Canus in the Mysts

This is a small magic tonight.  This is time travel I’m doing.  You are asleep now as I write to you and you are reading this long after I wrote this and both are happening at the same time.  You are a child and you are a man at the same time.  I am near you and I am far gone at the same time and I am angry my son, so very very angry.  You have had a bad dream earlier and I soothed you but with all the powers there are at my disposal, I can not dream your dreams for you nor can I save you from dreams that go wrong.  That is apparently one of those lessons parents must grudgingly give in to.  I can not save you my son.  And you can not save me.

But if I can not save you, I can give you need to know to save yourself.  That will be a power that your enemies won’t expect you to have because they are not time travelers like you and I.   I’ve secretly cast a greater spell than any they can imagine while using only the magic of my wits, and the trust that I have in the allies that have placed these pages in your hand.  I do not ask you to trust these allies of mine, but I’m going to tell you why I trust them and leave you to make your own decision.

My son, I want to spend long paragraphs doting on how much I love you, it makes my eyes water thinking of you alone, but I’ve only so many pages and each word takes up space, so forgive me if these words are not the loving words a long dead mother should give her son.  

To begin with I want to tell you about the Seam.  Its where things begin and by your time where things have been forgotten.  The Seam is a real place.  Until this world’s end the Seam will always be.  Its the place on the world where the begining meets the end, the place where the world occasionally still bleeds like a woman and her moon cycles.  The Seam is vivacious with life and its forestation is dense and dangerous.  They call it the Wyldwood, or just the Wyld or just the Wood.  Different names in different places as you travel the world and all these places are the Seam.  

Do not trouble yourself with maps or geography to find it.  The Seam can not be mapped it is a place that is alive and it moves.  The Seam is veiled by a thick fog that rises out of it.  This fog has been sought after and been called the breath of the gods, the breath of the world, the womb of cloud making, but mostly it is called the Mysts. Trust nothing that claims to have bottled or contained any of it.  They Mysts are part of the Seam and it contains things but the Mysts themselves can’t be contained.  When the Mysts rise they swallow whole landscapes and change them.  Everything the Mysts touch becomes part of the Mysts and under its control, which is controlled by the Seam which is controlled by the world.  Religions have been based on this fact.  It doesn’t make it less true.

Occasionally something comes else crawls out of the Seam; a child of Mysts.  They also have many names.  Names like Doombringer, Dragonbane, and Wyldstorm. Names earned because when anything comes out of the Seam it is the beginning of great terrible changes.  The most famous Wyld One brought the age of dragons to an end.  If there is time I might write about her, but more importantly you need to know of a different Wyld One and a time when a selfish foolish woman thought to use the power of the Seam for her own purposes.

She was known as the Witch of Canus and Canus was a land of Wizardry where worth was measured by arcane power.  Wizard towers rose and fell like weeds all over Canus, some growing so tall you couldn’t stand at the top and breathe for the air was too thin, some short and fat and surrounded by layers of walls like the tower had shed previous skins.  Many were crooked and some even purposely so.  The Witch of Canus didn’t have one, but three towers, and three names, and she was long lived because she kept her rivals guessing who and where she might be next.

It is easy for me to tell you that the Witch of Canus was an evil monster but such labels allow real dangers to be dismissed.  She should be remembered and reviled not because she was an evil monster, but because she began as a simple mortal, a woman of will and arcane power.   Remember, my son, that the Witch of Canus was born, she ate food, suffered from colds and aches as any mortal.  She wore robes for status, color and because the Canus heights were cold.  She was mortal.  She became a monster.  

It occured to her one day that all her arcane power would not stop her from dying, because all things born must die.  It was said in order to discover how to avoid her death the witch sacrificed her newborn son while his cord was still attached to her that she might be both dead and alive and learn the truths that only the dead can know.  Whether or not this was true, the very legend of the act made her widely feared among all the Arcane of Canus.  

Perhaps she learned that Skald would be her undoing for soon after the nasty sacrifice rumor she became obsessed with the neighboring realm of Skald.  The king of Skald was believed to a living descendant of dragons.  For 13 years the Witch appealed to her peers among the other Arcane, that something needed to be done about the blight of Skald, but few real skirmishes happened, and Skald stayed neither threat nor threatening.  So the Witch decided she would appeal to the Seam. The trouble is that no one who went looking for the Seam ever came back from the Wyldwood.

