The shadows rustled again, a furtive flickering burst of sound.
"Hello?"
Still no answer. What could put out a lightstick?
Lorrine shifted again, dagger in hand, trying to find some sort of balance. Barefoot, in a billowy robe, blind, untrained. . . could this situation get any more perilous?
The rustling shadows swept around her, fluttering at her with invisible wings. Lorrine shrieked and covered her head with her arms, feeling fragile little fluttery touches all along her arms and neck and face. They stung, like getting flicked lightly with a bunch of nettles. Then the cloud of shadows retreated, flapping back into the darkness, waiting.
Lorrine uncurled from her defensive position, trembling. Whatever that had been, she had no idea. She wished fiercely that Derfek were here with her. Despite his faults, the man had at least some mage talent, and he'd fought off a bandit attack once. That was far more than she could do for herself.
But Derfek was most definitely not here. He wasn't much more than a smear of soot on the desert floor. She squashed the twinge of conscience she still felt over the incident and made herself focus on the situation at hand.
Strange, fluttering shadows had snuffed out her lightstick and flown through her hair. Was she dreaming? Lorrine wondered for a moment, then realized she couldn't possibly be dreaming. No, she never dreamed things like rocks digging into her backside. This must be real.
So. Fluttering shadows. Well, they hadn't hurt her, just scared her pretty thoroughly. Now what?
Then the shadows swooped around her again. This time, Lorrine didn't scream, but she still trembled. Then, when the shadows swirled and flickered around her in a way that made them almost visible, a voice spoke.
You are not welcome here, Black Rose.
The voice sounded like a chorus of dozens of thready whispers, all speaking the same words in unison, but with an infinite amount of tiny variations in pitch and tone.
"Who are you?" Lorrine asked. Her voice wavered. "And why did you call me that? My name's—"
She stopped herself, barely, before naming herself to the supernatural entity. Everyone knew it was just plain dumb to give spirits and such your name, because that gave them power over you.
Are you not the Black Rose, who did such harm to our lovely Golden Lyrebird?
"What?"
An image formed in her mind then. Kama, blue eyes swimming with tears.
"What—you can't mean—how could you know anything about. . .? And besides, she can't sing."
Our Lyrebird is wounded, and it is because of your thorns, Black Rose. We should damage you in return, but our Lyrebird is the last of her kind, and we know how she values you. But our restraint comes at a price.
"What are you talking about? What price?"
If we let you leave this place intact, you will serve as our messenger, no? You will go to our Lyrebird and tell her of our presence. For surely ignorance is all that has kept her from releasing us. You will go, now. Go, and bring back our Lyrebird, to bring song and life back into these dank, empty halls. Go. Go!
Lorrine scrambled to her feet. The urgency of the shadows battered at her. She barely managed to gather up her belongings in her arms before she had to run, run, out of the blackness, away from the shadows, into the pale light of dawn.
When her bare feet hit the wet grass, Lorrine stopped her headlong flight. She panted, out of breath from the short but fast run, and looked around for a dry place to put her things down. She didn't find one.
So she dropped her awkward load anyway and dealt with it as swiftly as she could, while the sun rose, and birds sang, and a brisk breeze blew past her carrying the scents of early morning flowers. At least the rain had stopped.
She worked quickly. She put on her regular clothes, folded away the nightrobe and her bedroll, and sighed with relief as she shouldered her pack. The urgency within her didn't want to wait even one moment, let alone as long as it took to organize her pack again. But traveling cross country with bare feet and an armful of stuff was just ridiculous.
Finally ready, she looked around, wondering which way Eirian lay. Was Kama even still in Eirian? Probably. She didn't seem like the wandering type.
A faint, glimmering trace of gold lay along the ground when Lorrine looked south. She looked east, and the gold disappeared.
"Huh," she said, then settled her pack a bit better and started walking along the golden trace. It vanished before she stepped on it, always elusive, always leading her southward. The shadows might not have liked her much, but they certainly seemed helpful.
