• Closed • Sacrifices and Sculptures (Raelia)

[Ashling]

Sacrifices and Sculptures

7th Cylus 720 in Raelia

The most important ceremonies in Melrath were the ritual sacrifices to the Induks, the great spirits. Ashling used to attend the ritual sacrifices to Myrkvior, the great mother, the dark mother. It was different this arc because Ashling was in Raelia. The nearest ritual was for the Induk Vynmur, the great river, the dark river, on the riverbanks near the city.

Ashling had invited her betrothed, Tristan to this ritual sacrifice. Tristan had, in turn, promised Ashling to show some of his artwork afterwards. She knew that he was a sculptor, among other things. Tristan had told her about for example sculptured knights and maidens. He had said that he could make them move by advanced physics. She imagined those statues to be the size of doll-theatre puppets or small figurines. It would be fun to have a look at them later. After the engagement, she and Tristan had spent a lot of time with his little daughter Ayla. The child had come first and so, the two adults had not been able to get much time alone.

This trial, it was only the two of them. She and Tristan would get some grownup time!

The ritual sacrifices was a long and powerful affair. It required a degree of patience few children had. During the ritual, the atmosphere could also rise to nigh riotous levels. Religious ecstasy and tumult might happen. Ashling hadn’t said that ... she didn’t see any reason to mention it as it was nothing new (to her). She had only told Tristan that children weren’t allowed to take part in the ceremony. Tristan had arranged the caretaking of the girl. They would look at the statues alone as well.

Ashling had found it best to meet near the place of sacrifice. That way they wouldn’t need to disappoint Ayla and make her feel excluded. All in all, their planning had been flawless. They had done everything and all was well organized. Ashling was looking forward to a fantastic date with her stunning betrothed.

Now, she stood near the place of sacrifice and waited for Tristan to arrive and join here. As it was Cylus, the world was dark. Only the light of the moons and a lot of torches made it possible to see. It was also blistering cold. Ashling wore Melrathi winter gear of wool and fur. She had pulled up the knitted scarf to cover the lower part of her face so she could breathe through it. It kept her face warmer, but the moist in the air she breathed out froze to hoarfrost on the outside of the scarf.

She hoped that the benefits of the holy ritual would make Vynmur benevolent to all who attended it. All who were there would become involved in the sacrifice. To gain the favour of an Induk was no small thing. Vynmur, the never-ending flow and lifeblood of Melrath wasn’t limited to the big main river. Here and there, thinner river branches flowed into the landscape. They split up in streams over and under the earth, hydrating the ground and connecting with lakes.

At its best, Vynmur river was a wonder of beauty, spreading life in the world. It carried the boats to safe harbours. At its worst, it could flood the lands and drench them, or withdraw from them and drain dry. Then it could sink boats or run them ashore, or pull people down in strong dark streams never to let them float up again. Vynmur gave and Vynmur took. It was the same with all the big Induks. The ritual sacrifices would appease them. I would make them benevolent toward the people in Melrath. This had been the belief as long as anybody could remember.

What the Aesir sacrifice varied. They hadn’t announced this arc’s sacrifices yet. Those were in the cages that rested on a platform at the waterfront, some of them small, others bigger. The participants in the ritual would see the sacrifices when the Aesir came to that part in the ritual. People were still dropping in but it seemed like the chanting would soon begin. Ashling felt a bit worried. Wouldn’t Tristan arrive soon? She hoped he wasn’t going to be late for the event! Might Vynmur take offence and so, pester Tristan for the rest of the arc? Would she have to save him from trouble for seasons to come? Ashling didn’t know. Even as she thought about this the procession of Aesir entered the platform. The audience stood on the sloping riverbanks like in an arena, looking down at the platform. This enabled everybody to see everything as there was plenty of torches.

The Aesir began the chanting and their song filled the air with beauty and power. Above it all the moons shone, cold and white against the black sky.

But, where IS he? Tristan!

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan Venora was late. He was normally pretty good at time management, but a few bits before he had planned on leaving and going on what was pretty much a date with his new fiancée (with a bit of religion on the side), a customer had shown up and wanted to buy a potion. Under normal circumstances he might have turned her away and told her to come back the next trial, but she hadn’t wanted any potion. She had wanted to buy a healing potion for her husband. You didn’t just turn someone that had a sick family member away!

When she had finally left (after thanking him approximately one hundred times) he had put his coat (a nice, light blue winter coat with a hood) on and left in a hurry. When he finally arrived on the riverbanks, near Raelia, he was rather out of breath. He considered running the last couple of metres nevertheless though because Ashling was probably waiting for him quite impatiently, but this was a religious ceremony. As much as he enjoyed breaking with conventions, you didn’t run during an important religious ceremony!

Besides, he wanted these people to accept him. They’d never allow him to become a citizen if he behaved badly! They’d never forgive him! Ashling would never forgive him if he didn’t display the proper somber and serious mood during what was apparently a ceremony that mattered a great deal to her. He just hoped those spirits would be okay with him being there! He’d never been more aware of his immortal blessings than he was now!

He made his way through the crowd, apologizing here and there, looking for his fiancée. When he finally spotted her, his eyes lit up. They had gotten engaged because of a huge misunderstanding. The main reason why he hadn’t ended things again a bit or so after their oath had been his allegiance to the Immortal of Oaths, but he’d begun to appreciate her company, more than he thought that he would. She was beautiful (she had the most amazing grey skin and black eyes), she was weird, she was kind, and she even liked his daughter!

