Upon a Star: The continued journey, ch1

A moment of calm before returning to the road of adventure.

Chapter 1

The night of the festival was upon everyone, but the atmosphere was almost as tense as it was during the Battle of Bolestra. Even though the entirety of the remaining population had been summoned, many did it for less festive reasons, as the city was still undergoing immense restoration efforts, led by the local carpenters, aided by the Shrine’s scores of soldiers, monks and priests. Most of the folk were still bitter about losing their homes or members of their families, and many of them thought of the celebrations as a ways to belly out their scorn and urge everyone to demand compensation for the immense toll of war.

 

The minstrels were tuning their fiddles, drums and flutes while the few monks who were not busy aiding for the funeral celebrations hurried to put together what meager food supplies they had to distribute. Others were moving tables, chairs and stools to create enough place in the main hall for everyone. Though the halls had been magically woven with iridescent lights and flowers to give a more welcoming feeling, most find little cheer in their task, and Onyx was the first to notice as he helped Alban haul large kegs of Winterdew mead.

 

“They’re all thinking it’s just a masquerade…” the dwarf groaned. “Not a single smile on their faces… you’d find more cheer in-”

 

Korgan looked at the disgruntled dwarf and folded his arms. “Now is not the time for this kind of foppery. It was your idea to create this feast so early after the funeral celebrations…”

 

Although he was right, the father priest wished he was proven wrong. The first celebration in the Shrine’s holy sanctum was supposed to be a time of gathering and joy, but it didn’t feel right. The food supplies had been enough to feed the city’s needy citizens ever since the beginning of the conflict, but now, he feared that the organized celebration would leave them praying for scraps. The immense cathedral, perched on the hilltop, was supposed to serve as a beacon of light. The battle was over, but Korgan feared that more casualties would come from starvation, rather than war.

 

Onyx let out a deep sigh. “I suppose, but it would take a miracle to raise the spirits of all those downtrodden Bolestrans.” he added before putting the large keg on the ground. “It’d take more than bread and mead…”

 

A voice behind them spoke out. “How about a less solemn ceremony?”

 

Korgan was the first to turn around, noticing Allision who was all smiles. She had switched out of her ceremonial robes and now wore a corseted dress that seemed to be less than ideal for a priestess to wear, as it revealed a good amount of cleavage. What surprised the priest the most was the outfit had a silver cloth tied around the belt, which was attached to beaded wrist cuffs. Instead of high-rising boots, she wore much smaller ones, seemingly made of more supple leather, which seemed to mold against the foot, like the shoe-sandals of the dancers that celebrated the coming rains in the more fertile areas of the Shimmering Sands.

 

“By the Planars, what are you wearing?” the high-priest asked, his gaze showing disdain of the priestess’ latest accoutrement. “This isn’t the time or place for-”

 

“Actually, this is both the time AND place for this.” she replied before turning to look at the main hall, which still seemed to give an aura of grief. “We need to give the people something to turn their minds away from their fears and doubts! We need to be there for them, and show them that we are grateful for aiding us in the creation of this shrine!”

 

Another voice answered the fiery-haired priestess’s minor speech. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

 

The group didn’t have to turn around to see Arius walk towards them, a tin cup filled with mead in hand. He had also traded his battle-worn armor and cape for a set of clothes more fitting for a grand occasion. Aside from the stubble on his head, which was partially hidden with a hemp coif, everything about him was reminiscent of the noble, elegant weaves of the elven representatives that traveled from the Emerald Sea to all corners of Medierth, in search of knowledge of the shorter-lived humans and the shorter-in-size dwarves, among other races.

 

Onyx frowned at the fancy clothes that Arius wore. “And you expect the people to believe that you are one of those Seawalkers, come to Frostreach in the nick of time?” he questioned the elf, using the nickname given by most people for such elves who acted as voices for their people.

 

“I only travel where the winds lead me.” Arius replied before taking a sip of his cup. “Besides, you could have passed for a Forge-threader yourself.”

