Snippet #1559701

Fae headed back from the healer’s tent with heavy footsteps. She’d been to inquire about the status of several of her comrades, and on three fronts at least, the news wasn’t stellar. Both Qinn and Beelzes were being kept out of the next battle, which she had gathered was not going over well with them. It scared her a little bit, too, actually; they were both very proficient spellcasters, and without them, she was probably going to be feeling some pressure. Not to mention the fact that Beelzes was probably her closest friend in the Legion and enough of a mentor-figure that Faera would feel her absence keenly. Nobody to make silly puns for me to laugh at… nobody to save me if I do something stupid… Well, maybe the latter would actually turn out to be a good thing. Hopefully, if she was forced to stop relying so heavily on other people, she might be able to rely on herself and improve for once.

She was not allowed access to the tent where they were keeping Kisikoni, but she was friends with a few of the healers, and had managed to persuade them (in that strange way she had that was more presumption than persuasion- she had presumed they would tell her and they did not have the heart to say no) to give her daily updates. This was more for the sake of Talae than herself- while Fae had faith that they would be able to do their jobs and heal him, Tala was not so sure. Nor was she exactly… sociable enough to wheedle the information out of these particular people in the way Fae managed it.

She entered the tent that she and her sister shared and wrinkled her nose; it would seem her elder sibling was brewing potions again. Fae wasn’t exactly sure where Tala had learned the craft, but apparently it was both useful and in-demand… well, either that or the assassin just wanted to be very stocked up. It occurred to her right then that it was entirely possible that she might just be doing it to have something to do. It had taken Talae two days to recover from her injuries, and she’d spent the majority of the time since making sure her muscles and joints were in working order through practice and then also brewing concoctions.

“The news is the same as yesterday,” Fae offered kindly, taking up a cross-legged position on her cot. “There’s a rumor going around camp that there might be an actual dragon lord this time.” Faera paused. She wasn’t exactly sure if she should say the rest; this particular dragon was a touchy subject for Talae. “Nihalistrix, specifically.” She sighted and leaned her head back against one of the support poles of the tent. Had it really been that long since the black dragon had reduced their town to naught but ashes? It was hard to remember.

Unbidden, her little white dragonling, who she’d taken to leaving behind when it came time to do battle, clambered up her arm to her shoulder. As she was already wearing her leathers, Fae barely felt it, but she smiled when Zek trilled softly in one of her sharply-pointed ears and rubbed his scales affectionately. Sometimes, she wondered if he really was a dragon, or some lesser cousin thereof, or something else entirely. She’d been told he looked like one, but that obviously meant very little to her. “Beelzes and Qinn aren’t too happy about being left behind, but I think I sort of understand why they should be.” Her fears on this matter, she left unvoiced. Talae would understand even without the words, she knew that. Sometimes she just felt the need to speak and fill a silence.

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It was time. Neira had decided that whatever the risk might be, she needed to figure out what that damnable Silenced had left in her head, and she figured now was as good a time as any to deal with it. She’d already collapsed her tent and packed up her other things, so she was left with what was essentially two hours to kill. She wanted her whole psyche available to her this time, and in order to guarantee that, she needed to make sure that there was no ticking time-bomb ready to explode inside her skull.

Finding a relatively out-of-the-way spot, she settled on the ground and retreated Within, searching through the layers of architecture that she had constructed anew after tearing what had been out. Things were much more labyrinthine now, less centered on any one thing, but in some sense, easier for her to understand and access at a moment’s notice. It was something she found hard to explain, to put to words, but there was a level of intuitive cohesion to it that made such things unnecessary. To whom did she need to explain her mind, anyway?

She alighted upon the piece of foreign presence that she had not dared touch before this moment, keeping back for a moment and observing. It seemed almost innocuous like an errant thought that appeared and then vanished again just as quickly, but if someone had gone to the trouble of placing it there, this was likely not the case. Perhaps Xeron had simply intended to waste her time, but if so, he would find himself with a much stronger, wiser opponent next time with no advantage to himself. On the contrary, she was half expecting a trap.

As it turned out, what she found was neither.

The hive city burned.

Great plumes of smoke climbed from Ecclavaria to the sky above, darkening it with roiling clouds of pitch-colored darkness. Below, the flames crackled loudly in what was otherwise a city far too quiet. She remembered it being so much louder, as her people came and went, busy, always busy. Industrious. That was the word their near-slavery had been clothed in. But this silence, this… emptiness; this was even worse.

The sound of marching footsteps broke over the clearing she was in, and Neira turned, unable to quell the desire to think that mayhap someone had survived, that they all had survived, that they all would survive. For if they could do nothing else, Nightmarians had always done that. But the footfalls did not belong to ark-shell limbs or insectoid bodies. She saw a line of white-robed murderers, and each pair with regularity carried something slung between them. She moved closer, for control of what she saw was to some extent hers, only to stop in her tracks.

They had the Small. Hatchlings barely out of their eggs, all unconscious and carried between the Children as ants carried building material, without the preternatural strength. The grim procession moved inexorably forwards, but Neira did not follow. Where have you gone? You said that their servitude kept them safe, and now what have you allowed to befall them? You patronizing, lying, bitch! I hope you’re still alive, because next time I see you, I’ll kill you myself!

Gritting her teeth, Neira opened her eyes. The question was, would this be considered an image of the past, or of the future? Was it even real? No… no, it was certainly real. Ecclavaria had burned, or it would. She debated informing someone about it, but with about an hour left before they were due to march, it was probably unwise. Still, it would have to become a matter of some importance when the fighting was done. One more reason not to die, it seemed…