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 Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2008 1:25 am
Mother Moon and Child Moon glowed like hardshell pearls against an obsidian sky, the dots of stars sparkling as gem facets against an endless stretch of stone. Rook had been staring skyward for some time, allowing the soft indigo haze of twilight to fade into the jet of midnight without taking so much as a step. Time was often fluid to Rook, and he gave it surprisingly little notice; of what import is time when you have no destination in mind?
** Food, ** came the answering send, sharp and accusatory. Wolf-sends felt low and rough, like the surly growl of an old b***h beset by pups, but raven-sends were every bit as grating and sour as their namesake's caw. Silhouette seemed to take pleasure in the rawness of his sending, caring little for how it rubbed Rook's mind raw -- after all these years, the bird still found it a novelty to make his thoughts known to an elf, and to know that said elf found those thoughts to be an annoyance more often than not.
** Food, ** replied Rook patiently, snapped from his reverie and finding himself not among the stars but back in a tree, feet balanced on a fat limb while his eyes gazed upward. His thoughts had been of the Two Moons, and for a while he had felt contentment. The sharp reminder of his companion's cawing brought him back to the truth of his own hunger and the reality of his situation. Grabbing his solid bow and quiver, Rook leapt from the branch with his arms spread wide, allowing himself to fall like a stone toward the veldt.
For a brief moment, the wind whipped past the aged Wolfrider like a gale, the bough left behind him as the ground rushed up and threatened no mercy to break his fall. It was in those last few spans that Rook allowed himself to fall feather-light to the grass, tilting himself so that his doeskin boots touched down as softly as if he'd walked the distance himself. Nearby a shadow detached itself from the verge, stalking forward on slender legs to coalesce into the night-dark hide of Vesper, Rook's wolf-friend. The young male had been part of a pack that ranged the plains, and had found his bond to Rook as surprising as Rook himself had found it when it occurred. They'd had a year to get to know one another, and Vesper had begun to understand his place in the strange pack of elf, bird, and wolf.
** Food! ** sent Silhouette with urgency, but the thought was tinged with intent rather than demand; there was food to be found, and the bird had spied it. Rook felt the brush of brief images in his mind -- strong thews, branching horns, shaggy, dark fur....
** Blackneck! ** Rook sent to his two bond-friends, feeling affirmation from Silhouette and eagerness from Vesper. ** We hunt, ** he sent merrily, nocking an arrow to his bow and gliding silently up and over a tree, moving to where Silhouette perched in high branches to overlook their quarry.
Six blackneck grazed in a small clearing, weary from a long trek and showing signs of malnutrition. Even so, they were more than enough food for Rook's odd little pack, and so he peered down at them to choose their prey. The eldest blackneck stood apart from the others; a doe, favoring a weak foreleg. Rook sent the image to Vesper, who immediately burst from the brush to startle the blackneck.
** Too soon! ** sent Rook with admonishment, loosing an arrow and striking the old blackneck in her hindquarters. She bleated and fell behind while the others ran, but Rook cursed his young wolf-friend's impetuousness, letting fly another arrow before reaching up to grab the spear slung at his shoulder. He flitted down to where the beast lay, still kicking, with a chagrined Vesper lurking nearby.
** You think with your belly, ** Rook chided, readying his spear before driving it through the blackneck's throat and putting an end to its suffering. He pulled an old flint knife from his boot and set about cutting away at his arrows, retrieving them and setting them aside before opening the blackneck's skin. Silhouette fluttered down immediately, pecking at the carcass and noisily eating his fill while Vesper waited on Rook, who finally sent, ** Go ahead, eat your fill. **
The three ate well, filling their bellies and relaxing together against a thick-boled oak. Rook's fingers lazily scrubbed the ruff of his black-pelted wolf-friend while Silhouette rested on a low branch, hanging near enough that his occasional soft churrs buzzed in Rook's ears. How long since they had left the Dreampool in Driftwood's care, allowing the Wavedancer to tend the reliquary of the High Ones' magic? It seemed like days, yet it could have been turns for all the haste Rook was making toward home.
Home... that was a strange concept. He meant the Father Tree Holt, in his mind -- the place where he had been born, where his daughter had been born -- and yet it was so far in his past that he could hardly recall it feeling like his home. So much had happened to him since; Tyrek, the Dream Pool, the blossoming of his magic. And yet, his heart would ever be there, in the place where he had known the Way, and where his lifemates had welcomed him and made him one of their own.
It was a light in the sky that first caught his attention, and Rook gazed upward believing he saw a dream. The sky was filled with shooting stars, streaking like skyfire and bringing back twilight to the copse. A burning star streaked through the heavens like a red, angry fist, soaring toward the Child Moon with evil intent. As Rook gazed on, the two collided, and there was a moment of pure silence before he saw the Child Moon shatter before his eyes, falling to fragile bits.
Tears stung Rook's eyes as he watched the shards separate, and he shook his head slowly in denial. "No," he murmured softly, unable to comprehend what he had just seen, his mind turning on itself rather than admit the impossible.
It was then that the wave of force seemed to roll over the land; a hurricane gale invisible but powerful. Silhouette leapt free and took to the sky, but Rook was tossed against the oak like a waterskin, striking first with his back, then with his head. He let out a sharp cry before falling face-first into the grass, feeling a sting run down his spine and legs to the tips of his toes. He tried to raise his head, but his body would not obey, and his eyes refused to open. Breath came in stinging gasps, and as he fought to regain the use of his limbs, his body surrendered entirely to the cold grip of unconsciousness.
*****
This is the first part of the story of Rook's survival of the Shattering. I will continue with the second part tomorrow, in a separate post.
