More Tales to Tell (Closed for WatchingCloud)

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf feared she wouldn't recognize him this time, and just the thought brought him a moment of sadness and loss. He'd already lost so many people close to him recently. And while he didn't know exactly what Leah was, he did know he'd come to... What? This compete stranger, a foreigner and possibly a figment of his own making or a departed spirit, had become something of a companion whose company he looked forward to sharing.

Finally he saw that glimmer of recognition and she called him by name. There was still that dreamlike quality to it, but it was her.

Wolf settled into their dance. Each time he thought about the steps, he'd falter. When he thought of nothing beyond Leah, her striking eyes and blazing hair, lithe physique and feminine curves, then he could move without missing a step. A part of him wanted to ask about the amulet, but the rest of him just wanted to spend time with her. Dancing, he was happy, carefree.

As their hands touched, he felt a solidity and warmth that seemed real. Not dreamlike. She was taller than any Xaumah woman he'd ever met, his equal in height, and he liked being able to gaze into her eyes as she smiled at him.

"You were born to this, Leah," he said. "Dancing, fighting. Is there anything for which you have no equal?"

He pulled her in close, still moving to the music. Noses nearly touching, he could feel her breath. Still, he could look nowhere save into her eyes. He met her confidence, strength, and bearing, step for step.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Leah dances with him, guiding him through the few times he falters-though it seems a little odd that he would. One minute he seems to be learning, the next he was as practiced as she was.

It doesn’t really matter, and it doesn’t really occur to her to switch partners as the dance required-they were the only ones dancing now, and they dance for what feels like a long time-but who was to say? Time and space never quite adds up in dreams.

"You were born to this, Leah," He tells her, visibly admiring. "Dancing, fighting. Is there anything for which you have no equal?"

Her smile stays even as her eyes narrow a fraction, though she does nothing to resist when he pulls her in, when the spirited dancing becomes a soft, almost intimate sway. Her hands move to the back of his neck and he’s warm beneath her fingers, corded muscles beneath her forearms. It’s something she normally wouldn’t allow, wouldn’t do-not in front of her men. But they’re only phantoms, aren’t they?

“Ah, but isn’t it pride that snared us?” She murmurs, the last word a slip. She had meant ‘me’. Wolf isn’t real, either. None of this, none of it was real. Ghosts and phantoms. The music cuts out, and the people around them disappear in a blink.

Leah stops the sway, but Wolf doesn’t vanish. She had expected him to, and that he hasn’t isn’t necessarily comforting. Had that been a test? Or was he supposed to represent temptation of some kind? He had been looking at her the way men sometimes did. He was easy on the eyes himself, she supposes. Unbidden, the memory of that painted wolf on his chest comes to mind, white lines on brown skin.

Pride she might believe herself guilty of. Rampant lust not so much.

Leah’s gaze is neither hard nor suspicious, as she tries to puzzle him out. Her right hand smooths from his neck to his shoulder. Her eyes follow it, almost thoughtful; Leah considers if maybe he was supposed to represent temptation.

She’d felt a chain against her fingers in the movement, and the deft fingers of her left hand confirm it. An odd detail-the Sand People didn’t really do metal adornments. Everything had been leather and...she snags the chain and gives it a careful, curious pull.

He’s wearing her necklace.

For a moment, Leah says absolutely nothing. Her curiosity and quiet contemplation had shifted to a brief, absolute focus on the glittering ruby red gem. Then she steps smoothly back, turns and heads to the counter. Her fingers lift to the gem still around her throat, the bauble she suddenly remembers he'd been so shocked to see in the canyon-however long ago that had been.

She wants that glass of wine. She doesn't care if she tastes it or not.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf lost himself in the dance once Leah's hands wrap around his neck. In her eyes, he saw something - something bigger than the world he'd always known. Maybe that's why she was here, in his dream or hers.

As they drew closer, the others vanished. Focus on the only things that mattered.

Leah ran her hands over his shoulder and to his chest. She found the necklace. Waking memories returned in a rush. His necklace. Her necklace. Yes, she still wore hers even while touching and looking at his.

She was lost in the gem, deep in thought, then abruptly turned and left him. Wolf felt uneasy, but followed her at a distance as she approached the long table-like structure and took a drink in a glass more ornate than anything he'd ever seen.

Drink. He watched as she drained the glass in one long pull.

Wolf bent over to retrieve the chatra - goat's milk and prickly pear juice fermented in a goat's stomach. Powerful drink shared on nights like this, when the sky rained stars. He looked up from beside the campfire to the sky and saw shooting star after shooting star. The sand was cool under his feet. At the periphery of his vision, out in the dark of the desert night, he knew his people were there. But much like the other dancers, they were part of the dreamscape, mere background.

Leah was there, still realer than real, holding her empty glass and looking deep in thought.

"More drink?" he said, holding up the skin. It might scare off more foreigners, but he doubted she would flinch.

His eyes flicked back to her necklace, blazing red in the campfire.

"Your amulet. I suspect it has much more of a story than mine."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The inn falls away and she finds herself on the edge of a campfire, endless sky and stars overhead, and rolling sands before her. She’s still in the clothes she’d worn on that night of dance, still holding the ornate glass, now empty. It’d been as she’d suspected-she hadn’t tasted the wine at all.

She’s never been here. This place was new. Leah takes it in without looking at it, the flames reflecting in the empty glass. When she does finally look up, it’s at the distant people.

”More drink?”

Leah threw the glass into the fire, but it doesn’t shatter-just vanishes. She accepts his-and that she can taste. It’s foreign, new. Familiar?

She doesn’t know what it’s supposed to mean, his wearing her amulet. It’s thrown her off, made her infinitely more wary than his flattery had done.

”Your amulet.”

Leah’s eyes cut over, watchful. They’re mostly amber in this lighting-an occasional glint of green in the firelight.

”I suspect it has much more of a story than mine.”