The Wyldwood bordered Canus and Skald.  The Wyldwood ran up and around the Teats of Gya and the Dragonridge Mountians and then down on the other side and from there the Wood wandered.  From the Canus side within sight of one of her towers the witch entered the wood naked that day.  She had the symbol of the world painted on her belly.  She walked slowly in between two children.  A boy younger than the age that cracks his voice, but taller than his years carried a candle high over his head.  The boys head was shaven and painted with the sun symbol of the god Tarn.  He wore a clean white toga and was told to walk in front of the witch and to never look back.  He did so as bravely as little boys who trust their elders and have a chance to prove themselves might.  His name was Geo.

Behind the witch, her daughter walked.  I know that she was at the age of her first moon and she was still frightened about it.  I know that the witch, her mother had shaved the left side of the girls head but never the right and that she had the three in one symbol of the moon goddesses Brect painted on her forehead. She carried a candle she had helped hand dip made from three wicks and she was very proud of it.  I know she had been instructed by her mother to walk close enough to see her mother’s back.  The daughter's name is not important.

It seemed like they walked for hours but the girl knew that they could only walk as long as the candles stayed lit, so she watched the wax melt and counted footsteps to keep time.  When the Mysts swallowed the area the girl had become distracted by her foot counting that she was startled when it suddenly became hard to see and nearly burnt her mother’s back in a rush to get closer.  Her mother had also slowed the speed of her step and then eventually stopped. Geo walked farther and farther ahead until he and then his light were swallowed in the fog.

The girl clutched her candles tightly and heard her mother say “First gift given.”  Then the two of them waited as the world around them evaporated into a thick damp grey.  The girl shivered wondering how her mother could stand the cold.  She pulled the candle a little closer to herself for warmth when a child's voice cut through the Mysts but the girl was unsure from what direction.

“You have come to the Seam uninvited.” the child’s voice spoke rising in curiosity.

“The world needs no invitation.” the witch replied calmly.  Her daughter searched for the child but found nothing.  Then it seemed like the air was full of excited, angry children.

“You are not the world!” A chorus of them shouted.  The girl felt angry little hands pulling her hair  and her toga, but there was nothing there.  Her mother stood unmoved.

“Then why did the sun lead me? Why does the moon watch me so closely?” the witch challenged amused.  The children shrieked and their sounds were less childlike and more like savage animal.  Thefirst voice returned.

“We do not accept these questions.” The child simply stated. “Leave.”

“Perhaps I have a question you will like.  How about...Why are you here?” there was a jaded kind of laughter in her mothers voice, the kind those drunk with power and feeling invincible get.  The girl was frightened to hear her mother speak like that to the things in the Mysts.

“Why are you here?” The child repeated and then the chorus of children echoed the question a few times.  Then the forest grew quiet again.  From around her mothers left arm the girl watched the Mysts coalesce into a grey shadow form. The shape of her mother.  It was like the Mysts grew denser and denser around the form until details, eyes, a mouth appeared and then the mouth opened and her mothers voice came out from it, only richer, deeper.  The girls nails dug into the wax of her candle.  This was not a magic she was used to.

“Why are you here?” the mystform witch asked.

“The world is wounded and cries out to be healed.” Her mother responded holding out her arms marred with roughly healed scars.   Her words provoked the chorus of child screams and animal howls.

“You are not the world.” the mystform witch said stamping her foot and the earth trembled and the winds blew.  The Daughter kept a hold of the candle and used all the Arcane she had to keep the little flame brightly lit despite the howl of the wind or the rocking of the world.

“You have accepted my question.  There is a dragon in Skald.  So, why are you, who have been called to protect this land from the ravage untamed destructive hungers of dragons, here.  I call upon what spirit still lingers in here that remembers the ravage of dragons to answer that question.  A dragon still lives in Skald.  If I am not the world despite being led by the sun and followed by the moon, are you truly the Mysts when you have left even one dragon alive to threaten these lands and this forest?”

