Chosen, Chapter 8: Ain’t no Rest for the Wicked
AidanThe RealmsUnknown date (day 2)Early afternoonStarchaser tribe village, somewhere in the Mistvale Highlands
A tallish centaur woman -- not nearly as tall as Fionn, but she was about a foot taller than Aidan was, so taller than any other female centaur he’d seen so far -- walked in through the just-opened door. “Good, you are up already. The Council summons you. Follow.” Her words were brusque, but her voice was a warm, husky mezzo-soprano that sent a sizzle down Aidan’s spine. He took a moment to look her over. Her skin was smooth and lightly tanned, while her coat was a rich coppery brown-red. Waves of bright crimson hair, actual bright red rather than the copper of a real Earth redhead, fell in disorganized masses down across her shoulders and back like a cascade of molten metal.
Eyes the color of high-grade emeralds returned his stare impatiently. Her nose turned up just a little at the end, and her lips, though pursed in a frown, were plump, and part of him couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel -- Down, boy, he reprimanded himself. Her ears resembled the mage-Councillor Ailis’s, sticking straight out from her head for several inches instead of being buried in her thick hair. Her shoulders were a little broader than usual for a woman, and her bare arms were well-muscled. She didn’t look like a bodybuilder, but it was clear that she was no stranger at all to hard work. She was wearing a sleeveless leather shirt which was bound tightly across her breasts while leaving her midriff -- which was also well-muscled, the woman had a ten-pack going -- bare. The tight bindings of her shirt only accentuated her impressive breasts, which bulged out from her chest.
Then, with a start, Aidan realized just how rude he was being and tore his eyes away from her breasts to meet her gaze. Her stare has turned into a glare, and he blushed at having lost control of himself in such a manner. “Well? Will you follow, or must I drag you?” She asked with an edge to her voice that said she might prefer the second option.
“My apologies, I will, of course, follow you. Please allow me just one moment to finish getting dressed.” She snorted in impatience but did not say anything else as he quickly pulled his shirt over his head and tied up the laces at the neck and wrists. “Please, my lady, lead on.”
She said nothing, but backed out of the hut then wheeled and began to move off into the village at a quick walk. Unfortunately for Aidan, a quick walk for someone with the body of a horse meant a brisk jog for him. He had to scramble to catch up and didn’t have a lot of time to admire the way her muscles bunched and moved under her glossy fur, nor the way her twitching tail brought attention to her firm, round rump. He had never really had any interest in horses before, and if he’d been asked a week ago if a centaur could be sexy, he would have laughed and mocked whoever had dared ask such a ridiculous question, but he was starting to gain a real appreciation. This woman just oozed power and sensuality, despite her obvious irritation with him.
Aidan had worked up a sweat by the time his guide stopped in front of a large one-story building. There was no door; instead, broad strips of leather hung from an opening wide and tall enough for two large centaurs to pass without touching each other. She waved him inside with a curt, “Enter. The Council waits.” He pushed through the leather -- Probably just there to keep the weather out, he thought -- and into the building. The redhead followed him in but remained at the doorway.
The building was clearly designed for formal occasions. The five Council members rested on rectangular piles of cushions on a slightly raised central stage at the back of the building, while the front had rows of lower-quality padding in much the same way a church had pews or an amphitheater had rows of seating. He approached the stage, then bowed deeply and said, “Summoned, I come. What wisdom has the Starchaser Council for me?”
He straightened from his bow to see a few eyebrows raised. Eilwen, the white-haired grandmother, leaned over to the silver-haired Ailis next to her and whispered something which Aidan couldn’t quite catch. Ailis shook her head with a rueful look on her face and waggled a finger at her fellow Councilwoman admonishingly. Then she turned to him and inclined slightly in a shallow bow.
“Your good manners serve you well, Aidan Lostlorn.” A prompt flashed into his vision, but he mentally swatted at it in reflex, needing to concentrate on what was being said. To his surprise, it minimized to an icon at the side of his HUD. Well, that will be useful in the future; wonder if there’s a way to automate that? He thought before focusing again on the Council. “You present a problem for us. Our laws are clear that trespassers are to be killed, and you were found deep within our lands. However,” she said with a slight emphasis, “there has been considerable debate over precisely what constitutes trespassing. There are those of the outside world who we allow to pass safely through our territory, so all outsiders are not trespassers.
