Medese un Torill

Morlathain

Caught in the night sky was the light of fire, streaking across the horizon.

It crashed into the blinding expanse of snow dunes, Morlathain, and from the wreckage of the crashed jet Irivia and Medese had crawled out while leaning on one another for support.

Medese’s shoulder, arm, and his entire right rib cage had been shattered in the crash and he held to life with ragged breath, his bare feet dragging through the snow. Irivia had grown weak from loss of blood, a large piece of scrap metal had pierced her through the stomach.

When far enough from the crash, the roaring flames lighting the darkness around them as night had fallen, Medese laid Irivia in the snow, pulling the metal from her stomach and there he sang for her, a ballad that carried sweetly into the night sky, clutching his shoulder as pain tore through him and yet not bringing from the melody. His wounds were eased slightly by the song and Irivia was completely healed for Medese had pushed through the pain and swore he would not lose her as they had both lost Kidimira.

Medese was raised to his feet by Irivia and she tried to carry him off but in that moment the ship had exploded and the two were thrown far into the snow. Irivia was knocked unconscious, but Medese was not and laid in the snow crying as the pain had finally come to be too much for him to bear. He feared he would die there in the snow with fire spat out around him and he thought only of Torill, a smile coming onto his face as he gasped for a steady breath and sobbed tearlessly, seeing Torill clearly in his mind. As the world faded around him figures had come into view, staring down at him in the snow. He saw only the silhouettes of the strange beings looking down at him, there's eyes gleamed against the flames and Medese had fallen into a deep slumber, the world darkening as his eyes fluttered close.

When he awoke he was dressed in his tunic and trousers that came to his knees and found them to be freshly cleaned, his wounds healed and bandaged and he was rested upon a large circular bed of many furs. The roof over him was of smoked hide, rounded and with a beam of wood rising up from the rooms centre, many others meeting at the centre and spreading outwards beyond the walls sewn into the leather dome. There were fire set in small black bowls about the tent, the ground being patted dirt and carpets of braided fabric. He crawled to the beds edge and threw his legs over the side, rising to his feet and inhaling sharply as pain shot through his body.

“You have not fully healed yet stranger,” A voice that spoke with a thick melody startled Medese and he gasped, moving to duck behind the bed and peering out from over top too find a figure by the door rise. He held around him a blanket of blue with white and black designs upon it, fashioned from beads that clattered like wood. He was holding in one hand a large knife and in the other a chunk of wood with whittling marks upon it.

“I am L’hmattoq, eldest of the warriors here and I have watched you as you slept in healing,” He continued on in attempt to ease Medese’s anxiety.

“Come now Myrrian let me see your wounds,” He said and dropped the blanket around him and Medese was more scared than before. He beheld as L’hmattoq rose to a great height, his skin was copper, darker than the warm color of Torill’s skin, the horns upon his head appeared like stones and were painted with white markings. His face was freckled with white paint too, markings snaking down his torso and even around his arms, all four of them. He was a giant, his torso long with his lower arms being more sinewy than the top two, his legs were like a vissir and the bare skin of his ankles were adorned with bone anklets, the claws of his feet painted black. He wore a skirt of wool and hide, a necklace of turquoise around his neck.

Medese’s anxiety subsided and slowly he came out from his hiding and approached the man that towered over him.

L’hmattoq helped remove his tunic and Medese saw that there was left only bruising as his bones were mended and his open gashes closed.

“How long was I asleep?” Medese inquired as he sat upon the beds edge, L’hmattoq setting a pot over a fire pit, walking bent over with his knees bent and upon the knuckles of his hands.

“You slept near to noon,” he answered,

“unfortunate really, the timing of it all,” He added.

“The long night has come upon us,” L’mhattoq answered and Medese knew immediately what this had meant. He rose to his feet, the horned man advising him to rest, though Medese ignored him and strode off for the exit, pushing past the fur flap and stepping out into the afternoon air. The sky above was white and the whistling of winds sung higher every now and again as the storm raged onwards, a ward had offered a protective dome over the village of gers which were made from dyed leather and painted with tribal designs.

At the villages centre there was a great bonfire that cackled gently, casting sparks and smoke into the blizzard that swirled about beyond the girdle of the village.

There were many outside, tending to their daily routines, some with skin of dark grey and others having horns that appear like bone, some even had manes, and other tails and wings.

He knew the name of these people's, a people's akin to the vissir; The Sedhna.

He stumbled around on bare feet, looking upon the Sedhna with peaked curiosity as he beheld them and their beastly forms. They returned the stares, many of them never seeing a child of light before in their lives, but they smiled to him and offered him warm greetings as he passed them by. L’hmattoq followed behind, every now and again opening his mouth to object with his wandering, but knew that he simply that Medese simply needed to regain himself. He walked in a circle around the fire, his memory coming back to him as he stumbled about and tears came to his eyes as he thought again of Torill, remembered the body of Esto sprawled out with blood staining her garment where she was pierced by the rose-capped guards sword. He saw Kidimira lain atop the stone table, and felt his blade slicing through the flesh of the Savvage. At last he fell to the ground, crawling through the snow, and L’hmattoq came up beside him and lifted him back to his feet, wiping his tears away.

