[SL] Tired Without Roads


Authors
Kolo
Published
1 year, 8 months ago
Updated
1 year, 8 months ago
Stats
4 12859 2

Chapter 2
Published 1 year, 8 months ago
1908

If only we'd get back by breathing /
Afraid to get lost in the dark


A direct sequel to A Sign of Solis.

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The Frostfall


The sound of night-birds filled the silence of the camp, marred only by the occasional step of servants as they arranged its contents and maintained protective wards. More clearly were the steps of Numauri, as he periodically passed Aure’s tent on his patrol. 


Stibi swallowed, pressing one of the pillows to his ear. Aure, dead to the world, was curled at the other side of the tent, haphazardly strewn over his blankets. 


He hadn’t spoken a word when they’d retired from the fire. Only Numauri gesturing for Stibi to enter the tent told him where he was to sleep. And, even with its entrance zipped, the two were silent.


The anxiety was unspeakable.


He wanted, dearly inside of him, to be good and supportive - to be ready for Aure, whenever he wanted to talk, and comfort him after his inevitable breakdown. 


But that clashed in his head with budding frustration over Aure’s silence. He sat at the fire and chatted a storm up with Achernar, yet couldn’t spare a glance to Stibi as they drifted to sleep together? 


It gnawed on old wounds and chipped at long-scabbed insecurities. Guilt twisted in his stomach - for making this about himself, for concerning himself with wanting to feel important. For daring to demand more of Aure, in one of the most challenging moments of his life. To pretend he was anything more than another avenue for Aure to fuck out his needs with.


Ugh. Ugh! His mind was taking him into darker and darker corners. In a fit of renewed anger, he flung the blankets aside and sat up. They landed on Aure, who simply snored in response.


Stibi wrestled with the zipper for a precious few seconds before the tent’s door opened and he tumbled out with a squeak. Numauri, only a pace away, paused to assess him, but thankfully said naught.


He scrambled to his feet and shook the grass off his pants with a spark of magic. Numauri reached behind him to re-zip the tent and apply a questioning look.


“I just need some air,” Stibi said, stiffly, “just... just a walk. I’ll be back.”


Numauri stared a second longer, but nodded. Stibi set off in a random direction, shoulders raised, hugging himself. 


The air was crisp and cold - a true marker of how far north they’d traveled. It nipped at his fingers and toes, and in response he rubbed his hands together. The bit of friction brought some warmth back, and he paused at the end of the camp’s wards.


Far above him hung Lunis. The moon bathed the night in its pale gaze, Lunis’ watchful and judging eye pressing down onto him. Tonight, it sat at a quarter-full - a symbol of testing the self, its identities, and its assumptions. 


Stibi stared up at it, breathing softly. He belonged to the Land, to the holy Sun. It pulled life up from the ground and smiled at the Land’s work and camaraderie. It celebrated their labors and their friendships. It was a thing of joy and dedication.


Not the moon. It was a creature of hardship. Its tests were legendary, its demands obscene. What it asked of its followers was to break them, over and over, into finer and more refined shapes. Some days, Stibi thanked Solis for the grace of birthing him into the Land, and not the Mire nor Sea.


He clasped his hands together, tilting his head down, and muttered a quick thanks regardless.


Still. It seemed almost ironic, that the moon today would be quartered. The Highers were watching him, even now, waiting for him to fulfill their bidding. What, exactly, did they want of him? Was Achernar to be trusted?


He twisted his hands together. It wasn’t as if he had done anything meaningful, yet. His rank, Low Duke, was a matter of his work providing minor improvements to the Land’s infrastructure and some tinkering here and there with accounting. 


Nothing worthy of a King’s title, but no mere Prince. Only those who fulfilled their Higher-given purpose found themselves crowned King. Was this expedition his proving grounds? Was he to fulfill his purpose here? 


Footsteps.


He looked up. The teal pegasus paused, mid-step, like a deer caught by the hunter. Stibi blinked, then blinked again at their regalia - that of the deep blues of the Sea. 


“Hello?” they tentatively called, lowering their leg.


“Hello,” he said, and turned to face them.


At once, their expression broke out in relief. “Oh, good, yes. This is - High King Jovia’s camp, right?”


“Yes. And you are...?”


They offered a friendly hand. “Low King Lacus Mare of the Sea! I, ah, I was called out here to handle... your road was blocked.”


“Oh!” Stibi shook, “Thank you for your grace, Low King. It is truly appreciated. I-I’m Stibi. Um, Low Duke of the Land.”


“Nice to meet you, Stibi,” Lacus Mare said, a soft smile blossoming on his features. “Wow, I’m glad I found your base. Tell your mages they’re quite talented at hiding it - dozens of invisibility spells and obscuring magical signatures! I had a hunch it’d be here, but wow, if I hadn’t trusted my gut....”


“I believe the mages are employees of High King Jovia, if you wished to speak to them?”


“Oh. It’s okay. Just... kinda making small talk.” he rubbed the back of his head. “What’re you doing out here? I’ve informed Eg- the Egregore that you’re allowed passage, but it’s not exactly safe either.”


