Fronigtalle: Scatha (Samheen 18th)

[Elvin Motricé]

Samheen 15th, early eveningtide

The Hippogryph carried Scatha for a long time, the light of day faded into the dusk that announced night and still they flew on. Many, many miles they covered and for some reason Scatha didn’t feel uncomfortable or tired. The landscape that shot past underneath her was a barren wasteland of ice, icy mountains that showed no sign of life. The wastelands projected a feeling of loneliness and harshness. This was a world were only the strongest survived. Strangely enough, even though they were flying higher and higher, it wasn’t cold. And then suddenly, the mountains made room for a green valley. In the middle of the harsh mountains cradled between them as if they protected it was a fertile valley. As they arrived a whole flock of Hippogryphs surrounded them and accompanied them. Suddenly the Hippogryph carrying Scatha released her high in the air and she rushed towards the earth. Spinning, spinning, spinning… Blackness engulfed her.

Samheen 18th, Dawn
<i>Spinning, falling, earth rushing…</i> Scatha woke up on a bed of plants. The Hippogryph who had carried her earlier was laying lazily beside her.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha sat bolt upright, totally confused as to where she was. Am I dreaming this...? The air smelt clean and fresh, the plants underneath her fingers felt moist and cool... and the strange and terrifying but beautiful creature that had brought her here certainly looked real enough. Scatha stared at it wide eyed, trying to make some sense of what had happened. A hippogryph... that's what Lirahn said it was, before he and Evan and Brynhild fell to their knees. Scatha was going to ask them what they were doing, but the first words had barely tumbled over her lips before the beast - the hippogryph - had knocked the broken spear-cum-knife from her hands, and then scooped her up as casually as a kitten and taken to the air. Scatha hadn't even had time to be frightened at how fast the hippogryph had moved; all she knew was that it outstripped anything she'd ever seen or heard about. Her father used to say that in the right hands, a whip was the fastest thing on the Mother's earth; quicker than a word, faster than a thought... "You should have seen this, daddy," she murmured, still staring at the hippogryph.

The thought of being scooped up by those fierce, savage claws, and what they could do to her, had not even entered her mind; Scatha has been too occupied with the prospect of the world growing smaller and smaller beneath her as the hippogryph flew higher and higher. She hadn't even had the breath to scream, or to try and do something - it was as if the rush of flying, and the sense of helplessness, had taken all but the air that she needed to breathe from her lungs. All she could do was hang there, clutched within the hippogryph's huge claws, and watch the world grow smaller. A strange exhilaration had come over her; this is how birds must see the world... and how beautiful it is. Even the harsh wastelands and great mountains that she could see beneath her, far greater than the mountains of Dort, had a grandeur and serenity that simply could not be appreciated from the ground. I am fortunate to have seen this, Scatha thought to herself, and in her mind she gave her thanks and prayers to the Mother for the vision and the adventure. Looking back now, Scatha liked to think that perhaps it was the protection of the Mother, looking after one of her more wayward daughters, that had kept her safe so far; she dug her fingers into the plants beneath her, until she could touch cool moist earth, and again murmured a soft prayer of thanks to Her, before returning to her memories of the flight with the hippogryph.

And then... something very strange had happened. Grey wastelands and dark mountains had given way to a lush valley, a shard of brilliant green against an otherwise drab landscape. What is that doing here? Scatha had asked herself, fascinated by its sudden appearance - then all other thoughts had been pushed from her mind as another hippogryph appeared beside the one carrying her, and then another, and then another and another, until the entire sky seemed full of the fierce gleaming white beasts - and then...

Scatha shut her eyes tight. That had been the worse part of it all; the hippogryph had let her go, and Scatha had fallen out of the sky, whirling helplessly, the wind and cold air rushing past her and the green shard of earth below reached up and had caught her...

