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"Off to War"
Date: August 14, 2000 (Aether: December 7, 3906)  Perhaps the timing was meant to go this way, that the courtyard would begin to seethe with bodies and creatures as the sun was going down. Perhaps it's just because it's taken time to get men instructed and orders in place and to have someone make certain that riding straps were all in good shape. Whatever the reason, things are as they stand. The courtyard, slowly but surely fills. Already, shouts echo across the stones as men -- Agni-Haidar, the Lions of Fire -- go about their duties. Asadel walks into Atesh-Gah, bulky muscles rippling under his clothes. On his way to pray, his dark eyes widen slightly at the sight before him, a faint frown marring his impassive face as he moves around the Agni-Haidar, giving them a wide berth. As the sun kisses the moon and makes it glow, so does the torchlight caress the smooth alabaster feature's of the Sun-child's bride. She gleams like foxfire as she steps from the mouth of Atesh-Gah and onto the topmost step. Looking down onto the courtyard, Thalia stands between her midnight and crimson guardians, silent and serene. Voices precede the quartet before the woman and assorted children step through the doors of the foyer -- a small, Empyrean youth trudges with three wingless, darker ones -- Mekhti and two children. The small boys are babbling back and forth to one another, with no input from either Mekhti or Zada. And much of it is nonsense, but they seem to be happy enough. Each one hangs onto one of Mekhti's hands, toddling slowly, but surely. Yet however slow they move, it seems it is too fast for young Zada -- who, on this day, looks rather forlorn. There are those who are less than pleased with having so many Agni-Haidar even more armed than usual, even more ready for a fight. Women with their children, coming back from prayers in the temple or back from the market-place cower, rather than walking with any sort of confidence from these men. The hiss of anxious wyverns being led from the stables and the slice of claws through air when one gets to close to another can't be any comfort. Zada has never liked it when her father has been gone from her. And going off to war... well, that has definitely depressed her. This is the man who rescued her when she was starving and dirty, gave her a home, and introduced her to Amir-al, who made her his child. Varati, in everything but birth. She looks up, glancing among the horses to try to find Zuhayr. Her wings are tucked in close behind her, another indication of her feelings. Zuhayr? Zuhayr is among them, never fear. The Seraskier arrives, actually, steps out of the stables himself leading his own ill-tempered beast, who hisses at another and swipes at a smaller creature. His corner of the courtyard, his space. Stay away! That wyvern may rule the stable, but with Zuhayr at his reins, he is quickly corrected; a sharp snap of leather and tightening of chain calms him. No, stills him, save the lashing of his powerful tail. Zuhayr shouts commands, voice carrying above the other men. "Give me an account of those present, and their readiness to travel! You have half a candlemark!" Despite the unrest, the discord among the Varati people, and the obvious preparations of the Agni-Haidar preparing to leave for war, the Queen-Maharani does not hide her origins. Instead, her huge white wings form a halo behind her, almost seeming to flaunt her Empyrean nature and the inconceivable nature of Khalid's choice. She does descend from her chosen position at the top of the steps, instead allowing the torchlight to flow around her, casting her as a glowing beacon to all who would seek a reason to be discontent. Asadel, unsure of everything that has happen of late, this now adds further to that. He edges around the outside of the crowd, trying to be unseen, something of a difficult feat for someone of his size. The Maharani being impossible to miss, he bows as is customary, pondering going home without prayer this night. Easily skirting the queen's guard, though not without brief, respectful bows, the small family of the Seraskier continues into the courtyard -- now cowering like other women. No, not at all. Adri and Jibril have quieted their bantering, gazes now intent on the orderly chaos that seems to take up the whole of the courtyard, hands holding tight onto Mekhti's. As Zuhayr shouts above the others, Adri reaches to take hold of Mekhti's jubbah, little fist tugging before he asks, "Papa mad, Meki?" Mekhti's head shakes slowly, as she lowers herself -- crouching, fingers still entangled in the small, chubby fists of