“Come Myrrian, let me take you to your friend,” He said with a toothy smile and a warming gaze.

“I-Irivia… how is she?” Medese had questioned and L’hmattoq stepped to his side, one hand upon his back while the other gestured him down a path between tents, a road that led past many tents and there they came to the largest of all them and it stood at the border of the barrier.

L’hmattoq stepped before him, pulling the flap open for him and allowing him inside the tent whose surface was painted with scenes of divine intervention. There was an image of a mountain split and spewing forth demons of lava who battle with winged cetacea, A woman there was painted too with a white and grey dress that was of hundreds of swarming seals, her hair was ice and her arms held up to behold the painted stars set in constellations which Medese could not name. On each side of the entrance there was a woman bowed in prayer; one with a dress of a thousand butterflies and the other weeping, a headdress of black feathers with pearls set upon her head like a chieftains crown, her dress being white and blue and her eyes shut.

Medese entered and found that he had come unto the abode of a sorcerer. There was a long wooden table at the rooms centre with a ball of crystal standing upon it, a pile of old leather books and some scattered Sellion crystal resting next to there projector, and three wands as well all being of black wood with athireal set in the pommels.

Shelves were along the walls containing jars of dried leaves, crystals and gems, and baskets too there were and they had been filled with medical supplies. Black bowls of fire were set about and near the bed at the back there sat upon its edge a Sedhna with skin the color of onyx, her eyes an odd swirl of lavender and magenta. She was dressed in grey raiment, bone ringlets around her wrists, a tooth dangling from her right ear, and her claws were tipped black also. Her lips were painted black and from the centre of her cupid's bow there was a blue sapphire dud. Her horns twisted as a rams, decorated with gold and appearing as stone. The back of a hand was pressed to Irivia’s forehead, the other pressed to her breast to feel her heartbeat while the other two had crushed leaves with fish guts in a small wooden bowl with a smooth rock.

“You feel well, yes?” She asked as she moved from the bed and closer to Medese who had been taking cautious steps forward.

“I am Kagalla, chieftess of the Aktoa here and we are the Nuipitew, but you know us as the Sedhna,” She spoke with soft words and her violet and magenta eyes remained unblinking on Medese, reading him and what was in his heart.

“Tell me your name,” she commanded and Medese told her, told her what he was and how he had come to be upon them and Kagalla listened.

She learned of Styors plight, of its sieges and ruins, listened as Medese spoke of Torill and the vampiress Vanna who had sparked his bloodlust many hundreds of years before. She listened to his story and when he was finished she contemplated in silence for some time longer, her eyes kept to a place beyond the tents walls. Finally she spoke and her words were inviting and comforting;

“You will stay with us Songbird, at least until the storm passes and your companion is healed, for now what is ours is yours,” She answered and that was all she had to say, but Medese was caught at the telling of an until, thinking that the storm could not be that long.

“How long will it take for the storm to pass?” Medese questioned.

“A week perhaps, possibly longer,” L’hmattoq answered and Medese was set upon with anxiety once more.

“Calm yourself Songbird,” Kagalla said tenderly, but Medese had drawn back from her, ducking beneath the hands of L'hmattoq.

He passed through the door and was outside once more and was filled with sorrow as he looked up at the whistling blizzard beyond the protective breath. He followed the descent of the dome, thinking perhaps he could escape by means of magic. He realized then as he came to the edge of the village that he was not wearing his cape and had with him no wand.

He looked out into the endless void of darkness filled with the shrieking wind and fluttering snow and hail. He passed his hand threw and found the cold unbearable. He hovered his open palm along the shields edge, feeling the slicing cold as it brushed against his pink palm, thinking perhaps without his wand he could use magic. He found nothing had come to him, no fire nor blast of energy, just the ever so often brush of winter that bit at his skin as his hand pushed past the shield.

He couldn't hold back the tears, this overwhelming feeling was dreadful to him and he felt worry, anger, frustration all at once as he thought of Torill alone up there. What if he was already dead, or captured by the Savvage. He wondered if he'd ever see his husband ever again and the emotions overwhelmed him and he let out a melodic scream that rang through the Village, the barrier splitting before him and the shrill of the winter storm being sundered as his voice echoed on, but quickly the wind and snow reformed itself and Medese stood there again, Marvelling at what he had done. He had never thought much of his powers, knowing them for their ability to heal, but of his true potential he knew not the extent to which that would be and for many long seconds pondered on what exactly his magic was.

Kagalla approached him, her long legs carrying her quickly with wide strides.

“I know you are troubled Songbird but nothing will change with your anger, here on Valore nature moves onwards regardless of your strength or will. Winter wants to rage, then it will, and all we can do is wait and pray that out there the world you knew still stands,” She said as she stood next to him, staring out into the storm.

“I’m not sure how long I can wait, certainly not a whole week I fear,” Medese answered back.

