Dark Flower Ch. 18 (previously The Flower Ch. 12)

[Mikayla]

[Author’s note. Once again, in order to tell the story, I have to condense very long conversations and retell them with just my own recollection. To the extent I err, I beg the forgiveness of those I play with, namely the elves of Lonelywood, in this chapter, especially mr. Duncan/Jain’n and kiyoti/Nylo.]

***

The Flower, Chapter 12

Sheyreiza’s epiphany regarding Jain’n’s spirit possession led to more hours of argument between the estranged lovers. The focus of the argument shifted from Sheyreiza carrying an unborn baby into battle and to Jain’n carrying the lost souls of his ancestors. Naturally, the ancestors defended their possession of Jain’n. Occasionally, they would let Jain’n, who the ancestors called ‘the boy,’ speak for himself, but rarely. As Sheyreiza grew more desperate to rid Jain’n of his ancestor’s spirits, the ancestors and Jain’n grew more desperate to flee the scene. Jain’n retreated from the dock and fled for the tranquility of the burial ground. Sheyreiza followed, imploring Jain’n to stay away from the graveyard, to minimize the influence of the ancestors. Jain’n would not hear of it. He passed through the faerie trod, leaving Sheyreiza standing in the snows of the village. Without the new password, she could not follow him.

The beautiful drowess stared into the glowing portal for a long time, wondering if Jain’n had really gone back to the graveyard. She realized now, too late perhaps, that the ancestors were her real enemy and her real battle was to free Jain’n of their influence. When she first encountered the spirits she had found them intriguing but not threatening. As an Auvryndar Princess and former priestess of Lolth, she was no stranger to undead, demons, spirits and other manifestations of the supernatural. For her, the ancestor spirits seemed but a curiosity. Only now did she see the threat. The ancestors not only spoke to Jain’n, they could control Jain’n. Indeed, as far as Sheyreiza could tell, Jain’n was a slave to the ancestors’ agenda. Sheyreiza was not sure what that agenda was, but her own agenda was becoming clearer: save Jain’n from this spiritual curse.

A cold wind came off the lake and blew across Sheyreiza’s skin. She shivered. She had been wearing the black pearl necklace Jain’n had given her, not the warming stone she wore for excursions. While in the tower, Sheyreiza did not need the warming stone, but she was no longer in the tower. Indeed, not only was she out in the snow, she was effectively homeless. Being unable to use the faerie trods meant she could no longer reach the tower that had been her home, and its warmth. She looked back at the village. Saving Jain’n might be her quest, but first, she had to keep from freezing. Where was she going to live?

***

Amith, the woman who ran what passed for Lonelywood’s general store, let Sheyreiza stay in her back storeroom. There was no bed or furnishings other than shelves on which Amith kept some of her store’s stock, but it was shelter. Sheyreiza made a bedroll of blankets that Amith let her borrow. As she lay down, she looked about the room. In one brief afternoon she had gone from lady of the wood and mistress of the tower to a homeless pauper begging for floor space from a common merchant. The sting burned her sense of self. The storeroom was really not that bad as accommodations went. Sheyreiza had certainly lived in worse places. The unclean, overcrowded dungeon pits of the Valsharess made the storeroom seem like a palace. The real problem was the blow to Sheyreiza’s pride. Jain’n’s banishment forced Sheyreiza to beg for shelter. She was completely humiliated. Sheyreiza had been born a princess and raised as a noble priestess. Being thrown in a dungeon by enemies was to be expected and there was nothing dishonorable in that other than the dishonor of defeat. Being forced to beg from a commoner, especially a darthiir, was something else altogether. As she drifted into reverie Sheyreiza found her desire to save Jain’n diluted by her resentment at being so publicly humbled. As was often the case since she had come to the surface, her future path was not clear.

