Dark Flower Ch. 19 (previously The Flower Ch. 13)

[Mikayla]

The Flower, Chapter 13.

A fierce North wind blew along the open plain of Bremen’s Run. Snow drifts formed and reformed as the gusts blew clouds of powder across the white expanse. To the far southwest, a pale sun, its brilliance masked by snow clouds, was quickly sinking.

Sheyreiza guessed she had at best an hour before dark. The temperature would really begin to drop then. She needed to reach shelter. The wind, though strong, was at her back. While she hated the cold it brought, she was thankful she did not have to walk into it. She remembered walking north earlier in the day with the breeze blowing straight in her face. The wind had not been so strong then, but it was cold and stung just the same. She had shielded as much of her face from it as she could, leaving naught but her mismatched eyes exposed to the arctic air. She had walked north looking for a new place to live, somewhere she could ride out the coming winter and the remainder of her pregnancy. She needed shelter and water. The rest, such as food and heat, she would bring with her. Her plan was to go north, around Lonelywood, and see if she could find a cave near the lake edge or near a stream that would not freeze entirely. South was not an option. The run, which led to Termaline, provided no shelter at all, and was oft raided by the gnolls and their plague druid masters. Termaline was likewise no solution. Sheyreiza had visited there the day before.

The gate guards at Termaline, at least one of them, seemed to recognize her when she approached. Jain’n had brought Sheyreiza to the human town once before, perhaps two years earlier. It was there he had bought new clothes for her, including the ice-blue silk dress she was now so fond of. Since then Sheyreiza had not set foot inside Termaline, but on several occasions had defended the town from the woods. The guards at the gate had let her in when she approached, but it was clear they were fearful. As she strode into the town, a small crowd began to gather. She could hear whispers. People stared and people pointed. No one approached and no one dared say anything to her. Not only was she ‘drow’ she was also, so far as they knew, the consort of Lonelywood’s Lord. Jain’n, Lord of Lonelywood, though often misunderstood and distrusted by humans, had saved this town countless times. While the residents might harbor their own prejudices and suspicions, few failed to realize how important maintaining Jain’n’s good will was. Though the woman now walking through their town might be a cursed black elf, no one would move to hurt her.

Sheyreiza made her way to the market, but no one was selling. Human towns were not like Ilythiiri or Elven settlements. Humans had regular sleep patterns and those sleep patterns dictated an odd way of life. Humans divided each cycle, each day, into separate parts and each part had its role to play. Certain times of the day were for eating, others for sleeping while others still were for working. Apparently, Sheyreiza had come to the market at a time other than the time for selling and buying. She decided not to wait. In every group of people there were always those of extreme temperament, prejudice, ignorance or violence. Though most of the town might show restraint, Sheyreiza figured the odds were good that someone would eventually act. She did not want to find out if she was right. Walking steadily, under the gaze of all the humans who could find a view, she made her way back out of the town.

The next day, this very morning, she had set out North to hunt for shelter. She had come to a bridge, a simple wooden structure, crossing a creek that was not yet frozen. The lake was to her left with the stream crossing in front of her and running to her right, to the east. She remembered the bridge from one of the ambushes they had laid earlier in the war against the Talonites. She remembered running along the banks, the group in chaos, slaying gnolls as they found them.

Sheyreiza decided to cross the bridge and follow the lake’s edge rather than follow the stream. As she understood things, the stream was more likely to freeze or dry up in winter. The lake was a better bet. Even if the lake froze, she would be able to bore through the ice for water as the lake was deep and not all of it would freeze. The ironic nature of this place never ceased to amaze her. The north was literally buried in water, but that water was frozen in the form of ice and snow. While ice and snow could be melted for water, it took an inordinate amount of energy to do so. More over, one could not simply eat snow for water, as it took more saliva and heat to melt the snow in one’s mouth than one gained water from the snow. A person could literally die of thirst while standing amidst tons of water. Sheyreiza, unfamiliar with the ocean and salt-water, had no idea that most of the world’s surface presented similar circumstances.

