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The Fire's Heart- Chapter Ten

 

10-11-13 04:12 PM
Dragonlord Stephi is Offline
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More of Meagan the Valkyrie. Now that she's got three people to search for, she has no idea where to go or what to do, and the meeting of a strange woman who mysteriously appeared in the middle of Dryadales is not helping matters...

A Light, a Thief, and a Tale

The woman stood. The woods looked the same as they had before, so she wasn't hallucinating. She really had escaped. It was dark out, hours passing in what seemed to have been five minutes. She had passed out, it seemed. She coughed for a bit. Then the spasm left and silence fell.
With a panic, she realized she remembered absolutely nothing.
Heart pounding, a dim recollection came to her. Someone had whispered her name, taken it away, and replaced it with Marian. She couldn't remember for dear life who had done it- taking the name away and giving her a new one- or what the person looked like.
Marian started walking, and another name came to her. Nikolas. That made no sense. She looked down, saw the golden ring on her finger. Then it all came rushing back- Nikolas, Risus in the darkness, Cattallus going missing… Nikolas. “Niko!” she called. “Nikolas!”
No answer.
Marian twirled the ring nervously. She didn't want to yell any louder, but she still had no clue where Niko was. She bit her lip. If she called again, the enemy might hear. What then? Was the battle even over? Where was she anyway? She couldn't recall any woods on the same side of Mt. Victory as Alenn... Come to think of it, she couldn't see the mountain either.
Deciding to risk it, she called out again, “Nikolas?”
No answer.
“Cattallus?” If anyone knew where Niko was, it'd be her. The eight-year-old practically idolized him. “Catty?”
Where could they have gone? Surely she wasn't gone that long. “Very funny!” Marian yelled. “Come out now. Please!” She was pleading, and scared. Where were they?
A twig snapped. Marian whirled around and caught a glimpse of a walking figure heading in her direction. Cursing- we shan't repeat her words- she dove into the thicket as the figure came near. As she crouched in the shrubbery, she realized there was not just one, but three. They were ill at ease, she could tell, not because she understood the nonsensical language they were speaking, but because of the tones in their voices. Peeking through, she saw a midget, an elf, and a valkyrie who looked strangely familiar. Could it be..?
“Ascella!” cried Marian, jumping out. “Oh, thank goodness I found you, Ascella! Niko's gone, and I can't find Cattallus anywhere...” She stopped. Ascella's face was blank, confused, and she whispered something in the strange language.
“Ascella, surely you haven't forgotten me!” Marian exclaimed. “We went everywhere with Oterra. It's me, Marian, your best friend!”
Ascella frowned, but seemed to understand at least something. She pointed to Marian. “Marian?” she questioned, her voice highly accented. Marian didn't understand how. Why did Ascella no longer remember her native tongue?
“Yes!”
Ascella pointed to herself. “Ascella?”
“Well, yes.”
Ascella shook her head. No. She pointed to herself again. “Meagan,” she said. “Meagan.”
Excitement faded from Marian's face. “Oh. Meagan. I... I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” replied Meagan, clearly speaking in Marian's tongue. Marian stared at her. What....?
“Why did you switch languages?”
“No, you switched,” Meagan corrected. “I didn't do anything. I was always speaking the Common Tongue.”
Common Tongue? What in all the Victor’s speech is that? Ah, the Gate... Handy translator. So it does that too... “Sorry,” apologized Marian again. “Um... where am I?”
The elf scowled. “Don't play dumb!” she snapped. “How did you cross the border into Dryadales without alerting the entire Royal Guard?”
“Dryadales?” Marian muttered. Didn’t that place seal itself a couple of weeks ago after the siege? “How did I...?”
“That's what I'm asking you!” the elf raged.
“Don't be rude,” the midget said. “Cut her some slack.”
The elf said nothing. Marian ventured, “Where are you going?”
“To see Sarah Anderson and Logan,” replied the midget. “I'm Noah, and the unfriendly one over there is Requiem.”
“Requiem?” Marian studied the elf's face for a moment. “You... look like someone I know. Her name is Ariana. She’s Oterra’s little sister.”
Requiem shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Is it all right with you if I follow you to the border? I'm hopelessly lost,” Marian said.
“Sure,” Meagan answered. “Why not?”
“I can give you plenty of reasons 'why not!'” Requiem barked, but Noah elbowed her and she shut up.
Marian smiled. “I'm ever so grateful.”
Meagan nodded and started walking, letting Requiem lead the way. Requiem was silent, not speaking, and her brow was furrowed since she was in deep thought. How did you get in? You don't look like you're from around here... Who are you really, Marian?