“Well only time can answer your wonderings,” She said as she turned to face him,

“We come to the first night and tonight we celebrate, rest and come join us Songbird, let us ease your distress.” Medese agreed to this, taking a last look out into the distorted distance and followed Kagalla back to her tent, Sitting beside Irivia as the two Sedhna went off to prepare for the evening festivities.

Hours passed and Medese sat next to his unconscious friend humming to her as he played with her unbraided hair, running his fingers through the silky waves of white. She slept even as L’hmattoq came to them, another at his side, this one being a mere child wrapped in a fur blanket and with hair growing around the base of their horns. His skin was blotched grey and black, his eyes a piercing yellow, and from under his blanket there swayed mindlessly a long tail with a spiked tip.

“The celebration has begun, come Songbird, you are our most honour guest,” L’hmattoq spoke and to him the younger one spoke after, the rich language of the Sedhna sounded thick as the words passed past his lips.

He was led out into the night, though it could not be told as the sky was blackened by the onlsaught of raging snow and winds and the village lit by large basins filled with fire lit atop oil. The draped doorways of fur left open and the tents empty, the sound of chatter and prayer coming from past the tents to where the villages centre was marked with a great bonfire that still burned. They walked between two tents whose path was beaten by many feet and there before the bonfire was a great gathering of all the villagers, sitting around the fire in a huge circle, children running and fluttering about, cooks sitting in small groups setting to the preparation of food in big wooden bowls, mixtures of roots, snowberries, and smoked meat.

They wore anoraks of seal skin and fur, skirts of leather and fur, and adorned themselves in ice crystals and bone jewelry. They spoke with thick accents, their words canorous and carried with such softness. As Medese approached many had turned to look upon him, whispering to each other as he walked with L’hmattoq to join the circle, the gathered eyeing him with curious remark.

He stayed at L’hmattoq side while the young Sedhna sat at his other side, smiling at him whenever Medese turned to look at him.

Shortly after their arrival those preparing the food were called to the circle by a naked Kgalla who stepped forth from the roaring pyre. All had gone silent as the preppers had taken their seats, putting their bowls amongst those set between the fire and the gathered.

“Mishpi etiwah na ghamap, twhhi instopi pue nataweh.” She declared and to Medese she spoke in the common tongue that so few there understood,

“Be at ease here for you are among friends,” She said and turned back to her peoples. She rose her arms high over her head, a woman came and wrapped a blanket of many colours around her form and she was crowned with a headdress of black feathers and small pearls. Before them she spoke with a dramatic rise, her words smooth and enchanting to Medese’s ears. There came the beating of large drums that Medese had not seen as he came to the gathering, large drums of leather and polished wood, the drummers sitting around it with wooden sticks and sung softly. There rose many others of the gathering who held hand drums, there sides being adorned with white shells and metal bells, some beaten with a small mallet while others were beaten with the palm of the hand. Vocales added to the voice of Kagalla who was caught in rapture while her voice rose and fell with heartfelt passion. Her blanket was of black, blue, green, white, and yellow. When at long last her sermon came to its end, answered with whooping and chattering, the bowls were passed through the gathered, some having strips of jerky meat, others were filled with dull coloured vegetables Roots and berries were added to stews of fish that many slurped straight from the bowl. Medese indulged himself, eating lots and drinking the strange silver liquid passed around, it’s vessel being a jar of clay that was engraved with the runic language of the Sedhna.

He spoke mainly to L’hmattoq who at times translated words spoken to him by the other Sedhna’s, much of it being remarks upon his strange pale appearance, his golden hair, and his tiny stature when compared to them (and most Myrrians. He laughed at these comments, having heard them all his life for even among his own people his appearance was considered an anomaly for so rare were Myrrians born with white skin or light hair. He feasted with the villagers and all was merry, but then the singing began.

The large bowls were growing empty and the gathering was growing rowdy as the singing and beating drums droned ever on, Kagalla singing along to the melody every now and again, but then the whole group was silenced by a single ‘Boom!’. One of the large drums was pounded by a leather mallet and with it followed more dreaming that Medese’s heart seemed to sync up with. Ba ba bum! ba ba bum! ba ba bum! ba ba bum! No singing joined in but some had risen to their feet and stepped into the gap between the circle and the fire and began to dance slowly, bobbing on the feet to the beet, hands rest upon their hips while the top two swayed slowly.

Boom! The drum was struck again with great force and with it their came a beasty scream, a howl, and then a chittering. The few who held hand drums began to beat those alongside the beat;

Bada bum ba! Bada bum ba! Bada bum ba! And these poundings were hailed with the swishing of the bones and bells. Then the gathering began to vocalize to the song, a tribal chanting that filled Medese’s heart with a sudden heat. So many had gotten up and there was dancing, dancing like birds in flight or the stomping and buckling of caribou and deer. Some wore antlered crowns, others had shawls that the swirled about with, but all sung along to the beat and Medese was enamoured by it.

There was beauty in their dancing and it intoxicated them, the sound, the beating drums, the flickering bonfire, and the wordless chanting. It moved Medese and he watched as their dancing carried long into the night. The young Sedhna had joined in and as he hopped from foot to foot with a cape held out in mimicry to wings, he kept his head bowed and shook his horns about. L’hmattoq had joined too but his dances were simple and he simple bounced on his toes to the beating drum.

