Returning to the lair after the outbreak of Zeal, Aridatha and Lioska find a strange imperial already there, offering a path forward. // read on dA
Trudging back into the lair after a disaster, exhausted and grieving, the last thing Aridatha needed was to find a stranger sitting in front of her own home, intently inspecting something on the ground. Whoever they were, the blue-winged imperial represented another issue that needed dealing with, when all Aridatha wanted to do was sleep for weeks.
They also didn’t seem to have noticed the approach of Aridatha, or the ragged remains of the clan filing in behind her, too spooked to split up and head to their own quarters. For a long moment, everyone stood silent. Finally, Lioska walked up to the imperial and tapped them on the side. “Whatever you came here for, now is a poor time. Who are you, and what task shall we have to delay till morning?”
“This is the right time,” the imperial said, absently, and turned to give everyone a view of what they were looking at: a pulsating patch of rainbow light, taken root among the grass at their feet.
The entire clan recoiled, with snarls and cries of dismay. Aridatha whirled on Frip. “You said it was safe!”
Frip merely gestured back at the imperial, who barely seemed to have noticed the other dragons’ reactions. Instead, they meticulously placed crystals in a complex pattern at their feet, beside the spot of light.
“That’s sacridite,” said Barholme, landing on Aridatha’s shoulder. She almost shook him off, but restrained herself, and he peered curiously at the design as the imperial completed it. Aridatha had questions, of course, but something in the imperial’s manner told her they would not be answered, so she held her tongue and waited for them to finish. Finally, the imperial delicately tapped a claw on a central crystal, making a distinct plink sound, and rainbow light flashed over their scales. Everyone recoiled, again, but somewhere in the back of her mind, Aridatha noted that it wasn’t quite the same as before: this light didn’t burn the eyes as its harsher cousin did … A circle of white light bloomed out from the sacridite, washing over the glowing grass, and then receded, and the rainbow was gone. So was the sacridite.
“Ah,” said the imperial, still with a distant, indifferent tone. “It works.”
“You didn’t know that was going to work?” said Geras, craning her neck from where she had, apparently, curled her entire body around Kelsus, unwilling to risk losing him again.
“I did,” Frip said. “Clan, Bluebird. Bluebird, clan. Now we can wait till morning.”
“I was a blue bird,” the imperial agreed. They picked themself up and began to wander off to the south.
“Wait -- ” Aridatha said, and several others echoed her confusion.
Frip turned to them. “Aren’t you tired?”
And a sudden wave of new exhaustion washed over Aridatha, such that she could barely keep her eyes open, though she forced herself to do so just to glare at Frip: the timing was too convenient for this to be anything but the nocturne’s influence. But, as everyone else yawned and murmured goodbyes and headed to their own beds behind her, there was little Aridatha could do but comply.
*
Morning came, and explanations came with it, though never as complete as Aridatha would have liked, and with an excessive amount of meddling from Frip, who, as always, knew more about everything than anyone should. Though this did seem to balance well with the imperial Bluebird, who claimed to know little about even their own basic details. Even their name was provided by Frip, as Bluebird themself appeared confused by the entire concept of identity. Their vague answers to questions tended to run in circles.
What Aridatha came to understand was this: Bluebird was previously acquainted with the bright plague, which they called Zeal; they had seen it in their previous clan, though they would not name that clan, or give any details besides that it had been Arcane, as the imperial themself was. They had come east into the Starwood following the outbreak, experimenting with ways to contain it. The sacridite ritual was their first success. A brief break in the serious conversation occurred here, as Barholme discovered that Bluebird had taken the sacridite from his own personal supply, and Aridatha had to mediate the resulting argument, which was rather one-sided, since Bluebird made no attempt to defend themself and did not even seem to understand the fae’s anger.
With this finally settled, Aridatha returned to squeezing Bluebird for specifics on their “cure.” The ritual would not save the infected, who would in fact die from it, but it did stop the spread of infection. However, it requires massive amounts of sacridite -- Bluebird had used most of the clan’s existing store on that small patch of grass. And Bluebird grew increasingly vague when asked, by those well-versed in magical theory -- Bartos, Nesita, Barholme -- how exactly the spell worked, and how others could replicate it. Lioska gave Aridatha a look, and Ari nodded: the imperial’s imprecision was suspicious. They were hiding something, and would have to be carefully watched.
