Vye Lavye's Story

Birdsong filled the tree's canopies, the light of the sun dancing with the shadows of the forest. Vye had been awake since daybreak, replenishing herbs and planting new ones. Feverfew for head pains, butterbur for strong muscles, and a few others. As the sun began to rise over the canopy, she made her way to the village craftsman for more leather to wrap around dried herbs for poultices. From the west, the hunters came rallying in from their hunt, speaking boisterously about whomever had made the kill shot. Spotting her, a few hunters from the back of the group broke off and intercepted her path.

"Envinyatar, may you heal this?" One of the men asked, pushing his arm in front of her. She looked at his wound before squinting up at his face. With a shake of her head she placed a leaf of kingsfoil in her mouth and chewed, never taking her eyes off of him. "Winima, all of you. This wound is at an odd angle, and no others are injured but you. How did this happen?" The injured fidgeted, dropping his gaze to the ground and pursing his lips. "He mishandled his bow and cut himself. He's the newest among us." One of the men teased, nudging the other in the arm. Vye rolled her eyes and reached up for her mouth. "Winima," she repeated, grabbing his wrist. She spat out the chewed up leaves and pushed it into the wounds, holding it there as the man-boy jolted and yelped. "Do not touch," she warned, staring into his eyes. "Wash at the end of the day, and do no touch." She released his hold and left the men to tease the other.

The craftsman stood at the front of his homestead, pulling a knife across the new hide the hunters brought in, chunks of fat dropping to the dirt with a soft, sickening noise. "'Quel amrun (good morning)," she spoke softly, alerting him to her presence. "Ah, Vye!" he smiled and stood up, wiping sweat from his brow. "More leather, I'm sure. Let me grab them for you, I'll be a moment." he pulled off his gloves, placed them on the ground with his tanning knife, and disappeared into his house.

A slight wind blew through the tribelands, rustling Vye hair and sending tendrils across her face. The wind carried the sound of hoof stamps, a sound that dropped a weight into her stomach. It could only be because of the mirror, she thought. Turning, she saw a large group of fully clad knights making their way to the sacred stone circle, their horses crushing the grass beneath them and tossing up dirt. Ever graceful, the knights of Valexia.

With trails that ended with three times as many questions than they answered and a dozen or more stale leads, Cathay was becoming restless. Romping across the realms of the Ata'hua was fun at the beginning. A lot of battle to be done, feuds to settle, and a wealth of old mystical sites of power to explore in the meantime. With the threat of war looming over the horizon however, travelling was becoming significantly less safe.

Lesser leaders of the Ata'hua were becoming increasingly hostile towards outsiders, and the Valexian dukes on the borders threatened to conscript any non-Ata'huan in their raids. Danger or no, it was about time to move on. Brave both sides for a shot in the dark. Another shot in the dark, Cathay noted. It was the second of half a dozen leads picked up since the news of the missing Mirror reached the village. The first turned out to be nothing but speculation: some petty Ata'huan warrior clan stealing the Mirror of Akyel? Cathay should have known that rumor was just as stupid as it sounded. Harlemont was about as prejudiced as the Valexians, only a little more bureaucratic about their biases. Less stoning and more refusing entry to establishments.

Cathay spat. The sudden gesture drew a glare from one of the Ata'huan nearby. It came to mind that the summit may be of some spiritual import to the Ata'huans, and Cathay quickly muttered an apology.

The remaining members of the Ata'huan emissaries remained stoic and silent as the rumble of the Valexian mounts drew nearer. Ten trappers, four shamans, a few lesser clan leaders, and a mere twenty true warriors of this particular clan were in attendance; the Ata'huans did not believe in the overt shows of force favored by Valexians. It was a reason that Cathay favored them over the other humans. However, Cathay was a little more sensible. With permission from the clan leaders, Cathay and seven other mercenaries (under Cathay's pay, of course) were allowed to join the convening. Even the clan elders were not above bringing muscle just in case.

Peering from behind one of the larger warriors, Cathay mumbled a curse. They had horses. Every one of the Valexian envoys was mounted. Even with near-equal numbers, the Ata'huan people would be at a marked disadvantage. Hopefully the magic-users would even the playing field--

Cathay shook their head. It would not come to that. This was supposedly a mission of good will, after all. If not, Cathay thought grimly, the fey girl, Vye, could patch up the wounded Ata'hua. There wouldn't be any part large enough of a Valexian left to heal should it come to blows.

