Year 351 after the War of the Gods, Summer

Merun, Capital of the Empire

“Gira, you’re worrying too much. Nobody saw me.” Deep in the shadow of her hood Giræsea could see naught but Älyan’s mouth - she grinned. A wide and toothy grin, showing the sharp fangs behind those soft lips. And as she raised her gaze Giræsea could see two stars gleaming in the dark. Her heart - a predator with the blood of her prey dripping from her lips; a prayer, a cheer, for her successful hunt. And in her claws she held her triumph: A heavy tome, bound in leather and brass-studded; artfully decorated – alternating jagged and flowing lines, interwoven as Giræsea had seen many times this far east: Vines and leaves in an embrace with steel grates. “I wish you could see it! It is gorgeous! It shines as the sun behind a rain cloud– I wish I could describe it to you better.” Älyan held the book against her chest. “Oh, the things I will find in it.” And her voice was the first droplet on dry sand, and the rain and the flood that wanted to sweep her away.

Giræsea rolled her eyes. This had now been the second time since they’d been in Merun for Äylan to break in. Or at least the second time she knew about. But she also knew that it would get them nowhere, arguing about it with Älyan; Thorgest was right: It was her curse. Giræsea couldn’t move her to stop unless she wanted it herself. And then Giræsea would be there to offer her a hand. “So I hope this one will keep you occupied longer than the last one, then”, she said and hoped it contained everything she wanted to say.

The elf twirled around, her cloak flowing in a wide arch, and then she dropped backwards onto the bed next to Giræsea; the hood falling from her head. “Gira, I can feel it: This is the only book on this continent where I can find something Thorgest doesn’t know yet; where he won’t say Aye, that’s how the people tell it, but more truthfully…  How do you think he'll look when I can tell him something new?”

At Älyan’s interpretation of Thorgest Giræsea had to laugh. She put on her second boot and stood up. “Don’t walk all over him. Thor has a hard enough time with the both of us.” Then she threw on her jibbah - the arms master had sold it to her as a gambeson, but it was a fucking jibbah - and knew Älyan was rolling her eyes. Next thing she took her breast plate and put it on over it. “Could you please–”, she began her sentence but Älyan was alread on her feet and by her side. “Of course.” Nimble fingers danced over leather, threading straps through eyelets and fastening buckles. She just about reached up to Giræsea’s chin. Without her asking for it, Älyan reached for the broad belt and dropped to her knees in front of Giræsea to put it on her. Buckle by buckle she tightened it, and Giræsea had to remind herself that she had a task to fulfil and no time to spare for the distractions that were presenting themselves to her all too clearly. 

“Turn around”, Älyan ordered as she began hooking the two halves to the leather skirt onto the belt. Giræsea obeyed. Then Älyan stood up to judge her work. Nodded. “Do you need help with that as well?” She held up the shoulder plate.

“Only if you’ve got nothing better to do right now.”

She laid the piece on Giræsea’s right shoulder and fastened the first strap around her chest. “Arm up.” The second one she closed around the inside of her upper arm. Giræsea moved her arm to make sure everything sat well.

“Are you really sure he’s down there? What if we’re wrong?” The worry in Älyan’s voice cut sharp across the hope she had built. Of course that thought had occurred to her: What if it wasn’t him or it was him but he couldn’t read the inscription or he couldn’t open the casket? What then? Then they had traveled half the continent for nothing - Rúnknǫttr, At-Tumr, Kinbay, Merun - and they had no more leads. They had to start back at square one.

“It has to be him. You heard the pilgrim. Everything points towards him. But soon we will know.” She put all the confidence she could muster into these short sentences. But now was not the time to doubt anymore. What else could they do now? First I have to get down there and find the temple. Then we’ll see.”

“Is Thorgest gonna come with you?”

“No. He said he’s got both hands full with you up here. And what’s ever gonna happen down there?”

“I would’ve managed without him.” Älyan put one hand on her arm and the touch felt as fragile as a butterfly’s wings. “Atti, I don’t want you to disappear down there.”

“Now you’re worrying too much. Nothing’s gonna happen to me.” Giræsea softly cupped her cheek, gently stroking the metal with her thumb, touching her forehead to Älyan’s and closed her eyes. Nightmother, if Älyan hadn’t returned from her hunt,  if she had waited for her in vain– She didn’t want to imagine it. And to know she could do the exact same thing to Älyan, for her to carry this fear, it broke her heart. “I will come back. I promise.”

Älyan reached for her hand. Gracious Varnith, she didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay here with Älyan. Whatever was in that accursed casket, she wanted to– A kiss. And the endless-overlapping-winding circles of restless thoughts lay still fur just this moment and if there were no other guarantees in this world, there was this one: She would return to Älyan.

“If I find so much as a new scar on you, I’ll personally curse you”, said Älyan with a wary grin and then took a step back and Giræsea’s heart fluttered in the cage of her chest. “And now go. Hurry! I want to be out of this cursed city.”

“I’ll be back here by tonight and we’ll be gone by tomorrow.”, Giræsea promised her. She would find the man, open the casket and then return. It was so simple. And when she’d return deep from the bowels of earth, stone and steel, from endless night deep underground, Älyan would be waiting for her.

She sheathed her swords, grabbed her pack and went to the door. She opened it; turned around once more, not yet ready to step on the other side– To close the door behind her. "Be careful", her heart called after her. She replied: "I can't promise anything." But of course she did. She lingered there, in the doorframe, and smiled awkwardly, didn't know whether she should say anything, until it was too late. She waved at her heart one last time, turned around, and left.