Side A – Yasgrid
Yasgrid wasn’t surprised to see how eager the spark in her hand was to merge with Ilia. As part of a deity, it would shine brighter than it had ever dreamed possible. What did surprise was the look of awe the Heart’s fire caught in Ilia’s eyes.
“That…” Ilia said, unable to finish the statement, though her silence spoke volumes.
The Fate Dancer who’d been screaming since he saw what Yasgrid had done – or perhaps finally understood what she was – had gone quiet as well.
“They would like to meet you,” Yasgrid said, extending her hand and the Heart along with it.
Ilia drew back away from it even as her hands rose to stroke the air between them.
“That’s not supposed to be here,” Ilia said. “That can’t be here.”
“I had a feeling about that,” Yasgrid said. “And yet here they are. Here they have always been. Since the Darkwood first sprouted from the soil unless I miss my guess.”
“No,” Ilia said. “They were not here at the start. Nor while we crafted the trees or the streams.”
Yasgrid had already worked out that Ilia was one of the Elven Gods, or rather an Elven God who had ‘fallen’ and be left behind or chosen to stay when the others departed. Ilia’s power had provoked such an unusual reaction in Endings when they last encountered her that she had to be something remarkably powerful, something beyond any of the Fate Dancers they’d encountered and beyond Elshira. Which did not leave many likely options open.
Learning that she’d worked with the other Elven Gods in crafting the Darkwood was new information though. Yasgrid hadn’t been able to guess when Ilia’s fall had occurred. Whether she’d opposed the creation of the Darkwood in the first place or been so deeply joined to its creation that she hadn’t been willing to leave it.
If she knew the Troubled Hearts hadn’t been a part of the Darkwood’s initial design, nor, apparently, what they truly were, that suggested that she’d been a fundamental part of the wood’s creation and that the Hearts had been someone else’s idea.
“You should take that away,” Ilia said.
“Where would you have me bear it?” Yasgrid asked, sensing that her leaving with the Heart was the last thing Ilia desired.
“Away, no, it cannot leave the Darkwood,” Ilia said, confusion shading into distress.
“You would have me destroy it then?” Yasgrid withdrew the Heart and sheltered it against her chest.
“NO!” Ilia said. “No, you cannot. Whatever trick you’ve worked mortal, the destruction of that flame is not within your domain.”
“Are you certain of that?” Yasgrid asked, calling Endings forth into her other hand. From her own heart she let her intentions flow. She would not harm the Heart. Would shield it from anything which tried to hurt it. The weapon she bore was not to cut the Heart away from itself, but to cut through the lies and reservation which were holding Ilia back.
“You wouldn’t,” Ilia said, gathering power to her hands once more.
“That is true,” Yasgrid said. “But you know there are limits to how safe they can be with me. Just as you know there is only one place this one can be truly be safe.”
And once again she held forth her hand, offering the Spark to the goddess.
Side B – Nia
Nia knew she wasn’t getting her drum. Not directly from any of the people around her at least. For one thing, her drummers didn’t have any more access to a Shatter Drum than she did. For another the Shatter Drum that was nearby, Old Jurdy’s Shatter Drum, really was too nice her. She could hear it resonating with the distant song that was still playing and that was not at all what she needed.
That was okay though.
Nia knew which Shatter Drum she needed.
And she knew where it was.
“I know you don’t believe me,” she said, speaking mostly to Jurdy. She was pretty sure her drummers would back her up just for the laughs if nothing else. “Which is why I’m going to prove it to you, without putting any of your drums at risk at all.”
Jurdy laughed. A good, deep bellied laugh.
“Sleeping Gods I remember being that young,” she said through laughter tearing eyes. “And that stupid.”
“I promise you I’ll get old someday too,” Nia said.
No one was going to believe she’d grow any wiser.
“That’s what they all say. Let’s hear your plan though. This outta be good.”
“It’s not a plan. It’s a favor. I want you folks to talk to the senior Shatter Band drummers for Gray Rift. Tell them to tell their Roadies that there’s a drummer who can bring Osdora Kaersbean here. All she needs is for the Frost Harbor Roadies to let the drummer have access to two drums for, what, ten minutes maybe?”
“We can do it in five, but ten’s probably a safer bet,” Margrada said.
“Wait, you want us,” Jurdy gestured to the drummers who were present. “To sic our Roadies on yours?”
“Yes,” Nia said with a nod. It wasn’t a complicated or clever plan. Those weren’t her strong point. Hit things was though, and in this case she was going to hit Garsh and Horgi, immovable objects that they were, with a similarly powerful irresistible force.
“Roadies don’t fight roadies,” Gracella said. “They stick together. All of them.”
“Yeah, if anything we’re their enemies,” Pomdrin said.
“That’s not always true,” Jurdy said, a hint of quiet appreciation trickling into her voice. “I’ve seen Roadies come to blows. With each other. A few times now. And it’s always been over the same thing.”
“The drums,” Nia said. She’d heard similar stories and could recall a good ten percent of them through the drunken haze she’d been under at the time. The message had been clear as the mountain air though.
No one should ever stand in the way of a Roadie trying to fix a broken drum.