Cloudspeak
01-02-2006, 01:42 PM
I was making my way through Thunder Bluff to deliver a message to the elders when I saw her standing among a crowd gathered in the square. Her fur was as white as snow and she wore simple clothes of red and purple. Delicate and lovely horns protruded from above her ears. The crowd was gathered around a speaking druid, Hidua I think they called him, but I heard little of what he said as my attention was on the female. That’s when I noticed the hoof. Dark, with purplish fur. A satyr’s hoof. Only one druid I had ever heard of had such a hoof.
Snowfeather.
Curious I sat on a log bench and tried to meld into the crowd. But the speakers words were lost on me as divided my attention between him and white druid. Occasionally, out of habit, I would look up at the sky. It was deep blue as the sun was setting. What few clouds were dotting the sky were round and fluffy like a rabbit tail. I felt a sudden sense of drowsiness overcome me.
Snowfeather was in chains. Her limbs each bound in iron and each length attached to a wall. How can this be? I wondered. No chains of this world can hold a druid. But it was so. She snarled and spoke harsh words of a language I had not heard before. She spat them like venom and I soon saw the target of her ire. Though I could not really see. It was a shadow of the darkness, it was small and hunched. Two yellow glowing eyes stared emotionlessly as it lifted a gloved hand to touch the bound druid. Snowfeather snarled and tried to bite the hand that was hastily pulled back.
Then figure stepped back for a moment gazing at its captive. My stomach turned when I heard the slithering of its blade as it was pulled from its sheath. I tried to rise but could not. My legs had never felt so heavy and no matter how hard I tried, I could not will them to move. Then the shadow spoke. Its voice was dry and raspy. Although its tone was firm and resolute, it was not without sadness or regret.
“I am sorry, Coddler,” it said. “It is for your own good.”
Then she took the blade and struck the satyr’s hoof from the druid’s leg.
“No!” I screamed as light burst forth causing me to raise my hands in front of my eyes. As I blinked away the spots and my vision returned I saw I was staring at the moon. Darkness had fallen and all around me were gone. I rose to my feet, but suddenly felt ill as I stumbled about. I fell to my knees in the pond and vomited. Several late night fisherman cried out in disgust and complained about the drunks. But I did not care. For the moment my pride had vanished. I only wanted to purge myself of the vile feeling of helplessness threatening to overwhelm me. After a few a while I rose shakily to my feet. Ignoring the angry stares of those around me, I made my way toward the lift. I needed solitude and time to think.
“What does it mean, great mother?”
The old woman rose and perched herself on the brick hearth surrounding the fire place. She gently laid a fresh log into the dying fire before answering.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” I echoed in surprise.
“The loss of time is not unheard of among those that read the clouds,” she answered. “But it was just that. A reading which was brought forward for interpretation. Nothing more. None I have heard of ever had visions in this manner. Best keep what you have seen to yourself.”
I shifted uncomfortably and she turned to look at me with narrowed eyes. “You told her.”
“I spoke to her last night when I saw her in Thunder Bluff,“ I admitted with a bowed head. “I had not intended to, but… It’s complicated.”
She snorted. “Yes. A lovely cow seems to have that affect on simple matters.”
I could feel my face flush under her gaze.
“This was unwise and reckless of you, son,” she told me. “The future is not set. There are too many influences that guide its path, and that path is random and chaotic.”
“She said she knew this person.”
“And so matters are worse,” she sighed. “You have planted a seed of distrust where none had yet been sewed. This alone can have many affects on the future. Not that I am concerned for the welfare of this cult. They will all turn on each other like rabid jackals in the end.”
“She is part of them, they cannot be all that bad,” I said trying to defend Snowfeather.
“Oh? War and deception are their tools. How do you know she was not wooing you to their circle?” She struggled to her feet and eased herself back into her chair. Her gaze fell upon the giant bow hanging above the fire hearth. The women of the Cloudspeak tribe had been the interpreters of the sign. With no sign to interpret they took up other professions. My great mother was a renown hunter once and her mind seemed to be lost in those times. I thought she had nothing more to say until she spoke again. “They are led by a necromancer whose own lands are dead. What does he care for ours? I am concerned with this contact you now have with them. I believe they stand against the very nature of your vow. The return of balance. Your forefathers were some of the most honorable I have known. But their quest for ‘tribal’ honor destroyed them. The tribe is dying, my son. No one remembers our deeds any longer. Worry about your own honor. It will guide you.”
“Even so, I will need strong allies, great mother,” I told her. “I cannot honor my vow to destroy the great tree alone.”
