Revealing The Revealer Pt I

[Alric Lysane]

85th Spring 522 Av - Evening - Garden Beach Palapa

The palapa was quite comfortable, even with the occasional Ixam wandering in to nose at his knee for a scratch or two before either flopping down to rest or wandering off once more. The day had been reasonably productive, certainly he had done more work than he had in Sunberth, and as such he was enjoying the time for relaxation that the fading light of Syna brought. The first evening, despite his tiredness, he had stayed up to watch her set across the horizon, something he had little opportunity to do where he came from. It had been quite enchanting it its slow-motion display, colours changing and giving way to each other as the sea waves glistened beneath. He had become lost in it, much as he was now as he sighed a deep breath and wondered where he might fit in, in this new place.

“I feel like a fish out of water…or an Ixam out of the jungle...how did you feel at first, hmm?” he asked the golden coloured reptile that was currently using his knee as a chin rest, gently pressing the nose so that it looked at him, almost as if questioning him why. He shifted to scratching the top of its head and watched it close its eyes with satisfaction whilst making a slight throaty noise, “animal to animal, eh? A simple life…I envy you” he said, shifting eventually, gently, to a more upright position so that he could rest what had been the focus of his attentions before onto his lap once more.

Zhyad, the silent blade with an equally enigmatic history, apparently left for him…or meant for him. It had yet to rouse from whatever slumber had been included upon it, and he knew it was a sentient thing once it was awakened, that much had been both intimated, and seen first-hand in his Dreamwalker explorations. He had tried to read the blade with his auristics, to confirm that it was a larger aura than other weapons, but just how large the aura had been was something he had not been ready for. He knew that size did not denote power, but even so he had been forced to blink away dots of light in his vision that had left him dazzled, instead to look upon the horizon until he was certain his sight was properly back to normal.

“A mystery blade indeed” he murmured to himself as he gazed upon it, his gaze affectionate despite only having had it upon his hip a couple of days.

The battered leather scabbard really didn’t do it justice, and made him wonder whether it had been a later addition so as to disguise or hide the blade, as if not wanting to draw attention to it. It was a fool’s errand to anyone who knew weapons though, a small bandage over a large wound that couldn’t stop the overflow of quality Zhyad possessed. Even slumbering it was a glorious thing, from the Velispar guard to the straight, well balanced and smooth construction that he had found once he had pulled it from its scabbard, as he did now, running his fingers across the blade gently, as if by doing so he could somehow rouse it once more. He tilted it so that the fading light played and flashed across the blade, highlighting it as definitely not steel, though the metal composition was lost upon him. He had spent a bell or so trying to figure out how to reveal the Revealer, but so far had had little grace from Ovek.

Sadly his Lykata proved useless upon the blade, telling him that it was what he suspected as such things did not allow the flowing of images as inanimate objects did.

“Mathias said that you were meant for me…I wonder if that meant too that it was meant as a test?” he mused to himself as he shifted the blade back and forth slowly, leaning back to let the lantern light play across it now, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly with the play.

It had been some time since he had been excited about something that was an item – even if this was actually something more – or had been passed a puzzle that was purely for his own enjoyment and benefit. The curses didn’t count, they felt more like a necessary obligation, even if he had a vested interest in it at the same time. He could feel the parts of him that were not yet overly frayed by either season’s experiences or the falling sands of the hourglass almost glow in a resonance with the puzzle of the blade.

"How to reveal the Revealer, hmm?"



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[Alric Lysane]

It was a difficult thing to solve when he didn’t know why the blade had begun to slumber in the first place. What little he new of such things might suggest that that meant it had been abandoned somehow, perhaps by death sudden or expected, but then that would have suggested that at least someone might have know enough to retrieve the blade and take it up in their names. Blades of Zhyad’s like were not ones idly tossed aside by those who knew anything of magic – he was not even an expert at anything magical and he knew that much. It never occurred to him that what Mathias had said was to be taken literally – that it had been meant for him, thus saved somehow – he wasn’t important enough for such things.

