3. Ivory Faylan - Teardrops in the Rain

Ivory Faylan - Teardrops in the Rain


  • Part One: 'The Duke of Kork'

    I remember the booming sound of thunder rumbling across the skies. The storm briefly lit the decrepit keep that rested high on the hill overlooking the tiny village in the valley below. That decrepit old castle that the self-named Duke Lirmond had re-purposed for himself. Caer Kork, he called it. Stupid name. The keep was nowhere near Kork and the people there wanted nothing to do with him, only the most foolish people from Kork and many lowlifes hiding out on Mintarn followed him…unfortunately, my aunt was one of those fools and she was dead.

    Aunt Talia was a druid. She was the reason my family moved away from Alaron in the first place, though that was before I was around. She led our family from island to island, first to Gwynneth, briefly to Norland and then finally to Moray, where I was born. When I was five years old, I remember my parents arguing with my Aunt Talia about going to Mintarn, an island for pirates and other people who needed to hide from the law, I can't remember why she wanted to go there but eventually she left on her own. I didn't hear anything about my Aunt Talia for many years until I was twelve, when we were informed that she had followed Lirmond to his ill-conceived Dutchy in the middle of nowhere and that due to the good Duke's mistreatment of the Dwarven workers he had hired for a pittance, her room in the keep fell in on top of her. So there I was, on my way to my Aunt's extravagant funeral, clutching my mothers hand as a freak storm ravaged the ramshackle village and rain turned the dirt roads to mud. I remember feeling fear as eyes from pirates, cutthroats, footpads and Northlanders were glued to me and my family. We didn't belong there, that much was clear. They saw us as cowards for not following Lirmond and it was evident in the way they eyed us as we made out way up the muddy slopes that they wanted nothing more than to take all we had and leave us in a ditch somewhere. Unfortunately for them, we were protected by the Dutchy, being the family of his late adviser we were considered honored guests.

    Guards opened the way to Caer Kork, slowly, as the heavy wooden doors protested loudly with a droning creak that brought all eyes in the great hall onto us. My father, my mother, my sister and little me standing there covered in filth and muck, dripping filthy water onto the freshly lain carpet, though to be honest I recall it smelled a bit like dwarf piss anyway. I remember all of the guests at the funeral looked eerily similar, though I didn't recognize any of them. They each had grey-pale skin, droopy and dark eyes, glowing red cheeks and noses and their hair was all styles in a similarly messy fashion. The guests regarded us with an indifferent stare before their heads, in unison, swiveled back to the far end of the hall, where my Aunt's coffin and the Duke's garish throne sat. The end of the hall was brilliantly lit by a multitude of braziers, torches and carefully placed mirrors. The coffin was decorated with such a variety of brightly coloured plants and flowers that Chauntea herself would probably think it was a bit much and above it all was a humble portrait of my Aunt Talia, just as I remembered her. Pink skin, rosy cheeks, a bright smile and three different types of flowers in her hair.

    The squelching sounds of our muddy boots making our way down the vestibule bounced off the walls of the shoddily repaired ruin until we found a place to stand. Duke Lirmond was a tall, middle aged man with very small features aside from a very large and round nose which was especially noticeable due to it's bright red hue, he looked a lot like the rest of the people in the hall, sickly pale aside from his flushed cheeks and nose. He regarded us with a kind, toothy smile, he seemed genuinely happy that we had made it to the ceremony despite the storm still raging outside. The Duke pushed some of his greasy hair back and cleared his throat as his squinty eyes returned their focus to the book he was holding.

    "Ah, yes, now where was I? Right. Lady Talia Faylan came to me in a time of need, I was down on my luck, it's true, it's true! I was on Mintarn like many of you were, scraping by on what I could beg for or what I could steal...and even then! I would spend most of the coppers I managed to pile together on the vapor. Talia found me when I was at my lowest and she lifted me up, she made me realize who I -could- be. Who I have -become-!"

    His eulogy was very self-centered in general, as I had expected from the self-named Duke of Kork. After a while I stopped hearing his ramblings and started to look around at all the sickly people gathered to see my Aunt off, but one of them stood out and I found myself staring. Amongst the dreary crowd was a young man, standing up straight, wearing elaborate robes and wearing an oddly confident look on his tattooed face. Yes, it was the tattoos that caught my eye but it was the way he carried himself that had me staring. I was only twelve but I felt something primal stir inside me when I saw him. Then, he looked back at me. I was stunned, at first, my cheeks soon matching the rosy tint of the sniffling and coughing crowd that surrounded me. Though the man simply offered me a warm smile and looked back toward the rambling Duke. I followed his gaze.

