Quendalon/Session32FetekInterlude
The haze in his mind was starting to clear. Breath-of-Midnight looked about him, surveying the damage. He could remember losing his temper and it seemed that the forest had felt the brunt of his anger. He remembered crashing and tearing through the trees in many forms, looking for Zera Thisse. Trying to kill Zera Thisse, to rend him limb from limb.
“I am your friend. I thought you were mine…”
He remembered arrows flying. And pain, so much pain. He remembered rage. Mother Wolf had warned him after Exaltation, “Our natures are tied to Luna and to the creatures whose forms we take. Therefore, the instincts that most of Creation has suppressed run hot within us; close to the surface. Be wary of it, but remember that it is part of the Lady’s blessing.”
He remembered other things as well – an isolated cabin, many voices screaming, the scent of blood. These things he did not examine too closely. But, those thoughts were fragmentary and could easily be overlooked for the moment.
As he sat, these memories fluttering in his head, Fetek realized that he hurt all over. The nettle-sting where the arrows of Sixty-Seven Precious Venoms had pierced his flesh was intense, it was difficult to concentrate. In a moment, he drew forth the curative power of his war-form. As he watched, the wounds closed, but in each case there remained a violent, jaundiced bruise of yellow and purple streaked with putrefying green. And the agony, it remained as well. Fetek rose shakily to his feet, as much from alarm as from his injuries. The healing gifts of Luna had failed him.
In another moment, he shifted to stag-form and was bounding unsteadily through the wood. Zera had poisoned him; tried to kill him. Fetek didn’t feel safe in the trees, at least not in a shape that could be recognized. Now that he had lost track of the shadowy Night Caste, he could be anywhere. Watching; waiting.
“Maybe,” he thought, “maybe the old stories are right. Maybe they are monsters.” After all, this was not the first time that he had seen one of the Solars act as if they were demon-possessed for days on end. Perhaps the accusations of the Immaculates were not based only in fear and guilt for their ancestors’ actions. What Zera Thisse was obviously capable of in this state would be enough to strike terror into the hearts of mortal and Dragon-Blood alike.
* * * * *
Fetek ran out of the forest and over uneven, snow-covered fields until he came across a rough shrine. It was little more than a few stones piled one on top of the other; a place where any of the minor local gods could be addressed. Breath-of-Midnight halted and returned to man-form.
The chill wind reached out to ruffle Fetek’s green and brown hair. Ignoring it and the cold, he turned his attention to the cairn and reached out with his Essence, a sliver glow rising about him. He found hidden in the breeze, a small god. The god was adjunct, the No-Moon intuited, to the local Court of Storms. The young priest of Luna called out.
“Honored Wind-god, I would ask a boon!”
“Whhat do you ssseek, Lord?” came the soft, sibilant reply.
“I would ask that you relay a message to Thorwald of Stonehold who was Blessed Wind. He is not far from here,” wincing, Fetek gestured vaguely behind him.
“Blessssed Wind?” the god seemed suddenly more interested, “Thiss can be done. Hhow shhall I be compensssated?”
“Give me your name and I will offer incense and prayer to you at the Temple of the Lords of Storm in Great Forks,” proposed Breath-of-Midnight, “Your stature will be raised by both your actions as messenger and by the payment you receive.”
“Yesss, thiss is ssso…I am called Frossst Cracking Whhite,” the spirit coiled around itself in anticipation, its voice hissing like dead leaves.
“Tell the Pillar of the Sun that I will await him in Great Forks at the Temple of Hidden Letters. Tell him that Zera Thisse has proven himself dangerous and that he should prepare for treachery. Tell him that the Iron Wolf shot me with his poison bow and tried to murder me, and that he may be still at large in the forest.”
“Asss you wishhh,” And the wind god rushed away to seek out this ‘Thorwald’ who had once been Blessed Wind and then to brag to his colleagues of his new honors.
* * * * *
Breath-of-Midnight turned and soared up into the sky, his heart heavy. His old life in his village seemed so very far away. Everyone from that time was gone. And, while he thanked the Lady everyday for her gift, it was not always easy. Loyalty to the People was much admired, but individually – seclusion was prized. Then there was Amalion…
Now the friend he had hoped he had found in Zera Thisse was proven false, and he had the wounds to show it. But Luna, he repeated to himself once more, had chosen him because he could survive on his own; he was strong, he didn’t need anyone. As Fetek reached the expanse of the river he turned. Stiffly, painfully beating his wings, he headed west toward the City of Temples.
