Evening Star, Book 1-Spring Options

[Fiach]

I'm very sorry that I returning and disappearing education and life are very distracting :/
This is a fanfiction that I've been working on for a little while, and I hope you enjoy it, now that I've graduated I suddenly have amble free time on my hands, and my muse has returned

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The moons were red that evening, as if they were being bled dry.

Dalamus was crouching beside the door, his ear to the keyhole, his red eyes closed while he listened in on not just what was going on in the adjacent room, but what was around him. Sneaking and skulking about was not considered proper for a member of a noble house, even if that was pretty much the Telvanni family’s business model. Dalamus had to be careful; his attention was on what his father was saying in the other room, and he had been beaten for lesser things.

“And you’ve tried everything?”
“Everything in my power, your grace.”
That had to be Tolm, the finest healer in Tel Aruhn; and quite possibly the world.
“You’ve seen to his heart, liver, kidneys?”
“I’ve seen everything, checked and double checked. All are fine, his body appears to have just...given up.”
“What about poisons, have you checked for...”
“No toxins were detected in his blood” Tolm said firmly.

Dalamus heard the ring in his father’s voice as he continued the conversation and for a moment the young mage couldn’t identify what was in the man’s voice that made a chill run down his spine, as if he had just been pushed into a pool of ice cold water. His ignorance didn’t last long, as the emotion present stuck out like a broken nail. It was fear. His father was pleading with Tolm and Dalamus felt a cold dread in the pit of his stomach.

In his nineteen years he had never heard his father ask, beg or bargain for anything. In the seven years that his father was a Telvanni master, he could simply order for something, and it would be delivered expressly, often with an apology that it took less than an instant to acquire. Which was understandably of course, he had done much for the barren island, bringing in Western crops that had thrived in the volcanic enriched soil, making Tel Aruhn one of the few Telvanni settlements that didn’t suffer when slavery was outlawed, but instead prospered, making it one of the wealthiest towns in the province, people came from all over the empire to Tel Aruhn now, something that the Telvanni house was still getting used to.
But to hear the quaver in his father’s voice now, to see such a great man crushed by another’s mortality...no, it was too much.

Dalamus stepped up and brushed the dirt off his robes, turning to the bed where his brother lay.
This had once been their parent’s bedroom, wide and spacious, large enough for a servant to live in, but that wasn’t saying much. The candles by his brother’s bedside had melted down to tiny white stubs since he replaced them that morning and the fire at the end of the room had gone out. Dalamus stared at the cold hearth for an empty moment, deciding if it was worth the magicka to rekindle it, but gave up on the thought, sitting down on a small worn stool beside his brother.

Seren was five years younger, but at this point looked elderly, his ash coloured skin pale to the point that he could be mistaken for a human, his cheeks sunken and his red eyes (brighter then both moons at their peak, as his father once said) were now pushing out, as if ready to pop.

With a sad smile, Dalamus took the strip of cloth off his brother’s forehead and squeezed it, dipping in it a basin of rosewater placed beside the bed for that very purpose. It was strange, seeing his brother so tired, so weary. It was only a month ago that they were fighting, Dalamus was going out hunting with friends and Seren wanted to come and...Dalamus shook his head, as if to clear his mind from the thought. He wouldn’t cry, curse the heavens above for their situation, he was not weak. He was not like his father; he refused to be broken so easily.

“Sit tight little brother” Dalamus whispered gently.

“I have a plan”

The moons were red that evening, as if they were being bled dry.

[Fiach]

You won't have to wait long Zalphon...^^

Thanks Colonel, I'll admit, I've been reading a few faustian style fairytales so that I could nail the feel just right

And wow, nice in depth analysis Malx! I'm flattered that you took the time to go through it all, ridiculously impressed!

---

Seren was sitting at the end of a long table, it was his war room, maps scrawled in crude black ink showing enemy positions and numbers were draped over the wall, generals stood at their plans, some pondering, others bickering amongst themselves. Seren for the most part sat quietly; he was quickly losing interest in the scene before him, it was that brief moment before one realises that they are in a dream. Suddenly there was a man sitting beside him. Seren wondered how long he had been there, considered the possibility that he was always in the room and Seren simply didn’t noticed. Quicker then when the thought came to mind he dismissed it.
There was something...unsettling about the man, born under a bad sign as his father would have said. The man seemed more then mortal, but at the same time, less than one as well. Dressed in fine silks, he was wolfish slim, a hungry smile spread over his lips. He held a cane, the handle in the likeness of a monster’s head, its lips back in a motionless snarl. Seren repressed a shiver.

