The good news was that, there were not, in reality, a thousand different individual movements. That nomenclature was more a philosophical thing, as Ulric learned when he inquired of Idra. The bad news was that, he was going to be oafing his way through the movements for a good while, if Idra'se's constant corrections were any indication.
They had just finished the set of essential basics when the pavilion began to fill. Someone had brought in racks of wooden weapons and warriors busied themselves stretching, hopping, and, generally, limbering up. Casual warmups included standing back flips and front aerials, apparently.
Ulric was starting to feel a little badly for Geyrt by this point. She had stood quietly for the last hour as Idra instructed, doing little other than silently judge Ulric's inability to distinguish between a foot placed at a twenty-two degree angle and a twenty-five degree angle. Her casual attitude probably belied a fierce desire to join in, he couldn't imagine she would enjoy watching others do when she could not. He wasn't able to focus on her problems though, he was having plenty of his own.
"Idra'se, I have to know: are there really one thousand steps in your Dance of a thousand steps? Because, if there are, know that I will die of age long, long before we get to that point." Ulric said, only half in jest.
The scarred cheek of that greatest lieutenant of the Royal Guards pulled up hideously when he smiled, although it was becoming something that blurred into the background of the elf for Ulric. Like somebody having a mole under their eye, you just stop really seeing it.
"No Glade Chief, there are not one thousand different stances to the Dance. It is a mindset, more than anything else. Two warriors, of equal skill, should be able to fight a duel and end it in a draw within the thousand steps. A warrior fighting a battle should be able to kill all his enemies in the thousand steps. A general should be able to win a war within the thousand steps. The Dance is a way of considering how to attack a problem, to find incremental advantage, even against overwhelming odds, and, efficiently, meticulously, break the enemy down to find victory. Every movement leads to victory. Perhaps not within the first dozen movements, perhaps not in eight hundred. But by the thousandth you will have assured total defeat of your enemy. The greater the difference in skill between the opponents, the fewer steps are needed, normally." Idra explained.
His brief smile faded into utter seriousness.
"Practically speaking, you should keep in mind that what you do now, learning to place your feet just so, turning your shoulders with your hips as I have done you, all of this is the first step in your own Dance to mastery of yourself. Some grow impatient, they neglect the fundamentals in favor of other things. They waste their time, and, eventually, their lives. It is a thing of sadness to see a young warrior with talent fall to a blade they could have evaded had they only placed their feet correctly. I do not like being sad, and so I train the ones under my watch as I would my own children. But I will not suffer them to fall because they don't have the patience to learn properly. Better to let them go their own way, to eventually learn the right of things, or to die, before they do." The veteran continued with no small sadness in his voice and giving Geyrt a pointed look.
Ah. He would, wouldn't he?
She was virtually counted among the dead now, until her time as a Shadow was at an end. She knew that the message was intended for her as well, as she couldn't meet her former mentor's eyes. Her loss was almost entirely due to her having thrown aside her training in a hate fueled fury. Idra himself took it as a personal failing, if his demeanor was any indication.
How many comrades had he lost? Ulric wondered. Probably more than a few. Certainly enough, by the look on his stony face.
It was a stark reminder of the stakes. Ulric had lived for months the life of a primitive, a hunter in the glade. It was a harsh life and mistakes were punished on Varda. Always punished. Here, in the midst of the hospitality of these fine folk, he had nearly forgotten why it was he needed to learn these things.
To survive. To live. To not die, even when he probably should. Ulric was here to reforge himself into a being that could determine his own destiny. And that started with learning how to place his goddamn feet.
Seeing that his message was made clear Idra set Ulric to practice what he had learned. With a brief instruction to Geyrt to "see he does not trip in front of the others" he set off to roam the pavilion and set his fellow guards to betterment.
Geyrt, finally given free rein to pursue her true purpose in life of making Ulric miserable, began to criticize and correct Ulric's positioning as he worked through the basics. She would demonstrate a movement and assign Ulric to repeat it. Then she would dissect him like a major league pitching coach, pushing a hip here, tugging a shoulder there, knee back, no too far, there, and so on. It went on for a long hour, at the end of which Ulric actually felt significant depletion of his will to live. At last, though, it came to an end.
"You are done for the day Ulric Glade Chief." decreed his Shadow.
"Your movements grow worse, not better. This is a normal thing, especially in the first few months. You need to stretch and move your body and to give your mind time to soak in what you have gained from this experience." She said with certainty.
Music to his ears. His legs weren't tired, per se, but he definitely felt the need to do something that wasn't anything related to what he'd been doing the past two or so hours. He actually kind of wanted to run. It was no small amount of pleasure he had enjoyed with Brighteyes in their races through the glade and the surrounding ancient grove. Those mad scrambles through the woods felt like they'd happened a year ago.
"Agreed, and thank you for your help Geyrt." Ulric told her.
The woman's ears twitched, for some reason. It was hard to tell with her. In any case he was prevented from further consideration because Idra had noticed the cessation of their training. He had his command arrayed fully in front of him in a grid, each warrior standing about two meters from the nearest neighbor. In a voice that carried without shouting he declared to the pavilion
"Iriel'en, we have a guest for the day, as you no doubt have noticed. The man who returned us our Heir Lumyt'seit has joined us for training and been diligent in his practice. Before he leaves us to attend other duties, let us show him the fruits that await further down his path. SET."
At the command, the entire pavilion entered Undan ready simultaneously. Even graceful as they were, the sound of fifty feet gently hitting the wood simultaneously was heard as a deep "Thump".