Bluebird was insistent about one thing, amidst all their evasions and equivocations: they wanted more sacridite. With enough of the material, they claimed, they could eliminate the disease, Zeal, once and for all. Or, at least, that was what Aridatha gathered from their words; what the imperial actually said was: “A surfeit of dreams will close the circle and calm the endless fire.”
“So we need more sacridite,” Aridatha said. “A lot of it. I wonder how much it costs … ”
The clan’s store of treasure remained largely untouched, the nonliving gold and jewels unaffected by Zeal. They were far from any market, but Boolean should be home soon.
“Hm,” Lioska said. “Aridatha, a word?”
“Of course,” Aridatha said, and followed Lioska out of Bluebird’s hearing. As she left, she heard Bartos speaking to the imperial, trying once again to glean some specifics of their magic.
“This is a heavy burden for a single clan, especially one so recently devastated as our own,” Lioska said. “And such a worldwide cure benefits others almost more than ourselves: some of us have already proven resistant, like Acrux, who never developed the plague despite great exposure; and we have Frip and Bluebird.”
Aridatha tilted her head skeptically. She’d known Lioska was pragmatic, even ruthless, but this was a new low. “So we should let Zeal ravage the rest of Sornieth as long as we are safe? Even setting aside any moral concerns, we are self-sufficient, but not that self-sufficient.”
“I’m not saying that,” Lioska said, though she didn’t bother pretending to be offended by the suggestion. “But it would be unfair as well as unwise for us to attempt this alone. We should seek allies. We could use help -- financial, scholarly, possibly even military.”
Aridatha let out a brief, almost mirthless laugh. “You choose such a selfish tone in which to advocate cooperation … but you’re right. If nothing else, others deserve to be warned of this danger.”
Lioska bristled a bit at the initial criticism, but Aridatha could see her deciding to let it go, chalking it up to stress or just recognizing its irrelevance. While Lioska had her pride, she was not in the practice of letting it obstruct more tangible pursuits. “Would you like me to draft a letter informing local clan members of such?”
“I’ll write it,” Aridatha said. “And I think we can do a bit better than ‘local.’ Could you go check on Illyan and see if her printing press is still functional?”
After the recent disaster, the remaining clan members reunite. As Aridatha tries to figure out what to do, Frip returns, angering Acrux and Geras, and offers a revelation about Kelsus’ fate. // read on dA
“That’s three passes without finding anyone else. I think this is all we’re going to find, unless someone survived in the lair itself.”
“Right. We’ll have to do that …” Aridatha looked miserably at Lioska, imagining the task of deciding which dragon should risk going back to the site of disaster, to the heart of the infection. Perhaps Aridatha herself ought to go investigate. She just couldn’t bring herself to ask anyone else to risk their lives; maybe she could ask for volunteers.
“We may wish to wait till morning,” Lioska said, the barest note of mercy in her voice. “Everyone is exhausted.”
It had taken the remainder of the day and a good portion of the night for Aridatha and Lioska to gather those clan members they could find in this small clearing about a mile from the lair. Finding Nesita and Bartos, who had stuck together, had helped greatly, since the two tundras were able to devise a spell that pointed them towards other dragons. But their success rate was not high. Clan Lukra had included 37 dragons before the incident. Only seventeen stood in this clearing.
Aridatha glanced around. “This isn’t much of a camp, but it’ll do.”
Lioska nodded. “I’ll see if I can arrange some hunting and foraging. We could do with a good meal -- or even a bad one.”
As Lioska moved away to talk to Delemont, Aridatha let her head droop into her talons and took stock.
They had not lost a full twenty dragons. Frip’s and Boolean’s travels had kept them out of harm’s way -- the former Aridatha knew of from Acrux’s account, the latter from Isildur’s records. Boolean would return in about a week’s time, and of course Aridatha doubted that the incident would have inconvenienced Frip even if she had been present. By pure bad luck, however, the catastrophe had caught the familiar-trader Nilith on one of her visits, and several dragons had seen her fly up over the treetops with that motley fire in her veins.
