Interludes: Saga of Loralil Greyfox, #4

Chapter one

Drifting

It had been six months since the gate had closed on the face Jason longed to see. He knew it was unlikely that the young Elvin woman he had helped bring here even remembered him, but her beautiful, if haunted eyes had stuck with him. Ever since the early tales about her, told by his father, something had driven him to meet her. His friends said that he had a bit of a white knight complex and that he should just move on. That the elf woman was most likely gone now, still he decided to go visit her. It was the Equinox and a great time for finding out just how life would balance. He felt deep inside that this day would be a tipping point, both in his life and hers.

LORALIL SAT, EYES CLOSED, in the mediation garden. Here the elders had taught her tools to deal with her grief and her guilt. In the six moons she has been here the world had slipped from spring to fall. Her breath sent gentle plumes into the brisk air, but the chill did not bother her, or more she ignored it. She listened to the quiet, still voice from inside, hoping for some hint on just what she should do. She did not wish to leave this garden, but the city itself was like any city it seemed. Though small compared to the great human cities, this place was filled with too many people. People who wanted her to DO something; just what depended, of course, on the person.

The craftspeople would come up to her at meal times, asking probing questions about how things were done back in her village. Did the potter use red or white clay? The carvers wanted to know if she remembered the way they depicted the leaves and animals and worse, the metal workers wanted to see her father’s sword.

After a month here her belongings had been returned to her, left bundled up on the cot in her cell-like room. She left it wrapped up in the silk that someone had gifted her. The magic sang quietly to her ears from the chest at the foot of her cot each night. Sung songs of battle and blood and defending those who could not defend themselves. She had only touched it once, the day it arrived. The longing to take it up and slay all who had harmed those she loved was too strong and she knew that she was not ready.

The charm that she had been gifted by the beautiful bard she had placed into the single braid she wove into her hair by her temple. It too called to her, but in a much softer voice. Music was something deep down inside that she longed for like a lotus eater craved his drug. Someday she would once more use the simple magic to bring the tiny harp to size and play, but not yet. She wasn’t sure when, but not yet.

When the temple bell tolled, she sighed and opened her eyes. It was the Equinox, the day when the day and night were in balance and things would change. How much she didn’t know, but she knew things had to. She had found some peace here at this temple, but it was not where she was meant to be. Just where she didn’t know and knew she was not yet ready to go out and find her destiny, but something had to change. She couldn’t stay with her head buried in the sand and meditate. The Masters here wanted her to start lessons, lessons she was not sure she wanted or needed. She was not a monk or a priest to follow their teachings. She had no power of healing in her hands and too much blood on them to believe she could be one.

Getting up smoothly, she stretched and then moved into a series of unarmed combat moves. While this place was filled with totally peaceful people, Loralil had found that the controlled movements of the martial arts were soothing after so many years living them. A wandering monk had stopped here for a single day, but he saw something in her. He joined her in the meditation garden and without a word slowly taught her this art. Maybe it had been the way she was holding her body, stiff and tense, even afraid, she admitted to herself. In one day he taught her more about how to relax than the Masters had in over a month of discussion.

The exercises started slowly, like the temple dances that some of the young women did each morning in their worship, but they sped up until fists and feet flew in blocks and counters that she could easily see being used. She went through each set three times three before slowing and coming to a stop in the same place she started. Her skin glistened with honest sweat and she slowly brought her breathing back to something more in keeping with her sitting in a temple garden.

She kept her eyes closed and waited for the Master behind her to speak. She was sure she was in for another gentle, yet stern lecture about her need for violence, but was surprised. Child, you have a guest waiting for you at the gates.

Turning with a lifted brow, she followed Master Phaedra out of the garden and through the streets of the city. It was not at all common for guests to be left outside the gates of the city. All elves were welcome here, or so the carvings on the gate posts said. All were welcome, but not all were desired.

As they came toward the gates Master Phaedra paused and looked Loralil up and down. Dressed still in the simple flowing garments of a novice, the warrior was out of place here. She had been more than willing to accept this child of a lost people, but she did not like that the girl had held tightly to the path of a warrior. She silently refused to learn how to use and grow her empathic gift, only excelling at locking it up tighter stubbornly. She would never say anything, but she truly wished that this child would give over her father’s path and become what she could see in her.

The young man who brought you to us is here. He wishes to speak to you.

Loralil paused, her head tilted like a bird, listening. She had not expected Jason to return here. It had been obvious that he had been intrigued by her. But rarely had any young male stayed that way. He was a handsome man. A perfect blending of his Elvin mother and his human father, he would turn heads at most gatherings. He was a bit raw, but interesting. Her lips tingled in a soft memory of a kiss that had surprised both him and her.

Phaedra noticed the brief flash of interest in the usually shuttered eyes. Well, maybe there was something here. We are at the Equinox and there is a custom here; that of a novice taking one day and night outside of the walls of our city. Every six months at the Equinox our young people take this time to blend with the people below and to decide if they wish to continue their training. I think, young one, that you should go meet this boy and have a pleasant day. The elder held out a small pouch to Loralil, who automatically reached for it. Rooms are made available to all who spend the night and this should cover any incidentals that you decide you might need.