"AUTUMN'S HARVEST!" the scarred warrior called.
With no further prompting, the entire cadre of royal guards, after as intense a training regimen as anything witnessed earlier began a demonstration of what mastery of the mortal frame looked like. Black clad Elves flowed as one body through a shifting series of movements, some of them familiar others distinctly not. Half steps, staccatos, lunges so deep their chests lay flat on the ground, sudden jumps, twists, jukes, they advanced seamlessly from one to the next.
They did it in complete unison, to a metronome within their alien minds. So perfectly timed, each step sounded a drum beat on the pavilion. Now Ulric could see why it was called a dance. Despite their being grace incarnate, gentleness born of absolute control, the weaving movements still suggested a hidden violence. Hands spun remembered weapons, a lunging step was accompanied by imagined cuts, thrusts, parries, and guards or any number of techniques according to the individual. The eclectic combat dance was myriad in its variety, each elf seemingly wielding a weapon of their own, but, all the while, their feet, their bodies, reflected complete harmony.
Ulric would remember for all time that timeless demonstration of kinetic artistry, accompanied by the drumming music of its own practice. They came to rest suddenly, returned to the Undan ready as if they had never started. Ulric stood in awe.
"EASE. Go to your practice, comrades, I am well satisfied." Spoke the man who sought perfection in all things martial.
The group broke up into individual activities. Ulric saw none of it, the memory of their majestic display still locked into his mind. Otherworldly. Alien. Inhuman. This was a thing not of mankind, this level of dexterous agility, timing, and refinement. It was beyond the life of a mere human to cultivate that level of coordination. The experience drove home the reality of the Elves. They weren't pointy eared, pretty humans. They were completely different. Not a different race, a different species. You might as well compare a blue jay to a peregrine falcon.
He was broken from his trance by Geyrt's call of his name.
Not the first call either, by his Shadow's frown. She wasn't angry though. Hard to be upset with someone who was absolutely enthralled by the artistry of your people. Tossing her braid back over her shoulder she repeated herself.
"Ulric Glade Chief, we should go now. It would be well to stretch, to take food, and to bathe before the evening lesson. The Mothers will be unpleased if they must wait and it would be rude to appear before them soiled from the day's exertions."
Shaking himself slightly to break the spell Ulric allowed himself to be led away after gathering up his armor. He gave a waving goodbye to Idra'se who acknowledged his wave with a gesture before turning back to correct a wayward thrust, whose guard was opened a centimeter higher than it should have been.
Away from the pavilion where the royal guard drilled, Ulric decided he would have that run after all, but first, he reequipped his Armor. Somehow, he was finding himself supremely motivated by his short stent with that highest echelon of Iriel’en soldiery.
Taking off at a trot, he began to retrace their steps through the gusty, storm boding citadel. There lingered that unnerving stillness, the felt absence of people in the streets. Although much reduced compared to normal, yesterday’s walk about had shown him that this Irielhos fairly well bustled.
None of that was to be found today. Probably something to do with the weather, maybe related to the festival that Brighteyes had spoken of with such anticipation. Either way, it left the causeways open for Ulric to expand his stride into a full run, trusting that his Shadow would have no trouble keeping up. The stiffness of the stances fell away, replaced by a pleasing burn of exertion, and Ulric relished the sheer power, the vital strength of his Watcher crafted body, hardened by months of primitive existence in the glade. Three minutes run fit to make the summer Olympic squad weep in despair saw him to the stairs, where he waited only briefly to be joined by Geyrt. She lightly turned a corner, and was seemingly unphased by the activity, maybe even relieved to get a little exercise.
The two of them descended sedately to the tenth level where their apartments were located. At the bottom of the stair Ulric took off again, this time at his fastest sprint, determined to work out the kinks in his legs, to find the bottom of whatever physical barrel that was his strength. Wind gusts pushed, prodded, shoved at his body forcing him to adjust his balance on the fly and joints, muscles, skeleton all responded like machinery, without fail. It felt good, better than good. Half way there, he had obtained that light, airy excitation of a hard run and he found himself in front of the apartments granted as part of the Elves' hospitality all too soon. Breathing deep controlled breaths he slowed his heart intentionally while he awaited Geyrt. It wasn't a long wait, five, maybe ten seconds at most.
Around the corner she came, eyeballing him with lasered focus, a tigress pouring across the hallway toward the unaware deer’s throat right up until the huntress pulled up next him to stand at a casual parade rest. Deep breathes did wonders for her chest, even hidden as it was under her Hunter's gear. Ulric broke his gaze before it could be more than a casual glance and opened the door, gesturing "after you" to the apartment's interior. He thought she might decline, just for the sake of being contrary, but obligation or duty as the unnerving Shadow led the woman to enter without hesitation. Ulric followed and closed the door before going to the fruit jug, which had been refilled with water at some point. The citadel staff were efficient ghosts, he saw them only rarely but they kept a tight grip on the status of the place, a homeostatic engine that froze the entire structure into ordered comfort.
After pouring both wooden mugs he offered one to his Shadow, who took with a slight nod of thanks, and they both drank deeply. It had been a rigorous couple of hours. Ulric was surprised at how much he'd enjoyed it. He'd never been much of a health nut, back in the Before. His crippling had taken nearly all physical exertion from him in his thirties, and with it, his backpacking and hunting hobbies. He nearly craved activity now.
"My father was right, you are not a Human. How did you make the All-Knowledge lie?" Geyrt said suddenly, an accusing tone on her tongue.
Ulric was a little caught off guard. Wasn't every day you get charged for cheating the universe. As usual, the only response he could muster for this ever-sober woman was sincerity mixed with humor at her expense.
