Miniarc-Meanwhile-14
Gourd thought of the stranger he’d hauled into his life as a quiet warrior, a man weighed down by a heavy quest. It was impressive and perhaps a little intimidating. He’d faced many dangers on the sea but rarely was he so close to them. Violence roiled beneath the mountain’s blood skin, ready to be unleased at a moment’s notice but held in check by a firm will, his discipline evident in every word and action.
However, in one breath, Orum transformed into a much less intimidating man with bright eyes and a dopey grin. He leaned forward, his excitement palpable. “My darling Kierra. Oh, I remember the day I first saw her like it was yesterday. I made it a practice to duel my wife every few months. As a vraekiri, I couldn’t resist the challenge and it kept my drive to improve strong. Not even that beast is crazy enough to fight while in the final stage of pregnancy so it had been several months since one of our bouts. I was ready for intense combat but instead, I was offered the chance to see her child.”
Orum chuckled to himself, not bothering to explain the humor he found in his words. “At the time, I didn’t know the girl was my blood. Morgene has two partners and several lovers—”
“Great tree!” an eavesdropper shouted, the sentiment quickly and vocally echoed by those around him. A few of them gave Orum side glances. No doubt wondering how he put up with such a prolific woman. Gourd had to admit, he felt the same. He was an understanding sort of man and wasn’t averse to a little extra fun outside of his union but there was no way he could tolerate his woman sleeping with whoever she pleased. And to not even know his child was his own? Unthinkable.
Orum didn’t seem the kind of man that would allow himself to be pushed around. It spoke to this Morgene’s abilities that she did it anyway. As well as her personality. He’d never speak it out loud, but for all his complaints, the stranger still spoke with a kind of fondness about his wife. Gourd hoped he never had occasion to meet the Dusk royal that had twisted the man into such a complicated knot.
“In my mind, it was anyone’s child but mine. I couldn’t imagine having a child by that woman. I also couldn’t imagine what her child would look like. Probably some dark twisted thing with bloodthirsty eyes and too many teeth. Certainly not the little sprout they brought to me wrapped in a thick, white blanket. I was about to tell the handmaidens that had brought her to take Morgene’s spawn away but then she opened her eyes.”
Orum pointed to his own, the irises more green than gold in the dimmer light. “They were just like mine. She’s lighter, both in skin and hair, her face takes after her mother, and she doesn’t have my maw—” His hand moved down to tug at one of his protruding fangs. “But those eyes said it all. She was mine. And from the moment she looked up at me, I loved her.
“Before our daughter, I think I hated Morgene a little more than I loved her. I could have killed her. Wanted to, desperately. But after our miracle, well. I could never forgive her, but everything weighed on me less as it had led to that moment. My daughter.”
Orum’s love for his daughter gushed out of him as he regaled the crowd with endless tales of the girl’s youth, apparently the image of perfection from the moment of her birth. Gourd knew men who favored their daughters, but Orum was in a class of his own.
“She was a branch from the Great Tree itself. Born with more talent than either of us, you know. Blessed by our ancestor. I think it’s called the pure affinity now? Yes, a pure affinity after my own. The world loves her as much as I do. When she was a baby, flowers bloomed when she laughed and withered when she threw tantrums. And she was so smart. Said her first words after only five months. Helps that she shot up like a weed. Think the little brat was hastening her growth. By the time she was ten, she was half as big as me, haha!”
Orum lost most of his audience as he prattled on about his daughter for another half hour. Even his fellows abandoned their table, seeking out more compelling company. Gourd had more patience for the doting father. Having kids of his own, he understood the chest-bursting pride when they succeeded. He would roar for their victories no matter how big or small, but the larger their accomplishments, the prouder he felt. He was prouder than his son the first time he caught a fish, lifting it and the boy and parading them all the way home.
Orum’s daughter had accomplished much greater feats than catching a fish. Having a pure physical affinity meant she was the closest thing to an immortal in this world. It went without question that she would do great things in her time but she had wasted no time reaching for greatness.
After the Great War shattered the Dragon Isles, draconids fled to every corner of the world to find a new home. They managed to keep out of most of the war, but the elves were affected by evacuation of the isles. Wyverns, the closest relation to the majesties of the sky, roosted in the branches of the Great Tree. The elves originally took great offense to any creature making a home on the body of their ancestor. However, the fight to remove them threatened to harm the Great Tree.
The provinces might have still waged war against the invaders, but they found that the wyverns were not the savage manabeasts they hunted in their forests. The wyverns were intelligent. They had community and culture. Most importantly, they were spiritual creatures that understood that the tree they roosted on was more than a place to hold their nests.
The wyverns and the elves formed a bond of mutual appreciation. Whatever resentment remained was sorted through the tradition of warriors climbing the tree to challenge the wyverns. One of the feats Orum was proudest of when he boasted of his daughter was the young woman challenging her first branch at the tender age of fifty.
It would have been a young wyvern, a juvenile if not younger, but it was still an opponent that warriors with twice her age and five times her experience would struggle against. Many proud fighters had challenged a wyvern before they were ready and ended up as its meal.
