User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 34

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4th Era 110, 16th of Sun's Height, Pyandonea
Balachil leaned on the table, his wide eyes covered with his hands. "I guess we should have known." he mumbled, sliding his hands up through his hair, revealing that his eyes were rimmed with red from crying.

Nerien said nothing, which was uncharacteristic for his direct manner. Balachil was a good friend - if a little naive - and he knew that not holding his tongue now would likely severely damage him in this delicate state and strain their friendship.

Peladine had been a loyal Liberator (Which was what they now called themselves; the derogatory terms of "rebel" and "dissidents" were still popular with the King's supporters.), but way too loose-lipped for her own good. She had tried to talk one of her customers (she had been a tailor) into supporting Balasian, as the customer was one of the island's Thanes, and rumored to be leaning towards the Liberators. The reward for turning in "rebels" was quite high - as many of them hid in plain sight - because Orgnum had not the slightest clue to their whereabouts, and it was one of his few humiliations. The Thane decided to turn her in for the 10,000 gold, and Peladine was taken from her home and publicly sacrificed. Another poor soul for sustaining Orgnum's youth.

Events like these - Orgnum's black magic rituals - made him even more stalwart, especially since his sister had been taken from him in the same manner, as well. Becoming a jellyfish now, when they had more members than ever before, would be beyond stupid. To give it all up just because someone was caught...

"She was always kinda open..." Balachil cleared his throat.

"The only problem was that she was too open and that she voiced these views." answered Nerien, leaning his elbows on the tabletop. Neither of the friends worried about being heard; they were at Balachil's modest house, not on patrol at the harbors. He also did not live with anyone, so there was no threat of eavesdroppers.

"Why did he have to take the money?" he asked plaintively, gripping the sides of his head.

Nerien snorted. "Desire for money and its cousin, power, have ruined civilizations and friendships for millenia. This is just another example."

"I know," Balachil whined. "But I wish it weren't so."

Nerien fell silent again as he let his friend sort through his emotions.

Balachil combed his fingers through his blond hair before rubbing his eyelids with his fingertips. Sighing heavily, he folded together his hands on the table. Deaths always made him sad. Even more so that it was one of their own. Being part of the Liberators made him feel like a hero to the rest of his people; one of their numbers getting caught and killed in such a...public manner made him feel like he had no power at all. No heroism, no nothing. Not that he would quit: he was in this as much today as he was when he joined 11 years ago. He just wished it were all easier. He sighed again. "You think Orthendar has made it to Summerset Isle yet?" he ventured.

Nerien chuckled. "He's a ghost. He can travel long distances instantly. I'm sure he's there and talking with Balasian and Curwe."

"I wonder how they are doing."

"Happy, I would assume. Like anyone who's in love." replied the other Sea Elf.

"I look forward to the report when he gets back."

Nerien suppressed his laugh. Balachil wanted so desperately to know what the outside world looked like - being confined to the Harbor Guard, as he didn't have the skills neccesary to become a Sea Viper, and thus see beyond the harbors - that each time Orthendar went to Summerset and came back he would ask what the scenery looked like. The spirit had been to Curwe and Balasian's cottage quite a number of times over the years, and it became something of a running joke on the ghost's part to ask if Balachil wanted a description of their place if the Guardsman happened to be present at the meeting.

Balachil still appeared to be in a delicate emotional state, however, so he merely replied, "I do, too."

* * *

Mannimarco got the credit for figuring out how to absorb energy from souls, but he was the first to harness the magic, not that High Elf, Orgnum thought. Typical that someone else would get the credit for his discovery.

He sat in his private chambers, gazing into the fire in the hearth. He felt the energy from Peladine's soul flow through his body, almost like a warm snake in his veins. It was a very pleasant feeling, and he never got tired of it. Mannimarco got it wrong: if you absorbed souls only, you avoided looking like a corpse later on. That was one of the necromancer's downfalls. He absorbed power from whatever he could find, item or entity alike. Mannimarco also believed that the more painful the soul trapping, the more energy it gave. Also wrong. The two times he tried that approach, Orgnum felt highly uncomfortable, as if their pain had been trying to meld with him. Perhaps the necromancer had been a masochist. He, on the other hand, prefered to calm them with powerful Illusion spells, making the sacrificed person feel as if they were blissfully asleep, though they were wide awake, as the ritual demanded. He did not do this for their sakes; he could care less what they thought before death. This was for him, so their soul energy would meld peacefully with his body.

Orgnum drank deeply from his goblet. The wine was one of his favorites from his private collection: 5 or so tavern-sized kegs of the highly prized Jazbay wine. Unfortunately, the grape could not be grown on Pyandonea, despite multiple tries by his gardeners. The first few times, he had thought that they were not trying hard enough, so he made them...try harder. When he realized during later attempts that the soil was not right for the plant, he abandoned the futile effort. However, he had ordered the Sea Vipers to keep a look out for any ships laden with food and drinks, and to seize any wines aboard in case they might be noteworthy. Over the last hundred years, they had found three more kegs of the Jazbay and a few other rare wines, which he added to his collection.

He drained the last drops and whirled them around in his mouth, fully enjoying the delicate boquet of fruit and flowers, along with a barely detectable coolness, supposedly due to this keg's being aged in Skyrim, the home of eternal snow. He sighed in satisfaction, sleepy despite Peladine's energy swirling around in his body. Orgnum folded his purely white, spotless hands in his lap and lightly dozed, not noticing that he was drifting even deeper asleep. In the dreamworld, he dreamt of finding every dissident and sacrificing them all, filling his body with more energy than he had ever taken in at once. The feeling, even though it was a dream, was exhilarating.