Diarmaid did not receive Waverly's tale as well as she had hoped. He became even more devastated and blamed himself harder for his brother's demise. The Crossing rites did not last many hours because of the freezing weather but for Waverly, it could not have gone any slower. Time went by at a snail's pace as Dermot's robes caught the flames and ignited; the air moved like liquid as the flames rose higher and higher bathing every face in yellow light, every teardrop seemed to take forever to fall to the ground as Waverly watched the body gradually but progressively disintegrate to nothing but grey ashes.
At last, the whole thing was over.
One by one the small crowd began to take their leave and before they did, each one came up to Diarmaid to either whisper condolences or give him a comforting hug. As for Waverly, she received a few gentle pats and hugs from her friends.
Soon, the wide yard was empty.
Waverly glanced up and saw that only four people still remained, standing in a wide circle around the single burning pyre; Diarmaid, Brijjet and Aurora. The fourth presence was Borzoi who sat on her heels at a separate distance, staring into the flames as if she could still see Dermot inside it but there was nothing but ashes. None of Dermot's relatives had been present because both his parents were the only children of their own respective parents.
The sound of the calm, open sea muddled with the crackling of flames gave off an odd heartbreaking melody that pervaded the night. Other than this, the silence was overpowering. Waverly felt her legs threaten to turn into jelly before she finally decided to leave. She turned from the blazing pyre and walked toward Diarmaid. He wore a thick brown overcoat with the hood drawn halfway over his head. In his clothing, he outsent an unruffled composure but she was well aware of the turbulence that laid underneath.
"I just want you to know. . . that he was right." She began.
Diarmaid glanced at her, his hair sloppy and dull like the nest of a paper wasp.
"It wasn't your fault." She completed.
Diarmaid dropped his gaze and Waverly's eyes followed. It was then she realized what he had been clutching the entire time - Dermot's hunting cloak. He slowly lifted it toward her.
"I am glad that you get to take care of this, because i couldn't." He said quietly.
Up close, he looked slightly dishevelled. She knew that he would have to wait until the fires died down completely to collect his brother's ashes before he could leave. He would be the one to seal them in the vault. But there was a weakness in his tone that suggested he would keel over if he spoke another word. Waverly felt a pressing desire to pull him into a hug but found that she could not take any step closer.
She silently received the cloak and ran her thumbs across it. She had always thought it looked funny on Dermot only because it was obviously made for a woman. Looking at the clothing, one would think it was remarkably plain and unattractive but Waverly did not think so. It was sewn from a delicate, deep brown material and had a greyish clasp. It was a few feet longer than a normal cloak but Dermot had fit in it perfectly. Waverly imagined she would have to grow as tall as he to fit in it too but that would prove a bit impossible as she had no trace of Elvish blood in her.
She turned to observe Brijjet and Aurora who held each other's arms in solemn quietude. They had also been close friends with Dermot but Waverly could not fangle any words of comfort to say to them. Brijjet wore a stoic expression but Waverly reckoned he was only trying to look brave for his and Aurora's sake because the latter had been a weeping mess. It struck a nerve in her witnessing Aurora cry so much. She had thought the Elven princess would be the last person to shed two teardrops for Dermot and that even if she did, it would only be to fuel her supercilious, self-conceited image to gain approval from her husband. The one time they had gotten along for a few moments was when Waverly healed the princess's eyes but that was not reason enough to tag themselves “friends”.
Aurora was still weary of Waverly.
Later that night, Waverly decided to take a quiet stroll. The old village on the Plateaus was calm all around and the air was clean. She took a pony and rode over the bridge into Gayl's temple. The gigantesque edifice still felt the same to her but it seemed less its usual size partly because she had seen it more than enough times already. She harnessed the pony to a post then strolled through the long curving pavement and came to a spacious porch overlooking the rest of the Plateaus. Waverly counted six tablelands in total.