"You scanned me, remember? It's not my fault you didn't read the fine print on my status. There is clearly an asterisk there, what more did you want the Watcher to do, scream down from the heavens that I'm a freak?" Ulric teased.
"That’s…how was anyone supposed to know what that meant? I have never seen this symbol in a status. And you have strange traits. How are you running faster than a scalded Bolt Deer after two hours of stance work?" She sputtered.
"The world is wide, dear Taipan, and your lovely forest is but a sliver of it. Don't blame me if your experience is too shallow to see the top of my glory." He grinned as he said mimicking Idra's somber advising.
"Don't call me Taipan!” Hissed Geyrt, who was not a Taipan, or so she claimed.
“I am no serpent. Bad enough I must be a nameless Shadow in public. At least in private I would wear my own name." Geyrt groused.
"And who are you to know my experience? I have lived one hundred thirty-five years, where you are barely not even an adult in the reckoning of my people." She continued becoming increasingly irritated
"Not to offend Geyrt, but exactly how much of this world have you seen? What is the farthest journey you've taken from your deep wood home?" Ulric asked, genuinely curious, but also defusing her.
The question seemed to take her aback, she wasn't ready to be challenged on this front. Even so, this Aes’r of modest years amongst her own had no doubt that this human of unimpressive span had nothing close to her breadth of experience.
With pride she exclaimed, back straight and directly staring ever so slightly up at him, “I have journeyed all the way to the great inland sea Vatyn, to the territories of all the Orlethrem, and to the southern sea."
Ulric didn't have much geographical sense, he'd never even laid eyes on a map, so Geyrt's claim was neither impressive nor insignificant. Following up here would not only give him a chance to drop his Shadow down a peg in the Great Elven Arrogance department, but also would enlighten him to the scale of the world and its features.
"Exactly how far are these places, my Shadow? You must remember I have only spent my time on this plane for a scant half year, my paltry forty years were spent living on a different world." Ulric reminded gently, while squeezing in his question.
Frowning, since his ignorance had prevented him from being properly cowed by the breadth of her travel, she was quick to reply.
"Vatyn is over a hundred leagues to the North, following the Zelus. The southern sea is eighty leagues South. I have been to all of the Elfhomes of Orlethrem worth noting in all the lands between." She boasted smugly.
"Oh? Only so far in an entire century?" Ulric asked, not entirely surprised.
She had never left the shores of her own continent. Had probably never spent any extended time outside of the lands dominated by her Elven kin. In other words, it was as the old days on his home world where people only rarely traveled outside the lands of their birth. In comparison to the other peoples of this land, she was no doubt a globetrotter. It hammered home the vastness in difference between their lives.
"On my home world I have traveled around the entire globe, all forty thousand kilometers of it, many thousands of your leagues, from flying transport vehicles in the skies. Twice. I have visited all of its continents but the one that lies half frozen year round at the southern pole. Through observation devices I have witnessed the creatures that swim the bottoms of the oceans of my world, the fires of the far stars, the storms and volcanos of the worlds that circle with my own around its star, and all the great monuments that have been built in the entire seven thousand years in which my species have been advanced enough to keep written records. And, speaking of advancement, your people live as mine did about two thousand years before my own birth, a time we refer to as the Dark ages. Most of the things your kin do by hand, we long ago created machines and devices to do for us at a hundred times the speed and precision of a mortal human.” Ulric said calmly, remembering the marvels of his old life, and their cost to the world.
He briefly looked around himself, at this room with its subtle, elegant, simplicity. Its comfort wrought of meticulous care, magic, and craft. Few enough had been the times that he had wished for all those wonders of technology here. None that he would have traded that forest outside for it.
“Most of my kind would think that your people live in savagery. They would be wrong, your people live in a oneness with the land that they have long since carved out of their own souls. But they would think this life one of barbaric primitiveness none the less." Ulric told her, without rancor.
Ulric watched as his Shadow went from skepticism to outright disbelief to open anger.
"Why would you lie to me like this? What you say is impossible. Flying transports? Seeing the outer worlds? Traveling tens of thousands of kilometers, you could not live long enough to do such things, even if I did believe you. And no human peoples have created anything like what you describe." She said, incredulous.
Ulric sighed. He should have known. Absent magic to just will things to happen, his species had been forced to grind progress out of the dirt. To suffer in misery until they had conquered the planet with mastery of knowledge that had never been necessary on this world. Why bother with learning anatomy when you could just heal disease with the wave of a hand? What need for the engine when you could move things with your own will? This Elven girl, so closeted in her experience, had no way to even conceive the things he described. He briefly considered, was there anything he could do to convince her? Probably not. That rankled though. He was not a liar, and he wasn't inclined to have this woman accuse him of such.
"First of all, we didn't walk to get anywhere. We operated personal transport devices that easily traveled a hundred kilometers an hour, carts driven by engines powered by flame. Chains of massive carts, dozens of meters in length along metal tracks. It was nothing to make a trip of hundreds of kilometers, in hours. Planes, air transports, made that ocean trip I spoke of in about eight hours, the global tour in a day. Some people did it for a career, circled the planet thousands of times on business trips between continents." He paused, to let that sink in for a moment.
Geyrt's face showed her consternation, her trouble grasping the scales of which he spoke, her disbelief warring with the pure sincerity of his voice.
