Redemption Of The Sacred Land (Book 3)

by Mark Tyson

  “Aye, but as I said, we were ambushed before we could have anything done about it. Also, we were told the woman who performed the marriage, and therefore could annul it, had been killed. I now consider her death a lie, but at the time, I believed it.” Bren looked into Dorenn’s confused and hurt face. “Only the one who first performed the marriage can annul it, according to the customs of Trigothia. We discussed just ignoring the fact that we were married and carry on like it never happened, but Tatrice said she would always feel like she was living a lie.”

  “But you consider her your wife enough to acknowledge her as wife?”

  “I suppose I got used to it. Don’t go making a big deal out of it. I’m trying to tell you the marriage is not a true reflection of how she feels about me. She didn’t like me referring to her as my wife, if it makes you feel any better.” He took another sip of tea. “Look, we are only husband and wife in spirit. We are not husband and wife in the eyes of Loracia, goddess of all life.”

  Dorenn took a deep breath and then sipped his tea. He happened to inattentively look at Seandara, who had begun absently cleaning up the tray. Her face was solemn and stern, and her lips were curled, almost in a frown. At last, he got the hint. Seandara was interested in him. Even after he had acted like a complete fool in Endil, when he was ill with essence sickness, she still liked him. He decided he needed to talk to her to break the mood, even if the conversation was off topic. “Seandara, where are Morgoran and Sanmir?”

  She looked at him with puzzlement. “I thought I had already told you. Morgoran and Sanmir are busy in the lower tower rebuilding the Migarath Portal. They were saying something about getting it to connect to a portal closer to the Sacred Land.”

  “Actually, this is the first I am hearing of it. Morgoran has a working Migarath Portal here in the tower?”

  “Aye, he does. He said he tried to test it again lately and it didn’t connect to the other portals as it should, specifically to the Migarath Portal in Lux Enor and the one closest to the Sacred Land. I believe he was referring to a forgotten portal in one of the Eastern border villages. At any rate, the portal system is old and prone to misalignments.”

  Rennon’s stomach growled. “Is there anything to eat around here?”

  “I think so. Do you want me to go and check the kitchen?” Seandara asked.

  “If you would be so kind,” Rennon said.

  Seandara left the room, and Rennon’s smile turned to seriousness. “Dorenn, Morgoran wants to take some men through the portal and attack Naneden and Toborne at Lux Enor or the Sacred Land. He could get Tatrice injured.”

  “I never understood why Naneden doesn’t just destroy Lux Enor’s Migarath Portal. Doesn’t he realize it’s there?” Dorenn asked.

  “Morgoran says Toborne doesn’t want it destroyed. It’s too useful to him. Toborne destroying his portal would be the same as us destroying ours—not smart.”

  “He should at least guard it better,” Dorenn said. He stared across the table at Bren sipping his bittering tea, oblivious to his surroundings, and the pang of that man being married to Tatrice hit him again. All at once, Dorenn realized that Bren was oddly not the least bit interested in the attack on Naneden or Toborne. Is he a plant, designed to infiltrate my camp? Dorenn thought. He couldn’t be disguised or Rennon would see through it. What if Bren was still under the influence of a mindwielder? Would Rennon know somehow? Am I just being paranoid, seeing shadows everywhere now? He tried to twitch his face muscles to warn Rennon to shut up and stop telling secret information about Morgoran’s plans, just in case Bren was still under the mindwielder’s control, but his friend was not getting the hint.

  “What’s wrong with your face?” Rennon asked. Bren looked up to see as well, so Dorenn had to stop twitching. Rennon launched right back into talking about attacking Lux Enor, and Bren seemed to be disinterested, but he was actually listening intently while fiddling with his tea. Desperate, Dorenn drew in essence through his own mind and projected. Shut up, Rennon. I think Bren is still under the spell of the enemy!

  Rennon’s eyes went wide, and his jaw dropped. Did you just mindwield?

  I don’t know. Is this mindwielding? Dorenn projected.