The terrains resembled a small mountain range and despite the constant snowfall were still lushly green and beautiful. Waverly leaned on the cold railing of the porch and gazed at whatever her heavy eyes could take in. She heaved a long sigh, drinking in the silence and comfort of the relatively peaceful atmosphere. Grief remained burdensome in her heart and mind and there was the perpetual absence of Dermot in her life but she endeavored to keep a clear head. Somehow, speaking to him had lightened the burden that weighed her down and allowed her to breathe again.
She absentmindedly felt the hunting cloak which she had worn right after Diarmaid had given it to her. During some of the leisure time they spent together, Dermot had told her only a few tales of his mother. What she remembered most of Laguna was that she had been one of the best huntresses of her time. Laguna had believed that her cloak was filled with luck and would wear it to every hunt; all of which proved successful. Waverly thought the goddess Andaie would have loved the Elfin for holding such a strong belief.
She felt responsible for the cloak now and it scared her witless. She was aware of how horrible she was at taking care of things handed to her for safekeeping. She glanced down at Calaire and the precious stones hanging from weed bracelets, both of which were still intact solely because they were bound to her wrists like shackles.
Her train of thoughts ended abruptly and her mind went blank for a few moments. Then, a sudden movement from afar caught her eye.
Waverly stilled immediately, peering at the swaying plants up ahead on the other side of the plateau. It looked as if someone were walking through the dense vegetation but with an inadequate amount of required stealth. She inadvertently reached for Calaire whilst keeping her eyes fixed on the movement as it progressed then disappeared where the cluster of leaves curved into a place her eyes could not follow. Waverly instantly had the feeling they were being watched.
She darted back to her pony and rode back to the village. It was as normal as rain on a sunny day for Elven soldiers to be up late and engaged in something lively but as Waverly walked through the temple hallways she noticed how the faces she saw were slack with exhaustion. Soldiers sat lazily about. Some sobbed quiet prayers to Gayl while others did nothing but stare blankly in deep thought with their chins propped up by their hands. It was obvious that many had capitulated and were simply waiting for death to find them.
Over the last few days - the ones Waverly had missed - the tragedies had become more disheartening and unbearable. The ruins and wreckages looked uglier and even more disastrous whenever the sun rose every morning.
Waverly walked in quick steps, headed for her room but slowed down halfway to the door when she heard gentle, overlapping voices. She went in as quietly as she could and came upon a small meeting. Her friends were bent over a spread out parchment - what she figured was a map - and speaking in quiet whispers. They were yet to notice her intrusive presence and Waverly took that as an advantage to listen to their conversation.
". . .hese suspicions. Youse cannot blame the old man." Grace was saying quietly. She sat on a chair with her back to the door whilst Regent, Ceylon and Phyllis stood in a line behind her.
"But she is not ready to be outed yet and besides, she's grieving right now. We have to come up with something else." Phyllis said in a tone of concern.
"What else is there?" Regent asked.
Waverly frowned, confused about what they spoke of but also very eager to find out. She slipped a hand into the pocket of her trousers and balanced on one leg, watching Ceylon stutter for words until he eventually sighed in defeat.
"I do not know, okay? Regent told me that it came from one of those Bremetonian vessels. He saw it and so it's got something to do with their King."
"And right now it is impossible to send messengers anywhere and so that means we will not be getting answers anytime soon or. . . ever." Regent said then added in a worried tone. "King Javan will not stop asking questions. He is not happy."
"Why is it hese problem if shese Zanaan anyway?" Grace asked.
The room plunged into utter silence. It was obvious that no one could provide a suitable answer to Grace's question. Waverly had already realized what her friends were discussing about. Regent told her during the battle on the Plateaus that the Elf King held strong suspicions about the sudden appearance of a large amount of Heaven's Medal - a supposedly rare metal that belonged solely to the gods. Waverly herself had thought Brijjet was the one and only person in the world who possessed the item and that. . .
Full realization finally struck her.
She absentmindedly stepped forward and spoke, lost in thought. "He is afraid."
Everyone in the room turned with a sudden jolt.
