A Prayer for Dawn (solo)

[Skie and Avery]

People who have monsters recognize each other. They know each other without even saying a word.

Benjamin Alire Saenz, Last Night I Sang To The Monster

Above, an airship floated lazily by. Skie watched it, starlight eyes trailing across the sky until it was just a dot on the horizon. The little park in Ettermire was her favorite place to read, where a broad-trunked tree at the top of a hill cradled here and gave her the best vantage of the street that swooped by and the edge of the city beyond. The trees of Alerar were so different than those she’d grown up under. Here, they were squat, solid little things often bent and formed by the wind that swept mercilessly down the plains. Today the wind was chilly, though it couldn’t keep her from the sunny park. Skie had simply chosen a cozy green wool sweater to help guard her from the first caress of autumn.

After the airship had gone, she turned her attention back to her lap. One hand rested at the bottom of the book, holding open her place so that the gentle breeze that blew wouldn’t tousle the pages to the side. The other was on her sword as it rested at her side, her thumb idly stroking the leather-bound handle. She settled back into the text of the book, reading and rereading slowly.

L'quortek zhah yvalm mal'rak xuil l's'argt elemmiire.

Drow was a language she was picking up slowly, in bits and pieces. The book she read now felt like a hundred puzzles, the pieces splashed together and she could only put together one. She sighed and carefully began the page again, trying to cling to the words she knew to pick the meaning of sentences they were mostly outnumbered in.

“You should start with children’s novels,” a voice said, chuckling when Skie seized with terror. She glared up at the intrusion to see a familiar face. He hadn’t seen the serious scowl for some time, since she’d been released from jail (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?29128-Finding-Nemo-%28open-to-1-murder-mystery-%29) and he helped establish her in Ettermire under a fake name. He let his silver hair fall dry and messy, an interesting difference from the slicked back styles she’d become accustomed to in the city. He was dressed today in riding pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows.

“To what do I owe the honor, Captain Ouss’ersth?” she asked closing the book quietly in her lap. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than critique my literary choices.”

“Actually,” he said, without a hint of humor in his rolling voice as he strolled over and leaned against the tree, peering down at her with piercing lilac eyes, “I came to ask about your part in some murders.”

“We need to stop meeting like this,” Skie said, when words failed her.

“That would be nice. I’m going to tell you now that I’m going to give you the chance to explain things to me, and if you move for that sword more quickly than I like, you’ll regret it.” She was sure he was serious, because she couldn’t imagine a world where Malagaste Ouss’ervsth wasn’t serious as a heart attack. But was he right? Did he mean the Drow doctors who had been killed in her kidnapping attempt (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?29387-It-Was-Personal-To-Me-%28closed-to-Dissinger%29&p=248968#post248968)? With a sigh, Skie got to her feet and then raised her brows as she gestured to the steel sword still laying in the grass. When he nodded, she slowly reached down to retrieve it and replace the belt about her waist.

“Walk me home,” she said, “and I’ll tell you the story I’m pretty sure you’re after.”

[Skie and Avery]

“What I knew of your father,” Malagaste finally said as they made their way down roads that were busy with the midday bustle of the city, “is that he walked alone, accompanied only by his sparrow. I’d never heard he’d taken a lover, but then the dead rose in Raiaera and suddenly, a daughter.”

Skie shrugged. Honestly, the Drow that walked beside her probably knew just as much about Devon dan Sabriel as she did. She’d met him once, by chance, as a child. He’d given her a dagger that her brother possessed now. It wasn’t until her own efforts against Xem’zund that she’d recovered his sword and claimed it as her own. The childhood encounter was hazy now, details washing away with time in the same way that the tide took sand castles from a beach.

“I doubt my mother walked very far with him,” she said, her voice cold.

“Long enough for two children, though.” The elf pointed out.

“A one-time tryst, from what I understand,” Skie corrected. “Twins.”

“Do you think he knew about you?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “But that’s fine. It’s fine. We’ve made our way well enough without parents.”

She glanced at him while they walked, wishing she could read the narrowing of lavender eyes or the way a silver brow furrowed. She’d tried to explain to him the best she could without delving too deeply the story of her brother and his vengeance. It was easy enough to tell a stranger that her brother hated her and wanted her dead, but something else entirely to say that he was a demonic king and his followers had murdered people she worked in order to get close enough to kidnap her with the intent of murdering her as well. She’d left pieces out, maybe for another telling, and kept it simple. It was obvious the dark elf had questions, and she’d been surprised when instead of asking them, he’d talked about her father instead.