Lorrine walked all day, barely pausing to pee, eating as she strode along the golden path. Her feet found a rhythm and held to it, carrying her on into the night tirelessly. She walked, and walked, and walked, until she desperately wanted to stop. All day, all night, on into the next day, Lorrine walked. She felt her feet grow and burst blisters. She ran out of food. She tried her damnedest to lay down and take a break, but still she got up and walked.
Finally, the glowing path led her past a structure. A temple, she judged, based on the sheer amazing size and beauty of the place. She hadn't seen any human influence over the land around her in days. But this thing. . . well, maybe it wasn't man-made. Maybe it was Ancient-made. Nobody knew for absolute certain if the Ancients were human, or one of the elder races. Whatever, a human lived there now, that much was certain, because warm light shone through the open, inviting doorway, that offered some form of hope. Because surely, if there was a temple like this one, with a door and a priest, something could be done to stop her thrice-damned feet from walking. She'd even accept being tied up if it would let her rest.
The path led close enough to the open door that Lorrine managed to break away from it, like she did when she really had to pee and didn't want to do it out in the open. She staggered with the effort of fighting her own feet, which wanted to continue along the golden path. She made them behave and forced herself up the stairs to the open doorway.
Inside, a human figure knelt in front of a brightly lit altar.
"Hello? Can you help me?"
Lorrine stood, hands clenched into fists, keeping herself still and in the temple with an extreme effort of will. The kneeling person made a gesture of respect, bowed her head, then rose to greet Lorrine with a smile.
"Hello, and welcome to the house of Biao Tanu," the priestess said, then paused, blinking in sudden confusion as she took in the sight of a road-weary traveler standing in the entryway with clenched fists and desperate eyes. "Who laid this geas on you?"
"I don't know," Lorrine said, through gritted teeth. "Shadow-things. Help me, please! Tie me up, I don't care, just make it so I don't have to walk anymore!"
"No need to go to that extreme," the priestess assured her, then ruined it by adding, "I hope. Come, over here. I need you by the altar."
Lorrine fought her way to the altar, with the priestess's encouraging hand on her arm, helping her move farther away from the golden path.
"There. Now, here, we stand in the circle of my goddess's greatest influence on the public world. Can you kneel? Or is that asking too much?"
"I can try."
Lorrine fought herself down into a kneeling position, although with her weight off them, her feet twitched uncontrollably in a walking pattern. The priestess pressed down on her shoulders, helping her stay in place.
Lorrine tried to listen to the invocation of the goddess. She'd never heard of Biao Tanu, and had always been rather curious about other people's religions. Her parents had been opposed to all forms of religion. At least, the parents she'd known. If her blood father had religion, it wasn't something that had come out in her brief stay with the Dargasi. In fact, she'd never gotten a Dargasi to admit to any kind of religion at all. Did they have any? What would they think of the blasted shadows that had set her on the road with no regard for her health? Or her sanity, for that matter.
"Biao Tanu, hear me now," the priestess said, increasing her downwards press
ure as she felt Lorrine start to rise. "Biao Tanu, come to our aid. There is a supplicant before you, in dire need. . . "
The invocation and prayer continued until an amazing thing happened. The altar, a chunk of milky white quartz chiseled into a mostly rectangular shape, lit with a searing beam of white light.
"Hail, Biao Tanu! We welcome you, and ask your aid!"
Lorrine truly lost track of the words the priestess used then, although she did hear the woman's voice shouting something. White light engulfed her, burning away the shadows, causing and then relieving huge cramps in her legs. As the light faded away, she slumped forward, suddenly all but asleep as the compulsion faded from her legs.
She heard the priestess thanking the goddess, and mumbled her own thanks. Lack of knowledge of a particular goddess didn't excuse rudeness. Then the priestess prodded her into a mostly upright position.
"Come along, now. I'll put you up in our wayfarer's bed. But you have to help. You're far too big for me to carry."
