Sil'Rana

Silrana

Later, that evening...

Sil Rana has waited for the right moment, waited until the others have gone to find their rest or have busied themselves elsewhere on the ship. Under cover of darkness he approaches Syrone, who has been standing and staring out to sea for an hour alone.

"Syrone," he says for her ears only. His presence startles her and she turns quickly wheeling on him. Even by the faint light of the night Sil Rana can see the mix of emotions which splash across her face as she recognizes his voice and countenance: fear, anger, bitterness, doubt. Indeed it seems to Sil Rana as if her face nearly changes as each emotion passes across it.

"Peace, Syrone," he says with a little more intensity. He gestures with his hands, open and palms facing out, and slowly pushes them down in front of himself in a calming soothing way. "I mean you no harm. I require only a moment of your time. I will trouble you no more beyond that if you so wish it."

Sil Rana awaits her reply, but she hesitates and appears to try to speak several times. Too many emotions are there, and it seems as if Syrone herself is unsure what to think, or say, or do, or what to react to first. Sil Rana takes the pause as his opportunity to continue.

"You are frightened, girl. I see it now. You are holding on by your fingertips, and you dare not to reach out for help lest you fall into uncertainty and lose yourself."

"You had grown as doubtful and concerned and alarmed and spooked by your transformation as I had also become. And you saw all that in my eyes yesterday. You saw it and recognized it. And that is why you pressed me to speak it aloud. You pressed me because the fear and doubts were your own but you dared not voice them aloud to anyone, not even yourself. I needed to know the truth of it, Syrone, and so did you."

The wash of emotion which comes over Syrone is very strong, and she wraps her arms around herself tightly, as if to keep herself from flying apart from the inside. Her face looks like cold stone in the moonlight, but Sil Rana knows that there is heat there too, sadness at the truth of it, and resentment that anyone, especially this stranger, would speak so frankly about her own intensely personal struggles.

"I have seen this weakness in you since our travels began. I have watched it grow like a cancer upon your spirit. It took a turn for the worse when we reached your home and it has weighed upon you heavily since. Learning of your true nature merely put a face to your fears. You doubt yourself, Syrone. Your fears over what you are, what you may do, who it may hurt, have shattered your strength."

Each of his words seems to fall into the well of her soul, her eyes closing little by little, as if she doesn't want to look upon the person speaking, wishing he'd just go away and leave her alone. Sil Rana sees the effect, but the need to tell her the whole of it has outweighed his mercy.

"The truth is rarely comforting. The truth comes mostly with pain. And the truth is Syrone...you no longer need to fear or doubt yourself. I never thought you would leave us. But you did. I followed your trail this morning, and what I saw was that you thought long and hard on these things that had been haunting you. You thought long and hard about your worries that you could endanger your companions. And your decision was to face the uncertainty alone rather than risk hurting anyone."

The Ranger pauses, then begins again speaking these words with care and authority, "Your actions have revealed the only truth you need to know, Syrone, the only truth you need to have to set aside your fears and doubts about yourself. Let them go now, be free of them, and reclaim that strength that is rightfully yours."

Syrone opens her eyes a little, her brow furrowing in confusion. "First you batter me with words, then you tell me that I'm all right?" Shaking her head in confusion, she says, "I don't understand you at all, Sil Rana, I simply don't."

She continues slowly, choosing her words with brittle care, "You believe that I was afraid I would cause harm to someone?" She nods curtly, admitting her fears. "Yes, I was. But as I walked, I understood something which had eluded me before ...and I guess you as well. I realized that when I was most vulnerable and most afraid, and most liable to hurt someone in our group -- that being Meridian -- I didn't." Her head held high, she dares Sil Rana to contradict her. "I was rational in mind, if not in body. I was very much afraid, but I didn't panic. I knew who he was, and that he was no threat to me." Her voice drops to a whisper, her eyes lowered once again to the rail beside her, "... though I was a beast on the outside, I was still Syrone on the inside." Eyes glimmering with tears, Syrone looks out over the water once more, avoiding Sil Rana's gaze.

