3. Robyn Jahnsdotter - Memories

Robyn Jahnsdotter - Memories


  • The moonlight filtered softly through the window of a small room at the Dancing Mermaid. Within, on a bed of linen and furs slept Robyn. Her autumn hair was scattered across her pillow, her right arm and leg hanging over from under the furs almost touching the floor. On a chest nearby, an unsheathed rapier glowed softly, it’s light pulsing almost imperceptibly creating a myriad of moving shadows throughout the room.

    Dream…

    Robyn often dreamed of Marcus. Often they were disjointed. They were dreams of home, people, places and things out of place and time. They weren’t always happy dreams, but they nonetheless comforted her. They reminded her of a simpler time, a time of little responsibility, a time to make lavish desserts, and love by the fire.

    But those times were gone.

    Now she dreamed of far away places, of times long ago, of people dead and buried centuries past. She would wake from these dreams, and in the twilight between dreams and consciousness she would catch the glow of the sword, which quickly faded from sight. “Sword Dreams”, she had called them. She did not like them, for they tugged at her mind and poked at memories that didn’t belong.

    The three people in her dreams were always the same. One was Vortelli, a tall austere Elvish warrior with a sharp mind and dry sense of humor. Dreams of him started even when Marcus slept beside her. Then there was Donar Requialis, another Elf full of whimsy and charm. He was a blade singer from Evermeet, and in her dreams was laughing and mirthful most of the time. Finally, there was Lady Winters, “Liv” the other two called her. She was a paladin of Tyr, full of charisma and charm, with blond hair, white washed leather, tabard and cloak, one hand black gloved, the other white. They were the “Invincible Three”, legends in their time for deeds great and small.

    In her dreams they were, anyway…

    The dreams of the three were almost always the same. It focused on the courtyard, in a castle far away, somewhere Robyn could never place. A desperate losing battle raged around the three. Vortelli and Donar held the stairs, and Liv’s bow sang from behind them. The dream was full of shouts and confusion. Vortelli and Donar fell in front of Liv, and the rest of the dream was spent falling back up the stairs with other warriors, faces long forgotten even from the dreams of others. When the hoards came up the stairs, and Liv was about to be overwhelmed, Robyn always awoke.

    Tonight, she did not.

    Remember…

    As the sword whispered to her thoughts, the hoards rushed up the stairs. Liv was pushed backward by the retreating spearmen. Donar and Vortelli were thrown underfoot. Frantically, Liv rolled off the stairs beside the embattlements and crashed onto the ground 40 feet below

    The fall snapped Liv’s rapier in two, her bow clattering beside her. Stunned, Liv tried to stand but fell to her knees in pain, her left ankle and knee shattered. Dazed and bewildered, she looked back up at the stairs.

    The hoards had covered the outside stairwell. At the top, the castle elite lay death around them as they gave their lives. When they were inevitably overwhelmed, the hoards would enter the castle interior. All would be lost.

    Frantically she looked around for her friends. Vortelli lay 30 feet behind her next to a watering trough, bleeding from several wounds. He too had made the plunge leaping outward to safety, but had been knocked unconscious by the fall. As her eyes swept upward she spied Donar still on the stairs, lying with other fallen soldiers, a spear protruding from his hip. With Goblins and Orcs milling about frantically trying to climb over each other upwards for blood, Donar was largely ignored. Donar opened his eyes, and their gazes locked.

    Remember…

    That moment in the dream was a peculiar one for Robyn. Robyn was Liv, Liv was Robyn. Donar was the man she loved. Husband to a beautiful wife, father of two lovely children, Donar was the man Liv loved but would never have. As they gazed at each other, Robyn and Liv waved Donar to jump. But he just sat there shaking his head sadly pointing to the spear, which had pinned him to where he was. Then Donar’s eyes looked up.

    Robyn and Liv followed his gaze up to the crenellations. Sitting above him and to his right was one of the many cauldrons of flaming oil. It sat there, support by line and rope to be cut and flood the stairwell rendering it inaccessible. Winged things, gargoyles and other creatures that she did not recognize however, had taken the positions. They had never been used.

    Robyn looked at him in horror. Donar just closed his eyes and nodded. Robyn scooted back as far as she could, her shattered leg in front of her. She looked around wildly for another answer, any answer, but found her gaze instead riveted to the doorway. A mere six of the castle elite remained. She looked back at Donar, the full horror of the moment upon her. He smiled faintly in return, and closed his eyes. With stinging tears blurring her vision, Robyn raised her bow horizontally and fired.

    …and missed the rope connected to the cauldron by almost two feet.

    Curiously Donar opened one eye and looked down on her, his lip trembling with emotion. His voice rang out briefly then, a resonate voice weaving the beginnings of a song of hope and courage. This immediately drew attention to himself, and one of the many nearby Orcs swung his mace, striking him on the head.

