A Castrovel Adventure: Part 5, Chapter 64

5. Afaelae, 24,548 - 21st month in Qabarat   Unhappily where I ended yestereve’s log, I was too tired to bewrite more of our farfetch to Loskialua. Today until now I had to deal with my flagmates overfraught from my three days’ loss, and wordbode from the Embassy, who sought news almost at my homecome. I chose to unheed them yesternight, but which idleness I could not today afford, since Her Highness Lady Sheneal showed right at the household’s gate. Erymi, Sievae, and Oshis also came back from Ofu-Laubu and had rightly frightened at my unforeknown leave. They bear news from the North, which I will soon bewrite. I have also needed Kaure’s yestermind to fully recall our fare’s whits.   In Loskialua on Treesong’ eventide four days ago, after Mast Milos’s shrift that we were come to inseech a Formian war-thrall, I pestered him and the other inquisitors for whits while Kaure minded Aeosel. The news reminded my one other moottide with a Formian: the trucespeech back on Zonyu ten years ago when we had fled to save our lives, and the Myrmarch whomwith I had shared thought and bargained. If that moottide gave any rede, this new Formian would bestow us no goodwill, as we samely to its kind, as we each have tried to outslaughter the other, locked in hatred for twelve thousand years.   More happily, the Oatia our hosts called a rede-moot, wherein they shared more whits. The Formian was a warriorkind whom they had found wandering in the great greenreach we had seen on our way hither, which they name the Ikal, and along the mountain foothills where we had come, named the Singing Fells. One worry grew from how far northward this Formian had reached, since the shore lay more than a thousand leagues southward, although rivers broadly run and fork through the Ikal Greenreach, which a boat or small ship could easily fare. Afittingly, the Sovyrianrim had sent a scoutfare southward to backtrack the Formian’s path. They had found a shipwreck: a stranded scout hulk. Something had bashed in its hull, whereof by the size must have been an unknown qoelu. If any other Formians had outlived, they had likely fled back downstream.   Needless to bewrite, this unknown income had quickened every behavior against a likely Formian settlehood on Ukulam. Our hosts needed not even tell that the fleets of cities like Rehat and Qabarat had elderly watched the Ukulam Shore against such threat, even if they dared not land. I also reminded old yoretales that once such trial had been made: the Lost Ukulam Colony, which after its founding had boded back word to Asana and told they had found proof of Moqeva dwelling here. In answer, a great allied fleet had gathered at Lost Valmaea, forewilling to find and slaughter the Warrior-Queens’ eldest foe. Then the fleet had sailed northward. The allied cities had waited, but had never heard of the fleet again, along with the colony, and which had earned its nickname ~hoveanta~ - forbidden. These yesterdeeds had happened right ere the Formians began the Colonies’ overrun, whereat all of our cities’ might had bent against them, and never again did such a seechfare go to Ukulam. The behappendom hinted something unsettling: had something called forth the Formians to forestall Lashunta ever meddling again with Ukulam? Whatever the soothness, and so much as anyone knew, the ban upon Ukulam had outreached to Formians as well as Lashunta, since until now, no whit had ever shown of a Formian hive here. Foregiven that sake, what might have shifted?   After this word, the Elves beseeched us to meet the Formian. So they led us through the town. Under afternoon heavenlight, we got good sight of its many starwatch halls, of which I tallied almost a score upon and ringing the peak. That tally beggared anywhere else on the whole known world. Even the Hall of Stars on Ta-Shestaru has only three domes, and the oldest whereof is moreso a lorehall. On ask to an Oatia, they told that, by some wonderful weather fluke, they begladden open sky here more than half the year, letting them watch and learn the stardrifts under an oftenness I shrive jealous. That purpose, however, nor the deed that they had settled here for this same purpose, did not outlay the elfgate’s stead back over the greenreach’s bight, the wreckstead beside, nor the odd farsight-glass there set. Eyesome others had settled here long ago, but why?   At the elftown’s lower wardwall, we came to a shed, wherein the undercroft we were led to a room with a locked door. The elfwarriors warned our foe lay inside. Then they unlocked the doorbeam, readied swords, and opened.   