Scatha's eyes snapped open again. It hadn't been like one of those awful dreams, where she'd imagined she was falling... it was if the earth had caught her somehow, like her father catching her when she'd jumped off the highest haystack in Dort. But how could that be? Scatha tried to think how it could have happened, but all she could remember from that point was blackness. Perhaps the Mother had caught her, and stopped her from dying... but why? Scatha felt the earth beneath her fingers, and thought of the Mother again; thank you.

Scatha looked cautiously around, trying to get some idea of where she was; however, her immediate attention was taken by the hippogryph lying beside her.

It was very beautiful, Scatha decided, as if someone had decided to take the parts of several other creatures, and somehow merged them into one sinuous flowing being. It had the hind legs and tail of a horse, and its front was like that of an osprey, the fishing eagles Scatha had seen in Dort... but this creature had almost pure white feathers and hair. Scatha knew of creatures of Dort that changed colour in the winter - hares and polecats - but nothing on this scale. I suppose it’s to help it blend in with ice and snow, she mused to herself. And what on earth does it catch and eat? She looked at the savage claws on it, and shivered involuntarily; I hope its not humans.... but then, if it was going to eat me, surely it would have done so by now.

Scatha tried to remember everything she'd ever heard Hex say about hippogryphs, and wished that she'd paid more attention. Didn't the people of Trothgard worship the hippogryphs, because they were the messengers of their Ice Queen? That would explain why Lirahn and Evan and Brynhild had fallen to their knees when they saw it. And Hex had brought her stone back to give to a hippogryph, and the hippogryph was supposed to give Hex one of its feathers in return... or something like that. Scatha couldn't imagine what a hippogryph would want with a stone; perhaps it would eat it to help digest its food, like some animals did.

Scatha moved very, very cautiously, trying not to make any sudden movements that would startle the hippogryph, and took a good look around, trying to work out her bearings, scenting the cool air and looking to the sky to see if she could work out her position from the sun. She glanced admiringly at the hippogryph; "You're lovely, you know. If you could only talk and tell me where I am, and what I'm doing here, you'd be perfect..."

[Elvin Motricé]

Fierce, yellow eyes similar to that of an eagle locked with her gaze unblinkingly. Suddenly images flooded through Scatha’s mind. <i>Flying high, plummeting down to the earth, herself sleeping</i> all images in strange colours. The images stopped for a moment as the Hippogryph put a talon on Scatha’s shoulder. Again fragments of images flooded her mind <i>beautiful woman in blue dress, blue light… woman pointing, flying… herself in the woods with a short spear in the hand… feeling of recognition… flying, seeing herself hanging in talons.</i>

More Hippogryphs gathered around, colours of their feathers ranging from brown to pale blue until about twenty were spread in a semi-circle around Scatha. Their talons dug into the earth as they emitted a loud shriek that rose upward.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha blinked as her head was suddenly flooded with images, strange pictures that she didn't understand... flying - falling - sleeping - how can it be possible to see myself sleeping? The images were so intense, so vivid, that she barely felt the talon of the Hippogryph upon her shoulder; at last she gazed down at it, long and sharp and cruel, quite capable of tearing her in half, and yet resting casually upon her, almost as if it were trying to reassure her...

More images now; Scatha closed her eyes, and shook her head, trying to make some sense of it all. There was a woman in a shimmering blue dress, and she was lovely, as lovely as the vision of the Mother that Scatha had been given at the Abbey in Dort, only it wasn't the Mother, Scatha was sure of it; "Who are you?" she whispered, her head starting to reel with more images of flight, beginning to feel giddy from the sensation of flight... a sudden, ear piercing shriek snapped her eyes open, and her mouth dropped into a perfect O of surprise as she saw more and more hippogryphs join the one that had carried her, lining up in a semi-circle around her, talons digging into the earth, gazing at her with fierce yellow eyes, waiting for something to happen...