  Aye, loud and clear. No wonder you can see through the Drasmyd Duil’s disguises occasionally. I should have realized you could mindwield.

  Seandara returned with some pastries on a silver tray. Bren was quietly sipping his bittering tea, and Rennon and Dorenn looked at her as if they were up to some mischief.

  Seandara grinned. “What is it? Do I have food on my dress or something?” She looked down to check.

  Veric tracked Ianthill up to a mound of dead trees, deep into the Sacred Land. Night had fallen, and the moonlight was just bright enough to illuminate the area, even though it was not completely full. Veric spotted Ianthill ahead and approached him.

  “I don’t know why I am surprised you tracked me here. You always did have a way of tracking even the lightest footfalls,” Ianthill said.

  “Why did you slip away from the group like that?” Veric asked.

  “Morgoran and I agreed I should come here to investigate the tomb of the Oracle. Dorenn would have insisted he come along if we told him, and we wanted to investigate this without him. His friends might be involved, and we wanted to make sure before we involved him in a delicate situation. Veric had Theosus create the illusion for me to escape without alerting anyone. That is, except for you apparently. All the others forgot I was with them, but not you. Did you give us away?”

  “No, I made up some barely believable excuse to part company with them to come after you.”

  “Good, we have another illusion to cast when I return. They will never know I left. Why did you decide to follow me? I thought you were after Sylvalora?”

  Veric studied Ianthill for a moment. “Sylvalora is fine. She is with Toborne, but all is not as it seems. Toborne believes he has her under his spell, but Ianthill, my wife has gifts from the gods. Do you believe for a moment that she didn’t sense my reawakening and contact me?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “She has been with me every step of the way. I am bonded to her as dragon knight and husband. She is the reason I was not fooled by your illusion, and she sent me after you. She is also worried that the Oracle may be awakening with the Sacred Land. She says Toborne is planning to use her to take control of the Oracle.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Because it was Golvashala, the Oracle, who originally took the power of the god Aedreagnon and created the foul creatures of this realm. Toborne was merely an apprentice, but he now wants all of the power of his master. He wants to kill the Oracle, take his powers, and become a god!”

  “It’s worse than Morgoran and I feared, then.”

  “My task is here with you. We need to see if the Oracle is attempting to return, and formulate a plan to defeat him again,” Veric said.

  “Before Toborne can defeat him and take him over,” Ianthill added.

  “Oh, Toborne will never be able to do that. Sylvalora would never allow it. His feeble plan will be thwarted. It’s the return of the Oracle with the power of the Sacred Land that Sylvalora fears. The Oracle is the real threat here. Toborne is just a way for Sylvalora to get closer to the real danger and tie up a few old threads that need tying. I thought you realized; Sylvalora has been plotting all of this from the day she and Sheyna found Dorenn with the peddler on the road outside Brookhaven.”

  “It would have been nice to have been included in the plan,” Ianthill said.

  “You are. I just included you.” Veric looked off into the distance. “There is one other point I need to tell you about. The Oracle cannot awaken on his own, and not with the magic he possesses at his fingertips. He has to be resurrected by two clerics of life.”

  “Why would he play by the rules? We have been getting reports from the Sacred Land. The grounds around the temple are stirring as if the Oracle is awakening,” Ianthill said.


  “Do you think he can somehow resurrect on his own?”

  “Not if we can find his tomb and prevent it. That mound on the next hill is where the Temple of the Oracle stood one thousand seasons ago when we fought the War of the Oracle. It’s the last place anyone ever saw him. Follow me.”

  Ianthill led Veric across the rocky soil to the spot in question.

  Veric surveyed the barren ground. Other than the bare, dead trees and a good-sized boulder, there was nothing to indicate a temple once stood there. “Are you certain this is the spot, Ianthill?”

  “Without a doubt. Morgoran and I put that boulder there to mark it.” He examined the stone. “See, here is the chisel mark we carved into the stone.”

  “This was where the Temple of the Oracle stood, then.” Veric reached down and took a handful of soil and let it slip between his fingers. “It seems you were wrong about the stirrings here. The Oracle still sleeps.”