I reminded the Formian warriors I had fought on Zonyu: twice any Lashunta’s size, their byrnie-like shells, even their heads helmlike, their hasty four legs, and their lewd, underhanded tailstingers plightily seeking wound. I reminded the Myrmarch’s awesomeness: big as a Shotalashu and rider in her own right, crownlike crest harkening might and overreeveship (had my great-grandmother Eavol truly slain one?). Yet within the room I saw nothing so dreadful. A bed lay afloor, whereon lay a dull-shelled, hollow-seeming fiend. All six limbs were shackled, and its tail also, whose stinger they had docked. When we neared the bed, it did not even stir. Its gemlike eyes hardly widened. In mood if not in size, it almost belooked moreso the Formians’ small workerkind that we had slaughtered in their farmfields - a sin I shall ever rue.I also reminded what I had learned of Formians on warfare. They are born and belong to a hive under a hivequeen, who is altogether mother, lover, and ruler, and whose mind is so mighty that she kens all thought and bids all deeds. Nothing happens in the hive without the queen's leave, whomof the hivemates, even like this warrior, become her will’s outstretch. Although I well ken the worry we Lashunta undergo when long alone, the dread owning when we lack our lovers’ and kins’ soothing thoughts and hearts, I bedreamed how much worse loneliness must be for a Formian, offcut from a share of itself.   I overlooked the warrior, and then headed to Lady Amel and Thauless, Master Milos and Mearthil and the others who had followed inside. ~Karu,~ I said: “It is dying.”   At our hosts’ behest, Master Mearthil herded us back out of the room and to the street, where we got freshness and strove to cleanse our heads of the dying Formians’ shock. I tried to math my fellows, who surely had erenever seen a Formian, and my doomword of its upcoming death. Yet other thoughts bothered. I reminded Master Milos asking my Formian knowledge some months earlier. So now I asked how long they had kept the Formian bound. They answered they had found it a half-year ago. I asked their healthcraft and learned they had made all trials to strengthen it. Yet little had helped. They had found the same endthought as I: it was dying from loneliness, whereof the only mend would become to send it back to its folk, whomwith both our kinds stood at ruthless, unforgivable war.   I then bethought this wantsome thing had been ailing that whole while. Only now I, who owned whatever little deedfulness in outmeaning with its kind, had been brought here. Master Milos answered that, if Qabarat had gotten wish, we would have come months ago when first he had spoken about Formian lore. Until now, however, the Elves - namely Sovyrian - had withstood. The Sovyrian warriors ruffled against his reproof, though they all beshamed at my ungladness, whereat I deemed this deed as too late.   Over duskmeal the others asked my tale of Zonyu’s Battle and the Myrmarch’s trucespeech, which against withholding shame I shrove. I added the Valmayana High Staff had taken me to sake-trial for betrayal, though all I had done, after we lost the fight, was to save our warriors, and also Formians in the run. I bespoke the Myrmarch’s odd thoughtspeech not quite matching Lashunta. When they asked how I reckoned the Myrmarch’s selfness, I answered I deemed her dear of her underlings and hivemates and wardsome of their welfare. Thereunder she had understandably begrudged our raidstroke, as selfsomely as anyone witnessing their home and kindred so bestricken. My ruth shocked our hosts, and Lady Thauless gave a wicked look. Yet after being dragged over half the world, I recked not.   Then they asked whether I would try outmeanhood with the Formian. Misgivingly, I let them lead me back to the shack by the lower wardwall, and back down to the undercroft room. The door opened, and I went in alone.   The Formian lay unstirred. Misthwartsomely, I did not wish to think of it as an it. I had heard while in Valmayana that their warriors, although barren, are bodily wifely and that under right happendom (as if their hivequeen dies) they may ripen, mate a workerkind (who are manly), and bear eggs. Thus it more rightfully seemed wifely, although maybe that whit recked not unless to me.   I knelt beside the filthy bed, overlooked her dull shell, and saw crusted scabs, where her catchers had wounded her. She had not fallen willingly, quoth the Elves, and had done utmost to die fighting. Even at my nearness she stirred not, neither swerved antennae nor glittery eyes. I mulled the best wise to open outmeanhood, until at last I stretched antennae. began something like warmind and greeted her as a warrior.   At my mind’s touch, a qualm shook the Formian. Her antenna and limbs quivered, and her mind, which had lain in ill slumber, bothered fuddlesomely. Something like wakefulness overtook, rattled her fetters, and swerved gemlike eyes to me. A thought answered: “Dare: who?”   