With the spectacle changing and people milling to discuss simpler things, Cairee, mind daydreaming about her siblings, heard a voice from behind her.
"Henyeb. Many of my people believe this is a bastardization of Deneb, our patron."
She turned to see Ila, the elven judge that she had spoken to on the first day.
It was almost as if Ila had been reading Cairee's mind. "I was just thinking about this poor nephew, a foot note in a story whose fate is implied but not spoken. Does your order have a different version of the tale? If so I would like to hear it."
"... Does your order have a different version of the tale? If so I would like to hear it."
Ila, "Perhaps it is important to start with something a little more to the origin.
"I am a priest of Deneb. But I am also a follower of all the Exemplars, be they Saiph or Fomalhaut, Aldeberan or Thuban. I look to all eight for wisdom and they all have a common dedication to the self through the powers of the mind.
"For example, Saiph, to my people, is not a god of healing and compassion, but the exemplar of how, even under the most extreme pressure to remain on a path, one can change the universe with a change of mind. Was it not she who threw her sword away? Did this not give hope to Badr that the war between the constellations could end?
"Just as Deneb is not the god of the physical body or the god of messengers as some human clerics suggest. This is reductive. Deneb is the representative of the mind's power over the body to perform beyond what the body alone can do. I cleave my ideal to him more than any other.
"Stories of the time before elves fell to Aerde are all but lost. There are some ancient Uyar stories that say Deneb and Badr fought a star named Ansu. Ansu, who was already powerful, created a mirror that amplified the power of any who looked into it. But the the power collapsed Ansu into a negative version of himself - eating others as they came near.
"We believe that it was Deneb's 'knowledge of self' and control over his own body that allowed him to get close to the mirror and not be changed. To break the mirror and not be distroyed. Badr threw Ansu into that breaking. Some say there are fragments of that mirror throughout the universe, even unto Aerde itself. Some of those particles have been turned to pearls by sea-life and wizards use them to store magic.
"Perhaps that story has let its' truth seep into the stories of all peoples.
"But, please tell me, what is your order like? I have heard of the women and men of Issmenadore to follow Saiph but I know nothing of your church."
Grownya, "Someone linked to a red dragon? A living dragon?!"
Zahra shrugged being unsure, "I met those who called themselves servants of the great red dragon. I had assumed it was a living dragon because why serve someone who is dead?"
The sorceress listened to Roshynduv list of what she knew about dragons and she was both heartened and disheartened at the same time. If push came to shove, how would she ever be able to stand up to Kamzar? There wasn't enough of Silimiel's blood in her body to make a difference against him - although Silimiel's blood did flow through her and that alone was very comforting.
"But you talk like you're in congress with dragons. Like dragons are alive an about you. We haven't heard of a living dragon since before the travel accords with Halidor were signed. Who means to do evil? What part of a, so called 'good', dragon do they have?"
In her haste to find out whatever information she could, Zahra realized that she may have mistepped as she is questioned more specifically. "More like a fantastical wish based on stories I've heard. I've heard stories told where someone had encountered a dragon in human form. Part of me was hoping that maybe they could still be among us even though we wouldn't necessarily know it."
Zahra mentally kicked herself for asking about Silimiel's scale. She thought she had been doing it subtly but she wasn't always good at thinking things through. "I have seen my friend take trophies from creatures he has bested in combat, be it a tooth or a claw or whatever. I was wondering, if by some chance, there was something similar from a dragon would someone want it just as a trophy or could it be used somehow magically? Magically but not in a good way...assuming."
--
Grownya, "I don't - feel powerful, I mean. I feel there is power about me and I am asking it to reveal itself but I don't feel like it's coming from me.
"But you are your blood. Your blood is you. It isn't a coat you wear. I can never really know but it must feel different."
"And that's what makes life so interesting." Zahra smiled, "Experiences that are shared but also different. We hear eachother's stories and can relate on one level but learn on another level. I find that so fascinating and enriching."
"I have seen my friend take trophies from creatures he has bested in combat, be it a tooth or a claw or whatever. I was wondering, if by some chance, there was something similar from a dragon would someone want it just as a trophy or could it be used somehow magically? Magically but not in a good way...assuming."
Roshynduv seemed excited for a moment and then the moment clearly faded. She thought on it for a few beats, "With such a general question the possibilities are limitless, I imagine. The most common use for dragon parts are to create weapons and armour for less powerful and more vulnerable creatures. Scales into suits and shields. Blood to enchant weapons. The like of that.
"I suppose it could be used to help communicate with the dragon passed on or, like bull's hide or dung, used to grant a person strength.
"But, if it's a more mundane item it might very well be used as a trophy in and of itself. Over the mantle or the high seat of the great hall. 'Look at me. I once slew a dragon!'"
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there was now a single yellow jasmine flower Apparently signifying grace and elegance in the language of flowers delicately set in the woman’s hair.
”It suits you,” he whispered with a smile.
The woman paused for a beat and in that moment she was taking the spearman in visually. He was more than what she'd thought. "Yendolyn. People call me Yendolyn." People began to gather about them in a wide circle and some of the porters put down trays and began to clap or stomp their feet in rhythm with the dancing. A drum started to beat heavily.
She slid down with her left leg drawing an arc from two o'clock to five o'clock. Her unsandaled foot was taut and her big toe pointed to lengthen her leg so that it looked like a spear. She pulled her leg in to dart to Tymythy's left and tried to off-balance him by drawing him backwards.
He nearly fell over (though few could tell, his dancing was so responsive everything seemed planned) as she unfolded the scarf and let it out to its' full seven foot length.
She quickly loosened the tension, wrapped the scarf about his free wrist and pulled him upright again. She used the hold to lead the dance and guide his movements like lunges towards her. She backed up to give him room and then released his wrist.
Even with Yendolyn's precise moves and skill, Tymythy was clearly holding his own.
Yendolyn. He would take care to remember it, for the dancer was pushing him past his limits like a master - it was clear enough he would not be emerging victorious from this challenge but there was much to learn here. And such a lesson it was! The beat of the drum, the physical exertion, the scarf connecting the two dancers… everything beyond that small circle faded away, unimportant.
Tymythy grunted as Yendolyn moved him like a master her puppet, tripping him only to pull him back to balance before he had a chance to stumble. Well, two could play that game - he could feel his concentration unraveling so he had to do something to steal back the initiative for a moment.
