Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction ❯ The D files: Dryden's Story ❯ Age 11: Eries part 2 ( Chapter 4 )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: Ron and his Sakura 
Anime/Manga: Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Classic / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 07.20.2004 | Updated On: 12.17.2004 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 216 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Vision Of Escaflowne Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Classic / Drama | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 07.20.2004 | Updated On: 12.17.2004 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.9K | Visits: 216 | Status: Completed
As promised.... ^_^
Posted July 20 , 2004
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"Hey, Marix!"
"Why, hello there, young Fassa."
The aged otterman straightened up from where he had been restocking clams in a wooden bin. He smiled delightedly, wiping his damp hands on his canvas apron. "What can I do for you today?"
I held up a scroll. "Uncle Larish has an order for you. I've got the deposit right here."
"Certainly, certainly," replied Marix. Turning to his assistant, he called out, "Nakkie, mind the front while I take care of young Fassa here."
"Yup!" chirped Nakkie, taking up where Marix had left off replenishing the stocks of shellfish displayed in the front of their market stall.
Marix ushered me to a table in the rear of the canopied booth where he transacted their larger ticket items. The old vendor was from a otterman settlement on the coast that made its livelihood from marine products. They mainly harvested fish, shellfish, and seaweed to bring to market, but they produced more valuable items as well. Most other purchasers avoided placing advance orders with the otterman tribe as they rarely, if ever, delivered their goods on time. They're honest folk, but chronically tardy. Although it meant extra work, the Fassa trading house used them regularly as a supplier and found ways to compensate for their lackadaisical attitude towards firm deadlines as the quality of their semiprecious stones was hard to beat.
"Let's see..." Marix's graying whiskers twitched as he adjusted his spectacles. He broke the seal of the purchase order and perused its contents. "Coral... mother of pearl... agate... hmmm."
It was always fun to visit this particular vendor. I enjoyed interacting with the different peoples and beastpeople that came to peddle their wares in the Palas Marketplace. Ottermen were especially fun though. They were perennially cheerful and extremely playful. In fact, only the elders of the community were entrusted with the task of taking the village's goods to market because anyone younger was too frolicsome for the task. A middle-aged otterman father of five was still flighty enough to abandon his goods at the bazaar and hop into a nearby canal for an impromptu swim. Even as seasoned as Marix was, grandotter to twelve grandpups, he had a definite fun loving streak and merry attitude that clearly manifested itself in his business dealings.
Marix finished scanning the document. "No problem," he assured me. "We should be able to pull all this together in three weeks."
"That means six," I thought to myself. According to Uncle Larish, the rule of thumb with otterpeople was to always allot for twice the amount of time they asked for. In Uncle Larish's forty years of dealing with Marix's folk, only once had a shipment arrived on the day promised. I did not think that the phrase "rush order" even existed in their vocabulary. Uncle would probably interpret an early delivery from ottermen as a sign of the end of the world.
To Marix, I replied, "Sounds good." Our drop dead due date for this stuff was two months from now. I produced my money pouch to count out the deposit as Marix pulled out a ledger and papers to finalize the transaction.
"So, young Fassa, have you been having a good scamp about the market today? See anything exciting?" asked Marix as his pen busily scratched over the requisite paperwork.
"I wish." I scowled grumpily. Market Days were the best days of the week. Some amount of commerce always took place in Palas, but Emerald and Ruby, Palas' Market Days, were the two days a week where you were near guaranteed to find people from just about any place you could think of with just about everything you could possibly imagine. Not surprisingly, they were the busiest days for our office. On Emerald Market Days, I was practically chained to my post in the office. However, on Ruby Market Days like today, I only had to work a half-day shift and then was released to explore the bazaar as I wished. For that, I always looked forward to Ruby Days with great anticipation.
It was not wholly goodwill on the part of the elders though. As a business, we had to stay abreast of all that was going on, and sometimes the best way to catch wind of the latest news, gossip, ideas, or scheme was just to go out and mingle in the masses. It was free time with a purpose. The practice kept morale up in the office, and every once in a while, we would score a windfall in the most unexpected of places--the most famous of which was Ein Fassa's now legendary serendipitous discovery at the bird fancier's row. Who would have guessed that a trip for gourmet birdseed would result in a lucrative new trade route for the family?
Unfortunately, today my customary leisure time had been usurped by something else.
"I've been buried under financial statements all morning long, and after I'm finished here, I have to head straight for the palace for a dance lesson," I groused. Lady Miriam's dance classes took place on another day of the week, but this was a special rehearsal. Foreign dignitaries were coming to town to renew a trade pact and some stupid someone (may a million moths infest your wardrobe, whoever you are) got the bright idea that it would be "oh so wonderful to have the young people perform some traditional Asturian dances to entertain the guests." To be honest, it didn't concern me at first. Originally, other boys were selected to take part in the choreographed piece. But this was before the melef training accident five days ago, the catastrophe that would go down in the Squires Academy annals as its worst disaster ever. Let's just say that modern technology could go a long way in amplifying ineptness. When the dust finally cleared, not only was there extensive damage to melefs and the training area, but numerous students were injured, including half of Lady Miriam's male dancers. A mad scramble for substitutes ensued. Lucky me, I was on the list. I didn't want to volunteer, Lady Miriam didn't want to pick me, but I was one of the few uninjured boys in our class tall enough to pair with the girls that had lost their partners.
"Sounds like fun." Marix chuckled, brimming with amusement.
I rolled my eyes in response. Obviously, he had never had to learn a four-part dance routine in three rushed rehearsals. Natasha Kim was nice and all, but even she was becoming exasperated with having her toes trod upon with such regularity.
Shortly thereafter, I took my leave of the ottermen's booth with a neatly folded receipt tucked into my money pouch. I would have much preferred to loiter about Marix's stall a bit longer to see if he had brought in any pearls today or to poke at the aggressive-looking pincered shellfish scrapping about in his display tubs. Even helping Nakkie clean up the ambergris that was leaking out of a damaged earthenware stock jug would have been more enjoyable than what awaited me at the palace. But I had to go so I had to go.
The wind picked up suddenly, whipping my thick velvet cloak behind me. The crisp breeze pulled banners taut, set awnings flapping, and sent dried leaves skittering through the streets. The outdoor vendors scurried about securing their tarps and goods even as they continued to hawk their wares.
