Aryanne Levell

Howlington, Northern Jorden

    ARYANNE WOKE TO THE SMELL of warm bread, fried eggs, and laughter. It was all coming from downstairs, and it sounded rather captivating. She rubbed her tired eyes with a balled fist, stretched her sleepy limbs, and rose from her bed. She was still in the clothes she wore last night; a simple black tunic and brown trousers that Seigfreid found in some stables out in Greensfield. She had been too tired to change into anything else, and her head was still unmade by the ale. She still felt a little sluggish and lightheaded, and there was only a hint of an ache that made its home in the back of her skull. Still, it wasn't enough to deter her from joining the others downstairs.

She opened the door to the hallway, and at the doorstep was a bundle of fresh clothes, a pail of warm water, and a bar of soap. There was also a note on top of the linens. Aryanne picked it up and read it.

Just in case you want to freshen up!

-Bryanna

For some reason, that made her smile. She took to the items left for her on the floor and brought them into her room. She stripped out of her grimy old clothes that were beginning to develop an unbecoming odor and placed them in a hamper in the corner of her room. She then took the bar of soap and dunked it into the pail of water, until it was brined with soft pink foam. She lathered herself in the soap, and its smell was sweet, but not overpowering. It was natural, like flowers and honey. She made sure she scrubbed herself until she was certain not an inch of her skin went untouched, and then she rinsed herself off with a warm wet rag.

She didn't know when the last time she had a bath was. They used to bathe in Valadel, separately, of course. She had also bathed once when she was in that castle in the place they called Jorden, but since then, it had been some time since she felt "clean."

Finally, once she was free of suds and bubbles, she dressed herself in the fresh clothes laid out for her. It was a maiden's tunic, yellow with white embroidery around the collar and down the sleeves. The designs were imperfect as if they were handmade, but Aryanne found that to be rather charming.

Clean, dressed, and hungry, Aryanne followed the scents of breakfast downstairs. She was nearly halfway downstairs when she stopped suddenly. I should check on Valyn, she thought. She turned around and went back upstairs. Her brother's room was just down the hall. She gently creaked the door open, and coldness seeped out, like thin frigid fingers.

"Valyn?" Aryanne asked. She didn't know why she did, he wouldn't respond to her in his current state. Still, Aryanne hoped someday he would. She was met only with chattering teeth, as she had been every other time. She sighed, and closed the door, leaving her brother to his sleep.

*****

It was much more lively downstairs in the dining hall than it was in Valyn's room. At the table sat Rickard, Siegfried, and Rickard's granddaughter, Bryanna. They were laughing and telling stories, and it was as if the night before hadn't stopped, and simply carried on into the morning.

"I'm telling you," Seigfreid chuckled, "the only reason he wrote that song was because I bedded the woman he was courting at the time. Jealousy can make such ugly art."

Rickard shook his head, but not hard enough to free himself of a smile. "I'm surprised you're not dead, Lord Whitelocke. Not many men can sleep with another Lord's wife, and live to tell the tale, and have a song written about it!"

Seigfreid smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "There are some perks to carrying the family name, I suppose."

Rickard seemed to darken at the notion, but subtly enough to not raise questions. "I imagine, Lord Whitelocke...though sometimes, family names can be more of a burden." He caught Aryanne's gaze as she stood in the doorway, and smiled warmly at her. "About time you're up, lass! We saved you a plate of breakfast!"

Bryanna pulled out a chair next to her. "You can sit by me, Aryanne," she said with a bright grin.

"Thank you," Aryanne said as she took her seat. She noticed a few empty chairs at the table. "Where are Gabrielen and Sam?"

"They're out tending to the horses," Seigfreid said with a mouthful of toast.

Aryanne thanked him and turned her attention to her food. The eggs were done sunny side up on two pieces of warm bread. She took the knife and fork in her hands and sliced into the egg. The yoke spurted out a runny yellow goo, and it left a trail of slime along her breast. That prompted some quiet chuckling from down at the other end of the table.