    His voice was silenced…

    Robyn fired…

    The arrow struck the rope, and the cauldron tipped forward lazily…

    The stairwell 10 feet in front of the doorway down to the entrance became a raging inferno filled with shrieks of anguish and terror. The castle elite flattened against the doorway, the intense heat searing clothing and hair. Thick black smoke filled the area…

    Remember…

    Robyn awoke, sobbing. She look up, and through tears could see the sword glowing, pulsing briefly as it always did, before the dim light of the room swallowed it’s shape when the light extinguishing itself.

    “You bastard”, she hissed trembling. “You fucking bastard! I am not her! Do you hear me! I’m not her!” She shouted.

    Silence…


  • Robyn regards Donovan critically for a moment, before allowing herself a smile. "Alright", she nods, "Take me to him"


  • Donovan the Bearded watched as the woman got off the boat. He stayed along the edges of the docks, taking note of the way she moves, the color of her hair, her outfit. But it was what his eyes spied along her side that made him realize it was the woman he was looking for. A fine rapier with the symbol of tyr upon its hilt bounced against her side.

    He moved swiftly through the docks, weaving in and out of people and objects, making his way closer over to the woman. He tried to stay low, blend in with the people, and had figured he had done a good job.

    As he got closer though he had realized that the tales of the womans uncanny eye sight wasn't exaggerated. She turned just as he was about to approach, looking at the man as her hand went to the hilt.

    "Whoa whoa there Miss Jahnsdotter, no need for that. I am a friend." The half elf smiled, calmly scratching the chin of his bearded face as he moved up to her. He adjusted the collar of his tunic a bit as he moved closer, bringing his voice down a level as she watched him curiously.

    "I know you're here looking for him, I've been keeping an eye on the situation a bit. I can tell you you're not going to find him on foot, he's gotten way to far way to fast due to the money he had to spend on such means…that and blind stupid determination to move forward. However I think the man could use a bit of help, and since you seem to be wanting to give it, i thought I'd offer mine. I have had some friends keeping an eye on him as he's been going and me and a few of my constituents here can arrange to get you caught up to him within the day. What do you say?"

    At that he gave a friendly smile through his beard, straightening his tunic and collar and slicking the hair back exposing his slanted ears as he waited for her answer.

    ((hope you don't mind the post here Robyn, and if you do I will edit it out. But i thought this might be a good way to push ahead))


  • Robyn sat in the Peltarch library, eyes blurred with fatigue staring blankly at the collection of tomes and journals that covered the table in front of her. The dream had repeated itself for three nights, leaving her physically drained and emotionally exhausted. The rapier leaned against the leg of the table, gleaming in the winter sun that filtered through the window. It had refused to be sheathed, and she hadn’t the will to fight it.

    She knew quite a bit about Vortelli. He still resided in Surthay, and she had kept up some correspondence with him after he had trained her to use the rapier. Of Lady Winters she knew little, other than what Vortelli had told her. Of Domar she knew even less. Vortelli had spoken little of him in the letters, despite Robyn’s insistence. Efforts to find any mention of their names in the library had proved futile. She was no researcher though. Perhaps the temple of Tyr would yield better results.

    “…if the sword doesn’t kill me first”, she thought to herself. Robyn shoved the tomes aside and laid her head down on the table. She was afraid of sleep, but was too tired to fight what her body demanded. Reality around her slipped briefly away, before a loud crash next to her ear startled her awake. Beside her was an old journal, it’s leather bound covers cracked with age despite obvious care. A thin strong hand covered it. Her eyes swept upward and met Vortelli’s gaze.

    “Hello Miss Jahnsdotter”

    Robyn turned around startled as Vortelli took a seat beside her. He reached out to move the rapier, but then his hand hesitated, and instead move the chair away.

    “How…how did you get my letter so soon?. I just sent it yesterday!”, Robyn inquired sleepily.

    Vortelli smiled and put a dusty pack on the table. “I never received your letter Miss Jahnsdotter. I was already on my way here. He tapped his long finger on the journal. “Most of what you will need is in here”, he said.

    Robyn blinked a few times in confusion. “But why come here now? How did you know?”

    Vortelli turned and glanced long and deliberately at the rapier. “It seems I was asked”

    “Oh”, Robyn replied, her voice trailing off quietly.

    “Robyn”, Vortelli said softly, “I haven’t spoken to you about Liv and Domar because much of our relationship was private. Oh sure”, he laughed, “We had our share of rousing adventure, but as you well know the true nature of friendships lie far beyond the camaraderie that exists when people travel and perform deeds together”. Vortelli settled back in the chair then, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

    “We were all in love Robyn. Domar to his wife and family. Liv to her church and”, he paused, “Domar, and I with adventure and”, he paused again, “Liv. Domar traveled because I don’t think it was in him to stay still. His wife Ellysa knew that, and accepted him for it. In all the years I traveled with him however, not once did he betray her faith in him, even with Liv, though I knew he wanted to. Liv traveled because of her duties to her church. …And I?”, Vortelli shrugged, “I traveled to be with Liv.”