"What a way to waste an afternoon," I thought, looking longingly at the activity bustling around me as my feet continued en route to class. The urge to dawdle was overwhelming. To my right was a gaggle of foreign academics bickering in an outdoor cafe; down the road a bit, a novice vendor had just had his entire stock of calendars blown into a canal by the sudden gust; and crossing over the next bridge in a neon orange frock was Eries--
--!?!
It was unmistakably her. Any doubts about her identity were eliminated by her dress. No girl that age and that size would be wearing anything that ridiculously old-fashioned unless she was part of our little dance recital. I was surprised that she would let herself be seen in public in such a laughable get up though. Odder yet, what was she doing way out here instead of waiting for practice to start at the palace?
She was nearing the intersection with the street I was on. I hastened my pace and waved to get her attention. Just then, she stepped onto a muddy spot. She lost her footing and fell headlong.
I winced. Yowch! She had slammed onto the pavement and tumbled some distance before finally coming to a stop. Her fussy frilly dress with its ornate green trim was good as ruined now. Her aunt was going to be furious. Well, at least all those crazy ruffles down the front probably softened her fall somewhat. Shouting her name, I hurried over to help her up. Much to my astonishment (and that of everyone else who had witnessed her spill), she scrambled up almost immediately.
"Sniper?! Wait!" But she did not so much as turn her head. Off she sped, ignoring the damage done to her dress, oblivious to my voice -- and heedless of the glittering object that fell from her pocket.
Stunned, I simply stood and gaped. That was... UNUSUAL. My brain started to crowd with questions, but at the rate she was going it looked like I would have to wait until I could corner her after dance practice to get some answers. And if she was tightlipped about it, the trinket she had dropped provided me with some bargaining power. I stooped to snatch it up.
I gasped.
Hastily, I stuffed it securely into my cloak pocket while frantically scanning the crowds for Sniper. Fortunately for me, her garish costume was easy to pick out in the crowds. She was heading for the arched bridge of the next canal.
I sprinted after her.
Now, you would think it would be child's play for me to catch up to Sniper even if she did have a head start. After all, I was so much taller than her. Plus, it was not as if I had just crashlanded onto hard pavement. But it wasn't, for one simple fact:
I was not a runner.
Let me clarify that. I HATED running. Walking was fine; I could stroll for as long you liked, and I would occasionally sprint short distances (usually to escape someone's wrath). But running? People have always assumed from my height and build that I was marathon material, but I have always astounded them with my appalling lack of speed and stamina. It was a never-ending source of irritation for my office mentors as the task of messenger/delivery boy--by office tradition--fell to youngest person on staff, who, currently, was me. It completely baffled (and exasperated) them how a young man my age could be such a wimp and a turtle with something as easy as running a letter across town. Long distance running for me was the distance between my bedroom and the dining room table.
We were barely out of the district when I felt knives of pain in my abdomen. By the time we were out of the merchant's quarter, I was blowing like an overpressurized engine. I was straining to overtake Sniper, but my best efforts only resulted in barely keeping up with her. The only advantage my long legs provided was that it kept Sniper, a bright spot threading through the crowds, in my field of vision.
Eventually, the tap-tap-tapping of my leather soles against paving stones gave way to the crunch of footsteps on packed earth. I was tiring and losing ground. The only reason I had not yet lost sight of her was because the crowds had thinned down to just the occasional passerby. We were well into the outskirts of town, far from the market center. And she kept going.
"Sniper, where are you going!?" I screamed inside my head. I would have screamed it aloud if not for the fact that I could barely suck enough oxygen to keep moving.
This was getting curiouser and curiouser. Even in her worst moments, I could not imagine her being so careless as to drop something this valuable onto the street. Also, try as I might, I could not come up with any plausible reason for her to be wearing that dress and skipping out on class in this part of town. There with something going on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it if it was the last thing I did.
Unfortunately, at the rate we were going, it felt like it really might be the last thing I did.
~Ow, ow, ow, pain... Maybe I'll be lucky and she'll trip again so I can catch up to-- WOOAH, pothole! ... maybe I should make sure _I_ don't end up falling. 'Kay, she just turned left at that red house on the corner--YIKES! Get away, you stupid mutt! Agh! Same to you! I wasn't going to your stupid yard anyway! Great, I need to hustle before I lose track .... Red house, left turn.... WHAT?! A HILL?! Aw, Sniper, why did you have to go uphill? Man, how can things possibly get worse? ~
As if in response to that last thought of mine, the wind picked up. As if the incline weren't enough, a strong head wind blew, making the ascent doubly difficult. I gritted my teeth and charged full throttle up the hill.
My limbs burned. Blood pounded in my ears. Cold air windburned my face, but my linen shirt was near drenched with sweat. My body screamed for a break, but I kept going. There was no way I was going to lose her.
Somehow, despite the slope, despite the wind, through sheer determination I crested the hill without a single lapse in speed. My relations at the office would have been astounded.
Determination, however, had its limits. My legs promptly gave out on me as soon as I reached the top. I fell, huffing and puffing, on my hands and knees.
And then, wouldn't you know it, the wind ceased.
There were times in my life that I felt like some cosmic someone was having a jolly good load of fun at my expense. This was one of them.
Wearily, I lifted my head to scan the surroundings for Sniper. Much to my relief, I spotted her right away.
The uphill path had led us to a grassy plateau with a spectacular vista of the ocean. I had never been here before, but as best as I could tell from nearby landmarks, we were on the outskirts of town near the Royal Park grounds. The path forked at the plateau. A larger branch continued in the direction of the Park, and a smaller track wound into an ancient grove of trees. Eries stood at the fork with her back to me. From my vantage, I could not tell if she were resting, contemplating the view, or lost.
Well, whatever, this was my chance to get her attention. Picking myself up, I took a deep breath and shouted, "SNIPER, WAIT UP!"
--only to have a sudden gust of wind blow my words right back at me.
As if on cue, Eries began moving again.
This was enough to drive one mad.
Growling in frustration, I staggered after her.
To my surprise, she did not take the larger path to the Royal Park, but the one through the trees. At least she was no longer running, but walking briskly with a slight limp. That was fine for me as that was all I could manage at the moment. Between the damp slippery ground and my wobbly legs, anything more would have been just asking for a nasty tumble into the brush. My brain, however, was still running at full speed, wondering what her final destination could be and hoping that it was close. My dance shoes, although light weight and probably the most comfortable things I owned to run in, were not made for extended outdoor use. I was certain to get a scolding about the stains and damage to the fine suede once I got home.