“You do, do you?” She remains standing, feels her slipper depress the sand as she shifts to that foot, hands the skin back down to him. She summons a smile, easy, companionable. But it doesn’t reach her eyes, not this time.

“Won it in a card game.” Leah lies, easily and without a hint of deception. The entirety of her focus was on him now. If he called her out on it, she’d know he was as false as anything else in this goddamned purgatory, this endlessly repeating, cyclical hell.

“Where’d you get...yours?”

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf didn't quite know what to make of Leah's explanation for how she came by her amulet, mostly because he didn't know what cards were. She said it was a game, though, so presumably it was a prize or wager. That did seem to be in keeping with her personality, as far as he'd come to know it.

“Where’d you get...yours?” she said.

Wolf tilted the skin back and swallowed a mouthful of the harsh drink.

"My father left it for me," he said. "He died, just a few days ago. Among the few things he left me was this amulet. I'd never seen it before and he left no explanation for what it was or where he'd come by it. I was hoping you might know more so I could...understand."

He watched the shooting stars for a bit longer, then turned his attention back on Leah.

"Maybe it's just coincidence that you have the same one. But I don't think it is. After retrieving it from my father's cache, I put it on. That first night I saw you in my dream. Or you saw me in your dream."

Wolf couldn't help but be annoyed with his father for leaving this mystery. But what if his father truly didn't understand the amulet? Perhaps he only believed it valuable or important and left it for Wolf to discover the answers. So many questions. If only his father would come to him in his dreams.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Wolf remains calm and easy, a moment of thought at her lie-but no sign of disbelief or prior knowledge. He accepts it.

Her heart beats a fast in her chest as he reveals his possession of the amulet to have been an inheritance-then stymies when he goes on to say his father had left no note or explanation.

He wants answers, and Leah thinks she she can maybe leverage that somehow...assuming he was real. If so, what did that mean for her...? Nothing good. Her fingers rise to the amulet and she again eyes the one he's wearing, tries to make sense of it.

Her attention shifts to their surroundings, but she doesn't remember this place, or those people. She remains in the skirt and blouse, the dancing slippers. The ebony knife is still sheathed on her hip. The stars are bright and endless.

It'd be a mystical place, if she wasn't feeling so -cold-. She decides not to sit down. If she's at least on her feet, she can maintain the illusion of control.

"...so you want me to believe you're asleep, right now." There's no harm entertaining the idea, at least for a moment. "And where is that, exactly? What was your father's name? Did he travel, did he treasure hunt?"

She turns towards him fully, still standing tall and over him. "What do -you- think is happening?"

 

[WatchingCloud]

"...so you want me to believe you're asleep, right now." There's no harm entertaining the idea, at least for a moment. "And where is that, exactly? What was your father's name? Did he travel, did he treasure hunt?"

She turns towards him fully, still standing tall and over him. "What do -you- think is happening?"

Wolf had hoped for more answers from Leah, but perhaps she was just as uncertain as he.

He gave her a reassuring smile, almost feeling it.

"Yes, I'm asleep right now, in the Hole Oasis in the Sea of Sand.

"My father was Stout Acheta, named for a cactus in the Sea, warlord of the clan before me. He traveled some, yes, but not like you. He only traveled the Xaumah lands as far as I know. Perhaps he visited other places without sharing this with me, though. Clearly, he had secrets."

Wolf frowned. He was still coming to terms with this revelation. Maybe the items found in the stash meant nothing. He didn't believe that, though. And the map made him doubt his answer about his father's travels.

"As for what I think is happening? I don't know. I thought you might be a soul, unable to fully reach the dreamland after dying. Or perhaps a spirit trying to help me on my journey. I don't think you're a conjuration of my own mind, though. No, I believe you are real, like me.

"Are you, too, sleeping and dreaming? Do you wear this amulet outside the dream?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Her brow furrows and those mauve colored lips frown a little as he speaks, watchful eyes softening. They shift away and to the rolling sands, again a little lost. As they almost never had in the real world, her knees weaken-and Leah finally lowers into a kneel next to him, body still facing him. Her clothing subtly shifts before his eyes, and Leah smooths her fingertips over the changed material, thinking.

She's back to the form fitting pants and furred, leather corded boots, the simple long sleeved shirt and hood she'd worn on the spire top.

"Everyone has secrets." Leah tells him, soft. Only one side of her face is illuminated in the firelight, and it gives the illusion of heterochromia-green where the flames flicker and reflect, and a light, amber colored brown where they don't. "A person needn't sacrifice them just because they become a parent, or a lover, or a friend...or a dance partner in a dream." Her mouth quirks in the faintest traces of an amused smile.

"I did not win the amulet in a card game."

It fades and Leah exhales, a helpless gesture to the distant sands. "I believed as such, yes. Out...there.". She had traveled beyond the borders of her map. She had journeyed to the Sea of Sand. She remembers that much, vividly and truly-and then, nothing else.

Her eyes dip to the ruby red gem on his chest, and then back to him. "I'm sorry. About your father. The secrets."

She's sincere in these condolences, and to be as such she must believe he was real. And if he is real, and if his father had had her necklace, and passed it down to him...

Leah slips her fingers beneath her collar and retrieves her own, looking at the way it glints and reflects the light.

Was it magic then, like her dagger? She'd always thought the amulet as little more than a good luck charm, a simple, pretty bauble. She wasn't much for such things, but she'd never seen such a stone. It had seemed maybe meant for her, somehow.

A red stone for red hair. Or...red stone for red blood she's so often spilt?

"Maybe...maybe I did die." She murmurs to herself, eyes widening a fraction on the gem. "Maybe my...spirit or essence-whatever we are in our mortal shells-maybe it's contained in the necklace...?" Her brow furrows and Leah glances past the gem and to his face.

"Maybe there's no salvaging me."

What -happened?-. And her men-what were their fates? Brandon's? Pray she fell alone, and they had not been wiped out to a man, somewhere, some battle.