As she had crossed the wooden bridge she saw humans on the far bank. She stopped and crouched low. Sheyreiza, like most drow and elves, was naturally given to stealth and the humans had not yet seen her. She had studied them for awhile, trying to determine who they were. The humans had worn heavy furs, skins and hides. They did not wear any of the dyed cloth more common to the humans of Termaline. They also did not wear the robes common to the plague druids. Sheyreiza had decided they must be tribal humans. Her experience with tribal humans was limited to one encounter, however, so she was not entirely sure. Sheyreiza had been exploring Lonelywood, using the Faerie Trods to take her wherever they went, when she ended up in a human village. She hid from them and observed. The humans were quite primitive, living in hide-huts and using tool primarily of bone and wood. They had domesticated animals, but seemed more like hunters and gatherers than farmer or ranchers. In her mind, Sheyreiza dubbed them ‘tribal humans.’ She snuck back to the faerie trod without ever making contact; there seemed to be no point to it.

The humans on the other side of the bridge had looked very similar to the humans of that tribal settlement. Sheyreiza had pondered whether or not to make contact. She needed to find shelter away from Lonelywood and that meant she needed to explore north. The humans might be hostile, but if Jain’n had a faerie trod leading right into one of their villages, it was entirely possible that they might be allies of his, and perhaps, by affiliation, allies of hers. At the least, the primitive humans were unlikely to have any particular prejudices against her because she was drow; how many drow could possibly have come this far north?

Sheyreiza had approached with her bow in her left hand and her right hand empty. She greeted the humans in drow first, by instinct, then in the common tongue of the surface realms. Her answer had been startled looks followed quickly by what could only be a battle cry. The two humans had charged her, weapons drawn. Sheyreiza had no time to run. The humans lumbered for all the world like the orcs Sheyreiza had fought in the past, but as they engaged, Sheyreiza realized they were much more skilled opponents.

The fight had been a tough one at first. Other humans who had been waiting camouflaged in the snow joined the first two. Sheyreiza had found herself badly outnumbered by larger, stronger opponents. After a year of fighting the gnolls, however, this was not a new experience for her. Though she had not wanted to fight, she was able. The humans fell into the snow one by one, their blood staining the white ground red as they died. Sheyreiza played a hunting game with several archers after the initial melee and brought down more. When the fight was over, Sheyreiza was standing amidst a small field of carnage. She was not untouched, however. Hot, steaming red blood flowed freely from one of her arms where a human axe had found her. She used her divine spells to heal the wound, and then headed back south. Sheyreiza had not wanted a fight and she certainly did not want another. She would head back to Lonelywood’s village.

Now she was making that trek home, with the fierce, growing wind at her back and the setting sun to her fore. The days had been growing short of late, signaling the onset of winter. As the days grew shorter they grew colder. Sheyreiza had worked up a sweat fighting the humans. The clothes under her mail shirt were wet with perspiration and that moisture would freeze if she stopped moving. She could not pause to rest, no matter how tired she might be.

A shape moved in the snows ahead of her. It was low, long and sleek. Sheyreiza squinted. A wolf? What was a wolf doing here? The only wolf den she knew of was just south of the one part of the overlook cliff that a person could walk up. But she was not there yet, not even close. Or was she? Sheyreiza crouched low, keeping the wolf in her peripheral vision, and scanning the trees to her west. There it was, the one part of the slope that could be walked up. It was just North of her; she had already passed it. If she had not run into the wolf, she would have passed right by the opening and been half way to Termaline before realizing her mistake. That would have left her out on Bremen’s Run at night, tired and wet. Sheyreiza spared the wolf ahead of her a glance. The wolf had not seen her yet, but it might have smelled her as it was down wind. Most likely, it smelled the blood splattered over her, the blood of the humans she had so recently killed. The wolf probably thought a wounded beast was coming, and a wounded beast was easier to catch than an unwounded one.

Sheyreiza smiled. The wolf’s hunger, laziness and nose may have just saved her life. What was that elven god? Fenmarel? Wasn’t he the darthiir god of wolves and the wild? Wasn’t he the wolf spirit Jain’n’s elves sometimes prayed to? Sheyreiza was not sure but she said a small prayer of thanks to him just the same. She turned west and cautiously left the wolf behind. A little less than an hour later and she was walking into Lonelywood’s village. The sun had finally set and the only light in the village came from behind the frosty windows of the snow-dusted cottages. Sheyreiza knocked the snow off of her boots and entered Amith’s store.

