Chapter 15: Under starlit skies

***

I need to get away from the family. The Chief and Knoll are drunk and fighting again. I just wish I had the wisdom to seek resolution to this, it's always the same political and strategy nonsense to these two. I nearly got caught in this fight, they piss me off too much. Ahh, but I don't really think you want to hear this, do you Father? I wish I was able to deal with my Chief, he seeks glory in your name at the sake of the clan. You don’t really want us all to die to join you do you? No, why would you want that? There would be no one left to follow your words left to us so long ago. At least that's what Mother tells me. 

Grant us yet another day…

***

Jesse: 

     “The Great tree is an enigmatic thing. Something multifaceted to the god’s folly. An ever-weaving structure, as if a confluence of silken webs were stitched together with a care unfathomable. What I am telling you is this; all possibilities are real. Every experience is an existing silken thread. Your dreams, your ideas, your unconscious desires, your subconscious machinations, they already exist somewhere. From the deepest depths to which light has never known, to the loftiest heights where light permeates from the very stars themselves.”

     “I don’t understand. What do you mean that all possibilities are real?” 

     “It is as I said. What seems impossible, unthinkable, chances so miniscule that the universe itself cannot fathom that chance, already exist on another branch of the Tree.”

     “All possibilities… So what does that have to do with anything I asked about? I asked such an innocent question, do you think dreams are real?”

     “You miss the point, Jesse. Dreams are just a faint glimpse through the haze between Branches. For us, for those that are sensitive to the Branches' magic, it's much more.”

     “So when I dream, I’m looking at something real?”

     “In a sense.”

***

     I found myself on the shores of the village, the radiance of the early morning sun reflecting off the bay’s waters kept entrancing. The slowly growing warmth spread across my skin as the sun continued to rise.

     The heat starting to recreate the daily thermal drafts along the cliffside, caused small gusts of wind pulling in the cool air off the water. My hair started to snarl as the wind tangled it in thousands of complicated knots. Running my fingers through it, trying to undo the worst ones.

     It was a peaceful start to the day, though no one else awake yet. A thought came to me, flicking my tail out, swatting away a fly that had decided that it was a good place to land. I jumped and landed on a small fluffy cloud, solid beneath my feet. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought that this was strange. Jumping again, I had in mind to see the sun rise over the horizon. Only wanting to see the light spread along the hilly landscape.

     Fluffy cloud after cloud, not noticing that the air was growing thin. Marveling at the sight before me, the wondrous crimson and orange hues reflecting off the clouds along the curve of the world. Higher up, the wind stronger, tasseling my hair again. Sighing thinking about the few minutes I spent undoing that, wasted.

     On my cloud watching the thunderstorms off in the distance. Just barely over the skyline, the bright flashes of gold and sapphire as the lightning arced from thunderhead to enormous thunderhead. That mix of dazzling morning sunshine silhouetting the storms beautifully. Gazing up, witnessing the stars above me, the morning sun before me. High enough to see both day and night, what could I see if I went higher? Climbing back to my feet, ascending higher.

     The air was thin enough here that I finally noticed it. Things took a little bit more effort, my clouds were smaller, though fear never crossed my mind. The sky above me grew darker violet as the verdant green and brilliant cerulean of the sea below me grew hazy with the atmosphere thick between me and it. The stars far brighter up here, gazing down on me with an absent interest. I could finally see that they were a wide variety of colors.

     The sun hung by itself far off in the distance while I watched the world below turn slowly. The warmth of that light clinging to my skin, the two moons slowly dancing their way around the massive sphere below. I thought to myself, “that is a wonderful day, the view from here is perfect for thinking”. I wrapped my tail around my waist and thought nothing of it while I sat back down crossing my legs and folding my hands in my lap. Breathing deep I stilled my mind and enjoyed the moment.