"Good thing that shirt is yellow," Rickard said smugly.

"I can wipe that off for you, if you'd like," Seigfreid said suggestively with raised eyebrows.

Aryanne scowled at them and felt her cheeks grow a shade of crimson. However, it was good to see Seigfreid in such high spirits. It was the highest she's ever seen them, and the first time he wasn't ill-tempered or in a foul mood. Aryanne couldn't help but wonder if that was due to some small part of their conversation last night. He seemed so different to her now, as if she saw him in an entirely new light, one that dispelled the darkness that clouded him for so long. Seeing him sitting there, his handsome face fashioned with an easy grin, made Aryanne's heart swell.

"Here Aryanne," said Bryanna as she held up a rag to her breast, distracting her from her thoughts. "It's best to dab it rather than smear it in." As she tended to her stained garment, Aryanne realized she hadn't really interacted much with a man-elva, or whatever it was the men called their females. At this point, it was almost too embarrassing to ask. They were all just "men" to her.

There was that one man-elva she met in Valadel, the one with the dark hair and brown skin who talked more than she breathed, Aryanne remembered. They called her Jazmyn, but Aryanne felt she was more interested in dissecting her than anything else. This man-elva, Braynna, had been kinder to her than anyone else she met thus far.

"All done," Bryanna said as she set the yolk-stained rag on the table. "Almost like it never happened."

Aryanne smiled. "Thank you, Bryanna. I do find your kind more pleasant than...than the men."

That made Bryanna tilt her head quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Aryanne blushed. "You're like me, you...um...you're able to bear children."

Bryanna furrowed her brow. "Fertile?" she guessed.

Aryanne felt foolish. "No, not that, you...you're an elva, but for men."

"You mean a woman?"

A woman! Aryanne thought excitedly. "Yes! That's the word. You are a woman!"

Bryanna smiled oddly. "Um...yes, thank you, Aryanne."

Aryanne frowned, and despite having gained new insight into the world of men, still felt oblivious to it all. At the end of the table, Rickard and Seigfreid were entrenched in their own conversation, which Aryanne was grateful for. The fewer people who heard the one she just had, the better.

The door that led outside burst open, and Gabrielen and Samford promptly shut it after their arrival. "The horses are ready," said Gabrielen. "We should be getting on the road." He looked to Rickard sitting at the table. "Thank you for your hospitality, Rickard. We appreciate it more than you know."

Rickard waved his hand dismissively. "We rarely receive visitors, especially such," he gave a glance at Aryanne, "interesting visitors such as yourselves. You are welcome in our home anytime."

    "Thank you, Rickard," said Seigfreid. The former ranger looked at Aryanne. "Let's grab your brother and get saddled up."

*****

    "I've arranged for Sam and Bry to take you to the nearest inn. They'll see you off there," said Rickard. They were all outside and mounted upon their horses. The weather was fair and clear, which Aryanne was thankful for. She hated riding when it was cloudy or rainy. The sun shined on her face, and she breathed in the air generously. For a world she was still getting acquainted too, she felt as if she was already intimately familiar with it, as if the same blood that coursed through her veins churned in the planet's core.

    Rickard went back to the wagon that was led by one of the horses. He had been kind enough to supply them with that as well. It was a single-seat wagon, with hardly enough room for anyone else to ride in the back, but it was enough to carry Valyn. He dropped a few sacks of bread in there as well, next to the frozen comatose elvor. "That bread should last you perhaps a week if you don't overindulge."

    Siegfried nodded politely. "Thank you again, Lord...I'm sorry, but I don't think you ever gave me your last name."

    Rickard shrugged it off. "Just Rickard is fine." He looked to Sam, who was at the front of their formation near Seigfreid. "Take them to the Timid Rabbit's Inn at the crossroads, and then double back with your sister."