Surviving dragons had witnessed similar scenes with Weythran, Xylia, and Moros, and of course Aridatha had seen the infections of Iburel, Rakgi, Cobalt, and Kelsus for herself. And Talva, whose case had been their one inadequate attempt at a quarantine … Other dragons were simply missing: Arven, Zura, Sovari, Halamshiral, Gavin, Sunfall … and Nessa. That last name on the list of the vanished tore at Aridatha’s heart more than she cared to admit. No one could say whether these dragons had succumbed to the disease or simply become lost in the woods, so a painful thread of hope continued to spin in Aridatha’s veins …
And she had to act on that hope. She made a decision: even with everyone tired, they needed to do at least a quick check of the lair. If it was safe, they would rest far better in their own home than in the middle of the woods -- unless, of course, the infection lingered invisibly, or they were too haunted by the images of their fallen friends … Regardless, Aridatha needed information. She turned to the rest of the clan and called for their attention. “Everyone! I know you’re tired; I know you’re hurting. But we need to know what the current state of the lair is, and … it may be dangerous to investigate. I’m not going to order anyone to go back in there, but I would appreciate volunteers.”
The entire clan -- excluding Delemont, Zarya, and Luna, who had gone off to find food -- stared blankly at Aridatha, clearly not enthused by the idea. Even Lioska appeared less than thrilled. Maybe Aridatha really should have waited until the next day.
Then, a voice from behind Aridatha: “That won’t be necessary. The lair is fine. The infection’s cleared out by now.”
Aridatha spun to see, of course, Frip, sauntering into their temporary camp as if she hadn’t just conveniently abandoned them in their hour of greatest need. Bile rose in Aridatha’s throat, and clearly not only in hers: Acrux lunged forward, snarling, “Where were you?”
Frip paused and surveyed the scene: fourteen faces angry, like Acrux’s; or sad, like Cypress’s; or simply contemptuous, like Isildur’s. As she looked at the others, Aridatha felt her own rage fade away, replaced by despairing exhaustion. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you, Frip?”
For a long moment, the nocturne said nothing. Then: “Doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter?” With a single abrupt movement, Geras lifted herself from the spot where she’d lain listless and silent ever since they’d gathered, clearly suddenly furious. She stalked across the clearing and loomed over Frip, teeth bared, and even Acrux stepped back. “Half our clan is gone. Kelsus is dead. And you just -- How can you just come marching back in here like nothing’s -- ”
“Oh, right.” Frip held up a talon before Geras, ordering her to wait, and Aridatha could see the guardian’s entire body shaking at the casual insult of the gesture, but she seemed baffled into compliance, too surprised to either continue her tirade or take more physical action. Meanwhile, Frip lifted one wing and appeared to search under it, as if she had far more hidden there than her relatively small wingspan would suggest. Finally, after an agonizing moment, she turned back to Geras, pulling out from under her wing and rather disheveled, very confused green fae.
“K … Kelsus?” Geras jerked back in shock. “But I saw him -- I saw you -- ”
“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” Frip said, setting Kelsus on the grass, where he blinked and looked around blankly. Geras slowly, carefully, reached out a talon towards him, and he grabbed it -- both of them looked like they could not quite believe the other was real, or perhaps it was his own existence Kelsus struggled with -- and then, in a quick motion, he scampered up Geras’ leg and sat on her shoulder, nestling into her haori. Carefully, Geras twisted her neck back and nuzzled him gently with her snout.
Aridatha looked at Frip and felt a strange cocktail of emotions, not all of which she could identify. Relief was in there, and joy -- of course she was glad to have Kelsus back, so glad -- but also something sadder, something like disappointment, and then shame that she could greet such a boon with anything negative. “The others … ?”
“Don’t get greedy,” Frip said, as Aridatha had rather expected. “We broke the rules just to bring back Green Bean. Everything else is as written. Nobody else is coming back.”
For a moment there was solemn silence, a somber acknowledgment of all the bodies missing from that clearing, even now that two more had been added. Then, Frip added, “But the lair is safe, so I’m going to go get some rest in my own bed, and I suggest the rest of you do the same.”
