With Good Intent

Dear readers, there's more story than steam in this one. But if you enjoy magic and adventure, then I hope you'll like it! I welcome comments and emails, and thank you for reading! -Guinevere A. Hart

* * * * *

Céde woke with her dream still in her head. She recalled being nestled in the roots of a majestic and magical tree that sang and spoke to her. She lay awake in the grey light of pre-dawn and tried to remember what the tree had said. Though the matronly voice still echoed from the fading vision, the words and their meaning were already gone. Céde felt it was more than just a normal dream, for it had left an impression on her spirit and given her great inspiration for a new work. By trade, Céde was a jewel crafter, and in her mind's eye, she could see herself creating a beautiful pendant. It would honor not only the tree from her dream, but perhaps even the world Goddess, Velith, herself.

She sat up and stretched as her plan for the morning formed. The first step was to sketch. She was going to have to find a tree, but no ordinary tree would do. Céde's heart began to beat a bit faster as she thought of a lone foray into the woods outside of town. Her father would never permit such an adventure, of course. She preferred not to have to lie, but she was not above sneaking. Céde was determined to be out the door before she had to answer any questions.

The house was still quiet. A glance at the faintly glowing runes of the Aether clock on the wall confirmed that it was still early. She leapt from her bed, dressed in a hurry, and quickly tamed her wild tresses into a braid. Pausing for just a moment as her gaze fell on the history books on her desk, she remembered the report on ylf'nim politics that she was supposed to write for her father. He acted as though it was something important for her to learn, but something so dull could not possibly be that important. Céde could think of at least a hundred better things to do, so the thought of her studies was shoved aside for her current passion.

She threw the coverlet up over the mattress, not exactly 'made', but the bed looked good enough to her. She did take the time to kick her pile of laundry into a slightly neater pile though. There was no time to be fussy, for she wanted to be about her art while her inspiration was fresh. A quick dig through the stack of books beside her bed, and she found what she was looking for. She grabbed her sketchbook and tucked a few pencils into the pouch at her waist.

Just behind the door, Céde listened intently for the sounds of her father or Uncle Varrin. It sounded like someone was in the kitchen, but if she was fast, she could get out the front door before she had to answer questions. She snuck out of her room and down the stairs. She winced as she hit a creaking step and stopped to listen again, but there were no other sounds but hers. She smiled, for she just knew she was going to make it.

* * * * *

Shade Varrin stood in the morning shadows beneath the stairs and watched as Mercédeon Aarondale, with her sketchbook under her arm, headed for the front door. His mouth quirked up, for it seemed she thought she was being sneaky with her early rising and quiet footfalls. She had her long, black curls tied back in a loose braid that was already coming unbound around her face. She wore a tight-fitting bodice, and Varrin did not like that anymore than her father would.

It was the style among the human women of Silver Crossing to display a certain amount of cleavage. Céde was twenty years old. Among the myn'nim, it was old enough to do as she pleased. But if they had raised her at home in Ardyth'tol among their ylf'nim kin, she would still be considered adolescent. Gavriel Aarondale had been exiled from Ardyth'tol shortly after his daughter's birth and his wife's death. He and Varrin had raised Céde in a human town, and they could not fault her for being like them.

She got as far as her hand on the latch before her father caught her arm and stopped her. Gavriel stared long into her violet eyes, so much like her mother's. "Céde, where are you going? I have asked you not to leave the house without telling me."

Céde rolled her eyes and smiled. "I'm not 'leaving', Papa. I'm just going to find the right tree."

He shook his head, confused. "What tree?"

She sighed. "The one that's going to be a pendant, of course!"

Varrin read the defeat in Gavriel's eyes as he relented, too easily, to whatever mission she was on that morning. "Don't go too far. There are plenty of trees right here in town, so you stay within the town proper."

When Céde was passionate about something, she never listened. Varrin knew she was not hearing her father. Gavriel knew it too, for his gaze and his voice darkened. "Promise me, Mercédeon."

Using her full name, he might make her listen, but Varrin doubted it. He watched her lower her eyes and shift her weight between her feet. Finally, she said, "I promise."