***

Over the next few days Sheyreiza converted the back of the storeroom to a bedchamber as best she was able. She reorganized the shelves to make space for what possessions she had and set up a small clear space for eating. She could not cook in the storeroom, so she ate everything cold. Such was the way of the north. She ate her rations first, the ones that she had among her things when she was banished. After that, she bought food from Amith. There was no inn in Lonelywood and no real provision was made for guests in the village beyond soup. So, that was what Sheyreiza ate; cold soup. It kept her alive and, much like the storeroom, it was not the worse fare Sheyreiza had ever eaten. Sheyreiza remembered only too well her nightmarish time on the Darklake when she had resorted to cannibalism to survive. Soup, even cold soup, was better than that. While the soup would sustain her for the short term, she had a baby on the way. Cold soup would not be enough in the long months ahead. She decided to start hunting. She could not spend the entire winter eating someone else’s cast off cold broth and still expect to produce a healthy baby and enough milk to feed it. Sheyreiza was good with a bow, and reasonably stealthy. With a bit of luck, she would be able to kill some reindeer and get some meat laid in before the deep winter arrived and her belly swelled so much she could no longer go out. If she could bring down one or two reindeer, she would have enough food to stay strong and healthy through spring and that meant the baby would have enough milk.

***

Just before dawn, Sheyreiza returned from a hunt. She had been successful. A reindeer out on Bremen’s run had fallen to one of her arrows. Sheyreiza had done her best to butcher the animal where it fell, and to get as much meat back as she could, but while Sheyreiza was good at killing, she was new to hunting. She dragged back as much meat as she could and left it outside the back of Amith’s store. There, she buried it in the snow. She would tend to it later, when she was not so tired. Exhausted from the hunt, she kicked the snow off of her boots and went inside.

In the storeroom, she laid out her metal gear to sweat. The metal was cold from being outside, and while it warmed inside, it would cause water to condense, thus making it seem as if it were sweating. Oiling it before it had finished sweating was pointless, so Sheyreiza let it sit. Later, when the metal was room temperature, she would be able to wipe off the moisture and oil her blades and equipment down. In the meantime, she needed to rest.

Sheyreiza was putting up her fur-lined cloak over the storeroom window when she realized it had been a full ten-day since she had been banished. She put the cloak over the window to ward off the daylight. Sheyreiza hunted by night and rested by day. It was easier for her to rest without the light of the sun pouring into the storeroom. She finished draping her cloak over the window and sat upon her makeshift bed. Ordinarily, as an elf, she needed only a few hours of reverie a cycle, but now that she was pregnant, she found herself needing more and more rest. Also, the hunting took a lot out of her. Not only was it difficult to move in the snow, the frigid temperatures demanded a lot of energy from her body. So did butchering a reindeer and hauling the meat and hide back in the snow. The animal’s blood had helped. While dressing the beast, Sheyreiza had drunk its still steaming blood. The blood helped keep her warm and seemed to invigorate her, allowing her to finish the task at hand. She had wondered if that was like the feeling her mother got when she drained a person. Sheyreiza did not know how to preserve the reindeer meat for the winter yet, but she was sure Amith would show her. Sheyreiza had just taken her hair out of its braids was slipping into reverie when the door to the storeroom opened. Sheyreiza’s blade was in her hand as fast as a thought.

Jain’n, her golden haired, sun-elf lover and lord of the wood stood in the doorway. His amber eyes took in Sheyreiza’s bedroll, soup bowl and spread. He looked almost horrified.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked. “There is a guest bedroom across the hall.”

Sheyreiza raised a thin, white eyebrow. “I thought Amith slept there.” She did not just think Amith slept there, she knew Amith slept there, but she thought she would remind Jain’n of this gently. The spirits were an unpredictable lot to say the least.

Jain’n frowned. “Amith has a house she shares with her husband. She does not live here.”

Sheyreiza barely retained control of her expression. She had been completely unaware of Amith’s husband or Amith’s house. She was also certain Amith had been staying in what Jain’n called the guest bedroom. Clearly something was amiss, but Sheyreiza could work that out with Amith later. There was far more amiss between Sheyreiza and Jain’n than the matter of which of Amith’s rooms Sheyreiza was sleeping in.

Jain’n strode into the room, snow falling from his boots. “We were just returning from patrol.” The voice was that of an ancestor. Sheyreiza cringed on the inside, but conveyed no reaction on the outside. She hated the spirits now, but it would not help to display that loathing.