     The stars around me twinkled on endlessly as I watched. “What a nice dream.” I thought to myself. But, something felt off now. My skin didn’t feel like my own now. Fidgeting, I tried to shake the feeling off and continue watching the world slowly revolve below me. “A dream…” A small realization filled my mind, feeling it in my chest.  “A. Dream…”

     I turned to see a set of eyes watching me. Eyes unfathomable, blending into the starry night sky. The same scape as the night sky itself. A voice called out, sonorous and melodic “Only me, sweet child.”

     I awoke back in the tavern, the sound of a hard rain pattering on the rock in waves. A crash of thunder reverberating off the walls. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I saw those starry eyes again, watching from the mouth of the cave. The slow realization that I knew them, had seen them in another dream.

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Harvest, D.89, Gjorn

     The two Dwarves wandered through the old section of the harbor just on the outskirts of the city. Their beaten traveling clothes on, worn but still colorful, still vibrant with the designs of their homeland. Brass beads clinked softly in their beards as they walked through the overgrown road. Geometric patterns, shifting, a kaleidoscope of hard angles, catching the light in strange ways. 

     The old paving stones encroached with tall grass and ox-eye daisies. Old archways marking where buildings had been, some still had staircases leading to nowhere. Crumbling thresholds, hinges almost rusted away. The sun sinking low in the western sky, almost completely obscured by the mountains. To the Dwarves, those mountains were just old guardians of the earth, occluded by cloud cover at their summits. Their lives were forever spent on the moves, Nomads the Dwarves would forever be. 

     Halgier, and Gjorn walked slowly along the beaten road toward the shoreline, their heavy boots thudding in time. Gjorn strumming lazily on a small guitar they had bought in the market square earlier that day. “You thinking of being the new minstrel for the Company?” Halgier spoke up, breaking the peaceful quiet. “As if the Bluejay would grace us with songs of victory and glory.”

     “Maybe, Tyre is getting old. His glory days are long past, fingers aren't as nimble as they used to be for the feasts these days.” He said without any inflection. Gazing at the plantlife as they passed, the flowers closing up for the night. “As if you, the Mhuzelti Company, would appreciate finer songs. You always want bawdy ballads and adventures of myths of old. Now, if this damned city would let me play songs of the Gate, or the black fortress, now that would be a treat!” Gjorn laughed like a crumbling hillside, they would never let him sing those here. Would upset the Gnomes too much. 

     They rounded the curve in the road and a large marble arch appeared further down the way. The glowbells had started to become visible with the fading light. They had grown wild, the City had abandoned this section of the harbor after the new one had been built. “You know, I heard a rumor that the folks around here had to build a new port after the river from the east was filled with silt and buried this section of the bay. Townies around here say a mountain was eviscerated out near Huron.” Halgier said, pointing out to the valley off to the east, the maple filled forest slowly turning colors in the changing seasons. 

     “An entire mountain? What act of the gods would do that?” Gjorn laughed back, playing a quick jaunt on the guitar, mimicking a war song from the homeland. “Well, we know which gods did so. And, we know who brought the mountain down, are you just making conversation?”

     Laughing, he barked back “You know you just might make a good fool if you punctuate everything like that with music.” Slapping him on the back with his heavy hand. “Alas, yes. You seem far too busy these days, Gjorn. You should drink with the Company more often, I know your Clan is stationed back in Mhzuchet, but you’re here with me. Live a little.”

     Gjorn smiled and shrugged. The two continued on, walking along the now glowbell lined road, fireflies and moths flitting through the air now. The cool of the night, just beginning to settle in. “When do you think the Court is going to let us through the city?” Gjorn asked, the Bluejay already picking up something in the distance, but keeping it to himself for the moment.

     “I don’t know, but we did offer to act as mercenaries for Glaion if they have need of us. Glaion won’t let us do anything beyond that Pomerium of theirs, but if they have need of us… Well then I don’t think they will ever give us grief here after we’ve proven our worth to them.” Halgier spoke somberly. “Besides, they'd be damned fools for not hiring us to train their Commanders. Every time we have to do anything alongside them for war games, they always bungle the job. Those Generals are fine leaders, but… It has been many years since the Great War, they lack real world experience.”

     “I wonder, why are they so hesitant about letting us pass through here?” He said, running his fingers through his thick hair. The beads in his beard jingled softly with the motion.

