Topic: Delving the caverns

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-07-25 11:02 EST
Kiema sat at the library once again, pouring over pages in books about possession on the right hand of her and a stack of other books, some laying open about fevers and illnesses to her left. The smaller pile further down was the few tombs she had gathered from several different archives that had mentioned, even in brief, the time of the Sedlaral whether in poem or prose, fact or fiction.

What she needed most, though, was Ewan back in town so she could discuss the possibilities with him and explore his experience. The very thought that what she had done was compared in a poem to drinking a person?s soul made her ill. Bile rose in her throat again at the thought. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the table to close her eyes and still mind while she soothed the gurgling sickness of her stomach.

When she lifted her head again, feeling more at ease, Kiema started to close up the books and put them aside to view again another time. She had researched all she could at this point without Ewan?s assistance. There were other reasons he had to return and soon, but she would not dwell on the misfortune of Storm?s heart. Kiema felt a strange sense of pity for her and some guilt.

It was songs of minstrels and bards, all manner of musicians, that made people believe that love was worth every sacrifice to self. That if one did not give everything they had for another then they did not love enough. ?Ridiculous,? Kiema muttered. ?The concept of spiritual metaphor completely lost upon souls these days,? she grumbled and stacked the books at the end of the table.

?Pardon?? a passerby stopped in confusion that she might have been speaking to him.

Kiema turned to apologize for the error and stopped short. Though she could not feel or sense anything of him, the manner of attire and the look of him was unmistakable. ?Have we not met before??

He smiled and bowed, ?I think perhaps we have.? Here, in Rhydin, in the library, was merchant man she had run into in Seansloe that day.

The alarms sounded in her head as much as a clamor of bells on holy days. In casual offer of a departing nod, she bid him a pleasant day and left to make her way in unhurried grace to stop by the Inn on her way to the manor. She could not trust safety at the Guild Hall. There was something wrong and its sensation crept up her spine and sent her flesh to crawling like an unshakable chill.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-08-02 12:08 EST
?How much do you remember?? Kiema asked. She and Ewan sat close quarters around the small table of the Minstrel Guild Hall. The location of their meeting was chosen carefully for both the purpose of Kiema facing the tragedy of so many months past that happened in a room above and the surety of an undisturbed conversation. The occupants of the guild hall were concerned with their own business and moved from rooms to the out of doors focused on exchanges of humor and plans for the day.

Ewan smirked, ?Incredibly, I remember everything, perhaps more than I should.?

?A side effect of the working of Sid?? Kiema asked as she pulled out a book and began flipping to the appropriate page.

?A fortunate one if it is, would you not agree?? he quirked a brow.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes gaining slow stripes of brown. ?In a fashion, though I think holding some of those memories would be a burden few would think fortunate to bear.?

?I would rather know what horrors came by my hand than trust to the words of others. In this way, I know,? he stressed the word clearly, ?what I have done.? A hand lifted to wave the conversation away, ?But let us get to the matter. I recall what happened, but I do not know how or why, particularly how you broke him away from me. The presence was so close to me.?

Kiema, eager to learn this point most of all nodded, ?That is something I wish to know. How did you keep yourself separate? I felt your presence like people feel the thread of a spider?s web blow across their face. You were faint but there.?

?My talents are not common knowledge to many, but you certainly know more than most.? Ewan sighed and stretched a sore muscle in his shoulder. ?In my training I was taught to take on the role of anyone, but in so doing, to protect the part of me that was truly me. I can tuck it away deep inside to protect against those that might have gifts or other ways to read me. You helped in that training,? he added with a grin.

Kiema laughed with a hint of darkness, ?My continually trying to read your emotions and your blasted walls.?

?Yes, I never have quite thanked you for that,? and with a bow of his head towards her, ?Thank you.?

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-08-02 12:36 EST
She let out a slow breath, and nodded, ?Yet again, something that is good and bad, since it also makes it far too easy for you to close yourself off from those that care about you.?

Ewan stiffened and sat back, ?Be that as it may, I was able to keep myself somewhat intact in a corner of my mind. That would not have lasted much longer.?

A shake of her head, Kiema countered, ?But you reached for me.?

?I took a risk. It was the only thing I could do is to try and reach you in hopes of breaking the Sedlaral?s control at least a moment. I had hoped at the time someone would have ended it all together.?