Marian enjoyed talking to Noah. Since Requiem was suspicious and Meagan was silent, this made sense. Marian told Noah about her husband, Nikolas, and his younger sister, Cattallus. They had lived to the west of Regnum, in a large town by the base of Mt. Victory.
“I've never heard of that mountain,” Noah replied. He launched into a retelling of his mummification, and halfway through, Marian asked him a question.
“Do you have any family?”
“In Mgypt,” he answered, and the subject was quickly dropped.
Noah told Marian about Bella's disappearance and the journey to Dryadales. “That sounds terrible,” Marian responded sympathetically. “Losing someone... right after Niko and I got married, his sister got lost on the way down from the temple at the peak of the mountain. She was only six, I think. We spent the whole day looking, and Niko was near hysterics. She was safe, though. That was about two years ago.”
“So Cattallus is eight? How old are you?”
“Twenty-four; Niko's twenty-six.”
Requiem groaned loudly from the front of the line. “My word, I hate this!”
“What's wrong?” asked Meagan.
Requiem waved the map angrily. “We're lost, that's what's wrong!” she hissed.
“Some guide you are,” Noah retorted.
“Let me see,” Marian whispered.
“You've never been here before. How co-” Requiem stopped as Marian gently took the map from her fingers and studied it. She sighed. “Do you have any idea where we are?”
Marian shook her head and looked up, squinting. “I can't see any stars. Hold on.” Handing the map back to Requiem, Marian started climbing up the nearest tree.
“What is she doing?” Requiem asked.
After a couple of minutes, Marian came back down and returned to the map. “We're currently under the Tseuq's brightest star, Adlez. According to this map, that means we're right about... here.” She pointed.
Pride hurt, Requiem said nothing and glared.
Meagan inquired, “How far are we from their house, Requiem?”
“Just a few hours,” Requiem replied sullenly. “If we don't stop, that is. The border's another day's march west from there.”
“That's good!” Noah exclaimed. “I'm getting sick of all these trees.”
“Nothing wrong with trees,” muttered Requiem. They lapsed into silence, the only sound the crunching of leaves underfoot as they continued on their way. The moon, fat and dull, couldn't be seen through the trees, but some of its light managed to bleed through the dense canopy, leaving bars of solid white along the floor. There was no wind, and a sense of restlessness hung over the air. The night was cold and unwelcoming. Meagan shivered.
She looked over her shoulder and saw a strange, orange light dancing to and fro near her. Meagan reached out to touch it, but felt only air, for the peculiar light had scampered away. She frowned, and tried again. The light fled once more.
Meagan was beginning to get irked. She lunged for it again and again, running towards it and yelling, shouting until she was red in the face. Someone called out to her, but Meagan didn't hear. Her hands closed around the phantom flicker, and she cried, “Aha! I've got you, ya little rascal!”
The light winked out, plunging Meagan into darkness. Startled, she realized she had wandered deep into the woods, with barely enough light to see the hand in front of her face. A foreboding mist hung about the place, clinging to her legs and spreading every which way. Twisted shadows of tress hung about, looming menacingly, and the smell of rot covered everything. How did I get here? She turned, but couldn't see anybody. The mist crept closer, as if hemming her in.
“Guys?” she cried out, panicking. “Noah, Requiem, Marian?”
There was no reply. Meagan knew that when lost, the best thing to do was to stay put, so she sat down on a decomposing log and called again. Still no answer came, and she was tired, her eyelids drooping. Without any conscious effort, she fell asleep, sprawled on the leaves covering the decaying wood.