In short, she was perfect!

“I’m sorry”, he murmured once he finally stood in front of her before he smiled brightly and put his arms around her in order to embrace her because he was just so very happy to see her. He hadn’t been alone with her in a long time. There had always been Ayla or his servants …

A moment later, he slowly pulled down the scarf that covered the lower part of her face, if she let him, and looked at her questioningly before he leaned closer in order to very gently kiss her, for but a moment, to see how she’d react.

He’d been wondering what it would be like to actually be with her, to be in love with her and kiss her rather than just staying with her because of an oath for a while. There was just something about the way that the moonlight and the light of the torches around them illumined her face …

“A customer”, he explained a moment later, lowering his voice to a mere whisper so as to not disturb the happenings around them. “It was urgent. The ceremony hasn’t started yet, has it? Is there anything in particular that I have to pay attention to? I’ve never attended such a ceremony before and don’t want anybody to complain about that Outlander’s terrible behaviour”, he admitted. It was then that he realized that she hadn’t told him what exactly would happen yet. She had just mentioned the very basics.

How bad could it be though?

The Aesir had started though, so he pulled his gaze away from Ashling in order to look at them, although he remained close to her, of course. Their song was quite powerful. In fact, it sent shivers down his spine. And then there was the dark sky above them, the light of the moons, all those people around them. There was a unique atmosphere that trial.

There was something special in the air …

[Ashling]

Oh! A kiss during The Holy Ritual was so, so romantic!

Ashling moved into the embrace of her betrothed and kissed him back. She was so relieved that he had arrived before the sacrifices had begun. The mere thought of him annoying Vynmur by showing disrespect had been terrible. Tristan was an outlander, but he was such a nice and well-meaning man. Lovely! Not at all the kind of rotten outlander scum she and Brent Forrester had helped the Ragnari catch in Ymiden the last arc. She didn’t want Tristan to get in trouble with the spirits!

But, they couldn’t continue to kiss because the ceremony continued and they had to pay attention. Ashling held on to Tristan though, her arm under his arm. The singing Aesir continued to chant. Other Aesir walked around in the crowd and announced the first sacrifices. As people had expected, those were small. A crow and a dove had been raised especially for the ceremony. Those two pure beings were going to be the companions and pathfinders of those who would follow them. The spirit of the crow, a symbol of wisdom and mystery would guide the dead to the afterlife. The spirit of the dove, a symbol of love and peace would lead them to happiness in their life after this.

The wandering Aesir heralds repeated this message over and over again. Anticipation was spreading in the crowd as the heralds passed by. When they finally walked down to the place of sacrifice and entered the platform they went to stand behind the lead singers. They joined the chanting, their voices a choir so powerful that the sound almost drenched the thunder of the big drums.

The first sacrifice to get its eternal spirit set free from the body was the crow. The bird was so big that it was easy to see it even though she and Tristan weren’t standing in the first rows. They stood in the very back end of the crowd due to his late arrival. The crow sat immovable on the altar. It was drugged. This was partly because they didn’t want to ritual to be messed up. But, partly it was to let the animal’s spirit pass to the other side without fear or pain. It had an important job to do there in the spirit world, a little bit later ...

A quick ritual slash with a knife and the first sacrifice was dead. The audience roared in appreciation of the Aesir’s skill, while the shaman’s gathered the blood of the dead crow in a bowl. They put the crow’s body away in a basket woven for the occasion. It would be taken care of later when it would lie together with the other dead bodies on the pyre. Sacrifices were holy. They would get a proper funeral.

Kyrie, her ose-bori, responded in Ashling’s mind. As usual, it was only a very short pulse of intuition.

Crow

Next, it was the dove’s turn to get its spirit set free and ready for its holy duty in the afterworld. The white dove was as calm as the crow had been. A new quick and skilled slash with the knife followed. and so the dove’s blood was gathered in the bowl and its body was put into the basket where they had put the crow’s remains. This done, one Aesir held a long ritual speech to the spirits of the two birds. Black and white, light and darkness was now united.

Dove

It was the first time she attended the ritual sacrifices after her joining with the spiritual familiar. It hadn’t occurred to her that it might make a difference. Now, she found herself more connected with the ritual than ever before. She hadn’t heard the spirits of the sacrifices arrive in the spiritual world, but she had heard them be greeted! Trembling in strong excitement she tried to pull Tristan closer. Ashling needed to stabilize herself by feeling the physical contact. She didn't want to make a fool of herself during the ceremony.

The crowd was enthusiastic. Some were losing self-control and behaving in an all else than dignified manner. A mix of general shouts and high ecstatic screams rose toward the dark sky. The ritual had so far been perfect and as everybody knew, that was promising. Vynmur would feel pleased! The chanting continued. But, the Aesir would wait for the outbreaks of religious joy to abate a bit before they would go on with the ritual. Arcs of experience had taught them to maintain a balance between euphoria and order.

Finally, the Aesir decided that it was time to proceed. Once again those who were doing the herald job came walking into the crowd. They walked at a moderate and dignified pace, weaving between the people and introducing the next sacrifice. It would still be a few bits before Ashling and Tristan would be able to hear the announcement. But, judging from the cheering farther down in the crowd it would be good news!

