Private Tales In the Wake of the Raging Flame

[Caliane Ruinë]

Wake up!

Caliane murmured something quietly in her sleep and rolled over, one large muddied white wing shifting to allow her to curl up on her remaining wing. With them spread out underneath her it looked as though she rested on a bed of feathers. In her dreams she thought she heard him but she dismissed it. Or rather, her body dismissed it for her in the protective manner of a body on the brink of collapse if it didn't rest. That was why her loves only response was a sleepy murmur about butterflies and summer. A dream far removed from the realities they were about to find themselves in.

* * *
​

"Quiet!" Hissed Damothee over her shoulder to the blundering fool who had broken a branch beneath their hoof. Melysius shifted the bow in his hand and began to draw back. The glow of the fire was growing brighter and he could see one shadow thrown against the bark of the tree. The elf, he almost snarled and his arm pulled the bowstring taunt, ready to let loose the first arrow. He just needed the right shot....

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Were this a simpler moment where there was not but the two of them, the fire, and the starlight, he'd have been content to sit quietly until his tension eased. Even now with the imminence he felt, the sight of her so restfully sleeping did dull him some, lessening his instinct. His body cried to him, his mind too, and the thought of joining her there became heavy on his brow.

But then the distant snap ran a chill as cool as the coldest ice down his spine. Perhaps another - even an elf - would have missed it. Be he, his ears were sharp, arguably the most acute of his senses.

He'd heard it just as his foot fell into place.

A dull thump.

Hissing.

"Caliane!" he shouted, turning with speed he should not have been able to afford in his condition.

Blade unveiled, he cut through the air with a sound rivaling the oncoming arrow's, and tore it from the air with a crack! as his sword met with it broadside. Fatigue quickly gripped him and he was unable to posture himself properly before a second arrow sailed toward him and struck him in the shoulder. He rolled away and leaned against the cover of a tree.

---

Melysius snorted. That elf was fast being able to protect against an arrow like that... for all the good it did him. Though he was frustrated his own volley was deflected, he was glad that Damothee's attack made purchase. With it wounded it would be much easier prey now.

But he heard it call something out that sounded like a name, so even as they began their approach Melysius commanded them to be cautious.

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Little bird, I did not do all this for you to die so soon...

Wake.

Caliane!

WAKE!

Arrows whistled through the air but the Avariel rolled onto her back and loosed one white and black fletched arrow herself. The iron head pierced the cruder metal used by the centaurs and sent the two halves of the arrow fluttering, useless, to the ground.

The camp as it was was in chaos. With cries the centaurs charged forward, arrows flying towards both her and Eren, though never with the intent to kill she noted. She let another arrow fly from her bow which struck one of their would-be-captors in the middle of his chest and scrambled to her feet.

"Get back!" she warned, her hand reaching towards the flame which leapt up in a ferocious roar towards the s sky. "Or we'll...." whatever small reserve of energy had enabled her to wake, to fight enough to save her life, was ripped out from underneath her feet. The fire guttered and Caliane stumbled to one knee.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

He'd been lucky. The bolt that struck him managed to glance off what scorched leather remained.

He guarded himself behind the tree as more arrows were loosed, and while he heard the galloping of hooves he heard not the jangling of spurs or the cracking of whips... or the huffing of horses. Dread sank into his heart as he realized what was upon them, and he remembered the texts in the libraries of Sharyrdaes.

A Centaur was a formidable adversary for an Aeraesarian on the best of terms - one on one. Aeraesarian's could match their speed but only for brief instances, and with magical augmentation. Their Centaur's scent was better. The elves likely won on the hearing but as far as sight went... it was hard to say. Regardless, Erën was in feeble shape, and there were many of them from what he could hear and tell. And though he imagined compared to an Aeraesarian the scales were likely tipped far higher for their winged kindred, Caliane was still exhausting from fighting... quite literally a fallen god. This he knew, somehow...

What is that!?
​

He'd turned his gaze around to try and get a look at their attackers, but heard their exclamation. His eyes shot around and, realizing that Caliane's appearance surprised them, he began to realize their circumstance and what had likely drawn them here. They likely identified him but...

Urgency surged through him. Memories of all Caliane had told and shown him.

Desperation.

Their enemies drew near, and he knew now their was little time.

If you've ever heard me... hear me now!