Sheyreiza asked him about the patrol and he responded predictably. There were more Talonites: more gnolls and more of their human plague druid leaders. As Jain’n spoke, the scout Nylo appeared at the doorway, snow still falling off of his boots as well. Nylo was shorter than Jain’n, and less imposing. He was dressed in whites, greys and sky blues as compared the golden colors Jain’n preferred. Nylo’s long, brown hair was pulled back from his almost ruddy face in a ponytail.

“Blessings milord, Lady. Excuse me. I did not mean to interrupt. I just thought Butterfly might be here. Should I go?” Nylo asked, looking between Jain’n and Sheyreiza.

Sheyreiza spoke first. “Butterfly is not here, Nylo. I am not sure where she is. I am not opposed to you staying or going, though. It is not for me to say anyway.” Her voice was flat in resignation, thought the comment pointed.

“You may stay, young man.” The spirits added.

Nylo nodded. “Thank you, milord.”

Sheyreiza turned to look at Jain’n. “How long must we endure you, spirits? How long before you let Jain’n alone?”

“We are Jain’n.” Said the spirit voice. “Jain’n is a part of us. He shares our curse.”

Sheyreiza frowned. “So you keep saying. What do you want? What do you want with Jain’n? What will make you go away?”

Nylo looked from Jain’n to Sheyreiza. He did not like the way the drowess spoke to his lord. She might be his consort, but he could not stand the way she disrespected him at times. “Why don’t you leave him alone?” Nylo blurted out. “Why do you always complain? If you don’t like how things are, why don’t you do something to make things better rather than complain all the time?”

Sheyreiza looked back at Nylo in the door. “What are you talking about? When I have ever complained? I put up with you, him and this place for two years. I did not complain. And I am looking to make this better. I am trying to find out how to rid Jain’n of these spirits.” Rebuked, Nylo turned his gaze from the sitting drow woman to Jain’n.

The spirit voice answered. “You do not understand who Jain’n is. You do not understand what he is. You do not understand where he comes from.”

Sheyreiza had expected that answer. “Alright then spirit, tell me about him. Who is Jain’n? What is he? Where does he come from? And what is this curse?”

Jain’n stood silently for a moment. His eyes left Sheyreiza and looked towards a spot on the wall behind her. He made faces and expressions at the spot. He shook his head, waved a hand and finally spoke to the wall as if there was someone there. Sheyreiza watched in fascination and frustration; Nylo in fear and wonder. The expression on Jain’n’s face changed dramatically. Jain’n began to speak with himself, the spirit voice periodically changing. The conversation was clearly an argument between the spirits that possessed him. Sheyreiza interjected when she could, speaking softly, subtly urging the spirits on to talk more about their origins and the curse. Nylo watched silently from the door, his eyes wide, as the drowess gently probed and prodded at the spirits possessing his lord.

Jain’n stepped sideways and looked back to where he had been standing. “I will tell them.” The voice was the one Sheyreiza thought of as ‘the fop.’ Jain’n reached into his pack and pulled out a small bottle of spirits. He uncorked it and drank its contents in one long pull. Two more bottles were retrieved, uncorked, and drained in similar fashion. Now somewhat inebriated, the voice of the fop spoke again. “Isilith was the last of our line.” Said one of the spirits. “The last with pure enough blood anyway. She was a powerful wizard, but she was barren. She could have no child of her own naturally.” Jain’n’s body began to pace in the storeroom a little as the spirit related the tale. “We had to have an heir. We had to keep the line alive. Our wizards came together to solve the problem. It was not an easy problem to solve to say the least.”

“What did they do?” Sheyreiza asked softly.

The spirit voice answered as Jain’n’s body paced slowly around the storeroom. “They, we, decided to unite our souls, to form a new being, a new heir, one who would, when he reached adulthood, know what to do. A young lord, Jain’n, son of Giilvas, volunteered to be the host.”

