Connections (Kam)

[Gromhir]

Gromhir continued on as they followed him but slowed to allow them to catch up, as they got closer to the boat. The idea of being in a crowd was not anything he liked to entertain. From what he’d seen so far, there would be more of these white figures waiting for their arrival. While this did not seem all too terrible compared to the crowds of the cities, the thought still set him on edge.
Gromhir looked to Kamalia as she spoke to her sister, he could feel worry coming from both women but Kamalia especially. He’d had this sensation before but never as clear as it was with this white lady. Standing before the boat, he brushed his nose against Kamalia’s hand once more trying to find someway of soothing her worries.
The masterful art that was the sea borne transport in front of them was lost on the kelvic. He had little appreciation for the art forms of any race. The prow of the ship looked like a creature that he would but it did not move as one. Its rolling sails made the Kelvic feel insignificant. He had no idea what they were for, unaware that would reach full height as they left the harbour. But his destination required that he took to this prey to transport him across the water.
He would not go any further without Kamalia leading, however. This boat was unknown to him, if it were to hold any traps, he would find another way to cross.

[Kamalia Timandre]

As the kelvic brushed its damp nose against the konti’s delicate hand, Kamalia smiled at it, letting it sniff her fingers for a while before softly stroking the canine’s neck just under its jaw. She felt that it was trying to ease her troubles, and this endeared the ivaski to her more, sweeping away her worries. Truly there was something between them, a connection of some sorts.

The magnificent watercraft before them was a sprawling and beautiful masterwork, and it traced the edges of the gulf like a fine lady on a summer evening’s promenade. It was undeniably lavished upon with love by Konti artisans and ship carpenters. The transport vessel boasted two masts, plus a floating jib aft and two sails astern on the swinging booms, painted with soft, sunrise hues. The body looked as if it were plated with white giant turtle armor and opalescent shields, but most astounding were the vast wings spreading out and its giant prow that resembled the graceful head of a mute swan.

“Behold Lord Whitemane’s manner of staring the boat!” Vidula said in a cheerful mirth and giggled, inventing a name for the ivaski on the spot, while its canine head was tilted upwards to observe the sails of the sea transport. It was hilarious, for it almost looked like a scene where the beast and the giant swan decided to have a staring contest between them. “It must be its first time to see such craftwork.”

“I think not,” observed Kamalia, smilingly. “It must have mistaken the craft for prey and is contriving a scheme to gulp it down.”

The ridiculousness of such situation made the two konti maidens burst once more into serene, siren laughter.

“Lord Whitemane,” Kamalia repeated in a half-whisper as she marveled, idly moving a gentle hand across the ivaski’s back.“I like the sound of that.”

Kamalia turned and strode forward, leading Vidula and the ivaski to the docked vessel. They were met at the plank by more konti women wearing white cloaks and peaceful expressions, beautiful, mystic and all soft-spoken. Vidula introduced “Lord Whitemane” to the healers of the Opal Order, and everyone greeted the newcomer with calm and grace, pleased to have another ivaski aboard.

The two sisters briefly spoke with the other women about how they happened upon the forlorn ivaski by the seaside, and the young wizard laid out her plans for it to them. The weather and tideseer, a petite konti lady whose painted forehead gleamed with the twin elegant marks of the God of the Sea and the All-Seeing Mother, stood at the crow’s nest and signaled that it was time for their small swanship to set sail.

The sisterhood of the white cloak gathered together at the bow and began to chant a musical prayer to the sea god, petitioning for his divine protection. For they were, after all, the daughters of Laviku, and the iridescent scales intertwining up and down their limbs reminiscent of tribal tattoos were ample proof of that. In voices as fey and haunting as siren song, the assembled konti sang to their father god, until the chant rose to a single keening note, ending the prayer.

When the vessel began to move, Kamalia settled down on the deck beside the ivaski, absentmindedly brushing its fur, while she reflected on the morning’s event.

