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arisenreborn · 6 months ago

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Fateful Symmetry - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3,477 Table of Contents AO3: (link)

Free for the first time in memory, the world around Olivia is sprawling, beautiful, and unfortunately no less confusing or violent. But after awakening to find herself separated from Emrys, she needs only focus on the singular task of finding him.

CHAPTER 4: forward

In the dark depths of unconsciousness, for just a moment, she remembered. Beyond the fog of her mind she caught a glimpse of colorful dresses, and clinking wine glasses…

And then she was being jerked awake by rough hands on her shoulders. The clear blue skies above her were beautiful, if obtruded by the grizzled mug of a man in armor. She groaned and winced at a hundred little aches, and tried to swat him away.

“For heaven's sake, have a care, would you?” Another voice spoke from nearby, seemingly chiding her assailant. “Who can say what the poor thing has been through?”

A twitch of displeasure went through her. ‘Poor thing’? Were they referring to her? Rude, little…

With another groan she sat herself up, blinking back unconsciousness as she took in her surroundings. A few men and women in armor and with weapons stood around her, one was inspecting the griffin, which was looking very dead with the massive bolt through its torso.

“Easy there, you had quite the fall.”

The man who’d woken her moved away, and another knelt beside her. He introduced himself as Justinn, a soldier of Vermund stationed at an outpost nearby. Everything had a dull hum of familiarity to her, but as her mind began to buzz with wakefulness her thoughts inevitably sprung to one focal point.

“Emrys!” Interrupting the curious questioning of the soldier, she sprung up to her feet, spinning in a dizzying circle with the hopes of spotting him.

“Was there another with you?” Justinn asked, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but you’re the only one we’ve spotted. It’s possible they might have fallen elsewhere, or…” He cast a brief but hard glance towards the water, and her stomach lurched. Justinn did not finish the thought, but instead looked to her and asked: “What did they look like?”

She felt dizzy for a moment, considering the perils of the water, or wherever else Emrys might have fallen. Shaking her head she stumbled over her words in an attempt to answer.

“Uhm, short, red-brown hair? Dark, amber eyes. Tall? I’d come to about his shoulder, so maybe…” She stretched her hand up above her. “This tall? Or near-about?” But even these scant few details gained no look of recognition from Justinn, who shook his head.

“I am sorry, but pray, do not lose hope. It’s quite possible he might have simply landed elsewhere. With any luck, one of our other patrols may find him, or he’ll turn up at the outpost on his own.”

She nodded slowly, but otherwise felt numb as she kept scanning the area around her. As if she might spot some small clue that might at the very least assure her he was all right.

‘He’s a pawn.’ A little voice chimed in the back of her mind, as if that might ease her. She thought of the guards at the site who dismissed pawns as tools to be used and discarded, and ached at the idea of leaving him behind. At the very least, she thought better of divulging that fact to these people, in case they became dismissive of finding him for that sole reason.

Justinn insisted that she accompany him to the outpost, where their chirurgeon could look over her wounds and they could help her get her bearings after her impromptu griffin flight. But her wounds were scant, the serpent bite stiff but no longer bleeding. It wasn’t until he said they could mount a search for her friend that the option gained appeal.

Wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar wilds would be a fool’s errand, she knew that, but it made the thought of going alone to safe haven no less uncomfortable. He should be with her, after all they had endured to get here together.

The other soldiers remained to clear the griffins corpse while Justinn led her down the narrow trails to their encampment. As they went he asked where she’d come from, and seemed shocked and just as bewildered as she herself by the truth. According to him, things ‘weren’t like that here’, in Vermund, and he postulated that perhaps she had been in Battahl.

He chattered about the dragon appearing nearby in a place called Melve, said that the Arisen had been chosen, and the Sovran would now sit on the throne. Vaguely it occurred to her that these things didn’t quite add up, but her attention was admittedly elsewhere.

The complex weavings of scenery around her was overwhelming, to say the very least. The lush mountain forests broken by ambling streams were a far cry from the limited mines and passages she’d been allowed access to. She’d have loved to take her time to admire it, but she couldn’t allow herself to be overwhelmed or awed by the beauty of it all. Her eyes scanned their surroundings restlessly for any sign of Emrys, any hint that he might have passed through and somehow been missed.

