Post by Velania Kalugina on May 2, 2022 9:42:01 GMT
Continuing directly after A Budding Romance
Co-written with the ever-amazing andycd
PROMISES
As soon as I could, I hastened to Aurelia’s office in Daring Heights. She was extremely busy and, I was certain, none-too-impressed to see me. I felt a churning pang of guilt: she had insisted that Coll be closely guarded on our date. I had let him down. I had let her down. The responsibility fell upon me. How could I not have gone down in her estimation?
A naïve fool of a girl, reckless and blinded by love, and a terrible security risk – that had to be what Aurelia thought of me.
I desperately pleaded my case: I wanted to help Coll – I needed to help him – and I would do it all under any conditions she set. I understood the reasons for all the security… with all the painful clarity that hindsight brings. I wouldn’t touch him if she forbade it. I wouldn’t even speak to him if she forbade it. I just wanted to see him. I just wanted to help. In any way I could.
I was ready to fall to my knees and beg, but to my amazement, she did relent. Perhaps it was pity. Perhaps she wanted a tearful young woman out of her office. Perhaps she thought it might do him some good. Perhaps she just knew I would never give up. But she allowed it, under certain conditions: I was not to know his location, I was not to disclose anything of the visits to others, and I was to come alone.
I agreed to everything.
And so I found myself walking through an unfamiliar hallway, to an unfamiliar door, in an unfamiliar place. I was being led by Priest Harney, of the clergy of Waukeen. He was a polite and unusually lithe Dwarven man, blonde hair spilling loosely all over his shoulders as if he was determined to make a cape for his head.
Had I been teleported? Had I travelled to another plane? Had my memory been modified? I don’t even know. I used every ounce of self-control not to examine how I had got here. I had won a tenuous permission to come. I would do nothing to jeopardize the scant trust that Aurelia had in me.
THE PATIENT
The room Harney led me into was simple but comfortable, holding several chairs of different varieties, a desk and a bed. There was a window, but the pleasant seaside view it depicted had no bearing on the reality outside – of that I was sure.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw Coll. He was sitting on the bed, dressed in his normal linen shirt and trousers. He was leaning forward, staring intently at the floor, eyes darting back and forth – less as if searching the ground, but more like he was reading something only he could see. A beautiful purple bowtie sat on the desk. I recognised it immediately – he had worn it on our date. Alongside the bowtie were a few pages of notes, clearly made by different hands – notes of Coll’s activity.
I smiled and blinked hard, trying not to cry with relief at seeing him again.
Sitting in an armchair watching Coll was an Orcish woman, obviously Harnashi from her light clothing and muscular arms. She nodded as I entered, scarcely taking her eyes off the fidgeting man on the bed, occasionally making a note on a piece of parchment resting on her lap.
“Name’s Marcia. Welcome to the weirdest bit of archaeology I’ve done yet.”
“Marcia, I’m Velania.” I studied the woman for a moment with a suspicious frown. Hearing Coll referred to in that way disturbed me.
Then I tied my hair back. Rolled my sleeves up. Set my bag down. I glanced around the room. Wherever we were, I felt reassurance that Coll looked comfortable. I walked to the other side of his bed, looking over him and leaning over to peer into his eyes, hoping for a sign of recognition from him. It became uncomfortable to see him like this, and I pulled my gaze away from him. “He seems to be recovered physically, at least. But nothing else makes sense to me. I told Aurelia everything I could about what happened, though I am concerned it’s not in the least bit useful to you.”
I pulled up a chair. “I want to help him in any way I can. Please, Marcia, what do you know about his condition?”
THE CITY OF GADENTHOR
Marcia turned to meet my gaze at last and nodded, perhaps reading something in my face. “Coll’s body is healthy, following some care and restoration after he fell. I’m not sure that much of this can be called ‘Coll’, though.” She gestured to the figure on the bed. “They don’t respond to the name, and the only thing they have said since coming here is reeling off different notifications about the flying ruins of Gadenthor.”