Spread intentionally by infected dragons like Sovari, the strange plague threatens to annihilate Clan Lukra. A stranger goes unnoticed in the chaos as Aridatha scrambles to save whoever she can, warning Isildur, Arven, and Halamshiral. An infected Cobalt attacks Andon, finally revealing the spiral’s presence to the rest of the clan. // read on dA
Sovari felt the new fire running through her veins, and it made her feel better, more alive, than she’d been in ages. She was tired of hiding, bored of observing. It was time for her to do something, and the best thing was, clearly, sharing her fresh elan with others.
Nobody had even noticed her in Talva’s chamber, not even Acrux, who thought he was so smart, so magical. Sovari’s talent for being inconspicuous had probably contributed to her recent ennui -- no one made an effort to engage her, because no one even realized she was there. But now it would help her move through the lair without interference.
Starting from Talva’s chamber, the first place to go was two floors above. Intent on his work, Weythran didn’t even notice when Sovari stole up behind him and planted a rainbow-fire handpaint on his tail. Then it was off to Xylia’s, painting a glowing trail across the wildclaw’s own creations, one that she was sure to exclaim over -- and touch -- when she turned from her current work. And onwards: Aridatha and Lioska were out, but Sovari was able to share her bounty with Nessa and Sunfall, and on, and on …
*
In the confusion, no one noticed a blue-winged imperial perched at the top of one of the crystal ridges that encircled Clan Lukra’s lair, watching the bursts of rainbow light. There were many of those now, leaping up from disparate points in the clan: the watcher mentally mapped the spread of the plague, humming tunelessly to themself as they did so. They would need more data, of course …
Cautiously, the imperial began to pick their way down the ridge, into the valley.
*
Shade, Shade, Shade.
Aridatha dashed through the lair, watching in horror as flares of that awful light went off in the trees, crackled across the canopy above and coursed through the ground below. She’d managed to meet up with -- or spontaneous run into -- some clan members, though she didn’t really have any more to tell them than to run, something they really ought to be able to figure out for themselves. Geras she’d sent to try and salvage the familiars, in the hopes that her established duty to the beasts might help overcome her grief. The guardian had gone off in the right direction, at least, and nodded, but Aridatha had no idea whether she would actually do it. She couldn’t worry about that now.
There were no eggs in the hatchery; Aridatha thanked the Arcanist for that, for one less fear on her plate. She’d also been lucky enough to encounter Lioska fairly quickly. The wildclaw had immediately grasped the idea of emergency and contagion, even if there hadn’t been time to give her all the details, and run off. Aridatha wasn’t completely sure what Lioska actually planned to do about the emergency and contagion, but Lioska had a level head and some good military training: Aridatha trusted her to think of something helpful.
The rest of the clan, however …
As Aridatha clambered up into Isildur’s chamber, she saw Rakgi diving in the pond, the glow spreading under his skin telling her that it was too late to warn him. In the distance, the same light forked through the veins of a large, dark wing, though it vanished between the trees too quickly for Aridatha to tell whose. Don’t let it be Geras -- don’t let us lose Geras because I told her to go after the beasts instead of fleeing. Peeking out from her own room, Zura made rather frightened inquiring noises at Aridatha, but there was no time to find the coatl a translator: Aridatha just gestured at her to run, and she seemed to get the message, jumping down and scurrying away on her tiny legs.
“Aridatha? I would most appreciate being informed as to what is happening.”
Aridatha barely restrained herself from a curt response: now was not the time for Isildur’s customary wordiness. Instead, she said, “There’s some kind of … disease, or contagious magic, spreading through the clan. It affects dragons and inanimate objects, and it … it’s deadly, we think.”
Clever as always, Isildur grasped the situation quickly. “You want me to move the hoard to safety?”
“Not the whole hoard.” That would be an impossible task: it had taken the clan’s largest and strongest members dozens of trips to bring all the accumulated products of all their labor over the mountains to the new lair. “Just grab the currency, the valuables. Don’t worry about the familiars; Geras is on it. And, Isildur? Don’t martyr yourself. Get out quickly, and don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
Isildur snorted delicately. “Trust me, Aridatha, I have no intention of dying for a handful of trinkets.”
“Good. Anyone else you run into, tell them to run. Doesn’t matter where, just get away from the lair.”