Loralil bowed her head in polite acceptance. Money was not really an issue. She had coins packed away in the chest in her room. Maybe in the misty future it would be, but the fact that she was sole heir now to a family of modest fortune meant she had funds if she wished to use them. She slipped the pouch into the sash around her slender waist and started toward the gate. The elder spoke of novices and choices, but she was not a novice, no matter how much they desired her to be one. This was simply a place of learning and rest. Something she admitted silently, she needed.

She had escaped her previous life with the aid of friends of her Uncle. She knew the name of each friend lost to the quest to find her. She knew the names of each and every one who had died because of her quest for revenge and those who had helped bring her to this place of healing. She was out the other side of the grieving, but the guilt was still a part of her. The one moment in the sanctuary when she had felt the hand of the divine easing that guilt had lasted for longer than she had expected. Maybe if she had left that day it would have stayed with her, but she let the elders convince her to stay and learn to control the temper that she had developed.  She had learned many things in the past six months, most strongly that she would always feel both anger and guilt, but that she could control how they affected her.

Shaking her head, she padded to the gate door. Jason, he of the soft lips and silken hair, was waiting there for her. Not his father Levy or Karleen, but the young half blood who stirred things inside her body that she was still not sure she wanted to explore. She admitted to herself that she had pushed both her actions and the need he aroused into a box and locked it down. It would not be right to dwell on the tentative desire for more while dwelling in the halls of healing and priesthood. Briefly the corner of her lips rose as she remembered his gentle patience. She knew that Jason was usually not quite the gentleman she had met. He was a bit of a rake from what his loving mother in all but blood told her.

She paused at the closed door, closed her eyes and took a slow breath. A simple door should not seem so important, but it was. Inside the walls of this place she was simply a patient, a novice of a type. She drifted in limbo even while subconsciously fighting the urging to train the empathy that she did not believe she had. Oh she had it once, but the poison that had been coursing through her body six months ago had burned it away. It was a good thing, for no warrior needed to feel the death of each and every opponent. That way led to a madness that she had been flirting with longer than she had realized. The peace of not having that extra sense was good, one less thing to make her mad.

Chapter Two

Reunited?

Placing a vague smile on her face, Loralil opened the door and stepped through. As it shut behind her, her senses opened up. The magic’s about the small city did more than send gentle healing, they blocked out most of the world, as if those living there did not wish to be a part of the world. The hush that mostly filled the air inside was broken by the calls of many birds and mutterings of animals. She paused and breathed deeply. As a Grey elf she was more attuned to the world about her than many of the other elves she had encountered. Over the years she had met a few druids who tried to explain this connection she seemed to have. Like many, they believed that it marked her as one of their kind. She would smile and nod, but she had no desire to turn into a beast or tend the plants around her. It was just that the peace of the forest was intregral to her own sense of being. Her parents had spent many a warm night with her in the trees. The people of her small village had all preferred living in the trees and she learned young to run along the branches as if they were roads.

JASON LEANED AGAINST a tree, waiting for Loralil to decide if she would come out to see him. The past six months had been a test. His father and Karleen had done their best to convince him to move on when Phaedra had sent word that the warrior would be staying with them. They believed that she had chosen to become one of the noviciates of the temples, but Jason did not believe so. Yes, Loralil needed time in a quiet enclosed place, maybe even communing with the gods, but there was no way that she would become some cloistered nun. There was too much of life about her, even if she had been so badly hurt.

When the door opened he did his best to look casual. He hooded his eyes and watched as the one he waited for stepped onto the path. She seemed like a shy doe for a moment. Her hair glistened in the morning sunlight. She had not yet readopted the braids of the warrior that she had worn for so long. There was one braid to the left side of her face, pulling some of the hair back so that the sharp curve of her ear was clear to see. The tunic and breeches she wore were still bleached linen, with no color to show she had chosen a god. When she stopped and closed her eyes, he smiled. He could see that she was letting the world wash past and through her skin. Opening up in a way that he doubted many would have noticed. Her color was so much better than it had been. Never would she be as tanned as a human for she had the moon pale complexion of her people, one that he wanted to run his fingers over.

He quickly hid his smile as she opened her eyes and looked toward him. Her large eyes glowed like the purest amethyst even in the mid morning light. Such rare eyes, for in all his years he had never come across another with them. With her silver hair, they marked her as a blend of her peoples. How she came from her two very different parents he couldn’t see. He was told her father was typical of his Wood Elvin people, with brown eyes, hair and skin and her mother was of course a High elf. He didn’t care, but a small part of his wizard self did wonder.

Loralil opened her eyes and looked directly toward the half elf who waited for her. He looked good in the morning sunlight, dressed in a half robe over a pair of loose pants that were tucked into weathered boots, all of a shade of blue that nearly matched the one of his eyes. She smiled slightly as she took in his artful pose. He was trying to look totally relaxed, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. As if he was a little afraid she would rebuff him even showing up here. Stepping forward on silent feet she walked up to him. Hello.

The smile that cracked his face lit it up. The boyish charm in that smile was one that had gotten many a barmaid and village daughter to spend many a pleasant hour with him. Hello, my lady. He bowed grandly, making a sweeping gesture as he did so.

Loralil chuckled and shook her head. It was good to see he hadn’t changed while she dwelt in the healing city. She started down the path toward