Ashling had immersed in the ritual and paid full attention to it, but she hadn’t been one of the screamers. Now she took time to glance at Tristan. Her face and eyes shone of exalted emotions, her soul a turmoil of awe.

[Tristan Venora]

Ashling had kissed him back! Tristan was far happier about that than he had thought that he would be, considering how they had gotten engaged. The look that he gave the young Melrathi woman was one of affection rather than that bizarre confused, dumbfounded kind of deer-in-the-headlights look that he had constantly given to her when they had first met. He smiled at her. He was tempted to kiss her again because it had felt quite nice, but they were attending an important religious ceremony. For all that he knew kissing during an important religious ceremony was not allowed in Melrath!

Ashling held onto him, and Tristan moved just a little closer to her so that he was kind of leaning against her as he continued to listen to the Aesir’s chants and watched what was going on. When they began to walk around in the crowd and announced the upcoming sacrifices, the young noble momentarily turned to look at his fiancée, a questioning look on his face, again though. This was, he had to admit, rather unexpected!

None of the religious ceremonies that he had attended in his native Rynmere had ever involved live sacrifices. Not that he minded what was happening here particularly. He even understood why the crow was being sacrificed, but he wasn’t sure how killing an animal that stood for love would lead to happiness in the afterlife. In the past, when he had been a young, eccentric artist and wannabe rebel in Andaris, he might have spoken up, but he’d matured over the course of the previous arcs. He didn’t always understand Melrathi culture, but he would accept it, nevertheless!

Accepting different cultures was important!

The crow looked drugged, he noticed. It didn’t seem to mind what was happening particularly, although Tristan still flinched a little when the shaman produced the knife and killed it. A moment later, he offered Ashling a light smile in order to let her know that it was all right though before he turned to watch the happenings on the platform again.

He couldn’t help but wonder why the shaman was gathering the crow’s blood in a bowl. Would he use it for another part of the ritual? He thought about it for a few moments. Maybe he would ask Ashling about it once the ceremony was over, he decided.

Unlike the people around Ashling and him, he didn’t roar or scream, but the atmosphere and the crowd’s almost tangible excitement didn’t leave him unaffected. They didn’t leave him unaffected at all. If Ashling turned to look at her fiancé, she would notice that his blue eyes were wide, and he watched the shaman with rapt attention, his mouth a little open …

When Ashling pulled him towards her, he put an arm around her, holding her close. He was shivering, just like her, but for a different reason. Due to standing still for such a long time, he was getting a little cold. Maybe kissing Ashling again would help against that?

Nobody seemed to have minded their kissing for the first time …

When the Aesir started to walk around in the crowd again, he decided against it for the time being (he would kiss her again later on though because he was still wondering about love and similar feelings). He did lean another inch closer to her though as she glanced at him and whispered, “What will happen now, Ashling? Will they sacrifice more animals?”

[Ashling]

Ashling had looked at her betrothed once in a while during the course of the ceremony. His smile after the kiss had been so warm and natural. (He was so handsome!) His “shocked deer” expression from their engagement at their first meeting was gone. Although “the deer” had been adorable she liked him better as he was now. He seemed less lovestruck but more genuine. She had smiled back at him.

It felt good to hold on to him and be a couple, even though they didn't know each other so well yet. It seemed like he felt the same because he leaned closer to her. The attraction she felt seemed more important to her than knowing "all" about Tristan. The attraction was the reason for wanting to know more. Wasn't it always like that for all people?

She had seen the questioning glance Tristan had shot her at the announcement about the birds. She hadn't said anything but she had kept an eye on him. The way he had flinched when he watched the death of the crow had worried her a bit. It had struck her that she had forgotten that outlanders often could be softies. Squeamish even, according to the fun outlander stories native Melrathi told.

What if he would begin to behave in a manner that would make people around them take offence? She might have to step between him and other people. But, then he had smiled at her again and she had relaxed and turned her gaze back to the events on the platform.

Then again...the next time she had glanced at Tristan his blue eyes had been wide and his mouth a little bit open. He had stared at the shaman in fascination...awe...shock...she didn't know. It had been obvious that the ceremony had affected him. Ashling had once again felt a bit worried, though she hadn't known why. Tristan hadn’t been screaming as some other people had done.

Instead, he had put his arm around her. She had felt him shiver like she was shivering herself. To her, it had been natural to assume that it was due to the ongoing ritual. At that moment, she had felt a strong and overwhelming need to kiss him again. But, her sense of respect for the sacrifice ritual had made her withstand the temptation.

The spirits of the two guiding birds had travelled first.

Now it was time for the second part of the ritual. It had begun to snow a bit, big snowflakes falling through the air and adding a surreal touch.

Ashling didn’t need to answer Tristan’s question about the next sacrifices on the agenda. One of the Aesir heralds stopped nearby. Their announcement was lengthy. It started with how an evildoer, a practitioner of dark and foul magic, had been discovered. It had happened in prison and by sheer luck, as a consequence of the abductions of mages in Vhalar. (Which ought to prove that those had been a good thing!)

The interrogation had digged up buried secrets and made skeletons fall out of the wardrobe. This mage had kept up an innocent façade and pretended to be like the average citizen. But, in secret, he had torn the dead from their rest and enthralled them. He had made undead slaves of them and exploited them for his own ends.

His crime was serious as arson or gross assassination. Yet. The mage in question had not done it for greed and power-hunger alone. Behind their actions, there had been a need for establishing themselves in society. He had wanted acceptance and love. One of the main needs that drive humankind, for good and for bad, had been his driving force.

