Private Tales Of Sand & Dragonfire

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Aetes frowned slightly, but let Rheinhard go and tend to himself. He wasn't sure yet how much of it was Rheinhard being used to taking care of himself as a habit, or that he actually wanted to be left alone.

He cleaned up the bedding while Rheinhard was gone, saving the chuma to eat with him when he returned.

Breakfast was consumed in silence, the two men seated facing each other with the platter of chuma between them. Every time Rheinhard glanced up at him, Aetes made sure to meet his gaze. He wanted to make sure Rheinhard knew he wasn't afraid.

When Rheinhard began to speak, Aetes listened closely to every word.

Then he sighed. "Technically, the healer said you were to stay on bed rest for a couple more days," Aetes pointed out. "And... I think with what just happened, I need to speak with Rehema. We need to figure out some way for any of the rest of us to be able to tell when you've been... shoved out."

He had some ideas. Aetes just wasn't sure yet if they were feasible.

Then he glanced at Rheinhard, almost shyly. "There's... something else we need to discuss as well, because now it's come up a couple of times. When... you aren't in control."

Aetes took a deep breath, and reached over for Rheinhard's hand, softly caressing his knuckles.

"Nestor kissed me. Klaus was... very definitely not displeased with the attention I gave him." Aetes cleared his throat, and if Rheinhard happened to glance up he would see a light blush across the priest's face.

"There are certain lines I will not cross, because I am not comfortable with them," Aetes continued. "But what I need to know is what you are comfortable with when one of the others is controlling your body."

If Rheinhard asked, he would give more detailed examples. But he didn't want to overwhelm his sometimes shy lover.
 
“If I am healed enough to hunt, I am healed enough to learn. My ribs hurt, but it’s no longer something that will hold me back from moving entirely.” Rheinhard told him. The Inizae were used to people staying down. Rheinhard was used to having a medical kit flung in his face and being told to be ready in a certain amount of days, injury or no. It was hard to submit to being coddled.

He swallowed thickly. Speaking to Rehema. He was already becoming a problem for them, just as he feared. “There are ways to tell. Usually, the person taking me over isn’t used to…to feeling again. They’re not going to be ready for a fight from the off like Klaus. If I handed the Well to someone like Ferenzi he would be grasping at light, or sound, or feeling. Well sensations are real but dull. Like you’re feeling everything through gloves.” He said quietly, setting aside the last of his breakfast. “Other than that, it’s behavioral. I don’t like being nude and Aluid can’t manage to keep a stitch of clothing on, for one thing. I can’t read and Nestor can. I know how to cook and Aron is terrible at it. I don’t smoke like Ferenzi or drink like Brade.”

He sighed. “Getting to know them is the best defense you could ever have.”

Rheinhard was taken aback by Aetes’ admission. Nestor? Nestor kiss anyone? Usually Nestor was the one loudly proclaiming they were all disgusting for their urges. He was the only one of them who, rather proudly, abstained from sexual contact of any sort. Crudely, they’d once had a bet to see if he even masturbated. The singular orgasm they could find in the shards was Nestor granting a sample to Oor to continue the Volker line, and even that was cold and clinical.

But kissing? “Are you sure it was him?” Rheinhard asked. He chewed his lip at the other implications. Did Aetes want them…? Was he impatient with Rheinhard’s lack of experience? Men like Gere could make men fall over with a gesture. Brade’s exploits in Volta were legendary. Not all of the Volker’s were sexually repressed. Many of them had been catamites before they were Warriors.

Rheinhard looked at the floor of the tent, suddenly quite interested in picking pebbles out of his boot tip. “Are you asking me if you can sleep with them using my body?” He asked, his voice hollow. He hadn’t expected Aetes to get bored so quickly. He didn’t want to lose him. He rubbed his arm.
 
"Those signals may be well and good for me, and Seteta and Chaceledon, and maybe even Rehema's family," Aetes answered patiently, "but not everyone around you will always be able to tell. And they may not all get to know you that well."

Perhaps a crystal on a necklace, tuned to respond to Rheinhard's soul, so it would change colors when Rheinhard was losing control to another, or had been pushed out completely. He thought it might work, but he was still learning much about soul work. Rehema was the master there.

Rheinhard's insecurities quickly became apparent as he continued, though, and Aetes clung more tightly to his hand.

"No, meruv," Aetes said softly, reaching over to cup Rheinhard's face, stroking his thumb along his cheekbone. "I do not want to sleep with them using your body."

He sighed and thought for a moment, wondering how to express what had happened.

"I am certain it was Nestor who kissed me," he said. "I told you about it already. It happened while we were in the temple, searching the archives. I pushed him away because it was not you.

"Klaus, though... it started as a way to contain him. I could tell it was not you. That whoever was in control had taken it from you forcibly, and he took his pleasure on his own. But... you said earlier not do choke him again, because he likes it.

"The truth, though, is that there are also those of us who like to do the choking."

Aetes fell silent for a few moment, trying to give Rheinhard time to process everything he was saying. And he remembered that Rheinhard had told him he'd seen some of what the fae did. What the wraith did to Chaceledon. And some of those things were likely some of what Aetes liked to do, but Rheinhard had never been taught about it. Only shown, with no explanations.

"There are things I enjoy that might frighten you," Aetes said at last. "But frightening you is the last thing I want to do. But most importantly if, or when, Klaus or any of the others force you out and then say things to be me that imply you've given consent to use your body for certain things, I want to know what exactly you have or have not consented to, so I can shut it down."
 
Rheinhard considered his words. He didn’t like messing with the Well. Even alcohol was dodgy at times. Aron’s tenure as host was his ancestors’ least favorite time, as Oor constantly had to make repairs to the Well to combat Aron’s alcoholism. Nestor had detailed notes about nightmares seeping out of the Arena and disembodied bits of Aron drifting through the Well as though bits of him kept passing out.

“That is the risk they take.” He said, resigned. He didn’t know how else to make it clearer other than forcing everyone to agree to name tags.

He couldn’t help but lean into Aetes’ touch, soothed by his words. Gere had once regaled them about men who paid to use a wheel, and the unlucky Volker was held down for whomever wanted to use him. While the Inizae weren’t nearly as sadistic as the fae, that line of thinking hit too close to home.

“Only madmen enjoy being choked.” He said firmly. What he’d seen in the House of Coins and the Bunny District wasn’t normal. It was strange and perverted. He liked the things Aetes did to him. Nice things. Not cutting off airways.

As for the last thing, Rheinhard sighed. “Aluid is allowed to come out occasionally, so long as he doesn’t cause trouble. He is a child, the others pick on him, and he misses Oor. Coming out distracts him. Nestor is still bound by his original agreement; he is allowed to study when I let him out. Killi is allowed out around unicorns; I can’t speak to them and he’s the only one of us who doesn’t send them into an apoplectic rage. Brade is here if I am on a boat; I get sick. Other than that, I consent to nothing. Klaus least of all.”

He shifted to sit next to Aetes, seeking comfort in his touch. “…I’ll try to keep an open mind. But..tell me first?”
 
Aetes smiled when Rheinhard leaned into his touch. When Rheinhard came to sit next to him, he slipped his arm around his waist and tucking him against his side.

"Thank you for explaining everything," Aetes said, pressing a kiss to Rheinhard's temple. "I will do my best to rein the others in if they push past your boundaries."

He stroked a hand soothingly up and down Rheinhard arm.

"Right now, the... more extreme things I might like are nothing you need to concern yourself with," he reassured the man. "But I will promise you this: I will always talk to you first and explain it, I will not do anything that I am not willing to let you do to me, and if at any point you change your mind, we will stop.

"But I promise, it is not only madmen who enjoy being choked. And it's okay if that is something you never enjoy. I will not force you to do it."
 
Rheinhard relaxed, curling up against Aetes and ducking his head under the man’s chin to kiss his neck. He always appreciated the priest’s honesty where his ignorance was concerned. He had witnessed a lot, but much of it was dismissed as another fae perversion or something unique to their culture. Or, in the case of asphyxiation, something unique to Klaus. He frowned in thought, pulling back and looking Aetes in the eyes.

“You don’t like to be cut as well, do you?” He asked. “Klaus enjoys that as well, and I will not do that to you.” He was strong in this. Choking perhaps, with clear signals and caution. But Klaus had used his own weapons on himself. He nipped Aetes’ chin lightly. No. There was nothing that could convince him to use a blade on Aetes even gently.

“Do I have to stay in bed rest? I feel fine. I would like to go out and exercise.” He leaned up to tug at Aetes’ ear in his teeth.