     “I imagine it’s because they don’t want anyone that can be bought and attack so close to them, after all this City is the heart of the Federation.” Gjorn gave him a questioning look. “We stayed out of the war between the Caliphate and the Federation, or at least tried to. Even after the Clans from the east were forced west, But, we stayed neutral throughout the conflict. So I imagine they don’t know if the Caliphate would send us.” Halgier finished. 

     “Seems paranoid that War ended years ago.” He huffed, but started strumming again. “Besides we were far too busy trying to take the Isle back while the Empire was busy trying to be helpful.” He strummed out a few chords of the ballad he wrote about their last exploit. “Beyond that additionally, the Caliphate has nothing to offer us. You know that, no amount of coin would make us side with them in any conflict. Pay us to train their armies, yes. To fight alongside them. I’d rather stick my cock in Azu’s mouth.” 

     “Why ask what gods could topple a mountain, Gjorn? We toppled the mountain on the southern coast.” Halgier said, shifting the topic, he laughed as he realized what Gjorn had said. “Again with the Azu hate. You still won’t tell me what happened at the Black Fortress. That was decades ago, Brother.” 

     “On the mountain side, it hung out like a great balcony. So it’s not like it took much work, what stupid question was that.” Gjorn retorted back, not even humoring the other question.

     “So that makes us gods then!” Halgier laughed, Gjorn only snorted. He didn't want to humor Halgier and his superiority complex. “Oh come on, you ask what gods could do that, you and I did! So that makes us gods by your own account.” 

     Gjorn stepped on his boot, causing Halgier to stumble. “Why don’t we use Hvalbryter to smash another fool's head, starting with yours, King fool.” Gjorn reached for Halgier’s ax and laughed when he jumped back, protectively holding his hand over the weapon. “Oh come on, I was kidding Halgier!” Halgier pouted and continued walking as Gjorn caught up to him.

     The bay had come into view, the stars starting to pop out in the sky. They had passed under the large marble arch and kept heading toward the water. Gjorn had changed the song he was playing to a soft dirge, a sad one, but pleasant to listen to. The crickets and toads accented the song well, accompanied by their boots on the hard stone beneath their feet. Still he felt that strange pull from along the shoreline, not yet audible sound, but full of power.

     The old road, giving way to a moss encrusted trail that used to be the main thoroughfare down to the dockside. The chirps of the crickets continued, pitched by the yips of fox running through the tall grass. The soft notes of owls stalked the shoreline as they hunted for prey in the gloom. 

     The shoreline had come into view, a crumbling building that still sat on the old pier had a lantern lit in it. Halgier had halted Gjorn with a hand on his shoulder, the music stopping instantly. “You hear that?” he whispered. Pointing at the old stone building, the dark blue paint just barely recognizable in the moonlight. If sloughed off for the most part, lying in piles undisturbed by rain and snow. Gjorn had been hearing it for a while, but then again, Halgier was not a powerful Caster like The Bluejay.

     He cocked his head to the side, the crickets and toads growing louder in his ears as he focused. He closed his eyes and concentrated. “A voice? No, someone is singing in the distance.” He said at last. Gjorn looked over to Halgier and he nodded. Both walking toward the building, but keeping their footsteps soft. 

     They passed the threshold of the crumbling ruin, the sweet voice growing louder as they neared. They couldn’t understand the words, it vaguely sounded like birdsong, but clearly trying to imitate a song in another language. Halgier leaned against one of the pillars, crossing his arms and closed his eyes, listening. Gjorn followed suit. It was enthralling, holding their attention as if nothing else mattered in this world. To the Bluejay, there was something eerily familiar about it, like something he had heard in the Elsewhere. 

     The person singing appeared to be a young short woman, a rather revealing dress on. Slit up the sides that exposed her legs. Halgier noted that she had emerald skin. The woman was absorbed in her own music, an odd feeling in the air. The air in the building was a bit colder than outside, despite the night air being humid, it wasn't here.