[Gromhir]

In a way, both of the sisters were right in their observations. Gromhir had never witnessed the true perfection of those who spent a century learning their craft, but riding such prey seemed a little foreign to him. But once again, his gaze returned to the island as he followed Kamalia on to the boat. He was putting a lot of faith in someone he had only just met but he felt he was safe with Kamalia.
Gromhir found it hard to tell one of them apart from the next. Given the fact that most wore the same thing meant that it was slightly strange for him. Gromhir felt he had to sit through the ritual of introduction but the moment it was out of the way; he went to watch the water. He’d finally decided what it was. While he could swim in it, it was not something he would want to do for long periods.
He could hear the songs of the white women, in all their eerie glory. His ears perked at the sounds, drawing his attention away from the blue expanse. It was strange, he found he had the urge to howl along with them but thought better of it in the end. As Kamalia settled down beside him, Gromhir returned to watching the water and looking out towards the isle. It’s shape becoming ever larger and clearer as they approached. The closer he got, the more he could feel himself getting closer to the answer he sought.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Twilight passed. Syna’s sun had sunk gently into the seas and once again, the goddess of the night, Akajia, embraced the world with her comforting darkness. The moon rose slowly into the sky to pursue his solar lover, like a couple chasing after each other in the divine theatre that was Mizahar. If one were to imagine the passing of time to be such a beautiful drama, a romance ever-played upon the heavens, a story eternally being told, a starry-eyed dreamer could only wonder if a life lived happily ever after awaited them, when they would finally be together and forever, just like the sweet finale of the bed-time tales that amused little children.

Kamalia smiled dreamily at this thought while looking out towards the sky, clad in a simple, elegant silvery gown that left her arms bare and draped low over her bosom. She no longer donned the white cloak, but wrapped around her slender arms and waist a gossamer shawl, allowing the whimsical winds to play at her skin.

The other ladies were lounging about, laughing musically, sipping tawny wine and passing portions of spiced prawns while listening to Vidula’s far-flung stories. Kamalia stood only with Whitemane in the bow, as the wizard thought that nighttime was usually the time for solitude, a time that was hers and hers alone. While she loved the concept of daybreak, Akajia’s hours were still sacred to her, and the contemplative seer longingly dreamed into the night.

The night always had retained its mystic splendor, so elusive and mysterious. It was around these hours her mother would tell her how Seth the Moon loved touching her silver-white tresses with his lunar fingers. The locks would arrest the moondust, making her hair seem to shimmer softly with captured moonlight. Though, that was probably far from truth, Kamalia fancied that flight of imagination. Tonight, her hair was moonstricken yet again, cascading to near her knees with all its silvery brilliance.

“There are those who think, and those who dream”, her mother Nokomis would tell her this while easing an ornate brush through her daughter’s white hair. Kamalia loved this nightly ritual; often she wished she could purr throughout the brushing like a petted cat. “My sweet, pretty daughter, would you be a thinker or a dreamer?” asked Mother, her voice like fleeting music.

Kamalia had decided long ago that she was both. By day, Kamalia Timandre was a thinker, was expected to be one. Many had depended upon the young wizard’s indomitable will and sorcerous talents. She was a graceful fixture in the Opal Temple’s libraries, reading and learning what she could for the good of her sisters, for the greater glory of her people.

At night, she dreamed, and dream she did, like a fool or a child. She dreamed of gleaming kingdoms with curving towers that resembled graceful dancers held in the sky, too tall to stand without magicks. She dreamed of unnamed dukes and duchesses, princes and queens that, once upon a time, reigned over Mizahar. She dreamed of flying ships and their colorful, gem-studded sails existing only in memories long past. She dreamed of…

Kamalia’s eyes darted towards Whitemane.

… talking ivaski! If only Valterrian never happened, perhaps Mizahar would be like the dream-world she imagined. But, "Had it -not- happened, the konti would -not- exist," Vidula rebelled passionately in her mind.

She laughed silently, took a lap harp from her travel bag and sat on the rail. She strummed the strings of the harp carved from ivory and white whale bone, and it answered with silvery tones. The siren began to sing.

And as she sang in Nader-Canoch, Kamalia relived the memories of the ancient realms long gone, yet never failing to listen closely to her own voice— for how the Seer Goddess once warned Laviku of a coming firestorm through a siren song, there were occasions when the All-Seeing Mother sang through her songstresses.

And sang to them their own fates.


Hear Kamalia sing!

[Gromhir]

Gromhir had remained awake for most of the journey, watching the sea, willing it to pull itself together to make the journey end. It still felt like home, somewhere he had to go, but the urge wasn’t as strong anymore. He didn’t understand why. The more he sat beside Kamalia, the more he felt at peace. It was strange but it was something he welcomed. After travelling alone through the wilderness, it was good to have someone beside him.
As Kamalia pulled the Harp from her bag, Gromhir looked to her. Her voice travelled across the ship and flowed out across the waves, carried by the winds that ferried them home. It was a language that Gromhir had never heard and didn’t understand. It was a song full of the history of the world, of stories long past and stories to come. The world was still new, from the ashes and fire arose a new chance at peace and harmony. It was up to the people of the world to make that happen.
As Kamalia’s song continued, Gromhir became aware of how tired he was. Was it the safety that he felt here? Or was it that he could not remember the last time he had slept? Either way, the white canine curled up at Kamalia’s feet. The young Ivaski’s eyes closing as he drifted into the land of slumber.