 

Onyx looked back at his rough, linen clothes are the chain-mail shirt he always wore underneath it. The elf had a point; even dwarves had fancied themselves an order of diplomats with other tribes and races. It was Sardonyx who first came to Warmcreek as a self-called diplomat, even though he had been banished from the Motherforge after the dwarven civil war had turned the Forge upside-down.

 

“Fine, fine… has anyone seen Turalyon?” the dwarf asked, looking about.

 

“He’s working on something… special.” Allision said, sounding a bit nervous.

 

She didn’t want to give anything away, but ever since Demyan walked into Karyana’s room, the latter seemed to have more enthusiasm than almost everyone in the room. The young man must have done something to her, because she had hurried Allision to tell her everything the Shrine had in terms of food and drink, as well as the whereabouts of the wing of the sanctuary that was specifically made for the worship of Lady Asuna, the Alabaster Maiden whose dance created the stars. It was also because of Karyana that the priestess now doned this outfit, which was said to be worn only by the initiates of the Maiden’s word.

 

Karyana had also surprised Turalyon by asking him how to weave a series of cantrips into motion. Such elaborate spell-casting, known as “weave-dancing”, was normally taught in the ways of the Shimmering Sands, and this style of manaweave was extremely tricky. The best the bewildered battlemage could do was to show her the basic steps, as he had no clue what she had intended to do, and had little time for himself. When the black-haired young woman asked, he simply replied that he was busy elaborating the correct cantrips and manaweaves to give the halls a more festive feel.

 

“I, for one, am looking forward to it.” came Demyan’s voice as he set a platter of cheese, bread and sliced beef cuts that still sizzled as if they had been freshly pulled out of a seering-hot pan.

 

Father Korgan examined the platter, then looked startled when he examined the meat. “Where did you find this? I thought are supplies were almost dry!”

 

The young Magelord smiled before looking at Onyx and Arius. “You’re not the only representatives of far-off places.” he replied with mild jest. “I came here on behalf of the city-kingdom of Citadel, and while our war efforts were minor, we come bearing gifts…”

 

The whole group looked at him with a befuddled expression. It was Arius who broke the silence first. “Citadel? I’ve never heard of such a place…”

 

“You haven’t?” Demyan replied, feigning surprise. “Then I supposed you’ve never heard of the battle of Dyurth Pass.”

 

The spellblade frowned before thinking deeply. “Dyurth Pass… I did hear that Kadlak the Demented had died on that day… but for the name of me, I can’t remember how…”

 

Onyx scratched his chin through his beard. “Bah, no matter. If that city-kingdom he talks about exists, than I’ll gladly accept whatever it has to offer…” he replied before reaching over to the platter and grabbed one of the steaks with his bare hand, which made Korgan slowly shake his head, not liking the display.

 

After taking a large bite off the meat and chewing somewhat loudly, Onyx’s eyes widened, which worried Alban for a moment. “What’s the matter? Too bland? Too rough?”

 

“It’s a delicacy!” the dwarf almost shouted, stuffing the rest of the meat down his gizzard. “I’be nefer fasfed meaf dif reat fefore!”

 

Alban grabbed his survival knife from his belt, cut himself a smaller piece of steak and took a moment to chew it, eyes closed. It barely took him an instant before his eyes shot wide open. “Goodness… this is incredible!”

 

Demyan made a knowing smile. “A little after our elven friend here left to tell Father Korgan of the ceremony, Karyana and I hatched this little plan.” he said before grabbing the smaller piece that Alban left on the platter.

 

Explaining the entire task, the young Magelord surprised them all greatly. In a matter of hours, he had secretly summoned Citadel’s head chef �" a Construct created in such a way as to learn and execute the most intricate recipes with culinary perfection only a mortal being could understand. The chef’s speed of execution aided in turning rationed food into surprising dishes.

 

Another explanation was one that Turalyon helped to explain; his task to aid the Shrine into being that much more festive came easily, once Karyana told the battlemage of how she had hardly eaten since the end of the conflict. The answer was obvious: food. People would be in far better mood with a full belly than starving, and even though the hungry make for great soldiers, the people of Bolestra did not need war efforts anymore; they needed something to raise their morale so that the city could be restored to its greatness.