The wood itself came alive then.  Trees moved, reared their heads and howled. The winds became a tempest. The girl dropped to her knees, hit by rocks carried by the wind but she kept the candle lit and rested her head against her mother’s legs so that her mother would know the moon was still behind her.

“You are not the world!” The trees cried.

“But I have spoken truly about why I am here!” the witch screamed and her daughter could barely hear her.  It was a frustrated rather than fearful sound.  “If there is a dragon alive in Skald then, Why. Are. You. Here.”  She said the last four one at a time and everything suddenly stopped.  Around her the girl could hear stones and branches falling as if dropped.  Then everything was silent.  The Mysts began to retreat.

“Is it over?” the girl dared to ask.  Her mother turned cut and bruised from the Mysts' tantrum but she was pleased with herself.

“Not quite.  We seem to have lost Geo, so I’ll need you to lead us out of here.”  She said this kindly and the girl was grateful her mother wasn’t cross at her daughters display of fear.  She proudly showed her mother the still lit candle and her mother smiled, nodding and patted her back.  Then the girl turned and thinking of Geo held the candle higher with pride so that her mother could see it.  She didn’t know that while her mother patted her back she was transferring the symbol of the world from her belly to the girls tunic.  

The girl walked on trying to be brave.  When the Mysts began to thicken again she steeled herself to show her mother she could be brave.  Only she heard something.  Her mother’s voice from far behind her. It sounded odd and it took her a moment to put the words together.  “Second gift given.”  The girl turned to find her mother hadn’t moved from her spot.  “Mother!” she cried out in heartbreak as the Mysts swallowed her and the candle whole.

Lady of Skald

Lady looked across the room at Tarquin’s gift to the king.  She had changed from the Kingsday battle armor to a more formal outfit for the Feasting that followed.  Her Jerkin was night blue and cut down to her knees.  She wore it sleeveless, and its lower cut at the neck showing more skin than modest women dared, and proving her status as a free woman.  Her boots were the same battle ready ones she wore in the throne room, as was her blade but her hair was relaxed, the black metal thorns replaced with gold ones, just as sharp but also a teasing bit of color tangled in her dark hair.

The others gathered around Tarquin at a safe distance, since he was presenting the king with new property.  Lady who took a place beside the Demon in the throne room walked directly to Tarquin and examined this “woman” of his.  To her eyes it was a frightened boy in a light grey linen dress.  His white hair tangled about his head held bits of leaves, and the occasional crawling thing.  He was brown with dirt, but underneath that, newborn pink.  He stared fixedly at the floor and he rocked out of rhythm to the song he softly hummed.

Looking at him Lady suddenly thought of her younger brother, now years dead.  He had been eager, joyful, and at times gentle, and she had grieved that with all his blessings he had not been given enough strength in this world.  His memory proved far stronger than his sword hand as he was slain in his first duel.  There should have been nothing of her dashing confident, adoring brother who promised he’d win a protectorate for his sister.  Still the longer Lady looked at him the more her heart began to ache.  To end the ache she looked up at Tarquin.

Tarquin's formal dress showed off the wealth and power of the Wail Stone protectorate.   He wore a black leather jerkin made of mountain drake, naturally beveled in black diamond scales.  It was thin and light.  Highly polished silver ornamented over the sleeves and at the collar and hung a dozen rings deep under the bottom of the Jerkin. The peach tree, his family's crest was painted in bright earth tones across the jerkin's chest. Under it he wore a shirt of thick warm grey linen, puffed at the upper arms, and gathered near the wrists under more mountain drake leather, this time straps woven together into slick black shiny bracers.  

There was nothing unusual about his dark grey trousers except the belt that secured them was taken as a battle trophy from his earlier duel, the buckle was a gold dragon swooping down for the kill, it's talons gripping and locking the belt.  It was a bragging piece of jewelry made to be dueled over and Roid had lost it that morning over his false claim against Tarquin.  Steel snakeheads bit and locked the sides of Tarquin's boots, the left boot sheath to a thin dagger.   Tarquin's wounded arm was in a casual sling made from a long wide peach colored ribbon.



“Give him to me.” Lady demanded of Tarquin, and the Skald lord just looked at her and blinked as if he hadn’t heard right.  “Don’t play the fool, Tarquin, you think our king will honestly believe this is the great prize that the others challenged you to possess?”

