A Stone Who Hears a Screaming Heart

[Koyliak]

Spring 2014

"Do ye think we did the right thing leavin' our husbands 'lone together?" Koy posed her worry out loud, waddling along the dirt road that led her and her traveling company away from Langenfirth's famed Fish Market and out towards a less populated grove. She was only several weeks away from her due date and had insisted on making one more trip to her homeland with Matt and Thia in tow before their family expanded.

Koy's sister-in-law, Isabella, gave a cheery laugh at the question. "Wha's ta worry far, Koyla? I'm sure Matt will love goin' on a hunt with Beldron. Yar husband's decent with a knife but he could use some work on his bow skills." Isa continued laughing as she led the way along the trail well-known to both women, walking slowly so Koy could keep up. Isa's long blond braid shifted over her shoulder as she looked back at her sister-in-law and saw genuine concern on the elven face. "Oh, now, fret not, they're not alone. Connar will keep the peace. Tha boy's got a knack far clownin' 'round whenever thick air needs cuttin'."

"Aye, Connar's 'lmost tall 'nough now ta take Beldron down iffn he needed ta," Koy agreed, thinking about how much her nephew had grown since she had seen him last. He was in the midst of his own Ranger training, much as his mother, father and aunt before him, and their father and uncle before that.

Koy felt a squeeze on her hand. "Mama, why does Uncle Beld hate Daddy?" Thia brought up the last member of the small traveling company. The little girl loved the green hooded cloak with the silver birds threaded along the hem her mother had made her for this trip. Koy could not completely abandon the fashions she had adopted upon moving to RhyDin, having become so ingrained in forming who she was in the city, but she tried to find a middle ground for her family when they visited the more reserved sea port and its surrounding wilderness. Whether he truly didn't mind or simply wanted to please his pregnant wife, Matt made little fuss over wearing the grey-green linen tunic she had set out for him to don during the day's hunt.

Isa paused and waited until she could grasp Thia's free hand. "Uncle Beld does nae hate yar papa, Thia. He jest is a protective older brother. When yar a big sister ya'll know wha it's like ta keep an eye out fer the baby."

"But Mama's grown, Auntie. She's not a baby now."

Koy smirked over Thia's head at Isa. "Now iffn only Uncle Beld understood tha, bee."

Isa snorted. "I'll admit, he's stubborn, the way VanDuran's are known ta be," she grinned at Koy. "But he means well. Ye're right, Mama's not a wee babe, Thia, but it's hard far people ta see someone they've cared far far so long as bein' grown up."

The two women shared a glance over Thia's soft head. They both knew the care Beld had taken of his sister far beyond her childhood years. Koy wondered if there ever would come a day where she would share with her daughter those dark depths Koy once visited in a lonely inn room a ferry ride away from where they stood now. Isa's hazel eyes, steady and reassuring now as they were in those times of crisis, struck Koy, causing a surge of gratitude to swell up within her.

"Aye, I don't know where I'd be iffn yer uncle and yer auntie here didn't keep an eye on me, bee."

Thia remained unaware of the details surrounding the terrible times her mother and aunt silently acknowledged now, only sensing the genuine affection between the two women. That was enough to make the girl pause to smile up at both of them. It was then that she noticed the boulder to their right.

"Eyes like these, Mama?" Thia pointed at what looked like a pair of large almond-shaped eyes carved into the stone. The etchings ran deep into the rock, smooth and adorned with green moss and tiny closed violet buds that crammed themselves into every available space. Koy gently closed her hand around Thia's and steered it away from touching the flora.

"Not quite, but aye, these are 'lways watchin' too."

Her mother's reluctance to let Thia physically examine the carving peaked the girl's curiosity. "What is it?"

Isa smirked. "Don't mind yar mother, Thia, she's superstitious jest as she was when she was yar age."

Koy pouted at Isa's accusation, much in the same way she had when she was also Thia's age and tagging along behind the older Isa and Koy's brother, Beldron. "No sense in riskin' it, Isa."

"But what is it?" Thia asked again with more impatience.