Scatha had never been one for social niceties; her aunts had used to despair of her spitting cherry stones and belching at family gatherings, but she did know that it was good manners to tell people who you were... and Scatha was fairly certain that someone - the beautiful woman in the shimmering blue dress - was here, even if she could only see her in her head. She took a deep breath, and addressed the semi-circle of hippogryphs; "My name is Scatha Ashtir; I am a daughter of the Mother, from the Midlands of Dort." The words sounded foolish, spoken out loud before a circle of watchful hippogryphs, and Scatha struggled to continue; "Please... I don't know what I am doing here, and I have such strange visions in my head. If there is anyone here, please let me see you..."

[Elvin Motricé]

Again the images shifted, Scatha could see herself standing, possibly from the viewpoint of the Hippogryph that had brought her there as she could also see the other Hippogryphs standing. <i>”Help…”</i> a voice screeched, the screeching that she heard in her mind almost a physical pressure on her temples.

Images flashed past in rapid succession, each gone too quickly to remember. Slowly the flow of images slowed, yet still the images didn’t hold a lot of meaning. <i>Something blue, something white, a tree, a mountain…</i> Without notice they just stopped.

A woman had somehow appeared next to the white Hippogryph. Although she did resemble the woman Scatha had seen in the images a bit she come nowhere near the crystal beauty of the one she had seen. She looked like a rough sketch of the perfect drawing that Scatha had seen. And there was another thing that distinguished her. She was clad in some sort of robe made entirely out of grey feathers…

“Welcome,” she said with a soft voice and somehow it reminded Scatha of a warm wind rising up, announcing spring, “I see that my friends have brought someone. A child of fertility it seems. Yes… Ah, the Winds tell so much. There are so many sights to be seen,” her eyes blurred for a moment after which they refocused on Scatha once again, “I greet you, Scatha da’Seodhisaliu.”

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha shook her head, trying to clear it of the images and sounds that were flooding into it... am I going mad? What if I'm the only one who see and hear these things? Oh Mother, I will have to go back to Dort and become the village idiot... and then, slowly, almost without her realising, it stopped.

Scatha blinked; there was a woman standing next to the hippogryph, a woman similiar to the one she had seen in her head, a woman clad in a very peculiar robe seemingly made of feathers... Scatha barely registered her words, she was so confused; welcome-child of fertility-winds-sights-Scatha da’Seodhisaliu... Scatha shook her head again, and tried desperately to make some sense of it all, the questions tumbling from her lips; "Who are you? And where am I? And how do you know my name? And what is a da'Seo... da'Soed... whatever you just called me?"

[Elvin Motricé]

Her arms appeared from under the robe of feathers, these were not covered by feathers but by some strange shimmering white fabric. The woman smiled: “May names are many. The people of Trothgard call me Deia,” she paused for a moment seemingly waiting for something. Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds in the sky and something at her left side began to sparkle with a brilliant light. Deia turned to the brilliance and stretched out her hands towards it. A large stone block, possibly an altar, stood in a small circle of clear crystals that almost seem to glow with their own inner light in the sunshine. “You are in the heart of Fronigtalle. Here the women of Trothgard Pass into the next stage of life. Here they confirm their love for the Ice Queen and proves the Crystal One her devotion and love for her people.”

Deia turned back to Scatha: “Aren’t you what I called you? da’Seodhisaliu? Seodhisaliu is an ancient word, from one of the most ancient languages in this world. It means Earth or That What Is. Aren’t you a Daughter of the Earth, dear? Have you not uttered a prayer to Seodhisaliu-Laliel? You are as bound to the Earth as I am to the sky,” the strange woman’s eyes said a thousand things and at the same time they said nothing, “Have you not named yourself only moments ago? Or did you utter a name different then the one you bear? Have you lied?” She turned to the white Hippogryph and hummed a soft tune. The magnificent beast stretched his wings and with a powerful spring of his legs he was in the air. Swiftly the others followed. The air was filled with the sound of beating wings as the group took off and soared through the air.

“They live, they serve. On the currents of air they take flight, they are free and proud. Isn’t freedom important? What would you do if someone wished to chain you? To kill you?” Deia asked, looking at the Hippogryphs with an expression of love.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha listened intently to the strange woman's words; Deia... that's a pretty name. She blinked in the sudden sunshine, and then watched wide-eyed as Deia stretched her hands towards a large stone block, surrounded by glowing crystals; what on earth are those? They're as pretty as her name...