There! A tumbler rolled past the pair on the floor, perhaps dropped by a careless patron. But it presented a chance and he took it. One boot came down on the silver cup to catch it, before flicking it towards Yendolyn, just as she put down her foot on it, slipping out of balance as Tymythy tried to replicate her previous move and catch her…
… tugging at the scarf to pull her close, one arm extended to catch her at the small of her back to support her… but he could not put enough strength into it and rather than support her while she might have arched her back to extend the move he barely prevented them both from collapsing in a tangle of limbs. It was Yendolyn, not Tymythy, who ended up supporting the pair of them as they regained mutual balance and spun apart once more.
"I have seen my friend take trophies from creatures he has bested in combat, be it a tooth or a claw or whatever. I was wondering, if by some chance, there was something similar from a dragon would someone want it just as a trophy or could it be used somehow magically? Magically but not in a good way...assuming."[dice=Zahra's bluff]1d20+8
[dice=Roshynduv sense motive]1d20+3Roshynduv seemed excited for a moment and then the moment clearly faded. She thought on it for a few beats, "With such a general question the possibilities are limitless, I imagine. The most common use for dragon parts are to create weapons and armour for less powerful and more vulnerable creatures. Scales into suits and shields. Blood to enchant weapons. The like of that.
"I suppose it could be used to help communicate with the dragon passed on or, like bull's hide or dung, used to grant a person strength.
"But, if it's a more mundane item it might very well be used as a trophy in and of itself. Over the mantle or the high seat of the great hall. 'Look at me. I once slew a dragon!'"
Zahra tried to remember everything that had been shared and hoped she could recall it later if necessary. Then something else occurred to her, ”With all the excitement of this talk of dragons, I forgot to ask. Who was it that you spoke with where you heard rumours of my heritage? I’m still learning about my ancestry myself. I would like to speak with them too and see what more they can share with me.”
The dance between Yendolyn and Tymythy continued as they repeated moves so that the lessons of the dance were made solid through repetition. As things slowed and the band tired it was a surprise to them both that the dance had lasted over a half an hour.
A melancholic face fell over Yendolyn. She stopped dancing. The band was tired and people were starting to fade. The full days celebration for the third day in a row was a strain. The dancer pulled Tymythy close and there was a sadness in her eyes.
"I have worked and trained hard for many years," she must have been twice his age, though one wouldn't see it unless they were as close as Tymythy was now, "And I would call myself accomplished ... but I will never be a great as you will one day be. I felt it in our dance. Go with faith, whatever faith you know. Go with trust, in your bones and in your will. Go with conviction, to do whatever must be done." She went on her toes and kissed his cheek, turned suddenly, and walked away.
-
It was a quarter of an hour and that much past the song of eleven when Batbayar reached the others on the mountain top in the cursed rain and vicious wind. Jad, the old woman, opened the door and the team entered arena below. The crowd applauded but it was a pour showing for such courage as it was a tired applause and the people had been decimated by the need for sleep or private company.
The judges and physicians of Deneb rushed to them. The took Khol away on a stretcher. Batbayar did not complain about being seen to, the image was not in clear sight. His fibula was snapped high and sticking at an angle through the flesh of his leg.
The others suffered from poisoning and wounds as well. Whatever healing they received would help but they would not be whole tomorrow when they performed the next challenge.
Rumours flew also about the Hazard Guard having come through the challenge all alive but in such a state that they certainly wouldn't all make it through the next challenge. The Black Birds had been busy at various tasks and hadn't seen the guards perform their run. So the real challenge showed itself. Many, it seemed, could make their way through a challenge or two. The real task was to endure them all.
”With all the excitement of this talk of dragons, I forgot to ask. Who was it that you spoke with where you heard rumours of my heritage? I’m still learning about my ancestry myself. I would like to speak with them too and see what more they can share with me.”
Grwonya, "We were thinking of placing a bet and went to see Nadj. Roshynduv overheard him saying something to the Panotti, who's name I can never remember. The large eared fellow.
"After, we pressed some of the older porters and that herald, Chrizdoff. I don't think it is common knowledge, but the elite of Hallwn's crew are aware, at least a little. Something about an affair at an opera. I doubt they would know more than you.
"Unless you speak to Hallwn, himself. His knowledge seems vast, even though he plays the 'man-about-town'."
Grwonya, "We were thinking of placing a bet and went to see Nadj. Roshynduv overheard him saying something to the Panotti, who's name I can never remember. The large eared fellow.
At first Zahra was surprised, "Do you mean Prem?" But then she remembered that Prem had been betting heavily that she survive during the challenges and so it made sense that he would have been speaking with Nadj. And now that she thought about it, shouldn't Prem had been back already from getting them drinks? Or maybe she was just being overly sensitive since Nadj had said that none of them should go off alone.
The other people they mentioned also made sense. Hallwn's people seemed very well-informed. When they suggested that maybe she should speak with Hallwn himself, Zahra contemplated their words. Would he actually speak with her? The only way to know for sure was to ask and see. Now all she had to do was figure out when to try.
"Saiph, to my people, is not a god of healing and compassion, but the exemplar of how, even under the most extreme pressure to remain on a path, one can change the universe with a change of mind. Was it not she who threw her sword away?"
The rest of the arena fell away as Cairee listened to Ila. She had sorely missed discussing faith and the gods with other devotees. Her relationship with Saiph was powerful and deeply personal. It could also be intense, and at times overwhelming. Finding other followers of any god, hearing their beliefs and stories and experiences and sharing her own - it was like lifting a lid off a pot of boiling water to release a little steam. It also helped her work through her own experiences, forcing her to put into words that which transcended language. She absorbed what Ila was saying thirstily.
"But is it not all the same path? Did Saiph not need to experience the war and violence to truly understand peace and healing? Being able to change ones mind is indeed powerful. But does it change your path, or allow you to see it more clearly?" Her questions were honest, eager, not intending to imply an answer. As she processed what the elf was saying, Cairee couldn't help but think of her own biological call to violence, her rights to a bloody sword she had cast away. Not that she was comparing herself to her goddess! Had she changed paths? If so, was she changing again, moving away from the peaceful callings of the Order? By participating in these games was she forsaking her former self? Or was she seeing her own true path more clearly?
"Stories of the time before elves fell to Aerde are all but lost. There are some ancient Uyar stories that say Deneb and Badr fought a star named Ansu. Ansu, who was already powerful, created a mirror that amplified the power of any who looked into it. But the the power collapsed Ansu into a negative version of himself - eating others as they came near.