?Ewan,? Kiema scowled.

?But it seems they did not. My Mistress Death was most displeased to not welcome me home,? he affected a melancholy disposition.

She threw him dark look, ?Stop being so macabre. You?re like a death knell tolling over the struggling sounds of birds.?

?How poetic,? he chuckled.

?And we digress again. The troubling point then is how I was able to separate you two. What do you remember of that?? Kiema leaned forward once again.

?It certainly was not like you drank his soul as this poem suggests. It felt,? he paused and groped for the right words or analogy, ?like I was in a whirl of dust, only the dust was images, memories all floating around me in a fury. Bits would be drawn away and the whirl would go wider out until there was nothing. I felt alone and half dead already and only two things could I be certain ? who I was and the moment I asked you to let me go.?

?And to me it was like I had a large tapestry before me with threads that did not belong trying to alter the picture. I too had a whirling sensation but it was darkness that world around me. I used that darkness as I use the thread of my gift and began to pull the defiling threads out, gathering them into the pouch of darkness. The threads that remained were loose and began to float away from me before I could catch them.?

Ewan nodded, ?Aye, I remember that, too. I would try to grab the memories and hold on to them to put them in their place, but only until Sid joined me and had me explore the memories instead of grab at them did my mind begin to reform.?

?The question is, then, could I do this to others?? Kiema asked softly and not specifically of Ewan.

He knew where her thoughts were leading, ?Or were you able to because I was able to save some part of me from them and because of our previous connections.?

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-08-02 12:37 EST
The two sat in silence for awhile, until Kiema spoke of one thought, ?I certainly would not want to just walk into the Sedlaral camp and start touching people to see if I can rip apart their souls.?

Ewan?s laugh was low, and brief. ?Interesting that it used to be drinking the souls and now it is ripping them apart: an undoing instead of a consuming.?

Kiema looked at him with eyes drawing wide. At his puzzled look, she laughed, ?Matre noctis, Ewan, and thank her for your mind.?

?That does not exactly answer my particular thought of what the swords and arrows are you talking about?? he huffed.

?I think I have found the answer, but I hope it is still there. I need to return to our world and to Anria. I think the Circelus has something in their archives that I need,? she closed the unused book and tucked it away as she stood.

?That is all you will tell me?? Ewan said as he matched her standing.

?Until I am more certain, yes,? she stepped by him.

He turned to face her and asked, ?Should I come with you??

A fierce shake of her head, ?No, no, that will not be necessary. If what I think I will find is true, I will need to go through many levels of authority before anything can be done about it.?

?The sooner the better, Kiema, for the Sedlaral will only gain in strength and with that comes greater gifts at their command.? He warned as a memory of talks when he was Sedlaral rose.

She nodded and took the stairs up to her room, her old room, the glass there new as it should be after so long a time. As she collected her things, she reached for a book on the bedside table and a note fell from its cover. She opened it carefully and read its contents. Her eyes darkened like a candle blown out throws a nighttime room into black.

She could not stay there.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-08-08 16:15 EST
The musty odor wrinkled Kiema?s nose as she continued the steps up into the north tower of the archives. The archive keep was one of the oldest buildings of the Circelus grounds, and had at one time been the meeting hall in ancient days. Those early days when the Circelus were just coming to gather together and regulate the wielding of their gifts the towers had other purposes. The north tower, though, even through years of repairing crumbling walls and always been the repository of Changling knowledge and artifacts.

?Rather unsurprising we have not taken better care of this,? she commented with sarcastic gloom.

?Do not get self righteous, Kiema. In your years here have you ever thought to come and tend these forgotten things?? Master Pearan chided in bated breath. ?No,? he took another much needed gulp of air, ?only now when you need something do you come stirring the parchment bones of the past.?

A merry trio of notes cascaded down the stairwell, ?It is not parchment I seek, Master of pedantic prose.? She heard him breath heavily. ?You need not have accompanied me.? It was moments like these she remembered his aging body. It did not seem fair that his physical strengths should wane when his mind was as sharp as ever.

?Now do not start coddling me, too, Kiema. You, my brightest pupil, have ever had a temper and devilishly wicked sense of fighting against odds. Teachers, they say, do learn something from their students.? He sighed out as they reached the next level and its round room of shelves, crates, and chests.

