More Aelwys/Mother Stuff

Starting to get somewhere?... We'll see.

 The storm had largely receded by the time they set out, removing their cloaks from the cave-mouth and donning them against the subdued chill of the evening. By the light of the pale moon they made their way along the sandy ridges of the beachside, backtracking the way they had come in their flight, to find again the road to Llynceth. In the half hour or so it took them to begin again their journey from whence they had fled, the steady crashing of waves and the much calmer ocean breeze greatly set Aelwys at ease. The moonlight was bright enough to cast sharp shadows everywhere, dappling the rock and sand in black and silver; at first Aelwys stared into each inky shade as though it might hide any number of horrors that would be unleashed at any moment, but with time she began to feel more at ease. She was much rested from their afternoon of hiding, and their new pace, though brisk, was much more manageable without the frigid wind and rain pelting them incessantly.

On they walked in silence. Continually the crashing of the waves kept a sluggish rhythm for them to march, as their path stretched ever further before them. Aelwys' eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, and with the moon shining so brilliantly between the inky clouds, it felt to her almost like walking on a morning just after snowfall at the first sign of sunlight: everything was eerily silent, yet serene and shimmering. Though she felt calmer than at first, she did not quite know how she liked this strange version of the world.

After they had walked for some time, they came to the stream Mother had mentioned earlier. The path led to a small stone bridge, beneath which the dark water flowed out towards the nearby sea. It was when Aelwys beheld this bridge that the feelings of unease came flooding back to her.

The moment she spotted it, she felt a small shock of horror; before she could identify it, it had disappeared. She thought she had seen a shadowy form at the base of the bridge ahead of them, but it was nowhere to be found. She shook her head and wondered if perhaps her eyes were not so well adjusted to the dark after all, if the moonlight was playing tricks on her eyes.

Again!

She saw the shadow in the exact corner of her left eye, the height of a man; she whipped her head around to see nothing but the rocky hillside. She felt her heart begin to throb, and she looked toward Mother, who was staring straight ahead and walking as though nothing had happened. Perhaps Mother had not seen anything.

They were at the bridge. Fear gripped Aelwy's mind as she set her foot upon the stone, wondering if there might be something beneath the bridge, waiting for them to tread above it before it emerged again from the shadows. Yet she and Mother walked it unperturbed.

They continued to walk the path on the other side. The cliffside the path topped grew quickly steeper, and the hill to their left grew quickly rockier.

There it was again! She jerked her head to look, and only thought she saw two shadows merge into one, beneath a rock. She reached out to hold Mother's hand, and was surprised when Mother squeezed hers back. She looked again to Mother, who, this time leaned toward her, and whispered,

“Only a little further.”

Aelwys now looked up ahead, and her heart nearly failed her when she saw a form that did not fade away. Some forty paces ahead was a cloaked figure, unmistakeably human, and walking at a slow, methodical pace. Mother picked up their own pace, and they began to walk very quickly toward the person. As they drew nearer, the cloaked one sensed their approach, and turned to face them, a sword suddenly in its hand, glinting in the faint light.

Mother drew up her hands in a token of peace, and stood quite still. Aelwys followed suit, her mind frozen in fear. They spent a tense moment regarding one another, the two maidens with their hands stretched high and the hooded being whose sword did not waver an inch.

“Wynclaetyrch!” Mother called out in loud voice, shattering the silence and giving Aelwys a start. The cloaked on regarded them for a moment yet, and then they heard a man's baritone reply,

“Wyndaecht!” The stranger did not lower his sword. “What be the business of Wygar-kin, alone in this country and at this unholy hour?” Mother let out a laugh, and replied,

“I should ask the same of you!” Still the sword did not lower.

“Draw nearer to me,” said the man, “That I might see you clearly.”

Mother took Aelwys' hand again, and they began to walk towards the man and his sword. As they approached, they saw that the cloak about his shoulders was very much like their own, and that from his hood hung matted and braided hair.

His empty hand reached into his cloak, and out it darted, tossing forth a powder that suddenly ignited with a loud crack, bathing them in white light as the blazing cinders floated to the earth and extinguished. In the light, they saw the man's face, blackened eyes above a braided beard that hung a little ways from his chin. He was unmistakeably a Wygar. After they were again plunged into renewed darkness, he finally lowered his sword, and said,

“Well met!”