"We believe that it was Deneb's 'knowledge of self' and control over his own body that allowed him to get close to the mirror and not be changed. To break the mirror and not be destroyed."
This version of the story sat well in Cairee's heart. She smiled appreciatively. "Thank you for sharing this with me. You are wise to be drawn to such a worthy ideal. I've been struggling with my own idea of self in these challenges. As a healer, what does it mean to compete? Do I really know myself? This story is a light, something to aspire to. What does it take to be able to 'break the mirror', so to speak, and not be destroyed? You've given me much to think on."
"But, please tell me, what is your order like? I have heard of the women and men of Issmenadore to follow Saiph but I know nothing of your church."
Cairee brightened at the opportunity to speak of her home - her true home, not the place she was born but the place she chose and that chose her back. "It's full name is the Ospitiumati Order of Saif. It's relatively new among the orders that worship Saiph. I believe it was started only three generations ago. Our grounds are small and humble. Our home is an old stone warehouse. The main floor was converted into a hospital and the second floor and attic are the priestess' living quarters and school. There's a beautiful garden in the back filled with flowers, vegetables, a duck pond, and benches tucked in quiet corners. All are free to enjoy this space, for healing starts with the soul, and where better to tend your soul than in nature?"
"I suppose we're more of a commune than a proper church. There's are no vows, no daily prayers, no real hierarchy other than the natural one that comes with age and experience. We're made up of mostly humans and a few half-elves. I've heard of other races belonging as well, though I have not yet had the pleasure to meet any. I suppose the only ritual we have is dying our hair bright orange. It's not mandatory, but it feels right to do so - to mark ourselves in some way so others who need our help can find us easily."
"We work together to take care of each other and our patients. We've all felt the call of Saiph and are devoted to serving her through healing. But that can look different from priestess to priestess. Many of my sisters seemed to have stronger healing abilities than me, and effortlessly integrated into the community around us. My connection to Saiph manifested with more of an atunement to the natural world, allowing me to connect with the weather and animals. It seemed strange at the time, though certainly has been very beneficial in my time outside of Issmenadore."
"As well as serving in Issmenadore, the priestess also travel fairly frequently to the towers in the north, especially during harder times. I haven't heard of any traveling as far as I have. It wasn't by choice, but I do feel like I was meant to be here."
"Is there anything else you would like to know?"
"I have worked and trained hard for many years," she must have been twice his age, though one wouldn't see it unless they were as close as Tymythy was now, "And I would call myself accomplished ... but I will never be a great as you will one day be. I felt it in our dance. Go with faith, whatever faith you know. Go with trust, in your bones and in your will. Go with conviction, to do whatever must be done." She went on her toes and kissed his cheek, turned suddenly, and walked away.
”Better than you? Perhaps, if the spirits allow me to live a hundred winters,” Tymythy murmured to Yendolyn’s back, sitting down on his haunches to rest after the exhausting dance... or should he call it a spar? He had managed to keep up with the woman better than he had expected, but it was clear enough which of the two was the master, and which the student.
But what had possessed her to single him out for the lesson? He felt there had been some subtle signs he had missed back when she first made the offer and he almost turned it down, but as to what it might have been, he was too tired to try guessing.
After he had got his breathing back under control Tymythy wandered to one of the innumerable tables laden with food and drink, picked up a pitcher of iced water and poured it on his head, shocking himself out of his exhaustion. He leaned against a wall, dripping water, only to have a servant approach with a clean towel for him to dry himself. What had possessed someone to prepare one and against what eventuality so it could be so quickly produced he could not begin to guess.
Dounia listened to Cairee with half an ear as she talked about religion. She kept her eyes on the lake, and the doors. Even though she was tired - exhausted even - she kept getting prickles of adrenaline as she waited for the orcs.
Finally their door opened, and Dounia let out a holler. The applause was weak due to the late hour, but Dounia did her best to make it up in volume and enthusiasm. That team had been incredible, and she was so grateful that they had picked that door first. Surely the wyvern and the mountain would have killed them.
When she saw Batbayar being tended to, his bone still sticking through his leg, she surprised herself by bursting into tears.
She grabbed Cairee by the arm and said to the others, "Time for bed. And Zahra has something to tell us."
"But is it not all the same path? Did Saiph not need to experience the war and violence to truly understand peace and healing? Being able to change ones mind is indeed powerful. But does it change your path, or allow you to see it more clearly?"
Ila, "I often wonder about this. Suffering is to be avoided but isn't it the greatest tool for the strengthening of the self. How close must one come to to the crucible? How do we find equanimity with our enemies without becoming them? Especially the truly cruel and malicious."
"Thank you for sharing this with me ... what does it mean to compete? Do I really know myself? ... What does it take to be able to 'break the mirror', so to speak, and not be destroyed? You've given me much to think on."
Ila, "It's rude to guess at what a stranger has gone through, but It seems like you have broken a mirror already. I'd like to think you have and it feeds your wisdom. You seem very adept for someone so young."
"It's full name is the Ospitiumati Order of Saif. It's relatively new among the orders that worship Saiph ... Our grounds are small and humble ... for healing starts with the soul, and where better to tend your soul than in nature? ... I suppose we're more of a commune than a proper church ... My connection to Saiph manifested with more of an atunement to the natural world, allowing me to connect with the weather and animals ... the priestess also travel fairly frequently to the towers in the north, especially during harder times. I haven't heard of any traveling as far as I have. It wasn't by choice, but I do feel like I was meant to be here ... Is there anything else you would like to know?"
Ila, "It is remarkable and a gift lost to the world that the Uyar and humankind no longer walk together. Even my people have been so lost in tradition that, perhaps, we have lost a deeper personal contact with the Exemplars. Orders like yours are reminding us, not of a deeper way, but of another authentic way.
"It is hard for my people though. An aeon ago, we once walked with them. When we fell, we fell far. Your order gives me hope.
"All I would like to know is what is, again, rude to ask. What will you do next? Should you survive these competitions, where will you go?"
Tyerror looked up from the centre of the arena and nodded to the tired Tymythy. His quality was easy to read 'My family must be tended to. Perhaps we will talk tomorrow about our trials.'
"Do you mean Prem?"
