Willow's End - Jera Skyspear
Elvish words/phrases linked to Glossary OR hover mouse to see translation.
Lightning

The murmur around the room became a din of seething voices. Tempers were suddenly so hot that cries of death and war echoed in the stone cavern. The next series of actions passed through the great chamber within seconds. Kumori had been struggling to translate very acidic language, right up until the time her neck was snapped by a brute guard who slipped in behind her chair. In fact, every Sithryn in the room was killed before the first one of them could attempt anything to stop it.

Unlike Kumori and most of the others in the elven delegation, the head of the council of nine did manage to send out a warning call to the mountain, even as his own life slipped away through a fresh gap in his throat. The conflict from within the council chamber in the dwarf complex spilled out into the waiting assemblies of guards. It was readily apparent that there were only two sides to this, not three. The dwarves and humans were fighting side-by-side.

When the Call collectively hit the mountain, there was a scramble to get defenses reinforced. Jera's responsibility for the younger children was her first priority and so they were gathered into the community center usually used for sacred ceremonies not requiring the storm temple. The children were naturally frightened, so Jera and others working with her tried to calm them with singing. They could help by singing, they were told, and so the children sang their best and brightest.

Jera was singing through tears and fighting an urge to collapse for she knew she was also singing her mother toward the Summer Lands. She felt her father was secure here in the village and did not trouble him with a word. He was engaged in helping organize their defense. Plans had been made in the event of an upheaval from either the dwarves or the humans, because this seemed to be their way, but it was generally believed that they didn't get along well with each other, certainly not enough to commit this sort of treachery or to launch a combined attack. In retrospect, that was a very naive notion.

Jera finally heard from her father. His voice in her mind was at first soothing and comforting, as when she was an elfling. She heard the weariness and sorrow in it too though. He was whispering his thoughts, his mullings, into her mind. What could they have done differently? What would they do now? Where would they go?

How odd it felt for Jera to begin comforting her father. Their roles switched in the course of a few words. She assured him that there was nothing they could have done to stall this forever. She reminded him of why they did not practice summoning the storms, particularly for their type of involvement with them. What they would do now is collect what they have and try to find a new place, which they have done before. Of course, all of this was much easier than pondering how to get along without her mother.

:::Yes, Jeranda... We have been here before... too many times::: He didn't finish his thoughts but Jera heard them all the same. He was so weary that he wanted to just walk away. He wanted to sail Westward on a light breeze. He wanted to be with his mate, in peace.

:::Father? What of Dag?::: Jera asked. Her brother Dagaz had gone down the mountain with the guards sent to escort the delegation.

Uuringar's returned mental sigh slid through her with a sharp edge. So, he had felt it too. In the rush after the clan lord's warning, there was a pulse of others, a chaotic chorus. One of the voices within that was Jera's brother, and in his typical manner, it was a string of language that his mother would not want to hear from her son's mind. But then, she was gone before his thoughts uttered it.

Dagaz was on stand at the edge of the dwarf complex. For good and ill, his archery practice had paid off. His arrows were swift and accurate enough to get concentrated attention from his potential targets. He sent no more word to Jera for a long period while she tried to concentrate on the children in her care. Her father was also torn between his obligations at hand and his personal wish for release from all of it.

When Dagaz came through again, it was not what Jera had hoped to hear. He didn't even feel or sound like himself. What she heard was weighted heavily with defeat. When he'd emptied his quiver, he of course joined in with his sword, but by numbers and weapons, they were fighting against a double foe. Dagaz was now chained in iron, along with others not killed outright. He had no notion why the enemy had bothered nor had he an inkling of their intentions.

Jera's connection with her brother at that moment was entirely too vivid for she could feel his situation and those around him, similarly bound and likely dying. She looked up and around the large ceremonial hall, teeming with children and others who'd come for safety. Even so, they were all singing. Jera caught the attention of another helper like herself and begged a moment away, using only her eyes. She need say nothing.

She leaned back against a stone wall outside and closed her eyes to the brightly shining sun. What a glorious day this was, up there in the skies, or even half a league away from here. She focused on Dagaz again as she sobbed with tears flowing. She pictured him, although his image was obscured with his aura. Waning as it was, it was still a beautiful coldfire blue like their father's eyes. She once told her father of this and it made him very proud to have passed something of himself to his son, since his dealings with the blade of light and power had been taken up by his daughter.

::Dagaz? Is there nothing?:: She heard a tired half-hearted chuckle. ::Oh, Yerayanda... There is always something, but... I think it would have to be something special and I think I would have to do it. Go, sister. The war will proceed up the mountain and surely the steep climb will be somewhat to our advantage but proceed it will.:: His words were lead. There was the certainly of doom in them and not only for himself, but possibly for all the people of their clan. ::...and you, Yerayanda... you are not a warrior.:: At least she felt his weak smile in that before he lapsed again and contact was fading.

::Rest while ye may, my brother in love and blood.:: The words said very little compared to the portion of her heart that went out to him.

DHP © Jun 02 2002

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