Almarra - Icistila - 2

Icistila awoke to a sound she was not familiar to: a soft rustling that came from where she left her weaponry. She sat up slowly and quietly, focusing her eyes into the dimmed light of the cave. A figure emerged in her field of view – it looked nothing like the animals that often drifted into her cave, although only the bears and wolves would wander inside.

The figure was squatting on two hind legs, grasping around her things with two arms. It was small – Icistila figured about five or six feet, although hard to tell in the dark – and had long black hair that prevented any view of it's face from behind. It appeared to be wearing clothes, but the hair blocked the view of that as well.

Icistila attempted to rise silently, but a minor rustle caused the figure to freeze. It stood up and looked back at her, and Icistila now saw a pair of dark, violet eyes staring back at her in fear. It was young – the lack of wrinkling and tightness on the skin told of this – but there was something in it's eyes that spoke of magic.

For her part, Icistila made very little movements, mirroring the creature's posture as best as possible. The young thing started looking around the cave, searching for an exit. It's eyes fell upon the small alcove that lead to the sealed chambers, although it couldn't possibly have realized what exactly was down there if it thought this was an escape route.

The next minute happened all at once – the thing moved it's hands, summoning some sort of fog that shrouded the cavern floor. Icistila began to move, realizing that the creature had chosen to hightail it. A clawing and scratching told her that the creature could not get the doors open, so she took her time in moving through the dense, shadowy fog. Finally, she stood above the creature, although it kept pulling at the rope knob and attempting to pull the door free. After a minute, it gave up and fell backwards, landing at Icistila's feet. It turned it's head upward, meeting her eyes, then backed up and slid against the doorframe.

Icistila had seen this look before – young animals of all kinds would adopt a defensive stance that spoke of desperation when in complete fear of something greater. As the fog cleared, the creature realized that Icistila stood several feet taller and blocked it's only means of escape.

The creature opened it's mouth and began to cry, speaking a strange tongue. Icistila was taken aback by this – the only things that spoke where her and the birds in the early morning, and she had long ago tuned out these voices. This creature, however, spoke a voice that was, at times, musical and at others, dissonant. She couldn't help but focus on the shifting pitches, the variable volumes that emerged from beginning to end, the flowerly tone that had permeated the sound. It was almost intoxicating, in a way.

Finally, the creature had shut up, staring at her in absolute torment. Then, Icistila turned around and walked over to the pile that the creature had been shuffling through – it had been fiddling with her crossbow and daggers, as well as going through her dried rations. Icistila brushed away implement after implement, before coming across a large crystal that appeared similar to the mana crystals that lined the walls. Icistila tapped the crystal, as a small spark lept from it's surface and connected to her fingertips. Satisfied, she walked back to the alcove – luckily, the creature wasn't very bright, as it had begun soiling itself once she emerged with the crystal.

Icistila held the crystal to the creature, who tried backing even farther into the cavern walls. Icistila frowned, before raising a hand to the terrified thing. It watched her make a motion that she hoped it would understand – touch, speak, hear. The creature looked at her hand, then at the crystal again.

Icistila spoke, startling the thing. “Little abomination, the device will hear you, so speak.”

Something in the creature shifted, as it stared at her face when these words met it. It looked at the crystal again, searching it for answers to unknown questions. Only a faint shimmer of the intense energy that lay inside the crystal answered it.

The creature spoke and a small gust of wind flew from it's mouth, catching the bizarre words, and surrounded the gem in Icistila's hands. It pulsed, before letting loose a soft wave of air that resembled a voice to Icistila's ears. “Please.”

Icistila heard the voice, so soft and distant, and looked down at the crystal. “I-I am sorry...” The voice repeated this twice, though the tone was nothing like the sweet sound she heard emerge from the creature. She held the crystal to her mouth, and spoke. “I am the guardian of this cavern, tiny being. Leave.”

The wind's repeated the process, and soon the creature's eyes and ears perked up at the sound of the translated voice leaving the crystal. Suddenly, with renewed vigor, it began to rapidly speak it's strange, flowerly sounds.

The voices hit her all at once:

“I-I apologize! I had no knowledge, I-I am sorry!”

“The greater man told me to take item from danger place!”