As always, he felt the need to stick to Oor’s schedule. Running laps in the sun until his ribs felt ready to break all over again, finding stones to lift and practicing with his knives. He doubted the pressure to be physically perfect would never fully lift. He wasn’t meant to lay around. If he couldn’t channel his energy into drills, he wanted a more fun activity.

He captured Aetes’ lips in his own, sliding over to settle himself in the priest’s lap. His arms wrapped around the priest’s neck. “Tell me who my teacher will be.” He purred.
 
Aetes lifted his chin to allow Rheinhard access to his neck, slipping his own hand beneath Rheinhard's shirt to draw circles over his skin with his fingertips.

"No," he chuckled, "I don't do cutting, or anything that draws blood purposefully. It's too dangerous." The risk of infection was too high, and if someone flinched... Aetes had no desire to debilitate or kill a lover.

"And I want to make something clear," Aetes said, drawing back enough to look Rheinhard in the eye. "Just because I enjoy something doesn't mean that you have to. And if you hate something that I enjoy, I do not want you to force yourself to do it."

He shivered when Rheinhard tugged at his ear with his teeth, and Aetes gently pinched his side.

"You might feel fine, but your body is still healing," Aetes scolded. "But if you'd like to go out and walk around, we can do that."

Rheinhard kissed him then, though, and settled into his lap. Clearly, he was not interested in actually leaving the tent. Aetes smirked against his mouth, then began slowly unbuttoning Rheinhard's shirt.

"I don't know yet," he answered. "I gave a list of people to Rehema who I thought would be a good match for you. You'll have two teachers, as well. You and Hassani will be learning about our history and culture together, and Rehema is selecting that teacher."

Aetes reached the bottom of Rheinhard's shirt and tugged it down off his shoulders, leaning down to spread kisses down his neck.

"For now, though, why don't you just let me take care of you," he murmured. "Because that's something I really like doing for my lovers, too."
 
Rheinhard grunted when Aetes pinched his ribs. Alright, so the man had made his point. He wasn’t entirely fine yet. The idea that Aetes didn’t like cutting and reinforced he would never actually force Rheinhard settled him. Of course; Aetes had always been honest and forthcoming with him. He reached over to help Aetes with his own shirt, impatiently tugging at his clothing.

Rheinhard had a rather impressive black, purple and gold bruise ringing his torso. Much as it hurt to move, pain was an old companion. He could push it away when Aetes was kissing his neck like this. He craned his chin up, giving the priest access to anything he desired.

“I don’t want to be taken care of. I want to learn more…” he purred. He didn’t think he could stand much more of people urging him to rest and take it easy. He slid his hands across Aetes’ bare shoulders, his hips grinding down on him insistently. Whatever teacher Rehema chose for him, he would accept. Just as long as Aetes kept planting little flames along his throat that made him twitch.
 
Chaceledon laid back in the bed, wishing his thrumming heart would calm. The power that Seteta had displayed was nothing short of incredible. No dragon, no matter how old or talented, had produced such a reaction in crystal to his knowledge. He tucked the covers around Seteta a little more securely and kissed her cheek and neck.

Thank the gods, her heart beat strongly in her chest. He had been terrified by the sudden way she’d collapsed at the end of their coupling. He’d carried her to the bed, warmed her and put pillows under her knees and neck to make her more comfortable. He leaned over to kiss her forehead.

“Part of me wants to believe I’m just that good, but something happened. I hope you wake soon, because we owe a dahna a brand new citrine bathtub.” he joked, smiling and pushing back damp hair from her cheeks. He gazed down at her adoringly. She looked like a brown sand cat like this, sprawled and peaceful.
 
The magic was there, even as she slept, but it cradled her as if she were a sleeping infant, stroking through her hair and over her skin with a soothing touch. It was there as the dreams began, disjointed images and scenes where she was herself and yet not and there were still dragons and sand but it wasn’t a desert she recognized, and familiar faces–faces she felt as if she ought to know so very well–were few and far between.

It wasn’t long before those left her too, and she slipped into true, restful sleep.

The evening light was waning when she finally woke, though she laid still, simply breathing, for a short while.

Gods, she ached everywhere, and though she tried to sit up, a pained moan escaped her.

“What happened?” she murmured quietly, leaning back on the pillow again as she tried to sort her thoughts. Her memories.

Her eyes perused the ceiling, although she didn't really see it. There were... to many memories. Too many thoughts for just one lifetime, and there was very little in common between them, except for the magic. The earth. The presence of dragons. The feel of this place.

"Hedoni," she murmured, realizing that the stonework over head was familiar as well.

And her own face. In one set of memories, she'd seen her reflection often. Multiple times a day. In another, she'd only seen it a handful of times. But it was the same.

She shivered despite the warmth curled around her, and slowly rolled over. Scales. She wasn't alone in the bed.

She reached out and touched them, closing her eyes and letting muscle memory guide her. There were scars, old and familiar, but it was also odd because the dragons she knew would never let wounds fester long enough to form scars.

"Who are you?" she murmured, not realizing that from time to time that her words and accent shifted, going back and forth between more archaic and modern words of a language she'd heard since birth. "Who am I?"
 
Slowly, she stirred and asked him what happened. Chaceledon chuckled, and stretched his sinuous body under the covers. “We broke the bathroom, and you passed out. Must have been one hell of an orgasm.” he smiled, reaching over to settle a protective paw on her chest. She seemed so dazed, and he laughed when she said the name of the Dahn. “I’m not that good, I don’t think. Yes, we’re in Hedoni.” he said affectionately.

Chaceledon shed the form of the dragon, wanting his hands and lips for her. He was about to lean over and kiss her when she began speaking another tongue. He blinked. That was a new one. It sounded vaguely familiar, but not something he’d ever paid attention to. Thankfully her next question was clear if concerning.

“You’re Seteta of the Inizae, my koiros and beloved.” he kissed her shoulder. “My darling…what the hell happened back there? The entire estate was shaking. We shattered a bathtub even I would find difficult to break at full size.”

Chaceledon’s eyes darkened with worry. Perhaps he should call the dahna. She didn’t look right. Her eyes were far away.
 
Death and Rebirth
  • Index
    • Orgasm. Yes, that explained the ache between her legs and why her thighs trembled when she tried to move them. Her brow furrowed, but her breath steadied a little further when the dragon's paw settled on her chest, his claws carefully tucked back so as not to scratch her skin. Disjointed images flashed through her mind again.

    Chaceledon said:
    “You’re Seteta of the Inizae, my koiros and beloved.” he kissed her shoulder.
    Click to expand...

    She startled, opening her eyes, her heart racing at the feel of a hand on her chest and lips on her shoulder. Her breath stuttered for a moment. Him... it's still him, she reminded herself. Dragons shift forms.

    "Seteta," she murmured, ignoring the rest of his questions. "My name is Seteta. Of the Inizae."

    The second part didn't help as much. She had always been of the Inizae. All of her memories showed that.

    "The dahna?" she mused more to herself than as a question. "But Saltarello..." No. Something was wrong. The name that was so vibrant and crystal clear in her head felt awkward and clumsy on her tongue.

    Seteta... she closed her eyes again, and tried to sort the memories out.

    Yes. Those were more vivid, and as she followed the trails of thought that the name Seteta conjured, she felt a little more... solid.

    "Chaceledon," she sighed, her words sounding more like herself. "You're Chaceledon. My betrothed. You... have a son."

    Then something painfully tugged inside her head, and she whimpered and curled into a ball. "Oh gods," she gasped, instinctively tucking into Chaceledon's side. There was magic in her, but it was magic that felt... out of place. Not like the earth. "The Well..."


    Rheinhard fell limp in his arms, and Aetes pulled away to check him. The ghostly presence of the Volkers quickly drew his attention, though, and even as he carefully cradled his lover to him, Aetes couldn't look away from the apparitions.

    Magic--earth magic--still poured from Rheinhard, and the priest could feel the heat radiating from the man's sternum.

    The remnants were still there, looking expectantly at Aetes. All of a sudden, they began pointing. North, south, east, west, down into the ground and toward the mountains. Each Volker was in a slightly different direction, but those accusatory fingers reached.

    The earth has something of ours. They said as one, a singular sentence from over five hundred throats in a hundred accents. Then, one of them doubled over. His muscular physique wasted away to that of a starving, mad creature. A gaping hole burst from his chest, spraying blood across the sand, and he pitched forward. He vanished. The next man’s head was separated from his body. Two more were run through with invisible spears, another peppered with arrows. All around the Inizae the Volkers returned to death the same way they’d entered it. Blood exploded around the Inizae; some of the deaths had been quite spectacular.