"Those are the eyes of Yacousef."

Thia peered at the carving again as her aunt answered her finally. Koy stood alert, ready to pull Thia back again if the girl forgot and tried to touch it.

"A man with stone eyes?"

"Yacousef was a man, aye, he was a kaldar, verrae strong and verrae fierce but with the most beautiful eyes it was said."

"Eyes of the clearest violet, warm as a sunrise," Koy finished the description Isa started with words from lore that had been ingrained in the minds of every Langenfirth child.

"Then how did his eyes get in the stone?" Thia felt drawn to the strange carving with its wild flower buds. Already forgetting her mother's warning Thia's fingers went to explore the mossy length of the etching. It pulsed with an energy that beckoned her forward and remained unseen by the two adult women.

Koy took Thia's hand again, this time holding onto it. "It's bad luck, bee." While the tale was one she had heard as a child, Koy did not know if it was one to share with her daughter now. Elanthian legends rarely came in neat and tidy packages where everyone lived happily ever after. There was paradoxically too much magic in the realm for any tale not to be steeped in some version of the grimmer reality.

Isa shook her head and laughed. "It's said he fell in love with someone he shouldn't have and her family took his eyes fer it."

Thia gasped, appalled and blinking her own forest-green eyes repeatedly, unable to imagine someone taking them.

"It's jest an old story they tell 'round here, child, don't fret. They say his lover, the powerful moon mage Cohava, found 'em and tried ta save 'em but it backfired. His soul wound up tied ta the earth and the legend goes tha he fought his way back, so desperate ta see her 'gain tha he willed his vision ta travel through the wilderness, eyes sproutin' up like this one 'ere. At night when the moons come up in the sky the flowers open, helpin' Yacousef search far his lost love."

"That's sad, Auntie." Thia frowned.

"It is, but the story's not all bad. I'll read it ta ya when we get back," Isa looked at her concerned sister-in-law, "tha is, iffn it's all right with yar mother."

Koy silently debated whether or not that would be appropriate. Then again, Thia came from a house built by two fighters in chaotic RhyDin. She had exposure to far greater violence than what occurred in the story. Either way, she didn't want her daughter touching the carvings. Koy did not care that common belief held that the etchings were really the work of either trickster sprites, dryads wishing to discourage travel through their woods or an ancient sect of elves who put spells in nearby areas to again encourage others not to inhabit their lands.

"But why is it bad to touch them?" Thia zeroed back in, having not received a direct answer despite the condensed version of the legend.

"Tha's 'cause Yacousef held both love in his soul fer Cohava and a deep hatred fer her family keepin' 'em away from her. Those eyes aren't only lookin' fer his love. They're lookin' fer her family fer revenge. Ye know, he wants ta hurt her family the way they hurt Yacousef by takin' his eyes and his love."

Koy wasn't sure how familiar Thia was with the concept of revenge and wondered if the explanation was enough. The realization made her pause and appreciate the simple innocence in that. Koy gave a silent prayer then that her daughter might never need to go down the self-destructive path revenge laid out before the best of people. The trio was on their way to Albreda's Grove to pray to the demigod for protection for Koy and her unborn child when she gave birth. With a religious intent to the day it made the elf more open to embrace the deities of her homeland in such requests.

"It's his hate that's bad luck, Mama?"

"Aye, ye don't want ta take the chance tha Yacousef will mistake ye fer someone he hates and take his anger out on ye by accident."

Isa wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. The sun felt warm as it climbed to its zenith. "Today looks like it'll be the good luck kinda day far us. No touchin' the eyes of Yacousef and the sun should be clear when we get ta the grove. Ya'll get ta see the Song of Dove Wings, Thia!"

This reminder of their trip's destination revived Thia who had been thinking on poor Yacousef and his lost love. Koy and Isa had spent the earlier part of the morning fielding questions about Albreda's Grove and its best-known miraculous sight, the Song of Dove Wings. Devotees of the peaceful, motherly goddess had painstakingly constructed a delicate arrangement of glass doves, Albreda's symbol, hanging thousands of them at various heights throughout the grove. On sunny days the doves caught the light in a dazzling display of reflected colors that created a warmth through the wooded area and a comforting humming as if Albreda herself was answering each pilgrim's prayer.

