Duendewood: Graveside Part Three

"Killed them, you say?" Darvinin had finally gotten back to the inn that he'd been using as his base of operations. Until the king was proven dead, he was still one of the King's Own, and so he did what he could to assist the resistance and protect the people. Occupied as he'd been, he was only now realizing how Ruin had known how to find him at their mother's grave.

Narissa nodded. "Your twin took one look at them and went after them -- like, one heartbeat he was here, the next he was standing behind them with his sword out. Took down two of them before they even knew he was there. Then the woman walked outside and turned into a dragon, and..."

"Dragon." Darvinin shook his head, half-disbelieving. Of course he'd be traveling with a dragon now. And with the legendary bard Geddy Lee Geddy, and with Martini -- who's far too smart to ever let herself become that well known. He hadn't realized that the other woman was a dragon when they'd met, but at this point nothing surprised him when it came to Ruin. "So: four priests of Vecna dead, and at least one of their elite guard. And no reprisals?"

"Nothing," Narissa told him. "No more robberies, either. Not here, anyway."

Darvinin took a long drink from a mug of watered ale -- he didn't want to be drinking anything stronger at this point -- and considered that. "Any other visitors since then?" 

"A handful," Narissa admitted. Knowing why he would ask, she added: "Everybody was still talking about it, so of course they would have heard. But all anybody here knows is that the group went north on dragonback when they left."

"Well, that's a relief," said Darvinin quietly. "But I still might need to--"

"Darvinin?" called a voice from the doorway behind him, and Narissa immediately drew back from their discussion. 

Darvinin turned and beheld his father, Hirethal Moonshadow, standing in the door of the inn with a woman just behind him. He stood immediately and offered a slight bow -- familiar, but still formal. His father bowed in return, but the woman behind him slipped past and moved directly towards Darvinin. He didn't reach for his blade, but it was a near thing: her expression and her movements were very intent. 

She stopped in front of him, staring, and then said: "Yes. Her eyes. You're Darvinin, firstborn of Baethira Anthelorn?"

He nodded, then glanced at his father, who stepped up and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. She tensed, but only briefly. Then she relaxed and settled back. 

"This is Tamisira Eldrish," Hirethal told him. "Tamisira, my son -- and Baethira's -- Darvinin." 

"Ah," said Darvinin, as things suddenly became more clear. "You're Sam's mom." The phrasing in Elvish was sloppy and shorthand, colloquial and undignified, but Tamisira smiled broadly and showed no sign of offense. 

"Just so," she said. "Sam, and her brother Vairethin. You know them?"

"I know Sam," Darvinin told her. He couldn't see what Narissa was doing behind him, but he was pretty sure the innkeeper was hanging on every word. "She's spoken of her brother, but I've never met him."

"Do you know where they are now?"

"Sam has her own crew, which includes my near-sister Sherra. The last I knew, the five of them were skirting the edges of the human usurper's authority and spreading songs designed to embarrass and provoke him. The resistance has used at least two of those occasions to trap and destroy teams of his assassins."

"Stop," said Tamisira "Usurper? Resistance? Assassins?"

Darvinin held up a hand, then turned his back to look at Narissa. "A bottle of the Keldovar '49, please. I'm good for it." 

She smiled. "I know you are." A moment later she was passing the bottle across the bar, along with a trio of glasses

Darvinin turned back and gestured towards one of the tables. "I've changed my mind," he said. "I need whiskey for this."

His father took the bottle, and Darvinin scooped up the glasses, and the three of them retreated to a table in the corner. 

A thought occurred to Darvinin, and he fished around in one of the pouches on his belt and then pulled out a small amulet on a silver chain. "Here," he said, handing it over to Tamisira. 

His father was busy filling their glasses with whiskey; Hirethal looked relieved to have something definite to do. Darvinin knew he was being far too informal and familiar with his elders, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. I'm acting like Ruin. Then again, maybe that was for the best, with everything that was happening now. 