The leafy canopy shading the path ended abruptly. Sudden sunlight dazzled my eyes. Shading my face with one hand, I halted, waiting for my vision to adjust. And then I nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized where I was.
Stretching down a grassy slope in neat ordered rows were headstones. They gleamed in the afternoon sun like so many marble sentinels.
I swallowed hard, unnerved at winding up at the cemetery. No wonder I had had no idea of where we were going. I had never been here before. Never had occasion to. Eries' dress was a bright splash of color amongst the weathered stone. She sat on a bench with her face buried in her hands. The thought that the only other people here were dead rattled me a little. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
But I had not come this far to back out now.
The rustle of my footsteps on the damp grass announced my approach, but Eries did not even look up. I stopped right by her bench. When I got no response, I spoke to her softly. "Eries. Eries, it's me, Dryden."
Almost inaudibly, she moaned. "Just go away..."
"Eries, you--"
Eries turned on me viciously. "WILL YOU JUST LEAVE-- "
Her words died on her lips when she saw what I held out to her.
Gems sparkled in the sunlight. I was no expert on jewels by any stretch, but even a neophyte could tell that these sapphires and rubies were of exceptional cut, size, and quality. They winked from their settings on a golden clasp. It was a valuable piece for certain, but an unusual one . I had never seen the likes of it. The jeweled clasp secured what appeared to be a macrame decoration of some kind. Blue, red, and yellow strands intertwined to form an elaborate, artful four-looped knot with a trailing tassel. And suspended by a tiny golden chain dangling alongside the tassel hung a single white feather.
Eries' hand flew to her pocket only to find it empty. Her entire being seemed to crumple just then. I had figured that the gravity of this realization would sober her up, but I did not expect this. She turned away, but not before I caught a glimpse of the tumult of emotions on her face.
"Eries?" I said nervously.
I spoke her name a second time. And a third. Finally, she looked up, but not at me. Her eyes seemed transfixed by the object I held out to her. Reverently, she reached out for it and cradled it in her hands as if it were a kitten or a small bird.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. But her words were not directed to me.
The colorful object bore smudges from its impact on the muddy streets of the Market. Eries spread it out on her lap and, to my surprise, began to carefully wipe off the speckles of dirt marring the feather. Why wasn't she checking to see that all the jewels were accounted for or inspecting the clasp for damage? After all, wasn't that the most valuable part of this trinket? Certainly, the gems were what caught my attention when I first laid eyes upon it. But she was ignoring them for a feather?
Now that I had a better look though, it was a rather unusual feather. It was pure white--which wasn't unusual--but the size... I could not think of a white bird with feathers that large. Then again, I was hard pressed to think of a bird of any color with feathers that large.
Amazingly enough, despite being dropped and its rough ride in my cloak pocket, the feather had remained undamaged. Eries gently ran her finger over the delicate snow-white barbs. Without looking up, she asked in a low voice, "Dryden, do you know what this is?"
I settled myself carefully beside her. "No." I had been dying to know this entire time, but now was fearful of the answer. The creepy surroundings did not help any.
Her voice sounded oddly detached as she spoke. "It's a hilaine. It's a favor. They're all different colors and different materials, but they share the same four looped knot that represents lo--- It's given to warriors before they go to battle. A reminder of the one who made it waiting for his return. It's Fanelian..." .
~Fanelian?! ~
Her finger traced down the quill of the feather where it lay atop of the blue, red, and pale yellow silken tassel strings. Wait--now that I was closer, I could see that there was something different about the yellow. I blinked. Unlike its blue and red counterparts, the fibers of the yellow cords separated into several individual strands ... strands as straight and fine and pale as the hair pulled over Eries's shoulder.
"I made it. For Folken."
My stomach twisted at that name. Since that very eventful night at Tanglewood, never once had Eries or I (or Indigo for that matter) mentioned that incident again. The silent agreement always hovered there though. If the conversation even remotely turned towards Fanelia, I always got very clear (if silent) reminders from both of them. They were so well-timed that no one else would ever notice, but they were uncomfortably evident for me. For all their surreptitiousness, they were amazingly intense--I often felt as if their eyes were burning holes right through me. I could take a hint and prudently kept my mouth shut. Besides, it was just a simple matter of time before Eries' betrothal was publicly announced and became the talk of the kingdom.
But now for her to be speaking to me so openly about this... The atmosphere grew increasingly uncomfortable, and I shifted restlessly on the bench.
"I... it's pretty. I'm sure he'll like it a lot," I said. It was an inane statement, but I was desperate for something, anything, to fill the vacuum of awkward silence.
"He won't see it. He's dead. A dragon ate him."
I inhaled sharply. Dead? Something clicked in my brain, and I remembered a comment one of my cousins had made once--something about how Fanelia's kingship rite bordered on barbaric...
She traced over the different colors of the braided knot. "I wanted... to give this to him. Ever since Merle told me about it in Fanelia. Maybe it was silly and stupid, but I thought it was perfect. Red for Fanelia. Blue for Asturia." She fingered the length of one of the blond tassel strands. "Me." Her hand brushed over the feather. "And Folken."
That last part puzzled me. But I decided not to dwell on the feather's symbolism too much as it seemed very personal and private.
"It's all bound together, the way he and I and our kingdoms were... even if it wasn't of our choice, it was still --I thought it could be a beautiful thing."
"I thought--we both thought we had more time. But then the signs came and he had to go." Her hands clenched the opposite ends of the hilaine. "He wrote me, told me as soon as he received word from the seers. I tried so hard to get it to him in time. I tried. I'd been working on it ever since I came back to Asturia, but I wasn't fast enough. I wanted him to have it with him when he went to fight. I wanted him to know..." Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks.
"He never knew about it. He never got it. It arrived two days too late. He had already left for the Dragon Forest. And no one ever saw him again. Lord Vargas and his men, they looked for him, but the only thing they found was his sword." Eries swiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Lord Vargas arrived at the palace today. He wanted to tell me in person what happened and return it to me with his regrets." Her voice broke, and she began to sniffle.