No, it felt more like an inheritance skipping a generation due to extenuating circumstances – his father had hardly had the easiest of lives to go spelunking for lost blades. His mother, who might have helped him on such things, what little he remembered of her telling him she did enjoy exploration and delving into ruins, had also had a sour turn of fate and so would never have found it. Resting the blade upon his knees now, still gripping with his right hand, he held his left hand up to examine the ring he now wore – his family ring, Westfall’s line he presumed, though he had no proof the symbol depicted that Djedline over another in the interim.

He had worn it under his glove since his encounter with Ionu, it had seemed right given that the god had tried to make him see his family as more than murderers on the one side, and tyrants upon the other. It held a practical purpose though now too, the stone he had been given by Lys that gave powers of protection, reflection, he had infused it into the ring, there to be upon his left middle finger until fate cut it off. How many had worn it until it had come to him, he found himself wondering often of late. And how many of them would be ashamed that it was worn by one who would have done the many terrible things Xyvas had shown him doing, had he failed and been captured by the Mortanis, and Krysus? Most of them, he had the feeling. Now he wore it openly, in Syka, and wasn't sure he was worthy of it.

Contemplating family again? Jade pulsed, appearing nearby as he often did these days, convincing Alric – not for the first time – that he was always there but just hid himself from Alric’s gaze. He also chuckled when he made him jump slightly, which he did now and Alric knew his mood would be more amenable for it, it usually was.

What else should one do when they’re given their grandfather’s blade by a Priest of Xyvas, alongside cryptic words and talk of possibilities? he thought back, eyes returning to both the ring and the blade alternately, before letting his left hand fall back to his lap.

You think too much, sometimes. You take burdens that aren’t yours to take, or that you shouldn’t. You run from them, instead of standing still and knowing they should not touch you Jade’s mental words sounded almost sympathetic, for once and he nodded slightly, not agreeing but acknowledging them.

Do you have the ability to read my thoughts now?

No, Nymkarta, but you have changed since the day I was asked to watch over you. Not all at once, only those who know you or have been around you would notice. Lys does. I think even some of those at your work did, though they were too busy to spend much time on it

Changed?

You used you laugh more. Ionu gave that mark to you for your spirit…but it has waned, a little. A shame, even if you were annoying you could be…amusing. Even in your ignorance. Quieter too…thinking and living in the mind more…rather than living as you should. I know why…you blame yourself for many things, things you were shown…that was not the purpose of the showing

Does it change the knowing of them? The feeling? The memory?

….No Jade answered after a while, a short answer and he seemed uncertain before going silent and watching Alric, or watching over him, he found it difficult to know these days. He sighed, pinched his brow and looked upon the blade once more, returning his mind to the task at hand – awakening.

“What wakes me up?” he mused, going over the things that he might be able to replicate for Zhyad, a shock as it were out of sleep, and finding only a few options at first – he doubted he could replicate broken windows, Sunberth robberies and the feeling of adrenaline pushing back inebriation when you realised you were in deep shyke, “cold…wait…cold water…being dunked in it that time, that was a particular low point but it sobered me up enough I didn’t drown” he said, laying the blade down and pulling out his other gift from Lys – the kukri he had given the other enchantment – that of freezing cold.

He hadn’t used it on anything beyond a cup in testing before, so he was curious as to what would happen as he touched the blade to Zhyad, making sure nothing was touching it before doing so, and intoned the word.

“Frost,” he whispered, and watched as Zhyad grew an icy patina, the blade giving off sudden clouds as the freezing cold of its temperature battled the humid and warm conditions of its surroundings in Syka, with nothing else happening at all – no glow, no movement, no hint of anything at all as he sighed and leaned back, watching the blade, “well…I suppose that’d have been too easy” he said wryly.

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[Alric Lysane]

Despite his words he still found himself disappointed, he had not expected that he would succeed at the first attempt, but it would have been nice for something to have gone his way for once. He knew that wasn’t fair, that he had been given a great gift being able to come to Syka by Shiress, and that the future held the possibility of the greatest of gifts, but in the maudlin, memory laden moment it felt difficult to drag his mind into that more positive mentality – and the fact that it felt a struggle after Jade’s words, giving him remembrance of the knowledge, he knew the Gasvik was right and sighed once more as he leant back into the comfort of the palapa’s cushions.

It won’t be too long before it is warmed enough by the sea and jungle air, you can try again with something else Jade suggested, in a way which suggested he might be trying to make up for it having an answer to Alric’s question.

