Canimer and the Sylmer
While all fluttered and paced, and while the Siric leader harangued his fellow Guardians, the Sylmer sat quietly. The protective Centuar continued to stand guard.
There were four Sylmer and they came to Immortality via mortal achievements on their homeworld.
Canimer was a water world. Floating masses of seaweed were the closest comparison to solid ground. The Sylmer were dual water and air breathers, genetic advantage scientists elsewhere attempted to emulate for eons. In all human cultures one hears tell of mythical ‘mermaids and mermen’, referring to beautiful humanoid creatures living in the depths, possessing sleek fishtails, elusive and shy. According to those myths they drove many a sailing vessel onto rocks with their siren songs; they also saved many a sailor from certain drowning in unfriendly seas.
The Sylmer were these creatures of myth. How they crept into human tales remained unknown. Perhaps at one time they shared space with humans. If so, such a time had long gone. Canimer had never seen a human face, much less enticed something with a siren song.
It was considered vital the Sylmer be represented in the Circle; the fear was their race would be overlooked. They were not wrong, for Canimer appears in few historical references. It led to the decision of creating Immortal Sylmer, yet only four achieve the state at a given time. To achieve Immortality the Sylmer completed a series of tasks of spiralling difficulty, and a council of Elders chose the candidates.
After the Ritual’s success, the new Immortal lost his or her tail and always they yearned for the freedom of the deep.
The current four had been a unit for four thousand years, three of them for ten thousand.
Of the four, Saska was the ‘new’ arrival. Her pale blue hair was almost as long as she was tall, loosely braided to hang over one shoulder. In the interest of practicality she tended to shorten it when confrontation was at hand.
As she listened to the revelations, the practical side of her nature already contemplated when she could do so. She wore soft avocado breeches and tunic that complimented her bright green eyes. Slender feet were shod in slippers reminiscent of elven shoes, and about ankles and wrists she wore silver bracelets. She was a sylvan nymph, one with the strength of character to become an Immortal.
Her tinkling bracelets drew attention from Llettynn.
“Saska?” Taranis prompted, his eyes warming.
She rose gracefully and glanced first at her three companions. They were male, slender and lovely as she was, and had been together so long they thought and acted as one. Excruciatingly shy, they never sought attention, never spoke at a gathering unless called upon and even then kept their words to a minimum, but could be relied upon in every way. Shyness was not cowardice. Due to their nature, Saska became spokesperson. They nodded at her to continue.
Saska left the relative security of her seat, away from the comfort afforded by the watchful Centuar, and approached Taranis. As always her heart hurt when she saw the sadness hidden in his eyes.
What are you looking for, when will you let go?
“Is this an end? Help us understand.” Turning to the gathering, she said, “Let us not be selfish in our interruptions.” She smiled at Llettynn. “Although we applaud words that serve. Let our leader speak, so that we may achieve the understanding needed.” She faced Taranis again. “Hopefully you now have the floor, my lord.”
She gave him an impish smile and returned to her seat.
Taranis’ heart flipped over as he watched Saska walk away.
Let me not lose this one. So help me, I shall undo the Ritual and return to my mortal state if it were possible, for without her in my future, I would not want to go on.
Silence descended. The Sagorin, seated together again, were markedly studious in their attitudes, intending to listen with minds, not hearts. Excellent, for they were the researchers.
The Siric, seated nearer the back, with Llettynn in the Circle, were watchful as sorcerers were in seeking an angle. Good. They had real power, Taranis mused, and his gaze moved to the Eagles.
The mighty birds could sometimes be arrogant. They were not afraid, merely furious over this latest scheme of the blue dara-witch. Good. One could rely on them to go places where no one else dared go. They would be needed soon.
As would the fleet Falcons.
The Centuar stood four-hoofed ready. These mythical creatures were truly a terror in battle.
And the Sylmer. Taranis’ eyes rested on them.
Already he knew who would stand to the fore and his heart tightened in dread.
What if it went wrong? She was so lovely, so brave, and waiting for him to … what? Declare himself? Gods, when would that be? Would any of them see Lumin overcome Darak?
Dare we hope that a future exists?