When she woke up, the sun was halfway up the sky. The mist was gone, leaving behind millions of beads of moisture to glisten in the sunlight. Meagan herself was damp and feeling incredibly stiff. Yawning, she stretched and looked around. No familiar souls. Sighing, she turned to look forward and yelped at a furry face in front of her.
The creature was roughly the size of a dog, with small, beady eyes and was covered in fur. It stood on its hind legs, grinning. At least, Meagan hoped it was a grin. Its teeth were pearly and white, looking like a young child's molars.
“Hello there,” Meagan said. “What are you?” She reached out, and when the creature made no reaction, she petted its head.
“Jae,” it said. “Jaegarjaegerjoo.”
What on earth, thought Meagan.
“Jaegerjae,” repeated the creature. Then its furry paws snapped out, grabbed hold of the necklace, and tore it from Meagan's neck. “Jaegarjaegerjaegarjoo,”it purred, holding the necklace close to its chest.
Immediately, the door shut in Meagan was flung open, flooding her with ecstasty. She felt complete for the first time since she had donned that piece of jewelry. She was tempted to let the creature keep it when she remembered the danger. Or was there any? Hadn't Ayana crossed the threshold back in the hospital? She seemed fine...
In any case, it was hers, and that alone was a reason the weird animal couldn't have it. “Give it back!” Meagan demanded, holding out her hand expectantly.
“Jaegarjaegar,” it hissed, and blew a raspberry. Then it bounded off.
“Hey!” yelled Meagan. “Stop that, you little thief!”
“Jaegarjaegar,” it screamed, still running. Meagan stood and pounded after it. Crashing through vines, branches, and brush, Meagan was relentless, but the animal was fast. She lost sight of it after a few minutes but kept following its trail, which was fairly obvious.
Soon she came to a clearing with a cottage plopped in its center. Smoke drifted out of the chimney in puffs of round gray, and a neatly-stacked woodpile leaned against its side. Two trees, one of apples and one of cherries, were planted and bearing fruit a few yards in front of the quaint little home. Behind the trees was a garden.
Meagan stepped into the clearing, looking around. The creature was sitting in the branches of the apple tree, nibbling at a core. Meagan ran towards it, her goal dangling in its left paw. Noticing the enraged valkyrie, the furball yelped, threw the core at her, and dashed into the cottage, slamming the door shut. Meagan sprinted to it, but as she neared it, she heard the soft click of a lock.
Irate, Meagan drew her sword, preparing to slice the door down if necessary. Getting ready to swing, Meagan envisioned herself storming in, reclaiming her necklace, and then... making that bratty clump of gray pay.
“Excuse me, who are you?”
Meagan turned to see an elven woman holding tomatoes in her arms. She had long blonde hair and wore a simple dress and apron, and she was not very happy. Behind her, a tall feyish male carrying chopped wood on one shoulder stared at her quizzically. His hair was short and the color of straw, and his eyes were golden.
“I'm Meagan,” she said. “Do you live here?”
The two nodded.
“Well, some goblin with fur stole something of mine and is hiding out in your house!” Meagan fumed.
The woman sighed. “Oh dear. That must be Caleb.”
Meagan frowned. “Who's Caleb?”
“Our pet. He's a jaeger.”
The man added, “I'm Logan, the Carpenter, and this is my assistant, Sarah Anderson. She's the sculptress. Caleb likes bright things. I'm sorry he took your...”
“Necklace,” finished Meagan.
“Right. Well, I'll just unlock the door and we'll go in to get it.” Logan fumbled in his pocket for a key.
“Do you live nearby?” asked Sarah. “I've only seen elves all my life. I didn't know any valkyries were still in Dryadales.”
“There aren't any. I'm from Regnum,” Meagan replied. “I'm lucky they let me in the country. It seems they haven't done that for over 500 years.”
“501,” Sarah said. “In two months, it will be 501.”
Logan disappeared into the house and returned with a squirming Caleb in his arms. “Give the necklace back,” he ordered.
“Nos!” moaned Caleb. “I no wants, jaeger!'
“Give it back,” said Sarah, “or you don't get any dessert.”
“Okay,” sniffed the jaeger, and handed it to Meagan. “That pretty, jaeger. I wants.”
“He talks?” asked Meagan, wide-eyed with surprise. She accepted the necklace and fastened it, feeling the invisible door close once more. The urge to rip it off was worse, but Meagan forced herself to leave it be.
“Of course I talks,” Caleb said. “I justs as talky as you.”
“Okay...” Meagan turned to Logan. “Thanks for helping me get this back. Um... you're Logan the Carpenter, you said?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“We've been looking for you- Noah, Requiem, and me. I don't know where they are, though. I lost them.”
“I sniffs them out!” Caleb exclaimed. “I's good at the trackings and the sniffings.”
“I can't possibly ask you to-”
“Jaeger, I's do it to apologizes for the stealings,” Caleb interrupted, and shrugged. “Theys elves?”
“One. The other's a midget, and then there's Marian. I think she's a wizard, but I'm not really sure.”
“I's wills smells out the midget,” Caleb declared. “I's brings them backs here.” Then he was off, leaving Meagan with Logan and Sarah.
“That Caleb,” sighed Sarah. “He'll probably be gone a while.”
“Well, I'd best be off too,” Logan excused himself. “There's some stuff I've got to take care of in the workshop.”
“Why don't you come inside? I'll make some tea, and you can tell us why you came all this way.”
“Thank you so much,” Meagan smiled. “You're very kind.”
Sarah waved her hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it, dear,” she replied. “It's not often we get visitors. Feel welcome to stay the night too, should you have to.”
They walked in, Meagan feeling very... relieved. Soon she'd be back with the group.
The inside of the cottage had a living room complete with hearth and several couches, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a workshop, all separated by thick oak doors. It was a rather spacious place, seeming lived-in and comfortable.
Sarah instructed Meagan to sit on a couch, then hurried out to the garden to pick herbs for the tea. While she was gone, Meagan noticed the shelf over the hearth, completely covered in little wooden carvings and sculptures. There were dragons, horses, elves, trees... her favorite was of a kneeled figure with wings, proffering a scroll to a grim-faced king. It reminded her of Vesper's words only... was it yesterday, or the day before? She wasn't sure. Valkyries are winged messengers of the sky...
...Not that the sky has any messages lately, thought Meagan with an ounce of humor.
Sarah came back in minutes later with two steaming cups of tea. She gave one to Meagan, then sat down and sipped at the other. Meagan asked, “Did you carve those sculptures?”
Sarah nodded. “All of them. I also do some detail on Logan's work- only the intricate things; he can handle the big stuff on his own.”
Meagan smiled, and pointed to her favorite. “I really like that one,” she said. “Is there a story behind it?”
“Yes.” Sarah put the tea down on the coffee table in front of her. “Let me see... it goes something like this...”

