move on."
"Will you truly leave Fortress once you've become full Guardians?" Jaison asked as he helped Izkynder to stand so he could reach the top of his tower. He could not help but smile as the tower collapsed again and the boy squealed and giggled. "Fortress has benefitted from all of your talents and fresh points of view. Even some of the most hidebound people are looking at themselves and the world with new eyes."
The music stopped as Mureln sat up to give Jaison his complete attention. "Fortress suffers from what all the lands suffer from. Stagnation. What we brought was change, new ideas, and new ways of looking at things. We brought possibilities. But it is not our responsibility to continue the shift." He tilted his head questioningly. "If we stayed, wouldn't all the newness we brought simply become the new norm? It might take a century or two, but the stagnation would return. Others must be the change Fortress needs, not expect someone else to carry that banner."
Jaison frowned. "Then what do you suggest we should do? Fortress is like bedrock, giving stability and structure to our lives."
Gently, Mureln said, "I am not saying stability and structure is a bad thing, Jaison. But it is the nature of living things to grow and adapt. As individuals, everything is new to us. As a group, however, we need to grow. If there is nothing new to feed our hunger for growth, we turn on ourselves."
"You speak of the Forenten and Sevmanen."
"No, I speak of all nations. Even Desantiva and Vodanya suffer from a cultural stagnation not unlike what is here in Fortress." Mureln chuckled at Jaison's expression. "Everything is a child of the Ancient Trinity. Order, chaos and time are all part of the essences of everything from the greatest creature to the simplest object. The chaotic Forenten and orderly Desanti balance each other."
Jaison sat back, frowning up at Mureln in thought. "I had always seen it the other way. That the Desanti are more chaotic."
Mureln smiled, touching his temple. "Therein lies the problem. If you really listen to what is written in the old journals, Forenta was the more rigid society and Desantiva was the more chaotic. But after the Second Sundering, they changed. Much of the structure of Forentan society is superficial but churns beneath the surface.
"Within Desantiva, their world appears chaotic and undefined on the surface, but the Desanti have defined their entire lives around rituals and rules. Every aspect of their lives is defined and they rigidly hold to them as the only way to preserve the tatters of what has been left. Vodani are not so different, if not as zealously clinging to traditions as the Desanti. Within our own lands? We are fine. But take us out of them?" He shook his head with a sigh.
"They do not let it show often, but Storm and Skyfire have struggled since leaving Desantiva. They are used to adapting physically. But here?" He touched his temple, then his chest over his heart, then shook his head. "Honestly though, we may not leave immediately. It has been a while since we have not had a goal we were working towards together. Being able to stop and rest, center ourselves, would be such a welcome change of pace," the bard began.
"Sta-im! 'Fire!" Izkynder abandoned the blocks, crawling towards bedrooms as the two Swordanzen emerged. Both still looked utterly exhausted but no longer on the threshold of death itself.
Storm smiled at the boy, bending to pick him up with a grunt. She tickled his side to make him giggle. Skyfire made his way over to the table, sitting down heavily. Mureln quickly poured water for them both while Jaison found something for them to eat.
"Gods bless you, my friend," Skyfire finally said, having drained the glass. "I felt like I was dust to be blown away in a stray breeze." He glanced at Storm. Izkynder kept reaching for her glass as she drank, wanting to share.
The Desanti woman finally relented, after he turned his big eyes and a charming smile on her. She offered him the cup as she informed him, "You are very persistent, Izkynder. And you are definitely your father's son."
Jaison and Skyfire laughed at Mureln's expression. "I am not sure if I have been complimented or insulted." Izkynder giggled, a devilish twinkle in his eyes. Mureln wagged a finger at him. "You are not helping, Izkynder." He looked at Storm who was staring outside with a slight frown. "What's the matter, Storm?" he asked, abruptly serious.
"Ash is upset. I must go to him." Storm frantically sat Izkynder on the table and pushed herself to her feet. Jaison caught her by the elbow when her knees gave out. Expression filled with apprehension, Skyfire put his hand on her shoulder to help draw her out of her bayuli-volsha distraction.
"Storm, neither you or Skyfire has had anything to eat or drink for days," Jaison pointed out. "You're in no condition to go anywhere." Gently but firmly, he got her to remain seated. "Ash is more than capable of taking care of himself." He put a plate of food in front of her. "If you want to help him, eat. Regain your strength."
Skyfire squeezed her shoulder. "He's right, you know. Besides, Terrence is with him." Storm sighed, relenting.
"Sta-im, be good!" Izkynder stated, holding out a handful of food that ended up being smashed and oozing between his fingers. Storm could not help but smile at the boy, graciously accepting the offering to his satisfaction.
Relieved they would not have to fight either Desanti to stay put, both Jaison and Mureln looked at each other with mild puzzlement about the significance of Terrence's presence.