“Tomeshe!” Kagalla had cried out and all had fallen silent and she stepped out from the crowd and moved to Medese who sat still where he was, an elderly man had come and sat near him. Medese knew not any of the dances and the man next to him was too old for such things.

“Mesheshe kupwe, kupwe owgwedha nishti!” she exclaimed and all had laughed and cheered at her words as she grabbed Medese bu his wrist and yanked him to his feet.

“Sing and dance for us Songbird, show is the ways of the Myrrian,” She said and with a smile had shoved him into the crowd and all those steeped away to allow him room. Medese gulped hard, shuffling nervously as all eyes were on him, watching and waiting in anticipation. He knew no songs that compared to the gorgeous chants they sang and so in his mind he created one instead and he turned to a dancer with a shawl and asked for it. It was like a blanket to him and so he tied it around his waist, the fabric light and a lilac hue. He borrowed a drum too and beat his palm upon the leather surface.

Bum badum! Bum badum! Bum badum! Ba ba bum! Bum badum! And he hummed softly as the beat had began to move his feet. It was no dance of the Sedhna or the Myrrians, but a sway that followed the beating drum. He continued to hum sweetly to the drum until the beat was picked up and carried by others, the huge drums pounding there's softly too.

“Huri hue eri eige ewa’iya,

Huri hai nui’uie amuede.”

The words held no meaning in any language, just a random incantation that had come to Medese as he began to dance more and continued to sing the verse as he began to skip and shuffle his feet, his hands held out awkwardly as he tried to mimic the dancing of the Sedhna and though he still did it with grace they laughed at his attempt and he blushed, but did not step.

“Huri eri erum iyahawa,

Huri hel umyamaw uie.”

Soon all had rejoined with his song as he sung it louder now and the beating of the drums rose in volume and the flickering fires began to sway again as the villagers began dancing once more.

Many joined in with wordless vocals, deep and enchanting, others chittering and chirping to the rattling bells and shells. Medese’s dance became a frisk and as he spun and hopped about on gayish step he carried on with his shamanic melody, carrying it loudly as he twirled about with the lilac shawl flowing out with every twirl and bout. The young Sedhna danced with him, shaking his horns and he whooped to his song, many others crying out like caribou or whales. The drummers continued on;

Bum badum! Bum badum! Bum badum! Ba ba bum Bum badum! Bum badum! Ba ba dum! And finally Medese sung in Myrrian, those around him ceasing their singing as they listened to his words that carried a druidic mirth to the pounding drums and the flutes that had joined in now too.

“Oh your kisses sweet,

How I do miss them so.

Meet me on the beaches of Styor and bring me gifts of feathers and fern,

Bring me pearls and shales and I will know no qualms.

Meet me in the high tower with blessings of queens and priests,

Bring me gifts of soft lips and gentle hugs and bring me peace.

When war has come to us stand with me,

And when woe has found you I will stay ever with you.

Oh Torill see me here,

Here in the snow and ice of uin Morlathain.

Fret not under the moon in darkened halls,

Gather there under golden leaves and take not your shattered sword once more.

Oh Torill my love,

Oh Torill my Illiban,

Oh Torill kiss me so and I will know love beyond measure”

It was a simple song and those around fell in love with Medese and even amongst the Sedhna he would be cherished deeply for his glee and songs had brought them all a night of bliss and dance It carried on long until it was that exhaustion quelled the festivities and people returned to their tents for sleep and Medese had gone again to sit with his friend Irivia with the celebration truly lifting his spirit and he knew hope, knew that Torill would come for him.

The days had passed and Medese found himself aiding in the daily task of those in the Village; sewing tears in hide, pulling up collapsed tents, and even helping Kagalla as she taught him the basics of their medicinal practises. Salves, lotions, and tasines were their speciality. Irivia had come to awake the morning that followed the feast, Medese helping her around the village as she was restless and could not remain in bed. Many followed behind Medese as he wandered aimlessly and vocalized in the style of the Sedhna, his voice was sugary and they were as bees to his honeyed tune. He delighted in their company as many sung along with him and even as he set to tasks his voice still carried without waver from the strenuous labor. L’hmattoq was the gentlest of all those, coy and eumoris. Medese had learned from the gossip of those that could speak the common tongue that L’hmattoq was a stranger to their clan, adopted by them when found abandoned alongside a discarded caribou carcass. He had mastered the patient form of fishing and he was the most skilled with the hooked spear, having slain snow giants, dire wolves, ijirait, and even white griffons. He never boasts of his feats, but he has always put those around him before his own life and became greatly loved.

Kagalla was a gracious lady who had lived a peaceful life, devoted to the spirits of nature and the everlasting light, her leadership bringing nothing but an untainted prosperity to her peoples.

