30. Bathtime by Thayne

Thayne had not given the room he had been in much thought. It was a bedroom; he was clued into that by the soft feathery bed upon which he awoke. It was elaborate, and rather large, and there had been so many windows that, in truth, they shouldn’t have been called that. They were more like archways to the sea, separated by columns so no walls made up the round room. On some level he observed all of this, but what had caught and held the Runic’s every thought had been the two elves – his children – that had been there to see to him.

One dark, the other fair, his children had greeted him. Jexibell, pale and statuesque had warmed when he called her by name. Her brother, the darker Sarojin, kept his distance, observing with scholarly curiosity. Both appeared to be well mannered, friendly, and about their first century in age. How the latter was even possible was beyond reason. Potential solutions were on Thayne’s mind as he crossed the threshold from the bedroom to the bath. But the answers he sought never came. The magnificence of the bath chamber stole his thought away.

As the delicate wooden door clicked closed, he found himself alone on a balcony of pale stone set across from a natural spring cascading gently from the side of a cliff. A pool cut into the stone ten feet below captured the water, gathering it within its crystal clear depths. To his left were more archways overlooking the dark sea. To his right, a rounded out wall of the cliff acted as a shelter for hanging personal artifacts – paintings, sculptures and other precious tokens of love dotted the wall chaotically. Every care had been taken to work around nature, to allow plants and wildlife within the room, and yet the carved stone pillars preserved an air of regality by design. Before the decorated wall was a curved staircase carved from hardwood the color of ash, and Thayne forced his feet down it. Once his feet touched the ground level of the pool Thayne glanced upwards to notice there was no dome to the circular room. The ceiling was the open night sky.

The sky – sparkling with the host of gemstone-stars opened up before him and for once he understood just how far from the darkness he had come. His heart beamed and his emerald eyes brightened as he sought out each light as if he had never seen the sky before. Inside, emotions boiled to the surface and his mind wandered back to a time in Vvrock when he had managed to reach the great glass-steel wall that held back the sea. Tiny multicolored lights danced in the blackness, and the cave-weary surface elf had imagined they were stars. Reaching out toward them, his hand encountered the cold, clear steel and from the other side, a fish had chomped at it thinking it would get an easy meal. Fish had been his stars. Shigume had laughed at his foolishness.

But these celestial images were not fish, and as he connected a few dots here and even more there, he began to recall the familiar clusters and shapes declared by his people as significant. Northward his eyes drifted, until he came upon a line of stars, a curve of celestial mist, and the golden trail of distant galaxy. Recognition pulled a gasp from his chest; it was there, just as his father had shown him. The Archer, his father had named the grouping. And sitting tall on his father’s knee, Thayne had been told it was his birth sign. Each star had been pointed out and named, “The archer isn’t the strongest sign, my son.” He had said, “But he is unfaltering in his journey. Like a compass, the tip of his arrow always points north.”

Back in the bath chamber, he had not even realized his hand had outstretched toward the sparkling symbol. The irony of the sign brought him free from the bittersweet memory. Slowly his hand lowered, his eyes drifted down too. The heavens would always remain out of reach.

The echoing swish of the waterfall brought his attention back to the room. He had reached the curved wall, and a vanity hand-carved from sandstone saturated with fossils stood center. The back was a large oval mirror; two shallow glossy washbasins sat either side of it. Curios decorated the flat surface, and Thayne glanced at each, hoping one would trigger a memory. Many were carvings from shells or wood, some primitive and possibly done by children. There were cats and wolves, a few faerie-types that were stuck in a potted vine that draped so long it touched the ground and grew along the feet of the furniture. His fingers touched a string of pearls tossed over the fennel of the mirror. He imagined that he gathered each one of those pearls himself and painstakingly carved each hole to string them by. But as it played about in his mind, he didn’t know if that was memory or fantasy. Lifting his eyes, he noticed nestled in the natural curves and hollows of the cliff wall were paintings and sculptures – hundreds of them. One he recognized as Jexibell with another blonde haired elf, a boy, and possibly another of his children. Pulling the small painting down from the wall, he studied it carefully, it looked decades old. Again the aching thought of how long had he been away surfaced. It had only been ten years – how could he have amassed a centuries worth of wealth with Vynne?