 

Glamours can be made to make food look more appetizing, and cantrips can summon nourishing meals that tended to lack in taste, but it took Demyan and Turalyon quite the effort to rally a small group of clerics, have them commune amongst themselves on what would be the best way to nourish the people, and create the powerful manaweave needed to create, with their resources, enough food to feed hundreds.

 

“It seems everyone was busy… and some busier than others.” Arius commented, before finishing his cup of mead and putting it next to the platter. “Still, where is the crown jewel of this celebration? The one who made all this possible?”

 

 

Lady Asuna examined the elaborate statue that was made for her temple within the grand Shrine. The polished piece, as white as snow yet made of silver and stone, showed her in a ravishing pirouette, the drape around her arms flowing with her movements, as her hair seemed to swerve about. Had it not been for the thick manaweave around every aspect of the object, it would have taken years simply to create that one statue, and the mere thought of collecting the needed material and finding a suitable sculptor would have been extremely costly.

 

“How I admire mortals.” she said to herself, examining the statue’s expression, which almost mimicked hers. “As flawed as they are, one cannot help but see untold potential in their achievements.”

 

The Alabaster Maiden tilted her head, as if to examine an unseen flaw in the statue,only to turn her eyes towards the door as the steel door-ring struck twice. “A visitor?” she wondered before turning about, like a ballerina would swerve in a half circle before posing for an unseen crowd.

 

The rule of the Planars was simple: no mortal was ever allowed to see them. That was why they never acted directly, and always selected champions for themselves. In some cases, when their will was defied to such an extent, they would express their own anger in such a way as was called “divine punishment”. Still, while all Planars took a form that mortals would come to understand as a manifestation of divine superiority, some actions made by these Aspects, if done directly, meant for sanctions even they could not escape from. That was why Reveen was lost to them. That was why Xelnos was now unable to step outside the boundaries of the Underdeep.

 

Waiting for the briefest of moments, Lady Asuna heard the grating sound of the door slowly opening, as if pushed by a hesitant hand. Though she was more defiant of the rule of the Planars, she knew that disobeying anew would lead to a fate she did not want to imagine. Stepping over to the statue, she pressed her delicate hand against its forehead before her form disappeared into the artistic marvel.

 

Keeping silent, she simply gazed on as a single person entered the immense hall. Though the statues’ eyes were closed, the Planar could sense a familiar energy coming from the visitor; a manaweave so intense, it emitted a glow only those who were naturally-attuned to the Planars’ magic could see.

 

‘A star…’ the white-skinned maiden thought, before she realized who it was.

 

 

Karyana walked over to the empty crystal throne in the Planar-Lady’s room and knelt before it, keeping her eyes closed.

 

“Lady Asuna, maiden of the night sky… I pray to you on this night.” she spoke in a solemn prayer. “Listen to the pleas of those who have suffered… who have died… because of me…”

 

Unseen by the young woman, the statue seemed to c**k an eyebrow as its eyes opened and its expression changed from serene to worried.

 

“All those souls that were pulled from their rest… all those people who suffered… please, tell me: was what Pison said true? Was this all my doing?” she continued, tears welling up. “If so, what must I do now? How can I atone for all the destruction I’ve caused?”

 

The pure-white dancer listened to the pleas and tears of the girl with regret. It was because of her love for Reveen that she was born, and now, like a daughter who has committed a horrible mistake, the young woman stood before her.

 

She knew that her fate would be sealed if she even so much as touched one hair on the mortal’s head, but she was not simply her Chosen, she was one of her children. Even though the star had been given a mortal form, it still existed within her, and she could not bare to see even one of her children suffer.

 

‘Lord Progeny, guide me…’ the Planar whispered before she willed herself out of the statue, the released form appearing before the blue-eyed mageling as a veil of light, before solidifying into her true form.