For her to overcome the challenge at her tender age meant she not only had strength, she also had a calm mind that could accurately gauge her abilities and an instinct for combat. Truly, Gourd had no doubt the name Kierra Atainna would be remembered for generations to come.
Eventually, Orum’s thoughts turned from praising his daughter, his smile replaced by a serious expression. Gourd straightened up, sensing a change in the story.
“Kierra is a gift from the Great Spirit but that isn’t enough for Morgene. She must be more than perfect. She must be that monster’s ideal and the slightest deviation results in punishment.”
Gourd raised a brow as the handle of the mug in Orum’s hand cracked. He noticed his fault and a green flash fixed the wooden cup. “What happened?” the seaman asked softly, not wanting to rile his new friend up but far too invested in the story to leave without hearing its end.
“My darling, perfect though she may be, can only be as perfect as mortals can. As we all inevitably do, she made a mistake. She…had trouble killing a certain creature. One creature. I thought she simply needed a break from fighting. She’d been doing it since she could properly hold a blade and that was earlier than most.
“Her mother’s solution was to knock her out and imprison her within the Enchanted Forest along with the beasts, holding her captive until she slew them.”
“Spirit.” When he was a boy, Gourd had been deathly afraid of spiders. Couldn’t see one without yelping like a scalded dog and dancing about until one of his brothers stomped on the poor creature. If he’d been locked in a room with one as a child, he would have died of fright. “That’s…”
“Ridiculous? Unconscionable? Insane?” Orum scoffed. “That is Morgene. And my darling Kii has always been weak to her mother’s approval.”
“How long has she been imprisoned?”
“I left after seven years when there was no change. I know my Kii. She is decisive. If she hadn’t completed her task after so long, there was more to her reluctance to slay the beasts than fear or nerves. But I couldn’t ask her. Morgene refused to allow me to see my own daughter. The only way I could see her, help her, was to go through my wife.”
Orum raised a balled fist. “It’s been a decade since I left and now I’m finally ready.”
“Are you…going to kill her?” Gourd asked with trepidation, his common sensibilities struggling to comprehend the strange family and their complicated relationships. He couldn’t imagine killing his own wife, the mother of his children, no matter what she’d done.
Then again, he also couldn’t imagine her doing something as barbaric as imprisoning their children until they performed to her satisfaction. How far would he go to save his children from an unjust fate, even if the one responsible was their mother? He never wanted to know the answer to that question.
Though he thought he saw a hint in Orum’s determined gaze. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Miniarc-Meanwhile-14
Gourd thought of the stranger he’d hauled into his life as a quiet warrior, a man weighed down by a heavy quest. It was impressive and perhaps a little intimidating. He’d faced many dangers on the sea but rarely was he so close to them. Violence roiled beneath the mountain’s blood skin, ready to be unleased at a moment’s notice but held in check by a firm will, his discipline evident in every word and action.
However, in one breath, Orum transformed into a much less intimidating man with bright eyes and a dopey grin. He leaned forward, his excitement palpable. “My darling Kierra. Oh, I remember the day I first saw her like it was yesterday. I made it a practice to duel my wife every few months. As a vraekiri, I couldn’t resist the challenge and it kept my drive to improve strong. Not even that beast is crazy enough to fight while in the final stage of pregnancy so it had been several months since one of our bouts. I was ready for intense combat but instead, I was offered the chance to see her child.”
Orum chuckled to himself, not bothering to explain the humor he found in his words. “At the time, I didn’t know the girl was my blood. Morgene has two partners and several lovers—”
“Great tree!” an eavesdropper shouted, the sentiment quickly and vocally echoed by those around him. A few of them gave Orum side glances. No doubt wondering how he put up with such a prolific woman. Gourd had to admit, he felt the same. He was an understanding sort of man and wasn’t averse to a little extra fun outside of his union but there was no way he could tolerate his woman sleeping with whoever she pleased. And to not even know his child was his own? Unthinkable.
Orum didn’t seem the kind of man that would allow himself to be pushed around. It spoke to this Morgene’s abilities that she did it anyway. As well as her personality. He’d never speak it out loud, but for all his complaints, the stranger still spoke with a kind of fondness about his wife. Gourd hoped he never had occasion to meet the Dusk royal that had twisted the man into such a complicated knot.
“In my mind, it was anyone’s child but mine. I couldn’t imagine having a child by that woman. I also couldn’t imagine what her child would look like. Probably some dark twisted thing with bloodthirsty eyes and too many teeth. Certainly not the little sprout they brought to me wrapped in a thick, white blanket. I was about to tell the handmaidens that had brought her to take Morgene’s spawn away but then she opened her eyes.”
Orum pointed to his own, the irises more green than gold in the dimmer light. “They were just like mine. She’s lighter, both in skin and hair, her face takes after her mother, and she doesn’t have my maw—” His hand moved down to tug at one of his protruding fangs. “But those eyes said it all. She was mine. And from the moment she looked up at me, I loved her.
