AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 547 - She's so mean
🕑 Added 2025-09-02 01:00:07 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Material Plane
The creation of planets and systems went steadily, each smoother than the series she’d created with Gilorn before heading to the plinth. With her dwelling on Phaedra’s desires and grief, each new world rang sombre chords through her. She could feel Lethe’s curiosity, yet she waited for Amdirlain and no memories followed the first. As the worlds formed from the realm’s energy, Amdirlain considered the connection between Phaedra and the lifetimes she’d lived since. Grief and loss had touched many of her lifetimes, in some she’d let it consume her, in others she’d moved on, either for others or herself.
The details of the souls that the Maker’s servant had recorded in those stones rang within her. A perfect recollection of their melodies that Phaedra had left untapped, taking only reassurance from their surface impressions to move past some of her grief. The melodies she sent forth with Gilorn contained Phaedra’s youthful rapture of the dancing notes within her surroundings rather than the stark necessity encountered in her later songs. It made her consider the youthful passion that she had lost along the way as Orhêthurin.
Was it because I used to put so much pressure on myself by treating everything as if it relied almost solely on me?
The world where she had the fewest followers was still the elven world she’d created and left an introduction to Danu in the local elves' memories. The small population meant there was no planar barrier in place to block Sarah from travelling there; Amdirlain opened a Gate and waved Sarah through. “After you.”
As she took in the forested world, she heard the various animal species and their Mana variations that covered most of it. The only sapient race present was the elves on one of the southern continents. Their arrival had placed them on the western coast of that continent, amid a vast forest of giant redwoods rich in wildlife. Animal calls and bird cries resounded from all about the place, from snuffling six-legged bears to the whistling calls of arrow hawks who struck sparrows from the sky.
“The elves get this world all to themselves,” Sarah huffed. “How unfair.”
“It’s not like the dragons don’t have plenty of worlds to call the shots on.”
“What are we going to do while here?”
“I’ve got lots of unresolved lessons in grief that I need to spend time on before I move on to the next step in my original journey. Your mum’s advice was to live in the moment, and it’s been a long time since I spent time around mortals who didn’t know...”
Sarah smiled slyly. “That you are unique.”
“That’s a good way to put it, but you better not be implying I’m a snowflake, buster.” Amdirlain lightly tapped Sarah’s nose.
“Sweetie, you’re far too demanding of yourself to be a snowflake.”
Amdirlain slipped her arms around Sarah’s shoulders as she stepped close and cupped her face.
“Since we’re taking on the guise of locals, what is our reason for travelling?” Sarah asked.
“We’re out exploring the land. I don’t want to pretend about who I am, so let’s keep the details simple. Did you want to teach them some enchantments?”
Sarah looked sceptical. “How would I explain that? What are you going to teach them?”
Since she had recovered her proficiency with Archery from her past elven life on the dying world, she invested skill points into Fletching.
“They’re tricks your mother taught you.” Amdirlain formed a recurve bow of animal horn, resin, and wood. “Or we could stick to hunting.”
“Do they have magic beyond blessings?”
Possibilities raced through her mind, and Amdirlain sighed. “No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Magic would be helpful to them, but if I teach it, I’m not sure I’d moderate myself for someone with potential.”
“The tribes are small, which doesn’t allow someone to dedicate themselves to study at this point. Without being able to commit yourself to study, it restricts your growth potential. It also allows time for the knowledge to spread before you’ve got wizards trying to become rulers of all,” Sarah perched on a nearby moss-covered rock. “On the flip side, if you teach them a lot, you’re transforming their lives and making it safer for their people to deal with monsters. I’ve already caught the scent of Mana-influenced animals, so I’m going to assume they’re not all cute and cuddly. Since I thought your current priority was regaining memories, my question is: how long do you want to spend here?”
“I feel like I need to stabilise the issues I hit as I go,” Amdirlain hummed thoughtfully. “Am I running from things that I should do?”
“Do you feel you’re running away from your issues?”
“Are you going to put your psychologist hat on or provide your perspective?” Amdirlain asked.
“I’ll give you two ways it can be looked at if you tell me two reasons you feel the need to investigate the locals.”
“Okay.”
“You’ve got a lot of unresolved trauma, and lots of places where you can help. It’s a perfect combination for your mind, not only wanting to be distracted, but your abilities mean it makes sense to help. Your turn.”
“Phaedra’s grief echoed across other eras and lifetimes. I wanted to stop and explore that commonality instead of running from it. Yet I didn’t want to explore it just for myself like some closed-door cultivator, and thought that if I came to help people with their problems, we all might benefit. Grief shaped so much of my lifetime as Phaedra and Orhêthurin; it felt wrong to move past it so quickly. Also, those aren’t the only lifetimes where grief weighed me down.”
