Originally Posted by
ilhanna
This one is more tl;dr and schmoopy.
Gruu the Exile and Auvin (you can see them in Tindirin, the Wilds).
At first it was unthinkable, coming over to the outsiders camp. It was a betrayal, of course, even a sin. The Arlorians had no respect for the living ancestors. They slay the dragkins, killed the snakes, and used the scales for armor. Sacrilege upon blasphemy upon trespass. No wonder the ancestors had become even more restless in their lair up on Rockhorn Summit.
The tribal elders had taken to send in more virgins to the mountains to appease the chief ancestor, Lord Rendtail. Gruu had helped in preparing these dragon brides, weaving the flowers for their crown and lei, washing their hair in perfumed coconut oil, wiping their tears and hugging them, giving them the sweet drink that would make them calm and sleepy on the journey to the mountains. Gruu was always dutiful. It would not do to anger the living ancestors.
But then one day the elders came to her hut and spoke to her parents. When they left, her father called Gruu and her sister Aigar. His voice was heavy, and he wouldn't look them in the eyes when he spoke. He said the elders had come for Aigar. She was to be anointed as Lord Rendtail's bride in a moon's time.
Gruu knew it was a blessing for Aigar to be chosen. She had always been jealous of her older sister's beauty, her singing voice, the way she made young men turn to stare when she walked down the beach. She should be jealous of Aigar's fate too, of course, because her body would be made holy by her sacrifice, her soul sanctified, and she would be reborn with wings, as a dragon.
But that night as she held her sobbing sister, Gruu realized that she didn't want to lose Aigar, especially to the ancestors. The elders kept talking about the mingling of human and dragon blood, how this tie kept the heart of the island beating, how the sacrificial pyres would free the flesh, let the wings unfurl, and transform a woman into a dragon. But everyone knew that it was all mere hogwash. That in truth the girls were taken to the mountains to be fed to the dragons.
Gruu had seen the ancestors descend into battles in the lowland once. She saw one snatching a slender Arlorian rogue and snapping her body into two broken pieces in a single crunch of its powerful jaw. Gruu had stayed awake all night holding her sister thinking Not Aigar, not Aigar, please not my sister.
So they planned an escape. It was unthinkable of course, because if they were caught, their whole tribe would have to pay the price: they would all be enslaved. And there was really nowhere else to run but to go to the Arlorian camp. Anywhere else on the island would be dangerous. And getting a boat ready in secret would take more than a moon.
Gruu worked out the route and the time, on the darkest night, just eight days before Aigar was due to be taken. They packed rope and daggers, some dried fruits and fish for provision, and flint and tinder to make fire.
Then one morning, just two days before their scheduled flight, the elders came to take Aigar. The ancestors, they said, required that she joined them immediately, sooner than expected, how fortunate of her! The elders came with spearmen. They ringed the house to make escape impossible. Aigar was white with fear and fury but she did not cry. She said she would prepare herself and went to her sleeping room.
Gruu helped her with the white wraparound and flowers. Her hand shook as she gave Aigar the cup of coconut milk laced with the sleeping draught. Aigar drank deep then said she would like to see the garden one last time.
The guards watched as Aigar made a circuit of the family garden, touching trees and bushes as if giving them her final blessing. Then the elder said they had to leave for they have to be at the mountain top at sunup the next day.
Aigar joined them without a word, without looking at anyone. Her hand trailed one last time at the hibiscus bush on the edge of their gardens. Only Gruu saw her palm open and the black spider that scuttled away along the fingers into the foliage.
She bit her trembling lip as she watched Aigar walk away. Two, three hours at most, she remembered the village shaman telling the children about the deadly spider venom. Aigar would not feel the pain because of the numbing potion she had drunk in her coconut milk. They would think she was asleep in her palanquin. But she would be cold and stiff when the time came for her to be presented to the ancestors. A futile defiance, but the only one she could make.
Gruu left for the Expedition Camp that night.
***
She did not think about what would happen to her when she got there. She was not prepared to be hauled by two rough looking Arlorians into a hut, where more grim Arlorians talked to her in their harsh strange language for hours. Her satchel was examined thoroughly. When they left, an Arlorian woman came to strip her grass skirt and chest plate, gave Gruu a set of clothes like the ones she wore, then left her alone in the hut.
The sun rose and crested. At sundown, Auvin came into the hut. The first thing he said was, "Are you hungry? Did they give you anything to eat?"
Gruu was so surprised to hear someone speak in her native language she almost broke down and cried. Auvin called for some food and water. Gruu was worried that the food would be bizarre, or worse, forbidden. But the tray that came was filled with foods she was familiar with: roast breadfruit wedges, grilled fish, and some fruit slices.
As she ate, Auvin began to talk. "I'm sorry my people treated you badly last night. The camp is in uproar. The tribe (and here he used the word that could also be translated into "our people") reacted to the desecration of the egg by sending in waves of assassins."
Gruu shivered. She had heard, of course, of the destruction of the sacred egg, but she found she was no longer horrified and enraged by it. She wondered if by leaving her people she had destroyed her soul for she could feel nothing, not fear, not sadness, nothing. When she was alone she tried to remember Aigar and her straight-backed walk into death. But all she felt in her heart was numb emptiness.
"Some traders came in with a cart of coconuts, " Auvin went on, "and we found out too late that those in the bottom were steeped in oil. They set the whole thing on fire, leaped screaming into it and sent it burning into some tents."
"And two days ago we had three people dead and nine very sick from fish we bought from tribe fishermen."
Gruu stopped eating and stared at the lump of fish on her tray. Auvin laughed. "No, this one is good. We caught it ourselves. Well, some of the men did anyway. I'm not good at fishing in water that's not solid."