Kiema crossed to the shelf closest to her right and sent her comment over her shoulder, "You have a temper now? It is difficult for me to imagine." Upon the wall in her passing she placed the lamp upon the empty hook to hold it. On the shelf was a ledger she opened and flipped to the last entry. ?It was reviewed a year ago. That is more recent than the last one.?

Pearan sat upon the crate and nodded. ?Aye, good. We will unlikely need to go through every crate and chest for updating ourselves.?

?Unlikely indeed,? Kiema breathed out. She had been searching the records of the ledger and stopped upon the detail she had been seeking. A syncopated tempo doubled the heartbeats and then slowed again.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-08-08 16:26 EST
Pearan stood and came around to her. ?You found it?? He could feel her excitement and trepidation. The pulsing fountain of riotous emotions that throbbed from her was powerful, and he sent out a soothing thread to help her regain control.

?Thank Matre Noctis and the Circelus?s ancient rigid ways.? Kiema noted the record?s remarks and closed the book. She turned and walked around the edge of the semicircle of containers that lined the age blackened walls. The light from the lamp more auburn from that distance was concealed by her own shadow, still she had enough light in the room to see what she needed. Pearan was not so inclined, and took the lamp from the wall and followed her.

Kiema stopped and knelt at the chest, unlocked as they all were, so archaically inscribed as ?Palamanta.? It had been some past Master?s chest, or rather the original one had been, and converted, like all the others, into storage of items the master had studied or perfected in their lifetime. This particular chest, though it still bore the name of the first to hold the items within, was no more than one hundred years old. Kiema opened the chest and the delicate tang of perfumes soured and dried away into the air. With careful hands she moved bits of cloth and old texts. And on the bottom was another book, wrapped in crisping silk. Only what she sought could have been so cherished as to warrant the expense of a silken shroud.

?Careful as you go, Kiema,? Pearan spoke as if he dared not breathe too strongly.

In patient, almost lovingly slow motion she unwrapped the silk. Tired bits of the fibres dusted away and that caught Kiema?s breath as well. ?Let us hope it does not whisper into nothingness right before me.?

?If the words were yours to have, they will wait for you to see them.? Pearan barely raised a voice in his words.

?Do not get philosophical with me, Master.? Kiema steeled her nerves and revealed the rest of the book in its leather and hand stitched binding. It was not marked on the outside, but when Kiema opened to the front page, there revealed in elegant hand, words of ancient production and tongue, translated by Kiema?s learned mind into ?There was no more to be done with the sick of our kin from a poison of souls. We never meant to send our warriors into madness to protect the people. From their terror and insanity they raged and tore. I, alone, saw what they had become. It is my duty to unmake them as easily as I unmake poorly woven cloth. I, Palamanta, Mistress of Weaving, must shred their souls. This is my account of the dark days I live in the game of conquering races. This is my story and may the Mother Night protect any other from living them again or doing what I have done.?

Kiema breathed out slowly. It was Ewan who had wondered at the change from consumption to destruction. At that moment, the litany of elders came to mind, and she breathed out the name, "Palamanta Mistress of Unweaving."

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-08-29 18:20 EST
?Ooh,? Kiema rubbed the back of her neck. It was now sending her delicate pricks of pain from the harsh jerk of her head when she had nearly fallen asleep over the book and only a last moment jolted her into consciousness again. She sat curled up sideways in the chair and the book open and propped up on her lap. It was hard reading.

Mistress Palamanta had been precise in her methodology, describing the preparations needed and the contact required to destroy the Sedlaral. In the paragraphs and pages of leaning written text lay only hints to what Kiema had done; separated the Sed from its Laral. And Ewan?s type of recovery was naturally not mentioned at all. That would require Kiema?s own investigation.

She rested her head against the back of the chair and brushed aside a few stray strands of auburn hair. The book offered the answers she needed in one fashion, but it did not answer to her the most important one. It could never answer that question.

?Can I do it? Can I kill them all?? Her fingers traced the edges of the book as she asked the question of a long dead Changling. There was no answer from the book or anywhere in the small study in the Circelus archives.

In slow regretful motions she turned about on the chair to stand and closed the book. It stayed in hand as she left the subdued confines of the archives and stepped out of a side door into the bright warmth of the gardens. She began to walk its wild lengths of plant bordered pathways. Her thoughts ranged and rambled in echo of the ivies and climbers draping walls and trellises alike.