In the guest bedroom, Sheyreiza stripped and laid out her things to sweat and dry. Moonlight poured in from the window and Sheyreiza noticed that the snow had stopped falling. A full moon had risen in the sky. Sheyreiza decided to pray, after all, she had much to pray about. Her day’s excursion had nearly cost her life twice. Quickly, she dried and made sure her healing had closed her wounds. Carrying nothing but her sword, and wearing nothing but her warming stone, fur boots and belly chain with its symbol of Eilistraee, Sheyreiza headed out of Amith’s store. She walked through the village to the glade on the edge of the settlement. There she raised her eyes to the moon above and basked in its glow. Though the light looked as cold as the snow, it felt warm. Holding her sword as though it were a holy symbol, Sheyreiza began to pray. She wanted to dance and sing, but the only dance Sheyreiza knew was the dance of sword play and most of the songs she knew were prayers of divine magic. Unable to sing or dance, Sheyreiza hummed. The song she hummed was song of loss in this world and thanks to the goddess in the next. It was a bae’queshel song to Lolth that Sheyreiza had learned from her adopted cousin, Velmeth Tlabbar, but without the words, it was just a beautiful, haunting tune. Sheyreiza knew so few tunes she had to scavenge the ones she did know, regardless of their origin.

As she hummed, she felt herself growing light. Occasionally there was a rapture to prayer, though Sheyreiza had never before felt it while praying to the Maiden. Her feet felt as if they were leaving the ground and it seemed as though she was being born aloft by the strength of her song, such as it was. Sheyreiza wanted desperately to sing, not just hum, but she could not put words of praise for Eilistraee to the tune. That kind of talent belonged to Inthara and Velmeth and other bards and song weavers and poets. Sheyreiza was killer not an artist.

Far above her, the night sky had cleared of its clouds. Countless stars hung in the black like tiny, brilliant, never-falling snowflakes. The full moon hung in the middle of that sky, radiating its own brilliance. As Sheyreiza watched and hummed and searched for lyrics that would never come, the moon began to warp. She felt her feet truly leave the ground and then Sheyreiza realized she was no longer in the village at all, she was in the holy circle, the Heart of Lonelywood.

Only Eilistraee herself could have taken Sheyreiza passed the magical wards of Lonelywood and into the Heart. Sheyreiza fell to her knees in the snow and prayed in thanks to the dark maiden. She never finished the prayer.

Sheyreiza lost the ability to speak. She was not Sheyreiza anymore, she was a plant, a flower, a bud. She was growing. She was another being in another place in another time.

A minute later and she was soaring, flying high above a lush, verdant forest the likes of which Sheyreiza had never even imagined. She had never conceived that so much life could be packed into one place. Everything was alive below her. Huge trees with multiple layers of canopies competed to reach the sky, while birds flew at levels above and below. Beasts walked, crawled and slithered between the trees and on their branches. More impressive still were the magnificent spires climbing out of the trees ahead of Sheyreiza. She flew towards the spires and a magnificent city in the jungle appeared before her. A city whose splendor was unmatched in all her experience save for the City of Shimmering Webs itself. She dove low and saw the people of this city were dark skinned, but they were elves. This, then, was a vision of the ancient Empire of Ilythiir, and these were Sheyreiza’s ancestors.

As she watched, their magnificent Empire began to crumble. It happened quickly. Though possessed of the greatest high magics, nothing it seemed, could prevent the decay of this society. The people’s skin grew darker and their hair turned white. As the spires collapsed into the waiting arms of the remorseless jungle the people fled underground. Sheyreiza wanted to follow. She dove low and found herself walking into darkness. Someone had her son, someone leaving for the darkness ahead of her. She reached out, trying to grab him, trying to save her son, but he was gone, snatched from her by one of the fleeing Ilythiiri. She was alone in the dark now, and she knew her mother had betrayed her people. Her mother had tricked gods into attacking Arvandor and almost tricked the Seldarine into believing another was too blame. Tricking an empire, even one as grand the Ssri-Tel-Quessir Empire of Ilythiir was child’s play in comparison.

Sheyreiza wept in the dark, but something shown above her. It was a moon. She wanted it to lead her to her son, but she knew her son was gone. The Ilythiir, the drow, had killed him. Her mother had killed him. Sheyreiza followed the moon in sad resignation. The moon led her out of the darkness and back into the world. She heard a voice in her head, speaking in thought and feeling not words. It was the Dark Maiden, Eilistraee. The Maiden knew of Sheyreiza’s lies to Jain’n about obeying his rules. Though Sheyreiza had told Jain’n she had obeyed his rules for two years, that was not true. Shortly after deciding to go after her son, Sheyreiza had left the woods alone to hunt orcs in violation of Jain’n’s command. She had left both to test her skill and to defy Jain’n in some small way. Jain’n demanded his rules be followed, but when Sheyreiza had asked him not to follow her into the Underdark after her son, he had refused. If would not honor her request, she would not honor his rules.