Vye watched closely the encounter between the old chieftain and the strangely dressed knight. Vye could be considered old to humans, but in her race among these tribe lands she was young, too young to have seen the painful truth of slavery and war that her people had faced. A grimace formed on her face, but deep within her there was wonderment of these strange people. She had seen them before, not as strongly dressed as they were now, but have never interacted with one. She had heard plenty, and stories of pain and anger filled her head - but were they all savage like the ones in the stories?

The craftsman returned with a bundle of leather, his demeanor darker then when he had left. "Pardons, Vye, I was watching this interaction from my inside window." He pushed the leather in her direction, and she took it while she searched his face. The craftsman had never liked the knights of Valexia, but he never shared as to why. There was gossip and stories of possibilities, but she refused to listen to nonsense.

With a sigh, Vye thanked him for the leather and placed her coin on the table. She watched him work for a little longer before turning around and walking back in the direction of her hut.

'Clearly only savages could manage to call a place like this home.'

Franz grumbled to himself as he swatted his way through a cloud of gnats. His heavy, armored boots stumbled awkwardly over the uneven, muddy terrain. Even his sense of smell was offended by a peculiar scent of wet bark and moss. He missed the sights, sounds, and smells of Valexia. Just thinking about his empty bed made the young man's joints ache with longing.

'Get it together. Just do what you came to do and get out. Everyone's counting on you.'

Tired, hazel eyes scanned his surroundings. A few huts were scattered about the clearing. Simple structures made of straw, wood, and foliage. It was like a scene from a fantasy novel. Of course Franz knew about Ata'hua. How the people lived in tune with nature. But to actually see them choose to live this way was astounding. The world truly was a vast expanse. It made him feel small and insignificant, which was undeniably irksome.

'Hm? What's this?'

Franz caught sight of someone walking back toward one of the huts. It was a woman. Petite but lithe, her delicate-looking body was wrapped in cloth and vines. Wisps of blonde hair fell about her face. It reminded Franz of the cobwebs in his father's study. The girl walked softly, her bare feet seemingly gliding over the dirt and grass. The allure was unmistakable. Even here, amidst such savagery, there was at least a small piece of beauty to behold.

He was about to call to her, to ask if she knew where he could find a source of clear water when another voice cut his off. It was impossibly deep and rough.

"Ragoth of the Tribe of Thunder. A humble smith seeking shelter and conversation."

Franz turned around and immediately felt a lump rise in his throat.

Before him stood a creature unlike any he had ever seen. It was tall, much taller than any man, and covered in dry, stone-colored scales. Its hulking frame was set with bulky musculature and behind it, a tail that looked to be as big around as Franz's chest.

Instinctively, the knight took a step back, his senses on high alert as his mind raced to define exactly what this being was.

'Ragoth. Tribe of Thunder. Scales. Tail. Lizard. Could it be...?'

The creature did not appear hostile. In fact, its words were formal, polite even. It was startling human-like. Regaining his composure as smoothly as he could, Franz spoke, keeping his voice as firm as possible...

"Are you...of the Zokah?"

He had heard talk of them before. They were supposedly a race of dragon-like beings who lived mainly in secrecy somewhere in Ata'huan territory. He had known a senior officer who had experience with the tribe, having encountered one before during his travels. Other similar accounts existed almost as common knowledge. Still, as with everything else in this forsaken grassland, seeing was a fast and forceful track to believing.

The creature had the speech and mannerisms of a human. And Franz could recall no such account of one of the Zokah ever being dangerous or unpredictable. As such, it was imperative that he treat this being with as much respect as any other member of the Ata'hua Tribelands. With his pulse steadily returning to a normal pace, he spoke.

"Ah, forgive my poor introduction. I was merely taken aback by your presence. Truly, it is a rare sight to behold one of your...tribe."

'All right, that'll do. You're encroaching on boot-licking here. Erm...talon licking...? How the hell -'

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Franz continued.

I am Franz Van Burace, of the Knights of Valexia. You speak as if you do not hail from these parts. May I inquire as to what you are doing here?"