Avishraa Reloaded

The sky outside grew steadily brighter, and the light began to turn red-gold as the Gentle Eye slowly squinted shut and the Burning Eye prepared for its unflinching watch over the world.

Whatever his faults, Shyriath - once it was clear that he was in no danger from his guests - appeared to be an amenable, if gruff, host. He had led them to a long room with large, horizontal niches carved out of each wall - given their size, it seemed that several dozen Soakers had once been in the habit of sleeping here - and piled a collection of soft, furry hides into two of them as beds

The roasts they had eaten earlier had not since been repeated; Shyriath evidently kept a herd of animals for their fur, hides, and meat, but to supply even one adult with more than occasional meat, he said, would have thinned the herd too rapidly.

Regardless, the bones could be kept for stock, and between using them for stew and gathering assorted nuts, berries, and edible roots, there was enough food to go around.

Evrith had spent a good amount of time sleeping, and indeed bathing; at some point in the past Shyriath had used his powers to tap into an underground aquifer, and among other uses had diverted the channel into a chamber that served as a shallow pool. She frequently occupied the pool for rests at a time, dozing with her head on the ledge.

The moisture had come as a relief, but it was slightly too late to avoid the need to molt away her dried, cracked scales. When An-uxhwi looked in on her, she was turning a dull reddish-gray and the tip of her muzzle was noticeably starting to peel.

She cracked open an eye and glanced at him. “I know you don't really need it,” she murmured sleepily, “but you're free to soak if you like. There's room enough.”

The idea of submerging himself in water seemed slightly quaint - it wasn't unheard of, of course, but in arid places water was a scarce resource, and using it to clean oneself when sand would do the same job struck him as quite a luxury, just narrowly foreign enough that he wasn't convinced he would enjoy it.

Still, it seemed rude to completely ignore the invitation. He compromised, looping his arms over the edge of the pool and letting them rest in the water. “Is the water helping you heal?” While the answer was an obvious 'yes' and the question technically obsolete, the whole biology of Soakers puzzled him just enough that he found himself asking anyway.

Perhaps she would describe the subjective sensation, granting him insights he didn't yet have.

Evrith yawned, stretched, and rolled slowly onto her side. Her ribs were still visible, but she looked at least marginally less emaciated than before. “It's soothing, at least,” she replied lazily. “It hurts a bit less. Though I'll have to cut down once I really start shedding, or else I'll be wallowing in my own dead scales.”

She peered through the doorway, where a narrow beam of sunlight spread across the floor. “I'm overdoing it a bit, anyway,” she added. “Just being out of the sun and an occasional dip is really all that's necessary - but I haven't had a bath in a long time.”

And it was nice that she had the opportunity. An-uxhwi had lost most of his hostility toward Shyriath after the mentalist Soaker had made good on the apology that An-uxhwi had expected of him - the accommodation, the permission to use his facilities, the meals, and a non-crazed, mindful communication.

By now they had reached a point of paradox where they were likely better off now than they would have been if Shyriath had not assaulted them. That was worth more than an acknowledgement. While An-uxhwi thought it unlikely he would ever be true friends with the mentalist, he was respectful to him and since offered his hand in chores without prompt.

“How does your future look?” he asked, swirling his claws through the water, gently touching its surface from below, focussing on the sensation of the enveloping moisture on his scales. The question, of course, was far more useful than 'how are you feeling now?', given Evrith's future sight, but served the same general purpose.

The set of the oracle's antennae did not change, but a certain tenseness in them and around the eyes suggested that this was because they were being held immobile. “In the short term? Better than it would have been.”

An-uxhwi knew better than to simply pry for medium- or long-term data, especially after the unpleasant tension the topic of her death had triggered in the conversation with Shyriath. In truth, he wasn't that interested in it - the future was fuzzy and trying to extract anything approaching certainty from Evrith would be futile at best.

He remembered the mountain analogy, of course. Privately, he presumed both the end of the world (admittedly still quite pressing on his mind, if anything increasing in presence) and her untimely death were of the sort - but with enough prior warning, perhaps both might yet be avoided. She was almost certainly in a better position to guide them to safety than he was.

He dipped his muzzle into the water for a moment, feeling the water on his face, then flicked off the droplets and said, softly: “For a while, back in the cell, I had thought I might have lost you to a cruel, artificial insanity. It's rarely a pleasure to be wrong, but that it was. I'm glad my weakness caused you no lasting harm.”

For an instant, the friendly scene felt eerie, like the intense quiet before a storm. He felt as thought connected to an impossibly violent future through invisible strands - but without any anxiety or fear. Perhaps some part of his mind had already convinced itself that there was a purpose to whatever lay ahead of them, regardless what shape it took.