His misguided ideas about what people liked had been fatal. He had been under the impression that working harder than anybody else was a success factor. And so, he had used his magic to make thralls of the dead. That way he had given an impression of working hard night and day. The thralls had worked and he had taken the credit. People who admired high activity for the sake of it had fawned over him for his achievements. Little had they known that he faked it.

In this light, the Aesir had offered him to redeem himself instead of handing him over to the mundane law. He could give his life and spirit to the Induk and make his a death meaningful good deed. That way, people would remember him as a man who had turned from evil to good and done the right thing. The mage had decided to accept the offer. Soon his spirit would be set free. It would make him a respectable man in the end and symbolized the rebirth of honour. But, he wouldn’t go alone. For reasons unknown to the Aesir, a naer woman had volunteered to go together with him. The Aesir had accepted her. As she was a naer, a woman of illusion, this sacrifice symbolized the revelation of truth.

Ashling listened to this story in silence. You didn’t interrupt an Aesir during a religious ceremony. You didn’t question anything and you didn’t ask about this or that they recited. The spoke and you listened and believed every word. That was it.

Soon all the Aesir were back on the platform again. The chanting continued. The sound of the drums turned into thunder and this would continue until the sacrifice was over. The Aesir opened the bigger cages. At first, nothing happened, but then a man walked out. He walked at a slow pace and his gait was as unsteady as if he was drunk on the verge of collapse. A woman stepped out from the other cage and so the two of them walked forth to the altar. When they arrived there, the man kneeled but it could also be that his knees buckled.

Even at a distance, all could see that the naer woman’s beauty was exceptional. Her movements were graceful as a dancer’s when she kneeled beside the man. Now, they were both waiting for the honourable end of their lives. The officiating Aesir held up a clean knife. The metal reflected the firelight. The crowd murmured in response but the sound disappeared into the thunder of the drums.

With the skill of a professional swordsman, the Aesir carried out the sacrifice.

Then they gathered the blood of the male sacrifice in the bowl where they kept the blood of the two birds. But, the naer woman had disintegrated like a mirage, turned into a shadow and dispersed. There was no blood to gather from her body as it didn't exist. Instead, the Aesir swept up something from the platform floor and added it to the mix of blood in the bowl.

All this took only some bits. The drums thundered all the time and the Aesir sang.

Ashling was shivering in emotional upheaval. It was no small thing to witness a major sacrifice to the Induk. Being a believer in Melrathi shamanism didn't make her immune to the sight of death. Her inner spiritual familiar Kyrie felt wild and unsettled but it didn’t send her any more messages. Not at once. It took a while before she heard it in her mind.

Spirits

Honour

Truth

It would be a lie to say that Ashling understood the cryptic message. Kyrie was as unclear as always. But, she still felt giddy with relief when she heard it. Not until this moment did she realize that she had feared that Vynmur would reject the sacrifice. The spirit of such a man might be too corrupted and so the ritual might fail and come to nothing. And the woman’s odd disintegration hadn’t been how death used to be. But, it seemed like the unusual sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. Ashling wanted to believe that it was so. At least, it seemed like the spirits of the sacrificed mage and naer had arrived in the afterlife as they should. The spirits of the crow and the dove would take care of them and guide them now, wouldn’t they? That was how the Aesir said it would be.

It has been snowing a little bit during the whole ritual but now it turned into heavy snowfall. A good sign. The snow was frozen water and so it belonged to Vynmur. It would make the river grow when it would melt in Ashan. Thus, people took it as an answer from the Induk. They believed that they had gained its favour.

The main ritual was over. Down at the platform, the Aesir stopped chanting and drumming. They began to sprinkle the blood onto the riverbank. Soon they would build and light the funeral pyre.

Most people were already making ready to leave. Only fanatics would stay there in the cold all the time to the end. Being a healer (and not fanatic) Ashling was too aware of the risk for frostbites to wish to stay. She drew a deep breath and turned to Tristan.

“It’s done. Let’s leave.”

He had promised to show her those sculptures, so she supposed he would take lead and guide her to the place where he kept them.

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan wasn’t sure about the mage abductions that the Aesir that stopped near Ashling and him mentioned in his somewhat lengthy speech. They reminded him too much of the mage executions that had taken place in Rynmere shortly before he had left the kingdom for the first time. He had almost ended his friendship with King Cassander over them because he disagreed, because he had thought – and still thought that not every mage was evil and dangerous. There had been a time when he had even considered getting initiated in order to prove his point. In the end, he had decided against it though since he had been too afraid of mutating. He liked himself the way he was now and didn’t want to change, although magic could be quite fascinating and tempting.

When the Aesir proceeded to inform them that the man had created undead slaves, the look on the young noble’s face darkened considerably. It made him think of what Ellasin had done to his home, of how many of the people he knew had died from the plague. He had buried some of his friend and relatives with his own hands because most of the servants had run away at that point, and the few that had stayed had refused to touch them out of fear that they would contract the plague if they touched the bodies. He had pitied Ellasin to some extent because she had been abused as a child, but this man here, whatever his name was … there was no sign that he was anything but evil …

“He sounds like a terrible person”, he murmured to Ashling once the Aesir had moved away from them again – he hadn’t dared to say anything during his speech. You just didn’t interrupt a religious official, for any reason. One of the noble’s arms was still around his fiancée, holding her close as if the revelation of the necromancer’s nefarious deeds had sucked all the warmth from his body, and she was the only thing that could possibly keep him from freezing to death. He didn’t say more, even though he had a lot of questions again, and there were a lot of things that he was wondering about. It surprised him that the necromancer had accepted the offer to become a sacrifice and redeem himself that way, for example.