Sword in hand, Erën turned out to face them. They were upon him, and he lashed out with all fury, calling on everything he had within him to offer.

Yet the strength of Nykios did not fill his veins. The Pillars of Tychan did not spring up to guard him no did the heavens roil and rain lightning down upon his enemies.

Instead he was met with a pair of hooves against the chest, and sent into a dusty sprawl near the fire with not an ounce of wind left in his lungs, and quite likely one or two things broken.

Following their pitiful display, Melysius stepped into their quiet little camp, looking around and sniffing with a sour look on his face. Then, he gaze down upon the pair of them as Erën managed to lean up against his elbow, and stare back with a look of unwavering determination despite the failure in his body.

Melysius offered him only a snort, and then started to turn away, saying, "take them."

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

The two centaurs who Melysius motioned to walk towards the fallen avariel glanced at one another. The flame had not been some trick of the light and neither of the young colts had seen such a creature before; caution was never a bad thing to have. So they approached warily but with some haste in case they missed their opportunity. Caliane's head swam and with it so did her other senses not only with exhaustion but now panic. Memories flickered through her of the last time someone had clamped her in chains, the years she had spent being cruelly experimented on for another persons pleasure. With no magic, no fight, left to save herself she scurried backwards on her hands in an effort to put off the inevitable.

"Get, off!" Cali snarled as one of the centaurs grabbed her ankle and the other lunged for her wrists. The one holding her foot swore as her other came up to kick him squarely in the nose making him stumble back, leaving his companion to hurl her to her feet.

"Quit squir-- fuck," he wheezed as a elbow landed him right between the ribs. Caliane might have pushed her chances with another swing had a hand not fisted in her hair and yanked her head backwards.

"Can you not even handle someone who is unable to stand?" sneered Damothee. The young centaurs looked appropriately abashed and rushed to bind not only her hands but her ankles too whilst their lieutenant held her in place. Whilst they worked she leaned down to whisper in Caliane's ear. "The more you struggle, the more of your friends lovely features I shall cut from him."

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Eren was hauled up to his feet, which after his momentary altercation with Melysius, was a relatively simple task. He was beaten, at this point much more so than the winged one who still had at least a little fight left in her. In an attempt at reinforcing Damothee's words and ending the winged creature's persistence, one was quick to grab Erën by his hair like Caliane had been and draw a knife out and up to one of his ears.

"Pretty soon he'll have a hard time hearing you," she warned, and then tipped her chin up at them as an unspoken order to move along.

Erën was bound as Caliane was, and before long they prepared to be hauled off to the hunters' camp.

"Keep them separate," Melysius hissed, and started to lead them on their way.

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Silent tears streamed down Caliane's cheeks but she held Erën's gaze whilst the two young centaurs finished their job, attempting to find some strength in their blue depths whilst hoping he could read how sorry she was she had not been able to help more. So much emotion in those few short seconds before she was shoved forward.

It was not long before even their captors were forced to admit their quarry was in too bad a state to walk on their own. Caliane's wings dragged and combined with the hobble tie between her ankles the centaur in charge of pushing her along soon got so frustrated he ended up picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder. The herd otherwise made good time across the plains, though they stopped twice more before rosy dawn touched the great grasslands. Once, they fell upon a slumbering caravan and slaughtered the young family it belonged to, taking only the rich silks they had been on their way to sell. The second was when they met with another clan of Centaurs and they stopped to share a customary drink. Morning bathed the land in golden light by the time they eventually arrived back to what Caliane assumed was their camp.

It was a maze of large tents made of animal skins and linens to keep the heat out in the peak midday sun but in during the colder nights. The pathways despite being wide were chaotic with laundry lines strung up across the tents and cook pots laying haphazardly round random bends. Children ran out to meet the party cheering and followed them all the way back, speaking in a language Caliane had never heard before.

"Take them to the Medicine Woman," Melysius commanded. "They'll fetch more if they are not on the brink of death."

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën didn't need telepathy to read his lover's eyes. He knew her far too well. She blamed herself for this, all of this, thinking for some reason it was as if all their toils were caused by her. But he had barely the time to even share with her the reassurance in his eyes before she was moved away from him, and his snarl was displayed quite plainly for their captors to see. They ignored him.