Prem appeared, "Did you need me? My wings were burning. sorry, you looked deep in conversation. I didn't want to interrupt Ladies!" He bowed deeply and in northern fashion with his right leg forward and calf muscle exposed. "I've come back too late. It seems everyone is leaving. Shall I walk you to your suite before I retire?"
Indeed, the crowd was thinning out.
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"I often wonder about this. Suffering is to be avoided but isn't it the greatest tool for the strengthening of the self. How close must one come to to the crucible? How do we find equanimity with our enemies without becoming them? Especially the truly cruel and malicious."
A memory flashed in Cairee's mind - the rope bridge in Al'hufra. The Commander angrily kicking a rioter into the pit. The cleric had questioned her faith then. Did all beings deserve Saiph's comfort and healing? Even monsters like the Commander? She had thought perhaps men like him deserved to feel the gods' wrath. But would that not lead her a little closer to becoming like him? But wasn't doing nothing equally damning?"It is strangely comforting to know others ponder these contradictions. It reminds me of something my mentor used to say. We are alone, together."
"It's rude to guess at what a stranger has gone through, but It seems like you have broken a mirror already. I'd like to think you have and it feeds your wisdom. You seem very adept for someone so young."
Cairee flushed at the compliment, feeling unworthy of such praise. She bowed her head. "Thank you for saying so. I will strive to live up to your gracious opinion of me."
"All I would like to know is what is, again, rude to ask. What will you do next? Should you survive these competitions, where will you go?"
Should you survive... Cairee had been thinking in terms of winning or losing. Not about surviving. Can we all survive three more challenges? She thought of the wyvern attacking the Orcs on the mountainside. She wasn't sure.
"I'm...not quite sure. I feel like our experiences in these challenges would likely alter our course. But then again, we aren't meant to remember. Will we walk out of this arena and think and feel exactly how we did right before we walked in? If so, I imagine I'll send word to my Order that I'll be staying in Zhayalammar for a while. My friends have some unfinished business, and I think I can help."
---
She grabbed Cairee by the arm and said to the others, "Time for bed. And Zahra has something to tell us."
Cairee cheered with the others as the Orcs staggered through the door. Then she let Dounia lead her to their rooms. "I have some information to share as well."
...Shall I walk you to your suite before I retire?
Zahra smiled with relief as Prem rejoined their conversation. Everyone was safe and no one was alone. "That would be lovely, thank you."
Tyerror looked up from the centre of the arena and nodded to the tired Tymythy. His quality was easy to read 'My family must be tended to. Perhaps we will talk tomorrow about our trials.'
Tymythy returned the nod, released from his continued vigil by the orcs’ return. It was natural for Tyerror to want to put family first after such a challenge. He wondered if there still remained enough a spark in Khol’s heart for the healers to coax back into flame… he had felt the touch of their power first-hand and knew it flowed true, but then again, the fate of the dwarven team had shown there were injuries beyond their ken.
His thoughts went back to the orcs’ final battle against the wyvern. It would be good if their host’s healers could bring the woman back to the realm of the living, as she was still young, with much life ahead of her… but a part of Tymythy felt a stab of jealousy towards her. Her final stand against the wyrmling had been… inspiring. The kind of death every young warrior hoped to one day meet.
Fighting against impossible odds? Yet still achieving victory? While defending her kin, so the fight had meaning. And the manner of the blow used to strike down her foe had been flashy enough that the skalds that later told the tale wouldn’t even need to embellish things. It was the perfect doom, if ever there was one. Something Tymythy could only hope to manage to approach, when came the day for him to put down his spear for the last time.
ooc] Close... human favored enemy bonus applies, perhaps?[/ooc]
Joining Perm and the ladies as they started making their way back to the team’s apartment, Tymythy happened to note the preening fool who had taken it his task to torment Perm lingering to share a glass of wine with one of the ladies of both the Silken Scrolls and the Aureolus, heads held close as they exchanged whispers. An amorous adventure in the making? No… upon a closer look the Aureolus lady had the look of a ambassador from a clan far mightier than the one she had been sent to, while the Silken Scroll woman reeked of desperation – her team had dropped out of the competition, perhaps explaining her need to salvage something out of the situation… and the Kingsunworthy had the look of a innocent hero of the masses slighted by the fate itself for absolutely no reason at all.
”That won’t bode well,” Tymythy murmured, discreetly directing the ladies’ attention to the strange threesome plotting away.
The Blackbirds went back to their suite with Prem accompanying them to the door. He bowed in the northern fashion to take leave for his own room with the painted door of the laughing giant. Cyn and E'gama lingered for a moment outside The Blackbird's door.
Cyn's shoulders relaxed as she lightly sniffed the air, "OK. What's going on. Something's up somebody's smokestack."
Dounia turned her head at Tymythy's nudge, and saw Simone talking to Prem's nemesis. For a moment she froze, her mind racing. Should she confront them? It had kind of worked last time he'd been scheming. But Simone didn't really like her, and she didn't want to antagonize the pretty-scary woman. Instead, she hurried back to their room and found a piece of paper. She wrote a quick note: Candor, I'm so sorry for your loss. I really liked Taryn. I know you all must be hurting. But please don't trust Kingsworth. He's an eel, and can't be trusted. If you need help, we can try to help you all. Dounia.
She found a porter and asked, "Can you please bring this to Candor, of the Silken Scroll sisters? It's only for her."
Cyn's shoulders relaxed as she lightly sniffed the air, "OK. What's going on. Something's up somebody's smokestack."
Dounia giggled a bit at the phrase, surprising herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, then said, "Let's talk inside, where we'll be private." She opened the door, ushering everybody inside.
She sat on one of the low cushions, her hands already fiddling with the little box. [b]"What exactly do you want to know? There's lots going on, it would take all night to tell you everything."
As she waited for the answer, she tried to figure out how to open Iolanthe's box, trying to be careful not to break whatever the glass was inside.
Once they were settled inside, Cairee shared what she had learned.
"I met with Idrum Voltus, Senechal of Gossamer House. He had a lot to say, though I honestly couldn't tell how relevant a lot of it was. But he did have some valuable insights into the strange, personal touches we've encountered in the game. I asked him about the prophesy the Naga uttered. He said that the lunar Naga have been mysteriously going missing from their sky watches. The Naga we fought seemed to have glimpsed our futures. Voltus thought it could be related to the Fida Hura. They're connected to the dark moon, and have some desire for Zahra, Dounia and me. They've made deals with the Hand of the Desert and are trying to infiltrate the Royal Alchemist Guild. He said he would pay for rare information about them.