Scatha tried to make sense of Deia's words but was soon hopelessly lost. She knew she was not clever, and usually when people used words she didn't understand, she got cross and hit them. However, Scatha was wise enough to appreciate that tactic didn't always work, and that hitting Deia whilst surrounded by tame hippogryphs in a strange place was not the best thing to do. "I suppose I am a daughter of Earth," she said slowly, trying to sort her thoughts out. "It's just that I've never heard that word before... my people always refer to Her as the Mother. It's simpler that way, and it suits Her, because she looks after us as a Mother looks after her children." She watched with fascination as the hippogryphs rose into the air; so beautiful, so fierce... "Freedom is important," Scatha replied to Deia's question. "It's important to have it... I'd hate it if anyone tried to take it away from me." That's why you're here, a voice whispered in her head; you didn't want to marry Fergal Macalla, and that's why you left... and now you're in a strange place - Fronigtalle? - talking to a strange woman with a feathered dress. "Do you know why the hippogryphs caught me up and brought me here?" she asked...

[Elvin Motricé]

Deia smiled sadly as she turned to Scatha: “You have been brought here for freedom. The Heavens bend and at the hands of betrayal the power that keeps this valley slowly dwindles into nothingness. Where shall the Hippogryphs go when their home is destroyed? Where can they go where they will be free? Into the lands of men? You are a mortal. Tell me what would happen of they would enter another land?”

She turned back to look at the altar: “There are many things that happen. Most people here have knowledge about this place and the Traitor would use their knowledge against them. Having no knowledge spares a lot of preconceptions grown in decennia. What you discover for yourself with your own mind, that is part of truth.”

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha's head hurt. Deia was talking in riddles, and Scatha had always hated riddles, especially the ones involving chickens and eggs that everyone else found so funny. She sincerely hoped that Deia wasn't going to start asking her riddles involving hippogryphs and their eggs.

"I'm very sorry, but I don't understand what you are saying," she said as politely as she could. "Why should the Hippogryphs have to leave? They seem very happy here. And if they go to another land, I'd bet people would keep a jolly good distance between themselves and the hippogryphs. I would, even if they are beautiful to look at." She pursed her lips thoughtfully; "And who is this traitor you are talking about? Is it a riddle?" A small, rarely heard voice of caution whispered in Scatha's ear; she called you a mortal... what does that make her? That helped to focus Scatha's attention immensely; she looked at Deia with a great deal more respect. "Are you a goddess?" she half whispered...

[Elvin Motricé]

Deia turned back to face Scatha: “This Valley is born from magic and that magic is… abscent. The Traitor found a way to disturb it. And no, this is not a riddle. It’s forbidden for me to speak his true name.”

The woman smiled slightly: “A goddess I am not. I am more then you, yet less then the gods. I’m not made from the substance of this world as you are. Before I decided to wake I was a dream.”

Deia looked at the sparkling crystals: “The Hippogryphs would be hunted in other places. Out of fear, greed or for pleasure. Where would they be safe and find the food they need to sustain themselves?”

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha pursed her lips; even though Deia said it wasn't a riddle, it sounded like one. Who was this traitor she kept talking about? And why couldn't she say his name? I suppose I ought to be grateful that she hasn't asked me why did the hippogryph want to cross the road... "If you know who this traitor is, why don't you hunt him down and kill him?" she enquired. "And I shouldn't worry about the hippogryphs... I can't imagine anyone wanted to come and live here, not when they would have the hippogryphs for competition. And besides, apart from this valley, there is no reason for anyone to come here, is there?" Scatha took a good look around; it was a very odd place, green and fertile, but hemmed in by vast blue-grey mountains; good land for growing, a small voice whispered in her head, maybe enough for some sheep and goats, but that's it.... Scatha turned back to Deia; "It's a lovely place, but difficult to get to. I can't imagine that anyone would want to come all this way and disturb the hippogryphs, not when there are other places to live." A sudden thought struck her; "Unless you know different, of course?" she asked...