The twisting in my stomach worked itself into a full-fledged knot. I wanted to comfort her. But how? Would you say to something like this? What did you do when a dream was irretrievably gone? For all my cleverness and schooling, I felt incredibly useless.
"I'm sorry," I said lamely, offering my handkerchief to Eries, who was wiping ineffectually at her eyes with a dainty, lacy bit of cloth that looked like it was designed more for decoration than function.
Wordlessly, Eries took the handkerchief. Pressing it against her face, she took in several deep shaky breaths as she sought to regain her composure.
It felt wrong to watch her cry so I looked away and was abruptly reminded of my--err--unique surroundings. I willed the goosebumps crawling on my skin to go away and concentrated on the ocean beyond the stone-studded hillside.
"What am I doing here?" I thought as I stared at the seabirds gliding lazily in the distance. I wondered again if that cosmic someone was playing another joke on me. I did not need to look at my timepiece to know that I was very extremely late for dance practice now. Rehearsal was probably half over by now. Lady Miriam was going to have my head. And for what? Granted, I was not particularly eager to be hitting the ballroom dance floor, but sitting in the graveyard with a teary-eyed girl who had just had her almost-fiance eaten by a dragon was not what you would call a rollicking time.
But Eries was my friend. Awkward or not, I couldn't just leave her crying here. I mentally berated myself for my lack of consoling skills. My modus operandi for glum atmospheres was to joke around to lighten the mood. To do that now, though, would be in horribly bad taste. Not to mention insensitive. Some friend I was--
I started, almost falling off my seat at the sound of her voice. Man, everything here had me on pins and needles. "Uh... what?" I said stupidly.
"I said, thank you." Much calmer now, she was holding out my handkerchief to me. I shook my head, indicating she should keep it.
"Thank you," she repeated. "And thanks also, for this." The chain clinked softly as she held up the Fanelian token by the top loop of its intricate knot. The tassel and feather swung slowly in midair. Her eyes followed the motion back and forth as if mesmerized. "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost it. How did you--?" She turned to look questioningly at me.
As if I had any idea. "Good timing?" I shrugged. "I happened to be near Varro Bridge when you fell, and I happened to notice you dropped something. Honestly, I knew it was valuable, but I had no idea how important it was. Maybe someone's looking out for you." Even if I was being physically tormented in the process. "What will you do with it?" I asked as Eries carefully slid the hilaine back into her pocket.
"I don't know. But from now on I'll make sure I treat it with the respect it deserves." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. "I don't know what came over me. I nearly lost the hilaine, and I've been completely rotten to everyone and everything today. Including you. I'm sorry about that." She looked up at me with contrition in her eyes. Abashed by her apology, I quickly blurted that it was not necessary, especially given the circumstances.
However, she seemed set on chiding herself. "I also shouldn't have rushed out of the palace the way I did. I practically ran out on Lord Vargas. And after he came all this way, too. Even if I'm hurting, I know he feels it more. The look on his face when he told me... you would have thought he'd lost a son instead of a liege. And the Queen, I can't even imagine what she's going through right now. And Van...Folken was both a father and a brother to him. Poor Van..."
~Poor Eries... ~
As she continued her self-rebuke, I could almost see her withdrawing into herself, hiding own her grief as she spoke of the grief of others. It was hard to watch her slide the mask back on, especially since I had just seen what lay beneath . I had a hunch why she was doing it though. Very few people knew of her potential engagement to Folken Lacour de Fanel, and fewer still (I could only think of Indigo, myself, and possibly Marlene) realized that her feelings for the prince were more than superficial. For her to be openly distraught over what most thought to be the death of a near stranger would only raise questions and start more probing than she would want. The most she could openly do would be to sympathize with the bereaved family's tragic loss even as she mourned inside.
That crazy wind that had been blowing intermittently all day returned. It whistled past, whipping our hair behind us. Eries shivered.
I stood up and held out a hand to her. "Come on. We should head back. It's getting cold, and Lady Miriam's probably worried." That was probably the understatement of the year. She probably had half the palace guards looking for Eries by now.
For a long moment, Eries stared wordlessly at my hand. Then, to my consternation, she shook her head.
"Eries--"
"Please. I just need a little more time." She pressed a hand to her forehead as if she had a headache.
But it was not her head that was hurting. This ache went deeper and would not so easily be medicated. And, I realized, it was not just this sudden, tragic passing that pained her, but regret. Regret over feelings that were never communicated, a message sent too late. It would be awhile before she would get over that.
It struck me suddenly why she had come to this place. And not only because grief was an all too familiar presence here. The flow of life rushed incessantly back at the palace. Things needed to be done and demands needed to be met, and none of them would relent just because of Folken Fanel's passing. But here time stood still.
I hesitated a moment, but truthfully, the decision was already made for me.
I unfastened my cloak. Moving closer to Eries, I draped the warm velvet over her shoulders. Startled, she looked up with confusion in her eyes.
"If you want to stay, I won't make you go. I'll let Lady Miriam know you are okay." Images of the Lady of the Castle inflicting various punishments upon poor me flashed briefly through my head. Why is it that messengers always end up taking the heat? "But try to get back before nightfall."
For a moment, she stared wordlessly. Then, seemingly embarrassed, she lowered her gaze and murmured, "You're a good friend, Dryden. Thank you."
"Remember that the next time you're mad at me. And you're welcome."
Sans cloak, my body quickly chilled. My shirt was still clinging damply to me from my earlier exertion, and the brisk wind was not helping any. I moved quickly, eager to be out of there and into somewhere warmer.
Before I exited the place, I turned to cast one last glance at the girl huddled in the cemetery.
Whenever Indigo and her girly friends would twitter about love, it was always hearts and flowers, romance and kisses. It sounded pretty and simple, but I knew it was more complex than that. Love complicated our lives. The pursuit of it. Its presence or absence. How it consumed and cooled. I was well acquainted with the hurt feelings and resentment that arose when love was absent where it should flourish. But, the loss of even the promise of love brought its own pain.
There was no happily ever after here for Eries. She had had it was in her grasp, but it had come to nought. Still, as I started the long walk back to the palace, I hoped Eries would be able to find it again.
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whew! Finally done!
Hope you liked it-if you did , send a review!