"Holy smithereens!" Ceylon exhaled placing one hand on his chest. "When did you get in here?"
Waverly looked into the faces of her friends one after the other and gave no replies, her mind still furiously piecing more theories together. Phyllis came forward.
"Who's afraid?" She asked, knotting her brows.
"The King. He's. . ." Waverly hesitated, her mind going haywire. The purblind, loose cannon son of Hekate had been right about one thing after all. "He is afraid there is someone like me amongst his army."
"Why should hese be afraid? Youse not a threat to him." Grace offered nonchalantly, leaning into her chair.
"Yes, Grace, she isn't." Regent replied. He seemed to harbor some of the same knowledge that Waverly did.
"But Bridonis is. King Javan despises his son-in-law with every drop of his royal blood. He never even wanted the union between his daughter and Brijjet to happen but he had to allow it because he feared that if he did not. . . well. . ."
"Brijjet would end the entire royal household." Ceylon completed knowingly but his face was a tad pale.
Phyllis and Grace were the only ones wearing two shades of shocking expressions. They gaped at the others. Phyllis spoke up first.
"How did i not know this?"
"Because the King has been keeping it quiet, duh." Ceylon replied. "You have an idea how it would look if everybody knew about it."
Phyllis turned to Waverly. "And how did you know this, huh? Brijjet didn't tell you himself, did he?"
"No. But. . ." Waverly replied and proceeded to tell them all that Levi had revealed to her a long time ago.
"I don't think Brijjet is that dangerous. He does not even look it. And. . . and he's always been so gentle." Phyllis defended but her tone was heavy with uncertainty.
Regent scoffed. "It's always the gentle ones that can cause a whole apocalypse. Have you seen how he gets when he's full-on angry? He doesn't listen to reason. It makes sense that the King would try to keep his family safe by letting his daughter tie the knot with him and besides, everyone knows how the princess is deeply infatuated with Bridonis."
"So how is hese case and Waverly's the same?" Grace asked.
Regent sighed and walked over to Grace. His voice lowered drastically when he began to speak. "A week before the plans for our big assault, Bridonis asked to lead a unit into battle. The King refused because clearly he was a newly wed at the time. Brijjet got mad but he obeyed the King's orders anyway. Afterwards, Aurora tried to persuade her father to let Bridonis join in on the fight. Again, our King refused and according to what i was told, he threw insults at Bridonis who had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation. A heated argument broke out and Bridonis supposedly held a dagger to the King's throat."
Everyone gasped.
"The blade he used for said attack was crafted from Heaven's Medal too. You can easily tell from the intense heat you feel when it gets close to your skin." Regent finished.
"Why would he. . ." Waverly began then bit her lip nervously. She pondered why Brijjet was so threatening to his new family, especially toward the King. There seemed to be the existence of a rivalry much deeper than just the King's dislike toward his new son-in-law and vice versa but the fact that no possible answers could be provided to all her hanging questions made Waverly want to scream.
"Did you give him a bit of Heaven's Medal too?" Phyllis asked Regent.
"No." Waverly replied instead. "He had always owned that dagger."
"So, our King is thinking that hese son-in-law distributed the godly metal to the army because hese Majesty is wary of him? Hese delusional. Wese using it for our own benefit." Grace said defiantly.
"He cannot help it. He wants to know where the metal came from. Besides, at a time like this, anyone would be wary if a sudden hoarde of lethal god-level metals found its way to their doorstep." Regent nervously fiddled with a few objects that clanked in his hands. "I was brought in for questioning by the King's Council but i told them i found and scraped all of it off a destroyed ship - which was true - but there is still a lot of doubt."
"But i. . ." Waverly started.
Regent immediately lifted a hand to silence her. "I know you found it but i also know you're not ready for your identity as a god's blood to be revealed just yet. No one knows what the King's orders would be if he finds out there's someone he can channel all that anger for Bridonis towards. It is for the best that we keep you quiet. The whole army's keeping shut too. There's already enough violence as it is."
