Kaegan took the reins from her hand, walking a short distance to a page standing in wait. “Tend them well,” he instructed the young man before returning to Loriann’s side. “That monstrosity is Skybourne. Do they live in the clouds?”
“Skybourne is ancient. It was formed by the passage of great glaciers aeons ago. The people who live there are rumored to be a hardy folk with an inherent skill with magic, archery, and horses. It is said their archers can pierce the heart of a githok several rods above in the sky.”
“Then we need them,” Kaegan mused as he and Loriann prepared their bedding. “Can you convince them to join us, my lady?”
“I hope to.” She lay beside him, arm across his chest, grateful for the warmth of his hands holding hers. “We should rest. Skybourne awaits.” Sleep came, but it was not peaceful. Her dreams were disturbed by images of the past.
Her mother lay in a pile of rubble, surrounded by flames. A boy knelt beside her, sobbing as he cried out, “Mama! Please don’t go!” Her mother’s forefinger coming to rest at her temple, pressing gently, quivering as her life essence faded.
“You must take the gifts, Loriann. You are stronger than Ebin. Hold his gifts, give them to him when the time is right. Remember to visit our ancestral home. Skybourne awaits.” Her mother coughed, blood-stained spittle rising to cover her lips. “Run, stay far away from the king’s men. Both of you. Run!”
Ebin disappeared into the darkness. Loriann found her way to the abandoned barn, peering through a wide crack between the boards. She watched as two men approached. She watched as Willem Jarin thrust a sword into her mother’s chest. The rage grew, nearly consuming her until her mother’s last bit of healing power wiped the memories from her mind.
She cried out as sleep was snatched from her. Kaegan sat holding her hands as she wept. “I saw it. I saw what happened to my mother. Willem Jarin killed her for Cedric.” She looked at him, eyes wide. “Ebin is my brother!”
“I couldn’t imagine having a finer brother,” he said. “Did you learn other things in your dream?”
“Skybourne is our ancestral home. I must go there.” Dawn broke across the grey sky. Tendrils of rose, magenta, crimson, and purple colored the horizon until the twin suns rose to color the land with their scorching golden rays. Loriann found the mare, mounting it bareback, using only her knees to guide the animal toward the massive mountain looming from the scorched plain.
Kaegan called out as she rode away, “We will follow.” To the men he called, “Break camp and ready yourselves to ride within the hour!”
***
Loriann continued toward the mountain. She did not glance back or worry about those left behind. An ancient purpose beckoned, drawing her toward the mountain. Within an hour she approached the single path snaking around the mountain, clinging perilously to the grey stone sides. The mare was as sure-footed as the men of Riverpoint were with fishing. Stones clattered down the steep path as the mare continued upward. Loriann did not falter. She reached the halfway point of the mountain as the twin suns rose high in the sky.
Thick vines and roots grew down a cliff’s face and blocked the path. Their gnarled lengths dug deep into the path’s surface. Birds and animals called from the thick vegetation looming ahead and above. As Loriann approached the vines and roots retracted as if understanding her mission. A steep, muddy horseshoe bend in the path was the mare’s undoing. The animal balked, ears pointing backwards, hooves dancing nervously. Loriann dismounted, patting the animal on the neck. “Go back, girl. The journey is mine to make from here.”
Silence loomed as oppressively as a coffin’s lid as Loriann traversed the bend. Her feet slid in the sucking mud, bringing her perilously close to the path’s edge. A loose stone hurtled down the mountain’s side, clattering and bouncing wildly until it disappeared into the misty distance below. The githok circled below, diving and screeching at the land beneath them.
Loriann wound a vine around her arm, using the leafy rope to aid the upward trek. After an interminable struggle she managed to move past the bend. An immense grassy field encircled by an impenetrable primeval forest opened before her. The path meandered through the field before leading Loriann into the undergrowth.
A dozen or more mounted riders met her no less than a hundred paces into the labyrinth of trees and vines. Loriann held a hand aloft, a universal sign of peace. “I am Loriann Astus. This is my ancestral home!” she called.