  Ianthill suddenly seemed agitated. “We just don’t know what became of the Oracle. He is presumed dead, and that’s the way I like to think about him. However, I’m beginning to catch on to the fact that not everything we thought we knew at the end of the war holds true. Morgoran came across evidence that the wielder Migarath lived in a village called Roseshade. The Temple of Loracia there used to be his home. He is supposed to have built the first Migarath Portal there.” He looked Veric in the eye. “After I leave here, I plan to go there and investigate it.”

  “I will go there with you.” Veric surveyed the area. “Your theory is that the Oracle has somehow been manipulating events from the grave. Perhaps he never met his doom in the first place. Is that your assessment?”

  “Aye, from the moment the Sacred Land began its renewal. Imagine you control a vast army and you can see your defeat looming. He is called the Oracle for a reason, you know. You also see the creation of a new source of tremendous power coming from your defeat, meaning the Sacred Land. The smart play would be to go into hiding and wait, lurking in the shadows, letting your enemy think he has won, biding your time for a more opportune time to strike, a time you know you could win with little doubt. I met with Queen Sildariel earlier. She and her people are headed to meet with the Defenders. We may need their help in the near future if we are right about what is happening here.”

  “If you are correct, our time may be running out faster than we thought. I need to contact Sylvalora. She needs to know your thoughts.” He sat down on the boulder and took out a small piece of parchment and a stubby little quill with no ink. He wrote dry on the parchment and released it into the air. It disappeared with a hiss of the wind.

  Chapter 10: Roseshade

  The temperature began to fall as the sun went down and there was the distinct hint of moisture in the air as Lady Shey and Gondrial followed Veric’s trail on horseback across Symboria toward the Sacred Land.

  Taking a moment to reorient on Veric’s trail, Gondrial and Shey let the horses graze on some prairie grass. Now on foot, Lady Shey looked up at the low-hanging grey clouds as the last light of day faded. “We need to hurry on. I think it might snow.” She knew the snow would obscure any tracks within hours unless the snow fell heavily, and then they would only have a few moments. “Do you see his tracks, Gondrial? It isn’t too dark now for you to see them, is it?”

  “Aye, I still have his trail. I can see his tracks well; he isn’t trying to hide them from us or anyone else,” Gondrial said. “He is headed straight for the Sacred Land.”

  “I forget you have great half-elven night vision.” She said. “This route takes us near Signal Hill. Are there any buildings left there for shelter, you think?”

  “There were several stone buildings there. I doubt Dorenn was able to burn them all down.” He took a few more steps and stopped. “I’m not one to shy away from trouble, but that place gives me the shivers. I think I would like to avoid it, if possible. Signal Hill isn’t a good place to bed down the horses, either.”

  “Well, there are the border villages. I haven’t visited them much on this side of the Sacred Land, but if I remember right, there is a little farm village about three leagues east of the border.”

  “Aye, it’s a village called Roseshade, and as I remember it, the place is three times the size of Brookhaven. It isn’t exactly what I would think of as small.”

  “Roseshade, that sounds pleasant enough. Why don’t we make for that village?

  Flurries of snow began to fall, and Gondrial bundled the scarf he had around his neck tighter. “I believe we should. The snow is beginning to fall. It makes sense for us to seek shelter. The snowfall will cover up Veric’s trail, and the horses won’t be able to graze for a while after this.”

  Shey nodded and walked to a grassy clearing where their horses were munching the tall stalks of winter prairie grass. She grabbed the hanging reins and mounted her horse. Gondrial followed suit.

  After about a half hour, the scant trail they followed was made more difficult by the now accumulating snow. Gondrial and Shey rode at a fast, steady pace. The snow had begun to fall in heavy flakes when they sighted the home fires and soft glowing light of the village of Roseshade ahead. Instinctively they increased speed to get there faster once their goal was in sight.