the twin toddlers. She looks to the fairer child, soft smile like a ghost on her lips. "He's not mad, Adri. He's just busy. Remember how we talked about Daddy going away?" Her eyes shift to Zada quickly, before turning to the sturdier toddler on her right. "But he'll be back soon enough, won't he Jibril?" The Agni-Haidar snap to attention at the voice of the Seraskier. From each star comes a voice, loud and clear in the din of preparation. Shouts of names and the readiness of each is given without hesitation. They are all ready to go, having been trained for moments such as this since becoming Agni-Haidar. Organized, grim and determined, each man stands waiting for the order to move out. Amongst those men is Khalil, holding the reins of a wyvern. Though it is not as great as that of the Seraskier, it still remains menacing. How could it not? Something that could eat a person in a few bites is never a small thing. He falls silent from talking quietly with another of his star, and finishes preparing the supplies he was helping to secure. Zada frowns. Of course, being hidden by her veil, no one can see it. Suddenly, she spies Zuhayr. "There's Daddy!" Now her pace quickens. If he has to leave, at least she wants to see him before he goes. Whether the Agni-Haidar, as a whole, approve of the Maharani or no, there is not a man among them who would dare speak against her aloud. Those who are not yet in position, or who have a few steps to go, still stop to bow as they cross before her. The wyverns will not bow, but fix her with narrowed eyes. Still, none of them challenges her. Perhaps they know they should not. Perhaps they don't care. That halo of white in the glow of torches, though, draws the eye, draws the attention. Not even Zuhayr can ignore such a thing for long. He listens to the answers shouted back, to the names and numbers of those who will accompany him, and then he hands the reins of his mount to another man, and starts toward the stairs where Thalia stands. Thalia remains where she has chosen to stand, the few steps of height giving her a lofty position, despite her diminutive stature. She looks down at the approaching Seraskier, her face unchanging in expression, serene and cool, like the bright moon -- lonely in a sky filled only with stars, but absent of the fierce glowing heat of the sun. Though alone, her stance reminds all that she is still the Queen-Maharani, chosen mate of Khalid Atar, and co-ruler of the Varati people, for as long as she can hold the position. "Zada!" Her voice is a soft call, intent on stopping the young, winged one before she gets out of arm's length. Her eyes follow the figure of the tall, striking Seraskier as he makes his way across the courtyard. Mekhti straightens her slender form, hands still firmly held, though the two boys look as if they'd rather flee across the courtyard as well, towards their father. Likely to get stepped upon by the ever-moving Agni-Haidar. Asadel rises from his bow to Thalia and continues on his way towards the temple, skirting the wyverns carefully. Zada gets edgy as her father begins moving. She doesn't want to lose him in the crowd. But at least he is heading in their direction. Her wings flare (a bigger object to be seen, of course). "Daddy! Daddy!" Of course, since he's heading for Thalia, he's not likely to notice her. Zuhayr sees her. Zada, that is. He is a Seraskier. They're not known for being unobservant. He does not, however, alter course to step toward her. Instead, he uncurls the arm attached to the hand that rests on the hilt of his falcare, and makes a single, sharp staying motion. 'Stop,' is what that gesture commands. 'Wait.' That distraction addressed, Zuhayr continues on until he stands before Thalia. And he stands straight-shouldered, stiff-backed, a moment, before he bows from the waist. "I take my leave, Maharani, and with me I take Amir-al's Lions, to avenge him, or assist him, whichever may prove the truer." Thalia says firmly, almost sternly and with a slight sense of command, "Assist him. Strike down his foes, loyal Seraskier, and bring about the flame of Khalid to incinerate those who would dare stand against him." Still soft and gentle compared to the harsh contingent of Agni-Haidar which stand around her, she has changed in the past few days -- from the shrinking violet at the onset of bloodshed which huddled in the God-King's shadow, to a woman who will not shirk from the call of war, however much blood it will spill. "Never doubt that he is alive and waiting for you. Assist him, for he will surely take his own vengeance." It is highly doubtful that Zada will take that well, so it is very quietly that Mekhti