He despised them. Their falling upon the caravan on sleeping travelers fueled a rage in him that he was all too familiar with funneling through his sword upon the many monsters that roamed this world. These creatures, though they spoke and thought and planned and laughed... they were monsters. And he would slay them. This was a mantle he felt inspired in his heart to take up, and having witnessed the revelry of their own barbarity, this was cemented. And as they ferried him along, he watched them, he listened and all the while, he learned. They observed that he was in a poor condition, and this in itself was almost a blessing. There was no way for them to gauge him at his best. He was certain that they would likely do their best to ensure this... but he was not one so easily jailed.

Time would tell.

Finally upon the tents these monsters likely called home, his eyes tracked about those that came near. Children, no less, all chattering in some unknown tongue. There was a hesitancy in his vengeful spirit when he saw them, but one glance at Caliane's bindings was enough to remind him of the simple fact that was this: nothing would stop him from taking her from here.

"They'll fetch more if they are not on the brink of death."
​

As he suspected.

Even there within the Medicine Woman's abode they were kept apart, unable to exchange quieted words. He wondered then if their hearing was not as keen as even say a humans? That was difficult to say.

"What manner of creature are you," asked one of the centaurs, a recent addition to their company of guards. He was a larger beast, likely one who remained nearer to the greater herd of them. He asked his question as he approached Caliane while she and Erën waited.

"Have you any brain at all," Erën spoke up in an attempt to redirect his attention, "she is clearly an elf with wings, have you ever heard of magic?"

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Despite being deposited on the ground of the healers tent like a sack of potatoes, Caliane was glad to finally not be moving. The constant jostling had made her as nauseous as when she had been forced to cross the seas on a ship that time from Cortosi. She was relieved too, to see Erën had survived the journey and ended up here with her. Even if they were the tents width apart the sight of him was as much comfort as the sight of home after months of travel.

It seemed such comfort would be short lived for the healer decended on her first. Her mane was a silvery grey and her skin wrinkled but age did not seem to weary her in any other way. She was quick to first check her for mortal wounds whilst their new guard asked his question. Caliane couldn't see him nor Erën though she could hear them both. What she could see was the healers eye roll which gave her a tired sense of amusement.

"They are bound and half dead, Craairk. So unless you are a healer get out of my tent!"

Craairk puffed out his chest.

"Melysius said to--"

"OUT!"

The guard almost fell over his own hooves as he and the other scrambled out, the tent flaps closing behind them with a soft flutter. The healer grunted then turned back to Caliane.

"He's worse off, wise woman. Please see to him first," she said before the healer could speak. The older woman looked taken aback but made another grunting noise before making her way to Erën.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën watched the guards crash and clamour their way out. There was no small relief in him that they'd been sent away, as he was certain they'd have caused them nothing but additional grief. At least now, whether or not he could have drawn their attention, they were gone. Then his eyes rose to the female healer as she approached, and he looked up at her with disdain.

Unable to resist, she hoisted him up to an upright position and began to examine him.

"How very fitting of your barbarity," he said as she started, "why bother to mend me, shouldn't beasts such as yourself feed?"

"Don't be silly," the healer replied, "there are tribes that will pay a great price for game... I'm sure you will make for a good hunt if nothing else."

They spoke the common tongue, but that changed nothing. Erën snarled. He'd heard of such practices, of turning captors loose only to take up the sport of hunting and slaying them after instilling in them some meager sense of hope that they could escape. Eren would not play such a game - they'd be unwise to play such with him anyway. Sword or no, armour or no, if he was given enough rest these monsters would pay.

"Your friend on the other hand... those wings would make great decor in my tent..."

Erën's teeth ground together, and he fruitlessly moved to lunge at her, but he was bound in place. He was blind to it, but it was clear she was provoking him and likely not serious.

Melysius was far more inclined to take for himself a trophy.

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Their conversation was loud enough that Caliane could hear it but she squeezed her eyes shut and tried instead to ignore it. It had taken her a long time the last time she had worn chains to know that it was wise to ignore anything and everything ones captors said. Their motives were never pure, even if they appeared different to the rest. So she put out of her mind thoughts of having her wings put on the wall and the games the centauress had mentioned. Instead she focused on the haphazard map of the camp she had attempted to create in her mind.

