The Vision

Beyond Dominia: The Role Playing Mill: The Vision

By Jaron on Saturday, September 30, 2000 - 10:12 pm:

The Vision

September 15, 794 - Talismanian Reckoning

The stars glittered overhead as Jaron huddled together with Joerda in a small thicket of trees near the D'ner river. They were both young, and terribly frightened by what they had witnessed. Hiding seemed to be the most natural response. With no idea where to go next, Jaron had taken them east, where he knew that civilization must lie. Solitude would only bring them trouble.

Joerda recovered her wits quickly, but did not know what to make of the young man who spoke to her with his mind rather than his mouth. Jaron kept himself aloof from her, retreating into the protective shell of solitude that he knew so well.

Knowing very little of the Wraith-kin, Jaron was unable to determine if they were being followed, or even if it was possible to tell. Joerda offered little help, for each of her attempts at communication with him was met by a gaze of disinterest, and Jaron's acute silence. They had pressed on, fearful of discovery.

Jaron startled Joerda when he struck up a conversation, rather uncharacteristic of him, in her experience.

{My father told me that the trees took the lifeforce remaining in the dead, and created new life with it in memory of the deceased.}

"What are you talking about?" she asked, confused.

{The properties that cause life are present in all that grows, ages, and dies. The dead no longer need those properties, and so release them to the world, where the living, which still need them, snatch them up again.}

He paused, and stared at her with his blue-green eyes. For a moment, it seemed to Joerda that they glowed in the darkness, but the sensation passed, and she shook her head to rid it of the hallucination. Looking away, he resumed his shared thought.

{Even after something dies, it remains a memory to those who live. Since the living ultimately feed upon the dead, the memories fade as those who have passed on are gone longer and longer, eventually returning in parts to life once more. They aren't a memory anymore, but the living...}

"Jaron, please stop. You don't know what you're saying," she pleaded. Worry etched itself into her face, lines that appeared hollow in the starlight.

{I'm sorry Joerda. You're right. I don't know what came over me. We need to find a place to rest sat least a day or two to regain our strength, but we can't stay. You saw what they did to Master Sunset. People need to be warned of the Wraith-kin.}

"But how can we do that? We're just two people..."

Jaron nodded. {But two people can make all the difference.}


Dawn was still two hours away, but Jaron couldn't sleep. Poking his staff in the ashes of a lightly smoldering flame, he kept vigil over Joerda, the unfortunate girl who had been dragged into the mess he himself had found himself unable to avoid. Now everyone he had known was dead or gone, leaving him alone with her.

As if life hadn't sent me enough cruelties to deal with, he thought. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He thought back to the powers he had unleashed when he knew Master Sunset had been in danger. Awe and fear intertwined had unlocked something deep within him, a latent talent of magic that he hadn't known existed before. What was it that Sunset had mentioned to him? Kaat'n. What was it about his powers that Sunset could not teach him to tame? Or did he simply fear what Jaron could do, knowing his lineage?

Wind picked up, sending shivers down his spine. His senses keyed to the environment instantly, an aspect of his elven heritage he was quite familiar with. The land wan't making its normal sound.

From the darkness formed a swirling matrix of energy that coalesced before him. It took no shape other than a coruscating diamond, pulsating as it "spoke." What is this? he asked himself as the shape approached.

"Greetings, Jaron Githain. We are Oor-Tael. Our members we do not forget." The voice! He had heard it before, many times. The voice of his father could not be mistaken.

{I am not a member of Oor-Tael,} he responded. {They died a long time ago.}

"Nonsense, child. Breathe, you do. Live, you do. Oor-Tael lives. But short our time is. We cannot for long remain. We keep the Wraith-kin from tracking you, but wane our powers do. Find your trail shortly, they will, and gone from here must you be. Of Oor-Tael you are. A course of action already have you chosen."

Hearing that plural voice speak, Jaron noticed it was not just Gandalf's voice, but many intermingled; his father's simply was the most overpowering and the one his mind tuned into the most. He fancied that he could almost pick out his mother's voice as well.

{I have. I will go to Kaat'n to learn magic from whoever runs the place.}

"Then seek you out Sage Advisor of Kaat'n. But what of the girl? Nothing of your plans knows she. Follow you forever, she can not." Unspoken was the implication that he must provide for her continued safety while he lived and hopefully trained in Kaat'n.

{She can stay with me.}

"Indeed?" The lilt of the word so painfully reminded him of how much he had lost. "We trust you will do what is best. Difficult will it be in Deep Shadow Wood for the Wraith-kin to track you. The most direct road to Kaat'n it is.. Waver not in your decision to go there." Again there hung words unspoken by the presence. For if waver you do, the only result will not your death be.

"A cost there is for the aid we have given you. Do not yet that staff and robe to you belong. A burden to you they are. Simple for you to give. Higher prices have others paid." Numbly, Jaron retrieved th items from his sparse packings. Admittedly, he thought them only a nuisance, but also a tie to his past. A past best left buried, he decided.

"Done, it is," intoned the presence, then vanished, taking the items with it. Immediately, the land returned to normal, and the surreal vision was only a memory. Jaron quickly fell into a deep sleep.

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