    Nestor fell to his knees with a sword wound in his gut. Aluid clawed at his rapidly bruising throat, until it caved in and he fell. Ferenzi’s skull crumbled in on itself as though crushed by an angry giant. Huron was torn in half. Klaus’ throat opened in a waterfall of crimson before he vanished.

    The magic poured out into the sand gathered itself, and plunged back into Rheinhard as though someone yanked a cord on a piece of cloth. The world around them fell silent.

    The ghosts had gone, but the blood was real.

    The camp was soaked in it.

    Rehema burst into the tent, dripping with blood. Her mouth was tight and her eyes hot as she took in the sight of them. Aetes didn't even bother to cover himself or Rheinhard.

    "Wake him," she said, but not cruelly. "Something has happened with Seteta as well. We need to know what's going on."

    Aetes nodded, and she ducked back out of the tent. He swore, and looked for something that wasn't fucking bloody to wipe them both off with as he gently settled Rheinhard on the bedding.

    "Rheinhard, meruv," Aetes spoke gently, beginning to wipe off the blood with a shirt he found tucked away and protected inside a satchel. "I need you to wake up."
     
  • Index
    • Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Any joking humor vanished from Chaceledon’s face, and he blinked at her. “Saltarello has been dead for centuries, my darling…what exactly happened? You put out enough magic to shake the house…” he sat up, grasping her hand briefly. “Look, a servant left some water. Drink something.”

    He poured her a glass and nearly dropped it. The Well. His heart froze and he looked at her owlishly, unable to disguise the fear he felt when she said it like that. He took a deep, measured breath and came back to bed, offering her the water glass.

    “What about the Well? Is Rheinhard alright?”

    The Well burned on the other end of her. It was humming with magic, and every single one of them was awake. Nestor was desperately reaching for her. Everyone else was a stir of confusion.

    “Darling listen to me. What has happened? Don’t go into the Well until you know. We may need to wake Seikilos…” Chaceledon said, struggling to remain calm. Was Rheinhard alive? Had the Well exploded under the strain? Oh gods…the Inizae. Nestor had always warned that disassembling the Well would cause a blowback of energy.

    ___________________________________

    At being shaken, Rheinhard’s eyes snapped open. His back arched and a shriek tore itself from his throat. Every muscle flexed and stood out against his skin like a man dying of a lockjaw infection. His jaws squeezed so tight he was at serious risk of shattering a tooth. Pale patches spread across his skin, obliterating Rheinhard’s sun kissed color with pure, snowy white. Loud cracking sounds came from inside his body, and the last of the earth magic whipped around inside of him as it faded.

    Rheinhard’s body changed. His stocky form became lithe, scars rewrote themselves on his body. Strong hands became long and delicate. His face cracked and changed, his eyeballs rolling in his head. Clearly the change was painful; he couldn’t stop screaming. He was frozen as the change settled. White hair, cropped short at the sides, sprouted from his head.

    His eyes snapped open but they were no longer his. The lashes were a beautiful white, and the blue had been chased away by bright pink.

    The albino looked to be about sixteen. Seemingly undeterred by the transformation, he sat up. He looked between them, at the splatters of blood on the walls and the smears of seed on his belly. A scowl covered his features; beautiful features, delicate features. A hand cracked across Aetes’ face.

    “How dare you touch me without my permission.” he snarled viciously. He struggled away from the bedsheets and his feet struck sand. Shock struck away the arrogant scowl. He was back here. He had been thrown back here. He was alive but how? The Well was dormant. He could feel them down there, writhing in panic, but it was like a wall was separating him from them.

    He’d died. He remembered his death. Oor had torn him limb from limb for his mistake. He’d screamed watching his body be picked apart and his replacement’s horrified look.

    Apparently, he was back at the place he’d died. The temple. The sand elf temple. He glared viciously at Aetes. “Where is she? Where is my Kreneides? If you’ve destroyed her I will use your guts to make new bowstrings and you’d be lucky if I killed you first!” he snarled, in crystal clear Abtati. It was old, very old Abtati, almost ancient. He rubbed at his forehead, smearing blood across his skin. “We were allies! And you rape me? Disarm me? You sun-worshipping thugs are all the same…!”

    She was buried! But how? Those gods damned sand elves were on his side! Why would they bury his beloved weapon?

    Ignoring Rehema and Aetes he launched himself off the bedding and outside. Crystal clear, freezing night washed over his wet skin and he shivered. He fell to his knees on the sand and began digging with his hands. She was down there. He could feel the weapon in the sands! His ballista, his glorious siege weapon, buried and choking. She was down so far…

    He dug like a madman, flinging armfuls of sand away from him.     “Help me!” He screamed in ancient Abtat at any elf who had come out to stare.
     
    Dead? For centuries? The thought made her heart pang in a way that made her want to reach up and rub at her sternum. But why?

    "I don't know what happened,"     Seteta whispered, sitting up and reaching for the glass of water Chaceledon extended. She drank gratefully. More of the memories were falling into place. They had come to Hedoni because she needed help preparing for the challenge Chaceledon's father had issued. The house... had recognized her? And shown her a vision of the past. "I was tired, after the lessons. Then... there was you--" she flushed slightly "--and then... there was magic."

    So much magic. And it was still there, resting inside her. Clashing against the other magic inside of her.

    Chaceledon said:
    “What about the Well? Is Rheinhard alright?”
    Click to expand...

    "I don't know." This time she did reach for her chest, rubbing at it uncomfortably with a grimace. "The Well is there, but... something's definitely not right. I don't know if it's Rheinhard, or if it's just clashing with the rest of my magic."

    Her magic hadn't been... sentient when she took the Well. She thought. It had never flowed through her of its own accord before, not like... since going through Abtatu's Cleansing.

    The glass of water, mostly empty now, trembled in her hand. No. She was trembling, and she pulled her knees into her chest, wrapping an arm around them.

    "Nothing feels right," she said, panicked, looking up at Chaceledon with tear-filled eyes. "Not even my own skin."


    "Rheinhard!"

    But there was nothing Aetes could do or say to halt or reverse what happened before his eyes. His lover vanished, and not painlessly, transforming into something--someone--else with screams of pain and the crack of bones.

    Rehema threw open the tent flap, ducking back inside just in time to see Aetes slapped. Aetes, in shock, made no move to defend himself or refute the accusation. He barely heard whatever the ablino said before he was storming out of the tent into the night.

    "Where is Rheinhard?" Rehema asked.

    Aetes nodded weakly toward the vanishing form outside. "He woke up," Aetes said, reaching up to rub his hands down his face, regardless of the blood. "And then he... changed into that."

    Rehema sighed. "I will deal with him. You help the elders in cleaning up the camp. We'll have to move some families into the temple quarters. Not all of the tents were ruined, but many were. And nearly everyone needs a bath."

    "Yes, Rehema," Aetes answered, bowing his head.

    Rehema squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, then left the tent and followed the albino's footsteps across the sands.

    Chaceledon said:
    He dug like a madman, flinging armfuls of sand away from him. “Help me!” He screamed in ancient Abtat at any elf who had come out to stare.
    Click to expand...

    It was not many elves. Most of them were stunned from what had happened within the camp, and were beginning to clean up what of the mess they could. A few adolescents gawked, but were quickly pulled away by their families.

    Rehema spread her power through the sand, and turned the top layer of it solid.

    "Who are you?" she asked as she drew near. matching the ancient dialect of Abtat the stranger spoke. It fell melodically from her lips, a language she used often in prayer and ceremony. "What is that you seek?"
     
    Chaceledon’s eyes filled with worry. He touched her knee, rubbing in what he hoped was a comforting way. Something had happened. Magic had flooded her, flooded the house, flooded the bond and Rheinhard. She didn’t know if he was alright. Hell, she didn’t even know if she was alright.

    “How can magic do this to you?” Chaceledon asked softly. He took the glass from her as her hand shook, not wanting her to break it. “I’m so sorry…I should have stopped when I realized what was happening.” Like the fool he was, he hadn’t tended to her when she’d shown signs of being ill. No, he’d brought them both to the floor and made love to her. Idiot! After all these years he couldn’t stop thinking with his cock could he?

    Chaceledon looked at her. She was terrified. He sat next to her and pulled her against his side. “Whatever it is, we’ll solve it. I promise. You are my sehejib. You are my sun and fire. I promise you I’ll stay with you.” he whispered, but he couldn’t deny he was just as scared as she was.