It also occurred to her that she ought to have been less comfortable being escorted around by men in armor with weapons, after her time at the dig site. Yet there was much different about Justinn from the guards, and something else she couldn’t quite place, something familiar.

It made sense, she supposed, if she was indeed from Vermund. The sight of their armor felt almost a comfort rather than the opposite. And the fact they let her keep her beat up sword was a point in their favor.

As they rounded a bend in the trail Justinn drew up short, and Olivia nearly bumped into him. A small, bent creature with reddish skin skulked out of the brush onto the path. Goblin, she recognized: Weak, but potentially troublesome in high numbers. They possessed a basic, child-like intelligence, and often used weapons and armor gathered from other races - most commonly humans.

The knowledge flitted through her head as though leaping off the pages of a book. As two more goblins emerged from onto the path Justinn bade her to draw her sword. For a split second as she readied the blade she was keenly aware of the missing weight of a shield on her left arm. Yet again, it seemed her body remembered for her what she could not.

Still she did not hesitate to rush past Justinn with a straight stab at the nearest goblin. Having yet to have noticed them it cried out in surprise, no doubt cursing in their garbled tongue. She kicked the impaled goblin back off her blade, and it rolled around on the ground spewing blood and curses until it stopped moving altogether.

One of the goblins hid behind its shield, the other brandished its club at her, nearly clipping her in her left arm. Justinn rushed in and bashed it with his own shield, catching it off balance, and she was quick to take the opening to slash across its chest. As if working in concert, Justinn finished the goblin with a stab to the throat.

It did feel oddly easy, matching her attacks to his. Their manner of fighting was not so different.

The last goblin continued hiding behind its shield, yellow eyes peeking over it and darting between the two of them as it took backwards steps. Blade at the ready Olivia waited, watching; the ground here was uneven, and the creatures' steps shaky. Just one… more… step…

It shouted in confusion as it tumbled backwards, and as it fell its shield tilted to one side. Olivia plunged forward, arm and blade moving as one.

“I must say, you’ve quite the impressive sword arm.” Justinn remarked as he cleaned his blade and returned it to its sheathe. “Were you trained in the Vermundian form?”

She paused in cleaning her own blade, grasping at straws in her mind. Finally she sighed, shook her head, and slotted the blade back in its sheath.

“I’m afraid I cannot remember,” she admitted as she crouched down and picked up the goblins shield. “I remember nothing before waking in those caves.”

“No memory?” Justinn gawked, sounding for a moment almost more troubled by it than she was. She supposed she’d had some time to adjust to it, though. “You ought to have said so sooner, I’ll be sure to mention it in my report to the watchhead.”

Yes, she supposed perhaps they could help her identify herself, or even locate someone who knew her. Funny how those things would have compelled her so much more before, but now her only true concern was ensuring Emrys was safe and well. Only then could she start worrying about herself again.

The shield was shoddy, wooden, and once upon a time man-made. It had since been beaten up and neglected, and tied together with rope and hide. She honestly couldn’t be sure it was better than nothing. For now it couldn’t hurt to carry, she supposed - it certainly wasn’t too heavy.

When she stood she found Justinn was watching her very closely, and she found herself wondering if she somehow didn’t fit his imagined depiction of a helpless amnesiac.

“I appreciate what aid I can get,” she answered him. “I seem to remember enough to get by, but perhaps finding family, or even friends who know aught of me, would stir my mind. But right now I’m more concerned about the friend I’ve lost.”

To that Justinn agreed in understanding, and re-committed to his offer of what aid they could provide while they continued along. His questioning grew more pointed towards what she could remember, and he suggested she might have had some formal training with the Vermundian military. Her form, as he said, was a little unique, but had a very strong resemblance.

As the outpost came into view the sounds of many voices beyond the walls gifted her with a swell of hope. Perhaps Emrys really would be here, or at least she might get a better idea where to start looking for him.

The gates creaked open as they approached, and a man dressed in the robes of a healer emerged. He had a graceful beauty, but his features were somewhat odd. His hair was pale grey, and his eyes were mismatched: the right a silvery white, and the left as bright and red as a glittering ruby. Pale scars criss-crossed the right side of his face, and the points of elven ears not unlike her own peeked out from his wavy hair.