“Before our daughter, I think I hated Morgene a little more than I loved her. I could have killed her. Wanted to, desperately. But after our miracle, well. I could never forgive her, but everything weighed on me less as it had led to that moment. My daughter.”
Orum’s love for his daughter gushed out of him as he regaled the crowd with endless tales of the girl’s youth, apparently the image of perfection from the moment of her birth. Gourd knew men who favored their daughters, but Orum was in a class of his own.
“She was a branch from the Great Tree itself. Born with more talent than either of us, you know. Blessed by our ancestor. I think it’s called the pure affinity now? Yes, a pure affinity after my own. The world loves her as much as I do. When she was a baby, flowers bloomed when she laughed and withered when she threw tantrums. And she was so smart. Said her first words after only five months. Helps that she shot up like a weed. Think the little brat was hastening her growth. By the time she was ten, she was half as big as me, haha!”
Orum lost most of his audience as he prattled on about his daughter for another half hour. Even his fellows abandoned their table, seeking out more compelling company. Gourd had more patience for the doting father. Having kids of his own, he understood the chest-bursting pride when they succeeded. He would roar for their victories no matter how big or small, but the larger their accomplishments, the prouder he felt. He was prouder than his son the first time he caught a fish, lifting it and the boy and parading them all the way home.
Orum’s daughter had accomplished much greater feats than catching a fish. Having a pure physical affinity meant she was the closest thing to an immortal in this world. It went without question that she would do great things in her time but she had wasted no time reaching for greatness.
After the Great War shattered the Dragon Isles, draconids fled to every corner of the world to find a new home. They managed to keep out of most of the war, but the elves were affected by evacuation of the isles. Wyverns, the closest relation to the majesties of the sky, roosted in the branches of the Great Tree. The elves originally took great offense to any creature making a home on the body of their ancestor. However, the fight to remove them threatened to harm the Great Tree.
The provinces might have still waged war against the invaders, but they found that the wyverns were not the savage manabeasts they hunted in their forests. The wyverns were intelligent. They had community and culture. Most importantly, they were spiritual creatures that understood that the tree they roosted on was more than a place to hold their nests.
The wyverns and the elves formed a bond of mutual appreciation. Whatever resentment remained was sorted through the tradition of warriors climbing the tree to challenge the wyverns. One of the feats Orum was proudest of when he boasted of his daughter was the young woman challenging her first branch at the tender age of fifty.
It would have been a young wyvern, a juvenile if not younger, but it was still an opponent that warriors with twice her age and five times her experience would struggle against. Many proud fighters had challenged a wyvern before they were ready and ended up as its meal.
For her to overcome the challenge at her tender age meant she not only had strength, she also had a calm mind that could accurately gauge her abilities and an instinct for combat. Truly, Gourd had no doubt the name Kierra Atainna would be remembered for generations to come.
Eventually, Orum’s thoughts turned from praising his daughter, his smile replaced by a serious expression. Gourd straightened up, sensing a change in the story.
“Kierra is a gift from the Great Spirit but that isn’t enough for Morgene. She must be more than perfect. She must be that monster’s ideal and the slightest deviation results in punishment.”
Gourd raised a brow as the handle of the mug in Orum’s hand cracked. He noticed his fault and a green flash fixed the wooden cup. “What happened?” the seaman asked softly, not wanting to rile his new friend up but far too invested in the story to leave without hearing its end.
“My darling, perfect though she may be, can only be as perfect as mortals can. As we all inevitably do, she made a mistake. She…had trouble killing a certain creature. One creature. I thought she simply needed a break from fighting. She’d been doing it since she could properly hold a blade and that was earlier than most.
“Her mother’s solution was to knock her out and imprison her within the Enchanted Forest along with the beasts, holding her captive until she slew them.”
“Spirit.” When he was a boy, Gourd had been deathly afraid of spiders. Couldn’t see one without yelping like a scalded dog and dancing about until one of his brothers stomped on the poor creature. If he’d been locked in a room with one as a child, he would have died of fright. “That’s…”
“Ridiculous? Unconscionable? Insane?” Orum scoffed. “That is Morgene. And my darling Kii has always been weak to her mother’s approval.”
“How long has she been imprisoned?”
“I left after seven years when there was no change. I know my Kii. She is decisive. If she hadn’t completed her task after so long, there was more to her reluctance to slay the beasts than fear or nerves. But I couldn’t ask her. Morgene refused to allow me to see my own daughter. The only way I could see her, help her, was to go through my wife.”
Orum raised a balled fist. “It’s been a decade since I left and now I’m finally ready.”
“Are you…going to kill her?” Gourd asked with trepidation, his common sensibilities struggling to comprehend the strange family and their complicated relationships. He couldn’t imagine killing his own wife, the mother of his children, no matter what she’d done.
Then again, he also couldn’t imagine her doing something as barbaric as imprisoning their children until they performed to her satisfaction. How far would he go to save his children from an unjust fate, even if the one responsible was their mother? He never wanted to know the answer to that question.
Though he thought he saw a hint in Orum’s determined gaze. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