Syna was already climbing towards the peak of her ascent, as the boat pulled into the harbour, as graceful as the creature it was carved after. Gromhir was still asleep at the bow, the bustle of the sailors and those helping at the docks not enough to wake the sleeping youngling.

[Gossamer]

The magic of Mura was such that no matter who the elegant animal boats carried, residents and denizens alike often met the boats knowing intuitively who would be on them and what was needed. It was a bonus too for those that came to unload supplies, because by fate or chance, there were always just enough workers present, no more no less. There were very few other cities that could say the same thing. The White Isle's harbor was a lovely half-circle of forested land that opened up like a pair of arms to embrace the boats as they returned home and set out again. They also welcomed boats of strangers: traders, merchants, explorers, and travelers.

The Swan boat pulled up and moored next to one that was carved into the shape of a leaping dolphin. Dolphins were common among the Muran waters often escorting ships in and out of the harbor with their whistles and leaps, riding bow sprints and playing in wakes. There were other ships docked as well. Graceful deer, a serpent, even a horse. People lined the docks. One woman in particular stood out. She was tall, with snow white hair, for all that she wasn't Konti at all. Human, flanked by two enormous Ivaski, Skyla stood waiting at the docks. She hadn't the insight to know she was needed, but another Konti, one more in tune with how things in Mura worked, had dropped by earlier when she was making a delivery to the kennels kitchen of fresh laid eggs, and had suggested she might be needed at the docks in the evening. Skyla, more than used to the ways of Mura, knew there was probably a good reason. So the blue-eyed human stood waiting, two of her favorite canines by her side, for whatever trouble spilled off the boat that somehow only she could uniquely deal with.

[Kamalia Timandre]

“Wake, Lord Whitemane. We’re home,” the konti maiden brushed her hand over the sleeping ivaski’s fur-coated back. Home—oh, how she already missed home! Back in the wilderness of Sylira, Kamalia was on the brink of being homesick, and they had only been away for eight days. Not that she was a stranger to traveling, far from it! Kamalia sailed back and forth Zeltiva, as the Muran merchants traded their goods and other konti women sought passage to foreign cities. From time to time, they required a spellcaster to act as a ship’s wizard to give them a feeling of security, as threats of pirates lurked about the seas.

Kamalia thought that this was hardly needed, for pirate ships seldom sailed the eastern ocean as they frequented the Suvan Sea, but the restless, adventurous spirit in her rarely allowed such opportunities to pass. The only real threat in the east was the anarchists of Sunberth, who, in their ancient vendetta with anything orderly, sometimes raided konti ships. Memories of a decade past surfaced on her thoughts—tragic scenes that deeply disturbed the young wizard, but quickly she chased them away from her mind with the comforting thoughts of being finally home again, the city glimmering over the horizon.

Mura gleamed beautifully as ever, like a bright silver diadem on a bedspread of deep blue satin. She watched as the other transport vessels of all shapes traced the edges of the sea and observed dolphins that leapt and whistled as they ushered the giant swan to the wharf. The ever-present haze of hush in the city occasionally permitted a bustle of activity every time a ship moored in its docks—and this was customary, in the konti’s eyes.

Kamalia asked Vidula to bring her luggage home with her, to which her sister agreed, and told her about her plans of taking Whitemane to the Kennelmaster first. The healers of the Opal Order smilingly bade farewell to each other, wishing each other wellbeing, as was tradition and custom of those who donned the white cloak of Rak’keli. With the gangplank lowered, everyone descended, some tended to their businesses in the docks, others slipping into the serenity of their city.

Kamalia sighted a familiar figure flanked by two enormous ivaski—Skyla Nivan, the snow-haired Kennel Mistress. This did not surprise her. As expected of a city of seers, this was also customary. Skyla Nivan knew Kamalia like the back of her hand—or paws. The konti-girl had haunted the libraries of the Opal Temple for years, and once in a while, Kamalia quietly listened to the female kelvic’s lectures and observed the way she spoke with the white canines. Yet Skyla mostly remained as an enigma to her.

