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 Post by Tanda on 10/28/2004 at 20:51:45
The inhabitants of Cyllia had never even considered the possibility that the peace they had known for centuries would end. They had lived content under the just and caring rule of the Wizard council for as long as any could remember. That peace ended ten years before Tanda's arrival, tension and fear now dominating the people's simple lives. The rebels, who became known as the Black Warlocks, had broken from the council and formed a coven somewhere in the vast and icy northern range – a harsh and unforgiving place at all times of the year, even when compared to the rural and rugged plains of the western region where the Cyllian's had made their home. It was only a matter of time before the Warlocks lay siege to one of the main cities and took it for their own, declaring their independence. None knew where or when the rebels would strike. And with each uncertain day that passed, their disquiet intensified. Rumours and stories were rife throughout the land, spread by the insurrectionists to tarnish the guild's good name. They incited rebellion among the good folk of Cyllia, turning them against their leaders. More and more fell prey to their empty promises of wealth and glory and there was little the council could do short of imprisoning their own people, an action guaranteed to insight more animosity amongst the citizens. The council's continual failure to locate and eradicate the rebel base only added to the despondency proliferating the land. But it was not the political situation that had attracted Tanda to this place. Permeating the very fabric of the Shadow and incorporated into everyday life, magic was commonplace, so much so that flying was a mundane activity learned from a young age. No wings or devices were required, just a desire to fly and the person would rise into the air. Inevitably, combat was a three-dimensional affair, a chaotic, seething and spinning mass of friend and foe. Ranged weapons were next to useless – considering the speeds and trajectories involved. Battle lines were nonexistent and magic attacks so easily defended against as to be useless. The weapon of choice was the sword. Group tactics involved the use of flexible bands stretched between two warriors to slingshot a third at incredible speeds. Concentration was vital. Reflex, instinct and timing, key. Tanda joined the government run army, deciding to stay in Cyllia for a while as it offered her such a novel experience, one she felt would help with her training. She rose quickly through the ranks to second-in-command of a unit stationed in Marral, one of the major cities of Cyllia. The council had deployed troops to as many cities as possible in the hope they could assemble when the rebels attacked – it was the only thing they could do. On a night like many others, her troops were relaxing at a local tavern, the Inn of the Battered Sloop, which they had chosen as their temporary headquarters. Across the room from the bar and several tables away from Tanda's shadowy, solitary corner was a strangely lit dance floor, several soldier couples upon it and as they fought during the day, they danced at night, stepping onto the floor and rising above it on a whim, their bodies moving in complex sequences to the music. There was no orchestra; the field around the area somehow sensed the mood of each dancer and produced sounds dependant on the emotions they expressed. Lights flashed and flickered across the faces of soldiers, colours undulating red, to blue, to yellow. The atmosphere in the inn had at first been oppressive, the music lilting and aching, the city folk effectively shunning the army so they were prisoners in their makeshift barracks until daylight allowed them to rise into the skies again. (It was impractical and near impossible to fly at night.) Their work defending the city was thankless and largely resented by the local populace. Her unit had flown patrol all day, their only reward a rock thrown by an anonymous protestor who they did not catch. And as more such incidents occurred day by day, the frustration had become overwhelming. The waiting and suspicion, even within the unit itself, gnawed at Tanda and her men. It was her hope that the soldiers would have a chance to relax on this night. She had come to realise the relationship between the moral of the unit as a whole and their performance in the skies – if her soldiers were happy, they were lethal weapons. Then gradually, as the night aged, the music changed, becoming less sharp and more soothing as the feeling in the room swung towards mellow and away from the earlier tension, yet it still had a long way to go before the balance tipped over to contentment. At first, Tanda did not experience the same shift in mood. Nursing her glass, she thought over their recent skirmishes. She recognised that the war would provide excellent training in three-dimensional tactics and simple-weapon combat and was keen to try out the skills she had acquired, but waiting for the final battle was torturous. Staring at the thick red liquor she tried to put all thoughts of the war from her mind, drawing on the techniques she learned from the monks of Taeh. So distracted, however, Tanda did not notice the entrance of two priests. Post by Tanda on 10/29/2004 at 08:53:41
