Lady Orc

Chp. 4

chp. 4

 Kaolaidhe took her father’s sword and walked from the carriage to the path that led through tightly rigged shrubbery, with the branches and thorns from neighboring plants entangled so thoroughly that there was no possible  access except the path.

The path led deeper into the greenery, until she reached the family glade, sanctified to the gods and her family. She would kneel here through the night and mourn her father. Trying to get a vision or at least a strong feeling as to what direction she should lead her family now that its control had fallen to her.

Kaolaidhe walked alone into the family glade. A moment later when her father’s kelevolem followed her she decided not to even try to send it away. It was possible this unkillable behemoth was going to be the turning point in her search for vengeance and a solid place in the world for her people beyond being cannon fodder and servants.

She knelt beside the reflecting pool staring deep into the dark water. The pool itself was only a foot or two deep but the bottom was blackened to use the pool for scrying and looking into it felt like looking into the void of eternity.

After an hour silently crying , still with no vision or ideas to bring her hope she turned from the pool and began to dig with her hands in the warm green ground.
It was tradition that she dig the grave of her father’s sword with her own hands; no tools, no assistance, and she was proud to do it.

In the end two of her fingernails had pulled away enough to bleed by the time the hole was long enough and deep enough. She moved a little more gingerly but made no other effort to staunch the bleeding. Blood was sacred to all the Fey and it was expected one would bleed at this ritual, and it was considered good luck to have it happen naturally. Her blood would be mixed with the soil, honoring her father and pledging herself to her land.

She lay the sword in its grave and spoke a personalized version of the burial prayer over it.

 Spirit, who is full of compassion. Who dwells beyond

Bring my father to a true rest in Your presence.

May this soul rise to the level of the purest of your children, brought forth by your word and intent

They who shimmer like the sky at its most stunning moments

Iohonnon son of Seppeio and Michamah, who is on the path to the next world of being for whom I pray.

Let his soul and will become a sacred memory

Let his rest be idyllic within You, Compassionate-Womb-like One

Take him into the world within Your arms and keep his soul-ties alive

Spirit of Becoming, let what is Becoming be his inheritance

May he rest in peace and completion

And let us say, it is done.

 She prayed on in silence, drawing her power to her as she beat her chest and tore at her hair and clothes. She released her power in formless spells as she released her pain to the earth. Her fingernails tore off completely at jagged bend points about halfway down the nail.

Eventually she passed out from exhaustion and power drain and awoke after a time aching and empty.

She filled the hole back in. and with her bleeding hand she scooped some water from the reflecting pool and sprinkled it on the grave as she spoke a blessing.

The kelevolem rose and walked over to the grave. He knelt beside it and his clay turned to liquid and began pour down his body and flow into the grave. She tried to grab him, she called out that she needed him. She shouted entreaties to the melting creature and to the sky above to stop this. But in the end nothing could change things, it was gone in a few minutes. Just as Tannus and Bogwa rushed into the glade.