Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[minque]

Ohhh dear...withdrawal symptomps...could be so painful. Athlain surely pay his price here, but ir's just necessary, he's got to get out of it, his addiction. But poor kid!

Let's hope the ghost will aid him in his struggle, after all Athynae loves him I'm so sure.

Most intriguing update, really can't wait to see how the meeting between those two turns out

[treydog]

It was then that I knew for a certainty that my mind was truly gone. Athynae, of all people, could not be here. She was lost- lost to me, anyway- for all that she was safe at home in Ald’ruhn. When I had left my life and my name behind, I had resigned myself to never seeing her again. The only comfort I took from that knowledge was that she would not discover the depths to which I had sunk. She would be sad for a while, no doubt, but her last memory of me would be untarnished by the reality of what I had become. So… this must be another hallucination, a dream that sprang from my addled mind. I would turn around, and there would be no one there. I would turn around, my heart and my mind in conflict. I would turn around, pitting logic against hope. I would turn around, and face the disarray of the cabin and the ruin of my life. But I would face it alone. A lifetime passed between one breath and the next. And then I turned.

A quiet voice, a bit breathless and with a hint of humor, said:

“It would probably work better if you opened your eyes.”

It was Athynae. She was real, and she was there, not five feet away from me, looking like a creature of the Aether in the midst of the wreckage. I could find no words; my heart was too full. She stood there, and it was as though every good thing in the world had entered that door with her- family, home, love. My weary eyes drank in the sight of her, and the skooma-thirst that had burned within me momentarily abated. She looked much as when I had last seen her the day after the party- slender, athletic, and altogether beautiful. Her violet eyes seemed shadowed with anxiety, but her smile lit the room. I took in the white armor she wore, and the katana hilt that rose over her right shoulder, and I understood that the path which brought her to me had not been straight or easy. Still the silence stretched as we stared at one another, until I finally broke it with a mind-numbing inanity:

“You’re here.”

With those two words, I proved once and forever that my sister Mae had been correct- I would make an absolute hash out of things when I encountered an elven princess.

But Athynae did not seem to care. She threw herself across the space between us and grabbed me in an embrace that was anything but ethereal. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she held me tightly and her words came in a rush:

“I was so worried. You got sent off to Fort Frostmoth, and I didn’t have a chance to see you. And then your letters stopped, and I was afraid you had met someone else. But you stopped writing to Aunt Baria, too. So I sent a letter to the Legion, but nobody knew anything. The only thing to do was come and find you myself.”

She finally relaxed her fierce grip just a bit and leaned her head back to look at me. There were questions in her eyes, questions I knew I would have to answer. But for now, it was enough that she was here, in my arms. She backed up a pace and dried her tears, then resumed her story in a slightly more coherent fashion:

“I stopped at Fort Frostmoth first. They weren’t even worried about you- just said you were ‘on assignment’ for Severia Gratius, and that you would come back when it was done. Well, that nice young trooper Saenus seemed a little concerned, but he wouldn’t say why.”

My heart lurched at the thought of my Athynae alone amongst the dregs of the Legion at Fort Frostmoth. It was no place for a young woman. And then my brain caught up with my ears and I felt a stab of jealousy- “nice young trooper Saenus” was it? I started to launch into a withering lecture on how foolish she had been to come here unaccompanied, how dangerous Solstheim was, how frantic Serene and Athyn must be…. And then I closed my mouth, leaving the words unspoken. The hypocrisy would have choked me. I was in no position to condemn anyone for foolishness, for leaving their family to go out into the wide world. At least she had left home for a purpose greater than herself; out of concern for someone else, rather than out of boredom. And there was something more, a realization that brought with it an infinite sadness- seeing that slender girl bearing a sword on her back should have been faintly ridiculous- but it was not. The katana seemed a part of her, as if it had always been there and I had just never noticed it before. Meanwhile, she continued:

“But Saenus wouldn’t tell me anything- said it ‘wasn’t his place,’ and that I should talk to the Captain. And Captain Carius wasn’t there- he had to go to the mainland for something. I got tired of waiting and went to Thirsk- that’s the Nord village up north. Mama has friends there. Anyway, I got Brynjolfr to make me this armor from snow wolf furs. It’s a lot warmer than chitin or glass would be.”

As always seemed to happen, Athynae’s rush of words and sudden changes of direction left me dizzy. I had a feeling she had left some important information out of her rapid-fire narrative; for example, I had noticed a slight catch in her voice when she mentioned Serene’s friends at Thirsk. Somehow I doubted that her parents had approved this unaccompanied trip into the wilderness. I also noticed that she made no mention of how she had gotten the fur for the armor- and I knew that you couldn’t just buy it. But before I could raise that issue, Athynae had a question of her own:

“Speaking of armor, what happened to your Legion uniform? I didn’t see it anywhere in the cabin when I cleaned up.”

