by Greg Curtis
But then they had shot at him he decided a few moments later. They could remain blind for a day or two. Maybe it would teach them a lesson.
Chapter Twenty Five
Goats were surprisingly good company, Elodie thought as she petted one of them. The cat was a grouch, the chickens just wandered around clucking in their coop, but the goats would come over and greet you. And they loved to have their heads scratched and their floppy ears rubbed.
This was an odd place. And yet it was unexpectedly beautiful. Chy had an eye when it came to building. But then maybe that was what had made him take up work polishing stones. He liked beauty. Regardless, she liked his home. It was warm and solid, simple and yet charming. And she even liked the wheel as it continued its eternal turning, rumbling away softly. It was like music. Or maybe it was like the giant wind wheels of her home as they ran the mill. The quiet rumble was much the same. A peaceful, soothing sound.
Of course these days his home was busy. It had only been a week or so since Chy had sent his message, but still since then, the world had changed. Now people were coming and going at all hours. So many people. They arrived in the portal on the patio, connected up their own webs of portals to it, and left – mostly. But some were doing more. Building new portals. Spreading them out across the human world and others. Connecting up towns and cities. And of course finding new people with the gift to join them. And she guessed, all of that was also happening on a great many more worlds – including Thiessen.
The world – the worlds that was – were changing. This spiderweb of portals as Chy called it, was growing into something far larger than she could have imagined possible.
Chy's plan, as simple as it was, changing things. But while it was obviously a good idea to start inter-connecting towns and cities across the worlds, she doubted that that was why it was being done. It was for a much more pressing reason. People were scared. They saw this as a hope.
Was that a good thing? Sometimes she wondered as she watched the chaos unfolding all around her. It was a necessary thing – something that was only too clear when there was still an ice mountain slowly melting away only a league or so away from them. But was it good? She didn't know. But they were now sending people home.
The dwarves had gone. Headed home to Stalen and the Cupris Clanhold with more than a few barrels of human ale. All except Yarin Coldstream who she understood was spending his days drinking in the local alehouses and his nights on the streets of Charlton. And the giants had returned home too, with some strange tales to tell, and some strange clothes as well. But others hadn't. The sun elves had made a camp for themselves in the forest and apparently decided they liked it there. She didn't know why. She'd met Lialle De Clara, and discovered not just a lady of great pride, but also one of many secrets. But then the sun elves – at least their nobility – were like that.
Strangely others had arrived. Now there was a circle of dryads camped just over the road from Chy's home, slowly building themselves a new village. She didn't mind that though she rather imagined that the humans were going to be shocked when they saw houses being built out of trees and bushes that simply grew into the required shapes.
She quite liked the dryads with their mottled skin and ears that looked as though rats had chewed on them. They were a good people – even if they dressed appallingly and let their hair run wild and poked sticks and flowers in it at random. But she doubted they could help with the crisis. Their magic was largely of the natural world. Those of their number who came to the Temple sat in either the throne of the reclining nymph with child or the lion with the crown. Life and dominion. Some few had sat on the throne of the three eyed lizard and learned the magic of the soul. But she wasn't aware of any who had sat on the throne of the snake. They did not have the magic of dimension and they could not create portals.
Which made her wonder why they had come. If they could not help with the construction of the web of portals, and knew nothing of the sprites and their plans, what could they do here? It was something that she thought might be important when she saw that several of them were heading towards her and the goats.
“Greetings,” she welcomed them politely, while still petting the goat.
“And you Guardian.” The leader, a man called Tyli with the most horribly messy hair imaginable, replied.
He didn't just have twigs in his hair, Elodie thought – he had flowering bushes! It was almost a wonder that he didn't fall over when he nodded. But he was still one of the circle. He deserved to be listened to. “I'm not sure I am a guardian any longer,” Elodie told him sadly. “I'm not worthy of that station.”
“And that's not for you to judge. Worthy or not you hold that station – and if what we have been told is true – you may be the last of your people to do so.”
Elodie stopped petting the goat then, her happiness gone. He was right of course. She was probably the last guardian – though it tore her to the quick to think of that. And yet there was one thing even more frightening. That Chy might be right. That there could be one more. A traitor to the order who had given knowledge to the sprites and now who presumably still lived. He or she might well still be alive, saved by the sprites, perhaps somewhere in N'Diel. She tried every day to think who that might be. To remember the guardians she had buried and try to work out who she might not have seen. But she could not work it out no matter how hard she tried. So many of the bodies of her fellow guardians had been too badly disfigured to even identify. And it was best not to dwell on such matters she had discovered.
“How may I help you?” she finally asked.
