Dawn of the Nephilim

14. a new beginning part I

After the skaran Ti'anra disappeared behind the river bend in the two swamp-skimmers they had taken with them, and the sound of Ayra and Utgard's bickering had died out, Ronan sat down, falling flat on his back with arms outstretched. What, by Ionara, do I do now? Asking himself rhetorical questions wasn't going to help, but it was a start. As he closed his eyes, he felt the pulling in his head again, and knew exactly where to go. There could be no more delays. He had to go, today. It was driving him nuts that he didn't know if he was pulled towards the women themselves, or simply some contraption unconnected to them. Neither did he know which option he should dread the most. Paranoid, he checked his forehead for fever, got spooked when he found the coarse dirt left by Ragnar, whereupon he finally decided that if his body didn't fail him, his nerves would. Grimacing, he bit the arrow.

To get to where he was now, they had taken a different route than he had in his dream, but the pulling in his head had grown stronger over the last couple of hours, and had reached a crescendo akin to a bad tinnitus. Presumably, he was only about two hours travelling or so away from the women. The light would hold for a good while today, so there was nothing but his own reluctance to hold him back. Game on, he decided. He got into the swamp-skimmer, took out a punting-pole, and was on his way.

Following Utgard's advice, he stayed on the main streams, and did not try to find any shortcuts. From his dream, or whatever it was, he knew the women were on one of the main streams anyway. It took him a little over two hours of dogged effort to get there, filled with gnawing doubt and uncertainty. If only I had the others still with me. Together at least, we would have stood a chance. But would they ever have believed me? They would say it had been a fever dream. But if I showed them the rose? They would have to believe me then. He chewed it all over until he once again remembered the carcasses of the dead alligators and what Eloï'inda had done to him. Then he reprimanded himself that he knew why he had to go alone. The goodbye he had given his family and friends was a bit more intense than even the test to become a skaran Ti'anra could justify. Still, there was no reason for the women to let him go first, only to hurt him now. There was no reason for them to change their mind. ...Right?

Only Windar was as heartily as he ever was when they said goodbye. He had shot an investigating glance at him, and had said: "You know boy, there was once a story about what were called 'the teachers,' or 'the messengers'. Mysterious beings that came to us humans, showing us many bizarre things, and teaching many wisdoms from which we still find traces here and there. Though they were not free of the folly of the wise, I really hope that these wisdoms will help you in the time to come." He hadn't understood what Windar meant, but did agree that he would need a lot of wisdom. He sighed deeply. In front of him, the island emerged. With a sudden urge, he felt whether the smear Ragnar had given him on his forehead was still there. He was going to need all the swamp's protection he could get.

Slowly, he made his way to shore. The carcasses of the alligators lying on the beach confirmed that it was indeed the right island. About a meter away from dry land, his boat scraped the bottom, and he pushed it up until it was fully stranded. He lingered for a few seconds. Breathing in and out, in and out. You can do this Ronan. Since when are you afraid of something new? Gathering his courage, he was about to step out of the swamp-skimmer, onto the island. Then he heard her voice. - Hello Ronan- She sounded in a good enough mood, but he still jumped into the air from the scare. Where was she? "Are you talking inside of my head again?!" Shouting over the island helped relieve some of his tension. -Yes Ronan, I am sorry. I am afraid it is a matter of habit. Please come closer.- Fear, relieve and annoyance that he scared so easily battled inside of him at the fact that the women were apparently still here. He jumped out of the swamp-skimmer and dragged it ashore.

Turning around he started clearing the bush that blocked his view of the center of the island, believing himself prepared for everything, but most of all the blazing inferno like he had seen in his dream. He expected to feel its heat the moment he passed the bush. As it turned out, he was not prepared for what he saw. Sitting in the center of the clearing was Eloï'inda alright, but not at all like the blazing spirit he had seen in his dream. At first glance she looked like a normal woman. Such a passing glance was immediately pulled back, because something did not seem quite right. Her face was the same as before, smooth of skin and harmoniously beautiful in an alien manner. But its untouchable distantness was somehow mellowed by the kind smile she offered him, and her features were much ameliorated. Her body was slim, but also deceivably curvaceous, as the garments that hung over her like a normal dress now clearly showed. There was something about those garments. Would he have been asked, he'd have said they were white or a silvery gray, but at the same time they seemed to slightly shift in color depending on the terrain that was directly behind them, much like some reptiles were said to be able to do with their skins. Her deep eyes and their shifting hues would make any human woman jealous, even Ayra. She definitely won't have many friends. But in her still seemed to reside some of the light that he had seen in his dream and she still instilled some sort of uncanny feeling of otherness. It was hard to grasp. A bit of a glow in the eye sockets when she turned her head a little, a faint rim of light around her face and uncovered skin.

Caught by surprise, Ronan froze like a deer exposed to a sudden, bright light. There seemed to be little else he could do around women these days, and he wondered why his normal ease of manner had betrayed him so. But this was no normal woman he was dealing with, that much was certain. I do wonder how old she is. He felt his cheeks redden, wondering if she was peeking in on his thoughts. If you are, stop it!

"Please come closer Ronan, and do not fear." But he did get spooked, because this time she spoke out loud. And he did fear her too. A scorpion looks pretty in the sun as well, after all. Cautiously, he regained his composure somewhat. "So you can speak." He felt some of his anger at what had happened to him return. Good, it will help me to think more clearly. He carefully started walking towards her. She didn't make a move as he did so, and when he was but two arms lengths away he came to a standstill, unsure how to proceed. Still she remained silent, probably allowing him to shed some of his skittishness. That was humiliating. A bit sulky, he folded his arms and sat down. He tried to defiantly stare at her, but when she calmly held his gaze he eventually lowered his, feeling silly. There was a faint black rim on the skin around her eyes, as if she had applied a thin line of dye.

"Now what?" he finally forced out.