The mounted men raised thickly muscled arms aloft, fists clenched. Their heads were thrown back, horses danced, as their triumphant cry roared toward the sky. The guttural cry reverberated within her core until her fist rose into the air. The ancient cry came unbidden, innately a part of who she was. She joined her brethren, singing the ancestral chorale, tears of joy streaming down her face. She was home.
A man helped her swing aboard his horse. “Our people wait for your arrival, Loriann Astus. We have never known one as powerful as you. The shaman will help you hone your abilities.”
“My husband and our men will be here soon.”
“They must remain below. Only those of our blood may visit Skybourne. A party of warriors will meet them,” the man replied. “It’s not much farther.”
A village appeared in the distance as they left the undergrowth. Thatched huts encircled a stone temple with a single stony spire rising high into the mists lingering at the mountain’s apex. The spire sported four metal rings on each side that faced in the cardinal directions. At each corner of the temple stood a carved statue representing the elements of fire, wind, water, and air. Metal rings protruded from the top. Ropes ran from each corner to the spire at the center, ends trailing on the stone floor. Wide steps on one side led to the center of the temple where a woman with long white hair, wearing a white shift, stood as if waiting for Loriann’s arrival. Men, women, and children encircled the temple, heads down, hands clasped.
“You must go, meet the shaman. Eris Adeia will cleanse you, help you hone your power,” the rider accompanying her stated as they came within fifty paces of the temple.
Loriann dismounted a fluid movement of catlike grace, before striding toward the temple. The woman called out as she stood at the top step, “Your time has come, Loriann Astus. Join me.”
“Who are you?”
“We are the Ashapii, your ancestral kin, Loriann. I am Eris Adria, the shaman,” the woman replied.
Loriann had no fear although her heart raced in her throat. The shaman clasped her hands when she stood before her. The gently lined face and piercing blue eyes bore no sign of ill will.
“Drink this,” Eris commanded as she handed Loriann a stone bowl containing a crimson fluid. “A single drop of the mushroom’s poison will cleanse your mind but bring no harm to you. Then we must begin the ritual.”
The bitter acidic bite of the crimson fluid burned its way to her stomach. “What now?” Loriann inquired as four men and two women entered the temple’s center. Two women carried large metal hooks with razor tipped points.
“You must undress and face the elemental gods as you came into this world. Do not fear the pain. Will you submit to the ritual and accept your power?” Eris asked as her hands cupped Loriann’s face.
Loriann nodded in assent. Eris beckoned for the men and women to come forward as Loriann’s clothing fell to the stone floor. The thick curtain of black hair was braided in a single plait before being bound with a leather tie. A man grasped the skin of one shoulder, bunching it close in his powerful hand. Moments later the white-hot agony of the hook being thrust through the skin came. A hiss of breath escaped clenched teeth, but she did not cry out in pain. Her head swirled as the mushroom’s elixir became one with her life’s blood. The second hook found its home moments later.
Trails of blood ran down each shoulder, along her hip and dripped onto the stone floor. Ropes were tied to the circular end of each hook. Eris beckoned for the men to assume their positions. Sun-darkened skin rippled as each Ashapii man heaved on the rope, lifting
Loriann skyward. Again, the breath hissed between her teeth. The ropes were tied off at the base of each corner. Each movement sent thrills of agony dancing along her spine before rising to tease her mind.
As darkness fell, the full power of the elixir took effect. Great fires were built as her people celebrated her arrival. Drums pounded, pandoras sang rhythmic tunes, and the people danced while singing an ancient song of celebration. Their faces, arms, and bodies were painted with brilliant stripes of silver, white, crimson, emerald, and sapphire--each color representing the earthly elements.