The way she crossed her arms and the look in her eyes when she mentioned her housekeeping efforts told me that was a topic that she planned to come back to- probably in the very near future. Meanwhile, she tilted her head inquiringly and asked,

“Well?”

A full answer to that question would lead to other questions, many of which I was not ready to have raised. Therefore, I decided to respond literally- to the letter of the question, rather than the intent. With a vague gesture to the south, I mumbled:

“My uniform, it’s…. I left it… back there. I resigned.”

There was a long silence, which I rushed to fill:

“I left a note….”

Athynae gave me a look of exasperated affection.

“You left a note. How thoughtful. What did you say- ‘Dear Emperor Septim, I quit. Respectfully, Athlain’?”
She shook her head. “You always did have an overdeveloped sense of the dramatic.”

This from the girl who had seen every performance of The Terror of Castle Xyr when the traveling company came to Ald’ruhn. And who had then insisted on going to Balmora to see it again. For just a moment, I was back in school, where we had argued endlessly with one another about everything. But the illusion was fleeting- we were neither one of us in school any longer, and my problems were not the problems of childhood. Whatever we might have once meant to each other, whatever future we might have had, my failures had destroyed for all time. My initial surprise at seeing Athynae had passed; so too, my clouded thinking. And, just to add emphasis, I felt a familiar cramping of my midsection. Whatever she had experienced in her search for me, I could not let her see this; she could not see the addiction overcome me. I knew what I must do, and steeled myself for the task. I looked into her smiling eyes and said,

“Athynae, you shouldn’t be here.”

[Olen]

I like.

The last part was good, I liked the addiction sequence. On its own it seemed a little too disjointed (I realise this was deliberate and like the effect it achieved of moments of togetherness fading in and out of memory) but once tacked onto the longer part it works very well. Also its a good introduction for Athynae, there's some back story there to come out which has me hooked. You've also introduced her as changed from earlier, I'm interested to see how much and how her greater knowledge of the island will affect their relationship.

“Athynae, you shouldn’t be here.”

Ooooh... I think sums that up.

This post has been edited by Olen: Sep 25 2009, 08:22 PM

[mplantinga]

We're so accustomed to knights-in-shining-armor rescuing the damsel-in-distress; it's really refreshing to see the damsel-in-shining-armor rescuing the poor-sod-in-distress. I hope this marks a very positive turning point for Athlain.

[treydog]

Without a word, Athynae ducked back out the door. I closed my eyes and cursed myself for my clumsiness. Why was it that I could speak with anyone from a Redoran Councilor to a nomad guar-herder with ease and confidence, but I always said the wrong thing to this girl? Although I had meant what I said, I had not intended for her to go immediately back out into the cold. She could have stayed for a short time- an hour, perhaps two- maybe even until the next day. And I would have managed an explanation, preferably one that did not involve drug-addiction, as to why she needed to leave, rather than a rude dismissal. As I looked for a solid surface against which to bang my head, my bout of self-loathing and self-pity was interrupted as Athynae pushed back through the door, bearing a massive pack and a silver longbow. She eased her burden to the floor and took up the conversation again, apparently misunderstanding my meaning:

“Well of course not, silly. You can’t stay here, either. I only have enough food for a few days; then we will have to go somewhere else. I think Thirsk would probably be best. Don’t stand there gawping; help me hang some blankets to make a curtain so I have a place to sleep.”

She was staying! That was wonderful- no, that was terrible. This was not working; I had not made myself clear. I ruthlessly stamped on the thrill I felt at her nearness, and moved to where she was sorting through her pack. When she turned with a stack of clothing, I grasped her shoulders and made sure she was looking at me. I spoke slowly, as if to a child,

“No. You should not be here. You cannot stay with me. You have to leave. There are reasons, good reasons. Listen, Athynae, I….”

That was as far as I got before she shook off my hands, dropped what she held, and shouted,

“No, you listen! I don’t want to hear about your ‘reasons.’ I don’t want to hear what a terrible person you are and how you’re only trying to protect me! I have had people ‘protecting me’ all my life and I’m sick of it!”

Her eyes flashed fire as she stared at my face as if daring me to speak. Even if I had been foolish enough to try, I was too stunned. I had never seen Athynae in this mood before, and I dimly realized that she possessed a strength, a…dangerousness… whose depths I could not calculate. She shook her head and looked around the cabin before turning that burning gaze back to me. She spoke in a low, angry voice,

“I know, Athlain. All right? I know about the moon-sugar. I found it when I cleaned this place up, and I got rid of it. I dumped it in the sea, every last speck. I know enough of alchemy to recognize what you were doing, and I know enough about healing to recognize that you’re addicted. And I am not leaving until you are cured.”

Her eyes lost their fury and she lifted a tentative hand and touched my cheek,

“Let me help you. Please? If I left you like this, I could never face your family again.”

Of course she knew; I should have realized that the drug had not just magically disappeared. And of course she would want to heal me- she was Serene’s daughter, after all. I stumbled to a bench and sat down heavily. Unable to face Athynae, I put my head in my hands and sobbed.