Her words drew a slight flinch from Sarah. “In that case, it sounds more like you’re taking a moderate approach to resolve the traumas a step at a time. The healthiest way to deal with grief is by living on, instead of joining the other person in the grave. You know if we’re both female, we’re going to catch a lot of flirting and propositions, even among elves.”
Amdirlain fidgeted slightly. “How long do you think we’d be able to hang around any one community?”
Sarah transformed into a leanly muscled Wood Elf male with soft amber hints across his skin and deep green hair before Amdirlain had finished speaking. “Dibs.”
“Presumptuous mate of mine,” Amdirlain laughed. She shifted only slightly to achieve the Wood Elf form she’d regularly used in the past. She stretched and considered the spearmint dusting her skin erratically and her hair’s mix of autumn hues.
“I’m just buying you more time so we don’t have to travel on immediately,” Sarah replied innocently, but there was a low heat in their gaze. “The next question is names.”
All those suppressed mating urges during the mating flights have built up, so I’ll have to watch out that I don’t get caught in a moment.
A chord of grief struck through Amdirlain, and she caught herself before memories pulled her attention away.
“Among them, Amdirlain isn’t an unknown adulthood name,” Amdirlain replied. “Some communities consider it a symbol of dedication.”
“You’re serious about avoiding playing pretend. I could use the first couple of syllables from my Dragon name as, accented right, it could have a slight elvish feel.”
“Do you want to use it as Shin da, or Sin dra?”
“Silence the h and accent the a. I’ll go with Sindä, where the accented a produces a drawn-out r. Do these elves even have writing yet?”
“No, so far they’ve got oral traditions.”
Amdirlain created each of them a set of the locals’ woven attire, along with packs, basic camping gear, and water bladders made from treated stomach lining.
The native textiles she’d used felt similar to unbleached cotton; while the source was a symbiotic plant on the redwoods, she didn’t know where they’d learnt the technology to handle it.
Danu or Oberon might have passed some knowledge along to the elves I set here? Most elven species don’t heavily use herd animals since they don’t domesticate them.
When she slipped on the clinging pants and the resin-reinforced cloth loops that protected her breasts, her appearance drew a slow smile from Sarah.
“Letch,” Amdirlain laughed, handing over the other attire.
“Just admiring the scenery,” Sarah tapped the hardened resin on the right side of Amdirlain’s top. “A guard to prevent release damage?”
“Yeah, a bowstring across your boob hurts. That will become clear if I teach others archery. With this, it will partly explain why I’m not flinching.” Amdirlain created a quiver of stone-tipped arrows along with a pack of primitive fletching tools made from animal horn and added it to her pack. “They’re still using spears at present, so I can decide how to transform their lives—mundane or arcane.”
That was another life of loss and grieving. I need happier lifetimes, so my memories of joy are stronger than the grief.
They travelled through the canopy for hundreds of kilometres in comfortable silence, addressing the few issues of worshippers and their domains that required direct decisions. Messages mixed with Telepathy through oath links allowed Amdirlain to catch up with Livia, Klipyl, the Enyalië, and her other family. While some of Klipyl's tales gave her the giggles, she caught an occasional undercurrent of sadness in the stories about mortals that she hoped Klipyl would eventually explain. Among those they talked with, she shared details of the world—Yúla—with Mars and Minerva, to see if they wished to help the locals. She heard their avatars arrive in the northern region of the same continent shortly after they’d talked.
Sarah’s brows lifted. “You didn’t clear that with the other locals?”
“I made this world, so I get to issue some of the party invites.”
“Which tribe do you want to approach? From here, it’s pretty much equally distant to the river folk, two mountain tribes, or the lake?”
The kidney shape of the lake brought up memories of a lake slowly drying out and that weight of grief decided things. “The lake.”
“Confront spectres of your past for one hundred dollars.” Sarah caressed Amdirlain’s face. “I’m glad you’re no longer running from facing trauma.”
“You could at least rate it higher than the first pick in a Jeopardy category. I’ve spent lots of time healing.”
Sarah grinned and set off along a branch towards another tree.
The tribe had its settlement located high in the canopy, with long fronds and saplings woven into platforms that supported fibrous huts. Although the tribe didn’t appear to be hunters and gatherers, their platforms didn’t convey permanence. The woven sections had wear from being repeatedly assembled and disassembled. They were situated a few hundred metres back from the shore, shaped like a broadleaf with the base towards the lake. It was far enough away that it didn’t interfere with animals seeking to drink. Am looked for signs showing how long they’d used the location. There were only a few remains sheltered beneath the roots of the giant trees, and the oldest of the bodies was interned barely a decade ago.
