I am taking my time savoring this new Seven. (And I just reached Chapter 7.) I very much think that Aela and Loria have open-ended series potential. It’s exciting to see them and the new crew members (Hrafn! Pherienon!!) in their own world. Thank you very much for including the maps, pictures, and illustrations. It’s interesting to see how inspiration comes together to form an original world.

What strikes me immediately even in the heat of battle is how vivid and natural magic is to Aela. I loved seeing the end of the cult leader from afar through Aela’s magic confirmed by the warriors’ cheers!

The conflict with the mercenaries after the battle fills out Aela’s world very well. A lot can be inferred from what is said and how she reacts.

The Teodon descriptions work well. I found myself imagining them as completely new mortals instead of picturing something familiar. Yikes, the making of a cannibal bandit was fascinating, and convincing. Now that they need to consume flesh, they have no other life to consider deserting for.

Ugh, student loans. Easy to relate to that.

Whoop, Persephone!! She is impressive and mysterious from the first sighting. Goodness, Dhasan and Loria play off each other so well. I love seeing this group assemble!

The description of Ravenwheel was perfect. I love this story.

Acadian: Loria's florid introduction was a lot of fun to write. And once again it gave me the opportunity to spend a few moments on each of the seven. It is not easy juggling so many characters.


haute ecole rider: I did want Venca's own speech to come across with that feeling of hope as well. He is going to build them up, physically and mentally, starting with that.


Grits: It has been a lot of fun to create my own world, and write in it instead of Bethesda's. Especially when it comes to writing magic, how it works, and how it is perceived by those who use it.

The new crew has been a lot of fun to write. I have tried to make it as multi-cultural as possible, and have representatives of all the major races/societies. Sadly, to represent every one would bring the group up to 10 or 12 members, just too many main characters to keep track of. I did have a Guzuk orc and Aymaran human characters fleshed out, but I had to put them on the back-burner due to the sheer size of the group. But maybe we will see them someday.


Chapter 12.3

After the excitement in the square, Ranazu offered to host them in his home. It was a simple affair, like all the houses in the village. But before they could even enter the upraised dwelling, Aela learned what those bowls on the porches were for. They contained water, and all who meant to enter a home were obliged to take off their shoes or boots and wash their feet. They then went barefoot within.

Aela found it to be a simple, yet elegant solution to living in an environment where mud and dirt were inescapable. The villagers might have to work in the grime all day long, but they did not take it into their houses with them. Their homes were a refuge from the muck of everyday farming life.

The interior of the domicile was a single large room, with large, flat stones set in the center of the upraised floor to create a hearth for cooking upon. The rest of the house revolved around that, with a sleeping area and space for storage located at the rear of the home, a place for food preparation around the hearth itself, and finally the living and dining space near the door. The tables and chairs were made of rattan. Aela noted that most of the crockery was of earthenware or bamboo, utensils were of wood, and the only metal in evidence was a single small cauldron of dented iron. Ranazu's bed was a mat of woven reeds that had been rolled up and put aside. It was kept company by a second sleeping mat that Aela noted bore a thin layer of dust atop it.

After taking some time to unload their packs and settle into the building, Aela noted that someone was missing.

"Where is Phereinon?"

Exiting the domicile, they looked about from the raised porch. It was Dhasan who saw her first.

"There," he pointed to a nearby hillside outside of the town. "In what looks like the burial ground."

"Maybe she's looking for old friends," Loria remarked dryly. Aela resisted the urge to start. It might have been a joke, but she suspected that the elf was closer to the mark than not.

They donned their footgear once more and headed to the town square. Aela left the others and went to the cemetery instead. The burial ground encroached into the tree line above the base of one of the hills adjacent to the village. Unlike cemeteries in Rase or Aulertil, here the individual graves rose in high, round mounds. These little hillocks were covered in verdant grass, but were free of weeds, flowers, or any other plant life. A single wooden post rose before each internment, painted with the names of those within in the Teodon or Rasen tongues.

The graveyard was smaller than Aela had expected, and she wondered if there might be another, larger cemetery nearby. Unless Agrigento was recently settled. She had never thought to ask any of the villagers their local history. That would have to change.

Phereinon knelt before the rows of grassy mounds, but rose to her feet as the Arvern approached. She reached down and hoisted her pack over one shoulder, and turned to face the Witch.

"I imagine the others are looking for me," she said, more a statement than a question.

"We were wondering what had happened to you," Aela replied.

"I always visit the graveyards when I come to a settlement." Phereinon briefly paused to look back over the green mounds. Then she turned to Aela. "I never know who I might find."

"Old friends?" Aela could not help but repeat Loria's quip.

"Sometimes," Phereinon said gravely, "but not today."

With that the mystery woman led Aela back into the settlement, drawing more than one stare from the farmers. Aela felt the usual flop in her stomach, until she realized that for once she was not the one being gawked at. Instead it was Phereinon - the cloaked woman with a snow-white face - who drew everyone's gaze.

They rejoined the other mercenaries at the village square. Vesia met them there, in front of the large - Rasen-style - stone building. The human villager led them into the structure through its only entrance: a pair of thick wooden doors. Within they found four gigantic copper vats that rose from the stone floor. They were taller than Aela, and tapered to long, slender pipes which bent back downward to feed into great collection pots. A raised walkway ran around the top of the vats, and Aela could see that it could be used to access hatches set within the tops of each vessel. They reminded her of alchemical alembics, only on a massive scale.

"This is where we distill the soju," Vesia explained.

The Rasen pointed to a row of metal cylinders to one side of the room. "It begins in the fermenting bins over there. We mix the rice with water and yeast and take it out into the sun to ferment. From them we take the wash and put it in the vats, where we heat it to boiling. The vapor runs up those slender pipes at the top and starts to condense. Most of it falls back down into the pot as reflux. Only the purest distillation rises all the way, goes across those horizontal pipes, and falls down into the condensers. From there it drips into the collectors as soju. We put it in those doks - brown jugs - over there and age it. Or at least we did in the old days. Now the firking raiders take it and drink it straight from the vats."

Loria whistled in appreciation. "Most impressive," the Light Elf said. "I have to admit, I was not expecting anything this refined."

"Aye, I feel thirsty already," Dhasan laughed.

"Do you run all of this?" Aela asked the Rasen woman, noting her familiarity with the process.

"I do," Vesia nodded, "with a little extra muscle-power from some of the others of course. It was my parents who started it all. You might say brewing is in my blood."

"You must be able to bring in a good deal of coin from this," Hrafngoelir observed. "Yet your people live so sparingly?"

"We have to," Vesia frowned. "The raiders took all of our valuables, even my copper cooking pots from home. All we have left is what we could hide from them. The only reason they do not take all of this is because they know we could not make the soju without it."

"Is there a way up to the roof?" Venca gazed up at the ceiling. "This is the tallest building in the village. We should get a good view from up there."

"Aye," Vesia nodded. "Follow me."

She led them up on the metal walkway that surrounded the vats and took them to one side of the building. There she ascended a ladder to a wooden trapdoor and climbed through it. Aela followed along with the others, and found herself perched on the spine of the roof. To either side of her red-glazed tiles angled down to the edge of the slanted roof. But along the peak there was a flat beam of wood that ran the length of the building, roughly three feet wide.

As Venca had thought, the perch offered a wide view of the village and its environs. The group turned this way and that to look all about. Hrafngoelir pointed to the bamboo-covered hills to the south and spoke.

"Those are going to be trouble," the northerner observed. "The bamboo will give them cover from arrows, and they can get within fifty feet of the village wall before they get into the open."

"We will have to clear it," Dhasan said.

"Perhaps we can kill two Fir Bolgs with one spell while we are at it." Venca thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "We will need spears for the villagers, and that bamboo would do nicely."

"Consider it done." Malediction appeared in Phereinon's hand, filling Aela with a sense of quiet dread. The Arvern chided herself for letting it bother her so. She was going to have to learn to build a mental callous to the weapon, even though it did feel like a curse.

"We'll need shields too." Venca said. "We could make them from rattan, or even bamboo. But I'd like something stronger. It's going to be the primary thing these people have to protect themselves."

"I wouldn't trust the wood from the banyan trees," Alcheon said. "But the durians are strong. I could start felling them and making shields."

"My axe will cut wood just as well as men," Dhasan murmured, "I will assist."

"Good," Venca nodded. "That will give us a start. Once we have those I can start training the villagers. The sooner the better. In the meanwhile we can put them to work on the defenses. Let's go down and take a look at the perimeter."

Kye Rim Graves

Rasen-style architecture

Teodon Dok

Bamboo forest

We continue to learn more about both the village and the Seven here. Nice interlude with Phereinon at the graveyard. And a fascinating description of the actual distillery.

‘Ranazu's bed was a mat of woven reeds that had been rolled up and put aside. It was kept company by a second sleeping mat that Aela noted bore a thin layer of dust atop it.‘ - - I love this mysterious loose end - and can take a guess that the second mat belongs to a mate perhaps slain by the raiders. . . . If we learn more about it that is nice but if not, that is how life is – full of unanswered questions.

’Aela felt the usual flop in her stomach, until she realized that for once she was not the one being gawked at.’ - - Having come to know Aela, I don’t think it gives her much comfort that folks are staring at Phereinon instead of her. At least Aela no longer has manhands to draw attention to herself.

"Perhaps we can kill two Fir Bolgs with one spell while we are at it." - - This delightful turn of phrase on a familiar saying does a wonderful job of emphasizing Aela-lore and reminding us that ‘Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore!’

So, plowshares to swords as the work in earnest begins. Crafting weapons, shields and a (hopefully) capable militia.

Ooo, in Chapter 8 I hope that’s the whiff of a sequel. Phereinon and the dead city and the Sluagh sound fascinating.

On the boat, Hrafngoelir’s appearance seen from the aether demonstrated how Aela sees the worlds very well. I liked Hrafn’s ritual with the rune stone. Her chat with Aela was informative and simply lovely.

I giggled when Aela asked Hrafn if she used magic to style her hair. As a fellow bearer of unruly locks, I have often looked at other women and wondered the same. Oh, and Aela couldn’t help but start giving birth control advice! That was perfect!



The exchange between Aela and Venca on the boat rang so true to the Aela you have shown us so far and covered a lot of ground. That was excellent! By the way, Kye Rim is one of the coolest place names I have ever heard.

I loved Loria’s quiet support as much as Aela’s hand renovations. The amount of effort and sustained concentration required (not to mention the risks) explain why she hasn’t already completed her physical changes, especially as we’ve just seen how hard it is to get a little time to herself in the aether.

Oh my gosh, Aela’s aesensing of Malediction was breathtaking. Phereinon sure knows how to end a “so, where are you from” conversation!


Now I know we’re not in Tamriel!

I loved seeing the Kye Rim landscape and wildlife along the trip. By the time they got to the village, I had a clear mental picture of what life there might be like.

Up to 12.2 myself.



THIS is what I always want in Elder Scrolls games! Lots of smaller, non-threatening insects, birds, reptiles, etc. It's what I always envision. Skyrim was a definite improvement in this regard, but still.

The scene when they eat that revolting custard fruit made me gag! And as they stumble through the forest, I keep hoping they don't accidentally come across some trap, after it's too late.

Acadian: I am not sure how deeply we will get into Ranazu's history, and the reason for his abiding hatred for the raidrers. Most of it will probably be inferred.

You are right, Aela is not much more comfortable with someone else being gawked at than it being herself. Though at least she can take some comfort in the fact they were gawking simply because Phereinon looks so unique, rather than bigotry.

I do love taking a modern turn of phrase and altering it to be setting-appropriate. Like betting septims to sausages.


Grits: Phereinon and the City of the Dead is a sequel, and the beginning of what I imagine to be a globe-spanning adventure.

I likewise wish I had the magic power of hair-taming.

What makes Aela's transformation even more difficult is that there is no one to teach her, or even any how to books. She is literally figuring this out all on her own, using just her overall knowledge of arcanism (the study of magic itself) and vitamancy. Someone who was actually trained and had practice could do it much quicker, easier, and safer. But there are no sex reassignments mages in Aela's world.

I worked to figure out how Malediction should both look physically and be felt in the aether. I did not want to fall back on the old saws of skulls and "a feeling of death". I went with the owl inscription on the blade because it is a psychopomp among Native Americans. Then I decided to go back to Aela's own experience of the death of a loved one, in her case that of a cherished pet. It is something I imagine everyone can relate to.

I am glad that all the time spent along the river is paying off. Not only with character development, but also in presenting Kye Rim as a real land. My aim was for the countryside itself to become a character in its own right.


Renee: I got a lot of my ideas for the flora and fauna from watching wildlife documentarys. Whenever I see something interesting I take notes so I do not forget to use them. The Durian trees and their stinky but delectable fruit are a real thing. They are a delicacy in south east asia. Albeit a smelly one.


Chapter 12.4

With that the mercenaries filed their way back down to the distillery floor. Once outside they were joined by Daehyun and Aecha. Vesia stayed behind, explaining that she had to start work on creating their next batch of soju. In her place the two Teodon villagers led the mercenaries to the front gate, to begin their tour of the walls.

There was not much left to look at. While the thick tree-trunks that made up most of the wall were indeed of stout construction, the ground beneath them had sagged, often leaving them pointed this way or that, creating gaps in many places. The bamboo replacement walls near the gate and a few other places were sturdy enough to prevent animals from wandering in or out, but clearly would not stop a determined attacker.

"We'll start with digging a ditch around the entire village and filling it with water," Venca said.

"That will not slow the raiders," Daehyun pointed out. "They are Teodon like us. They move through water and mud just as easily as your people do on dry land."

"Aye," Venca agreed, "but the muddy water will conceal the bamboo stakes we plant in the bed of the moat."

"Oh, he is a clever one," Dhasan murmured. "That will give them a nasty surprise indeed."

"It probably won't kill any of them," Hrafngoelir observed, "but it will slow them down, and force them to take their time through the water."

"It's going to be a lot of work, but I'd like to pull up all those timbers as well, and use the dirt we dig out of the moat to build up a rampart." Venca pointed at the heavy tree trunks that made up most of the wall. "Then we can replant the logs into a solid barrier. With a five foot deep moat, a five foot rampart, and the wall on top of that, we will have a respectable obstacle."

"I can take care of that." Aela closed her eyes, and allowed her senses to drift down into the mud beneath her feet. Almost instantly she found a gnome. While he did not truly sleep, the land spirit was as still as stone, so that Aela was tempted to imagine him dozing in the warmth of the sun's rays. She enticed him to rise up from his home in the aether and take physical form, lending him her mana to make the transition from one world to the other.

A muddy hand rose up from the earth before Aela, causing the others to leap out of the way. All except for Phereinon, who instead watched with great interest. It was a followed by a second earthen hand, and the two pulled up an equally grimy head and shoulders up from the ground. In moments a giant of soil and loose stones rose up from the earth and stood before the Witch. He looked about the group, and finally rested an expectant gaze upon Aela.

She smiled and gently patted his arm. "My friend and I can take care of the ditch and the rampart in no time at all."

She did not fail to notice Phereinon's eyes practically burning on her own. The white-haired woman had wanted her for her ability with earth spirits. Now Phereinon would see what she was truly capable of. Part of her wanted to impress the mystery woman. That same part of her always wanted to be the best she could. But another part of Aela wondered if perhaps she might be better off if the scarred woman decided against procuring her aid after all.

"That won't stop the bandits," Aecha argued. "We had those before. They just pulled the ground out from underneath us."

"They have a mage who can summon gnomes," Loria said. "But as you can see, so do we."

"If anyone can stop them, it is Aela," Dhasan agreed. "She is the finest conjurer I have ever met."

Aela tried not to blush at the compliment. Venca's words brought her back down to earth quickly enough however.

"I don't expect to stop them at the walls," the Rasen said. "They will get through."

"Then why bother?" the water priestess spoke in a placid tone, but from the slight twitch in her tail, Aela could see that Aecha was growing exasperated.

"We will force them to bring their full force to bear upon the walls," Hrafngoelir explained. "They will have to throw everything in, including their mages."

"That is the key," Venca said. "They will reveal their mages. Then Hrafngoelir, Dhasan, and Loria will pick them off at long range. That will take away their greatest strength, and even up the odds."

"Like forcing them to play their trump cards in the first trick," Loria observed.

"Exactly," Venca nodded. "From there we will have a battle in the streets."

The Rasen led them back into the interior of the village. Once within he turned off the main street and wended his way between buildings. "We'll build frises and use them to fill in most of these little alleys. We'll leave just a few routes open to the square. That will force the bandits down channels of our choosing. We'll meet them here in shield walls and smash them." Venca smacked a closed fist into the palm of his hand for emphasis.

"Frises?" asked Daehyun.

"A simple barrier," Hrafngoelir explained. "You take a long horizontal pole. Then take two stakes sharpened at both ends and tie them to the pole like an 'X'. Fill the length of the pole with those spikes, and you have a prickly barrier that you can easily pick up, move around, and sink into the ground."

"That bamboo should work well for that," Phereinon judged.

"And if you do not stop them in the street?" Aecha asked.

"If we do not stop them, then we retreat to the distillery," the Rasen declared. "It's the strongest place in the village."

"But the raiders will be expecting that," the water priestess observed, "will they not?"

"You are right," Venca agreed. "But perhaps we can use that to our advantage?"

The former soldier turned his black clad frame to the direction of the brewery and once again stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "Yes, that might just work after all…"

"I love it when he gets that look," Hrafngoelir whispered into Aela's ear. "It means he's up to something truly devious."

"The smooth hide has an idea?" Dhasan asked the obvious question.

"Well Aecha is right. The bandits will be expecting us all to go in there, including the noncombatants." Venca now gestured with one hand to the distillery. "So that will be their target once they breach the walls. They are all going to converge upon that spot and take it. It would make for an excellent trap."