As he approached he lifted his right hand in greeting - a jagged scar she recognized all-too-well gleamed with a golden light on his palm. The hollow in her chest thrummed as if in answer.

“Welcome, Arisen. I had a feeling I would find you here.” He smiled gently, though it did not quite reach his eyes. Then he bowed his head and bent down on one knee. “We pawns have long awaited your arrival.”

A strange feeling, to be sure. To not even know herself, and have a stranger kneel before her? Yet something -the glow of his palm, the word ‘Arisen’- all resonated within her, as if confirming something she already knew. Just as that figure at the excavation site had said: Her charge awaited. Even without her memories, she needed only to believe in her own destiny. Whatever that was.

At her side Justinn murmured in confusion: Why did the pawns bend the knee to her? Surely she could not be the Arisen.

“I am Avierann, a chirurgeon and healer of this outpost.” The pawn before her rose, paying singular attention to her alone and no heed to Justinn’s bafflement. “But before I am anything else, I am a pawn devoted to your service, Arisen.”

“Now, just a moment, are you quite certain?” Justinn piped up again. “Tis said the Arisen is in Vernworth, and it shan’t be long now afore he is to be crowned sovran. The latest news does take some time to reach us here, but there must be some mistake.”

“I can assure you I have no idea,” Olivia sighed, beginning to grow weary of the cloud of confusion that seemed ever-present around her. Her impatience was going to start getting the better of her. She’d rather not be at the center of suspicion for good or ill until she’d found Emrys.

“Avierann, you said? Might you have seen another pawn, by the name of Emrys? Reddish hair, yea tall?”

His face pinched a little, brow scrunched and lips pursed as he tilted his head, considering her question - and then to her dismay, shook his head.

“I am sorry, master, but at present I am the sole pawn stationed here. There were others, until recently. After the attack on Melve, they were called to the capital. I alone remained as one of the outpost's few able-bodied healers.”

Helpful, but… too many words. She felt her face twitch into a grimace. Some of those words felt like she ought to know what he was speaking of. Melve, an attack…

“However,” Avierann continued, gesturing with an arm behind him into the camp. “A riftstone lies just ahead, mayhaps you will be able to call upon them there.”

More words that didn’t quite slot into a place of understanding, but even the thin thread of hope she might have a lead was enough to act on.

“Show me.” She nodded, barely waiting for him to lead the way. Justinn sputtered in bafflement and trailed behind them.

Following behind Avierann close enough to barely keep from stepping on his heels she cast a quick look about the outpost as they entered. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting - nothing really, she supposed, with her attention so singularly focused - and she could neither decide if she was disappointed or impressed. Not quite either, she supposed.

It was instead the soldiers that tugged at her absent heartstrings. She watched them mill about in their armor, some barking out orders, others standing about chatting and joking with each other. They reminded her of that feeling she’d had talking with Emrys about Vermund before: homesick.

But within a few paces the riftstone came into sight, drawing her gaze to it with its strange runes and pale glow. Everything else drowned out around her - the soldiers, Avierann speaking to her, all of it dulled to a distant murmur as she approached it.

‘Reach out your hand.’ Perhaps Avierann said it, but the words were already rooted deeply inside of her. ‘Picture in your mind's eye the one you seek.’

‘Twas easy. Despite the gloomy pall that had hung around their days in the mines, his face always seemed to glow in the lantern light. Those lips with his ever-quick smile, the three scars over his left eye. As it was, she knew his face better than she knew her own.

Her palm tingled as she reached towards the stone, the dim glow emanating from the runes brightened in response. Pale blue mists swirled out and around the stone, and the faded outline of a man took shape just before her fingertips. Her chest swelled with anticipation, ached as if her heart thudded within it.

Gradually the mist settled into those familiar features. Tall and broad-shouldered, still wearing his ill-fitting rags that nearly matched her own. His sharp, golden eyes looked tired, and as the blue glow faded a look of surprise writ itself over his features. Then, very slowly he closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh.

However, she only scarcely took note of this before she flung herself at him, laughter billowing up and spilling out of her. She threw her arms tight around him, her relief and joy radiating through her.

“Oh, thank heavens you’re all right!” Prying herself back from him, she started looking him over more carefully for any signs of injury. “I was so worried when I woke alone, I’d begun to fear the worst. What happened to you?”