    The door to the room flew open, and Seikilos strode through. She was in her night robes, hair pulled up and back as if in a hurry, and she wasn’t wearing an ounce of makeup. Chaceledon startled, and averted his eyes. It was incredibly intimate to see another dragon this way! She was the dahna of a house! What would her children think? Her grandchildren?

    “Damn propriety.” Seikilos snapped. “The house has come alive. It’s been quiet and docile since my husband. What in the nine hells has happened?“ Her eyes fixed on Seteta. Chaceledon clearly wasn’t the source of this. She took a deep breath. “…What happened, Seteta?” Her tone was much calmer, gentler, like she was speaking with a child.

    __________________________________

    His hands scrabbled at the sand for a moment, not understanding, then his burning red eyes turned on Rehema. She spoke his tongue. Or at least, the normal Abtati tongue. The murmurs he was hearing around him weren’t any dialect he recognized, and he could only translate if he focused. Right now, fear ruled him.

    He also recognized he looked ridiculous naked and clawing at the sand. He stood up warily, lifting his chin. His posture recalled Chaceledon’s; perfect. He schooled his expression into a mask of superiority. “I am Tianau Volker, the White Death of the Krynid Mountains. I was tasked with defending this temple. Or at least I was. We clearly lost.” He looked around the camp like it was something stuck to his shoe. “You aren’t the high priestess of this temple. That was Amahle, beloved of Abtatu. Who are you and what the hell have you done with them? Why is my weapon underground?”

    He balanced his weight between his legs, his eyes darting around for a weapon. He found a tent support, likely spare and knocked over in the panic. He snatched it up and dropped into a guard stance. “You’ve captured me and destroyed the temple. The wraith is going to burn you alive for letting your man rape me…if I don’t do it first.”

    ____________________________________

    “Damn the lot of you sit the fuck down!” Nestor roared. He had to get control! All of them were awake. Every one! This was the second time in less than a year and it was possibly worse than the first time around. This time they were remembering old grudges. Fights kept breaking out, necessitating the establishment of Otto and Evoth as enforcers. Being physically larger, they could rip apart the fighting trios and pairs without much effort.

    Klaus seemed to be aggravating most of the fights if not outright starting them. Nestor guarded the tent flap to the office, swearing loudly as he defended Seteta’s seat. He’d drawn his rapier and anyone getting close got a sharp reminder why he’d kept his place as host for longer than most.

    Evoth slammed a nearby man to the sand, kicking him in the skull and breathlessly putting his back to the office alongside Nestor. “What the hell happened now? Guimel is saying Tianau is missing!”

    “I don’t know but we keep these bastards out of the office!” Nestor snarled, thrusting his blade into the mass of bodies. A pained howl told him he’d struck true. “Where the hell is Rheinhard?!”

    “He’s missing too! Aluid is trying to find him!” Evoth shouted over the din. Aron was slammed into him bodily, and he elbowed the pugilist away from them. Above it all, Klaus and Jess’ mad cackling echoed in the chaos.

    The door to the Library shuddered open. It wasn’t a particularly popular fighting spot, as the Librarian usually put an end to any fighting. The records couldn’t be harmed; the spell just seemed to dislike the mess. However, he’d never actually stepped outside. The hulking monster stepped into the Well properly, holding a stack of records, and the fighting parted around him.

    Slowly, the Librarian approached the office.

    “The host is dead. Another has taken. Please step aside. Rheinhard Volker’s records must be added to the library.” The spell told Nestor.

    “Like hell!” Nestor spat.

    “Dead?!” Evoth’s face went pale.

    “The host is dead. A new one was chosen based on proximity to nearest weapon. Please step aside.” The Librarian intoned.

    “You step in this office and I’ll lop your head off!” Nestor snapped his teeth. “No one moves until Seteta returns!”

    “The body is dying. Please step aside.”

    “Gentlemen!” Nestor thundered. “This piece of shit is trying to kill us!”

    Slowly, the Volkers turned to look at the Librarian. He’d always been a fixture in the Well. No one had ever seen him outside of it. Resentment and anger at the record keeper grew, and someone leapt on his back. Nestor watched grimly as the spell was torn apart, piece by piece, by teeth, fists and kicks. Silence reigned, weighted with the gravity of what they’d done.

    “No one. Is. Messing. With. Seteta’s. Property.” Nestor growled out to them.

    In that moment, he was more terrifying than Klaus. The stodgy academic had never looked so ferocious, with his teeth bared.

    “Now.” Nestor breathed in. “I am going to interview each and every one of you about what happened, in order.”

    A chorus of groans, choice insults, gestures and refusals.

    “Anyone not participating gets turned over to Klaus and Jess for munitions testing!”

    Several hundred mouths snapped shut.
    ____________________________________

    Rheinhard was moving.

    Slowly, drunkenly.

    No smells assaulted him, no feelings. He couldn’t taste. All that existed was full pressure beneath his feet as he walked, and the sound of thousands of footsteps around him. Booted feet, bare feet, sabatons, hooves, claws and paws.

    He opened his eyes. There was a massive press of bodies around him. Men, women, children of all races and ages. Some were even clasping toddlers and babes. Cats padded quietly in the gaps between people, carrying rats and mice on their backs. Millions of insects carpeted the path, flooding over Rheinhard’s bare feet. He even saw worms and baby birds, rats writhing on the outskirts of the path, moving as fast as they were able. Trolls towered above the humans, Sunlanders walked placidly alongside xio’pan. Rheinhard could see Voltese bolters, Pedeon guards, slaves, pets.

    A flood of life, humanity walking silently down a road, and he was caught in it.

    Rheinhard quietly stepped toward the outskirts of the path, peering ahead. It curved sharply, funneling the travelers toward a black portal. It was an all consuming void, and Rheinhard couldn’t help but be terrified of it.

    “Why be frightened? This is the end to which all life turns.” There was a man walking next to him, tall and pale, with eyes much like the portal they were travelling to.

    “It’s not yet my time…” Rheinhard spoke slowly, slurring.

    “All Volkers die before their time, but you’re the first to end up where you’re supposed to be.” The man said in amusement.

    “Seteta needs me. Chaceledon needs me. I can’t leave yet…something happened.” Rheinhard struggled to keep his thoughts straight.

    “She killed you. Did you really think you could survive that much magic funneling into you?” Carruth smiled tolerantly at him. “Rest now. You’ll be safe here with me. You’ve fought so hard for peace…and now you tell me you want to return?”

    “I do want to return.” Rheinhard shook his head. “I can’t…”

    “Ah well, have it your way, little Volker. Just keep in mind I don’t offer this twice.” Carruth leaned in, and kissed his cheek.

    Rheinhard fell into the Well on his back, staring up at the familiar swirling mass of shards. Home. He was home.

    A noisy home.

    All of the Volkers were awake.

    Aluid’s face appeared above him, purpled with a bruise on one cheek. When he grinned, Rheinhard noticed he was missing some teeth. “Nestor! I found him! It’s going to be okay!”
     
    Last edited:
    "No," Seteta murmured, leaning into Chaceledon as he pulled her close. "I think this was meant to happen, eventually, no matter what. And if you'd stopped, I don't think I would have had anything to follow back when the magic swept me under."

    She could sense the unspoken fear in his voice, though, and she took his hand, quietly tracing his knuckles and the lines on his palm. "We will," she affirmed. "Somehow, we'll figure it all out."

    She shivered slightly, realizing that she wasn't wearing anything but the bedsheets and with night falling, the desert air was chilling. Her face was slightly pale, too, and she snuggled closer into Chaceledon's side, seeking out his warmth.

    When Seikilos barged into the room, Seteta barely glanced up at her. At the questions, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to explain something she didn't fully understand yet. Or remember.

    "We were in the bath," she answered quietly, flushing slightly, though with the paleness of her face it made her look feverish more than anything else. "At some point..." she faltered, still so unsure of how it had happened. Of what had happened. "The magic was there. I... I don't remember reaching out for it. I think it called to me, like the house did earlier when I stepped inside it.

    "I think..." her breath hitched in her throat for a moment, and she leaned her head against Chaceledon's shoulder, "for a little while, it felt like... rather than simply channeling the magic, I had become the earth. And I almost lost myself in it."

    Gods, she was cold. Seteta curled a little more tightly into Chaceledon, shivers starting to wrack up her spine.

    "Chaceledon brought me back," she said, fighting against the chattering of her teeth. Then she hunched over with a cry of pain, rubbing at her chest again. "The Well, and my magic," she whispered. "I think they're fighting each other."