A mere whisper floats above the wind of your voyage, "In the end, I didn't come back because I was safe, Sil Rana, because who of us truly are?" She shakes her head again, still staring out to sea. "I came back because they didn't judge me as a monster. Meridian thought I should be here, and he's the closest thing I have to a family now. Even Mr. Landorff, in his own way, was kind about it." Syrone throws a glance back to Sil Rana before turning away again, resignation etched upon her face, "I may as well die with them rather than alone."

Sil Rana joins her at the railing, his large hands grab the wood and he peers into the darkness and waves for a time, lost in his own thoughts.

"I hear what you are saying. You believe that I have judged you. And considering our interaction yesterday, that is understandable. It was not the way I wanted things to go. As you may have noticed, I do not always react well to being challenged. {pause} That is a trait we may both have in common," he says with a look towards her from the corner of his eye, and a slight lightness to his tone. Syrone's response is that of silence, as she continues to look out over the water. Something in her manner, though, suggests that she is listening closely to the Ranger's words.

"My concerns were less about your physical changes, or your control over them, and more about you internally. I feared the changes might include, or begin to affect, your psyche, your internal make-up, your personality, whatever you may wish to call it. I don't expect you to understand because I can't seem to put it into words, but I sensed something inside you. Something foreign that startled me very much. I am not speaking about your physical abilities, for I have known of those for days now. What I sensed has something to do with your very nature, and because it was unknown to me and startling, it put me on edge. It amplified my concerns over the welfare of yourself and the group."

"Please, let me explain, or I'll never get it out. I tried to speak of it yesterday, but in the heat of confrontation I think it was overlooked. Before the festival I came across a Beast. It was wolf and man both. It tried to speak to me, and the mournful sound of its half-formed vocal cords are still in my memory now. It seemed in pain, it seemed as if it needed me to understand something. And when it could not communicate successfully, it attacked. I believe now it was seeking death and release. I had never seen anything like it before. I never saw it transform but I believe it was stuck in its misshapen form."

"When I discovered that you could transform I was concerned that it was something that could be afflicting you, rather than it being an unknown ability that was now showing itself. That it could be something like what had afflicted the poor creature that I had encountered. I was not sure. And when I sensed something foreign inside you, it made those concerns of mine even greater. But now I believe I may understand it. I have done my research as well, and I know that you were orphaned. My theory is that what I sensed within you is not something that is happening to you, as I had worried, but instead it is an indication of your very nature. It may be that your ability is not just a power that you have acquired, like so many of us seem to be doing, but that it is actually an inherent trait of your race, a trait of the people your were born to."

"I know, it is all conjecture. And I don't know what it all really adds up to, or why I am even telling you. Except, that I want you to know that I have not judged you. Even when my concerns were high, when you saw them in my eyes, I had not judged you."

"And I was also neither pleased nor relieved to find you missing this morning. Quite the contrary."

There is a long moment of quiet between them, a easy sort of waiting, with only the ever present sound of the waves and the creaking of timbers to be heard. After a few minutes, Syrone speaks, and something in the quality of her voice, the complete honesty ringing though it, is as warm as sunshine and as open as the sky. Touching the Ranger lightly, briefly on the arm, she says, "In my fear of being judged, Sil Rana, I blindly and stupidly misjudged you. For that I ask forgiveness." She lowers her hand, and a small, slightly ironic smile flits over her face. She shakes her head, leaving unsaid whatever else she was thinking as she turns back towards the sea.

"Thank you, Syrone. But, there is no need for forgiveness. Let us call ourselves even, and agree to move forward on better terms."

"Besides," he says a bit more quietly and to himself as he stares off into the dark horizon, "I imagine it may be that I am easily misjudged." There seems more to say, perhaps about those they travel with, however Sil Rana becomes quiet as if he had already spoken to many thoughts aloud. After a moment, he turns to Syrone, calm resolve once again etched upon his stony countenance.

"Now that we have thoroughly dragged your dirty laundry out for viewing and discussion, I suppose it is only fair for turnabout. You mentioned yesterday that you had found something regarding myself in your research. Tell me, what did you learn, and what would you like to know?"

Syrone shrugs slightly and thins her lips, the smile gone. "The people who lived in the place we're going to this Amber they weren't very well, peaceful." She shrugs again. "I found an old, old chronicle written in what Anna, the Librarian, called High Thari, similar to our own language, but with a good deal more emphasis on elaborate and obsolete phrasing." As she explains what she found, her tone takes on something akin to what you've heard from Meridian when he acts in the capacity of Monitor to a group.