Wolf wouldn't have these answers. But he was real, he was -real-, unlike everything else in these endless dreams, he was a connection to the outside, an anchor, a -chance-.

She won't believe it. She -won't-. She's no helpful bloody spirit, and she'd not been soul sucked into a stupid pretty gem she'd worn for who knew how long.

She was real, and -alive-, and she had to believe this, because to think anything else was to give in to sorrow and helplessness, and she was anything, -anything- but this.

"Don't take it off, Wolf. The gem must be related. Maybe...maybe it connects present wearers with past ones or...maybe it's one of a pair. Your father must have kept it for a reason, given it over to you. We must learn why, and where."

She's been trapped here for so long, but what really was time in dreams? Or perhaps this was what denial felt like.

Her hands move from her lap to his shoulders, gaze intense and reflecting the fierce will within. "-Promise- you won't. There must be a way for us to help each other, but until we figure what it is-don't severe what connects us."

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf watches and listens patiently, seeing Leah go through some difficult realizations. Maybe she is a lost spirit, or perhaps she just is having trouble focusing because of the nature of the dream. Even in his lucid state, Wolf found his sense of reality on shaky ground from one moment to the next.

Through it all, he felt for Leah. She'd been through a lot and seemed...not broken, but certainly not her whole self.

"Don't take it off, Wolf. The gem must be related. Maybe...maybe it connects present wearers with past ones or...maybe it's one of a pair. Your father must have kept it for a reason, given it over to you. We must learn why, and where."

"I won't," Wolf said. Even if she hadn't asked, he had no intention of removing or giving up the amulet. He believed it was connected to her, and now that seemed more important than whatever it might have meant to his father.

Her hands move from her lap to his shoulders, gaze intense and reflecting the fierce will within. "-Promise- you won't. There must be a way for us to help each other, but until we figure what it is-don't severe what connects us."

"Promise," Wolf said, reaching up to place his hands on hers. "Warrior sister, this I pledge."

The sun blazed hot and harsh, though the abrupt change in setting didn't make Wolf blink hard. It was noon, with the sun directly overhead such that they cast virtually no shadow on the hot sand. Sand - nothing but smooth sand dunes as far as the eye could see. No clouds, no vegetation, no animals.

Wolf was again in his warrior garb, light loose pants and the lightweight shirt he would wear to protect against the sun right up until going into battle and revealing his painted markings on his chest. He took a few steps back from Leah and held his spear between his hands, parallel to the ground.

"This is not how I pictured bonding to my first warrior," Wolf said. "In this place, yes, but not in my dreams nor with you."

Wolf ran his hand to the tip of his spear and slice his left palm on the edge of the razor sharp stone edge until blood ran. He offered the spear to Leah.

"This is how the Xaumah soldiers bond," he said. "Blood to blood, soul to soul. We know then that we'll never abandon the other in this world or the next.

"And you, Leah of the Many Titles, while we've never met in the flesh, this feels...right. I believe we were meant to meet, to help one another. How or why, I don't know. But I trust my father and I trust the instincts he instilled in me."

After handing the spear to Leah, he held out his bloodied palm.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Leah nods in response to the pledge, solemn, serious. She sits back on her calves again, and though the sun has somehow risen and the heat rolls off in waves-it’s Wolf who has her attention, as he stands and retrieves his spear.

Leah rises to her feet as well, feels the weight of her axe and shield against her back, the baldric they hung from tight over her shoulder. The leather faulds and even the pauldrons that’d previously been paired with her cuirass had been replaced with pteruges, strips of leather to form a protective skirt over her hips and thighs, thinner pieces over her upper arms and shoulders. Vaguely, Leah remembers the armor being lighter, cooler than the fur lined pieces she normally wore.

She’s not sure when her armor had reappeared. Probably because his had, but it’s not distrust she’s feeling-there’s something ritualistic to how he’s holding his weapon, and the back of her neck prickles as he goes on to say as such, slices through his own hand.

He offers the spear to her, and Leah takes it. Her green flecked eyes shift from the bloodied edge and back to his face, and the woman holds his gaze, magnetized by the words.

She slices across her own palm, and dream or not-it felt real. She stares a moment at the red that follows the point as it moves, a moment’s inhalation-and clasps hands with him, bloodied palm to bloodied palm, eyes a little widened-and then determined, a tightened hold and nod.

“Blood to blood.” Leah repeats-and by God, did she feel it as strongly as she’d felt anything in all her memories and adventures, fights and triumphs. It’s an oath of loyalty and friendship, of camaraderie across cultures, distance, time.

It was important. It was powerful.

It was real.

"I think you're waking up." Leah murmurs, hand still tight in his, eyes locked. "Look for me again-I'll look for you."

 

[WatchingCloud]

When their hands touched, Wolf felt something beyond dreamlike. The symbolic blood bond of his people seemed to carry an almost mystical, tangible reality here in the dream. He'd meant it with all his being, but now he felt like the spirits themselves had bound him to her. It felt right, even if he didn't yet know why.

"Soul to soul," Wolf said, completing the phrase.

"I think you're waking up." Leah murmurs, hand still tight in his, eyes locked. "Look for me again-I'll look for you."

Wolf blinked. What? No! Not now!

#

Wolf sat upright, his blanket falling aside to expose him to the harsh chill of the desert morning. The sun had not yet risen, but the east horizon had the gray blue of predawn. No one had woken him, but the shuffling of the Winter Grass clansmen's horses as they were prepared for the day clearly had. As was the Xaumah way, they would travel as far as possible before the heat became too much to safely push the horses.

Rhakkar cast him a brief look, one which said he'd rather Wolf not travel with them but to do otherwise would only raise unpleasant questions at the Meet. The feeling was mutual. Should any Breethans be this far in the Sea of Sand, though, their numbers would be welcome.