The young wizard approached the Kennel Mistress and bowed her head slightly. “Fine winds, fair sister. I have brought someone you might be most interested to meet,” she grinned.

[Gromhir]

”Home?” It was a word that roused Gromhir from his slumber. The Ivaski’s blue eyes opened at Kamalia’s touch and he lifted his head up to look at her. She watched her walk off to speak to her sister. He was home at last. The canine climbed to his feet, stretching the sleep from his joints.
His head turned towards the white city that was around him. A city? That meant crowds. He didn’t do well in crowds. The white creature turned his gaze to the streets, expecting it to be busy. It was almost his idea of perfect. The streets were almost empty, there wasn’t so many people that nobody could move. In fact, there was a lot of free space.
Deciding looking at it would not be enough, the kelvic padded his way down towards Kamalia. He smelt his kin before he saw her. Gromhir followed his Konti friend down the gangplank but would approach no further than the end of it. He made himself as small as possible without actually laying down, his eyes back. He knew whatever happened, that this was the pack leader. It was her territory. He didn’t understand why though. She was human, yet not. She was like him. A creature of two worlds but not truly accepted in both if they were to live to their full potential.

[Gossamer]

"Clear skies and warm sun to you, fairer sister. I see that. Vi'talia stopped by earlier when she dropped by her delivery and suggested I should be at the docks today when the swan sailed home. I see you've brought a feral kelvic with you." Skyla said, knowing in her heart of hearts what Gromhir was. She smiled at Kamalia, but it was to Gromhir that she turned her attention. The giant white wolf-like dogs beside her - Ghost and Wind - circled around but gave the new comer nothing more than a friendly wag of their tails and a brief touch of their noses before they stepped back and let their mistress speak.

Skyla knelt down and offered Gromhir the back of her hand for a sniff. "Hello there skin brother. You've been a long way from home, haven't you?" She asked, reaching out to stroke the dogs head if he'd let her. If he allowed it, Skyla would take a moment to utilize the canine letting her touch it to examine his head for injuries to make sure there were no knots or old wounds of the cranium that might lead to some memory loss or confusion. "You're scalp feels fine. I wonder how it is that you've come to be with us in this state." She asked, then glanced up at the two konti women. "Will you tell me all you know of him? I wonder now... how he came to be as he is? It is so rare that our kind loose our awareness of what we truly are." She said, knowing that perhaps a good run would help the canine... one with his own kind. But she'd restrain herself and not invite him until she'd heard the konti's words.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Jaws dropped and violet eyes widened when the Kennel Mistress mentioned the word “kelvic”. The Timandre sisters shot an incredulous glance at Whitemane, at each other, and then back at Skyla Nivan.

“Is that for true? Lord Whitemane is a—“whatever the bubbly Vidula was going to say was cut off by Kamalia, who laid a hand on her younger sister’s shoulder. Kamalia, first to recover from their astonishment, thought that this actually made a lot of sense. She observed as the two bigger ivaski circled around Whitemane, waggled their tails and sniffed the kelvic’s scent. There was a ritual here; she recognized this as their way of greeting each other hello.

Kamalia had read a good deal about the pre-Valterrian morphing wizard Marcus Kelvic, the Ironrock and the shapeshifting creatures that were the result of his reclusive life. This kelvic, then, must have a human form of its own, just like all kelvic people do—or just like Skyla herself. Her mind reeled, imagining how Whitemane would look like in his human form.

The Timandre sisters watched the Kennel Mistress sink to one knee and offer the back of her hand for the canine to sniff. Kamalia knew, by observation, that this was how most canine-breeders greeted a new ivaski.

Whitemane, a kelvic with an ivaski base. Oh, how could she have failed to consider that? It’s no wonder he spoke to her mind—and in Common! How could she have dismissed the tales of talking ivaski as mere slivers of myths and fiction? A multitude of questions rose in her mind, and every time she answered one of them, it only led to another series of questions.

But before Kamalia could confuse herself more, Skyla Nivan stole her attention away with her own question on how the konti stumbled upon Whitemane. The konti wizard smiled gently at the Kennel Mistress. “Yestermorning, by the break of light and before the swan sailed home from Sylira, I happened upon him by the eastern shores,” she said softly, shifting her gaze from Skyla to the newly-identified kelvic. She stared him into the eyes, bright and vividly blue. “He stood alone, forlorn as he looked homeward, then into my soul. “Home,” he spoke to me, and so I brought him home. Trust me when I say I know not the language of your kind, nor am I a seer of canine heart.”