"It was a Court history, compiled through the reign of one of the early Kings of that region. If the records are to be believed, your ancient relatives were all pretty set on stealing power away from each other, even going as far as murder and disfiguration." She tilts her head towards Sil Rana, giving him an even gaze as she states matter-of-factly, "Your noble relations, Sil Rana, weren't that noble as it turns out. They were liars, thieves, fratricides and traitors." With another shake of her head, she finishes, "Their depredations make the Petty Barons in Adzgar look like children fighting over toys."

"Just because it's ancient, doesn't mean it's good." She sighs then mumbles, "I hope Meridian is right about this not that I have any better ideas, mind you."

Sil Rana returns his gaze to the sea. "It is all interesting, Syrone, but it is not just history, it is Ancient history. One I have never known nor been familiar with. My own readings did not confirm that I am related to these people from Amber. But, there are implications it could be so. This Nuin, if she is to be believed, is over 10,000 years old. Indeed, by her own words, this 'Amber' has been sealed away from all other lands for over 5,000 years. Do you know your own family's history back 5,000 years? 10,000? Does anyone?"

"Whether these ancient people are tied by blood to me, I do not know. But I will tell you what I do know for fact," he says as he turns to face her and look her squarely in the eye. The air around him becomes so filled by his deep emotion that it is palpable. The tones he takes on are not like a Monitor to the group, but of one who speaks a truth that cannot be denied. "My people are tied to these lands in an intimate way. My forefathers, the ones I know of, and from whom I have inherited all that I am, were people of honor and duty. They were Truly Noble, which is not something that you can gain as a birthright or by blood, it is a Nobility borne of Spirit. My Fathers were dedicated servants to the Land and the People. They guided them, watched over them, and time and again they bled for them. They sacrificed themselves to save the land and the peoples from cruel domination, to ensure that we may all continue to live in peace and to have the freedom to lead good and fruitful lives. They did so nearly to their own extinction. This is the legacy of the ONLY noble relations that I have."

Sil Rana's voice drops, "These people from ancient Amber are relevant only insofar as their mystery can provide us with answers and a possible solution to the ailment of the land and the people. In this regard, I too hope that Meridian is right. We have little else to go on, and no clear proof that any hope at all lies in this place."

His heat returns, "In regards to my own heritage, however, I have no doubts at all. My people may be gone forever, the Kingdom may be no more, but as long as I breathe I have the duty that was handed down to me by my fathers, to watch over this land and its people. It is all that I have it is all that I am." His face nearly quivers with his mix of intense emotions, as he closes his eyes briefly and whispers to himself, "Light sustain me."

Sil Rana stands like a stone, feet planted, arms crossed upon his chest, cloak billowing about him as the winds off the sea continue to grab at it, his face is once more set under the faint light of the stars, his eyes are clear and intense, and focused. The flame of his intensity recedes, back to the coals he keeps within. His rage and sadness withdraw, leaving only his weighty resolve to hover about him.

Looking totally nonplussed, Syrone simply stares at Sil Rana, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. After a few moments, she takes a deep breath, quirks her mouth to one side, and utters a small sound that could mean almost anything. She opens her mouth to comment, still staring at the Ranger, but snaps her teeth shut, literally biting back the words, and shakes her head. Another pause, another deep breath, then a quiet mutter to herself, "Let it pass for now."

After closing her eyes a moment in a visible gathering of thought, she finally says something to the man standing beside her. Her voice is courteous and very neutral, almost frightened. It's as if she's unwilling to say anything which would break the fledgling accord the evening's conversation had wrought, but also unwilling to appear to give an unexamined endorsement to the Ranger's claims. "It seems, Sil Rana of Parrys, that you hold a history which is not in any of our accountings. I hope that you will, in days to come, tell me more of your history, and that of your family." Her eyes show her sincerity, but he can also see that she's deeply troubled by what's been said.

"Do you find that hard to believe? As far as I have discerned the records, history, and accounts held by Monitors and others comprise only what has been salvageable over the last several hundred years. The history of these lands and their people are far richer than any accounts held by the learned today. Our brief but invaluable visit to the lost library of the Monitors should be convincing enough on that point."