    Vortelli was silent for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. “When Domar was killed, Liv lost much of her zeal for life. I later proposed, hoping to offer her a chance to be happy. She accepted”, Vortelli said, his expression distant, “But I know she settled.”

    “I know the feeling”, Robyn said quietly.

    Vortelli leaned back in his chair, his eyes mirthful for a moment, his expression one of delight. “You should have seen her when Domar and I first met her Robyn. Youthful, full of spirit and hope! Ah yes, and very naïve!”, he laughed, “But most paladins are I suppose when they first begin their duties. She was beautiful Robyn, and not because she was fair of face. She was beautiful because she was competent, intelligent, and full of desire to see the right thing done. She was different from any other paladin I encountered, even unto this day. Oh no!”, he laughed again, “No shining platemail and horse for her! She wore her white leathers, danced in melee on old leather boots, and swashbuckled her way from adventure to adventure on caravans and ox carts.”

    Vortelli paused then, his face unfathomable, his eyes staring into Robyn. “Even after 200 years, I still miss her”

    Robyn looked up into up his eyes and swallowed. “I’m not her”, she whispered.

    Vortelli’s face broke into a matter of fact grin. “Of course not”, he said, “Liv lived over 200 years ago. But I find the parallels quite amusing, don’t you?”

    Vortelli took a stack of leather bound papers from the dusty pack lying on the table. Robyn immediately recognized them as her old letters. 15 years of them. Vortelli took the stack and plopped them in front of Robyn.

    Vortelli stood smoothly, though Robyn could tell that the last 15 years had taken their toll. He reached over, and patted Robyn on the shoulder. “Read your own letters Robyn. Read my journal. I think you will find them quite enlightening. If you want my opinion, and even if you don’t I’m going to give it to you, I think Tyr just wants his paladin back. You know, the one full of life. The one who cared. The one who wanted to make a difference”

    Robyn looked up into Vortelli’s eyes, trying to figure out something clever to say. “I’m not a paladin”, was all she could muster.

    Vortelli regarded her with amusement. “Being a paladin begins here”, he said, pointing to her heart. “It has little to do with the covenants of gods and mortals, though most gods would disagree. I have seen many paladins lose in their heart what brought them to divine grace, yet still maintain their covenant with their god through deed and duty.”

    Vortelli pause briefly, letting his words have their effect. He regarded Robyn face for a moment, searching eyes so familiar to him 200 years ago. “Besides”, he continued, “Covenants aren’t always signified with Knightly orders, long prayers, and divine powers. Sometimes they come in…other forms”. Vortelli looked down, glancing at the sword. “I will take my leave now”, he concluded, “I know you have a lot of reading to do”

    Mind whirling, Robyn watched as Vortelli walked down the hall. She had so many questions, but didn’t know where to start. She started to open her mouth, but by then Vortelli was out of sight. Robyn exhaled sharply, then turned and looked at her letters.

    –-

    Robyn spent the remaining part of the day reading her own letters. As the afternoon wore on, the letters told their own story, one that she had told someone else over the years. It told of a young woman, full of hope, fear, longing and dreams, with plans for a life of peace and family. It told of a woman who cared, but lost those dreams, and gave in to cynicism and despair. Finally, as she read the last of her own letters, it told of a woman who no longer cared at all.

    She had never expected the feeling of shame she would get from reading her own writing. Throughout the years, she had tried to do the right thing, but the heart and soul written in the first letters was conspicuously absent from the last. This place as wrung it out of her. Worse, she had let it. Finally with curiosity she opened the journal.

    Robyn read the journal into the night, but despite the fatigue found herself smiling. In these pages were camaraderie and adventure, laughter and mirth, love and longing. This was the story of three people, who shared their lives for a few short years, yet lived a hundred in their heroics, laughter, and friendship. It was the story of three people who lived their lives to the fullest. It was the story of three people who cared.

    The journal however, ended with the battle at Merkin’s Keep. Here, her dream was played out before her in exquisite detail, ending with Domar’s death. The remaining few pages were filled with sadness and loss. Domar’s things had been collected and delivered to his wife and children, and there the journal ended. A few blank pages later, there was even a hastily sketched family tree. She smiled a bit, and was about to close the journal, when something familiar struck her. She flipped back a page, and looked at the family tree again. She read it, then blinked and read it again. Zyphlin Re’cual. Zyphlin was Domar’s maternal grandson.

    Robyn looked astern of the “Ice Wind Rider”, and watched the wake as the ship carried her farther from Peltarch. Hoarsgate lay a few days ahead. She didn’t know what direction Zyphlin had taken from there, but she was sure that a few glimmers would provide what information she needed. As she leaned against the railing, her ponytail whipping in the wind in front of her, Robyn found herself smiling. A good friend was something to care about.


  • 😮 Beautiful writing Robyn. You put me right in that dream. 🙂