Sheyreiza blinked, but otherwise kept her expression neutral. Sheyreiza, like all priestesses of Lolth, had spent decades in school learning elven and drow history. Though now she could see how the teachings were slanted with Lolth’s own view of history, she still knew as much as most elves. Giilvas Vyshaan was a crazed emperor of the Aryvandaar sun-elf tribe who lived approximately 10,000 years ago. After the High Mages and priests of the elves forced the descent of the Ilythiiri, newly named as ‘drow’, the remaining surface elves were called together to settle their differences. As they gathered, the Vyshaan, the dynasty leading the Aryvandaar, grew wary of being deposed as the drow were. They began eliminating the elven High Mages and priests who had caused the descent of the drow. Giilvas Vyshaan was the murderous inspiration behind that purge. Ultimately, the purge weakened Illefarn so badly the Vyshaan-ruled Aryvandaar Empire was able to annex Illefarn. Only the elven realm of Keltomir and the drow who fled into the Underdark remained as independent elven realms. The dominance of the Vyshaan Empire over the surface realms would last until the Fifth Crown war, which saw the depraved empire condemned and sundered. After millennia of atrocities, the Vyshaan dynasty was finally thrown down. Sheyreiza had known Jain’n was a descendant of this line, but she had not realized his tie to it was so close. She had though him a long distant descendant, not some spirit of ages past returned to mortal form and certainly not the son of one of the line’s most infamous lunatics.

“Through the magic of our mages,” the spirit voice continued, “we were successful. A new heir was created. We, and Jain’n, are that heir.”

Sheyreiza had no idea if what the spirit told her was truth or madness. Regardless, the solution might be the same. She had to discover what would lift the ‘curse.’ If she could do what was necessary to lift the curse, then the spirits would be free if Jain’n spoke the truth, or the madness might be cured if he was simply insane. “How do I free him of you?” Sheyreiza asked pointedly. “How do I free him of your curse?”

The spirit voice seemed to be in argument with the other spirits. Some, such as the gruff sounding soldier, wanted to say little, while others, such as the velvet Matron and the drunken fop, wanted to speak.

“When the boy is an adult, he will know what to do.” Said one of the voices.

Sheyreiza asked the obvious question. “When will that be?”

“When the boy has reached three hundred years of age.” The spirit answered.

Sheyreiza looked from Jain’n to the scout still standing in the doorway. “Nylo, how old is Jain’n?”

Nylo frowned. “Two hundred and thirty I think? Around that I age I believe.” Sheyreiza nodded but her heart sunk. That was about what she thought as well. From what she had gathered, Jain’n was but two hundred and twenty five years old. Nylo’s answer seemed to confirm that guess. If they were right about his age, it would be seventy to seventy five more years at least before the spirits were purged of Jain’n. Sheyreiza knew she could not stay living like this for that length of time.

Nylo looked from Sheyreiza to Jain’n and back. His emotion, his fear, his wonder, his confusion, were written as plain as any script on his face. “I should be going.” He stammered. “I have more patrolling to do.”

Sheyreiza nodded, while Jain’n did not seem to notice. “May shadows cloak you, Nylo.” Sheyreiza offered.

Nylo bowed his head. “Blessings milord, and shadows lady.” With one last long look at the pacing Jain’n, Nylo turned from the door and left.

After Nylo left, Jain’n led Sheyreiza out of the storeroom and into the guest bedroom across the hall. He sat on the bed and bid Sheyreiza to sit with him but she choose to stand near the door. She did not trust Jain’n when the spirit voices were controlling him.

“Will you not join us?” Asked the spirit voice.

“I love Jain’n, not you spirits.” She said.

“We are Jain’n. Jain’n is a part of us. Jain’n is the land. We have told you this.” The spirit voice answered.

“Yes, but you’re insane.” Sheyreiza answered flatly.

“Yes, some of us are.” Jain’n’s spirit voice replied.

There was an awkward pause as Jain’n seemed to confer with himself and with others not actually in the room. Finally, after some discussion with people Sheyreiza could not see, Jain’n returned his attention to her. The velvet Matron was speaking.

“Have you contacted your baby yet?” The spirit voice asked.

Sheyreiza frowned. “No.”

“Rilralia will come and teach you how to do that, to talk to your child before it is born. Elven children are born already speaking our language.” The spirit voice said proudly, a smile on Jain’n’s face.