[Elvin Motricé]

Deia looked at Scatha: “Do you think I have the power to interfere with the Traitor? I’m bound by the laws of my creation and by the limits of the area in which I can exist without being a dream. No it must be a mortal. It must be someone who doesn’t know about this place. No I can not be the one… It must be someone else."

The woman sighed: “I thought you’ld have understood by now that this valley that you see is only kept alive by powerful magic. That magic is blocked by something now. Without help the Hippogryphs can not survive. This is their home, their safe-haven. It is here that they serve their place in the order of things… but I’ve said too much. I can’t imprint this knowledge upon you at least not yet.”

Deia hesitated a moment before continuing: "There are those that should be well off if the one who protects this valley turned her eyes away from the rest of the world for a time."

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha listened carefully to Deia; "...it must be a mortal. It must be someone who doesn’t know about this place. No, I can not be the one… it must be someone else". Is she talking about me...? What on earth makes her think I can do anything about magic? Scatha had heard dark tales of wicked magicians and vile witches from her aunts, and knew that such things should always be left well alone, even though there was a rarely spoken of but persistant rumour that the Ashtir family themselves had witches blood running in their veins. Scatha had never been able to determine whether this was in fact true, or whether it was just a convenient (and apt) label that had been applied to her aunt Morrighan. She took a deep breath; "If I can help, then I will, if I can... but I'm not sure what a farm girl from Dort can do to help. What do you want me to do?"

[Guest]

Deia acknowledged Scatha's words with a slight nod. So slight it was barely perceptible. "You must seek out what none of Trothgard can seek out. You must seek out what no power of the Northern Isle can dare touch, for in that touch lies both key and lock, both winter and eternal spring, both life and cessation of life." Her serene voice was a warm wind across the verdurous green surrounding Scatha. The tiny crystals circling the stone block gleamed with an icy, blue light in the caress of the sun.

"It is your task, Scatha da'Seodhisaliu, to uncover the ploy of the Traitor, and the strength of Trothgard will contain the danger while it is... abolished." And the mountain range surrounding the strangely lush vale in it bosom seemed all the much more towering. The beams of the high sun had the snow-capped peaks glitter and sparkle. The azure sky was dotted with white clouds. The Talons, as the northern mountains of Trothgard were called by native folk, cast their shadow over the vale of the hippogryphs.

And suddenly, this green valley that Deia had called Fronigtalle seemed to blink. Its ripe quality all at once flickering as if in being swallowed by an angry sea. It lasted only for the fraction of a moment. A streak of... - not alarm - but of profound wariness settled in Deia's eyes. Her feathered body remained motionless. "Our time is soon up." She spoke as calmly as ever. "Scatha, daughter of Earth, will you perform what no woman or man of Trothgard can perform, what no power of the Northern Isle can mend, but to which all that was and is and will be Trothgard owes its dependence?"

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha listened to Deia open mouthed, her head filled with images of herself saving a grateful Trothgardian nation from certain doom and being proclaimed as a national heroine, seeing herself returning to Dort upon a white charger, escorted by a handsome blonde haired King, and riding through the Seven Wiches and back to the family farm whilst the entire population of Kittywich (all 214 of them) cheered her home... that'll show my aunts. and show them that they were wrong when they said I'd come to no good... and just imagine the look on Daisy Applebottom's face when she sees me with a real live King. That'll teach her to win the Summer Queen contest, just because she has big blue eyes and went behind the cow shed with one of the judges...

Scatha barely heard Deia's query as to whether she would do it or not. "Oh, yes please," she said breathlessly. Scatha suddenly realised that she hadn't exactly been concentrating on what she was agreeing to; "If I can, that is," she added hastily. "What exactly do I have to do to uncover this... this... erm... ploy?" Scatha wasn't entirely sure what a ploy actually was; it was a word she'd never heard before, and it sounded like something that had been buried, especially if it had been covered up, but she wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty. "If I can help, I will," she said, a little more confidently. "Where do I start?"

