Iljian

*…Iljian was awake. Very much so. Outside, it was still night and would be for some hours more, yet there was no chance that he would fall back asleep anytime soon. Earlier he had been exhausted and tired from his trips through Trinsic and had fallen asleep quickly, yet now he lay brooding and hurting in the soft twilight. They had left the trapdoor leading to the tower open and both the soft light and the gentle rumbling of the waves drifted down to him. If only his wound would finally stop hurting. Like a dozen times before Iljian tried to shift his position carefully in order to avoid waking Liana next to him. Not that it did any good. The bandage only stretched and pressed against the wound, sending another jolt of pain through him that made him wince.

It didn’t look like he would be very useful on duty the next day, either. Do some paperwork maybe, but certainly no running about and after whatever brigand was stupid enough to try another frontal attack on the town. Maybe he could spend the day with Liana then, go for a picnic… or maybe not. Walking around and sitting on the ground seemed to be both genuinely bad ideas.

It was somewhat strange that she was back as well now. Of course he had missed her lots, but after all this time he had become used to the idea of her being gone for good. And just like that she had returned. Not only that, she had picked up right where they had left off as well. Hugging and kissing and talking and just generally ignoring the fact that they had not seen or heard from each other for the best part of a year. And she had started to complain about how he was not doing this and that and was distanced and awkward. Was it not normal to be awkward after such a time and after having thought for so long that she would not ever be back? Thinking that she might have decided to become a proper elf after all?

Then again, elves lived like forever. Maybe she didn’t even realise how long they had been separated? What if elves didn’t even bother with months and years, since they had nearly infinite amounts of them to spend? What would an elf care for a year apart when they could have hundreds together afterwards? That made sense, sort of. The only problem being that Iljian wasn’t an elf. He didn’t have centuries to spend and a year apart was a really really long time for him. And enough reason to be awkward, too. He sighed into the darkness.

Maybe it would be better now again. At least that’s what he tried to convince himself of. He would try harder to do things right and not mess up so much and if she would be happier again then all would work out again. They would prepare and ask the Duke again and all that.

In the last moment he suppressed a small scream as Liana shifted in her sleep and poked her arm into his hurt side. She seemed blissfully unaware and still deep asleep yet Iljian was wider awake now as ever before. The wound had been treated with all the care and knowledge possible and was healing nicely as well, so why did it have to hurt that much? Probably because someone had thought it necessary to walk all through town in search of his love. “Romantic but foolish.” Iljian muttered into the darkness.*

Iljian

*… there were trees, too. It was amazing how many trees there were in and around Trinsic. Small, big, scrawny and lush, trees everywhere. And that wasn’t even counting the various types of shrubbery that lurked everywhere. Even from here, peering out of the narrow windows of the lighthouse tower, Iljian could see trees. Further north, but they were there. And west and south across the bay as well. With a silent frown he closed the windows and flopped onto his bed.

Its wasn’t that he minded trees, not normally. But today they spooked him somewhat. When the Oracle had spoken about how it knew things and when it sort of hinted that it knew stuff that happened around the trees in the area that was one thing. Oracles were meant to know things. It wasn’t a helpful thought, but it was proper, in a way. And that was the only good thing about its ramblings; it would only give shrewd answers and thus wouldn’t tell on people. But now that tree spirit woman or whatever she was had begun talking of herself as –we- and –us- and had claimed that she, too, was connected with the trees and the land around her. The farmer woman selling seeds had claimed that the spirit would see everything through the trees. What if she was watching them all the time? Or listening? Or creeping up on them through trees? Iljian shivered.

Trees grew a long time. Even having grown up amongst fishermen whose knowledge of growing things was more or less reduced to what kinds of herbs went well with fish he knew that. Years. Decades. But he had never seen young reapers. Or small corpsers. They didn’t grow as reapers, he was sure of that. If they did, someone would have been bound to have an uprooted reaper in a flower pot shooting miniature fireworks at passing insects. That left only the other alternative: a perfectly fine and healthy tree somehow got into a bad mood and decided to get back at the lumberjacks in the area. Well, not like that, of course, even though it was a funny though. But by some kind of magic… or tree spirit? ... the perfectly normal tree turned more alive than it had the right to be. So who was to say that the same would not happen, say, in the Trinsic parks, avenues or well, just over there not far from the lighthouse? Or that she was watching them all through the trees?