    Then she crumpled forward and passed out.


    "I am Rehema," she answered. "I am Abtatu's high priestess, and judging by your speech, I suspect it has been many thousands of years since you last walked the earth, Tianau Volker."

    She halted her steps, staying a fair distance back as this Tianau grabbed a tent pole and took up a defensive posture. "I have never known an Amahle who was high priestess, but we have lost much of our history since the Inizae empire fell. I do not know of any weapon that is here. Abtatu forbids us to use weapons on these holy grounds. If there was one here, it has been buried by the sands as time passed.

    "Do you know where Rheinhard Volker is?" she asked, her gaze steely. "He was here before you appeared. Aetes did not rape you. He is courting Rheinhard. And the wraith does not control the Well any longer. My daughter does."

    Her face changed then. Rather than the stoic and imposing High Priestess, she was once again just a mother.

    "Something has happened to my daughter," she told Tianau, her hand clenching in her blood-drenched robe. "The Well might be the only chance I have of knowing what."

    She met Tianau's eyes without hesitation, and let him see the desperate worry there. "Her name is Seteta. Please, is there anything you can sense?"


    Pursuing consciousness was like swimming through a murky lake filled with weeds, and when she finally surfaced with a gasping breath, it wasn't where she expected.

    She was inside the Well, in the office. Flat on her back, rug-covered sand beneath her and a tent ceiling overhead. Something still ached and tugged in her chest, but it was... not as fierce now. She took a breath and sat up slowly, grateful that here at least she wasn't dizzy, but she still felt strangely weak.

    And she was still naked.

    There was a stack of blankets on a nearby stool, though, just like they did in the desert to keep scorpions from nesting in them at night. On trembling legs, she stood and wrapped one around herself, then weakly pushed open the tent flap.

    "Ne--" her voice cut off abruptly as she saw the Volkers--all of them--awake and gathered outside.

    "What is going on?" she gasped, grabbing hold of the side of the tent to keep her upright. Even here, her face was still pale, and her skin looked clammy.
     
    Chaceledon put his arm around her. She was freezing, and gooseflesh rippled across her skin. She felt ill, feverish. He welcomed her into his arms without question, his guilt soothed somewhat. If she had been drowning in the magic, and had followed the sensations back to him, then he didn’t regret a moment of it.

    Seikilos kept her mouth shut, absorbing every word. The earth itself had called out to Seteta, and she had little choice but to answer. The girl looked weak and frightened, and likely didn’t fully understand what had happened to her.

    “What is the-“

    Seteta rubbed at her sternum, leaned forward, and passed out. Chaceledon grasped her shoulders and settled her back into the sheets, stroking her hair back from her face. Now the dragon looked like he might follow her! The color had drained from his face and the hand that touched Seteta shook.

    “She’s bound to another through a curse…and I think…” he pulled in a deep breath. “I think they’re both in trouble.”

    _________________________________________

    Tianau didn’t let up his stance. If anything, he tensed.     “The Inizae Empire fell?” he hissed. He wasn’t sure how much of it he believed. He flicked the tip of his improvised quarterstaff down to the sand. “You get her out of the sand. You bring my Kreinedes to the surface, then I’ll talk with you. I don’t do anything without her by my side.”

    Inside, he was reeling. He couldn’t feel the wraith, it was true. How could that be possible? He hadn’t known the Well could be handed off! How many of them were there? How many thousands of years had it been? He gripped the staff tightly, though his pale skin didn’t show he was white-knuckling the pole. The albino was shivering now; the temperature was dipping sharply. Even though he’d sharpened his teeth in snowy mountains, he wasn’t entirely immune to the dry chill of the sands.

    Rehema caught his pink eyes. She was worried, and scared. Tianau gritted his teeth.     “How is this possible, old woman? If another inherited the Well, this wouldn’t be my body. This is my body. Seventeen years of age, five foot nine, long fingers…unless you know of any more albinos in the Volker line I am somehow here long after my body rotted away in Amol-Khalit.” That was if Oor had bothered to bury him at all versus feeding him to the next Volker in line, or wrapping him up and selling his flesh as a pretty curiosity to Pedeo.

    No. Until he had his ballista, clothes, and a defensive position he wasn’t touching the Well. As for Aetes, he gave the tent a dark look. “Least the stupid bastard didn’t have the balls to try heroics.” he growled, straightening up and settling the tip of the staff on the sand.

    ____________________________________

    The moment the tent flap opened, over a thousand eyes turned to her. They didn’t step out of the line they’d formed, curling around the outside of the Well, with Nestor in the center. As promised, he was patiently scribbling notes as he took down the accounts of the Volkers. The beginning ones were more difficult; they were little more than tribesmen and had never been awakened after their first death. Some of them were boggling at the rest of the Volkers, muttering in languages long dead as they waited for Nestor to call them forward.

    Klaus and Jess stalked the line, looking for anyone to give them an excuse to yank them out of line and begin butchering them. Seteta stepped out somewhere along the middle of the line, and the Volkers nearest her sniffed her in curiosity.

    “First man who touches her spends the night with Klaus.” Nestor barked, interrupting his notes with a series of flurried gestures to his interviewee, who appeared to be deaf. He hurried over to her, and yanked her into his arms. “Stupid girl! I was worried about you.”

    Rheinhard was making his way over, ashen-faced and supported between Aron and Aluid. “You look great for dying a second time!” Aron told him helpfully. He rushed forward, leaving Aron to try and catch Rheinhard as he wobbled.

    “Seteta! Rheinhard died! Again!” He babbled at her. “He got to meet Carruth on the Path of the Dead! Then we all woke up, and Tianau seized the Well because apparently he’s the closest to Amol Khalit and died near your temple, then we all started fighting because it’s us and Nestor was defending the office because you were coming back and-“

    Nestor punched him in the stomach. Hard. The preteen fell to the ground, sucking for air.

    “Gods Al, give her a minute to breathe. She looks worse than Rheinhard does.” Aron chided him.

    Nestor took her by the shoulders, giving her a measured look. “Do you know why the world suddenly went mad? Rheinhard and Aetes were…involved, and all of a sudden we were thrown off our platforms onto the floor. All of us. At once. We rushed out here, and it was pandemonium. I straightened it out…but the spell was under the impression it had been passed on and was attempting to archive Rheinhard.”

    Rheinhard shook a bit at the phrase. Who was in control then? Was Aetes alive? Was Rehema?
     
    "It fell many millenia ago," Rehema confirmed silently. "Eaten away from the inside by our own corruption. Abtatu exiled us to the sands."

    When Tianau started making demands, though, and demanding answers she could not possibly have, Rehema's face hardened again.

    "The Volkers have a long history of hunting us for sport and slaughter," Rehema countered, her voice now firm and unyielding. "What kind of fool would I be to arm you when I know nothing of your intentions? Prove that you are not a danger to my people or to my daughter, and I will consider unearthing this... Kreinedes.

    "I do not know how you have your body," she finished. "I was in the tent and saw Rheinhard and Aetes embracing just moments before your appearance. Rheinhard was unconscious, but he'd cried out with pleasure barely a breath before I came in. Now his body is gone, and yours exists instead. That is the only explanation I have."

    Rehema glanced back toward the camp. She could hear Inizae weeping and cursing. Being nomadic necessitated that they did not treasure many material possessions, but the ones they did retain through generations were deeply cherished. Many had been ruined, it seemed. Not to mention the medicines, clothing, foodstuffs... even tents. So much would have to be burned after the explosion of blood and flesh. Rehema never dreamed she'd see so much blood without bodies to accompany it.

    "I must tend to my people," she told Tianau, withdrawing her magic from the sand. "You may come and help, or you may stand out here naked in the cold and dig up your weapon with your bare hands. Rheinhard was brought into the tribe as one of us. If you are willing and prove yourself trustworthy, I will honor the same for you."


    Seteta sighed and weakly waved away the Volkers near her, even as Nestor threatened them. She was surprised when he pulled her into his arms, though, and she returned the embrace, stumbling into him a little as she was pulled off balance.

    "I'm sorry," she murmured, kissing his cheek when she pulled away. "You seem to have things under control."

    Her relief was palpable when Aluid and Aron brought Rheinhard over, but she paled further when Aluid said that Rheinhard had died. But when Nestor punched the boy, Seteta winced.

    "That wasn't necessary," she scolded, and if she hadn't thought that bending down would make her fall over, she would have helped Aluid up.