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Posted: Fri Jun 20, 2008 1:32 pm
Rook's eyes fluttered open like moth's wings, revealing a teal-green haze that his unfocused gaze eventually realized was thick grass. His limbs were curiously devoid of pain, and as he pushed himself up to his knees, he found that he was mother-naked on the veldt. The sky glowed in an odd cyan hue, and when the elf's slate eyes had finally adjusted to the light, he found himself at the edge of a luminous circular pool.
** You left, ** sent a familiar mind, with more surprise than admonition in its feelings.
Before Rook's eyes, the luminous light of the pool began to coalesce, taking the bare semblance of a tall, slender figure. Misty strands of light tied themselves together to reveal the beatific visage of Tyrek, his Glider grandsire.
** You are dead, ** answered Rook in surprise, running a hand through his shaggy crimson hair. He looked once more at his surroundings, then back at the figure, tilting his head. ** Am I dead, as well? What happened? **
Tyrek shook his head slowly, taking a step toward Rook to put an arm's length of distance between them and no more. ** You dream, ** he answered, gesturing to the sky. ** Mother Moon has lost her child, and you were witness to it -- you saw the fiery hand strike, and you saw Child Moon die. This world has trembled for it, and is changed by it. You will change, too. **
Rook sighed heavily, looking to the sky and seeing the ring of celestial rubble that had once been a moon. ** I felt it happen, ** he sent, then cleared his throat, working moisture back into his mouth. "Silhouette and Vesper... are they all right? I hit the tree, and I couldn't...."
** I cannot speak for your companions, ** Tyrek replied, again shaking his head patiently. ** It is you that I found. The Dream Pool has ties to you, Khy, as do I. You were not easy to find; I did not know you had left. ** He looked heavenward briefly, gazing at the sky before turning his ephemeral eyes back to Rook. ** The Child Moon's passing means that many others have perished, as well. This world and everything in it will change; you can no longer rely on the things you have known. Those you knew are gone, either scattered to the winds or resting with the High Ones. You will not find what you seek, Khy -- you will find what you need. **
The thoughts struck Rook like a blow to the chest, and his heart beat heavy in his chest, paining him enough that he winced and curled on himself. "My lifemates," he replied, shaking his head. "My daughter? Driftwood and the Dream Pool? I... I was flung against a tree! I have taken worse tumbles in the furs!" His voice rose, anger tinging his words, and he raised a fist to his grandsire in anger. "Something so simple could not do so much damage -- it is not possible!"
** You dream, and so you do not see, ** replied Tyrek sadly, shaking his head. ** The world burns, Khy. Even as you dream, you are safe by providence alone. Others are not so lucky. As much as the world changed in the many turns you spent at the Dream Pool, it has changed even more now. Your Father Tree Holt was gone long before the moon was shattered, and your Wolfriders had gone elsewhere. You will not find them anywhere you have ever seen with your eyes, Khy, and you will not know the lay of the land to get back to your home. You are too far from anyplace you have been to find your way home, and even your ties to the Dream Pool will not help you find it again without aid. You must not seek what is lost, Khy, or you will die alone -- you will die even after you have survived the end of all things, and that would be a shame, because this world needs you now more than it ever has. **
Rook took the sending in bitterly, his breathing labored as his heart thrummed against his ribcage, threatening to tear free and kill him even here, in this dream. "You claim to know much for the spirit of a dead elf," he responded sharply, words tinged with pain and disbelief.
** Do you know so much, Khy, that you can tell me what I am? ** replied Tyrek impatiently, annoyance tinging his thoughts. The old Glider arrogance was long part of him, and Rook knew it well, though he had found acceptance with his grandsire over time. ** You know less than you think, Khy, and you think less than you should. The High Ones did not set you on this path to make assumptions about the world, and you will get nowhere arguing with me. Seek your destiny, Khy, and you may find the path to what you wish to know. It may lead you to happiness. It may even lead you back home. **
Rook grimaced sourly at that, looking around at the eerie terrain and scratching at his furred chin fitfully. "And if I decide to believe you?" he replied finally, looking the spirit of his grandsire in the eyes. "What then? What is my great destiny? Why is it so much more important than seeing my loved ones?"
Sadness and frustration played across the niveous features of Tyrek's face, and he shook his head one last time. ** You are not listening, Khy, ** he sent sadly. ** You always talk more than you listen. **
Tyrek raised an arm, pointing a long finger at the center of his forehead. ** Wake, ** he said simply, leaning forward and driving his finger into Rook's skull.
Fire streaked through Rook's mind, and he screamed wildly, tasting metal on his tongue. The blaze burned through his bones, searing him from within, and for a moment his world was the blackness of pain. He took in a lungful of air, tasting blood and animal musk, and he knew he was once again back in his own body. Battered and bleeding from the trauma, he felt his head throb; his bones and muscles were sore, and his back felt like a mass of bruises.
A sharp stab of pain at his forehead snapped his eyes open, and for a moment he thought he might see Tyrek once again jabbing a finger into his mind. Instead, he saw Silhouette, upside-down and pecking at his head in annoyance. ** Wake! ** he sent insistantly, the thought sending sore echoes through Rook's mind.
Rook sat up, sending the bird fluttering away testily, and though his body was sore all over he knew none of the damage was serious. His lungs worked steadily, his limbs responded to his commands, and even now his headache was fading. The world itself was in disarray -- trees had been felled, plants uprooted, leaves blown about as if a great storm had struck the land. Vesper sat nearby patiently, and Rook realized the shadowy wolf had dragged him to a stream and brought a bush hen to eat.
"The world is changed," Rook said sadly, echoes of Tyrek's warning in his voice. "The world is changed, and we are changed with it. It is time for us to find out what that means."
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