Next chapter is "Indigo." However, we have been having problems with content for this chapter-- "Marlene", "Sylphy" and "Millerna are already outlined, but we're not quite sure what to do with Indigo. If anyone has suggestions, we're willing to at least entertain them. :)
Posted July 20 , 2004
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"Hey, Marix!"
"Why, hello there, young Fassa."
The aged otterman straightened up from where he had been restocking clams in a wooden bin. He smiled delightedly, wiping his damp hands on his canvas apron. "What can I do for you today?"
I held up a scroll. "Uncle Larish has an order for you. I've got the deposit right here."
"Certainly, certainly," replied Marix. Turning to his assistant, he called out, "Nakkie, mind the front while I take care of young Fassa here."
"Yup!" chirped Nakkie, taking up where Marix had left off replenishing the stocks of shellfish displayed in the front of their market stall.
Marix ushered me to a table in the rear of the canopied booth where he transacted their larger ticket items. The old vendor was from a otterman settlement on the coast that made its livelihood from marine products. They mainly harvested fish, shellfish, and seaweed to bring to market, but they produced more valuable items as well. Most other purchasers avoided placing advance orders with the otterman tribe as they rarely, if ever, delivered their goods on time. They're honest folk, but chronically tardy. Although it meant extra work, the Fassa trading house used them regularly as a supplier and found ways to compensate for their lackadaisical attitude towards firm deadlines as the quality of their semiprecious stones was hard to beat.
"Let's see..." Marix's graying whiskers twitched as he adjusted his spectacles. He broke the seal of the purchase order and perused its contents. "Coral... mother of pearl... agate... hmmm."
It was always fun to visit this particular vendor. I enjoyed interacting with the different peoples and beastpeople that came to peddle their wares in the Palas Marketplace. Ottermen were especially fun though. They were perennially cheerful and extremely playful. In fact, only the elders of the community were entrusted with the task of taking the village's goods to market because anyone younger was too frolicsome for the task. A middle-aged otterman father of five was still flighty enough to abandon his goods at the bazaar and hop into a nearby canal for an impromptu swim. Even as seasoned as Marix was, grandotter to twelve grandpups, he had a definite fun loving streak and merry attitude that clearly manifested itself in his business dealings.
Marix finished scanning the document. "No problem," he assured me. "We should be able to pull all this together in three weeks."
"That means six," I thought to myself. According to Uncle Larish, the rule of thumb with otterpeople was to always allot for twice the amount of time they asked for. In Uncle Larish's forty years of dealing with Marix's folk, only once had a shipment arrived on the day promised. I did not think that the phrase "rush order" even existed in their vocabulary. Uncle would probably interpret an early delivery from ottermen as a sign of the end of the world.
To Marix, I replied, "Sounds good." Our drop dead due date for this stuff was two months from now. I produced my money pouch to count out the deposit as Marix pulled out a ledger and papers to finalize the transaction.
"So, young Fassa, have you been having a good scamp about the market today? See anything exciting?" asked Marix as his pen busily scratched over the requisite paperwork.
"I wish." I scowled grumpily. Market Days were the best days of the week. Some amount of commerce always took place in Palas, but Emerald and Ruby, Palas' Market Days, were the two days a week where you were near guaranteed to find people from just about any place you could think of with just about everything you could possibly imagine. Not surprisingly, they were the busiest days for our office. On Emerald Market Days, I was practically chained to my post in the office. However, on Ruby Market Days like today, I only had to work a half-day shift and then was released to explore the bazaar as I wished. For that, I always looked forward to Ruby Days with great anticipation.
It was not wholly goodwill on the part of the elders though. As a business, we had to stay abreast of all that was going on, and sometimes the best way to catch wind of the latest news, gossip, ideas, or scheme was just to go out and mingle in the masses. It was free time with a purpose. The practice kept morale up in the office, and every once in a while, we would score a windfall in the most unexpected of places--the most famous of which was Ein Fassa's now legendary serendipitous discovery at the bird fancier's row. Who would have guessed that a trip for gourmet birdseed would result in a lucrative new trade route for the family?
Unfortunately, today my customary leisure time had been usurped by something else.
"I've been buried under financial statements all morning long, and after I'm finished here, I have to head straight for the palace for a dance lesson," I groused. Lady Miriam's dance classes took place on another day of the week, but this was a special rehearsal. Foreign dignitaries were coming to town to renew a trade pact and some stupid someone (may a million moths infest your wardrobe, whoever you are) got the bright idea that it would be "oh so wonderful to have the young people perform some traditional Asturian dances to entertain the guests." To be honest, it didn't concern me at first. Originally, other boys were selected to take part in the choreographed piece. But this was before the melef training accident five days ago, the catastrophe that would go down in the Squires Academy annals as its worst disaster ever. Let's just say that modern technology could go a long way in amplifying ineptness. When the dust finally cleared, not only was there extensive damage to melefs and the training area, but numerous students were injured, including half of Lady Miriam's male dancers. A mad scramble for substitutes ensued. Lucky me, I was on the list. I didn't want to volunteer, Lady Miriam didn't want to pick me, but I was one of the few uninjured boys in our class tall enough to pair with the girls that had lost their partners.
"Sounds like fun." Marix chuckled, brimming with amusement.
I rolled my eyes in response. Obviously, he had never had to learn a four-part dance routine in three rushed rehearsals. Natasha Kim was nice and all, but even she was becoming exasperated with having her toes trod upon with such regularity.
Shortly thereafter, I took my leave of the ottermen's booth with a neatly folded receipt tucked into my money pouch. I would have much preferred to loiter about Marix's stall a bit longer to see if he had brought in any pearls today or to poke at the aggressive-looking pincered shellfish scrapping about in his display tubs. Even helping Nakkie clean up the ambergris that was leaking out of a damaged earthenware stock jug would have been more enjoyable than what awaited me at the palace. But I had to go so I had to go.
The wind picked up suddenly, whipping my thick velvet cloak behind me. The crisp breeze pulled banners taut, set awnings flapping, and sent dried leaves skittering through the streets. The outdoor vendors scurried about securing their tarps and goods even as they continued to hawk their wares.
"What a way to waste an afternoon," I thought, looking longingly at the activity bustling around me as my feet continued en route to class. The urge to dawdle was overwhelming. To my right was a gaggle of foreign academics bickering in an outdoor cafe; down the road a bit, a novice vendor had just had his entire stock of calendars blown into a canal by the sudden gust; and crossing over the next bridge in a neon orange frock was Eries--
--!?!