Varrin knew she was only feeding her father the line he wanted to hear, but she was Gavriel's flesh and blood. When they were younger men, his pale-elf friend could not be tied down, always choosing his own way, for good or ill. Add her mother Lelliahn's passion and willfulness, and it made for a difficult combination. There was no chance that girl would stay close to town.

Gavriel nodded, released her arm, and Céde was out the door in an instant. Her father leaned against the frame and closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes snapped open, and he fixed his gaze on him. "Varrin, go. But stay out of her sight." Varrin stepped into the light from the window and gave a quick nod.

Even after twenty-five years, Gavriel's grey eyes were still pained when they looked at Varrin's ruined face. He had once been a handsome dark-elf, but after spending an agonizing week of torture at the hands of their enemies, his visage had become fearsome. Gavriel and Lelliahn had saved him from the demons, and they did their best to put his flesh back together. A fine job they did, with Gavriel's skills as a physic and Lelliahn's as a mage, but Varrin was left scarred inside as well as out. He knew his appearance made others uncomfortable, but there was nothing for it.

Varrin nodded once to his employer and friend. He pulled his mottled, witch-made cloak about his shoulders and lifted the hood over his head, shading his face. With only a thought, he activated the magic in the cloak and seemed to disappear. The only sign of his passing was a heat like shimmer where he moved. Silently, Varrin slipped out the back door and up to the rooftops where he could see without being seen.

He thought he knew where she would go. Though there were plenty of trees in town, she would not find what she was looking for until she reached the forest west of town. All of the buildings and even the roads were marked with warding runes to hold back Velith's insistent wild nature. Though their Goddess was not particularly destructive, she had a tendency to inadvertently wreck mortal endeavors toward civilization. Without the runes maintained, Velith's flora and fauna would overrun the towns and villages with her abundant life. Varrin figured Céde was headed for just such abundance.

Once she was outside the house, she did not seem to be in any particular hurry. She hummed to herself as she walked down the main street, smiling and exchanging "good mornings" with other early risers. She paused at the bakery to see her friend Adelle. As he listened to the two girls cluck and giggle, Varrin sneered. The human girl was nice enough, but Varrin thought her overly bubbly and silly. In his opinion, the girl had nothing but air between her stumpy round ears, and he felt his Céde was better than that. When she left the bakery she had a breakfast roll with her, and Varrin's own stomach rumbled with envy.

He was not surprised when she stopped at the bookseller's. Mr. Wendel was just opening the door to his small shop when Céde bid him good morning and asked him if she could have an early peek at his wares. The old man laughed and let her inside. Varrin sighed and sat down to lean against the chimney stack. He hated taking Mercédeon to the book shop, and loathed it even more to have to spy on her while she shopped. Unlike other fathers, or uncles he supposed, taking Céde for clothes, shoes, and hair ribbons was quick and painless, for she just did not seem to care. But if it was books she wanted, he might as well write off the rest of his day. If Mr. Wendel had anything new at all, she would be in there for hours. He could go back to the bakery, get something to eat, maybe even get in a good nap before Céde left the shop. He pulled the edge of his hood over his face and closed his eyes, keeping an ear open for when she left.

Finally, he heard the door shut and he peered over the side to see that Céde was on the move again. He gave a satisfied grunt; she had not been as long as he had expected. As he had supposed, Céde kept to the main street heading for the woods, but then she veered off course and turned down a side street. Varrin knew the myn'nim town like a map of his own skin. It looked like Céde was going to be making a stop at the forge. She had been friends with the blacksmith's boy for years, but he did not particularly care for the turn their friendship seemed to be taking. He followed her and climbed up onto the roof of the blacksmith's shop. There, he laid himself flat and pressed his ear to the tiles.

He listened as the working of the bellows stopped, then the half-orc journeyman spoke. "Mornin', Miss Aarondale."

"Good morning, Jorak. And it's Céde."

"Mm-hm. Might early to be up and about on your day off, ain't it?"

"I'm designing a new pendant, and I need to find the perfect tree."

There was a long pause, then Jorak said, "There's some real fine trees in the park down by the river, Miss."

Varrin could hear the smile in her voice as Céde replied, "Those are too small. I'm going into the woods to find an older tree, one that has a... well, a presence."