"But we would be in the trap with the bandits," Dhasan pointed out. "There is only the one way in."

"Not if Aela and her muddy friend there dig us an escape tunnel," Venca now turned to the Witch and her conjured gnome. "We could let the bandits see everyone go into the building, then secretly evacuate to someplace else, like that big wooden building across the square."

"That is the stable. We keep our hadrosaurs and wagons in there." Daehyun frowned. "Well, what we have left of them."

"But what about this trap?" Phereinon said. "Once we have them inside, what do we do with them? We'll have given them the strongest point in the entire village."

"How hot a flame do you need to make soju burn?" the Rasen asked. "And how much of it do you think we could have in the brewery by the time the raiders come?"

* * *

"You want to do what to my soju?" Vesia stared at Venca as if he had just stepped down from the moon. "And the brewery? You'll destroy everything we worked so hard to build here!"

"It won't destroy anything that cannot be replaced." Venca appeared to be unflustered by the other Rasen's exclamation. "You can always brew more soju, put up new stones on the walls, or lay new timbers on the roof. But you cannot bring back the dead."

The mercenaries stood back in the heart of the village, with Vesia, Ranazu, Daehyun, Hyunsu, and Aecha before them. Some of the other villagers loomed nearby, just close enough to listen in, but not so near to be truly part of the conversation.

"We all expected to fight with the mercenaries we hired," said Daehyun. "But not to see our own village burned down in the process!"

"Why cannot you fight the raiders in the fields, or in the forest?" Hyunsu asked. "Why fight here, in our homes?"

"We'll be slaughtered if we fight them out in the open," Venca said plainly. "They will surround us, pick us apart, and finish us off one at time. The only chance we have is with fortifications to fight behind, and narrow streets to prevent them from flanking us. We may not even have to use the brewery as a trap. We might stop them before that. But if we don't, we have to be prepared for the worst."

"The worst seems like the best we can hope for," Vesia grumbled. "Either way it seems our village will be in ruins."

"Venca is right," Aela came to the Rasen's defense. "Using the brewery as a trap won't destroy your village. Buildings don't make a community, people do. New wood can be cut, new wicker can be woven, new buildings can always be put up. People are the only thing that cannot be replaced, and that is what Venca's plan will save."

"Isn't that why you decided to fight after all?" Loria moved to stand next to the Arvern Witch. "For one another? We came here to fight for you, not for your houses."

"How is burning down our homes going to save us?" Hyunsu railed. "We were better off with the bandits!"

"No we weren't," Ranazu growled. The Rasen looked pointedly from the old Teodon to his daughter Aecha. "If we don't make a stand now, who will be next?"

"Sometimes you have to be willing to sacrifice everything you have, in order to save everything you are," Aela said resolutely. "Houses, possessions, wealth, none of it really means anything. All of those things can be gained, lost, or traded away."

Aela stepped up and laid a hand over Vesia's chest. "The only things that really matter are in here," she said, "and no tyrant or thief can ever take them away from you."

"That is easy for you to say," Aecha argued. "When the battle is over, all of you will leave. We Agrigentans will be left with ashes."

"Aela has sacrificed far more than you can ever fathom," Loria declared in a decidedly prickly tone. "She-"

Dhasan interrupted the high elf by laying a friendly hand upon his shoulder. "We will all remain to help rebuild." He looked from the other mercenaries to the villagers. "None of us will leave until the village is fully repaired and back to normal, agreed?"

Vesia frowned, but nodded in agreement. The other villagers followed suit, as did the mercenaries. Aela could see that the Agrigentans were not happy about it. No one ever looked forward to losing the things they valued. That was why it was called sacrifice after all.

"That's settled then," Venca said. "Let's get to it."


Earthen rampart, wall, and ditch

Cheavaux de frise

Venca and particularly Aela really proved their worth here. Venca for his solid (and clever) plan and ability to see what needs to be done and Aela for her magnificent muddy magicks that can actually transform the land to suit Venca’s plan.

It was reassuring to see the Seven stand unwavering with Venca as the villagers began to realize the likely cost of an effective defense.

Ahah, more teasers about a sequel with White Hair and the dirt-moving Witch!

Today I ate a delicious new (to me) fruit and thought of Aela.

Yikes, Venca’s plan was tough to swallow. But it makes sense, and the Seven did commit to helping with the rebuild. Venca’s plan was very interesting to watch unfold, but Aela’s gnome friend was the highlight here for me. His entrance was outstanding!

Acadian: Now Aela gets to step up and show what she can do, something we have not really seen since the beginning of the story.

All of that verbal sparring and fencing we saw earlier in the story is starting to pay off as noted, the Seven are standing together behind Venca. They managed to build up some trust after all. Though it is certainly not over yet on that score.


Grits: I hope you new fruit was not quite so stinky, but just as delicious as I am told Durian Fruit is. I cannot remember when I first heard about it, but it was so unique that I took a note about it so I could write it into a story some day.

Venca's plan is indeed a hard one to take. But that is just reality. Luckily he is equally hard, and ready for the task.

One nice thing about stepping outside of the Elder Scrolls universe is that I am no longer bound by their "put a hand in the air" to summon something. It does look cool. But there are other ways you can describe a summoning taking form in the physical world.



Chapter 13.1

Aela and her summoned spirit went to work digging the moat. The gnome easily moved the turf and loose stones aside. He did not so much dig it up with his hands, as he did wave it to one side, bidding the element to follow his will. So the earth spirit easily piled all of this dirt up on the inner side of the ditch. But rather than covering the bamboo fence and timber wall there, the dirt moved under those objects, actually pushing them up so they stood atop the tall rampart being constructed.

In the meantime the others split up and went about their own tasks. Phereinon and Hrafngoelir marched off to the bamboo-covered hills on the far side of the hamlet, while the rest ventured into the forest they had all traveled through to reach Agrigento. Aela noted the latter now carried wood axes as well, and imagined that Daehyun had supplied them from the village.

Loria vanished soon after, and Aela expected that the wizard would begin preparing mana gems as reservoirs for extra energy, or perhaps scribe scrolls to aid in the defense. The latter struck her as a good idea for herself as well. She could create scrolls to summon undines and pass them out to the villagers. They would go a long way to putting out fires during the battle. Perhaps there might even be time to brew healing potions?

Soon Aecha appeared, and the mudang summoned an undine to stop the water from the nearby paddies from prematurely filling the ditch that Aela and her own spirit were digging. The water priestess said nothing, but Aela could feel the Teodon's bright yellow eyes boring holes into her back as they slowly moved around the edge of the village.

"So are you going to spill those beans," Aela finally asked, "or are you saving them for dinner?"

"It is strange," the Teodon finally rasped. "Even for the scaleless folk, its energy makes no sense."

"Well that is one I have not heard yet," Aela sighed. "How pray tell, does its energy disturb you?" the Arvern said in as neutral a tone as she could muster.

"It is upside-down!" the Teodon spat out. "Its body is male, yet somehow it is not. Here its water is female, there it is not. Its spirit is wrong, like its tail is on its head and its feathers on its feet."

"You have no two-spirit people in your village then?" Aela had not failed to notice the way the mudang continued to refer to her at 'it'. "No ardhanari?"

"Ardhanari?" The black stripes that lined the Teodon's head bunched in concentration. "That is for the elves, not round-eared humans."

Aela laughed. "Well it's just a word," she said. "The Rasenna call people like myself semnotatoi, after the two-spirit priestesses of Nyktera. The Aymaran's use the term igerramen. The Asokari call us alyha. Everyone has a different word."

"It means the labarindja?" Aecha cocked her head to one side as she considered the Arvern. "Those are holy people, blessed by the ancestors to live in the third gender. Apart from man and woman, they are both, and neither, and beyond."

"Well think of me that way then." Aela waved a hand is dismissal, thinking that was the end of it.

"But it is not labarindja," the water-priestess declared. "They are special, chosen when their very eggs are laid. They bear the sacred ones' signs upon their shells. They are taken to the capital so that they may serve the emperor from the moment of their hatching."

"But it does not bear the marks," Aecha looked down her long snout at Aela. "Nor does it serve the sacred one, or whatever the round ears have that passes."

Momentarily at a loss for words, Aela stared blankly at the mudang. She had thought she had heard all the excuses for why people hated her for being a two-spirit. But she had never heard that she was not good enough for the honor! It would have been humorous, if Aecha were not so gravely intent, and her words not such spiteful claws.

"You are serious?" Aela finally sputtered under raised eyebrows. "You think I don't deserve to be a two-spirit? Because I don't have some sort of birthmark? Or my skin is the wrong color?"

"Of course it is not worthy!" Aecha insisted. "It is trying to claim an honor not rightfully its! It is unnatural! Most shameful! How can it presume to be what it is not, as if it had the right!"

"I have the right be whatever, and whoever, I am." Aela growled back. "My identity is my own. It isn't determined by my body. It sure isn't determined by you!"

"But did its ancestors not make it a man?"

"No," Aela's eyes narrowed. "I was, and have always been, a woman. I was just not lucky enough to be born perfect, like you apparently were."

"But why cannot it just be what it was born as? That is what its ancestors wanted. Otherwise it would not have been that way."

Aela was not certain if Aecha was genuinely puzzled, or if the Teodon was baiting her. She could not count the number of times she had this same conversation with so many others. No matter where she went, there was always someone who felt the need to tell her how wrong they felt it was for her to exist. They all seemed to think that she had been waiting with baited breath for her entire life for them to share their opinions. Aela wondered how the water priestess would feel if everyone around her constantly forced her to justify having a tail?

"If a child is born with a cleft lip, should it live out its entire life that way?" Aela fought the anger that was welling up within her, and tried to play nice with the water priestess. It is time to be building trust, she told herself. "Or with a club foot? Or with under-developed lungs? Or with an infection? Shouldn't we use our magic to heal them?"

"But it was not born with a sickness, or a split mouth," Aecha contended. "It was simply born a man. It should not pretend to be a woman. It is unnatural."

"First off, my name is Aela, not 'It'." Aela stared back at the priestess with narrowed eyes. If the mudang wanted to start this, she would end it. "Secondly, my spirit and my body are not yours to sit in judgment over."

"A turtle cannot make itself into a crocodile, no matter how hard it tries," Aecha fired back. "It will always be a turtle. It is a freak, and its ancestors will-."

The Teodon was cut short when a cascade of mud splattered across the front of her body. Aecha sputtered, and wiped the grime from her features. Aela turned to see that her gnome had stopped digging, and stood with a fist packed full of oozing slime.

"You had better go," Aela said, "you're making the crocodile angry."

"How dare you!" the water priestess cried.

The gnome raised his mud-filled hand, and it took every ounce of Aela's will to contain the outrage that welled up within her. She knew that the spirit was merely reacting to her own feelings. If she could not control herself, it might do more than just sling mud…

"There is far more to the worlds than what you dream of Aecha," Aela carefully answered. "If you cannot accept the fact that there are people and things different from you, and don't follow your ideas of how the multiverse was meant to be, then a little mud is going to be the least of your worries in life. If I were you I'd take a long walk and think that over."

The Arvern Witch purposely turned her back to the water priestess, and concentrated upon her gnome instead. She willed the earth spirit to ignore the Teodon, and return to his work of clearing the ditch. Aela heard the squishing of wet feet fading away behind her, and was thankful that the priestess had taken her advice.

A moment later water came flowing down into the ditch. Aela reached out for the water spirit that Aecha had just released. Gently entreating the undine, the Witch found that the elemental spirit was more than happy to assist her. The water stopped flowing into the ditch, and instead flowed up its sides and back into the nearby rice paddy.

In the meantime her gnome dissolved into the dirt beneath her feet. Aela sighed. No one could control more than one spirit at a time. At least that is what they had said at the Ingenium. Rumors existed that it could be done of course. But given that summoning created a mild telepathic link between spirit and mage, she was not sure how anyone could keep the commands between more than one straight. Her own near loss of control over the gnome just moments before showed how difficult it could be to direct even a single conjured being.

Climbing to the top of the ditch on her hands and knees, Aela emerged to stand upon the dike of the neighboring rice paddy. The field was denuded of rice, and filled with ankle-deep brown water. She imagined the undine moving the water into the next paddy, and a moment later she watched it rise up on the opposite banks and flow over the bunds into the other paddies beyond.

She would just have to alternate between summoning the gnome to dig the ditch, and then the undine to empty out all of the paddies adjacent to it, and back and forth again until she was finished. It would take longer, and require twice the energy. But no one had ever told her that being an ardhanari was easy.

’One nice thing about stepping outside of the Elder Scrolls universe is that I am no longer bound by their "put a hand in the air" to summon something.’ - - Heh, I don’t recall this ever binding you while writing TES fiction. You have always convincingly described magic and casting as you see fit and it has always seemed natural for your characters to do so. I do get what you mean though about some advantages inherent when doing your own world building.

*

Grrr, what a frustrating encounter for Aela – made even more so because it is well-familiar to her. That water priestess has no business being a priestess of anything. One can only hope that before all is said and done Aecha will consider her good fortune that Aela’s reaction did not include withdrawing the Seven’s support from Agrigento. Should Aela have chosen to do so, I have no doubt that Loria would have joined her. With no magic support, the rest of the team would have no choice but to leave as well. We know Aela well enough though to realize that abandoning this whole village is not in her makeup.

I like that keeping two aetherial beings summoned is too much for Aela. It keeps her from being a super-summoner, and it reinforces the idea that the summoning is a cooperative bond rather than fire and forget.

I love that Aela was able to rein in her temper during the turtle/crocodile chat and had the presence to tell the local priestess to go take a walk rather than going for one herself. This is after all not Aela’s first encounter of the kind by far, and she knows her worth to herself and to the village. What a great segment!

I rather enjoyed the exchange between Aecha and Aela regarding what is "natural" and what is "not." I myself have a co worker who is trans, and is going through the real life version of the process Aela is putting herself through. They have my respect, since in spite of the pressures they suffer, they maintain good cheer, kindness and helpfulness toward others, much as Aela does. Thank you for writing such a interesting character, and reminding me of this friend of mine.

Acadian: Sadly, many people IRL would say that Aecha's views are the sole qualification needed for being a holy person and community leader. I wanted to show that with her, and also throw in a little TERF attitude as well (if you don't know the term, The Urban Dictionary has a great definition)

You are spot on about Aela's unique position to save or destroy Agrigento. I was not thinking so much that she might decide to leave. As you said, that is not in her nature. But I did run several possible scenarios through my head of Aecha and others calling for her removal, or attempting to murder her with poison or other methods. The best endings were Aela leaving, Loria and Dhasan leaving out of their friendship with her, Phereinon leaving (because she is only there to recruit Aela to begin with), and Venca, Hrafn, and Alcheon leaving because as you said, with no magical support there is no point fighting. The worst options ended with Phereinon killing everyone. We'll see how things shake out.


Grits: Some day Aela might learn to summon more than one spirit. Possibly by not trying to control them, but simply calling them in the world and relying upon their goodwill to follow her orders. In any case I want to leave that out there as something she can work toward. And as you said, to show she is not an Uber Mary Sue.

I had not even considered the fact that it was Aela who stayed and continued the work, while Aecha was the one who walked away. It just seemed like the obvious result when I was writing it. Aecha is not the first person to love their bigotry more than their city, or country, neighbors, or even themselves. So I never considered that she would remain and help rebuild Agrigento's defenses.



haute ecole rider: I have been through that natural/unnatural conversation too many times. It is ultimately pointless, as transphobia (or homophobia, or racism, or mysigony, etc...) is not really about logic or philosophy or religion at all. That is all just pretexts invented to excuse their behavior. It is a purely emotional thing, a pit that many people fall into - and often are deliberately pushed into. No amount of debate or reasoning will ever change a bigot's mind. Like love, you cannot talk someone out of it.

I chose to write Aela so long ago for the same reason I did Teresa. So few people will write a GLBT protagonist. Tbh, I think it sits in my favor, as it is something different I bring to the table. Also, as the old saw goes, you write what you know. Being trans and a lesbian myself, that is what I know best.



Chapter 13.2

The sun hung low over the western horizon when Loria appeared over the rim of the ditch that Aela and her gnome were digging in.

"I don't suppose you found any gold down there?" the elf called out, "or precious stones?"

"None as precious as you my friend." Aela looked up with a smile. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. A glance down revealed that not only were her hands stained with dirt and mud, but her clothing as well. She could only imagine how grimy her face must be. Part of her thought of pulling out her hand-mirror to look. But another part was too afraid to see.

"Well, that goes without saying of course…" the Silaine beamed. He waved at her to come up. "Come on out of there. It is time for dinner."

Aela clambered up the steep slopes of the ditch, and in no time at all slipped and fell face-first into the dirt. She closed her eyes, and thought of the gnome below her. A pair of massive hands gently flowed under her feet, and she felt herself lifted into the air. A moment later she found herself standing upon the embankment before Loria. A glance back found her conjured spirit dutifully waiting behind her. Without having to say a word, she gave him her thanks, and bid the gnome a quiet evening. Then he faded into dust.

"Oh my, you really are quite a mess," Loria said. "All of this hot, sweaty work is simply unconscionable for mages of our stature."

"I notice that you avoided getting dirty," Aela observed.

"That is because I know how to take care of myself." The elven mage made a grandiose flourish with his hands, and Aela felt energy grow within his slender fingers. A moment later he set his hands upon her shoulders and gave her a little shake. With that the dirt and grime all fell from her clothing, leaving them looking as if they had just come from the laundry tub. At the same time the sweat and grunge vanished from her skin and hair as well, and she felt completely refreshed.

"You always were good at materiality," the Arvern Witch murmured.

