The Offering (closed)

[WatchingCloud]

Manus hastened his pace to keep up with the king’s personal guard. He suspected the urgency had more to do with getting out of the cold than for the reason behind his summons. A dusting of early season snow made the battlements slick and Manus, in his usual sandals, was wary of taking a spill into the training grounds below. At least the bitter cold swirling up under his robe was of little discomfort thanks to a small warming charm.

He chanced a glance to his right, over the battlements and out across the city of Ponteron, seat of the Cardeen kingdom and home to just over six thousand souls. Under the slate gray sky, it looked as though most had chosen to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary. It was for them and the tens of thousands of others spread out among kingdom’s towns and hamlets that Manus continued to answer the crown prince’s call.

The guard led the familiar route down several stairs, into the castle proper, and directly to the throne room, a sparsely decorated, long room capable of holding several hundred when pressed. Presently, it held only Prince Onthur and two additional guards. Onthur, a dour but sharp-eyed man in his early thirties who favored his late father, sat in the seat beside the vacant throne. Queen Colette hadn’t graced the throne in nearly two years due to her frail health and scattered mind. Her son was king in all but title these days.

Manus waited at a respectful distance and nodded a polite greeting once the prince finally looked up. He never had and never would bend the knee. That wasn’t how their relationship worked.

“Onthur,” he said. He didn’t use titles, either.

“Wizard.” Onthur preferred to use the non-title than his name, probably for similar reasons.

“I understand you needed me?”

Onthur held out a rolled-up parchment and waited for Manus to come forward and take it. “Tell me what you make of this.”

Manus’s first impressions had nothing to do with the words. The parchment itself was of exceptional quality, not found within the kingdom. Similarly, the handwriting exhibited artistic grace. He had no doubt it originated from the Shea’Aathur – dark elves, to the common folk.

The contents of the note were brief and to the point. The implications, however, were far reaching and both hopeful and disturbing.

“The Shea’Aathur seek a permanent end to the ongoing conflict,” Manus said, not telling the prince anything he didn’t already know. After decades of skirmishes and outright battle, with steep losses on both sides, this was an unexpected gesture.

The prince restrained his scorn. “I got that. It’s the details I don’t understand. What is a Bloodright? And that other thing they’re asking for…the offering?”

Manus was only vaguely familiar with the sort of magic the Shea’Aathur used, but it was highly dependent on blood. Most people envisioned human (or elvish) sacrifice and other gory rites, but in truth that was probably rarely, if ever, done. Small cuts and bloodletting were more likely. At least, he hoped his assumptions were correct.

“The Bloodright, I believe, is a magical vow which cannot be broken,” he said. “In this case, it would bind both rulers as well as potentially their heirs in perpetuity. If the terms were carefully constructed, this could end the conflict for generations at the least.”

Onthur considered this. Underneath the brashness was a calculating man doing his best to protect the kingdom. He’d tired of the constant fighting and losses and knew full well that for either nation to directly take on the other would likely result in the ruin of both.

“And the other? This offering they ask in return?”

That was the disturbing bit of the note. The blood elves seemed to believe Cardeen was harboring a Vychaen, a demon, and they wanted it turned over. How they’d come by that knowledge was beyond him, but likely gleaned through their magic.

Just over twenty years ago, Cardeen had faced an unprecedented threat from a Slyxxis, another foul sort of demon-spawn. Manus’s own talents were insufficient to the task of eradicating the creature, so he’d been forced to seek outside help. That had come in the form of another demon, a Vychaen, who had agreed to the terms in exchange for Manus’s help in binding it to Earth, giving it a mortal life. Contrary to popular belief, not all demons were pure evil, and this particular one had fallen in love with a human woman. Manus agreed, and both had upheld their end of the bargain. The couple had lived quietly, the demon’s identity never suspected under a glamour of human form, for ten years. That was when they’d been slaughtered.

“I have some thoughts on that one,” Manus said, carefully choosing his words. He didn’t need the prince passing judgment on what he’d had to do all those years ago to save the kingdom. “But I need to do some searching, first.”

Onthur frowned. “Isn’t a Vychaen a demon?”

