Vhadrah- Evolution of HiSkale

by Ambear Shellea

  I glanced back to Maester Mylow, smiling, “Thank you for your guidance.”

  He bowed his head a moment before looking back at me, “It is not my guidance, but Odin's. I am just the lucky guy who he uses as his vessel, from time to time, to be his speaker from the heavens to the realm.”

  “Thank you for being that. I must be on my way, Maester, where can I find her?”

  Smiling, “She is in the Great Library, currently.”

  I rushed out, a great big smile upon my face. I knew, the answers were close.

  Sweet Treats

  I stepped out of the tower and the air felt smoother and the sun a bit warmer. I knew it was Odin letting me know he was still with me, and that things would be alright. Just a little boost to my faith, to remind me I was on the right path and not alone.

  I walked toward the Great Library with renewed vigor. It would be hard to take a step back and let someone else lead, but I also knew, I was chosen for this, just as Lalynn was chosen for her part in it. I was to aid her in strength, and she was to aid me in patience. We were both in for quite a ride. I had no fear, for Odin was with us both.

  As I made my way through the throngs of people going about their day to day, I smiled, shook hands, and even played a small game of tag with a group of girls trying hard to have fun and not disturb their shopping mothers.

  A few vendors passed, I spotted a little boy weeping, clinging to the skirt of a mother argueing with a merchant. I stepped closer, leaning agianst a tree, to hear the conversation.

  The mother looked destraught and it broke my heart. Her clothes were as disheaveled as her matted hair, and the pitch of her voice rose and fell as she begged to make this vendor undertsand her plight.

  “Sir, you don't understand. My son has not eaten in two days. I am not asking for a lot.” she pointed out.

  The vendor's voice was soft, but his answer was stern, “I do understand, but I cannot buy this garment from you. It is outdated, torn and of no value. If you are wiling to part with something else, I am eager to help you.”

  “This is all I have.” she cried.

  “Then you must go. You are running off my other patrons.”

  Something was off. The Holy City did not allow its people to starve and go without shelter. I followed the woman as she took her son and sat beneath a large shade tree.

  “Ma'am, is everything alright?” I asked.

  She tried to compose herself, but her voice was shaky when she spoke. “We are fine. I am sure that you have much more imortant matters to attend you. Please just leave me be.”

  I paused and weighed out the options. I could not force her to let me help her, but it felt wrong to leave. A moment later, her son piped up and saved us both.

  “Papa has gone, and momma doesn't have any work. They came and took our house and told us we needed to leave. Momma fought with them, but they were many and we are small.”

  I felt my heart shatter as more tears fell from both the mother and the boy. I knelt down and looked at the mother.

  “I am sorry to hear of such things. You do not have to explain to me further...”

  I pulled a pouch of coins from my belt and handed it to her. “This isn't much. But it should get you a room for a while, and food, until you can get on your feet.”

  The woman broke down and gripped my hand. I waited and let her sob it out, as it seemed she was trying to tell me something but her her broken heart was blocking the path her words would take. The boy lunged into my arms and clung to me, sobbing, Thank you, in my ear. Crying wasn't something I gave into often, but when the boy smiled at me, with now joyful tears in his eyes, my tears refused to stay hidden.

  I wiped my face and smiled back at the little boy, shuffling his shaggy dark hair. I turned to the woman when she spoke.

  “Thank you but I cannot accept this.”

  I caught the small pouch when she tossed it back. I pulled out a coin and handed it to the boy, “Why don't you take this over that nice woman in the yellow dress. The one seeling sweet cakes and trinkets. Buy you and your mommy here, something sweet.”

  The boy looked to me and to his mom.

  “Don't worry, little one, I will sit with your mommy until you return with the treats. It's a nice sunny day ...it's a sweets day and that's just what she's good at. Her name is Ms. Tarton.”

  The little boy glanced to his mom for permission, and when she nodded, he raced off. I was just about to comfort the woman when all her woes filled the air.

