Vedek

Vedek and Frost returned to the festivities. A group of hunters had arranged an archery contest. None could strike a bullseye. Vedek’s pride clashed with his paranoia with whether he should enter to demonstrate his ability. One of the castle’s servants found him. Fellior wanted the three guests of honor to be properly cleaned and dressed. Vedek would not object to a hot bath, a concept Frost found strange and was ultimately not comfortable with.

Due to the broadness of his shoulders, there was nothing in the wardrobe that Frost could wear. Not that Frost wanted to wear dress clothes, as it would restrict his ability to shift. The servants faced similar problems dressing Azeroth. They thought that, because he came from a warrior race, he could dress in armor. Elven bodies and Orc bodies are proportioned different and Azeroth kept complaining of pinching and stiffness. They settled on a half-plate set that was a gift from coatlmade smiths. To complete the look, Azeroth willingly tied back his mopish hair and shaved the bristly stubble that caked his jawline. He looked older, professional, but also like something out of a tapestry on orcish wars. Azeroth himself had mixed emotions on the look.

Vedek was the easiest of the three for the servants. The only snag came when he was asked if he wanted his beard shaved. Facial hair was reserved for elder elden fae, and never seen on reigning nobles. The exception was Fellior, but it was expected that he would not cop to Fae’Riam customs. Most Elden didn’t even grow facial hair until their midlife, which Vedek was. The yellow hairs of his unkempt beard were barely a centimeter in length and darker than the hair on his head. Vedek didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. The beard masked his high cheekbones and would draw attention from his purple eyes. He ultimately requested that it only be trimmed.

Night came sooner than expected. Vedek reunited with his companions. Frost shook himself, trying to be rid of the lingering dampness from the bath. They were met by Odile, Onakie, and Fellior. Odile looked the part of a princess in her cactus green dress. Her long hair was tied into a complicated crown centered with the silver broach. Onakie wore ceremonial Keeper’s armor the color of dark leather and polished to a mirror shine. She also wore a special helmet that recreated her missing horn. Fellior wore a green robe to match his daughter. The silver crown of Sráid seemed light on his head.

“Copying my appearance?” Fellior remarked while rubbing his own goatee.

Vedek didn’t respond. He was still nervous about the decision to leave his face uncovered. Joined by a squadron of guards, the group descended through the keep to the throne room where the feast reserved for Sráid’s upper class was being held. Other citizens ate in the courtyard. First Onakie entered to make a final check that the area was secure, then Fellior, who introduced the remaining four starting with his daughter. The room was rocked with cheers when Odile was presented. This was the first time many in Sráid had visual confirmation that their Princess had returned. Vedek thought about the wine maiden talking about how the city had been starved for any sign of good news this last month. Odile kept her face pleasant, curtsying to the crowd before taking her seat beside her father.

Next Fellior introduced the three heroes. Frost practically bounded forward when his name was called. The audience reciprocated his enthusiasm. Azeroth looked at the crowd very little when he was introduced. He seemed conscious of his posture, avoiding the forward hunch he normally walked with. There was less cheering for Azeroth. Light applause out of respect, but just as many whispers to match it. Vedek felt for Azeroth and the anxiety he must feel being paraded before a people that had centuries of conflict with his race. Per his request, Vedek was introduced last. Fellior used the fake name Bréag, but tacked on the last name of Mac Siar, which meant “Western Child.” Perhaps Fellior was implying that the character of Bréag was native to Athshin to avoid any suspicion. It was more than any amount of back story Vedek had considered for his persona. Vedek bowed to the cheering crowd. He didn’t feel nervous. He had been watched by crowds his whole life. Though this was one of the few times people had cheered for what he had done, rather than for who he was.

“I will not deny the difficulties we have faced this last month-” Fellior began once the guests of honor were seated and the room had quieted. “The attacks we faced took too many from us, and our relationship to many city states hang on a thread. There was a moment when it looked like fate was pulling our fortune downward. I feel I can say this because we all were thinking it. The Ruaidrí have always been known for our honesty.”