"Secondly, what makes you think I'd waste my time lying to you? I understand that you have a high opinion of your kin, they're great, but do not think that just because you are ignorant that you are also correct. I have already demonstrated this reality to you with my use of Ceraun. This and a thousand other things your people have no knowledge of are considered commonplace on my home world. I haven't even mentioned computers and the miracles of organic synthesizers." Ulric replied, temper tightly reigned in.
That caught her up. Geyrt had indeed witnessed a use of magic that was supposed to be impossible. Was supposed to be lethal to even attempt. No mage held Ceraun inside their bodies, it would burn them out in its wildness. There was also the fact that Ulric had, not a single time, said any word that was not true. He exaggerated some things, mostly in his poor attempts at humor, but he had never outright said a thing that was dishonest. In fact, he was almost too sincere and made himself easy to read. A weakness that an enemy would use against him. Anger, Hatred, and Pride had already cost her defeat against a lesser opponent, had cost her an honored place amongst her own people; how many times would she ignore her parent's and Idra'se's lessons? Why did this not so human so easily drive her to loss of control?
Geyrt wrestled her disbelieving hostility under control. Her father had scolded her often for allowing her peace to be too easily disturbed, to be quickest to anger and slowest to calm. He had told her that her rage would be a rein that turned her to make the mistakes that he had already suffered in his own youth. Bald'rt Iriel had once been a towering thunderhead, eager to release the lightnings of wrath. At some point he had mastered his emotions. Some said it was the death of his son that did it, that loss having been a catalyst to discover mastery over himself. After he'd burned out his rage in a massacre that left most of Prosper's citizens in ruin, something which he whispered, in his private moments, that he deeply regretted.
After a promise to herself not to fall prey to the same regrets, she now found herself penalized by those same mistakes anyway. To make matters worse, her favored brother had reason for grievance against her and had not spoken to her since their arrival in Irielhos. Loss of status was a stinging blow, but only a minor one, her heart was for the deep woods, the wilds. Geyrt cared little for the trappings of high society, and less than a little for the games of the Houses that accompanied them. What truly pained her was that she'd lost the respect of her little Flashing Gaze.
Ulric watched his Shadow's expression flicker between emotions rapidly while she calmed. He wouldn't have thought someone so old would be so volatile. He'd been an irritable prick in his own youth but had mellowed substantially as he'd aged. Now he was just a prick, minus most of the irritability. Soon enough she managed to get herself under control and her expression returned to its unreadable scrutiny. Once again Ulric considered finding some way cut her loose and send her on her way; his life would be far simpler if he didn't have to worry about brushing against this cactus woman at every turn.
Then again, weren't they getting along a little better? Maybe? Meh. Whatever. Ulric was a slow burn; it might be months before he was truly comfortable. In the meantime, it would be enough if he could carve out an established mutual respect. Briefly, he pondered if he might try to build that steam engine after all. If he made a Sterling engine that could power a set of room lights, or drive a lathe or something, perhaps she'd believe him about the rest. The trick would be precision fittings and tolerances. Also metal. Elves didn’t seem to use very much of it, that he had seen. Ulric moved on from those thoughts however and placed his cup back on the table.
"What suddenly brought this on, if you do not mind me asking?" Ulric inquired.
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Geyrt said nothing for a few moments, studying him silently. Just about the time he got really uncomfortable, she decided to simply blurt out
"You're almost faster than me. A bare handful of my kin can pace me, and you, a supposed human, can leave me behind, at times. No human is faster than an elf Hunter, not even their strongest warriors can outpace ours."
Shaking her head slowly she continued her disbelieving soft rant
"I knew something was wrong with you when you did not die of the Striped Bark Snake poison. That arrow was freshly coated, your heart should have stopped within minutes. Even with the antidote you should have been on your back for days with that kind of poisoning. Your core is deceitful as well. It has the status of a core newly woken to channeling mana, but also has traits of a fully mature core, as if it had been trained as a mage for years. You have not even awoken to a resonance yet. It was a fool's errand to try to kill a reforged." Geyrt lamented, entirely serious and unselfconscious about her failure to murder him.
In the same aggrieved tone, she continued to bemoan her fate, "I will lay odds that you live much longer than a regular human, if you do not kill yourself in ignorance first, and my punishment will last forever."
Ulric couldn't help the grin that came to his face. The woman who attempted to assassinate him from the trees with poisoned arrows was complaining about fairness? Now that was rich. Time to rub it in a little.
"I will see to it that we both live to regret your mistakes for a very long time." He told her in mock solemnity.
Ulric only took a moment to bask in his Shadow's exasperation. She had been correct to point out that, if they were to be punctual then they would need to get on the ball. Ulric was only mildly hungry but was far more interested in a proper bath. As much as he had enjoyed the exercise, he didn't enjoy smelling like a locker room. The clothes he'd brought with him especially were fairly ripe. He hadn't been able to notice it before, he'd been nose blind to his own smell. A natural thing when you live in the wilderness, though he'd need to take steps to figure out a system for washing his clothing better than soaking them in water and rubbing those soapy leaves into the fabric. He needed an actual detergent, else the beasts in the forest would more easily detect his scent and avoid or ambush him. Something less caustic than the wood ash lye soap he was using, because that shit would eat anything less durable than his Forest Lord leathers. But that was a problem for Future Ulric.
While he was here, he was going to enjoy the opportunity to relax whenever possible. Hot baths were an absolute miracle of civilization, one he had missed greatly. As such, he poured another cup of water, downed it, and announced "I am going to peel off this armor and head to the baths. Feel free to eat lunch or rest here, you don't need to accompany me now that I know the way."
Geyrt only briefly considered that suggestion before dismissing it.