    "This loss will hurt us all as we attempt to build this fine village into a true jewel. But remember that Lady Talia is with The Great Mother now, and she is looking down on us with her blessing!"

    The Duke raised his arms as if to accept the blessings of Chauntea and everyone else followed his gesture; everyone except for my family, and the man in the robe. They all lowered their arms and started to neatly and silently make their way out of the hall and through the huge, ancient doors of the castle. My sister and I went to follow them, but my father put his hands on our shoulders, we were to stay. Lirmond made his way down the steps and out of the light and approached us.

    "Arti Faylan! It has been too long." He said to my father in that same over-exaggerated, jovial manner he used to give his eulogy.

    "Karl." My father replied in his usual monotone sort of way.

    "Ah, please, call me 'My Lord' when we're in the keep, Arti."

    "Of course." My father sneered. I've seen that look before. It's a look reserved for people my father truely hated. I was surprised. I didn't know that my father actually knew Lirmond before this, as far as I knew, this would have been their first meeting.

    The Duke didn't seem to notice, though, or perhaps he was very good at hiding that he did, and he kept talking in his usual tone and despite looking very ill, his cadence didn't drop.
    "Your sister lived in a house at the bottom of the valley, by the lake. It's very nice, I'm sure she would like it if you and your family stayed there while you're visiting. Ah! Speaking of which, why don't you introduce me?"
    His beady eyes scanned us, the first time he directly looked at any of us aside from my father, but his eyes quickly went back to him, waiting for introductions.

    "This is my wife, Helena" My father replied dryly. "My eldest daughter, Ebrill...and my youngest, Ivory."

    My father motioned to me last, I was wearing a tattered grey cloak that looked brown from all the mud, my cheeks were covered in streaks of mud from where I had used my dirty hands to wipe rain from my face and my boots were caked in dry, cracked soil. I curtsied. This made the Duke reel his head back in laughter, he held his stomach and tipped his head right back. I was deeply embarassed and looked away from the laughing Lirmond, which made me notice the handsome tattooed man leaning against a pillar on the other side of the room. He was watching me as well and offered me a reassuring smile. More embarrassment. My head jerked back to the Duke as he started coughing violently, sputtering and gasping and flinging his sickly spit at my face. I shielded my mouth and nose, taking a step back as my family did the same.

    Lirmond covered his mouth and turned away from us, he put his hand up dismissively and spoke in a much harsher tone. "Apologies, Arti, Helena, I am feeling a bit under the weather. I should be better by morning, Talia's student is not as good a healer as she was, but she isn't terrible. Please, head down to the lake, you can't miss the house." He started to walk up the steps as a pair of black robed men picked up my Aunt's coffin and carried it away. My father motioned us to follow and we began to make our way out as I furiously wiped the spit from my face, only making it dirtier. My attention was immediately caught by the tattooed man's deep voice. "My Lord, you should really consider taking me up on my offer, I can heal all of your p-"

    "SILENCE!"

    He was interrupted by the Duke, who was clearly very angry with him. "I have told you THREE TIMES and I will not tell you AGAIN! I do not need your vile, unholy magic, we will rely on nature!"

    The tattooed man shook his head, still with a small smile on his lips. "You only punish yourself by not accepting the offer, My Lord."

    "Begone, snake!" The Duke waved his hand as he barked his order, still making his way to the stairs. "Or I'll have my guards throw you out!"

    Lirmond vanished into the dark stairwell, leaving the 'snake' standing alone in the empty hall. He turned to look at me and shrugged with that same charming smirk. I felt a rough hand on my shoulder as my father pulled me along with him.

    "Come, Ivory. It's late."

    Then into the rain and thunder we went. Along the muddy roads to the house by the lake that would change my life forever.


  • Part Two: 'This Night Is Far From Over'

    On the way through the twisted and flooded streets of the village I noticed how eerily quiet it was there. For a town full of idiots and thieves, I had expected things to be a bit noisier. All of the signs for an active night life were there, a tavern on every corner, a empty bottles and discarded mugs strewn in the sludge. The town was young but it was built into the ruins of a small settlement, I had heard rumors that the place was torn apart by lycanthropes but I didn't believe it at the time, I was a sheltered child and I wasn't even entirely sure what was going on outside of my home. I heard part of a conversation as we passed a particularly sunken looking house, the lights inside were dim and you could tell that it was flooded. "It hasn't stopped raining for days now, we have to seal up these gaps." A masculine voice started.
    "What exactly are we going to plug them with? We've got nothing else!" A woman replied.