He hadn’t sounded like someone that was interested in doing any kind of good deed, even in death …

While the sacrificing of the necromancer made sense to him, he wasn’t sure why the Naerikk had been picked. Audrae was the Immortal of Deception, of course, but that didn’t mean that all Naerikk were evil. If the Aesir wanted to reveal the truth, wouldn’t using an Yludih have been better, although Yludih weren’t inherently evil either? He decided not to say anything. Instead, he chose to accept an aspect of a culture that was still largely unfamiliar to him, for the time being at least, and watch the proceedings with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, his gaze now firmly focused on the stage rather than on his fiancée.

The Naerikk was so beautiful that it nearly took his breath away. His eyes widened for a moment before the officiating Aesir produced the knife again. He carried out his task fast and professionally, both times. When the Naerikk turned into a shadow, Tristan’s eyes widened, and he turned to face Ashling for a moment, wondering if he had been imagining things or if she had witnessed the same. Why had that woman become a shadow?!

Even though Tristan had seen a lot of death in his life, more than anybody should have to see, the sacrifices didn’t leave him unaffected. In fact, he was in as much of a state of emotional upheaval as his fiancée was. He’d never get used to the sight of someone dying.

~~~

When Ashling turned to face him and informed him that the ritual was over, Tristan didn’t reply immediately, as if he were still under the effect of the ceremony they had just watched. A few moments later, he nodded and offered her his arm. “Do you think that Vynmur has accepted the sacrifice?” he asked softly, figuring that it was probably okay to talk again. The tone of his voice was very serious. It would be obvious to Ashling that her Outlander fiancé cared about the spirits that she worshipped and their approval a great deal, even though he wasn’t sure about the death of the Naerikk.

He decided not to say anything about that though. He didn’t have enough information to know if what had happened to that woman had been justified or not, if she was truly evil or not. Perhaps he would try to find out more about her later on, but for the time being, he simply walked next to his Melrathi fiancée. “Ashling …” he said, turning to her again as they moved away from the banks of the river. “I thank you for taking me here to-trial so that I could watch the ceremony and get to know such an important part of your culture”, he continued. He was grateful, even though he wasn’t sure about the last sacrifice and even though Melrath was so very strange sometimes.

For the first part of their walk, the young noble was in a somewhat thoughtful mood, still wondering about what he had seen, still feeling the aftereffects of the ceremony, but after a while he began to smile again because he just enjoyed Ashling’s company so much. Finally, they reached a stone building that looked like a lot of other buildings in Melrath. The young noble stopped in front of the door and turned to face his fiancée again, smiling at her affectionately because he was just so happy that she was here with him.

~~~

Eventually, he removed a key from a pocket of his coat and unlocked the door. Entering the building, he explained to the young woman, “I rented this place because my workshop at home was getting much too small. It’s a bit cold in here, but I’ll start a fire in the fireplace in a bit. What do you think of my works of art, by the way?” he asked, looking at her expectantly. Ashling could see that the building was pretty much one big room that was filled with sculptures upon sculptures, some of them small and some of them life-sized or even bigger, and all of them masterfully made.

One sculpture stood out though.

It was the sculpture of a woman. It was life-sized – and incredibly realistic. The woman was not an overwhelming beauty, but had all kinds of imperfections, such as scars and teeth that were not completely straight and slightly yellow. She had tan skin, brown eyes and black hair, and her clothes were rough. She looked like some sort of barbarian, but there was nothing violent or dangerous about her. She looked sad. If Ashling stepped closer to her, she would be able to hear her moan in pain and cry. The savage woman was mourning.

She was mourning the life that had been taken away from her, the life that she had never had, and she seemed to glow softly. She seemed to be surrounded by a gentle golden light.

She was, perhaps, the best sculpture that Tristan had ever made.

[Ashling]

While they walked, Ashling thought of Tristan’s reactions during the ritual sacrifices. He had conducted himself like a proper participant should, even though it wasn’t his religion. She had heard him murmur He sounds like a terrible person (about the necromancer). But, he hadn't done that until the Aesir who had told them the mage’s story had moved away from them again. Tristan was a man of good judgement, she thought. If he as an outlander had misbehaved the situation could have turned nasty.

Instead, he had held her close and it had made her feel safe.

She was under the impression that he had felt awed by the worship of Vynmur. He hadn’t replied at once when she had told him that the ritual was over like he had been too affected to speak. She had waited patiently for a few moments until he had nodded and offered her his arm. His question if she thought Vynmur had accepted the sacrifice had felt easy to answer.

“Yes, all the people think so. The ritual was perfect and now it’s snowing. Vynmur is the great spirit of the river and all its branches and streams that weave through Melrath. Vynmur is water. Snow is frozen water. The more of it that falls during the winter the more it will add to the river in the spring. The snow means that Vynmur’s power is growing. The spirit accepted the sacrifice. “

To her, this explanation felt meaningful. Logical. True! Besides, there had been the messages from Kyrie, but that rested in her soul, unspoken.

