"Mousie. Wake up, Mousie." Mutt's voice rang in my ear, amused but insistent. "Get up. Is time for war! Time for Mousie to be glorious like dawn, certain as stars, strong as the moon upon the tide!"
I didn't want to get up. I wanted to stay in that bed, in the warmth and safety of a time long gone. I didn't want to open my eyes, because I knew that if I left that moment, I would never get it back. I would never hear that gruff, gentle voice again. The huge hands that nudged my face and back would never hold me again. I'd never smell the scent of earth mixed with sour ale and warm hearth again. Why would I ever want to leave when this is all I have wanted for the last three decades?
"Mousie..." My beloved's tone was one of wry and weary amusement. "Get up. Is not time for you to sleep yet. Get up. There is much for Mousie to be doing."
My eyes cracked open to get a look at the lumpy green face in the radiant Radasanth sunlight. "Will you come with me?"
He chuckled, a sound like a saw grinding its way through a log, and leaned down to kiss my forehead. "My Mousie goes nowhere alone." He held a hand out to me, and I reached to take it.
My fingers closed on cool leather wrapped around metal rather than the warm hand I sought to grasp. The stench of old feces, rotting organic matter, and singed fur flooded back into my awareness. Bright morning light faded to flickering shadows in the Lindequalme afternoon, and my eyes focused on a faded mural, half-obscured by creeping vines.
An elven male, resplendent in starlight, reached out his hand to strike down the Serpent of Night. Megillion, then. Without having to look, I knew the rest of the Star Pantheon was represented on these walls. While the humans were still occupied with the Dur'Taigen alpha, I chanced a glance to the cracked and filthy floor. Underneath the devastation swam an impossibly intricate dance of silver specks in a field of navy blue.
This ballroom was identical to the one in my stepfather's house, but this one... It's hard to describe. Underneath the scat and spoor, beyond the corruption and curse, I could feel old magic tingling at the very edge of my perception. Back when the Stars acted instead of simply watched, back when the devotees were still intensely fervent... back when Raiaerans and Alerians were still as one... In a time when magic was stronger, builders sometimes wove the gods’ might and protection into their works.
It hadn't done Eluriand much good, but this building was older. Maybe... Just maybe.
I'm no musician. For an elf, I can't even carry a tune in a bucket. But my half-brother is a Bladesinger, and I was a small child when he was learning the basics. He recited the prayers to the old gods tens of thousands of times each, and I was there to hear them. I stopped trying to repeat them after my Lord Stepfather heard me, because his wrath was ruinous, but I still knew each word, each inflection, each cadence by heart.
I would sooner stab Siegfried through the face than admit he was ever someone I looked up to, but when you're so small that your eyes don't yet clear the table, the safest person in your life is the one you cling to closest. For me, that was either at the edge of my brother’s shadow or in the far corner of whichever open room he might have occupied. While I do not believe my brother felt any love for me, at least he was only rarely cruel, and he was often protective.
I wonder if that's why he wrote the letter that brought me to the Lindequalme. Not to put me into harm's way (even if that's exactly where I was), but because old habit told him that he needed to bring me home. Unfortunately for him, Raiaera isn't home anymore.
But here, where clumsy humans struggle against a might they have no hope of destroying, I knew what to do. Or I hoped I did. I stood like a queen (or at least a tipsy person with a head injury), striding (wobbling) forward to face the Dur'Taigen again.
"Aaye Galatirion, Atar en Melen, Oira!”
Hail Galatirion, Sky-Father, Eternal!
“Aaye Selana, Elen en Nesse, Fane!”
Hail Selana, Young-Star, Mysterious!
“Suula e’a i’dome!”
Breathe into the darkness!
“Sila Llie me’a!”
Shine your light!
“Leneema ‘kshi’ akh’velahr narka!”
Let not the forces of evil destroy us!
“Ila’re, iltul’re, ila’Arda telar!”
Not today, not tomorrow, nor to the ends of the earth!
The world washed in starlight, my mythril sword shimmered with power. The beast lunged at me, but shafts of radiance erupted from the floor, skewered it, contained it, and exposed its soft underbelly for the others to exploit. The wolf screamed, half a snarl of impotent rage and half a yowl of agonized terror. I didn't dare stop chanting for fear of what might happen if the Dur'Taigen was released.
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