Chapter Text
One last time Elidibus scanned the reports before him. There were still a few minutes before the session would officially begin, and he intended to use them to the fullest. Chronologically ordered, each report was shorter than the last, more terse. More concerning. The final one bore nothing more than Azem's symbol and the phrase "Returning with all possible haste."
After some of the horrors Azem had described in the early reports, the simple words struck disproportionate dread into his breast.
A hush fell upon the Convocation chamber, bringing his head up. There he was—black mask turning to sweep the room as the massive double doors closed behind him, robes churning halfway to his knees from the briskness of his stride. Lahabrea's voice rang out to greet him.
"Given the nature of this meeting, let us not stand on ceremony. Are there any objections to Azem immediately taking the floor?"
Silence greeted his question, and he bowed toward Azem. "The floor is yours."
Azem pulled to a stop, acknowledging the speaker with a return bow and a faint smile, soon faded back to a stern expression as he changed course, coming up to the lectern. Elidibus’s eyes widened behind his mask as the normally upright Convocation member put his hands upon the lectern’s sides and leaned forward, the weight of his torso resting partially on the finely wrought metal and glass stand. That was unusual—beyond unusual. Normally others would jest that his spine was held straight by the addition of a metal rod somewhere within him. Elidibus could not help but see the slight bend to that spine, the aura of weariness hanging like a cloud about him, as an ill omen indeed.
The feeling only worsened as he began to speak. Voice abnormally hoarse, he began right off by detailing the terrors he had witnessed, plants and animals twisted, creation itself running amok from this inexplicable Sound erupting from beneath the very ground. Each word, phrase, sentence, sent new shockwaves through the assembled leaders, not a one of them willing to interrupt the explanation with aught more than gasps and the softest of mutters and whispers. Even these trailed into numb silence as Azem detailed the difficulties he had experienced in battling them.
Elidibus had understood that the situation was bad, of course. The reports had made that much clear, and his skills as a mediator had several times been put to the test as tensions rose and disagreements grew heated in response. But he had not truly understood how bad it was before seeing bright Azem so dull and dispirited in its face. Looking around, it was plain he was not the only one in shock; each Convocation member showed signs of worry, stress, disbelief.
This, he realized soberly, would try each of them to their limits. May they be equal to the challenge, he prayed, for their very star's sake.
Eventually Azem fell silent, seeming to run out of energy to go on rather than events to report. For a minute the great chamber seemed to echo with the force of that silence, until Lahabrea broke it.
"If it please you, Azem, I move we adjourn for a few hours. I am sure you are exhausted from your trials, and we could all use time to take this in."
"I would be grateful."
With no objections, the meeting broke up, devolving into a buzz of small conversations as groups lingered or left the hall. Elidibus remained seated, too heartsick to join in the chatter or subject himself to the crowd clumping about the door. Instead he studied Azem, wondering at the normally strong man's plain weariness. He must have worked himself to exhaustion attempting to push back the horrors, but with new eruptions bursting forth seemingly at random, most likely it had been only a matter of time until he was overwhelmed. What else would drive him to return when, by his own reports, the lands across the sea burned more now than when he had first joined the fight?
"Elidibus, are you all right?"
His attention returned at Lahabrea's voice. Standing, he faced the speaker, noting Igeyorhm silent at his side.
"This news is disturbing indeed, but I will be fine. It is simply a lot to assimilate."
"Indeed." Grave sorrow filled his words. "Given your particular nature and abilities, I cannot help but worry about you. To feel such shock and horror magnified fourteen-fold can be no easy thing."
At that Elidibus could not help but smile. "On the contrary. None here are the sort to give in to despair. Each swell of anguish has thus far been met with commensurate determination and resolve. Serving upon the Convocation has, if anything, made me stronger than ever." He emphasized the point with a light fist-strike over his heart. "Nonetheless, I thank you for your concern. We shall all have to support one another through the coming trials, I fear."
"That we shall," agreed Igeyorhm, unusually subdued. "That we shall. As ever, pray seek us out with any concerns that arise." With nods exchanged all around, they departed.
Elidibus looked around to find the room now nearly deserted. As he watched, Mitron and Loghrif made their exit, leaving Azem standing still in the center of the floor and Lahabrea and Igeyorhm en route to the door. With a sigh he began to head that way as well.