“Give her to you?” Tarquin said to clarify.  

“As pretty as your boy is Tarquin, he is no she, and you risk the kings wrath to trade him a pretty slave boy when he expects an exotic woman.”  Lady’s tone was reasonable rather than argumentative.  “Give the boy to me.  It will save your life and I will take good care of him.”

“This is...was...my salvage, Lady.  and I’m sorry she doesn’t seem feminine enough for you, but assure she is no boy.  I found her wandering naked out of the wyldwood.” Tarquin didn’t hide his amusement very well although he wanted to trouble from Lady.  She had survived more challenged than some of the older lords of Skald.

Lady almost accused him of lying as she looked down at the boy, suffering under the gazes of more and more people who clustered into the feasting room to get a peek.  Tarquin was unsettled by Lady’s scrutiny.

“He can not think, or breathe in here.  There is too much, to many people in this room for him.” Lady said bending to one knee and reaching a hand to the boy.

“I agree, this room is making her upset, but I need to present her to the King.  I do not want to seem in defiance.”

“And that is why you will give him to me.” Lady decided, she pulled a leaf from his fine white hair and was rewarded with the boy noticing her.  His eyes the color of morning sky now drank her in but he did not smile, he stayed worried.  She nodded to the boy and stood back up to face Tarquin.  “Somethings are protecting even in defiance of the king, or why bother to call yourself a Lord of Skald”

“Well said.”  Drake could not help but grin at the surprise his sudden presence gave.  “Now, what are we in defiance over?”

Canus in the Myst

The Myst was not entered into lightly, expanding and contracting within the Wyldwood as if it was the breath of the world.  Many wandered in and never wandered out again, and nothing that entered left unchanged.  For that reason the Wizard Queen of Canus did not come alone.  She brought to candle bearers, one male and one female both lovely and unspoiled which even considering their youth was a rarity in Canus.  

The male led, carrying a tall wide yellow candle the symbol of Tarnasus the Sun God painted on the boys face and on the candle.  The girl carried three candles tied together wicks to be one, each a slender taper of a different color, white, red and blue, each taper had one of the three symbols of Breck the moon goddess upon it.  Boy and girl wore the same simple white linen tunic.  The witchqueen wore nothing as she walked between them, the symbol of the world painted on her belly.

The three of them traveled slowly into the Wyldwood, careful of their steps, moving toward a fog that got increasingly thicker.  When Tanassus light could no longer be seen by the Witch queen she stopped allowing the boy to wander on his own deeper into the Myst, the first gift was given.

The girl was instructed to remain as close as needed to watch the witchqueen’s back and now she was so close that the heat of the three as one candle could be felt.  The candle holder of Breck trembled as she both heard and felt the air around her speak.

“You have come uninvited.” the Myst said in a voice child like, to youthful to tell if it was male or female.

“The world needs no invitation.” the witchqueen said to the air, she was pleased to have gotten a result so quickly.

“You are not the world.” the myst child said from a different direction, annoyed.

“Then why did the sun lead me, and why does the moon watch me so closely.” the witchqueen countered.  The mysts were silent long enough for the witch queen to chuckle softly, surprising the candle girl.

“We do not accept your questions.” the myst child said directly in front of the Witchqueen. “Leave.”

“You do not like those questions, well how about this one,” The ageless witchqueen said reaching her arms forward in peace towards the voice. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” The Myst echoed in a chorus of children's voices from different directions.  A form that might have been the shadow of the witchqueen for its height and shape perfectly matched came forward far enough to be seen without being close enough to offer details.  “Why are you here?” the myst form asked in the witchqueen’s voice.

“The world is wounded, the world cries out to be healed.” the witchqueen said. “Her arms showed scars.

“You are not the world.” the myst form growled.

“You have said that before, but you have accepted my question, let me clarify it. There is a dragon in Skald.” the witchqueen said plainly. “so why are you, who have been called to protect this land from the ravage untamed destructive hungers of dragons, here.  I call upon what spirit still lingers in here that remembers the ravage of dragons to answer that question.  A dragon still lives in Skald.  If I am not the world despite being led by the sun and followed by the moon, are you truly the Mysts when you have left even one dragon alive to threaten these lands and this forest?”