"A Shadow's duties require that I stay close. Besides, I will not go before my Mothers covered in dried sweat. While we bathe, I will have a Duty, the proper way to refer to the individuals who care and maintain Irielhos, collect our clothes for washing. Yours especially are rank with dirt and the smell of you. It's a wonder I didn't smell you coming." She said, like she'd read his mind to discover his dissatisfactions.
Ulric's scoff brought her small joy he saw. Fair was fair. He simply thanked her for her consideration and freed himself of the bone lorica and pauldrons. Off came the shin guards and bracers. Last came the skirt, its little bone plates clicking softly. He was down to those incredible Elven underclothes. They were almost like an exceedingly fine smart wool, the way they clung but retained warmth. Whatever it was made of also wicked well, the fabric was already completely dry. Marvelous.
Thus, readied they set off for the baths. This time, Ulric was much less surprised when the sight of thirty or so nude gymnasts hit him. Off came the underclothes to be stashed in a drawer of the wall length storage lockers. He guessed that word had gotten around that he'd already been greeted to the communal bathroom because this time there were no whistles. A few approving looks, and then their attentions returned to their bathing circles, the low hum of muted conversation, and the general relaxation of the heated pools. Ulric himself sank deeply into a small side pool instead of the main one and observed the features of the room. It was proving true that exposure reduced attention, he was finding that the beautiful people blended into the general atmosphere of the bath.
The room was one of the largest he'd seen yet, and just as impressive as the first time he'd laid eyes on it. The entire building, aside from the storage room entryway, was a single open space. All of wood, of course, though not polished as with other floors, this one had a rougher finish, probably to reduce falls on the wet surface. Must be a bitch to clean. And how the hell did they prevent mildew in a perpetually hot, damp, room like this? He was nearly tempted to ask Geyrt but figured if she wasn't going to break the peace, he'd just enjoy a nice, relaxing, silent soak. Speaking of which she looked almost asleep over there, head back, eyes closed. Rare to see her so…at rest. It simply solidified in his mind that this room was a sacred place and he would cherish his time here.
A good thing for Elven time senses, Ulric was nearly asleep, the nap having caught him by surprise, when his Shadow, gently for once, reminded him that they had other duties.
"Glade Chief, we must make ready to attend your evening lesson. It will not go well for you, or me, if we are late. My mothers are punctual and not greatly interested in hearing the excuses one may provide for occupying their time fruitlessly. Especially not when they will be managing the affairs of Iriel to prepare for war."
"Thanks, Geyrt, good thing you stayed on top of the situation, I nearly checked out for a bath nap." He said gratefully.
The lady seemed almost confused by his gratitude. Which wasn't entirely fair, he felt, given how surly she was herself but, small victories are victories nonetheless. One small step for Ulric, one giant leap for Valins trying not to get knifed by forest folk. He’d write a book about surviving Iriel’en Shadows one day.
Slowly rising, Ulric stretched in the water to loosen his muscles and turned his head away when Geyrt did the same. Some temptations are simply too great, and he would not ruin his Shadow's good will by ogling. For ogle he would if he tried to endure such exposure. Lady was an absolute eye magnet, and his will was shaky when water was added to the equation.
They awayed to the storage room and dressed in silence. Geyrt decided that they would not have time to return to the rooms for any reasonable duration and would best be on their way to the seventh level where a training hall had been secured. Ulric had no idea when or how she'd become privy to this information.
As they walked down the hallways, alleys, and causeways Geyrt began to instruct Ulric as to what he might expect when meeting the Dragons of Iriel. Little nuggets of wisdom such as when she warned him on the stair to the seventh level, "Do not offer them cheek. None of your games. They are not like father who will play with you. Especially not mother Vedyr, my dam, who is least tolerant of these shenanigans. She is sharp of tongue and short of patience, so be quick to do as instructed. Mother Shor will almost certainly frustrate you, she speaks in riddles and abstractions. Actually, the two of you may mesh well; you seem fond of losing yourself to unreality. Mother Bathe is straightforward and earnest in her attitudes, so long as you are respectful and heartfelt it will go well with her. But if you are insincere, she will hang you by your feet."
More such advice accompanied their walk until Ulric was about fifty percent sure that he was going to be killed or exiled within five minutes of opening the door. After the fact, Ulric would find that there may have been a degree of projected anxiety mixed with Geyrt's advices. She had not spoken with her family since being reduced to her current status.
Briefly, Ulric flashed back to Brighteyes' advice about Lord Iriel and how those events had played out. Here, the situation was mirrored but in Brighteyes' place was his sister and instead of being warned about the father he was being told of the hazards of dealing with the mothers. He decided he wouldn't worry. Long since, the lighthouse of his new life was the idea that he would be only himself and that the chips would fall as they may. Main problem being, he wasn’t quite sure who he was anymore and the longer he stayed around the Elves the less certain he was.
The buildings on this seventh level, wider as it was than the ever-receding levels above, were much more spacious and tended to be more circular in design as they hugged a far greater curvature of the supporting anchor tree. The great hall they approached now had a curious set of reliefs carved into its frontage. Depictions of fire, of mountains, of storm, oddly esoteric, replaced the normal emphasis on carved living greenery. This place was not a monument to the trees but to the natural world in its entirety. Definitely there was an embellishment of the prime elemental forces with their myriad permutations in the world. A sculpted volcano over there, an island awash in a tsunami here, yonder appeared to be a grassland caught in a fierce gale, a rocky canyon in flood immediately to his left. Again, the mastery of Elven carvers to bring to life such scenes in wood relief was impressed on Ulric. Such working went beyond even art, to set firmly in the realm of mysticism.