  “I am not this woman that you see before you now. This desperate, begging and bawling woman. I was married, had a nice place to call home. Nothing extarvagant. It was simple and I loved it. My husband was killed during war, recently. A group of men, I did not know and did not recognize showed up on my doorstep two nights ago, demanding payment for the armor and weapons my beloved fought and died in.

  I told them, I was a simple woman and didn't have that kind of coin. I didn't even know, we needed to pay for the armor and weapons. My beloved Hogarth told me they were issued to him, in exchange for his service in the field. When I explained that to these men, they said that was not true. That my husband and died too soon and I was respnsible for his debt.

  They told me, I could keep my house and my farm, if I gave them my son, MyKah. That is what they were really after, my son. I played along and told them, I needed to fetch MyKah and his travelling gear. They waited out front. I took Mykah and myslef and left out the back. We hid in the underground celler until nightfall. Once all was dark, I grbbed my sleeping son, and snuck off through the trees and headed here. I didn't know where else to go. I had heard great things about the hope and the Holy City, but since I have been here, I have seen none of that.”

  When, finally, she paused I took over.

  “I am deeply sorry to hear this, but I assure you, your life here is about to change. If you don't mind me asking who was the group of men who came to you? Were they in uniform? Did they say who they worked for?”

  She shook her head no. “I don't even know what side of the war my husband fought for. The day I found out, he arrived home accompanied by two man and told he had been summoned to fight and would see us soon.”

  I didn't have the entire picture, but I was sure, there was more to it. I doubted, she could provide any further answers.

  “Ma'am, that was very brave of you to flee the way that you did...”

  Before I could continue, a bravdo voice boomed from behind me.

  “Vharah! Thank goodness I found you.”

  I turned and saw it was Fydale, the Holy City's scribe and book enthusiast. If there was a book written, he just had to have his hands on it. He loves stories of how things came to be, heroes defeating the wicked and strange things lurking in the shadows. He had a very actively curious mind and wanted to know all there was out there to know. He had the wonder and curiosity of young children.

  I always liked him.

  “Hello, Mr. Fydale, what brings you here?” I stood and asked, hoping to shield the sobbing woman. She seemed as if she didn't want to be noticed in her current condition.

  “Well, I have been looking all over for you. I have some things I need to discuss with you. Come, bring your friend...”

  Mr. Fydale, popped his head around my shoulder and spoke to the woman.

  “Dear, you wouldn't happen to know how to write, would you?”

  I turned and looked to the woman. She had wiped away most of her tears and looked like she even tried to tame those dark curls. I was glad to see her smile when she spoke.

  “Yes, sir...I can.”

  Fydale continued as if I weren't even there.

  “Thank Heavens. Is it legible? My handwriting is just terrible...” he pointed to some wild chickens running about, “Those beasts can write better than I can. My aides are up in arms and having fits, they are, over my scratches upon the pages.

  Say, would your husband mind, if I stole you away to work for me? I am in desperate need of some help at the
Scribes Tower. I would pay you of course.”

  I was almost in tears, so I could imagine how the woman felt. I kept my back to her as she exchanged a small conversation with Fydale.

  “I have been told my handwriting is very pleasant. My husband, passed. It's just myself and my son. I will accept your offer. Please let me know when you would like me to start.”

  I watched a big smile cross Fydale's face. As he raised his hands to the sky, “Thank the heavens!” he looked back to the woman, “What is your name, ma'am?”

  “My name is Eva Linn. And what do I call you, Sir?”

  “You can call me Fydale.”

  She smiled and got from the ground, “Nice to meet you Fyd-”

  The little boy had come running up with a couple of sweet cakes, one in each hand and it looked like maybe he was wearing the evidence of a third across his cheek.

  “Hi!” he said as he pushed passed us to reach his mom. “Momma, look. I got you a pink one. The lady said, you would love it. It was a favorite among all the mommies in the Holy City.”

