A Difficult Journey (short story)
Title: A Difficult Journey Author: Rohese Bayvel-Timsh'l
First published on the 3rd day of Imaerasta in the year 5117
During an audience with the Argent Mirror in Koaratos 5117, Rohese was tasked with seeing if Ta'Illistim should consider extending further aid to those displaced in the west. This followed the Swan Song storyline based out of Solhaven in the wake of the destruction of Talador at the end of the Eyes of the Dawn storyline.
Departure
Rohese turned the iron key in Lily Manor’s front door and gave it a gentle tug to check it was locked. She dropped the key into the pocket of her pelisse and glanced around to ensure she was alone.
The birds were in full song, filling the courtyard with their melodic trills and heralding the start of a new day. The sun was just breaking over the horizon and she turned to watch its golden glow seep across the sky. She welcomed its warmth on her pale face. It had been a stressful few weeks and sleep had eluded her recently. The dark circles beneath her eyes were testament to how tired she felt. She had foregone rest again that night in order to write several letters, which now sat on her desk awaiting collection and despatch by her chambermaid.
With a deep breath, she firmed her resolve; the fresh morning air had invigorated her a little. The Mirror had asked this of her and she would not fail her sovereign. Pulling her hood up to conceal her face - she would rather not be noticed and distracted from the task in hand - she made her way out of the gate and onto the road leading through the wooded Lower Trollfang. Following the course of the Locksmehr River and the high exterior walls of Wehnimer's Landing, she slipped through the West Gate with a cursory nod to the sleepy guard and into the early morning bustle on the streets.
Reaching the southeast corner of the Town Square, she was relieved to see that a wagon was already waiting and she boarded it quickly. Apart from a couple of bruises, the journey to Bloodriven Village was without incident and she stepped out onto the muddy riverbank with the sun now high in the sky.
Lifting her skirts to avoid trailing them in the mud, she made her way carefully up and through the black iron gate. She weaved her way through the mid-morning crowds in Lyswe Court and past the buildings lining the cobbled streets. She was more determined than ever to escape notice today so she headed directly to her goal on Gloam Pike. The slipshod building was difficult to miss, it being painted in garish colours, and Rohese glanced warily around her before she entered.
A few minutes later, having acquired her purchase, she hung it around her neck and, with a nervous push, she activated it. It took all of her willpower not to scream out loud as the tiny hollow needles stabbed into her, suffusing her body with their noxious elixir. The pain was almost unbearable but it was soon over and she cautiously peered into her mirror.
You see Lady Rohese Bayvel-Timsh'l the Gentlewoman.
She appears to be a Human from Hendor.
She is taller than average with a slender willowy form. She appears to be youthful. She has silver-lashed misty grey eyes and silky smooth, fair skin. She has lustrous, hip-length pale silver hair neatly collected within an umber alum-beaded snood. She has naturally glossy, rose-pink tinted lips. Peeking through her hair are dainty upswept ears tapering to fine points which enhance her fey-like countenance.
She has an inking of a faint star constellation on her neck, and a cascade of tiny silver stars tattooed over her right eyebrow that fades into her hairline.
She is in good shape.
She is holding a silver-backed mirror etched with orbital moons in her right hand.
She is wearing a metalworked withered tree talisman, a sleeveless pelisse of dove grey chamois collared in soft rabbit fur, a platinum wedding ring, a tall-collared onyx velvet bliaut with fur-lined hanging sleeves, and some tall cognac leather boots with perforated suede panels.
She was very aware that she was venturing into a troubled area of the Empire and was keen to avoid any issues. Despite recent developments, there were still those that upheld Chaston's Edict and wished ill on her kind. I will have to keep my hood up to avoid anyone seeing my ears but this illusion should help.
Melting into the crowd, she made her way back down to the riverbank and the half-circle of wagons waiting there. Now to find a wagon to take me south.
Determination
The wagon came to a halt in a sun-dappled clearing and the wagoner helped Rohese down. She was stiff from having spent the entire journey squashed between a rather stout, gruff-looking dwarf and a stack of awkwardly shaped crates filled with live poultry. She welcomed the chance to stretch her legs and breathe freely.
