In The Father's House
Aedon followed behind the elder as he made his way towards a growing point of Light. Slowly the shapeless shadows gave way to the glow of a warm fire glowing in the hearth. Aedon knew well the room he found himself standing in. As a lad he had spent countless hours on the rug before the fire reading old stories and poetry from the collection of books which seemed to cover every wall. This he knew to be the physical manifestation of Figol’s library as it showed itself behind the heavy oak door on the upper floor of the castle. This is the way Aedon recalled it, though others who happened to open the door said they were greeted by mass confusion and a feeling of stepping onto a precipice overlooking a vast void.
As they came within the physical confines of the room, the Eld mage motioned for Aedon to sit in the chair facing his. At first, nothing was said. Sitting in the leather bound chair which resembled a throne carved from an ancient Rowan tree, Figol lit his pipe, and sat back allowing the smoke to escape his lips, and gather slowly around where the two of them sat. After a time, he sat the pipe aside, and picked up a cup, taking a sip of what Aedon remembered would be a strong fae tea.
“Now Lad, tell me about this Drow woman you bring before me.”
Taking a deep breath, Aedon began to speak calmly. He told of the slaughter of Izznet’s family. Of her being taken as a slave, the child she bore being ripped from her womb and consumed at the dinner table of the cruel matriarch who condemned her line to death. Of beatings, and ****s too numerous to count, and too vile to remember. It was not enough to bring down her house, this woman wanted to be sure that even the name Hu’nar was placed lower than the slime that oozes from the earth. He spoke of the time that those of a village beat her almost to the point of death, dumping he on the steps of a kindred male in hope that the sacrifice would please him and he would not attack the village.
“And did this please the night walker?” Figol asked deliberately.
“No sir, it reviled him, and seeing the poor creature dumped like a dead animal on his stairs he was moved to pity.”
“Interesting, tell me more.”
Continuing on, Aedon told him how the male took Izznet inside his mouse and tried to tend her wounds. He was forced to reset her leg bone with nothing to ease her pain, and gently washed away the dirt and blood caked to her arms legs and face. But the injuries she sustained were too great for her to long survive, and he told her of a choice that might allow her to continue on, and in time seek retribution from those who had so wronged her and her family. Nodding her acceptance, the male turned her that night.
“So what you are saying then is that she was turned to bring vengeance into the world?”
“No father, I am saying that she did not wish to cease to be and accepted the only option open to her at the time.?
“Continue Aedon.”
"Through the long years ahead, Izznet and her sire stayed together and yes, they did deal with the villagers that treated life with such disdain. The two had become a force to be feared in the region, and few things or rulers could stand before them. In time, her sire was captured, and put to death leaving Izznet alone. For many years hatred seemed to consume her. Hatred for those who took her family, hatred for those who took from her the sire that had protected her. Her anger drove her through night after night of bloody rampage. With no direction and no hope, she seemed destined to continue as she was. By some stroke of luck, she was found by another Drow and delivered to a man named Ramses. The other did this not only for the safety of the general population, but for Izznet’s well being."
“Where is this new man now, and why is he not tending to her instead of you?”
“Well, as I can recall from what I was told, he left her. Izznet then wandered alone for some time before coming under the watchful gaze of Avalon.”
“Ah, this is where the stone watcher comes in.”
Thinking for a moment, Aedon simply nodded his head.
“You told me what she was, but is that not what she still is?”
“No sir. By this time, Izznet had come to hate what she was, what she had become. At one point she even asked the watcher to end her life. Avalon had talons etched in silver, and many ruins carved into her body.”
“I know the marks the watcher bears Aedon.” Figol said. Aedon thought he could see a faint smile or perhaps smirk on the elder’s face. “What I want to know is, how she came to stand with you.”
“It is an odd story Father. You see, I had known of her for some time. Avalon often discussed her charge with me. And then there came a time last year when a person approached Izznet and sought to hire her to take me captive and torture me. This person wanted nothing more than for me to suffer. Izznet took the job under consideration, and came to Aegis looking for me.”
“You seem fit, so I am assuming she did not complete the task?”
“This is true. A bond seemed to form between us quickly. Perhaps it was because I did not look upon her with the scorn so many others have. We spent many long hours sitting talking about life, music and art. And I came to realize that she and I shared much in common. She in turn seemed to enjoy my company.”
“And did you not fear being turned by her? One as lonely as you present her to be would surely be looking for shall we say a kindred spirit.”
“No, I have never feared that from her. In fact, she had given her word that never would she seek such action against me. She has even asked that I stand ready to end her life and send her to her long sleep.”
“Ah yes, Do Gras, the dagger you had forged. Tell me Aedon, do you believe that you will be capable of such a task?”
Sitting back a moment Aedon stared into the fire considering his response carefully. He did not know what the elder sought, but knew well that his answer had better be truthful. Slowly raising his head, he looked into Figol’s eyes and said.
“Yes Father, I can and would end her life. But not out of hatred for what she had been, but out of love of the person I see she has become.”
Picking up his cup again, Figol watched Aedon for a few moments. There was no deception in the youngers words. As they sat there, Aedon saw a white light gathering behind Figol’s chair. The brightness stabbed at his eyes, causing him to blink several times. The intensity slowly diminished and Nemira could be seen hovering behind Figol’s chair.
“Nemira, is the time at hand?”
“Yes, she wavers not in her resolve, but her strength is failing her.”
Without turning to face her, Figol nodded his head slowly. With that the light grew again, and a red glow gathered and swept over the room. Looking within, Aedon could suddenly see the courtyard of castle Connemara. Along a fence of piled stone stood Figol, in flowing robes of azure blue. Behind him, a small swallow tailed kite swooped and played in the midday sun. Smiling, Aedon realized he had just seen Nemira in her true form. Suddenly, the mage turned to face Aedon’s sight, and he made note of how the mages robes billowed and moved like the surface of the water. Raising his staff before him, Figol closed his eyes, muttering an incantation as old as time. From the staff the same white light gathered, and moved rapidly across the distance between the two of them. As the light passed him, and faded slowly to a misty grey, Aedon found himself standing on the deck of the Celtic Tide.