     She was dancing by herself, completely absorbed in her song. Her hood flung back, revealing her long richly dark brown hair. She stood maybe a head shorter than the two Dwarves, neither of the two could take their eyes off her. Something wasn’t letting their attention wander anywhere else. Gjorn noted that familiar power in her words reminded him of his own Talent, eerily so. Thinking back to what the Queen had told him so long ago, “A perfect voice for the bard, a gift from The Great Mother.”

     “Gjorn,” Halgier whispered, they wouldn’t be seen easily, they were standing just outside the lantern light where everything was darker by comparison. “What is she? I can tell she’s using magic, but I can’t place it.” 

     “I think I overheard the guards talking about this, I think she’s a Goblin.” He whispered back. He didn’t know about them, only the overblown reports from Galus. The few books he had read that had even tangential information on them, only mentioned they existed, but not much else.

     “Really? She looks nothing like a Neckbreaker. Skin tone is wrong, and Neckbreakers don’t have long rabbit ears.” Halgier hushed back, motioning toward her.

     “Different variant?” Gjorn shrugged. “She is singing something from the homeland though, can’t understand her, but the tune is the same.”

     “What song is it? It's familiar, but I can't place the name.” He said, pensive thinking back to the Isle. The song reminded him of the vast green fields where his Clan came from. A crown of craggy mountains ringing the western sky. Snowcapped peaks and deep valleys all along the bowl of their home.

     “Under starlit skies, ahh, that takes me back to when the company was on the shores of Mhuzelt.” He sighed. Gjorn thought back to their latest escapade, he knew damned well he wasn't going home. That last voyage, with their tails between their legs like a dog kicked out of hearth and home. It was a miserable charter with the surviving members of the Clan. Halgier did get a catchy nickname out of it though, then again, so did he. Warlord, that name Halgier wore like a badge of honor, nearly brought the Mhuzelti Empire to its knees before we were stopped. 

     “Was a long time ago, years since we were back on the island. Gjorn, what are you doing?” He had pulled his guitar out and started to play the song for the woman. The woman stopped immediately and whipped a saber out of nowhere, startled. The sound of ringing steel filling the place where music had been. Ominous, a threat implicit, the quiet before a fight. An even more eerie hum coming from her lips as she locked eyes with both of them. Her piercing violet eyes, pinning Halgier to the spot.

     The thing was tall as she was, clearly forged for a human. The odd feeling in the air vanished, Halgier shook his head and the odd fog in his mind cleared now that she wasn’t speaking. A cool frost built up along the blade of the saber, Halgier noted her control over the weapon. It didn’t quiver, nor drop, but stood ready to act, her shoulders not even shaking under the weight of something that appeared to me more like a two handed requirement. He also noted she was using it wrong, held out at full length, easy to knock away. She was clearly practiced with combat, just not used to the weapon that required some grace to it. 

     “Now now now, we don’t mean you harm miss.” Gjorn had raised his hands and looked over to Halgier to make sure he did the same. But, Halgier was transfixed on the woman, Gjorn rolled his eyes as he spoke to the Goblin again. “I just wanted to play that song you were singing for you.”

     She said something in that language of hers again, but seemed to realize they weren’t understanding, she shook her head and spoke in common. “What did you say? I don’t understand your tongue.” Both Dwarves had a look of surprise, they didn’t anticipate her to be able to speak common. Gjorn had assumed he was going to have to use a lot of gestures and placating noises. The neckbreakers, when one went to trade with them, didn’t care to learn new tongues, only spoke in theirs. But, Gjorn repeated his statement.

     The woman lowered her saber a little, the echo of a smile on her face. She looked slightly less nervous, though very clearly able to react to anything they might try. An air of well practiced martial talent. “Please throw any weapons you have back behind you, and I’ll do the same.” She said, their attention popping back to her without their choice, the command in her voice was slightly jarring. “Was she the leader of something with the Goblins here?” Halgier thought to himself. “Our spies caught the Chancellor speaking with a Sightless Hunter about the whole situation. Certainly see why they think they need to look into this more.”