    Sam nodded. "Absolutely, grandfather. We'll see you soon."

    They said their goodbyes, and then they were on the road. Seigfreid and Sam road at the front, Bryanna and Aryanne behind them, and Gabrielen road in the back with the wagon that hauled Valyn. The air was warm, and the wind blew lazily, causing shimmering waves to roll along the green countryside. The sun was past its zenith, and the evening was only a few hours off. Sam said the Inn wasn't too far away, and that was as far as they'd see them.

    "What do you suppose you'll do once you leave us?" Aryanne asked Bryanna as their horses trotted along the beaten path.

    Bryanna shrugged, which made her long brown curls bounce on her shoulders. . "Oh, I don't know...I suppose I'll keep perfecting my craft as a weaver, or maybe I'll see to the gardens. My grandfather says that once we fully develop our trades, we can leave for the city. We can find an apprenticeship there that would pay well enough."

    Aryanne noticed that she perked up as she said the last part. The thrill of the big city, the outside world, lucrative and promising, with untold stories and destinies awaiting you. A world bigger than just the same four walls you woke up and fell asleep to. It was a dream she was painfully familiar with.

    "Why don't you travel with us?" she asked Bryanna.

    Bryanna's expression was one that suggested the idea was taboo. "What? Travel with you? You mean...leave Howlington?"

    "Perhaps not forever, but maybe until we get where we're going? The Allmother knows we could use more men in our traveling group. It would make things much easier.

    Bryanna seemed flabbergasted. "I...I don't know, I'd have to talk to Sam, and we'd have to ask our grandfather."

    Aryanne nodded understandingly. It was not a simple favor she had asked for, not by any means. It was a big promise to make, and one that could break with the fragility of glass. She had broken a similar promise to a man that asked her the same thing once.

    "Just think about it," said Aryanne. "I've come to really enjoy your company."

    Bryanna smiled shyly. "I will...thank you."

*****

    Not long after, they reached the Inn. It was a modest construct; a simple one-story building with a six-horse stable outside. Two slots were filled up with Jordein draft horses, and the remaining four were free. Two men were outside, dressed in plain work clothes, hauling bundles of hay and tending to the carpentry needs of the Inn.

    "This is as far as we take you," said Sam as they reared their horses to a halt. He held his hand out to Seigfreid in a manner that suggested a handshake.

Seigfreid nodded and met him with his own hand. "You sure you don't want to have a drink at the Inn? A thanks for seeing us off?"

Sam smiled but shook his head. "I don't want to keep my Grandfather waiting. The old man's sense of time is otherworldly, he'll know if we dallied."

Seigfreid shrugged. "Fair enough. Thank you for seeing us off. I hope our paths cross again someday."

Sam nodded respectfully. "Best of luck on your travels." He turned his horse and trotted to the back of the column. "Ready, Bryanna?"

Bryanna nodded and looked to Aryanne with half a smile. "I hope to see you again someday."

Aryanne returned a smile of her own. "I do as well. Think about what I asked."

"Of course," Bryanna replied. With that, she and Sam turned back and set their horse into a trot, Howlington awaiting them.

*****

"I'll be back as soon as I can," said Gabrielen as he mounted his horse. "I won't spend more time at the Inn than I have to, or spend all of our gold on a bath." His tone did little to hide his resentment.

Seigfreid scowled. "How many times do you plan on bringing that up?"

    Gabrielen shrugged, and his mouth curled into a sarcastic grin. "As many times as I feel like it, Lord Whitelocke."

    Seigfreid rolled his eyes. He supposed he deserved the snide remarks here and there, but they were still irksome as ever. "Fine, half-elf, do it until your lips turn blue, I don't care. Just don't forget my horn of cider."

    Gabrielen nodded. "I know, I know, you and your precious cider." He turned to Aryanne. "Do you want anything?"

    The elva shook her head. "I'm fine, thank you."