Placing the painting down on the vanity, he walked over to the pool and knelt down. The water looked cold and pure; and not overly deep. Reaching toward it, he almost touched it when he noticed how dark his fingertips were. Turning his hand around, he observed the mud and dried blood in his nails, along the curve of his wrist, and inside the crook of his elbow. Blood and dirt from the Underdark – he would never let it stain the waters of his bath. Even if he didn’t recall the last decade or century, his loathing of the drow would not change. Not ever. He would bathe at a later time, he decided before pealing off the layers of clothing given to him by Jysdiira.

Bare to the room, the disjointed numbness that enwrapped him suddenly had nowhere to hide. Calmness descended within the Runic, and naked senses drifted free. A freshly blooming orchid welcomed him home, its soft scent drifted in on the sea breeze. A pale white trumpet vine arched up from a stony crack and his fingers brushed the tiny petals – the buds were new and excited to have finally met him. Awestruck that he could feel such awareness from plants, he reached for a much older wisteria. It sighed with the wizened relief of a grandparent that feared for the wellness of its offspring. The gentle indigo blooms warmed in welcoming. Pondering the whys and hows of this connection, he noticed a feeling of joy vibrating through everything, even from the stones under his feet. Until that moment, it had been unreal; possibly even the deranged dreaming of an elf still chained to a wall. But now he knew this was his life, connected to nature and living under the sky with the people he cherished. Somehow, he had achieved what was beyond the imagination of a slave elf bound in domineering darkness.

Inside the package that he had dropped by the vanity were his armor, his sword, and various items he had never seen before. Giving his pale body a final glance, he could still see the pink swatches of freshly healed skin covering wounds that had almost taken his life. He could still see the dried blood which had not been washed away, and the dark dirt which had not been removed. It was fitting it should remain, for he was not yet free. Vynne had to be saved, and that meant he had to return to the darkness. Pulling on each piece of armor, he instinctively knew how it was worn. Ties that might give a novice pause, his fingers found without fault. Once it was completely donned, he opened the drawer of the vanity and found a silver chain. On it, he threaded his wedding band. This he fashioned around his neck, letting the ring hang over his heart. Tucking it into his armor so it touched his flesh, he thought to his love, “You will put this back on me.”

Pulling up his collar, he looked at himself in the mirror; remade. Over the collar he could see the clean swatch of flesh around his neck where the torc had retested. The white band almost cried to him, This is what you really are. And to it he voiced outloud, “Nau, this is what I really am.” Smiling at his complete reflection, his eyes shifted color, turning blue. That discovery had him blinking in wonderment, leaning in closer to see if it had been a trick. Under scrutiny, his eyes shifted in hue from orange to magenta then back to a very vibrant, humorous green. Just like Vynne’s eye and wings changed, his eyes did as well. It only further solidified what he already knew. She was his wife, and he would not fail in saving her.

Grabbing his sword, he turned and hiked back up the stairs and into his bedroom again. He was not a new man, not yet; he had one more trip to make to the Underdark.

Jexibell was in the room alone, apparently Sarojin had gone. She was standing near the windows, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin lowered in contemplation. Her silhouette was beautiful and Thayne’s heart swelled with a father’s pride. Through the moonlight Thayne could see the frown that creased her brow. She looked up as he entered, “Papa… you did na’ bathe.”

Thayne approached her, said nothing as her eyes drifted to the stains on his neck and ears. “Aye, tis no time, Jexibell. I have t’ find Vynne.”

She corrected him again, “Her name is Pashen. And, aye, you do.” She reached for his collar, tucking it up higher around his neck. She did not like to see any markings upon her father’s skin that would suggest the horrors that he must have been through. Trying to act natural, she let her slender fingers brush over his shoulder and down his bicep. “Do you have any idea of where she might be? Can you feel her, Papa?”

Thayne thought deeply and tried to reach her as he had in the cave. He had felt her acutely then, but now there was nothing. Possibly distance had been the key. “Mayhap if I could get back t’ where I last saw her… Are there eagles t’ take us?”

Jexibelle paused; almost laughing at what she thought was a joke. But looking into his eyes, she managed to catch her reaction before she voiced it. Sadness surrounded her as the holes in his memory were once more made painfully clear. “Papa. You can teleport.”

Thayne’s left eyebrow lifted as if he were being presented with new information. “I can?” Considering what this meant, he whispered, “Tis much I donna know about myself.” This potentially meant he could get himself killed if he wasn’t careful. But he didn’t have time to teach himself everything he could do. “Jexibell.. Would you ..” Before he could even consider the possibilities of his question, he asked it. “Would you help me?”

Sat, Mar 19th – 2:39AM