“I did not intend to upset the giant!”

Icistila's ears perked up, and she held up a hand that silenced the creature immediately. She spoke into the stone, “The giant? What is this one you call 'giant'?”

The creature received the message and looked confused, then apologetic. “A-ah, it is my blunder! I did not mean to call this one the rude name!”

Icistila motioned for silence again. “No apologies. What is this one you call, 'the giant'?”

The creature tried not to meet her gaze, avoiding it like one avoids the gristle on a fried steak. Icistila's gaze bore fruit, however, as it finally turned and spoke. “The people of the village speak of the giant... the one who lives deep in the forest land and is the last of the Namdu tribe.”

A sudden chill in Icistila's veins arose, and she spoke without hesitation. “Last?! Last of Namdu?!”

The creature retreated behind it's forelegs, bracing for an attack, as it cried. “Namdu! Yes, last! No more!”

Icistila caught herself. Namdu? Who are the Namdu? Why do I care?

Suddenly, a distant memory returned to her, almost like a flash of inspiration. Namdu. Her people. Her. Long ago.

Icistila found herself crying, though she couldn't fathom why or how. All she knew was a deep sadness – assuming that was the emotion - soon embedded itself into her heart. Another memory, one she had long forgotten to the passage of time.

A pain in her arm told her she had been clenching the crystal hard enough to make her bleed. She released the hold and looked to the creature again. “You. Abomination. You are?”

The creature looked confused. “I am?”

Icistila nodded.

It spoke, but the word did not translate properly. She assumed it wasn't a noun, but a name. “Marin”.

Icistila nodded at the name. “What creature are you?”

Marin looked confused for a second, before speaking. “I-I am hew men.”

The word meant nothing to Icistila. “What is 'hew-men'?”

Marin pointed at herself, before realizing that the answer would not suffice. A minute passed as she thought of a response, before settling on something. “Ancient name, Lalamolan?”

The name triggered a memory of a people – small, walking creatures that resembled miniature Namdu, always tribalistic and territorial. Icistila began to peace it together – the Lalamolan were these, a species known as the Hewmen. Possibly, while she slept and lived away from the world, the Hewmen outlived the Namdu.

Finally, the Hewman known as Marin relaxed slightly, assured that Icistila would not kill it. More questions and answers followed as the day grew long – according to the Hewman, Marin was a young magician (“a source or rare”, as the translation placed it) who, alongside their master, began some form of magic study near the forest where Siuma's cave dwelled. Marin was asked by the “greater man” of the village they had stayed in to go deep in the forest and search for some form of magic item, as the land around Siuma's cave had become a forbidden area for non-magic using Hewmen.

“All of village did not know Namdu was still alive. Only child story, very young.” Marin shuddered. “Story spoke of giant who stood ground over ancient grave. Namdu vanish, story became legend. People forget.”

Icistila listened, thinking of the ages that had gone by. All that time, guarding the creature in the cavern. Days and nights passed in a blur, seasons changed endlessly, prey and predator slaughtered and born. Over time, the feeling of time seemed to disappear for her.

Icistila spoke. “How long has this village been there?”

Marin heard her words. “Outside, people speak of many stars passing. Thousands?”

The number entered her ears and Icistila soon felt an unimaginable weight upon her that seemed to have always been there – the weight of aeons, of years gone by.

Icistila spoke, trying to ignore the discomfort. “Is there others? Vordraci? Shiyavar? Tautemah?”

The names seemed to speak to Marin. “Vordraci, called Vordric.” The other two seemed to concern her slightly. “Shiyavar, demon. And the last, Tautem, very little in land of Nuss.”

So the Nussan still linger, as well, Icistila thought. The image of the Nussan, with their short, stubby frames, appeared in her head, and the thought brought a chuckle to her lips. She turned her her head to the cavern entrance – and realized that the sun had gone down, so late it had become.

Marin noticed this as well. “Night. Master wants me to return.”

Icistila turned to her, and realized that a unique problem presented itself to her. This one, Marin, now knows that Icistila, a Namdu, is alive and well and guards a cave in this specific forest. However, a voice in the back of her head, speaking in a tone that betrayed a firm command, relayed a single message to her:

No one is allowed to remember this tomb and what lies here.