"So what have you been about?" the Arvern asked as they headed into the village. Aela noted that now quite a few villagers were out and about. Most were gawking at the high palisade that she and her spirit had been building around the edge of the settlement. A few simply walked to and fro through the settlement however. All of those nearby stopped to stare and her and Loria.

"I assisted our trusty axemen in the forest," Loria practically boasted.

"You, swinging an axe?" Aela's eyes goggled. "Now that I wish I had seen."

"Oh Theut forbid!" the high elf proclaimed. "I would never debase myself with manual labor. No, I was there to cast lighten spells upon the lumber. I am sure it made things much easier for those sweaty, muscle-bound fellows. Speaking of easier, I thought that the water priestess was going to be helping you with the moat?"

"If by helping, you mean lecturing me in how unnatural it is for me to exist - then yes - she was of great assistance," Aela frowned.

"Oh my," Loria sighed. "I should have thought better from a priestess. But then perhaps that just makes things worse."

"Apparently I am not worthy of the honor of being a two-spirit." Aela grumbled. "The gods didn't decree it at my birth. So I am just a pretender, not good enough to determine my own identity. It is supposed to be the way Its ancestors made It."

"We are all born not capable of holding in our wastes," Loria murmured. "That is how the gods - or our ancestors - made us as well. I suppose she thinks it's blasphemy to potty train children then?"

Aela could not restrain a smile. "I'll have to remember that for the next time," she said dryly.

"My wisdom is a light to the world." Loria raised his nose high and affected his most dignified prince-of-parchment pose. That brought an actual chuckle from Aela, and in no time at all one from the Light Elf as well.

"Still, do you think she will be a problem?" Loria kept his voice low, so as not to be overheard by any of the nearby villagers.

"I really don't know," Aela sighed. "I'll be watching out, just to be sure."

"I wish I could say that was just paranoia, but we both know better than that." Loria murmured. "We had better start thinking of an exit strategy, just in case."

"Actually, Venca already thought of it for us," Aela smiled as they approached Ranazu's home, which now doubled as the mercenaries' base. "He just does not know it yet. I should have it done within a few days."

Dinner turned out to be a dish called bun cha - rice noodles with sausages and bean sprouts, and spiced with numerous herbs. Best of all, a study in the aether revealed that it was free of poison. Thanks to years of experience, detecting toxins was a technique Aela could now accomplish with ease.

The Arvern noted that the hearth was cold and the cooking ware was clean. So clearly the meal had been prepared elsewhere and brought in. She wondered who they had to thank for their dinner. But she soon forgot as she dove into the tasty dish.

Naturally the entire thing was washed down with soju, which Alcheon poured for them in small cups. The Teodon explained to them that one never poured their own soju, and that a glass could never be refilled until it was completely empty. He further revealed that when pouring for others, one must hold the bottle by the right hand, with your arm supported by your left hand at the elbow. Then there came a host of other rules, such as how to hold your cup, who could drink before others, and more that Aela simply could not be bothered to remember.

"When do you find time to drink with all of these rules!" Dhasan laughed.

The others seemed to like the soju. Aela found the clear liquid to be slightly sweet in taste, which she enjoyed, but it had a kick like a hadrosaur. For someone who was used to drinking nothing stronger than wine, Aela knew that it was something she had best take only in moderation. A great deal of moderation. She vowed to see if Vesia had any tea the next morning…

Ranazu himself was nowhere to be found, and Aela noted that one of the sleeping mats that she had seen rolled up against the back wall earlier was now missing. Only the dusty one remained. Dhasan said that the Agrigentan was sleeping in another home. Aela felt a twinge of guilt at his feeling obliged to leave his own home. But given how crowded it was with all seven mercenaries under one roof, Aela was thankful there was not an eighth person competing for space.

"None as precious as you my friend." Aela looked up with a smile.’ - - Aww, methinks it is Aela who is the precious friend. This whole encounter between Aela and Loria was lovely. We already know how Aela frets to ensure Loria is up and about in time to make his engagements and that the two mages rely on each other in combat. You make it easy to see right through Loria’s manner to the depth of his friendship for Aela. He injects insightful humor just when his friend needs it. My earlier assumption that if Aela pulled out of this quest Loria would stand with her is quite confirmed in this episode. It is clear that Loria has stood by Aela through her transition and unwaveringly continues to support her. True friends indeed.

"We are all born not capable of holding in our wastes," Loria murmured. "That is how the gods - or our ancestors - made us as well. I suppose she thinks it's blasphemy to potty train children then?" - -

Nice touches you introduced regarding the customs associated with drinking soju. Quite oriental, and they fit wonderfully here.

The earth gnome shall be the key, methinks. Now let me go make some soju before I read on.

The Aela and Loria parts give me such a warm friend feeling.

I love what the soju rituals show about local culture (and the potency of the beverage!). This is not a mead hall.

I continue to enjoy reading this tale of unlikely heroes and friendships and new relationships being forged and new challenges being faced. Everyone else has already touched on the things that entranced me in this segment.

I only have this to add:
[quote He further revealed that when pouring for others, one must hold the bottle by the right hand, with your arm supported by your left hand at the elbow.[/quote] Did you know that this is because in olden days, they were holding their sleeves out of the way while pouring soju? In other words, it was a gesture of respect to keep your own clothing from touching the glass you were pouring into. Typically, it was the junior who poured soju for the senior first, then if the senior liked the other, they would pour the junior's soju.

Korean/Oriental society is full of such rules, it is how they manage to live so close to each other without killing each other ;P

Acadian: I sometimes worry that I am not giving enough screen time to Loria, as he is a huge part of Aela's life. It is difficult when juggling so many characters. So I am glad that the warm 'feels' show through when I am able to put the two of them together in a scene.


Renee: Aela's elemental summoning will indeed be a key facet in the story, and those that follow. It is a much more important part of her abilities than it was in the ES version of her.


Grits: I am glad there are more feels to be had with Aela and Loria's relationship. His charm, optimism, and good nature is the rock that keeps Aela sane. While she is the one that keeps him down to earth.

I found the soju rituals worked perfectly with the Teodon society that I created, which places such great emphasis on respect for elders and ancestor worship. As Dhasan noted, they also help keep people from getting too smashed! Or at least they should.


haute ecole rider: I remember you saying that about the long sleeves from the original story. I don't really have Teodon wearing such sleeved garments, so I did not directly attribute that as the reason for holding the elbow. Although that might have been the case in the past. Or it might only be something found among the nobility, that filtered down to the commoners without them even understanding why. I also did not want to go into too much detail, and risk boring the reader. I am afraid I do too much of that already. Instead I just hope that what people take away from it all is an example of a society that places emphasis upon proper decorum and respect for elders and leaders.



Chapter 13.3

They woke early the next morning to resume their previous tasks, only to find the fields quiet and empty around them.

"I thought farmers started the day before sunrise?" Aela wondered aloud.

"Not in Kye Rim," Alcheon explained. His eyes searched across the rice paddies to the line of the trees beyond. Then a smile crested his crocodilian features, and he pointed with one hand. "See the crested ibis? The day does not begin until they fly into the fields. It is a good sign for the village."

Aela and the others watched as first one, then more, of the large birds swept into the rice fields. Their bodies were covered in snowy feathers, and their heads resplendent in crimson plumage, creating a striking image. They spread across the flooded paddies and began hunting for frogs and insects.

As if summoned by the birds, the Agrigentans emerged from their homes. With no more fanfare they began the day's work. The other mercenaries split up with them to perform their own chores, leaving Aela alone on her ditch-digging enterprise. Except for the spirits of course. She had to admit that she did prefer their company to that of most mortals anyhow. They accepted her without reservation or question.

She did not remain alone for long however, for in no time at all a few of the village children came to watch. Doubtlessly they thought that they were being clever, hiding above the embankment and peeking down at her from over its rim, only to lower their heads whenever she turned to look. But while she could not see them, Aela could easily hear their poorly-hushed voices from down in the ditch.

Eventually the Witch could not resist prevailing upon her gnome to do something about the spies. At her behest, he stopped his digging and turned to face the children. Then he began to jump back and forth from one foot to another, while rubbing his hands under his armpits in a pantomime of a monkey. That brought a loud chorus of giggles from above the embankment, and Aela had the spirit continue his show by sticking out a great pebbly tongue at the children. Then he pretended to moon them by turning and bending over to reveal the rocks in his rear. In no time at all the children were standing in the open and laughing as the spirit continued his amusing antics.

"Take a bow for the audience," Aela eventually said, loud enough that her voice would carry to the onlookers above. The gnome complied with a deep bow to the youngsters. Then he turned to go back to the somber business of digging out the deep trench.

"Perhaps later we'll give another show," Aela called out as the children let out a collective sigh of disappointment. She turned back to the work at hand herself, and when a trickle of water began to spill down into the ditch she scrambled up its outer edge. As she had the day before, she dispelled the gnome and summoned an undine to turn the water out of the nearest rice paddy. Once it was drained, she returned to the ditch, and reconjured her gnome to continue digging and building.

By now more than children were watching her with rapt attention. Human and Teodon adults also clustered along the already-built embankment behind Aela. They pointed and spoke in low tones, clearly amazed at not only the spirit, but the massive amount of soil it was able to move and reshape.

By midday Aela had worked her way behind the village, and the digging picked up speed. There were no rice paddies on that side of the settlement, so she did not have to split her time alternating between spirits. She saw Hrafngoelir, Phereinon, and a group of villagers working on the hills above, chopping down the forest of bamboo that grew there. Already the lowest slopes had been cleared, leaving nothing but sharpened stumps behind.

Aela took a few moments to watch, and saw that the white-haired swordswoman chopped down each stalk of bamboo with a single, diagonal slice from Malediction. After felling several of the stalks, she and Hrafngoelir would gather them up and drag them down the hill, where a waiting group of villagers would take them into the village.

The Skanjr herself wielded a borrowed saw. Aela knew that her sword - Frostbita - would ruin the stalks with its frost enchantment. That made her wonder about Malediction. Out of curiosity, she aesensed Phereinon and her weapon. The white-haired woman's aura was its usual perfect mask. This time however, her sword did not fill the Arvern with a deep sense of dread and loss as it had every other time she had aesensed it. Rather it felt blank, nameless, as if its power had vanished.

For a moment Aela wondered if Phereinon was deliberately masking its aura as well. Then she remembered that Loria had once told her about suppressing enchantments. It was a technique taught in the advanced enchanting classes to make working with magical implements safer. The Arvern suspected that the mystery woman had learned to do the same, along with her other diverse talents.

In spite of the heat Phereinon still wore her full mail armor, leggings, and cape. Yet she showed no sign of minding the temperature. Hrafngoelir on the other hand, was clad in nothing but a crop top and a loose, short skirt that left much of her athletic frame on display. Aela had to admit that she was quite easy to look at, especially given how the sweat glistened upon her fair skin.

Soon Aela found herself coming across their path, and was obliged to leave a break in the ditch so that the transport of bamboo could continue. She vowed to remember to come back when they were finished, so that she could dig out that section of the village perimeter. Still, she had no doubt that Venca would remind her if she forgot. When it came to military matters, the Rasen seemed to miss nothing.

The mercenaries took a break at mid-morning, and Aela had to once more use her Cleanse spell to make herself presentable. Except for Phereinon, none of them wore their armor for the back-breaking labor under the hot sun. Aela did note that Hrafngoelir's hair was still perfect, and now her skin was clean, dry, and smelled faintly of flowers. So either she had found a way to bathe and dry quickly, or she knew a Cleanse spell of her own.

Even Venca had discarded his armor for a simple breech cloth, albeit of a characteristic ebony shade. His hard, muscled body gleamed under a layer of sweat. But Aela's eyes were drawn to a curious birthmark over his heart. After staring at it for a few moments, she realized that it was shaped like a rose. Yet it was completely black. The goddess of magic and night could not have marked her territory more plainly…

Aecha was waiting for them with a jug of cool water and cups for all. Aela made an effort to remain upon her best behavior, and just to be extra careful dispelled her gnome before approaching the priestess. That way there would be no further mud-based incidents. Of course Aela sensed for poison before drinking. For her own part, the Teodon was not especially antagonistic. Though she was hardly friendly either. Rather her face seemed to be set in stone, and she said nothing to the Arvern.

Many of the villagers joined them, including all of those who had aided in the labors. Aela noted that the four Agrigentans who had journeyed to Veia to hire them - Vesia, Ranazu, Daehyun, and Hyunsu - were representative of the community. It was all Rasenna and Teodon, with nary a member of another race.

Because of that lack of diversity, Aela found that for once she was not the one being constantly stared at. Instead the Agrigentans seemed delighted with Dhasan for his fur, and Loria for his pointed ears, red hair, and creamy skin. Hrafngoelir likewise drew attention among the dark Rasen for her golden hair and fair skin. Phereinon also stood out with her deathly pallor and snow white hair. But her frosty demeanor did not invite admiration for long.

Loria ate up the attention of course. There was nothing he loved better than to be the center of attention. In no time at all he had his deck of cards out and was performing tricks for the villagers, adult and child alike. He followed with other sleight-of-hand illusions, such as drawing copper coins from behind the ears of children, and even producing a live chicken from beneath a startled Hyunsu's tail.

"Your friend certainly knows how to win people over," Vesia smiled as she watched the impromptu show beside Aela.

"It is one of the things he is best at," Aela admitted. "I wish I had even half of his charm."

"Oh, I think you do just fine," the Rasen woman said softly.

For a moment, Aela wondered if she detected a tone of longing in the other woman's voice. But then it was gone, and Vesia burst out into laughter at Loria's latest antic.

The wizard had tried on a villager's conical reed hat, and was having some trouble taking it off again. No matter how hard he pulled, pushed, twisted, or turned the hat, it seemed glued to his head. It was only after enlisting help from the audience that their combined efforts were able to pry the headgear loose. Then after wiping the sweat from his brow with a hand cloth, the high elf ran into the same difficulty, as it too refused to budge from his fingers afterward.

"Your water priestess might disagree," Aela could not help but mutter under her breath.

"You mean the mud-slinging incident?" Vesia smiled and turned to look at Aela. "Knowing her, I'm sure she had it coming."

"Knowing her?" Aela raised an eyebrow.

"She's rather… hidebound," Vesia replied. "Her mother was very traditional, and Aecha's a draught from the same cask. She hides behind religion like a warrior does a shield. Anything that doesn't fit into her narrow view of how the world is supposed to be is 'unnatural'."

"That is exactly what she called me," Aela frowned.

"I am not surprised," Vesia sighed. "We have never had a two-spirit person here in Agrigento. Not one that admitted to it at least. I doubt anyone who was would come out with it. The truth is, people are very conservative here. They aren't used to change, or anything different at all. Half of us being a different race from the other half is radical enough as it is!"

"So people are talking about it then?" Aela sighed. That was just what she needed. Now the entire village would be gossiping about it- and her being a two-spirit - behind her back.

"It came up." Vesia looked away from Loria and his show, and turned to face Aela directly. "I am not sure if I should tell you this or not. It does not make our hamlet look very good. But I think you deserve to know the truth."

Aela's heart doubled its pace. Here it comes, she thought, the inevitable declaration that she was abnormal, and not wanted.

"Aecha called a secret meeting of the village leaders last night," Vesia frowned. "She demanded your expulsion."

"Well that did not take long," Aela said.

"We all told her to stuff herself," Vesia beamed. "Even her father. I think it may be the proudest I have ever been of my neighbors."

"You… what?" Aela could help but stare, and had to make a conscious effort to shut her gaping mouth.

"Well, not in so many words." Vesia kept her voice low, so others did not overhear. "Actually in Ranazu's case yes. He told Aecha that if it came down to choosing between you and her, she had better pack her bags. I tried to say it more… diplomatically. You are such an admirable person Aela. You have every right to be here, and I won't live in a place, or fight for a place, that says otherwise. We all want you here."

That hand that Vesia laid upon her arm was warm, and Aela saw a sparkle in the other woman's eyes. It was not the first time the Arvern had noticed that like Hrafngoelir, Vesia was not hard to look at…

"I…" Aela stammered, at a loss for words. For the thousandth time, she wished for Loria's wit. He would say exactly the right thing. All she could do was stare like an idiot, and turn red as a beet.

Still, Aela wondered if their response would have been the same if she had not been a master of vitamancy and spiritism, let alone warding. Or if it might not have caused a schism with the rest of the mercenaries? Was it really acceptance, or just pragmatism? After all, the Frisverd had been amiable enough when she was shielding them from fireballs. But once that was no longer needed, she saw how accepting they really were.

Aela silently cursed the world that forced her to even think in such a way.

"What's wrong?" Vesia bit her lip. "I shouldn't have told you. I'm sorry. I just thought that you would, well, be happy?"

"I am," Aela smiled. Vesia seemed earnest enough at least. She might at least be someone she could trust.

For the sleeved garments and elbow support, perhaps ornamental arm bands with long fringes could be a thing? I could see having to hold beaded grass strands out of one’s soju as readily as a silken sleeve.

I love the crested ibis calling the Agrigentans to the fields with their morning arrival. Loria and Aela’s gnome charming the villagers made a good backdrop for the sour news that Aecha had indeed made a play against Aela and been overruled by the village leaders. Though Aela has too much bitter experience to be certain that they would all be so welcoming if they didn’t need her, at least the episode ended with warmth between her and Vesia of the sparkling eyes.

I am of course in favor of all the muscly sweating. Theut (or a more appropriate deity) bless a warm climate!

This continues to be a joy to read! Despite the sober backdrop of preparing defenses to ward off an expected attack, you wove plenty of fun antics and neat observations into this episode.

I cheered when I learned how Aeecha’s own village had properly rebuked her, then saddened as Aela struggled to embrace her acceptance at face value. Her life experience has taught her to be suspicious – probably a helpful survival aide but sad nonetheless.