The orc nodded at an empty dining plate resting on the floor. “A little surprisingly, there is enough basic muscle memory that this body eats when given food, and so on, but they seem to only operate at a mechanical level. I’ve never seen anything like it, but what I’m pretty sure of is that this isn’t Coll, this is… well, Gadenthor I think.”
I reeled in shock, then tilted my head in confusion. “That’s… impossible. It breaks all physical and natural laws – not to mention spiritual ones. If this isn’t Coll, then where is he? His mind, his soul, they must be somewhere, surely?”
I looked around the room, as if hoping to suddenly see Coll standing beside us, listening and watching. “Marcia, you’re an archaeologist, right? What is it about Gadenthor that allows this to be? Is Gadenthor alive? Does he… it… want something?” My voice faltered. “I don’t even know what questions to ask. This is all so confusing.”
“We’ll do what we can,” affirmed Marcia. “But to answer your questions – our scholars have seen some references over the years of study to some manner of communicating with some sort of city administration, but we had yet to see any actual reference to what they were talking about. We had all sorts of theories about methods of magically contacting a group of people based somewhere in the city who oversaw logistics – but no one ever really suspected some sort of… magical intelligence? The reports on how it was activated suggested that it was at least partially powered with souls, which is in keeping with the sort of mageocracy the Netherese Empire seemed to be. But its nature is certainly beyond me – is it a clever spell? A bound spirit?”
Marcia stood up, energised to be talking to people about this. “They haven’t identified themselves by name, but there is an intelligence there, I’m certain of it. And if they have a purpose, then they have wants, presumably. But that’s all speculation at this point. What is clear is one thing: this intelligence inhabiting Coll’s body is the surest thing to be able to control the city of Gadenthor. It’s a flying city – it should move – but the Githyanki haven’t managed to move it an inch, and I doubt they meant to take over the whole place just to float idly above Harnash scavenging food and supplies. And that means they need this body back in Gadenthor, badly.”
“Powered by souls?!” I exploded. My anger was rising and my voice grew more animated. “That sounds cruel and terrifying. Do these souls have any say in the matter, or are they enslaved? Just what kind of people were the Netherese? And if the Githyanki seek to harness this power too…” My voice trailed off.
“Marcia,” I said pointedly, “I understand your passion for this mystery, for solving the riddles of Gadenthor, to uncover its secrets. I confess, I care only for finding Coll, for getting him back. But those goals are aligned. And neither of us wish for the Githyanki to gain control of Coll or Gadenthor. And perhaps whatever is in this body now is the key to that… who knows. So… from what I gather, the stock and supply messages Coll was receiving the other day were Gadenthor’s various magical entities reporting to him – to their head Intelligence – about the condition of the city?” I gestured to Coll’s body. “If prompted, does this Intelligence ever communicate anything itself? For example, if we were to ask the right questions of the Intelligence here – through its own language of bookkeeping and logistics, perhaps – would it respond?”
Marcia nodded, “That’s very much my intention to find out. So far the seemingly random notifications have been illuminating enough.” She picked up another sheet of parchment and read a line with a detached calm. “‘There are currently 22 dragons over the recommended safety limit of zero in the city limits of Gadenthor.’” She grimaced. “Terrifying, but illuminating, at least.”
I shuddered. “What a horrible place. If it were up to me, I would rather the city were dug up and dismantled piece by piece, and any souls or other entities trapped within it released, so they may pass on to their intended destinations. But 22 dragons – are the people of Harnash keeping a safe distance from the place?”
The archaeologist raised an eyebrow at me and snorted. “Yes, funnily enough, we are not actively poking the hornet’s nest full of dragons. They are poking us, however, so our people are terrified.”
STORIES
I leaned back, resigned. There was no point in directing my anger at anyone here. I calmed down and composed myself in the best way I knew: by trying to connect with other people.
First, I took up the empty plate and touched Autumn’s Warmth, the bark-like choker I had earned in the Feywild. It flashed and several small, shiny apples tumbled onto the plate, which I set down beside Coll… no, not Coll, I reminded myself with a heavy heart. Gadenthor.
