Within my ancient heart dwells,
madness and pride
The words of the dragon god’s song left Ashur’s lips in their ancient tongue as she danced across the stage. Her movements were natural and fluid, like the ocean tides just beyond the city walls, so deeply a part of her that Ashur felt herself move automatically, allowing her thoughts to wander. The crowd was thin tonight, but bigger than she’d expected. Perhaps after all the recent fighting, those who could afford it were eager to have anything else to focus on for any amount of time. Even if it was a woman who looked far too close to those who’d brought about all that fighting in the first place.
Though the battle in Drakheim had ended, the city was still as dangerous as ever, especially for a Hidden woman like Ashur. She was grateful for her obscuring blue and gray robes, allowing her to hide her fear from the watching audience, even as those selfsame robes proved the source of that fear. Alone onstage, Ashur was far from everyone and everything. She couldn’t help but resonate with this disconnection; the feeling hadn’t been able to leave her since she’d found herself in the city. Ever since she’d awoken breathless in an alleyway, Ashur hadn’t felt able to recall herself or what she was supposed to be doing. All she had were the words of her god’s song, given freely to the crowd in the theater.
Can no one hear my cry?
* * *
The performance had gone well, or at least, well enough for Ashur. Many in attendance were quick to criticize the theater manager’s decision to allow a Hidden woman to perform after “her people” had destroyed the west district. Their silence at the end of her song had been as deafening as a dragon’s roar.
The manager had been sure to let her hear about it. “You just had to sing in their tongue didn’t you? Didn’t you?” he’d shouted accusatorially.
“But, sir, the song loses meaning in Azyrite. I’m not sure how I would even begin-”
He’d cut her off. “I don’t want to hear it, rag-wearer! Get out!”
Ashur had begun to slowly shuffle outside, shrinking in her robes as the manager had insulted her and her people. “But, you still wish for me back in the next two days, yes?”
“Of course, you waterlogged wench. And next time sing something in Azyrite!” The manager had slammed the door before Ashur could respond.
Ashur now huddled behind the theater, waiting for the audience to fully disperse before she dared enter the streets. The manager continued to rant about her loudly in his office. He could only lament how few options had, that he’d have to rely on a despised Hidden woman to keep his business above water. Ashur felt similarly adrift. She had no idea where else to go. She could recall “home” and plenty of what she’d learned there, but not where “home” was, nor remembered much more than the dragon’s songs and her dances. Those must all be important if I remembered them so well, when so much of everything else feels missing. Ashur reminded herself. Perhaps, if she kept performing, she’d come to understand their significance.
Oh, but I must sing in Azyrite! Ashur dreaded the prospect of ruining her quest for understanding all to please someone who was determined to never be satisfied with her. She started out into the street, wondering how she could possibly keep her songs intact in the different, more hollow language. How was an audience supposed to understand the depth of the dragon’s songs with plain words alone? Her dance could perhaps give them an idea of that meaning, but without Hidden hand signs, she could only provide half of what was there. It would be nonsense.
Something rattled along the side of the empty road, startling Ashur from her thoughts. Keep walking, faster now. she told herself, increasing her tempo. Perhaps she’d been seen by someone—had she been spotted by an upset patron? Perhaps the manager had returned to continue screaming at her covered face, or, though she hated to consider the worst, someone who meant to do her harm. Ashur sought to outpace them, and hoped whoever spotted her would lose interest in following her. She kept pacing and listened to the drumming of her own footsteps to drown out her worries. It was likely she was merely overthinking. Already, she could hear the sounds of pursuit fading, replaced with those of the seaside breeze disturbing loose roof tiles. There was nothing for her to worry about.
A shadow in purple robes overtook the moonlight as Ashur felt herself knocked to the cobblestones. “Interloper!” her assailant hissed in the Hidden language. “You’ll pay for your interference with the Propheter’s vision!” A dagger plunged into the stone where Ashur’s head had been only split seconds before. She gasped, feeling the tip tear away some of the flesh from her ear and pieces of blue cloth with it.
In the brief moments she had to reply, Ashur was unsure what to say that might still the Cultist of The Fell Dragon. She’d never met one before, but knew to fear them. “I know nothing!” Ashur screamed.
“And that is your greatest crime!” The Cultist raised their dagger again. The spare moments afforded Ashur just enough time to grab her attacker’s wrist. She jerked it to the side, tumbling the Cultist off of her in an unusual display of strength.
Ashur scrambled to her feet, quickly backpedaled from her attacker, and cried out, “Help! Oh, won’t you please? Help!”
The Cultist regained their footing and was quick to lunge at Ashur. She fluidly dodged the assailant’s stabbing, but leaned into a cut across her face. She retorted with an attempt to slap her attacker, but struck nothing but air. The Cultist was quick to grab her extended arm and held the pommel of their dagger over her elbow, the threat to break her arm clear. “Wait, wait, no, I’m sorry,” Ashur begged. She knew she’d been accused of wronging The Cult of The Fell Dragon, but had no memory of ever acting against them. Still, she tried to apologize for whatever she’d done, if only to spare herself their harsh judgment.
Instead of forgiveness, she felt her arm twist and become pinned against her back as the Cultist moved to drag her away. “You can save your apologies for the gods.” Ashur yelped loudly, feeling the dagger come close to slicing her neck open.
Swift, thunderous footsteps approached them. Ashur thrilled with relief for a moment before she felt the Cultist try to pull her into hiding between two buildings. Ashur planted her feet, digging her heels into the cobblestones. With her free hand, she reached for the cultist’s headwrap, all in an attempt to make it hard for them to move from their place on the road. The Cultist snarled and quickly stabbed at Ashur’s shoulder. She felt her weight shift from her feet, but before she could be spirited away, they were confronted.
A figure in armor as dark as night and standing nearly twice as tall as her loomed before Ashur and her captor. Only the flecks of gold scattered across their armor convinced Ashur this wasn’t some manner of shade, but one of the fabled “Stormcast” said to protect the city.
The Cultist regained their grip on Ashur, again pressing the knife to her throat. “Try it, Stormling.” the cultist taunted.
The Stormcast, with their glimmering, wolfish helm, laughed at the provocation. He sounded as wild as the beast featured on his helmet. Ashur wasn’t sure which she was afraid of more. The Stormcast drew a weapon resembling a crossbow, but held vertically. “Alright, I’m going to try. You have just a couple moments to consider letting the girl go before you end up on the stones.” He sounded almost playful, priming the weapon as his voice pierced the tension in the night air.
Ashur tensed as the Cultist’s grip grew tighter. Her captor laughed back at the Stormcast, launching into some deranged tirade about the imminent rise of The Fell Dragon. Halfway through another rambling sentence, the Stormcast cocked his head and fired the weapon with a deafening crack. Moments later, the Cultist toppled limp onto the road, just as promised.
Ashur stood motionless, frightened that she would be next to suffer the same fate. “I’m going to ask you to come close to me, miss.” the Stormcast said, lowering his weapon. “You’re going to be safe. We just have a couple questions for you at the keep, and then you can return to wherever you were headed. Is that alright?” He spoke slowly, ensuring she’d understand.
Feeling no other option, Ashur quietly nodded and took her first careful steps towards her rescuer.
*END
