Closed Man Eater

[Dravite]

19 Summer, 515 AV
Morning, 8th Bell

"Ten ink sticks, three gold," the merchants smiled.
Dravite counted his coin twice before handing it over; after all, three gold miza was a lot to spend on a bit of ink. "Do you sell paper?" The horse lord inquired.
"All out of paper."
"Blank books then?"
The merchants scratched around under the stall for a chime before presenting a dusty, wood bound book, "does this please you?"
"You don't have leather?" Dravite asked.
"Last book," the merchant lied, and Dravite none the wiser, believed him.
"I don't want wood," the Drykas Man waved, "I'll find leather elsewhere."
"For you, only three gold," the merchant tried to convince him.
"No," Dravite sounded adamant; he was getting good at this game, "two gold."
The merchant grit his teeth, considering the offer, "too low."
"Two gold, five silver."
"Two gold, eight silver and you deliver this letter to the falconer for me."
Dravite laughed, was this man serious? Still, it was a successful negotiation; ofthat he could not complain, "you have a deal," the horse lord agreed, paying the merchant what he owed him before collecting the book and letter.

• • •

"This must be the letter from Hamare," the falconer chimed, taking the folded script from Dravite's hand.

Dravite studied the man who had introduced himself as Timoth Ironsword, another foreigner who now called Endrykas home. He was thin, had rusty, red hair and a pale complexion that, partnered with his slender build, made him look rather ill. "I didn't catch his name," Dravite admitted in Pavi; tempted to roll his smoke-grey eyes when Timoth gave him a puzzled look.

Dravite was sick and tired of outsiders migrating to Endrykas in order to make a living, while still refusing to learn the language. The horse lord repeated himself, this time in common. "No name, paper merchant."
"Yes, that's him," Timoth smiled and raised his hand suddenly to catch one of his Falcons, "in coming!" He warned Dravite, who ducked out of the way just in time.

The Drykas Man watched the falconer unravel a small piece of paper from the bird's left leg and Timoth read the message etched across the page quickly before tucking it away in one of his pockets. "Homing bird?" Dravite asked.
Timoth grinned, he still had all of his teeth, but they were twisted and out of line, "oh much faster than a homing pigeon," the lean man admitted.
"To send a message, how much?"
"Where do you want to send the message?" Timoth inquired.
"Riverfall."
"In the summer; ten gold," the man responded hesitantly, unsure if he should try to pull the wool over this man's eyes.
"Too much," Dravite complained, "seven."
Timoth was still making a profit as he had two other messages to send to his sister in Riverfall this morning. "Seven gold," Timoth agreed.
That was too easy, Dravite told himself, I am being ripped off; a lesson for next time. "Good," he retorted, counting the right coin out in flat of his palm before handing it over.
"There is a fifty word limit," Timoth informed Dravite, "if you go over it will cost you extra."

Dravite stared at the man long and hard until he noticed Timoth's arms tighten against his sides; was he intimidated by the horse lord?

He walked away from the falconer to work on the letter, sitting down in the shade with the slip of parchment Timoth had given him and one of the ink pens he had recently acquired. Dravite had been considering a trip to Ravok to purchase a Bloodbane stallion when he was told by the horse rustler from foreign import stables that a woman by the name of Kavala Denusk owned a bred a multitude of horses in the city of Riverfall, not far from the spring grounds of Endrykas. Dravite had never sent a letter to anyone before and hoped this Kavala would be able to read his Pavi, the only language he was able to put to paper fluently.

Kavala Denusk, he scratched down on the parchment with his black, ink stink.

My name is Dravite Blackwater of the Diamond Clan, Ra’athi of The Watch. I am writing to you to inquire about purchasing one of your Bloodbane horses. I intend to train the horse for mounted combat.

Quickly, Dravite counted what he had put down on paper and compared it to his work limit. Fifty words was nothing when he had so much to say. He would need to wrap it up, perhaps a face to face meeting between the two of them would give him the opportunity to speak with this woman and learn more about the breed without having to travel all the way to Ravok.

I am free this fall if you require to meet me in person.

Dravite realised he was one word over his limit. He put a line through the start of the note and edited it to read just as well, without breaking the falconer’s rules.

Kavala Denusk

My name is I am Dravite Blackwater of the Diamond Clan, Ra’athi of The Watch. I am writing to you to inquire about purchasing one of your Bloodbane horses. I intend to train the horse for mounted combat. I am free this fall if you require to meet me in person.

Happy with the letter, Dravite carried it over to Timoth and set it down in the man's right hand. "When will I hear back from her?"
"Assuming your letter is responded to in a timely fashion, my falcon will probably return within four days."
"I will see you in four days," Dravite promised.
"Lucky me," Timoth said under his breath.
"Pardon!" Dravite raised his voice, again speaking in Pavi.
Timoth cowered and pretended he had somewhere to be, "you have a fine day!" The thin man quipped and raced off to tend to his birds.

Ledger10 x Ink Sticks -3 GM
1 x Blank Book -2 GM -8 SM
Courier -7 GM
Total: -12 GM 8 SM

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[Kavala]

The letter was brief and to the point. Kavala appreciated that.

I am Dravite Blackwater of the Diamond Clan, Ra’athi of The Watch. I am writing to you to inquire about purchasing one of your Bloodbane horses. I intend to train the horse for mounted combat. I am free this fall if you require to meet me in person.

Kavala studied the letter and nodded to the messenger. Fall? Fall was The Sanctuary's quiet time. Everyone rested, traveled, or finished the harvests for Winter. The Konti set the note aside, washed her bloody hands in the sink after hitting the hand crank on the pump and setting cool water gushing into the basin.

For a good measure, she dampened a cloth and wiped her face. She'd just got done with surgery and it had been a bit close. A female dog, one of the townsfolks, had developed a uterine infection. It had been full of puss and blood. Dirty dogs randomly breeding, Kavala figured, and had to remove the whole uterus before it burst within the bitch and killed her. She hadn't almost been fast enough because with the bitch laid out, her abdomen open, and the uterus cut free, Kavala had been setting it aside when it burst.