This was the first camp she had encountered. It was only a few hours ride from Bloodriven Village and was fairly small. It appeared to be a recent addition to the wooded area with only twenty or so tents erected around a crudely built, squat wooden building and a couple of fishing boats tied up at a makeshift dock on the nearby riverbank.
It was late afternoon and Rohese didn’t relish the prospect of another uncomfortable journey that day so she made her way over to the building to make enquiries about a place to sleep.
The timber-framed structure was simple in construction having only two storeys and a couple of partitioned rooms. It seemed to serve as a communal hall and inn of sorts. Rohese was pleasantly surprised at the comforts it afforded though; her room was basic but clean and the meal of freshly caught fish served that evening was delicious. She spent a pleasant hour conversing with some of the tent dwellers and learned that they were effectively the overspill from a much larger camp further along the river. They had decided to venture north and set up a quieter community of their own.
The stories they told of their loss were heartbreaking but Rohese’s spirits were uplifted a little by their optimism and desire to make the best of their circumstances. She listened to them share their recollection of the events that unfolded in Talador: how they were forced to leave their homes with nothing but the clothes on their backs during the conflict and the countless thousands that had died in the blast that destroyed the Barony.
Some recounted the difficulties of the cold winter months they had endured in the early settlements with little to eat until the supply wagons started to arrive. Others spoke of the kindness they had personally received from the Lady Kasendra Chandrennin. They were keen to add that their dearest wish was to return home, even if that meant starting all over again in the Bleaklands. Rohese felt powerless to help them; all she could do was reassure them that, one day, it might be possible.
She cried herself to sleep that night but at least she slept; exhaustion had finally caught up with her.
The following morning, she reluctantly boarded the wagon again, this time accompanied by a mother and her two young children. The forlorn looking woman had spent the last six months travelling from camp to camp in the hope that her soldier husband had somehow escaped the atrocities and made his way to safety. As they made their way along the Locksmehr River trail, Rohese took the elder child and sat him in her lap whilst the mother nursed the baby. At last, something practical that she could do to help.
Decision
It hadn’t stopped raining for three days but Rohese was relieved to see that it had at least reduced to a drizzle when she awoke that morning. Somewhat refreshed from her sleep and with her features still masked beneath the illusion, she ventured outside into the crowded camp.
There was a definite autumnal feeling in the air with the smell of loam and wood smoke filling her nostrils. The rain had made the ground muddy and treacherous underfoot but she picked her way carefully around the worst of the puddles and wheel ruts.
Lately she had been struck by the contrast of her time in the refugee camps and the glamour of recent weeks. Fashion Week had been a wonderful interlude but there was no escaping the harsh realities of life outside of cocktail parties and elegant balls. This brief sojourn into the imperial wilderness was a stark reminder that there was no place for silk gowns here.
At first glance the encampment seemed to be a bleak and dreary place but as the sun finally broke through the clouds and hoods were removed, Rohese could see the genuine smiles on people’s faces as they went about their business. The sound of nearby laughter caught her attention and she stepped aside just in time to see a gaggle of geese cross her path, honking and hinking as they tried to elude their keeper.
Her momentary pause was all the more fortuitous because just as Rohese was about to turn away, she overheard a snippet of conversation in which a familiar name was mentioned.
“See that they reach Puptilian, he has been waiting for these supplies.” Two guards walked past, paying no attention to Rohese standing in the doorway. “There’s another shipment on its way from the Free Port but the recent bad weather has delayed it.”
Rohese’s hand instinctively went to the talisman around her neck. She felt her illusion falter for a moment but with a gentle tug, it settled back into its genteel human countenance. Wrapping the fingers of her other hand around the soft leather pouch in her pocket, she smiled. Puptilian would understand why I need to do this.
The guards continued their conversation as they headed towards the nearby watch tower. Once they were out of earshot, Rohese stepped into the Keep and up the narrow staircase to a small chamber on the first floor. She was due to meet with the Green Sisters and finalise arrangements for her journey into the Bleaklands.
Despair
The landscape had changed markedly in the last hour. The air was no longer filled with the sound of birdsong or the whisper of wind through the trees. A gloomy silence now hung around them, along with the lingering smell of acrid smoke.