Manus pressed his lips tightly together. “You remember your studies well. Yes, it is a type of demon. But it shouldn’t be possible for one to be loose in the kingdom. That’s what I need to investigate. Whether there is any truth behind it.”

Onthur rose and stretched. Manus had been there on the day of the prince’s birth. Helped educate the lad and advise him through his increased role in administration. It bothered him how the man no longer looked young to his eyes. The burden of rule in a time of conflict had taken its toll. What must Onthur think of him, the old wizard who looked an eternal, healthy thirty-something?

Manus nodded. “I’ll let you know as soon as I learn something.”

The prince grunted and waved him out.

Manus returned, unescorted, to his solitary tower on the northeast corner of the outer wall surrounding the castle and grounds. He was lost in thought, trying to come to terms with the requested offering from the dark elves. Was there really a Vychaen loose in the kingdom, or was their information a decade out of date? Had another somehow made its way here, all while keeping a low profile to avoid his notice? Unlikely, but not impossible.

Then there was the third alternative, one profoundly worrisome – had the demon he’d given mortality fathered a child? Why had the possibility never occurred to him? He’d tried to save the couple after learning of the threat but was too late, arriving just in time to find their bodies still warm. If there had been a child, had it witnessed the murders? At what age? And what would that do to a young child, born with demon blood but lacking an understanding parent to deal with the repercussions?

Yes, he had work to do.

 

[havu]

Removal

I edited and decided to delete my post. I am sorry for the trouble I caused.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Her feet shuffled as quickly as the cumbersome long dress allowed. It is baffling to think maids wear this to do their chores and serves their masters. The off-the-shoulders sleeves restricted the arms. The dress’ length made it impossible for long strides. The headdress is most ridiculous. It covered her whole head with exception of her pale, small features, and heart-shape face. It not only severed her peripherals, but also made her neck rigid. The most unforgiving is the noise made by very well starched-cotton with each movement. The cherry-top-blasphemy is the dreadful, gray, dark gray and forest gray color scheme and pattern.

As much as she is displeased and nitpicked little things about the dress in her mind, Ayil is thankful for the disguise. She was able to blend with the other maids and roam the castle ground this easy since right before dusk.

As Ayil the young maid took a corner, she saw a well decorated guard with guest approached. Her rosy smirk faded and dark hazel eyes casted to her feet. She curtsied to stay in character and kept her head down. As expected, they didn’t pay a second look nor question her presence. As they hastily past her, Ayil sense tingled. It isn’t the bitter cold that pricked her skin. Something similar, like a forgotten scent or an unfounded sixth sense or a déjà vu, washed over her. Something about the guest, the one being escorted by the guard, that made her uneasy; or is it excitement that she was feeling? This mix emotion was bitter sweet. It was something she hadn’t experience for over a decade; something she tried to bury deep; something her mind protected her by forgetting.

Though, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what is it she was actually feeling or remembering…

Easy. Easy. Easy. Ayil told her nerve. She didn’t lift her eyes until they were a few feet away. Her sight lingered at the backs for a couple second before she rubbed her arms and pivoted toward the other direction.

She repeatedly reminded herself, Focus. Focus. Focus. Ayil, the raider disguised as a maid, had a mission after all. Someone paid her generous amount of gold to retrieve a relic on castle ground. It was a gold needle enchanted by a Vychaen and that if pricked, one will be deeply in love with the possessor. Ayil didn’t believe in such trickery, but a job was a job. It has crossed her mind to get a gold painted plain needle if she still unable to find it after a night of honest search.

So Ayil continued to stray and explore the ground for the needle in the haystack. It led her hours of unfruitful endeavor until she found herself on the northeast corner of the outer wall. She was at the foot of the tower looking up the curvy and stony steps. The stairwell was barely lit, cold and damp. Yet, something warm and welcoming called out to her at the top of the tower. There it is again; the unknown familiarity. With a deep, she picked up her dress a few inches and scuttled up the staircase. The way became lighter as she climbed. There was light atop. She climbed on and deduced that someone is at peak. Just as she recognized the occupant, the man escorted by the guard from earlier, she found herself running out of stairs. Ayil coyly greeted, “Sire. I’m told to serve.”