     Both the Dwarves reached down and pulled their axes from their brass hoops on their belts and threw them back out the threshold. Then pulling the blunderbuss from their holsters and emptying the round inside. The woman had sheathed the saber and gently set it behind her. Gjorn had wandered into the lantern light, guitar in hand. Smiling, he sat down next to a wall so that the sound wouldn’t echo, the rest of the room was fairly open, and began softly playing the song she was singing. 

     She surprised them again by extinguishing the lantern. “Sorry, but I’d like to beat a quick escape if need be.” She said from the moonlit window. She hoisted herself up onto the window sill, and rested her chin in her hands. 

     Halgier laughed deeply, “I can’t say I blame you, but I gotta wonder about something miss. Why are you so nervous? We threw the weapons out, and we haven’t approached you at all.” He sat down next to Gjorn who elbowed him in the side. 

     “That was a stupid question, Halgier.” He huffed.

     “I agree with your friend, but if you really want to know. My people are not tolerated anywhere near the City. I don’t know if you are going to run to tell the guards I am here. I would prefer you don’t, I won’t hurt you.” She whispered the last part, a somberness in her voice. 

     “Why?” Gjorn asked, “Why aren’t you tolerated here? The Neckbreakers on Mhuzelt are mostly just an accepted fact, they aren’t a threat to anything other than the occasional fool that wanders to that part of the island.”

     Halgier thought the little sideways look she gave them and the way her long ears swayed was mildly cute, and looked away. “Neckbreakers?” she asked, her eyes catching the light enough to glow softly.

     “It’s what we call something in the homeland, though, to be honest, you look nothing like them. We overheard the guards talking about Goblins earlier, and didn't think we’d get to meet one however. Said actually seeing one of you is pretty rare.” Gjorn piped up.

     “What is the name of the song you wanted to play for me?” She said sweetly, snapping their attention back to her, that strange feeling back in the air.

     “An old song from the time before the Hammer Strike, Under Starlit skies. An appropriate setting for old memories, this has an atmosphere that can’t be beat.” Waving his hand to the scene before him “Old ruins, clear cloudless skies, constellations bright, moonlight just right.” Gjorn turned to look out the remains of the window “Mysterious magic using women, it’s almost storybook…” he laughed.

     She giggled sweetly to their ears, “So you noticed that, I guess it really doesn’t work on the Family, only everyone else.”

     “Family, what an affectionate term. Are you really hungry for the blood of the unborn, and slaughter everything you meet?” Gjorn had started to play the song, and moved onto the next song after that, and the one after that. The woman had gotten up and started her own singing again, moving slowly about the room, twirling and dancing. Halgier noticed how her eyes caught the moonlight, and seemed to glow brighter than the moon, a captivating violet.

     “I would prefer nothing of the sort. I tried to keep their hands clean, but…” She trailed off. “A sweet treat and venison sounds far more appetizing.”

     He was transfixed on her, her voice seeming to echo off itself like a few different copies of her were singing in time. Sweet, melodic, richly practiced. Gjorn elbowed him again, and made fun of him for his staring. Halgier rolled his eyes and pulled a flask out and offered it to the two. 

     “How come I never see any Dwarves in the City?” She asked the two, finishing a draft from the flask. She impressed both of the Dwarves by pulling out a bigger bottle of an even stronger smelling spirit. 

     “I thought you weren’t allowed near the city?” Halgier responded, no hesitation. 

     “Well…” She drew the word out, trying to be playful with it. Gjorn laughed, but she continued “No allowed and unable are two very different things, though many of my people refuse to join me.”

     Gjorn pushed a little magic in his voice, noticing her twitch slightly. She clearly understood what he just did, but asked his question anyway. “I suppose I could ask the same question to you, why are your people not tolerated?”

     “We aren’t exactly innocent, we do deserve the anger of the City. But, I won’t answer you further. I apologize but we have just met after all.” She told them. “I’m sure you’ve heard all sorts of nasty rumors about us little murderers.” 