A frown. “You don’t want to set a rendezvous point for afterwards? Sounds like a recipe for chaos.”
Aridatha shook her head. “The infected dragons, they’re … they’re lucid, but something’s wrong with them. I think they might be deliberately spreading … whatever it is. So I don’t want to give them a target.”
“Very well.” With uncharacteristic brevity, Isildur departed, leaving Aridatha to a moment’s quiet.
What now? Aridatha had initially planned to go to Cypress and Illyan, to seek the journalists’ help in spreading word of the disaster, but she doubted anyone remained unaware now -- sending those two back into the lair would risk their lives needlessly. Of course, knowing Cypress, he might have gone in anyway, just to investigate … Was it time for Aridatha herself to run? A captain goes down with her ship … But she was not going to die here. The metaphorical ship meant less than its crew, and they would need her in the days to come. Assuming, of course, that she could do any better as a leader in the future -- she hadn’t exactly prepared for this …
Pushing the thought away -- you can wallow in your own inadequacy when there’s no immediate danger -- Aridatha decided that as long as she was here, she might at least try to warn the rest of the building. She’d already seen on her way up that Moros’ ground-floor chamber was empty, but the sound-mages Arven and Halamshiral lived above Isildur. They were, in fact, her parents, though none of them really found that particularly significant -- as evinced by the fact that Isildur had felt no need to ensure their safety. Aridatha scrambled up the trunk of the structure’s central tree.
Arven stood in the center of the room, watching his delicate harps and flutes vibrate on the walls. He turned to Aridatha as she entered. “What is all this commotion? I was trying to work.”
“You need to get out of here,” Aridatha said shortly. “There’s a magical plague spreading across the lair. Take what you can carry, but don’t let it slow you down -- just go.”
Arven started to ask a question, but Aridatha was already gone, climbing further up into the thin branches above, where she had to balance herself carefully. These areas were not designed for the use of any dragons above fae size, but she could see Halamshiral’s nest above her …
“Help!” The cry came from Cobalt’s nearby lean-to, though it was higher-pitched than the imperial’s typical voice, and sounded absolutely desperate. “Please, help me!”
Pausing only to shout a warning at Halamshiral’s nest, just in case the fae was in there, Aridatha spread her wings and glided into the lean-to, where she found a harshly glowing Cobalt casually crushing a blue spiral in his claws. The tilt of Cobalt’s head was more curious than malicious, as if he honestly just wanted to see what would happen to the smaller dragon’s body if he kept squeezing; and Aridatha had never seen the spiral before in her life.
That didn’t slow her intervention, though. She wasn’t large enough or magically skilled enough to fight Cobalt head-on, but she fluttered into the imperial’s face and threw sparks at his eyes, distracting him enough that the spiral managed to squirm out of his grip. Having escaped, he stood, panting, on the ground before Cobalt, staring up at the imperial in bewilderment; Aridatha dropped down next to him and shoved him towards the exit. “Go! Now!”
Cobalt shook the sparks from his eyes and roared, and the spiral at last fled with Aridatha on his tail. She glanced back, to see if Cobalt was in pursuit, and saw him flashing and spasming with rainbow light instead; quickly, she threw herself at the spiral, hurling both of them behind a large mirror. An explosion, and when she peered out again Cobalt was gone, leaving only the odd shred of that awful glow.
“Cobalt …” the spiral said, clearly in shock.
“Who are -- never mind. Questions for later. Just run, get out of here -- not that way!” This, when the spiral would have fluttered for a crevice in the lean-to’s construction, one where the multicolored fire was already spreading. “This thing is everywhere; there’s no hiding from it. Just get out of the lair, and we’ll all meet back up later.”
The spiral nodded quickly, several times, seeming to absorb the information a little more with each jerky movement, and then he was gone. And maybe it was time for Aridatha to get out too.
I'm in the process of looking through your lore so I can write up Zura's arrival to the Bastion. Can you tell me about the strife that might have lead to her leaving? Oh and yes, I'd love for her to continue to be part of your clan's lore. Someone might even carry a letter from her to Wanderer in the next trade shipment.
Awesome! So, the problem my clan is facing is a magical plague called Zeal, described here. It’s part of an FR ARPG that I’m currently putting together, and that concept is explained here.