 

[WatchingCloud]

By the time Manus reached his study at the top of the tower, he had an idea how to begin his search for the mysterious Vychaeon. He knew a spell that could help track down the owner of an item. With a bit of tweaking, he thought he could make the spell track someone related to or of similar blood to the owner.

His study was a drafty, unforgiving place, cluttered with boxes and bags, jar-lined shelves, and cases full of books. Nothing had much value, aside from the books, and even they had nothing to do with magic, but all were part of his ceaseless study of the natural world. He found a small wood chest buried in a far corner and blew the dust off it. Yes, this was where he’d put it.

Ten years back, when he’d arrived too late to save the made-mortal Vychaeon and his wife, his senses had picked up something unusual – magic. In the Vychaeon’s belt pouch, he’d found a gold needle carefully wrapped in a scrap of leather. He had no knowledge of its function nor had he been able to discern it through study. There were other wizards who might have the knowledge to crack its secrets, but he’d been wary of asking any for fear of what they might find or how it might force him to admit his association with the demon. Ultimately, he’d just stashed it away and forgotten about it.

Manus found the scrap of leather, perhaps a bit more brittle now with age, and unwrapped the gold needle. He still felt the magic within, almost like a vibration in his soul. Perhaps now, after all these years, it would serve a new purpose.

He emptied a clay bowl and set it in the middle of a small table, dropping the needle inside. To this, he added spring water from a flash, a handful of crushed herbs of his own blend, and three drops of owl tears. He waved his hand in a circular fashion over the bowl and chanted in a deep voice. His words were gibberish, but the cadence served to help focus his energies as he reached out and bound the essential nature of the ingredients into a new purpose.

As the spell took effect, Manus felt the tug in his mind that he’d intended as the result of the spell. The residue on the needle of its previous owner was sufficient to reach out and lock on to the next closest thing. He couldn’t picture the person, but he could feel him.

No, her. The sensation was curious, but distinctly feminine. And shockingly close! He’d expected to have to wander across the city, if lucky, or far abroad in the kingdom to find the target of his spell. Instead, he wondered if it wasn’t picking up something in his own study, if not himself, instead.

But the target was moving and getting closer. Manus felt a pang of nerves, unusual for him these days. The timing seemed too much to be coincidental.

The resolution of the spell improved and he realized the target was in his tower, climbing the steps. He didn’t have much in the way of offensive magic, should he need to defend himself, but he was able to cast certain magics almost reflexively that would allow him to escape if necessary. He slipped out of his sandals and made sure the belt on his simple, unadorned night blue robes was loosened.

Quietly, he padded across the study and opened the door to the stairs. He heard the woman’s footsteps approaching, making no effort at concealment.

A young woman in the royal servants’ winter attire rounded the corner and looked up at him. What little her could see of her under all that restrictive clothing was pretty – pale skin, heart-shaped face, and bright-eyed. There was something in her demeanor that didn’t fit with the usual staff, but he rarely paid them much attention. He certainly wasn’t used to looking for demonspawn among them.

Was this the child of the Vychaeon or something else? He stayed on alert.

She gave him a little smile and said, “Sire. I’m told to serve.”

Manus gave her a curious look. Serve? While the royal staff was under orders to accommodate his needs within reason, he’d never had anyone personally wait on him. He’d refused every previous offer of such attention. Given his nature and unusual sleep habits, such attention was wasted on him.

“Serve me, my dear? In what capacity? And on whose orders?”

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

The chamber is unkempt. There are many books. Some spilled over the cases, half-balanced on top of bags, and piled randomly here and there. There is just much dust settling on top of cases, boxes, bags, between the cracks, on the window sills, and on practically any surface with the exception of a small rectangle in the corner. Something was moved and left a clean, dust-free imprint.

Before Ayil could figure out what is moved, her eyes returned to the man with many questions. If she hadn’t a royal guard escorting him earlier, she would’ve never bet he’s someone important by the way his simple robe. A glance turned into a stare; she found it hard to look away. He had a handsome feature but unremarkable and would pass off any thirty-something commoner. Yet, those eyes…those bright green orbs had some familiarity at them. She had stared at them before tonight. But when? She recognized those wavy brown locks and the clean shaven face were. But from where?