Then I spoke to Marcia. “Even if what you say is true, I cannot believe that there is nothing of Coll in this body, even now. Perhaps he will remember, if we prompt his memory in the right way.”
“I hope so,” chimed in Harney, appearing beside me and checking the patient’s pulse with a few fingers to the neck. “Coll” did not even react. “Coll was one of the first people I met in the Dawnlands. Convinced me to join the local priesthood after a few attempts at adventuring went awry. Saved my life, probably.”
I turned to Harney. “I can hear in your voice how glad you are to know him. Even if he can’t respond in a way we understand, perhaps he will hear you if you tell him more about it. If we tell him stories, share something of ourselves with him, remind him of who he is and what he means to us. Maybe it will help him find his way back…”
Harney nodded. “The stories idea is interesting. I’ve heard it used in some therapies, but it’s worth a try. Perhaps I’ll get a few people in who have spent more time with him – Jenna, Leocanto if stories are needed, Councillor Cecil. Thank you. You’d be welcome to share any tales of your own while you’re here.”
“Harney. I will gladly talk to Coll for a while longer. I don’t know anything about archaeology” – I glanced aside at Marcia – “but I do know people, and I do know healing. And if any part of Coll is here now, I am certain he will appreciate it deeply.” I leaned forward to clasp Harney’s hands firmly but gently. “If he’s saved your life, as you’ve just mentioned, then tell him in detail. Tell him what that means to you. Tell him what he means to you. Don’t hold anything back. Also, please let me help in any way I can with caring for him. Put me into your care roster, give me chores. I will spend all the hours I can spare.” I laughed helplessly to myself. “Since his accident, I’ve felt at rather a loose end. If nothing else, it will keep me occupied.”
Harney clasped my hands in return. “Welcome to the team then, Velania. I’ll add you to the list. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your presence.”
THE WORK CONTINUES
I prepared more food for Coll, then busied myself with chores. Then I sat by his bedside and spoke to him for several hours that afternoon.
I told him about our picnic date. How handsome he had looked. How much I loved his sense of humour. How special he had made it for me. How magical Evenbloom Hill was, with its beautiful connections to the Feywild. How marvellous Qirliria the Bright was, with her youthful energy. I repeated all the stories my friends had shared on the date. I thanked him for all of it.
I told him about the first time we had met: about a year ago, I entered the Great Hall at Fort Ettin for the first time. I had been nervous and shy, but he had approached me with a gentle smile to offer me my first job. I told him about how I was so struck by his sparkling eyes and his kind, welcoming manner, that I could think of nothing all week except wanting to see him again. I’d pledged to get him a gift, and I made one from a gem I’d earned. I told him how much it thrilled me to know that he still wore it.
When I had told him all about that, I spoke about all the other people I had got to know in the Dawnlands. The wizards, the warriors, the rogues, the performers. The lovers and the fighters. The old and the young. The heroes of Kantas whom I had seen in passing, whose names were wrapped in legend. The many summoners of adorable animals. The cheaters, the gossips, and all the scandals. The thieves and the do-gooders. The Drow and their secrets. The Fey and their joy. The Aarakocras and their plans to build a roost. The hilarious and big-hearted Thicc Bois. My brothers and sisters of Selûne and a hint of our various troubles. I described my many jobs to him, and the adventures I had experienced to bring me to this point.
I went home tired but elated. If any vestige of the real Coll resided in his body, I felt a longing hope that he might have heard me.
I had to believe it helped. I had to.
Back at my chambers, I thought about nothing except what I’d talk to him about tomorrow. I realised I had left out so many details. So I made notes. And I returned to see him the next day.
I brought my notes and some storybooks to read to him. I told him about my life. I told him about my beautiful hometown, my parents and my celestial ancestry. I told him about my guardian angel. I told him about every friend I’d ever made. Of those I loved. Of those I missed. Of those I wished he could meet.
And then I returned the next day, and the day after that.
I never saw anybody else visiting Coll. I think we were all kept apart. I never asked about it. I never needed to, as long as I was with him.