Hidden beneath the hood, the man's hair was red, the red of the Jack of Diamonds. His expression seemed to fit it, as well - open and friendly, playful yet confident. The woman's hair was flowing and blond, and if her hood had been removed, certainly every man in the place would have paused to consider the vision of loveliness so revealed. But these were troubling times and the soldiers soon returned to their own conversations, leaving the two in peace. "That's her, huh?" Bleys said taking a sip of the wine and instinctively comparing it to all of Shadow's vineyards. It rated a decent 6.75. "Well, she's grown up a bit faster since the last visit, but she's still got that wonderfully charming pall of sadness over her that keeps people away like a burning veil." "Please, leave her be. Her life has been horrible enough so far without you chastising her social graces. It is not as if she really had a fair chance, anyway." Flora took a sip of wine as well, letting the slight taste of honey swirl around her tongue before she swallowed. "Fine, fine." He quietly waved a hand in surrender. "So, what's Benedict's dossier say about her these days?" Flora closed her eyes for a moment. "She's training quite efficiently, but it appears to be a self-directed technological progression. She started about a year ago with ascetic meditative combat techniques, and moved on through archery and basic troop organizations. She has a good head-start, compared to most of the others of her generation. If she maintains this level of training and discipline, she will outshine most of them on the battlefield. But it will be a hard road, and she will have little to offer at the diplomatic table." She nodded. "I agree - if she is not careful, she will make an excellent replacement for Julian." Bleys sighed. "I don't think so. Julian's always been convinced that Amber is the best and only place in all of Shadow to protect and serve. He serves the nation of Amber, as much as Gerard-" Flora interrupted him - a relative rarity between them. "Tell me - why will Gerard not speak of her? What has happened that has so disrupted the bond of father and daughter? Granted, the beginning was less than auspicious, but if anyone could have salvaged the situation, it would have been Gerard." Her eyes turned to Tanda, and there was a pang of grief in them at Tanda's sullen and detached silence. With a speed that demanded eye contact, Bleys turned to Flora. "Careful now, sweetheart. She can't catch your eyes staring at her." He held her gaze as he answered her question, "And no, I don't know the details. There's only one other who really does, and neither one of them has decided to open up about the subject." He leaned back a little. Flora cast her eyes down briefly, and then closed them in memory. "I knew Crystal, you know - before it happened. She is the daughter of Baron Revale of Rebma, and had a promising future ahead of her. Such a bright and effervescent person, enthusiastic and open…. I suppose that is how things started." She blinked her eyes open once, then twice. "I do wish Gerard had let Fiona assess the situation, see if-" "Oh, come on," Bleys cut her off. "Given what happened, do you really think Gerard would have let anyone else in? It's a wonder he let Tanda's name on the list of visitations; it really is. It took three days to get him to acknowledge he'd brought her to Amber." He shook his head and took another drink of his wine, finishing the glass. "Well, I've had enough of coming around once a year to watch her mope and not cry in her beer. She gets to have a bit of fun, enjoy the high life - at least for tonight." His brow furrowed in concentration, then became darker with irritation as Flora poked his shoulder. "Now, now - you are perfectly aware of the guidelines of the visitations. We may observe and note, but not interact." Her tone was chiding - but the words were not spoken with much weight to them. "Hey, I don't think Herr Benedict would really complain." He studied the crowd carefully. "Besides, we're not breaking into minds or doing anything overt." He became contemplative, his eyes far away. "All we're doing is allowing the right person to notice her..." And a group of soldiers watching the dancing field suddenly decided to go get more drinks, leaving only air between Tanda and Solvic, a warrior serving under the other subcommander in the unit. He was young, as were most of the newly-formed army, and tall, standing at nearly six feet with a light but strong build. His soft, long black hair bound at the nape of his neck followed the current fashion in the city. Like Tanda, he wore the uniform of the Army with effortless style and comfort, the functional ensemble composed mainly of plain tunic and breaches of a tough white material, with brown leather boots and a belted scabbard. He hesitated for a moment, then took the tankard of ale at the table and drank it all in a gulp. He set it down again, and took a deep, steadying breath then strode over towards her table. Only at the last second did she look up, so absorbed was she in her own thoughts. Post by Tanda on 11/03/2004 at 10:20:33