In either case, he was aware he was talking about transient matters to someone who in some ways transcended them. There was a peace in that, a basic, primal joy. He remembered what she had told him while in Shyriath's mental grip - how interaction helped her find the present.

Perhaps it was true all other times as well. Perhaps he was helping her find the present even now, even if it was far easier for her to anchor herself to it.

Perhaps he was doing her a small service, at least. Repaying his debt in tiny fragments at a time.

Evrith considered An-uxhwi's words with mild astonishment. His weakness had caused her no lasting harm? What would he have expected to do about an attack on someone's mind?

“It's not a question of weakness,” she said firmly. “We were taken by surprise by an attack for which we had no defense. That's no fault of yours.” She peered backward into the past; she had glanced briefly there after her normal perception had been restored, but not lingered on any detail.

“I see you were quite upset… er.” She saw him petting, his muzzle against her neck. Yes, very mournful.

She recalled, dimly, the perception of her future with An-uxhwi that she'd been having prior to Shyriath's attack. A glance forward suggested that it had become more likely, and Evrith wondered with concern whether she had managed to sleep through part of what would lead to it.

(Another part of her - and she berated herself because of it - wondered, purely in the spirit of inquiry, whether he could be persuaded to do it again while she was awake.)

“I had my wit and agility and the responsibility to act with them, but almost surely did not put them to good use. We've been lucky - Shyriath changed his mind as to whether we constitute a threat, and even when he thought so, he did not simply cut us down… but I have no illusions about whether he could have done so.

“Had he been even slightly more malicious, we would both be dead now. You he caught by surprise - I had some seconds to act, and I used them to buy myself more seconds to act, and then more seconds to act still, but I failed to use them to achieve anything else.” A fleeting look of disgust flicked across his muzzle. “You could have perished.”

“There are worse ways to die, believe me,” Evrith replied absently. She wondered how to convey to An-uxhwi that there was really not much he could have done; even witches, unless they had the same kind of power, found it hard to defend against each other.

But the only words she could find for this sounded terribly overbearing, and clearly he was angry enough about himself. Instead, she said, “Could-have-beens aren't worth lingering on. If something like this happens again, you can act differently. You probably will.”

That seemed to soften his air considerably - he perked up noticeably, almost transitioning to a smile.

Indeed, he didn't mistake her statement as a prediction - it didn't have the same contextual flavour as her predictions - but instead took it as a statement of faith. Acting differently did not necessarily mean there would be a better outcome, of course, but it allowed room for improvement.

He took it for forgiveness and forgiveness was all he needed. He closed his eyes in a moment of quiet gratitude. “I will try to do better - but let us hope, of course, that it never comes to that,” he said, with a sincere compassion, glancing back at her.

“We can hope,” she murmured, laying her head back down. “But there are more witches out there. Many of them are far less willing, or possibly able, to talk than Shyriath is - for various reasons.”

Her antennae curled in a bitter smile. “Witches born among non-witches tend not to be well-adjusted,” she added. “That I know well enough. As it is, even if we don't meet any other witches, we'll have to stay away from any takmar, or at least I will - you they might not bother.”

It took An-uxhwi a moment to properly process what Evrith had said - for a moment, he thought she had simply accidentally misspoken. Soakers, after all, were still tautologically Soakers and presumably had the benefit of not being treated as animals. The more he thought about her words, though, the more they began to paint a coherent picture.

“At least the Soakers that are not also witches are a little easier to handle for either of us,” An-uxhwi muttered softly, more observationally than in with any bitterness.

“A little, perhaps,” Evrith replied. “But there are many, many more of them.”

And she knew that all too well, too. She and her brother had had far too many close calls, having to hide for vigils because there were just too many travelers around to risk moving on.

It was bad enough, what you put him through, said a spiteful internal voice. And now that you have someone else to cling to for help, you're going to do it all again - all for a plan that probably won't work.

You're a burden. You're a weight. You could have saved An-uxhwi some trouble by wandering off and dying in the desert.

Evrith tried to shove the thoughts out of her head, but her mood had already been soured by them. She sighed, and started hauling herself out of the water.

The sudden motion stirred An-uxhwi out of his own lazy posture and distant thoughts. His attention tracked Evrith as she rose. “Where do we go from here, and when?” he asked, friendly curiosity in his tone. If he had his own opinions of his own on the topic, he evidently didn't consider them important enough to offer them up at this point in the conversation.

At least it was clear that he anticipated continuing the journey with Evrith, without for a second considering that perhaps she might want to continue on her own. Of course, that made sense - he evidently still thought he owed her something.

She faced forward toward An-uxhwi, in an only partly-successful attempt not to spray him with water, and started shaking herself off. During a pause, she said wearily, “We will need to traverse Barith's Gate while the sun is up, and we will need to begin while the sun is still low, because we'll freeze to death if we don't come down the other side well before sunset. There are waystations high in the pass that allow overnight stay, but none that will allow a witch.