Wolf hastily packed and saw to watering and feeding his horse. His actions were automatic as his mind was back in the dream with Leah, wondering at what had truly transpired between them and what it meant. His hand involuntarily reached for the amulet. Still there, unchanged.

Rhakkar gave Wolf only the slightest of nods to indicate they were leaving. Wolf mounted up and followed the small group, generally staying at the end of the single file line. His eyes continued to survey the horizons for signs of trouble, never assuming the others were watchful. They rode until an hour past noon, when they sheltered in the shade of a lone rock outcropping.

Wolf unrolled his father's map and pondered the strange markings, trying to make any sense of it. Still, nothing came to him, but he wondered if he might be able to remember the details well enough to recreate it for Leah in the dream. Perhaps in all her travels, she might know its purpose.

"What's that?" one of the soldiers asked, looking for a few paces away without rising.

"Nothing," Wolf said, though he knew the evasion would only raise their curiosity. As if on cue, Rhakkar strolled over.

"Doesn't look like nothing."

"Nothing I can comprehend yet," Wolf said, tensing. "A map, I think, left to me by my father."

Rhakkar leaned over and Wolf held it out to show him, not to offer it. The other warlord was at least polite enough not to snatch it away. He peered at it and grunted.

"Probably some treasure map," Rhakkar said, chuckling and standing. "Bought off a merchant? A fake he was too embarrassed to admit to having purchased?"

Wolf knew he was being baited, but it was difficult to resist. "If you knew my father better, you wouldn't suggest such a thing."

"I knew him well enough," Rhakkar said, as if that was enough to make his point.

Wolf clenched his teeth but didn't dignify it with a response. Instead, he packed the map away carefully and tried to catch a brief nap before they began the second stretch of travel near sundown.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Leah had always found something satisfying about chopping wood. Relaxing, even. Perhaps she was as fond of it as she was because she'd never really been charged with the task. No one had ever expected, needed, or asked her to do so. Jraskar's sons chopped wood. The servants chopped wood. Her men chopped wood.

But as a kid, girl or not-she had happily taken up the chore whenever she had been able to cajole an axe out of the cook or an errant stepbrother. Later still, a grown woman with an entire company of broad shouldered men at her disposal-and she’d still occasionally, when overworked and overtired, set aside her maps and journals or rise out of the bedroll she’d been tossing and turning in-and go find a woodcutter's axe.

In those early morning hours long before the bulk of her men had stirred, just her and an axe put to its original purpose, a growing pile of production, and the rising dawn. Refreshingly simple, chopping wood. If the mercenary thing hadn’t worked out, she might have been a logger.

Now she can chop up all the goddamned wood she wants. It's a piss poor consolation prize, but at least she's 'awake' enough to find it ironic.

Leah swings the axe down, the heavy thunk of sharpened metal and the crack of splitting wood. She can almost imagine she’s tired. She should be tired-she’s chopped the entire orchard down again, every single overgrown, half dead bloody tree.

Another swing, and this time the blade splits through and thunks deep into the stump, sending both wood slices flying apart. Hm. Little too much heft on that one. She leaves the axe and rolls her shoulders with a sigh, turns away to survey the fallen fruit trees. She reflexively swipes the back of her hand across her forehead before resting it there as she eyes the 'fruits' of her labor-rows upon rows of tree stumps and piled fallen trees. They’d grow back as soon as she stops thinking about them, or else when she next finds herself here-but for now she’s made a stark, if impermanent change.

Leah glanced up at and lowered her left hand from her forehead. A simple bandage was wound around it, protected a cut that might not even be there anymore-it’s been a few days. But she remembers the oath, hadn’t dared to ‘sleep’ since it’d happened-and what was sleep anyway, here? It certainly didn’t bring her any rest. She was never bloody tired in the first place.

The bandage didn’t really serve a practical purpose, either-she remembers injuries, she doesn’t suffer from new ones. But...it serves as an anchor right now. A reminder. That’s why she’s back in this orchard-save for the times Wolf had shown up, it’s about the only ‘real’ place she has where she’s conscious by default, aware. Her gaze shifts past her bandaged palm and to the mountainous lands in the far distance, the waving long grass and pinpricks of distant flowering blooms.

There were worse hells than this one, she imagines.

Leah shook her head and curled her fingers into a loose fist with a sharp exhale, chagrined with her own navel grazing. She’s tormented herself long enough, thank you, and had absolutely nothing to show for it, would never have anything to show for it if she just sat around feeling sorry for herself. Leah turned to head back towards the stone hovel. No, she needs to be focused on what’s real, what’s-

She paused mid step, head snapping up from her boots. The hovel and the ruins of her grandfather’s estate were both gone-the cut down orchard was gone. She’s looking at an endless sea of sand.

Her pulse quickens and her hand flies to the amulet hidden behind the loose white tunic, pivoting to find no distant mountain, no verdant field with dots of flowers-but open sky and a hot blinding sun, the air dry and hot on her tongue.

There’s a single rock cropping baking in the sun to her left, and that’s where she finds him again-napping. Leah huffs a relieved laugh-she hadn’t doubted she’d see him again but-well, she’s glad for it. Something, someone real.

“Was wondering when I’d see you again.” Leah greets companionably, the warm, affable geniality in her voice distinct-a lot about the tall woman was rather distinct. She comes close enough to press her bandaged hand to the rock and turn against it, slide down to sit next to him. One slender leg remains straight while the other she bends and draws up, rests her arm across it casually, at east.

“So.” She gave a wave around. “Where are we now?”

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf started at the sound of a familiar voice. He'd been on the verge of nodding off, but the heat of the day in the rock outcropping's shade was a harsh reminder of where he was. But the voice...

Leah? Indeed, it was the tall woman from his dreams, still dressed more like a man than a woman but looking as beautiful as any he'd ever encountered. She slid to a sitting position beside him.

“So.” She gave a wave around. “Where are we now?”

Wolf's heart skipped a beat. She was here. Really here. But how?