Vesia emits a good aura though and I’d bet that Aela will find a reliable friend in her.

While his charm, quick wit and silver tongue serve Loria well, it is exactly the lack of those things that serve Aela well. Her slight awkwardness and struggles with self-confidence simply render her more endearing to those who take time to learn a bit about her.


Nit: ’She did nor remain alone for long however, for in no time at all a few of the village children came to watch.’ - - I’m sure you meant not vs nor.

I think I've been mooned by a gnome at least once. I was at a Grateful Dead concert at the time though, so that probably doesn't count.

WHAT? THey wanted to expel Aela???? For cryin' out loud. She's the one who helped them so!

Yes, I am with Aela on that one. If she didn't have all those talents, maybe the others might not have spoken up for her.

Grits: That arm band idea with colored beads or streamers sounds like a great idea!

The crested ibis came from a documentary called Wild China. There is an indigenous people (Dai or Tai I think), who do not go out to work in the fields until the crested ibis fly into them first.

Theut is a god of magic (like RL Hermes), so he would not be the one to pray to for sweaty muscles. Though he would probably appreciate them as much as Loria...



Acadian: We will indeed see more of Vesia, and lean more about her, and Agrigento in the process.

I do hope that Aela's awkwardness makes her more endearing. My hope is that it will give most people something to relate to in her. I am sure we have all felt awkward, and not known what to say or do, at some time in our lives.

That was indeed a not, not a nor. Thanks for the catch!


Renee: Given what might have been floating around in the air at that concert, there is no telling what you may have seen!

I didn't think someone like Aecha would just let things drop, so I worked in her end run play against Aela. Whether the other villagers are more accepting than her, or just more practical, is one of those things we will probably never truly know.



Chapter 13.5

Aela finished digging the ditch that day. As she predicted, Venca reminded her to dig out that little land bridge she had left for moving the cut bamboo into the village. He seemed impressed with her work however, and they took a tour of the breastworks as night fell. He even approved of how she had set the timbers of the wall to alternate between chest height and head height, like a crenellated parapet on a castle. She knew from experience that the higher sections would give the defenders refuge from missiles, while the lower ones would give them positions through which to attack with their own bows or spears.

"It would have taken hundreds of men to dig this out in the time you did it. Not to mention to reset the timber wall. I'm impressed." Before Aela could let the words of praise go to her head, he continued. "Tomorrow you can dig that tunnel between the distillery and the stable."

So the next day Aela found herself toiling within the bowels of the earth, with only a spell to see by. More than ever she was thankful for the gnome, who did not so much dig the soil out of the ground as shift it aside to create the passage. That made it unnecessary to cart wagonloads of dirt out of the ground. The earth spirit also took the local stones and fused them together into single, seamless pieces of rock. From these he created braces every six feet or so to prevent the ceiling from collapsing.

As the tunnel ran a much shorter distance than the moat, Aela finished her work by noon. She emerged to find Venca leading the effort to build shields from the timber they had felled in the previous days. At his direction the villagers cut the wood into planks. These they laid over one another in a crisscross pattern of two layers, held together by fish glue. These half-inch thick cores were cut into round discs just under three feet in diameter. A hand grip was added to the interior by way of a long strip of wood that ran from one end of the shield to the other. The edges were rimmed with rawhide, and the outside was faced in linen glued to its surface. Then finally each finished shield was treated with oil to waterproof it.

In the meantime Phereinon continued hacking the bamboo they had collected into spears, poles, and spikes for the frises, and punji sticks for the currently dry moat. The taciturn woman appeared to take the task as seriously as she did her battle in the streets of Veia, and her face remained a mask of razor-sharp focus the entire time.

They took a break for a simple lunch of rice flavored with what Aela had come to think of as Teodon brown sauce. It was a condiment which the saurians put on nearly everything. So far as Aela could tell, it was a fish sauce spiced with garlic, basil, and lemongrass.

Alcheon showed them how to eat the meal with Teodon kuaizi sticks: two slender bamboo sticks held between the fingers and thumb in lieu of a fork or spoon. At least he tried to teach them. Of all the other mercenaries, only Dhasan was able to master using the sticks. The fumbling attempts of Aela and the others brought amused giggles and chuckles from the villagers. Aela imagined that she would have an easier time using her bare fingers, and like most of the others, she eventually surrendered and used a wooden spoon. Phereinon did not even try, nor eat any of the lunch at all. Instead she continued working upon the bamboo.

The next day Venca was training the villagers in the use of spear and shield. Only the children and the elderly were left out. Even old Hyunsu, who tried to beg off the combat training, was dragged into the line by Ranazu. The Rasen pointed out that despite his age, the Teodon was still as fit and capable as a marsh croc.

Unlike the individual training that Venca had offered on the Nakdeok Queen, this was something entirely different. Instead he taught the villagers to stand in line and form a shield wall. The first rank would kneel and ground their round shields. They were so tightly packed that the edges of their shields overlapped with those to either side. The second rank would then step right up beside the first and hold their shields high, so they filled the gaps left above and between the first rank's shields. The end result was a double row of overlapping shields that faced Venca, appearing as immovable as the timber wall surrounding the village.

The Rasen tested the strength of the wall with a single kick from a lorcras-armored boot. The entire wall collapsed under the blow, and the villagers fell hither and thither. Even those nowhere near the Rasen's kick scurried away like mice. Venca was left in the aftermath, shaking his head in dismay. It was clear to Aela that the drill instructor had a great deal of work ahead of him…

* * *

Dhasan took a break from planting punji stakes in the ditch surrounding the hamlet. He climbed the dirt wall of the dry moat on hands and feet, frequently slipping in the loose soil. He wanted to curse at the difficulty. But the thought of his enemies having to make the same climb while he fired arrows at them made it all worthwhile.

Once he had reached the top, the vulpine easily scampered over the crenellated wall. Settling down inside, he drew forth a short piece of bamboo bearing a single line of holes along its length. Taking out his carving knife, he cut a final hole in the shaft. Once he was satisfied it was just right, the Asokar held the flute sideways to his lips, and blew a gentle breath of air through the instrument.

A soft whistle issued from the flute, like the sound of a bird. Working the key holes with the pads of his fingers, Dhasan transformed the simple noise into a haunting melody. As he played, his memory fled back to his days as a kit, when his mother had first taught him the flute.

Thoughts of Kye Rim, Agrigento, and bandits fled from his mind. Dhasan found himself sitting on his mother's lap outside their home in Hiakwia. The hot sun warmed his fur, and his tail danced in delight as his mother played for him.

"Let me play, mommy!" he cried, pawing for the slender flute in his mother's hands. The golden-furred vixen smiled back him, and obligingly lowered the musical instrument to his lips. Yet the sound that issued forth was anything but musical!

"Who farted!" his father laughed. He was tall and lean, with dark red fur that faded to soft white under his chin. Today he wore his ironleaf armor, and carried his flatbow bow strapped across his back. He bent down to lift Dhasan in his paws, and the young Asokar responded with a contented yip as his father held him to his shoulder. But in no time at all he felt himself lowered to the ground, and then it was his mother who embraced his father.

"It is time then Skiriki?" she said with a dread in her voice that the cub could not understand.

"Aye Taipa," his father responded grimly. "The tuskers have been drawn out near Serpent's Bluff. Today we shall finish them, and avenge what they did last winter."

"Will the round-ears assist?"

"Aye," his father nodded in assent. "Their fighters will meet us on the road. They will probably bring those chariots again."

"Then don't try to ride them this time!" Dhasan's mother admonished. "And stay behind the shield-bearers, and don't be a hero. One father is worth any ten of those."

"Aye, aye woman," his father threw up his paws in surrender. "And I won't drink the water, or talk to strangers. Cannot an Asokar have any fun?"

"Just bring yourself home alive," his mother fretted.

"That is Skiriki's promise," he declared. "And you my little kit, when I return from chastising those orcs, perhaps I shall teach this one to use the bow? Then my son shall become a real Asokar warrior!"

"Yes I will!" Dhasan cried.

"Until then, watch for serpents, and defend the house," his father said. "I will be back before my scent fades in the air."

But of course he never returned.

"Dhasan!"

The voice snapped the Asokar out of his reverie. He looked up, and found that the Teodon trader Daehyun was walking up earthen rampart. He carried a self-bow made of bamboo in one hand, and a brace of bamboo arrows rose up from the quiver slung over his shoulder.

"I was about to go hunting," the Teodon said. "I thought you might wish to join me."

"Aye," Dhasan grinned. "Anything to get away from these stakes. Though I suspect they will still be waiting for me when I return."

"If we return with a pig, or sika deer, the work will go much easier."

"At least our stomachs will be full eh?" Dhasan smiled. "Let me get my bow and quiver…"



Shield Wall training

Another episode full of busy preparations as you continue to build tension for the likely big battle. Aela’s mud-buddy is even better at digging tunnels than moats! Shields, punjii stakes, spears all being crafted. Venca’s testing of the shield wall was both proof of progress as well as a humorous reminder that much remains to be done.

Kuaizi sticks and the frustration that comes with learning to use them. I think most folks can identify with that!

A poignant memory from Dhasan that gives us another tantalizing morsel of his background – nicely done.

Oh dear, and that shield wall shaped up so nicely. Now Venca needs to make some warriors to put behind it.

What a lovely and haunting glimpse into Dhasan’s past. Their vulpine ways and phrases felt perfectly natural.

Acadian: I really liked Dhasan's flashback to childhood. So much of who he is today is rooted in his feelings toward his father, who never came home.

And I have never been able to use chopsticks myself!


Grits: Venca definitely has his work cut out for him. But then again, doing so shows just what he brings to the team, besides just a sword and a strong back.

I love taking modern terms and phraseology and adapting them to different cultures and species.




Chapter 14

"This is the Sepulcher of the Voracious One?" Sindeok breathed quietly.

"It was," Dark-Eye murmured.

Sindeok started, he had thought his voice had been too low to hear. He hoped his captain would not take offense. He had worked hard to stay in Dark-Eye's favor, much to the displeasure of the other raider lieutenants. The last thing he needed to do was incur their master's wrath. That would prove fatal.

"What has happened here?" Girim, the leader of the band's mages spoke. "A battle?"

Sindeok looked over what had once been either a settlement or fort. It was too crude to be called a castle. In some places the wooden walls that surrounded it were still intact. But wide swaths of the fortification had been battered down, or burnt to ash.

A spring bubbled outside of the walls, and ran off to form a narrow stream. It wound away out of sight between the high pinnacles of the Stone Forest, which rose up all around the site. The irregular stone columns jutted into the sky like broken bones from a skeleton. In some places brush and small trees sprouted from footholds in the stone towers, but most were as barren as old corpses.

They ventured deeper into the ruins, to find stone and wooden buildings in various stages of decimation. Some only had doors broken down or windows smashed in. Others had roofs burned out, and one or more walls tumbled down. A few were nothing but piles of scorched rubble. The structures ended at a large open square that was littered with broken spears, splintered boards from shattered shields, and other detritus. A tall mound of earth and stone rose beyond. A dark opening yawned within its side, rimmed with unmortared stones.

A tall pile of bones rose beside the mouth of the tunnel. The remains looked odd to Sindeok. They all lacked tails, and their necks were unnaturally short. He imagined that they must have been from humans, and mused that the soft-skins looked even stranger with their flesh off than with it on.

"This is the work of bounty hunters!" Dark-Eye spat.

"How can you tell?" Girim wondered.

"The heads are missing," the captain explained. "They took them for proof of the kills."

The other bandits looked about with unease. The site of the massacre did not aid Sindeok's nerves either. But something smelled different about this place. It was not the soot or few rotting strips of flesh left on the skeletons. It was something more subtle, yet infinitely more potent.

There was magic in the air, he realized. Powerful magic. Its savory aroma filled his nostrils like the smell of a roast duck once did. His stomach murmured at the thought, and at the sight of the bared bones. This was a holy place. But he suspected a place only sacred to those like himself, who had feasted upon the flesh of the manaborn.

"It appears our brothers are no more," Girim frowned. "Yet perhaps we can still salvage something from the ruins?"

"Aye, spread out, see if the bounty hunters left anything of value!" Dark-Eye cried.

Sindeok doubted that they had. Whoever had caused the massacre appeared to have been as skilled at looting as they had been at killing. But he was not about to voice that opinion. In fact, he kept his lips very tight. Dark-Eye had led them here to find allies for the fight to come. Discovering their potential friends dead did not weigh in their captain's favor. He would be looking for any opportunity to reaffirm his authority over the men. Sindeok did not much like the idea of something dramatic happening to him, to prove their leader's power.

"You two, come with me." Dark-Eye looked to Girim and Sindeok, and without another word led them into the mound.

Sindeok quickly realized that it was not a natural formation. The ceiling was held up by massive slabs of irregular stones. The walls to either side were of smaller stones, so carefully fitted into place that no mortar was needed. The former nangdo suspected that mortar had not yet been invented at the time this was built. He had read about the ruins of the Mound People, who had lived in the lands to the north before the time of the Rasenna, before even the Arvern. He imagined this might be one of their creations.

The others made no light as they stepped into the darkness. As he guessed they must have done, Sindeok focused his mind, and channeled his mana into his Dark-Seeing spell. He had learned it years before, when he had first joined the Celestial Flight company. All hwarang had to be able to fight in total darkness if need be after all.

The fragrant smell of magic came much stronger here, filling him with a feeling of strength. It was as if the air itself was charged with an energy that found a home in his bones. It was almost like a drug, and Sindeok could not help but to bare his teeth with predatory joy. This place made him want to hunt, to kill, to carve flesh from bones and devour it. Not any flesh of course, only that of the manaborn would do.

"This is a place of great power," Girim said beside him. "The Devourer has sanctified it with her presence. I can see why your allies made their stronghold here."

"Aye, this barrow has long been a holy place to Manaha, and our brother eaters," Dark-Eye said. "It was here that I learned to fight with the longsword, and the true depths of the Voracious One's power.

Sindeok looked about, and finally realized that the tunnel was indeed a burial place. Now he saw small niches in the walls. These played host to dusty bones that must have been thousands of years old. Several times they passed by corridors that ran off to either side. But Dark-Eye paid them no heed. Instead he led them directly to the end of the tunnel.

There it widened into a semicircular chamber. A great cauldron was knocked over on its side near the center of the room, with the skeletal remains of legs jutting out from within its wide lip. Ribs and a spine were scattered about nearby, and a pair of iron shackles hung from the ceiling overhead, with wrists and hands still bound within them.

A second, headless skeleton lay nearby. Scorch marks scored the walls and floor, and other bits of charred bone and other debris littered the end of the room. Sindeok could still smell the faint trace of magic in the air. Some sort of arcane bolts, he imagined. To mundane eyes it would have seemed like lightning. But he could still feel the power that had lurked beneath the elemental force. Whoever had destroyed this place had possessed great magical strength.

Dark-Eye ignored the cauldron and skeletons, and crossed the room with a handful of confident strides. He stepped into a large pile of scorched detritus, before a short pedestal of stone. Sindeok wondered if some sort of idol or shrine had stood atop the stone, only to have been shattered into the wreckage on the ground.

Dark-Eye leaned down over the pedestal, and seemed to hunt around it with his hands. A click came to Sindeok's ears, followed by a rumble of triumph from his captain's crimson-banded throat.

"The bounty hunters did not find the barrow's real treasures after all," he said, satisfaction plainly evident in his voice. Straightening up, he turned to reveal a book and amulet in one hand, and a small egg-like object in the other. Sindeok smelled power in all three items, especially in the egg. In fact, the latter nearly overwhelmed his magical senses.

"Take this Girim." Dark-Eye handed the bone amulet to the raider mage. "It will shield you from enemy spells."

"This is for you Sindeok." The bandit-lord gave the book to the former nangdo. Sindeok noted that the binding was made of leather, and it took only a moment for him to realize that it was human leather. This brought a smile to his face, and he casually opened it to the title page.

"Recipes For A New Age, by Pherein Phonon." Sindeok read aloud. He wondered if it was some form of cannibal cookbook?

"It is a copy of a treatise on spellcraft," Dark-Eye said. "The original was written by the Scale-Breaker herself, over five thousand years ago. The binding is newer however." Dark-Eye winked. "It will teach you the arts of concealing your aura, summoning aetherial blades, creating enhanced poisons, and other techniques useful for a revolutionary, or an assassin."

"The Scale-Breaker herself?" Sindeok stared at the tome with new-found respect. Then his eyes narrowed. "But it is written in our tongue? Was the Phereinon not a soft-skin?"

"The writing changes to match the language of whomever is reading it," the raider captain explained. "An elf will see it in elvish. A Skanjr will see their runes. It can be used by one of any race, to overthrow any power."

Sindeok stared at the page with rapt fascination. Like all members of the Celestial Flight company, he had been taught the basics of magic and sensing the aether. This would teach him so much more. It was power, something he had quickly learned equaled life in Dark-Eye's company.

He looked back to his captain, and saw that the red-scaled Teodon had lifted his eye patch, revealing the scarred, gaping ruin beneath. In his hand was the egg-like object. Sindeok saw that it was blood red in color, and seemed to be made of some sort of resin, like an insect's secretion. It stank of magic, like a pile of rotting corpses. Just sensing it made him hungry…

Dark-Eye raised it up and placed the object directly into his empty eye-socket. He screamed then. It was the only time Sindeok had ever seen him acknowledge pain. A searing noise came to the former nangdo's ears, like that of burning flesh. Dark-Eye hunched over, with both hands covering his face.