“I have been so lonely and ashamed. I’ve let everyone down. All because of Carnius Magius and his accursed ‘tea’.”

The thought of the man who had enslaved me was a flash of lightning through my fogged brain. I sat up and muttered,

“No more. I can make sure he pays for what he has done to me.”

I looked to the corner where I had dropped my mace when I took over the cabin, and stumbled toward it. Athynae placed a restraining hand on my arm and pulled me back to the bench, saying,

“I knew it had to be something like that, that someone must have tricked you; you would never take the drug willingly. But please wait. First, because you are not strong enough- in your condition, you probably wouldn’t survive the trip to the fort. And besides that, there may be a better way.” The smile that came to her face would have given a Daedroth nightmares. She continued, “He’s a money-man, yes?”

At my nod, she sat down beside me and took my hand:

“Once, when Mama was talking about the Hlaalu and all that business with the Caldera Mine, she told me- ‘The way to hurt them is to take their money. They don’t value life, but they love making money.’ So that’s how you deal with this Carnius- find a way to take his money. And if you can find a legal way to do it, so much the better. You can only kill him once, and then it’s over. But if you beat him financially, he’ll have to live with that forever.”

I reminded myself- again- to never really provoke Athynae. I knew from growing up with two sisters that girls were far more devious than boys ever thought of being. But this plan was absolute vengeful genius. I nodded my enthusiastic agreement and then doubled over as a spasm racked my whole body. I felt Athynae’s arms around me and gasped,

“Gods, I think I’m dying. Wish we had had more time. Love you—sorry I never said before…. Hold me, please.”

The next thing I felt was the back of my head thumping against the bench as she dropped me.

[minque]

I'm honoured by the presence of Athynae in this story, I truly am. She's a special young woman and you picture her so vivid and her personality is just so right!

I just hope she will be aiding Athlain through his recovery from his addiction, and that the wicked captain gets what he deserves.

Your description of the agony and pain Athlain feels when he suffers from withdrawal symptoms are so "on the spot"

So now I sit here eagerly waiting for more



(and hopefully come up with some writing myself)

[Captain Hammer]

Ah, dropping the 'L-bomb.' Gotta appreciate how she drops him right as he says it. Goes to show why some of us are always apprehensive about using it.

[treydog]

Athynae put her hands on her hips and gave me a critical look.

“Oh, grow up. You aren’t dying.” She sniffed disdainfully and muttered, “As if I would let that happen anyway.”

I was so surprised that I nearly forgot the pain that cramped my belly. I was never going to understand this girl. She came all this way to “save” me, and then dropped me on my head. If she planned on becoming a healer like her mother, her bedside manner definitely needed work. Still, given my previous disastrous attempts at conversation, I decided that silence was my greatest ally. She looked me over clinically and continued in a brisk, detached tone:

“So it’s your stomach, right? Lift up your shirt. Oh, don’t look at me like that- Mama says that direct contact is best for healing spells- you wouldn’t bandage your greaves if you had a leg wound, would you?”

I meekly obeyed and she pushed up her sleeves and flexed her hands. As she prepared herself, my eyes fell on the bracer that she wore on her left forearm- the bracer I had given her all those months ago, before things went to pieces. She took in several deep breaths, and her face seemed to change, to become far older and more majestic and yet hauntingly familiar. Her hands began to glow the blue of the dawn sky and she placed them on my stomach. I had been healed before- like any active child on Vvardenfell, I had experienced bumps, bruises, knocks on the head and even broken bones. So the sensation of mingled warmth and cold radiating through me was nothing new. But Athynae’s touch was different. There was an intimacy to it, a sharing, that I had never felt before. It was at once thrilling and disturbing, and my body reacted in a way that made me glad I was wearing heavy trousers. The sensation passed and Athynae lifted her hands and stood slowly. Her face was her own again, although drawn and streaked with perspiration. I recognized the signs- it had been a difficult healing. She sat wearily and drained a flask of water, then shuddered as if taken by a sudden chill. She was silent for some minutes, then finally looked at me and asked,

“How do you feel?”

I felt alive, invigorated, intoxicated. I felt better than I had in years- as though I could race from Ald’ruhn to Suran without stopping. I wanted to pick Athynae up and whirl her around the room. What I said was somewhat more subdued; perhaps if I stuck to polite civility, I would manage not to put a foot wrong. Again.

“I feel much better. I think I am completely well now. Thank you.”

Athynae frowned thoughtfully and stoppered the water bottle. Unable to completely contain my energy, I stood up and stretched luxuriantly, trying out the little smile that usually worked on Mother. Athynae appeared to be immune to it; she nodded her head once, as if coming to a decision, and replied,

“That’s good. Because….”

She rose lithely to her feet and with the same motion threw a punch that started somewhere around the floor and ended on my chin. It was no girlish swat- it was a serious blow with plenty of muscle behind it. I flew backwards and crashed to the floor, watching stars burst behind my eyes. When my vision came back into focus, I saw Athynae standing over me, her face pale with anger.