She stared at him for an eternity – or so it seemed to him – with an unreadable expression. But hidden beneath that cold exterior was a clamour of emotions – confusion, unease and, surprisingly, a growing curiosity were some of the main contenders. She noticed his clammy hands and the doubt shadowing his eyes as she made him wait for her response. Eventually she spoke. "I do not partake of such," and she paused to search for a suitable word, "activities." Solvic looked taken aback by her rather curt response, but did not let it deter him from his course. "We dance to help us forget the trials of the day, to avoid thought of what sorrows might be carried with the morrow. Please," he smiled his insistence, "join us." "I do not require relaxation before battle." Her slight frown hinted that the conversation should have finished long before she said these words. Movement to her right – a sudden rise in tempo – caught her attention for a moment; her expression became thoughtful, her voice barely audible as she said, "I do not dance." "Then that is something I wish to rectify. Never have I seen such grace in the air as you display when flying with us. You dance every day without even realising it. Come with me," and he held out his hand, grey eyes imploring her. "Just one song. If it is not your desire to continue, I will leave you in peace to enjoy the evening how you will. If nothing else," he added, almost as an afterthought, "it will lift moral." She turned her head to look at him, and still she showed none of the turmoil inside, revealed nothing of her thoughts to leave the room and avoid the discomfort she felt. Fleeing battle was something she had to do on occasion and, inevitably, she won those wars through superior tactics – it is foolish to die only because pride insists on fighting to the bitter end. But in this battle of emotions she could not read the situation. Squirming inside with indecision and hating the sensation, she stared at the soldier, knowing he would not leave until she spoke her mind. "If I were to dance with anyone tonight, to lift morale as you point out, why should I choose you?" There may have been a slight tremble in her voice, but it went unnoticed, quickly steadied. Still extending his hand to her, he answered the question with confidence. "Because I had the courage to ask. I know you recognise the need to keep moral high," he continued quickly. "If you dance with me, we will show the men that in life it is worth seizing every precious moment and treating it as if it were the last." Her eyes flicked back to the dance floor. Such wild and carefree abandon was foreign to her, and the several formal dances she had learned by necessity during her training seemed entirely out of place and insufficient. Her uncertainty grew. But as his words ran through her mind, she pondered them, and a subtle change occurred in her thinking. "Take the moment," she whispered. This moment might be the last these troops lived in peace and she wanted them to savour it. Solvic was right, as a leader, she needed to do this. Pressing her lips together she assured herself it was only one song – just enough to raise the hopes and spirits of the unit. Her word was her bond. With a faint sigh of relief and no small amount of pleasure, Solvic stepped back to allow Tanda to stand. He took her arm without resistance and led her to the dance floor. As Solvic entered the field, the soft and lilting music became a little louder, and the tempo increased. Several heads turned their way, faces bathed in the rich colours generated by his entrance. And, as Tanda lightly stepped onto the field, a soft chorale of angelic voices emerged, high above the notes of the airy strings and horns. Warmth suffused the air, wavelengths of light beyond vision mixing with the rainbow surrounding the dancers. There were several sighs of surprise, and Solvic smiled his appreciation. Such a phenomenon was a rarity in Cyllia. The field only produced a single voice for one in a thousand – a multitude of voices was scarcely imaginable, such illumination unheard of. Yet, as their introduction to the song, it felt right and there was only a momentary pause before they took to the floor. The other dancers subtly moved closer to the edge of the field, letting Solvic and Tanda take the centre. However, as Tanda mentally prepared for a rather ceremonial and regimented dance, the chorale of voices became almost a heartsong of despair. Solvic flinched a little, but his mind soon reasserted itself, and the musical accompaniment became stronger, but of a lighter and more breezy inflection. He took her hand and rose above the shimmering black floor, drawing her with him. If he felt her stiffen at the unfamiliar contact, it did not show in his expression. His smile remained in place as he took advantage of her momentary surprise and swung her through the multitude of misty colours. Post by Tanda on 11/03/2004 at 12:29:57