    "You sure?" Gabrielen asked.

    Again, Aryanne shook her head. "Truly, I'm fine, thank you."

    Gabrielen sighed. "Suit yourself. I'll see you all soon." His farewells made, he turned his horse south, and left for the Inn that Sam and Bryanna led them to. It was only a short ride away, but it would still take Gabrielen a decent hour or so to return. They hadn't ridden too much that day, Seigfreid citing a sudden headache as the reason for them to stop. That, and the fact that the Blackrain mountains were only a two-days ride away.

    Their camp was small, nothing like the camps they had set up before. Usually, each had their own tent pitched around a fire, a cloth partition setup for bathroom excursions, and a makeshift hitching post for their horses. Usually, it took a half-hour to set up and tear down, but nobody in their group felt like doing it. Besides the tent they pitched for Valyn, the rest opted for sleeping mats and the bathroom partition. That was a must. Seigfreid wouldn't permit a fire, as they weren't far enough away from the main path, and that the summer evenings were still warm enough to keep them from freezing. Still, Aryanne missed the campfires. It gave everyone a reason to gather, and tell stories.

    The sun made its final descent not too long ago, and the sky had a dark blue hue to it, the coloring of a world transitioning from day to night. Dusk, as they called it, was her favorite time of the day, when the world finally permitted itself to rest.

    Siegfried was toying with his lute, the one Rickard brought it for him to play the other night. The old man figured it was better off in Seigfreids care, and parted ways with it. He was turning the knobs at the end of it, running his fingers along the strings, and humming to himself as he tuned the instrument. It was fascinating watching him work with the instrument, Aryanne thought. She found herself watching him as he tended to the lute; the gentle nature in which he held it, the thoughtful consideration as he calibrated it's tuning until he had the sound he desired, the soft cascading hum that came from the instrument when he stroked the strings. It was all very-

    "Can I help you?" Seigfreid said as his gaze caught hers.

    Aryanne blushed, realizing she had not even made a slight attempt to hide her gawking. "Um, no, I was just uh..." her words were caught in her throat. She had never been clever like that, witty or sharp enough to talk her way out of things. A honey-soaked tongue, as her uncle used to call it. She wished her tongue was more talented, instead of lazily just resting in her mouth and getting her into trouble from time to time.

    Seigfreid suddenly broke out into a grin, a grin that did little to remedy her embarrassment. He gestured to the lute and held it up for her to take. "Want to try? I promised I'd teach you."

    Aryanne felt nervous as if her touch would turn the lute to ash, but that did little to dissuade her. It was her uncle that had the touch of fire, not her. Emboldened, she left her spot in camp and went to Seigfreid's, taking the lute in her hands as she sat down next to him. He smelled better than he ever had, and a scent of pine and citrus clung to him like warmth to the air of a sunny summer day. The wonders a bath can do...

    "Okay," Seigfreid said once he determined she was ready to play. "Think of the lute as you would a sword." He paused, remembering exactly whose presence he was in. "Or in your case, magic. A musician without an instrument is like...what do you call elves who can use magic?"

"A mage," Aryanne answered. "It's a word of the elven tongue. It means 'spellcaster'."

Seigfreid nodded slowly. "Right. Well, a 'mage' without magic is like a musician without an instrument, without purpose. The instrument gives us our purpose. It's an extension of yourself, a way to say things in a voice that's not your own. That's what music is. It's the language of our souls."

    Aryanne turned back to the lute, thinking of all the things she could say with her soul, and how she would say them. That raised a curiosity. "What if you don't have a soul?"

    Seigfreid smirked. "The priests of Ellmen say all men have souls."

    Aryanne met him with her warm amber eyes. "Do elves?"

    Seigfreid's breath seemed to stifle as he opened his mouth to reply. "I don't know. What do you think?"

    Aryanne shrugged. "How would you know?"