Years upon years upon years ago, before the mass exodus of the continent Htam, when the elven empire was strong, and peace ruled along with fallen fey, there was a king who had a terrible predicament. “I have such important messages to give, but they are so long and difficult to memorize that they get all garbled up. And what to do with the amazing poems my minstrels have composed? They are here today and forgotten tomorrow, fleeting bits of poetry that is gone like chaff in the wind...”
His messengers, the Valkyries, felt as if they had failed him somehow. They muttered among themselves, “If only we were more capable, better at memorizing, then he wouldn't be upset.” One of them, a young girl very wise for her years, pored over the problem every night.
“The moon and sun have pictures,” said she, “and so does everything else. We are able to create likenesses of anything we see... why not words?” So she took a strip of parchment used for drawing and worked and worked, and the next day she showed the king her creation. “This is for all the peoples,” she told him, “ a gift for all to use. They are pictures of words- writing.”

“So the sculpture is of the valkyrie showing him writing for the first time?” Meagan asked.
“Yes. The original valkryie alphabet, it is said, had over 10,000 runes with 3,000 spelling and grammar rules. It's a good thing they shortened it, huh?” Sarah asked. “The Common Tongue nowadays has only about 100 runes and far less rules...”
Meagan smiled. “I heard this story before. I liked how she said, 'We are able to create likenesses of anything we see... why not words?'”
“Why not, indeed,” Sarah mused.
“It's too bad no one remembers her name,” Meagan continued. “Imagine doing such a marvelous thing for the world and then being forgotten... it's sad.”
“It's just a myth,” Sarah said. “It didn't really happen.”
“Well, then where did writing come from?”
“Beats me,” Sarah shrugged. “Every culture has a different version. Either everyone needs to get their facts straight or we have a major problem of someone making things up.”
“Not necessarily,” Meagan quipped.
“It's a fairytale, Meagan. If you were born an elf, you'd believe the version we learned- that an elf came up with writing, not a valkyrie. Or if you were a dwarf, you'd believe in the Stonecarver of Poems,” Sarah sighed. “What you believe is based on where you’re born.”
Meagan said nothing. Is it really a fairytale? She wondered. I still wonder... what would it be like to do something so monumental... and have your memory blown away, like chaff in the wind...?
It was dark when Caleb returned. “Jaegerjaeger,” he mumbled as he lumbered into the house. “I's sniffs everywhere, but I's no finds them, jaeger. Mistress Valkyrie, Mistress Sarah, angrys, jaeger?”
“No, we're not angry,” Meagan answered half-heartily. I was such an idiot! Of course you don't go and follow every single light you see in front of you...
“Jaeger,” Caleb said, “but you sad.”
Meagan nodded. “I guess. I don't really know what to do now.”
“Well, it's late,” Logan said. “I think you should go to bed and fill us in tomorrow.”
“All right,” Meagan sighed. “I just hope... they're okay.”