    My family turned the corner and we saw the house where we would be staying the night and the lake behind it. That man wasn't wrong, the lake was swelling and full of debris. Trash, wooden boards from houses and driftwood from the shore. The house itself may have been nice once, but since my Aunt had moved into Caer Kork it became just another ramshackle pile of junk slowly being filled with water. Father opened the door and we all entered, it was dark and dingy and barely kept the cold out, but it was better than nothing. The floorboards protested with each step onto them and the cracks between them allowed to you see straight into the cellar and my father's torch light illuminated the shallow water beginning to pool down there. Paintings on the wall of figured I didn't recognize were defaced and torn apart. It was clear that my Aunt wasn't the last people to stay in this house because she would never have let it fall into such disrepair so fast…at least, I don't think she would have.

    I made my way to the bed I'd be sleeping on, it was small and the sheets were filthy, though I wasn't exactly sparkling clean, either, so I didn't complain. I would be sharing the room with my older sister. Only when I had changed into my nightgown and sat on the bed did it dawn on me that I didn't shed any tears for my Aunt Talia. Perhaps it was the circumstances or the insenserity of the eulogy that prevented me from crying, but it was the first funeral I had been to since my grandmother passed when I was only six years old. I expected to cry at least a little bit. I cried all the time, even at the smallest things. My mind dwelled on that for a time as I tried to fall asleep in the strange room. Although my sister was in the bed beside mine it felt like I was in the room alone. Did she also cry? I tried to remember, I don't think she did. I don't think anyone did. Some more time passed and I remained awake, the cold air was harsh but I was very warm under the blankets. My mind wandered back to my grandmother and what I remembered of her, what I remembered of her burial. It wasn't nearly as fancy as the one I had just seen, but it was a lot more emotional. The entire family was there, aside from Talia and a few cousins. We all wept openly and then that night we had a glorious celebreation of her life to send her off. The adults were all drunk and telling stories about grandma. Why couldn't I remember any of those stories? It had become uncomfortably warm under the blankets, but when I took them off, the chill of the wind would cause me to shiver. Despite the discomfort, I drifted off to sleep.

    I vividly remember the nightmare I had that night to this very day.

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVcOwVD4V30

    I awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, I didn't scream, I couldn't. The dream I had, no, the visions I saw, they made my stomach turn. Something forced me to sit up and walk to the window and that is when I saw it. A man, no, a beast. Huge, furred, snarling and holding an armoured man up in the air. The beast tore the man in half and I started to scream. I opened my eyes again but I was still in bed, my mouth was open but I was silent, the night was still but I was sweating and my stomach felt like it was tied into knots. Did I dream the werewolf? I must have, the stories I heard, they were playing with my mind. I turned to the side, I felt my nostrils and my throat burning. I tried to see my sister in the darkness, but I couldn't. I suddenly felt a deep fear that I couldn't look behind me. The wolf, it was there. I could feel it the heat from it's foul breath washing over me. I didn't dare move, I simply stared at where my sister was laying.

    Until I opened my eyes again. I had drifted off and turned around during the night and now I was looking up. I felt a heaviness on my chest and on my stomach. I was hot, it felt like I was burning. And there was a woman sitting on my belly. Her face was gaunt and scarred and she was naked, her hands were on my upper chest, pushing down on it. She was smiling at me the way a crocodile smiles at it's prey. My body wouldn't let me move, I was paralyized with fear. I looked around and noticed that the woman was surrounded by shadowy figures standing in each corner of the room and in my periphery.
    "This night is far from over" She said in a voice that sounded like claws scraping against a wooden door, before vanishing as quickly as she came leaving no trace of her ever being there at all. Only then, did my heart have enough room to beat, I could feel it violently thumping in my chest. I rolled over and vomited on the floor. What followed was an agonizing few hours of pain as sickness quickly set in and took over. I was completely unable to move, I could feel the disease eating at my muscles and the fever boiling me to my core. I heard the faint sound of cries and violence outside, inbetween the sounds of booming thunder. The door to my room swung open with a crash, I didn't even have enough energy in me to react. My mother and father entered the room and I felt my father's hands over my face, his eyes were open wide, blue as the sky and filled with fear. Then, I heard my mother scream. "No! NO! She's dead! She's dead, Arti, she's dead!"

    I closed my eyes again and fell into sleep.