The Trials of Deliverance - Aflunnge anFraeln

Chapter VIII - Kyllia

          "Talver," King Risalf said, "may I introduce, ancestor of Hyygdrev Elri, Ms. Kyllia Hyygdrev anDrakath Yungr, the Great Composer, and the greatest musical genius to have ever existed in-"

          "My king," she cut him off, "you flatter me too much," she turned to Talver and said in a youthful, soft-spoken Kyllistidane accent, "please, just call me Kyllia."

          She had undone the braid in her hair, and removed the dress she wore for the concert. She had changed into a white, v-cut, shirt; a shorter, worn-out version of the blue coat she had worn during the concert, only without the silver lattice; dark, tightened pants held by an intricate belt of interwoven lines, held by a silver buckle, just above her waist; and mid-thigh length, lace-up boots, with a slight heel, that were a light brown color.

          Kyllia was a little under a head of Talver's height, standing five foot, six inches. Her long hair, black as night, fell down, loosely, below her shoulders, framing her face perfectly. All her features were beautiful, entrancing even. It reminded him of the old sirens from the mariner stories. Her eyes, though, were unnerving. Even though they felt warm and kind, they were an icy-blue color -it made it appear as if her pupils were glowing white- that seemed cold and calculating. She had a woman's physique, light, but held an air as though she grew up on the streets and looked as though she could handle herself well enough.

          "It's an honor," Talver said, "and you may get this a lot, but what you did on that stage is nothing I've ever heard before. It took my breath away."

          She smiled, "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've wanted to play across the Samnûr myself, but with whatever war has come about, I don't think it'll be safe for a long while."

          King Thystrum leaned in and said to Talver, "I'll meet you back at the castle, I'll have to be up early, kingly duties and such," he then turned to Kyllia, "my dear, it's a pleasure as always. Thessuns mottim arndr."

          She hugged the old man, "thessuns than."

          King Thystrum left the room, leaving the two of them alone backstage. There was a slight air of tension as Talver didn't know what to say, or how to start a conversation. "It's justified, "he said to himself, "I'm standing in front of the most famous people in the world, not only the most beautiful I have ever seen."

          Kyllia smiled, her piercing eyes stared into him, as if she were sizing him up. She seemed to sense his uneasiness, as she threw her head back laughing. Quickly after she asked, "do you want to go for dinner? I haven't eaten in a few hours and could do with a hot meal."

          Talver didn't move. He was stunned.

          She tilted her head to the side and gave him a quizzical, yet amused look, "well?"

          The trance he was in broke, "I would love to. You will have to pick the venue though; this is only my first week in the city after all."

          She smiled, "good, I know just the place, and it happens that I have business there. Although you might want to change."

...

           Talver had quickly changed into the clothes he had brought with him, in case he could change out of the dreadful clothes he wore. They donned their weapons and headed out of the back of the concert hall, and, after Kyllia had finished attending to her fans waiting for her to come outside, they began down the winding streets of Ekraawell.

          They spoke as they walked down the road along the cliffside, the salt breeze in the night running a chill through their bodies. The light from Valhyyra and Balvinda coming from out over the ocean accented everything in their beams, making the city look ethereal. Talver noticed as it reflected off Kyllia's dark hair and bright eyes, making her almost have a surreal look, as if she were one of the gods. It was getting on near Elhreg, and the rain seasons would begin soon back home, and the heat of Alkheld would be here soon after, but that still didn't stop the wind cutting through the warmth of the air around them. Talver looked over and saw her shivering, "here, take my coat," he took it off, "no sense in having you catch ill."