He turned to see the reaction of his traveling companions, but they were nowhere to be seen. What? There wasn't even evidence in the sand of them or their horses having been there. And his horse was gone.

As those realizations settled in, his horse was back where he'd left it, tied up a half dozen paces away, eyes closed against the bright sun and dry breeze. To his other side, while his companions still weren't there, now there were fresh tracks in the sand where they should have been.

"In my dream, I think," Wolf said, increasingly confident in that assessment as he considered it. "Though I'm worried that it's becoming harder to tell it apart from the waking world."

He sat the rest of the way up, leaning his back against the rock much like Leah.

"Turtle rock," he said. "From the north, it looks something like a turtle shell. Mostly, we just use it as a distinct landmark and for what little shade it can offer against the late afternoon sun."

He gestured toward the others had been, or were, in the waking world. "I just dropped off for a quick nap before my travel companions and I resume our trek across the sand come evening.

"Which makes this odd. You finding me in the same place I am when awake."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“Oof, yeah-keep your head on straight Wolf.” Leah notes, an amiable smile curving her lips as her gaze returns to him, one shoulder lifting and falling in a casual shrug. “If you lose sight of what’s real, we might both be screwed.”

Her body language was relaxed and easy despite the warning, almost amused. Always genial and good tempered, this woman.

She listens to what he relays about the place, before her gaze sharpens a little on the revelation that he was there in the waking world now.

“Really?” Leah straightened up off the rock to give a closer look around-but there’s not much to really see. She twists to peer up at the massive rock behind them, committing it to memory before twisting back and relaxing again, mulling the fact over.

It’s been three days for her, and she’d spent it cutting down the orchard. But she’s trying to focus on what’s real, not fill his mind with her endless dreams. “That’s got to be a good sign…” She murmurs thoughtfully, mulling that over.

Despite her avid interest in what’s actually going on out there, the mercenary captain waits a beat, watches the few clouds drift by overhead. She’s not the sort to pepper someone with incessant questions-much too companionable for that.

After the long moment she speaks again, green flecked eyes returning to him.

“Where are you and your traveling companions going, Wolf? And how far from here is it?”

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf chuckled at Leah's suggestion that it was up to him to keep the dream and real worlds separated. If this was any hint of what was to come, that could be very difficult. So far, Leah's presence seemed to be the one constant of the dream side of things. And dream didn't quite fit her...

"We're traveling to the Meet, which is both a place and a gathering of all the clans. The Meet will formal begin with the new moon in a week, but I expect we'll be there in three days. As a warlord, we will begin taking and planning before the elders arrive."

As he pictured the journey ahead, the land morphed quickly and smoothly, as if hurriedly taking them through the desert and scrub grass, past oases and through dawns and dusks and star-filled nights. Finally, they reach the Meet, a grassy bowl some two miles wide at the foothills of the painted mountains. Two small streams feed a large lake in the middle. The city of tents that it would become were nowhere to be seen - just birds and bugs and fish jumping from the water.

"It's the most fertile ground in all Xaumah lands," he said. "My ancestors fought over it for generations until finally one leader rose above the others and declared it off limits to all except when used by all. There is much to be learned from those times. So far, the peace has held."

Wolf looked around, still leaning back against the warm Turtle Rock while also sitting in the lush, cool grass of the Meet at sunset. The disconnect was, strangely, not disconcerting.

"Shame the real journey is not so quick," he said, casting a glance her direction, "nor with as pleasant of company. At least you'll be with me in my dreams."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Leah listens intently to what he says, and while the attention paid is evident-it’s also more casual and relaxed than she was entirely feeling. As before she holds her questions until he’s finished, keeping her own counsel.

But as the world changes around them her attention splits-taking in the apparent trip and his ultimate destination with avid interest. Something bright and hopeful blooms in her chest, a familiar feeling of excitement that always came with exploration. These lands were new and unknown to her. Despite it probably being involuntary on his part-Leah felt a bit of warm gratitude in the sharing.

"It's the most fertile ground in all Xaumah lands. My ancestors fought over it for generations until finally one leader rose above the others and declared it off limits to all except when used by all. There is much to be learned from those times. So far, the peace has held."

And just like that, Leah learned something important about her dream companion-something he valued.

“Your people sound rather sensible, Wolf.” She notes. He seemed rather sensible. Her eyes roam the verdant land, marveling that it was located in so vast a desert. It was a gem of a different sort, and she wonders over this long ago leader who saw fit to deem it shared.

“Nor with as pleasant of company. At least you'll be with me in my dreams."

The woman’s gaze flicks back, and again there’s that warm genial smile, the pleasant mirth-though this time there’s also a hint of quiet contemplation.

She’s been told such things before, looked at in such a way-but the naked sincerity in the words here, the utter lack of guile or ulterior motive-it strikes her in a way other flattery has never managed, strokes her curiosity about him. But, business. More important to stay focused than to wander off on tangents...for now.

“It’s good to be with someone real.” She agrees neatly, brushing the fingers of one hand through the red tresses currently tied just over her shoulder. “What’s this meeting for? An annual sort of thing, or something with urgency?”

 

[WatchingCloud]

“Your people sound rather sensible, Wolf.”

Wolf pursed his lips at that observation, but didn't correct her. Some of his people were sensible, some of the time. Others, less so. It was probably the same among all nations. He wanted to believe the Xaumah were superior, more sensible as Leah put it, but he didn't really know.

He set aside that line of thinking as it would lead him nowhere good. Simply enjoying Leah's company, her carefree nature and innate beauty, seemed a much better way to spend their brief time together.

“What’s this meeting for? An annual sort of thing, or something with urgency?”

Wolf looked out over the vast desert for a bit before turning his attention back to Leah.

"Yes, it is usually an annual meeting of the tribes," he said. "Held at the first full moon after the spring solstice. It's where we air grievances, renew old acquaintances, honor the spirits, and celebrate. More often than not, it's quite enjoyable and..."