From his seat, he had to pass near Azem to reach the door unless he wanted to follow the room's perimeter. Though the thought of passing so close to the senior Convocation member made his heart thud and his breath go suddenly scarce, he certainly didn't want to seem like he was avoiding him either. With a deep breath that did nothing to steady his nerves, he descended to the floor.
There was, he allowed, something magical to the experience, to this hyper-awareness, every sense tuned for a sign that the other might notice him. Not that he would, of course, or at least not beyond the seat of Elidibus. He was still relatively new to the position, after all; in the millennium (well, nearly) since he had been appointed, Azem had spent the vast majority of his time away, leaving him to follow the shepherd’s exploits primarily through the lens of his reports and accounts. At first it was because all was well at home, leaving him free to wander to his heart’s content, then later, as troubles began to stir far away, he had been kept busy addressing issues as they cropped up.
Elidibus realized that, if he had come home, he must expect trouble to be headed this way, as well. The thought dimmed the bubbly excitement coursing through his—
“Elidibus.”
He jerked, shock freezing him in place, his heart kicking in his chest.
“I am glad you lingered. I had hoped for a chance to speak with you privately.”
Praying Azem hadn’t noticed his ungainly start, he took a deep breath, turning to face him. “Of course. What can I do for you?” Somehow, his voice stayed steady; clearly the stars were smiling upon him.
With a soft grunt Azem straightened from his leaning position. His arms spread and then arched overhead in a stretch, punctuated by a deep sigh, and he came to Elidibus’s side. “Let me not detain you. We can speak as we walk.”
With a nod, heart still in his throat, Elidibus set forth once more. Azem’s pace was slow; he matched it, trying not to let his worry show. “Not to fear,” he said, anxiety pushing him to fill the brief silence. “I have no destination in mind beyond anywhere I may begin to digest what you have shared with us. So please, there is no rush, nor any place I ought to be.”
“Very well,” came the murmured response. As the silence grew once more, Elidibus could not help but fret. What could Azem wish to talk about? He didn’t seem angry or disappointed, merely weary. Eyeing Azem’s slow gait as subtly as he could around his mask and hood, he dared once more to break the silence.
“There are benches down these hallways, if you would prefer to sit. As I indicated, I but need quiet to think, and the Capitol is as good a place for that as any other."
Azem's head turned away as he glanced down the hallway. When he turned back to Elidibus he was smiling.
"Is my exhaustion so evident?"
"To others, likely not. But you must recall my particular abilities give me an advantage in that arena." Sensing Azem's steps hesitating, he stopped, giving the shepherd a smile.
Azem's own smile grew crooked, and he raised a hand, setting it on Elidibus's shoulder. The contact made heat rush to his head, making Azem's next words difficult to hear. "Thoughtful as ever. Thank you. I suppose it would be nice to take a load off." They made for the nearest one, and Elidibus seated himself with care, trying not to show how off-balance he was.
Again, the silence. It ate at Elidibus's mind. Beyond weariness, he could discern little of how Azem felt, but it was always more difficult for him to read people he did not know well. Something must be terribly wrong, he finally concluded, for the shepherd to labor so to put his thoughts into words. Something to do with himself, mayhap, some grave error he had made, or an omission… Azem's voice finally cut through his worries.
"In thinking how best to convey the gravity of our impending situation to each of my colleagues upon the Convocation, I came to realize that I have not properly taken the time to get to know you. It is an oversight I had intended to correct long before now, putting it off ever in the name of the next crisis, assuming there will be plenty of time later." A deep sigh drew forth, gusting between them. "And now I find myself woefully short of time."
"None could have known what the strange events happening afar portended. In truth, were it not for your own wanderings, we likely would have little idea of the situation's gravity at this juncture."
"True." Azem's tone was reflective. "Still, I wish I could have known to take advantage of the peaceful times before." He turned a warm smile on Elidibus. "From all I have heard, you have proven an excellent choice for your position. Each of our colleagues has spoken of you only in favorable terms, extolling your talent for finding connections and compromises despite the increasingly divisive situations facing our governing body."
Elidibus felt his face warm at the praise. "They are too kind. I still have much to learn, much improvement to seek.”