    Chaceledon said:
    Nestor took her by the shoulders, giving her a measured look. “Do you know why the world suddenly went mad? Rheinhard and Aetes were…involved, and all of a sudden we were thrown off our platforms onto the floor. All of us. At once. We rushed out here, and it was pandemonium. I straightened it out…but the spell was under the impression it had been passed on and was attempting to archive Rheinhard.”
    Click to expand...

    "It's my fault," she sighed, and gave the same brief explanation that she'd given to Seikilos, but also told them about the way the house had greeted her. But she didn't say anything about how the dahna had called her Nailah. And about the confused memories she'd had just after waking. Things were still... a little jumbled.

    When she finished, though, she turned to Rheinhard. "Are you all right? What did Aluid mean, that you died?"
     
    Now it was Tianau’s turn to shoot her a cold look. “I fell defending your temple, you weak little peasant!” he snarled. “My death isnt proof enough? I named your high priestess. I speak your tongue- well, a more intact version of it. If I wanted to kill you I would have done so. One doesn’t fight alongside your people without learning a few tricks.”

    Gods, his weapon was so deep in the ground. He clearly wanted to keep digging, but it was night. Morning meant the sun. If there was one thing the albino feared, it was being caught outside in the middle of Amol Khalit. He wouldn’t just burn. He would fry. His skin had no melanin, no coloring, to protect him. His eyes would scald. He took a deep breath and looked around at the Inizae.

    They were crying over ruined possessions, destroyed by the torrent of blood. He rolled his eyes and walked over to a woman, taking a headscarf from her. He sighed heavily, looking around. Well, the Volkers were technically responsible for this mess. Now he supposed that fell on his shoulders.

    “What, the empire collapses and you become fucking hopeless?” he growled at the woman he’d taken the scarf from, and rolled his eyes. He glanced around her belongings, and grabbed a bucket. He fetched some water from the oasis, careful not to corrupt it with his bloodstained hands, and dunked her scarf in the water. “Soak that. Cold water helps. Salt. Salt. Put salt in the water and scrub with it.”

    The second bucket he stole was overturned on his head a safe distance from the oasis, and a third dedicated to scrubbing himself clean. Clean, he was white as a beacon in the dark. He wasn’t just pale, he was ethereal. He returned the bucket to its owner, and marched into Rheinhard’s tent.

    He seized Rheinhard’s clothes and gave them a nasty look. Far too wide and short for his lithe figure. He stole a blanket that wasn’t too bloodstained and wrapped it around his waist and shoulders. When he returned he caught Rehema’s eyes.     “My orders and contract should be in the temple archives. I’m going in to look for them. Where’s your captain of the guard? If you even have one…seems right I should report to him before I’m collected. I’ll return to Krynid unless you’ve any use for me here; it’s probably in a state.”

    A thought struck him and he gave Rehema a predatory smile. “Unless that rat De Soto is still slinking around. I can always find that runt son Persian and twist him around a six foot bolt.”

    ________________________________

    “It is, however, the quickest way to get him to shut up.” Nestor replied. He had very little patience for Aluid’s rambling at the moment. He kept an arm around Seteta to support her. He listened to her tale, only leaving her side once or twice to break up a fight between a few of the Volkers.

    Rheinhard swallowed and nodded. “I died…your magic…the Well couldn’t handle it. The connection must have fizzled, enough for me to die but the Well to remain. I don’t pretend to understand it. I asked the Titan of death to return, and he granted me lenience. I don’t believe it will happen again.” He looked shaken, and looked between Aron, Nestor, and Klaus and Jess. The duo was enacting swift justice on a young man for fighting, and Rheinhard blinked.

    “If Nestor isnt in charge…and Klaus is here…”

    “Who’s driving?” Nestor asked grimly. “Tianau Volker, apparently. His father swears he didn’t come off the platforms with us. My guess is that he’s in charge and the Well isn’t repaired enough to reach him.”

    “How do we know he isn’t butchering the Inizae..?” Rheinhard asked. Aetes. Had he killed Aetes..? Fear twisted his stomach into a knot.

    “We don’t.” Nestor said simply. “I doubt he would, and I hope Aetes has the good sense the gods gave a goat to keep everything under control.”

    Nestor sighed and pulled Seteta protectively against his chest, running his fingers through her hair. The poor thing. He’d just been getting bored with his research as well…now he had enough material to last at least another decade. Well, that was if he got through the majority of the interviews. It was nice to know that the Well was stronger than it seemed to survive such a surge.

    “Come now, we need to know what we’re dealing with.” Nestor petted her for a moment, then caught the looks Aron and Rheinhard were giving him. “What?”

    “The last time I saw you hug anything it was an electromagnet study from Volta.” Aron said with no small amusement.

    “Oh shut up.” Nestor growled at them.

    “How do we pull Tianau’s records? We don’t have a librarian anymore.” Aron chuckled.

    “The boys murdered him.” Nestor clarified to Rheinhard and Seteta. “Speaking of…” he looked down and gave Aluid a sharp kick. The boy dropped a chunk of meat he’d been turning over in his fingers. “Drop that. You don’t know where it’s been.”

    “The Librarian wanted to replace me, yes? He must’ve pulled Tianau’s books himself. Where’s the body?” Rheinhard asked, still a bit shaken. Nestor kicked at the meat lump.

    “Whomever has the books! Bring them! I know they can’t be destroyed!” Rheinhard thundered to the crowd.

    Reluctantly, the archives were turned over. Books were lobbed over the crowd to land at Nestor’s feet. One struck Rheinhard in the back of the head, producing a small ripple of chuckles. They were white books, rather thin, indicating the albino hadn’t lived a terribly long life. Aron scooped up the pile and arranged them in a neat stack.

    “Kid didn’t live long.” Aron muttered, scooping up the Health tome. “Seventeen, looks like.”

    “Genetic defects are weeded out early.” Nestor gestured impatiently. “Albinos have weak hearts and eyes.”

    “Looks like a resistance to Oor’s ideals but the kid was brainwashed pretty easily into Krynian patriotism.” Aron muttered. “Looks like Krynid and the Inizae were allies; they can’t actually mine those mountains of theirs. It’s all half frozen shale. Dangerous as shit too. I’m guessing they traded water and medicine for sandstone. They’re pretty advanced as far as medicine goes.”

    He noticed Nestor’s glower. “Alright, jeez. I thought Seteta would want to know-“

    “Our Mistress can barely stand.” Nestor bristled.

    “Keep your shirt on, I’m just skimming-ah. Here we go. Narcissism, classic case of impulse control issues, megalomania, independent streak….kids an asshole but I don’t think he’s immediately dangerous.” Aron shrugged. “Responds well to military environments. Good battle record, not that it matters.”

    “What’s his weapon?” Rheinhard asked softly.

    “Ballista.”

    “Excuse me?”

    “A ballista.” Aron repeated. “Kreneides. Kids got a patriotic streak a mile wide and can blow holes through a castle with this thing.”

    “Oh that’s just great.” Nestor groused. “He and Jason are forbidden to ever speak.”

    “Look, he seems like an asshole but not immediately dangerous. Seteta, what do you think?” Aron asked gently, showing her the page. “Least he was allied with you.”
     
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    "Your death is proof of nothing except the fact that once, you lived," Rehema hissed. "You speak an archaic version of our tongue, one that only the priests even study anymore. There is no living Inizae who can confirm whether you fought beside us or against us. Make yourself useful, or leave."

    With that, she spun on her heel and returned to the camp. Rehema instructed a few of the guards to keep an eye on Tianau, and then she turned her attention to her people. Aetes had brought acolytes from the temple, and even some of the goat herders, and belongings were being sorted. She saw Ausar, Keket, and even Hassani, helping to load wagons. There were already a couple of wagons going back and forth between the camp and the stone houses around the oasis, transporting the elderly--among them, she assumed, were her and Ausar's mothers--to the houses.

    The ruined tents were being broken down by the time Tianau reappeared. Rehema winced and rolled her shoulders and neck, then sighed as the young Volker spoke.

    "If you wish to enter the temple, you will have go through Abtatu's Cleansing first." Rehema shook her head. "Neither Aetes nor I have time to help you with that right now. It will have to wait until after the camp is cleaned up and we've rested.

    "We have no formal guard here," she further explained. "Abtatu protects us near the temple. Our more experienced guards are with rest of our people, in our camps spread across the desert."

    She couldn't help but smile a little mischeviously, though. "If you wish to help in that capacity here, you will have to speak with Aetes."

    Rehema made no comment on Persian de Soto. She did not know what history this Tianau might have with him, and the Inizae's struggle with Persian was their own.