I would never give up on him.
Never.
Continues in Atlantic City
Co-written with the ever-amazing andycd
PROMISES
As soon as I could, I hastened to Aurelia’s office in Daring Heights. She was extremely busy and, I was certain, none-too-impressed to see me. I felt a churning pang of guilt: she had insisted that Coll be closely guarded on our date. I had let him down. I had let her down. The responsibility fell upon me. How could I not have gone down in her estimation?
A naïve fool of a girl, reckless and blinded by love, and a terrible security risk – that had to be what Aurelia thought of me.
I desperately pleaded my case: I wanted to help Coll – I needed to help him – and I would do it all under any conditions she set. I understood the reasons for all the security… with all the painful clarity that hindsight brings. I wouldn’t touch him if she forbade it. I wouldn’t even speak to him if she forbade it. I just wanted to see him. I just wanted to help. In any way I could.
I was ready to fall to my knees and beg, but to my amazement, she did relent. Perhaps it was pity. Perhaps she wanted a tearful young woman out of her office. Perhaps she thought it might do him some good. Perhaps she just knew I would never give up. But she allowed it, under certain conditions: I was not to know his location, I was not to disclose anything of the visits to others, and I was to come alone.
I agreed to everything.
And so I found myself walking through an unfamiliar hallway, to an unfamiliar door, in an unfamiliar place. I was being led by Priest Harney, of the clergy of Waukeen. He was a polite and unusually lithe Dwarven man, blonde hair spilling loosely all over his shoulders as if he was determined to make a cape for his head.
Had I been teleported? Had I travelled to another plane? Had my memory been modified? I don’t even know. I used every ounce of self-control not to examine how I had got here. I had won a tenuous permission to come. I would do nothing to jeopardize the scant trust that Aurelia had in me.
THE PATIENT
The room Harney led me into was simple but comfortable, holding several chairs of different varieties, a desk and a bed. There was a window, but the pleasant seaside view it depicted had no bearing on the reality outside – of that I was sure.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw Coll. He was sitting on the bed, dressed in his normal linen shirt and trousers. He was leaning forward, staring intently at the floor, eyes darting back and forth – less as if searching the ground, but more like he was reading something only he could see. A beautiful purple bowtie sat on the desk. I recognised it immediately – he had worn it on our date. Alongside the bowtie were a few pages of notes, clearly made by different hands – notes of Coll’s activity.
I smiled and blinked hard, trying not to cry with relief at seeing him again.
Sitting in an armchair watching Coll was an Orcish woman, obviously Harnashi from her light clothing and muscular arms. She nodded as I entered, scarcely taking her eyes off the fidgeting man on the bed, occasionally making a note on a piece of parchment resting on her lap.
“Name’s Marcia. Welcome to the weirdest bit of archaeology I’ve done yet.”
“Marcia, I’m Velania.” I studied the woman for a moment with a suspicious frown. Hearing Coll referred to in that way disturbed me.
Then I tied my hair back. Rolled my sleeves up. Set my bag down. I glanced around the room. Wherever we were, I felt reassurance that Coll looked comfortable. I walked to the other side of his bed, looking over him and leaning over to peer into his eyes, hoping for a sign of recognition from him. It became uncomfortable to see him like this, and I pulled my gaze away from him. “He seems to be recovered physically, at least. But nothing else makes sense to me. I told Aurelia everything I could about what happened, though I am concerned it’s not in the least bit useful to you.”
I pulled up a chair. “I want to help him in any way I can. Please, Marcia, what do you know about his condition?”
THE CITY OF GADENTHOR
Marcia turned to meet my gaze at last and nodded, perhaps reading something in my face. “Coll’s body is healthy, following some care and restoration after he fell. I’m not sure that much of this can be called ‘Coll’, though.” She gestured to the figure on the bed. “They don’t respond to the name, and the only thing they have said since coming here is reeling off different notifications about the flying ruins of Gadenthor.”