Now Azem’s gaze fixed to his mask. “Do not we all? But I speak naught but the truth when I say this—every time I beheld the fruits of your labors I worried less about the length of my absences. Each report of your capability emboldened me to linger longer afield.” He chuckled. “Oh, irony of ironies, that your own skill and competence freed me to rely so on you, and in so doing I failed to express how much it meant to me.”
Words lodged in Elidibus’s throat. His face was an inferno now, the flush surely obvious to any that might look on him. Azem had truly trusted so in his skills? But it must be true; he himself had seen how the shepherd had returned with regularity at first, his absences growing longer over time.
Azem gave no sign of noticing his reaction. "I am so proud to see how you have risen to meet the challenges of the emissary's role. I confess, not knowing you before your nomination, I had some misgivings about your relative inexperience and your gentle nature. But you have shown yourself to have an adamant core and a nigh-sneaky finesse in your work. And of course no one has ever questioned the strength of your gifts." Azem once more turned that smile full-force upon him, and Elidibus would have sworn he felt the gentle warmth of it radiating over him. "I am unspeakably grateful that you were selected, and that you accepted the position."
Finally Elidibus managed to speak. "I had no idea."
Azem's mien turned grave. "And how could you? That failure, that blame, is mine alone. I hope you will forgive me my thoughtlessness. Certainly I do not intend to let future chances to recognize your efforts pass me by.”
“Please,” Elidibus managed, “there is no need—”
But Azem cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “I disagree. You are too modest by far. And it is vital to recognize good work, to laud it and thereby encourage more instead of leaving it to languish in obscurity.” A squeeze of strong fingers, and Azem released him, shifting to stand. “Apologies, but I am still quite weary from my travels. If you’ll excuse me, I should like to rest a bit before the Convocation meets once more. I hope we may speak again sometime soon.”
“Nothing would bring me more pleasure. Please, take all the rest you need. I think we all have much to consider before next we convene.” Elidibus stood to offer him a bow. “And of course, thank you for your kind words. May I continue to live up to them in the trying times to come.”
Azem returned the bow, rising with a grin. “I haven’t the shadow of a doubt that you will, Elidibus. Thank you—as ever—for all that you do for us.” With that, Azem turned and strode off.
Elidibus watched him go, sinking down once more to his seat upon the bench. Did Azem have a bit more spring in his step than before? Was his posture just a bit straighter now, the haze about him somewhat diminished? Perhaps he was simply imagining it in his lightheaded bliss at being so complimented and recognized—not simply by another member of the Convocation, but by Azem himself! Though… if it were possible that his own words had lightened Azem’s heart… With a shuddering sigh he pressed his hands to his chest.
Would that not be absolutely wonderful?
Head and heart so full of joy he feared he might float off the bench, he let his thoughts linger for a moment longer upon the precious words, the precious gift, he had been given. Only duty’s grave importance was finally able to cool his pleasure, turning his thoughts once more to the swelling crisis facing their star.
Somehow, though, despite the horror of the situation, he could not help but feel the stirrings of optimism. With Azem back, surely there was nothing they could not accomplish.
Azem felt his heart race, his blood sing in fear and fervor. His pursuer was close, too close. He had to go faster. Somehow. His body weakly refused to cooperate, moving sluggishly, feeble. Creation foundered, too dim a flame to answer his call, and he cursed, slamming at levers and dials in desperation.
Something seemed to work. He felt the beast begin to fall behind once more, and raised his eyes to his destination. Naught more than a pale orb… but even from here he could feel the power of hope radiating out. Resonating with him. Beating in time with his own desperately racing heart.
Maybe he would make it after all.
Azem gasped, eyes flying wide in the dim office. A dream. Just a dream. The same one again, stitched together from a gift of memory.
Gulping air, he reminded himself that it was okay, that he—that his other self—had made it, had succeeded in his mission. Against all odds and at great cost…
Rolling off the cot, he stretched, trying to banish the dream’s lingering tendrils. They clung to the shadows of his mind like cobwebs, insubstantial and tickling. A thorough limbering routine helped not only with that but also to quicken his blood, and he straightened, double-checking the clock on his desk. Almost time for the meeting to resume, as he had figured. For a moment he closed his eyes, breathing deep.
Promising himself that it would be different. That he would not fail them this time.
Centering himself around this determination, this certainty, he snuffed the room’s lights and made his way into the hall.