Waverly smiled appreciatively at Regent and he smiled back then her face turned grave as she recalled the purpose for which she had returned.
"We're being watched."
Phyllis scoffed, cognizant. "Duh. The dark army wouldn't be the dark army if they did not keep a vigilant eye on us."
"They are everywhere." Grace added and picked the parchment off the table to roll it up. "What do wese do about?"
"Well, we obviously can't go out and fight them. Not now. Not while everyone's so crestfallen." Ceylon said.
"Why is that?" Waverly asked, frowning.
"Youse have seen the great disaster, haven't youse?" Grace asked. She also suddenly looked despairing. "Everyone is afraid. Wese don't know what will happen to us the next minute. Wese have families. Wese have homes. Wese lose all of that soon. Wese lose everything. I have a little sister and a little brother, both too young to survive alone. I fight to keep them alive another day. They don't deserve this, any of it."
Waverly stared in silence, her balled fist erupting with cold tingles from the pressure of shutting it tightly for minutes. She released her fist and slowly walked over to Grace and placed a hand on her shoulder. Ceylon and Phyllis took a seat next to each other on one of the beds whereas Regent slid on his back to the ground and hung his head.
Waverly looked at her friends for a few moments. It struck her that should the war ever come to an end, half of them if not all would be dead without an exclusion of herself. Oculmus did not mean to spare anyone. He meant to begin the world from scratch and could do it without any help. An Elemental godhead was more than capable to create life whether they themselves were tagged good or bad by people.
She thought of Dermot and Havilah and all of the numberless people who had passed fighting to stop Oculmus from reaching his goal. Even if she could not bring back all those who died or create new life, she could at least try to save the ones who belaved. She remembered the presence in the bushes; the dark army diligently paid close attention to them. An old, nearly forgotten plan suddenly resurfaced in her mind - one she had initially feared she would not be strong enough to pull off. She felt the strange certainty that she was more than capable to execute it now.
"I think. . . I think i can do it."
Every eye turned to her.
"Do what?" Phyllis asked, lifting her gaze.
Waverly's eye twitched. A small, evasive smirk lifted her cheek. "Woolgather."
The same smirk suddenly crept along the top of Phyllis' lips. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, i mean. . . Yes. We do not have to wait until dawn. Gather whoever is willing." As Waverly spoke, everyone enthusiastically shot to their feet. "All we need is the element of surprise. The dark army will not be expecting this."
Phyllis's eye contact assured Waverly that all would go undoubtedly well. "I will go at once to tell my grandfather of our plan. He's always ready for anything and also, i think he likes you."
Phyllis pulled Ceylon with her toward the door.
"Y-Your grandfather? Who is your grandfather?" Waverly asked in surprise. She had never really met any of her friend's relatives.
"General Priam." Phyllis replied with a small smile.
"What?"
"Yes. Dhalia is my grandmother. How do you think we were given such easy access to the royal seamsters?"
Waverly gaped at Phyllis as the latter opened the door. The thought of Priam liking her was quite refreshing as she had always admired the General.
"Get ready." Phyllis said and with that she was gone with Ceylon undertow.
"So, will you remind me what the plan was again?" Regent demanded.
Over the next few hours, the entire plateau was in a frenzy because every soul had been riled up by Phyllis's genius plan and came forward to take part in it, many did so because Waverly was amply involved. Given how the village possessed a great abundance of willow trees, Waverly found it easy to summon the nature spirit Lica and have her secretly spread the word to other soldiers across the realm.
In two hours, a reinvigorated army was up and ready to be dispelled. Waverly remained in her room where she would carry out her fraction of the plan. Placing a hand on the architraved window, she watched the shored up masses making earnest preparations to ride out. Soon, she would be by herself. She sat back on the bed and exhaled deeply.