Lucky for the dog, unlucky for the cleaning crew. She smelled, was bloody, and the clinic main room looked like a warzone. The bitch had been put in recovery with a great prognosis. The clinic? It would also survive with some decent elbow grease. That's what Kavala had been doing when the messenger found her.

Drying her hands she lead the messenger out the door, into the hall, and down to her office where she could access parchment as well. Quickly she penned a note, handed it to the messenger, and then took coins out of her desk to pay her. "Will seven cover it?" The messenger nodded. Kavala handed her ten gold, knowing the tip was well earned having had to run it from the city to The Sanctuary and back.

The note simply read: "I'll bring one to you in ten to twenty days - however long it takes me to find you. We can talk then. -Kavala Denusk, Denusk Pavilion, Sapphire Clan"

If she knew him personally, she'd have just sent him an animal. But with the Bloodbanes that could be tricky. If they didn't like the potential rider, they were more likely to eat him than allow him to throw a leg over their withers. No, this was just the distraction Kavala needed for the fall. She wondered if she could pull it off, riding a Bloodbane out to Endrykas and then perhaps flying back.

A slow smile spread across her face, the decision made.

Then, as the time passed she spent time with the bloodbanes specifically. They were already for sale, having been used in her breeding program and not being used much now. It might be too that rather than coin the horse could gain her allies or ties among the Drykas that she'd lost over her move to Riverfall. And so she kept her eye out, watching the mares, until she identified a rather young one that was far more restless than the others and wouldn't mind a good long life of battle on the Sea of Grass. Then, s time passed, she started working that mare, polishing her up. She'd had the same training as most of Kavala's warhorses. All the mounts that Kavala owned or brought up got similar treatment. Each could shoulder their way into a crowd, move horses and animals over, wasn't afraid of steel, and were trained to fight alongside their riders.

Kavala counted off the days and left when the time was right. She packed light, making sure everything she traveled with could be left at their destination other than a small bag designed to haul coins and survival supplies. The Yvas she used was new as was the blanket which was double folded so Kavala could use it as a bedroll at night. She took a small survival kit, some dried journey bread, a waterskin, and only the weapons she could carry as an eagle home.

There were benefits, after all, to being a mage.

And with that Kavala rode off with Vicious, one of her more cranky mares. The horse was absolutely suited to what the Drykas wanted her for. The easy life back at The Sanctuary not having been easy on the restless mare's heart.

It took her a dozen days to find Endrykas and another asking around for Dravite and playing nice paying her respects to the Sapphire Clan elders. When she was finally given directions to his pavilion in the Diamond clan. Even then he wasn't well known until she'd checked with the Watch, who had indeed known him. That had narrowed her search and had put her smack dab into Diamond Territory.

As was polite, when she found the pavilion that had been described to her, she dismounted and set about waiting quietly until someone noticed her or the vicious horse standing beside her. The mare had a tendency to snap at people that got too close. She was in fact the end of the road for one chicken who was used to four legged pets being far better behaved than Vicious was. Feather's were scattered about as the mare finished her meal. Kavala only looked amused. The man, after all, had wanted a bloodbane.

Someone did eventually come along. It was a sixteen year old girl that looked perhaps like a first wife or at least held the cloud of worry in her eye of someone who had too much responsibility or perhaps not enough. Kavala nodded a greeting to her, and slowly again asked for Dravite.

She didn't mention the demise of the chicken or the fact that the enormous silvery grey standing beside her had bloody lips and was still chewing contentedly with a practiced air of innocence about her.

[Dravite]

"Belkaia Windborne," the young woman smiled taking a nervous step back from the woman and her horse; this must be another of her husband’s dealings, she thought to herself before correcting herself, "Formally... I am Blackwater now."

Belkaia's old pavilion name had a lot higher standing in Endrykas, especially among the Emerald Clan it hailed from. Blackwater, however, had always been a small family name that birthed men with good intentions who never seemed to live long enough to see their sons’ tenth birthdays. Dravite, unfortunately, was one of these men, just like his father Cyprine, he seemed to attracted danger and Belkaia couldn't help but feel this horse would be the death of him, if the Zith, Tall Grass, or Watch didn't get him first.

"You're in luck, he isn't far; just beyond the gates in fact," Belkaia pointed outside of the city where Dravite liked to go and work his horses, "though you are more than welcome to wait inside," she gestured to the tent.

The Blackwater pavilion was small in comparison to most of the campsites to be found in Endrykas. Dravite had recently purchased a large pavilion tent that was big enough to house the animals during the coming winter, black just like all of the other tents in camp, including those belonging to his uncle's family, and young Roan Winterstorm, a stray Dravite had adopted earlier in the season. Belkaia seemed long-suffering, when in reality her only issue was a first-class-bum she was tired of parking in economy seats.

A wild mop of wheat coloured hair raced out of camp with hands held high, "Strider!" The boy squealed before being snatched up by his mother. If Belkaia stayed for only one reason, it was this boy, her son.
"No!" She scolded, her freehand held up in the sign for dangerous.

Dravite had raised a fearless boy who bowed only to one woman; his mother. The yellow haired child curled against Belkaia apologetically before sitting up to point, "Da!"

Belkaia's braided mane whipped over her shoulder as she turned to see her husband returning after a morning that had left him sweaty and no doubt foul. She closed her eyes in an attempt to try and find the strength she needed to face her barbarian until he was off on another one of his missions. On this occasion, however, she found none and merely pointed to Kavala before retreating into camp.

Dravite pinned the woman with his steely, grey stare and sent Bones, the white faced mare into camp along with his Strider Cree, who after seeing to it that a disobedient Bones had crossed the threshold; turned to re-join his rider. Dravite was just about to speak when Cree shouldered him forwards, letting the man know he was near. The horse lord whistled short and sharp which saw the buckskin stallion back up to give him room.

He signed a greeting and introduced himself more formally than Belkaia had, paying respect to his ancestry and line of work. Even before Kavala spoke, the man had noticed the feathers and a pink tongue that rolled to finish clearing away the remnants of a light snack. As Kavala introduced herself, Dravite smiled warmly; so she had received his letter. Somewhere in the tall grass another messenger must be lying dead with a pocket full of gold and a note that never made it home, or perhaps she had been smarter than that and stayed on at Riverfall with a masterful excuse that would negate her from her duties as a courier.