Earlier that morning, Rohese had passed fields filled with crops ready for harvesting and orchards of trees laden with fruit ripe for picking. Her spirits had been lifted by a feeling of hope for the future. But this? This was too much to bear: a wasteland as far as the eye could see. An occasional breeze stirred the dust covering the scorched black earth, causing eddies of choking grey ash to rise and fall around them.
Kasendra’s encampment felt like a lifetime away from the devastation now laid out before her. The thousands of displaced people who had fled the horror had found refuge in the many camps scattered throughout the war-ravaged provinces east of Vornavis. They had made a start on rebuilding their lives but Talador was still their home. With the help of the Green Sisters, perhaps it would one day be possible to return but, faced with this reality, it seemed like a distant dream.
One of the Sisters reached over and gently squeezed Rohese’s hand. Her eyes spoke volumes and it alleviated Rohese’s despair a little. Despite her youth, the young girl that had befriended Rohese back in the camp was both kind and astute. They had talked a lot over the last couple of days and Rohese had confided in her about her true identity. Her name was Tyrie and she had spent the last six months travelling back and forth between the camps and the Bleaklands, in an attempt to restore some life to the once lush Barony. Talador had been her childhood home and, despite her perpetual smile, it was clear that she was still moved by the events of last year.
The wagon eventually came to a halt at the bottom of a shallow valley just as drops of rain started to fall from the dark clouds overhead. Remnants of an ancient oak wood were visible through the undulating piles of ash with skeletal arm-like boughs of fallen trees reaching upwards. A sepulchral silence pervaded the area where the trees no longer stood. Nothing stirred, nothing sang, and nothing shone.
Rohese climbed down and joined the Sisters as they began to clear an area of ground. They worked steadily for a few hours to lift away the debris, not letting the sporadic rain showers hinder their progress. Beneath a pile of charred and broken wood, they found a small patch of sickly yellow grass. Turning their attention to the only sign of life in that whole area, they tended it with water and herbal nutrients. Rohese knew this was the spot she had been looking for.
Taking care not to damage the grass, she knelt on the ground and reached inside her pelisse for the soft leather pouch. She loosened the drawstring to reveal a handful of wrinkled brown acorns. Prior to embarking on this journey, Rohese had made a point to collect acorns from both the Sylvanfair tree in Wehnimer's Landing and the Oak Grove surrounding the Ta'Illistim Manse. It seemed only fitting to plant them here.
Bringing them to her lips, she reverently kissed each in turn before gently pushing them into the damp, grassy earth. Sister Tyrie joined her and together they said a prayer over the planted seeds. A single tear tracked down Rohese’s dirt-smudged cheek and landed on the hallowed ground. The clouds parted for the first time that day and a pale yellow sun could be seen hanging low in the sky. Perhaps Lumnis and Imaera had heard their prayer and would bless this ground with a new woodland in the years to come.
Tyrie and Rohese rose to their feet and wordlessly hugged each other. Tyrie was still smiling and it was Rohese’s turn to do the same.
Dawning
Dawn had always been her favourite time of day; it heralded new beginnings. Rohese sat on the grassy hillside to watch the sun rise and allowed her thoughts to wander. The golden wash of sunshine broke over the misty horizon and flooded the meadow below with its nourishing warmth. As the burgeoning light crept towards her, she felt refreshed and invigorated. I wonder what joys and sorrows today has in store for me?
Rising to her feet, Rohese straightened her gown. She barely noticed the creases, grass stains, and damp patches anymore. A couple of weeks ago, she would have been horrified at the thought of such shabby attire but it didn’t seem to matter somehow. With a beatific smile, she walked back into the encampment and acknowledged the kind greeting of the gate guards. She had become a familiar face now and, whilst she still missed home, she no longer felt bereft of friends.
She hadn't taken more than a dozen steps through the gate when she was met by a courier. Handing over a folded sheet of matte black paper, he darted away to make another delivery. Rohese opened the letter and wrinkled her nose as a faint scent of manure wafted up from its surface.
Holding the offending sheet as far away from her nose as possible, she quickly scanned the neat lines of text and smiled to herself. Heartfire had clearly found someone to read her letter and duly scribe a response for him. Naamit had cleverly squeezed his rather long dictated reply into every available space and had even managed to capture his little endearing nuances. Pick up some kitten pie from the Pie Shop, indeed.