It was there Master Pearan found her just as the faint light of a setting sun cast fiery glow upon the eastern garden wall. ?Kiema,? he called into her thoughts and drew her to a stop, ?The King of Palendies has called upon the Circelus for answers. It is time for you to go.?

Kiema watched the man who had once told her the hardest thing to face was not the action itself but all the thoughts and decisions before it. She had known that truth from the moment it left his lips those years ago, but now it rang much clearer and louder in her head. The decision was yet to be made and she would have to face that hard choice.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2007-11-06 18:52 EST
Kiema felt the drag of weariness upon her body like a drum beat too slowly for a song. It was against its power to keep her behind that she returned to Rhydin via The Yran Gales. That great monster of the sea, a Man o? War, rarely ventured into the oceans of Rhydin, but Lord Keefe was aboard and in a fine temper all curled up on the presented pleasant face required of court. Kiema could feel him seething underneath that smile during the day and half journey, and wondered if she would have been better off arriving through the portal.

The commands of the Circelus and King Rhodri of Palendies made it her duty to return to Rhydin and find Ewan Corinsson, but that did not mean she had to press the matter, and upon arrival in at the docks of Rhydin city, she made a short stop at the inn to see what news was there and continued for a night?s rest at the Minstrel Guild Hall.

The Hall had not changed one bit since her leaving. With slow steps she ascended to the room and walked to the window. It had been so long since that night. She still did not know who had done it or why, but she could remember the sounds and the feelings. Fingertips rested upon the new glass windowpane as the shattering sound and sensation of falling swarmed up around her in a shrill note of memory too clear to face still.

Kiema turned swiftly from the window, drawing her hand away and cuddling it close as if it were cut. Dark brown eyes looked upon the unmarred flesh and she sat hard upon the edge of the bed. The clatter of wood to frame awakened her to the moment. Gently she tended to the needs of her vihuela and the small pan flute at her hip before, fully dressed, she lay down to sleep.

Tomorrow she would seek Ewan out and tell him what lay ahead. She let dreams start their plaintive melody in her mind while consciousness released its plaguing questions and concerns.

When she did find Ewan the next day, it was just by chance in crossing the Marketplace. She bade him well wishes for his marriage, and promptly added her apologies for not being able to attend. His manner had an extra spark in it. Here, in Rhydin, she could rarely sense the emotions of others except, from time to time, those she was close to would give off a spark with intense feelings. Ewan?s spark was so brightly green like his eyes that she almost flinched at the unaccustomed power of it in this land. He was happy.

He knew why she was here, and had been expecting the arrival. At a small caf?, they spoke of Palendies, the Circelus, and the Sedleral. ?I am told to destroy them, Ewan, but what does that make me? Am I to have a legend in the Circelus, Kiema the Unsinger of Souls??

?Unsinger?? Ewan smirked, ?I do not think that is a word.?

?Humor is not helpful, Ewan,? a dark turn of her eyes as she picked the edge of a scone.

?I do think it is. It is the one emotion you have not brought into play I should think while you beat yourself over this.?

?Ewan, they are a race of people-?

The smile faded from his face and the grace note of dry humor vanished, but in its place was the cool thrumming of determination voiced between them in silence but as potent as the howl of a lone wolf in the dark of night. ?They are a disease, Kiema. True, they have thought and feelings of their own, but they are nothing more than a plague that consumes the will and bodies of others for their own purpose. They are as much necromancers commanding the flesh of the dead as those that walk the streets of this town.?

Kiema sighed out her desperation to deny that truth. The King and Circelus had said as much as well. That she was one of the few that could press back against the suppression of her gifts, that she could tear away the soul of the Sedlaral and cast it into nothing had been why she was called to the council and now sent as their warrior into battle. A reluctant warrior was never more plainly written in the songs she sang than herself.

Ewan lightened his mood instantly and gave her an encouraging smile before he parted her company promising they would speak more on the matter in the Baroness?s company. Kiema would wait until then, and finished her breakfast. A bit of playing in the Marketplace might set her to rights and if she earned coin in the doing, then so much the better. Her turmoil could continue to duel as birds in the trees sing their song. The end was too clear to battle long.