The duo took their time on the overland journey to observe the tribe’s daily routine as they approached. On the last day of the trip, they chose a meandering course through the canopy close to a gatherer. They were still out of the range of a thrown spear when he let out a sharp whistle and stood up on a branch ahead of their path. A few strands of silver peeked out from the dark hood affixed to his shirt; a crude dye had darkened his cottony attire to almost match the reddish bark of the trees. His silver gaze took in Amdirlain’s unstrung bow and the knife sheaths at Sarah’s waist, his thoughts jumping about as he decided what to make of their weapons.
“I see you, strangers. What guided your feet here?”
“We left to explore and learn more about the lands. So far we’ve travelled far over many seasons. We’ve crossed wide waters and seen new lights appear in different parts of the sky,” Sarah replied before motioning to Amdirlain. “This is Amdirlain, and I’m Sindä.”
“I am called Torher.” He replied before meeting Amdirlain’s gaze. His balance shifted, ready to leap away. “You use the goddess’s name. If you are one of her priestesses, I should tell you that most of our tribe follow Danu and Oberon.”
Amdirlain caught the wary tension from him. “Have you had trouble with other faiths before?”
“Some are more persistent than others. Are you upset when people don’t heed you?”
“People need to follow their hearts. I’d still help your tribe with blessings to heal, protect, and learn things. You can thank someone for help without having to follow the same beliefs.”
“As long as those helped thanked your goddess for her aid, that is all you’d ask?” Torher asked sceptically.
“I don’t know who you’ve dealt with in the past, but your worry about demands is concerning. Why did their request seem unreasonable? Did they mistreat your tribe?”
Torher shifted awkwardly. “It was an unpleasant time.”
Precognition and a trickle of information from her faithful told her things weren’t how Torher made them appear, but Amdirlain played along.
“What is something I could help your tribe with to make up for it?” Amdirlain asked, raising a hand when Torher started to object. “They are not me, and I wish to prove myself.”
“Can you speak with the forest animals?” Torher enquired carefully. “If you can, there have been some herds behaving oddly and showing weird abilities the last few moons.”
“It might not be necessary to speak to them to find the issue.” Amdirlain settled into the fork of a branch, allowing her feet to dangle. “Many things could cause that, so I’d need more details. What has happened?”
“Deer herds have left their territories, moving further towards the sunrise around the lake. Many have odd abilities we’ve not seen before, able to walk through even the most tangled vines, and disappear before one’s eyes. Then there is the bizarreness with the great cats.”
“I know a potential cause for that, but I’d need to see some of the deer to be sure. What was the issue with the great cats?”
“There are fewer great cats among the canopies, and the traces we’ve found show massive claw marks.”
The Mana signatures in the nearby great cats show a Mana surge in the ley lines recently changed them, likewise with some deer. It’s more than just the deer and the cats affected; many plants are also showing signs of recent changes.
Amdirlain waved westward. “There were signs of special great cats that way. They might have driven the herd and other great cats away or killed them.”
“That doesn’t explain the abilities.”
“As blessings flow from the gods, energy flows through the land in giant rivers. When those rivers surge higher, some living things are affected,” Amdirlain said. “Its energy might have affected the great cats and herds, since growth spurts and strange abilities are signs of its touch. Such changes don’t happen in isolation, and your tribe will find other species and plants altered.”
“That sounds like some of the older tales of how the world was born.” Torher beckoned to them and then shifted to a perch further around the tree. “If you’d follow me. The elders will want to talk to you, and one of them was directly involved. I will guide you to meet them.”
Sarah extended a hand and, when Amdirlain took it, lifted her to her feet—the ease didn’t go unnoticed by Torher.
They trekked another four kilometres towards the lake; the air growing moister as they approached. Along the way, Torher gathered sections of mushroom patches, mosses, and leaves from various symbiotic plants that clung to the redwoods. Large clumps of cotton froth that grew from one species of symbiont he had harvested in their entirety. The pair helped carry his harvest, and he stopped off at additional places on the way. He carefully took routes well clear of beehives and patches of trees covered with ants and beetles. When the walls of the first hut atop a platform became visible, Torher relaxed slightly.