“No.” Repeated Sheyreiza.

Jain’n frowned. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean I will not be making contact with my baby before she is born.” Sheyreiza’s voice was steady and determined. She had thought about this a lot since the spirits had first told her about the tradition. “Jain’n is a slave to his ancestors’ wishes. I am not going to set up my child for the same fate. She will hear my voice when she is born. She will not be raised as a slave to the voices of her ancestors in her head.”

“She will be backwards! Uneducated!” Jain’n’s face showed the spirit’s astonishment.

Sheyreiza shook her head. “She will learn fast enough. All Ilythiiri children do.”

Jain’n furrowed his brow. “If she is Ilythiiri. If she is one of us, she will hear our voice and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“Then I will pray every night and day she is not one of you.” Sheyreiza retorted.

Jain’n held out his hand. “Come here, let us speak to the baby.”

“No.” Sheyreiza said, an edge creeping into her voice.

“Then we will come to you.” Jain’n stood from the bed and strode across the room.

Sheyreiza backed through the door into the hallway. “Get back.” She commanded.

Jain’n smiled mockingly. “No.”

Desperately, Sheyreiza drew her blade. She leveled the rapier at Jain’n as he advanced but he did not slow.

“What are you going to do with that?” The spirit voice asked, its question more of a challenge than a query.

Sheyreiza kept backing away, her eyes narrowing as Jain’n approached. “I am going to defend my baby.” Her red and blue eyes narrowed to dagger-like slits and her heart was pounding almost audibly.

A smirk crossed Jain’n’s face. He pulled the gauntlet off of his right hand and reached forward to touch Sheyreiza’s belly. She backed away and he followed until his advance pressed her against the far wall of the hallway. His smirk turned into a smile as she was left with nowhere to go. He reached to touch her again. Sheyreiza’s face went cold, expressionless, and she struck.

She did not try to kill, only to wound. She used her sword on Jain’n’s outstretched hand as if it was an enemy’s weapon, parrying the ‘attack’ by turning his hand to the outside. The razor sharp edge of the blade opened a long gash on Jain’n’s palm. Instinctively, Jain’n struck back with his gauntleted left hand. His fist smashed into Sheyreiza’s jaw. The blow sent her reeling against the wall, but she managed to keep the rapier pointed at her possessed lover. Jain’n growled and grabbed at the blade with his gauntleted left hand. Sheyreiza jerked the blade free from his grip and before he could get closer, she leveled the blade at his chest. She spit blood from her mouth and prepared to strike.

“What are you going to do?” Asked the spirit voice in a growl. “If you kill us, you will Jain’n. Are you really willing to kill Jain’n? Did you not say you loved him?”

Sheyreiza’s heart was no longer pounding fast; she was cold now, ready to kill or be killed. There was no way on Toril she would let these foul, cursed spirits contact her baby in the womb. “You are the ones who taught me to value the life of the unborn over that of the living.” Sheyreiza hissed. “You are the ones who told me the baby in my belly was more valuable than Jain’n.” She tried to sidestep towards the door, but Jain’n cut her off. The spirits began to argue about what they should do. One, the soldier she thought, suggested killing her and starting over with another woman. Sheyreiza never thought she would hear such words come from Jain’n’s mouth, not since that day in the vale when he offered his life to set her free. Now she stared at him with cold resignation born of the horror the situation. Jain’n was possessed by insane, cursed, and murderous spirits who wanted to use her and her baby. If they could not use her, it seemed that at least some of them would prefer to kill her.

“Get out.” Sheyreiza growled. “Get out now.” She spit blood again, and muttered a quick prayer of healing to Eilistraee. The blood flowing into her mouth from Jain’n’s punch stopped, but her lip still throbbed.

The spirits arguing in Jain’n calmed, but kept arguing. “Let the boy speak to her.” Suggested one of the spirits. Another counseled against letting Jain’n speak, saying that the spirits should not put up with anymore of this ‘dalliance’ of his. The velvet matron, counseling that Jain’n should be heard, carried the moment. Jain’n’s voice returned to his body but Sheyreiza did not let her guard down.

