User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 76

Previous Chapters
1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, 19th, 20th, 21st, 22nd, 23rd, 24th, 25th, 26th, 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th, 31st, 32nd, 33rd, 34th, 35th, 36th, 37th, 38th, 39th, 40th, 41st, 42nd, 43rd, 44th, 45th, 46th, 47th, 48th, 49th, 50th, 51st, 52nd, 53rd, 54th, 55th, 56th, 57th, 58th, 59th, 60th, 61st, 62nd, 63rd, 64th, 65th, 66th, 67th, 68th, 69th, 70th, 71st, 72nd, 73rd, 74th, 75th

4th Era 171, 7th of Second Seed, Summerset Isle
Balasian shielded his eyes against the sudden bright glare. Within a few quick moments, the flash faded, and Orthendar stood in its place. What arrested his attention immediately was the expression on the ghost's face: deep concern and urgency, coupled with a sense of lurking danger.

"I need to speak with you, urgently," Orthendar said firmly.

* * *

Balasian had fetched Curwe from the bedroom after she had thrown on a robe. They sensed that this was no joking or relaxed report, so there was no sitting on chairs or performing usual duties - such as hanging up wet laundry - while the ghost spoke. When both of them were before the tense spirit, they were unconciously standing close to each other for comfort. It had been many, many years since Orthendar'd had such an expression on his face and aura vibrating off of his body. It left both of them uneasy.

"We're both here. What do you need to tell us?" Balasian asked, as calmy as he could. What he was experiencing now was quite different from what had "occupied" his mind just a few minutes ago. Since it appeared to be very serious, he didn't mind the ambience wrecker.

"Orghum has been ordered by Orgnum to summon a storm. He only lacks a single ingredient needed for the ritual." Orthendar stated, his eyes going from Balasian's to Curwe's and back again.

"Where is the storm going to be headed?"

"Right here." the ghost replied, voice shaking slightly.

Both living Elves stilled, faces going slack. "Here?" Curwe whispered, clutching the lapels of her robe closer.

"Yes." Orthendar responded, voice now stern. "The storm is supposed to be of unprecedented size; it will cover the whole of Summerset. This one will be wholy unlike those storms that lashed the beaches here twenty years ago; this one will be much, much more dangerous. This is the most danger you have been in since before Markadil's death 71 years ago."

There was a moment of heavy silence before Balasian raked his hands through his white hair. Curwe sank to the floor, sitting there quietly and staring at Orthendar's legs without seeing them. Turning away, Balasian rested his head against the wall before curling his hand into a fist and pounding on the painted smoothness in frustration.

"Dammit!" he shouted, making Curwe jump. She remained on the floor, however, but craned her head and neck up to see him and the ghost. He curled his other hand into a fist and pounded on the wall in frustration again before sagging onto the wall between his planted fists. "There's nothing I can do about this!" He turned back ot the spirit. "There's nowhere I can hide here, and all of the Dominion ships make it impossible to take a boat anywhere else." He turned back to the wall and closed his eyes, as if that could save him, even though such a child's reaction could save no one from any fate, especially his. Was he living on borrowed time all these years? Worse, he would be taking Curwe with him. He didn't want her to die. She should have centuries of her life left to live. As he brooded, tears gathered in his eyes.

"What ingredient does he have?" he finally asked quietly, barely noticing that his voice was trembling.

"The Briarheart. He lacks the Mammoth tusk powder. Both the Vipers and Merchant's Guild are looking for it. No one knows when or where it will turn up...if it turns up at all."

Balasian was quiet as he thought on the ingredients. He'd not gotten that far in his schooling at the Hydromancers before he was picked for Orgnum's Translator. The spells he knew were medium level, at best. However, that didn't mean that he didn't read about more complicated spellwork from the library contained in the guildhall itself, which was different from the library available for the public. He took a long, deep breath before offering Curwe his hand to help her up off the floor. She took the hand, and he hoisted her up. He turned next to Orthendar, who was as silent as death before them. "I want all of our options for...dealing...with this threat out on the table." he stated, taking another deep breath, trying to keep himself from panicing...which would have been all too easy, given the circumstances.

Curwe looked up at him and reached over wordlessly, gently taking his hand in hers and squeezing softly. Balasian felt himself calmed somewhat as he squeezed her back. Dear gods, he prayed mentally, don't let my dogging past and enemies trouble or harm her. She deserves better. He felt more tears burning behind his eyes as he felt the situation weigh down on him.