Runesight

1 - Lazy Dryad

Eliax Lestwood often assumed that she was insane. At least...that's what she'd been assuming for the past ten years.

She was perfectly reasonable in this assumption, given that there were things in her mind and soul that had no right to be there; there were pieces of herself that no one understood, least of all her. And so Eliax was insane.

Even I classify her as insane, but my opinion doesn't matter here.

Thump.

The sight of the city ahead slowly grew larger as the hours passed. The sight of trees, the road, the wagons in the caravan, and the sights of people around her also riding towards that distant city. The sight of the old palace as she finally got close enough to see it. Eliax could have sworn she'd been here before, but this was her first time going this far west.

Thump.

The sounds of a moving cart, wheels grinding against the hard earth. The sounds of talking voices as the other passengers entertained each other, the sounds of the animals that plodded onward tirelessly, the slurping as her neighbor drank from his canteen.

Thump.

The feel of the vibrating seat beneath her. The rough wood of the armrests which kept giving her splinters, the faint ache in the base of her back from sitting for so long. Hours of sitting. Months with this same group.

Thump.

The scent of horses and pack animals. The scent of Humans and Tuvei, even a few Seldaens, most of them sweating flagrantly in the noonday heat.

Thump.

The taste of bile as it rose to her mouth.

Eliax let out a long breath, clutching her single bag with tired hands. She was almost there. To Reiaran. A place where perhaps she might get some answers. The beating of her heart in the base of her stomach, the click click of her exoskeleton as she tapped her fingertips together.

She took out her notebook and began to write.

I couldn't tell you anything that went down on those pages. It could have been observations, it could have been poetry. It could even have simply been a journal entry that was eventually lost forever. But Eliax wrote. She wrote until the charcoal of her pencil grew dull. She wrote until the steady rhythms of the caravan slowed to a crawl. She wrote until she finally worked up the courage to look up at the city walls as they passed beneath them, falling still in the central plaza of Reiaran.

There were many things that Eliax expected to happen when she saw the city for the first time, but oh blood and sand, she still wasn't prepared for it.

She barely noticed as the caravan stopped outside the gates and each wagon who wanted to enter approached the wall, telling the names of those entering to a guard who stood helpfully nearby with a sheet of paper and an inking pen.

A flood of memories that still weren't quite solid rushed through her mind and she barely noticed as she was admitted into the city. She sat stock still in the wagon as memories stirred at every brick and stone and poured memories into her head. Past the cracks in the paint that she'd attempted to shore up over the past couple of weeks. A bakery in front of her was a familiar shape, the scents penetrated the resonance and she remembered them from some time long ago.

The layout of the streets reminded her of mail for some reason, letters and envelopes. A broken streetlamp accompanied a vague feeling of embarrassment. The scent of the nearby sea was so achingly familiar, even though Eliax had never seen the thing.