“Why didn't you warn her?!” yelled Noah.
“I'm sorry!” Requiem shouted back. “I forgot! Practically everybody knows what a werelight and will-o-the-wisp is anyway!”
“Well, excuse me, princess!” Noah retorted. “I'm sorry to question Her Royal Highness's decision not to inform Meagan of such delicate matters!”
“Shut up,” snapped Requiem.
“You shut up!” Noah snapped back, then sighed. “What do we do now? We've spent all night looking for her.”
“We could ask the werelight where she went,” Requiem said dryly.
“Right. Like it'd tell us.”
Marian frowned. “What do you plan to do now?”
“You should give up,” a voice behind them advised. “It's all useless, you know.”
Requiem screamed in surprise and whirled around. “Who said that, you stalker?!”
“I did,” sighed the voice, wearily. It belonged to a pale, ethereal-looking boy with mousy brown hair and dark hazel eyes protected by shiny glasses. He wore a simple white cotton shirt, brown linen breeches, and knee-high boots. An eagle’s feather hung on a strand of leather around his neck. He looked like a farmer's son from about 500 years ago. In any case, he definitely wasn't an elf.
“Who are you?” asked Noah.
“I'm Tristan, the obambo,” he whispered.
Color drained from Requiem's face. “You're... you're... you're...” she stammered, “a ghost...”
“That's what an obambo is,” replied Tristan. “A homeless ghost, with nothing to do but wander for ages and all eternity until it finds where it died and can finally stop existing.” He sighed again. “I hate this.”
Marian stepped closer. “You honestly... do not remember where you died?”
Tristan stared at her, then darted his eyes away from her unnerving gaze. “No. I have no clue.”
“How sad. What about... your life?”
“No.”
“I... I wish I was in your place,” she said bitterly. “I wish I remembered nothing at all.”
Tristan said nothing.
“In any case,” Requiem said, “Tristan, have you seen a valkyrie?”
A puzzled look came over his face as he thought. “...Yes. She chased a werelight until she fell asleep. I thought it was funny.”
Noah bolted right up to the obambo's face. “Where?”
“I'll show you,” Tristan said. “She probably isn't there anymore, you know. It'll be useless.”
“Are you always this depressed?” Noah asked incredulously.
“Unless I’m dancing. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Nah.” Noah shrugged. “It's not my business.”
“Well, come on,” Tristan said. “This way.”
“Look at our jolly band,” Requiem muttered as they continued. “It just keeps changing, doesn't it? We should just tie ourselves together to keep us from getting lost and not let anyone else get on board.” She made the sign to avert evil and glared at Tristan and Marian. By the sound of things, she was very cross.
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Wow, that is very neat.  I'll have to challenge you one of these days.

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JediDeath : Challenge me? How so? But thanks for the response! I'm glad you liked it!
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Dragonlord Stephi : Why must you pass me? But still your writing is great, I told you about publishing your things, but did I tell you about sites like Authorsden and Teen Ink?
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zanderlex : Pass you in what? But thank you! And you haven't told me of those publishing houses, but of CreativeSpace.com. I plan to finish the series before I publish, so I'll see what I'll eventually end up with. 
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Dragonlord Stephi : You keep passing me on the leaderboard, do you hate me? On authirsden, you post stories and other members read them. its the same on teen ink. there is no submission restrictions aside for a few on authrlorsden.
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zanderlex : Oh, for TdV? No, I don't hate you. I just have an overwhelming desire to redeem Team 14.
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Ok . Good writing as usual Nice introduction of new characters Good job over all . You get an a plus times infinity
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Mr. Zed : Thank you!
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Great writing, as expected. Also, I want a Jager now...But I'll need to dirty up all shiny things I have so it doesn't take them first.
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A user of this : Everyone wants a talking pet, hmm? I was actually inspired by Gurgi from the Black Cauldron. 
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