Name: Victim of Fate
Story: Starfall
Colors: Tourmaline #11 (running/stumbling); White Opal #17 (stream of consciousness); Light Black #1 (dream)
Supplies and Styles: Novelty Beads (June 2021 Candy Green – Nothing ever becomes real until it is experienced. - John Keats)
Word Count: 3970
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mild injury, angst; otherwise nothing worse than the pun in the use of the prompt.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan; Viyony Eseray, Leion Valerno, Marran Delver.
Summary: Viyony tries to fight a dream and loses – luckily for a certain young soldier.

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Viyony woke, cold and sweating, with dark blood spots on her pillow from a nosebleed. She closed her eyes again immediately, not wanting to face the sort of day that must follow. It was the rarest and worst kind of dream – one where she had to act to prevent tragedy or disaster, small or large. It was the second she’d had in the three weeks since she’d arrived in Portcallan, and both had been painfully useless, since the city was too unfamiliar for her to guess where the locations she glimpsed in the dream might be.

She tried to stave off the inevitable headache as the morning progressed by ignoring Aunt Diyela’s embargo on talking about her dreams and trying to describe it at breakfast. Her aunt quashed her immediately and merely said afterwards that it was as well Viyony had her trip to the theatre with Imai Valerno to distract her from such nonsense and then made her promise again not to mention it to anyone outside the family.

Viyony risked her aunt’s further displeasure by asking anyone else in the household who would listen if they recognised the bridge she described, but all anyone would tell her was that it sounded as if was somewhere down by the river or the port, or the sea front, which didn’t narrow it down anywhere near enough. Even if she refused to go to the theatre, what good would she gain by wandering aimlessly around the tangled warren of lower city streets? Besides, she’d promised Leion she’d give him another chance, and turning down his invitation would be hard to explain.

She dressed for the afternoon performance at the Old Theatre in a light lilac jacket and pale grey silk trousers. She wouldn’t look herself in the eye in the mirror as she hung her earrings in place, only set her face and straightened her clothes, ignoring the warning throb in her head. Hadn’t she been dictated to by dreams enough for one lifetime? Whatever was going to happen, Portcallan must handle it without her.


Viyony, settling herself down in a seat next to Mierly Modelen, reminded herself that her dream on the morning of the botched assassination attempt had been nearly as bad and yet nothing too awful had happened that day despite her inaction. Perhaps only pride that made her assume she must be the one to intervene every time – the kind of self-importance that Leion had criticised her for the last time they’d met. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, letting them lie cold and unsteady in her lap. She pretended resolutely that the ache behind her eyes didn’t exist. It persisted in disputing the matter, pressure building.

The orchestra sounded their first few notes and the pale lightstone lamps dimmed around them. Sharp stabs shot through Viyony’s head, and she pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp. Nausea followed. She stood abruptly and edged her way out through the seated row of people, who shuffled out for her to pass with varying degrees of speed and muttered grumbling. She made it out into the aisle, and ran for it.


Viyony leaned against a pillar in the small eatery attached to the Old Theatre and gathered her breath. The nausea faded gradually, and she straightened. She breathed in and out. No matter how hopeless it was, no matter what Aunt Diyela told her, and never mind Leion’s warnings, she must try to do something. She hadn’t felt this bad since the first time it had happened, many years ago, when she’d stood in the damp grass at the bottom of the ravine at Eseray, much too late. She shuddered.

“I see helping you to have fun is going to be even harder work than I thought,” said Leion from behind her.

She started.

“It’s only me,” he said, more softly. “Are you unwell?”

Viyony nodded. “It’s nothing much. I – I shall go home. You go back inside.”

“I’ll fetch your coat,” he said, with a gesture at her thin jacket and trousers. She’d thought more of displaying Eseray’s wares than of practicality when setting out. “Then I’ll walk you there.”

She pressed a hand to her head. “No, no – you mustn’t desert the others.”

“The others will be fine. You, clearly, are not.”

“I have to go!” She turned, heading for the door without waiting to see if he might follow. She hoped he wouldn’t.