He was grateful for having been invited to the ceremony. Ashling smiled at him. She thanked him for taking part in the sacrifices! But, she didn’t speak again, as it felt best to walk in silence. Light conversation felt wrong after the sacrifices they had taken part in. Tristan was silent too but after a while, he smiled at her.

It felt good.

The stone building he brought her to looked like a lot of other buildings in Raelia. Right outside the door Tristan stopped and turned to face her again. They stood in the light of the lantern on the wall. A golden circle of it enclosed them. Tristan’s smile dazzled her more than ever and a feeling of endless joy filled her.

Still shaken after the sacrifices she felt a bit frail and was extra happy to be with him. For a moment she imagined that they would kiss again, here, now ... and if Tristan would feel the same they would do it. She would kiss him with all the emotion the ceremony had elicited in her and a need for replacing death with life. They were alive and the world was so beautiful around them, with the lights in the darkness and the falling snow.

***

And so, Tristan pulled out a key from a pocket of his coat and unlocked the door. They entered the building, a place he had rented. It surprised her, as she didn’t see why he would have to spend money on a special house for his sculptures, but she didn’t say it. It was true that it was cold there. Ashling wasn’t expecting any luxury. It would have been a waste of fuel to keep the place warm when nobody was in. She appreciated that Tristan had waited with the fire until there was a reason for lighting it. They could keep their outerwear on until the fire had done its job. Meanwhile, she would look at the sculptures. Her betrothed asked her in such an expectant tone what she thought about his art.

Art ... to Ashling, art had so far been about two things. The first was religion, the art being the many small spirit statues they were so fond of in Melrath. The other thing was beautiful handicraft. She liked well-designed appliances for the household. Decorative painted embellishments on walls and furniture were also nice.

Seeing the statues she guessed that they were religious. She assumed that they depicted spirits of faraway and foreign lands. Some of them were as small as she had imagined them to be but others were life-sized ... or even bigger. Awed, she inspected them in silence. The pantheon of spirits her betrothed honoured was immense!

It was also obvious that he had put enormous effort into crafting the sculptures. Ashling had seen a plethora of spirit statues since childhood. She was able to recognize the work of a master of his art.

“They look so alive.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “And so ... real.”

She continued to watch the sculptures, feeling amused by some of them and charmed by others. She felt daunted by those who were bigger than life-size. The knights and ladies he had spoken about at their first meeting were there. But, there were also so many other kinds of sculptures. It took time for her to take it all in.

After a while, she spoke again.

“I have seen spirit statues during my whole life and your work is...among the best I have ever seen. The very best, even. You must have an extraordinary talent for sculpturing!”

Ashling arrived at a sculpture of a woman. It stood out, like a bit more of the light in the room was falling on it than on the other artwork.

The statue was life-sized and looked very realistic. The statue woman wasn't a striking beauty but had all the small imperfections that make a person real. There were some scars and her somewhat yellow teeth were a bit uneven. The tan skin, dark hair and eyes and rough clothes made Ashling associate to the sev’ryn people, as they were said to be in a place in the outlands... She looked like a woman of the wilds, not violent or dangerous but sad. The statue woman’s sad expression seemed appropriate for one living in the outlands!

Stepping closer to the statue woman Ashling made a most unpleasant discovery. She could hear the statue moan like it was in pain and cry like it was mourning. She jerked and took a step back, her eyes wide and her breath catching in her throat. What ... was ... this? Now, she also noticed that the extra light actually seemed to emanate from the statue woman. She glowed with a subtle golden aura.

Ashling could only conclude that this must be a statue of a great spirit of some kind, a great work that spirit had appreciated so much that it had granted it ... almost life. But, what kind of spirit might it be? Wilderness, pain and sorrow, golden light and almost life manifested there in the statue, although it was still only a sculpture ... right?

Her spiritual familiar flapped its spiritual wings in her awareness. It told her ... nothing.

Nothing

And that told her nothing. What it might mean was as usual shrouded in mystery. But, the familiar had reacted to the sculpture. It seemed to mean something.

Ashling felt awed. It was a wonder!

She felt daunted. The spirit must be of greater power.

She felt a bit scared. Was this magic?

She felt puzzled. What was the purpose of the statue?

“Which spirit is this a statue of, Tristan?” She turned to Tristan, but only halfway, still keeping an eye on the statue. “How did you make it? And why?”

[Tristan Venora]

