Kurvajai and Conversations

1st of Camince, 1485
 
Dawn saw the party moving about our separate routines. Grimaldus and Hasim were bathing in the river, Inira was talking with her sister, and it appeared that Secilia was trying to catch some fish. I decided to take the opportunity to get away for a time, and walked about the ruins, exploring the area around our camp some more.
 
The ruins show all signs of having once been a place of absolute beauty. Water runs through the crumbled stone, which still hold slight traces of gold and silver. Most of it appears to have been stripped by grave robbers long ago. But it is still absolutely beautiful, and the plants look like they were once hanging from the walls in fragrant splendor.
 
As I walked among the ruins, Meriwald seemed excited for the first time in some weeks. I soon found out why, however, as he was plotting out ways to do violence to Grimaldus.
 
“But aren’t you supposed to feel some of what I feel?” Now maybe I’d be able to get to the bottom of my familiar’s issues with Grimaldus… I had always felt as though our empathic link was strong enough that he should feel at least a bit of what I felt for Grimaldus.
“Yes.” Meriwald replied, exasperated. “And it’s gross.”
“Why is it so gross?” I asked. “You never had a problem with Ravlor…”
“Yeah, but Ravlor’s an elf.” He explained as though it should be obvious. I just looked at him until he explained himself. “Okay… so I’m an owl…” Meriwald said slowly. When I nodded my head, he continued. “And then there’s pidgeons…”
“Yeah…” I prompted.
“Owls are better than pidgeons.” He stated matter-of-factly. “So if I was to marry a pigeon… that’s really gross…. Elves are better than humans. You’re with a human… that’s gross.”
I just looked at him for a moment, a bit flabbergasted. “If you’re not careful,” he continued. “You’ll end up with a monster like Secilia.”
“Really?” I managed to say.
“Yeah, I mean, look at her… she’s hideous.”
 
I don’t know why it surprised me, but it did in a way. I never thought about it much in terms of Meriwald’s view, but I can see where he’s coming from. Once upon a time, I might have agreed with him, but I’d like to think that’s not the case…
 
The rest of our exploration was done in relative quiet after that, and when we arrived back in camp, Hasim, Inira and Frida were talking amongst themselves about how best to travel to Kurvajai with Grimaldus. I heard Frida say something about teleportation not being her specialty, to which Inira pointed in my direction and said “But it is hers.”
 
Hasim seemed pleased with whatever their idea was, commenting that Elves teleport out of the womb. What the fuck?
 
Finally being disabused of that ridiculous notion, Hasim filled me on in what they wanted to do. Apparently, he wanted to go to Wei Jang to purchase a listing of all of the teleportation circle coordinates for all of the circles in the area. Dekar wanted to go to Wei Jang for his own reasons, namely to see the axiomyte and give him the blackened heart that he picked up from the tree in Rafulkarn.
 
Dekar didn’t even have the decency to ask me to teleport to Wei Jang… he waited for Hasim to do so. I agreed to take them, everyone but Grimaldus, actually, for he is not welcome in Wei Jang, and I wasn’t willing to put him in needless danger over what is a useful errand at best. It was decided then that Grimaldus would make his way towards Kurvajai, and we would catch up with him later, after the business in Wei Jang was sorted out.
 

- - - - -

I made the preparations and cast the spell to teleport us to the axiomyte’s tower. We appeared inside a cage of sorts, obviously designed for those who would dare teleport inside his tower. We were greeted by a rather surprised wisp, who led us down the winding staircase towards the hammering sounds of the axiomyte at work.
 
When we got there, Hasim, Inira and Frida had some business with him and his wisps, and Dekar wished to speak with him in private. I do not know what they spoke of, but it was likely having to do with the weapon.
 
When the door opened and Dekar emerged, I went in. The axiomyte was sitting at his workstation, staring at the blackened heart. When I entered, he looked up. “You have a question.” He stated.
 
I asked him if the walls were sound proof.
“I can close the door.” He said with a chuckle. “They won’t be able to hear.”
“Yes, I learned that, thank you.” I didn’t care if I gave away that I’d been listening at the door, trying to hear his conversation with Dekar.
He asked what was on my mind, and I took a deep breath before beginning.
 
“So, I returned to Alcarin, and I spoke with Filandrel. And he told me that you spoke in half truths and you’re one of the worst individuals that my people have ever seen.”
 
“To them I am, yes.” He stated.
 