“It will take a little over half a turn to reach the foot of the pass, but we have a whole turn before we have to be there. So if Shyriath doesn't tire of us, we can remain for maybe another fifteen or sixteen vigils before leaving becomes necessary.”

Evrith shook off more water, then looked solemnly at An-uxhwi, took a deep breath, and added, “It will be dangerous. Aside from the cold - and it will be very cold, even in the day - it is a frequently-traveled route by the takmar, since the only other ways to pass the mountains are far to the east and west. If you're caught with me, it's not unlikely that both of us will be killed.”

The forepaws An-uxhwi might normally have used to wipe the droplets off water from his muzzle were, of course, themselves covered in water. Quietly, he shook them until they were dry enough to make at least a small difference, then dragged them across his muzzle. Meanwhile, he spoke to Evrith.

“Then we better make ourselves some warm clothes and some weapons to use from a distance,” he reasoned. “Assuming our host cannot provide for us and is willing to do so, that is.”

It was clear that An-uxhwi would not be deterred - not, at least, by such an oblique approach. Evrith had the consolation, at least, that she had a while longer to try to convince him to save himself, but it was hard for her to avoid feeling that she should be trying harder.

“I think he knows more about traveling in the mountains than we do,” she replied distantly, wandering in the direction of the long barracks-room. “He came here from there.”

The idea of taking Shyriath's advice on any topic relevant to their survival struck An-uxhwi as somewhat dangerous, not yet fully trusting their host - but that was what the current line of thought suggested they do. An-uxhwi thought about it privately for a while, weighing the risk of deception against the benefits.

But it really was no contest.

“Perhaps he might advise us on travel arrangements if we ask,” An-uxhwi mused aloud, trailing after Evrith.

“I expect so,” Evrith replied. “I have been seeing futures, in fact, where he seeks to leave with us if he can, though I don't yet know why. I'm still considering how I feel about that. But he might be of considerable help, if allowed.”

An-uxhwi failed to be even slightly subtle about his first reaction, stopping mid-stride, if only briefly. Shyriath tagging along with them… likely had benefits, but it also required Shyriath tagging along. An-uxhwi didn't have to think long about how he felt about that - he didn't want it to happen.

But he also recognised that a mentalist would be a good ally, assuming he wouldn't change his mind yet again as to whether he was on their side. An-uxhwi didn't think it was the likeliest outcome that Shyriath would switch back to aggressively unfriendly, but he couldn't bring himself to outright dismiss the possibility.

Evrith hadn't mentioned any traitorous turns, which likely meant there were no futures with them, or they were too unlikely to manifest.

Still, perhaps it was better to probe. “Do you see any futures where he might turn on us again?” An-uxhwi asked, his tone conveying a soft scepticism. “If not, we have no reason to deny him the company if he wishes to accompany us, certainly?”

“Logically? No,” Evrith replied with a certain sharpness, as they entered the barracks. “In practice, having my brain scrambled causes me a certain reluctance to welcome the perpetrator, no matter how sorry he happens to feel about it.

“That said,” she added, less harshly, “I have looked into his past, and I understand why he did as he did, overreaction though it was. He turned on us before because he believed we were agents of the Citadel. There is no future in which he will do so again, provided we give him no reason to think his original suspicion was correct after all.”

She pulled herself into the niche that she had claimed as her own bed, though she did not wrap herself in the blankets; she was still damp, and did not want to sleep later in blankets that were also damp. She regarded An-uxhwi, her antennae trembled slightly, and she tried again.

“Nonetheless,” she said, “He might be safer here than if he went with me. And you, as well. I-” She cleared her throat nervously. ”-I wonder, if, perhaps, it would be better for me to continue on my own - at least past a certain point.“

An-uxhwi canted his head. “If I am a burden to you, I will go whenever you ask it of me,” he said, softly, without that there was any accusation in his tone or body language - if he imagined it reflected her thoughts, he did so without bitterness. Perhaps it was to be expected, given he had earlier claimed weakness of himself; perhaps he considered the notion only logical.

“But until then, as I remain in your debt, I would like to accompany you, if you will have me,” he smiled. Of course, with all his talk about debt and gratitude, it was still apparent that it had become more than that - he wasn't loyal purely out of some pandering to fate. He cared about what happened to Evrith.

If he is a burden to her. Evrith had a very, very brief urge to shake him. She had a somewhat less brief urge to lie to him, if that would keep him out of harm's way; but that, too, crumbled.

Coward, her inner voice accused.

She opened her mouth, as if intending to speak, but nothing came out for some time. At last, she said, somewhat to her own surprise, “I have ruined lives before now. It pains me to think I might ruin yours.”