Entering the large double doors in the center of the arcing structure, Ulric saw that the front hall was wide and long, matching the circumference of the great tree. Rooms numbering close to a hundred spanned this curving structure, each with a door carved to represent some depiction of natural wonder. Geyrt guided him past this first layer through a conveyance hall and they moved closer to the trunk. A second ring of rooms was presented, smaller in number as the radius of the building decreased. Still, Geyrt led on past to a third hall, this one could be seen to back directly against the massive bole that supported Irielhos. There were only a scant few rooms at the ends of the hall and, strangely, nothing between but a single central and massive set of double doors directly at the end of the hallway that bisected the arc of the building.
Geyrt marched to the doors with purpose, and Ulric had little choice but to follow or be left behind. A hesitation of the hand and some inaudible muttering preceded a gathering of courage, after which his Shadow pushed the doors open, perhaps harder than strictly necessary.
Large doors swung too easily inwards and thudded heavily against stops on the walls inside. Ulric flinched slightly at the sound, hoping nothing valuable had been set behind the doors. In his Shadow went, and Ulric braced himself to follow, his eyes scanning what appeared to be a very large amphitheater, carved into the living flesh of the colossal arbor. Ulric had no doubt that this tree was one of the Heartwoods spoken of with such reverence. The material beneath his feet nearly hummed with mana and here, in this vast space, the effect was magnified.
Did he mention this place was godsdamned enormous? From the outside there was the appearance of a completely normal, if large, set of halls and rooms. Within this double football field sized cathedral of an amphitheater, walls sloping upwards to a half dome roof, Ulric could almost feel his teeth vibrate from the latent magical power. Normally he had to focus on his core, to pulse part of his own mana to force a response from the environment around him. Here he was swimming in the ambient mana. Ulric hadn't felt this sensation since he'd been tuned by the Watcher to feel the mana of the Plateau of Ancients, swirling hot and cold inside his core for the first time. The weight of the mana in the space felt…comfortable, he realized.
Since coming down from the plateau, there’d been a sensation almost like the air being a little thinner. Now, with this hidden space pressing in on him with its metaphysical weight, Ulric realized that he had grown used to so much of Varda’s Field in one place.
Three distinct circular arenas, floors covered in stone for once, occupied the centers of their own respective sets of depressed tiers, very much reminding Ulric of the old Greek theatres. Seats lined each level of the tiers such that it would appear that hundreds of spectators would have full view of whatever was happening below. From where they stood at the uppermost "deck", Ulric had full sight of all three of the arenas below. There were no others present save, in the event space of the centermost, where stood the Mothers of Geyrt and Brighteyes, radiating an intense pressure.
This place was clearly meant to house well over a thousand Elves, maybe tens of thousands, and to have the entire space filled by only those three presences was eerie. Not that they wouldn't have each dominated a concert hall in his old world alone, but it definitely drove home that none of Brighteyes' family was strictly normal. For all that he gave off the impression of a junior lawyer at times, Brighteyes had been the most approachable one of the bunch. Probably he hadn't been alive long enough to be corrupted by his father’s devil may care attitude, or molded into the domineering presences of his mothers. Certainly, the kid would one day radiate the eminence of his forebears.
Ulric had lost himself in thought again and Geyrt had already begun descending the stairs that led down to the central arena, as if to face her doom. Ulric couldn't see how this could be any worse than almost getting mauled by the Forest Lord and double timed to catch up to his Shadow.
They descended past rings of seats to meet the Dragons. Each dressed differently but splendidly as he had seen them before. Each distinct in her own way, with an aura of ownership about the space she occupied. Ulric likened them in his mind to a different body of water. Vedyr a mountain stream: direct, fast running rapids, whose rocks that would crush you were plain to see. Bathe a wide river, gentle but irresistible current, deep enough to hide the rougher turbulence. Shor a glacial lake: impossibly still and whose reflection of the sky hid all knowledge about what lie beneath its mirror.
Geyrt's mother broke the ice.
"You have arrived on time." Vedyr said evenly, the suggestion that had the alternative happened things would spiral downwards rapidly clear as the coming storm.
"It is well they have, we will have plenty of time to meet our obligations to our neighboring lord, as agreed and without the unpleasantness of having to train discipline to timeliness." Spoke Shor in following, voice without inflection as if the unpleasantness might not be so unpleasant to her.
"Ease, the both of you. Our husband has asked this of us and we all agreed it was in the best interest of both the Iriel'en and our daughter that he be given a proper education." Bathe scolded the other two lightly, in a relaxed manner.
Vedyr's mouth twitched towards a frown before returning to neutral. Seems this was an argument already played out.
"Fine, Sister Bathe, you are correct. We will chew on that bone no longer." Geyrt's dam said, losing some of her edge, before turning back to Ulric.
"Welcome. This place is a hall of learning for the Iriel'en who have talent or interest in learning the arts of harnessing their core to manipulate mana. In normal times there would be many students here, at most times of day, but the upcoming war has curtailed such things. It would have been better to have you learn with peers of similar level. Even so, you have demonstrated talent for controlling your core already that we have heard and we three are enough to see you learn the proper basics to develop that talent." Vedyr spoke softly, her rich voice firm but not hostile.
Shor interjected with a slight humor now coloring her soprano.
"How much we may do to develop is determined by how much talent you actually have, Glade Chief. In these times we do not have the luxury to milk stones. I will have questions for you though, I have heard of some interesting happenings around your quarters the previous evening, something about a Skylance, odd in its nature."