You can find kind of the full story of my clan’s experience with Zeal here or as the last few pieces of my lore here. This is probably the most useful piece since it describes the progression of the disease.
I’m still working on the next piece in this arc (and have been for quite a while … RIP), but basically, the dragons infected with Zeal intentionally do their best to spread it to the rest of the clan, and about half the clan is infected.
I imagine from Zura’s point of view this would mostly look like a lot of people running around yelling, and a lot of explosions, and no one explaining to her what’s happening. Maybe at some point someone just, like, waved her off or gestured for her to run/leave, and she didn’t get any context for that so she just … kept going?
(I think I’m gonna post this publicly for, like, the convenient links and also in case anyone else who picks up one of these dragons wants the background.)
As Aridatha, Acrux, Geras, Bartos, Barholme, and Nesita try to make sense of Kelsus’ fate, Iburel appears to inform them that it was not an isolated incident. // read on dA
“He can’t be gone,” Geras said, for the sixth or seventh time -- Aridatha had lost count. No one really paid attention to the guardian anymore, huddled and shocked as she was, except to step over her tail.
“You have no idea what this is?” Repetition seemed in vogue today: it was the third time Aridatha had asked that, too, nominally directed at Bartos and Nesita but really beseeching anyone who might have any idea what was going on.
“Don’t touch it,” Acrux said, also a repeat, as Barholme’s gaze -- and claw -- strayed towards the rainbow swirls still emerging from Talva’s quarters, where Kelsus had … vanished. “Talva didn’t even touch him and she’s still got it.”
That was something new, something that got Aridatha’s attention -- a way to move forward. “You handled Kelsus, Acrux. Bartos and Nesita too. Does that mean … ”
Acrux frowned. “Telyn said I would probably survive. She said some of us were definitely going to make it, but half … lost.”
“This is our lord’s punishment for suffering a filthy beast-lover to live,” Barholme said, quietly, almost to himself. Perhaps Aridatha was only projecting smug satisfaction onto his monotone voice.
Geras whirled abruptly to face the silver fae and roared, a savage sound that Aridatha had never heard from her -- or any dragon -- outside of battle; the force of her breath blew Barholme back a bit. He picked himself up with an offended air, the pink light of his magic beginning to form around his talons as if he anticipated a fight, but with her piece said, more or less, Geras curled back into herself, head hidden under a wing.
“Barholme, unless you have some truly helpful insight to offer, please leave,” Aridatha said. “It’s probably unwise to have any unnecessary dragons near the site of this … contagion.”
“I did offer helpful insight,” Barholme said, unblinking pink eyes fixed on Aridatha. “Kill the shape-shifter and we may beg our lord’s forgiveness.”
“This … phenomenon … does not bear the signature of Arcane magic,” Bartos said, distaste in his voice as he side-eyed Barholme. While they shared an interest in complex, theoretical magic, Barholme’s fanatical, apparently senseless devotion did not endear him to Bartos. “I find it unlikely to be a divine punishment.”
“Barholme, why don’t you go pray to the Arcanist for insight,” Aridatha suggested. Under her breath, she added, “I think we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Do not mock me, spark-stealer,” Barholme said, fins pinned back; but he left, and Aridatha forced herself not to wonder what she’d just been called, as there were more important questions at hand.
“Right,” Aridatha said instead, refocusing. “Bartos, you stay here and study this thing. Try to figure out how to stop it, would you? Nesita, check on Talva, from a distance.” They’d placed the snapper in a quarantine of sorts, sending her to wait outside the lair and avoid contact with other dragons. “Acrux, can you make sure no one else has it, and that everyone knows to stay away from here and Talva? Rope in Cypress, and Isildur, and anyone else -- ”
“Now, you would not deprive a dame of her darling, would you?” the deep voice came from behind Aridatha, inside the impacted area, and Aridatha felt ice run down her spine as she turned to see the shining eyes of the ridgeback standing right in the center of the web of rainbow light.
“Iburel … ”
How many dragons had Talva encountered, spoken to, before her eyes had started glowing -- before anyone had known that there might be something wrong with her? At least one, apparently, her own mate … Or perhaps there was another means of transmission …
“Iburel, you need to go join Talva in quarantine.” Aridatha looked around, thinking of the lair’s layout, trying to calculate the quickest way to isolate Iburel, how to minimize exposure …
A toothy grin spread across the ridgeback’s snout. “No.”