  Eva Linn smiled at her son, rustling his hair. “Thank you, son. I'm sure I will love it.” She turned to Fydale, “This is my son-”

  The boy didn't give her time to speak before he turned to Fydale, “I'm Erland. Who are you again?"

  Everyone laughed a bit before Fydale spoke.

  “I am Master Fydale. You can call me Mr. Fy and I shall call you little freckles. Is that alright?”

  The boy laughed, “Sure, Mr. Fy.”

  Freckles went and sat down by the base of of the tree, to finish his treat as his mother instructed him to do. Once he was settled, Eva Linn spoke to Fydale.

  “As you can see my son is full of energy-”

  Master Fydale waved her off, “No matter, dear. We would welcome the happy disruption at the tower. There is a garden in the back that should give him plenty of room to play as well as another little 'freckles' to play with. The cutest little orphaned girl, who we care for. She lost her mother to the darkness of illness. It was a nasty business, but it hasn't dampened that little fiery spirit of hers.”

  “Wonderful.” Eva Linn spoke. “So, when would you like me to start?”

  “Well, I am in bit of a rush for these things...” He said rubbing his chin as if he were working something out. “...Can you arrive at sundown? Bring your things, I'll have some rooms prepared.”

  Happy tears fell down her cheeks this time as she said thank you once more.

  “Now, Eva Linn, you and the boy will need attire, some bed linens, and writing tools. Will that be something you can acquire before nightfall?”

  Eva Linn stood in shock for a moment, unsure of what to say, so I chimed in.

  I pulled out my coin pouch and slid it into the pocket of her skirt.

  “I am sure it won't be a problem, Master Fydale.” I looked to Eva linn and signaled to her pocket. When she checked her pocket quickly, and felt the soft leather pouch, she confirmed.

  “No, Sir, not a problem at all.”

  “That's wonderful, ma'am. You can find all that you need down the street there, at Ms. Maysah's. You can't miss it. Big brown building with weird stuff in the window. She's a cooky old cat, but tell her, I sent you and she will fix you right up.”

  “Yes, sir, I'll head there right away. Thank you again.”

  I waved back as she left, preparing to do the same, when Fydale stopped me.

  “Oh no. I came looking for you specifically. I need you at the Scribe's Tower.”

  I turned to him, “Can it wait? I really need to get to the library.”

  “Trust me, the Library can wait. Your friend is sill searching for answers anyway.”

  I sighed and motioned for him to lead the way.

  Talk and truth

  I followed Master Fydale, thinking about this distraction. First Eva Linn, now this. It appears I was to be anywhere else but at that library, and everyone knew about it. I tried not to get agitated about it, but I was failing a bit. I think Master Fydale, knew, he soon engaged me in conversation.

  “Did you know her? Eva Linn? Before today?”

  I shook me head, “No. I found her crying and arguing, well begging was more the word for it, with a vendor. “

  “Yes. I had heard about that...from Freckles.” He said chuckling. “Such a cute boy.”

  “Yes, he is. When did you speak with the boy?”

  “While you were talking to his mother. I came looking for you and stopped for one of those sweet cakes...” he rubbed his patruding belly, “They are really my weakness.” he laughed a bit more before continued.

  “I saw the boy there, with his coin, trying to work out what he wanted for him and his mother. That let me know they were new to town. Everyone who has been in the Holy City for more than five minutes, knows about the sweet cakes. Anyway, I struck up a conversation while I helped him figure out what he wanted.”

  This time it was my turn to laugh, “You mean, the two of you sampled the cakes. I thought I saw the evidence of a few on his cheeks.”

  “Well, of course we did. How else was the boy going to figure out which one he wanted?”

  “You are truly everyone's father and grandfather around here.”

  He shrugged, “Some see it that way. I just happen to love everyone, and I am truly a sucker when it comes to children. They are so innocent and full of wonder and life. Everything is exciting. They're eager to explore and see what they can figure out.