Ulric was nearly about to start explaining the lightning but Brighteyes' dam rolled over him, like a high tide washing over a sandcastle.
"Before Sister Shor drags you away to pick your mind like a Funeral Eagle over a Stone Plate Boar corpse, allow me to explain the arrangements we have prepared for you Glade Chief. We three each have greater ability in certain areas compared to others and so we will take turns in your education, rotating between each day. Sister Vedyr has a gift for manipulation of several elemental forms, and will drill you on the basic practices of gathering and using mana with your core. If you progress well, she will then instruct you on the use of specific spellworks as well as their defenses. Sister Shor is a master of arcanology and the abstract principles that govern mana, as we understand them. She will teach you how to investigate the subtleties and concepts that are necessary to create and use magic safely. For myself, I have a passing ability to manipulate my own mana with my core and I will assist you in learning to strengthen your body with mana, that it can better utilize and control your own powers, as well as learning fine control necessary to better take advantage of my Sisters' instruction." Bathe instructed like a no-nonsense school principal.
"Yes ma'm, thank you ma'm." Said Ulric instinctively.
Bathe had that way about her, part of Ulric knew, even without Geyrt's warnings, that he'd best better do as told here, or find himself facing her displeasure. He remembered clearly the sailing flight of the Lord of Iriel and the resounding thud of his impact against the wall of the throne room, punishment for rousing Bathe's ire. The woman was smiling gently at the moment, pleased that Ulric was Attending with Proper Attitudes. Even gentle rivers would drown you though, and Ulric had no intention of joining the ones who had been dragged under the power of her current.
"If you don’t mind, Ladies, could you tell me where all the folk of the citadel have gone? I was impressed at the bustle of Irielhos but there have been so few out today that the place seems abandoned." Ulric questioned, the odd absence of people had been gnawing at him all day.
It was Shor who answered.
"The warriors, craftsmen, and citizens of the fortress are mostly cloistered for the Winter's Herald. It is a particular observation of Iriel to remain in doors during the storm to make preparations for the upcoming festival, limited though it will be in this time of strife. This is also the time for introspection and reverence for those kin and friends who have died. Families will be conducting recitals of family trees and speaking eulogies for the departed, to keep their memory alive through the long years after they have gone. The deep wood folk are the most militarily inclined of the Orlethrem and they have a particular way of carrying their dead with them through various customs. It is how they choose to honor their sacrifices and the other clans of Orlethrem, though they do not share such customs, do also celebrate the storm for various reasons. All of Orlethrem will celebrate the coming of the cold season and the end of the year." The Crimson Elf explained.
Then that made this meeting between Ulric and the wives of Bald'rt more meaningful than it would have been otherwise. They would be holding remembrance for the son lost to human barbarism. Brighteyes had said that this person was Geyrt's closest friend in addition to being her older brother. He didn't know all the protocols with being responsible for her, so he leaned on decency.
"Geyrt, you could have told me the storm had such meaning. You don't have to hang around playing tour guide, go be with your family. That is alright, isn't it?" Ulric asked of the three Ladies of the Land.
Bathe turned a gentle gaze to his darkly beautiful Shadow. Vedyr's own was cool, but not unkind, she had apparently come to terms with her husband's decision. Shor was Shor, who the fuck knows what's going on in between those ears?
It was Vedyr who made the decision though.
"My daughter is a part of your person Ulric Glade Chief, to be a cloak warding you from the rain of your enemies or your knife if you need one. Her actions, the choices she has made, have demanded no less of her. However, honor is honor but family is different. She may return to be among her kin during such times, and she is welcome, more than welcome, to join us for remembrances during Winter's Herald. It is appreciated that you would give up her service for such times. I will remember this." Said the intense woman with gratitude.
That was enough to make Ulric extremely self-conscious, this entire Shadow thing stood way too close to a slave bond situation for him to be comfortable with it. He just hadn't been able to figure out how to fix it in a way that wouldn't end up insulting a guy who could atomize him, the same way he'd atomized that melon. Ulric could imagine that blood red moonlight reaching for him and turning him into a fine mist with little more trouble.
Bald'rt was an Elf after Ulric's own heart, the little time he'd gotten to spend around the man, but they had their own culture, their own imperatives. And royalty frequently did things that they didn't want to in order to uphold their people's laws and customs, as they bore the responsibility of embodying them. That meant doing things like making war. Or having an ignorant human killed for dishonoring his daughter and going against his official decree. It was, in a word, a pickle. Or a clusterfuck. Whichever way you wanted to slice it, Ulric was going to have to put up with things as they stood until he found an out.
He had no more time to process, Bathe was ready to get the ball rolling. She clapped her hands once, like a gunshot, to bring everyone to order. Geyrt stood at attention and Ulric was ready to say something about it until he realized he was as well. Huh, that was a hell of a thing.
"There it is then. You have our thanks Glade Chief for releasing your Shadow to her family for the festival time. Time is short, however and so we must begin this instruction. Ulric you will be in the care of Sister Vedyr today. Geyrt, you will go with myself and Sister Shor. It was our failure that you have ended up in this state and we will set about being more diligent in your instruction while we may. You were too long left to your own devices. This way." commanded Lady Bathe.
Geyrt looked like somebody had pulled a knife on her. Actually, he'd pulled a knife on her and she had been markedly less impressed. They had a nuke aimed at her or something. She went away with them to one of the other arenas with such docility that Ulric was certain he wouldn't want to trade places, not for any amount of Shor's bosom to goggle on the down low.