If he is simply a passerby, he wouldn’t have made a big impression on her memory. If he has employed her, she would’ve definitely recognized him immediately. Though not photographic memory, she made a habit of remembering her employers to avoid awkward run-in like victimizing them for another employer. However, there was a gap in her memory. The years before she was ten is a blank. Her autobiography consisted only eleven years back. Her beginning was wandering through the woods with blood stained hands, face and cloth. Barefoot. Wide eyes. Lifeless expression. Cheeks wet with tears with a crimson, frozen dead smile. Life seemed snuff from her. She never recalled what had happened to her. She had never tried to. She buried that memory, that past life deep in the abyss of her mind.

Those who found her, a band of outcasted arms-for-hire, had never questioned nor did they care to know. At that age and the hopelessness demeanor was great addition to the group. She served as a poster child for spare change or sob story. Eventually she snapped out of that phase and learned the ropes around the outcasts way of business. She became one of them, raiding for anyone who can pay. She could recall every job she took, everything she raided, and everywhere she went. Yet, she couldn’t remember anything about the man before her with the exception that she remembered him. She longed to see him, somehow and for whatever reason.

Ayil pulled her mind out of the rabbit hole, conjured a small smile and replied before her silence became too awkward or suspicious, “On M’lady orders. Queen of the late-King. Queen Collete, sir. I’m here to tidy your work chamber.” She paced a few feet further into the room and then added with a chuckle, “Rightly so.”

She hovered over a small table and stared at a clay bowl in the center. The gold needle sparkled under the puddle of grainy water. Jackpot? she exclaimed in her mind but made no move toward her holy grail. Something else in the bowl caught her attention. The longer she stared, the reflection on the surface changed. Her own reflection swirled until there was only darkness with a slit of light. At a closer look, the small opening showed a glimpse of fiery and bloody scene. She blinked to get the image off her mind.

She then ran the tip of her index finger across the table and turned to face him once again. “See?” She held up the dirty finger. “This place will be spark clean by dawn. Maybe you should retrieve to your chamber until then?” she suggested with a smile.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Manus watched the young woman's actions with interest. She might look like a servant, but she didn't act like one. They usually kept their eyes down and were very deferential. This one had a confidence about her.

He also didn't buy her story about the queen sending her on this errand. Collete's mind was all but lost and she scarcely remembered her own family. It was possible, in one of her semi-lucid moments, she might have inquired about him, but he thought it unlikely. If she had, she certainly wouldn't remember having done so.

And then there was the impossible coincidence that the very person he sought appeared at his study mere moments after he started looking. Fate had taken an interest in matters. He just wasn't sure in what way yet.

The girl paused before the table and bowl. She tried to act disinterested, but her gaze lingered and he noted a subtle tension in her back that she forcibly eased when turning to suggest he take his leave for the night so she could clean. Had the needle called her? Did she even know what it was?

Manus was more curious than worried about the strange situation. Better to see how things played out than confront her outright, he figured.

"It is a bit of a mess, I must concede," he said, giving her a chagrined smile. "No lady in my life to insist I keep up with it. By all means, do what you can. Please try not to move things too much, though. It may look like I put things just anywhere, but most are exactly where they're supposed to be. Some more than others."

He gave her a short nod of the head as he backed out of the door and onto the landing.

"Until later, my dear."

Manus gently closed the door behind him and started down the stairs. Before he'd completed one lap around the spiral staircase, he'd untied his belt and pulled his robes over his head, leaving his lean body naked to the cool air. A moment later, he'd transformed into a golden eagle and caught the wad of clothing in his claws before they hit the ground. The shift came as naturally to him as breathing.

He flapped hard and had to do a little squeezing to get out the window-less slit in the wall that both let in daylight and, in rare times, offered archers a view of targets outside the castle grounds. Once out, he flew up to the top of the tower and let himself in through a similar slit one floor above the study. His private room, unlike the study, had no door or access to anyone unable to fly or otherwise scale a dangerously smooth stone wall.

Manus dropped his clothing on the bare floor beside his bed. Unlike the study, his room was neat and tidy with little more than a few furnishings, an unlit lamp, and a small stack of books.