  When they arrived at the village stables, they were surprised to find them empty. Not only was the stableman gone but all of the horses were missing as well. The front barn door swung back and forth, unsecured in the slight winter wind, and the stables appeared in disarray as if all the horses were evacuated in a hurry. Gondrial dismounted and led his horse into the stables. He took his sword out of its sheath after he secured a bag of feed for his mount. He laid the sword on a nearby railing while he led and fed Lady Shey’s horse as well. Lady Shey retrieved her daggers and dagger belt, strapping them on as Gondrial carefully locked down the stable barn door.

  Gondrial whispered to Lady Shey. “This doesn’t look good. Stay close to me, and we will have a look around.”

  Shey nodded but didn’t reply. Gondrial fetched his sword, and Lady Shey drew her daggers. She put them at the ready by her sides. They exited the side door into the village square. The snow fell heavily now, obscuring the view of most of the buildings across the way. There was lantern light in most all the houses within sight but no detectable movement. Usually when a family moved about their house, the light seen from outside the windows had a flickering effect. All the light Lady Shey could see was steady.

  In the distance, behind some of the shops, came a clattering noise, like steel on steel. Gondrial signaled for Lady Shey to circle around the northwest side of the shops while he went northeast. Shey understood he wanted to meet up with whatever was making the noise in the middle. She moved stealthily through the narrow passageways in between the shops and houses until she came to a backlot clearing. She did not have night vision like the half-elven Gondrial, so she squinted to see. Three dark figures were locked in melee. Since she couldn’t make out any more than shadows, she decided to risk drawing in a small amount of essence. She spoke a few words and released the spell. Her eyes glowed a light blue for a brief moment and adjusted to see every dark nook and cranny before her. If the three figures could use essence, they were apparently too busy to detect her night vision spell. She could now see Gondrial sneaking up from the east.

  One of the three fighters was a young woman that appeared to be about twenty seasons. She was dodging the wild swinging of a quarter staff. The person fighting beside her was a young man of about the same age with a wicked-looking broadsword. It had spikes on the hilt and curved slightly at the point. The last figure’s posture was distinctively male. He was cloaked, and he had his back turned to Shey

  “We are not your enemy,” the female said. “We are just trying to find our way back home.”

  “Everything is so different; we are merely lost,” the young man said.

  Lady Shey thought they were talking to the man they were fighting, but when the battle moved them closer to her hiding place a
nd the woman looked directly at her, Shey could see she was an elf, and she was talking to her. “Are you going to help us?” she said to Lady Shey.

  Lady Shey contemplated her position for a moment. The woman was clearly elven, but her skin was much darker than any other she had ever seen, even darker than Sanmir. Just after the woman pleaded for help, Shey caught a glimpse under the hood of the man the two were fighting. He only had one eye; the other had popped out of its socket. His face was dirty and crumbling; skin only covered half of it. Lady Shey sprang into action, her two daggers swirling with near impossible speed. Gondrial was close behind the creature as well. Before his blade fell, Lady Shey pivoted on her center of gravity and struck. Gondrial’s slash caught the head just after Shey had severed it, and it flung far into the distance, shattering on the nearest wall. The quarter staff, complete with the corpse’s arm, fell to the ground as the creature’s torso fell backward while its legs fell forward. Lady Shey’s daggers had cut it in half. She sheathed her daggers on her belt in the last fluid motion of the attack and faced the two young people, her cloak repositioning around her dramatically.

  Gondrial sheathed his sword and joined her. “I had forgotten how good you are with those things,” Gondrial said, grinning with appreciation.

  “You only get to forget once,” she said. She looked at the face of the young man closely and realized he, too, was a dark-skinned elf. “Where are you two from, and what are you doing here?”

  “And what do you know of the townspeople?” Gondrial added.

  The male stepped forward after sheathing his sword. “I am Jot, and this is my sister Aela. We are from Silverston, the Arillian isles.”

  “Silverston. That’s the sky city on the Western island, right?” Gondrial asked. “Impossibly high up on a mountain.”

  “Aye, sir,” Jot confirmed. “Separate from the elves on the main island.”

  “What in the ashes of Ishrak are you doing here?” Gondrial asked.