"You've come a long way, can I offer you something to drink and eat?" All formalities aside, Dravite found it hard to take his eyes from the Bloodbane, who in rest, had not failed to disappoint him; but what did she think of the leather clad, shirtless Watchman with dried clay slavered over his shoulders to protect his skin from the sun and hair that had never seen a brush in its lifetime. At least he smelt like a horse; perhaps that would earn him brownie-points.

"This must be the Bloodbane," the man stepped back to admire the build of the animal, making a point of eyeing the mare's legs which he knew upset a lot of herd animals, though this one didn't seem nervous at all, "When can we ride?"
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[Kavala]

The Konti stood quietly watching the interactions, first between the child and his mother. Then, later, the woman’s reaction to her husband as the man returned home. The former was familiar, but the latter was disturbing. Humans were hard to read for Kavala, but a woman embittered and awash on a sea not her own making was not. That was familiar enough territory that she recognized it on the face of one so young. There were no old Drykas. There were only Drykas old before their times.

Kavala inhaled deeply, letting the riot of Endrykas wash over her, and indeed that of the small pavilion in its tiny portion of the city. She then let her breath out slowly absently keeping her hand on the mare’s neck as the horse looked around and scented the air about her. She noted the other horse riding up, schooling the loose mare, and arched her neck, flashing fangs instead of teeth as if warning the stallion away. Kavala spoke a soft word and the mare quieted, though she kept one ear pointed in the stallion’s direction. The mare too was watched, but with much less caution.

The Konti took her time sizing up the man before her. The woman’s reaction to his approach had her on her guard. But she wasn’t overly worried, not yet, as to the nature of the man she was talking too. She noted his hairstyle, the color of his eyes, and the lines around his face. She made a true effort to decide if they were laugh lines or scowls. While the man had eyes only for the horse, he was polite enough offering her food and drink.

The Konti was truthfully hungry, but her stomach could wait. She’d rode light deliberately and that left her hunting most of the way with a throwing dagger or the thin line of snares she carried in a belt pouch. Somehow, it seemed wrong to eat through magic, but she’d used that too. Kavala figured she could eat here, and eat well, trading the yvas and Vicious’ finery for when she needed to start home if this stranger didn’t want it.

But first she had to decide if he was good enough for her horse. His other horses and indeed his animals were an indication. So too were the fact that, regardless of the woman’s expression, she looked well fed and clean. So too did the child. The man himself was as well. Dravite. She’d have to remember his name. The Konti was terrible at them.

She signaled her appreciation of the gesture, but Kavala half declined, with a flick of her fingers to indicate in Grassland sign that perhaps but not certain, maybe later. “Not now, thanks.” Kavala left it wide open for later. She knew how she felt when business was at hand. Some people liked to draw it out, break their fasts and drink a little before major deals. If she were a male, she’d probably insist on it. Drykas protocol rarely let people get down to business. But Kavala was here unescorted by a pavilion and thus she made her own hours and her own agreements. And she preferred to get down to business.

“You can ride now if you’d like.” The woman said, turning to the bloodbane and catching her eye. “Her name is Vicious and she’s proud beyond measure. I suspect she’ll take you up now because I’ll ask it of her. But if she’s to take you up later, she’ll need to respect you. That means you need to be strong without being a bully, and firm without being an idiot.” Kavala said, breaking eye contact with the dapple grey mare and turning to study Dravite.

“She’ll take you. Do you have a horse I can follow along with?” The Konti asked, glancing at the stallion and then at the mare he’d chased back into the territory. “Or would you just like me to wait?” She suggested, folding her arms and relaxing slightly, not really minding if Dravite took a test ride without her. If Vicious found him wanting, she’d be right back.

“I know you were looking for a warhorse. I train them in Riverfall. Vicious knows several useful things, but you might want to round out her education yourself. She’s not afraid of crowds and can shoulder into them and move them around in crowd control methods. She can shoulder other horses too. She’ll fight if your fighting, whatever it is your targeting, but she can get confused in large battles, so she’s best with one on one or fighting prey. I suspect she’d enjoy taking on a small grassland bear or a young glassbeak. They won’t terrify her. She does get scared, but she’s trained to freeze when she’s uncertain and wait for a command rather than bolt. She’s also knowledgeable in guarding the camp. If you set her at guard and tell her to guard, you’ll have her standing there until you release her. She’ll cry a warning if anything worrisome to her comes your way.” Kavala said in rapid fluid Pavi, her hands moving as she did, emphasizing one thing or another, clarifying what she said with gesture.

Then she waited, knowing Dravite would decide rather than eat and make nice. Socializing could come after the deal was made. The Konti neatly put the proverbial dagger in the young Drykas’ hands, letting him make the next move.

[Dravite]

Kavala was saying all the right things, but Dravite was sceptical; yes, he needed a mount that knew how to shoulder its way through a crowd and hold its own in battle, but could this horse do the basics, things he would need to do every other day to make sure she remained as healthy as she had been presented to him. Her rider seemed like a genuine person, but she was a businesswoman and Dravite was wary. "That name says it all," he smirked, approaching the horse at the shoulder to set both hands there and see that the animal would back up when he applied pressure.

Dravite ducked under the mare's neck, touched her knee, the underside of her belly, and ran his hand along her back which didn't seem to make her nervous. He lifted her front, left hoof and held it up for a few ticks before trying one of the back feet, which with most horses was a little trickier than the front, "the true test," the Watchman teased and picked up the mare's tail, watching her reaction carefully. Vicious turned to look at him but again, didn't seem fazed, "you train them all yourself?" Dravite asked, already impressed, not only with her beauty but patience; if Vicious could do everything the woman promised, she would make a fine companion.

Her lip was taut, that told the man she had not been fed any herbal concoctions that might help to sedate her like some of the horses that came to them from faraway lands, and her eyes looked clear, if not a little wild. Cree yawned, seemingly uninterested with the exchange and unfazed by the mare who at times looked as if she might like to reach out and nip him; mares were good at putting stallions in their place, a lot like wives. This, however, was the buckskin's territory and he looked thoroughly unmoved by her presence, "if you wish to come along you're more than welcome to take Cree," the horse lord smiled; a gesture that explained the light crow's feet and lack of the tell-tale frown line that should have formed in the knot of his brow.