Solvic flew close to her, but kept air between them as he whispered close to her ear. "As you fly in battle with the enemy, dance now." And he spiralled away, the bright tone of a cornet solo shinning through the other instruments. She frowned and an angry staccato of flute and piccolo cut through to him, their instruments duelling in the air between them. Her coral keened and the sound hurt the ears of the onlookers. Surprised at her own vehemence, Tanda slowed the music – this wasn't the way to win such a battle. And she moved slowly, watching Solvic, and looping with him through swirls of blue and green, his soprano and baritone saxophones, and her low and cautious chorus. Then she realised with a suddenness that sent angelic choirs trilling. This was a moment not just for the soldiers, but for her as well. She might not need to relax before battle, but this wasn't about the war – it was about her. Take the moment… And a wave of relaxation came over her. Finally, Tanda was - at least for tonight - able to set down most of her burden, most of her emotional load. The Choir sang a paean to a brighter hope, a brighter future - and Tanda's rather stultified dancing became lithe, graceful, and elegant, hypnotic in its freedom and its brilliant counterpoint to Solvic's relaxed steps on the floor and smooth swings through the air. She indulged herself in the moment, closed her eyes, able for a rare while to forget both the past and the future. The music wrapped about them and held their bodies in a tender embrace. Solvic watched her flow with the rolling beat, the delicate planes of her face thrown into relief by the pulsing lights, harsh lines smoothed. And when she opened her eyes and saw him watching her, the movement of her lips was so tentative, certainly it was not practiced or instinctive – smiling was not something she did naturally. He was entranced at the change in her and could not take his eyes from the beautiful transformation from hardened warrior to vibrant woman happening before him. Their dance became wilder, more unrestrained and more energetic, and the soldiers watching moved further back. The tempo of Solvic's band moved considerably faster, and the brashness of a trumpet came to the front. Tanda's chorus relaxed into a song of celebration and wonder that such moments still existed. Back in the corner, Bleys and Flora watched with some amusement, but with smiles of relief. Bleys leaned close to Flora - but even he could not take his eyes off the graceful dance that commanded the room's attention. "Do me a favor, sis - one that we just might not talk about in front of our dear brother. Go up into the hills and get those warlocks to hold off for the weekend. Convince them that it's in their best interests to wait, to lull the thinly-spread government army into a false sense of security." Flora gasped, but only momentarily. Her expression immediately softened, as did her words. "Very well. I feel it, too. It is something I am happy to give to her. The revolution will come, and it will be a bitter and violent contest. But there is no need for it to come tomorrow." She smiled quietly, and stood to leave. "You will remember the rest of the evening for me, yes?" Bleys nodded. "I'll share most every detail - except the ones that started in my head." He raised his second glass of wine, and nodded as Flora silently crossed to the door and left the inn. Bleys leaned back on his chair, entranced in the dance on the floor. They were relaxed, and in perfect synch. A rare thing to watch, and Bleys had plenty of experience on the dance floor himself. He hadn't yet sampled this kind of magical music field, though, and promised himself to find something similar. "The things these kids find - why weren't we looking for this?" But even as Bleys decided to leave and give them the privacy they were due, he answered himself in his mind. You know, why, you moron - we had more pressing matters on our hands. Even as she trains as a warrior, she is on vacation from her true duties. And I do believe that her day in the storm will be cruel and cold, and it's coming faster than she thinks. He tosses some change on the table and turns to go, but looks one last time at the sight on the floor of a cold heart cast aside, of pain forgotten and life embraced. At least for tonight. |