It was absolutely necessary that she focused entirely or a lot of things could go wrong. She had heard stories of how the gods could manipulate the minds of men through dreams and nightmares, a craft initiated by Hephus himself. Over time even mortals had evolved and learned the same practices; creating subtle illusions to fool, beguile or persuade the mind. Waverly vividly recalled when she had first faced a Mantin - a gigantic fish that had tricked her into falling in its trap.
If a bloody fish could do it, what about us?
She sat unmoving and shut her eyes, steering her mind to focus solely on the room she was in. It happened quicker than she expected it to but her mind's eye soon created an exact replica of the room. Her mind allowed her a semi quarter of ubiquity - she was everywhere at once on the Plateaus and could see all including her own self; seated crosslegged on a made bed and still as stagnant water. She traveled through the Plateaus as one would when in a dream state but Waverly was fully aware that she was not sleeping. She could not exact which it was - her spirit or her consciousness, but it traveled with incomprehensible speed. In the blink of an eye, she was hanging over the dark army.
Just as was previously speculated, more creatures had been brought in to join the already indefinite number. Waverly saw new and more hideous faces; Oogles and Banshees, Ghouls and Walkis, Lemyts, Vayns, Wents and Fers and even man sized Werewolves. She had long supposed that Hammitonians were in allegiance with the dark army but almost all of the strangest creatures came from the depths of the Abyss. She floated over their heads and began to lure them into a trance. Even dark creatures had to have fantasies or at least she hoped so. One by one, the creatures began to sway, enchanted by their own fanciful thoughts with the silliest, ugliest smiles plastered on their faces.
Waverly intensified their daydreams, making sure they appeared as real as possible. Very soon, a chaos even worse than battle went into play. The creatures bonked into one another; dancing, swaying or speaking to an imaginary friend, laughing, drooling or giggling frantically. There was a hubbub and a kerfuffle everywhere Waverly looked and no matter how intense the impact of an external force was on the creatures, like bumping into a tree or walking through the burning firewood of their campfires, the army did not break free from their daydreams.
Waverly soon spotted the King's army dexterously approaching. They halted and regarded the dark army for a short while and when they realized that the plan was already in motion, they advanced with defiant roars.
One would say it was a cowardly thing to fight a man or a creature who was unarmed but the King's army did not care. There was a butchery so great that the forest floor pooled with blood. Waverly searched for the other enemy camps and warned the King's army of their location, a premonition each man only translated as gut feelings. Soon, a second camp was vanquished and a third and a fourth and fifth. The battle lasted till daybreak but Waverly made sure no man tired out. She refueled the limbs of every one of her comrades with strength and charged their feet with eagerness to run and walk. The distance they covered in one night was more than a man could in an entire week.
Waverly saw no sign of Judson/Oculmus nor his pet lioness, Malvarëken but she did not let it bother her. She did not care of their whereabouts or if they knew what was going on. All she cared was that her comrades were victorious.
When her consciousness finally returned, Waverly slumped sideways. She sat up again, realizing that she was not at all drained. She only felt stiff and sore for sitting up for so long. Morning came with a rarefied cold wind and it was an easy guess that winter would come to an end even quicker. Waverly observed all the beds in the room - sixteen of all twenty three of its occupants were dead. Their beds had been taken out to the infirmary for better use. Waverly leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes, allowing the coldness seep into her scalp.
The feeling made her relax.
Her eyelids flew open when the doorknob suddenly turned and a flood of people poured into the room.
"That was epic!" Grace roared. She was covered in dirt and splashes of blood from her head to he feet, just like everyone else.
Waverly broke into a happy smile and jumped to her feet, catching the fever of great enthusiasm. She embraced her friends and they all jumped around for joy. More and more people poured into the room until Waverly was forced to go outside. So many people shook hands with her that morning that soon her arm began to recreate the feeling even when it was stationed by her side.
Some of the King's Generals came to the Plateaus to speak with her as half of them had also taken part in the elaborate plan. General Priam gave Waverly a Queenly salute and entitled her Cild Orakkél - child prodigy in the Alp tongue. Waverly's chest almost burst open with pride.