Dravite was a man who smiled often, but he also tended to spend more time with his animals than he did people, and though that did not explain his wife's disdain, it helped none. He got onto the horse with an ease only a true Drykas ever mastered; his bloodline was old and for the majority, untouched by foreign strains. In most places that made him more of a mutt than a crossbred dog, but in Endrykas, so few remained who had not had to sully their lines with outside blood for the sake of the continued strength of a name. This genetic secret lay in the sharpness of his eyes, nose, cheekbones, and build. He was not too tall and his form, though compact, did not hold enough weight to slow him down; a breed of man refined by generations of others most suited to life on the plains. Natural selection did its best work in places like these where survival of the fittest reigned supreme.

Kavala was no less a Drykas than he, even for all her foreignness; with the features and elegance of a Konti woman, but the quick moving hands and tongue of a Drykas. Powerful, excitement, beauty, the Watchman signed as he felt the animal's muscles move beneath him, her feet lifted as she danced on the spot, ready to go. Kavala had stated that Vicious would perform for him because that had been her order, but if he wanted her continued cooperation he would have to earn the mare's respect, lest she walk all over him.

He pointed to the road he had come in on, "I'll take her beyond the boundary and stretch her legs, if you choose to follow, know that my Strider does not like to lose," he hoped Cree's competitiveness would not make for too unpleasant a ride, not that he was concerned; if Kavala rode a horse half as well as she trained them, she was in for some fun.

Beyond the wind-knotted gates the land was flat and open, with nothing to get in their way and slow them down. The controlled trot Vicious had been restricted to by the horse lord was now free to graduate and explore into a quick paced gallop. Dravite rode with one hand on the yvas, the other raised slightly for balance. He made his body small by leaning forwards to create less wind resistance as Vicious demonstrated what speed and stamina really looked like on a horse. Dravite drove the mare into a few sharp turns to test her reactions, offering her the freedom she sought while never quite giving up total control; reminding her that she was here to impress him.

They did not go too far before Dravite pointed the animal home, nostrils flaring and ears pointed forward as if seeking her next challenge. The man grinned, excited to be working with a horse that enjoyed work as much as he did; he could tell she was not the type that would like to sit idle for too long and in order to build a healthy relationship with the mare, he would need to be firm but attentive. Unlike Cree who was happy to laze around in camp most of the time, the Bloodbane proved just as intelligent, hardworking, and robust; there was no way he could let Kavala take her back to Riverfall and as he returned to camp, Dravite mulled over what it would take to secure a deal that meant Vicious could remain with him. I want her, he signed, hair windswept and wild; a quiet delight present in his eyes that had not been there moments ago, "what can I offer you, Denusk?"

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[Kavala]

The Konti nodded, sticking close when Dravite started his inspection of the Bloodbane. Vicious might have been a Ravokian throwback, one cast out for not being as bloodthirsty as she should have been, but she was still ill tempered when she wanted to be. It helped, tremendously, that Kavala had kept her for a few years to infuse a bit of the bloodline into her warhorses. The Konti shared that information as Dravite did his inspection.

“I brought her and a few of her sisters to Riverfall through a slaver contact that liked to export and smuggle exotics out of Ravok. I think they are bred up north in the area by a group that uses them as war mounts for their clerics and warriors that follow Rhysol. Blackmoon… Blacksun…” Kavala signed her uncertainty at the name. Ravok politics were only vaguely familiar to her and only due to Caelum’s dealings with the Ebonstryfe. “They are a religious arm of a group called The Ebonstryfe. My best friend has tangled with them and says they would be like the Syliran Knights if the Syliran Knights all worshiped Chaos and had no moral qualms.” The Konti said, reaching out to slap the mare on the nose as she bared her teeth and thought about taking a bite out of Dravite’s backside as he bent to lift a hoof. Kavala spoke sharply and the mare flattened her ears, glared, but behaved.

“I used her and the others to drop a couple of foals for me that know some of the things she knows. She’s a good mother. And she likes being pregnant. I’d suggest breeding her and still using her. She only really shows in the last two moons of her pregnancy and its about the only time she’s safe to let little kids around her. You can tell she’s on the cusp of foaling by how mellow she gets. She foaled out twice for me easily too. The foals are small but grow fast. Her crossbred offspring weren’t meat eaters.” Kavala supplied, knowing Dravite might be curious. She watched him examine the mare, still talking, feeding him information.

“I do train them myself. But I let the staff work them and they all have jobs back home. I’ve been developing a new bloodline that’s all but ready for the Rivarians to utilize. They are extra smart warhorses, built on the big side, but not enormous, and taught like Drykas striders are so they don’t hae to be pastured or restrained in their heads. They also have developed, since the first generation of them were born during the djed storm in 512, a slight cast to their coats. They have an iridescence that’s unusual. It so far has bred true. I call them Denusk after my lost family. They were never seen after the storm, like so many of us.” Kavala said, making sure he understood.

“My mother was Called out here and married my father. She knew nothing of horses, but he was a great breeder. He had fine horses and I still have a small herd of his striders.” Kavala said, finally deciding Vicious was safe enough to leave with Dravite. She approached the stallion, let him sniff her hand, and then spent several minutes laying a palm on his neck and opening her Konti gift wide. She let the stallions emotions flood her. He was calm, laid back, but still powerful in his own right. He was comfortable in the immediate area of the Pavilion, and was watching the new mare with polite interest. She liked him immediately and ran her hands down his flanks, giving him a similar inspection to what Dravite was doing to Vicious.

She had no qualms about lifting each hoof, and even pried a small tick from a fetlock on his left hind leg. He had good feet, strong clean straight legs, and a big body that read durable to Kavala. She liked him, noted that he was in good breeding shape, and then followed Dravite’s example and vaulted up onto his back. She taught her horses to take a couple of steps forward so she could swing up easier, because she was lighter and the forward motion helped her swing up. But Cree stood stoic and she had a heel over his whithers without much issue. Dravite was a few inches taller, Kavala noted, but he had her far outclassed in weight. Konti were lithe and the muscles Kavala did have she had to fight for. Eels, she’d called her sister Konti when she lived on Mura. Thin, colorless, and fluid in the undulations they made swimming.