Leion kept pace with her. “All right, all right.” He shrugged off his brown jacket and offered it to her. “I’ll pick up your coat after I see you home.”

“Yes, but –” Viyony caught herself short, rubbing her aching head as she blinked away water from her eyes. “I’m not actually going home. I have to find someone – a bridge – I don’t know! But if I don’t –” She caught her breath and raised her gaze. She never knew how people would respond to her dreams. “Please don’t laugh, but if I don’t someone might die. I thought this morning that I could ignore it – that it wouldn’t matter, but it’s been pressing on me, getting worse and worse – I have to try.”

Leion pulled her gently to a halt and passed her the jacket. “A bridge? Where, exactly?”

“You can’t come!”

“On the contrary,” said Leion. “It sounds as if you need someone familiar with the city.”

Viyony paused in the middle of shrugging her arms into his thick jacket as it hung loosely around her. “Oh,” she said. “I’m sorry. My head hurts – I wasn’t thinking. Would you?”

“Of course!” Leion led her out the main doors onto the street. A light drizzle had started up since they’d arrived. “I enjoy a play, but if you’re talking about life and death, there’s no question what I’m doing. Now, which bridge is this? What do you remember?”

The pain in her head eased slightly. Viyony took in a deep breath of salt-laced air, carried on a mild westward breeze. “I saw the stone pillar of a bridge – a small one, not one of the larger ones over the Calla. There was blood on it – and whatever is going to happen must be imminent, or I wouldn’t feel so awful. It’s my fault – I should have tried sooner!”

“Well, we’re giving it a go now,” said Leion. He put a hand on her elbow to help her avoid the other pedestrians on the street. “Do you recall anything else?”

Viyony hesitated, despite the mounting urgency in her mind. To concentrate on the isolated fragment of time she’d experienced in a dream caused her to lose herself in it again. It took a second or two to work herself up to it; natural instinct fought against dislocating herself into another, far less pleasant moment.

She drew Leion to one side, so that she could stop close against the wall of the nearest building, out of the flow of people. She shut her eyes and frowned. “There’s the stone post of a bridge, right in front of me. It’s narrow – square-shaped, not rounded. There’s a – a sort of sea creature carved on it with an oval shape on the top. I’m standing on a slope leading down to it – quite steep – and the stones of the road are small, old, uneven – slippery in the wet. I can hear the sound of water running under it – a smaller river, or stream, fast-flowing. I can see one corner of a building of some kind to the left-hand side of it – but I think it’s standing alone in a yard. There’s blood – there’s blood on the pillar – not much, only a spatter, but I –”

Viyony halted, her stomach swirling. She opened her eyes and put out a hand to the wall to steady herself. The solidity and rough texture of the bricks under her palm slowly grounded her back in the city, into the proper, ordinary flow of time. She looked up too fast, though: the people milling about the wide and thoroughfare swirled drunkenly around her. Leion put a hand on her arm to steady her.

“Careful,” he murmured. “I don’t recognise the spot, but the sea creature emblem means it must be somewhere near the Water Gate or the Seagate. We’re not far from both, if we carry on down towards the market.” He pointed forward, and then clasped her hand in his. “Come on!”


The market stalls packed the steep, winding street that led downwards to Water Gate, and the throng of people ambling past and stopping to examine the wares kept impeding their progress.

“It’s not here,” said Viyony, catching hold of his sleeve, so as not to lose him as someone jostled her sharply in passing. “It was much quieter – there was nobody else around, I’m sure.”

Leion nodded. He drew to a halt, causing at least one passer by to curse, and then tugged her off into an alleyway that linked the market street to one running parallel, and they emerged into a smaller but equally steep road as the drizzle finally became definite, large drops of rain. One landed on her nose. The paving stones that of the road darkened, slowly gaining a polished sheen.

“It’s going to happen any moment.” Her voice caught on the words. “It’s too late.” She turned to take hold of Leion, despair nearly swallowing her, but he wasn’t there. She shook herself and gritted her teeth, hurrying downwards after him, slipping on the wet stones until he caught her.