“True enough, but you must choose wisely,” she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Ask yourself, my son, is the price of your honor worth the cost of your soul?”
I sat awake a long time after she fell asleep. I sat next to her long after the fire died listening to her breathe and pondering her question before I answered.
“No, it is not.” I whispered aloud. “But perhaps she is.”
Snowfeather.
Curious I sat on a log bench and tried to meld into the crowd. But the speakers words were lost on me as divided my attention between him and white druid. Occasionally, out of habit, I would look up at the sky. It was deep blue as the sun was setting. What few clouds were dotting the sky were round and fluffy like a rabbit tail. I felt a sudden sense of drowsiness overcome me.
Snowfeather was in chains. Her limbs each bound in iron and each length attached to a wall. How can this be? I wondered. No chains of this world can hold a druid. But it was so. She snarled and spoke harsh words of a language I had not heard before. She spat them like venom and I soon saw the target of her ire. Though I could not really see. It was a shadow of the darkness, it was small and hunched. Two yellow glowing eyes stared emotionlessly as it lifted a gloved hand to touch the bound druid. Snowfeather snarled and tried to bite the hand that was hastily pulled back.
Then figure stepped back for a moment gazing at its captive. My stomach turned when I heard the slithering of its blade as it was pulled from its sheath. I tried to rise but could not. My legs had never felt so heavy and no matter how hard I tried, I could not will them to move. Then the shadow spoke. Its voice was dry and raspy. Although its tone was firm and resolute, it was not without sadness or regret.
“I am sorry, Coddler,” it said. “It is for your own good.”
Then she took the blade and struck the satyr’s hoof from the druid’s leg.
“No!” I screamed as light burst forth causing me to raise my hands in front of my eyes. As I blinked away the spots and my vision returned I saw I was staring at the moon. Darkness had fallen and all around me were gone. I rose to my feet, but suddenly felt ill as I stumbled about. I fell to my knees in the pond and vomited. Several late night fisherman cried out in disgust and complained about the drunks. But I did not care. For the moment my pride had vanished. I only wanted to purge myself of the vile feeling of helplessness threatening to overwhelm me. After a few a while I rose shakily to my feet. Ignoring the angry stares of those around me, I made my way toward the lift. I needed solitude and time to think.
“What does it mean, great mother?”
The old woman rose and perched herself on the brick hearth surrounding the fire place. She gently laid a fresh log into the dying fire before answering.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” I echoed in surprise.
“The loss of time is not unheard of among those that read the clouds,” she answered. “But it was just that. A reading which was brought forward for interpretation. Nothing more. None I have heard of ever had visions in this manner. Best keep what you have seen to yourself.”
I shifted uncomfortably and she turned to look at me with narrowed eyes. “You told her.”
“I spoke to her last night when I saw her in Thunder Bluff,“ I admitted with a bowed head. “I had not intended to, but… It’s complicated.”
She snorted. “Yes. A lovely cow seems to have that affect on simple matters.”
I could feel my face flush under her gaze.
“This was unwise and reckless of you, son,” she told me. “The future is not set. There are too many influences that guide its path, and that path is random and chaotic.”
“She said she knew this person.”
“And so matters are worse,” she sighed. “You have planted a seed of distrust where none had yet been sewed. This alone can have many affects on the future. Not that I am concerned for the welfare of this cult. They will all turn on each other like rabid jackals in the end.”
“She is part of them, they cannot be all that bad,” I said trying to defend Snowfeather.
“Oh? War and deception are their tools. How do you know she was not wooing you to their circle?” She struggled to her feet and eased herself back into her chair. Her gaze fell upon the giant bow hanging above the fire hearth. The women of the Cloudspeak tribe had been the interpreters of the sign. With no sign to interpret they took up other professions. My great mother was a renown hunter once and her mind seemed to be lost in those times. I thought she had nothing more to say until she spoke again. “They are led by a necromancer whose own lands are dead. What does he care for ours? I am concerned with this contact you now have with them. I believe they stand against the very nature of your vow. The return of balance. Your forefathers were some of the most honorable I have known. But their quest for ‘tribal’ honor destroyed them. The tribe is dying, my son. No one remembers our deeds any longer. Worry about your own honor. It will guide you.”
“Even so, I will need strong allies, great mother,” I told her. “I cannot honor my vow to destroy the great tree alone.”
“True enough, but you must choose wisely,” she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “Ask yourself, my son, is the price of your honor worth the cost of your soul?”
I sat awake a long time after she fell asleep. I sat next to her long after the fire died listening to her breathe and pondering her question before I answered.
“No, it is not.” I whispered aloud. “But perhaps she is.”