“Just tell me how you could be such an idiot. Explain to me how it is you managed to survive on Solstheim for two minutes when you also managed to forget that you know the greatest healer in all of Morrowind. Enlighten me as to why you thought Mama wouldn’t help you and wouldn’t keep your confidences if she did. I could understand you joining the Legion, although you might have at least told me about it first. But this… this….”

She searched for words sufficient to convey her assessment of my monumental stupidity as I huddled on the floor at her feet and contemplated the idea that I should always wear armor in the presence of the women in my life. Unfortunately, I knew of no way to armor my heart. Nor did I want to. Her rapid breathing turned into sobs as she continued,

“Whatever possessed you to think you should just run off into the wilderness, as if you had no friends, no family… no one who loves you?”

She dropped to her knees and cradled my aching head in her arms, whispering the words of a healing spell that took away the pain her punch had inflicted. She bent her head to mine, and the salt of our tears mingled as we kissed. Fireworks burst behind my eyes again and I reached up to hold her close. What might have happened next, I do not know, for the soporific effect of the fire combined with the exhaustion that follows a major healing spell overcame us both and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Some unknown time later, a nightmare came stealing and I-

Found myself standing alone in a snowy clearing. Broken clouds alternately covered and uncovered the full moon and the wind carried the voices of wolves howling their hunting calls. I heard the soft pad of paws amongst the trees, and a deep, throaty howl sounded close behind me. But when I turned to face the source, there was nothing there. There came another howl, from a different place. Every time I turned to look, I saw nothing but shadows. The sounds and shadows seemed to be all around me, except to the north. There, through a break in the trees, a path gleamed in the dappled moonlight. I cautiously stepped that way, eyes straining to discern if it was really a way out, or simply a trap. I saw nothing, and the pack fell silent. I took another step, and another, and I was on the forest path. I turned once more to look behind me and perceived the hunched shapes that had crept into the clearing. Just at the edge of the trees, I sensed rather than saw movement- a darker shadow against the dark trees. It walked like a man, but was far taller, and seemed to have antlers on its head. Hands rose to hidden lips and a howl louder than any before shattered the night and shook the limbs overhead. I felt as though I was being driven by a high wind, and broke into a panicked run. The pack took up the call, and I ran faster, coming to a stop at last against a cliff of ice. The first wolf leapt, and I felt its jaws close on the arm I threw up to block. The antlered figure rose behind the wolves and called my name.

“Athlain! Athlain, wake up! You were having a bad dream.”

Athynae’s voice called me back and I struggled up out of the depths of sleep. She loosed her grip on my arm and her concerned gaze sharpened.

“Your eyes,” she murmured, “that’s odd.”

“What about my eyes?”

She did not answer, but frowned with concentration and firmly grasped my head, turning it back and forth like a housewife examining a doubtful melon in the market. She at last relinquished her grip and shrugged.

“It was probably just a trick of the light. They’re bloodshot, which is no surprise. A little more rest and a compress of bittergreen leaves will fix that.”

Her words were dismissive, but there was something in her tone that sounded almost like—fear. Before I could frame a question, her gaze moved to a point behind me and it looked for all the world as if she was listening to a voice only she could hear. She frowned and shook her head, then rose to her feet and spoke briskly.

“But that will have to wait. It’s morning, and I’ve changed my mind. We should start for Thirsk as soon as we can finish packing.”

I responded carefully, watching her hands in case I needed to duck or dodge.

“Could we eat something first? It has been some time since I really enjoyed a meal…. And I’m sure the healing took a lot out of you, as well.”

She considered my appeal and relented slightly- “I suppose we can have breakfast first, but after that, I don’t see any reason to stay here any longer.”

I could think of several, but the memory of getting knocked to the floor the previous night was fresh in my mind, so I wisely said nothing.

[Olen]

This is a joy to read. You introduce Athynae quite effectively, its also nice to see a strong female character in TES fanfic (or fantasy in general). The story progresses very smoothly. That dream sounds distinctly ominous and is a nice hook. You must have these fairly well planned before you write them?

As far as criticism goes... You use adverbs quite heavily which is mostly fine though sometimes a better verb might negate the requirement for the adverb. Just a thought, and to be frank looking from something to say as there's not much wrong.

Good stuff.

[minque]

Yessss Yesss....this is really going to be most intriguing! Thyna is after all the first born child of Serene and Athyn Sarethi. She has to be strong, and wise, and also quite stubborn!

I just love the interactions between Athlain and her, who knows what all this is gonna lead to? I'm curious to learn more...yummy!

Oh it's about time you get a

S.G.M

[mplantinga]

Well, Mr. Treydog, I've been reading your work for a long time, and I've come to expect great things from you. This installment caught me by surprise. It was, perhaps, the most impressive bit of writing of yours that I've ever read, and that's saying something. You managed to combine your incredible powers of description with a depth of emotion that nearly had me in tears. In case I haven't said it enough times in the last few years, THANK YOU so much for sharing your skills and giving us this story.