Tristan was still somewhat emotional after having witnessed the ritual sacrifices; and besides, Ashling was so beautiful as she stood there, on the doorstep, looking at him, while the snow began to gently fall around them, that he just couldn’t help himself. He put his arms around her and kissed her again. After hearing all those dark stories about the necromancer, after inadvertently having been reminded of the plague in Rynmere that had killed so many people that he knew, he needed to feel alive again. Ashling made him feel alive!

~~~

While Ashling inspected the statues, Tristan knelt down in front of the fireplace and started a fire. A part of him wanted to stay close to her, but it was just too cold. He did look at her every now and then and watch her though, because was just so incredibly curious what she thought of his creations. If he had known that she thought that they depicted spirits, he would likely have been amused!

Tristan respected the spirits that the people of Melrath worshipped, but it was not his faith; and while he prayed to a couple of Immortals, he rarely made sculptures of them. Most of the sculptures were of people he had met, of Rynmeran celebrities (most of them probably dead now) – or made-up people. Sometimes, Tristan liked to make things up.

“They are just made of clay and stone and sometimes a bit of metal and glass though”, he remarked once the fire was crackling merrily and approached her, standing next to her and smiling softly. “They are not alive. Alchemists cannot create life.”

Having said that, he fell silent again and simply watched her like she watched the statues, observing the expression on her face, the look in her eyes, every little gesture of hers. He quite enjoyed watching her, he had to admit; beyond that, it might reveal some of her secret thoughts though.

“Thank you”, he said as she complimented his work and smiled. His entire face seemed to radiate from within. He wasn’t entirely sure why; the fact that Ashling approved of his sculptures meant a lot to him though. “I would like to see the spirit statues that you mentioned sometime, by the way”, he added. He wondered what they were like.

For the time being, Tristan simply followed her to his special sculpture though. When Ashling took a look at it only to jerk back a moment later, Tristan abruptly turned to face her, his eyes a little wide and filled with worry. Was she afraid of the sculpture? Maybe he should not have shown that one to her! It was the one that he was the proudest of though!

“She wasn’t a spirit”, he told her softly, standing close to her once more, as if he wanted to protect her and comfort her, in case she was afraid. “She was somebody I knew once, the victim of a powerful being’s cruelty that never had a chance. I created the sculpture in memory of her, because there was nothing else that I could do”, he explained.

He was being somewhat vague, on purpose. He wasn’t sure how Ashling would react if he told her about what the Immortals had done to him, that Ilaren had betrayed him and messed with his mind. He didn’t want to anger Ashling and make her uncomfortable but hold on to those pleasant feelings that he had felt before a little longer.

At the same time, he wanted her to understand his art though. It was such an important part of his life!

“With clay, wires, paint and a bit of alchemy”, he explained as she asked him how he had made the sculpture, his gaze focused on her face. His heart was beating faster again, just like during the ceremony, just like when he had kissed her for the first time. “The statue glows because I covered it with a special alchemical paint, and the sounds are due to …” He stopped for a moment, furrowing his brow, because he wasn’t entirely sure how his statues did what they did. He just knew that his technique worked.

“… physics and such”, he finished. “There is no magic involved”, he added, in case Ashling was afraid of magic, like so many other Melrathi. There were a lot of things that he didn’t know about her yet even though they were engaged, he realized. He wanted to get to know her better, even though they might not agree on everything. She was so pretty and kind!

“What do you think?” he asked tentatively before he offered, “If you don’t like it, I can cover it with a piece of cloth or something like that.”

[Ashling]

The fire Tristan had started crackled. It was a low and cosy sound and she could feel a very faint smell of burning wood in the air. The firelight flickered over the sculptures and made some of them seem almost alive. This was particularly true for the statue-woman they were looking at together. Ashling was still feeling her spiritual familiar flap in her mind. It was like it didn’t believe what Tristan told her. If seemed to make its own appreciations and came to its own conclusions. Ashling felt an odd discrepancy between Tristan's words and the spiritual familiar's reactions.
But a look at her betrothed made her forget the familiar.

Tristan’s face had seemed to glow from within when she had praised his work. What had he felt? Ashling couldn’t know. But, to her, it had seemed like he loved his artwork and so, felt happy that she liked it. He had beamed at her much like a proud parent beam to people who like their children.

It had made her feel that he was ... vulnerable ... kind of frail in his capacity as an artist ... needing others to like what he created. It wasn’t that she found him weak nor that she thought her fleeting feeling to be a truth. It was only that ... for a moment she felt that he wasn’t the kind of man who wanted to seem made of steel. He seemed strong of mind, but not void of the soft spots that make a person more than...the façade they show the world. Tristan had shown her not only a collection of statues but a bit of his hidden inner world.

Ashling relished the closeness and the warmth of his body. They had been kissing before they entered the location. Afterwards, they had kept glancing at each other, smiling a bit, staying in touch. The warm and pleasant feeling of attraction and liking still enclosed them. As usual, Ashling found it so easy to like her betrothed.

She took in his soft smile while he explained to her that the sculptures weren’t alive. Feeling a bit giddy she smiled back at Tristan. But, inside she felt like Kyrie kept stirring. Ashling had no idea why it was so. Statues made of clay and stone, a bit of metal and some glass weren’t alive. That was natural. Tristan was only stating the obvious. His words about how an alchemist wasn’t able to create life were not sensational. Of course, a human wasn’t able to make living statues!

It amused her that Tristan told her that. She smiled back at him.

“They seem almost alive Tristan. They are that good. I don’t know anything about the physics you are using but it seems like an advanced science.”


She laughed a bit at his eagerness to tell her that he wasn't using magic. The mention of magic was always a bit unpleasant though, even now. She spoke a bit faster as she agreed that magic wasn’t used for the creation of statues. “To make statues live by magic...would not that be a kind of necromancy? But, I don’t think so, because it wouldn’t be making dead people walking dead. Right? Making statues of clay live would be more like ... creation of something from nothing. And as you say, these statues aren’t even alive. So, it can’t be necromancy. I understand that. ”