“You were lucky little mortal...I had almost thought he wouldn’t arrive...” the man seemed to be talking to Seren, but his attention seemed to be elsewhere, his red eyes appearing to be focused on something that was beyond the room that they were sitting in.
Seren bit his lip softly, he wasn’t used to this sensation, he felt like he was being ignored and it made a sharp rage fester in his stomach.

“Who are you?” he asked abruptly, giving the stranger a sharp glare, any fears ignored.

The man turned to look at him calmly, his red eyes looking straight through him, as if piercing his very thoughts.

“All in good time young blood, now click your heels and run away...you have a lot of work to do.”
Seren opened his mouth to say something else, but the stranger’s smile grew into a manic grin.

“Run away.”

Casually, the stranger moved his hand across Seren’s face, the backhand forming a sharp crack that ripped through the room around them. Seren stared back in shock, but the stranger had gone. The ground had dissolved beneath his feet and he was falling, his arms flailing to catch something, but there was nothing to grab onto.

---

Alveron Setso Indaryn was not used to this sensation, praying. He had learnt from a young age of the foolishness of the nine divines, the petty superstitions...but some people followed them, and in that belief there must surely be some power?

“Please...” he mumbled, his eyes on the face of his boy, his Seren, who could fired a crossbow into a dummy’s head before he could walk. Alveron didn’t sound sincere in his prayers, and he knew it. But begging was a new sensation, something that he hoped that these Gods that may or may not exist would appreciate.
It was in this moment of impossible bargaining, offering to salt and burn his fields just to see his son grow up and marry, he saw from the corner of his eye, a hint of movement. Sharply he closed his eyes, his thoughts for that moment, muted. It was impossible really, in fact, opening his eyes to look at his son would be considered a defeat, a weakness. He nearly considered getting up and stumbling out of the room with his hands over his eyes that he heard a voice that he thought long dead break the silence.

“Father...why are you crying?”

Alveron Setso Indaryn was not used to praying, or crying for the matter, and sure enough he brought his hands to his eyelids to wipe away a single glossy tear. Seren peeked out from the covers, the colour slowly returning to his skin, an alert sharpness returning to his gaze. There would be time for praise and analysis later, but now there was only one thing Alveron Indaryn could do, because in fact, it was the only thing he could think of doing, he called in a healer, and left to change into a clean set of robes.

---

Seren wasn’t sure what happened, the healer’s fusing over him distracting him too much for him to wonder why he was lying in bed and why his father had looked like he had seen a miracle take place before him. The last few days had been hazy; he remembered feeling ill, but apart from that...

“Where’s Dal?” Seren asked.

“Asleep in his study child.” The healer said kindly.

“You’ll see him after...”

---

Dalamus rowed softly back to the island, his heart beating loudly like a funeral drum. He knew that he should be happy, that he had obtained what he had came for...but there was something very demoralising about walking to one’s own death, he tried not to think how many heartbeats he had left, how many mouthfuls of air, but still the thoughts came to him, along with that feeling of dread.
He jumped out of the boat before it had fully hit the shore soaking his boots. Dalamus shrugged off the feeling with a cool indifference. The market vendors were not at their stalls, talking amongst themselves in a busy nature, he caught snatches of conversation, but found it difficult to focus.

“..did you hear?”

“..a miracle is what I heard.”

“Wait a while is what I think, you can never be sure with these diseases...”

Someone placed their hand on his arm. It was a member of the guard, Torvir, or Toryyg, Dalamus couldn’t remember which.
“Wondrous news milord, Lady Azura has brought your brother back from the brink of death.” The guard’s smile was infectious and Dalamus grinned back, although he felt sick to his stomach.
The guard’s brow furrowed.

“Why are you out here so early Master Dalamus? Surely you should be in your quarters...?”

---

Seren could hear a commotion outside, the healers said that he was ill for a very long time and had to stay put, but in reality he had never felt better. Brushing past them, he pushed himself out of bed, taking a few small steps to his window. Down below him he saw his brother, unmistakable in his robes, talking to some people. For a moment his gaze wandered upwards and their eyes met. Seren was just about to shout something when he caught a breathful of smoke; it was at that moment that their world caught fire.

This post has been edited by Fiach: Sep 4 2012, 07:32 PM