"You ought not go in them woods by yourself, Miss. There's good trees in the park, and you can just use your imagination to make them bigger." Varrin nodded, silently agreeing with the orc-blood.

Another pause, then Céde said, "You could offer to go with me, Jorak." It sounded to Varrin like there was an awful lot of flirt in that statement, and he did not like that at all.

He was somewhat impressed when Jorak answered. "For one, I have work. And another, it ain't right for us to go into the woods alone together. People might think wrong things, get to saying things that aren't true."

"Jorak, we've been good friends these last seven years. Does it really matter what people say?"

"Maybe not. But you matter, Miss. I won't see any kind of harm done to you. Now, I sure do wish you'd reconsider and take your drawing book down to the park."

From his spot on the roof, Varrin actually heard Céde sigh in a loud huff. "I'll think about it. Sometimes, you sound just like Papa, Jorak."

"Well, I reckon he tells you what's what because he loves you."

Varrin saw Céde leave, then Jorak took a few steps after her. "Miss Aarond-..."

He was cut off by a shout from Master Agnar Sindri. "Jorak! Get on that fire, boy!" Then more quietly, the blacksmith said, "And put your eyes back in your head. I told you a hundred times, elf blood and orc blood don't mix!" Jorak watched Céde a moment more. Then he went back to his work, and Varrin moved on to the next roof.

Late in the morning and far from town, Céde found her tree. The massive and ancient oak had gnarled roots that twisted and spread along the forest floor, while its reaching branches seemed to cradle the sky. Varrin watched from behind some boulders on a nearby hill as Céde circled the trunk, running her hands over the rough bark. She settled in and spent hours sketching its branches and leaves. As she worked, she sang to herself, not knowing or caring that her voice carried through the woods and over the rocky hills. Passion in her work sent her volume high, but she believed she was alone, free to pour out her soul in art and song. She did not know that Varrin crouched among the rocks; that his tension was on high alert against whatever else may be listening to Céde's song.

Varrin watched the girl from the rocks on the hill and thought of his life. He thought of Céde and Gavriel, of the events that had led this tiny, broken family of ylf'nim to live among the myn'nim. Twenty years ago, a mysterious plague struck the kingdom of Ardyth'tol. Among its victims were the king, the queen, and Gavriel's pregnant wife, the princess Lelliahn. Then the plague ended as mysteriously as it had begun. The only royal blood left in the wake of the sickness was Prince Reilln and the premature infant, Mercédeon. In spite of the fact that Reilln had the mind of a small child, the Council majority voted that the prince should take his father's place on the throne. Gavriel and a few other councilmen suspected corruption at several levels. When they raised their opposition, they were exiled from their homeland. Varrin contemplated whether they would ever be able to return, when a new sound pulled him from his thoughts. The hairs on his neck stood on end as he heard a slight rustling in the grass behind him.

A band of kobolds came slinking through the grass and up over the rocks. Most of them wore crude cloth or leather armor, and they all carried rusted daggers and nets. A kobold alone was nothing but a minor nuisance. However, the creatures acted in large numbers, and together they presented a greater challenge. He took only four of them with his bow before a pair got through and grabbed onto him. With two of the little scaly things clinging to his legs, he lost some maneuverability. They tried to work their blades through his leathers, but their metal was dull. Varrin dropped his bow and pulled a long dagger from his belt. He stabbed at the serpent-like heads that tried to chew through his pants. As those two fell, more kobolds piled on top of him. Frustrated, he watched as several of the creatures poured over the hill towards the girl he was supposed to protect. He drew his second blade, stabbing, kicking, and throwing the kobolds off himself.

Though it had been only seconds, it seemed an age before he finally turned from the pile of dead beasts to go after the ones that had slipped past him. He hoped that he could catch them before they caught Céde, or that she would at least be faster than they were. Then he saw a few of the kobolds running back towards him, their eyes wide with what looked like fear. His blades already mucked with gore, he swung them again, lobbing off two more scaly heads. He wondered what could have possibly frightened the kobolds. Certainly, they would not be fleeing from a young girl like Céde.

