War Dreams, Chapter 2
Siarah sat there in a fine fettle, her chin cushioned by her fist upon her knees. Hours passed and still she sat, her mind far away, straining to make sense of the calling given to her. So deeply she mulled her thoughts that even the sticky dew or the warm glow of dawn's first rays through the darkness of night did not stir her from her reverie.High above, a lone raven circled the aftermath of the carnage, watching the lass as she meditated. She had become a fixture to the feast, a curiosity at first and now a fascination. His fascination was not his alone. His entire realm was developing an unhealthy relationship with her, guarding her home as she slept; monitoring her while she waited in the shadows of the fights, alerting him to her needs and distresses.
His obsession was increasing with every visit she made to the battlefields; slowly she was becoming the prized gem that he coveted. He was even becoming jealous of the dream person that she sought, wishing to be the one that filled her dreams as she slumbered. Irritated at his thoughts, the king gave a mighty CAW as he floated in the cool morning air. Yet, instead of joining his flock as he should, the king landed in a pine tree not far from Siarah.
Another one was in the tree as well, the fair princess of Cloidthe, of the Northern Forest, and the closest friend of Siarah. To look upon this maiden was like watching a flower blossom from its dewy bud into a breathtaking flower. Her golden hair waved around her face, a single band of copper laid upon her head denoting her office. Her tan skin flushed in the cool air, and she turned to acknowledge the Raven King. "We meet again, Sir" before turning her worried eyes upon her friend. Quiet settled between the two for a few moments before the princess spoke again, "She is starting to worry me, I fear what will happen if she does not find this man soon, and at the same time I fear what changes this man will bring if she does.”
The Raven King did not speak for a long time, his dark eyes watching the princess, for she was truly beautiful, but not like Siarah. Meolin was the most delicate of fine porcelain where Siarah was the tough metal flagon that whets a man's thirst. "She has sought him for over three years. Her hope is starting to weaken, look upon her now, and see. Be the loyal friend she needs, and do not tarry too long in these lands."
Meolin nodded her head at the king's wise words and made her way down the tree, her bare feet finding easy purchase upon the wide branches and her agile acrobats quickly landed her beside her friend. Together the women sat for a while, held tightly to one another in comfort. As Siarah started to relax, Meolin stood, and guided her friend away from the carnage of man. The two slipped slowly into the dawning mists, and out of the sight of the Raven Kings protective watch.
That night, the dreams took a new turn. The sounds of battle louder than ever, causing Siarah to toss and turn upon her lofty bed of moss, crying in fear of the horrible slaughter happening. She could hear the swords clang and the grunts of men, their war cries loud upon the air. Siarah could take no more and sat straight up in her bed, looking about in a sleepy fog. She shook her head trying to get the sounds of the night to banish from her mind, but the sounds remained, echoing in the lass's chamber. Wrapping a thick blanket around her, Siarah slid off her bed and padded to the opening of the cavern that she called home. In the night, the war had landed upon her doorstep and she watched the many dances of death with a morbid fascination. Slowly, body after body succumbed to exhaustion or the skill of the opponent, until only a handful of wounded men stood, leaning against heavy bastard swords, and breathing in the night air in huge gulps. One man started up a warrior’s cheer, one that burned the last of his adrenaline and cited their victory in this battle. Another man echoed the cry and soon all those left were adding in their voices. It was like watching a pack of wolves braying to the moon.
As the group of warriors left the area, carrying what wounded they could, Siarah waited, watching the sky for the ravens. She knew they would come, and it did not seem right to step out into the field without the presence of the raven's King. When he was around, she felt safer on the field of the dead. Therefore, she stood there, watching over the dead through the last of the night until the dawn breached the skyline, and the sounds of the birds drew close. The king flew right to her doorway as if he knew right where she was, and landed at her feet. "Your princess worries, Siarah. Let my birds search the field as we work. You stand guard with me, keep this old king company, and tell me what is so important of this man. Why is he more than all your friends and family, who you have refused join. What answers do you think will be filled by finding him?" The king was quite serious, and for the first time, Siarah felt compelled to stay and share with the king. She nodded her head, the sleep tousled hair bouncing with the nod. "Let your ravens seek."