Wolf suddenly blushed and looked away. For some reason, he felt embarrassed about mentioning some of the "other" sides of those celebrations. The Dance of the Dead, primarily. It was the one time when the typically reserved Xaumah cut loose and lost all inhibitions. He couldn't be sure Leah wouldn't misjudge him or his people if he tried to explain it. There were some things outsiders couldn't grasp.

"Unusual." It wasn't the word he was thinking, but it would serve.

"On occasions, though, a Meet is called when there is a grave issue confronting all our tribes. This hasn't happened in my lifetime until now. Usually, it's a matter of war between many tribes or a threat from outside, like now. The Chiefs and War Lords will share information and, most likely, agree upon a response to the Breethan aggression."

His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. "It will be the first step on the path to avenging my father's death."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“The Breethans giving your people trouble then?” The question was second nature to Leah-in her trade, trouble was opportunity. She wasn’t the captain of the Layabouts for nothing-she procured lucrative work and exciting adventures.

She abruptly realizes however, second nature or not-the Breethans were a topic of dire importance. He had been interested in her mention of them. He had used the ‘enemy of my enemy’ phrase.

She has something of value, something besides his interest in the amulet to bargain with.

Despite the considerations she’s internally weighing out, it’s the last bit of what he says that most holds her attention. The woman waves off her first question almost as quickly as she’d asked it, crossing her long legs and sitting forward a bit more as he was doing. She leans into him for a brief press of her upper arm to his before she leans away again, the gesture oddly reassuring.

For all her striking beauty and innate magnetism, that mirthful intelligence often glittering in her eyes-it’s Leah’s air of genial, warm companionability that really makes the ‘Lady Lizka’ stand out. Her empathy was sincere, and that warm regard so easily granted-a woman unassailable. It was not hard to imagine why men would follow her. Why anyone would follow her.

So when she speaks next, it’s clear it’s not out of idle curiosity or with ulterior motives-but with calm, simple offering of confidence. Her green flecked eyes are steady on his own, and her expression open and listening.

“What happened, Wolf?”

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf found Leah's presence welcome in the face of such painful memories. The subtle nudge of her shoulder against his, her calm voice, her patience.

"The Breethans have long bothered us along our borders," he said. "For generations. But usually just minor things. Our lands offer them little compared with theirs.

"Over the last year, they've grown bolder, sending more men deeper into our land. At first, a handful, then dozens. Several of our hunters were killed, then a few foragers. Enough to be concerning.

"Then, a week ago, a large force of hundreds, soldiers, struck the Riverbed clan directly. Killed nearly everyone. Hundreds. Men, women, children - didn't matter. Only a few escaped. Maybe a few were taken captive, we're not sure."

Wolf stared out across the sand for a bit, gathering himself to continue.

"My father was visiting their clan when the attack happened, there to negotiate a deal." For as comfortable as Wolf has become with Leah, he didn't want to tell her it was to arrange his marriage. "He was among the fallen."

He fought back tears, unbecoming a warlord.

"And that is why the clans move to Meet now, before the usual time. We haven't faced a threat like this in generations. We don't know why they're attacking us or how much further they'll escalate. But we must do something."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

A week ago.

He’d inherited his amulet, she remembers him saying. Her perception of time was...off. It was beyond off. If she had had to guess, she would have thought their first meeting had been several months ago. It’s...more than a little unsettling. She’s always had her head on straight, been able to trust in her intuition and perceptions-and now she was borderline senseless and had only the barest of grasps on reality.

It’d do her little good to brood over it. Even less good for Wolf.

And she can’t help but feel for Wolf. Not pity. No, it’s not pity she’s feeling for him, but empathy, understanding. Leadership was sometimes a heavy sort of responsibility all its own-lonely, in a way. To take it up within days of the murder of his father, and on the edge of pending war? Leah knows life could be extremely unkind, but this was downright tragic.

“That’s an awfully fresh wound to have to press on ahead with, Wolf.” She takes his hand in her bandaged one, her voice a little softer than usual. She doesn’t begrudge him his mourning. Even a hard man feels the pain of loss, no matter his age...and Wolf hardly looks any older than she is.

He doesn’t seem like the sort to quail in the face of adversity, but that didn’t make surviving it any more pleasant. Leah hopes he doesn’t drown in it-and for a moment, she's not really thinking about how they could help each other-just what, if anything, she can offer up to support him.

She exhales and gives a soft shake of her head-and decides to give up what she knew free of charge, because hell if he didn’t need it.

“It might not be their country as a whole pressing in.” Leah states, agreeing with Wolf’s assessment of Breethan self sufficiency. They were a fairly wealthy country and abundant in natural resources-why would they want to expand further into the Sea of Sand, rather than North or East over the mountains?

There must be something they want. Or rather, something someone wanted.

“The Breethans have a ruler; they don’t call him a king, and you probably know a lot more about that than I do-never had an interaction with him, not yet. But under him are viziers-where I’m from they’d be called lords and ladies, but lords are a hell of a lot more subservient than these viziers seem to be, and at the same time have more...to them? They own lands, are sort of...mini kings.”

“Viziers don’t seem to do that, are a whole other animal. More free reign, and they don’t start wars against each other, nothing as brash as the conflicts where I’m from-but that doesn’t mean they get along in peace, either. It’s more of a cloak and dagger sort of thing, calculated and organized. If one is pressing in on Xaumah lands, willing to launch an attack seemingly out of the ether-there must be something he wants.”

Leah hesitates. “Something maybe...maybe not entirely apparent to your people or...anyone else, for that matter. Because- and maybe it was unique to the two I know of, dealt with-but...they’re a whole different kind of dangerous, Wolf. A kind of dangerous I’m not sure I can entirely wrap my head around.”