    Seteta reached for Rheinhard's hand when he told his side of the story, squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry," she sighed. "But for what it's worth... I'm glad you came back."

    Chaceledon would be as well. If she'd killed his son, even inadvertantly... Seteta didn't think she could live with that, even if Chaceledon forgave her.

    She leaned against Nestor, still weary. It was strange that she felt physically weary in here, in the Well, and she wondered if it was because of how much magic she'd used. But she listened quietly as the Volkers talked, though she raised a brow when Nestor started petting her hair.

    "They killed the Librarian?" she asked. "Is that even possible?"

    She did relax a little as Tianau's history was relayed to her. If there was a chance of him befriending the Inizae, it was a far better cry than many of the Volkers.

    "Her name is Jess, not Jason," Seteta corrected Nestor as Aron held out the book for her to look over Tianau's page. "Unless you would like me to start calling you Nessie."

    She read quietly for a minute, then sighed. "I think my mother and Aetes should be able to handle this Tianau," she agreed. "However... we need to figure out how to restabilize the Well, regardless. I'm... not sure it's a good idea for me to remain Steward, but right now we'll have to make it work."

    What if the magic overtook her again? She wondered, gnawing nervously at her lip. Would it kill Rheinhard? Herself? Her tribe?
     
    What had happened to the Inizae? The proud people he knew? They were packing themselves up like they’d never seen a military operation in their lives! The Inizae he knew would have called up salt from the earth to help wash away the blood from their things, or summoned a water dragon to aid in cleansing the camp. Did these people do nothing but sob and pack up? There would be flystrike by morning, especially as the heat and scent of blood spread!

    He could see it now. This lot wandering through hot sand with a cloud of black flies following them. That would attract every slaver, predator, and curious fae in a hundred miles. If they were incredibly unlucky, the Pedeon military. He growled in frustration.

    “You realize that all it’s going to take is the sun rising for this to become a disaster? Get a bucket brigade going and have someone who’s not sobbing start pulling from salt deposits where they can reach them. We can clean up the majority of the blood that way and salt will keep away the flies. Quit spreading it everywhere! Get your elderly washed in the oasis before you transport them, not after. Gods, it’s as if you people have forgotten what it’s like to be at war.” the albino growled at Rehema, then shot her a look of abject disgust. “The pervert is your guard?!”

    Fallen wasn’t the word for it. Were these people even Inizae or had he somehow managed to find a village of cultists? Of course Abtatu was important to their people, but Tianau was used to the god taking a backseat role. With a frustrated huff he took off in search of Aetes.

    Hassani was gawking at him. That wasn’t the Volker, was it? There weren’t the stereotypical blue eyes on the man. The Pedeon was confused; he’d woken to his worst nightmare of a Volker in his tent, only for the man’s chest to explode in a rain of blood all over his things. Unfortunately, moving slow was something that caught Tianau’s attention.

    “You.” Tianau barked at him. Hassani froze, looking at the teenager owlishly.

    “Form a sturdy basin. Something large enough to soak the tents. We’re going to need to fill it full of cold water. I need a few women to get scrubbing, and someone to pull up salt reserves. If they can find it, sulfur. It should get rid of the stains.” Tianau’s tone told him he was expecting to be obeyed, utterly and completely, but Hassani was having difficulty understanding him. Tianau’s eyes shot to Hassani’s throat and shoulders. “You’re Pedeon. Useless little rat.”

    There really wasn’t concealing that disgust. Hassani quietly made to get Keket to translate, and a sharp backhand caught him upside the skull and knocked him against the wagon. Hassani could name the amount of times he’d been struck on a hand. People didn’t hit pets. He rubbed at his scalp, looking at the burning red eyes focused on him. “Get. Moving.” Tianau looked like he wanted to skin him alive for a new tent.

    Hassani meekly slid around to find Keket, rubbing at the bruise on his temple. “I can’t understand him. I think I recognized the words for bowl and water…but I’m not sure.” Hassani told Keket apologetically.

    Tianau’s temper was fraying fast. He couldn’t defend them without Kreinedes, which they refused to call up. No one could understand him. He had a solution but no one was listening to him! He had little choice but to try and find the pervert.

    Asking around, the man was coordinating the movement of the elderly. Tianau’s jaw clenched as he walked up to the man. He stood straight, an impeccable military stance, and saluted.     “I need four men to begin repairing the damage to the tents, sir.” he called out. He wasn’t sure the other man deserved the honorific given he’d molested him, but he had to start order in the chaos somewhere.

    _____________________________________

    Rheinhard gave her a small smile. “I am too.” He squeezed her hand. “They attacked his body. I’m not sure if he will return or not. He’s a smaller spell within this one, not a person.”

    “It was the only thing I could think of to get him to stop.” Nestor said tiredly, and gave Seteta a look. Nessie? Aron hid a smile and looked at his feet. Yep, Seteta was back if she was beginning to sass the academic.

    “You’ve been an alright Steward so far.” Aron tried to encourage her. “Look, you weren’t going to get it perfect. You didn’t build this and the magic wasn’t your fault. We’ll figure it out. Right now I’d say the main issue is getting most of these idiots back to bed.”

    “I agree with Aron. You’ll have to order them.” Nestor told her gently. “When you’re ready. For what it’s worth…I think you’re doing alright.”

    “You havent sold us off to an army or thrown us into the Bunny District so you’ve already got one over on Oor.” Aron joked, trying to get her to lighten up.
     
    "We cannot waste precious salt and water for something as complicated as washing clothes and tents," Rehema answered, though her patience with Tianau was beginning to grow thin. "Nor can we contaminate the oasis by bathing directly in it. The temple acolytes will make sure that they are bathed and cleaned, and we can clean up the bloody sand ourselves."

    His snide remarks about Aetes were the final straw.

    "I am High Priestess Rehema, beloved of Abtatu and caretaker of this temple," she finally snapped, "Aetes is my successor, and we take allegations of rape very seriously around here. So unless you have more than an assumption, you will stop calling him names and making accusations. Think what you like about him, but unless you're prepared to bring evidence for a hearing, you will cease this nonsense, especially in front everyone."

    With that, Rehema turned back to what she had been doing, muttering and swearing under her breath.

    Keket reached up and soothed the spot where the albino had struck Hassani. "I can't quite understand him either," she said. "He's speaking a very old form of our language. I caught about as much as you did."

    Aetes clenched his jaw when Tianau reappeared. He'd been hoping that by the time he saw a Volker again, it would be Rheinhard. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to the... boy speak.

    "Rehema's orders are to burn the worst of the tents," Aetes said, stumbling a little over the ancient dialect. He hadn't had as many years of practice with it yet as Rehema had. "Each family will have to decide about repairing and cleaning their personal belongings."


    Seteta nodded wearily, and clutched at her blanket so it wouldn't fall down around her. That wasn't how she wanted to get the attention of all the Volkers.

    She reached out, carefully, with the Well's magic and raised a small platform of sand under her feet, so that she was elevated enough that all the Volkers could see her.

    "Ah... hello," she cleared her throat, and put that little bit of extra power behind her voice that made it a command. "I need everyone but Nestor, Aron, and Rheinhard to return to their pedestals, please."

    She would have liked to introduce herself, and reassure everyone, but she didn't have the strength or time for that right now. Even issuing that command made her feel drained, and she still needed to attempt to do something about Tianau.

    The pedestal under her own feet collapsed a little more abruptly than she intended, and she stumbled slightly.

    "I need to sit down," she said wearily. "Let's go to the sunroom."

    She wound her elbow through Rheinhard's and led the way. "You're sure you're all right?" she asked quietly. "I've never died before, but it seems like something that might... be unpleasant."
     
    Tianau burned with anger. She refused to use the oasis, which was there from Abtatu for their use. If not now, when?! Burning the tents was going to send up a gigantic signal fire to every slaver in the area, and Pedeo would notice. There was so much he didn’t know! Was Pedeo an ally now? Had the half-built iron city gotten on its feet? Was Persian it’s ruler now, versus the young man bent over an abacus that Tianau knew?

    He gritted his teeth. The old woman wanted to send up a flare? She wanted to have clouds of black flies following them, burrowing maggots into their skins and rotting out food? Fine. He would be ready to pick up the pieces as he always had.

    Women!

    “Have it your way, beloved of Abtatu.” he sneered at Rehema, and left her be.

    Aetes wasn’t any more help.