Kavala rode like most Konti swam. But where they were thin she was corded with muscle. This was especially true up along her thighs from gripping a horse between them and in her arms and shoulders where she was used to swinging a double bladed sword or throwing her daggers. Too bad none of that had come along on this trip. She’d ridden hard, fast, and with one goal in mind. Get to Endrykas fast. She’d get home even faster if Vicious found herself a new home.

Kavala tested his paces like any good Drykas would, asking him to walk forward, move left, right, back, and seeing where her control was. Cree did fine and she set him off at a smooth lope after Dravite. She pushed his speed and galloped him weaving through imaginary obstacles and forcing lead changes on him to test his flexibility and athleticism. He did well. And she didn’t find his trot or canter too rough. She pushed him out a little past Dravite and asked him to gust in that infamous strider gait that ate up the miles… turning him in a slow circle so they wouldn’t lose site of the city or Dravite. He performed nicely there and caught the Bloodbane on the walk back. That allowed Kavala to smile, offer Dravite a quite compliment on his stallion, and talk a bit before they got back to camp.

“He’s a fine boy.” She said quietly. And though Dravite might not know it, coming from Kavala who knew horses, it was a high compliment. The two rode side by side now, Cree not even blowing and Vicious not trying to take a chunk out of one of Dravite’s legs which were well within the range of her fangs. Kavala saw it as a good sign.

“The truth is she’s valuable. There’s not many like her outside of Ravok. That being said, I don’t need her anymore. I’d like her to go to a place where she had a job and was appreciated. Someone strong willed though so she won’t decide she’s higher on the food chain than they are. At a sale I could get 500 gold for her without much issue.” The Konti was a bit of a negotiator, but in this case she wasn’t sure she needed to be.

“I like Cree. I run a small herd of Striders out of the Sanctuary that are all in foal to my twenty year old strider stallion. After this year, all the mares are daughters of his I care to re-breed. I don’t want to take on another stallion because it doesn’t fit my program, but I need my striders to breed true. What if you swing by Riverfall in the spring and let me run my mares with Cree for a moon until he covers all of them and they catch. That would be a big boost to my herd, having some new blood. It would be at least worth two or three hundred gold for that service.” Kavala said, in essence suggesting the price of the mare cut in half immediately with the use of Dravite’s stallion.

“Then, there’s another problem. I can neither carry gold or her tack with me when I return. I can’t even carry the clothing on my back truthfully. I planned this to be a one way ride in hopes of finding Vicious a good home. I want to fly back to Riverfall as an eagle. I can only carry my daggers and a few lighter things that way. So anything you want to trade me to make up the difference will have to wait until you visit in the spring.” Kavala flashed the sign of trust along with her words, her hands weaving the sign for utter seriousness when she mentioned flying home.

They rode close now, almost knee to knee, which Kavala was doing purposely. If Vicious was going to take a swipe at Cree, she’d do it now. The Konti healer suspected that the stallion was too laid back to flirt with the mare or try to start nonsense that would lead to an outburst of mareish temper. She was mostly right.

“So the difference is two or three hundred old, depending on the value you set on Cree’s seed and the value you set on this mare. What would you offer for that?” She asked, in effect turning the negotiations back on him.

[Dravite]

Dravite decided he quite liked this Kavala Denusk, so often horse breeders who had specific traits in mind over looked the little things. People wanted bigger, faster, more beautiful horses with the right colouring, markings, and shape, only to forget the starting point of any good riding horse; strong feet. Her offer then to run Cree with her mares in the spring came as quite a surprise; a kinder complement could not have been passed. Cleary Kavala knew what she was doing when it came to horses and to think that his Strider was worth introducing to the Denusk gene pool was pleasing, yes, the man signed, surprise, gratitude, honour, "he will be yours in the spring."

This promise, however, meant a trip to a city he was unfamiliar with and time away from his pavilion and duties as a man of The Watch. Winter was usually hard on the pavilion too and that he had chosen to stay with Endrykas rather than live on the Sea of Grass as his forefathers preferred meant that Cree was likely to lose some condition during the colder seasons. Dravite, however, was not side-tracked long by the thought when a more sobering realisation struck; Kavala was planning to fly home.

The horse lord got down from his horse before helping his guest from Cree's back, follow, he encouraged with a wave before venturing into camp and scooping up one of the kid goats that Vicious seemed to be eyeing up. Inside the large, black tent smoke curled up and away from the fireplace to escape through a vent in the pitched ceiling, weapons were hung out of reach of the children, and an assortment of self-tanned furs lined the floor over a waterproof tarp; taking up pride of place was a large Grassland Bear pelt which half a season on, had cured quite nicely. A larger, newer pelt hung from the back wall in the sleeping quarters.

Dravite sat down on the rugs and let the goat settle in his lap while he poured Kavala and himself a rich herbal tea that had been steeped over the fireplace in one of the cooking pots. "My wife Pearl made it," he offered, "my second wife rather, she works for the River Flower most days while my first wife minds the children."

Kyanite stumbled into the living area closely followed by Garrison, who was not yet two and still learning his legs on the uneven ground. "You've met my son, Kyanite," the man smiled, threading his burly fingers through the wheat coloured mop of hair that matched his own, "this is his brother Garrison," Dravite introduced the child who held no resemblance to the man that called him son; with dark hair and blue eyes, nothing tied them but their bond through marriage which left Dravite duty-bound.

Belkaia moved around somewhere in a back room, busy with one of her tasks; anything that gave her an excuse not to be social. Dravite scratched behind the ear of the goat in his lap while his children settled nearby, "you will make a lot of money from the sale of Cree's foals?" The man asked, "I won't insult you with an offer of gold," he then added; that was something the Drykas traded with outsiders for goods that weren't as readily available in the city of tents. Family, livestock, renown; these were the things that made the Drykas wealthy at heart.

"I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement as to what will best please you, and of course, you're free to leave your things with me until I come by in the spring when I can return them to you," he offered with reference to the tack and anything else Kavala might have to leave behind, "My pavilion is still findings its feet, at the end of spring I had nothing, not even a roof over my head for wildfire this season gone; give me till spring to surprise you with my offer of trade, you will not be disappointed," the man promised; business deals were not where the Watchman's strengths lay, but he was a man of his word and Kavala would have no trouble tracking him down if she expected any trickery on his part.