It was unmistakably her. Any doubts about her identity were eliminated by her dress. No girl that age and that size would be wearing anything that ridiculously old-fashioned unless she was part of our little dance recital. I was surprised that she would let herself be seen in public in such a laughable get up though. Odder yet, what was she doing way out here instead of waiting for practice to start at the palace?
She was nearing the intersection with the street I was on. I hastened my pace and waved to get her attention. Just then, she stepped onto a muddy spot. She lost her footing and fell headlong.
I winced. Yowch! She had slammed onto the pavement and tumbled some distance before finally coming to a stop. Her fussy frilly dress with its ornate green trim was good as ruined now. Her aunt was going to be furious. Well, at least all those crazy ruffles down the front probably softened her fall somewhat. Shouting her name, I hurried over to help her up. Much to my astonishment (and that of everyone else who had witnessed her spill), she scrambled up almost immediately.
"Sniper?! Wait!" But she did not so much as turn her head. Off she sped, ignoring the damage done to her dress, oblivious to my voice -- and heedless of the glittering object that fell from her pocket.
Stunned, I simply stood and gaped. That was... UNUSUAL. My brain started to crowd with questions, but at the rate she was going it looked like I would have to wait until I could corner her after dance practice to get some answers. And if she was tightlipped about it, the trinket she had dropped provided me with some bargaining power. I stooped to snatch it up.
I gasped.
Hastily, I stuffed it securely into my cloak pocket while frantically scanning the crowds for Sniper. Fortunately for me, her garish costume was easy to pick out in the crowds. She was heading for the arched bridge of the next canal.
I sprinted after her.
Now, you would think it would be child's play for me to catch up to Sniper even if she did have a head start. After all, I was so much taller than her. Plus, it was not as if I had just crashlanded onto hard pavement. But it wasn't, for one simple fact:
I was not a runner.
Let me clarify that. I HATED running. Walking was fine; I could stroll for as long you liked, and I would occasionally sprint short distances (usually to escape someone's wrath). But running? People have always assumed from my height and build that I was marathon material, but I have always astounded them with my appalling lack of speed and stamina. It was a never-ending source of irritation for my office mentors as the task of messenger/delivery boy--by office tradition--fell to youngest person on staff, who, currently, was me. It completely baffled (and exasperated) them how a young man my age could be such a wimp and a turtle with something as easy as running a letter across town. Long distance running for me was the distance between my bedroom and the dining room table.
We were barely out of the district when I felt knives of pain in my abdomen. By the time we were out of the merchant's quarter, I was blowing like an overpressurized engine. I was straining to overtake Sniper, but my best efforts only resulted in barely keeping up with her. The only advantage my long legs provided was that it kept Sniper, a bright spot threading through the crowds, in my field of vision.
Eventually, the tap-tap-tapping of my leather soles against paving stones gave way to the crunch of footsteps on packed earth. I was tiring and losing ground. The only reason I had not yet lost sight of her was because the crowds had thinned down to just the occasional passerby. We were well into the outskirts of town, far from the market center. And she kept going.
"Sniper, where are you going!?" I screamed inside my head. I would have screamed it aloud if not for the fact that I could barely suck enough oxygen to keep moving.
This was getting curiouser and curiouser. Even in her worst moments, I could not imagine her being so careless as to drop something this valuable onto the street. Also, try as I might, I could not come up with any plausible reason for her to be wearing that dress and skipping out on class in this part of town. There with something going on, and I was going to get to the bottom of it if it was the last thing I did.
Unfortunately, at the rate we were going, it felt like it really might be the last thing I did.
~Ow, ow, ow, pain... Maybe I'll be lucky and she'll trip again so I can catch up to-- WOOAH, pothole! ... maybe I should make sure _I_ don't end up falling. 'Kay, she just turned left at that red house on the corner--YIKES! Get away, you stupid mutt! Agh! Same to you! I wasn't going to your stupid yard anyway! Great, I need to hustle before I lose track .... Red house, left turn.... WHAT?! A HILL?! Aw, Sniper, why did you have to go uphill? Man, how can things possibly get worse? ~
As if in response to that last thought of mine, the wind picked up. As if the incline weren't enough, a strong head wind blew, making the ascent doubly difficult. I gritted my teeth and charged full throttle up the hill.
My limbs burned. Blood pounded in my ears. Cold air windburned my face, but my linen shirt was near drenched with sweat. My body screamed for a break, but I kept going. There was no way I was going to lose her.
Somehow, despite the slope, despite the wind, through sheer determination I crested the hill without a single lapse in speed. My relations at the office would have been astounded.
Determination, however, had its limits. My legs promptly gave out on me as soon as I reached the top. I fell, huffing and puffing, on my hands and knees.
And then, wouldn't you know it, the wind ceased.
There were times in my life that I felt like some cosmic someone was having a jolly good load of fun at my expense. This was one of them.
Wearily, I lifted my head to scan the surroundings for Sniper. Much to my relief, I spotted her right away.
The uphill path had led us to a grassy plateau with a spectacular vista of the ocean. I had never been here before, but as best as I could tell from nearby landmarks, we were on the outskirts of town near the Royal Park grounds. The path forked at the plateau. A larger branch continued in the direction of the Park, and a smaller track wound into an ancient grove of trees. Eries stood at the fork with her back to me. From my vantage, I could not tell if she were resting, contemplating the view, or lost.
Well, whatever, this was my chance to get her attention. Picking myself up, I took a deep breath and shouted, "SNIPER, WAIT UP!"
--only to have a sudden gust of wind blow my words right back at me.
As if on cue, Eries began moving again.
This was enough to drive one mad.
Growling in frustration, I staggered after her.
To my surprise, she did not take the larger path to the Royal Park, but the one through the trees. At least she was no longer running, but walking briskly with a slight limp. That was fine for me as that was all I could manage at the moment. Between the damp slippery ground and my wobbly legs, anything more would have been just asking for a nasty tumble into the brush. My brain, however, was still running at full speed, wondering what her final destination could be and hoping that it was close. My dance shoes, although light weight and probably the most comfortable things I owned to run in, were not made for extended outdoor use. I was certain to get a scolding about the stains and damage to the fine suede once I got home.