Alric nodded once more, sheathed his kukri and watched as the steam rose from Zhyad and noted that, already, some parts of the ice that had been conjured were beginning to thin and lessen, drops of water now staining the sand and stone beneath. Djed, he remembered, does not die but instead is transformed. Ice to water, water to steam and then from there…who knew anymore, unless there were weather experts from before the Valterrian around, he supposed. That was the order of things, they never truly died, not really. Even when they seemed to, he was beginning to suspect that some other conversion was underway that they could just not see, perhaps only the gods could see…or perhaps not even they could see some things.

“I wonder if heat would work, burn you awake, perhaps? Would that even be wise, Zhyad? Perhaps you will wake one day and remember the attempt at cold…would it even bother you?” he asked, not really sure why he was speaking to the blade but felt that, if he was going to try to wake it up, then it should somehow hear his reasonings from far away, perhaps echoed to it in its slumber, “perhaps you don’t want to wake. Did something happen, then, to put you into this state, I wonder?” he asked, knowing no answer would be forthcoming.

As expected, all he could see was the beauty of Zhyad’s forging and the elegance of its composition, gazing upon it now and trying to work out what it had been forged from. As noted previously it wasn’t steel, its colouring was off and certainly steel never kept and edge that was still sharp after a generation of non-use. Neither was there rust or mars upon the metal, no corrosion to speak of in fact and the scabbard had been so dry, signalling that any oil that had been used to coat it had dried and gone long ago. Tilting his head in thought he became lost in the puzzle, eyes locked with the weapon and almost…sensing out what it was. And then, as if he had been listening at an inn, there was the whisperings of music, graceful strings like a fiddle but more sombre, slower and exquisite. There was a beat too, like a drum, but slow and faint…as if a weak heartbeat pounded in his ear to set the rhythm to the strings. There was more, but far off and distant, feeling as if he could only get closer then the symphony would be found in its entirety.

Alric! Jade’s voice pulsed and cut across the music and he blinked a few times as it shattered and faded, retuning back to present slowly as his head started to ache mildly.

What?! Did you not hear it? The music…it was beautiful

I heard nothing, and you should not lend yourself so easily to this…music. More than one mage has lost themselves, enthralled by magical creations. Do you not know that already?

Yes…yes…you are right. I was unprepared…I will guard myself next time. Gods my head aches…but it was sad almost, as if it had lost something important. It felt like a…hollowness…as if it slumbered because it didn’t want to wake up, not really…strange

Strange? Jade queried, his concern receded but his tone still sharp, as if expecting Alric to drift off once more and getting ready to intervene.

Tell me Jade…what could be the worst, saddest thing that might happen to you? That could cause you to retreat inwards, until nothing else mattered…or even existed maybe…that something needing you to forget, but you couldn’t, not whilst you were awake and aware of your memories?

Something…emotional? there was a query in Jade’s pulse then, as if he were trying to remember something long ago but not quite sure or the answer, perhaps even from his birth as a Gasvik, or before…if they existed before. Xhyvas had been vague on the details of their origins and Mathias, though possessed of a nursery, had kept whatever secrets Xhyvas wished, which seemed reasonable all things considered. He made a note to ask Xhyvas, if they ever met again, about the Gasvik. It seemed only right, if he was to be partnered with one for some time.

Have you ever been in love? Or…bound to something so deeply that to lose it would be like losing yourself? he asked mentally, with interest.

I have seen many loves…Kova loved deeply. There were others, many over the centuries. The bloodlines we watched over loved fiercely, and deeply too at times, though the last love that was so all consuming was your ancestor…for obvious reasons. Why? Are you wanting the stories? Have you been in love like that?

“No…no not now,” he said aloud now, shocked out of mental thought by Jade’s last question, an unexpected one that felt like it was asked for a purpose, “you have all told me so much about Kova by now that I feel like I’m being overly stubborn by not gushing over her as you all do. Westfall…well no one went too much into him, perhaps he was more…conservative. As for me…yes, yes I was, and still am if...lesser. I am somewhat ashamed really, I shouldn't be able to have such things taken from me. It is difficult to tell how I felt before these curses, but I remember its echo, like a beacon that guides…before it was stolen by Rhysol. There is a...hollowness inside where I know something larger than I ever knew before existed. Now...now I trust and use what I can to know what I can. When the curses break I'm pretty sure that I'll look back on this season and hate every part of it. Until then....”