"Tell me, Denusk, you mentioned flying home?" He found the statement rather perplexing, clearly this woman was of Konti descent, yet she spoke as if she had the gifts of a Kelvic, "how, exactly, do you plan to do this?" Dravite leaned back, folding his right arm against the head of the bear, looking as if he were settling in for a long story; something their people were very fond of.

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[Kavala]

She took his assistance down off Cree though she needed none, and trailed him through clan he called home’s section of Endrykas. The two mounts in turn followed them. The Konti smiled slightly as she saw him rescue a kid goat and tuck the youngling up under his arm. Vicious wasn’t above goats, dogs, puppies, though she was a bit too proud for mice and foraging for rodents. In times of hunger, Kavala suspected the mare would set her sensibilities aside though. She’d even been caught a time or two feasting on skunk and once a porcupine. The fact that the horse was smart was evident in how cleanly she’d killed the porcupine and used her hooves to skin it before feasting. Her fetlocks had been a bit spotted with punctures, but nothing Kavala had to pry out with pliers.

They entered the tent and Kavala settled politely as a guest. She smiled at the children and would have offered to help Belkaia, but the woman seemed to make herself scarce. They made small talk, all very proper, and set about the business of getting to know one another. Kavala admired the Grassland Bear Pelt and stood stoically while one of the young boys moved behind her and began playing with the long braids in her translucent white hair.

Dravite had questions though, and she answered them the best she could. “I don’t openly sell the members of the Strider herd. I maintain it because we live in Cyphrus and I never know when we need mounts for something on the Sea of Grass which might be miles outside of where we need to be. A good friend of mine discovered he had a daughter last year, for example, who was being held in less than optimal conditions by a very poor pavilion. He took two striders, one loaded down with trade goods, and gusted like the wind to find them. He traded one of the horses for her freedom and brought her home to live with us. Very likely, if he hadn’t have gone, she would have not made it through the winter. Then, Lilian was frail. She’s better now, stronger, more like a seven year old should be. The horse was a blessing to the pavilion and all the supplies it carried.” Kavala assured Dravite, knowing he’d understand what one mount heavily laden with food and medicine could mean to a struggling pavilion.

Life and Death were bedfellows on the Sea. “My warhorses are good. I’d not trade one in battle for anything. But they can’t gust like the Striders can… and that’s lifesaving too.” The Konti added.

“I know it will be somewhat out of your way to visit for long enough for Cree to do his work. But while you are visiting I can make it worth your household’s time. We brew medicines and household goods in the spring. We put away a lot of spring food. Your packs will be far heavier and if your wives are willing to lend a hand, we can teach them a thing or two while they are there. And they can use the facilities.. kitchens and labs. My place is outside the city on the edge of the sea. There is a spot for pavilions to camp. And while we have and breed horses, our primary function is a medical clinic for animals. That’s where I started. My father, knowing I had no prospects for marriage in the Sapphire clan, sent me to Mura to study to become a healer. Being Drykas in all but skintone, I opted to become a healer of animals. I can send you away, after Cree’s done his part, with all the medicine you want to haul with you.” She said, sweetening the deal just a little. “Cree is a nice stallion. He’s like enough to my old man at home, but far younger and not related. It’s not good to cover the same mares over and over with the same stallion. My Striders are not a big herd, but it should not lose its diversity.” Odds are she could send him with one or two of her strider yearlings too, making room for the new blood that would come the following year. But she didn’t mention the fact, not wanting to seem over eager. The truth was, his Pavilion was poor and far too small for a man of his age. He’d need the extra animals if he could protect them. She could see his vulnerability but was too polite to mention it. Five years ago, by the storms, even ten years ago… a small pavilion like this would only be owned by the very young… perhaps a man of 17 or 18 estranged from his parent pavilion. But Dravite wasn’t young, not in the sense of the Drykas, and by all rights his pavilion should be expansive. His herds should be large and his wives complaining that he didn’t marry more. Instead of one or two children – one obviously adopted – roaming, there should have been generations of them. An elder or two should be by all rights interrupting them with embarrassing pointed questions at this very moment. And he should not have had a wife was unwilling. Kavala’s eyes scanned towards the back of Dravite’s home, to where the other wife was making herself scarce.

The Denusk Pavilion had been large. It had two wings, one to shelter animals and one to shelter people. The meeting room in the middle was appropriate for guests while the private family quarters were off opposite of the stable. A full thirty family members could have stayed in it comfortably and had. Brothers and their wives, fathers and mothers, even the children all sharing one bed. Her cousins had been numerous. The Konti’s lips curled into a slight smile remembering.

It was gone now. Lost in the magic of the winds. Death touched the pavilion and it had ceased to exist. And it was the fate of so many Drykas. Most of them, like Dravite, were eating hand and fist and starting out and rebuilding day in and day out. Truth be told he was doing very well for a single adult male with no supporting adult males that she could see surrounding him. That meant he protected two women, two children, and all his animals alone. She didn’t know about Pearl, but the wife she had met looked incapable of combat. Which was a pity and a detriment to the Pavilion. Kavala glanced back over her shoulder. The little boy was still playing with her hair. She had the sudden wish he was older, old enough to help the man before him. It was the same with his brother.

She took the tea and sipped at it. “My compliments to her. It is delicious.” Kavala said, smiling at the goat in Dravite’s lap and then up at the man himself. He was handsome and strong, and she guessed smart though she hadn’t been around enough to truly know. Fools died quickly. And those lacking mental fortitude quickly followed the fools into death. Suddenly, sitting in his Pavilion, Kavala longed for stone walls again. It had been nothing she’d been prepared to get used too. Now she felt acutely the absence of the weight and the security they provided.

Kavala nodded at Dravite’s words. “True. I do not doubt you would have a lot to offer in the Spring. And if you come and I still have the other bloodbanes, if for some reason you found Vicious lacking, a swap could be made. I think she will suit you well, but it is nice to know you have options. One thing I will insist on though, is that if for some reason you cannot get along with her or keep her, you let me know. Even if its winter and you send a messenger, I’ll come for her.” Kavala said, gesturing with a grassland sign signal that meant roughly refund.