[treydog]

We dined on scuttle and the last of the kwama eggs ‘Thyna had brought from home. The return of my sense of taste was a welcome change from the stolid eating I had done previously- and the company certainly had something to do with that. I did not even mind when she insisted that I clean up the cabin, a task she summed up with the comment that:

“We should leave it in a fit state for habitation by people, not a family of bristle-backs.”

Even so, it was still early when we turned north, and I was glad to leave the cabin behind me- my few clear memories of it were less than pleasant. More to the point, departing the workshop meant staying with Athynae, and I could think of no brighter prospect. The chill brought color to her cheeks and her breath frosted the air. She was altogether the most beautiful sight I had ever beheld. We moved quickly and with little conversation for the first fifteen minutes or so, and the silence was companionable. But my brain refused to be quiet or satisfied with things as they were. It kept producing difficult questions, most of which I would rather remained unvoiced. Unfortunately, an artifact of my Imperial heritage was a certain degree of verbosity…. To say it another way, I had a big mouth.

There were things I wanted to say, questions I wanted to ask- but I was more than a bit afraid of the answers. I wanted to ask her why she had come looking for me, what exactly she had meant when she accused me of “running from the people who loved me,” what she had seen in my eyes that morning- and whether whatever it was had prompted her to change her plans and decide to leave immediately. Or whether that decision was brought about by what had- or had not- happened the night before. And then there was my proven history of babbling inanities and non-sequiturs whenever I was around her…. Given that we were on Solstheim, perhaps it would be better if I followed the apocryphal Nord tradition and rapped her smartly on the skull and threw her over my shoulder. The only problem with that plan was that I would more likely find myself stretched out again, and probably skinned into the bargain. The fact that she would heal me afterwards was small consolation. And still, my traitor tongue could not be silent:

“Ummm- so anyway, I just wanted to be sure that you knew that nothing happened last night. Well, I don’t exactly mean ‘nothing’—after all, you healed me and I truly appreciate that. And, and- we, err- kissed each other, which was wonderful, too. But, what I mean is, ah, ummm, … I, that is we… you know….”

In the theater of your mind, your words are always perfectly scripted, and your fellow player cooperates by picking up her cues. In the real world, I stumbled to a verbal and physical halt and stole a glance at her from the corner of my eye. She stopped walking and turned to face me squarely, raised an inquiring eyebrow, and gravely said,

“Was there something you wanted to ask?”

The gesture and tone were so reminiscent of my mother that I nearly choked. Fortunately, I managed to keep the comparison to myself. But she was looking at me, waiting for a response, and even though the sight of her drove every coherent thought out of my head, I had to say something. From a wide array of available topics what I managed was:

“Why did you think it was necessary to hit me?”

I looked forlornly at the vapor of my question as it condensed before me, wishing that I could draw it back in, or scrub it out of existence, or that it at least did not sound as much like a whine as I suspected it did.
Athynae’s mouth curved upward in a smile, and I gave silent thanks that she was amused rather than offended. She answered my question with one of her own:

“You know Mama spent some time with the Ahemmusa Ashlanders?”

I had no idea where this was going, but had learned that she usually had a point, no matter how circuitous might be her route. Therefore I nodded encouragingly. She went on:

“Well, the Ahemmusa are guar-herders, and Mama noticed that they all carry these heavy wooden staves. She assumed they were to defend against predators that might attack the herds and asked the wise-woman. The wise-woman explained it this way- ‘Guar are very intelligent when they want to be, but they are also very stubborn. You can train a guar to do almost anything, but first you have to get its attention.’”

Athynae then smacked me lightly on the back of the head and added,

“I figured the same technique should work with you.”

She raced away from me and added laughingly over her shoulder, “After all, you’re almost as smart as a guar!”

I had no hope of catching her in a foot-race; even if I had not been given the task of carrying our gear, she had always been far swifter than I, ever since we were children. But, as I watched her feet kick up clouds of white powder, I recalled something Mother and Father had talked about when they tried to explain snow to me. Quick as the thought itself, I bent and scooped a handful and patted it into shape. Athynae had slowed when she realized I was not pursuing, and I made a perfect throw that caught her right between the shoulders. The snowball exploded in a satisfying spray of icy fragments, some of which, judging by the way she moved, found their way down her neck. My moment of victory was short- ever a quick study in all the martial arts, she grasped the concept immediately and pelted me with a storm of snowy missiles. I was getting hit three or four times for every one I managed in return, and decided that desperate measures were necessary. Senior Trooper Carbo had taught me that the best thing to do when confronted with an archer was to hold up my shield and charge. I had no shield, but decided my left arm would have to do. Athynae was so focused on lobbing snowballs at me that I had dropped the pack and gotten within reach before she recognized the danger. I did not stop my rush, but lowered my shoulder and tackled her, dumping us both into a drift. She protested this treatment by rubbing a handful of snow in my face, laughing all the while. I cleared my eyes and mouth and informed her that she made a quite comfortable couch and that I believed I would simply rest where I was, exhausted by my great triumph.