Ashling felt her spiritual familiar up its activity to annoying levels. It was disturbing. Here she was with her lovely new betrothed and his fantastic art. They were alone in an environment full of wonders and with a cosy fire crackling in the background. But, inside she felt like a bird of prey was picking at her with its surreal beak. Never had she imagined that the spiritual familiar would meddle in a romantic date! It even repeated its cryptic message.

Nothing!

It resounded it her like a bird call from afar, cold and fierce like the wilderness itself and not romantic at all. Ashling smiled but it felt like the smile trembled a bit on her lips. Getting a telepathic “nothing” after speaking about creation from nothing felt unsettling. Also, Tristan was looking worried, his eyes widening a bit. She realized that she might have behaved like she felt scared.

Which she didn’t. She wasn’t feeling scared. Not here, now, in the company of her betrothed!

“She wasn’t a spirit”, he answered her question about the statue-woman they were facing.

Ashling listened to his words about the woman who had been his model. She seemed to have met some kind of gruesome fate and he had made the statue in memory of her. This, of course, raised questions but his information had been vague. Ashling immediately began to wonder what the woman had been to him. Why had he gone to such lengths and made a statue to remember her by? She hadn’t forgotten his former fiancée Valeria who had dumped him in favour of a political career. Was this one more former fiancée? In that case, were those two the only former fiancées or were there more?

She glanced at the statues of the ladies. Had they all been of special importance to him? How many rivals did she have?

Physics? The absence of magic? Women of greater importance to Tristan in his past? Ashling was full of question-marks. But, she felt reluctant to start an interrogation born from distrust and jealousy. Tristan’s art was precious to him. She didn’t want to destroy the evening for them. Instead, she reined in her racing mind and forbade herself to get carried away. She gave Tristan her full attention and ordered Kyrie to be silent.

It was easy to understand that he could use clay, wires and paint. Alchemy was at least something she had heard about. The “physics and such” were an enigma and once again he assured her that he wasn't using magic. She looked at him and smiled. She didn't understand everything but it was so charming when he spoke about his art! There was so much she didn’t know about him yet. But, he was a wonderful person and Ashling wanted to get to know him better, in a natural manner. There was no meaning with trying to rush it. She had already learnt a lot about him to-trial.

She glanced at the statue-woman. She had never seen its like.

“No, I don’t want to cover it - her - with a cloth. It’s a masterpiece, Tristan. Besides, she looks so real that it would feel like throwing a cover over a real woman...or a spirit, even if she isn’t one.”

It was uncertain when they would get to be alone again. There were always a lot of things to do and always other people around. Ashling leaned closer to Tristan, seeking to keep the pleasant feeling alive. She left it to him to decide if he wanted to tell her more about the woman who once was. If he did so, she would listen and learn a bit more about him.

The fire crackled. The warm light of the flames flickered over the walls. It danced over the sculptures, shadows dancing in its wake and lurking in the corners. Her betrothed’s face, with the elaborate embla, was more beautiful to her than any of his statues. If he would kiss her again she would forget everything else.

[Tristan Venora]

When Ashling admitted that she didn’t know anything about the physics that he was using, Tristan laughed. He didn’t laugh at her, but at himself. “Would you believe me if I told you that I don’t really know much about physics either?” he asked, smirking and his blue eyes twinkling merrily. “I never studied physics, and I barely know how chemistry works even though alchemists supposedly need it in order to be successful. What I do is more or less … instinctual?” he asked, momentarily struggling to find the right word to describe his approach to his art, and raised an eyebrow as he wondered if Ashling understood what he meant – and if she believed him that he possessed some sort of instinctual, innate knowledge of physics and similar sciences.

When the conversation turned to the topic of necromancy once more, the young noble who had been so amused, comfortable and relaxed before, abruptly grew more somber again. “I don’t think even mages can create life. What necromancers do … it’s perversion of life at most, Ashling!” he remarked, shuddering slightly, and met her gaze. It would be obvious to the young Melrathi woman that Tristan didn’t like talking about necromancy at all. It reminded him of the sacrifice they had witnessed earlier. It reminded him of what had happened in Rynmere and of all the people that had died and that he had had to bury with his own hands. He didn’t want to be reminded of that, and he definitely didn’t want to think about it. When he was with Ashling, he wanted to think happy thoughts!

If Tristan had known that Ashling had thought that the woman who he had made the statue of had been another fiancée, he would have been amused. He had shared her bed once, but he hadn’t made the statue because of that. He had made it because she deserved to be remembered in his opinion, because she was a victim whose life had been taken from her before it had even begun, who had never had a chance. There would come a time when he would have to talk about the other women that he had loved, about Faith, Valeria and Ilaren – starting a marriage without telling your partner about your past was never a good idea - but since Ashling had not said anything out loud, the time would not be now.

Now was a time to enjoy each other’s presence and get to know each other a little bit better, to talk about art and spirits. So, when Ashling called the statue of the savage woman a masterpiece, he smiled and remarked, “Thank you, Ashling!” She would be able to tell that the young duke was genuinely grateful. Most of the time he didn’t care what people thought about his art (unless Padraig was involved; he’d nearly dropped a statue on Faith’s husband’s head once because he had insulted one of his creations). What mattered the most was that he liked it. He wanted Ashling to approve of it though which was strange – or, perhaps, simply a sign that he had begun to genuinely care about her.

He wanted to say more and perhaps explain more of his creations to her because he just loved talking about his art and was extremely passionate about it. It was just then that she leaned closer to him though, and Tristan abruptly forgot what he had wanted to say and just looked into her beautiful, completely black eyes instead. A moment later, he made a step towards her in order to close the last couple of inches between them, put his arms around her and kissed her again, a little less gentle than when he had been in public with her because she was just so lovely. She was in fact absolutely irresistible!