Day 307
Morning breaks and Miriam and I return to camp. Alder and some of the dwarves are working on a construction project with logs they've felled.
I find Camellia tending to our indoor gardens, ever the Spring fae, but she sets aside her work to have tea with me. Camellia is one of the few non-apprentices who insists on brewing tea for me instead of the other way around. Hers is always unique, always different from the day before. It's always tea to suit the day. Today's tea is bright and a little bitter in the aftertaste.
As we discuss Miriam and Alder she reminds me that time is the solution to all mundane problems - dulling the sharp pain of a moment and letting the sad memories fade away. I'm reminded of the full life she has led as she tells me about some of her own relationships that slipped away, such as a dashing young man who loved her like a little sister when she wanted something else.
Spill your heart like tea
But along with the mundane problems I have unusual ones as well. I had thought of outliving Bran, Hella, and Camellia only to have those fears dealt with. Now they have returned along with the thoughts of outliving all the elves with whom I thought I'd spent the rest of my life. Same problem, just a slightly new shape.
Camellia, at least, has resolved to join us as a fae of day and night and that comes with its own host of small fears and nervousness as well. She reflects on the strange feelings of singing her last song as a fae of seasons and beginning a new chapter of her life in a cycle that she isn't familiar with. But it might still be close - dawn might be like spring, dusk might be like autumn. Only time will tell.
With the rest of the day we prepare for my trip to Drognar (with Camellia advising me not to take Miriam and let her run from her problems here, but to take Hella and let her see that I rely on her). When I go to consult with Alder about whether there's anything I can do to help him cast toward Drognar I find him working with Magdalena.
She's teaching him something that she describes as Velkan magic, a race of fae-sized people who are from a place where the sun stays in the sky for half the year and dips below the horizon for the other half. All of their elemental magic is tied to shadow and darkness.
Day 308
Hella and I set out for Drognar, towing a sled laden with various herbal supplies and dragon bits. It's not a pleasant journey but we manage, dealing with ice wolves along the way.
Evening finds us camped in the shelter of a few small boulders where Hella creates a sort of open ice wall to shield us further. We are tending to the fire when I hear footsteps approaching.
I am utterly unprepared for Mistress to come striding out of the storm towards us, accompanied by a 7 foot-tall elf with leathery green wings. I laugh incredulously and ask if she's somehow done the same thing I did...
A few seconds later my mind catches up to my eyes and I see her more clearly - 150 years old, dressed for the cold in Dwarven-made clothing and with eyes that look sort of like Doraal's. Not Mistress herself but I still can't take my eyes off her. I see her eyes on me as well - there's something there that neither of us can place.
We invite the two of them to join us around the fire and the man adds some preserved meat to our meal. His hands look strange...but his gloves are back on before I can confirm my glance.
The young woman introduces herself as Mystery (so close!) and her companion as Void. She has been wandering this side of the Barrier for 50 years with no memory of her life beforehand. She and Void found themselves in the mountains, surrounded by slain folk who look like him and others wearing a symbol of a sword and the two crescent moons. The symbol is what they've been chasing - they don't know what it is but they know it belongs to people who took something from them.
Her voice sounds like she was raised in the Capital. I know this isn't Mistress but I look at her and I can't bear the idea that she's not somehow connected. There's no such thing as a loose mystery...the threads don't work that way and we can both feel something here. And Void...his wings are absolutely nothing like my own. They're like Haze's or Crag's.
I dig deep into my memory to find a few words in the Kindred language from one of Tira's translations and he answers in the same language, but of course I'm not fluent. The sound of it is ever so slightly reminiscent of the ancient fae dialect. Mystery seems surprised to hear him respond. He speaks Elvish but is usually quiet. When I mention the two dragons, Tira, and the promise of shelter and safety in Dreamfall he shakes his head. He thinks Mystery's...mystery...is more important than his.
I stare at her for a while. Her hair is longer that Mistress' and she doesn't carry herself with quite the same presence. Her magic is there and it feels adjacent to Mistress...more like when she's channelling nature and calling things that make her like Doraal. There is an obvious answer here that I refuse to engage with yet. A war wizard can be very good at compartmentalization.
Instead I offer to use the pearl on her scrap of fabric with the symbol emblazoned on it. In a rough, tumultuous vision I see a group of warriors clad in exquisitely heavy, layered armour battling a young, silvery dragon. They are coordinated and skilled, dodging the ice breath and allowing their two mages to cast unimpeded by their opponent. The casters are using crystals as a focus and tracing precise geometry in the air - not elvish or human (that I know of). They're experienced dragonslayers. It's unpleasant to watch.
When I fade back into reality and describe my vision, Mystery seems appreciative. It's just one more piece of the puzzle she has been trying to fit together.
"What do you know about magic?" I ask her, abruptly.
"Just the basics...things that are part of normal life. I'm better with a sword," she answers. She can feel how things are connected and the magic comes when she calls for it. She's seen a couple human mystics who haven't been terribly helpful.
Why do I feel like I can tell you?
And she leans forwards and pushes her sleeves back, revealing permanent tattoos inked in patterns I've painted dozens of times. Swordfighters, skirmishers, warriors, archers, all martial ancestors who Mistress has called to strengthen her in battle. A part of me laughs that we could have simply tattooed them once and not troubled with the elaborate paint and ritual that I miss so much.
I lean forwards as well and tell her of my own memory loss coming through the Barrier, entrusting my memories to the Empress (Mystery doesn't remember the Empire aside from the Oaths that she knows and keeps) and only getting flashbacks and feelings until they were restored to me. She nods, familiar. She gets feelings too that she doesn't understand. She feels safety and comfort when she looks at me and a strange faint jealousy at Hella. The threads draw closer. Hella's eyes are wide - she has been silently nursing a mug of tea as this happens.
I feel like I haven't blinked for an hour and when I close my eyes there's a dull ache behind my eyelids as I begin to sift through my memories. 200 years ago...leaving the Academy and training with Magdalena...150 years ago...Mistress was still a Dread Lord...it was peaceful and we weren't at war or even battling back anything really consequential. But there are gaps where I thought I knew my own past. I thought I could probably tell my story with only a few missed memories that one would normally forget over time but here I have large, gaping holes.
I open my eyes and paint an illusion in my hands of Doraal, smiling and sunlit as he is in the very best of my memories. I blink to clear my eyes and Mystery is enraptured, reaching a hand out toward him with a lost look in her eyes.
Why does that make my heart hurt?
I spin the illusion into one of Mistress in the quiet of my library, the laughter in her eyes as she lured me away from a textbook. Mystery's face softens like mine did when I found Thalien in the Dreaming.
"You do know me..."
And for the rest of the evening whatever unknowns Mystery and Void are chasing are forgotten.
"Can you tell me a story about those two?"
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