The healer cackled at his futile attempts as she poked and prodded at the two arrow wounds. The one in his shoulder seemed to concern her fast less for she slapped a slave on it and bandaged it up. The deep wound in his thigh however caused her to tut and mutter in her native tongue as she went about her tent to fetch more things. She came back with a potion which she forced down his throat.

"What did this?" she jabbed at his thigh.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

"What did this?" she jabbed at his thigh.​

He winced, her prodding just a little too close to that tender wound. His eyes cast down upon it, and his own grimace remained as he dwelt for a moment on the horrors that they had endured. He weighed just how much it would matter what he shared, if anything.

After a moment he said only, "monsters." Not unlike you, he wanted to add, but such was hardly true. These centaurs were beasts far from the abominations that caused wounds such as these. There was simply no comparison. At least the centaurs spoke, the mindless minions of Arkhivom only spat and roared.

He drew in a breath as the healer huffed at his cryptic response, but she continued her work regardless, making very little effort to consider Erën's comfort. Still, he could not deny he was pleased at least that this healer was dealing with any possible infection. It would only make him all the more deadly when he healed.

---

While the healer tended to their quarry, Melysius and the other hunters departed for the large fire set at the center of their camp. Around it, many of the hunters gathered to celebrate and discuss their new prizes, and much talk lingered around the winged one. None had ever seen an Avariel, nor even heard of one save for perhaps some stories of angels or the like. But to some, it was almost like they'd come upon some mythical creature from fairytales. Some even wanted to speak to her and ask for gifts.

Melysius snorted at some of the immaturity he overheard, but there were many young hunters among them yet. And, while he himself could say he too was interested in the winged one, his interest was far from some fantasy.

He imagined she's still catch a good profit even if he did snatch her wings for trophies.

"Have you ever heard of such a creature Damothee?" he asked, taking a sip from his flask.

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Damothee tore a chunk of meat from the thigh bone she was holding and gave a groan of satisfaction. It was a hungry business being out all night hunting, and whilst she would not admit it the attack on their recent acquisitions had been a far more perilous thing than she had anticipated. They had lost three good centaurs and she had spent their time since returning telling their families; it was never a job she enjoyed. Once again she would need to make the case to Melysius that it was best to hire only Orphans, or if they did have families, to kill them and spare her the trouble of dealing with pathetic tears.

"The only things that have wings are demons," she hissed making the others gossiping around the fire fall silent. "I heard of a thing with wings that destroyed the whole city of Bhatharik, it was able to conjure the fires of hell itself," one or two younger recruits crossed themselves. "We should kill it, even dead it will be worth more than the elf and less hassle to us."

* * *
​

Back in the healers tent the Medicine Woman cleaned Erën's wound and then smothered it in some foul smelling paste that made Caliane gage from across the tent. Then she wrapped it and did the same with the wound in his shoulder. Content with her work she turned back to the avariel with an irritated look; she did not like not knowing how to fix things. Perhaps it was best to send her to the Eagle-tamers. They knew how to set wings.

But first.

"Drink this," she muttered, gripping a hold of Caliane's chin and forcing her mouth to open despite her struggles. Down she poured a tea that made her cough and splutter. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes and in the end she was forced to either drown or swallow the slightly bitter water. Once it was all gone she was patted like some good dog. "We no want fire accidents, hm?" she seemingly laughed at her own joke.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën ground his teeth together, and with every ounce of his strength and his pride he remained silent and still. He offered their captor no satisfaction. Broken though this sword may be, forged of finer steel it remained. The strength in his blood and yea in his very bones still coursed. It was in moments like even these where he remained his most focused with the purpose - the righteousness sent to undo the malevolence - this was what he was. And here was where he was brought.

Be it the Order's will or not, this was his mantle to uphold - now as it had always been.

And yes, even this suffering was his to bear.

But it was not hers.

Watching the healer grab hold of Caliane as she did was just another of the many evidences he needed to justify what needed to be done. He knew all too well that he was biased to witness Caliane's suffering, but he was not wrong. His vengeance would only be that much sweeter.

"Monsters," he repeated softly, his head hanging low, "just as you are monsters."

And I, will be your Slayer.

---

"There are no such things as demons, Damothee," Melysius retorted. He'd heard those rumours, but he'd also heard that the entire city had been ruined with all sorts of volcanic activity. He'd also heard a giant monster attacked the city, and lightning fell from the sky and attacked the monster and augh!