“Ahh…” The sound came strangely from him, as if strangled up through a tightened throat. He’d gone stiff, and the loss of his usual jocularity gave her pause. Perhaps that had been a bit too forward of her. Pursing her lips she took another step back.

“I apologize, I was just so overcome with relief to see you well.”

Her shame was short-lived when he laughed, shaking his head as his shoulders eased.

“Pay me no mind, Arisen. And worry not, our little sojourn through the skies may have temporarily parted us, but I daresay our journey together has only just begun.”

It was a relief to hear the levity in his voice return, but strange to hear him call her ‘Arisen’, too. Had he known all along, then?

“I suppose that’s one problem solved…” Justinn murmured, sounding as though he was struggling to keep up. Emrys’s eyes moved swiftly to him, and then around the rest of the encampment.

“I’ve only just arrived here myself, with Ser Justinn’s aid.” She told him, before turning her attention to the other two. “Thank you both very much for assisting me, I appreciate it more than words can rightly say.”

“Think nothing of it, Arisen,” Avierann said with a bob of his head and that thin, polite smile. “I am only happy to have been able to serve you, if there is aught else you require, you need only ask.”

Justinn just sighed, running his hand back through his hair. “This is all… quite beyond my ken. I’ll have to make my report to the watchhead post-haste. Ser Avierann, I trust you’ll be able to show the lady around?”

“Of course, you needn’t worry.”

Still looking rather troubled, Justinn swiftly took his leave.

“I daresay he couldn’t have beaten a hastier retreat,” Emrys chortled quietly.

“He mentioned something about an Arisen in the capital,” she told him, “he seemed very confused by it…” Her attention drifted between the two pawns, but landing on Avierann. “You knew I was coming… could you sense me somehow?”

“That is correct, in a sense. Had I been further away, still in Melve perhaps, I doubt I would have.” Then his smile warmed, ever-so-slightly touching the corners of his eyes. “Your presence is like the sun to we pawns, Arisen. Even veiled beyond the clouds we know when morning has come to end the night, and thus, when you have entered the world.”

Her brow scrunched up tightly. ‘When she had entered the world?’ That made her sound like some divine entity, and she… didn’t feel particularly divine?

“Hah, she’s somewhat lacking in memories,” Emrys chimed in, “so take it easy on her with the poetic metaphors.”

He may have been right but she still scowled at him, which only made him laugh some more.

“Is that true though?” She asked him pointedly. “Did you recognize me too?”

“I- uh, well?” He cleared his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Of course I did. But you didn’t expect me to go shouting it to our gaolors did you? I had to get you out of there!”

Unhelpfully, her thoughts turned around a few times, mouth opening and closing once and then twice. She didn’t doubt him, but she wanted more than anything to help everyone else back at the excavation site. Her head was starting to hurt again, and finally she just closed her eyes for a moment and pressed the heel of her palm into her forehead.

“Someone… gaoled the Arisen?” Avierann asked softly, clearly noting her condition and aiming the incredulous question to Emrys.

“It’s a… bit of a tale. And I’m not entirely clear on all the details myself. Nor is she.” Emrys heaved a sigh, and Olivia opened her eyes again to see him place his hands on his hips and shake his head. “Why don’t we see if we can’t find ourselves some decent clothes, a meal, and some place to settle in for the evening, and we can all straighten out some details, eh?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Avierann agreed, and then both sets of eyes were on her. “Arisen?”

It was at that moment one thing became clear to her; even for this small, seemingly insubstantial decision, they were deferring to her. It was so tiny a thing she might have missed it if she wasn’t purposefully clearing her mind of everything else at the moment. They weren’t just asking for her opinion, they were waiting on her command.

Pawns lack wills of their own, and serve the Arisen. Her. And the Arisen was Sovran and fated to fight the Dragon. These things she had the most basic understanding of, but it still didn’t feel like enough to go on.

“Very well,” she nodded, “let’s do that. And once we’re settled in… The first thing I want to know is what the hell an Arisen is.”

#dragon's dogma #dd2 #crow's writing.#arisen x pawn #oc: olivia #oc: emrys #oc: rann #gasp spoiler #fic: fateful symmetry #this chapter was such a struggle for me #but i'm excited for going forward (lol)

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