The myst came alive with a storms energy. Thunder and lightning shook the ground and Breck’s candle went out, the winds roared, and gathered rocks and sticks into a whirlwind around the witchqueen and her candle bearer, the girl let out a gasp of fear but her queen stood keeping her arms up in peace ignoring the storm.

“You are not the world. You do not belong here.  You will leave now or will come to painfully and lengthily learn the difference between you and the world as the living heart of the deepest earth.” the mysts promised.

“World or not, I’ve nothing to fear from an oathbreaker.” the queen said lowering her hands.  The storms fury ceased.

“You are bold, arrogant and foolish.” the myst queen said walking now close enough for her features to be seen.  She was the Queens mirror left matching right. “We could easily kill you and forget you before your last breath left your body.”

“But even then you still couldn’t answer why you here here, could you?  If there is a dragon alive in Skald, why are you here?  I call on the Wyld one within you. I call on the ashes of Ember.  I call on the memory of dead wizard kings slain defending the wyldwood.  Answer them, children of the mysts, why are you here if there is a Dragon in Skald.  because that is why I am here.”

The mysts grew thicker and the girl had to rest her head against the queen to see her back.  No one addressed them but the sounds of the storms returned, lighting, and hail, the screaming of beasts of prey.  Then the mysts thinned again and standing where the shadow queen had been was a shadow Tarnasus, mirror to the boy who had been given to the mysts.

“We accept the question.  We will consider our answer,” the boy who was not the boy said then he evaporated back into the mysts.

“Then I shall continue my wandering.” the queen said pleasantly and she waved her fingers over the candles of breck re-lighting them.  “Now you shall be my guide, walk in front for me.” the queen said gently to the candle bearer who nodded solemnly. “Yes mother.” she said and began to lead away. The queen placed her one hand on her stomach and pointed at the back of the girls tunic.  The paint began to erase itself off her belly and repaint itself on the tunic.  The girl walked dutifully forward never realizing the queen was not following and the mysts followed the girl and thickened around her till she was soon gone from sight.  The second gift given.  The queen safetly made her way out of the Wyldwood

Skald cont.

The forgotten seed had found its way to the human skin bound cover of the gilded book of law perhaps having gathered moisture from the air from its trip away from the kings finger, the little seed seemed glued to the surface and no amount of leaning or bending the book would cause it to slip off.  The Blotched white demon was unwilling to shake or let go of the book, even turning it upside down seemed sacrilege, causing the demon to snarl and whine in fearful frustration.  He had backed up nearly tripping over his fine robes to the very limit of his leash swinging the book in desperation but the seed stuck fast.

The weary dragon king of Skald did not suppress the slow smile that surfaced as he watched the demon's antics.  The rest of the lords and the lady had hastily retreated leaving him alone with his demon.  Tempius' tail split in twain down its fork both appendages moving independently in quick, aggressive swishes of the air and even the gnarled wing began to unfurl in the demon's desperation.  He turned to wipe the top of the book against the leg of the throne and rigidly stopped screaming at the seed indeed as if the rich frightened sound of his more than human voice would convince the seed to move on its way.  The seed was unmoved.

Finally Tempius dropped to his knees as if in reverent prayer trembling as it held the precious book, it attempted the gentlest of breaths trying to stir the air to catch the seed and blow it off the book.

The king of skald slowly rose up the steps to his thrones dais, he walked over to the demon as Tempius whimpered in his failure.  The king feeling merciful licked his finger to stick it on the seed on the book but Tempius realizing its masters intent yanked the book away.

"Do not touch it! You can not must not touch it." Tempius cried out nearly hysterical.  His robes tore as blade like scales flipped on jagged edge of the demon's scales.  He jerked to book to itself with so much force it almost hit itself with the book.

"Tempius." Drake said gently and he reached out his large uncalloused hand to stroke the demons cheek in an attempt to calm it.  "I touch you all the time unnatural thing that you are, I think I can handle a seed."

"Talisman, traitor,spy!" Tempius shouted at the seed.  "It is worse than an unnatural thing. It is the un unnatural thing master, it is of the mists." and Tempius hissed the word mists.  Drake held his hand steady on the book and removed the seed back to his finger.