Chapter 13
The antechamber of the archives was quiet, only a few Guardians and Adepts passing through during the midday hour. Ash and Terrence paused when Tyrsan called to them, waiting for the man to catch up. "Are the Desanti all right?" the Dulain asked bluntly. "Jaison has not reported to me yet today."
Th
e pair of Illaini traded a bewildered look at the normally gruff man's anxiousness. Ash closed his eyes for a moment as he reached out to Storm. A small smile touched his lips. "They just woke up, actually. They are very weak, though. They have been without food or drink for longer than even they would normally encounter."
Terrence studied the Dulain. "Is something wrong, Dulain Tyrsan?"
"Yes," Tyrsan answered tersely. "But what it is about the lot of you that inhibits scrying, I have no idea. I just know that there is some darkness that is surrounding the Desanti, but I cannot see it clearly. That is why I encouraged you and the others to take rotations to watch over them."
"Nothing untoward has happened, I can assure you," Ash began when a shriek echoed out of the deep caverns. As one, all three turned to stride deeper into the archives.
Ranshya burst from the archway of the racial halls, running into Tyrsan, her eyes wild. He caught her by the shoulders to keep her from falling, frowning in concern. "Ranshya! What is wrong?"
Trembling with emotion, the Forentan-born woman looked up, her face tear-streaked. "Dulain! The Desanti journals! The Desanti journals have been burned!"
"What?! Show me!" the man demanded. The three men followed her back through the main archives and down the long hall leading to the echoingly empty caverns of the Desanti archives. The acrid smell of smoke stung the eyes as they ran down the tunnel.
As they entered the room, Ash's curt words resulted in several large spheres of magelight illuminating the chamber. Fighting choking on the smoke, Terrence created a strong breeze that brought in fresh air to clear the harshly bitter smell of burnt parchment and leather.
When the air cleared, tendrils of smoke could be seen twisting up from where the carving of the Raging One and his Totani was. When they reached the place, they could only stare in horrified shock. The ancient texts were little more than ashes, the leather covers charred and flaking, small glowing embers belying the fire.
"No!" Tyrsan whispered, nearly brought to his knees in horrified devastation. "This is not possible! Only Guardians and Adepts have access to the archives. All know the penalty of desecration of the records. Who could have done such a--"
Behind them, Guardians and Adepts gathered to stare, equally horrified. Pushing through the throng, a livid Turyd emerged. His old features were discolored in ugly patches of flush and pallor. "I warned you, Dulain," he seethed. "I told you! It was only a matter of time before those Desanti animals destroyed something!" Eyes flashing, the ancient Archivist pointed towards the surface. "If you will not destroy the defilers for their sins, then you must send them away from Fortress before they destroy anything else!"
"You are accusing the Desanti?!" Ash glanced at the wall of eyes as the audience began murmuring, Turyd's accusations taking root as truth. "You lying bastard! That's impossible! They could not have--" Ash growled, taking a step towards Turyd with a balled fist. Tyrsan caught his wrist, holding him back from striking the old man.
"You would defend them," Turyd sneered at Ash, pointing imperiously at him. "You are Illaini Magus! You should know what kinds of monsters those savages are! Or have you become so perverted because you regularly bed animals--"
"That is enough!" Tyrsan bellowed, looking very much like he wanted to backhand Turyd himself. "I will not have unfounded accusations being flung around like fishwife gossip! What proof do you have, Turyd?"
The ancient man flung his arms out towards the empty shelves in the chamber. "What more proof need you? Obviously the Desanti returned only to finish their heinous crimes against our beloved mistress by burning those journals after you so nobly discovered and restored that infinitesimal fraction of what had been stolen."
As the room erupted in shouts both defending and accusing the absent Desanti of the crime, Terrence knelt by the remains of the books, gingerly touching pieces. He grimaced a bit at the sudden ache in his Githalin mark. This can yet be undone. Sumyr. You hold the trinity of energies within you, as well as the heart and knowledge to wield them in unison.
Without question or doubt at Dzee's words, Terrence simply nodded. "What should I do?" Raising his eyes to the stone images, he pressed his lips together as he nodded once, drawing his Desanti blade from its sheath.
Ranshya's eyes went wide when the cold light reflected off the blade. "Adept Terrence, what are you doing?" She reached towards him when he wrapped his left hand around the blade. "No, stop!" she cried as he jerked the blade free, blood staining the silver. Her shout silenced the arguing, drawing all eyes forward.
Reversing the blade, Terrence drove it into the solid rock floor as easily as if it were butter. Blood dripped from his other hand as he held it upwards. "Dzee, I call you to me." Before the others could move, the sound of wings drew their eyes upwards to see the silvered rainbow wyvern.