Fellior bit his bottom lip. A dour atmosphere took the room. Vedek saw many in attendance nod. Frost was confused where the earlier positivity had gone. When Fellior spoke again, his eyes flashed fire and confidence.

“—And because of that you know that I speak honestly when I say we were kept from the brink by the strength of our people. The veterans who protected us each day, the farmers that rebuilt and aided one another, the miners who worked twice as hard to compensate for the demands of the ones who took my daughter in the night, and, of course, the clergy of our three pantheons who kept the faith and spirits high.”

With each group named the audience broke from their somber silence to cheer. Fellior made sure to project loud enough that his speech could be heard by those in the courtyard, the very people he was addressing.

“I will also give praise to Ambassador Kelmin. He went beyond the duties of an ambassador and much of Sráid still stands for it.” Kelmin was stationed in the middle of a table of courtiers and other representatives. He made a gesture of thanks to Fellior, but the whooping cheers from the soldiers and keep guards brought him to his feet to properly bow.

Odile covered her mouth with her hands so no one could see her displeasure at Kelmin being so honored. Vedek leaned to her, whispering quickly before the cheering ended, “Have you told your father yet?”

Odile didn’t shift from her glare, but she did nod. “He says we can address the matter tomorrow.”

Vedek leaned back in his seat. Many of the citizens outside were presenting patches of cloth bearing the symbol of the Order of Suffering. So did an alarming number of guards. Kelmin’s smile was proud, but also self-satisfied. He did not look at the king’s table.

Fellior’s speech touched on more people than just Kelmin. People who donated food to the feast, people who took in the orphans of soldiers, people who took it upon themselves to look for the Princess. When he concluded there was a final round of cheers before a sextet of musicians started to play and a parade of servants delivered the food for the evening. The main course for the king’s table was a large jackalope that had been in preparation since the early hours of dawn. The creature was nearly the size of Odile and presented with the antlers still attached. Frost gaped at the meal, having never seen a rabbit of that size before.

The hall rippled with conversation and music. Once they were through the main course, people broke from their tables to mingle and dance. Frost excused himself early to seek the tecuani brothers. Vedek did the same when people approached the table to speak to him about his life and adventures. He worked his way through the crowds to the courtyard where the atmosphere was more spirited. People danced in the light of a bonfire in the center of the courtyard. Their shadows flickered on the castle walls set to the backdrop of the setting sun. A tuatha woman grabbed his hand and pulled him into the fray. She had very long black hair that many times fell on her face as she danced. She didn’t say anything to Vedek, only laughter. Vedek was passed from her to an elden woman older than himself. Her eyes were candle yellow. Vedek matched her slower pace so she wouldn’t exhaust herself. Partway through the song her smile faded the more she looked at Vedek. Specifically, the more she looked at his eyes. He quickly broke off from her and moved to the shadows cast by the walls.

He saw Azeroth leaning against a barrel. He was alone watching the dancers. His foot tapped unevenly to the rhythm. Near him was a collection of four elf women in different colored dresses, each with a glass of wine. They were giggling amongst themselves while watching Azeroth. At first Vedek thought them callous until he heard the content of their conversation

“He’s quite...muscular, isn’t he? Doesn’t look anything like in the books...I bet he could lift me over his head if he wanted. I might just let him,” spoke the shortest of the four. She wore an orange dress and playfully twirled her blond hair around her finger.

“Do you think it's true what they say about orc men? How they’re...y’know…” said the only girl with an empty wineglass.

“Ah, the women of their race were the ones given all the gifts when it comes to that. They can have a baby with anyone. The men can only breed with their kin.” The tallest woman turned her nose up at the discussion, but still gasped when Azeroth idly flexed.

“The baby part isn’t what I’m after.” Chuckled the one in the orange dress.