The leafy canopy shading the path ended abruptly. Sudden sunlight dazzled my eyes. Shading my face with one hand, I halted, waiting for my vision to adjust. And then I nearly jumped out of my skin when I realized where I was.
Stretching down a grassy slope in neat ordered rows were headstones. They gleamed in the afternoon sun like so many marble sentinels.
I swallowed hard, unnerved at winding up at the cemetery. No wonder I had had no idea of where we were going. I had never been here before. Never had occasion to. Eries' dress was a bright splash of color amongst the weathered stone. She sat on a bench with her face buried in her hands. The thought that the only other people here were dead rattled me a little. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
But I had not come this far to back out now.
The rustle of my footsteps on the damp grass announced my approach, but Eries did not even look up. I stopped right by her bench. When I got no response, I spoke to her softly. "Eries. Eries, it's me, Dryden."
Almost inaudibly, she moaned. "Just go away..."
"Eries, you--"
Eries turned on me viciously. "WILL YOU JUST LEAVE-- "
Her words died on her lips when she saw what I held out to her.
Gems sparkled in the sunlight. I was no expert on jewels by any stretch, but even a neophyte could tell that these sapphires and rubies were of exceptional cut, size, and quality. They winked from their settings on a golden clasp. It was a valuable piece for certain, but an unusual one . I had never seen the likes of it. The jeweled clasp secured what appeared to be a macrame decoration of some kind. Blue, red, and yellow strands intertwined to form an elaborate, artful four-looped knot with a trailing tassel. And suspended by a tiny golden chain dangling alongside the tassel hung a single white feather.
Eries' hand flew to her pocket only to find it empty. Her entire being seemed to crumple just then. I had figured that the gravity of this realization would sober her up, but I did not expect this. She turned away, but not before I caught a glimpse of the tumult of emotions on her face.
"Eries?" I said nervously.
I spoke her name a second time. And a third. Finally, she looked up, but not at me. Her eyes seemed transfixed by the object I held out to her. Reverently, she reached out for it and cradled it in her hands as if it were a kitten or a small bird.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. But her words were not directed to me.
The colorful object bore smudges from its impact on the muddy streets of the Market. Eries spread it out on her lap and, to my surprise, began to carefully wipe off the speckles of dirt marring the feather. Why wasn't she checking to see that all the jewels were accounted for or inspecting the clasp for damage? After all, wasn't that the most valuable part of this trinket? Certainly, the gems were what caught my attention when I first laid eyes upon it. But she was ignoring them for a feather?
Now that I had a better look though, it was a rather unusual feather. It was pure white--which wasn't unusual--but the size... I could not think of a white bird with feathers that large. Then again, I was hard pressed to think of a bird of any color with feathers that large.
Amazingly enough, despite being dropped and its rough ride in my cloak pocket, the feather had remained undamaged. Eries gently ran her finger over the delicate snow-white barbs. Without looking up, she asked in a low voice, "Dryden, do you know what this is?"
I settled myself carefully beside her. "No." I had been dying to know this entire time, but now was fearful of the answer. The creepy surroundings did not help any.
Her voice sounded oddly detached as she spoke. "It's a hilaine. It's a favor. They're all different colors and different materials, but they share the same four looped knot that represents lo--- It's given to warriors before they go to battle. A reminder of the one who made it waiting for his return. It's Fanelian..." .
~Fanelian?! ~
Her finger traced down the quill of the feather where it lay atop of the blue, red, and pale yellow silken tassel strings. Wait--now that I was closer, I could see that there was something different about the yellow. I blinked. Unlike its blue and red counterparts, the fibers of the yellow cords separated into several individual strands ... strands as straight and fine and pale as the hair pulled over Eries's shoulder.
"I made it. For Folken."
My stomach twisted at that name. Since that very eventful night at Tanglewood, never once had Eries or I (or Indigo for that matter) mentioned that incident again. The silent agreement always hovered there though. If the conversation even remotely turned towards Fanelia, I always got very clear (if silent) reminders from both of them. They were so well-timed that no one else would ever notice, but they were uncomfortably evident for me. For all their surreptitiousness, they were amazingly intense--I often felt as if their eyes were burning holes right through me. I could take a hint and prudently kept my mouth shut. Besides, it was just a simple matter of time before Eries' betrothal was publicly announced and became the talk of the kingdom.
But now for her to be speaking to me so openly about this... The atmosphere grew increasingly uncomfortable, and I shifted restlessly on the bench.
"I... it's pretty. I'm sure he'll like it a lot," I said. It was an inane statement, but I was desperate for something, anything, to fill the vacuum of awkward silence.
"He won't see it. He's dead. A dragon ate him."
I inhaled sharply. Dead? Something clicked in my brain, and I remembered a comment one of my cousins had made once--something about how Fanelia's kingship rite bordered on barbaric...
She traced over the different colors of the braided knot. "I wanted... to give this to him. Ever since Merle told me about it in Fanelia. Maybe it was silly and stupid, but I thought it was perfect. Red for Fanelia. Blue for Asturia." She fingered the length of one of the blond tassel strands. "Me." Her hand brushed over the feather. "And Folken."
That last part puzzled me. But I decided not to dwell on the feather's symbolism too much as it seemed very personal and private.
"It's all bound together, the way he and I and our kingdoms were... even if it wasn't of our choice, it was still --I thought it could be a beautiful thing."
"I thought--we both thought we had more time. But then the signs came and he had to go." Her hands clenched the opposite ends of the hilaine. "He wrote me, told me as soon as he received word from the seers. I tried so hard to get it to him in time. I tried. I'd been working on it ever since I came back to Asturia, but I wasn't fast enough. I wanted him to have it with him when he went to fight. I wanted him to know..." Tears welled up and slid down her cheeks.
"He never knew about it. He never got it. It arrived two days too late. He had already left for the Dragon Forest. And no one ever saw him again. Lord Vargas and his men, they looked for him, but the only thing they found was his sword." Eries swiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Lord Vargas arrived at the palace today. He wanted to tell me in person what happened and return it to me with his regrets." Her voice broke, and she began to sniffle.
The twisting in my stomach worked itself into a full-fledged knot. I wanted to comfort her. But how? Would you say to something like this? What did you do when a dream was irretrievably gone? For all my cleverness and schooling, I felt incredibly useless.