“However,” I continued. “He said something that was very concerning… and I thought I should ask you, seeing as you make magical artifacts…”
 
“Ask your question.”
“Is it true that our blood is lethal to dragons?”
“Yes.” He answered.
“How exactly does that work?”
“Humans can slather their weapons with our blood, and it would be hurtful to the dragons… its that simple, really.” His eyes were troubled.
“Do they know of this?”
“We have gone to many measures to hide it from them… and dragons haven’t been a problem until recently.”
“How much blood is required?” If it wasn’t too much… then perhaps I could think up some way to use it without anyone knowing…
“How much blood? It must be taken from the heart… you can see why this is a problem.”
“Yes…”
“In times of old, sorcerer kings like Mustafat sought to consume the hearts of elves and use profane magic so that they too could become weapons against the dragons.”
“Hence, Lara Durdain and the Staff of Changes, and the curse and all that?” I asked.
“Yes.” He confirmed.
“Do you think they’re going to start doing it again?” I asked apprehensively.
“I hope not.” He said. “I don’t know if we can hide it… not for much longer…”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Ask away…”
 
I motioned to the blackened cursed heart sitting on the axiomyte’s workbench. “Why are you doing this for him?”
“That one is a trickier question…”
“Even if he’s not delusional… he’s a human, and he’ll die and this weapon will linger on to be taken by somebody else…”
“To be possibly picked up by another?”
“Yes. And then another and another and another…”
“And then someone will eventually do the job.”
“Or eventually someone will take it and start laying waste to entire civilizations, or you know, the world.”
“We are living in a world that is bound to the will of entities that most of us can’t even fathom or understand. At the end of it, you have to consider… what do we do to persist in this doomed place? We have to try. It’s all we have.”
“Try what?” I asked.
“To make it better.” He said. “By whatever means we can.”
“And this is going to make it better?”
“It’s a tool. Weapons are tools.” He lectured. “Magic is a tool. Is Necromancy making the world better or worse?”
“Worse.” I stated without even thinking.
“That simple? Conjuration, better?” He arched an eyebrow. “A little biased, don’t you think? What about illusion? Or this matter of being able to divine things? Better or worse?”
When I didn’t have an immediate reply, he continued. “Now the real questions can be asked… it’s a tool… used by whom? Questionable, sure. But if he dies, when he dies, it can be picked up by another. Seeing that it does not fall into the wrong hands is a duty that lies upon everyone. For it is a tool that will surpass many others.”
 
“What is the cost?” I asked, knowing that for such a “tool”, the ramifications must be great.
 
“My life.” The axiomyte stated simply.
 
“Your life?!” I fought to temper my voice. “Your life and your knowledge is worth the creation of a tool?”
 
“It is either that, or to die under the weight of my own memories. My time is coming… whether I want it or not.”
 
“Why?” I asked.
 
“The magic that makes me eternal will die, with the last steps of honing such an object.”
 
“What’s the magic that’s making you eternal?”
“Lingering embers of a light that we once had.”
“So, you’ll use it all up?”
 
“If your lover was wielding it, would you think differently? Or is it because it’s someone you question? What if it was your master asking you to make such a thing? Would you question him?”
“Yes.” Of course I would question Filandrel.
“So what makes you trust him and not trust your friend?”
I don’t think he understood what I said… “I would question Filandrel.”
“But in the end, he would just seek to convince you. It is his way.” He wasn’t wrong, but Filandrel’s convincing wouldn’t work this time. “Why don’t you guide him, guide your friend?”
“He doesn’t listen to me.”
“Show him the way with patience.”
“I’ve never been very good at patience…” I said quietly.
 
The axiomyte’s gaze was drawn back to the blackened heart. “I have work to do.”
 
“Will we speak again?” I asked.
“Yes, we will. I’ll be sure of it.” I could see that the axiomyte was already working on his project in his mind, and I was dismissed. “Best of luck.” He said as I took my leave.
 
My mind was heavy as I took my leave. I think Inira spoke with the axiomyte, but my mind was elsewhere. I was more than ready to be away when Hasim and Frida returned.
 
When I teleported us back to Grimaldus, I was surprised to find that we were in a grassland, there was no desert to be seen. How he managed to make it this far is impressive, but not entirely surprising, seeing as this is his homeland, and he is definitely a man comfortable in the wilds.
 
He caught horses for us to ride, and fortunately we all were able to keep our seats. I rather like the scruffy mare that I rode, she has spirit.
 
A few hours into our journey, we came upon a gnome slaver with two human “indentured servants” and a broken down wagon. After some discussion, we agreed to fix the cart and let the two humans be on their way back to their homes. The gnome on the other hand? We didn’t kill him, nor did the two slaves… rather, Grimaldus knocked him unconscious and tossed him into a sack on the back of his horse. We were briefly attacked by some flying lizard creatures, but they were dispatched so quickly it is barely worth mentioning.
 
Just as the sun was beginning to make its descent toward the horizon, we came upon the gates of Kurvajai. It’s gate was nestled between statues of horses, and it appeared to be a sizable city comprised mainly of tents.
 
Everyone was announced when we passed through the gates, and all weapons were to be handed over. Apparently the use of magic is also forbidden in this place. The man at the gate asked everyone their names, except he barely glanced at Secilia and I, instead calling out “two Elf women, one dark of hair, one light of hair.”
 