      Her bitter laugh left a taste of sympathy in Halgier's mouth. He chuckled, the appalling irony of his own past as to why they could never return to Mhuzelt, wasn’t lost on him at her words. “The Gnomes are the reason. Our history runs far back, back to the Hammer Strike. To say we don’t get along, would be putting it lightly.” He told her.

     Cocking her head, she asked “Hammer Strike? I’ve heard it before, eavesdropping on a Gnomish woman with her children. I thought they were reading a fairytale.”

     “What a wonderful coincidence, a chance to play our lovely audience another tune!” Gjorn said, elbowing Halgier in the side again, muttering to him under his breath “Are you trying to sound hostile and deflective, lover boy?”

     She smiled, nodding and gesturing for the Dwarf to continue playing the music. Gjorn was only happy to oblige. A quick and jaunty tune, an old shanty that she had heard a few times before at the docks, only in different words. “Sing me a song oh sing it with me. Let me sing you a song of our deepest green trees. Our home far a field, our home far a sea.”

“Oh pretty Mhuzelti, our home at ease. Let me sing you a song, but not at ease.” He sang of his home, great verdant fields along cold wind blown coasts. Great mountains where their gods slept. He sang of a tribe of traitors and how they awoke an angry god of war. 

     As the story continued, he spoke more of how the Dwarves had tried to put the god back to sleep, but failed. The wrath of that god brought down a Great hammer and struck their homeland. The Dwarves were expelled from the interior of the island and kept on the rocky shores, and the Gnomes were kept inside their prison of mountains. Gjorn finished the story with a short explanation that the god went back to sleep and told her that the Dwarves and Gnomes would never unite again, and that the Dwarves would never call their Island home.

     “That's a sad song” She said simply. 

     “Aye, but the gods themselves wouldn’t be able to stop us from trying to take our home back, eh, Warlord?” He nudged Halgier, eliciting an odd look from the woman. 

     “Aye, I’ve made many attempts to try and take our home back from the Empire.” Halgier growled out, lost in the song still.

     “Can you tell me more stories of your home?” The Goblin woman asked, an excited edge to her voice, with a wide smile that reached her eyes. Gjorn laughed heartily, starting to play another song. Halgier had sung many of the background parts to them, never taking his eyes off the woman. She joined in when she recognized the tunes, though she usually sang in her own language.

     The trio had continued for a while as the constellations turned in the sky, the moonlight shifting angles, the cool night air wafting through the old ruin. Eventually the woman bid her goodbye, and thanked them for the entertainment. 

     The two sat in the now empty room. Gjorn enjoyed the silence while he left Halgier to think. He was best at that, he would oft get lost in his own mind if you let him. The room had an odd feeling to it, as if the echoes of the woman’s song still hung in the air. “Odd magic, a Domain. Yes, it had to be a true Domain Talent.” Gjorn thought to himself. Potent, but unpracticed, perhaps those Goblins could be useful if that woman was anything to go by. Or maybe she is some powerful one off. “Never have I seen a more smitten Dwarf.” Gjorn needled Halgeir as he lit a pipe he pulled out of his sleeve. Small fire at the tip of his finger.

     “Shut it” Halgier said defensively, Gjorn only laughed.

     “And you didn’t even ask what her name was.” He said with mock forlornness, pantomiming an exasperated look on his face. “Guess you’ll have to get those balls working and track down where the Goblin clan is and ask about her, oh fearless Warlord.” He said, smacking Halgier on the shoulder. 

“Though, I’ll note a few things you seemed to miss while you were thinking with your dick.” Gjorn laughed. 

     “And that is what?” Halgier questioned. 

     “How about that she fit not a single description we were given. Or that she used a power that was never disclosed to us. Or maybe the fact that her power is very similar to mine.” Gjorn listed off. 

     “Odd, yes. I think it might be worth hunting down that Sightless and buying that information from him too.” Halgier added, “We have the coin to bride a King if we wanted. One Hunter would be cheap enough.”

     “Expensive first date, Warlord. You only want to know her name anyway.” Gjorn rose from his spot and began walking toward the door. 

     A small smile spread across his face, “Maybe I do.”