You take it on faith...that is love...or part of it Jade remarked in what Alric thought was an amused voice.


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[Alric Lysane]

What about Serana and Kalas?

I have so few memories that it’s difficult to have the reference to know, but what I do remember there was love, much love between the…difficult times

Can you not be sure of both? Have you not explored your heart for such things, Nymkarta? You humans usually do, more than they should, and your blood did so too often…causing many problems. Do you not know the old tales…there is always that remnant of such feeling, no matter distance or time, do they not say?

That felt like a leading question to Alric, so much so that his eyes moved and met the Gasvik’s impassive countenance for a long time before it slipped back to the blade, noting how it was still covered with some chilled parts but was mostly back to normal now. He tentatively held out a hand to the blade and found it to be cold, but not so cold as to stick his skin anymore, and so leaned back in confidence that he could try something else to try to rouse it in a little while. Frowning, something shiny caught his attention off to the left of the blade, as if its tip were pointing at it, causing him to push himself up to explore it, brushing away some dead leaves and what looked like driftwood fragments carried by the wind. Underneath some coconut fibre strands the thing glistened in the light all the more for being exposed – another small charm, gold and this time in the shape of an X. Pursing his lips, considering it for a few moments before picking it up, he slipped it onto the now irremovable bracelet upon his left wrist and flicked it so that it danced.

You didn’t answer

No, because I’ve never really thought. Or at least in the case of one I clearly did, but can’t remember, and in the other I thought they were dead until two seasons ago and have been caught up in the torrent of my life since then he responded as he pushed himself up, a bit more harshly than he meant and he paused, shook his head and apologised to the Gasvik with his eyes.
Perhaps you should do so now, then. While we wait…it could prove your undoing

Undoing?

All possibilities exist…but with your path and the magic, your birth right and Sran’tuka…your greatest ally will be yourself. You must control yourself, in ways you’ve not realised this will be the strongest weapon you could forge. Things like Zhyad, other allies…they are only as strong as you can be. If your will is strong, then your possible paths…are better

You know this?

It is always the case. You think Kova was weak, for offering herself to her people’s mortal enemy when her true love was a god? No, that took a willpower unrivalled by most in this age

His words seemed to be a mixture of chastisement and an attempt at being a partial guide, as if he saw that his mission of looking after Alric extended beyond simply keeping him alive. That was something which was new, though if he were honest, they had not talked overly much about the deeper aspects of existence and their place in it. As he thought upon that he saw the Gasvik in a new light. He might not have been human, able to comprehend things the way humans did, but that did not mean he knew nothing of it, had not seen it and spent centuries pondering upon the strangeness of humanity. Touching Zhyad, almost as if as a distraction and wishing it were ready, he found ot was not and blinked dully into the middle distance as he flicked the new charm he had found, not discovering anything about it with the interaction – another distraction.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and leant back into the cushions, trying to centre himself and drop down into deep thought upon Jade’s questions. There was a truth to them, and Jade had asked them because he had seen Alric’s experimentations when trying to figure out the mystery that was Tazrae – still a mystery, though a lesser one than then, or perhaps the memory was now less mysterious – he had a feeling he still had much to learn about her as a person. He had known that there were gaps…hollowed out memories and feelings that made no sense. He had used them as beacons, guiding him through the flashing images his Lykata brought to him, adding in his journal notes and other things until he had built up a general picture. Mathias’s domain had helped him remember, and he remembered how he felt in so far as the curse allowed him to – he had been…happy. No…beyond happy, but terribly sorrowful also…knowing the loss would come once more. That much he knew. Even now there was that echo of the longing, the sorrow and hollowed out emptiness at that which was lost. Focusing upon that he remembered the words of his letter, written what seemed like an age ago now.

“How do you put together the pieces of a broken life?” he muttered to himself, all of a sudden feeling that well inside widen and rear up, swallowing him in its depths, depths a mixture of light and shadow – the light that was, strangely, the sense of loss, the guide that told him he needed to seek it out for the memories were beyond precious, and the shadow that whispered doubt and tripped him up in his endeavours, that filled him on occasion with a sense of hopelessness at the very idea that he could even begin to defy a god’s will and claw back what he had treasured so deeply.