Stibi glanced behind himself, at the rest of the camp. “I-I just needed some fresh air. Is all.”


“Yeah, it’s a nice night,” Lacus Mare added.


Neither met the other’s eyes.


“Ah, by the Eclipse, listen to me,” he said after a second, amusedly shaking his head. “All nervous. I get this way every time I have to report to a higher rank.”


Stibi’s eyes flicked to him with a meager smile. “Ah... something I’m familiar with, Low King.”


“Just Lacus Mare is fine. Lacus if you’re really shorthanded,” he barked a laugh, “I’m sorry for using you to procrastinate speaking to High King Jovia.”


“No no, you’re fine. Honestly, speaking in confidence, I’m procrastinating myself.”


Lacus Mare gave a mischievous grin. “Well. It seems we have more in common than most Seablessed and Landblessed.”


Stibi’s smile cracked a few inches wider. “Mere procrastination, Low King? Are you the only one of the Sea who delays work?”


“If you were to believe Empress Gloriana’s statistics, yes!”


That finally earned a laugh from Stibi, who covered his giggles with a hand. “An impressive record, Low King! Is Her Grace aware of your escapades?”


“If she were, I doubt I would be speaking to you as a Low King!”


They both laughed. Something warmed in Stibi’s chest, and he placed a hand over it.


“I hope your coming trials are not too difficult, Low Duke,” Lacus Mare said, the moonlight shining in his eyes. “Promise me you’ll tell me of your success later?”


“Of course,” he said, as if contacting the Sea were as simple as saying it. “I trust your travels were not too dangerous?”


“Oh, no, not at all.” Lacus shook his head. “Eggy - the Egregore, sorry - is always careful when they sense me approaching. They keep the area well clear of any corruptions.”


“The Egregore?”


“Oh. Um, yes. It’s a creature - a long story, actually. They were what was blocking your caravan’s passage. But I’ve known them for a long while, and they were willing to let your group pass through safely once I convinced them.”


Stibi frowned as the image of a mutated, twitching wyvern filled his mind. Perhaps this ‘Egregore’ was a more sensible beast, in the shape of a mortal. Whatever it was, the idea of its sentience - and of Lacus Mare’s supposed control over it - was rather strange.


He supposed it explained why the Sea had been so insistent on sending one of their own, if it was a docile and harmless creature when Lacus Mare spoke to it.


“Thank you for your efforts, Low King,” he said regardless, and gave a slight bow.


“Pssh,” Lacus Mare waved a hand, “don’t fret over it. I’m happy to have an excuse to visit them.”


“My gratitude remains.”


Lacus Mare looked him up at down, and then settled a gentle look upon him. “Listen. Stibi - yes, Stibi, right? Stibi. Whatever’s on your mind, it will come to pass. And you will succeed in it.”


“Is my concern that obvious?” he frowned.


“On my way here, I was guided by the Eclipse,” Lacus spread his arms out, “and I was given a vision of you, shaking and cold. The Eclipse tells me a great upheaval is coming, but that all settles at its end. Though we may change, in reality, we are all the same at our core. You have nothing to fear.”


Stibi tilted his head, biting the inside of his cheek. He empathized with those marked or claimed by the eclipses, and their strange ways of thinking, but being the center of an eclipse-bound prophecy was -


- he squeaked as Lacus Mare wrapped him in a tight hug, holding him close. The other, significantly warmer, was plush and soft against his fur. After a tense second, he relaxed into Lacus’ grip.


“Again. It will all fall into its place, as seen by the Highers. You have nothing to fear so long as you follow their guidance. May the Eclipse smile favorably on you. Okay?” Lacus pulled away to smile broadly at him.


It was far different from Achernar’s smiles. Where the mage’s were arrogant smirks and coiling snakes, Lacus’ were almost sunlike in contrast, full of genuinity and heart. 


As if he truly believed what he was speaking, and had complete and utter faith in the stranger he’d just met. Something about the naivety of it and the trust of it almost made Stibi believe it, even if for just a second.


“Okay,” was all he managed. “Thank you,” came hoarsely afterwards.


Lacus patted both his shoulders once more. “I suppose with that I need to speak to High King Jovia. You shouldn’t procrastinate on your work longer, either.”


Stibi nodded, and Lacus Mare slipped away to the camp. The servants had already roused Jovia, who was blearily exiting his tent. Upon seeing Lacus Mare, he lit up and rushed to the other’s side. 


Several others had poked their heads out of their tents at the commotion - Aure among them. Stibi watched as Aure rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, peering at Lacus Mare with affectionate interest and recognition. After a second, Stibi paced towards the tent, stopping just short of Aure.


Aure looked up, almost blearily. “Is that where you’ve gone?”


“I needed fresh air,” he admitted, voice low, some guilt in his tone.


Though it was tired, a warm smile filled Aure’s face. “Have you gotten your fill, then? You’ll come back inside with me?”


Heat churned in his stomach - pleased and smothered anxiety, pushed to the back of his mind. “Of course, Aure!”