Tamisira took the amulet, looked at it, and nodded. For a moment, her fingers closed around it and she squeezed her eyes closed. Then she lifted it up and clasped it around her neck. 

Her eyes widened in surprise. "It's connected to somebody." She frowned. "Not Baethira."

Darvinin nodded.  "My brother, who has not taken a name but calls himself Ruin more often than anything else. He is much like you, or so our mother told me. She gave him the matching amulet, and he learned from it. He, too, is near-brother to Sherra, and if Sherra and Sam aren't married already then they will be by the end of the season. He is someone you should know, or at least know about."

Tamisira glanced at Hirethal, who nodded. "I had my worries," he said. "They were unfounded." He drew a breath, then seemed to reconsider and released it instead. "I think it would have pleased my once-wife for the two of you to know each other."

Tamisira touched the amulet, then nodded. "I will keep that in mind. For now... tell me of this usurper and his assassins, and then we can decide how best to find my children."

"I'd like to help you with that," Hirethal said, and Darvinin glanced at him. "I'm not so strong in battle, but I sat on a regional council that helped resolve certain sorts of disputes. I still have some connections."

Tamisira nodded, almost absently, and then looked at Darvinin. "Tell me what's happened while I've been away."

Duendewood: Graveside Part Two

"Of course you may," answered the figure with a soft laugh. Then she stood and turned, slotting the double scimitar into its place on her back with an absent gesture. 

Hirethal frowned. "Tamisira?"

She tilted her head, then asked, "Hirethal?" She sounded pleasantly surprised. "Hirethal Moonshadow, it is is you. It's been a long time." Then she nodded down at the grave behind her. "Why has nobody brought her back?"

"She asked us not to," Hirethal answered, letting his hands drop away from his blades. "Tamisira Eldrish, in the flesh. I thought you were dead."

She shook her head. "Not dead, merely... elsewhere. I meant to come back, but there was always so much more to see." 

Hirethal shook his head and offered a disbelieving half-chuckle. "So how did you find your way here?"

"I was in the City of Brass, doing a bit of work, when a particular oracle interrupted her reading of where I might find my target to tell me that my once-love had fallen. I called in a couple of favors to gather more information, and then I came here." She swallowed. "If I'd come earlier, or if I'd stayed..."

Hirethal shook his head sharply. "Don't gather guilt to yourself. My once-wife knew what she was doing. She knew the dangers, and she stood to face them. If either of us had been there, likely we'd have died too."

There was a long pause before Tamisira asked, "Do you know where I might find my children?"

Hirethal swallowed. She hadn't said anything of the sort, but he could almost hear the echo of before it's too late that followed the words. "I don't," he said, "but I know someone who might. Will you come with me now, or do you want a little more time here?"

Tamisira glanced down at the grave. "There is nothing for me here."

"Then come with me," said Hirethal, and held out a hand. "There's an inn in a town south of here. We might find my son there, and he might know of your children. And if not, well, I may need several mugs of ale to tell you of everything that has happened." 

Tamisira considered that. "I might need several mugs of ale to understand it," she replied. Then she reached out and grasped his hand, and took them both away.

Duendewood: Graveside Part One

Hirethal Moonshadow paused at the edge of the grove, one hand on each scimitar. The sacred trees stood in a circle, their branches gathering overhead to provide a sort of natural ceiling for this space. Their presence didn't affect him the way it might have done a druid, but he could still feel the blessings and protections that attended this space. 

And there, on the far side of the hidden clearing, someone was sitting beside the grave of his once-wife. 

He remained still for a long moment, looking, but the figure didn't move. It didn't have the look of a guard, or one of King Lamont's champions. Its armor was plain, functional, and colored to blend into the trees and grasses around it. The weapon beside it was an elvish double-scimitar, which didn't rule out the possibility of it being in service to the usurper, but did rather reduce the odds. 

Hirethal stepped into the sacred grove, paused, and then cleared his throat. "May I ask...?"