Jain’n spoke about the spirits and their opinions. Some wanted to help Sheyreiza, some wanted to discard her. All of them wanted an heir, however, so that tempered their emotions as well as their actions. They would wait. Sheyreiza, of course, wanted them gone from Jain’n. Each, it seemed, wanted something from the other. The spirits spoke and argued amongst themselves until finally they had a proposal to put forth.

“First,” the spirits said, “you will promise to keep the unborn baby safe. Though you have broken promises to the boy before, we will have to trust you to keep this one.”

Sheyreiza scowled. “I have never broken a promise to Jain’n. I am a liar, that is true. I am also a murderer and a thief. That being said, I do not break my word. When I give it.”

Jain’n nodded slightly in acknowledgement. “Will you give it then?”

“Yes, if I agree to the proposal, then yes, I will make that promise.” Sheyreiza spoke as reasonably as she could, but she held the blade of her sword level. She would not be caught off guard if this were a ruse. Jain’n and the spirits were prone to tricks and deceptions.

“Fine.” The spirit replied. “Second, you often curse Corellon and Angharradh. You must make peace with all the Seldarine, you must love them. If you do these things, we leave Jain’n to you for two seasons, a total of six months.”

Sheyreiza took a deep breath. “First, I will agree, nay, I will promise to keep the unborn child safe. I’ve no desire to go back into battle now. Second, I will make peace with the Seldarine on my own terms. I have come to love Eilistraee. I do not love Corellon or the Other. I will try not to hate them, but I cannot say I will love them. Finally, as a part of this agreement, you will not return to possessing Jain’n until after the baby is born be that in six months, less, or more. There is no point. I will not allow you or anyone to contact the baby before then. You might as well stay away.”

A shadow passed over Jain’n’s face. “Why will you not love Corellon and Angharradh? You must love all the Seldarine.”

“Why?” Sheyreiza asked. “Why must I love them all? I love Eilistraee, is that not enough? I have turned from my mother, I have turned from that evil. Why must I now accept Corellon?”

Jain’n held out his hands. “Why wouldn’t you?” He, or at least the spirits, were clearly puzzled.

“Because he is arrogant.” Sheyreiza stated flatly. “He is arrogant and has not yet acknowledged his part in all of this. Corellon bears some of the burden for the split which tears apart elf-kind, and until he acknowledges that responsibility, I will bear him no love. It is his pride, and the pride of his fallen queen, that keeps our peoples apart. Their pride is the source of our war.” A voice spoke in Sheyreiza’s mind, her own voice. Tell him the truth. Tell him what you really feel for Corellon and why you hate Angharradh so much. Tell him the truth. Sheyreiza shook her head just slightly. She fought for control of her own emotions. No! She screamed in her mind. No, I will not say. It is not for him to know.

The sun elf lord nodded. “Then we will not leave Jain’n. When you are ready to love Corellon and Angharradh, then we will know you are ready. You must learn to see past the lies you have been taught.”

Sheyreiza narrowed her eyes again. “Because I will not love that arrogant fool and his usurping lover you will not release Jain’n?” Tell him the truth about Corellon. The voice in her mind echoed. Let him know you do love Corellon. Let him know why you hate Angharradh. Sheyreiza turned away from Jain’n. No. I will not tell him. Neither of them deserve it. Neither deserve to know.

A cold expression came across Jain’n’s face. “Do not speak of the King and the All-mother like that. It is blasphemy.”

Sheyreiza turned back on him, anger in her eyes. See? See how arrogant he is? If I told him the truth, it would only add to that arrogance. “I will speak of them how I choose.” Sheyreiza scowled and motioned to the door with her blade. “Now get out.”

A long sigh escaped Jain’n’s lips. “You have much to learn.” Said one of the spirits.

“Not as much as you.” Sheyreiza retorted. “I have learned a lot from my time here. I have learned my Dark Mother is evil, that her ways are largely corrupt. I have learned that Eilistraee loves the Ilythiiri, and that she even loves me. I have also learned that while I love Eilistraee, I bear no love for Corellon.” Yes you do. She corrected herself. “I see his pride, and yours, as little different than the pride that corrupts Lolth.” She paused took a deep breath. She did not want to go off on another tirade. She looked at Jain’n with a sad expression. Her eyes were no longer narrowed or cold, but simply tired. “Get out, please, I am weary.”