  It is the job of an adult to help feed and nurture that for as long as necessary. The creative mind of a child is natural magic in its simplest form. One that is so often overlooked. The best way to teach lessons is to interact with a child, to be giddy and playful like one.”

  I shook my head, “I have to agree but not everyone is cut out for it.”

  “They are not. Here's the thing, feed a kid treats he will talk your ear off. I was not trying to be nosey, but I saw you talking to his mother and I saw the condition they were both in. New to town. Dirty and hungry. I knew there was a sad story there and she needed some help.”

  “She seemed sincere in her thank you.” I ponited out.

  “Yes, but I was too." he said. "I need some assistance over here. My aids are up in arms. All of that was true. I had already sent out word that I was looking for an assistant. Sweet blessings abound, when I happened out looking for you, I found one who needed assistance as well.”

  “Thank Odin for such small things.”

  “Yes, indeed!”, he said, “It was truly his weave that brought us to one another.”

  “Indeed.” I repeated, “Why were you seeking me out, Master Fydale?”

  “Now, that is another matter entirely, but is the reason I need an assistant. Once we reach the tower, I will explain it.”

  I nodded and kept following until we reached the tower.

  The Scribe's Tower

  I had forgotten how different the Scribe's Tower was from everything else. It was the color of sand, large in width but much smaller in height than the Tower of Wings and Steel. The most intricate thing about this building was the quill engraved on the square framed wooden door. It did however, on the middle level, have a large wooden window that many could be spotted sitting in front of, scrawling in journals, and enjoying the warmth from the sun.

  This was a more simplistic building that held stories of the fantastic, the brave, and the not so heroic. This place was home to the many men and women who accompanied adventurer's or were adventurers themselves and wrote about every detail.

  My sister could be found here, most days, when we were younger. She preferred the garden, of course. She used to sit in a patch of wildflowers that grew taller than she stood tall, where she could hide from the world and enjoy her stories. I laughed a bit at the thought, that more than likely, she still spent a good amount of her days here.

  As we approached, I could tell nothing had changed. Outside housed some small benches and tables, with goblets of citris, just waiting to be
drank. Just as now, they were filled with people, reading, writing or telling stories to others. It was quite the spot until the snow came. The building beckoned them with a warm fire and soft chairs.

  I waved and nodded to the people as I followed Fydale into the building. The inside, downstairs, hadn't changed either. Large sprays of candles hung from the ceilings, offering a bit of light, across the room. Chairs decorated corners and gathered around large tables adorned with large candles and books. If you looked at just the right time, you could spot Dust Bunnies skittering across the floor or floating here and there on the breeze in through the open windows.

  This was not our destination. Fydale was leading me elsewhere through the spiral stairs. It almost made me dizzy, as a kid, it used to. When I heard a small chuckle out of Master Fydale, I knew he was remembering that fact too. His question confirmed it.

  “You alright back there, Vhadrah?”

  I laughed a bit, “Yes, much better than I used to be.”

  “Good.”

  We had stepped onto the landing and marched passed all the Scribes feverishly writing upon their pages. Rows and rows of tables lined the windows while the opposite side was lined with shelves packed with books of all kinds. Larger sprays of overhead candles hung, adding to the brightness of the room. Though on a bright sunny day, such as this one, I doubted it was needed.

  I glanced at the writers as I walked past, checking to see if I knew any of them, but none were recognizable to me. Most either nodded or offered quick hellos to the Master.

  It wasn't long until we reached the Master's study and I was ushered in. To my surprise, there sat my sister and her companion.

  “What are they doing here?” I asked.

  “They are part of why you are here. Please sit, let me explain.”

  I nodded and took a seat. Master Fydale wasted no time in getting started. He even paced, with is hands behind his back, when he spoke. Just as he always did.

  “You know how I love to read old stories. I just get so caught up in them. The heroism, the villiany, the suspense...”