“‘Great triumph,’ is it? I’ll show you a triumph, you great oaf!”

She twisted slightly and moved her arms and legs, then the blue sky spun over me and our positions were reversed. From her seat on my chest, Athynae spoke with mock thoughtfulness:

“Yes, I think you would make a fine pack-guar. I might even get you a harness with some nice bells. Would you like that?”

She poked me in the ribs and added,

“I don’t know though; you seem awfully skinny. I want a guar with lots of muscle.”

It was a scuffle like those that we had played out any number of times back in Ald’ruhn, and that was the problem. We weren’t in Ald’ruhn.

[Black Hand]

Rest assured that I am still reading this fantastic series of Athlain Treyson!

[minque]

Rest assured that I am still reading this fantastic series of Athlain Treyson!

Me too! i'm just so fascinated how you describe the interactions between Thyna and Athlain...so right on spot! My my I'm ever so curious about how this will turn out!

Athlain is just so charming in his approach to her...I just love it!

[treydog]

Thank you, folks. I love writing this story, but I have to admit that it sometimes feels like I'm shouting down a well. Petty of me to vent to the folks who love me, I suppose, but who else would I complain to? Anyway, enough of that, let's have some more story:

We should have died from our carelessness, in our happiness, in our childish play. And if our attackers had been reavers or other human predators we probably would have. But they were wolves, and that is what saved us. Wolves hunt cooperatively and with a particular method- they try to separate one animal from the herd and then they chase it until it is exhausted. An exhausted animal cannot fight, not even for its life. So the hunting pack howls. They do this to communicate, but also to start the prey. A running animal does not think about anything except running. So we knew the wolves were around us when they howled. But we did not run. I stood and quickly drew my mace, standing guard as Athynae pulled her bowstring from an inside pocket and strung her bow. Our movements were fluid and natural, as if we had always been a team. In Athynae’s case, it might just have been the grace with which she did all things- for me, it was because of my training. Carbo had drilled me endlessly on the concept that one of a maceman’s most important tasks was guarding the archers. I watched the wolves as they circled us, but I also watched Athynae as she stood relaxed, an arrow half-drawn, choosing her targets. Then she began to shoot, and it was as if a warrior goddess of old had come to life before me. She was like a statue except for the movement of her hands and arms, feet planted solidly, letting the wolves move into the killing zone. And the vision prompted a memory-

We were around ten years old, and Athynae had so far managed to avoid the “icky girl” label by being better at all athletic endeavors than any of us. We had recently discovered that, by climbing onto the roof of the Emperor crab, we could hide from Mae and Cai, who were, by dint of being my sisters, definitely “icky”. As we basked in the sunshine, we saw cliff-racers wheeling over the foothills outside of town. Like all residents of Vvardenfell, we despised the foul beasts, but also knew to be careful of them. Their razor beaks and clubbed tails meant danger to any unwary traveler. Efforts had been made to wipe them out, but no one had been able to find their nesting grounds. Some even speculated that they were a creation of the Telvanni, designed to slow settlement of the island. Normally, we would run inside if one approached, trusting the Redoran guards to handle the threat. But on this day, Athynae got a stubborn look on her face and told me, “Wait here.” She scrambled off the roof and went inside, only to reappear with a rolled blanket, out of which she pulled a flask, a bow, and a sheaf of arrows. The bow was of bonemold, and made for someone of Athynae’s size. In fact, it had been a gift from the Ahemmusa, and she treasured it and practiced with it daily. She set the archery equipment down beside her and opened the flask. I waved a hand under my nose and piped,

“Phew, ‘Thyna! What is that?”

She took on the look she got in the classroom when she was reciting: “Cliff-racers are scavengers. They eat carrion, as well as small or injured animals.” She brandished the flask, and added, “This is bait.”

She looked at me and amended, “Actually, you’re going to be the bait as soon as I dump this on you. Do you think you can look small and injured?”

Afterwards, we were banned from ever again climbing on the roof; Athynae’s bow was taken away for a month; and I got to go “camping” for a matter of several days, while Mother and Serene tried various soaps and other mixtures to remove the smell. However, we did get to keep all the racer plumes we had collected.