"You have done wonderful things that no Zanaan before you has ever done." General Lefèvre exclaimed proudly as he shook Waverly's hand. He was the first male Elf she had seen with yellow hair. Elves were usually dark haired and bright eyed but Lefèvre seemed the complete opposite.
"Many thanks, Sir." Waverly replied humbly.
"It was an honor, lass." General Macaire offered.
"A great victory! Just what we needed. You are a blessing, youngling." General Aleph commented. His helmet clanked hilariously as he shook his head whilst speaking but Waverly did not dare to even break a smile. Many more compliments of the likes followed and Waverly kept thanking whoever uttered them. Even Chedor came up to give her a warm handshake.
"Forgive me. I was wrong about you on all aspects, although the Queen was not when she assigned you to join the Tyros." He said.
Waverly nodded and grinned widely. That night, she hung around her old camp mates again. Every single one of the Tyros flooded her, although they were obviously lesser now than their initial number. She finally got to know all of their names and their families. A few of them were even half Human but their Elven genes dominated to the point of suppressing every trace of Human traits in them. She keenly listened to Thaw as he retold how he slaughtered a whole gathering of Banshees. Her gaze unintentionally traveled through the crowd and landed on Diarmaid who was sitting next to Borzoi on a temple porch, scratching her chin.
Waverly slipped away from the crowd unnoticed and went to sit beside him, away from the dog. She noticed how Diarmaid had become awfully quiet and she did not have to guess the reason. His brother's death had ultimately quenched his desire to speak. Together in silence, they stared at the crowded patch of circles where high spirited soldiers were seated in front of blazing fires, laughing and feasting.
"The cloak looks good on you." Diarmaid finally said.
Waverly looked down at the hunting cloak that trailed past her calf. She had almost forgotten it was draped behind her. It made her imagine if Dermot had also usually been oblivious to the cloak but doubted it. She had caught him feeling it on several occasions.
"Quite the plan that was." He added.
"It was not mine. Phyllis came up with it ages ago, we just never had the chance to pull it off." She replied.
Diarmaid nodded. "And why?"
Waverly cleared her throat. "I had. . . doubts. I thought i could not do it."
"And what triggered you to do it now?"
Diarmaid's tone carried an edge and Waverly wondered why he suddenly sounded like that. She felt discomfort rise in her throat and swallowed nervously, wildly searching for an answer to give.
"I-It is just. . . I was. . . The King is wary of my kind and if ever he found out about me or heard about me, i wanted all of the stories to be of the good things i did."
There was a testy silence that made Waverly unable to peel her eyes off the hem of her sleeve but she finally heard Diarmaid sigh and it made her look up. He was staring down at her in the same manner Dermot used to when he felt very proud of something she had done.
"That is a very good reason." He said simply.
Waverly smiled and looked away. Ever since Dermot's passing, being near Diarmaid had become incredibly difficult, contributed by the fact that she had never really been close to him, at least not enough to know him as well as she had done his elder brother. He was still a bit of a mystery, one Waverly did not know if she would like to solve or walk away from.
"Do you think they will retaliate?" She asked, desperate for conversation.
"The dark army?" Diarmaid asked. Borzoi laid flat by his feet. Waverly thought it was strange that she had never set eyes on any of the dog's puppies.
"Yes."
Diarmaid looked up briefly. "Naturally, yes. This was our retaliation to the Incubuses, wasn't it?"
"Mmhmm. But what do we do then if they do the same thing to us?"
Diarmaid chuckled. "You think they have a daughter of Selene on their side too?"
Waverly pouted. "No, i was only asking because their leader is full of tricks."
"Then it's good to know that we also have someone who's also full of tricks."
"You?"
Diarmaid shook his head. "No, you."
He riled the dog up by scratching her head fondly. She barked once and exposed her tongue. "You just have to open up that bag. Might surprise you the things you will find in it."
Diarmaid rose and strolled away with the dog at his heels. Waverly looked around where she sat, immensely puzzled.
"What. . . bag?" She muttered.