“In truth we would like to help you – and ourselves. But I fear it will not be an easy or a welcome thing.”
“I don't understand.”
“We spoke with Chy Waine Martin, and we learned all that he had learned from you of the ones who took over the Heartfire Temple. But we would like to learn more.”
A chill ran through Elodie when he mentioned the perfect elves. These days she was stronger, but mostly because she didn't think of them and what they had done. She tried to forget them as much as she was able. And he was speaking so softly and with such concern in his voice. That had to be bad.
Where was Chy? She looked around for him, thinking to ask him exactly what he'd said. But even as she searched, she remembered. He was in Highfall, a town just a few leagues north of Stonely, where a herd of unicorns were creating trouble. He would not be able to answer her questions. And as the pace of changes and desperate pleas for help increased, she suspected he wouldn't be able to do much at all in the coming days.
“Learn what?” she eventually asked, once her heart had stopped fluttering uneasily.
“We would like to share in your memories of them. To see them for ourselves.”
Elodie's heart stopped beating when he said that. When she understood what he was suggesting. Invading her privacy as they had, and then forcing her to remember what she had so carefully tried to forget. It was a terrible thing. But somehow she kept from screaming her terrified denial at him and remembered her civility.
“I would not welcome that.”
“You fear it. And that is to be understood. You are an elf – a copper elf. So much of your people's station and respect stands upon the visage you present. Always in control. Always thoughtful and proper. Anything that endangers that visage is to be feared. And revealing your innermost thoughts to others, your fears and darknesses and mortal traits, is a terror in and of itself. Then the way that was done, with force, must have been the darkest of nightmares. As was being unable to prevent it happening. Showing weakness before others.”
“We sorrow that that happened to you. It was wrong.”
“But we will not do that to you. To force someone like that is a great wrong to us. We will not pry into your secrets. We would never leave you exposed and vulnerable in such a way. We only wish to see through your memories to the ones who did that to you. And we hope that in doing so, we will uncover something of the ones
who hurt you. Something useful.”
The woman beside him unexpectedly took over then. “We can take some of the pain from you as we do this. We can make it as though it is not a memory but rather a story that you are telling yourself if that need be. But it may still not be easy. In the end however, this is of the Heartfire. It's magic must always require sacrifice. You know that. And you are a guardian and your Temple has been invaded. This is your duty.”
By the Lady she was right, Elodie realised. By all the Ladies and Gentlemen! It was her duty. She had taken an oath ten years before, to serve the Heartfire with all she had. To protect it. And here she was, thinking of refusing a chance to do just that. She could not refuse. The thought of what she was being asked to do sickened her to her very heart. But she could not refuse.
“Tell me what you need me to do.” Elodie choked the words out, and prayed that they would be enough. Because she didn't think she could say much more.
“Just be seated and trust us. We will do the rest.”
Elodie did as she was asked, finding a place on the grass that looked comfortable and settling down on to it. And when she did the others did the same. Forming a giant circle and making her a part of it. Then they linked hands and the two beside her took hers in turn.
“Now relax. Breathe. And know that you have nothing to fear.”
That was easy for them to say Elodie thought. It wasn't their memories and thoughts that were being invaded. But still it was her duty. So she did her best to do as they said. Calming her heart which was beating too fast in her chest, steadying her breathing so that the air flowed smoothly in and out of her lungs, and trying not to think about anything – like the horror she feared was coming. And somehow, helped a little by their words perhaps, she managed it.
“Now your thoughts are with us,” they told her. All of them somehow speaking with a single voice that was both in her ears and in her head. “And you are with us. Safe in our thoughts. Nothing can harm you here. Nothing needs to be hidden. We are all one.”
Elodie doubted that. But still she was relaxing somehow. Maybe they were helping her to relax somehow. In fact she almost felt as though she was floating. And as they continued, telling her she was safe, that feeling only grew stronger. It was almost as if she wasn't quite there and that nothing mattered. She was at peace. And so when they asked her to remember that day, it felt a little like a dream. Most of all it didn't scare her. Until she suddenly heard the first of those perfect elves address her again.
For a moment, when she heard the woman address her, telling her that she had made a mess of things, the fear returned. But somehow it went away. Because it wasn't her. It was someone else that the woman was talking to. She was just watching it as though it was a play and the others were actors. Somehow that was enough and the fear faded quickly.
So she watched the play with the others and unexpectedly found herself curious. But was it her that was curious about what was happening? Elodie didn't know. It was more as though many people were curious and she was simply a part of those many.
And then she saw the faces. Perfect faces. And just as the actor in the chair knew they were false, so too did she watching on from above. But while the actor feared them, she knew only curiosity about them.