The wolves were canny enough to avoid a massed attack, and also wove in and out of the trees, preventing easy shots. The ones in front of us mostly acted as distractions, rushing forward to hold our attention while their mates closed from the sides and rear. The wolves of Solstheim had hunted people before, and knew that our noses were useless and our peripheral vision nearly so. Still, Athynae had killed or wounded several before the rest began the real attack. I turned so we were back-to-back, and stepped a few paces away. If she drew her katana, she was going to need room to use it. Howls rose from all sides and a smoky grey shadow, larger than the rest, lunged toward me, snarling and snapping. I batted it aside and set myself for the next. Others crowded in on me and things got a little vague after that. Time slowed as I battled silently, with my own puny teeth bared in imitation of the creatures I fought. My only thought was that I could not let a single one get past me, that I must account for them all. I wanted desperately to make sure Athynae was all right, but I could not spare the time. I whirled and dodged and bashed, never focusing too long on any one opponent. Finally, the last of the wolves that were able dragged themselves away, and I could look. She was still there, still standing, no wound or injury anywhere to be seen. In fact, she seemed completely relaxed, resting the bow against her thigh and looking at me in a peculiar way. I realized that she had never drawn her sword, but had simply continued to shoot as long as there were targets. I caught my breath and asked, a bit crossly it must be admitted:

“Why didn’t you change weapons when they got close?”

She smiled at me and replied, “There was no need. I knew you were there.”

That answer washed away my annoyance, and I felt myself flushing with pleasure and embarrassment. I also felt something else- the skooma craving that always seemed to strike after combat. I turned away, as if surveying the distant landscape, hoping to hide my weakness. But Athynae was as perceptive as ever and place a comforting hand on my shoulder,

“Is it bad?” I looked at her and she bit her lip and explained, “I was able to heal your stomach and to cleanse your blood of the physical effects of the drug- but there is still a… need. That will pass- eventually.”

She shook me and continued, “But until then, you have to talk to me and let me know. Trying to keep it all to yourself is what got you in such a mess to start with.”

I understood then, in a way I hadn’t before, that love takes many forms. The moment passed, and Athynae rummaged in the pack for a couple of knives. She tossed one to me and said,

“We can collect the best of the wolf hides and take them with us to Thirsk. It helps if you don’t show up empty-handed.”

I wasn’t sure what disturbed me more- her assurance with a skinning knife or her familiarity with Nord customs. As we worked, I asked what I hoped sounded like a casual question:

“So, you keep talking about Thirsk. What is that, exactly? Is it a town or settlement?”

Athynae replied without looking up from her work:

“Thirsk is mead-hall. Like what we would call a ‘corner-club’ or tavern back home. There really isn’t much there- just the hall itself and Brynjolfr’s smithy. The people are nice enough, though.”

As we gathered our belongings, she elaborated, “There’s a village, too, a bit north of Thirsk. The people call themselves the ‘Skaal’. As long as you’re respectful, we shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Edited to remove gratuitous whining.

This post has been edited by treydog: Oct 22 2009, 02:53 AM

[Olen]

Good update. You move their relationship forward very well, without seeming to force anythin they're now a unit. And again I must say that it's refreshing to see a strong female character in fantasy and I'm interested to see how things go in Thrisk and with the Skaal.

but I have to admit that it sometimes feels like I'm shouting down a well

Fanfiction can be like that but you do have quite a following of readers and I can say personally that this story is one of the best I've read online and better than pleanty I've paid good money for. Thanks for sharing your talents.

Petty of me to vent to the folks who love me

I disagree, if you need to vent then vent away.

[minque]

Ahh, heading for Thirsk, are they? Now Meadhalls are ..ehh nice(?) Then again a nice good hefty mead will probably do them good ... .

I like them connecting with the Nords, Nords are good strong ones and I'm sure they will have a good time in thirsk..or will they?

Anyway I'm ever so pleased with your development of Athynae!

[treydog]

I appreciate the feedback- and Minque, I especially appreciate you letting me "hijack" your character; I have grown quite fond of her, and she ties Athlain in such knots.... Which makes it fun to write.

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There was more wrong with me than the skooma-craving; Athynae’s joking reference to my “needing more muscle” was based in truth. In the midst of the arduous work of skinning the dead wolves, my hands began to tremble so badly that I had to put down the knife before I sliced myself. I was beyond tired- our scuffle and the subsequent battle had pushed me to exhaustion. I knelt in the bloody snow, heedless of the melt water seeping into my clothes. Athynae came over and gave me a playful shove, saying:

“I don’t pay you to sit around- let’s see some work.”

When I crashed to the ground, she was instantly contrite and began sorting through the small healer’s kit she carried at her waist. She drew out a couple of vials sealed with Serene’s personal mark and dosed me with them. While I waited for the full effects to take hold, she explained:

“Fortify potions. You really need more time to recover, but we can’t stay out here. Did anything about that attack seem odd to you?”

I looked at her blearily, my tired mind trying to follow the convoluted logic of her words. Which attack- my attack of weakness or the attack by the wolves? If the first, I always seemed to go weak in the knees when she was around. If she was asking about the wolves, it had been my experience that everything that moved on Solstheim wanted to take a bite out of me. I was even beginning to suspect some of the trees of harboring homicidal thoughts. I summarized those concepts with a plaintive, “What?” That was enough to prompt a torrent of words from Athynae. Even as she gathered our scattered possessions, she kept up a running commentary:

“Wolves. Wolves rarely attack people, right? They have to be sick or injured or starving. The wolves I mean, not the people. Although a wolf would be more likely to go after a sick or injured or starving person if they did. Attack people, I mean. Which they don’t. Except that they did. And then they didn’t stop as soon as I- well, we- had killed and hurt some of them. They kept pressing the attack long after it was clear it had failed. That’s not right, either.”