No one had seen Sheyreiza leave that night, no one but the now dead orcs had seen her kill. No one save for the Dark Maiden. Now, Sheyreiza knew that Eilistraee wanted Sheyreiza to confess that lie to Jain’n and the others of the war band. Sheyreiza felt the righteousness of the Dark Maiden’s wish, but she also felt it unjust. Had not Jain’n deceived her in the past? He had given Sheyreiza a flower in the Battlehammer dungeons, telling her it was enchanted and beautiful and symbolized Sheyreiza as she could be on the surface. What he did not say was that it was actually an enchanted symbol of Eilistraee that he tricked Sheyreiza into wearing to ward of Lolth’s influence. Such tricks and ruses were common to Jain’n, and Sheyreiza never gave them a second thought. Not only were they common to Jain’n, they were the norm in Ilythiiri society. This was how Sheyreiza had seen through Jain’n’s ruse to get her out of the tower and down to the docks so easily.

What galled Sheyreiza was that now her goddess was calling on Sheyreiza to atone for what came naturally, not only to Sheyreiza, but to Jain’n as well, at least as far as Sheyreiza could tell. Still, she would do it. One did not deny one’s goddess lightly.

More thoughts came to her. More messages from the Dark Maiden, more feeling, more vision. The Dark Maiden wanted Sheyreiza to love Corellon and Angharradh and all the rest of the Seldarine. Only then could Sheyreiza truly transcend from being drow to Ilythiiri.

Sheyreiza screamed. She screamed a single word. She screamed “NO!”

She could feel the holy spirit of the Maiden inside her, wrestling with her soul. Sheyreiza was willing to confess her lies, willing to be humbled before Jain’n, whom the Maiden called ‘her sword’, but Sheyreiza would not admit love for Corellon or Angharradh.

Snow crunched as Sheyreiza staggered to her feet in the circle. She grasped at the great central stone with one delicate hand, desperate for balance and strength. With all her will she fought her own goddess. Corellon was to blame, at least in part, for the split with Araushnee. This, Sheyreiza believed heart and soul. She would not, could not, admit love for him so long as he maintained his innocence. So long as Corellon and his followers admitted no wrong, Sheyreiza would admit no love. As for Angharradh, Sheyreiza’s animosity ran even deeper. Angharradh was the other woman. Angharradh was the usurper. Angharradh was the whore who kept Corellon and Araushnee apart and kept the elven tribes at war for all these millennia.

The Maiden flooded Sheyreiza’s mind her own thoughts. Angharradh was good. She was not to blame for the split. Araushnee, Lolth, was the evil here. Sheyreiza knew Lolth was evil, but she could not help but hate Angharradh.

Sheyreiza loved Corellon. She loved him like a father, but he was a father that had never been there for her. He was a father who had abandoned her. He was a father that had punished her for the mistakes of her mother. He was a father whom she would admit no love for so long as he continued to spurn Sheyreiza and her kind. If he could not admit any wrong, then Sheyreiza, his daughter, would never admit her love for him. He did not deserve it. As for Angharradh, Sheyreiza’s hate was born of that most simple of all emotions; jealousy. Angharradh was Corellon’s consort now. Angharradh had replaced Araushnee. Angharradh got Corellon’s love while Sheyreiza and her kin got only Corellon’s curse.

With a scream, Sheyreiza threw her goddess out of her mind and soul. Corellon and the Triune goddess would get no love from Sheyreiza. A tremendous sadness descended upon Sheyreiza; the sadness of Eilistraee. Sheyreiza felt the divine grace leave her. One by one, the power of the divine prayers and spells she had prepared faded from her memory. As the spells faded, so to did her connection to Eilistraee.

Sheyreiza lost touch with the gritty surface of the circle's great central stone. She looked around and saw she was no longer in the circle at all. The Maiden had returned her to the village. Sheyreiza was alone now, truly alone, and she knew that so long as she did not love Corellon and Angharradh, she would not be a priestess of Eilistraee.

[Vendrin]

[Killthorne]

*plays Beethoven's fifth*


~Killthorne~

[Virvaldin]

omg

This story is awesome!

*fliips the pages to read the last page of the book*

How wil it end eh? Mikayla.. you are a writer! And a damn good one!