"Or perhaps its just an adventurous weed, have you considered that?" Drake asked not hiding the laughter in his voice.

"It reeks of the un unholy!"

"Talisman?" Drake inspected the seed again.  "Rather tiny don't you think?"

"Power, master.  It has come to spy, it served the Tarquin lord, came from the lords hair as he battled, worn on him, extra armor. It is un unnatural master, please vanquish it with fire."

"You fear the strangest things, Temp.  If this is a talisman it was rather weak.  Tarquin was challenged twice and no one was pulling punches."

"and yet he livesss." Tempius said as it hugged the now taint free book of law.  "mist born thing, cast its spell and you were all dear child where you should have shown the mercy of steel.  Everyone waited. They hunger for another display, they hunger for the destruction of their lessors and proof that they are each survivor of skald your favorite lord."

"I could still unshieth my sword of your so hungry for the mercy of steel?"

Tempius eyes widened and he bowed his head reverently.  Its body tensed and its tails fused back together coiling around its feet. Drake held a silence as if in in decision before laughing. "no, you have already down enough damage to your pretty robes, I need not add to it."

"You should heed my words and burn the thing master." Tempius advised gaining a small measure of his earlier control.

"From the mists you say.  Well your my talisman now, and I fear nothing natural or unnatural." Drake told the seed. Then he unlocked Tempius leash. "Return the book and redress yourself Tempius.  If the little seed disturbs you so much I can't wait to see what happens tonight when we meet the seed maker."

Skald part 2

"How unlikely." Drake thought staring at the seed.  It could have been a speck of dirt, dust, a hair cleaved and floating from one of the previous battles, strands of an ornamental feather, the air down in that hall was thick, and cold and ready carried the dead bits of the living was well as dried sweat, blood and skin, but this tiny thing, white filament treelike in shape but light and fragile enough to catch the slightest motion of the air and to carry it's precious cargo, a tiny brown skin containing the potential to find soil, make root, burrow into rock, explore a fault, drive itself into foundation, crumble all that was unnaturally made and reclaim this hall to the forest.  It was power.

It didn't belong here but here it had come reminding the dragon king of Skald that from tiny things great things were made and unmade.  Below him, his lords, his lady seemed unaware, unchanged from kingsday to kingsday.  Though they gathered in their armor, as normal, showing their strength in action or lack of action. Though they stood in usual places and barking and crooning, showing off or keeping still, the room had a strange taste that day.

Drake licked his lips still gazing at the little brown seedling resting on his finger, and with a slight roll of his shoulder the mantle and cloak to slipped down to the seat of the Dragon encrusted throne. The dais he was on towered half the height of the hall and when Drake stood his massive figure was hallowed by the soft blue lights cast from the glowing stones.  Leaping graceful to the floor he landed cat like between the young men. Most in the hall gasped in awe and excitement, as their statue-god-king sprung to life and stood among them.  Tempius pulled itself back away from its master with a hiss and Lady chuckled softly at the demon.

"Something is different." Drake said at first to the seedling and then he looked over at each of the two younger lords.  With a flick of his fingers the seedling floated away.  The challenger wore a helmet of black iron as much to hide his youth as to protect his head.  A sparse beard of some red and tan hairs coated his chin.  Tall and thin under his layers of leather and chain, an eagle clutching a serpent was pounded into the meat of the leather across his now puffed up chest.

 "This is not about respect or insult." Drake decided.

"But my king, he-" the challenger began and the rest of his words froze in his throat as the king turned his full attention on the young lord.  There was no malice on Drake's face, no look of anger or threat, he regarded his young lord more like an unusual insect that one might observe before crushing.

"Tell me I'm wrong." Drake said gently, his hand reached out and rested on the shoulder of the youth and he breathed in through his nose tasting the secrets in the air between the two men.  "You stink of Envy."  Chin upraised, battle ready and locked by the kings grip on his shoulder the young lord said nothing watching his kings expression carefully hoping to be given enough warning to defend himself.  Drake released his grip and gave what was for Drake, a gentle push that sent the young lord staggering back.  The the Skald forgot him, turning his eyes to the other lord.  The Young challenger was wise enough to continue to back away to the shelter of the onlooking lords, and though dismissed he'd be sure to regale all for a fortnight how the king touched him.