Leion nodded towards the sharp corner at the bottom of the street, where there was an inn – and to the other side, a small bridge crossed one of the Calla’s tributaries. “Look – could it be –?”

Viyony gasped and half-ran, half-slid down to the bridge he’d indicated, heedless of the gradient or the rain pattering more insistently around her. It was tucked away at an angle from the corner, only just in view. This was it. The dream washed back over her as the glimpse of the future became the present. She shook herself and straightened her clothes – she’d muddied her trousers badly – and faced in reality the pillar she’d seen in her sleep.

There was a spatter of blood; red and slightly unreal against the pale stone, but not yet washed off by the rain.

Someone moved behind her – a large, red-faced man, staggering along. When she stared at him, he frowned vaguely at her and waved unsteadily. “Rosfallen filth!” he said, and then shuffled away, pausing at the corner to sway and then disappeared.

The blood, the splash, the dream, the Rosfallen comment – they all added up to something she understood. Viyony hastened after the drunk – whatever his state, he’d tried to kill someone; maybe had. It must be one of the soldiers of the Rosfallen regiment that she’d met on the way here. Rounding the corner, though, he had already managed to vanish down a side street. She would have tried to run after him anyway, but Leion shouted for her. She stopped, but only grasped the rail on the other side of the bridge, unable to bring herself to turn. She didn’t want to see what Leion had found; she wanted to keep hope alive for a few moments longer.

She’d been so slow. She’d tried to pretend the warning wasn’t real, as if she hadn’t already learned the bitter lesson about failing to act on her dreams years ago. Who had been hurt? It couldn’t be Eollan – Colonel Barra. He wouldn’t have been wearing the distinctive blue-green Rosfallen uniform to attract the drunk’s patriotic ire. Captain Maraseny, then, or the young soldier she’d run into in the garden, but which?

“Viyony!”

She forced herself to face him at last. Cowardice wouldn’t help anyone.

Leion was knee deep in the shallow river, struggling to haul out a limp, sodden figure. The uniform had been rendered dirty grey by the soaking, but it was unmistakably that of the Rosfallen regiment, as she’d feared. The hair, also darkened by the water and plastered to his face, was still too light-coloured to be the captain. It was Marran Delver Leion was holding onto; the young soldier, who’d told Viyony an absurd story about running away and stealing a farm that had landed him in the army.

Leion craned his head towards her as he dragged Marran onto the riverside path. “Viyony – the inn – get help!”

She halted a couple of steps from them and shot off in the other direction, into the inn’s yard, over the damp gravel, sliding to a clumsy stop at the door. The proprietor bumped into her as she tried to go in, on their way out and looking past Viyony to see what was going on out there. They were a broad, tall figure in a practical jacket and trousers covered by a large leather apron.

Viyony pointed wildly towards Leion and Soldier Delver, just outside the yard’s gate. “Someone’s been knocked into the river. We need help – a blanket – hot drink, maybe – we need a medic!”

The proprietor peered past Viyony and then vanished back inside with a short cry. “You’re wet through yourself, you know,” the proprietor said to Viyony. “Now, as to a medic – hmm, who’s the nearest?” They twisted round to yell through the door behind them. A thin young woman emerged from it a few seconds later to be told to go and fetch someone by a name Viyony didn’t quite catch.

“That road has needed seeing to for years – and there ought to be railings there, for a start,” said the proprietor. “I mean, I can’t stop people having a drink or two, and then –” They shrugged, and then disappeared out of sight, their continuing comments on the incompetence of the City Governor’s office accompanied by the rattling and knocking of cupboards being opened and closed and items drawn out in haste. They paused briefly to yell upstairs at some other unseen member of their staff to fetch blankets.

Viyony couldn’t wait any longer – it wasn’t fair to leave Leion out there to manage alone. “Thank you! I’ll just go back – see how they are.”

She darted back outside, through the yard and over to where Leion was crouching down beside Marran. The young soldier wasn’t dead, at least. He was busy coughing and retching up water.

