Talanithus
lay still, Chyanna's sleeping form curled about his own
in a lover's embrace. He could feel her body's warmth
merging with his own, and it melted his heart to feel
such contentment once again. It had been so long... so
many broken roads, and so many shattered dreams. It
seemed that such was a Priest's life, always torn by his
duty, never truly his own. Yet now, for this moment, he
could feel the life he craved... Feel the woman at his
side and not look for what the future held. What twisted
path his destiny would force him, once Eru called him
again to the road's long journey.
Chy understood. She knew his life was not his own, yet
she was content to share what time they did have. For
that, Tal was eternally grateful. There were few in this
world who could accept such a lover, and truly
understand. With a sigh, he dipped his head back, staring
into the night's starry expanse. The Moon, Sehanine's
charge, was consort to his Lord... yet they were ever
apart. She so far from her lover's arms. Perhaps it is
not just the Priests who forsake a life of simple love.
Perhaps not at all...
Tal's eyes closed as he slipped into his reverie,
reliving the moments of the day and other's before it. A
smile crossed his dozing features for the beauty of it
all. He had never known such wonder as he had found
within NeverWinter, and Eru curse him but he did never
wish to leave its borders.
With that thought, he felt his reverie shift. His
thoughts lost their tangible hold, his command cast into
the night as he was pulled into a true dream, and
something more.
Darkness.
Not the pale dark of the night, with the stars and moon
to light its path, but true dark. The dark that is the
absence of all light wrapped him in a shroud of cold
isolation. There was no feeling to this place, no up or
down. Tal's feet felt no touch. He floated in a void of
nothing, and he was lost in confusion as to the nature of
this dream he was suddenly caught in. No vision of Eru or
Eilistraee's felt this... this... lonely. There was
always a feeling of companionship, of coming home. Here,
there was nothing outside of himself.
For what seemed an eternity, Tal floated through that
void. His thoughts, his only company, idled the time away
with memories of this past year amongst the Tel'Mithrim.
Times of joy and times of sorrow, times of victory and
defeat. They all joined in the forging of bonds that were
eternal, true mellonea. He knew he was blessed for the
gift he had been given. Then there came a break in the
darkness.
A cave, no... a hollowed out room, grew slowly into
focus. Mori'Quessir, their dark armor and weapons girt
about them in their perpetual battle for dominance, stood
about a circular table. At its head was a Female Drow,
her ebony skin glistening in the light of a magic she was
weaving before her. Beside her were two other Female's,
all three obviously Yathrin. The rest of the room's
occupants were males, warriors all save a lone
Qu'el'faeruk who stood opposite the Yathrin, his eyes
closed in obvious control of some spell. Tal watched, yet
no word or sound could he hear, his ears deaf to the
scene before him.
Wary, Tal attempted to exert some control over himself,
yet he felt no response in his limbs. In fact, within the
spells minuscule illumination, he could see no limbs for
him to exert control over! His consciousness, his mind,
it was here. Yet no body accompanied it. His sense
scoured the room for any clue that the Mori'Quessir might
know of his presence, yet one and all, they ignored him.
A long moment passed, and still nothing could he find to
give him any idea to who or what had brought him here.
Intrigue grew over caution as Tal sat silently within the
room's depths, and finally he surveyed the contents of
the Yathrin's weavings.
Centered within the circular table lay a sphere of purple
light, images passing hazily within its depths. Tal's
eyes strained to make out its contents, and as he did so
he felt his perception shift to hover directly over the
Qu'el'faeruk's shoulder. From there, he recognized the
weaving's contents.
There, outlined within Lloth's dark spellcraft, stood the
Tower of the Blue Flame... his home. His Mother, Elayse,
stood atop the Tower's battlements, the garden behind her
achingly beautiful for the time he had spent away from
it. A swift pang of homesickness surged through him,
brutally overwhelmed by the nauseating knowledge that
these Mori'Quessir were scrying his Mother. Scrying his
mother, and piercing the keep's magical protections to do
so. He looked about, hoping to gain some word of what was
about, yet the Mori's dark faces revealed nothing to him.
The Yathrin at the table's head abruptly swung her hand
about, yelling something to a warrior at her side. The
image on the table began to shimmer, its weaving cut off
suddenly from their crafter. As the dweomer shred its
depths apart, Tal took one last look of his Mother, and
then started as he saw the Wu'el'faeruk swivel his head
around, purple eyes peering into his own for a second,
and the spark of recognition alighting within them.
Struggling, Tal clawed backward, desperately trying to
draw power from within to shield him from this Drow's
inevitable attack. He felt the surge of Eru's gift within
him, welling forth into a...
With a start, Tal jolted awake, his rapid movements
awakening Chyanna as well. She rolled from his side and
out of the bed quickly, one hand already holding a bared
dagger as she scanned the Glade for any sign of a foe.
With a long groan, Tal crashed backwards onto the
pillows, his movements drawing Chy's perplexed stare.
"What's wrong, Sweets?" Murmured Chy as she
knelt beside him once more, draping her voluptuous form
about his with cat like smoothness.
"I am called, Lirimamin" said Tal quietly, his
eyes still closed to the world he knew he was leaving.
"I am called and I must go."
Silence was his response, yet Chy's grip tightened into
an embrace. Long moments passed as Tal lay within those
arms, fearing that he was wrong, that she did not
understand, that should would seek to fight this moment
and pull Fate into her own hands. Parts of him even
hoping she would do so, hoping beyond rational thought,
yet hoping still.
"Well then, Sweets" came the her soft response,
"lets enjoy what time we do have, Numa?"
And so they did, in the sweet embrace of lover's that
know long days, mayhap years, lay ahead of them.
To be continued...
-Talanithus Tarant