Something made them run, and the hill on which Varrin stood was now eerily silent. Quickly, he moved over the rocks, hoping to find Céde unharmed. Looking down at the path, he saw her sketchbook, but the girl was gone. He found a kobold with its chest blown open and still smoldering. Pale green tendrils of vines had already begun to sprout and entwine the body. It seemed the Goddess was rather quick to inter the bodies in her own way. He briefly examined a newly formed pit with several broken kobold bodies at its bottom. They too, were being covered in green and pulled deeper into the soil.

As fat drops of rain began to spatter, he imagined that he could feel the presence of the Goddess, then wondered if it was his imagination at all. Under his breath he muttered, "Mother of All," but he was not sure if it was a curse or a prayer. Something in the atmosphere made his skin tingle. The whole business smelled of powerful magic, and the only one there to have done it had been Céde. The girl had never displayed any magical abilities before, and the energy used against the kobolds had been something extraordinary. He had to inform Gavriel, but first he needed to catch up to Céde, and see that she returned home in one piece. Reaching the path, Varrin picked up the sketchbook and her trail back to the village.

* * * * *

The sky had begun to gray, so Céde started for home, hoping it would not rain before she got her book under shelter. She was passing under the hills when a strange noise gave her pause. A series of yips and woops spilled from the rocks above her. Her eyes grew wide when she saw them coming over the hill, grubby little reptilian creatures in loin cloths and shabby armor. They came scrambling over the rocks, and Céde's heart was in her throat. She had never seen real kobolds before, but she knew them and their tactics from books. They would swarm over her and pull her down if they could. The monsters counted on her terror, and she was afraid, but it was her fear that started everything.

Something strange inside of Céde shifted. She felt her skin grow hot, and she was acutely aware of her own rushing blood. She gasped as raw power pulsed and surged from her center, brutally shoving fear aside. Without knowing what she was doing, she straightened her spine and turned to face the onrushing kobolds. She did not know what this new power was; she just wanted the kobolds gone. Power pushed out from her, and the ground beneath the kobolds broke open. Grass and weeds came alive like serpents and coiled around the kobolds' flailing limbs, constricting their bodies and dragging them down into the hole. Several of the creatures tumbled or were pulled into the pit to be rained upon by loose rocks from above. Céde watched in awe as her hand moved without her thought. She felt the power push again, and bolts of white light flew from her fingertips. The bolts struck one of the kobolds, and the creature's chest exploded. The remaining few monsters skidded to a halt, then turned and ran back the way they had come.

When she saw those bolts of powerful energy that shot from her own hand, destroying the kobold, Céde also turned and ran. Running as hard as she could all the way down the path, she wanted to get away from the monsters and from whatever it was she had just done. She feared the strange new power even more than the kobolds, but she could never outrun something that was a part of her. Céde finally stopped when she reached the edge of town, hands on her knees, pulling in great gasps of air. She pulled it together as best she could and slowed her pace to a walk.

She prayed fervently to all the Gods that she could look like everything was just fine. Normal people did not make cracks in the ground to swallow beasts or shoot fire out of their hands to blow up monsters. Normal people did not run through town with madness leaking out of their insides. She brushed off her dress, stood up straight, and donned an expression that she hoped was one of pleasant civility, then passed the runes that marked the edge of town and the end of the wild wood. The people she passed only smiled and nodded at her, bidding her a good day, as if everything was just as right as it could be. Reaching home, she cracked the door and peered inside, relieved to see that her Papa was still at work in the infirmary and Uncle Varrin was out doing whatever it was Uncle Varrin did. On shaky legs, she climbed the stairs to her room and shut the door behind her.

She expected the mirror to reveal an ugly, red-eyed monster. To Céde's surprise, the glass reflected the same young woman she had been earlier that day. Though, the eyes that gazed back at her seemed much wider than they should be, as if worn on the face of a lunatic. Her cheeks and her eyelids were red, and her hair was a mess, but she was the same girl, not a monster at all. The power had not changed her into some hideous creature, at least not on the outside. The changes that happened on the inside though, both terrified and excited her. Hot, restless, with a tightness in her lower abdomen, she needed something, but could not identify what that something was. It was similar to the feelings she had when she watched her friend, Jorak work the forge. The thought of Jorak caused warm moisture to gather between her legs with another pang of need.