Lorrine stumbled along, barely able to keep her eyes open, leaning heavily on the smallish priestess. But she made it to a bed. The wayfarer's bed. Nothing special, just a rush mattress on a leather lattice frame, but it looked like heaven. Lorrine fell into the bed and unconsciousness without even removing her boots.
Biao Tanu
Lorrine woke slowly. First she became aware of her bladder. It intruded into her dreams, making her realize that peeing in the dream didn't help. Then she started feeling her aching feet and legs. Then she recognized that she was dreaming, and if she didn't quit trying to pee in the dream, she was going to wet the bed. And she hadn't wet the bed since she was tiny. Oh, how her mother would beat her if she wet the bed now!
Lorrine woke fully with the sheer ridiculousness of that thought. And once awake, she realized that her bladder really was full, and if she didn't find a place to void it immediately, she was going to have a problem. So she got out of the bed and looked underneath it, heaving a huge sigh of relief when she saw a proper chamber pot. Whew. No peeing the bed for her!
Bladder empty, Lorrine looked around herself curiously. She could barely remember her arrival here. She remembered a huge temple that looked like an Ancient relic, and a priestess, and a whole lot of white light. But she had no clear memories, and no real notion of where she was now in the immense structure she remembered seeing. From the looks of the light spilling into the small, plain room from outside, it was late afternoon. She must have slept a tremendous long time.
Lorrine found her boots and put them on, wincing as they came in contact with the raw spots from blisters. She felt reasonably certain she hadn't been the one to take them off. Good thing that priestess was kind. Sleeping in one's boots was a miserable thing.
She ventured out of the room and found herself in a small, plain hallway that didn't match with her fuzzy recollection of the grandeur of the main temple. But that made sense. After all, many religious folk lived a simple, humble life.
She smelled food. Mouth watering, Lorrine followed the smell of the food through the hallway, past several doors, around three corners, and into a kitchen.
"Ah, perfect timing," the priestess said, as she lifted a big pot pie out of the oven on an ovenboard. "I was wondering when you'd wake."
"Thank you for helping me," Lorrine said. "I was beginning to think I'd die on the road, and my corpse would keep on walking."
"Entirely possible, with a geas of that strength," the priestess nodded. "I'm surprised. Normally I wouldn't help a Dargasi infidel, but normally a Dargasi infidel wouldn't be out and about, walking the outside lands with a hideously strong geas. Will you tell me what happened, while we wait for supper to cool?"
"Certainly, if you'll tell me why you think me an infidel. After all, we've only just met."
The priestess laughed. "Which reminds me. I am Adele. What's your name?"
"Lorrine. So? Why term me infidel, knowing as little of me as you do?"
"Easy enough answer. You are Dargasi. All Dargasi are infidels, for not a single one of you recognizes the power of Biao Tanu. Although you just might break that mold, as the power touched you directly."
"Believe me, Adele, I acknowledge the power of your goddess! She touched me in a way no other ever has, or most likely ever will. And I thank you once again for breaking the hold those damned shadows had over me."
"You are most welcome." Adele moved the pot pie from the counter to the sill of the open window. "Now. What happened? How did you come by that powerful geas?"
"It was the strangest coincidence I've ever experienced," Lorrine replied, finding a stool to perch on. "I was walking through a miserable storm, when I spotted a strange depression in the ground. It led to a door. I broke the door open, went inside, and made a sort of camp. While I was sleeping, these shadow things woke me up, and demanded that I take a message to. . . an old friend of mine."
Adele noticed the hesitation immediately. "Oh? These shadow beings knew about a friend of yours? What sort of friend?"
"Never mind about that. They called her the Golden Lyrebird, but I know they were talking about my friend Kama, from Eirian. They told me to go tell her about them. And they meant now. Right now. Not later, not at my convenience, now. So I began walking, and walked until I reached your door. I thought I was going to die."
"Very peculiar. I wonder what these shadows want with your friend. Is she a mage?"
"No," Lorrine shook her head. "Nor is she a singer, for all that they called her a Lyrebird. I have not the slightest idea what the connection is between the best damn needlewoman in the west and a bunch of crazed shadows from an underground tunnel."