    Tianau helped them pile the worst of the tents up and set them alight. His nose curled at the smell of burning blood and dirty canvas. It ignited the scents of a battlefield, billowing pitch black smoke into the night. Gods, the smell was horrendous. They could bury the blood drenched sand, but the stink of that fire was permeating everything. He ached for a sword! Though the Kreneides was his beloved, and he worked the best with her, he wasn’t shabby when it came to fighting on the ground. Just not as good as he was with six foot bolts aimed at something.

    He made himself as ready as he could. The host’s knives had a long femur blade in the roll. It was long enough to serve as a short sword. Tianau sighed; it would have to do. The rest of the knives were bundled up and hidden. The tent he cleaned. He didn’t care how much water it took, or how long, he washed and scrubbed as much filth out of the canvas and bedding as he could, and pitched fresh sand over the blood.

    Despite his attitude, Tianau was a hard worker. If someone asked for help he did the job as swiftly and efficiently as possible…excessive swearing notwithstanding.

    When dawn began coloring the sky, he sought out Aetes again. “Sir. I’ve helped clean the encampment as best as I can. The fire has burned the tents to cinders, but the sun is rising. I need clothing. This isn’t going to protect me from the sun. I’ll go blind. If I go blind, your bed toy goes blind too.” he said stiffly. He’d be grateful for real clothing at any rate. He was exhausted, and needed to sleep.

    He did, at least, have a solution for his eyes. He used Rheinhard’s knives and a thick slice of bark from a palm tree at the oasis to make ilgaak, or snow goggles. They were round enough to cover the eye and had a slit for either eye, protecting the eyes from glare bouncing off of the snow. For the albino, it would shade his sensitive red eyes.

    He fitted them under his brows and used a piece of spare twine to tie them behind his head. He used a headscarf similar to the rest of the Inizae, and favored loose clothing. Clearly, he’d been in the desert before.

    When the sun rose he was in Aetes’ small room. Not that he knew it was the other man’s, it was just shaded and dark, and he wasn’t quite ready to don the ilgaak for twelve hours. His ballista had been equipped with a shade, and he’d have happily gone and lounged in her seat…if she wasn’t several hundred feet down.

    Tianau put his head in his hands. Where was he?!

    He sat on Aetes’ bed and pulled his knees to his chest. Tentatively, he touched the bond. It was cooling, becoming more of its normal self, but it sang with magic. More magic than usual. Still, he reached for what he thought was the wraith.

    ______________________________________

    A chorus of swearing, angry voices demanding answers, and choice phrases about her appearance were shot at her, but the Volkers did as they were commanded. Slowly, the flood of men ebbed. Aluid rushed up to Seteta to embrace her, then hurried to get back to sleep. With Abtatu making their slumber more like actual rest, there was a lot less resistance to sleeping this time.

    Nestor sighed in relief. He’d been expecting more of a fight but the day had everyone exhausted. At least he’d gotten through several dozen interviews. He had the notes tucked away in his coat.

    Rheinhard simply picked her up. Without the rest of the Volkers to impress, he didn’t mind simply carrying her there. “I’m…I don’t know. I saw what would have happened if we had died like everyone else…”

    “Which few men get to see, if ever.” Nestor reminded him. “And that no Volker has seen. I’ll have to interview you.”

    “I can’t remember what it looked like.” Rheinhard protested as he laid Seteta down in the pillows. “I…just remember Carruth.”

    “Carruth doesn’t judge. As much as people bitch, Death is a neutral party to all of us. Not surprising he bumped you back considering Abtatu’s promise you’d live as long as a mate.” Aron pointed out. “Usually the only ones on conversational terms are torture victims and the suicidal. Klaus remembers his victims talking to people that weren’t there, and Huron was offered the chance to check out early. Still surprised he refused. Mom’s spoken to him several times.”

    Nestor was seated next to Seteta and looking over his notes. Aron rested, napping lightly, and Rheinhard looked about ready to fall over from exhaustion.
     
    Aetes watched the burning tents, his mouth tight. He and several of the temple acolytes worked to maintain the illusion around the temple that it was empty desert. No temple, no oasis, and no fire or smoke.

    Rehema came to check on him at one point, and he finally learned the albino's name. Tianau. He quietly heeded her remaining orders, and could see the worry for him in her eyes, but it was easy to sidetrack her by reminding her she was with child and that she should get her husband to help with some of the tasks she was taking on.

    He was nearly dead on his feet by the time dawn was breaking the sky, and when Tianau approached him again, he listened with a blank expression and listless eyes, though the faintest spark appeared when Tianau called Rheinhard his bed toy.

    He made no other response, though, and simply gestured to one of the guards, rattling off some instructions that Tianau couldn't keep up with translating.

    "Go with him," Aetes said simply, then moved on to his next task.

    The guard took Tianau to the stone house by the oasis, and shortly afterward one of the temple acolytes arrived with a tray of food--dried goat meat, rice cooked in broth, and a cup of mint tea--as well as some clothing that was better sized for the albino.

    It was quite a bit more time before Aetes came in, freshly washed and changed. He ignored Tianau on the bed, retrieved a spare blanket, and curled up on the floor, against the far wall opposite the bed.


    Seteta leaned down and pressed a kiss to Aluid's forehead. "I'm sorry, I'll come visit you soon," she promised.

    She yelped slightly when Rheinhard swept her up. He didn't seem like he was strong enough to carry her, but the sunroom wasn't far. The boys chattered for a bit and she listened quietly, but frowned when she saw how tired Rhienhard seemed.

    "Lie down," she told him, patting a pillow next to her. "Rest."

    She shifted to look at Nestor then. "I think... I will try to reach out to Tianau, see if there is anything transferring over the bond," she spoke quietly. "But Rheinhard isn't in any shape to try and regain control, and I'm honestly not sure how much I can do yet."

    Then she pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, closed her eyes, and reached for the bond.

    There was nothing. The bond was there, it just... didn't attach to anything. She scrunched her face and tried again but still... nothing.

    She opened her eyes with a sigh. "I can't feel anything at all on the bond," she told Nestor. "It's there, just not... active."

    She winced again, and rubbed at her sternum. "I think... I need to go back," she murmured, looking suddenly green. Then she vanished, so quickly that it was clear she hadn't meant to.

    Hurriedly, she pushed aside the bedsheets and scrambled to the edge of the bed, leaning over to vomit on the floor.
     
    Rheinhard curled up and was asleep before he was properly settled. He was exhausted. Nestor sighed. “Now that everyone’s asleep I’ll keep things up in here. We’ll watch for signs that Tianau’s control is slipping and watch his memories for clues. He’s one of the older Volkers.” He sighed, tapping the stack of white leather books they’d brought. “And I’ll return these to the archives when I’m done.”

    Nestor watched her nervously as she reached. He could feel it. The Well was there, the bond was there, but it just wasn’t responding. He patted her, then yanked his hand back as she rubbed at her sternum. “Not too-“ she was gone.

    “….fast.” He finished lamely.

    Aron winced. “Well…I guess we’d better go educate ourselves on life before Mom.”

    “It wasn’t a pretty one.” Nestor said grimly, and picked up the books again. “You go ahead. I’ll start here.”

    _______________________________

    Seteta practically launched herself off the bed, and the next thing Seikilos heard was vomit hitting the floor. A bucket was hastily shoved under Seteta’s nose, and the dragon ness pulled her hair back so she wouldn’t get vomit in it.

    Seteta was in a quieter part of the house. Underground, surrounded by natural stone and rock. The earth was all around her, hewn and smoothed, but as natural as breathing. Seikilos rubbed her back.

    “Breathe. There’s water and crackers here when you’re ready.” she said, calmly and evenly. “Chaceledon has gone to get a healer. He didn’t know what else to do and you know how useless men are. I gave him an errand.” She frowned, and wiped Seteta’s mouth with a cool cloth.

    “I’ve sent the twins to your tribe. Hopefully your parents can help, but I wanted them here sooner rather than later. At least, they should know what’s going on.” Seikilos offered her some water, and a servant spirited away the bucket and began wiping down the floor. Others came with salt lanterns to rid the air of the smell.

    “Ma’am? Persian De Soto and Chaceledon are requesting entry to the estate.” A servant whispered to her.

    Seikilos gave him a look. “He flew to Pedeo rather than consult his own kind?! What was he thinking, bringing a slaver to an Inizae?”

    The servant flinched. “He said something about the man Miss Seteta is bonded to.”

    Seikilos pursed her lips.     “Fine. But I want the fae dressed down for anything in his pockets. Gold specifically. Check his bag for that sedative he puts on his nails and scrub his hands yourself if you have to. I don’t trust him.”
     
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