 

Karyana wiped her eyes, her stance still earthbound, before she noticed the glowing aura around a pair of delicate feet that walked towards her. Raising her eyes, the young woman was startled as the radiant aura seemed to wrap around the elegant, if not lightly-clothed female form that now stood before her. Dropping onto her folded legs, she was unable to look away from the divine form of the Alabaster Maiden, who now looked upon her with an almost motherly expression.

 

The young woman was unable to look away nor utter a word as Lady Asuna brushed her delicate hand against the mortal’s cheek. “Daughter…” she spoke, her voice seemingly echoing from every direction at once. “Rise.”

 

As if pushed forward by an unfathomable force, Karyana rose to her feet, the touch of the Planar’s hand feeling as familiar as her own mother’s. However, the first word spoken by the maiden left her troubled. “W-what…? What do you mean ‘daughter’?”

 

Asuna removed her hand from the mortal’s cheek before touching her forehead with her own. “Close your eyes.” the Planar simply spoke, which caused the black-haired young woman to feel almost faint, her eyes closing.

 

The Planar-Lady placed her right hand against the mageling’s heart. “Know this.” she whispered. “Your arrival was the consequence of my love for the mortal world. In your wake, the dead will find rest, and the living will find hope. Though you may fall, you will rise ever so high… But for now, awake… and dance…”

 

 

Korgan looked at the immense crowd as if he was making a sermon. The hundreds of people that had gathered had filled the entry hall beyond its capacity, and the smell of food was making the crowd restless.

 

“People of Bolestra, monks and priests of all Medierth, friends and comrades at arms… I welcome you on this grand occasion.” he began, raising his voice loud enough to be heard by most, which made the murmurs and chatter come to a stop. “As you all known, the last ten days have been excessively difficult for all of us, and many of you have suffered the loss of your own. Though the price was immense, we wish to thank all of you for the efforts, determination and generosity you have given us over the past years so that this temple, crafted by mortal hands for the sake of the immortal lords, was built and survived the onslaught of the enemies of all creation.”

Taking a moment to examine the crowd, the high-priest rose his arms as if in an embrace, his holy symbol glimmering in the torchlight. “But know this: all who fell will be reborn; all who suffered will be healed; and, above all, all that you have lost will be rebuilt. As such, we of the devoted grant you, on this night, our hospitality and generosity.”

 

Though the crowd clapped, there wasn’t much cheer so far, which concerned the group, even as they waited inside.

 

“Everything’s ready, but where is she?” Onyx wondered before turning towards Demyan. “You did say she had something planned, correct? If so, then where is she?”

 

“I’m right here.” came the awaited young woman’s voice.

 

Turning around, everyone stood surprised, except for Allision �" who couldn’t hide her smile even if she wanted to �", and Demyan, whose mask was keeping the rest of the men from seeing him blush.

 

The young woman wore a long dress that showed almost as much cleavage as Allision’s, only the cut seemed to fit more to an aristocratic woman than to a mageling. Her hair was also held up in a messy half-bun by an elaborate headpiece, and her braid had been switched from the right side of her face to her left. She also wore white, silken gloves that curled up to her elbows. The hem of the skirt seemed to flow like waves as she walked over to the group, a glass of what seemed like berry cider in hand.

 

“Goodness, you look stunning! I knew this was perfect for you!” Allision said, trying hard not to run over to her friend and give her a hug.

 

Demyan took a moment to examine the dress, before looking at the woman’s face. The diamond-shaped mark was showing on her forehead. “Is something the matter?” he asked, walking over to her.

 

Placing her glass down, she let out a sigh. “This… this isn’t me.” she answered. “I don’t feel right in this…”

 

Arius snuck behind the two and grabbed the glass. “Oh don’t be so modest.” the elf commented. “I’m sure everyone will be in awe at you. I mean, you look like a princess, and that’s something none of them has ever seen before. You could easily convince them that you are from a distant kingdom, and you wish to support them...”

 

Karyana shook her head, her hair threatening to spill from the unusual set of silver filigree that held her do in place. “But, I’m not a princess. I’m just-”

 

“-the most remarkable young woman I have ever met.” Demyan replied, handing the young woman her glass. “Now, how about you and I show them our surprise...”