Within Loriann’s mind throbbing spheres of color danced, swirling, teasing, and darting away as she tried to take them. A gold sphere swirled temptingly but moved away before she could grasp it. Then came five swirling spheres that remained just within reach. First, the silver found her hands, melting and coalescing as its molecules became one with the very fibers of her being. It caressed its way along each nerve before settling deep inside her mind. Emerald danced before it burned its way into her hands, bringing with it a hiss of ecstatic pain. It roared its way into her mind, finding the remnants of what lingered there before it became one. Each remaining sphere coalesced its way into her mind until the final sapphire sphere disappeared along the same pathways.
Loriann snarled at the sky, head thrown back as the twin moons rose high overhead. Her blood splattered the stone floor below as she felt the spheres throb, sting, burn, and caress her mind. Below, the never-ending song of celebration continued, as the elixir’s power rose high within her before consciousness faded.
She woke the next morning as the twin suns caressed the morning’s horizon with golden light. Ashes swirled upward, dancing toward the sky with ribbons of smoke. The men appeared, releasing the ropes, gently lowering her to the stone floor. Her legs gave way for a moment before she rose, standing proudly before her people. The women came, releasing the ropes from each hook before the sensual agony of their removal came.
Eris appeared with a white cloak, enfolding her in its cool depths. “You survived, Loriann Astus, just as we knew you would. Give your brother his gift when you see him. You will no longer have the ability to heal, but your elemental powers will know no limit.”
“Thank you, Eris. I must go now. War is almost upon us.” She followed Eris to a hut not far from the temple. A steaming tub of water awaited. She sank into its depths with a grateful sigh, groaning as the water burned the open wounds on each shoulder. The sweat and blood were cleansed from her body. Eris assisted her as she dried her hair and body. A dark liquid was painted upon each wound, stinging its way into her flesh.
“You will heal without difficulty. The scars will remain as testament to the ritual,” Eris stated as she helped Loriann dress. “A company of our men will join you. They have pledged to help you fight this war. Cedric and Willem took one of our daughters, your mother.”
Five hundred mounted men waited just outside the village. Loriann mounted a horse as they rode toward the tangled morass of trees and vines. A song of farewell came from her people, its lilting magical notes melding with the wind. Loriann beckoned farewell with a hand held skyward. The ride to the base of the mountain took a half day as each of the five hundred men carefully traversed the daunting path.
Kaegan and his men waited at the base of the mountain. He met her on foot, hands encircled her waist as he lifted her from the horse. An intake of breath was the only sign of pain she gave.
“We were not allowed to follow you, love. Are you well?” His eyes searched hers, a hand caressing the ivory skin of one cheek. “What happened?”
“I am one with my power now, Kaegan. We need to ride north. The winds of war are upon us,” she replied. “I must find Ebin.”
She did not rest until nightfall when they made camp. It was then that Kaegan saw the wounds on each shoulder as she changed into fresh clothing. “Gods! What did they do to you?” His hand touched each shoulder but stayed well away from the open wounds. There was no answer as sleep claimed her.
****
Chapter 18
Reunited
Loriann dismounted the instant their party arrived at Waelcombe Keep. Derek, Orizahr, and Ebin waited. Her gaze caught Ebin’s. They stood still for a moment before running toward each other. Brother and sister stood with arms tightly wrapped about each other. They abhorred the thought of being apart.
“Brother! I’ve finally found you!” Loriann whispered, hands holding his face as tears streamed down her face.
Ebin’s head came to rest stop hers. “Sister. Do you know how long I have dreamed of having a sister?”
“As long as I have dreamed of having a brother,” she replied. Forefingers came to rest at his temples as she began to recite the same sing-song chant that accompanied the cleansing ritual a few weeks before. Gold light coalesced on her fingertips, caressing Ebin’s temples and forehead. “Take your gift, brother. I cannot hold it any longer.”
“I can’t Loriann! I’m not as strong as you,” he cried.
“You are strong where I am weak. Destruction is my primary element. Healing is yours. You must take it lest it be lost forever, destroyed by the warring powers within me.” She continued the chant as Ebin smiled. The golden light created a halo about his head before dissipating as the spheres of healing power were absorbed.