Leah’s free hand drew her dagger from the sheath on her hip, giving it a nod as she flipped the J shaped weapon and offered him the handle. Despite how heavy the stone handle looked, the weapon was perfectly balanced and cool to the touch. “This, for instance.”

He’d seen the sheathed weapon in almost every iteration of the woman, the impossibly black, curved stone handle. The blade itself was no different; although clearly metal of some kind, it too was the same inky black color, and even in the sunlight it failed to reflect even the slightest bit of light. It looked for all the world like a piece of darkest night or the bottom of an endless pit.

“It’s Breethan. Or-well, supposedly. I've had it since long before I ever crossed the mountains. And it’s magic. Some kind of foul magic, but magic.” If he peered closely, he would just be able to make out the finely etched lines of an ominous looking script along the sharp edge of the blade.

“That would-be bride we went and rescued? She fought us the entire time we were escaping Vizier Dorje’s bloody maze. I literally had to have her bound and gagged.” Leah frowned, releasing his hand to somewhat self consciously rub the back of her neck. “That uh, that sounds pretty bad, but I was pretty sure he was going to murder her at that point, given what else we’d heard.”

She wasn’t always the most honest of mercenaries, but she wasn’t such a degenerate as to go kidnapping women. They had it hard enough most anywhere she’s traveled.

“Once we were a good distance outside his walls however, she was completely docile and sane again. Grateful, even! She claimed she was charmed into some kind of compliant, near fugue like state. She only remembered bits and pieces of Dorje, his marriage proposal, her running away-felt trapped within her own body, she said. She didn't remember anything at all about her time in his country.”

She'd been set to talk about the dagger, but told him about the runaway teen instead. But that mostly amounted to hearsay, didn't much illustrate the point.

Her fingers unconsciously hover over the amulet safely tucked beneath her shirt, the fiery haired woman uncharacteristically quiet as she considers what to say. She's never had to explain the weapon before-everyone where she was from knew what it was. That was due more to its previous owner's reputation than her own-but people knew what it meant for it to be on her hip instead of his, and just how she must have gotten it.

Sometimes the story proceeded her; and for those in the know, the curved dagger served as much a proof of identity as her red hair and merry band of mercenaries.

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf appreciated Leah's understanding of the wound to his soul - more sympathy than pity. She'd clearly seen her share of loss and knew what he needed...and what he didn't.

Leah's description of Breethan politics and the nature of these viziers was both interesting and disturbing. He'd never heard it in such detail, though the Xaumah knew a little of their unpleasant neighbors. Perhaps some of the elders had more of a working knowledge of their foe than he. In this, he knew Leah's knowledge might come in handy. The question, though, would be how he could use her experience without raising uncomfortable questions from his peers as to how he came by it.

When she offered him her curious black dagger, Wolf took it gingerly...already wary of something so odd. Its craftsmanship and balance were impeccable, unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and that only added to his unease. When she mentioned magic - foul magic - he began to shiver despite the afternoon heat. In his dream version of their afternoon respite, the sky darkened and the wind picked up, carrying the scent of an impending storm.

The rest of her story, of the vizier and the bride and magic and curses...he listened in rapt attention. He hoped she was exaggerating, but his people had long held legends about old conflicts with seemingly impossible things happening at the hands of the Breethans. Those childhood tales told around the fire suddenly carried the weight of warning rather than entertainment.

He saw her finger her amulet, the twin of the one he now wore, and the talk of magic really hit home. What if he was wearing something that carried an insidious curse? The link it had undoubtedly forged between him and Leah seemed like a good thing so far. Was that part of how it worked, though - build his trust until he was trapped?

Wolf shook off his concerns. He had to trust something. Right now, he trusted his instincts. So far, he had no reason not to believe this woman. Until such time as that changed, he wanted to trust her and would continue to do so.

He handed the dagger back, relieved to be rid of it even in this dream.

"Your story echoes some of those told to me as a child," he said. "But I never put much belief in them or magic. Our shaman can communicate with the spirits on some level, occasionally asking for information or boons, but this sounds like something very different."

He reached up and touched his own amulet, this contact calming and reassuring - quite the opposite of her dagger.

"You said you thought it might be one of these viziers moving into the Xaumah lands, searching for something. That would make more sense than just throwing lives away for land that offers them little compared with their own. But what could they be seeking? Our scouts haven't said anything about them...looking. Just attacking. They certainly haven't asked our people questions. Well, not that we know about. Perhaps they have and killed after they were done asking."

Wolf's hand tightened on his amulet and silent lightning flashed across the dream storm. He pictured Breethan soldiers interrogating his father, torturing him for hours before finally killing him. Or maybe one of these viziers had done something to his mind, tortured him in an entirely different way.

"I hope others bring more news to the Meet. Otherwise, I may have to go in search of it." Unspoken, he realized he would almost certainly rely upon Leah's experience if that came to pass.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Clouds gather, a whipping wind tousling the dark red locks of hair not caught in the low ponytail over her shoulder-and Leah decides not to expand on the dagger. It’s been a long, long time since anyone had viewed her just as she was. She’s never really presented herself any differently, but tales traveled and symbols made for their own caricatures. Aside from Brandon, who really knew much of her without the cloud of myth and legend?

Perhaps it was better this way, even preferable he did not know the story. That she might be free of it. How strange to view it as a burden when it so long had served as a badge of legitimacy, even pride? Perhaps she has learned something in these never ending dreams after all.

At least the amulet was benign in it’s magic, ignorant though she’d been about it’s nature at the time. That so simple a bauble, one given over in gratitude might prove to be her salvation…

Ironic.

“The world is full of stories and secrets.” Leah notes as she resheathes the dagger without really looking at it, no trepidation or discomfort, an almost absent motion. She’s been carrying it too long to be wary of it. She mulls over the information about a shaman, remembers when he’d asked her if she was a spirit.

“I couldn’t really say.” Leah admits, unwilling to hazard a guess. “Their immediate motives were usually murky to me. Long term though, I’m sure it’ll gain them an advantage of some sort against another Vizier. That at least is typical.”