When they had departed Vedyr shook her head, tossing her braided hair over her shoulder, reminiscent of her daughter, and stood tall to level her gaze at Ulric. For all that the woman came to Ulric's shoulder, he'd sooner go find one of those Shadow Panthers to hug as give her reason to find fault if he could avoid it. She studied him for a minute, and he was sure she knew his favorite mixed drink, the brand of underwear he used to wear, and how many hairs he had on his knuckles when she was done.
"I will ask your permission to scan you. My husband has, and we have discussed how best to approach your training, but I would see for myself the nature of the clay I am to shape." She commanded more than asked.
Ulric saw no reason to deny her. Like asking a mechanic to fix your car and not telling them what model and year it was.
"Go ahead Lady Vedyr, fire at will." Ulric said, hoping this training would be more like Idra'se's and less like Gother's.
A flashing white of her normally ruby eyes told him she had accessed his Akashic information, his stamp on the world of Varda, recorded by his actions and the impressions he'd left on the great quantum field of this place. Magic of the highest order.
After a moment's study she was apparently satisfied that she had enough information to proceed.
"Tell me, Glade Chief, what was it again, your name given for my sister-son Lumyt'seit?" She asked suddenly.
Ulric felt the jangling of some subconscious alarm bells but chalked it up to general nervousness.
"Uh. Brighteyes, Lady Vedyr. It was the first impression I had of the lad, before we had spoken truly. I asked him about his true name and he explained its origin. He said he didn't mind his name in human and, seeing as how it was sort of how I knew him after all that time, it stuck." Ulric explained, perhaps overlong due to nerves.
"I see." Vedyr said shortly, with distinct neutrality.
"It is an appropriately fitting naming and he seems to find some small pride in its use with you. I will not comment on it further." The dark woman continued.
"What was it you called my daughter again? My son spoke of it but I seem to have misplaced the term for all of the goings on." She inquired, with the innocence of a scorpion.
Uh oh, Ulric thought. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going and immediately regretted the scan. He should have just narrated that shit. Pretty sure he was already doomed though, there was exactly zero percent chance this sharp-eyed lady had forgotten anything with respect to her offspring.
"Er…Uh. It was, uh, I called her Taipan there at first ma'm. You know, until I got to know her a bit." He said providing her the rope.
"Yes. That is right, of course. A venomous serpent of your old lands my son said it was. It was a dangerous thing, this Taipan?" His Shadow's mother continued, forming the loop.
There was no way out now. Might as well see things through to the end.
"Highly toxic venom, your ladyship. Aggressive as hell too, when disturbed. They are known to bite fatally, multiple times, and with full venom unlike most of their kind." Ulric recited from his glossary of random zoological knowledge.
"Indeed? Well, I cannot very much dispute your reasons for naming her so, given how you first encountered one another. My Geyrt is not the best disposed of my daughters. Just as I am not the best disposed of my husband's wives. An inheritance of habits you might say, just as she inherited her father's historical temper. A temper we both share, in fact, though fewer are left who remember seeing mine in its full." Vedyr said almost as if speaking of the weather forecast.
"You have an interesting assortment of traits and titles, very interesting, for one so young." She continued, tying the knot.
"Thank you, Lady. It has been a…uh…busy…half year." Ulric managed.
"So it has, so it has." She agreed eyes holding him in place with her cool gaze.
"And this one here, this [Snake Charmer], I am afraid I will want some clarification about it. Especially as I have heard the details recently of a rather…forward…declaration of your intent towards my daughter when first the two of you met." Commanded the First Lady of Iriel, ready to drop the condemned, after hearing his last words.
Ulric felt the hair on the back of his neck raise while his guts chilled. Oh fuck, he thought. She's gonna murder me. It's murder o' clock. Glade Chief on the menu, well murdered. His mind cycled through various iterations of this before he decided that he might as well go out with his boots on.
"Apparently we were able to come to…an arrangement. A peaceful coexistence, if you will, given the judgment of your husband and his insistence on it. This Shadow business, it is a little uncomfortable, I don't really know how to go about things and she, your daughter that is, she can be uh, thorny. Not that I'm not a little contrary myself, mind. Not saying that all." Ulric babbled.
Ok so his boots would be on, but he didn't make any promises about the state of his underwear.
"Er. That thing before, the uh, proposition. That was mostly just trying to set her off, it was heinous, I'll not deny that. It seemed like the only way to settle things with her without her coming at my back, so it seemed at the time. I can't say I regret it though, she was too dangerous to leave in my blind spot. And I was a little put out by the whole trying to murder me thing." He finished rallying somewhat.
Vedyr's expression remained the same. Exactly the same. The entire time he spoke, which was disconcerting. She nodded slightly at the end though, conceding a point in her mind.
"It is true, I am afraid. Though I love her, dearly, my daughter did instigate this episode through her attempt at a Lord's life, absent good cause. She did also break several traditions and iron clad mores, thus removing any rights she had to expectation of courtesy." the Elven lady admitted, before continuing in a direction most adverse to Ulric's plans of long life.
"And yet. I am…concerned…about her placement with a human I do not know, foreign not only to Iriel, Orlethrem, but also to Varda itself. Especially one who has made suspect statements about her and, I see now, has a relationship that is established enough to warrant such a tongue in cheek title. Such things are not common. I would be sure about your intentions before I release her into your care, my husband's well-intentioned declarations or no. I may not kill her for her actions, he has decided to forgo that, and so have you, for that matter." Vedyr declared, her voice for the first time gaining a sharpness.
"I may, however, kill you." She said, and a small smile sent ice back into Ulric's spine.