The challenged stood absolutely still as one who finds himself standing in a pit of vipers.  He kept his hands out and clear away from his blades, he was helm less and anxious sweat trickled from clomps  of dark sweat soaked hair.  There were fresh cuts in the leather over his left arm, and a missing patch at his side, where chain covered bruised flesh.  "My King." his said with a desperate reverence attempting to bow.

"You are abnormally unpopular today Tarquin." Drake said acknowledging the bow.  "To be challenged once on a kingsday brings a certain level of respectability to the winner, to be challenged twice..." Drake didn't finish his sentence.  He looked to his hand but the seed was gone.  Ice blue eyes cut through the air scanning this peculiar lord.  "To be so unliked is a dangerous thing in Skald.  These men and this woman are your brothers and sister, to be ready to come to your defense should the Canus Witch choose to make you her prey...yet today hasn't been about sharpening your skills but tearing you down Tarquin.  In front of me.  Endangering your protectorate."

"I am innocent of Roid's charges and I was innocent of Holster's My king, and my steel is ready to prove it." Tarquin said carefully.  Drake was a head taller and half a man wider than most of his lords and this close to Tarquin the younger lord seemed a child next to him.

"Innocent of the charges perhaps.  But Innocent Tarquin?"  Drake breathed in through his nose again, nostrals flared and condemned. "I think you have sinned Tarquin."

"My King!" Tarquin exclaimed horrified.  "I would not-"

"But you have, Tarquin, and they know it.  They know something I do not.  You bother my brood, they want to take you down a peg, because you have placed yourself above them somehow.  But how, Tarquin, how have you strayed from the path?"

"My king I do not know." Tarquin said in earnest, he looked around at the lords.  Tempius gazed pitieously at him the way he might a condemned man.  Lady shifted no longer bored, but anxious now, waiting for the blood to spill.

"You have aquired something Tarquin, haven't you?" Drake said looking up in the air as he began putting the pieces of the day together.  "Something worth defending, fighting for.  Twice in one day if need be, something distracting, something special."

"I.." Tarquin started to defend himself and stopped, shoulders rolled down in resignation. "I've a right to keep what I alone salvaged." The lord looked over at Tempius who tenderly clutched the book of law.

"Yes, yes, ofcourse." Tempius backed him up with an encouraging nod. "If you came across something in need of your protection, if you are strong enough to keep and hold it, the law of salvage is quite clear."

"But my dear lord, the brood around you is uncertain about your strength to hold this new property of yours." Drake opened his arms to the room.  His expression one of a father's pride over his children.

"But I have proved myself in battle today." Tarquin spoke to the other lords.  "And I am content to proove myself again to any one else who needs a lesson on the strength of the Tarquin axe."

"I am not that content.  I need that strength at Wail Stone.  I need a man I trust at the edge of the mists and Canus.  For this reason this salvage that is making you so unpopular, has now become my property." Drake told the man with care.  Tarquin's eyes flashed with anger.  "Unless you'd like to challenge me to prove my strength?"

There was a tight moment in the hall.  Many longed to see their king in a blur of motion unshieth his singing blade and paint the dragon tiles red.  Tarquin bowed in defeat much to their dissapointment.

"Forgive me my king.  My sin was not presenting her to you when I found her.  Accept this gift now."  Tarquin said while still bowed.

"Send for this precious thing and both my brood, and my mood shall be content young Tarquin." Drake said with a warm smile.  "I have had enough of kingsday.  unless there is anyone else whose challenging need is greater than your kings wish to retire, I suggest you exit the hall."

Skald

Drake was the smell of sweat and blood and steel. Coated in sharp black leather, layered points and edges overlapping, he had steel chain peeking through exposed areas where the need for flexibility was.  Thorns of steel warned that he was untouchable.  A mantle of black fur and feather draped over his left shoulder, the attached black fur cloak rolled down his back.  His left hand rested lazy over the hilt of the one blade he wore.  Still, seated he seemed always to be on the verge of sharp swift movement, and his movements could be so swift they would blur.  He wore no helm, no crown adorned his head, his hair yellowed with age, cut short, knew better than to stray, mustache and beard kept neatly trimmed.  No scars marred a face that age had not managed to tame, rich worn warm, but the King of Skald looked on with eye like blue ice, utterly bored.