On the morn of the fourth day when Medese was sitting out in the snow filling the cool air with an aubade. Irivia had walked out and came to sit next to him, resting her weary head upon his shoulder as she breathed in the smell of smoke that intermingled with perfumes made from wild berries and pine. His voice resounded with the longing he held for Torill, his mind brought back to him when ever silence found him and his mind raced with thoughts and worry. Irivia could feel this in his voice and found in her heart no way to sooth his pain and instead rubbed his back as she listened to his love song.

“I feel him Irivia, out there somewhere,” He spoke to him somberly as his gaze was kept skywards.

“It’s because he is out there, we were the ones who fell before their eyes, not them to ours and so we can only believe they are alive,” Irivia answered.

Kagalla had come to them, their hostel being of L’hmattoqs tent, and bid them follow her and she brought them back to her tent to where the young whose name was Ushebe.

“What is wrong with him?” Irivia gasped as she saw him leaned against the wooden beam at the tents centre, his leg was broken and bone struck out from torn flesh.

“Look here,” Kagalla spoke and she knelt down, pressing her hand to the ground and rendering the ground beneath them clear to reveal that the village was built upon a vast frozen lake, the dirt and hard packed snow piled only but a foot over the centuries.

“A shift in the ice had broke his leg,” Kagalla answered and she grabbed Medese by the arm and sat him next to her as she hushed a crying Ushebe.

To the shelve of jarred herbs and leafs, Medese was sent and brought back to her three jars containing pale leaves all of different smells and shapes.

“Bring them to me and that grey pot too, fill it with snow first from outside. Medese headed to this task and came back with the grey pot packed with snow and with all the items Kagalla had used magic to melt the snow and boil a handful of all three leaves. With the leaves boiled she had brought the grey point up to Ushebe’s nose and as he inhaled the blood that pooled at the ground beneath his leg and she moved to snap it back into place, getting up to grab a salve from the other shelf, Medese taking her place and pressing his hand to Ushebe’s cheek. With a song of healing the pain was eased and his wound closed and Kagalla returned with the salve, finding Ushebe healed fully, surprised slightly at this revelation of Medese’s power.

“Your voice heals?” She noted, a comment that amused both Medese and Irivia, but Ishebe was silenced by amazement.

“I have already told you I can,” He answered with a smile on his face, stifling laughter at the sheer awe in her eyes.

“I thought perhaps you were speaking in metaphors,” She admitted and continued to rub salve on the skin where his wound was, Ushebe examining it with probing pokes and wide eyes, a bemused grin showing off his sharp teeth. His wound was natural and caused not by combat or magic and so healed perfectly and Ushebe was on his feet immediately, too Irivia though there was still much healing to do as her wounds were inflicted by Dijynn, though Medese had done a good job so far to mend her lingering wounds with soft incantations and a gentle touch.

The story of Medese’s healing voice spread through the village in the matter of hours and Medese had become reveried as a angelic spirit of the everlasting light.

Finally on the eighth day the storm had lifted and the blinding sun shone upon the land and the two Myrrians had seen that far in the distance in every direction were grey mountains against the bright blue sky, the expanse between it all being nothing but a great field of snow. Under the afternoon sky Kagalla had sent a messenger to the city of Motenna, a Sedhna city made of crystal and ice.

They had sat together, Medese and Irivia, looking out over the vast expanse of white hoping perhaps a Myrrian ship would appear out over the horizon, come to their aid. There was nothing that day, but the tow kept high spirits, the poisoning magic in Irivia’s blood fading. On the evening of the eight night they were led out into the field of snow by Kagalla and Ushebe, the four of them walking atop the snow that walled up around their village. They came to a wide stone well that opened into the ice and Medese stepped to the edge, peering down into the choppy black water.

“What is this?” Medese asked as he turned back to the other three, yet only to find that the two of them had stripped naked, Irivia standing awkwardly next to them in her clean attire. Kagalla went and opened a chest that was buried in the snow. She grabbed some roped and two small crystal lanterns, wrapping ome around her waist before passing the other to Ushebe.

“Here,” She called the two Myrrians to her amd from the chest had given Irivia a small glass vial containing a clear liquid. She took a long sip and then handed the vial to Medese who had done the same.

“Remove your clothes,” She instructed and they followed her words, stripping down to their bare skin. She tied a lantern to their hips and the liquid had taken affect and the two Myrrians had suddenly realize that they were unaffected by the cold. Irivia laughed at this, opening her mouth to say something, but they were both pushed and fell into the icy water, pulled down by the under current and thrashing about wildly as they had thought they were thrown to drown.

There were hands upon Medese’s shoulders then and suddenly he was steadied, finding that he was not drowning and was instead warm and breathing, through breathing in water had felt odd to Irivia and him Alike. He turned his head and saw that Ushebe had hold of him, his lantern lit the black world around them and as Medese attempted to speak Ushebe shook his head and simply pointed down, letting go of Medese and descending deeper. He could not see Kagalla or Irivia, but saw the glow of their lanterns far below them. Medese swam down to follow the three and he swam until his arms were sore, wondering only of where they were going. When it seemed to Medese that perhaps they were going nowhere, Ushebe appeared again and smiled to him before turning off his lantern and as Ushebe’s was also not active they were then plunged into total darkness.