“He was washing himself earlier. Right here in the castle limits. I saw everything.” This was said by a woman in a white dress. Vedek recognized her as one of the workers in the castle kitchens.

Vedek heard enough. He went to Azeroth and placed his elbow on the other side of the barrel he was leaning on. “You’re quite popular.”

Azeroth scratched his nose. He never once acknowledged the giggling women behind him. “It’s not new. Either I’m a danger or a fetish. I’m not interested in being either. The donzo will think what they think.”

Vedek frowned. “What does donzo mean?”

Azeroth put his eyes to the courtyard walls. The archers Ross and Brosh were stationed and watching him. “It’s an orc word, for a very specific kind of non-orc.”

“Am I a donzo?” Vedek asked.

Azeroth ran his fingers through his hair. His mouth twisted for a few seconds. “You’re alright.”

It was such a plain statement, but it made Vedek smile. He patted Azeroth’s exposed shoulder. “Watch after yourself. The night hasn’t ended yet.” For Azeroth, that almost read as an ominous threat, but he nodded all the same.

Vedek returned inside. The sun was gone and the white moon emerged. On a cloudless night like this, the conditions were right to see the second moon of Domhanda. The black moon cracked with white that belonged to the glowworm goddess Kutoja. The cracked moon was always present in the sky, but seeing it this clearly was an omen for Elves. Vedek and many others stopped to acknowledge its presence.

The singer of the band called the crowd’s attention. “I wouldn’t worry about Kutoja. Look how far the sky is clear for. It must be visible for leagues in any direction. That’s someone else’s bad luck!”

The crowd laughed. To bolster their spirits further, the singer lead them in a rendition of Two Mines of Silver. A ballad about the settling of Sráid and the legacy of Agvind Ruaidrí. Vedek didn’t find the song as inviting as the locals. It was once used as a protest anthem among dissidents in Fae’Riam.

“Are you enjoying how the exiled half celebrates?” Fellior had emerged from the crowd, a glass of wine in each hand. Vedek took the offered glass. They returned to the king’s table, where Odile and Onakie still were. Odile spoke to a circle of elden girls who looked to her like she was the smartest person in the world.

“I don’t think it's too dissimilar to how the homeland half celebrates. Perhaps I would encourage a different choice of song.” Vedek turned a side-eye to the singer, now in the crescendo of the ballad where three thousand tuatha and fae voluntarily join Agvind in traveling to the place of his exile. Fellior made a short laugh. The two men drank their wine while thinking of the next topic of conversation.

“I used to be jealous of you.” Fellior admitted. He ran his thumb around the rim of his glass. “Used to be. I was a king at two hundred and fifty-eight, while you were still a prince at three hundred and seventy-nine. I hated that. Contrary to what all young nobles wish, becoming king when you are young and unprepared does little for your sense of self.”

“I can imagine. It was Winter’s Soul that took your father, right?” That was a disease unique to beings of Faehome that sapped the body of strength and mass marked by breath as cold as blizzard winds. Fellior nodded. His mouth twinged slightly with regret. He looked to Odile. She was yawning into her hand.

“If it's any consolation. I used to be jealous of you because you inherited your throne first,” Vedek confessed. “You had surpassed me, and nothing made that more apparent than that summit a century ago. I thought I had the advantage because I was the prince of an empire, but you held your ground as the king of a city.”

“A city and three towns.” Fellior dryly corrected. “Now we sit here, older men, both of us kings.” He held up his hand to stop Vedek from responding. “You were dethroned, but that does not change that you are the rightful king. I have made some inquiries about Fae’Riam, particularly the capital. It was not without sacrifice, divine magic rarely is.”

Vedek folded his mouth tight. He looked to their surroundings. Many guests were finishing the last dregs from their cups or lingering for one more song. Those that remained were ingrained in their own mild conversations. As far as he could tell, none were watching him and Fellior. As if to calm Vedek’s nerves and keep an appearance of casualness, Fellior took the closest wine bottle and filled their glasses. They toasted briefly before Fellior spoke again.