“Similarly, innocents who unknowingly stray over the border are escorted back when our patrols find them and given a stern warning never to let it happen again, so intent is a clear factor. Yet you were found less than a day’s easy walk from this village, in the heart of our lands. None of our border patrols saw you, and you claim to have been here less than a day after being magically brought here. We sent a pair of skilled trackers to follow your trail, and it matches your story entirely.” She stopped speaking and looked down at him, gaze troubled.
The big warrior, Fionn, picked up where Ailis left off. “You know the location of this village, so we cannot simply let you go; Steffan did you no favors there. The Council has voted to show mercy, however, so we will not kill you. Our loremaster,” he nodded at Ailis, who nodded back, “suggested something which would resolve our problem completely, but that solution has problems of its own.” The five of them looked down at him for a long moment, and just as Aidan was about to ask a question, the short male Councillor, Gerwyn, picked up the narration.
“There is a rite, used rarely, and last centuries ago, which would mark you as a member of the tribe even though you are not a centaur. Any tribe member would know on sight that you were one of us, and as a member of the tribe, you would have free access to our lands. The problem is that we do not know you. We know that you told us the truth, as best we have been able to tell, in our earlier meeting, but words are not enough on their own.” He stopped speaking, and Anwn pounced on the brief silence.
“Words have power, but actions reveal the truth. We will not slay you out of hand for something you had no control over, but if we are to grant you this boon, you must prove yourself to be a true ally of the tribe. You will perform a task for us, a dangerous task which we would not send one of our own to accomplish. Succeed and return to us with proof, and we may -- may -- consider performing the rite. Refuse or flee from your task, and we will kill you.” Her face was hard, and her voice flat and emotionless as she pronounced judgment on him. There wasn’t an ounce of mercy in her eyes, but neither was there hatred or contempt.
Eilwen took up the thread of the speech, saying, “We will not send you out unarmed and unaware, however.” Her eyes darted sideways towards Anwn, then returned to his. “A weapon will be provided to you, and you will be given a set of light armor appropriate to your build. Further, Steffan will guide you to your destination and give you as much information as we have on your task, then either bring you back upon your victory or bring the word of your defeat. Know that we do not believe this task to be beyond you; we are not sending you to your certain death as a way to salve our consciences. It will be difficult and dangerous, but when you return victorious, know that you will have earned at least our friendship.” Her words are a distinct dig at her fellow Councillor, and Anwn’s nose flares, but she remains silent.
A voice behind him startled Aidan so much that he jumped a couple of inches into the air. He hadn’t even heard the flame-haired woman approach but her voice came from just over his shoulder; he had to resist turning around to look at her. “May it please the Council, I would request that it be myself who leads this human to his destination. You are sending him into Ceallach Macht, are you not?” Her voice was respectful, but with an accusatory edge. “I have petitioned the Council before for permission to purge that place, and I have always been told it is too dangerous. Well, I say that if it is too dangerous for me, then you are sending this man to his sure death, especially with Steffan to guide him. You know that one will do exactly what he is told and no more, even if it breaks the spirit of his instructions. If the Council truly has voted to send this man on a life-or-death mission to that blighted place, and if you will not allow me to go alone, then send us both!” The last was spit out as a distinct challenge.
Anwn opened her mouth to fire back at his entirely unexpected ally, but Fionn laid a hand on her shoulder, and she subsided with a grumble. Fionn, Eilwen, and Gerwyn all looked to Ailis. For her part, the silver-haired woman gazed serenely down at the centaur behind Aidan. “Very well, Brighid. If this matters to you this much, we will allow you to take Steffan’s place on this expedition -- but you will bear all of his responsibilities. If Aidan refuses this task or flees from battle, you will slay him yourself. Furthermore, we forbid you from shouldering the burden of this task. You may assist Aidan if you feel that you must, but this is his task, not yours, and it will be without meaning if you do it for him. We will examine you with a spell of truth upon your return to ensure that our will is done. This is the Will of the Council,” she declares.