"He also said that someone has infiltrated the game and is seeming to nudge it a little. Making some things personal for us alone. He provided the full translation to the phrase we saw in the flooding room. When dragon takes man form, dragon takes man weakness. And he pointed out some of the whispers in today's challenge were about me. I didn't make the connection before. They said something about being a guide, and a woman in a tower - that could have been me before... They mentioned a caravan, possibly the one that had kidnapped us and brought us together. He doesn't know who's making these alterations or how, or if they are trying to help us, warn us, or scare us."
”I spent much of my day learning of past challengers and champions, to honor the fallen in the only way I could,” Tymyhty added, after collapsing to a chair. ”One curious thing about that - Princess D'Anjoument has been a regular to the challenges for several years… or rather, the warriors she had gathered under her banner. But whether this is just what an idle lord or lady of these lands would do to show they can, or a sign of desperate need to win… I cannot say. If the latter, though, she might be a danger if the games don’t go her way.”
OK. What's going on. Something's up somebody's smokestack.
Zahra looked at her with curiosity, "Why, did you see or hear something while coming here?"
The sorceress allowed herself to be ushered into their quarters. It was nice that it was just them but at the same time, she didn't want to share her info with Cyn and E'gama. She liked them as teammates but she felt her news was for her friends rather than the Blackbirds. Part of her wasn't even sure she should share it with Prem but she trusted him to have her best interests at heart and keep it to himself.
She listened with wide eyes to what Cairee had to share about what she had learned from Voltus. "That's crazy! Someone must be fairly powerful to invade the challenges to leave these messages." She went quiet while thinking, "Makes you wonder what we missed in our first challenge because I don't remember anything that may have been a coded message for us."
Zahra looked at her with curiosity, "Why, did you see or hear something while coming here?"
Cyn made a small laugh, "Why? The priestess here has been to see the second in command and her brow looks twice as heavy as she went in. This one here was gone for hours. And, you've got 'secret' written all over your face.
"But you're right. It's not our secret. The stuff about the Princess, the game meddling, and this Kingsworthy knob? That's all good to know.
"Com'on E'gama. I think you left more food in our room and I, I need to be still for several hours.."
E'gama gave a polite nod and the two exited.
Zahra grinned sheepishly at Cyn's summation. "You are quite observant. Thanks for understanding. Have a restful evening."
The sorceress was practically buzzing with excitement as the others exited and they were finally alone. "I've been waiting all day to tell you all about what I experienced when I was close to death because I wouldn't have experienced it if I hadn't been close to death."
"I was summoned to the moment of Silimiel's death. It was his desire to see some of his descendants before he passed and I was brought there along with others. I met others who are descendants of Silimiel! I hope to meet them again someday."
Zahra's eyes sparkled as she finally got to the good stuff, "But what I really wanted to share with all of you was who else was there. First there was the monk we met in the desert, Ldanfoat. He was chanting while a high-elven cleric was presiding. And then there were four defenders chosen by Silimiel to specifically stand against the Servants of the Red Dragon! They took an oath and everything and it was really cool in that they were called the Great One's 'Cardinal Directions' and given the names North, South, West, and..." Zahra paused for dramatic affect, "I recognized East! His back was to me so it was just his voice that was familiar at first but when I moved to get a look at his face I recognized him. It was Kehydius, Samreen's bodyguard!"
"None of them could see me or Calliope or Ceilig or Grayleg or Thix. But when I put my hand on Silimiel's neck he stirred and he spoke to each one of us like he knew us. He told me that my trial was just beginning but that it would lead to friends." Tears welled up in her eyes as she relived his passing. "He died the same day I was kidnapped which is how we all met. When he passed a cloud formed in the sky that looked like a dragon and that cloud was the last thing I remember seeing in the Grande Bazaar before everything went black."
Cairee tried to make sense of Zahra's story. Was it a dream? Had she really witnessed Silimiel's death? It was amazing to hear how, in the moment Zahra was closest to death, she had experienced something so powerful. "Thank you Saiph for keeping my friends safe," she murmured to herself, hand at her pendant.
To Zahra she said, "How extraordinary! And you've crossed paths with two of the people who were with Silimiel without realizing the connection. Truly the gods have you in their sights."
She mulled over the story. "If this group, The Servants Of The Red Dragon are an enemy to Silimiel and his followers, could it be them who are communicating with us through the game, trying to hurt you? Or perhaps it's Silimiel's followers, trying to help?"
Signs and portent, one after another.
Tymythy listened to Zahra’s tale in silence and wonder, but didn’t find it particularly difficult to believe it, having had a few spirit-granted visions during their adventures himself. It had been impressive enough to learn Zahra shared blood with a creature of legends like a dragon, but this Silimiel seemed special even among the great wyrms from what he understood from the mystic’s story.
Another sign that the naga’s prophecy, made with her last few breaths. Blood forsaken and been forsaken by, and one to be retained. And him, with tools of the old – he glanced at the usriev that the dead lord’s ghost had bestowed to him (at least, that was how Tymythy honestly chose to believe had happened)… he just needed the “vestments” to go with the tool… it would be interesting to see how this prophecy came to be realized.
She mulled over the story. "If this group, The Servants Of The Red Dragon are an enemy to Silimiel and his followers, could it be them who are communicating with us through the game, trying to hurt you? Or perhaps it's Silimiel's followers, trying to help?"
”We have received both warnings of a threat, and blades aimed at us… at you, at least,” Tymythy grunted, referring to the events during their previous challenge. ”So perhaps both sides are at work here… or just one, and some third party that for their own purpose seeks to hinder those who wish you harm.”
"When I put my hand on Silimiel's neck he stirred and he spoke to each one of us like he knew us. He told me that my trial was just beginning but that it would lead to friends."
As a healer, Cairee had helped countless people who were near death, and had heard the stories that returned with them. "I've heard many tales of such visions. Usually they're far more cryptic than yours. Some think they're connected to a deeply buried knowledge. The Order taught that they were flashes of extreme compassion and insight. But yours sounds different. Only Silimiel and his relatives could see you. As if you were both called to the same crossroads out-of-time. Did it seems like your other relatives were actually present at his death? Or were they...visitors...like you? If so they could have been called in our past or in our future."
"...perhaps both sides are at work here..."
Cairee nodded. "We must be on high alert during the next challenge. How much did Yo'ya say we raised? We should consider acquiring items that could help us."