"Can we count all the doves, Auntie?" Thia's excitement returned as she let her mother and aunt guide her back down the path.

"We can certainly try, Thia."

Thia took one look back over her shoulder at the boulder they left behind. She was sure in that moment that though the flower buds were closed in the daylight somewhere Yacousef was watching her, waiting for the right time to open his eyes.




((Elements taken from the DragonRealms series and cross-posted on RDI))

[Koyliak]

Thursday, December 15, 2016

“Non-human, go home! Non-human, go home!” The small but growing number of protesters gathered outside the two-story brick building housing The Heavenly Boutique on Benson Boulevard. They came armed with hand-painted signs decrying the city’s citizens who could not claim full human parentage (and in RhyDin, that was likely the majority of the population).

“You’re blocking my way.” Lillian Smythe’s commanding voice cut through the crowd much the way it did when demanding order in the high-pressure kitchens of her famed Seven & Seven restaurant further up on Benson. She spoke in particular to two women standing closest to the Boutique’s door. The taller of the two turned to face Lillian, taking in the sight of the older, sharply dressed woman before sneering.

“You come here often?” The taller woman made no move to let Lillian pass.

Lillian cracked a sly smile. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone to all this trouble just to make a play for me.” She distinctly let her gaze travel from the woman’s “Humans Unite!” skull cap to her shapeless orange sweater and down to her ill-fitting jeans before rising again. “You’re not my type, dear.”

The woman’s shorter companion broke her own silence with an involuntary snicker at the comment, catching herself too late to be spared a glare from her compatriot. A quick straightening in her stance and stiffened expression from the shorter woman mollified Lillian’s would-be suitor. “How can you support this business run by an elf? You’re a disgrace to your own kind.”

In her kitchen, Lillian’s staff knew to beware when the blue vein began to throb, a violent butterfly fluttering along her left temple. A low boil bubbled in her blood. “How can you not support this business? You should only be so lucky to have this elf work her skill, not magic but pure skill, on your wardrobe. Though not sure much can be done for the ugliness that rots from the inside out when you’re bathing your innards in hate.”

“Snaaaaaaaap." The shorter woman again missed her cue, elbowing the taller woman and regretting it once more as the gesture was returned with far more force.

The taller woman shook off the insult. “Like I said, a disgrace. You’re worse than them. Non-humans have been terrorizing our kind for generations now but it’s in their blood to be monsters. But you, you betray your own kind. Traitor!”

The crowd took up the chant. “Traitor! Blood betrayer!” Many fed off the renewed energy in the protest though some stayed back, watching the scene. A teenage girl snapped photos, perhaps planning to write an article in her school paper about the latest skirmish. One man in a magnificent burgundy and gold scarf, fraying in places from age but resplendent in its stitching, observed stoically, perhaps a local New Haven businessman on his way to lunch. Lillian lost track of the faces, blinded by anger and a surreal mortification that these were the times she had lived to see in a city that had welcomed so many. She took a step closer to her taller adversary, leaning up on her toes despite the woman having youth and bulk on her. “You betray all sense of decency, you mealy-mouthed---”

“All right there, make room. Ye can sit out here in the chilly air all ye want but ‘less ye want me ta call the Guard ye can’t prevent my customers from enterin’.” Koy swooped in, smooth as the silk on her back, embracing Lillian with one arm and ushering her inside. She moved with a preternatural grace meant to dazzle and distract until she had one of her three beloved “old biddies” safe inside the Boutique. When the taller woman caught up with what had happened Koy was already closing the wooden door behind her, shutting out the last jeers of “no more monsters in our city!”

The girl snapping her photos stopped after a flurry of clicks to catch the interaction. The man in the magnificent scarf stepped closer to the crowd and the door, the first sign of interest he had shown all day in anything happening outside.




((Inspired by Pro-Human Protests and Sit-Ins - more to come!))