 

The young woman took a sip of the glass before putting it away. Though she was still unsure that everything would be alright, she did feel that all her hours of work would be ruined if she didn’t do as planned.

 

“Let’s give them a celebration to truly remember…” Arius said as he picked up the discarded glass, a knowing smile on his lips.

 

 

An hour passed and the celebration was well under way. Even as the monks and villagers exchanged best wishes and shared food and drink, the mood was still a bit tense.

 

The feast, as it turned out, caused a bit of a stir, as some of the villagers believed that the Shrine had been holding out on them, but the doubts were soon laid to rest once Turalyon, as a way to ease the crowd and cheer the children, played the jester-mage as he summoned any kind of food the children could come up. There was even a mishap that made the watching crowd laugh when the battle-mage tried to summon a bucket of apples, which ended up appearing not at his feet like he had envisioned, but upside-down, over his head. While many laughed, most children simply scurried over to the fruit like squirrels scampering to grab chestnuts that had fallen off a tree.

 

The accident helped ease the crowd, which relieved the group’s own morale. Even Karyana joined the score in laughter in such a way as to prove her lack of “proper nobility”, as some villagers remarked. The young woman had indeed allowed herself to participate in villager games that had been prepared outside in the training fields, and had lost the chain locket that held her hair up as a wager when it was her turn to bob for apples. Also, she seemed more forward than usual when it came to asking questions to people. Rather than shying away from the crowd, she let others ask her all sorts of questions, and even made jest with children.

 

Demyan looked at her from a few long paces away, his mask no longer on his face after his attempt at finding the chain that had drifted down in the bottom of the barrel almost left him completely drenched. He was glad to see her in high spirits, and made sure to ask people about their needs, so that, once he returned to Citadel, he would make the necessary arrangements.

 

Before long, Arius walked to the middle of the main hall, a cowbell in hand, and rang it a few times to get everyone’s attention. The elf, who was no longer sober, raised his arms in the air before dropping the cowbell on his foot, which caused a fair amount of hilarity, even from Father Korgan who tried to keep some sort of restraint, as the idea of a high priest participating in festivities was not the best approach.

 

“W-welcome, ladies and l-lords…” he replied with a mild stammer from too much mead. “N-now, then… what’s a celebration without music… and what’s music without a little dance! Let’s give a fond farewell to all th-those who p-passed on, in h-hopes that good m-memories and cheer will scale their s-souls to the favor of the Planars!”

 

Before stepping off the dance floor in a drunken stupor, he raised his empty glass. “Hail to all!” he shouted, making all who could raise their cups. “N-now, then… music!”

 

Alban walked up to the drunk elf and carried him off the dance floor before the group of minstrels started playing a very vibrant first piece. Already, many villagers had gathered and started prancing about on the energy-filled harmonies, some even making circles as some of the men demonstrated their footwork in contests to see how low and how quickly they could dance.

 

Karyana examined the crowd with wonder. In her mind, she could still remember the voice of the radiant woman speaking “But for now, awake… and dance…”, as well as Demyan’s wish for her to “save the first dance” with her. Looking down at her dress, she felt a bit uncomfortable in it, and even wondered if such an elegant piece would seem right for the various dances that the villagers were executing.

 

As the last notes of the first rhythm came to an end, many clapped and cheered at the musicians before leaving the floor for others to dance. The second piece was far more melodious, as the flute seemed to lead into a serene requiem.

 

Demyan approached the young woman, mask over his face, and raised his hand out towards her. “May I have this dance?” he asked before pressing his lips against her gloved hand.

 

Though she blushed while walking over to the center of the floor, in her heart, for this one moment, it all felt right. The slow, melodious winds and delicate strings seemed to compel her to lead the intimate dance, her heart pounding in her chest as each step, each movement was matched melodiously with the harmony of sound. The young Magelord was impressed as the young woman seemed to harmonize with every note and every sound, even as he tried his best to match her steps.