Jain’n, or the spirits within him, nodded. “Blessings Flower.”

Sheyreiza watched him go and shut the door behind him. She walked back into the guest room thinking on the exchange. Looking around the room, she saw that it was not really lived in. A few articles of Amith’s clothes were scattered about, but for the most part, the room was bare. Jain’n was right. Amith did not really live here. Sheyreiza walked back through the hallway into the main room where Amith was sewing.

“Amith, Jain’n said you have a husband and that you have a house elsewhere. Why have you been sleeping here?” Sheyreiza asked.

Amith stopped her sewing, looked Sheyreiza over, and then set her sewing down. Without a word, Amith walked into the guest bedroom and collected her things. As she left the guest room, Amith motioned Sheyreiza to enter. Though Amith had not answered Sheyreiza’s question with words, she had answered the question all the same. Amith had been staying here because she did not trust Sheyreiza. Sheyreiza was a drow and though once Jain’n’s lover, she had been banished from the warband. Why would any of the villagers trust a drow who had been banished from Jain’n’s warband? Only now that Jain’n had come and said that Sheyreiza should be sleeping in the guest room would Amith yield it.

The store owner’s prejudice was understandable but still insulting. Of all the villagers, Sheyreiza had thought Amith was the one she had the best relationship with. Indeed, Amith was the only villager Sheyreiza really had any relationship with. After two years, Sheyreiza had thought they enjoyed a kind of friendship. She realized now she had been wrong. She also realized if this was how Amith felt about her, the rest of the village was probably even more hostile than she had thought.

As she gathered up her things from the storeroom, Sheyreiza turned her thoughts to Jain’n. Could she save him from the spirits? Were there really any spirits at all? Was Jain’n really some sort of spiritual golem as he seemed to say, or was he simply insane? She did not know. She also did not know whether to stay and try to help him, or leave before she was too pregnant to go. Sheyreiza passed Amith again in the hall. As she did, she tasted something in her mouth, something coppery. Blood. With her tongue, Sheyreiza probed her swelling lip. Jain’n’s reflexive punch had split the lip and knocked a tooth loose. Her spell had healed it, but the taste of the blood lingered. How long before he, or the spirits, did something worse? Sheyreiza watched Amith walk out of the hallway. How long before the villagers did something? As went the lord, so went the land and its people. If Jain’n was willing to cast her out and strike her, how long would it be before the villagers acted? Sheyreiza had to ensure her safety and the safety of her unborn child. If nothing else, the elves had taught her this much.

Sheyreiza looked out the guestroom window. Snow had begun to fall but the deep winter was still a couple months away. Sheyreiza was pregnant, and over halfway to term, but she could still travel. She could still leave the village. She had to find someplace to go, but she could still go as long as she left soon. The question was, where? Where would she go? The humans to the south, in Termaline were not likely to welcome a drow. Bryn Shander was beset by plague. What was beyond that? Luskan? Waterdeep? The half-Ilythiiri female called Arizel had told Sheyreiza to expect nothing but death from the humans there and Sheyreiza had no reason to doubt her. Sheyreiza could not take a chance like that with the baby.

Turning from the window, Sheyreiza laid her equipment out on the guest bed. She began sorting through it. She had to prepare. Tonight she would venture out on another hunt. This time she would not be hunting for meat, she would be hunting for a new place to live; someplace away from here, away from the village and the villagers. Away from Jain’n. She would need water as well as shelter, so she would hunt along the edges of the lake and the streams. As soon as night fell again, she would hunt for a new home. It was not the first time that Sheyreiza would find herself looking for a new place to live in a cold world, nor even the second. It was the first time, however, that she did not want to leave the place she was in. Still, she did not see how she could stay.

Outside, snow continued to fall silently from the sky. Inside, tears began to fall silently from Sheyreiza’s eyes.

[Sandermann]

As always Mik, This is brilliant.