Without bothering to pass through his human form, Manus then shifted into the form of a mouse and availed himself of a crack along the wall that led down a short tunnel and into the rafters of his study. Quiet and unseen, he settled in to see what the "woman" would do next.

 

[Lotus_Maiden]

Ayil gave a soft chuckle before jokingly mocked“Not surprise there is no lady’s around. It is quite a hike. Of course, sire. I shall be extra cautious. Sleep well, sire.” Though she curtsied, her eyes stayed level with his –something a maid probably wouldn’t have done. She looked and acted like one for the most part. Subtle habits are hard to mask.

She waited until the sorcerer’s back disappeared before she turned and gave her full attention to the clay bowl. She looked around the corner-less room for something to fish the needle out of the murky water; saw nothing of sort. She resorted to her own digits. Although the water was tepid, there was a shock of chill shot from her finger to her spine. Just as her fingertips touched the gold needle, her hand froze. Her whole body petrified. Then it came after her psyche. Her mind swirled as the walls spun around her before everything blacked out.

She didn’t pass out though. She was still conscious. She heard voices. She smelled blood. There was screams and the air thickened. Her eyes burned and became watery. Before she knew it, she was crying. A light emerged through a small opening in front of her. Then it turned into a scene… familiar one. One that she had seen, had experienced, had lived through it…more ten years ago.

Little Ayil was hiding and crouching inside a charmed hidey hole. From the outside, anyone but her could see nothing else but a solid wall. Although she was young and knew no magic, she was still her father’s daughter. Even though she didn’t know, she had Vychaen blood running through her veins. She was able to open a small incision and watched the horror. Her mother was lifeless on the ground. Although her father was outnumbered, poisoned and wounded, she still fought with fierce and rage for his sake, for his daughter’s sake. He was still fighting a losing and he knew so. He used his last power teleport the hidden Ayil far away. As the spell took its time to work around her, she watched her father took a fatal wound through his chest. Just then a tall figure in simple robe rushed in and came to her father’s defense. Although this was ten years ago, he was exactly like whom Ayil had seen minutes ago on top of the tower. He didn’t seem to have age a day.

Her world went dark again and transported back to present. She jerked her arm back with the gold needle was in hand. The dimly lit and untidy tower came back to view. Her eyes were still red, cheeks are wet with tears, and mind freshened with the old memory. She was shaken with nostalgic. She was mixed with happiness and misery. She was happy that she remembered her parents’ last minute, but then their demises also bought grief and anger.

Her mind was still at a lost until little squeaks and tiny prattles snapped her out of the trance. She looked up at the rafters and deduced it came from rats, even though she saw none. She pocketed the needle and rushed off running down the curvy stairway as quickly as the restrictive dress allows.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Predictably, the young woman's attention was entirely on the bowl and needle when Manus arrived on his perch in the dusty corner of the rafters. He twitched his whiskers as he watched, curious to see what she would do with the mysterious item.

She dipped her fingers into the bowl and froze when, presumably, she made contact with the needle. Her eyes became unfocused and a wide range of emotions flashed across her face, from fear and anger to love and anguish. Deep in his own gut, Manus felt a surge of magic. He couldn't be certain, but he suspected it had more to do with her than the needle. The contact with an object of Vychaen magic, perhaps for the first time in her life if she was who and what he suspected, might have broken something loose in her. That could be dangerous if she didn't have someone to teach and direct her inherent connection with magic.

After a few seconds that dragged out interminably, she snatched her hand out of the water and regained her senses. She was shaken, still in a state of emotional turmoil.

Manus realized it might have been the spell of location he'd cast, not the needle, which triggered her reaction. What would it do to one who it had been cast to find? Might it in some way have helped the woman to find herself? What had she seen or felt?

Her eyes flashed up in his direction. Manus's heart skipped a beat, fearing she somehow sensed his presence. He wasn't used to being seen when shifted. Moments later, however, she was on her way out the door and hurrying down the stairs.

He couldn't afford to lose her, both for the sake of the kingdom as well as her own safety. He needed to know what prompted her to come for the needle and how she'd known where it was. Mysteries within mysteries.

Manus leapt from the rafters and transformed from mouse to sparrow before halfway to the floor. He flew out the window and curved down, finding a perch from which he could watch when she emerged from his tower.