Not that the spirit woman had seemed very dangerous. In fact, she had rather acted a little lost, constantly asking to have things explained to her, sorry, to –them-. And she had been open to negotiations. Without putting forth any great demands, either. For a moment, Iljian rooted in the dusty space beneath the bed until he found the pen and notebook discarded there last night. For a moment his eyes trailed towards the window, but he did not feel like going outside today anymore, even if it would be much cooler.

By the time Iljian was finished scribbling his report, it had become gloomy within the lighthouse. Night had fallen and it was only the eternal light on top of his tower that illuminated the narrow room. Outside, a gentle, cool breathe from the sea blew and Iljian thought for a moment that he could hear the leaves of that tree rustle in the wind. With a frown, he rose again to close the curtains.*

Iljian

*…Iljian cursed and muttered under his breath as the plate slipped out of his hand to shatter on the floor, spraying sharp little fragments mixed with remainders of his fish dinner all across the floor. It was just the right ending for a day such as this. Still cursing softly he crouched down and began to pick up the mess, dumping it all into the waste bin. Fortunately, the lighthouse was not too large so there was not too much space for the shards to spread out into. So much for going off duty earlier and having a good dinner.

It had been just as well though that he had left. Slinging more words with Stewan at the gate would have been of no use as he only saw what was already made up in his mind anyway, without giving the outside world many chances to interfere with his opinions. He could somehow understand Lady Meygan, who cared a lot for Lady Kimi and thus could not stand to see her hurt, but that was entirely different from Stewan, who had just decided that things be like that and never allowed for anything else.

Not that it was an easy question, but somehow it worked out if you considered it step by step. Someone must have summoned the spirit. That much was obvious. Probably either Antar alone, or Antar together with Stewan during the ritual in which the oracle was … grown? Called? Whatever it was that they had done. Either way, that part could not be blamed onto the spirit itself. No more than you could blame a baby for being conceived and born. From what he had gathered out of the words of the spirit it had not just appeared somewhere, but had somehow… how to put it… gathered? It was a little like with the water elementals that Alusair summoned. When you looked closely you could see that they would not just pop up but form out of the moisture in the air our out of puddles, moats, the ground. Supposedly, if you held your hand in the right place it would get wet from the drifting spray. So maybe the wood spirit had assembles and some things had become, well, in a way, wet. Meaning they had been affected by what was gathered in that one spot. Which wasn’t dangerous as such, either. Things had just grown. From the reports he had heard, a lot of it had been quite harmless. Some vines creeping up the city walls. A lot of mushrooms that were a little yukky but otherwise rather harmless and some funny flowers, not counting the one that had somehow managed to produce small flames. The algae had been bad, but not dangerous as such, either. They appeared everywhere and always sloshed around in the ponds and channels of Trinsic, just not in such amounts. Only the mushroom had been really dangerous. Provided you went close to it, which really was not a bright thing to do to begin with. But was that a planned and initiated attack or had it just happened? Overall, from the reports that he had read, it had been quite a random thing. Some things here, some there. Most of it in parts of Trinsic that were not too frequented. If something had the power to make whatever it wished grow then it shouldn’t be too hard to do much worse things. And all of it really appeared before the spirit had been seen for the first time, had it not? They had no evidence whatsoever that the spirit had done anything. It could have done, but they could not prove it. And since then, it had done a lot of good too. Walking through the woods and lands of the Duchy it was easy to see that everything was literally bubbling with life. Everything grew, bloomed and carried rich harvests. From the point of view of a healer Iljian could only approve. With all the fresh and tasty fruit coming in from the orchards the markets were literally flowing over and everything went cheap and plenty and people ate better and more healthy than they usually did. Farmers and peasants flowed in and out through the gates, bringing in their goods and going home with new tools, presents for their families and any amount of things that they could suddenly afford. It wasn’t really something that you could blame the spirit for, could you?