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[Alric Lysane]

Wasn’t that the point, though? Sunberth had taught him that well enough, even if it had not been his place of birth. Life was risk, in everything that you did, but especially with that which you cared for. A walk down the street could lead to its utter destruction, as well as the loss of your own life, wealth and whatever else the cruelty of others dictated that you lose. This felt different, though, and it was difficult to place as he pondered upon Jade’s words and the emotions that tossed and turned within. Even his feelings towards his parents had changed, though he had not analysed that too much, even the thought of it no sent a flash of the Krysus vision into his mind that jerked his into an upright position, before it faded and he settled once more.

He had once thought them dead, had been certain of it. Now he knew otherwise, knew of their sufferings, and that was somehow worse. Not just the fact that he might get told by some god one day that they had died without seeing them again, but the very idea that they had lived and had abandoned him where he was – even with good reason it was another pain that stung and was raw every time he even went near it. Yet he still longed to see them again, to hold his mother in an embrace and hear his father’s stories around a fire as he remembered vaguely. Surely that was love? But that was family, that wasn’t the same, he knew. Digging deeper he found himself in a quieter, calmer place deep inside his own thoughts. There was a music here again, the same one as before, faint and resonant Zhyad’s music – that puzzled him, but he didn’t question, not this far into the self-exploration Jade had urged.

“Music” he whispered, but not really knowing he had done so, as he embraced it.

You tread too lightly, young one, the message seemed to come from inside him somehow, though he wasn’t sure where from or who it was – it was a distinctly feminine voice, in a raspy way, what would you do, if you lost it all?

The question hung in the air upon the hum of the music, lifting him up and filling him for a few moments before fading and leaving him empty afterwards. He didn’t like that question, even the thought was like poking at an open, infected wound and watching it seep outwards, pain flourishing. It flashed within and he was shown another Krysus image, instinctively knowing that the two were somehow linked. Was running from one causing the other to come closer? Or was it just that even now he feared, deep down, that losing it all merely meant another path opened up back toward that torture somehow? Did that even make sense? Probably not he conceded desperately, but it was all he had. He had never been an emotional person, preferring to lock them away but now…even worse than in the past, they were threatening to burst forth in ugly ways. It was all he could do to hold them back.

Why do you hold them back, inside, young one? the music and voice filled him again, this time he felt a resonance and for a moment he could feel himself as he normally did, but also feel the blade Zhyad, in his hand now somehow, as if it were somehow linking into him, just to force these questions upon him. Or he could have finally snapped and be going insane, he didn’t know a tribunal that would touch that verdict with a pike.

“Stop this...please”

Why do you hold them back, inside, young one? and this time the question didn’t stop, it repeated and the music flooded him until he could barely breathe, trying to keep his head above his own emotions but ultimately failing and falling deep into them, feeling the burn of their seething, the poison of their numbing darkness.

“Because if I lose everything else, it’s all I have, alright! It’s better then ending this whole petching season with nothing!” he snapped.

Now you know why I slumber, little one. The memory in sleep of better times, it is better than losing it. Love is made of blood, tears and shared Djed…but I am a blade, you are a human. You cannot sleep forever. Listen to the ugly one in your mind, do not slumber like I do. Take this knowledge and your fate changes, leave it and it unravels. It as a simple choice

"There are no simple choices"

But there are. It's just the consequences that are compicated and then Zhyad receded, its sparsely clear words becoming little but a vague feeling, like a numbed arm with pins and needles.

“How do I wake you? Wait!” he asked, but all that came back was the vague notion that he had already been told before he was all but catapulted back into normal consciousness and he slammed backwards, falling out of the back of the cushioned area with a great intake of breath, spluttering as he tried to push himself up and failed, pulling Zhyad across the floor and around in front of him, coughing and realising that tears had stained his cheeks, just before the spike of a stronger headache slammed through his skull this time.

Alric!

I’m fine…can’t talk…head hurts…will be fine…need…food was all he got across to the Gasvik before he slumped forwards and darkness swallowed him, the darkness of unconsciousness this time.





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