 

Turalyon, Onyx and Alban examined the two dancers with wonder. “I didn’t know the boy was so agile.” the dwarf commented. “He’s given her the lead of this dance, and the lad’s steps are almost as good as hers.”

 

The ranger scratched his head. “I didn’t know either of them could dance so well…”

 

The battle-mage looked even more stunned, as he could see the manaweave around the two of them. To his arcane-trained eyes, it was like watching the stars dancing in the night, but from up close. “I didn’t even think she could dance.”

 

The two adventurers looked over to Turalyon. “You what?” both replied.

 

Allision examined the dance steps with awe. Though she had only seen it in practice, it appeared as if both dancers were initiates of the Alabaster Maiden, as each step was perfectly placed, matching the elaborate patterns the young priestesses of Asuna had to learn.

As the requiem ended, many of the villagers applauded the two dancers, but neither of them turned to bow. In fact, to both of them, the main hall was empty, with only each other as company.

 

“Did I do well?” Karyana asked, though the question seemed to address both Demyan, who took a step forward to embrace her, and to Lady Asuna.

 

“You were as graceful as the Maiden herself.” the former replied.

 

“Show me your true grace…” echoed the Planar-Lady’s voice in the young woman’s head.

 

As the music started anew, Allision walked over to the two. “I didn’t know you studied the ways of Lady Asuna…” she said, looking at her friend with passion in her eyes. “You really should teach me.”

 

Karyana looked at Demyan and gave a nod before looking back at the crimson-haired half-elf. “I’ll show you right now.” she answered, before looking at the minstrels, motioning to wait.

 

Though many of the villagers who were forced to leave the floor felt disappointment, the young woman rose her hands to speak. “People of Bolestra, priests and priestess of the Shrine, friends… I speak to you on behalf of all who fell in battle, and all who whose rest was broken by darkness. Though all spirits leave the world to return within the Cycle of Life and Death, let us not look back on what was lost, but look towards the road on which we now step, a road we will all follow together, as we celebrate our time in this world. All who wish to join me in this dance… we celebrate the dearly departed, as our steps give life…”

 

Demyan cocked an eyebrow as the music began. Rather than taking the first step, Karyana raised her arms and eyes upwards, chanting a quick series of weaves. As the last word was ushered, a ray of light enveloped her, which caused the crowd to gasp, startled by the magical display.

 

As the ray of light vanished, the young woman reappeared in a completely different robe. The hem of the skirt was now held around her wrists, though the skirt now seemed double-pleated, the outer layer attached to ivory cuffs around her wrists. In all aspects, both she and Allision were now wearing the exact same dresses, though the latter seemed slightly more ornate, while the former was of such a sparkling white that the villagers almost believed they were watching a spirit dance.

 

As each step that the two women took, the manaweave in the room started to blossom and grow. Turalyon was startled when the flowers suddenly bloomed and the air was waft with the scent of flora never seen in Frostreach. Alban looked surprised as wooden tables and stools, broken for the creation of the barricades that kept the doors shut, now seemed to mend and grow, as if the wood had come back to life.

Arius, who was still sobering up, went almost slack-jawed at the display, and felt a strange warmth course over his body. Taking a moment to examine his hands, he noticed several of the whip scars on his hands started to fade as if they had never been inflicted.

 

The priestesses of Asuna soon joined the dance as the minstrels found themselves unable to finish this dance, each note ever sweeter, ever more melodious. To them, it felt as if that ritual dance, a praise to the starlit sky, could last until dawn.

 

 

“Have you done what I ordered you to?” Pison asked his servant, who was kneeling at his feet, trying to keep from falling over due to the mead clouding his motor skills.

 

“S-sure did. F-first thing before the d-dance, too…” the man replied.

 

Pison looked down at the man before grabbing him by the throat, lifting up off the ground as if the spy was nothing but a puppet. “Then make sure she knows I was here… and that she had the proper motivation to track me.”

 

The mercenary threw the inebriated man onto the melting snow, the servant’s embroidered cap falling off to reveal a head almost devoid of hair, except for silver stubble.

Author's Note

Any and all comments, critiques, reviews and notes are welcome.