Soulseeker

Lithoniel 9.4

First draft

The Loremaster's new tent was completely different from the old one. It was much more modest, dirty and above all, cramped. It wasn't surprising since the new place was three times smaller than the old one. Granted, they had been forced to leave in a hurry, and they couldn't bring even half of the things Naevys had hoarded in the last fifty years. However, the main difference was the smell.

Lithoniel was used to that smell of ancient parchments, the musty scent of ebonleaves and old alchemic concoctions. It'd lingered on in the old tent, and with time Lithoniel had learned to tolerate it, maybe even like it. Many found it unpleasant, but It reminded her of home. Now it was gone. The new tent reeked of medicinal herbs, a pungent smell used for the sole purpose of hiding what lay underneath it.

Putrefaction. The smell of death. It filled the air like something or someone was rotting, dying slowly and painfully. Lithoniel covered her nose as searched for Dasyra, the Loremaster's new maid, but Naevys' servant found her first.

Dasyra was small, short---barely four seven---and old, her short blond hair like straw.

"Nighstalker" She bowed to her, trudging across the tent to reach her.

As usual, she straightened her back and tried to hide her limp, the inborn defect that in the strict elf society sealed her fate and made her a casteless, a servant.

"Dasyra, what's this smell?" Lithoniel asked her.

Dasyra's eyes widened slightly, "Medicinal herbs." She answered, panting a bit as if that short walk had tired her.

"I don't mean tha..."

However, Dasyra didn't let her finish, "Do you come to meet the Loremaster?" She asked, maybe a bit too fast, "She'll be happy to see you. Please follow me." She gave her no time to answer and started walking.

Lithoniel narrowed her eyes but followed Dasyra until they reached the Loremaster's bedroom. Then she wrinkled her nose, her eyes watering as that thick medicinal scent hit her nostrils. The smell was much stronger here. Naevys was sleeping, a thick fur enveloping her scrawny body. She looked thinner than Lithoniel remembered, her face withered and deadly pale.

Lithoniel shot a worried glance at her, "How is she?"

Dasyra shook her head, "Every day that passes she is less lucid, Nighstalker. Most of the time she sleeps, and when she is awake, she isn't...

At that moment, Naevys' eyelids flickered.

Lithoniel couldn't help but lean forward, "Loremaster!" She called, but Naevys didn't wake up.

"Come...Falarel" Naevys mumbled in her sleep, "Come here, my child."

"Falarel?" She whispered to the maid.

Dasyra hesitated, "She is...was the Loremaster's daughter, but..."

"She died more than twenty winters ago." Lithoniel said quietly.

The maid nodded, sadness clouding her features as she looked at the Loremaster.

"I've missed you." Naevys continued, completely unaware of what was happening around her, "Uncle Elwin made you a wooden horse, a big wooden horse...just as you wanted." Her voice was soft and low like she was trying to coax a child, "Come...Falarel...come..." Then her voice died off.

Lithoniel tried to wake her up, but Naevys kept mumbling in her sleep. She gave up in the end and glared at the maid, "She got worse. She wasn't this bad when I left. And what's this smell?" She asked again, but Dasyra looked away.