Girim reached out to steady the captain, but the black-striped raider batted the mage's hand away. Even now, he would accept no assistance. After a few moments the sizzling noise abated, and Dark-Eye rose to his full height once more. For a moment Sindeok thought he saw something within the new eye's crimson surface. A tenebrous landscape of dread and corruption. Then Dark-Eye drew his eye patch down over the terrible artifact, and the nightmare vision was gone.

"Nothing can stop us now," Dark-Eye crowed.

"This is the work of bounty hunters!" Dark-Eye spat.
"How can you tell?" Girim wondered.
"The heads are missing," the captain explained. "They took them for proof of the kills."
- - A grisly but reasoned observation.

This episode was suitably ominous and disconcerting as the reptilian cannibals discovered the looted site.

By Azura! Dark-Eye just got a lot darker – literally.

The Seven wield some potent magicks but here, we learn that so do their foes. . . .


Nit: "Aye, spread out, see if they bounty hunters left anything of value!" Dark-Eye cried.' - - the vs they?

Yikes, the raiders have an instruction book written by the Scale-Breaker herself. That and the artifacts made things a lot scarier!

I loved this chapter! The sense of dread just kept creeping up to the last line!

Acadian: This part of the story is short on action. So I added that last interlude with the bandits as a way to increase the tension, and remind the reader that yes, the bad guys are out there. I also used it as an opportunity to show where Dark-Eye got that oh so deadly artifact he later uses. Finally, it will give Sindeok an opportunity to grow in power and threat himself.



Grits: I liked making the book one written by Phereinon, teaching all the things you need to overthrow the Dark Elves, or any other despot for that matter. It is a great example of the kind of thing that would be held in the restricted library of a university. Since the powers that be would not want that kind of knowledge out - how to cloak auras, summon weapons, etc...




Chapter 15.1

Aela woke during the night with an odd feeling. Something was tickling at the back of her mind. It was like a sound just too quiet to hear, or a scent too scarce to smell. She could not put her finger on just what it might be. Whatever it was, it did not feel threatening. It just seemed that there was something she was not paying attention to, that she ought to notice.

Asaryl had always encouraged her to follow her intuitions. "Some people say it is your mind trying to tell you something," the old elf had said. "Others say it is the amhranai, gently plucking at the strings of your soul. Either way, it is wise to listen."

The Arvern sat up and looked around. Nothing appeared untoward within the single room of Ranazu's abode. There were no lights, or loud noises. The other mercenaries were scattered around asleep on their bedrolls or mats. Except for Phereinon, who was nowhere to be found. That did not surprise Aela, as she had long ago noted that the white-haired woman often woke during the night. She had found her on other occasions quietly reading, or outside taking extra watch shifts and practicing with her sword.

Aela rose from her bedroll and did her best to tip-toe across the room. Still, boards squeaked underfoot. She was obliged to make a contrite face at Dhasan when the vulpine lifted his head when she tried to pass. Clearly she was no sneak thief. The Asokar said nothing, and simply lowered his head back to his sleeping mat as she went by.

Aela stepped outside and closed the rattan door behind her with a muted sigh of relief. The village around her was quiet. But Aela noted that across the town square a figure sat upon the wooden platform in front of the brewery, near the alarm bell. She pulled her boots on and descended the steps from the porch to the earth below. Then she made her way to the mysterious figure.

As she drew near, she was able to make out the hood and cape that the figure wore. It was Phereinon, as she had suspected. The other woman sat with her back to Aela and seemed to be hunched over, doing something in her lap.

Aela did not bother trying to aesense Phereinon. She had long since learned the futility of that. Nor did she try to mask the sound of her approach. She was not here to pry. She was simply following her instincts.

From just a few feet away Aela saw that the white-haired woman held a dagger in one hand. It was a simple, thin weapon, with no crossbar and a plain handle. She imagined it could be easily concealed in the fold of a legging or up a sleeve. As Aela watched, Phereinon drew its blade across her arm, slicing her corpse-white flesh open as if it was butter.

The cut went deep. Deep enough for Aela to see bone, and something else. Something that did not belong in any living body. It looked like thin tendrils of crystal, that spread this way and that throughout her flesh. Even without actively aesensing, and even through the mask upon Phereinon's aura, Aela felt the power flowing through the unusual material. It reminded Aela of criosaine, the glowing crystal of the Light Elves. But where the elven crystal was warm and bright, this felt cold and piercing, like veins of ice.

That thought made Aela realize something else. She saw no veins or arteries within the rent flesh, nor was there any blood. Instead the crystal had replaced all of Phereinon's blood vessels that were visible.

As Aela watched, the sundered crystalline structures from either side of the wound reached out and welded themselves back together. Flesh was drawn after it, sealing the injury closed in just a moment. Not even a scar was left behind. If she had not seen it, Aela would never have guessed the injury had ever existed.

Her mind reeled. What on earth was that crystal? What was Phereinon? That she was undead had been clear for some time. But she had never heard of a deadwalker like this.

"You know that is not healthy." Aela slipped back into years of training and experience as a healer. That was at least a safe, familiar ground for her to tread upon. One in which she could think, and act, with at least some certainty.

"As you can see, it will heal." As if to underscore her words, Phereinon drew the knife across another portion of her arm. Again, the Arvern Witch saw white flesh slice in twain, only to knit back together as healthy and perfect as before. If the word health could even be applied to a person like Phereinon...

"I did not mean physically," Aela said. "I realize that cutting might feel like it is helping you right now. But it is not a positive behavior. It will only bring more issues in the future."

"That is not why I do it." Phereinon took the knife - still completely free of blood or any other form of detritus - and tucked it out of sight within one of her leg wrappings. She looked back at Aela.

"Tell me, do you dream?"

"Yes." Aela sat down beside the other woman. "Since I was a child, I dreamed of a world where I was as normal as everyone else. Lately, I dream of a world that does not care that I am not."

"That is not what I meant," Phereinon shook her head. "I mean simple, ordinary dreams, at night, when you sleep."

"Well of course." Aela fought the urge to feel foolish for waxing philosophical over such an entirely mundane question."Everyone dreams, even if they do not remember it."

"Everyone who sleeps," Phereinon corrected her. "I have not dreamed for five thousand years. I can still remember them, sometimes. I dreamed of seeing the sky again, of feeling the wind on my face again, of playing with my sister again..."

"Tell me, when you dream, do you feel pain?" she asked.

"No, never," Aela shook her head, "fear, anxiety, doubt, yes, but never actual, physical pain."

"Sometimes I cut myself, to remind myself that this is real," Phereinon said. "So I know that I am not still back in that lightless cell, or strapped to that table. The pain tells me I am not imagining all of this, to escape from reality."

"I did not think that the dead could feel pain," Aela said without really thinking. She almost caught her breath afterward. She had finally acknowledged the pink hadrosaur in the room. Now the dice would fall where they would.

"Our pain is what defines us." Phereinon's eyes glowed brightly in the starlight, as if they were stars themselves, plucked from the sky and planted within her skull. "We become trapped in what we were feeling when we died. Pain, terror, hate, fury, whatever it was, we sink into it like the Kye Rim mud. Most of us are consumed by it."

"And you?" Aela ventured a more carefully considered question.

"The pain is always burning down there, with the anger, the outrage, the longing to strike out." Phereinon said. "I try to rule it, and use it constructively. But I do not always succeed. Accepting the horror of what I have done helps. It reminds me that there will always be consequences for my actions."

"What of yourself?"

"I have my darkness too," Aela found herself nodding with the dead woman. "I get so... furious sometimes. When I changed to living female, my roommate and his friends tried to murder me. Afterward the school put me on trial for it. The truth did not matter. I only got through that because one of my teachers fought for me."

"That wasn't the only time something like that happened of course," Aela fumed. "Not only to me either. Later I found out from one of the girls at the school that the same ones who attacked me had raped her, and many of the other female students. Naturally the school never did anything about any of it, because they were all from good families. It wouldn't be right to ruin their lives after all..."

"It makes me not trust people," Aela said. "Sometimes it makes me want to lash out, and kill them, to just kill everyone who threatens me."

"But you don't?" Phereinon asked.

"No," Aela said, "not yet at least. I'm not a beast, and I won't be the monster they try to pretend I am. I have to be better than them. I am better than them."

"I envy you for your restraint," Phereinon said. "I have drank deeply from the cup of vengeance. I still bear the scars upon my soul, just as the Earth still bears the scars upon its surface."

"Are you the real Phereinon then?" Aela asked bluntly. "The White Death, who killed the Dark Elves and turned Tiwanku into a desert?"

"Not all the Dark Elves it seems..." Phereinon murmured, almost too low to hear. Then her voice rose strong and firm. "Yes, I am. I did not do it all alone of course, and it wasn't called Tiwanku then. But I started the war. I would not listen to reason. I would not allow for mercy, or conciliation. I was ready to die, again, for my vengeance. I reveled in it. I choked on it. I nearly drowned in it. It was only after a mountain of lava obliterated Moctragloir that I saw that I was not the hero of my tale. I was the villain. I was the monster. The stories are true, I created genocide."

"Moctragloir?"

"Dawn's Glory," Phereinon explained, "the ancient capital of the Silor. It was once the greatest and most beautiful city in the world. Or so the elves said at least. Now it is nothing but ashes and nightmares."

Aela laid a comforting hand upon the dead woman's shoulder. "You just made me realize something," she said by some imp of the perverse, "you make me feel normal."

Phereinon laughed.

A fascinating look into a bit of Phereinon’s history as well as who/what she is.

"I did not think that the dead could feel pain," Aela said without really thinking. She almost caught her breath afterward. She had finally acknowledged the pink hadrosaur in the room. Now the dice would fall where they would.'
- - Pink hadrosaur indeed! I understand Aela’s concern about the words she just loosed but, but I’m quite confident that Aela’s ability to sense life and death is no surprise to Phereinon.

'Aela laid a comforting hand upon the dead woman's shoulder. "You just made me realize something," she said by some imp of the perverse, "you make me feel normal."
- - What a delightfully obvious but unexpected observation from Aela! I love it – as well as Phereinon’s laughing response.

I think I held my breath throughout the entire conversation between Aela and Phereinon. What an exquisite scene. Phereinon’s laugh at the end was perfect. *standing ovation*

Acadian: That glimpse into Phereinon's nature, and her history, was fun to write.

Of course she knows that Aela knows she is undead. In fact, she is counting on it, because Aela will have to know if she is going to help her in the City of the Dead. But Aela does not know that Phereinon knows that she knows... But there was just no pretending to ignore it anymore.



Grits: I loved writing that conversation of Aela and Phereinon bonding. It humanizes both of them so well. The laugh at the end was my favorite part too. That was not part of my outline. I just got to that point and it was exactly the thing Phereinon would do.




Chapter 15.2

"Will this work for making your potions?"

Aela smiled as she looked over the black lacquered alembic and its attendant jugs and pots. It was far larger than she would normally use for making potions. The alembic itself stood several feet high, and sat upon a simple oven created by a stone cradle with an open space beneath for firewood. Likewise, the terra cotta pots and jugs would hold gallons of liquid, not the usual sip-sized doses one normally brewed.

"It's a little big, but I think it will work," Aela judged. "I'll just make it all in one big batch. Thankfully I gathered a quite a bit of white lotus yesterday afternoon. I can start making healing potions with that. I saw water lilies and swamp rosemallows on the walk here from the Nakdeok. Maybe tomorrow I can gather some up and make a batch of endurance potions, and another of armored skin brews."

"I am afraid we probably do not have enough bottles to go around to put it all in," Vesia spread her hands out. "I suppose we could just keep each in a different jug."

"Just so long as no one mistakes them for soju, and drinks them all!" Aela winked.

"The sacers forbid!" Vesia laughed. "Why don't you come in and have some tea before you get started?"

"I was hoping you would say that," Aela admitted. Ever since she had sampled some of Vesia's Teodon White Tea, she had been thinking of little else every time she took a drink.

Like Ranazu's abode, Vesia's home was a sparely furnished affair. It was laid out in the same manner, with an area for sleeping mats in the back, hearth and kitchen in the center, and living space by the front door. Aela noted that unlike Ranazu, Vesia kept a small case of books. She noted several alchemical volumes, a few on history, and finally a dozen novels by Juna Austenos and others. Her eye also noted that there was only one sleeping mat rolled up in the back of the home.

"I read many of these books at Ingenium," Aela thought aloud, "that alchemical one by Menalis, and Gokan's Ingredient Guides of Kye Rim and Rase."

"Those were my father's," Vesia said from where she sat at the hearthstone, where she struck up a low blaze. The Rasen filled a simple iron teapot with water and set it on a metal grill above the hearth. Then while the water heated, she produced a pair of worn clay cups and a jar of crushed tea leaves. "He was one of the original founders of Agrigento."

"So yours is a new settlement?" Aela lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yes," Vesia admitted. "Well relatively. Our parents came here from Alalia over three decades ago. They were joined by many Teodon when they reached Kye Rim, and together they created Agrigento."

"That is quite a change," Aela said. "To go from a city as large as Alalia to here."

"You mean from the cosmopolitan heart of Rase to the middle of nowhere?" Vesia said. "Perhaps not quite as much as it might seem. My parents - and the other founders - were not rich. They were all laborers. They scraped up every last coin they could save or steal for the journey. The same was true of the Teodon. They were all copperless mud tails: third sons and fourth daughters, and others with nowhere to go. For them, Agrigento was a chance for a new start."

"They did well for themselves," Aela said honestly. She had seen Alalia's slums while she had attended the Ingenium. Thousands were crowded into six and seven story tall tenement buildings that were likely to catch fire or simply collapse at a moment's notice. That of course was for those lucky enough to afford such a place, and were not left to sleep in the alleys. A little farming village like Agrigento was charming in comparison.

"So where did the soju come into it?" Aela wondered.

"My father had worked in a brewery," Vesia said, "sweeping, carrying jugs, things like that. But he paid attention to what the brewers were doing, and made his own at home. When he got here he learned of the Teodon's native drink. Since they had the rice, he started making it with that cookery behind the house. Daehyun's father got the idea to sell it in Veia, where it would bring in the most coin. One thing led to another, and the whole village ended up pitching in. In time they had sold enough soju to buy the copper for one vat. That brought in the money for another vat, and so on."

"It sounds like Vinos truly blessed you," Aela said. Yet she could not tie that story of prosperity to what she saw when she looked around the simple interior of the Rasen's home. The Agrigento in Vesia's tale seemed to have nothing in common with the one she resided in.

"I suppose the wine god did, until the raiders came," Vesia frowned. "They took everything. I used to have a lovely ceramic tea service painted with cranes. Now I just have this old rubbish."

Vesia opened the lid of the teapot with a bunched up cloth, and a steady line of steam rose up from within.

"Almost boiling," she observed.

Lifting the pot from the grill, Vesia laid it aside on the hearth stone. Then she set a chipped infuser into one cup, added tea leaves, and poured hot water within. The Rasen spent a few minutes gently raising and lowering the infuser to swirl the leaves around. Then she did the same with the second cup.

She offered the first cup to Aela, who took a tentative sip of the hot liquid. The Arvern found the delicate, slightly sweet taste of the tea to be a wonder on her taste buds. The Rasen led her to a pair of chairs near the front door, with a small round table between them, all of rattan.

Aela leaned back in her chair with cup in hand and relaxed. "This is lovely," she breathed. The Rasen accidentally brushed against her as she moved to the other chair, gently sliding her fingers through Aela's long brown hair. The other woman's touch felt as inviting as the tea, and Aela wondered how accidental it might have been.

"So what happened to your parents?" Aela asked, glancing to the single sleeping mat. "I noticed that you live alone."

"My father died ten years ago," Vesia scowled. "He was bit by a taipan in the forest. By the time they had carried him back to the village, it was too late…"

"I am sorry to hear that," Aela said softly. Now she understood the Rasen's clenched fists when they had come across the venomous serpent on the way into the village.

"My mother…" Vesia shrugged. "Well, I never really knew her. She left when I was just a few years old."

"Why?" In spite of her decision not to pry, Aela could not help but to ask. "Did she return to Alalia?"

"I don't know," Vesia sighed. "One night while we were sleeping she just packed her things and left. We woke up in the morning and she was gone. I have no idea why she left, or where she went to."

"That must have been very difficult," Aela said honestly.

"I suppose," Vesia frowned. "But as I said, I was so young, I barely even remember her at all. I just grew up…, how I grew up. But what about yourself? How did your family take you being a semnotatoi?"

"In a word: badly," Aela stared into her cup. "I was born in Aulertil, and people like myself are no more welcome there than in Rase."

"Do you face a great deal of trouble because of it?" Vesia set her cup down on the table between them, and let her hands linger there.

"At times," Aela admitted. She brushed an errant lock of hair from her face, and followed the Rasen by setting her cup down on the table as well. "There always seems to be someone who notices, and cannot live without reminding me how of how wrong it is for me to exist."

"That must be frustrating," Vesia breathed. Her fingers reached out ever so slightly, and brushed against Aela's. "Some people can be so narrow-minded."

"Well, it is a relief to meet someone who is not," Aela let her fingertips gently caress those of the other woman.

Aela's heart was a hammer in her chest, and she had to fight to keep her breath calm and even. Was Vesia really interested in her, that way? Did she feel that way about the Rasen? After all, her experience with romance consisted almost entirely of observing Loria and his adventures with other men.

"Well, I look at you, and I see a woman." Vesia drew her hand away. "I did not even realize what you were at first. But even after I did, I cannot say it really changed much."

"It changes everything for most people," Aela frowned.

"What about Loria?" Vesia asked innocently. "The two of you are… close, are you not?"

"Loria and I?" Aela mused. "He's my best friend. He has been since we met at the Ingenium."

"So he's..."

"Just a friend," Aela insisted. "He's not interested in women. And I have never been interested in men."

"Really?" Vesia seemed to mull that over for a while, prompting Aela to continue.