Did it seems like your other relatives were actually present at his death? Or were they...visitors...like you? If so they could have been called in our past or in our future.
"I'm pretty sure they were visitors like me, also on the edge of life and death. Calliope kept saying she needed to get back to her friends, just like me. I told them where to find me so someday I hope they do."
Zahra's energy continued to be on the verge of giddy. "But now that we know who East is, we can enlist him to protect that item that Kamzar wants. It should fall within his oath that day. Things suddenly don't seem so dire.". The weight hadn't completely lifted from Zahra's mind but she felt hopeful.
A bright beam of light cut through the open window of the old warehouse. Cairee could barely move to get up out of bed but up she got. The turnips weren't going to pull themselves and it was her turn to tend the order's garden.
As she left the building the light was bright, and not just bright. It was nearly blinding. The sun was huge like it had grown to cover half the sky. The air burned like she was in a bread oven and it was hard to see ... and where were the other sisters? They must be in hospital tending to the people.
'Well, this was going to make pulling turnips hard, and lonely.'
As she came to the vegetable patch she could see all of the plant grown above ground had dried and withered. It was hard to imagine it any other way but something ached in the back of her mind. Things were normal but also not quite right.
She bent down and began pulling vegetables and just under the surface the soil was rich and dark and damp.
A skeletal hand broke out of the ground and grabbed her right wrist! Its' mate likewise emerged and grabbed hold. Two other hands burst upward and grabbed her left wrist. She tried to pull away and, at first it seemed she would succeed. The skeletons were drawn out of the ground to their waists. The one on her right wore the patchwork armour of Arnie. The second had Mar's enormous bow over its' shoulder.
The two skeletons pulled Cairee down and into the ground. She began choking on dust and roots as she tried to breath! She could taste the powerful tang of iron. The soil wasn't damp with water.
Two voices (not quite Arnie's and Mar's) spoke in her head, "How long did you think you could stay up there and not get dirty with the rest of us."
Dounia was standing in a stone room. Light streamed in through windows set high above her and the others. Before her was a raised section of floor that held a stone throne. Behind the throne was a great tapestry showing strange mathematics and crude images of the dark moon and its' apogee and perigee, like the drawings the Naga had made.
All about her were men in cloaks holding mining equipment. Only one of them had a face uncovered by the cowl of their vestment. It was the boy she saw at the opera. He was looking at her and talking but no noise was coming out. His face had an urgent expression like he was trying to warn her about something.
The men in cloaks about her turned towards her but their faces were still in darkness. A voice came from the throne. Kamzar'gibil was standing next to it and a woman with hands caked in clay standing next to him. Dounia fought to make out her face but it was blurred like the woman's head was moving back and forth at incredible speed.
Kamzar'gibil, "What are you waiting for, insulent child. I suggest you take a seat." At his suggestion Dounia felt a powerful desire to take the throne but it also scared her ... like the throne would swallow her up if she sat down.
How long had Tymythy been walking through the desert?
The soft sand sunk under his shoeless sun-cracked feet as he pushed forward in the windless burning air, under the slow arcing sun. The sand gave way so easily under Tymythy's weight and the weight of his burden a great snake carcass. Its' tail was slung over his shoulder. Its' impossibly long body was dragging behind him.
The sun took forever to crawl across the sky and it came closer and closer to the horizon before him. It silhouetted a figure ahead. A small crumpled outline of an old woman. She stood still as Tymythy's path brought him closer and closer. It was the woman from the Moon Scarab Hotel, the ylde-modor, Karennina. She was patient and waited his approach. "Don't worry, spear-dancer, I know you are unable to pay proper deference. Just remember what I told you, 'People forget that coins have three sides'."
Something drove Tymythy forward and, as the sun touched the distant earth, a crow flew overhead. Then others came. Then more and more. The sky blackened and everything was dark.
Home.
Zahra sat on a cushion and a platter of spicy chicken, flat breads, dates and fruit lay on the floor before her. On other cushions around the platter sat her father, Faheem, her mother, Nisma. The shutters were closed for the late day against the every-present sun. A strange smell snuck its' way round the delicious aroma of her mother's cooking. It smelled like sulphur. Mother and father didn't seem to notice it and it was easy to ignore.
There was a knock that sounded from upstairs. Mother and father didn't react.
Faheem, "How do you keep the meat so fresh for so long, my wife. Supper is delicious as always. I swear you've made a pact with the dark forces." He reached forward with his right hand and took some chiken with two fingers and thumb.
Nisma, "I'll never say." She smiled at Zahra as shouts could be heard outside somewhere beyond the shutters. "How was the bazaar today? Did you make any new friends?"
Faheem answered as if Nisma had asked him, "I have. A consortium wants to take my spices to Issmenadore and, as demand grows, to Halidor. We are going to be very rich!"
At the front there was a single bang. The tip of a spear poked through and a drip of blood ran down the inside face of the door.
Nisma, "How wonderful. We can afford a new set of mops."
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When she was smaller, knowing that her busy father made the time to be at home for this meal made her feel loved and important. As she got older, she enjoyed the more adult conversations that they had as a family unit. Even though she had never wanted for anything growing up, it was this time spent together that seemed to mean more to her than any material possession.
Her nose wrinkled as an unpleasant smell mingled with the delicious aromas from the food prepared by her mother. She looked at her father and then at her mother but figured she must be imagining the smell. She went back to chewing on a piece of flatbread.
Her head snapped up as she heard a knock. She went to get up because her first thought was that the invaders were back. She gawked at both her parents as they just sat there eating. "Didn't you hear that? It sounds like someone is in the house! Papa? Mama?"
The conversation continued around their dinner as if Zahra didn't exist. Concern showed on the sorceress' face and she jumped to her feet. She moved beside her mother and waved her hand in front of her face, hoping she was wrong. "Mama?"
Zahra flinched and screamed as there was a louder bang just seconds before their door was damaged and she saw blood. Since when did doors bleed? Or was it someone on the other side of the door that was bleeding. Regardless, none of this was normal. "Papa! Mama! We're in danger...because of me. I need to get you out of here." She moved to drag them to their feet, all the while keeping an eye on the door.
As she prepared for an attack, her hands began to glow with a silvery blue colour and snow began to form around them as the air cooled. She would do what she needed to to protect her family.
Zahra's parents continued to eat and talk about their day. Zahra tugged at them but they wouldn't move and her grip seemed so weak!
