Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain (11 page)

Chapter 06: Now

Endrance looked up from his notes. He had let Joven ramble on for hours, occasionally pausing to drink some water from his water skin as he told his tale. He had managed to get some work done on deciphering the ancient barbarian language, but he kept getting drawn into Joven's tale. It was when Joven's story came to an end that he finally got the breakthrough he needed.

"Joven." Endrance said sympathetically. "I'm sorry about what happened to your father, and brother."

Joven let out a pent up breath. "
It's okay." he replied. "I've had time to get over it. My father died in battle and earned much honor."

"And Talen?"
Endrance asked.

Joven shook his head. "I don't know. Nor do I care anymore. I don't want to talk about him again, all right?"

Endrance nodded.

An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Moments passed, and Joven cleared his throat.

"So. Got it figured out?" He asked.

Endrance shook his head. "Not yet." he replied.

Joven's shoulders slumped. "Well, we still have a few days." he replied.

"No, I have an idea, but I don't know where to look to get what I need." Endrance stated. "You see, your story got me thinking."

"About?" Joven asked.

"The throne room."
Endrance said. "More specifically, the columns carved with the deeds of past kings."

"Yeah?"

Endrance tapped the dry quill on the desk. "Who do you suppose writes them?"

Joven froze a moment, thinking. "You’re clever." he muttered. "The carvers can read and write!"

"Yes!" Endrance exclaimed. "And the ancient ones from the beginning of the tradition wrote in the ancient script! It was something that I knew I had seen before, because they were on the first two pillars in the throne room!"

"So, since they could read and write –" Joven said excitedly.

"Then they had to teach it to each generation after!" Endrance declared, tucking an errant strand of hair behind his ear. "We can decipher the language with their materials!"

Joven nodded. "Well, I don't know who or where they are, but I do know who would be able to locate them."

"Anna?" Endrance asked.

"Yep."
Joven said with a smile. "Let's go ask."

Endrance stood, straightening out his shirt. His neck twinged a little, but it was feeling much better after being given several hours of rest.

"Hey Joven," Endrance said before his bodyguard could open the door to the room. "Why didn't you tell me you and Anna had history?"

Joven shrugged. "We didn't really go anywhere with it after that day. It was a decade ago, and we never talked until you brought us all back together again."

Endrance frowned. "Is that okay with you?"

Joven smiled. "Well, it's not like we have a choice anymore. But yeah, that's fine with
me." he concluded. "At the time, she was just a pretty face to flirt with. Now, she's the wife of the most important person in the history of my bloodline."

Endrance grimaced. "Don't, ugh, I'm still not buying this 'wife' business."

"It's tradition."

"Are you sure it, like, didn't get twisted up getting passed on by word of mouth over the years?" the mage asked.

Joven shrugged. "Doesn't matter anymore. That's what it is now."

Endrance hung his head. "Truth." he said. "All right, I'm ready. Let's get going"

Joven nodded. "We have a lot of work to do before this is over."

They stepped out into the hall to gather the Draugnoa, hunt down the carvers, and finally decipher the seal over the tomb that housed what they needed for the eclipse.

~
END~

Devinia’s Story

Chapter: 01

In the darkness of the birthing chamber, three elves waited. Normally only lit by moonlight, it was a rare time when all three moons were new. Such an occurrence only happened every thirty years and lasted for three nights.  It was considered a sacred time for the Sha’hdi. For this night, a single candle was lit beside the bed.

The first of the elves was the expectant mother. Dark tan skin and raven black hair, her face was both regal and serene as she closed her eyes and pushed one more time. Her long dark hair was strewn across the cushions as she concentrated on the task at hand. The second, a physician, was a male Sha’hdi of small stature, but severe expression. He studied his patient with great interest, a glimmer of magic dancing in front of his eyes as his specially designed spells enabled him to know more about the pending delivery than any human doctor would.

The third elf was husband to the first. Tall, strong shouldered and regal, he bore an almost noble appearance with hair a light blonde in contrast to the dark skin most Sha’hdi shared. His pointed ears were pierced with gold and silver cuffs, a sign of personal wealth. He wore fine black silk with golden trim. Though he bore a short blade in his sash at the small of his back, it was more as a precautionary measure than an expectant one.

“Ashrava.”
The male whispered in elven, taking her hand. Though elven pregnancies were long, they usually did not pain the mother much. However, for the last five days his wife had been in labor and he worried for her. “You have endured much.”

She hardly acknowledged her husband’s statement. Though it had been paining her, she had been used to far worse in her years of civil service. To labor for five days was nothing compared to the torture and punishment her matron had put her through in training decades before. Though her husband was concerned, it was because his profession gave him little understanding of the pain his wife was accustomed to. It was simple, after all. He was simply a silk weaver of great skill. She was an assassin of the Nightsever house, one of the three most prestigious houses of assassins in Salthimere.