His next question startled her. She hadn’t actually meant to mention she was flying home but evidently that had spilled out. Some men were opposed to magic and others really were more open to it. The Konti treaded carefully with her next words. “Magic. The magic in all of our blood allows us, if we know how, to transform into any of the creatures of the world of the living. The secret isn’t in how different a Human or a Konti is from a bird, but in knowing how much we are the same. I’ve a bit of talent at this and gifted with a nephew who’s a Kelvic Eagle, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the air. It’s not enough to learn to take the form of one of the great birds that dominates Zulrav’s realm. One has to learn what to do with the wings after one has them.” Kavala said, shifting suddenly. Instead of folding her leather incased legs under her, she stretched one out and rested her chin upon her knee. He could see then how old her riding boot was. It was a worn thing, most likely used because It could guiltlessly be discarded.

“How much do you know about magic? I mean beyond the great lines that cross the Sea of Grass which we are all tied too?” Kavala asked, knowing suddenly that if she could leave Dravite with a bit of magic, he could more easily survive. “The shifter magic is called Morphing. You transform, for short periods of time, your body into something else. But there’s also other magics, powerful stuff, that can work with the elements. It can be used as a weapon or to create water when our whole pavilion thirsts. Not every clan approves of magic, nor does every man, but those that do are stronger for it. Especially with Reimancy, the working of the elements. I could …. Show you a thing or two.” She added quietly, watching his face for a reaction, the way he stroked the goat, and even his posture to see if he stiffened, relaxed, or flinched.

[Dravite]

Kavala reminded the man of himself in a way; she was a giver, and while that wasn’t uncommon in Endrykas, it seemed to become less frequent as the generations went on. Anyone could see that he was struggling and even so, he helped his neighbours, fed his friend’s children, and put his life on the line everyday to protect not only his pavilion, but the city itself as a member of The Watch. They had not nearly finished with their trade and still, Kavala offered to fill his arms with more than he deserved, “I look forward to our visit in spring,” even more so, he thought, now that he knew he would be able to camp just outside the city where the comforts of home would not seem too far away.

As the Konti explained her gift, not the magic of a Kelvic but this Morphing, Dravite cast his gaze to the glowing embers of the fire pit, trying to imagine what it would be like to possess such magic. His hand stilled, though his fingers still ruffled the hair upon the goat’s head. Reimancy, he felt as if he had heard the word before but couldn’t quite place it. “Such would have been handy this summer,” Dravite admitted, “The Uvic Lake is very low and we have seen little rain. I do not like policing the water when I walk through the city and see our people struggling; if indeed this magic you speak of would help, I am surprised to find none have stepped forward this season, even in secret.”

The Windborne pavilion he had grown up in practiced webbing and his grandfather’s love of the art had been enough to convince him of its importance, which thankfully, had landed him in an honourable line of work. It was hard to juggle the responsibilities of acting as the city’s law, satisfying the desires of two very different wives, teaching his sons, hunting whenever he got the chance, raising livestock, and somehow still finding time to recruit strays into the pavilion he desperately wanted to strengthen; if not for his own sake then the sake of his children long after we was gone. Every day was rife with potential, the potential to feed him, take from him, even kill him; anything that might help lighten his burden as leader bode well in his mind.

Pride may keep him from acknowledging the poverty and state of his current pavilion, but it would not stop him from making the most of the chances placed in front of him. The goat stretched up to tug at a long, matted dread of hair as Dravite cast his eye on the boy that sat playing with Kavala’s hair. Leader, teacher, fighter, hunter, provider, lover, father; all these things he needed to master, why not add student to that list? He studied the woman, face, clothes, weapons; a rose with thorns, something all aspiring Drykas women to aim to be. In a city where most men died before they reached their thirtieth summer, a woman who could not defend herself wouldn't long outlive him; something told Dravite that Kavala knew this all too well.

“It is not my intension to keep you when I know the long journey ahead, but anything you can teach me about this morphing and reimancy would be of great value to me,” Dravite leaned forward to sign his interest, curiosity, favour, only to swiftly sit back again, a throbbing in his side reminding him of the rib injury his riding Vicious had upset.

Dravite tried that again, this time pushing the goat from his lap to sit up and scoop up another cup of tea from the cooking pot. He drank some of the herbal tea before offering what remained to Kyanite before helping the goat to settle across the boy’s lap so that it would not wander outside to cross paths with Vicious. “How can I learn to do these things, to change and manipulate the fabric of my existence; what are the dangers?” Of course, everyone knew, most magic had it dangers; like webbing, it was risky to venture too far, too often, a man could lose himself in the web, but what could altering the shape of his bones and flesh mean?

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[Kavala]

Kavala nodded at Dravite’s words. He was musing as to why more Drykas didn’t know more magics and utilize them to help each other and themselves survive. Her hands twisted in sign, flashing agreement to his words. “It’s because it is a seductive power. And it acts like wine does to those who have a weakness for it. A little can sometimes not be enough. It wants more and more and more of you and when you give more and more and more of yourself to it, the result isn’t a drunken man like wine will yield, but more often a broken man. We call it Overgiving.” Her hands flashed caution and the need for him to listen carefully. “Sometimes you long for it and you must resist it. If you do not it can take too much from you and then you end up giving it part of your soul. And a man with fragments of his soul missing is no man at all. The signs are subtle at first… a headache, a nose bleed, sometimes the trembles or shakes. Sometimes you lose time and sometimes you end up, when it is more severe, hearing whispers in your head. The headaches and nosebleeds are warnings to back off, to get control of it. If you do not, the other more serious stuff is harder to come back from.” Kavala said, nodding and growing quiet as Dravite spoke again.