“What happened?” Marran managed at last, through a series of shudders. His face was white, beads of water running down it from his dank hair.

“Someone hit you, I think,” said Viyony. “Don’t you remember?”

He tried to shake his head; then winced and somehow managed to blanch further. “I don’t – don’t –” He swallowed and tried to stand.

Leion caught hold of him. “I wouldn’t move yet if I were you.”

“I have to get back,” he said. “The barracks, you know. They only sent me to take a message. I c-can’t stay here.”

Leion didn’t release his shoulder. “Sit.” He glanced past Marran, at Viyony. “Wasn’t the innkeeper forthcoming?”

“They were,” said Viyony, “but give them a chance.” She moved nearer. “Soldier Delver, do you remember me?”

He put his hand to his head. “Imai Eseray?”

“Well, that’s something.” Viyony flashed a quick smile at Leion.

At that moment, the proprietor emerged into the street, and frowned over at them. “Aren’t you people bringing that poor boy inside?”

As if in answer, the rain turned into a thunderous downpour.


Delver protested about being helped into the inn, insisting that he had to go back to barracks. The proprietor handed out thick, brightly coloured blankets between them. Delver was swathed in violent red and gold, while Leion condescended to permit one in a dusty yellow and dirty mid-green shade hang loosely off his shoulders. Viyony’s was dyed bright blue, scarlet, and green. Unlike Eseray, whoever had produced them didn’t appreciate subtle hues.

“I’ve sent for a physician,” the innkeeper said. They surveyed the trio with evident satisfaction at their handiwork blanket-wise. “I’ll see about with a hot drink.”

Delver put out a hand to the wall and pulled himself up, despite wincing at the movement. “I have to go.”

“Sit,” ordered Leion again. Delver subsided, but his mouth set in a mutinous line, evidently not intending to stay there very long. Leion looked to Viyony. “You should go and lie down, too. You’ve gone grey around the edges.”

Viyony gripped the blanket tighter and glared. “I’m fine!”

“You’re fine; this young idiot can walk back to barracks; it’s blazing sunshine out there,” said Leion, his voice rising in impatience. “Can one of you help me out by behaving rationally?”

Viyony closed her eyes. “I don’t feel wonderful, but that’ll pass soon enough.” She swallowed, and then gave Leion a wry, lopsided smile. “Thank you.”

Leion checked whatever he had been about to say to return the smile with interest. “My pleasure. Did the dream by any chance tell you what we should do with this object now we’ve extracted him from the water?”

She shrugged.

“You can’t stop me from leaving,” said Delver, trying again to stand, and succeeding this time. He shed the blanket, letting it fall onto the padded bench. “I am grateful, truly, but I’m all right – I must go back.”

Leion rolled his eyes at Viyony, and then leant forward to murmur to her, “Stay here. I’ll make things right with the innkeeper while you do, don’t worry.” Then he rose. “We’ll sort something out,” he said to Marran, putting a hand on his arm. “Just hold on. I take it you’re at the Tollah Fort?”

Marran Delver sat down, and nodded cautiously in response.

“Good. That’s not very far. Why don’t I run over there, let your commanding officer know and bring back your medical officer here to sort you out? Then you can sit there quietly and no one will think you’ve run away. Yes?”

Marran leant back into the bench. “I – well – yes. I suppose that would be sensible. Thank you, Imai.”

“Leion. Leion Valerno.” Leion looked to Viyony. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Stay there and make sure he doesn’t move until a medic says he can.” Leion took a step back, and then added, to Delver, “You can’t play around with a head injury, understood?”

Marran watched him go; then pulled a face at Viyony. She gave him a small shake of her head, and then shut her eyes. She pulled her blanket closer. Her head hadn’t stopped aching yet, and now she felt a little dizzy. If Marran hadn’t been there, and she’d been sure of it being clean enough, she might have laid her head down on the table. She straightened herself, however, and tried to think of something to say.

“Who hit me?” Marran beat her to it. Viyony didn’t answer immediately, and he drew back. “You did say that, didn’t you? I didn’t imagine it?”

