Transit Umbra, Lux Permanet

Heavy clouds concealed what light the night sky once offered, not even the stars lit his way now. This truly was the longest of nights. His only hope was staying on course and keeping his small ship in sight of land, if barely. Too close and he would hit the shoals and sink. Too far and he could be lost forever. The Queen only knew how he’d sensed where the balance lay in these unfamiliar waters. He shivered, unused to the loneliness and cold. So cold. His teeth had stopped chattering a while back and his hand on the tiller was numb. He tried to stay awake, but his amber eyes, scouring the shoreline for the light, grew steadily heavier.

He woke with a start as cold water sprayed his dusky face. Instinctively, he swung the tiller, lucky not to hit the rocks the surf was breaking on. Rocks, Dore was nestled in high ground, right? Shortly after swinging away from the cliffs a faint light reached his eyes. For a moment, he thought he'd imagined it. No, there it was again. A steady flashing, in a pattern, somehow familiar. The light of Gammrhafn's lighthouse shone high above the water. Safety, finally!

The noise from the flapping, tattered sail of the dingy speeding across the water of the bay alerted the harbour guard. The man at the tiller seemed to have no intention of stopping. Instead of continuing upriver, he all but rammed the jetty. Scraping alongside it, before coming to a halt at the bottom of the three-tiered harbour. The guards took a single look at the salt-crusted, and half-frozen form in the little boat and nodded at each other. Silently, each one took an arm and all but carried the man into the city. Wondering what could drive anyone to set sail in this long dark.

He was barely conscious as the guards dragged him along the harbor. Sudden flashes of bright light were superimposed on his vision. He saw people of all plumage, buying and selling fish, and more exotic goods on the wharf. He shook his head, and faced the darkness again. Confused and weary he kept silent as the guards moved him past the warehouses into the city.

They reached the market with its tall ironwood tree. Briefly, the sun’s warmth enveloped him. He stood a moment looking up at soft light filtering through the great trees green crown. When he looked again, he saw only the tree’s stark leafless branches reaching out over the high city walls, softly swaying in the freezing night. Was he losing his mind?

Passing by the grand smithy, for an instant instead of darkness, he saw a tall man with a kind face and massive shoulders, working a blade that shone in the sun. The sound of the hammer hitting steel ringing true in his ears. Blinking again, he saw only embers burning low in the darkened forge.

The guards, knowing nothing of their charges visions walked on past the double guildhall, up through the keeps gates, and to the long hall where their count and countess hosted all of their people during the Twilight of Care.

When he opened his eyes again, the bright light of a blazing fire hurt his eyes for a few seconds. "Ah, back with us I see." He looked around to see where the voice came from, and turning, noticed a red-headed woman by a table mixing up something... noxious. Taking quick stock of his surroundings, he noticed he was in what looked like a greenhouse filled with plants he had no names for.

”For a moment there it was touch and go. What were you thinking? One of the Familiar sailing alone, in this cold?” He tried to speak, croaked something incomprehensible, and started coughing. The woman knelt beside him, helping him up part way. “I know it smells atrocious but it will help restore you.” She handed him the cup.

He shuddered at the smell, hesitated, and then looked at the woman again. Beads in her braided hair. He reached his free hand out to them, and carefully turned around one of the silver baubles. Noticing the rune engraved on it, an odd smile flickered across his face as he finally remembered. Not despair and madness, but memories of another life had brought him here. He drank the vile potion. Before the medicine took effect he had just enough time to utter in oddly accented Neran: ”Vault... open... warn... Kilmaar.”

~

To those who took the time to read.

Thank you!

I hope you enjoyed this story. :) I wanted to show you all our domain, incorperate some of the lore of Elyria, as well as tell you about our people. Which was a challenge to do in exactly 750 words. And I made it, if just.

A special thank you to Drakos, for letting me torture his Waerd ancestor with hypothermia in this story. His bravery will not be forgotten. XD

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