Faheem, "I wonder if the cardamon is ready for harvest. The pods were nearly ripe two days ago."
Zahra stood between them and the door and through the shutters she could see a flickering light which was accompanied by the sound of a great fire. Smoke began to seep in from beneath the door.
Nisma, "Oh, your poor fingers. They always ache so after a harvest. Can you not get Badru and Lazmah to do it?"
The bang from upstairs sounded again. This time it was louder like someone dropping a great stone on the floor above.
Faheem looked at the door, "I don't know if they'll make it."
Smoke began to billow through the shutters and around cracks in the front door. Zahra could hear Haseena's voice outside yelling desperately, "No! No! I can't hold on! Stop please!!!"
The door burst open. On the outside of the door a broken spear shaft was still embedded in the centre of a great blood stain. Smoke forced its' way into the house. Zahra's parents sat on their cushions like nothing was happening as the back door burst open also. Red light flickered beyond.
Bang from upstairs!
Zahra couldn't help but step forward.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The city was on fire. Every building burned as people ran rioting through the streets. Some of them were wrapped in flames and some were fighting each other with swords and spades, spears and rakes.
A wall of flame raced forward to engulf the sorceress!
Zahra awoke alone in her small room.
Cairee coughed and gagged, trying to spit the bloody soil out of her mouth."Change your mind. Change you path." Ila's words, sort of, but the voices that echoed in her mind were Arnie and Mar. Boney fingers squeezed her wrists tighter and tighter, pulling her down and down and down. She couldn't fight it. Some part of her didn't want to.
---
"Orange Hair Bird Mouth, get up!"
Who said that? Cairee tried to sit up, and groaned. Every part of her ached. She blinked into the darkness. Where was she? She reached for her pendant and whispered a pleading prayer. A small globe of light appeared, illuminating a dank, wet cavern. She rose, stiffly, and looked around. Four tunnels led in opposite directions. North, east, south, west.
THWACK! An arrow flew past her ear. She stumbled back and turned around to see Mar's bow trained on Cairee, Arnie advancing. "Give it back!"
Cairee felt a weight in her hands. She was holding The Beheader. It slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground. "Take it! It's yours!" Mar let loose another arrow, lodging it in the ground at her feet.
"Orange Hair Bird Mouth, this way!" Cairee saw a flutter in one of the tunnels. She ran towards it, fleeing her siblings. Whatever was helping her was just past her field of vision, encouraging her forward. Arnie and Mar were close behind, their bones clattering violently as they ran.
There was a door at the end of the tunnel. Cairee burst through it. She was in a room of mirrors. She could see hundreds of reflections of herself, each carrying the cursed sword. "Cairee, where are you? Cairee?" It was Zahra, Dounia, Tymythy, calling for her. She tried to move, to find them. But Arnie and Mar were beside her. Each had a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.
Cairee remembered Zahra's words at dinner. She looked at a reflection of the skeletal versions of her brother and sister. They seemed so sad. "What really happened that night with the skeleton hoard?"
They just squeezed her shoulders harder. "Go ahead, big sis. Break the mirror."
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The black wings of the murder of crows turned the day into night, as loose feathers from their hastily beating wings fell down like black snowflakes, seemingly cover the pale yellow sand dunes until Tymythy felt he was wading through an ankle-deep sea of pitch only a share lighter than the sky. Only the sun remained, now looking like a perfectly round hole cut in cloth, shining bright as ever but not truly illuminating... yet the hunter could still see himself and his scaled burden clearly enough, in the way of a dream’s illogic, and distinguish the darkness of the sky from the black ground.
There was a change in the quality of the not-quite-light and Tymythy turned his head upwards, towards the hole in the sky’s firmament. And saw a gigantic eye was looking down upon him, fixing its gaze on him, like the whole of the sky was the face of a titanic raven, tilting its head to get a good look at whatever caught its interest. And him the ant that the giant might decide to gobble up if that fancy took it.
Was this the great spirit who had become his patron Himself, or one of His most favoured heralds? Were Tymythy awake and confronted by such a presence he would be on his knees already, but again, the unreality of the dream left him feeling disassociated. He had his task. He knew not why he was hauling the massive snake’s remains, nor where he was heading. But that didn’t matter. He was doing it, thus a reason must exist.
One foot ahead of the other. Lean forward as the tar-like surface seemed to stick to the serpent’s scales even more than to his boots, adding another aspect to his burden.
”Great One, your feathers make for a difficult road to follow,” he said, casting his eyes down on the path ahead, knowing without being told that to meet that celestial gaze would be to risk losing himself.
Cariee stood, held by the skeletal twins, themselves turned into the things that made them famous. She tried to become that focus for Saiph, tried to become that lens of brilliant healing light. But she was too distracted. From the kaleidoscope of mirror images and mirror angles the other Cairees and the multitude of Beheaders held by them began to move forward.
The skeletal Arnie spoke in a low voice, "You can't run from home forever."
The Cairees came closer and closer.
tap tap tap tap
Skeletal Arnie and skeletal Mar looked about at the mirrors.
Mar, "They're coming for you, sister. They're coming home to you."
taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap
"Orange hair bird mouth, wake!"
Cairee woke up in her bed. There was a large black bird perched on her footboard, pecking at the wood.
As he spoke Tymythy noticed the weight was gone.
The eye was still there but he couldn't see it anymore.
A grey light dawned from behind him and from the light cam an old man wrapped in a grey cloak as if to warm himself. He came closer so that he was only two yards away. It was the man from one of his old dreams. It was the man who appeared as a vision in the dunes before alHufra.
He looked Tymythy up and down with an expression of abject disappointment.
His mouth didn't move, "If you want to punish your enemies ... give them what they ask for. I get it now."
Resigned to some invisible fate, the grey-cloaked old man held out his hands and in them were a bird's wing, a snake scale in the shape of a heart, and a small orange gem with a star shaped crack at its' centre. He offered them to Tymythy.
When Tymythy woke he was standing in his room reaching out to the air.
Dounia found herself walking towards the throne, desperately wanting to sit in it. No, that was wrong. She didn't want to sit in it, she felt as if she should. Kamzar'gibil had told her to, and she was listening to him. Why was she listening to him? He was bad, she didn't like him. He had made her not talk for a whole day! And anyway, that chair looked scary. Nope, she wasn't going to sit in it.