He repeatedly crouched to peer beyond branches and confirmed nothing lurked in wait along the perimeter before he headed inwards. He made for the platforms that anchored the central line of huts, which reminded Amdirlain of Pacific Islander beach huts, dried fronds laced through a wooden frame. Among the huts, Amdirlain could see people in a range of attire, from the nearly complete coverage of Torher to naked.
A group of young elves on one of the lower tiers of branches were diving twenty metres into the lake while others climbed vines, bringing back fish caught by spear or with bare hands. Those cooking lunch made use of a Mana-influenced sap, mixed with other liquids that generated heat without flame.
Their weight on the branch prompted a male Elf with a long ponytail of inky black hair to look up from adding an extension to an outer platform. Beams of light drifting through the vibrant emerald canopy picked out the swirls of blue that ran from his cheeks down his neck and into the loose, woven shirt he wore.
“I see you, Torher. Who walks with you?”
“I see you, Einior—this is Sindä and Amdirlain, who have travelled far.”
Einior stiffened slightly, and he focused on Amdirlain. “Are you seeking the flames, or caring for the living?”
“I’ve been trying to focus on healing, growth, and change rather than flames, though sometimes fire is necessary.”
Why the tension? Is that because of the awkwardness that Torher mentioned?
Torher interrupted Einior’s reply. “Amdirlain spoke of special cats towards the sunset, and knows why the deer have changed. I would show her to the elders.”
“Come share the news afterwards, brother.” Einior turned back to his work and pulled the thick bone needle through the mat he’d been positioning.
He continued introducing them as they made their way through the village. Though they only received introductions to a small sample of the few hundred elves in the settlement. The size of the settlement seemed to be dependent on the abundant fish supply that filled the lake and its connected rivers.
Those they spoke to possessed a delicate, ethereal beauty, making Amdirlain feel like she was walking about supermodels playing primitive cosplay. The primary difference between individuals was typically the secondary colours in their skin tones, and the variations in the hues' expression. When she’d created the elves here, the coloured dustings or light freckles were the only formation, but now swirls and erratic lines showed up in a few dozen individuals. Amdirlain’s name received a mix of reactions; though no one was hostile, more than a handful were openly nervous. To her relief, Amdirlain caught enough to know the source of the conflict wasn’t one-sided and left it alone.
The challenge is that from a non-Priest’s perspective, blessings seem easy.
He stopped on a platform overlooking the lake, where two females knapped out flint spearheads; a small collection sat between them. The closest wore a wrap and had multi-hued hair of amber, silver, and crimson, yet her dusky skin lacked any dusting or swirls. The other wore only a loincloth, had hair that shimmered a deep blue and, in the light reflected from the lake, appeared liquid.
“I see you, Torher. Who walks with you?” It was the woman with the multi-hued hair who spoke, while the other one shifted away from their workspace.
Torher inclined his head slightly. “I see you, Speaker Milui—this is Sindä and Amdirlain.”
Based on the common themes in their melodies, that’s her much younger daughter, but why no introduction? Though the songs of everyone Torher greeted showed they’d reached adulthood. So tempting to dip into their minds, but I’ll behave. Is the title Speaker given to the person in charge?
The other Elf hopped to her feet and raced along a branch leading further over the lake, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll see you, Mother.”
Milui’s mouth tightened fractionally, but she only called back. “Allow time to finish that spearhead today.”
The girl laughed and threw herself from the end of the branch out over the lake—her descent targeted a deep blue section where a wide crevice was hidden beneath the water.
Her daughter is not even thirty, barely a child in elven terms, even though she’s my height
With her daughter gone, Milui’s attention shifted, and she met Amdirlain’s gaze, eyes alight with curiosity. “I bid you welcome. Please sit with me.”
“We appreciate your welcome. Our arrival stirred many quiet discussions within your tribe.”
“That isn’t your fault, so it would be for the best if no one made anything of it. Are you one who has carried many names?”
“That is an interesting question. Why do you ask?”
“I believe Danu had me dream of you in recent days, Amdirlain.”
A gentle rustle of the leaves that shifted against the breeze off the lake informed Amdirlain of Danu’s attention.
Well, she’s paying attention now, so I might as well go with the flow.
“Perhaps, but since it was Danu who advised you, only she could tell you. Have your people learnt much through the dreams Danu sent you?”
“Many have developed new skills through hints given in dreams she’s provided.” Milui turned to Torher. “Would you kindly seek the others and ask them to join us here?”
“Yes, Speaker.”
“Are you a priestess, Speaker Milui?” Sarah asked.
Milui gathered the strayed pieces of flint up into a nearby basket. “I’m occasionally blessed with visions; however, I cannot convey her gifts.”