"So what about yourself?" the Arvern asked. "With all of the men around here, is there someone special?"

"No," Vesia said, crossing her arms in front of her, "not at all."

Aela resisted the urge to lift an eyebrow. Not so much what the Rasen had said, but from what had been left unsaid. Vesia looked to be nearly thirty, an age which few Rasen women seemed to reach without becoming married. On one hand Vesia appeared to be almost screaming that she was sapphic. But on the other hand, Aela had been wrong before. She of all people knew that no one was entirely what they appeared to be...

* * *

Alcheon and Aecha stood atop one of the hills ringing Agrigento's small valley. A field of white orchids stretched out around them, lending their sweet scent to the air. To the west, the lowering sun splashed a brilliant shade of gold across the horizon, drawing the gazes of both Teodon.

"So you are Hyunsu's daughter?" Alcheon turned to the water priestess.

"I am," the water priestess said. "He did not tell you and your companions this?"

"Nay," Alcheon shook his head. "Your father never mentioned anything at all."

"Why am I not surprised?" The Teodon woman sighed. "He wanted me to hide when you arrived."

"Why?" Alcheon scratched the scales behind his head in confusion.

"He feared that those who were hired might be little different from the raiders," Aecha said.

"What if that had been so?" Alcheon asked.

"Daehyun would never bring such to our village," Aecha stated plainly. "Nor would Vesia. Besides, my dowsing crystal told me that your company meant us no harm as soon as you arrived."

"It did?" Alcheon eyed the curious pendant that dangled from the other Teodon's neck. Shaped like an hourglass, the clear crystal was sheathed with delicate strands of bronze. The blue water contained within glowed with a soft light, just as it had the first day he had laid eyes upon the water priestess.

"What does your crystal say of me?"

"It says that his tail does not waver in the face of danger." One of Aecha's hands slid across the male Teodon's wrist. "That his scales are strong and fit, and that his heart is true."

Alcheon stood a little straighter at the compliments. Aecha's words made him feel like he was taller, that his shoulders were wider, and his chest was deeper. He turned his arm so that her fingers slid into the palm of his hand. Moving it ever so slightly, he found her fingers intertwining with his own.

"It is unfair that you can see so much with your powers," the Teodon observed, "while I am but a mortal Teodon."

"Good!" Aecha smiled wryly. She briefly turned to watch the sunset, then looked back to the young warrior. "This is how it should be between males and females."

"Says the female!" Alcheon laughed. Then he turned seriously once more. "How did you become the mudang?"

"It was always meant to be," Aecha replied. "My mother was a water priestess before me, and her mother before her. Some day my daughter will also be the priestess after me."

"You seem very certain," Alcheon noted.

"Our destiny is our destiny," Aecha said plainly. "We are as our ancestors made us. We can be nothing else."

Alcheon thought about that, but said nothing in reply. He had left the rice fields of his home to make his own destiny as a warrior. Meeting the dry-foot Aela had only proven to him that his fate was his own to make. Yet here he was back in the rice fields once more, albeit this time with a spear rather than a basket. Had his ancestors preordained him to live and die in a rice paddy? Or was his future still his to make?




Traditional soju distillery

Soju dok

You open this episode with some welcome easter egg humor. Juna Austenos and Vinos the god of wine indeed! It looks like Aela will be doing some potion brewing on a grand scale!

Then a delightfully delicate dance of exploration between Aela and Vesia. A dance left unfinished – for now. I rather like Vesia’s attitude regarding semnotatoi that I would summarize as, ‘If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, who cares how it got to be a duck?’

Finally, a scene between the two Teodon that showcases the eternal question of how much of one’s destiny is fate and how much is self-made. Aecha is consistent in her absolute certainty of her view whereas Alcheon has seen enough of the world to question that view.

I love the big potion jugs. This is after all a gigantic community effort, as it turns out getting the soju operation going was as well! Neat.

Vesia’s way of connecting with Aela was as delicate and lightly sweet as her tea. Aela’s reserve is perfectly understandable given what she has shared about her past.

My tea olives are blooming right now, so I can imagine what a field of blooming orchids must smell like! Alcheon’s thoughts in the last paragraph flowed so naturally from their conversation, it was a joy to read.

Sounds like they're using chopsticks!

I really enjoyed Chapter 14...always wanted to go on some sort of excavation like that. The "no mortar" part sounds just like the way original pyramids were made. Like giant jigsaw blocks which somehow fit together perfectly. Wow, a book that automatically translates itself. That's creepy!

Acadian: I could not resist keeping in the Jane Austen reference from the Elder Scrolls version of Seven. I cannot remember if Vinos is just a humorous creation of mine, or if he is a reference to some real life obscure deity. I think the first. But I don't remember anymore!

That last episode was mostly about setting up a future romance or not-romance between Aela and Vesia. Vesia is indeed one of those rare people who can accept people for what they are, rather than looking for excuses not to.

The Alcheon/Aecha scene was indeed meant to juxtapose those two worlviews - that everything is determined by Fate vs. we make our own Fates. I hope it also stands out that as the town's water priestess, it is very convenient for her to believe that her possessing her position - one of respect and authority - was ordained by the Universe. While Alcheon - a simple mud-tailed farmer - wants very much to believe that he can make his own destiny, one that does not entail being a nobody with muddy feet.



Grits: Besides doing some 'shipping between Aela and Vesia, that last episode was about giving the reader some more back history on Agrigento, so the entire hamlet (hopefully) seems a bit more grounded and real.



Renee: They were using chopsticks. I wanted to add some more racial/cultural flavor to Kye Rim, so went with them instead of forks and spoons. I did not want to sound too colloquial, so used the standard Chinese word kuàizi instead.

The Dark Barrow / Sepulchur of Sepulcher of the Voracious One is based upon Bronze Age tombs, which were built before mortar was invented or at least common. So it is all massive stones fitted together. I spent a lot of time looking at Mystery Hill here in America in particular. Places like that have a wonderfully spooky feel.




Chapter 15.3

Aela sat back after their meal of stir fried rice and bamboo shoot noodles, and sipped her white tea.

"You should have some soju," Hrafngoelir reinforced her words by drinking the native beverage. "It is really good. I'm tempted to take some back north to sell in the longhouses of my people."

"Aye, have some," Dhasan barked. "It will put hair on your chest!"

"Indeed, look what it's done for him," Loria remarked dryly, nodding to the vulpine's red fur.

Aela tried not to laugh, and noticed Phereinon rise from her spot in Ranazu's cramped house. The pale woman's bowl was still half-full of rice and noodles, and her cup of water barely touched. She left without a word, prompting several of the others to pass silent glances back and forth.

"There she goes again," Hrafngoelir murmured in a low voice. "She eats like a bird. Less than a bird, and then always leaves after dinner."

"She is going to vomit," Dhasan said.

"What?" Alcheon stared wide eyed.

"Aye," the Asokar nodded. "I have followed her. She does it every night after dinner. She regurgitates everything she ate and drank during the day."

"She... purges?" Hrafngoelir's eyes beetled in surprise. "If it is to stay thin, I don't see the issue, given how little she eats."

"I don't think that is it," Dhasan shook his head. "The food, it is not digested. There is not even any bile. It looks like it was chewed and spat back out."

"So she really does not eat at all." Now Venca spoke. "She does not sweat, even after all day working in the sun."

"While wearing a cape..." Alcheon added.

"I'd melt if I tried that," Hrafngoelir murmured.

"Sometimes I think she forgets to breathe," Venca continued, "and to blink. Then there is her skin..."

"It's white as a corpse's," Hrafngoelir said.

"Because she is a corpse," Venca declared. "I am sure we have all seen it for days now, since we came here at least. Phereinon is undead."

"Our mages seem strangely silent in this matter," Alcheon looked to Aela and Loria. "Surely if Phereinon was what you say, they would have seen it sooner than anyone?"

Loria did not reply. Instead the elf looked pointedly at Aela.

"Phereinon is unique," Aela said carefully. She took her time, concentrating on controlling her breathing and remaining calm. How did you face this conversation Asaryl, when I was the subject?

"She is not a vampire, living off others either psychically or through blood. Loria and I have watched the villagers carefully, as have Aecha and Vesia. There are none of the tell-tale signs of unexplained weakness or debilitation."

"I did not think our local mudang was so... eager to lend you her assistance, in any matter," Venca said diplomatically.

"Not after the mudslinging..." Dhasan smiled.

"She didn't know it came from me," Aela admitted. "I had Vesia ask for me. Neither of them know the real reason why."

"So what then?" Hrafngoelir asked. "She's no again-walker like we have in Skanlond. They are plainly dead and decayed."

"She's no bekaak, as we have back home," Dhasan said. "You can see through their skin, what little they have."

"Obviously she's no ghost or wraith," Venca said. "She is physical enough after all. Her visit to the graveyard made me wonder if she was a ghoul. But it has not been disturbed. Not that I have ever heard of a ghoul that looked as good as her. She might be a lich of some kind, though certainly a well-preserved one."

"It does not really matter what she is," Aela declared. "It only matters what she does - and doesn't - do. What she has not done is harm anyone."

"Why am I not surprised that you defending her?" Venca grumbled.

"I don't understand," Alcheon interjected with what Aela could tell was genuine confusion. "Undead are monsters, that must be destroyed. Do they not?"

"That is exactly what they said about me in the Ingenium," Aela frowned. "A monster, evil, everyone knew it. I won't treat Phereinon the same."

"This is nothing like that," Venca rolled his eyes in frustration. "You are allowing your own past to cloud your judgment. This isn't about you, or some damned fool gender-bigots."

"Her judgment is not clouded," Loria finally spoke. "The two of us have studied Phereinon for some time, since we first laid eyes upon her in fact. And just for your edification, this very same conversation did take place in the highest halls of the Ingenium. The entire school learned of it, and eventually the rest of the city as well."

"Aela, I do not doubt your sincerity," Dhasan held his hands together, fingers interlaced in the Asokar symbol for peace. "But has it occurred to you that Phereinon might be deceiving you? Can you be sure she is not playing the long game? What if she is taking the time to gain our trust now, so that she can betray us later when our guard is lowered?"

"She doesn't need to do that," Aela declared. "If she wanted to kill us, we would all be dead already."

"Don't overestimate her," Venca said. "We are not exactly tyros here."

"I know," Aela said. "But I have seen her in action, and she was holding back then."

"I want to believe you," Hrafngoelir said. "You want us to trust her. But what is wisdom here?"

"Would you, a Skanjr, trust an elf?" Part of Aela loathed to pull upon that thread of Hrafngoelir's past - to the elf Ryolin - whom she had confessed some form of relationship with. It was personal. But she suspected that much of this argument was personal, and that appealing to emotion might be more important than to logic.

"That is exactly the question is it not?" Loria spoke before the Northerner could answer. "Can we trust Phereinon? Since we are asking it, why not ask other, just as relevant questions?"

"Can we trust a Rasen?" The Light Elf turned his gaze upon Venca. "After all, they are the homicidal zealots who created the Sacerdotium. For over a thousand years they tortured and murdered hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions, in their twisted conception of religion."

"And what of you," Loria turned to Hrafngoelir. "Everyone knows the Skanjr are bloodthirsty marauders, who place no value on life, and will betray even their kinsmen for wealth and power. They are practically beasts."

"Then there are the Asokar," Loria turned to Dhasan. "They are not even practically beasts. They are the real thing!"

"Let us not forget that elves, aside from being arrogant and foolish, always have their own agendas." Dhasan crossed arms before his chest, but he did not seem angry. Rather Aela thought he actually looked satisfied. "One can never trust an elf."

"Exactly!" Loria cried. "He understands - which is a small miracle considering... Prejudgments could be made upon all of us, based upon nothing but willful misrepresentation and racial or cultural bias. None of us are beyond one imputation or another. Only a fool judges another by the skin they wear. It is the individual's actions that tell the tale of their hearts."

"I have no heart." Phereinon's voice sliced through the house like an icy wind. "It was cut from me five thousand years ago."

Along with the others, Aela turned to face the dead woman. She stood in the doorway, still wearing her armor. Her hood was thrown back, and her gray cape spilled down across her shoulders like a frozen waterfall. Aela noted that she did not have her sword out. She would have felt its presence in the aether after all.

"I expected this conversation to come sooner." Phereinon stepped fully into the house and let the door shut behind her. "Maintaining the pretense of life is no longer as important as it once was."

She crossed the room. As Aela and the others stared, she casually sat in her usual spot and moved her half-eaten dinner aside. She seemed utterly oblivious to the tension in the room. Given what she knew of the deadwalker, Aela was sure that was not the case. Clearly, her confidence knew no bounds.

"You want to know if I plan to kill you," she said calmly, as if she was discussing the weather. "If I will drain your life energy, or devour your souls, or simply rip you limb from limb. I have no need to do the first, I cannot do the second, and will only do the third if you force me to."

"Well you have stones, I will give you that!" Dhasan laughed. That relieved Aela. If he could joke, she knew the Asokar had not closed his mind.

"We want to believe you," Hrafngoelir said. "Give us something to help us."

"Very well," Phereinon turned to Aela and Loria. "Look, and tell them what you see."

Aela slipped her awareness into the aether, and beheld the deadwalker. The cloak that had so inviolably shielded her aura had vanished. Now Aela saw it all, saw it for real. It literally chilled her to the bones.

To begin with, the pale woman had not been merely boasting when she said she had no heart. The organ was literally absent from her chest. Instead Aela felt a frozen mass where it should have been, as if a glacier was buried there. As before when she had witnessed Phereinon cutting herself, it reminded her of criosaine, the glowing crystal of the Light Elves. But this was different, altered. Where criosaine was warm and cheering, this was cold, and cast dark shadows across her soul. It burned there as only ice can, and spread out through Phereinon's aura like a spiderweb of frostbite.

Aela could see that the strands of the horrific crystal did not grow out from the core of her undead heart at random. Rather they clearly followed the lines of her blood vessels. Aela followed the threads of power to be certain, and saw that indeed, her entire circulatory system had been replaced with the magical substance.

As she watched, Aela felt mana flow along that crystalline network. It streamed through both arteries and veins, down into the capillaries, and from there soaked directly into Phereinon's body. The Witch traced the mana back to its source, the dead, frozen heart that shone so terribly within the swordswoman's chest. But the heart did not create the mana. That was impossible after all. Instead Aela felt the power falling into that nexus from the outside world. It reminded her of a bottomless well that soaked up all the rain that fell into and around it.

Aela noted that her former veins did not return mana or anything else to the heart, as they would do with blood in a normal circulatory system. Within Phereinon both arteries and veins now performed the same task of distributing energy. As she watched even more closely, she noted that the energy was not being drawn in by just the heart alone after all. Instead mana was soaking directly into all parts of the crystalline lattice. It was just that being larger, the heart attracted more power than the arteries and veins. But it appeared that even if somehow this undead heart were cut out or annihilated, the rest of Phereinon's crystal vessels would carry on without it. Perhaps even regenerate it, as it seemed to do with every other part of her body.

"She is right," Aela said. "She does not need to steal anyone's life energy, or devour souls."

"Amazing!" Loria breathed. "She absorbs the mana from the air around us, the same as any mage. But it powers her body. Like a tree absorbing energy from the sun. Did you do this yourself?"

"No," Phereinon replied curtly. "I never asked for this. I never wanted this."

Aela continued to study the deadwalker's aura. She had faced undead before. But had never had the time to just look at them, to intensely study how they worked. Part of her wanted to peer into every nook and cranny of Phereinon's being, to learn, to understand. But another part of her recoiled at violating the other woman's privacy. How would she feel if someone else did the same, and treated her like an insect on a page?

With that Aela snapped back from the aether to her meat body. That was enough. She would look no more unless Phereinon asked her to.

With her flesh and blood eyes, Aela saw that the deadwalker's own eyes now glowed silver-white, like twin moons shining brightly from the snowy slopes of her face. Apparently this was her natural state, and only the cloaking of her aura dampened her eyes to make them appear normal as well.

Aela wondered if this was what normal people felt like around her. Which side was it better to be on?

"I have never met an undead who simply sat and talked," Dhasan said. "Mostly I have just killed them. Does that make me narrow-minded?"

"I have killed undead as well," Loria replied, "as well as the living. I have killed Teodon, Skanjr, Arvern, and Rasenna. Does that make me prejudiced? The common thread here is not the what, but the why. We all have our reasons, usually because they were a threat to us and others. Not because of their race, or their... state of being.

"So what is your reason for being here?" Venca looked at Phereinon. "It cannot be for the money."

"I am here for her." Phereinon looked pointedly at Aela. The Arvern suddenly felt uncomfortable, as all eyes fell upon her. She hoped that she was not blushing like an idiot.

"To tell the truth, I am here for her as well," Hrafngoelir said.

"So am I," Dhasan admitted, rubbing one paw behind his head.

"And I am here for Hrafn," Venca declared.

"I am here for Loria," Aela spoke up.

"Well I am here for the money," the Light Elf insisted. "I think these outlaws will pay out well. The last band of miscreants did."

"What about you Alcheon?" Aela asked the young Teodon. "Why are you here?"

"Because I cannot spend my life planting rice," he responded quietly.

"Well, don't we make for a motley collection?" Venca seemed to almost laugh. "I don't know how we will fight together."

"We will fight very well," Aela found herself saying. "Not in spite of our differences, but because of them. That is what makes us strong."

"I cannot track someone over miles of woodland, or sneak through a fortress with less sound than the wind, but Dhasan can." The Arvern looked from person to person around her. "I would probably chop my own leg off if I tried to swing a sword like Hrafn's, let alone Venca's. Speaking of him, I could never train and organize people to fight as he can. Loria would dislocate a shoulder if he tried throwing a javelin like Alcheon's, and we'd all starve if he was hunting for us. But I daresay none of you can throw a fireball or break a spell, or reattach a severed limb."