And as far as he could tell, it had helped Lady Kimi. She had claimed to feel better, even moments after the… after those… after what had happened. He wasn’t quite sure how the spirit had done it, but judging by all the little cuts the vines must have put something into Lady Kimi’s blood. Which was what some plants did, as far as he knew. Usually as a defensive mechanism, but still. Animal tries to eat plant, plant pokes animal with thorns, thorns are coated in some juice, juice itches and scratches and irritates animal, animal goes away. Simple. Iljian had learned about some of those plants from Anya during her training. The old woman had forgotten more about plants and herb lore than he would ever know, but he had remembered at least some things. And you could try it yourself, too. Children sometimes played with nettles, making it a challenge on who could stand having them brushed over their arm or such. All those were small effects, but if you wanted a bigger effect and a lasting one then maybe she would have used just the same system, but with more barbs and cuts to deliver more of whatever it had been that the spirit had put into Lady Kimi. It had been bothersome, but… Iljian knew from experience that healing wasn’t always clean and painless. Sometimes it could turn out worse than the injury itself appeared to be, but if it had to be done in order to save the patient’s life then well… what could you do? Refuse to keep the bed linen fresh and clean? Disinfecting a wound hurt like fire and yet nobody accused the healer of doing it for their own pleasure. It didn’t have anything to do with trusting the spirit, but if it did help and if what it had done for Lady Kimi gave them more time to find a proper cure then one owed it at least some gratitude. Like it or not.

With a sigh, Iljian stretched and dumped the remaining shards into the bin. A moment later he opened the windows too, letting the fresh and salty breeze from the sea wash out the fragrant, lingering smell of the baked fish. It was prudent to be careful and plan ahead in order to avoid traps, but it was cynical to believe that everything that happened would be bad. Especially just based on something else having been bad beforehand. Some criminals and drow walked undisturbed on the streets of Trinsic, despite the fact that they had murdered more than once and caused much greater harm in their days. And yet, nobody seemed to care. The one that now spoke most fiercely against the spirit had killed more than three times as many victims in the past. No matter what had happened since then.

And the thought that something good was happening for a change was tempting. It would be great if something happened that helped, supported and healed people rather than sow chaos and death. In Trinsic, life had gone on after the terrible deeds in Britain, yet the shadows grew longer and threatened to swallow some entirely. No matter what he said, the Duke was hurting badly and despite his efforts to hide it (which might have worked well on some) it was blaringly obvious to any that cared to look. Even more, Dukes seemed to be lonely. Which was a harder thing to realise amongst all the staff, servants, citizens and visitors that fussed around them day by day, but it seemed to be true. Iljian wasn’t sure that his clumsy attempts at conversation helped at all, but at least they might be noted as the attempt alone. And then there were the political implications of the murders. Nearly all of those that had ruled the realm had been slaughtered in terrible ways and so far, none of the heroes had stood up to claim their place. Overall, this could not bode well for the safety and peace in the lands. Especially not since the usual factions continued to wage their petty war back and forth across the lands. Not that they ever achieved anything other than make the lives of people in the contested territories more miserable.

As the sun settled down into the gentles waves of the sea, Iljian yawned and eyed the paper on which he had meant to put down his report. Not that it mattered much, what with the Duke being away most of the next week and barely any other guards taking an active interest in the things that he had to note down. Eventually, he settled down and scribbled quickly:

Too lazy to pen down anything more, Iljian folded his short report for handing in later and yawned. Determined to make it a nice and comfy evening after all he settled down to read some for a while and then took a quick dip in the cool and dark ocean before curling up in bed sleepily.*

Iljian

*…Iljian closed the door of the lighthouse and yawned deeply. It was nice to be home again, even though he had spent only one night in Britain so far. The room at the inn there had been clean and pleasant enough, but it wasn’t near the sea and he had unconsciously missed the sounds of wind and waves too much to ever really relax and fall asleep. For nearly all of his life he had lived next to the sea and it had become a part of him by now. So he had snuck off from Britain with the excuse to check on the wellbeing of Trinsic – with the added benefit of being able to spend the night at home.

It had been a long day and by now, the sun was already going down. Climbing up in the tower, Iljian opened the windows to air the small rooms out and then ascended to the top in order to check on the light, which still shone dutifully. Beneath him, the bay and docks lay peacefully and quiet in the evening sun, as did those parts of the city that he could see from here. Seeing this it was hard to believe that elsewhere, people still fought bloody wars over completely uninteresting pieces of land and even entire towns.