A hand went over Medese’s face, shutting his eyes and so he simply waited with his eyes close, growing ever more confused as the events played out.

When Ushebe tapped his shoulder in signal for Medese to open his eyes he had found that they were adapted now to the darkness and he could see through the clear glacial water. There stretched on above them a dark sheet that spread for miles and miles in all directions, but great pillars of blue ice that seemed to glow softly rose up from the lake bed below and held up the ice, the waters filled with pools of fish that looked as if to be clouds of black. Kagalla swam to him and smiled as Medese was caught in awe at the sight of it all, the soft white glow of the moonlight shining in through the small wells cut into the ice and snow.

Irivia had swam up next to him and took his hand as they followed to where Kagalla led them and they held back to watch as the two had sped off suddenly as a school of fish had swarmed above, Ushebe’s tail whipping about in excitement as he had followed their motions with darting eyes, the two had learned with the weeks passing that Ushebe was enrapt by the world around, every detail noted, and he was outspoken and questioned many things, being an insightful youth who was deerly praised by Kagalla as she wished him to take her place when her time of passing was to come.

There must've been hundreds of large fish and to the school that Kagalla and Ushebe had set upon, many more Sedhna had come, darting through the water to catch fish in their clawed hands or jaws. They were swift, the water around them bubbled and swpt strongly in the current of their movement. The entire village had come to join the hunt and of these hunters that delicate light that shimmered through the waters, like pale moon shining in past the canopy of white leaves, dancing between towering trunks of bending blue. Irivia and Medese watched as the excitement was clear, the happiness of the hunt cast it’s aura upon the world around as the Sedhna were a communal peoples. The hunting party was broken apart when a slender fish with a long body and flowing fins, his jaw long and thing with thinly fangs and four beady black eyes. It was longer than three Sedhna, those of their prime from the tips of their tails to the tops of their horns. It slithered through the water with graceful flight, snapping many fish in it’s powerful jaws, the Sedhna speeding off at it’s coming, calling out in animalistic cries that rang clear through the lake. The air… or rather, water was cheery and all had swam back up to the surface, turning their lanterns on once more and Medese and Irivia watched as the ascended, climbing up out through the holes in the ice. The two turned to one another and Irivia pointed downwards, swimming down to the dark lake bed below and Medese had followed above her, not as strong in skills of swimming as she was.

Kagalla and Ushebe left them too, to bring the many fish they had caught to the ice above.

Irivia was brought to the deep waters as a shimmer had caught her eye and as they swam downwards they passed fish of many colours and many shapes and sizes, all being splendid in the pale hues they bore. Not much seaweed grew on the lakebed, but strange plants did that seemed to resemble moss yet it’s colouring was dark and it spread like infected veins over the rock and frozen earth [black asha] Shiql’ashui it was called for in eating it many would suffer from a terrible illness that would turn their eyes and tongues black, being believed to be the creation of the malicious spirit Ashui.

Amidst the strange twirling fauna there was a lance. Irivia reached forward and pulled it from the plant wrapped around it, the metal pole rusted in some parts with frozen leather bound to its length, but it’s main allure was the blade at its end. Kagalla returned to them and with her they had swam about, Irivias found spear was carried with her and Kagalla had looked upon it at first with a strange glare, but she had made no clear evidence in her gesture to be interested in it. They swam to the surface, taking in once more the great hall beneath the ice.

They came out from the ice and Ushebe had pulled Medese and Irivia out at once, lifting them high into the air with strength that the two had not come to know he had in any time before that.

“What is that you have found?” Ushebe questioned as he noticed the spear she had and Irivia looked to it then held it out and stood it on the ice, the head being a long bone blade with no carvings or runes, just a smooth blade the reached high into the air.

“I’m not entirely su-”

“It is a spear of the Innum, the first of my people who were born in matters of secrets that are hidden to all even now, the ruins of the first city being consumed by ice,” Kagalla answered, cutting her off.

“Look there.” Her clawed fingered pointed out across the fields to where the aurora and the stars shone against the distant mountains who rose high into the air with icy peaks, wider and shorter than those mountains of Sebri’ati, Valshatal, Va’unasta, or even of Nuar’durn.

“Those mountains in the east are the ruins of the Innum, built into the depths of the caverns it was long ago abandoned as we spread out across this realm and those noble of the Innum went west south and built Motenna. This spear must of been lost thousands of years ago and the bone is of the long extinct whales of the Kotzebel sea whose waves bore into the mountains past the sight of here,” She explained and in Irivia’s eyes was marvel as she looked upon it now with respect.

The fish were carried in Baskets upon the shoulders of the Sedhna, held with two hands while they chattered in their journey home, laughing and lilting celestially.

The evening was drawn long with the roasting and stewing of fish, the two Myrrians lending themselves to the labors of their new found friends. The next day the sun rose and near noon, as the village had tended to meager chores there was in the sky, blazing as the the sunlight reflected off the snow, a Laran fighter whose sail was caught aflame. It was trailed by smoke and crashed nearly three miles from the village and as Medese watched he knew it to be Torill. The messengers had never come to make it to Motenna as they were set upon by Savvage who were looked for the two Myrrians who they were sent down by DIjynn to find. They came to the wreckage, but the storm had cleared all tracks and only a wing rose up from the hardened snow. As smoked rose high into the air Kagalla had felt an odd feeling, a sensation that was brought upon her only in times of dread for the sense of the Sedhna were heightened above our own.