"So what can Phereinon do?" Dhasan asked.

"She draws insects," Loria said dryly.

Nice conversation about the pink (or should I say white) pachyderm in the room! I quite liked how Loria and Aela turned the others' arguments back on themselves, especially where biases are involved. Not all vampires are evil, as Julian learned so long ago. Not all undead are unthinking monsters. Not all Rasen are zealous proselytizers. And so on.

I am still enjoying this story, Rosa - I may not comment as often as others, but do count me among the Seven's fandom . . .

An absolutely wonderful episode! It flowed perfectly from a nice dinner into a discussion of the undead White Hair.

I’m sure Aela was uncomfortable being placed in the spot of confirming Phereinon’s status as undead and what it meant to the Seven. This time however, words did not fail her; rather, her phrasing was magnificent in its truth and simplicity:
"It does not really matter what she is," Aela declared. "It only matters what she does - and doesn't - do. What she has not done is harm anyone."

Phereinon’s opening herself up to Aela’s ‘inspection’ was fascinating and sheds much light on the undead woman. Just as Aela’s self-imposed limits of intrusion and her simple description of the results speak well of Aela’s good nature and how the witch embraces the responsibility that comes with her abilities.

I’m so glad the Seven seems up for keeping Phereinon – to intentionally lose over 1/7th of their combat power would be pretty self-defeating.

"So what can Phereinon do?" Dhasan asked.
"She draws insects," Loria said dryly.
- - Well done – very clever, creative and perfect to finish on a note of humor.

Oh my gosh, this scene is fantastic. I don’t think I breathed until the end. This felt like the natural culmination of Aela’s reflections about herself and Phereinon so far.

Phereinon’s mechanics are fascinating. Finding out some answers about her was even cooler than I could have guessed. Aela’s sensitivity made me check my own curiosity. That was beautiful.

"Well I am here for the money," the Light Elf insisted.

I laughed out loud. Leave it to Loria, he can bring the attention back to himself just by being Loria.

Whew! What a scene!

haute ecole rider: The silver eyed white pachyderm in the room! That whole conversation was all about biases, including those held for good reason, such as killing undead as a matter of course. So Aela and Loria tried to put the whole thing on an emotional level, which is where our biases live.




Acadian: It is nice that Aela found the right things to say, when so often she is tongue-tied. Perhaps because she was not talking about herself? In an case, not always being so glib does make it come across as a victory when she does find the right thing to say.

Aela knows what is like to be on the other side of that intrusive study. Like when Camna was studying her, like a bug on a page. That kind of thing has taught Aela a measure of empathy and ethics. She does not want to treat other people they way they treat her.

I think losing Phereinon would mean losing about 6/7ths of their combat force!

Loria's ending remark was one of those things that just spilled out onto the page without any thought. It was Loria speaking through me.



Grits: Phereinon is basically a magical cyborg. I had fun working on what makes her tick, and how she is different from all other forms of undead. The nearest thing to what she is would be a Lich. But even Liches don't work like she does.

Just like the bug line, Loria's money line just came right out without me having to think about it. That is just who he is.

It is always fun writing scenes with Phereinon in them. Many scenes are not exactly filler, but they are just serving a purpose of getting from one place in the story to the next, perhaps adding in some interesting tidbits of information about the characters or locale. OTOH, every scene with Phereinon is a big deal. There is always some major payoff in events or revelations, that make you hold your breath.




Chapter 15.4

Dhasan picked up a slender bamboo shaft from the pile beside him and eyed it carefully. First he looked it over from end to end to insure its straightness. Then his gaze roved over it in search of defects. He noted the weight of the arrow, and painted that in ink at the base of the shaft. Then he found the tiny holes that Daehyun had drilled into each node of the bamboo stalk. Dhasan knew that this was to release the steam that would have built up within the hollow tube and burst it while it had been heat-treated.

Once he was satisfied that it would fly straight and true, he lifted a length of sinew from his knee and put it in his mouth. He wet it with his saliva, then carefully set it to one end of the shaft and began wrapping it around the front end of the arrow. He took his time, and covered the bamboo with the tough fiber. He knew that this would reinforce the arrow and absorb some of the impact when it struck. Once he was finished, he secured it with a layer of fish glue bubbling in the pot next to him. Then he flipped the arrow around and did the same for the nock end of the projectile. Finished, he picked up another arrow shaft and began the process all over again.

He heard the steps of the porch creak outside as someone small climbed up. They were too light even for Aela. He did not look up. Instead he concentrated upon his work. Then his nostrils caught a scent, and he smiled.

"Gyeong, have you brought more arrows from your father?"

"How can you tell it is me," the young Teodon's voice was loud and strong in Dhasan's ears.

"A hunter's magic," Dhasan smiled. "Perhaps one day you will learn it too."

"I don't know what I will learn…" the youth murmured.

That prompted the Asokar to finally lift his gaze to the boy. Like his father, the spines that grew along his head were orange and banded with black. Unlike him his lustrous scales were not green and brown. Instead they were entirely emerald in hue, darker on his back and lighter along his belly. His mother's contribution, Dhasan mused, and a good color for a woodsrunner.

"What is this you speak of Gyeong?"

The youthful Teodon dropped the bundle of unfinished arrow-shafts he carried into the small pile Dhasan had yet to start working on. His tail seemed to drag, and his spines hung low against the scales of his head.

"I just wish my father was brave, like you," he sighed.

"Is your brain in your tail?" Dhasan set the half-finished arrow down and give his full attention to the boy. "Your father Daehyun has no shortage of bravery. He is a man to be respected!"

"He's like all the others," Gyeong frowned. "They all bow and scrape and beg when the raiders come. I never thought he and the others would fight."

"Oh you foolish young man." Dhasan rose to his feet and laid one hand on the young Teodon's shoulder. "Is that what you think? That all of your parent's are cowards?"

The youth said nothing. He merely stared at the planks of the floor.

"I wish I had a father who was brave enough not to fight," the vulpine warrior declared. "It is easy to rush into battle. What is hard is swallowing one's pride, and thinking of one's family first, instead of one's ahuacatls! I wish my father had that kind of courage. I wished I did as well."

"But Dhasan!" Gyeong protested. "He and the others run when the mercenary in black kicks their shields with his boots!

"That is because he wants to live for you!" Dhasan could not resist smacking the young man against the side of his head. It was not a hard blow. Just a tap really, to get his attention. "What will happen to you if he dies? If your mother dies? He is responsible for you and your sisters. He must sacrifice, and suffer whatever cruelties and indignities that fate chooses to hurl upon him. And he does it gladly, to protect you! That is true courage! That is real courage. The rest of us are just swaggering crumheads compared to the people of your village."

"Now return to your father and appreciate the good you have in your life!" Dhasan waved the youth toward the open doorway. "And bring me more of those pheasant feathers, I will begin fletching soon!"

* * *

As she did every morning, Phereinon performed one of her many fighting routines. This time she went back to one of the first she had ever learned - the orcish form of Ayi, or bear. It taught one to fight multiple opponents from all sides. It was filled with quick, flowing motions of parry and riposte, along with energetic footwork and body movement. She followed the intricate choreography around the empty space of the square, and for not the first time she was reminded of the dancing lessons that she and Shiryn had received when they were children, so long ago...

She pushed thoughts of the Silor down, as always. Some things did not bear to dwell upon, not even five thousand years later. Instead she concentrated upon the kata, and lost herself in the dance of steel. By the time she was finished she felt loose and limber, ready for a new day.

As she had every morning since arriving in Agrigento, Phereinon noted that she was being watched. This time the spy finally decided to approach her however. It was Ranazu, the young Rasen whose home she and the other seven were living in. Well, residing in at least.

"You're incredible!" the Rasen proclaimed.

Phereinon simply stared at the farmer. She never liked people complimenting her. It usually meant they wanted something from her. Something she would likely be unwilling to give.

"Will you train me?" Ranazu continued when it became obvious that the deadwalker was not going to reply.

"Train you?" Phereinon finally did speak. "What is wrong with the training Venca is giving you and the others?"

"It isn't with the sword," Ranazu sighed. "He's teaching us to fight in a mass. There's no skill to it! It's all about standing in place, or walking forward, or walking backward. We're not learning anything!"

"That is how you fight in a shield wall," Phereinon said bluntly. "Individual skill means little in pitched battles. It is all about how well you keep to your formation, and how you endure. Follow Venca's instruction. You will live, and be victorious."

"But that is not enough!" the young Rasen's eyes glowed with a light Phereinon had seen far too often. She could see that he did not care if he lived or died. Ranazu only wanted blood.

"It is more than enough!" Phereinon snapped. "I will not teach you."

The swordswoman turned away from the farmer, and began to walk away. She was stopped by a hand upon her shoulder. She suppressed the urge to crush his ribs with a back kick. Or to take his arm with Malediction. Instead she turned to look at Ranazu, and then his hand. After a moment, the Rasen withdrew the offending member, but not before he spoke again.

"Why not?"

"Because if I do, you will die," Phereinon said. "Or you will live, and become a monster like I am. I will be responsible for neither."

"Monster?" the farmer sputtered. "I saw you in the street, back in Veia. You're a hero!"

"Beating others unconscious does not make one a hero, just a violent thug." Phereinon growled. "A hero sacrifices for others. A hero gives of themselves. I have nothing to give, but my hate, my rage, and my pain. I look in your eyes, and I see the same."

"I am not kind enough for you, is that it?" Ranazu fumed. "I am not gentle enough? That's a fine thing for a hired killer to say! Why should I not be able to fight like you? I could kill them all!"

Before she knew it, Phereinon found her hand wrapped around the Rasen's throat. She restrained herself from crushing it, but not from lifting him as high into the air as her arm could reach.

"Then who after that?" she hissed. "The other villagers who did not fight hard enough to satisfy your bloodlust? Those who criticize you? Those who still have what you have lost? How many would you put under the ground? A dozen? A hundred? A million?"

"I have trained boys like you before," Phereinon went on. "They were all just as angry and self-righteous as you are. I saw them grow to become cruel, hateful men. I filled a thousand graveyards with the bodies they left behind."

"Not again." She released him, and allowed him to fall to the ground, clawing at his throat for breath.

"Do you think those raiders who murdered and ate who was it… your wife… your sister, are monsters?" Phereinon said. "They know nothing of horror. I am horror. I will not spread that evil upon the world, not again."

"Be better than that," she insisted. "Be braver than me. Make a new life, like Aela. Don't hide behind revenge. It will consume you like an endless glacier, and leave you a cold, lifeless husk."

I was interested in Dhasan and Gyeong's conversation. TBH, I had been waiting for that one, as it is one of the most powerful moments in The Magnificent Seven, when Charles Bronson has almost exactly that same conversation with the village boys. It's wonderful, as always, and I am glad you used that scene with your own twist.

Ah, Pherenion, she is her own story. Not part of the lore that is the Seven Samurai/Magnificent Seven but interwoven into it quite nicely. She supports this story beautifully, and yet . . . and yet, there is another story being told between the lines, so so speak. You are doing an amazing job doing this, and I am enjoying these scenes where she really shines (and I'm not talking about her crystalline glow, either).

The scene with Dhasan and Gyeong was beautiful. Dhasan shows deep wisdom by imparting words that were perfectly tailored to the youth’s situation. Dhasan gives the lad a gentle nudge toward an honorable agrarian life that will likely yield more years and a better chance of having a family of his own someday than that of a warrior.

A wonderful contrast as Phereinon then deals with the envious Ranazu for whom playing his role in protecting his village is not enough. Her firm counsel was also just what was needed. Unfortunately, I imagine she knows the chance of Ranazu heeding her wisdom is slim. But at least she knows she is not contributing to what he seems intent on becoming.

This episode was not only fascinating to read, it adds to the depth of all four characters involved.

Two conversations that balanced each other beautifully. Phereinon’s graveyard and glacier imagery suits her perfectly. I had to read this section a few times for the sheer joy of the language.

Awww....

They all start gossiping about Phereinon, and it turns into a near-argument. The whole time I'm thinking she's going to hear them, and then she does!

That farmer hopefully learns a lesson too.



It is interesting Florens, the way you have built this collection of differing personalities, all with abilities distinctly separate from each other in ways. Because I know you're not so keen on having followers in the actual games, but this is mostly due to wonky AI (them shooting yours in the back for instance). So it's just just interesting that you indeed have the vision to include more than one... maybe if the AI in the games was better, some of yours might seek companionship.

Wow, I've never heard of Mystery Hill. I'll read about that too, hopefully today.

Edit: Nice, I'm all caught up! Woo hoo!

haute ecole rider: I cut the original version of Dhasan's conversation, and almost cut this one too. It is a little too close to the movies for comfort. I would like this story to stand on it own, as inspired by, but not a copy of, the Seven Sam/Mag Sevens. I did keep it in because it shed some more light onto Dhasan, and on the Agrigentans in general.

Phereinon is definitely her own story. Her history, and her motives, are a dark and brooding presence, always lurking in the shadows.



Acadian: Dhasan's conversation with the young Gyeong was a way for me to sneak in the continuing preparations for battle behind the more important (I think) view into the minds of both Dhasan and the people of the village. It is easy to cast the villagers are cowards for being under the thumb of the raiders for so long. It is not so easy when you have loved ones of your own that you are responsible for. During both the American Revolution and Civil War, there were many patriots who had to leave the service because their homes were literally falling apart without them there to work the land. I don't look down on them for making that choice. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for them to do so.


Grits: I did put the glacier and graveyard terms in there specifically because it was Phereinon speaking. She is always easy to write. She is like an oncoming glacier herself.


Renee: Gossiping is an understatement, they were talking about killing Phereinon because she is undead. Phereinon has been wanting that to come to a head for some time, so she can get it out in the open. She knew it would be messy no matter how it came about. So she decided to let them come to the issue on their own.

I love companions in other games, like Pillars of Eternity, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Wasteland, etc.... In those games the followers are not a constant source of frustration. I enjoyed creating a diverse cast of characters for Seven because it gave me an opportunity to really showcase the differing races and cultures in the world.

Mystery Hill is probably a fake, at least in parts. But it is still a really neat megalithic structure here in the US. There are a lot of standing stones and the like in New England. But Mystery Hill really takes it to eleven, with a dark, brooding feel.




Chapter 15.5

"You write in Elvish?"

Hrafngoelir almost leaped out of her skin. She looked around to find Aela standing beside her, looking sheepish. The Skanjr set her quill down, and looked over the page in front of her. It was covered from top to bottom in the graceful, flowing handwriting that the elven language practically demanded from a writer. One way or another, that would have to do.

"Aye, I learned years ago, from Ryolin," she explained.

"The elven prince who did not sweep you off your feet and carry you off to his tower?" Aela smiled wryly.

"The very one." Hrafngoelir laughed. "Though I would have been more likely to do the carrying. You know the elvish script?"

"Yes, and the tongue," Aela answered in the language of Loria's bright folk. "It is very similar to the language of we Arvern. Many say our speech began as theirs, and gradually changed across the years. So it is very easy for my people to learn. I find your own people's tongue, and runes, much more difficult."

"Nothing about Skanlond is easy," Hrafngoelir murmured. "Some say the gods meant it to be so, to make us warriors. But perhaps we only say that out of an abundance of pride, and a lack of common sense."

"Common sense?" the Arvern asked.

"Spend one winter in the Jotunfjeldene mountains, and you will likely not wish to spend another." Hrafngoelir's face fell into shadow. "It makes us cold, hard, uncompromising."

"So who is it that you are writing to?" The Witch sat down beside her, and Hrafngoelir took in her soft mango and orange scent. The Skanjr had seen both growing in Agrigento's valley. Apparently between potion-making, Aela had taken the time to create a perfume from those fruits as well. She had to admit that it smelled pleasant, and entirely like Kye Rim.

"It is a letter," Hrafngoelir finally said. "To my sister. I was telling her all about the new friends I have made. He would have liked you."

That brought a look of bewilderment to the face of the Arvern. She always seemed so surprised whenever anyone showed any friendliness or esteem for her. As Hrafngoelir had come to expect, a guarded look then replaced the moment of surprise. It was as if the other woman did not trust any act of kindness for its own sake.

Sadly, Hrafngoelir did not have to wonder why.

"To Hetha then?" Aela said, "the one who enchanted your medallion?"

"Aye." Hrafngoelir carefully folded the page into a palm-sized rectangle. Lacking wax, she bound a length of twine around it from top to bottom and side to side to seal it shut.

"How old were you when Hetha went from living as a male to a female?" Aela asked quietly.

Hrafngoelir almost started again. But she was not truly surprised that the Witch had been able to deduce the nature of her sister. Aela was not only a siedkona, but seirberendr after all. Just as Hetha had been, for a while at least.

"Only fifteen winters," Hrafngoelir said. "He was a few years older than me."

"I imagine that was a difficult time," Aela said as diplomatically as Loria would have done. "It must have been hard for you, and your family."

"I didn't know what to think," Hrafngoelir said. "It was like the person I knew all my life was really someone else. I didn't know if I should be angry that he had been lying about who he really was, or if I should be ashamed of myself for making him pretend to be male all that time."

"I know it was hard for my family too," Aela said quietly. "I embarrassed them. No, shamed them, to the whole community. I heard that they lost business because of it. One of my sisters was to be married, but her betrothed broke it off because of me. So far as I know, she remains unwed. I think all of my sisters are because of me."

"When was the last time you saw them?" Hrafngoelir felt a lump forming within her throat. This was sounding all too familiar...

"The last time I spoke, or saw, any of my family was when I left for the Ingenium. I was fourteen." Aela stared off across the rice paddies to the forest beyond. "I have never been back since. There have only been a few letters, like the one telling me I was disowned."