“It seems that there is knowledge that you have left, but it is only known by very few. The kinds of people with regular access to the Electrum Keep. The story I was told was not that you were usurped, but that you were taken.”

“Taken?” Vedek tried to keep his reaction calm. Speaking too harshly would draw eyes.

“By Archmare” Fellior spoke into his glass. Vedek grimaced as his pulse quickened. He attempted to speak, but thought better of it. “Taken, possibly killed, but it is unknown. What is known is that on the night of the Autumn Equinox, mare shadows invaded the Electrum Keep seeking the sons of Slevelisk. The younger son Zexven was spared through the actions of the guards, but the elder son, the King, was snatched through a portal after his Keeper was killed. Zexven has not taken the throne, but he is the de facto leader. The news of what happened is being contained, but my source believes it will not be long before a formal proclamation is made.”

As he spoke Fellior watched Vedek’s reactions very carefully. In a way, Vedek was comforted by this. Not by the content of the information, but by the fact he was finally learning any amount of what had happened since that night.Fellior’s eyes looked like ice. “You did not mention demon fae when you described your usurpation to me.”

“It is bad luck to acknowledge the Archmare.” Vedek meekly whispered. “Most of that story is true. Mare did attack the castle, but they were working with my brother. Zexven had struck a deal with them. It was in the confusion that he attacked me. I survived through my Keeper’s sacrifice. I did not tell you because...I think it was because I couldn’t believe it. When I think back to that night, the solid shadows that moved without host, they don’t seem real. I must have dreamed it. Even if you are an exile, you must know the stories of the Archmare and what they’re capable of.”

Even speaking now Vedek felt dread on his spine and tightness in his chest. It was Fellior’s turn to check for eavesdroppers. Odile was hanging on Onakie’s arm, fighting to stay awake as last-minute well-wishers came to her.

“You were afraid. And it was in your fear that you fled to Athshin where the Archmare would have limited influence.”

Vedek could deny none of that. Fellior shook his head. “Superstitions of the homeland. I am not sure what to believe. The prospect of Archmare attacking the heart of Fae’Riam is frightening, and the current ruler being complicit in it is even more so. Yet, you have denied me the full truth once. If I keep my word to give you aid I make myself the target of much more than a usurper prince. And you knew that.”

Fellior’s words cut deep. Vedek couldn’t respond. He gritted his teeth in shame. Fellior was stewing over whether he was to continue speaking or wait for Vedek to defend himself. A third choice was made for him when the tall shadow of Onakie darkened their section of the table.

“My King, the Princess is barely holding on to the waking world. She insists her father be the one to set her in bed.” Odile rubbed her eyes. The only thing keeping her standing was a loose grip on Onakie’s arm. In this moment, it was easy to forget how she could speak on par with her elders. It was a reminder of how young she truly was.

Fellior switched attitude from serious king to loving father. He brushed his daughter’s hair and spoke soft words in Sylvan. “Does the little bird need her nest?”

He confirmed that he would take her and that they should wait for him in the hall beyond this. He turned back to Vedek. He could not return to the cold tone he had been speaking with prior. After a sigh he said: “We both need the night to think this over. We shall talk tomorrow. One of the many things I must address tomorrow.”

He looked past Vedek to the courtiers’ table. Kelmin was standing in a circle of elves, speaking grandly about the future of the Order of Suffering once Ghetsis claimed Spiral City.

Vedek did not object. He would remain here to have another glass of wine. Perhaps he would find Frost and Azeroth so that he may confess everything. It was clear half-truths had only damaged his relationship to the one person in Athshin he could speak as himself to. He watched Kelmin. Should Fellior decide Vedek was not worthy of his aid could he still find an ally with the Order of Suffering? Kelmin was a shifty sort, but there was still Zam in Ramuf and the swordsman from Shish. Had Vedek judged them too harshly?