When Dravite leaned forward and his expression curiously blanked for a moment before he swiftly sat back again, Kavala recognized the signs. Her gnosis flared to life and she carefully set aside the boy who was paying her attention and rose. She shook her head, and moved around the central fire until she was before Dravite, and knelt. “I was born like most Konti Rak’keli marked. Your wound compels me. I took no notice of it until you yourself did, but now I know you’re injured. May I?” Though she asked she didn’t wait for permission. Kavala wasn’t the type. Strong hands reached out, already glowing, and seized his side, covering the clothing that hid the wound. The two twin winged serpents on Kavala’s ankles blazed under her boot and she poured Healing into Dravite, rebuilding the flesh from the inside out and burning out any beginnings of infection. Her hair fell forward, partially concealing her expression, though he’d get a glimpse of her concentration and single-minded determination as she pressed her hands into the area his body was wounded. The work was quick and ultimately painless except for the initial pressure her hands made on his wound through his clothing. When she drew her hands away, whether he looked or not, the flesh beneath would be free of wounds though not of scarring and his body less stiff, less tired, and far more refreshed than it had been since its wounding.

The Konti moved back. “Forgive me. She compels those of us Marked to Heal. And sometimes it is a strong compulsion. Had you been an enemy, a blade to your throat would have just as easily ceased Her demands.” The Konti admitted, moving back to her seat. She looked a little embarrassed for a moment at placing her hands on a stranger without permission.

“My journey, as I have said, will not be a long one. I plan to leave most of the things I carry here either sold or gifted and fly home. Time spent here might be well spent if it helps your pavilion thrive.” Kavala said, changing the subject abruptly.

“Morphing can be taught without an initiation. It’s success depends on your knowledge of magic and your ability to believe that the living things of the world are in essence the same and not in fact unique unto each other. Reimancy takes an initiation, which I can perform, but it is an intimate thing because I have to gift you with my res so that your body can have the learning of how to manufacture res. It’s not something one can learn by trial and error or by say taking the knowledge from a book.” Kavala said, knowing Dravite might not understand but she’d do her best to explain.

“You see, there is a substance in the world. It’s called Djed. All living things have a measure of it, though some of us have more than others. It is an energy and it helps form our souls, our personalities, and gives us the ability to be mages. All people have djed inside of them. And they have a limited finite amount. You can use it and use it all up and our bodies will replenish it, but it is a lot like the limited finite amount of blood within us. Use too much too fast and our bodies can’t keep up and we can die. Djed and blood are kin. They are not so much different from one another and intimately related like our internal thoughts and our external spoken words.” She said, shifting so she was sitting cross legged with her neat limbs folded under her.

“In the case of Morphing, you just need to recognize and concentrate your djed.” She lifted up her hands and pushed djed into them concentrating the heady stuff in the tips of her fingers. Her nails began to morph, changing from the opaque whitish iridescence of a normal Konti’s nails to long shimmering claws that looked exactly like those on the ugly toes of a glassbeak. “I’m concentrating the djed I can feel inside myself in my fingers and I’m molding the nails to what I can recall of a glassbeak’s talons. I can hold it for a while – days at my skill because it is a small thing – but when I release it it will gradually go back to normal and to what the form considers its true shape.” She said, releasing the djed from its task. “Nails are easy, but it is a beginners trick, a child’s step. Harder is taking a form that is more complex, like a fish who has such things as gills. If you do not copy them exactly, they will not function underwater and even though you’ve taken a bright trouts form, you will drown. When you first begin learning to Morph there are rules.” Kavala said, taking a breath to let the truth of her words wash over him.

“You cannot, for example, master instant full body changes. It takes time and incredible pain to shift your shape. There are rules to your size. Until you become more skilled, a full body transformation can only happen of a similar size and weight. You could not, for example, morph into a strider of eight hundred to fifteen hundred pounds until you were more skilled. You could manage a fat mountain pony though of within a few stones of your weight.” Kavala said, adding to what she knew. “Smaller things are easier… changing your hair, eyes, your face… even manipulating your sex. Skin color and appearance is easy, but you must remember to hold the transformation or you will lose it when you least need too. And to change ones voice you must alter your vocal cords. That is more trial than error for you never know what ones chords look like unless you cut them out of a man or woman. Instead, it is far easier to take the time and just play with your own throat to learn to mimic vocal ranges.” Kavala said.

Then her lesson grew more thoughtful. “There are dangers to Morphing. Sometimes we love the shape too much and we lose ourselves to it, becoming trapped in the morphed shape for all time. I think many Drykas mages have taken the form of a strider and never returned from it because they so loved running with our herds.” Kavala said, nodding to herself, having heard more than one of these stories growing up around the Sapphire Clans and their multitude of magic users telling stories at Pavilion fires.

“Reimancy is more straight forward.” Kavala said, shaking the last visages of the gleaming glass talons off her hands and cupping her palms together like a vessel. A clear blueish fluid began filling her cupped hands, glittering as if it had flakes of mica embedded in it. Then, with a simple thought, it turned to water in her palms and washed across her hands. Kavala leaned forward and sipped from the cup her hands created. Then, pulling back, the water burst into a very real and warm flame that did not burn her. The flame tampered down and condensed, rolling in on itself and growing solid, forming a gleaming tiger’s eye gem the size of a chicken egg in her hand. She tossed the stone to Dravite. “It’s real and it will stay that way forever. I build my home in Riverfall of such stuff.” She added, then finished with the basic reimancer exercises, gestured at the fire. Res flowed from her hands and she coaxed the fire higher, almost to the air vent at the top of the pavilion, then banked it with a thought, bringing it back down to a much more manageable tea-boiling level.

“The best reimancers – especially those in tune with fire – can control wildfires, turning them away or even extinguishing them. When one is first initiated into Reimancy, one gets their first element. It’s hard to say what will come first, and then one studies that until one becomes competent at it. Once you can manipulate that element to your hearts desire, another will make itself known to you. You do the same with that one, practicing until you are better, and eventually you will get all your elements and can manipulate them all. Stone came first to me. I love best of all geomancy, though it is not what I would have picked for myself had I been given a choice. My djed knew though. It knew how much stone would draw me. And now, when I am around something even as small as your new tiger’s eye egg, it sings to me. I want to be near it. And it lulls me into a sense of security within its grasp. Sometimes I even loose myself briefly to the stonesong. That is not a good thing for distractions such as stonesong can prove fatal. But it will happen to you too, with more than likely whatever your first element presents itself as…. That is if you decide to get initiated.” Kavala added, pausing then to take a sip of her tea. She grew quite, giving Dravite a chance to digest everything she’d said.