Another contraction came, and the physician moved closer. “It is time.” He said with a nod. “I will begin.”

Ashrava nodded, her eyes still closed. It had been the longest labor she’d ever experienced, and she was quite ready to be done with it.

As the physician urged her to push, a new form melted out of the shadows. Dressed in tight fitting black leather, the female had no weapons in her hands as she approached the bed. Her husband tensed in surprise. The newcomer’s face was obscured by a cloth mask, but the cut of the leather completed by her skull and dagger buckles identified her as a fellow assassin.

The assassin held a hand out to placate the male. “Hold, Prav. I am here on official business, but not that kind.” She said gently.

Prav relaxed, but only slightly. The assassin turned to Ashrava and placed a small fold of paper on the table at the bedside. “When you’re finished here…” she said. “There is a job for you.”

Instead of surprise, Ashrava nodded as if it were expected. She opened her eyes to look at her comrade. “Tell the matron it will be done.” She whispered.

The assassin vanished, and Prav leaned in. “Ashrava, you have to work?” he asked.

She grunted as a contraction hit her. When it passed, she shrugged. “I should have been done three days ago. It is not her fault that I was not able to produce the child when I said I would. She has taken contracts that need completion.”

“Can’t she get someone else to do that? You’re going to be weak from the birthing.” He protested. In the weak candlelight, his azure eyes showed his concern.

The physician spoke, his arms under the sheets. “I’ll give her some Aishgainte tonic.”

Ashrava looked her husband in the eyes. “See? I’ll be able to do the job.”

“What about the child?” Prav asked.

Ashrava looked him in the eyes, her hardened expression made more severe by the pain of childbirth. “I expect you to take care of her.” She growled.

Soon it was all over. The babe was wrapped in a blanket and placed into her arms. The girl was healthy, with a tuft of hair almost blonde in color on the top of her head. She fed the baby while the physician tended to her bleeding and mixed a restoring draught for her. She passed her sleeping daughter to Prav.

“Her name?” he asked. Though he made almost all of the income for their household, Ashrava was the more ‘productive’ member and was titled as Patron. As the Patron of their house, Ashrava had the duty of naming the children of the house.

Ashrava gulped down the drink. The life magic-infused recipe designed by Suo’hdi alchemists spread warmth through her limbs and body, washing away the aching pains and weariness. “We will call her Devinia.” She declared. “Now, I have to go.”

She slipped from the bed and the physician draped a robe around her. She walked into an adjoining room while Prav looked down at the child. She looked up at him with beautiful golden eyes that glittered and were slit like a cat.

“Your daughter has been blessed.” Prav said aloud. “She has your eyes.”

“She will do great things one day.” The physician commented with a smile. “Just like her mother.”

Ashrava returned
, wrapped in the same kind of dark leather her comrade had worn. She gave her physician a pouch of coins with a nod, and turned to her husband as the physician took his payment and departed. Her golden catlike eyes glimmered in the candlelight.

“I will return in two days. See to Devinia’s feeding and do not let your other duties make you lose track of time. I know how you get when you get inspired.”

Prav gave her his best smile. “Of course, I will try to keep my head out of the clouds.”

“Oh and remind Nult that he has to choose his pursuit soon.” She said as an afterthought, sheathing several daggers in hidden spaces in her armor.

“Go.” Prav encouraged. “It’s not the first contract you've had to work, I know my part.”

“I know.” she admitted. She reached out and pulled his head in for a kiss. Breaking off, she smiled at him.
“Motherly worry.” She offered.

Prav nodded. “I hope your contract is completed quickly and for your safe return.” He said. He turned from her and leaned towards the candle.

“
Geaighal.
” He said, and the candle went out with a puff of smoke.

Ashrava vanished into the darkness. Prav didn’t have her ability to see perfectly in the dark, nor did he have her mastery of shadow magic, so he waited thirty seconds before relighting the candle with the same command word. Except for him and the baby, the room was empty. He sighed and carried the baby and candle into the next room.

“It’s going to be one of those years.” He muttered.

* * * *

Ashrava returned three days later, wounded but otherwise alive. She had completed her contract, but had nearly been caught several times during her escape. It happened more times than her family would care to admit, and it was given the requisite amount of worry before things returned to normal.

Devinia grew up for the first five years nearly a defenseless baby. Once she developed enough to be taught, she was given over to her tutors just like her brothers and sisters had been. As she slowly matured, the lessons her tutors gave her grew more difficult both intellectually and physically. It was believed that an inheritor of the Dancer in Darkness’ gift would be naturally suited to civil service, and she was trained from birth on assuming as such.