"You must hate them," Hrafngoelir breathed sourly.

"At the time I did," Aela admitted. "But now... I think I finally understand how difficult I made life for them. It was very selfish of me. I sacrificed all of their futures for me. Just so I could be who I wanted to be, who I yearned to be. I think it is one of the most selfish things a person can do."

"The only thing more selfish is to force them to live a lie, for the sake of your own convenience," Hrafngoelir lamented. "To take everything from them, because if you don't, others will take everything from you."

"Hetha's dead isn't she?" Aela laid a warm hand upon Hrafngoelir's own.

The Skanjr shook off the warm touch out of reflex. Or was it shame? She rose to her feet, letter in one hand. She felt tears drip from her eyes, and tried to will them to stop. She did not deserve to cry for Hetha. She who had failed so miserably as a sister. She, who was such a coward.

Hrafngoelir could only nod. She could not look at Aela. Instead she walked to the moat that surrounded the village, and eventually wove its way out of sight into the trees beyond. She cast the letter into the water, and watched silently as it carried her words away into watery oblivion. She was only dimly aware of Aela coming to stand beside her, and lay a comforting hand upon her shoulder.

She saw Hetha, standing there upon the edge of the cliff by the sea. Hrafngoeilr stood as if turned to stone. She wanted to cry out. To raise her hand. To tell Hetha to stop. But her body would not obey her will. She was weighed down, as if the very mountains crushed down upon her.

Then Hetha stepped off the edge, and vanished into the waves below...

I tend to think of this as Aela’s story, so it was a delightful change to have this episode written from the perspective of Hrafngoelir. Not only did we get to learn more of the Skanjr’s background, but the nature of Hetha provided a point of common reference. I can see now part of why Hrafngoelir so readily accepts and even admires Aela. Aela is a wonderful example of what Hrafngoelir probably now wishes Hetha could have been. Hrafngoelir doubtless feels, in part, responsible for allowing Hetha to be overcome by the despair brought on by disapproval of his change. She likely admires Aela’s strength, even as she is quick to support her Arvern friend.

An interesting discussion and contrast the two had regarding selfishness. Hrafngoelir’s source of guilt about Hetha’s change seems clear. We now have more insight into Aela’s different source of guilt regarding her own change.

And lastly, by being in Hrafngoelir’s perspective, it was fun to learn some of the Skanjr’s impressions of Aela.

Honestly I did not mean to read this story as a retelling of the Seven Samurai - but it does show how certain elements of the human experience are so powerful that they come up in many stories. The conversation about the courage of fathers is one such example. Charles Bronson was so powerful in his portrayal of the mercenary who respects fathers, it was one of the high points of the movie for me. I suppose it has made me more sensitive to other versions of this same conundrum, including your well done scene.

And you do it again in this segment - touching on the meaning of selfishness. When does selfishness become a self fulfilling prophecy? When you do what you want without regard for the impact your choices have on others? Is that selfishness? Or denying another the choice to be what they want or need to be? Balancing the needs of self with the needs of others (i.e. family, which is very strong in Korea, for example, that individuals are lost) is a classic dynamic that makes for thought provoking scenes such as this.

And like Acadian, I quite enjoyed reading this from Hrafngoelir's perspective.

Ah, here is an important look into Hrafngoelir’s heart that only she could give us. It was lovely to see (and smell!) Aela from Hrafn’s perspective. I admired Aela even more when after being shaken off once by Hrafngoelir, she continued to stand by and offer silent comfort. What a quietly powerful scene between the two women.

Acadian: As that old saw goes about good judgment comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgment, this was Hrafn's bad judgment. That gave her the experience she needed to grow beyond who she had been, and open her eyes, and her mind, to the wide world around her. It is sad that it had to come so tragically. But Hrafn is no more a perfect person than anyone else.

And as you observed, it also does show some growth on Aela's part. As now she has come to see the world from more than just her own perspective. Even from the view of those she previously damned. It is an evolution that she and Hrafn both share.


haute ecole rider: Well, it is a remake of Magnificent/Seven Samurai. That is one of the things that always gives me second thoughts about this story. The plot really is not mine. I try to change it to fit the new setting, but I do not always succeed. I always really liked that Bronson conversation too. I think it was one of the improvements over the Seven Samurai, which did not have its equivalent. I think it was a very mature thing, because it showed that the real world is not so simple as morality tales of white hats vs. black hats.

I enjoyed (maybe enjoyed is not the right word) the discussion of selfishness. Like the courage of fathers, it is not something that is so simply delineated between good or bad, brave or cowardly. It comes in degrees, and is entirely subjective to every individual and society. It isn't right, it isn't wrong, it just is.


Grits: I believe Acadian once said a long time ago that I said that if you are going to change POV characters, it should be for something that is really worth it. This was something that I felt was worth it. As you said, only Hrafn can tell this. It would not have worked from any other POV. It is her confession, and is the root of so much of who and what she is today.

I have a lot of second thoughts about Hetha's suicide. On one hand it is a depressing example of several bad tropes, such as Women In Refrigerators and Bury Your Gays. But sadly both those are often Truth in Television. The latter won out, because in reality, a hugely disproportionate amount of GLBT people commit suicide because of the bigotry arrayed against them. I did not want to shirk from that, because it is a reality that Aela always has to grapple with.




Chapter 15.6

One by one, the days slipped by. When Aela was not busy brewing up potions with the small soju cookery behind Vesia's home, she watched Venca as he trained the villagers in the square out front. It had taken some time, but now the Agrigentan shield wall held up under the drill instructor's boot. Yet when he charged straight into the formation and crashed into their shields with a lowered a shoulder, the farmers once more reeled away in disarray.

Vesia often came by to see how Aela was doing. When the Rasen was not practicing with the other villagers, she was working in the distillery to insure her new batch of soju was brewing well. Aela still was not sure what to make of the other woman. On one hand Vesia seemed to frequently brush against her by 'accident'. But on the other hand the Rasen often seemed standoffish, and took a defensive posture, often with her arms closed. It made Aela wonder if the brewer truly knew what she wanted.

Days stretched on, and the defensive preparations continued, along with Vesia's dance around Aela. By now the moat had been long-since completed, and was laced with punji stakes hidden beneath the dark water that filled it. The front gate had been replaced with timber, and all of the bamboo that had once been used to fill in the sections of ruined wall had been replaced with thick tree trunks. The alleys and other narrow passages between buildings had been filled in with spiked frises, leaving only a few passable roads leading through the settlement. Even the escape tunnel between the brewery and stable had been outfitted with sconces to hold torches along its length. Trapdoors were set in the buildings at either end, and wooden stairs built to lead down into the subterranean passage.

Aela also had several jugs of magical brews ready for the battle. Some for healing, others for armoring skin, and more to resist fire. Loria had even enchanted over half-a-dozen necklaces with night sight, so that the village sentries could see in the dark.

More weeks passed, and Venca continued drilling the Agrigentans in the shield and spear. In time they did not flinch when he hurled his body against their wall of shields, nor when he pelted them with stones, sticks, even buckets, chairs, or anything else he could pick up. Now he spent more time training them to advance in the shield wall, or retreat, all without losing their cohesion.

The Rasen drill instructor divided the Agrigentans into four harads (although Aela could plainly see that their numbers came nowhere near a hundred each, in spite of what the Skanjr term implied). One of the Seven had been assigned to lead each as hersirs: Phereinon, Dhasan, Hrafngoelir, and Alcheon. At the same time Ranazu, Hyunsu, Vesia, and Daehyun respectively had been appointed rathningar - second in command - to each as well.

Finally Venca, Aela, and Loria would act as a reserve, ready to move to any point that needed extra muscle, magical defense, or firepower, respectively. Aela and Loria found this made them thegns (after the Arvern style), and soon everyone was joking that Venca was the drottin - or general - of their hird - or warband.

When asked privately if Alcheon was ready for the task of leading a harad, Venca simply said: "If he's not, we'll find out."

Hrafngoelir pointed out that all that the leaders really had to do was act as a symbol for the villagers to rally around. They were there to lend courage to the Agrigentans, and more than anything else see to it that they did not flee. Aela could not argue that while Alcheon might have been lacking in experience, he seemed to have no shortage of confidence.

Each harad was given a wall to defend, and when Venca trained them to move in their shield walls, he did so in each harad's allocated section of the village. So they practiced advancing and retreating through the very same streets that they would soon by fighting within. Even the noncombatants were drilled in evacuating their homes to the distillery, and then traveling through the escape tunnel beneath it to the stable.

Aela and Loria had watched one such training session, when Vesia approached them after it was over.

"Aela!" the brewer cried. "I was hoping I might see you."

The Rasen doffed her wicker helmet, allowing her jet-black hair to spill across her olive-skin in a riotous mane. The Rasen absentmindedly pulled it back from her face with a sweaty hand, but it only plastered itself against her equally sweaty skin. Her entire body glistened with perspiration in fact, and her cheeks were rosy from exertion.

"I had an idea for potion bottles," the brewer said as she stepped up to the pair of mages. "I was hoping we could go over it together, in my home."

"Now where did I put those mana gems. I could have sworn I had them a moment ago…" Loria patted up and down his green robes with both hands, apparently in search of said items. He looked up to the two women and shook his head. "I am afraid you will have to excuse me, I know I left them somewhere…"

Aela tried to hide her smile as Loria scampered off. She hoped his excuse to give her and Vesia some privacy was not as transparent as she thought. Then again, perhaps it was all for the better if it was?

"Those practice sessions look grueling," Aela said as the Rasen led the way to her home. "I do not think I could endure it. Not without a spell to fortify my stamina at least!"

"I didn't think I could either!" Vesia said breathlessly. "But here I am, a rathningar fighting in the skjaldborg."

"When did you become a Skanjr!" Aela laughed as they approached Vesia's home.

"Venca says our shield wall is more Skanjr than Rasen." Vesia gestured to the door with her spear, for Aela to precede her. "He says in spite of all that talk of axes with blades big as the moon, most Skanjr fight with spear and shield, just like we are doing."

"Well, he would know," Aela nodded as she climbed the steps and paused to take off her shoes. Vesia did the same, and followed her into the upraised house. Once inside, the Arvern took the bamboo spear from Vesia's hand and set it against a wall.

"Oh thank you dear," Vesia sighed. She let her wicker helmet fall from her fingers, and leaned back against one wall. Aela noted that the other woman was careful not to put her weight against the rattan sheeting that comprised most of the wall, but rather upon one of the support beams of strong durian wood.

"You look done in," Aela noted. "Would you like me to come back later?"

"No, just give me a moment to get my breath," Vesia fanned herself with one hand. "I guess that took more out of me than I expected!"

The Rasen moved to sit in one of the wicker chairs, and leaned back into its frame with her eyes closed. Aela stepped to the kitchen area, and produced a chipped earthenware pitcher and poured water from it into an equally battered cup. Walking back to Vesia, she set the cup into the Rasen's hand.

Vesia's skin was warm and damp under her fingertips, and Aela allowed her hand to linger there. The Rasen did not object. Rather she smiled and did not open her eyes. She moved her other hand to take the cup, leaving the first still clasped with Aela's fingers. Vesia finally opened her eyes to take a long drink, then rolled the cool surface of the cup across her sweaty forehead.

"That is just what I needed," the Rasen said. Aela wondered if Vesia meant the water, or her touch? Her heart picked up its pace, and she had to resist the urge to lick her suddenly dry lips.

"We should get you out of this armor," Aela said quietly, nodding to the simple cuirass made up of vertical slats of bamboo that encased the other woman's torso.

"Splendid idea." Vesia leaned forward, and reached down to start undoing the cords that tied it together down her side. Aela bent forward to assist, and in no time at all the two women pulled the light, but sturdy armor from Vesia's body. The black tunic that the Rasen wore beneath it was soaked through with sweat, and clung to her frame like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

"Why don't we get this off as well?" Aela breathed, and gently tugged at the linen. Her heart was in her throat, and she prayed to Cliona that the Rasen would not be offended.

"Yes," Vesia said in a husky voice. She raised her arms above her head so that Aela could whisk the garment from her body. The Rasen rose to her feet as Aela pulled upward, so that a moment later she stood just inches way. Her naked chest glistened in the light that slanted through the windows, and her hands found their way to Aela's sides.

Aela dropped the tunic, and the next thing she knew her hands were sliding across Vesia's back, pulling her close. She leaned her head forward, and the Rasen's lips met her own. They were soft as rose petals, and Aela rejoiced in the feeling as she planted one kiss after another upon them. She felt the Rasen's hands racing over her bodice, and paused to help her undo its laces. A moment later it too fell to the floor, followed by the white chemise that Aela wore underneath.

Somehow Aela had the presence of mind to focus upon a spell to enhance her strength. She lifted Vesia in her arms, and was gratified to feel the other woman's legs instantly lock around her waist. Carrying the Rasen across the single-room house to the sleeping area, she gently laid her out upon the floor.

Vesia pulled her down, and Aela found herself rolling across the wooden planks. Now Vesia straddled her, and showered her with kisses. She reached up to caress the other woman's breasts, then let her hands drift down between her thighs.

Vesia stiffened then, and sat back on her haunches. Her arms crossed over her chest, hiding her bared breasts.

"What is it?" Aela felt her heart sink like a stone in the Bronze Sea. "What's wrong?"

"I can't…" Vesia shook her head, and turned away. "I can't do this."

Aela closed her eyes, and felt the other woman's body slide off of her own. The taste of Vesia's skin, which had just moments before been sweet as honey, now turned to bitter ash on Aela's lips.

"Because I am a woman?" Aela asked softly, "or because I was not born one?"

"I…" Vesia stammered. "I don't know Aela. I really don't know. It just, doesn't seem right."

"It seemed right a moment ago," the Arvern fought to keep the exasperation from her voice.

The Rasen rose to her feet and walked across the room to pick up her tunic. Hoisting the sweaty garment over her head, she pulled it down over her olive skin.

"You don't know what it's like," Vesia sighed. "Do you know why I run the brewery? Because my father did. Aecha is water priestess because that's what her mother was. Ranazu is a farmer because his father was. Our lives were all laid out before we were even born, and having a woman for a lover was never part of that. It's…"

"Unnatural?" Aela finished the sentence for Vesia. "That's Aecha talking."

"I'm sorry, but that's what I've been taught all my life." Vesia's voice began to rise. "Maybe I am just as narrow-minded as our water-priestess after all."

"No, you are not," the Arvern argued. "You are whatever - and whoever - you want to be."

"That is easy for you to say," Vesia snapped. "When this is over you will go on to the next hamlet or city. I have to live here. I have to spend the rest of my life around these people."

The Rasen leaned over to pick up Aela's bodice and chemise, and held them out to the Arvern. When she spoke again, her voice was soft once more. "I am sorry Aela, I really am."

"Nothing about it is easy for me," Aela replied just as softly. She rose and took her chemise from the other woman with a sigh, and slipped the loose garment over her head. Afterward she laced on her bodice. "Everywhere I go, I meet those same people too."

"You're a mage, you can protect yourself," Vesia sighed. "I am not so lucky. What happens when someone decides they have to murder me to please the sacers, or their ancestors?"

"You are right," Aela admitted. She had a similar conversation when she transitioned to life as a woman. Now she knew what it was like to be on the other side of it. "No one can live your life but yourself. You have to decide what is right for you, and what risks you are willing to take to live it. I have no right to tell you what to do. All I can do is support you, no matter what path you take."

Vesia blinked, clearly, support and understanding was the last thing she expected. In spite of the bitter sense of rejection that stabbed through her heart, and the hot anger at the unfairness of it all, Aela still had to repress a chuckle. The irony had not failed to escape her. Coming out to Asaryl so many years ago had taught her just how to handle this situation. She wondered if her old teacher had intended that at the time as well?

"So we can just be friends then?" Vesia's tone reminded Aela of someone cautiously sticking a toe in the bath water to see if it was ice cold or burning hot. "Like two normal women?"

"We are normal women!" Aela's tongue lashed out before her brain could stop it. Shaking her head at her own loss of temper, she sighed.

"I am sorry. I know this is difficult," Aela said. "I will always be your friend Vesia."

The same as with everyone else in the world.

Aela brushed her long hair back into some semblance of order. Then she looked back to the other woman. "You said that I am a mage. Perhaps it is time you were one too…"

What a wonderful job you did covering the passage of significant time without imparting the slightest feeling of rushing the story. What this village and its people are undergoing is significant and, as the Romans say, 'Fort Agrigento' wasn't built in a day.

The ongoing combat training and preparations transitioned very smoothly into the scene with just Aela and Vesia. Once again, Loria shows his perceptiveness as he creatively excuses himself.

Poor Aela. Her hopes for the obvious mutual attraction between the two women were sharply raised then dashed. It seems her earlier noted ‘mixed signals’ about Vesia perhaps not really knowing what she wanted were accurate. In the face of bitter disappointment is where Aela’s nature really shined as she selected her words to support a very confused and conflicted Vesia rather than expressing her own pain and frustration.

A painful irony is that Aela has worked very hard and earnestly to be the woman she is; yet in this case she is rejected precisely because she is a woman.

I love how the villagers’ progress with their shield wall showed the passage of time. I could imagine the montage when they make the movie of this story.

Loria knows when to make a swift exit!

Oh, dang. Well, Aela is no stranger to Vesia’s concerns.

"We are normal women!" Aela's tongue lashed out before her brain could stop it. Shaking her head at her own loss of temper, she sighed.

I’m glad she said it. That was something Vesia needed to hear.

Aela shows immense character here, reaching out to Vesia with support and kindness even while she is stung and hurting. I’m hoping for the best for both of them.


A nit: Aela said breathed, When she was helping Vesia get naked. I was almost too breathless to catch that.