They came to the bridge near her apartment, the river splashing and roaring beneath their feet. Malagaste paused, reaching out to stop Skie with a hand on her elbow. She turned, meeting his eyes and tried her best to smile.

“Gonna arrest me now?” she asked playfully, even as her heart started to beat hard in her throat. She didn’t really know him, but he definitely wasn’t the joking kind. She might walk away from Ettermire in shackles after all.

“No, but I suppose the charges lay on your brother.” His frown and the surety in his voice gave the woman some pause before laughter bubbled up and took over. Captain Ouss’ervsth glanced around, uncomfortable as Skie doubled over, wiping her eyes as her mirth pushed her to tears. As she caught her breath, waving her face to help stop the tears, they started walking towards her apartment again.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But my brother…” she leveled off and giggled. “It would be a fool’s errand.”

“Well,” Malagaste said, leaning against the frame as Skie unlocked the front door. “I’ll have to find another explanation then.” They stepped inside and Skie shut the door, then leaned down and started to unlace her boots.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, kicking one off. She turned and looked at the elf when he made no such move, one brow cocked. His lips were pursed, his face filled with an expectant pause. “What?” she asked.

“Where is Seth Dahlios?” he asked. Skie held her breath as she stared back at him, silent enough to hear a pin drop.

[Skie and Avery]

“I don’t know wh…”

“Don’t lie,” Malagaste interrupted. “The information I asked about you from Corone arrived. I know you were seen with him shortly before you left the country.” Skie removed her other boot, making sure to keep her movements measured and steady as her mind made quick work of just how much she could reveal. The drow captain was no fool, for sure, but Skie had a burgeoning allegiance to the hex magi.

“I don’t know where he is,” she said truthfully. “And I don’t know what that has to do with anything. He didn’t kill those men.”

“I gave you the benefit of the doubt that you wouldn’t cause trouble, now people are dead and you keep company with famous monsters.” Was it just her imagination or was the Drow pouting? He huffed, pulling out a chair from her dining table and slumped down in it. It wasn’t a gesture that seemed right, and Skie fought to smile at it. Who would have thought that somewhere within the so-serious elf, a surly teenager lurked?

“You can disapprove of my friends all you want, but whatever you might think about my company, you’re probably wrong.” She moved into the sunny kitchen, leaning over the basin to fling open the bright yellow curtain that covered the window there with an exasperated jerk of her arm. Uncorking the water jug on the counter, she filled a kettle and set it on the stove, leaning over and working to light the kindling. Malagaste watched quietly, saying nothing even as she turned and leaned back against the counter and watched him with her lips pursed. Her anger was a hot knot in her chest, ready to strike.

The quiet stretched between them, awkward and thick. The kettle began to dance and whistle before they broke their stares, Skie turning to make tea in mugs painted cherry red, Malagaste raking his fingers through his hair as he sighed.

“Well, you can’t deny that your friends are dangerous.” He finally said, more sullen than usual.

“That’s why I keep the sharp ends pointed away from me,” Skie answered lightly, waving her hand in his direction. She wanted to say he’s not dangerous to me, but Skie knew that was a lie. Of course Seth wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her, if it was necessary. It was the best thing about him, after all. Unflinching honesty was something she could appreciate, much better than any promise of knightly protection.

“All you have is a sword,” the Drow said, accepting the tea she offered. Skie slid into the other chair, leaning over her mug. A sugar cube was slowly dissolving in the bottom as she stirred, and she watched the granules break apart and swirl in the current before they melted away. “You don’t have any armor.”

She shrugged. She had never felt that she needed armor, despite the deep cut at her side that was still healing after the warehouse battle. She’d felt that her caution was armor enough, practicality keeping her from any exposure to menace. Maybe she’d been foolish. When she looked up from her mug, he was still staring at her.

“If you’re going to be in Ettermire, you’re going to need some, especially if you’re spending time with The Vasvrae.” He lifted the mug to his lips, sipping far more politely than anyone she’d ever seen. When he set it down, his mouth twitched upwards into something might have been called a smile. “And you need another skill, because this tea is terrible.”