"I'm sorry," I said lamely, offering my handkerchief to Eries, who was wiping ineffectually at her eyes with a dainty, lacy bit of cloth that looked like it was designed more for decoration than function.
Wordlessly, Eries took the handkerchief. Pressing it against her face, she took in several deep shaky breaths as she sought to regain her composure.
It felt wrong to watch her cry so I looked away and was abruptly reminded of my--err--unique surroundings. I willed the goosebumps crawling on my skin to go away and concentrated on the ocean beyond the stone-studded hillside.
"What am I doing here?" I thought as I stared at the seabirds gliding lazily in the distance. I wondered again if that cosmic someone was playing another joke on me. I did not need to look at my timepiece to know that I was very extremely late for dance practice now. Rehearsal was probably half over by now. Lady Miriam was going to have my head. And for what? Granted, I was not particularly eager to be hitting the ballroom dance floor, but sitting in the graveyard with a teary-eyed girl who had just had her almost-fiance eaten by a dragon was not what you would call a rollicking time.
But Eries was my friend. Awkward or not, I couldn't just leave her crying here. I mentally berated myself for my lack of consoling skills. My modus operandi for glum atmospheres was to joke around to lighten the mood. To do that now, though, would be in horribly bad taste. Not to mention insensitive. Some friend I was--
I started, almost falling off my seat at the sound of her voice. Man, everything here had me on pins and needles. "Uh... what?" I said stupidly.
"I said, thank you." Much calmer now, she was holding out my handkerchief to me. I shook my head, indicating she should keep it.
"Thank you," she repeated. "And thanks also, for this." The chain clinked softly as she held up the Fanelian token by the top loop of its intricate knot. The tassel and feather swung slowly in midair. Her eyes followed the motion back and forth as if mesmerized. "I don't know what I would have done if I had lost it. How did you--?" She turned to look questioningly at me.
As if I had any idea. "Good timing?" I shrugged. "I happened to be near Varro Bridge when you fell, and I happened to notice you dropped something. Honestly, I knew it was valuable, but I had no idea how important it was. Maybe someone's looking out for you." Even if I was being physically tormented in the process. "What will you do with it?" I asked as Eries carefully slid the hilaine back into her pocket.
"I don't know. But from now on I'll make sure I treat it with the respect it deserves." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands. "I don't know what came over me. I nearly lost the hilaine, and I've been completely rotten to everyone and everything today. Including you. I'm sorry about that." She looked up at me with contrition in her eyes. Abashed by her apology, I quickly blurted that it was not necessary, especially given the circumstances.
However, she seemed set on chiding herself. "I also shouldn't have rushed out of the palace the way I did. I practically ran out on Lord Vargas. And after he came all this way, too. Even if I'm hurting, I know he feels it more. The look on his face when he told me... you would have thought he'd lost a son instead of a liege. And the Queen, I can't even imagine what she's going through right now. And Van...Folken was both a father and a brother to him. Poor Van..."
~Poor Eries... ~
As she continued her self-rebuke, I could almost see her withdrawing into herself, hiding own her grief as she spoke of the grief of others. It was hard to watch her slide the mask back on, especially since I had just seen what lay beneath . I had a hunch why she was doing it though. Very few people knew of her potential engagement to Folken Lacour de Fanel, and fewer still (I could only think of Indigo, myself, and possibly Marlene) realized that her feelings for the prince were more than superficial. For her to be openly distraught over what most thought to be the death of a near stranger would only raise questions and start more probing than she would want. The most she could openly do would be to sympathize with the bereaved family's tragic loss even as she mourned inside.
That crazy wind that had been blowing intermittently all day returned. It whistled past, whipping our hair behind us. Eries shivered.
I stood up and held out a hand to her. "Come on. We should head back. It's getting cold, and Lady Miriam's probably worried." That was probably the understatement of the year. She probably had half the palace guards looking for Eries by now.
For a long moment, Eries stared wordlessly at my hand. Then, to my consternation, she shook her head.
"Eries--"
"Please. I just need a little more time." She pressed a hand to her forehead as if she had a headache.
But it was not her head that was hurting. This ache went deeper and would not so easily be medicated. And, I realized, it was not just this sudden, tragic passing that pained her, but regret. Regret over feelings that were never communicated, a message sent too late. It would be awhile before she would get over that.
It struck me suddenly why she had come to this place. And not only because grief was an all too familiar presence here. The flow of life rushed incessantly back at the palace. Things needed to be done and demands needed to be met, and none of them would relent just because of Folken Fanel's passing. But here time stood still.
I hesitated a moment, but truthfully, the decision was already made for me.
I unfastened my cloak. Moving closer to Eries, I draped the warm velvet over her shoulders. Startled, she looked up with confusion in her eyes.
"If you want to stay, I won't make you go. I'll let Lady Miriam know you are okay." Images of the Lady of the Castle inflicting various punishments upon poor me flashed briefly through my head. Why is it that messengers always end up taking the heat? "But try to get back before nightfall."
For a moment, she stared wordlessly. Then, seemingly embarrassed, she lowered her gaze and murmured, "You're a good friend, Dryden. Thank you."
"Remember that the next time you're mad at me. And you're welcome."
Sans cloak, my body quickly chilled. My shirt was still clinging damply to me from my earlier exertion, and the brisk wind was not helping any. I moved quickly, eager to be out of there and into somewhere warmer.
Before I exited the place, I turned to cast one last glance at the girl huddled in the cemetery.
Whenever Indigo and her girly friends would twitter about love, it was always hearts and flowers, romance and kisses. It sounded pretty and simple, but I knew it was more complex than that. Love complicated our lives. The pursuit of it. Its presence or absence. How it consumed and cooled. I was well acquainted with the hurt feelings and resentment that arose when love was absent where it should flourish. But, the loss of even the promise of love brought its own pain.
There was no happily ever after here for Eries. She had had it was in her grasp, but it had come to nought. Still, as I started the long walk back to the palace, I hoped Eries would be able to find it again.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
whew! Finally done!
Hope you liked it-if you did , send a review!
Next chapter is "Indigo." However, we have been having problems with content for this chapter-- "Marlene", "Sylphy" and "Millerna are already outlined, but we're not quite sure what to do with Indigo. If anyone has suggestions, we're willing to at least entertain them. :)