Part V

From out of the mist, the great white city of Ciryl rose, the topmost battlements of its palace cleaving the fog around them cleanly. The thin white towers pierced through the surrounding vapor as if they had clawed their way directly out of the mire of the deep bog. As the trio made their way over the unsteady ground, white stone houses began to slide in and out of the mist. Their Ildoan inhabitants slipped among them like ethereal pale shadows. Besides the faint sounds of their motion, the entire city was deeply and absolutely silent. However, as he glanced at the eyes of those who passed him, Spire could very clearly feel in his mind all of the “speaking” that was taking place among them. To him, the entire city seemed very nearly a dream: graceful and silent, the little colour that was present thoroughly muted by the heavy fog.
As the houses grew in number, grew closer together before the massive palace, they were joined by another Ildoan, this one a woman. Her wispy white hair had been cut to just the nape of her neck, and although she moved with the same smooth grace of all those of her race, her strides were more accented, deep eyes more marked by inquisitive nature.
“Father.” She greeted the Ildoan man who had first met them in the bog, “The news of your visitors has already reached Mother and I. A room has been readied.”
He nodded, thin lips drawing back into a small smile, “Good.” He turned to the other two, setting a hand on the young woman’s shoulder, “My daughter, Yluna.”
Spire smiled in return, “It is a pleasure.” He greeted her.
“As it is for me.” She replied, smiling and glancing from Spire to Courmier and back again, “Can he not hear?”
“I am not sure.” Spire told her, blushing faintly, “It would seem that he cannot.”
Courmier glanced over at him, blinking, “You’re talking about me?” He inquired, “With her?”
“She just asked if you couldn’t hear.” Spire told him very quietly to the side, “Nothing more about it.”
“And what brings you to Ildoa?” Yluna asked, the sentiment ringing clearly as her eyes shifted.
“We need to speak to your leader.” Said Spire.
“I see.” There was a tone of disbelief or surprise in her reply, and Spire could almost see her mark something in him, but he did not pursue it.
“The room, Yluna?” Her Father asked, just slightly chastising.
A faint blush tinged her cheeks, “Oh yes…come along.” She said, turning and giving a small motion to Courmier as she went.
They followed her along firmer sections of the ground, and soon found themselves at the door to one of the white houses closest to the base of the palace. Yluna nodded to them and pushed the door open, leading them inside. On the way to their room, they passed another Ildoan woman, who gave them a small smile. She was obviously Yluna’s Mother.
Yluna stopped beside another door, pushing it inward lightly, “This is your room.” She told Spire, “It is not much, but it should be better than attempting to remain outside for the night.”
Spire nodded, smiling just a bit, “I am sure it will be.” He agreed.
***
The night came quickly, but Spire could not sleep. Instead, he slipped out of the house, leaning against one wall and gazing silently up at the silver sliver of moon rising solemnly over the bog. It turned all the whiteness of the marsh into faint shades of gray.
He felt a hand lightly on his shoulder, “You cannot sleep?”
Turning, he found Yluna behind him, even more pale in the moonlight, “I suppose not.” He replied.
“There is much troubling you?” She asked, and he could feel that her “voice” was quiet.
He blinked, “I do not know what you mean.”
Her eyes shifted once more, and he could feel the small chuckle that emanated from them, “It is no use lying to me. You are too open to keep anything from a pure Ildoan.”
“What?” Spire asked confusedly, glancing up at her.
“Your eyes.” She told him, “They are so open. I can read them better than any other I’ve ever spoken to.”
Blushing faintly, he looked away just slightly, “But why?”
“I do not know.” She answered, “It is like you are very young. People’s eyes close off more and more as they grow older. But yours have not. Almost everything can still be read from them.”
The blush on Spire’s cheeks darkened, “Oh… I see.”
“You have not been around many people, have you?” She questioned.
“No, I haven’t.” He told her quietly.
She nodded, “Perhaps that is why.” And then, more softly, “And… you do not truly wish to be on this journey?”
Spire bit his lip, “I… no. I do not.”
“I see…” She glanced over at him more closely, “I would caution you, Spire.” She began, “There are dangers to it, to your openness. That is why people close off. It is possible to be too open. Others could hurt you.”
“I do not know how to close up.” He said bashfully.
She smiled just slightly, “And I do not know how to make you. In a perfect world, you would not need to. That is the sadness of it all. Perhaps you need to experience more for yourself.”
“I… suppose so.” He sighed softly.
“Meanwhile, you should probably sleep.” She said with a faint grin, “That I can tell you well enough, in any case. My Father has gotten you a meeting with the King tomorrow.”
***
“Shall we advance, Commander?”
The General glanced down at the line of men, “No.” The order was quiet, but firm, “We will not risk drawing another country into our war. We will wait until they are sighted.”
There was a shuffle of agreement, rippling down through the line. The General gave a firm nod.
“Soon enough, men.”
***
When Spire returned to the room, he found Courmier waiting for him, still awake.
“Where were you?” The other asked softly but sharply.
Spire frowned, “I was just outside. Is there something wrong with that?” He asked.
Courmier snorted, mimicking his previous tone, “All I was doing was asking.”
“Be quiet!” Spire snapped, “You haven’t been any help at all getting us through the bog, you haven’t any right to treat me like dirt.”
Courmier scowled, “I got us here in the first place!”
“Of course, and then you couldn’t even speak with them! How am I to know what to say to their ruler on my own!?” Snorted Spire.
“Oh, trust me Spire, I would speak to him if I could.” The other growled lowly.
“And why can’t you?” Spire spat.
“They speak through their eyes, idiot.” Snarled Courmier.
“So?”
The Duralian let out a small, defeated sigh, “Don’t you realize why I’m the one here with you?” At Spire’s silence, he went on, “I’m already sun-blind. For years.”
Spire blinked, “But…how can you travel?” He asked quietly.
“I suppose I was one of the lucky ones.” Courmier said, rather bitterly, “Ever since I was young, I was gifted with a sense of ‘presence’. I can feel where the things around me are.”
“But you can’t communicate through your eyes…” Spire finished the thought for him.
“No.” Courmier admitted quietly, looking away from him, “I can’t.”
“Oh…” Spire fell silently for a moment, also glancing away from the other blonde, “I… I’m sorry.”
“It is no concern.” Courmier told him, “You did not know, and I did not tell you. I would not have, if this had not come up. It is just something that I live with.”
“I see…”
***