“No?” Acrux stepped forward, putting himself bodily between Iburel and the smaller dragons. “Iburel, you’re sick. You’re contagious.”
“Perhaps.” Iburel shrugged. “But I’m afraid I feel acutely alive, and I reject restraint.”
Iburel reached out and picked up a cauldron, one of those he typically used for his brewing -- the cold iron of which, Aridatha noticed distantly, had not been infected with the terrible light, despite its proximity to the site of Kelsus’ disappearance. Then Iburel lifted the cauldron to his face and spat into it, and the glow starting to trace its way across his skin from his eyes filled the cauldron. He held it out to his clanmates, grinning, his teeth shining like cruel stars.
“Won’t you experience my elixir? It animates, I assure.”
“We don’t want what you have,” Acrux said curtly. Then, under his breath: “Aridatha, Nesita, you should go. Bartos too, and Geras. I’ll deal with him.”
“Don’t curtail our company!” Iburel’s laughter was too loud and bright, and Aridatha saw Nesita and Bartos slip away, but she hesitated, unwilling to leave Acrux to deal with this.
“Go! If I’m busy here, you’ll have to warn the others,” Acrux said, pushing Aridatha slightly. When Aridatha didn’t move -- simply wondered if by “busy” he meant “potentially dying” -- Acrux turned to Geras, whose presence Aridatha had almost forgotten, she’d been so quiet. “Geras, get Aridatha out of here. We can’t let this happen to anyone else.”
Acrux seemed to have hit on the key phrase to wake Geras up; in a single, quick motion, the guardian snatched up Aridatha, who could manage no more than an offended squawk, magic and combat never having been among her skills, and crested the treetops with great heaves of her wings.
From above, Aridatha couldn’t distinguish the light twisting through Iburel and through the tree itself from the usual flickers of the Starwood.
Nesita, Bartos and Geras examine Kelsus, trying to understand the strange symptoms he’s showing, only to be interrupted by Acrux. // read on dA
“I’m fine,” Kelsus said, tail twitching. Geras had known him long enough to read annoyance in his waving fins, as indifferent as his voice might sound.
“You are very much not fine,” said Bartos, Kelsus’ wing stretched delicately in his claws as he examined it. The painful glow from under Kelsus’ skin had become, if anything, worse, spreading across his markings, consuming his nails and bones. His eyes were like sunbeams, impossible to look directly at. “Fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
Geras growled, irked by Bartos’ detached tone when he’d said himself that Kelsus was in danger -- but Nesita stepped forward before she could speak.
“It will be an interesting case for further study when the immediate danger has passed,” the older healer said, soothingly, taking up Kelsus’ other wing. Abruptly, the little fae snarled and snapped at Nesita’s paws, teeth flashing with that awful rainbow light, and both tundras pulled back, startled: Kelsus had never had a violent bone in his body. As soon as they released him, Kelsus fluttered rapidly to the ceiling, hanging from it, wings spread as if to envelop the watching dragons in even more of that terrible radiance.
“Kelsus?” Geras asked, cautiously. She was large enough to reach him on the ceiling -- in fact, she was rather cramped trying to fit into Talva’s quarters, which the snapper had generously offered in this emergency -- but she made no attempt to touch him, since that had apparently set him off. “What are you doing?”
“Stop fussing over me!” There actually was some emphasis on these words: startling, for a fae. “I’m fine! In fact, I’m better!”
“Kelsus, can you tell us what’s going on with you? What do you feel? When did this start?” Nesita’s voice was calming as ever, but Geras had known her for a long time, too: she was worried. That distressed Geras more than her own anxiety, since Nesita was usually so unflappable.
But the words seemed to have the desired effect on Kelsus: he folded his wings slightly, head tilting as he considered the questions. “I was insect-hunting and I saw this tree -- it was glowing. And then it, sort of, flashed … I feel so alive, Geras. It’s wonderful.”
Kelsus paused, and in that moment Acrux poked his head into the room, eyes wide, neck curling slightly around Nesita and Bartos.