[Guest]

Smiling slightly, Deia took a step backwards. Once again the entirety of the vale flickered for a moment, like piece of driftwood momentarily swallowed by the sea, only to reappear so quickly that one wondered if it was ever gone. The strange, feathered woman was on the alert Scatha could see, though she did not alter her gaze from the young Dortenese woman. "The nature of the threat and its origin is still a riddle," Deia continued enigmatically, speaking slowly, yet pronounced. "Anhar will carry you to where our hope rests."

The sound of flapping, powerful wings came to Scatha from above just as Deia finished speaking. The graceful majesty of the hippogryph belonged to the same of the creatures that had carried her from the Hunting Plains a short three days ago. In apparent carefree beats of its white wings, the beast hovered calmly above the stone altar by which Scatha and Deia stood. The gleam of the surrounding ring of crystals was captured in the hippogryph's feathers and fur, having it glitter in silver.

"Anhar will carry you to the trail," repeated Deia and gestured at the hippogryph with a tiny motion of her hand. "Do you recall Ellena Moliere, Scatha da'Seodhisaliu? And Brynhild da'Waelkyrige?"

Then the massive figure of Anhar, the hippogryph, settled between Deia and Scatha on the ground; the resonance of the latter's grave, unnerving eyes imprinted in the latter's vision. As Anhar moved a fraction, the mysterious feathery woman was gone. The hippogryph was not surprised- it nodded towards its back and looked at Scatha, indicating a more peaceful ride than the one they had already had. Once again the ripe greenness of Fronigtalle mysteriously seemed to replace itself. Anhar nodded fervently.

And with the presence of Deia lacking, a cold bite had enraptured the otherwise comfortingly warm breeze of the Vale of the Hippogryphs.

[wyrdgirluk]

Scatha pursed her lips; she hated riddles, and here was Deia saying that the nature of the dire threat to Trothgard was exactly that. She was just about to ask if by any chance the riddle involved a hippogrpyh crossing the road, when - to her surprise - there was a beating of giant wings, and the sensation of air pushing against her face and hair, as one of the fierce and beautiful creatures landed beside her. Scatha looked at it admiringly; my, but you're beautiful... and Anhar is a very nice name. She was so taken with the loveliness of Anhar that again she barely registered Deia's words, until she heard the names of Ellena and Brynhild; "Of course I remember them," she said, turning to Deia... only to find that she had gone as mysteriously as she had appeared.

Scatha blinked; this is turning out to be a very strange and wonderful day indeed. She returned her attention back to Anhar; "What did she mean, do I remember Ellena and Brynhild?" she said musingly. "Ellena and I were on a ship for a long while, and I remember Brynhild... she was hunting with us. Why would she think I'd forgotten them?" She shivered involuntarily; it suddenly seemed a lot colder without Deia around. Scatha eyed Anhar cautiously; he seemed to be waiting for her. Did he mean for her to climb on? Very slowly, Scatha approached the hippogryph, and gently patted it; "Good hippogryph," she said soothingly. "You be be nice to me, and I'll be nice to you. Now, are you going to let me ride you? Deia said you would..." Gingerly, Scatha climbed onto the back of the hippogryph, marvelling at its smooth white feathers and the silky warmth of its body... then hung on tight with her thighs, as if she were riding a horse back in Dort. "Giddy up," she whispered in its ear...

[Guest]

And they were off! Anhar's wings brought them sweeping into the air. The crystals surrounding the altar in the centre of Fronigtalle shimmered. And the lush, green vale blinked out of existence. The mountains of Gymir's Talons spread out beneath Scatha as a foreigner's visit to the sacred vale called Fronigtalle was over.

For now.

(OOC: Great going! And we'll move on: Gymir's Talons: Scatha (Samheen 18th))