Medese had ran to L’hmattoq tents and threw his feathered cloak over his shoulders and ran off to the Villages edge, Kagalla following behind bidding him stay and to let a scouting party go to them. He ignored her and climbed the sloping snow out into the field where he ran off in the direction of the smoke. In the village Irivia was left behind as Medese had set off with desperate determination. She was dressed still in the robes of the SIsters, the colours of the Sebrian sea all dyed into Myrrian silks. To the spear she had found, L’hmattoq had thrown aside the old rod of rusted metal and to a new shaft was set the blade of bone, a shaft of balanced Sedhna metal; Metals admired by all manner of weaponsmiths and craftsmen across valore. She took her spear and followed after him, in her heart she longed to see those of her rebellion and even wished to look upon Torill once more, feeling in some way the love Medese held for him.

Medese ran as swift as a deer, his bare feet carried him far and behind Irivia struggled to keep up, her height and superior physique made it quite easier to gain the lost space between them. In the distance a herd of caribou journeyed slowly across the lake, bearing a lot of similarities to the caribou found here on earth, but these (like many Valorian animals) would be classified as megafauna.

As they closed the few miles between them, the ship had come into view and Medese was relieved to find it was intact and with only a broken wing, the shield guarding it from major damage in the crash. Torill had come out of the ship, Tomaga and Mivinirval were seeing to the damaged sail. He looked out, draped in his black scaled cloak, and saw a speck in the distance and knew it in his heart to be Medese. He cried out in relief, the ship being led there in the crash by the signal of the boarding ship that was buried beneath the sight they crashed upon, the sos system designed to withstand great trauma. As Medese and Torill saw each other, their joy ineffable, the ship that followed Torill had come into view in the distant sky and Torill exclaimed in alarm, bringing the sisters to attention. Looking down at the scene, finding Medese and Irivia running to Torills ship from the Sedhna village, she knew immediately the situation and instead of bombing Torill she had turned her sight to the village. The ship whistled through the air and Medese’s attention was pulled to it and there was a single flash of metal falling from the ship before the ground was shaken by a tremendous rumble that followed the explosion. The ice around them wailed and moaned, cracks veining across the lakes and even shattering in some areas, pulled into the waves while pushing up other large pieces high into the air.

Medese looked in horror as the explosion came from the direction of the village and he knew what it meant.

“NO!” He screamed out and Irivia had turned to the devastation too and her eyes widened in horror. Medese had ran back towards the village and irivia called out to stop him and could not so went with him instead.

They came upon the village to find that half of it, the remnants of the bonfire standing still at the edge where the risen water lapped over the earth and hardened snow. The tents that stood were set ablaze and only a handful of Sedhna had lived, injured, and crawling from the ruin to flee to safer waters where they would descend into the lake. They stood atop the rised snow that sloped downwards into the village and the flames that roared melted all around.

“Kagalla!” Medese screamed out, scouring the area ardently for the woman who cared for them this past week.

“Ushebe! L’hmattoq!” he cried out and there had been no response. From above there came the ship of Isijytal and it landed across the waters beyond the waters that threw itself angrily against the ice, enraged by the disturbance, the ice born assunder by Isijytals bombing.

From the ship she had come, a coat of black and silver that fell into a long dress that parted with the blowing wind, her bald head and scars bare, pauldrons that rise and connect with one another with dramatic detail, appearing as wings where the fanned outwards. Her black metal boots shone against the sunlight and in her hand was the S-shaped blade. The path of these had never crossed and at her height, harrowing composure.They watched one another for many long seconds, neother making to move, Medese reading her yet could not see anything of familiarity within her except that she was of Dijynns circle. She froze the water where she walked, coming across the ruin of slush and wood, Medese drawing his wand from within his cloak. She camp into the flaming village, striding towards him with a steady pace, never breaking eye contact.

As she drew closer, passing near a pile of wood, fur, and random rubble. From the tip of Medese’s wand there was a spark of ambers and as he readied himself to strike irivia had seemed to come from thin air and she threw he lance threw the air, a blur of black and cream, and it pierced through her leg and she let out a wail of pain. Her eyes seem to alight with fire, seething past her clenched teeth, and she raised her arm and tendrils of flame twisted around her arm and gathered before her open palm the blast of flame was sent blindly into the open air, a Sedhna rose from the rubble at her left, a spear had swung up and struck her arm, their two rights arms grabbing her and throwing her into the air, the lance falling from her leg. L’hmattoq had come from the wreckage and in his free left arm he had cradled Ushebe.