It was more likely the orcs had brought it upon themselves in some pitiful attempt at pretending to be dwarves. Elbion floating into the sky was something he could believe, however, and he'd heard of that too.

"I'm not sure I want it dead just yet... but I do like its wings, they would make a great prize. Then we sell it as an elf."

---

Caliane Ruinë | Lazule ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

The taste was all too familiar and the only thing that stopped her from heaving it up right there and then was the knowledge the woman would only force it back down her throat again. The wormroot was a potion that dampened most magic users ability to access the power that resided in them by dampening the essence. Caliane had never been able to puzzle out exactly how it had worked, but it had been her last captors chosen potion of choice too.

The woman went bustling out of the tent muttering about eagle tamers.

"Are you... okay? Your thigh?" she croaked. The Spirits only knew when they would get a chance to talk again.

* * *​

Damothee did not like being scoffed at and her ears pinned back.

"I still say we kill it, sell the body," she grunted. Something that odd would no doubt be fought over for its bones and skin to be used in the odd concoctions some of the roaming tribes in the Steppes preferred. There was something about the creature she did not like, something she did not trust...

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Melysius crossed his arms. Damothee seemed damned adamant about simply disposing of the winged thing, something which he almost found odd. Killing was simply a part of their way, as was hunting and selling, but all of that had always just been that, their way. This, however, seemed to be rooted in far more than simply that, and he found himself curious as to what she saw in this thing that he did not.

He'd have to sort that out later.

Perhaps she could elaborate with a little, encouragement.

---

Erën watched the healer go, and was just as quick to turn his eyes to Caliane as she was to ask of him, to which he replied, "I'll be fine," his voice only as soft as it ever was for her.

They'd been careless. Caliane had suffered the misfortune of having her magics quelled by an all too familiar concoction, one which Erën was also familiar with. The smell alone was enough to alert him, and yet the elixir never found purchase on his lip - he'd shown no displays, made to attempt, and so it would seem that they did not suspect... Even still, he was not exactly certain such an elixir would hinder him as it did others. From what he knew, most beings contained their magic within their own life essence, within their own blood. While he and his kind did as well, there were also things his body were bonded with that made him and his kind, in many ways, somewhat... different.

Nevertheless, they hadn't even tried it with him, and so now, it was only a matter of time. But he was still weak, and his wounds demanded much more of his recovery than his magic stores did. They would both recover in tandem, the latter would be greatly slowed.

"I will get you out of here...

...we will get out of here."

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Despite her exhaustion and fear, Caliane couldn't help but smile at her lovers words. He looked to be in a far worse state than her and yet he continued to put her at the forefront of his mind. She had not told him much of her time with the alchemists as their prisoner, but enough that he was no doubt concerned this encounter was bringing up all those painful memories. But with him here it did not feel the same, certainly not nearly as lonely or as hopeless as it had before.

"I know, hbeeti," she murmured and leaned her head back against the sideboard she was propped up against. "We just need... rest. You need to heal," it would do them no good if they some how did manage to escape and were then lost in the Steppes with no way to survive. She needed her wings. That was almost a worse pain than the thought of losing the Soul Fire. Her wings... to be without them... She tried an experimental movement and grimaced.

"If I can't fly, I'll be a dead weight to you."

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

He hummed as he too settled himself in, leaning his back against one of the tent's props. He wasn't exactly sure what to say to her, but his eyes often spoke more than his lips ever did. She was intent on diminishing herself, and he was intent on the obvious. She was stubborn, but he was equally so, even determined to be more so. He'd see her safely away from this place even if she herself tried to stop him.

But over the course of their experiences with their captors, another, likewise equally compelling goal had taken a firm hold of him. These beasts had proven themselves the check more than enough boxes to label them as genuine monsters in his eye. He disregarded any sense of reason regarding this after a point, removing any comparison between similar decisions formed against his very beloved herself in the past. Almost fatal decisions.

There would be one stark contrast by those decisions made by others against her, and his formed against their captors.

He would follow through with his, in totality, as recompense.

"Such could never be the case, my dearest. Not even the Shorai's light could guide me as you have," he offered a soft smile, "one cannot be weighed down by that which they yearn for."