Just as she folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket, she felt a gentle tug at her skirts and looked down into a pair of familiar brown eyes. It was the little boy she had held on her lap during the initial wagon journey to the camp. A grubby hand reached up to take hers and led her over to a nearby cluster of tents. Following the child with amused curiosity, she discovered his mother seated on a low stool, in the process of milking a goat. Standing next to her was a dark-complected man with the same brown eyes and a baby in his arms.
“Da-da!” The little boy beamed brightly at Rohese, and pointed towards the man who chuckled and nodded. “Yes, son, “I’m your da-da,” he replied, ruffling the little boy’s hair.
Rohese was invited to break bread with the family but politely declined. Despite everything she had experienced lately, she still kept to her daytime fasting regime. She did, however, accept a cup of the freshly drawn goat’s milk and sat with them whilst they joyfully recounted the story of their long-awaited reunion.
Amid all of the joviality, however, Rohese noticed that the little boy kept tugging roughly at the slightly pointed tip of his ear. Pulling him into her lap, she asked him why he was deliberately hurting himself. As the tears welled up in the little boy’s eyes, his father pushed back his black hair, tucking it behind a sharply pointed ear, and Rohese understood.
“Are you teased because of your ears?” she gently asked the little boy, who nodded and tugged angrily at them once more.
“Shall I let you into a secret?” she whispered quietly to him and he nodded again.
Rohese pulled at her talisman, causing the illusion around her to drop, and pushed back the hood of her pelisse to reveal the fine points of her own ears peeking through her pale silver hair. The little boys eyes widened and he reached up to touch them. Flinging his arms around her neck, he kissed her cheek and, with a wide grin, he squirmed out of her lap to join a group of boys who were chasing a plump of ducks. Both parents simply smiled at her and poured more milk into her cup. This humble gesture was enough to reassure Rohese that, no matter what, she was welcome amongst them.
Sipping her milk, she watched the merriment of the children at play and thought about Heartfire having to seek help to read and write. It suddenly dawned on her. Now she knew how she could make a difference. The children were the future and the one thing she understood, more than anything else, was the importance of education; as did her beloved Argent Mirror. She was suddenly excited about all of the opportunities that were now before her. She had so many ideas tumbling around in her head about how she could take this forward. It would be asking a lot of people at home but she had faith in their desire to help too. Today was a joyous day.
Daughter
The light sound of knocking at the door broke Rohese’s meditation. She rose to her feet to open it and was greeted by Tyrie who was smiling widely even as she apologised profusely for having disturbed her.
“Come with me! There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” she announced, leading Rohese eagerly down the narrow stairs.
Wending their way past the clusters of tents, wagons, and animal pens, Tyrie guided her towards a large cream pavilion on the outskirts of the encampment and ducked through the flap.
Despite it being mid-morning, the interior was illuminated by an array of beeswax candles and the air carried the scent of honey and chamomile. Rohese breathed deeply of the familiar aroma and immediately felt calmed; it reminded her of the Library Aies back in Ta'Illistim with its dimly-lit hallways and beeswax polished wood panelling.
Standing at a nearby table, with her back to them both, was a strikingly tall woman dressed in a hooded cloak of vibrantly coloured feathers. Hearing Tyrie and Rohese enter, she turned and walked towards them. Taking both of Rohese’s hands in her own, she bent to rest her forehead on them by way of a greeting.
“I am so pleased to meet you,” she remarked quietly, pushing her hood back to reveal a shock of white hair cut close to her head. “Tyrie has told me so much about you.” The lower portion of her face was concealed by a swathe of white silk but her blue eyes reflected a warm smile and a friendly disposition.
Rohese was rather taken aback but Tyrie was quick to explain that Inula was one of the Daughters of Lumnis. On hearing about Rohese and her plans, she had requested to meet with her.
“You two have a lot to talk about, I’m sure!” Tyrie declared, kissing both women on the cheek and disappearing back through the flap. Inula laughed lightly and gestured to Rohese to sit.