By the time she decided that, she was at steps leading to the throne. She stopped her feet from moving, but it took great effort. Turning around, she looked for the boy from the opera. Her....brother? Her twin? She tried to call his name. "Alsaqr? Brother?"
She looked around at the others, trying to see through the dark cowl's of their hoods. Was her father here too? Her other brother? Mutawtesh? Was...was Cyra? She tried to step away from the throne and found herself unable to. She turned to Kamzar'gibil and shouted, "Why are you doing this to me?"
Zahra woke alone in her room and the emotions from her dream were too much. She promptly burst into tears. Her city was on fire and being destroyed but worse than that, she couldn't save her parents. It didn't matter that it was just a dream, what she was feeling was far too real. Did this mean that while she was away, her family was suffering? That Haseena was suffering? Were they in danger?
It took her a few minutes to realize that her bed was wetter than it should have been from just her tears. She found a few pieces of snowball among her blanket and on the floor and realized that she must have cast magic at the flames that engulfed her at the end of her dream.
The sorceress felt fragile and didn't want to be alone. She got out of bed and went into the common room. She stood there and contemplated who wouldn't mind if she woke them up.
Kamzar's expression didn't change. Dounia might as well be shouting at a paper cut-out of the malevolent dastard. The woman next to him, face still blurred, reached out with her left clay-encrusted hand.
Dounia turned back around to yell to Alsaqr who was in the crowd soundlessly yelling back. The people of the crowd were grabbing him and he was being overwhelmed, disappearing into a sea of cloaks. Their hoods slipped and their human-like faces were revealed as long snake tails unfolded from the backs. They were all naga with ophidian eyes and waved blade daggers that dripped with a familiar poison.
Alsaqr was gone, hidden somewhere amongst them.
They slithered closer as Dounia realized her feet were glued to the steps below the throne!
Dounia awoke, the solved box was in her hands. Its' contents were safe on a bedside table.
Dounia carefully put the box down, and gave herself a shake. This place was getting to her. Dreams mixing up her unknown family, dangers from the game, and their nemesis...she really needed a good night sleep. She rolled over in bed and closed her eyes.
Cairee woke up in her bed. There was a large black bird perched on her footboard, pecking at the wood.
Mar's words echoed in Cairee's head. They're coming home to you. What did she mean?
Nothing. It was just a dream, she tried to assure herself, but the unease lingered.
peck peck peck peck
The sound from her dream. Was she still asleep? She sat up quickly, and a large black bird flapped its wings in surprise, flying up a few feet before settling back down. It cocked its head and looked at the cleric.
Her agitation melted away and a grin spread across her face. "Good morning! How did you get in here?" She stood up and opened the thick velvet curtains. Her window was open - had she done that? "Here you go," she said helpfully, holding the curtains to one side so the bird could leave.
It pecked at the bed post.
Cairee waited patiently. "I haven't seen many of your kind here. Were you in the pie?" she said conversationally, remembering the birds that had flown out of the refreshment tent on their first day.
The bird looked at her again, and something twigged in the cleric's mind. A flicker of recognition. There was a warmth in the creature's eyes. An intelligence.
Cairee let the curtains drop and stepped towards the bird. She reached out her hand. It pecked at her fingers. She giggled, and lightly stroked its head. It leaned slightly into her touch.
"Did Saiph send you?" She asked. "What's your name?"
Tymythy woke from his strange dream hand aloft, still reaching out to grasp the tokens offered by the stranger who had taken to haunting his dreams of late. It was unfortunate there were no shamans of his clan to seek advice from, as the meaning behind dreams influenced by spirits were beyond most mortal’s ability to unravel. Was he the punishment to the stranger’s enemies, whoever those might be?
Perhaps the answers would come in time – oft it was so with inspired dreams. Vague enough to be fitted with actual evens only after the fact. Yet tantalizing enough to twist one’s mind into knots when attempting to understand.
Yawning, Tymythy jumped to his feet, feeling almost whole after the night’s sleep. And... inspired. Thinking back to the surprising dance lesson of last evening, the hunter picked up his ancient spear, testing its weight and balance with a new appreciation. Yes... not only a weapon and a tool but also... a partner.
His room didn’t have the space to properly dance the forms, but there was enough for some more stationary moves. So he closed his eyes, recalled the feel and the beat of the dance, and moved. Yes... this was what he had been after, what he had sought out the martial adepts of the monastery to train for. His understanding was still rough around the edges, and could no doubt benefit from schooling with the masters... but he felt he could put these insights into use already.
Nodding in satisfaction, Tymythy finished his stretching and limbering exercises, rubbed the sweat from his body with fresh wet towels before getting dressed and moving to the apartment’s common area. Saw that Zahra had got there before him.
"Fair morning," Tymythy said, before noticing the look in the mystic's eyes. "... or perhaps not. Troubling dreams?" he asked, wondering if he had not been unique in being granted visions.
"Fair morning," Tymythy said, before noticing the look in the mystic's eyes. "... or perhaps not. Troubling dreams?" he asked, wondering if he had not been unique in being granted visions.
Zahra nodded mutely and tears pricked her already red eyes. She finally found her voice. "They were all dying and the city was burning. I couldn't save them or myself."
"I know it's a lot to ask but I think I need a hug." She lifted her arms, "Please?"
"Did Saiph send you?" She asked. "What's your name?"
Small as any common thrush, she sat there. Her feathers were a jet black underneath with a dusty brown highlight. Her legs were brown and the tail was a long triangular fan. The bird's beak was orange and had a yellow bridge and yellow point. She regarded Cairee first with one eye then the other, both were perfect yellow rings with black centres.
In, what sounded like a young stalwart squire's voice, she spoke and Cairee grasped its' language, "I'm Ousel and ousel means me." Ousel hopped over to Cairee's forearm. "All the air-weavers are talking of an orange-hair bird-mouth. I came to see. It's true. You are a bird mouth. Do you have any crawlers or little hops?"
"I know it's a lot to ask but I think I need a hug." She lifted her arms, "Please?"
Tymythy stepped forward into the embrace without speaking, and allowed the silence to linger for a spell. ”That sight... something from your past? Or an omen of a possible future?” Distressed as she was with what she had seen, he judged it not the best of times to announce his own dream and thus suggest her own might have a deeper meaning behind it – after all, one strange dream could well coincidence be, but the two of them being granted what seemed a vision the same night would make that more unlikely.