---

Caliane Ruinë | Lazule ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Caliane wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his cheek, hold his hand, feel his lips brush against hers. The physical ache in her chest was not something her mother had ever prepared her for when finding a Soulmate. In the absence of being able to touch him all she could do was return his smile with one of her own and take his words and make them into armour to strengthen her. Yes, she couldn't be a dead weight. She had to be strong to get him out of here.

"Erën I-"

Whatever Caliane had intended to say was abruptly stopped when the tent flaps opened. The healing woman returned and with her was a larger centaur missing an eye. Talon marks marred the right side of his face from the crown right down to his collarbone; whatever bird had attacked him had taken its pound of flesh. He stopped when he saw her, his nostrils flaring.

"What is this," he said in the guttural tongue to the healing woman who shrugged. "Such wings..." he took a step forward and Caliane cringed back making the centaur pause thoughtfully.

"She belongs in the Averie until she is sold. Her wings will need exercising to heal."

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën's passive and peaceful smile vanished at the sight of the returning monsters. The vile one returned with yet a viler one, one without an eye and with scars on its dreadful face. Its interest was solely in Caliane, yet again. Though normally he'd be agitated by the increased attention their captors afforded to her, in this instance it was exactly what they needed. Unbeknownst to the vile healer, she'd only made her time shorter in tending to his wounds. As each moment passed, he grew stronger yet again, but still it was not yet enough.

She'd be taken.

"What is wrong with you," he spat out, trying only to delay them if he could, "you have to right to hold us like this."

Monsters were hardly to be reasoned with, but if they were simple enough maybe they would turn their attention away from Caliane for a moment. It wasn't much, but he could only imagine what she may have been going through in these moments. They were awfully interested in her, and she was no doubt anxious of this.

He certainly was.

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Caliane tried not to let the memories come flooding in of a cramped cell and rough hands reaching for her to take her to the lab. She wasn't there, this wasn't that situation, and she would never ever be put in a cage again. The desperate need to be in the sky suddenly was a clawing almost animalistic thing in the pit of her stomach which she tried to soothe. That was the route to madness and she needed her mind clear so she could plan their escape.

Erën's gambit seemed to pay off and buy Caliane those precious moment to stop her panic as both centaurs turned their sights to him.

"Be quiet," the scarred centaur commanded with a snarl and aimed a kick towards the elf's ribs. "Throw him with the other Syerf's, he can work until he goes to sale," the wise woman grunted in agreement.

"Craairk!" she called and the centaur from earlier hesitantly opened the tent flap. "He is ready, you take him," she waved dismissively.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën offered only a vengeful snarl and a harsh grunt when the one-eyed one kicked him. And there was no denying it - a kick from a beast like that was no subtle thing, and Erën was left without his breath after the ordeal. Still, he'd managed to afford Caliane at least a little more time for whatever that would be worth, but in moments the one called Craairk was upon him, and with little effort hoisted him up and hauled him out of the tent to be taken elsewhere.

Erën's eyes managed to meet with Caliane's one last time before they were parted, and there would be no fear found in his. But after what seemed like only a second he was gone, pulled out from the healers tent to be taken and likely forced into labour.

That would do nicely for the time being...

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

I'll find you.

Caliane didn't know if Erën got the chance to see her mouthed words before he was dragged from the tent by their brutish jailer, but the words were as much a promise to herself as they were to him. Almost as soon as Erën was out of the tent the scarred centaur reached down and grabbed her by her binds, yanking her to her feet. The two centaurs exchanged a few more words before she was prodded and dragged from the tent.

The Averie was a peculiar tent that sat on the edges of the shanty town. To her eyes it looked more like the type circus performers used for their large shows. The top soared high into the air but the canvas only stretched so far, the rest was small but strong netting meaning the birds were able to stretch their wings and get much needed daylight on their wings.

"You do.. tricks?" the gruff centaur asked in broken Common making Caliane give a small start.

"I'm not a bird," she snapped but her attitude only seemed to make the centaur grin.

"I hear do fire trick, make Zol much money," he nodded to himself then ran a hand through her hair. "If good, you can eat."

Caliane tried to suppress a sigh. Perhaps Erën would have better luck finding others who might help them escape.