It was dusk by the time Tyrie returned to find the two women still engaged in conversation and surrounded by a pile of open books and empty teacups.
“I’ve arranged for the wagon to take you to Vornavis in the morning, as requested,” Tyrie said to Rohese, who rose to her feet and nodded in appreciation.
With no word of explanation, Inula offered Rohese a length of airy white silk, similar to her own, and pressed it affectionately into her hands. Rohese closed her eyes for a moment and, making a silent vow to Lumnis, she fixed the veil across the lower part of her face. It was time to get to work. It was time to go home.
Devoted
Rohese stepped through the door of the Lumnis’ Temple and into the comforting glow of the sconces lining the walls of the Hall of Light. Breathing a sigh of relief, she pushed back her hood and removed the white silk veil from her face. Her measured footfall was muffled by the plush woven rugs covering the marble floor as she made her way purposefully towards the gilded spiral staircase and ascended it.
Continuing past the Pool of Thought, Rohese avoided the temptation to admire the artistry of the ceiling and entered the rotunda at the far end. The Sanctuary of the Journey was one of the most beautiful chambers in the Temple so this time she allowed herself a moment to pause and appreciate the frieze on the entablature overhead. It depicted a journey of trials, sorrows and victories; all the more poignant since her own recent difficult journey.
As well as the impressive architectural sculptures, the chamber also housed a stone altar. Rohese slowly climbed the blue marble steps, mouthing a prayer of blessing for the displaced people of Talador with each footstep. Reaching the Altar of Illumination, she lit a pale ivory chamomile candle and placed it reverently among the votives. The flame flickered slightly on a small draft but steadied to illuminate the shadows with its soft golden glow. To the side, a shallow granite bowl, filled with smoldering sandalwood embers, emitted curling tendrils of perfumed smoke into the air.
Rohese inhaled deeply and felt at peace for the first time in weeks. The combination of a good night’s sleep in her Ebondrift marital bed and the bracing sea air of the Free Port had helped but, most of all, she was just happy to be back in the hallowed halls of her Lady’s Temple.
Help me to walk in your light and live my life with wisdom and understanding. With a final benediction, Rohese clasped her hands in a reverent gesture and headed back down the stairs. Stepping into the Solhaven sunlight, she fixed the white silk veil back across her mouth and began the last stage of her journey; the one that would finally take her home to Ta'Illistim.
Dreaming
- Dreaming (or Silent Tears)**
Thick snowflakes swirled around her, obscuring her vision. Rohese pulled her fur-mantled coat tightly around her and pressed forward through the blizzard. She had no idea where she was going or who she was looking for but there was a sense of urgency in her search. It was bitterly cold and she was lost. She called out in the vain hope that someone would hear her cry for help but, whether it was a silent plea or her words were simply lost on the wind, she went unheard. Her desperate tears froze on her cheeks.
Surrounded by stacks of boxes and crates, Rohese felt overwhelmed by the generosity of the Elven Nations. She watched as each was opened by a group of Solhaven volunteers only to reveal that they were all empty. She stood in shock as they turned to face her, pointing accusatory fingers and making disparaging remarks. She opened her mouth to try and explain but no words were forthcoming. Feeling the walls close in on her, she did her best to hold back tears of humiliation.
Standing in bottom of a shallow valley on the outskirts of the Talador Bleaklands, Rohese was surrounded by undulated piles of grey ash and skeletal arm-like boughs of fallen trees. Bathed in a shaft of golden sunlight, a lone tree stood in middle of the devastation, its low hanging branches laden with ripe fruit. Plucking a rosy red apple, Rohese bit into it but watched in horror as the apple turned black in her hand and her mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. She screamed but no sound could be heard.
A barrage of images continued to assault her senses as if her memories were fighting for attention: the lifeless body of a little boy with dark brown eyes cradled in her arms of his grieving father faded to reveal her friend, Inula, standing in a room filled with candles. Reaching out to hug her, she disintegrated into a cloud of brightly colored feathers.
Rohese whimpered and stirred in her sleep. Sighisoara pulled her into his embrace and murmured, “Another bad dream, pixie?”
Rohese woke with a start and reached out for her husband, only to find the other side of her bed was cold and unoccupied.
She wept silent tears.