urges the two small boys forward, nearing the young child. One hand releases Jibril -- who instead takes hold of her jubbah, and finds little Zada's golden head, gently touching down. Her voice is soft, as always -- but this time it is not intended to carry very far. "A few minutes, Zada. Your daddy needs a few minutes more. He will come see us, before he leaves." At least, Mekhti hopes he will. He couldn't be that busy, now, could he? Zuhayr straightens again, and stands, if possible, even more stiffly than before, chin lifted a little. "To assist him then, Maharani." He bows, slighter than before, and straightens another time, to turn back toward the waiting Agni-Haidar. He takes a breath, and barks a single word. "Mount!" And amid the rattle and rustle of some hundred-and-fifty men mounting wyverns at once, Zuhayr lets his attention drift toward his family. Zada does not, indeed, take that well. She feels like crying. But she is a big girl, just turned seven, and big girls do not cry. She wants her daddy to be proud of her. She wants Amir-al to be proud of her. She nods to Mekhti, her hand limp in the older girl's. Mekhti's hand gently squeezes little Zada's, a soft smile still on her face. The boys don't really understand what is going on, but they can sense that something just isn't right. Well, at least Adri can. If Jibril can, his stern little face doesn't betray it. Mekhti's eyes lift once again to Zuhayr, only to find his attention on them. And then she is still. Completely still. Thalia retains her place in the courtyard, watching and awaiting the departure of Khalid's premier warriors. Her emotions are masked; instead, she watches with unerring eyes, perhaps blessing the force with whatever remnants of the God-King's power that she holds. It's with his attention thus on Mekhti and the children that Zuhayr barks again. "Rashad!" One of the Kaimakams present hands off his reins and steps forward, bowing with sharp precision. "Sirdar!" "To the Sky Bridge," Zuhayr answers, without looking at him. "You know the way. Ride. Now." He takes a breath and commands, "Ride, for the Amir-al's sake!" And then he stands, still amongst chaos, as stars move out, wyverns pounding through the gates of Atesh-Gah that have been thrown open for this reason. It's only after the majority of the men are gone and there is space in the courtyard that Zuhayr beckons to Zada and Mekhti and the boys, then turns back for his own wyvern. Zada takes this opportunity to run to her father. She would fly, but really doesn't trust those wyverns that are left. She throws her arms around Zuhayr's leg, as she has done since she was small. A soft gulp from Mekhti, as she retakes the boys hands. A glance at the wyverns, before the trio moves across the courtyard, her hands tight on those of the toddlers. And another glance at the wyverns -- she'll just not get too close to them, that'll work. Nor let the boys, who do not seem to share Mekhti's trepidation, tugging as they are on her hands. The more stout of the pair, Jibril, seems to tug harder than his fairer companion -- voice demanding, much like Zuhayr's, only shrunk. "Meki, wanseeDa!" Zuhayr is soon to be overrun with children, isn't he? At least Alaia's kept Sabirah away. At least Sabirah can't tackle him, or grab his legs. Yet. Or tug on Mekhti's hands. Zuhayr glances down at the top of Zada's head, and rests his hand there, briefly. "It is time for me to go, little one. I am needed now." The hands of the boys are released, so they, too, might launch themselves at their da's legs. Of course, not without another wary look at the wyvern behind Zuhayr. Should the beast even think of making a movement towards the children, the only scent for miles will be roast beast. Adri is the first to reach Zuhayr, wrapping his little arms about him. Jibril will be more composed, more stately -- but only because Zada's tangled about the other. Mekhti's hands fold together in front of her, and she is, indeed, composed. Or at the least, acting it. What she wouldn't give for veils -- makes these sort of scenes easier, but it's too late, now, to lift the confounded silks into place. She'll let the children say good-bye, proper, to their papa. Zada nods. Yes, she knows. And to her credit, she keeps the tears at bay. She looks up at Zuhayr. "I will not cry, Daddy. Amir-al will protect you." As most of the mounted Agni-Haidar depart the courtyard, the Queen-Maharani finally relieves herself of her rigid stance. Turning, she walks back into the thick, stone confines of the embassy building, leaving Zuhayr to spend the moment with his family.
FIN
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