 

[Eren'thiel Xyrdithas]

Erën was hauled out just as Caliane began to speak her voiceless words, and he did not catch the entirety of them. Still, her message hardly even needed such validation, as he knew such would be so. They would be reunited, one way or another. As for him, he was treated a bit more harshly than she, and when he'd been taken to the appointed place he was tossed in with a lot of other prisoners. They were a ranging sort, but each of them the same in their plight. They were all bound and the ankles and wrists by restraining chains, though they were given enough freedom to move about on their own, albeit not very quickly. They could walk with relative ease, but they'd never be able to escape as they were. Their hands were given a similar amount of mobility, but again, only so much. And all of this was so they could labour. Tending their structures, pitching for their livestock, whatever so suited their captors it seemed, it was their's to do.

But it seemed, for now at least, Erën had been introduced at a time of lessened responsibility. The centaur's captors were for the most part sparsely around a small fire, and each of them seemed to gravitate toward their own kind. There were orcish sort, humans, and even a handful of dwarves, but it seemed that he was the only elf among them, and each of them shared the ire in their eyes with sideways glances and glares. He hardly felt welcome. But this would do little to unnerve him, as his path was set regardless of what those around him chose, be it their captors or the captives. He was leaving here with Caliane, and that was the end of this story.

Erën brought himself to his hands and knees and looked behind him to see Caairk departing without so much as a word to him. He let out a near silent snort, and then brought himself to his feet and cast his eyes across the other captives, who numbered almost two dozen. Drawing in a breath he approached the fire, but as he came near he was offered a shout from the orcish lot.

He paused and turned his eyes to them, but offered no retort. One of them shuffled their way through their number and appeared with a scowl, snapping another foul word that Erën did not know.

"Shut up Gaar, we're all the same here," came a voice from the human lot, to which Erën then turned to see. There he saw an older man with long gray hair and a similarly long beard standing at the forefront of them, and despite his obvious age he looked to be of a study sort. He spoke up again, saying, "we've only got one enemy, and if any of us want to live, we need all the help we can get."

The orc spat at him now this time, and then turned his back to the lot of them and the orcs huddled in to one another again.

Erën exchanged a look with the man but said nothing for now, instead crossed his arms and waited... for now. He imagined it was only a matter of little time before they'd be fetched to do whatever dirty work the centaurs had for them...

---

Caliane Ruinë ​

 

[Caliane Ruinë]

Two days had passed since she had last seen Erën or anything beyond the high vaulted walls of the Avarie. Routinely the medicine woman would appear with the same sickly tea in order to keep down the fire that still slumbered inside of her. She wondered if that was what had kept the Soul Fire so quiet, or if it still felt the strains of their battle with the demon. Either way she tried not to let it worry at her like a dog with a bone; there was little she could do until she was free to figure out the troubles that lay within her own mind. Physically, however, the two days of relative rest were good for her though it pained her to think her love was not being given the same treatment. On her occasional flight towards the netted tops she caught glimpses of hunched over figures shuffling their way around the camp fetching water, logs, and tending to livestock.

It was early on the third day she was finally allowed out.

"This is ridiculous," Caliane fumed and the centaur looked at her blankly. His Common was not the best and his Thyasarian entirely non existent of course. So she took often to venting her frustrations in her native tongue. "Stupid," she added in Common but the centaur only grinned instead of looking angry as he finished securing the chains about her ankles.

"You need more sky," he commented matter-of-factly as though she did not know her own body which only raised her usually docile temper. "Wings broken, you will not fetch great price. Birds who can't fly end up pot."

Well she didn't like the sound of that.

"I'm not a bird," she muttered for the hundredth time and as always, he ignored her. Instead he gathered up the impressive chain and walked her from the tent. Instantly the feel of the open sky unknotted that terrible darkness inside her heart and she let out a quiet breath, which the centaur nodded at with great encouragement - as if she were some kind of horse! They meandered through the dirt packed streets to the plains beyond where a group of slaves laboured in the fields digging up what looked to be potatoes.

"Now, you fly," he shook the chain and looked at her expectantly. Was that excitement in his tone? The two centaurs who were watching the slaves also seemed to turn their attentions towards the curiosity with wings. A blush threatened to rise in her cheeks and so she shut her eyes to block them from her mind. Her muscles were still tender and so she extended them with great care, warming up each one with experienced movements, before finally bending her knees just a touch and with one powerful downward strike, propelling herself into the air.