The meeting of the so called world leaders had taken place today as part of the mood and while Iljian had been trying to keep an eye on the door, he had enjoyed the dubious benefit of being able to listen in to the debate… if it could be called that. Had he not been aware of the qualities of some of those “leaders” Iljian had most likely had another reason for being unable to sleep. With the exception of the Duke, all the other leaders that had assembled at the table were no nobles, but had been elected or chosen by other means. Some weren’t even anything at all, but just the highest ranked solders of some area or other. And, sad as it was, their tone and style suggested more the drill sergeant on the training grounds than the diplomat at a meeting. Large amounts of the debate were comparable to the late-night arguments in a (cheap) tavern and it was only the absence of ale that kept the people in question from utterly ridiculing themselves. What was lacked in sensible solutions and ideas was simply made up in insults and bragging.

Stunning, at least from those who should know better, was the lack of discipline as well. Especially the Yewish commander did not seem to have any control over the fellow accompanying him, despite the fact that he apparently outranked the other, who did nothing else but provoke and insult all other parties at the table. It had been vaguely amusing to see some of the attendants boast over the victory won at some crossroads when their population at home was fed in large parts by donations from Trinsic and the seemingly more frequent foraging and shopping expeditions conducted by the suffering populace itself. Apparently, a war could be waged in the name of a king who had never commanded it, had never known of it and would, according to his own words, never return to even hear of it. It amazed Iljian to no end how an absent monarch could still bind any loyalty to his person at all. It turned affairs into some sort of religion, making all try to guess the improvable will of an absent being while trying to gut those that stated equally improvable, but opposing views. The only result would be a continuation of suffering and slaughter, with no end or relief from the futility of it all. It was maddening, but as long as people like those he had seen today were in charge it was unlikely to change.

Still, there had been something resembling a result at the end of the meeting. A new road would be constructed from the yewish territory towards Minoc (not that there was anything wrong with the existing road, but it seemed absolutely necessary to build a new one rather than just find a way to make the usage of existing roads safe for all), allowing the citizens of Minoc to trade freely and fairly and to supply themselves with food and other necessities. In addition there was now meant to be a court consisting of judges from different towns in order to put three criminals to the trial that were apparently harboured by Cove. It had been a bit of a confusing topic and Iljian was not even sure what the crime had been. But there were agreements and a shaky ceasefire so maybe not all the hope was lost. Still, Iljian wished that there were more nobles still, the old kind from the sagas and stories; the kind that would be chivalrous and honourable, just and courageous. In the old tales it was all banners and heraldry, songs of glory and valour. Much nicer in any case than to watch a meeting of supposed world leaders descend into a tavern brawl worthy of the cheapest Vesperian wine sink.

Beyond him, the sun had sunk beneath the walls of Trinsic and the Dragons’ Hame far to the west and darkness fell around him, illuminated only by the gleaming light above him. Yawning deeply, Iljian stretched languidly before snuggling up in his favourite corner of the tower to wait and watch the nightly sea for a little while longer.

Only few days ago he had sat up here with Anna, but that had been before she had told him about the other, of course. Or rather, had not told him. Of course he knew who it had been that she was talking of, there had not been that many people to visit her in the cell and he had even found the blood on the bars, though he had assumed it to be an attempt at provoking the prisoner back then. But in the light of what she had told him now it was most likely him that she had bitten and the man had gotten away unquestioned and unchallenged. But that wasn’t even the worst; the worst was that she would not tell him. It had become a matter of principle then, no matter how much she tried to get him off the topic.

With a frown, Iljian turned to look back towards the silent town and then let his gaze sweep over towards the south, where the Duchy Tower rose beyond the bay. He had been leaning quite far over the walls in order to help her and more than once he had just about kept himself from loosing his footing. People had become upset and suspicious, the Duke had gotten angry and others thought that he had been bewitched or something silly. But he had tried to help, to do the right thing and now she repaid it by breaking everything that had been promised and expected. Instead of gratitude she had begun to complain, instead of working her punishment off she had taken the sum from the daemon-caller and meddler Kendra, with none knowing what the price of that “kindness” would eventually turn out to be. Instead of staying at the Duchy Tower and under Lord Ikus’ supervision she now lived in with that Reed person and instead of even trying to keep the thirst for blood under control she had just continued the way it had been beforehand. It wasn’t right and he was upset and the fact that she never even seemed to understand why upset him even more. It was frustrating.

With a sigh, Iljian rose from his seat and began to climb down the ladder, closing the trapdoor above him. Tomorrow would be the great market in Britain, which would make it another long and tiring day. After getting ready for bed, Iljian slipped under the covers and, lulled to sleep by the soft sounds of wind and waves, was soon dreaming of things that none but him would ever know about…*