The orc nodded at an empty dining plate resting on the floor. “A little surprisingly, there is enough basic muscle memory that this body eats when given food, and so on, but they seem to only operate at a mechanical level. I’ve never seen anything like it, but what I’m pretty sure of is that this isn’t Coll, this is… well, Gadenthor I think.”
I reeled in shock, then tilted my head in confusion. “That’s… impossible. It breaks all physical and natural laws – not to mention spiritual ones. If this isn’t Coll, then where is he? His mind, his soul, they must be somewhere, surely?”
I looked around the room, as if hoping to suddenly see Coll standing beside us, listening and watching. “Marcia, you’re an archaeologist, right? What is it about Gadenthor that allows this to be? Is Gadenthor alive? Does he… it… want something?” My voice faltered. “I don’t even know what questions to ask. This is all so confusing.”
“We’ll do what we can,” affirmed Marcia. “But to answer your questions – our scholars have seen some references over the years of study to some manner of communicating with some sort of city administration, but we had yet to see any actual reference to what they were talking about. We had all sorts of theories about methods of magically contacting a group of people based somewhere in the city who oversaw logistics – but no one ever really suspected some sort of… magical intelligence? The reports on how it was activated suggested that it was at least partially powered with souls, which is in keeping with the sort of mageocracy the Netherese Empire seemed to be. But its nature is certainly beyond me – is it a clever spell? A bound spirit?”
Marcia stood up, energised to be talking to people about this. “They haven’t identified themselves by name, but there is an intelligence there, I’m certain of it. And if they have a purpose, then they have wants, presumably. But that’s all speculation at this point. What is clear is one thing: this intelligence inhabiting Coll’s body is the surest thing to be able to control the city of Gadenthor. It’s a flying city – it should move – but the Githyanki haven’t managed to move it an inch, and I doubt they meant to take over the whole place just to float idly above Harnash scavenging food and supplies. And that means they need this body back in Gadenthor, badly.”
“Powered by souls?!” I exploded. My anger was rising and my voice grew more animated. “That sounds cruel and terrifying. Do these souls have any say in the matter, or are they enslaved? Just what kind of people were the Netherese? And if the Githyanki seek to harness this power too…” My voice trailed off.
“Marcia,” I said pointedly, “I understand your passion for this mystery, for solving the riddles of Gadenthor, to uncover its secrets. I confess, I care only for finding Coll, for getting him back. But those goals are aligned. And neither of us wish for the Githyanki to gain control of Coll or Gadenthor. And perhaps whatever is in this body now is the key to that… who knows. So… from what I gather, the stock and supply messages Coll was receiving the other day were Gadenthor’s various magical entities reporting to him – to their head Intelligence – about the condition of the city?” I gestured to Coll’s body. “If prompted, does this Intelligence ever communicate anything itself? For example, if we were to ask the right questions of the Intelligence here – through its own language of bookkeeping and logistics, perhaps – would it respond?”
Marcia nodded, “That’s very much my intention to find out. So far the seemingly random notifications have been illuminating enough.” She picked up another sheet of parchment and read a line with a detached calm. “‘There are currently 22 dragons over the recommended safety limit of zero in the city limits of Gadenthor.’” She grimaced. “Terrifying, but illuminating, at least.”
I shuddered. “What a horrible place. If it were up to me, I would rather the city were dug up and dismantled piece by piece, and any souls or other entities trapped within it released, so they may pass on to their intended destinations. But 22 dragons – are the people of Harnash keeping a safe distance from the place?”
The archaeologist raised an eyebrow at me and snorted. “Yes, funnily enough, we are not actively poking the hornet’s nest full of dragons. They are poking us, however, so our people are terrified.”
STORIES
I leaned back, resigned. There was no point in directing my anger at anyone here. I calmed down and composed myself in the best way I knew: by trying to connect with other people.
First, I took up the empty plate and touched Autumn’s Warmth, the bark-like choker I had earned in the Feywild. It flashed and several small, shiny apples tumbled onto the plate, which I set down beside Coll… no, not Coll, I reminded myself with a heavy heart. Gadenthor.