Seriously? I muttered something under my breath about Secilia not even being an elf, and I think the couple party members who heard me mistook my meaning. Yes, Secilia is a half-elf. But there is more to being an Elf than having Elven parentage. She is currently so far removed from her Elven heritage, she doesn’t understand what it means in her heart to be Elven… it goes so far beyond merely the question of her parentage. Someday, perhaps she will take the time to learn more about it, but as of this moment, she has not.
 
Based on how the men were reacting to us, and how they were surprised that we are “free”, I asked Grimaldus about it, and he proudly told me that the women of his people are free to make their own decisions and pursue their own lives as they see fit, unlike the women in the west. He speaks as though it is an unusual concept, and for many humans, it seems to be. But, he was surprised when I told him that among the Elves, both genders are equal, and we are equally able to pursue what life we may desire… our lives are more bound by our station than our gender, but I wasn’t going to pursue that line of conversation further at this point… I was too busy looking around at this odd city where the buildings were intrinsically tied with tents of comparable intricacy.
 
We were met by one whom Grimaldus calls “cousin”, but I am not sure as to their actual relation… he seems decent enough, this Rhaego. In fact, he seems to be quite taken with Secilia… much to her consternation and the rest of our amusement. I, for one, hope that she allows herself some bit of diversion. It would do her much good if she would allow herself to let go just a little bit, for a short time. This Rhaego seems quite determined to win her affection in any way that he can, and I do find myself wishing him the best in that endeavor.
 
Grimaldus brought us to see an elderly woman whom he calls “Grandma”. His face lit up when he saw her, I think he believed she had died. “Grandma” is a shrewd old woman, and I believe she had the measure of the party within the first few minutes of meeting us. She had a veritable feast set out in honor of Grimaldus’ return. The food was delicious, I’ve never had such combinations of flavors.
 
Rhaego approached Secilia and asked what her favorite food is. She looked lost, so I whispered to her to tell him pastries, thinking of the flaky works of culinary art in Runestone – perhaps one of the best things to come out of that infernal place.
 
The old woman chastised Grimaldus that he was getting old and needed to settle down and get married. Meanwhile, she was eyeing Dekar the whole time – I think that, and the goatweed that he was served, was a direct correlation to Grimaldus pointing him out to her when we arrived.
 
My mind was drifting, preoccupied with other matters, when the old woman turned to Grimaldus and asked: “So… when are you going to take a wife?” She asked him again, more directly this time.
“Say what?” He was obviously caught off guard.
“A wife. Soon no one will want you.” She stated.
“I don’t know so much about that, Grandma…” Grimaldus chuckled.
“Oh… he thinks he’s eternal…” Then she looked around and asked who among us speaks or understands Yongrel. When I indicated that I can, she laughed and repeated her sentiment.
“Why should I get married, Grandmother?” Grimaldus asked.
“Well, legacy…” she replied, as though the answer should have been obvious. “Ehat is your legacy?
“My name is known far and wide.” He stated.
“And it two generations it will be forgotten…” she argued.
“Yes.” Grimaldus replied, earning a sigh from his “grandmother”. It was obvious that he was either mistaken, or else deliberately avoiding her line of questioning.
 
“No, it will not.” I interjected.
Hasim spoke up. “Yes, if he has children with the elf, they’re going to live a lot longer.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, rather shocked.
“Great idea!” She was practically rubbing her hands together in delight. “You should marry this elf. She seems intelligent…”
“I meant his memory will live on.” I said, although now the old woman was completely ignoring me as though I hadn’t spoken.
“You’ve always had a thing for intelligent women…” she continued. “Women who are smarter than you.”
“That’s easy to do.” Grimaldus admitted.
“Isn’t that most women?” Hasim asked with a smirk.
“Oh yes,” the old woman replied. “He has a thing for most women…”

When there was finally a short break in the chatter, I said “His memory will live on for centuries with my people…”
“That’s nice.” The old woman said placatingly. “But children… how many children can you have?” At my silence, she continued. “I’m asking a serious question… I’m old…”
 
Rhaego slid into the seat next to Secilia, but I didn’t hear what was said…
 
“How many children can you have?” That question echoed in my mind, haunting me. How would I explain to these people that I have no idea of the answer to that question? One? Two if I’m extremely fortunate? Hell, I might not even be able to have children – it isn’t a topic that I’ve spent much time considering, and even then… how do I explain to her the hardships of my people in conceiving and bearing children? Do I even want to start going down that rabbit hole? The answer is a resounding no.
 
Fortunately, I was spared any need to answer her question, or continue the conversation further, by the approach of sloshing footsteps, and the opening of the door to admit Rowan. She was soaking wet and covered in seaweed, and incredibly embarrassed by the mess that her muddy feet were making on the carpets…