Fellior made a small declaration to the crowd that he was retiring his daughter and would return shortly. Many raised their glasses to him and Odile, but not Kelmin. Kelmin nervously rubbed his chin. He didn’t take his eyes away from King Fellior until he was gone from the throne room.

Vedek’s isolation at the head table was short-lived. Frost and Azeroth emerged from the crowd. Frost stumbled as he walked. The fur around his mouth was wine dampened, as were several spots on his chest. Azeroth marched past Vedek with all the determination of a hunter on a game trail, his eyes set on the exit Fellior had just taken. Vedek was perplexed and asked Frost what was the matter.

“Azeroth thinks that there is…” the wecher swayed. He pointed to Azeroth, hoping seeing the orc would conjure the words to his drunken mind. “He feels that there is danger. Believes it enough to follow the Princess.”

Azeroth left the throne room and Vedek swiftly followed. He didn’t believe that there was a danger, but he knew that Azeroth was convinced. He noticed many guards watching Azeroth pursue the King. Walking quickly, Vedek reached Azeroth just as he reached Fellior, Onakie, and Odile. They were in a candle-lit hallway that led to a spiral staircase to the upper levels of the keep. Fellior paused when he had seen Azeroth approach. His confusion was compounded by Vedek and Frost arriving as well.

“Don’t tell me all of you wish to see my daughter put to bed.” Fellior crossed his arms. Behind him, Odile yawned.

“Safety in numbers.” Azeroth said.

“Safety from what?” Onakie arched her brows. Fellior scowled at Vedek. There was reason for him to be suspicious after their conversation about the Mare.

"Not sure. Might be nothing.” Azeroth shrugged, but then added very seriously: “Am I allowed to worry about your daughter?”

Fellior laughed both at Azeroth’s boldness and his sincerity. “I like you. Anyone so concerned for my daughter has my trust, but you may want to make your tone less dire. Do you take the arrival of the Cracked Moon so seriously?”

“Why, is that bad?” Azeroth asked. That response at least made Fellior and Onakie pause.

The six of them ascended the spiral staircase. Frost was mumbling to himself about wanting to sleep outside tonight, but none in the group acknowledged him. The staircase exited into one of the Keep sitting rooms. It was the same room Fellior and Kelmin held their conversations in. No lights were lit here, but the double doors to the balcony was wide open, giving tremendous view to the two moons hung in the sky like ethereal ornaments on a blank canvas.

Frost broke from the group, mesmerized by the sight. “Beautiful. My people don’t fear the second moon. The memory of the First Life tells us that there have been many moons. All aspects of Domhanda. Have you ever seen the aurora of the two moons? Few have. I wish one day-”

His voice trailed off. He had reached the center of the room. The rest of the group was proceeding along the wall to the hallway that would lead to Odile’s room. When Frost paused, the others took notice. The wecher spun in place sniffing the air with vigor. His face was wracked with confusion. At first Vedek thought it just more drunken antics, until Frost spoke again.

“I smell the tecuani…”

Unable to find the scent’s source, Frost finally looked upwards. The rest followed his gaze. They had only a moment to register the two men clinging to the ceiling, watching them with eyes that glinted in the night.

Someone opened their mouth to shout. Maybe it was Azeroth or Onakie. One of the figures threw down a black ball the size of an orange that exploded in foul smelling black smoke that engulfed the room. Vedek pressed his back to the wall. He choked on his own breath. The smoke burned, forcing his eyes shut. Blindly, he fumbled for the obsidian knife on his belt. Several heavy impacts could be heard. Some from bodies being struck, others from furniture being tossed or destroyed. Animalistic snarls rang in his ears. When he heard Odile scream he forced his eyes open. He had to adapt to the smoke if he was going to help. The smoke was still thick in the air, but he could make out a few shapes, namely four large bodies wrestling amongst each other. Two of those bodies had a faint glow about them.