Even though I had not made a sound, she held up a hand as if to forestall argument while she settled the pack on her shoulders:

“Fine. I know we’re on Solstheim and these wolves are different than the wolves in Cyrodiil. But why are they different? If anything, they should be smarter….”

She stalked several more steps and ended with a phrase I had heard quite often over the years, delivered in a querulous tone:

“It doesn’t make any sense!”

Her monologue had carried us out of the trees and I stopped in my tracks as I beheld Lake Fjalding. As I had heard, it was almost completely covered with ice, with only a few small patches of open water to show that it really was a lake. I noticed movement far out on the ice- low, white shapes that seemed to undulate rather than walk. Athynae saw where I was looking and explained,

“Those are horkers. They don’t have paws, just these flippers. But they can get around fairly well on land, and are incredibly fast in the water. You can hunt them, I suppose, but it would be like clubbing baby guar. Anyway, we’re almost there.”

She pointed toward a large structure on the east side of the lake; a steady stream of smoke poured from the chimney, and I faintly heard the sound of a hammer ringing on an anvil. I did not bother to tell Athynae that I had already seen horkers; there was no reason to spoil her pleasure in playing “tour-guide.” Now that we had almost reached our destination, I wanted to take a closer look at the ice-lake, so Athynae said she would meet me at Brynjolfr’s forge and turned to go up the hill. I watched as she walked away, the low light of the afternoon illuminating her beautiful form, and it was like a vision of Dibella come into the world of men. I still dream of that moment, especially the part where she turned to look back and wave to me. I wondered how I had ever been able to leave her- and what I was going to do about our situation. Although she had cured me of my addiction and probably saved my life, little else had changed. I was still absent from the Legion without leave- even I knew the excuse of my “resignation letter” was thinner than the paper on which I had scrawled it. Apparently, from what Athynae had said, the commander assumed I was still working for Severia Gratius, but that could not last forever. No, my life was just as much a ruin as it had been- only now, thanks to Athynae, it would likely be a ruin that lasted much longer. If I loved her, how could I drag her down with me, especially now, just when she was seeing everything the world had to offer? The setting sun threw long shadows across the lake, and I knew darkness would come quickly. There was nothing to be done at the moment, I rationalized, and so I put off making a decision. The fact that waiting to decide also meant at least one more night with Athynae was simply a beneficial side-effect.

The smithy was set up in a small building to one side of the great hall, and I followed the smells of charcoal and hot metal to the open front. Athynae was seated on a bench inside the door, displaying our fresh wolf pelts to the smith. When my shadow loomed in the entry, he paused at his work and glanced up. His frown of concentration became a ferocious scowl and he spoke to Athynae:

“Come away from the door, lass. A skraeling has followed ye out o’ the forest. I’ll just see him off wi’ my hammer.”

Athynae turned to look and put a hand on his arm.

“That’s not a- skra… skrat…skraeling,” she said. “That’s Athlain. He’s my….”

Here she paused for a long moment, and her face grew flushed from more than the heat of the forge. It was a treat to see her, for once, at a loss for words. My pleasure was short-lived, however.

“He’s my betrothed,” she finally blurted.

[Olen]

You have a talent for beaking off at moments where everything has suddenly and unexpectedly (well perhaps not unexpected per se as it fits well with the characters but still surprising in the way it changes the immediate situation) changed. It leaves me wanting more and wandering exactly how Athlain will take it.

I also wander what will happen next. I like the situation you've put Athlain into, he's getting increasingly torn between dutys and his own pride and I'm interested to see what he plans. The wolves also create some nice foreshadowing...

If I had any criticisms of the previous part (and as ever they're trivial but I feel compelled to criticise something) it's that the walk from where they were attacked seemed a little short and disjointed. On re-reading it I think it might be that Athlain is on the ground then they're at the lake. But either way its a minor continuity error at worst.

Another thing I don't think I've said yet is how much I like the characters. They're very strong and their actions seem their own and the plot entirly a function of them which is excellent. You have the dialogue nailed too, their lines 'sound' different. Great stuff

[minque]

ah treydoggie! It's true I invented Athynae, but you surely developed her into a great charachter! Sure she's a "besserwisser" sometimes but that is just so .."her"

Ok about those wolves...I have a dreadful feeling about them....could it be? nooo,....or?

Then Athlain in a meadhall, now that will be most interesting, I wonder if het s taste for mead..hehe wonderful beverage ... but for Athlain?

I also hope he will let go and make a move towards Thyna....I'm sure she would love it...in the end

Can't wait for more now!