“Nesita, Bartos, Geras, could you come out here for a moment?” The panic in the imperial’s voice startled Geras, since Acrux was usually even more levelheaded than Nesita.
“You go,” Geras told the smaller dragons. “I’ll stay here and watch Kelsus.”
“No!” Acrux snapped. “All of you need to come with me. Now.”
“But Kelsus -- ”
With a frustrated cry, Acrux threw his weight against Nesita and Bartos, bodily shoving them out of the chamber. Outraged, Geras leapt after them, and that was when Kelsus’ light flashed blindingly behind her, almost audibly impacting the wood by her head, as if it were solid -- Bartos threw up a protective magic automatically; the daggers of illumination shredded it but went no farther --
Kelsus was gone. Cracks of that awful rainbow light spread across the ceiling-supporting branch he’d hung from, the grass under his last location.
“Kelsus?” Geras said. “Kelsus!”
She started to run back into the chamber, to look for him, to find him -- she didn’t know what she was going to do -- but Acrux restrained her, wrapping his sinuous body around her and holding her back with his own weight.
“It’s contagious!” the imperial said. “Talva’s eyes are glowing!”
Into the shocked silence, Bartos spoke one word, and distantly Geras noted that he was much better-versed in profanity than she would’ve thought.
Acrux attempts to ask Frip about Telyn’s dire predictions, but instead he and Talva witness Kelsus’ fall. // read on dA
Acrux poked his head into Frip’s quarters and … nothing. She wasn’t there. At least, he didn’t think she was; it was hard to be sure, since he couldn’t keep the image of her chamber in his head. Even while looking at the room, he couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even tell anyone what was in it … More of Frip’s strange magic, but Acrux didn’t have time to worry about that now.
After Telyn’s alarming departure, he could think of only two things to do: warn Aridatha and seek answers from Frip. He’d settled on doing the latter first, hoping that he’d have a little more information to go on when he spoke to Aridatha, something a bit more helpful than “inescapable doom.” It was a slim hope. While Frip most certainly had answers, Acrux’s chances of dragging them out of her were not high. The nocturne knew everything that occurred in Clan Lukra, and often the future as well -- she had bonded with Telyn over that shared experience -- but, even more so than Telyn, she was disinclined to be helpful, preferring to maintain a frustrating aura of mystery.
“Acrux? What are you doing?”
Acrux sagged to the ground, abandoning his attempt to peer into Frip’s arboreal abode. The question came from Talva, standing on the ground next to him: she lived directly beneath.
“I’m looking for Frip. Have you seen her? It’s important.”
Perhaps something of the desperation he felt entered Acrux’s voice, because Talva gave him a long, searching look before answering. “No. But that doesn’t mean she’s not around. You know Frip; nobody ever sees her unless she’s decided to meddle.”
I resemble that remark. Acrux whirled around, hope briefly ignited by the nocturne’s voice in his mind -- but there was no sign of her, not even a swirl of white cloth or glint of silver wings. Acrux did not, habitually, swear, but he found himself biting back some withering words at the moment. That -- that dragon! He heard Frip’s laughter in his head, and, rather incoherently, directed at her the sentiment that if she was somehow reading his mind right now, then she’d better get out here and help.
No answer, but a slip of paper fluttered down from the branches, despite the lack of any wind or movement that would have logically dislodged it. Acrux snatched it out of the air and barely restrained himself from snarling as he saw the message scribbled on it -- in large letters, so that even he, an imperial, could read it.
Gone shopping. Be back soon. Love you ~ xoxoxoxo Frip
“Is everything all right?” Talva looked up at Acrux with distant concern; she didn’t seem genuinely worried, perhaps even a little amused by his antics.
Acrux crumpled the note in his claws. “No. Telyn’s gone -- she had a vision … I need to see Aridatha. Be careful, Tal -- ”
With a soft cry, a fae fell from the branches above onto Acrux’s snout. Of course, Acrux barely even felt the impact, but he was startled -- and further startled when he caught the limp body as it slipped off and found Kelsus, eyes open and shining, everything shining, a harsh multicolored light tracing its way across his body like veins …
“Oh no,” Acrux said. In his mind he could hear Kelsus screaming.
