Child of the Clan
Eredal struggled to pull air into his burning lungs, even as Selesst drove him across the salle floor. It was all he could do, between hasty parries and flutter-wing jumps, to keep the wooden blade from kissing his pale skin, and, as usual, he couldn't even start an attack-pattern before he needed to dodge once again.
Not that Selesst was purposely being cruel. No, this lesson wasn't for him, it was for Flikk and Vikktor, the men-turned-dragon who were trying to consolidate Akelara into a fighting force to confront Koshi Keidai. But, as persuasive as Flikk was, as threatening as Vikktor was, neither could match a blooded warrior anymore - their minds fought their bodies, tails lashed and wings beat uselessly against air. Eredal might not have a tail, but his wings were fully functional.
"See how he uses his wings to increase the distance his leap covers?" Selesst was saying, as his sword swept through another flawless pattern, driving Eredal back further.
This time, Eredal leapt up as well as back, wings beating a quick tattoo in the still air as he clawed his way higher. He couldn't hover in the current-less air, so he set to gliding in circles near the ceiling, lungs laboring for breath, hand still clinging to the practice sword. If he dropped that, he'd be spending the next fortnight in the armory, cleaning and mending armor.
Vikktor gave a chuckle, his voice drifting up from below, "Looks like he used his wings for something else that time!"
"He did what any sane person in his position would have," Selesst responded. "He escaped in a way I couldn't follow. Eredal! Come down, boy, and walk yourself cool, lesson's over for today."
He followed Selesst's order with relief; flying was just as hard as fighting, especially in such a still environment. As he circled downwards, he let himself become aware of the emotions of the men below him - from Vikktor, a confident ease, from Flikk, pensiveness, and from Selesst... from Selesst, pride. At a lesson well done? At an escape well thought out? Not for the first time, Eredal wished the emotions that constantly bombarded him were more helpful than just that - emotions that struck him like stones cast by a bored child.
Once down, though, Selesst clapped him on the shoulder. "Well done there, I wasn't expecting that."
Eredal colored a pale violet at the praise, feeling the warmth of truth-feeling radiating off the old Armsmaster; when he complimented a person, he meant it. With the warmth of the rare praise soothing the burn of wounded pride, he went to walk himself cool, listening to Selesst begin a new lesson.
Krethae caught him in the dining hall as he was finishing his meal. Her ever-present armor discarded in favor of loose tunic and pants, though her sword still swung at her hip.
"No watch tonight?" Eredal asked.
Krethae sat down with a groan. "No, though I spent two hours arguing with Revent about it. With Vorex taking off like that... ugh."
Eredal glanced worriedly at his adoptive mother; anger simmered under her calm exterior, laced through with a weariness that spoke of long nights and longer days. Mentally and physically, she was wearing out, and Tinorl wasn't in much better condition.
"Projecting, am I?" Krethae shot him a faint smile, then proceeded to raise her shield higher, muffling the insistency of her anger and weariness.
He hadn't even realized that he had tensed up until it melted away. The background hum of the Clan still hammered at his mind, but the spikes that Krethae had been throwing at him were gone.
Eredal pushed the few bits of food on his plate around with his knife. "Mom, it's been years... why aren't there more guards?"
"Everyone's too busy to mate," Krethae answered bluntly. "And the genetics doesn't lean towards Shadow or Void anymore. Not since Shadowspinner."
"That was centuries ago!" Eredal blurted out.
Krethae nodded. "And centuries ago, Shadowspinner's actions created an atmosphere of distrust that led to most Shadows and Voids either going Clan-less or dying. Centuries of self-selection can do that to a race."
"Like us, you mean," he said, with a glance over his shoulder at his wings.
"Another two, three generations and mages probably won't crop up in the populous any more," Krethae agreed. "No more wings, no more mages, no more priests but those they breed themselves."
"No more gods."
"No more worship of gods. There's a difference."
Eredal grimaced, spearing a sliver of carrot on his knife-tip and glowering at it. They were well on their way to retracing trampled ground; time and past to redirect the conversation. "What're you going to do with your free day?"
"Well, I had considered whisking you away to the Federation, to see if Merrlsae and Kotou would accept you as a bonder, but if you had other plans..."
Only Selesst's training kept Eredal from dropping the knife in shock, but he knew his mouth was gaping like a fish out of water.
An amused chuckle from Krethae finally broke him free of his astonishment.
"I'd love to! I mean... uhm... of course I accept the offer," Eredal strove for a tone of interest, not childish enthusiasm, knowing even as he did that Krethae saw straight through him.
"Well then, clean up and let's get going, neh?"
Eredal smiled brightly up at his mother. "Neh, indeed."
Once again, the stars were unfamiliar companions, but companions none-the-less. Kotou had welcomed him as warmly as she ever did, and Daiheln as warmly as he ever did (which meant motherly affection from Kotou and distant care from Daiheln), but with Krethae gone back to Akelara, Eredal found himself at loose ends, waiting.
He'd quickly reverted to his preferred nocturnal schedule and searched out a hiding spot well away from the majority of people, using his shadow-hopping skill to reach places otherwise unreachable by wings or feet. There were too many people, too many flaring emotions, too little control in the entire place; it made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.
Not that he spent the entire time away from the colony and its sands. Merrlsae and Kotou were almost like another set of mothers, and Kotou was only too proud of her first, small clutch, willing to show them off at any opportunity; no broody mother, here! As for Daem, bond of Daiheln... well, the Lord of Nightmares was a frightening man to cross, but his control was nigh-ultimate, and while he was near, it was easier to block out the emotions of others.
So Eredal spent his days sleeping, part of his night in the company of Daem and Merrlsae, and the rest staring up at the unfamiliar stars, wondering what would hatch, and whether any of the hatchlings would choose him.