    Seigfreid thought about that. "Well...do you feel sadness or anger? Do you feel joy and compassion?"

    Aryanne nodded. She could think of countless times and occasions she felt each of those things, though the former emotions were far more common and frequent.

    "Well," Seigfreid continued, "they say those are indicators of a soul. You wouldn't be able to feel those things if you didn't have one, I suppose. It's what sets us apart from beasts, though some men surely only seem to be a mere step above." He scratched the back of his head as he sat there in a moment's silence. "I wouldn't worry about having a soul. It's little good they do for us. If you can't see it, hear it, or touch it, is it really there? It's a pretty idea, to think there's something divine within our bodies, a piece of us that'll join Ellmen in his heavenly kingdom while our flesh rots away." He frowned.

"You don't believe in souls, do you?" Aryanne asked.

Seigfreid shook his head. "I don't know...maybe. It's all so very complicated. If souls are our heavenly selves, and all men are divine, then why are we so evil? They say a man's will is really the will of Ellmen, and supposedly, Ellmen is all good. But why if that's so, and there's a piece of Ellmen in all of us, then why do we murder each other? Why do men rape women, why do babes die in infancy, why do fathers punish their sons for not being what they want them to be."

Seigfreid darkened at that last notion, Aryanne could see. It troubles his heart...

Seigfreid shook his head. "None of it makes sense, but we worship Him all the same. We are all his creation, or so the priests say."

    Aryanne shook her head at that. "Not all of us..." Her uncle told her of the end times, when men raised their blades against elvenkind and drove them to near extinction. He said it wasn't just a mortal affair; the same thing happened in the heavens, as the Elven Gods fell to Ellmen and his wrath. Aryanne had asked him how he knew this to be true, how he was sure the Elven Gods were gone. That was the day Tyren showed her their prayer chamber, the same one Danticus found her in when she ran away, the news of Tryen's death eating away at her heart.

They had statues of all six of the Gods in there; Zennel, Kaywen, Isabeth, Brenvas, Kellor, and even Ellmen, when he was still an Elven God. They were beautiful, painstakingly crafted from marble, radiating with light and power. Tyren told her that when Ellmen fell from grace, so did his statue. It decayed and broke apart until it was black and decrepit. He said the same thing happened during the Purge when the men revolted, and Ellmen escaped the Abyss. One by one, as the Gods fell, their statues were sent into ruin.

But they weren't all gone. Two remained; the God Zennel, and the Goddess Kaywen. No one knows what happened to them. Tyren said that he believed they escaped, fled to other realms, plotting for the day they returned. Aryanne didn't think they ever would. If they haven't yet, why would they ever?

She looked down at the lute in her hands. A few moments had passed, and a fragile silence presided over her and Seigfreid. He kept quiet, waiting for her to say something. Finally, she did. "Did you mean what you said the other night?"

Seigfreid cocked his head. "What?"

"About wanting to be a better man?"

Seigfreid smacked his lips. "Um...I don't know, I don't really remember much of last night, I was very drunk." His expression suggested otherwise.

"Oh...you don't?" Aryanne said with ice in her voice.

Seigfreid frowned. "We should really get back to the lesson. We've been sidetracked enough."

Aryanne sighed. Maybe now was not the time or place for this discussion. "Fine, I suppose you're right."

They sat there for some time beneath the night sky, Seigfreid instructing her in the ways of the musician, and Aryanne doing her best to keep up. The lute felt natural in her hands, almost as if the two had been old friends long reunited. It was strange, but there was something so familiar about music, like foggy memories from her youth.

She enjoyed it and laughed whenever the sound that emerged from the lute was less than musical. It was a sound that needed refining but suggested effort. A sound far from perfect, but a sound that was pure and natural. It was the sound of fresh rain after a dry day, the sound of the warm sun behind cloudy skies. It was the sound of a flower in bloom, the sound of a baby's laughter.

It was the sound of a promise.

It was the sound of her soul.