Three balls of light manifested. Fellior’s doing. He held Odile behind him. The pair were sidling along the wall to the nearest exit. The light gave some illumination, but wisps of heavy smoke still clouded much of the room. Chamela and Cuixmala looked much different to how Vedek had met them this afternoon. In their shifted states they were broader in all directions. The pattern of their fur was bolder, and they now had long tails that swished at their heels. The glow didn’t seem to be a part of their shifting. It was almost like luminescent paint that they were marked with. Both their hands and feet were illuminated, as was a pattern on their faces and a thick stripe down their backs.

Chamela was thrashing with a shifted Frost on the ground, both making the inhuman noises Vedek had heard. Chamela managed to throw Frost off of him onto an end table, which shattered into a dozen pieces. In the light Vedek could see the glint of Chamela’s unsheathed claws.

Cuixmala didn’t have his claws out. Instead he held two obsidian knives, with a bandoleer of more crossing his chest. He stabbed threateningly at the air between himself and Onakie and Azeroth. Onakie had her large shield equipped. It seemed in the initial ambush Cuixmala had cut the strap to her sword’s sheath and it was lost amongst the destroyed furniture. Azeroth was bleeding down the side of his body exposed by his armor.

This calm lasted only a second. With the path revealed Fellior encouraged his daughter to flee for any exit. It was difficult for her to move quickly in her dress. Cuixmala whipped one of his daggers past Onakie. He didn’t aim for the princess, but her father. The dagger cut Fellior’s shoulder, causing him to flinch and lose focus on his spell. The light vanished and the blind carnage resumed.

Vedek rushed along the wall to support Fellior. He crashed into something large and fur covered. He didn’t think twice. He stabbed his knife as deep as it would go. A jaguar’s roar shook his body. The tecuani retreated, taking the embedded knife with him, but when Vedek reached out he could not find Fellior.

The smoke was dissipating. Frost was still where he landed. Onakie was searching for Odile. Chamela was lifting a limp Fellior by his chest and running for the balcony. Onakie tried to pursue, but she was attacked by Cuixmala. His daggers raked her less armored backside. It was Azeroth who was able to break from the melee to chase the elder tecuani.

Vedek felt he couldn’t breath. Chamela reached the balcony unimpeded. With a mighty thrust he threw the body of Fellior across the outlook and into the empty air beyond. Vedek’s jaw dropped. Chamela stepped aside so that Azeroth could run onto the balcony. The orc still thought he could make it, his arm extended to catch the falling king.

He was too late.

Chamela laughed. It was cold and spiteful. He went to his brother. Onakie rounded on the two, an inferno of hatred in her eyes. The tecuani did not linger. Cuixmala made a symbol with his hand and the two faded into trails of smoke that wisped through the balcony door and into the night sky.

For a beat, the room was utterly without sound. Then, faintly through the windows, they heard an impact followed by a chorus of screams. Vedek found his footing. Trance-like, he approached the balcony doors. Azeroth was still there, locked in place with his arm extended. Vedek could only focus on the sound of his own breathing, but then he turned his ears to the screams below.

“That was the King!”

“See that orc? I think he threw Fellior off the balcony!”

“Gather the guards. Get Kelmin!”

It was enough to make Vedek heart hammer harder.

“Azeroth…” he whispered, “you need to get off the balcony.”

Azeroth’s body started to obey him again. He followed Vedek’s instruction. His arms collapsed limply to his sides. His eyes and mouth hung open. “I couldn’t stop it…”

Frost picked himself up from the rubble. He unshifted and pulled free several splinters of table shrapnel from his backside. “What happened? Did...they can’t have…”

He blinked at the balcony doors, absorbed in the sounds of panic.

Onakie was just as stunned as the rest of them. She dropped her shield and removed her helm. She turned away from the balcony, towards the door to the hall. Azeroth, Frost, and Vedek did the same. Odile was framed in the doorway. She had dropped to her knees. Her hands covered her mouth to suppress the sobs quaking her small body. Her electric blue eyes watered with tears. It was in those eyes that Vedek could see her world crumbling.