“Yet you've given this life to me. I wouldn't have had it, were it not for you - I would have perished in those mines,” An-uxhwi reminded, gently. “It's true you or your quest might yet cause me pain, and it already has given me grief, if only briefly - but it also gives me joy, and this is joy I otherwise would not have had.

“Remember, the futures you see cannot ever take the past away from me. And by pursuing them, I craft a past that is much richer than the one I might have otherwise painted for myself.” He reached out his hands to grasp lightly at one of her arms, glancing at her, radiating friendly attention.

Evrith listened to An-uxhwi's words, and appeared to have some amount of difficulty tracing the thought process behind them.

At last, she replied, “I… am glad that you can think of time that way. That's not something I've ever been able to do. The past I've had has been among the less bad that could have happened, but was not one I would have wanted. It's been rich in experience, but it was richness at too high a price.”

While An-uxhwi still grasped her arm, there were brief flickers of visions across his inner eye; they passed too quickly to make out details, but there was an impression of Evrith's face twisted in pain. If this was indeed also what Evrith was seeing, however, she gave no sign of being aware that An-uxhwi could see it with her. She continued to speak.

“Maybe it's because I can see the past, and the future. It makes it hard to think of myself as fortunate. There are too many things that could have been, that could have been avoided. Or that there was no way to avoid or make better. And there still are.”

An-uxhwi couldn't place the image and his abrupt confusion about it no doubt showed in his body language. Was it an impression of Evrith's past or her future? Did it make any sense to ask? Had she even seen the same thing? Even if her visions had briefly shown her the image, she may not have been conscious of it being there, and unable to answer whence in time it belonged.

He let go of her arm in a gentle motion. “I do not mean to ignore the conversation at hand, but I suspect this may be more important: It appears as though I see things sometimes when I touch you, as though I am partaking in your visions,” he mentioned, part observationally, part apologetically.

“Do you know your magic to work like that? Is it what you might expect? And in either case, would it be more courteous if I avoided it whenever I have the presence of mind to remember the effect?”

Evrith gaped at him in astonishment. “You… saw…? That's never happened before…” Something like panic started to rise in her eyes. “What, er, what did you see?”

The tiny little bit of her capable of parsing the idea dispassionately had no great objection to being able to share visions in general. But there were, very definitely, specific things she didn't want to share.

“When it happened initially, I thought it might be a byproduct of what Shyriath was doing to you, so I paid it little heed,” An-uxhwi explained, gently. “Back then, I saw some kind of battle amongst the Soakers - the witches, against the rest, and vice versa. Indistinct fragments of what I think might have been your childhood. Something falling from the sky.

“Then, just now, I saw you, your antenna contorted in pain. But I cannot tell if these things are glimpses of the past or future, whether they represent anything that's likely, or even whether you even see them when and as I do, or if they pass simply as if through your peripheral vision,” he revealed, thoughtful in his demeanour.

She trembled. She'd had no idea that such a thing was possible. To be fair, there hadn't been much opportunity to find out, either. It hadn't happened while she was a child (and how many things might have changed if it had!) and, since she and her brother had parted ways, being hit or otherwise roughly handled had been most of the physical contact she'd had.

“I didn't know,” she replied hollowly, “that that could happen. …I wasn't in much of a state to recall what I was seeing that first time, but they all sound like things I've lingered over before. And just now…. yes, that was what I was seeing. That was my future.”

She closed her eyes, and slowly got her breath back. It didn't sound like he'd seen anything concerning, like the futures with the two of them in them. Regardless… “It may be best,” she added, “if you warn me from now on. There are many subjects I wouldn't mind sharing, but there are some that I would.”

Her future? The way she phrased it made it sound like a fairly certain part of the narrative strands that lay ahead of her. He decided not to press the matter, especially given her closing words on the subject. If something could be done to prevent it, she would likely tell him of her own accord.

So instead, An-uxhwi nodded. “That is, after all, why I bring it to your attention.” He smiled encouragingly. “I will try to remember not to touch you without permission.”

…perhaps that was the wrong take-away, though.

Something in Evrith's expression suggested that that might indeed be the case, though it was quite likely that An-uxhwi was unable to tell. Not that she wanted to risk some accidental revelations, but it was quite nice to be touched sometimes.

Of course, she didn't know yet how this process worked. Surely there should be some experimentation with the whole vision-sharing thing… at some point, at least.

Regardless, it was becoming clear to Evrith that she was going to have to discuss some things with him, so that he understood. And, at least on the subject of the end of the world, also with Shyriath, who had seemed afraid to ask since she'd originally mentioned it.

“The battle, and the thing falling from the sky… those are things that all of us will need to talk about,” she said quietly. “Possibly, if Shyriath isn't too busy next vigil, we can do so then.”

“If you are willing to share,” An-uxhwi agreed. “Perhaps we can then discuss what can be best done to prevent these outcomes, if indeed there is any preventing them.”