L’hmattoq had brought Ushebe before Medese laying him in front of him and Medese knew it was so he would be healed. Irivia slid down the slope and ran for her lance, Isijytal running at her as she had recovered, but before Isijytal could reach her she was tackled by L’hmattoq and the wrestled in the snow, Isijytal contending almost as an equal to his might. They beat one another with bare knuckles, the heat from her skin was scalding. She moved with morbid motions, her body bent and twisted in such ways that it was hard to look upon her. She kicked at him with rapid strikes and he thrashed at her with his stone horns, swinging wildly with his four fists. Irivia joined the brutal wrestle, striking her in the back with her lance, drawing her attention long enough for L’hmattoq to snap her neck and she dropped there and all thought she was dead. It was during all this that Ushebe had awoken as Medese healed him with a soothing lullaby that swept away the dour death that drew near to him. He looked up and saw the Irivia had held her pyked, her neck twisted at a disgusting angle and L’hmattoq stood huffing from exertion. The two had come to them and they stood there, L’hmattoq weeping as his village lay bare and his peoples burned.

Ushebe had his arms wrapped about Medese’s neck, weary as the excitement of it all had worn his mental strength thin.

“Let us bring him with us,” Irivia had said to the other two and Medese agreed to this, offering to carry him himself. Medese had lifted him into the air and Irivia walked alongside him, L’hmattoq walking behind them.

They took not even five steps before Isijytal had come up from behind them and cleaved L’hmattoq’s head from his neck with the only sound being the skirl of her curved blade. The two turned and Irivia fought her back with her lance and allowed for Medese to run off while carrying Ushebe. Irivia spun the blade with exquisite expertise, slashing at Isijytal with the bone blade and tearing flesh as it ripped through the fabric of her black coat. Irivia was thrown back after a short strive and she was thrown off into the distance as she had dodged an intense din of flame, the metal staff blocking it, yet the force was to great.

She turned her sight upon Medese and chased after him, using no magic to lend to her speed, allowing his fear to grow as she stalked behind him. When she had caught up to him he was evenly between the village and the Laran ship, finding Torill come to his aid and yet had no time for a loving reunion for isijytal had come upon them and Torill had drawn a crystal blade and met the rounded blade of Isijytal and there in the snow, the field of ice cast in disarray as it had rose and peaked, cracked and cracking around them.

The battle was devastating to both, the style that Isijytal fought with was smooth like water, flowing about with sweeping circular motions, calm and collected she was with the slicing and swishing moves. Torill knew not how to battle her and so flowed with her, holding only defense as he followed her movement with the blade close to him to block quickly her moves. Finally she mistepped and Torill sliced her stomach and she stumbled back dropping her blade and Torill lunged forward, but Isijytal sent a burst heat and he was thrown back and she inhaled deeply and prepared herself for a torrent of flames. She began a dance, brushing her fingers through the open air as she stepped with the wind that blew in all directions and about her a flame had come and it followed her hands and she sent it forward, its flame coming upon Torill but he blocked it with his magic.

Knocked breathless as he collided with some risen ice, she had turned back to Medese and he had laid Ushebe upon the ground, kissing his forehead before turning to face the stranger. Isijytal smiled a wicked grin and her hands were wrapped in flame, but Medese showed no signs of fear and gripped his wand firmly. Angered seethed through boiling blood and he saw the smoke in the distance, Torill struggling to his feet and irivia unconscious in the distance. Ushebe moaned behind him and his wrath grew with every passing moment until he could hold in no longer. He threw his wand down and with a shriek had called Irivia’s spear to him, the weight of it lighter than expected, and he charged forward, cutting away the bursts of flames thrown at him and above he could see the Savvage ships slowly descend from orbit. He struck isijytal and cut her shoulder. The battle was swift, Medese landing strike after strike, Isijytal failing to assail against him, her attacks that followed the momentum of her S-shaped blades could not overpower him as he did not fight with a refined form, but danced wildly above with a beauty that had set Isijytal slightly off, drawing away from her usual confidence.

She was brought to her knees by Medese who raised the lance and was near to bring it down, impaling her against the ice, but the ship above had sent a blast of cannon fire and it hot the distance and the world beneath shook as the lake had come alive, water tore up violently from the ice, cracking and spiking around as chunks collided with one another, and in that moment Isijytal moved to strike, but missed. Medese was now furious and he looked upon Isijytal and with a smirk had closed his eyes, took in a deep deep breath, and then he let out a song. He was like a siren, standing upon raving ice and freezings waters, his voice carried far and wide and all around him the world that was thrown up in turmoil, the splaying waters froze in fanning structures, the ice settled, and Isijytal was bested as the snow beneath her melted and spiraled up, twisting around her and then freezing so that she was held captive in the ice and could do nothing but breath fire from her mouth unto unmelting ice. His song rang with power and it shattered and broke the engines and machinations of the ships that had come down from the heavens and they crashed to the land below in fiery ruin. Torill and irivia were amazed by his power and with Medese defeating them alone, he had turned back around and picked up Ushebe and carried him to the ship, picking up his wand first and hiding it back in his cloak. Irivia and Torill caught up and said nothing of what they had witnessed for in their hearts had come a wonder and fear at this display. Kagalla was killed in the bombing and in time Ushebe would take her place as cheiftan of the Sedhna.