In both the Lands of Northern Suns and the Lands of Southern Moons, elves, who by their very nature lived long lives, kept themselves busy by taking up a pursuit. There were no ‘jobs’ to the elves like there were to men; only the thing they either loved doing or were interested in enough to spend decades mastering. Most professions were socially acceptable pursuits, and overall, the quality of workmanship in any such profession was better than in human lands. After all, a customer would not want a table made by a man who had no choice but to take up his family business; rather, a table masterfully crafted by an elf who not only lovingly worked on every detail, but had spent many times as long mastering the skill.

Devinia’s mother, Ashrava, had taken up the pursuit of civil service nearly seventy years before she had been born. Before that time, she had taken Prav as her husband and the two had worked as silk weavers together. While every decade when the season of change came and elves could move on to mastering another pursuit, he remained at his task. She, however, bored of the profession. During one season of change, she entered into a week-long ritual in private, telling no one but her husband where she would be. When she returned, her eyes had become golden and cat like. She had been blessed by a Dancer in Darkness, a sign that told Prav immediately what she was hoping to take part in.
Civil service. Assassination.

* * * *

Ten-year-old Devinia ran down the streets laughing, blonde hair streaming in the wind as several other elven children tried to keep up. She juked and ducked behind the legs of an adult as she stole as much distance as she could. The other children flowed around the adult without even upsetting his stride, the male smirking as he hefted an oversized spool of thread. In the distance, she could hear Prav calling out encouragement as he watched over them.

Normally, a child would spend equal time with both parents at their job to learn about their pursuits and other responsibilities. Unfortunately, her mother’s pursuit was far too dangerous for
her to tag along with, so she spent most of her time with the weavers. It was fun, but she missed her mother often.

At that moment, they were playing hunters, a game where everyone but one child played the hunters, and the one child played the prey. They would close their eyes and count to thirty, and then try to find the prey. If they could find them, they still had to catch the child by putting both hands on them.

The game was fun to play, being hunter or prey. If a child was fast, he could avoid the others for a long time. If he was a scrapper, he could avoid having hands laid upon himself. If he was excellent at hiding, the hunters could spend many minutes in the search.

Devinia was excellent at hiding. She had always been good at using shadowplay.  Many of the other children couldn’t see her, even if they were standing right in front of her. She had won many of the games until one
day, her father spotted her coming out of hiding. He didn’t seem angry with her, but that night her mother took her aside.

“Daughter,” Ashrava started as they were finishing dinner. “Your father told me that you’ve been a very good girl.”

“Yes, mother.” She replied, smiling. Mother always looked serious, even when talking to her daughter, but something about the edge of her expressions softened when talking to her.

“He also says you’re very good at not getting caught in a hunt.” Ashrava observed. “Even some of the older children can’t seem to find you when you are the prey.”

“Yes, mother!” Devinia said with a smile. “I almost never get caught when it’s my turn to be the prey! I like that game!”

Ashrava tilted her head slightly, an odd gesture on her part. “Wouldn’t it be better to be the hunter?” she asked.

Devinia shook her head. “No, being the hunter is boring.” She replied. “There are lots of hunters, but only one prey. I like being able to make them give up.”

Ashrava nodded. “Won’t you show me how you hide from them, Devinia?” she asked, the corners of her mouth ticking up in the closest thing she had to a smile.

Devinia nodded, and with a smile ran to the corner of the dining room. In traditional style, the whole of a tree was grown and then shaped to house a family of elves. They were multi-generational, too; as the family grew during the decades, so did the tree which could have additional rooms shaped from it. Because of the design, there were nooks, crannies and naturally formed alcoves. Devinia took shelter in the darkness cast by the walls around the alcove and vanished.

Prav stared at the alcove, certain that his eyes had deceived him. Even though he knew basic shadowplay, most Sha’hdi could only bend shadows to cover their bodies. His daughter disappeared without the shadows of the alcove changing; it appeared as if her own shadow wrapped around her and pulled her into the darkness.

Ashrava, however, only applauded. “Well done, daughter!” she praised, her tone approving. “You seem to have learned an advanced technique all on your own.”

Devinia reappeared, the darkness seeming to disgorge her into her original crouched position. She clambered out of the alcove, grinning.

“Thank you mother!” she replied. It was the most emotion her mother had ever shown her, and she was glad to have the attention. “But I just… could. It’s like holding your breath!”

Prav glanced at his wife. “Holding your breath?” he asked, puzzled.

His wife tilted her head at Devinia. “What do you mean, holding your breath?” she queried.

Devinia smiled. “Well, we learn that breath is a symbol of life.” She recited, remembering one of her earliest lessons. “And any elf can bend shadows to cover
himself.”

“Any Sha’hdi can bend shadows, child.” Ashrava corrected. “The Suo’hdi
have no such power.”