Then I spoke to Marcia. “Even if what you say is true, I cannot believe that there is nothing of Coll in this body, even now. Perhaps he will remember, if we prompt his memory in the right way.”
“I hope so,” chimed in Harney, appearing beside me and checking the patient’s pulse with a few fingers to the neck. “Coll” did not even react. “Coll was one of the first people I met in the Dawnlands. Convinced me to join the local priesthood after a few attempts at adventuring went awry. Saved my life, probably.”
I turned to Harney. “I can hear in your voice how glad you are to know him. Even if he can’t respond in a way we understand, perhaps he will hear you if you tell him more about it. If we tell him stories, share something of ourselves with him, remind him of who he is and what he means to us. Maybe it will help him find his way back…”
Harney nodded. “The stories idea is interesting. I’ve heard it used in some therapies, but it’s worth a try. Perhaps I’ll get a few people in who have spent more time with him – Jenna, Leocanto if stories are needed, Councillor Cecil. Thank you. You’d be welcome to share any tales of your own while you’re here.”
“Harney. I will gladly talk to Coll for a while longer. I don’t know anything about archaeology” – I glanced aside at Marcia – “but I do know people, and I do know healing. And if any part of Coll is here now, I am certain he will appreciate it deeply.” I leaned forward to clasp Harney’s hands firmly but gently. “If he’s saved your life, as you’ve just mentioned, then tell him in detail. Tell him what that means to you. Tell him what he means to you. Don’t hold anything back. Also, please let me help in any way I can with caring for him. Put me into your care roster, give me chores. I will spend all the hours I can spare.” I laughed helplessly to myself. “Since his accident, I’ve felt at rather a loose end. If nothing else, it will keep me occupied.”
Harney clasped my hands in return. “Welcome to the team then, Velania. I’ll add you to the list. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your presence.”
THE WORK CONTINUES
I prepared more food for Coll, then busied myself with chores. Then I sat by his bedside and spoke to him for several hours that afternoon.
I told him about our picnic date. How handsome he had looked. How much I loved his sense of humour. How special he had made it for me. How magical Evenbloom Hill was, with its beautiful connections to the Feywild. How marvellous Qirliria the Bright was, with her youthful energy. I repeated all the stories my friends had shared on the date. I thanked him for all of it.
I told him about the first time we had met: about a year ago, I entered the Great Hall at Fort Ettin for the first time. I had been nervous and shy, but he had approached me with a gentle smile to offer me my first job. I told him about how I was so struck by his sparkling eyes and his kind, welcoming manner, that I could think of nothing all week except wanting to see him again. I’d pledged to get him a gift, and I made one from a gem I’d earned. I told him how much it thrilled me to know that he still wore it.
When I had told him all about that, I spoke about all the other people I had got to know in the Dawnlands. The wizards, the warriors, the rogues, the performers. The lovers and the fighters. The old and the young. The heroes of Kantas whom I had seen in passing, whose names were wrapped in legend. The many summoners of adorable animals. The cheaters, the gossips, and all the scandals. The thieves and the do-gooders. The Drow and their secrets. The Fey and their joy. The Aarakocras and their plans to build a roost. The hilarious and big-hearted Thicc Bois. My brothers and sisters of Selûne and a hint of our various troubles. I described my many jobs to him, and the adventures I had experienced to bring me to this point.
I went home tired but elated. If any vestige of the real Coll resided in his body, I felt a longing hope that he might have heard me.
I had to believe it helped. I had to.
Back at my chambers, I thought about nothing except what I’d talk to him about tomorrow. I realised I had left out so many details. So I made notes. And I returned to see him the next day.
I brought my notes and some storybooks to read to him. I told him about my life. I told him about my beautiful hometown, my parents and my celestial ancestry. I told him about my guardian angel. I told him about every friend I’d ever made. Of those I loved. Of those I missed. Of those I wished he could meet.
And then I returned the next day, and the day after that.
I never saw anybody else visiting Coll. I think we were all kept apart. I never asked about it. I never needed to, as long as I was with him.
I would never give up on him.
Never.
Continues in Atlantic City