“I did. There was a drunk, hating on the Rosfallen uniform, but I couldn’t stop him on my own.” She nodded towards Marran’s jacket. “I can’t be certain he did it, but it feels right from what I saw before.” She pressed her hand to her temple, catching herself in a foolish slip. Don’t mention the star-cursed dreams. “As we came down the slope, that is,” she added hastily. “I was ahead of Leion.”

“Well, thank you, Imai Eseray, anyway. What a coincidence it was you!”

“Isn’t it?”

Viyony was saved at that point, by the reappearance of the inn’s waiter. He brought a tray over to them. It had two mugs on it, thin steam issuing from both. He placed one in front of Viyony and the other before Marran and stepped back with a flourish of his free hand. “Imai Valerno’s compliments.”

“I’m sure,” said Viyony. She sniffed hers cautiously. The aroma was gingery and sweet with a nutty edge. Sipping it confirmed it as a frivolous concoction of something a hot ginger drink, with nutty-flavoured milk or possibly even cream with a dusting of brown sugar on top.

The man grinned down at her. “The imai said you wouldn’t be keen, but it’d do you good.”

“That sounds like him,” said Viyony. She glanced at Marran. “And what has he decided you should have?”

The man turned. “Oh, just some clearwater leaf tea – bit of milk and sugar. Nothing the physician ought to object to. You get that down you, young soldier. Look as if you need it. Anything else?”

“More than enough for the moment, thank you.” Despite her words, Viyony closed her hands around the mug, letting it warm her. The drink was, despite her misgivings, a comforting mixture in the circumstances, and the ginger gave it a bite that prevented it being too sweet for her to manage. She grew steadily less light-headed as she drank it.

Marran watched her wistfully. Viyony’s mouth twitched, though she managed not to laugh at his expression. It was probably a good sign if he was up to envying her drink.


By the time Leion returned, Viyony was a good deal more herself, and quite ready to leave the inn and get out of her damp, mud-caked clothes.

“You look better,” Leion said at once. He strode across as she edged herself out of the alcove to stand aside and allow the military physician to pass and take look at Marran. “All my doing, of course.” Leion cast an anxious glance over at Marran, but his face cleared on seeing him talking to the officer, and he merely ushered Viyony further out of the way.

Viyony shook her head. “You are absurd. But thank you. It wasn’t bad and it did help.”

“Your gratitude is overwhelming,” said Leion, demonstrating her point by putting his hand to his heart in an exaggerated gesture of hurt. He straightened, and waved towards the door. “Shall we go?”

Viyony halted. “What about Delver?”

“The army medic is here. He won’t need us.” He put a hand to her arm; Viyony felt the slight pressure through the thick blanket still draped around her shoulders. “I’ll find out how he’s doing after I’ve got you home. You don’t want the Modelens to reach your aunt’s ahead of you and start a panic.”

“I am all right, you know,” she said, stiffening. She couldn’t seem to help it when Leion was around, as if she needed to shore up the ramparts and strengthen all her defences; to look down on him from the safe heights of her disapproval. “This isn’t exactly usual, but it has happened before.” Her gaze strayed back to where the medic was leaning over towards Marran, and she stopped; the reality of it hitting her fully. “Oh, Shara. Why did I wait so long? If it hadn’t been for you, we’d have been too late – he’d have been dead.”

Leion ushered her towards the exit. He patted her arm lightly. “This isn’t Eseray. Not everything is your responsibility.”

“Yes, but if I have one of these dreams –” She raised her gaze to meet his as she allowed him to remove the blanket from her shoulders. “I know what it means. I know what the risk is if I ignore it.”

He gathered up the blanket in his arms. “We were in time. Nothing else matters. And if you don’t want to make trouble for yourself, we ought to go.” He paused, and raised an eyebrow at her. “That outfit is ruined, I fear.”

“Only dirty. I’m sure it can be salvaged,” said Viyony. “But, yes – lead on.” She didn’t need Aunt Diyela having a fit because Viyony had done all the things she’d told her not to and then vanished into the bargain. She had trouble enough without that.