Apologies for the lateness of this entry but I was having a bit of writer’s block. This is a crucial meeting and wanted it to suit the gravity of the situation and only figured out how to proceed as I was falling asleep last night. In any case, I hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 4 : Kilabra Dalsinien
Scene 3 : Meeting for the First Time, Again
Kilbra stared down at the Man. She examined him,noticing his eyes below his eyelids, obviously vividly dreaming as she watched. His dark hair was a mp on the top of his head, the sides shaved close and showing grey. His creased face held the ghosts of scars from the many battles he had fought and his thin lips quivered as if he was speaking to someone. She leaned close to listen, to coax from him the words he spoke soundlessly. One word…
She gasped and took a step backwards, waking him as his eyes flew open and looked into her amber eyes in confusion. He felt both awake and still dreaming.
She regained her composure as she looked down at him and smiled with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
“Welcome to the land of the wakeful, Man. Dreaming of me were you?”
His eyes cleared, confusion fading and regret taking its place.
“Yes, I was. You were across a ravine dripping blood from your hand into a river of blood.”
Kilabra arched a platinum eyebrow and raised her palm to show the seeping wound dripping purple blood.
“Did it look something like this, Man?”
Denzred shivered as his gaze fixated on her hand. He reached out his hand then drew it back as his eyes drifted skyward.
“Yes, exactly like that. Why Lord? What are you trying to tell me?”
Kilabra closed her hand into a fist and chuckled dismissively. She placed her fists on her hips as she looked him over appraisingly.
“Well you seem to know my name, Man. So what is your’s?”
“I am…I was Sir Denzred the Landless. Now I am simply Denzred the Landless.”
Kilabra growled deep in her chest as she drew her twin bronze swords in a single flashing blur. She held them crossed below his chin as she grimace in disgust.
“I know that name, Man. We call you the Butcher of England! Now I understand why the Trions sent me here, and also understand the river of blood, you vile beast! You have slain so many of my brethren….so many fey!’
Translucent green tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke, disgust and rage thick in her voice. To her shock the human didn’t flinch, his gaze falling as tears rolled down his cheeks in turn.
“Your Trions are wise. Please end my life, for it is a sin to end it myself. I do not deserve to live, I do not deserve mercy. I am beyond redemption and must pay for my crimes in Hell.”
“Any final words before I end your existence and return to my people with your head tucked under my arm, butcher?”
He looked up at her once more as he leaned a little bit forward into the blades, a thin trickle of blood running down his throat as he spoke.
“Only this Kilabra; I did what I thought my Lord and Saviour wished. I was misled and wrong, but I am at peace with you taking my life. I deserve this punishment and so much more….”
He held her gaze as he awaited the final slice that separate his head from his neck…and waited. She stood motionless and then he noticed her eyes looking around in panic. Then he noticed a horse and rider suddenly appear as if from thin air behind her. The rider was very old with bright glowing blue eyes as he pulled his hands from a child’s eyes with an enormous nose. The child has her hands over her mouth and removed them as the old man smiled down at the two figures below him.
“I am so sorry, Kilabra Dalsinien, but Denzred is not allowed to die just yet. The Gods have a plan for both of you and that doesn’t including murdering him. My boy, why don’t you stand off to one side while we wait for the Spell of Holding to wear off and then I shall explain to you both while we await our final member.”
Denzred stumbled to his feet as he stared in wonder at Kilabra stand motionless staring down at the spot where he had knelt.
“Who are you? What is going on here?”
“Denzred, my child, my name is EGL-Gramstaf..hrrm…I mean Gramstaf-EGL, former Prelate of Canterbury.”
Denzred looked confused again as he fell to one knee and bowed his head.
“Don’t worry, he does that quite often. Hello there, I am Hindral Smik!”
“My child, stand up. I cannot claim your obeisance anymore. I did say former Prelate of Canterbury.”
Denzred slowly stood up and cast a glance at the what he had at first thought was a child and with a start realized it was a gnome.
“I bet you think I am a gnome, but you would be wrong. I am a Svirfneblin.”
She challenged him with her small brown eyes under what appeared to be a waxed leather fisherman’s hat as Denzred smiled and nodded.
“Don’t worry, she does that quite often too-”
“Well, you got it wrong when we first met old man. And here I thought you and Egl were supposed to be all-seeing?”
“Now, now, Hindral you know that’s not how this works.”
“Wait, I thought Egl was part of your name, Prelate?”
Gramstaf sighed heavily as he realized this explanation was going to take a bit more time. He noticed that Kilabra’s muscles were beginning to twitch in her neck and hands and decided to chance the subject for now.
“Let us all get comfortable. It looks like the spell is beginning to wear off and then I shall try to explain from the beginning…”
“Really priest? Isn’t that like a few thousand years of history?” Hindral smiled with mischievous in her eyes.
“Hush now, gnome!”
And with that Gramstaf dismounted with surprising ease for a man of his advanced years.
“Let me get a small fire started to warm my old bones, my friends.”