Lightning flashes through the clouds and Leah flicks her gaze back to him, eyes shifting more towards amber in the darker lighting. She can guess at what’s going through his mind, a grimace. Better to die than be under the power of an enemy-for his father’s sake and the people of that clan, she hopes it was the former, and quick.

“Might pay off to scout the area of the attack, if anyone can safely do so. See if the Breethans are still there, set up shop of some kind in the area. Hopefully someone at the Meet will have already thought of it. Could always venture over the border too, find whatever town might have furthered their supplies. Army like that still has to eat, and who knows how far they traveled through their own lands before arriving in yours. Gossip’s a commodity as much as anything is.” Leah smiled, expression shifting from knowledgeable to sly. “Get a lot of tips that way myself-work opportunities, weaknesses and strengths of enemies and allies, potential treasure locations. You’d be surprised what people will give up, you ply them with enough coin or drink.”

Treasure. Yes, she’d been after treasure last, she remembers. Places undiscovered, relics long hidden away. She’d been tired of the squabbles of nobles and tired of their endless wars. Let them bleed for their own petty causes, she and her men were onto more interesting endeavors.

A few paces in front of them, what they were sitting on-it was suddenly overgrown stones or tiles of some kind, squares of deep purple intermixed with sandstone. Leah gestured to it, frowning a little. “What’s this?”

But...no. No, this was her, wasn’t it? She thinks she remembers this pattern, those tiles. She’d think a little harder on it, but she’s suddenly, oddly rather tired. Tired, and rather cold. Must be the chill of that impending storm.

The redhaired woman seems to lose focus on the tiles nearly as soon as they’d appeared-green and verdant grass in its place once more. She stifles a yawn behind her bandaged hand and leans back against Turtle Rock, crossing her arms afterwards in a state of repose.

“Sorry that's all the light I've got to shed on the subject. If I had worked for 'em might have had more to tell you, but I pretty well poisoned relations a long while ago. Not that I regret it-everything of theirs I got in the way of-paid and unpaid-was too reprehensible for me to have ever contemplated carrying out myself.”

Leah offers a shrug, eyes closed.

"My men and I aren't exactly paragons of virtue, but we do well enough I can choose work that doesn't violate my principles. That's a luxury not everyone has, but I'd rather be on the outs than ashamed."

 

[WatchingCloud]

Wolf found it reassuring that Leah agreed with his own assessment that learning the Breethan's motives and intentions, even if it meant the risk of probing into their territory or current area of occupation into the Xaumah's. In his own culture, a woman wouldn't be consulted on such matters. Leah, however, had a worldliness about her that was unlike anything among his own people. He'd be a fool to discredit it or her. He just had to be careful not to reveal anything about her in his dreams. Anything he told others had to appear to come from his own thoughts.

The dreamscape shifts, with the grass giving way to overgrown stones. The colors were odd, almost unnatural. He didn't recognize this place, so assumed it was something of Leah's past. Her expression was...puzzled? Just as quickly, though, it faded back to the grasses of the Meet and the storm began to abate.

"Well, if you're right about these Viziers being involved, you already know more than me or likely any of my people. For what insight you can provide, I'm grateful and in your debt."

He wanted to ask something else, but the question eluded him. The ground shook abruptly, like an earthquake. Wolf looked up at Leah with concern in his eyes at this new change, but she didn't appear to have taken notice of anything other than his reaction.

"Wake!" The word was the ground shaking. Wake? Oh, wake.

The dreamscape faded to black and then yellow and red. Only, this time, Leah remained sitting beside him while he resurfaced to the waking world. There she was, sitting beside him in the sand, back against Turtle Rock. Leah on one side, with Rhakkar looming over him on the other.

"We're leaving," Rhakkar said bluntly now that Wolf was looking up.

The sun was indeed about to dip below the horizon, at which point the temps would become comfortable for a period on their way to uncomfortably cold. Such was the way of the desert. He had to hurry and water and feed his horse before they departed.

Leah was gone. He'd missed the moment during which she passed from present to a fading memory of dream. But, no, he remembered her and everything that happened between them in the dreams far more than he'd ever remembered ordinary dreams before. This talk of viziers and magic had him on edge, yet he wasn't about to renounce her help if there was something magical in its nature. He had to trust his instincts on this one.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

She might just take a noonday rest herself-but it’s not restful relaxation here-she’s tired. Bone tired, limbs and mind heavy with it. How could she feel so tired in a dream? Could it be Wolf was tired? Was she sensing it through the strange and mysterious magic that connected them? Did the amulet forge a pathway between the heart and minds of its wearers?

She was able to sense he was asleep...knew to go looking for him. Had found him.

How had she done that? The connection was more intuitive than she had realized. Had the grateful old man had any idea of the necklace’s true nature? And where had this Stout Acheta acquired it’s copy?

Assuming it was a copy.

"-insight you can provide, I'm grateful and in your debt."

Leah caught the end of what he’d been saying, more lost in her thoughts and sudden fatigue than she’d realized. She keeps her eyes closed, still half resolved to sleep awhile-but she does quirk a single eyebrow, a sly curve coming to her lips.

“And now that we know what it is I can do for you, we’ll have to decide how you can help me, eh?”

The words were genial and unrushed, the red haired warrior as fair tempered as ever. Her next few words only furthered the feeling of easy camaraderie, that it wasn’t business but rather favors between friends.

“Time enough for that discussion some other time. For now...”

She seemed just on the verge of drifting off (and had honestly looked as such for several long moments now) when the ground quaked beneath and around him, the forceful demand striking like a hammer.

When Wolf glanced from the changed scenery of the waking world to the reposed woman beside him, he’d find one green flecked, amber colored eye open and fixed on Rhakkar, clearly aware-and disapproving-of the other warlord.

But then she was gone the same as she always was in his conscious life, at least when he happened to glance back.