Her eyes glowing whitely hot, the Totani did not bother to take her humanoid form despite the cramped space between the rows of shelves and the altar, hissing malevolently towards the crowd that hastily backed away. Turning towards Terrence, she spoke in sibilant Swordanzen to him. Her wings fanned forward protectively. Terrence nodded and held his dripping hand over the ashes, echoing her words.
Flames suddenly erupted from the ashes, blinding everyone briefly. When they could see again, the journals were restored, stacked carefully on top of one another as if nothing had happened to them.
Terrence looked up, holding his uninjured hand out, continuing to speak. A ghostly image of an elderly, robed man appeared, creeping forward with the Desanti journals in his arms. He sat them where the real books sat now, then pulled out a bottle, pouring something on them, and touching a lit candle to the edge. As the hooded figure turned to abandon the vandalism, he exposed his face to the shocked watchers. The image faded before the flash of ignition could blind them again.
The wyvern raised her head and looked towards the wide-eyed Guardians, fixing her furious glare on Turyd, and hissing in thickly accented trade common, "Deceiver!" She turned back towards Terrence, touched his cheek with hers briefly before she took wing and vanished again as he pulled the knife free from the stone. Terrence sagged in exhaustion, touching his fingertips to his palm as the wound closed.
Tyrsan recovered from his shock from the encounter first, glaring at Turyd. "It was you?! You burned the journals?"
The ancient Guardian squared his shoulders defiantly. "That filth should never have been brought in here! We protect the histories of civilized peoples, not monsters such as--!"
"We protect all nations, regardless of our beliefs or feelings. You know the punishment for desecration of the archives!" Shaking his head, Tyrsan exclaimed, "You have given a millennium to protecting the heart of Fortress. How could you--?"
"I had to!" Turyd snapped, glaring at Tyrsan. "Those animals have deceived you! They have deceived everyone! You believed them when they claimed they had done nothing! That they want to return to serve Fortress. But what do they bring? Nothing. Look around you! There is nothing here! What more proof do you need that Desanti are nothing but ruthless killers and destroyers?! If those cowards had come down here regularly as Adepts are supposed to, you would never have doubted it was they who destroyed--"
Biting back revealing the real reason Storm and Skyfire could not have entered the Archives, Ash seethed, "Storm and Skyfire are not even a quarter of a century old. What happened here happened thousands of years ago!" Ash shook his head. "You do not even know what happened to the Desanti during the Great War. You are assuming things based on lies and prejudice."
Turyd sneered, "Oh, and you know what happened?"
Terrence stood purposely, looking grimly at the Archivist. "Yes," he stated without inflection. "I do know what happened." Lurching forward and grabbing the back of Turyd's neck, he closed his eyes. Moments later, Turyd shrieked, collapsing to his knees and pressing his hands to his eyes as if he could block the images he saw. "And now, so do you." He staggered back a step as his knees threatened to give out from under him. Ash caug
ht him, putting his arm under his shoulders in support.
Tyrsan stared at Turyd, then looked at Terrence. "What are you? I have never heard of any Forenten or Guardian magic like that."
"It wasn't only Forenten or Guardian magic," Terrence stated, looking exhausted. "It was Desanti magic as well. It required the weaving of all three aspects to restore not only their physical forms but the souls that had been written into them."
"B-but Desanti have no magic," Ranshya stammered, looking between the restored journals and the moaning Turyd. "Everyone knows..."
Ash managed a small, if sad, smile. "They used to have magic. One day, they will again." Terrence's knees buckled again and Ash turned his attention completely to the younger Forentan. "Come on. Let's get you out of here. You have done more than enough today."
Tyrsan growled at the growing crowd of Guardians and Adepts that had witnessed the restoration of the books. "You two! Get him out of here." He looked at the dumbfounded woman. "Ranshya, you are acting Master Archivist until I have had time to calm myself and think straight." People fell over themselves to get out of his way as he stalked out after the pair of Forenten.
Numbly, Ranshya turned to the journals to return them to the shelves they were supposed to be on. She cried out stumbling back, falling on her rump as the dragon's stone tail encircled the books, drawing them towards the wall. The lower Totani images also curled around the books, protectively encasing them in stone.
Tentatively, she reached out to touch the carvings, jerking back as the cat nearly bit her, the other faces turning towards her, gemstone eyes glittering with life. Fortress is not ready to embrace my children's knowledge, the dragon growled. Be gone from this holy place. She and those lingering fled before the magelight faded away completely.
Chapter 14
As the sky darkened with the end of sunset, servants unused to being watched by those they attended quickly and nervously set out the evening meal for the group. They left just as quickly when the Dulain pointed imperiously in dismissal for them to depart. Before Bella, Jaison or Ophilia could move to leave, he pointed commandingly to seats around the table. The three sat down in wordless obedience.