Before Torher got more than a few steps, a male Elf with liquid silver hair approached, hands equally calloused from weaving fronds into mats and cord as from handling spears.
“I see you, Speaker Milui.”
“I see you, Speaker Lanyaro. These are Sindä and Amdirlain.”
Lanyaro’s face hardened, his attention on Amdirlain alone. “I hope you’re not the sort to cause trouble.”
“I’m not a sort, I’m a person,” Amdirlain replied blandly. “You don’t know me, and yet your expression shows you’re expecting a clash between us.”
Sarah’s shoulders quivered with badly suppressed amusement.
“The last priestess bearing her name caused trouble.”
“From the whispers I heard behind us, it seems they asked to be compensated for the effort in channelling a Blessing. Is that not the case?”
“I can hold my breath for longer than their deeds took. Why should it warrant a hunter spending days finding a target that matched her request?”
“Are you implying everything has equal value? It might seem simple, but appearances can be deceptive. That priestess might have spent years growing strong enough to channel that Blessing.”
Lanyaro started to snarl, but Milui rattled the basket of shards, the rasping sound cutting off his response. “Lanyaro, that priestess left a long time ago. Don’t you think it’s time you put your anger down?”
“That last one took my daughter in payment; what will this one take from us!” Lanyaro snapped, his gaze blazing. Some other members of the tribe drifted closer, drawn by the venom lacing his voice.
Anger fueled by guilt and grief? He doesn’t know where his daughter is now and he doesn’t want to speak her name. Is that some custom in case she died?
Milui shook her head in annoyance. “Your daughter was an adult when she left, and the patrols saw them walking together and talking peacefully.”
“Did she leave because further discussion about payment seemed pointless?” Amdirlain asked.
“Yes,” Milui sighed.
“So you broke your word to her, she left and your daughter went with her. That sounds like a problem you created yourself. With the rumours you’ve spread, perhaps count yourself lucky that she didn’t return the illness to your sister or you.”
Lanyaro stepped forward, and Sarah snapped to her feet, prompting him to freeze in place.
“Lanyaro, enough,” Milui interjected. “From the vision Danu showed me, their presence will help the tribe prosper. Do not drive them away.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t believe you would cling to your feud so fiercely as to speak out against someone unknown. I’ll ask your family if they want to choose another Speaker if you continue this behaviour.”
“That is not your decision.”
The arsehole has worry and grief knotting him up, but I’m not helping him for free.
“If you pay me, I’ll determine if your daughter is alive,” Amdirlain offered.
Lanyaro’s attention snapped to Amdirlain. “What?”
It's disappointing that this tribe keeps someone untrustworthy in a position of authority. Is he good to the tribe but rotten to outsiders? Or just makes noises until people give in?
“I’ll require payment first since you’re not trustworthy. Five times whatever payment you objected to that drove your daughter away.”
“A stag,” Milui reported. “One without a herd so as not to leave females unprotected.”
"Then five stags. I won't demand everything at once," Amdirlain gave him a hard smile. "I'll let you know when I want one while we're here. Only after I've received the fifth, will I tell you whatever I've determined about your daughter."
“You’d twist me on your spear,” Lanyaro accused angrily. “How do I know you can even learn her fate?”
“I know I’m trustworthy, and you’ve already told me you aren’t. What would you prefer, some hope of knowing or none?” Amdirlain flicked her fingers dismissively. “I’m not responsible for your anger, nor your grief. You should know Amdirlain has already advised me of what happened to your daughter. Pay me for the information and I’ll tell you, but until you pay, the price may well go up, especially if you persist in your aggressive behaviour.”
Technically, through the other priestess using my name, but he’ll assume otherwise. At least his daughter didn’t also decide to carry my name when she gained the Priest Class.
“Tell me what happened to my daughter!” Lanyaro demanded.
“Not without payment.”
“For one who looks beautiful, your soul is cruel.”
Change and growth can seem cruel to those who want to resist them.
“You’re clearly a petty, self-centred oath-breaker, hardly a proper speaker for this settlement,” Sarah said. “Why do they put up with you?”
“He is the eldest in his family,” Milui said.
Amdirlain regarded him flatly. “You’ve been rude and aggressive. For your behaviour, the price is now ten stags. Any further aggression from you, and I'll make it twenty. I’ve no interest in speaking to you further until you’ve agreed and paid. ”
The corner of Milui’s mouth twitched upwards.
Milui’s apparent amusement left Lanyaro briefly spluttering before he turned and stalked off.
Comments
James Skinner
Thanks for the chapter!
Plateworm
Tftc