“So say we all!” Echo the other four members of the Council with the air of a practiced ritual, and a window popped up in Aidan's vision.
He didn’t see that he had much choice; the Council and quest were equally clear about the consequences of refusal. He mentally hit the ACCEPT button, and the window went away. Aidan bowed to the Council and said, “I will, of course, accept the Council’s judgment. It will be as you say.” While he was at it, he focused on the prompt that he minimized earlier at the start of the Council session.
Experience from discovering new places? That would be handy, if probably not a significant source of experience. Similarly, he had never been very extroverted and had trouble making friends, so bonus experience from relationships also wouldn’t amount to much. Still, free experience was free experience, and Aidan wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. His thoughts reminded him that he had a level up waiting to handle, but he still had plenty of time, so he corralled his inner power-gamer and focused on what was happening around him again. Fortunately, the prompts only took a few seconds to handle.
The Council members were all standing. Fionn, Gerwyn, and Anwn were in a heated discussion with their backs turned to him; if he had to guess, Anwn was objecting to the way things just went, and the other two were talking her down. Ailis stood at the front edge of the stage, where she and Brighid were having a discussion in words too soft for him to overhear. Ailis reached out and gently stroked Brighid’s cheek, and the redhead held her hand there for a moment before turning away and walking back over towards him.
“Come, human, there is much to do, and I would like to start our journey before the sun falls too low in the sky.” Her voice still held no affection for him but was at least no longer contemptuous. She led the way out of the building -- the village’s town hall, presumably -- and back into the sunlight. “You will need a good weapon in Ceallach Macht. Our first stop is my forge so that I can properly arm you and retrieve my own equipment, then the granary to pick up supplies, then we will leave the village by way of Roark’s place. He will have some upper body armor that will fit you, and we can figure out something to do about your legs. You cannot wear armor meant for centaurs down there.”
Aidan followed her without hesitation; clearly, she knew what she was doing. He told her in a solemn tone, “Thank you for what you said to the Council. I can tell that I’m not your favorite person, but I appreciate that you weren’t willing to stand by while I was sent to my death.”
Brighid waved his thanks away and responded, “You can thank me by helping to purify that den of evil. Make no mistake: if you die, I will not mourn you, but I could not stand idly by while they made it sound like you were being sent to rout a few runty rattoks. I love Mama Eilwen, but I cannot imagine what possessed her to send you alone. Even she should be able to tell that you are no warrior, and they would know that you are no master mage either. Personally, I would not be confident in just sending you out against rattoks, no offense intended.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, but her assessment of him stung a little and no less for being true.
“As painful as it is to admit, you are correct. I have no skills as a warrior aside from a few ranks in Evasion, and my magic is quite limited. I am a stranger in a strange land and in far over my head. I understand that you are not doing this for me, but I am grateful nonetheless. I owe you a great deal, and I swear I will repay that debt.”
She whirled -- so suddenly that Aidan jumped backward -- and hissed at him. “Swear no oaths to me, human! I do not want your debt!” Her eyes were ablaze with green fire as she glared at him, and he raised his hands placatingly. Before he could respond, though, a prompt appeared in his vision, and his eyes widened a little in surprise.
He was about to apologize to the angry redhead, but something about the prompt made him change his words at the last moment. “I beg your forgiveness, my lady, but while you may choose not to acknowledge it, I cannot. You have intervened on my behalf with the Council and may yet prove to have saved my life. I would not be true to myself if I turned a blind eye to that.” He bowed his head respectfully to her, but his words were said with confidence and as much steel as he could muster.
Her face contorted for a moment, and she started to respond, then stopped and closed her eyes. When she opened them again with a sigh, her rage had clearly left her. “Very well, human -- no, Aidan. I did not act as I did on your behalf, but I accept the truth of your words. I will accept your debt, but know that when I decide to collect, your pretty words will not save you if you refuse.” She whirled again and set off at a slightly brisker pace, no longer slowing herself down to accommodate his slower gait but not forcing him to run to keep up like earlier.