Ebin’s eyes opened when Loriann’s song ended. Golden eyes held the emerald ones before him. “Thank you, sister.”
Derek, Orizahr, and Kaegan joined them as the githok circled overhead. “We must move north at once,” Derek stated. “Scouts have returned with word that Cedric’s army has gathered near the ruins of Ebonbarrow. The daerveth and their mammoths move to the west to meet us.”
“It begins,” Loriann said. “The prophecy must be fulfilled. We ride tomorrow at dawn’s first light.”
***
Loriann
Derek’s men joined the daerveth to the west of Astor on the rolling emerald plains. Great mammoths with brightly painted emblems of war gracing their furry hides strode along with the daerveth. The rumbling strides of daerveth and mammoth resembled thunder. The sound vibrated deep within the bowels of those who joined them on the plains.
The five hundred Ashapii warriors fanned out behind the daerveth. Loriann, Kaegan, and Ebin rode with them. A dozen or more githok circled overhead, screeching at the sky. Dust plumed skyward as they made their way north. They made camp alongside a stream a few hours before nightfall. Derek approached, encircled by members of his guard. “Loriann, you must do something about the mammoths and daerveth. The horses and men are skittish.”
Eyebrows drawn together, brow furrowed, she replied, “You are their king and chief commander. Give whatever orders you wish to give.”
“The daerveth ignore me as a mother ignores her child’s tantrum.” He looked around then lowered his voice. “Every warrior here respects you far more than they do me, Lady Loriann. Help me, please.”
Loriann sighed, tired and badly in need of rest, yet she refused to ignore Derek’s plight. “We will move farther north. There will be time for rest when we are dead, I suppose.” She walked toward the horses even as Derek called out.
“Loriann, I’m sorry. I did not think...” Derek began. He stopped speaking as Loriann moved toward the horses. Kaegan joined her as she mounted the mare, once again riding bareback.
Torg laughed as she appeared, the sound rumbling like thunder in his chest. “Your king. He does not care for us.”
“He has never traveled among the daerveth. Will you and your people move north with us? Kaegan and I desire a quiet, secure place to rest our heads tonight,” she replied with a smile.
“We will follow you anywhere, Loriann Astus. Even the mammoths heed your call.” Torg motioned with his arm to the dozen or so mammoth gathered in a semicircle nearby. “The githok always follow us. We need not worry over them.”
They moved north beneath the cover of darkness. As the twin moons rose high in the night sky, Torg motioned for the co
mpany to halt. “Here is good. Plenty of grass for horses and mammoths. Trees to break the wind. Water for us all.”
Kaegan and Loriann loosed the horses to graze with the mammoths. They elected to sleep on the ground beneath an oak tree. Their cloaks provided some protection from the night’s chill. Loriann slept fitfully, frequently waking throughout the night. By the time dawn split the sky, she was awake, at the fire, hands held out for warmth. Torg appeared, footsteps rumbling softly as he strode across the plain to meet her.
“The githok tell us of someone coming south. Have your scouts returned from their duties?” Torg sat on the ground near her to warm his own gigantic hands.
“None have returned. We should intercept them later this morning. Perhaps I should ride to meet them,” Loriann mused, eyes locked on the flames a few feet away as the fire in her eyes danced. “What will your people do after the war?”
“We will return to the Forsaken Lands and live out our lives as we always have. We cannot live among men. Few understand us. Most fear us. Fear breeds resentment and hatred,” Torg replied as he plucked a strand of grass from the ground. He chewed the sweet stem as the githok squawked to signal the rising sun.
Loriann rose from the ground. She stood for a moment at Torg’s side. “You and I understand what resentment and hatred do to the soul of a man or woman. I will always call you friend, Torg. We will fight this war side by side until Cedric is dead.”
The daervethi warrior watched as she moved toward the horses. She rode from camp a few moments later, astride the mare, guiding her with only a hand in the animal’s mane and knees at her withers. Loriann’s ebony hair streamed behind her, dancing as the long grass near Skybourne did in the never-ending ocean breeze.
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