I told I was her foe, but like her, a warrior. I said fighting-tide had ended and that she should fear me not, and that I had ere spoken with her kind. Then I asked her name. She stared without any look among her helmlike facedishes I could read. Without answer, I softly beckoned to the runes carven in her shell, starting with those highest on her shoulder, and bade her tell them.   “Greensheen Hive,” she answered: “Goldstaff Myrmarch: First Sith: Foretroop: Elder Third Underspear.” It sounded like a rank, and not so unlike those we Lashunta brook, but felt like a name, which made me wonder whether these Formians, under their hivemind, even behold shedness between selves. I deemed to name her Teiushye - Underspear.   I got wit of weariness, as if even our short outmeanhood had taken Teiushye’s strength, and something else: hopelessness. The more I felt, the more lonely, bereft heart I found, as someone who had upyielded life. In Valmayana, I had heard tales of offcut Formian warriors who had given their lives in war to shun catch, even as this warrior had tried, quoth the Elves. I reckoned there might be no greater shame than a foe’s thralldom, and no greater sorrow than aloneness.   I asked how she had come here, but at that tide Teiushye withdrew mind. Nowise my trial, she would not cleave again and sank back to ailsome slumber. I bethought she wardsomely held her fetch secret, as would we if likewise caught. Bywardly, I stood, withdrew from the room, and told the others what little I had learned. After more talk and much idle wonder at whatever goal had drawn the Formians, we withdrew for the nighttide, where our hosts had kindled a roomhearth in like wise to Ofu-Laubu for warmth.   Misluckily, under the bother our Formian thrall’s mood had wrought, and so many other riddles under this new and outlandish stead, I could not sleep. Among many thoughts, this elfburgh might be the whole world’s foremost starlore stead, deeming by the unbelievable lot of starwatch halls holding a foreguessably like farsight-glass tally. Since my reckfulness lessened not, I rose and clothed my thickest shroud and hood. Leaving Aeosel with Kaure, I went outside, even against the chill.   Nightheaven proved so sheer as ever I had seen: Father-Night’s dark cloak bedazzled with the brightest stargems, even until ~Zaudiasto~ - Father’s Belt - glowing overhead like a fireball cast from a boltloom, and without Elindrae to outshine them. On such a night back at the Hall of Stars, no starlore warden worthy of the name would sleep, but should instead watch earnestly. Thus I looked for any watchers or walkers, and then followed until the greatest throng, which gathered before the highest dome at the town’s peak.   At the starwatch hall’s door, my intread made an unsettling shock among the Oatia, who had not forelooked one of their guests (and a warrior, as they foreguessed) coming to their lorewatch. Yet I told I had learned at the Hall of Stars, which caught their heed. To prove my starlore, I named all twelve fellows of the Heavenly Wainfare (which we Lashunta had first learned from the Elves). Yet when I named the Nine Worlds, they laughed and naysaid, answering there are eleven. Thus I learned of the Wordbode and the Outlander, who lurk beyond the Cradlestar, and the furthest whereof takes a thousand years to ring Burning-Mother. I asked whether either world was seeable, whereat they answered the Wordbode yes, and forespoke to log a belltide tomorrow (if the weather stays well) to aim a glass. They then told the wildest leeds about these new worlds: that neither is a sooth sunworld at all nor any child of Burning-Mother, but that the Wordbode is a great starfare ark come from the Darkness Beyond whose dwellers hide inside, and the Outlander is a live eldritch god of greater size than even our world, and that sleeps but may someday awaken. After I heard, I bewrayed them of wickedness against my blitheness.   To get some truth, I asked of the Aslanta - ~Firen~ to use the Elvish word - whom I heard had come by an elfgate (maybe the same that had brought us from Qabarat?). They yaysaid the Aslanta had come four years ago, seeking lore of an elder curse, and whom they had helped go back home. So I asked the Aslanta’s names, whereat they halted reckfully. I answered I had also met Aslanta, who had come to Son thirteen years ago through another worldgate. This word amazed them, and they outspoke I must talk with another named Alleli, who had spent the longest tide with the outworlders. One host even went to seek Alleli, but came back boding she was in mid-loretide. However, they told me that the odd farsight glass beside the elfgate was set there as a wise to drighten and aim the elfgate at Amarrhaiq (their name for Kyonin’s world), by which wise Alleli had sent the outworlders home!   More misluckily, this word left me too thrilled to sleep, whereat Kaure and Aeosel found me after dreading my midnight loss. If I rightly understood our Oatia hosts, there might be a way hence to Qolaryon.