They weren't elves. They certainly weren't copper elves. But she couldn't have said what told her that. Because they looked like copper elves in every detail. Except they didn't have wrinkles! No laugh lines. No creases around the eyes. Their foreheads did not furrow. And they revealed no age. These perfect elves weren't just perfect and beautiful in every way, they were ageless. She hadn't noticed that before.
Nor had she noticed their clothes. Neat and tidy beyond what clothes could be. Robes that had no creases on them. No loose hems. No stains. It was as though the clothes had been perfectly made, cut and shaped exactly to fit the wearers and never fold or bend when their wearer moved. That was impossible – if they were actual clothes.
But stranger still, they had no expressions. No look of happiness or sadness. No emotion of any sort. These people she decided, were living statues. No more mortal and alive than the perfectly carved stone.
Time moved on and they asked her their questions and saw their answers in her, and the actor in the chair screamed and cried and broke down. But Elodie didn't. She simply floated there above it all and watched, learning more about what had happened than she'd noticed before. Like the fact that they asked her more questions than she remembered. Questions about the sprites. And she in turn had answered them with her memories and thoughts, though she remembered nothing of it until now.
The questions were interesting. Not because of what they wanted to know, but what they didn't know. They didn't know what sprites were. And how, she wondered, could anyone not know what sprites were?
They asked her about the void too, and it having been raised. She remembered them doing that. But she didn't remember them sounding surprised that she knew nothing of it.
After that they had asked her about the battle in the Temple. Why it had happened. And why she had defended the Temple. They hadn't known she was a guardian. They hadn't even known what a guardian was. That made no sense to her. How could they be in the Temple and not know who its guardians were?
But again she had shown them. They had seen her memories of the day she had taken the oath. And when she had done that, for the first time she sensed an emotion in them – puzzlement. As if they could not understand that people would do that.
So who were they? What were they? As she watched the play being acted out in front of her, she could not work that out. But others did. She sensed that they knew the answers where all she had were questions.
They replayed her memories in greater detail when they were done with the first telling. Looking at things more closely than she would have thought was possible. Slowing things down in places so they could study actions and expressions – not that there were many of either. Listening in detail to the words that were spoken. Analysing them.
And in the end the play she was watching actually became boring. She had not expected that. But when you went through it in such minute detail, it lost any interest. There was no story left. No emotion. Just dry, boring details.
So when they'd finally decided they'd seen and heard enough and let it go, she was actually relieved. But for a very different reason than what she would have expected.
Still as she opened her eyes to see the others sitting there with her, it was good. She felt no pain. No shame. No vulnerability. Elodie was grateful for that. And she was curious.
“So did you see what you needed to see? Learn who they were?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” Tyli answered her.
“Unfortunately?” That didn't sound good.
“It was as we expected. We had hoped for something more but Belar was not kind to us. But then the Lore Master seldom is. Knowledge is never kind.”
Elodie actually knew something of the dryad gods. And she knew of Belar the Lore Master. He was their lord of knowing. The dryads revered him – but they did not like him – nor for that matter hate or fear him. They more considered him dangerous but useful. Still the fact that Tyli had named him even if they were unhappy with what he'd shown them, suggested that they knew the truth.
“So who are they?” Even if they didn't like the answer, she wanted to know. And Chy and the others would want to know. Because maybe they would be of some help in the battle ahead.
“You already know that, yourself,” the dryad answered her sadly. “You simply have not wanted to accept it. It must be a difficult thing for a guardian to accept.”
“You're going to have to be more clear.”
“They are beings of immense power but little knowledge of this world. They are ageless, untroubled by the cares of time, but know nothing of the people of this world. Little in the way of emotion affects them, as though their thoughts are made of stone, while their bodies appear the same – perfectly sculptured and never ex
posed to the harshness of the world. And they arrived only after you sent the Heartfire thrones out into the other worlds. Does that not tell you all that you need to know?”
“No,” Elodie answered him truthfully, though a little worried that she was showing her ignorance.
“Then there is one more fact to be considered. There are twelve thrones. Constructions of stone and magic. And there were twelve of your perfect elves.”
“Piss!” Elodie stared at him in shock as she realised what he was saying. And then for a moment she thought about denying it. But even as she did, it occurred to her that he could be right. She hadn't counted the number of them.
“They are the thrones?” She paused for a moment simply to accept those words. “But how can that be? It's not possible!”
“The Temple is old,” one of the women answered her. “Ancient. Built before any of the mortal races walked the worlds. And the thrones are a part of it. Just as ancient. The mystery of that may never be unravelled. But it must be that there was another race of people that walked the worlds – or as it turns out, the one great world – long before any of us.”