"I have offered to give you what you want to know from me, so you will have it." Sil Rana takes a few steps turning around, appearing to gather his thoughts, and comes to rest with his back leaning against the railing, his arms still crossed upon his chest. His voice is steady but muted, as if the words which now tumble from his lips have never been uttered aloud before.

"I have been the keeper of an oral tradition since my boyhood. The history of my forefathers was taught to me by mine own father and mother. And when I began my formal studies I read the written histories of my ancestors which remain to this day within my family's library. The most relevant accounting concerns what my ancestors referred to as 'The Great Enemy'."

"What I learned through my own studies, was that in the distant past what came to be known as 'The Great Enemy' was at one time our own Kin. But whereas my ancestors clung to the way of the Light, our brethren chose a darker path. My ancestors acted out their role as benevolent nobles shepherding the people and sharing their knowledge of planting crops, smithing, textiles, art, mathematics, architecture, and the study of the stars. Our dark cousins chose to use their knowledge and power to conquer, to dominate, to subjugate, and to enslave. This fundamental split in ideologies was the basis for our ancient and protracted struggle with them. The histories that I studied implied that both groups had migrated to new lands, although the exact date of those migrations or the reason behind them I am uncertain of. The lands my ancestors came to are the lands that are now centered upon the Glade, where it's peoples still gathered each year until..."

A pained look briefly flutters across the Ranger's carved features, but is quickly gone.

"Over the long history of my line the Great Enemy attempted many times to extend their influence to our lands, and each time they were met and repelled. Many times we had stunning victories, and many times we paid dearly for our continued sovereignty. The age old conflict, however, came to a head in one last invasion and battle between our two powers. The Great Enemy swept into our lands with an army the likes of which had never been seen before or since. They had our forces outnumbered, and they had with them great and terrible machines of their making, designed for the purposes of war and destruction and death. But somehow, beyond hope, the Light was with us on the day our armies clashed, and we prevailed. And yet, a victory it could not be called, for nearly every single soul upon that battlefield perished. And so, it is understandable that much was lost then of history and knowledge, for the war had brought devastation to the lands. Those few of my people who survived took their families to the countryside, to live out their days in peace, and to rebuild with everyone else. Our kingdom, and our deeds, faded from the memory of the people."

Sil Rana stands straight again and steps in closer to Syrone, locking their gazes so that she may see the truth of his words within his own eyes. His voice becomes a loud whisper, and he speaks with the intonation of one divulging a secret revelation. "I do not just believe these things, dear Syrone, I know them for truth. You see, sometimes in the darkest hour of the night I return to that battlefield, and it is as real as the deck beneath my boots, or the look of bewilderment upon your face." And there is something within his eyes which hint at a great pain and sadness. "I am there, with my people, as we face our enemies and their terrifying machines across the valley. I am with them as we charge, I hear my own voice shout the order to rush their overwhelming army with but our horses and our swords."

"My people faced their own certain deaths with honor and valor. And they paid a heavy price for the freedoms we have all enjoyed."

"This I know."

Sil Rana looks down, and away. Visibly uncomfortable with having revealed so much, he takes several breaths to compose himself, before returning his stony look, of a wolf on the prowl, towards Syrone.

"I don't disbelieve you, Sil Rana," she replies gently. "It is simply that I have never heard of anything like this before, and... " She pauses, "... you have given me a great deal to think of." All at once she looks weary and older than her scant years should allow.

"Come," he says to Syrone, "it is late, and I have provided a space for you below where you may 'exercise' away your toxins. It is private, and I will remain nearby to ensure it stays so."

She gives him an oddly formal bow of the head, and replies, "I thank you, very much, for the effort you took, Sil Rana. Tomorrow evening, I will most assuredly need it but this morning's activities seem to have burned away whatever it is for now." She musters up a crooked, unsure smile. "I think what is most required now is simple sleep." She gives him another long look, her eyes still troubled and her brow puckered by a faint frown. "I wish you a good rest, Sil Rana. Be at peace."

"My name is Aramordo," he says with a respectful and surprisingly natural bow, as if introducing himself to a Lady for the first time, "it is my birth name. Sil Rana is what the elders of Parrys named me for my wandering ways." He adds with a sly smile.

"Good rest to you, Syrone."

With another slow, somewhat formal bow of her head, she turns away and retires below deck.