"Very interesting. These shadows of yours are definitely old. The aura clinging to you had a feeling of great age. I wonder what they were? Underground, you said?"
"Yes. Behind a solid metal door."
"Truly interesting. Your story is nearly enough to make me go to Eirian myself, to dig about through the libraries, looking for mention of your ancient shadows."
"If you do, let me know what you find. I'd dearly love to know. Is that pie ready yet?"
The priestess laughed. "I could cut you a piece of it now, I suppose, but it would fall to pieces, and you'd most likely burn yourself trying to eat it."
"I don't care. I haven't eaten in days."
"Oh, you poor thing. I can't even hold your blood against you, not in the state you're in. Fine. It won't be pretty, but I'll carve out a portion for you now."
The pot pie was indeed too hot to eat, and it fell apart into a shapeless, runny blob, sprinkled with bits of crust. But Lorrine couldn't possibly care less. The thing smelled and tasted like heaven, although she did indeed manage to burn herself. But her stomach welcomed the arrival of hot, tasty food, and she ate more than she probably should have.
"Thank you," she said, much later, when she'd finished her second generous portion. "I need to repay you somehow. What can I do to help you out, and repay your kindness in caring for me?"
"I doubt you carry much cash to drop in my donation box," Adele said, with gentle humor. "I will ask you to help with chores, instead. You are young and strong, and may be able to do things I cannot. I am too old, for example, to cut my own wood. Winter approaches, and the village nearby lost its woodcutter to a vicious summer ailment that swept the countryside this annum."
"I can do that," Lorrine nodded, keeping her dismay to herself. She'd cut lots of wood for her mother. She hated it, but she certainly knew how to do it without destroying herself. And repaying a debt wasn't supposed to be playtime, after all.
So after her food settled a bit, Lorrine ventured outside, into the dying light of late evening. She found a meager woodpile, and a pile of sectioned logs. If somebody went to the trouble of sectioning the logs, why in all hells didn't they just finish the job? But they hadn't, so she found axe and wedge and got busy before the sun set.
It felt good using her upper body, after so much walking. Her legs still ached. How long had she
walked? And why, after a lifetime of having nothing to do with magic, why was she suddenly a target for forces beyond her control? A compulsion spell built into an amulet, wielded by an asshole. A powerful geas. What came next, getting shapechanged into a frog? She hoped not. After all, the chances of Kama finding and kissing a frog were vanishingly slim.
Lorrine laughed at herself as she positioned her next log, then realized she could barely see the thing. So she put away the tools and returned to the living quarters behind the temple.
She found a bathing room and made use of it, then went back to bed, all without seeing the priestess Adele. Presumably she had religious duties to attend to and couldn't spend all her time hovering around a guest. Too bad, Lorrine rather wanted to hear more about the goddess Biao Tanu.
She slept again, this time without dreams about her bladder. Rather, this time her conscience served up dreams of Kama in tears.
Lorrine woke right before dawn, tears in her own eyes. She'd been so rotten to Kama. How could she be so mean? She'd known how sensitive Kama was, how easily wounded. And she'd been outright cruel, because of her ridiculous fear and prejudice.
Lorrine rose and dressed. She still saw no sign of Adele, so she went back to the chopping block and started swinging the axe with vigor, trying to chop out her own inner pain.
Loving a woman certainly came nowhere near the worst thing in the world. She could think of lots of worse things, now. So why had she always believed it was the worst thing ever, that it was completely perverted to fall in love with a member of her own sex? Kama would never mistreat her the way Derfek had.
Maybe because she'd grown up in a strange little bubble, insulated from the rest of the world by her weird and opinionated mother. Malina had certainly had some very firm beliefs and opinions about propriety, and she'd pounded them into Lorrine with a fist of iron. Sometimes literally. And of course, her father had reinforced Malina's opinions about many things. He'd been born in Shandar, where everyone was as violently opposed to all things flit as the Dargasi were.
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