[Skie and Avery]

It’s time for you to meet my friends, he’d said, and they planned to meet just outside of the city, on the road that led to Dofir. She was astride her rented horse, letting the roan stallion lope in long circles when he came around the swell in the road. She’d never seen Malagaste in actual armor. While she’d been certain there’d been some thin leather pieces sewn into his guard uniform, he’d always come to Ettermire dressed casually. Now the Drow was bound in rich mahogany leather, designs that were swirling masses of floral and thorn inscribed along his ribs. His short silver hair was pinned back now, violet eyes glowing in the afternoon light.

Dragging her eyes away from his, she took inventory of the daggers strapped to his legs and waist. There were at least five that she could count, and at least one she figured was hidden. In a special holder at his side, another gun. This one was larger than the one he’d threatened her with when they’d first met. For the first time, Skie felt nervous for what he had planned for her. Without a word, they turned their horses southeast and rode. In the distance mountainous hillsides were speckled with woods, and beyond the hazy line of deeper forest faded into the horizon.

The sun was setting when they stopped riding, the boughs above them thick enough to only allow a glimpse of the starry night sky. The path they’d been following was swallowed in darkness, and Skie could only navigate by following a glittering light Malagaste had conjured to trail behind his horse. His elven eyes were far better than hers, and when they finally stopped he instructed her to build a fire while he tended to their tired beasts. As Skie piled thick wooden branches around the nest of twigs and dried grasses she’d made to strike the flint into, his friends arrived.

She heard their horses and their voices before she could see much else. A sliver of moonlight gave her enough light to guide the sparks of her flint towards the starter. When the flames finally caught and began to lick up the sides of the dried bark, she sat back and searched the shadows for the elves that had been greeting and laughing with Malagaste.

They were beautiful. When the Drow finally stepped into the amber light of the fire, they looked like three ghosts. Their silver hair shone and glittered. Malagaste was striking, regal rather than brooding with the deep-set frown that seemed to be chiseled into his face. With him was another man, wraithlike in stature with a crooked nose and eyes so light and grey they looked like starlight. The third was a woman. She was shorter than any Drow Skie had ever seen, but clad in armor that glowed blue in the darkness like a ghost. Prevalida, perhaps, Skie thought. Twin short swords were at her sides, and her silver curls spilled down to frame a face that was soft and round with sharp eyes and lips stained a shade of dark purple that reminded her of blackberries.

“This is Dhaunavin Felyn,” Malagaste said, motioning to the man. “And Shi’noyn Lochar.”

“Shi,” the girl interjected. Those dark lips parted and her mouth was more like the grin of a wolf scanning the trees than a genuine smile.

“This is Suriya Surulinath,” Malagaste said, his hand sweeping towards Skie. She was used to it now, and nodded cheerfully as she prodded the fire with a crooked stick and pushed a log closer to the flame so that it bloomed brighter for a moment. The crackling of burning wood and the roar of the fire were picking up. Now that she could see well enough in the clearing, she helped to finish settling the horses down and sat with the group around the fire.

“Is this her first hunt?” Dhaunavin rasped in a deep voice as he opened a small book that had been tucked into a pocket of the robe. It wasn’t written in Drow, Skie noted, but didn’t try to discern the symbols that were written across the pages in a slanting hand.

“Yes,” Malagaste answered, crossing his arms. “She gets the pelt. She doesn’t have any armor and we need to fix that, especially if she’s coming with us for the Atteruce.” This earned a chortling laugh from Shi, who tossed sterling curls over her shoulder with a flippant gesture.

“Oh what a lamb,” she sighed through her giggles. “You know how I detest carrying those who cannot hold their own.”

Malagaste’s frown deepened. “Do you think I’d bring her if I didn’t think there was good reason? Don’t be rude.” While they snipped at each other, Skie sat silent. Why did he bring her along? He was annoyed at her lack of armor, but compared with what she could be up to with Seth in Ettermire, she’d stayed out of trouble. She was practically a saint, even.

“Fair enough,” Dhaunavin drawled, his eyes never leaving the pages of his book. “What are we swaddling the babe in?”

“I was thinking a cer’z….” Malagaste said casually. His friends stopped what they were doing and watched him. Skie was in awe of the stillness of elves. They were like statues, their eyes on the guardsman for a moment before they stood in a motion that shattered the illusion and began to check their weapons quietly.

“What’s a cer’z?” Skie asked. No one answered, and so she followed suit and began to sharpen the blade on her sword, the reflection of the fire dancing across the blade while she tried to convince herself there was no reason to fear.