No torches adorned the walls of this hall but stones set high in the walls cast lights of blue, orange or yellow at his bidding. Each stone as tall as a man, kissed a ceiling high enough that beast might fly through.  This wide winged beast was carved into stone, into the throne.  A creature of ages gone was pictured in colored tile on the walls and on the floor, devouring, burning, and mating. Dragon's etched themselves coiling around pillars, and sleeping around fingers, jewelry, tapestry, the kings goblet, flights of dragons silently watched and waited over every inch of the hall.

The Lords and Lady of Skald adorned themselves in black leathers and chain, not like uniforms, but personalized; black armor trying to be peacock feathers, to express as much as to protect.  Each lord of Skald knew upon entry into the hall the armor needed to be ready to defend its wearer from the other lords.  Older Skald lords stood in the back near the cold walls wise enough to find shadows and stillness to avoid attraction   But the young bucks, danced a circus before their king, with accusations, demands, challenges, grasping desperately like needy children for their father's attention. Attention that while Drake remained in his current brood they would not get. If Drake was immovably bored, his bound demon, Tempius was irresistibly excited.

Tempius was thin, alien looking, pale and blotched like soured milk, one wing folded rising gnarled over its head, it's twin long ago cleaved by the king the demon loyally served.  Tempius wore no armor, but was clothed in blood red velvet and night blue robes, and it held the book of law.  It wore a collar of gold that glinted against its slick pale skin, it was tethered like a dog to the throne.  Its face was boyish and handsome. Compassionate large brown eyes, expressed such empathy for each troubled young lord it sometimes seemed almost human, but its fingers were unnaturally long and ended in claws and the robes could not hide the forked tail that moved serpent like on the floor.

After Tempius listened, it spoke the word of Law.  Its voice was always passive, harmless and yet could clearly cut through the din of outrage and challenge roared by young lords, without much effort. The sound of it was rich and almost sweet, his demonic tones lingered in the mind if not the ears of its listeners. Tempius was always heard.  King Drake kept the leash tight on Tempius and the demon was only to speak on matters of Law.  And so it did, as the judge deliberating over each challenge.  It ruled each case as fairly as the law allowed and never forgot to remind its listeners that its word could be overturned by the king or settled by a duel.

While no one but Drake himself dared face the pale one winged demon,  Skald's Lady was the only one brave enough to stand near it.  She was not Drake's Lady, that is she was no queen or even princess of Skald but like the other Lords of Skald had made her way to the hall to prove herself worthy, her blade was quick her wits quicker and it had been more than a year since a young lord risked his life and fortune against her.  She came with no name and wore non but her title. Lady was enough.

Lady's Armor and chain were built utilitarian for speed and motion.  Her black hair bound in a chain braid down her back.  A ribbon of jagged metal thorns were weaved into the braid to cut an uninvited hand that might be tempted to grab it in combat, she had been rumored to behead a foe with that braid. The soft brown skin of Lady's neck was open and exposed, to show she wore no collar.  She was no one's slave.  Her eyes were so dark they seemed completely black at times, and often mirrored the chronic bored expression of the king.

It was the most unlikely thing, a seedling, held by fragile strands of white catching air currents, falling through the air in lazy motions and then rising again twisted in the air by someones motion and carried through the hall breaking into the gaze of the king.  Drake blinked and watched with eyes sharper than his lords enough to pick out the seedling as it timidly floated over the heads of his lords.  The young buck frothing in his outrage against another whose armor was still scarred by a previous duel from earler in the day caused the seedling to sway and swirl.  Drake slowly reached his hand out and the young challenger crowed thinking he was the reason but Drake kept his eyes on the seedling and timidly the seedling approached.

Tempius had noticed it by now and glared at the little seedling as if it were made of molten hellfire ash.  When the seedling moved to the king Tempius' tail stiffened and the forked end drummed anxiously against the floor.  The little brown seedling ignored Tempius, ignored everyone but continued its dance until it rested on the kings finger.

The Hall grew silent as Drake transfixed on the seedling stood.