Gruu frowned at that. Solid water?
"How did the men die, who ate the fish?" Gruu asked.
"They just dropped to the ground, stiff as a board. They still breathed for a few minutes but then that stopped too. Those who only got sick managed to throw the fish back up in time, but our doctor said they are paralyzed now, some from the neck down, some from the waist down, some only on one side."
"Oh," said Gruu. "It's the moon fish poison."
"Moon fish?"
Gruu described it to him. "Some of the tribe warriors smear it on their weapon. It dries out, and not much of it get absorbed by the skin unless it touches an open wound, so the effect isn't as potent as when you ingest it. But still it makes you temporarily paralyzed."
"Interesting," Auvin said slowly. "How do you know so much about this?"
"I'm in training to be a tribe shaman," she said. "At least I was, until yesterday."
***
When they were not talking about customs, warfare tactics, lay of the land and other issues that could be of use to the Arlorian in their fight against the tribe, they talked about each other. In the beginning though, it was mostly Gruu who asked the questions. She did not feel like talking about herself, her family, and least of all Aigar.
Auvin, she found out, came from a city called Stronghold.
"What's it like there?"
"It's cold most of the time. We have snow six to eight months a year."
"Snow?"
Auvin laughed. "Ice particles."
"Ice."
"Solid water. Snow is like chalk powder, but cold. Ice is like glass but very cold."
Gruu tried to contemplate this. "And you said fish live in it? That you can catch?"
"Well, some streams and lake may have ice on the surface but the water still flows underneath it. Sometimes we break a patch of the ice, drop a fish line in, and if we're lucky, catch something."
"Ah, like catching catfish in mud flats in very dry season?"
"Ah, I don't know. We never have dry mud flats in Nordr."
"Do you have dragons in Stronghold?" she said.
"We know of Syrillax in the northern mountains of Ursume," said Auvin. "In fact, I had come here to study tribe language and customs because we've had a dragon invasion under Tarlok. Back then we knew nothing of it. I was sent here to learn as much as I could so we could fight back the next time something like that happened."
"So that's how you learn to speak our language."
"Yes."
"Was it hard?"
"Your language, like most of the island, is light and gentle. The sounds are easy on the tongue, the intonation like music. Only the words about dragons, the living ancestors, are hard and harsh and sharp. They hurt my throat when I say them."
"I know," said Gruu, looking away. She did not speak again.
***
"Don't you want to get out sometimes?" asked Auvin one day. "Some of the lads are partying on the beach tonight. There might be music, dancing. Aren't you tired of this poky hut?"
She had been in camp some five or six weeks but other than Auvin and a number of people who talked to her (with Auvin interpreting) about military matters, she had not met many people and she did not want to.
She tried to explain it to Auvin. "It's like I still think of this, my staying in the camp, as temporary. It's not my home. I will be going away again. And I don't feel like making acquaintances that I will only leave soon."
Auvin stared at her. "Do you want to come home to your tribe, Gruu?" he asked quietly.
She looked down at her lap. And shook her head. "I don't have a home there anymore. I can't go back."
"You have your parents there."
"Yes. And everything I know, everyone I know. Including the ancestors. And I can't, I won't go back to that."
"So where do you want to go from here?" The question was tentative. Like walking on a sheet of glass, Gruu thought.
"I don't know," she muttered. She raised her eyes, laughed a tentative laugh. "Maybe I can come with you to Stronghold. I want to see the snow."
Auvin smiled a little. "I would love to show you the snow on the mountain tops. And take you skating on the frozen lake. But when this war is over I'm not going back to Stronghold."
He is going to stay in Tindirin, Gruu thought. And I would have to stay in this cursed island too because I can't live anywhere else if Auvin isn't there. The realization hit her with a shocking force. And it hurt. After weeks of floating in gray numbness, feeling nothing, having to choose between Auvin and leaving the land she had loathed with all her being, pierced her with a pain so new and raw it was almost exquisite. Auvin had told her about the cold that took away all sensations, and how, when blood returned to these frozen extremities, the first thing you feel was pain, sharp, burning, sweet pain, that told you that your body was still alive.
"Why not?" she managed to croak.
"I have no home there anymore," he said flatly.
"No family?"
She dragged the story out of him. He was the youngest of five boys. His father died in battle before he was even born. His brothers had been called to war, one by one. And one by one the letters with the royal crest had come back in their stead. His mother had gone out when the fourth arrived. "She wasn't wearing any coat, or even shoes. It was the middle of winter. There was a blizzard and everything was white," his voice was bitter. "We didn't find her until two days later."
"And yet you yourself had gone to war. Why?"
Auvin was silent for a long time. "It's the way of the Nordr. When the king summons, you go and do your duty," he finally said.
"It seems to me," Gruu mused, "that you have living ancestors too in your homeland. Except you call them the king."
Auvin looked away.
"So where do you want to live after the war?" Gruu ventured, wondering if she could take the answer.
"I haven't decided," said Auvin, looking pensive. "But somewhere warm. Somewhere sunny."
"Like Tindirin?"
He shook his head. "No," he said. "I was thinking Garetta. It's a big busy town. I could open a bakery."
Gruu smiled. "A bakery?"
"Yes, why not? People always need bread. I can make pies too, and cakes. My place will be warm and smell of baked pastry all day."
"That sounds lovely," said Gruu. Peaceful, she thought. "Do you...do you think I can come with you? I can help with the kneading. I have quite strong arms."
To her surprise Auvin took her hands in his. He squeezed them, raised them and looked at them closely. "Good baker hands," he said grinning. "Yes. Come with me. Come with me."
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