by Jason Jones
“What changes, captain?”
“There is a shapeshifter impersonating the Prince. We need to keep quiet, this is between you and I alone. Now listen closely…”
Hunters I:III
Temple of the Whitemoon
Chazzrynn
Peering around to see if they were followed, the wood elf hunter stepped silently from the shadows behind the twisting banyan roots and carefully walked on the gray stone steps that led down into the grove. He followed the path, watching for slick spots caused by the quickly vanishing snows.
“Bedesh, stay close and do not veer from the steps.” Lavress knew that the sacred groves of the Whitemoon were well protected by fey enchantments millennia old. Even for a member or the Hedim Anah such as he, violation would result in entry being denied should he not step appropriately. The stone steps were to be followed, no tree branches touched, no weapons drawn, and above all else, only the language of the fey court was to be spoken once inside the circle of the sacred temple.
“Do you speak the tongue of the forests?”
“Of course I do, I grew up in Haven Glen.” The satyr was nervous, as always, but felt safer with this savage elf, knowing he was the beloved of Shinayne. She had told him much of Lavress Tilaniun, and so far, she had been right. He moved like a shade of the night through the forests, saw things before they were near, and spoke seldom. Bedesh tried to make conversation over the last several days, but to little avail. Lavress was always watching, stalking, maneuvering through the forests, keeping the pace brisk and determined to not be caught by whatever and whoever hunted the two of them. Five times had they crossed the Garalan River, twice had they slept in trees, all to throw those that hunted them off the trail.
“Very well. Do not speak any other tongue than that, and do not draw your bow for any reason. Follow my exact steps, and remain calm. This is a temple of the Whitemoon, and you are my guest. Be nothing short of respectful here.” The hunter did not blink when he spoke, his eyes full of reason and discipline, a seriousness unwavering.
“What if we are attacked?” Bedesh queried.
“If harm comes our way, the Whitemoon forgives. But that will not happen. This is sacred ground, my friend.”
Lavress walked softly down ancient stone steps overgrown with vines and foliage, his soft hide boots making not a sound on the cracked descent. A grove of willows and banyans cascading a circle around polished stones in an open field appeared, the cold wind blowing the bare branches as they approached. Then, Lavress stopped.
“Where did the snow go? Why have we stopped, Lavress?”
“The weather here is controlled by the daughters. The wind has told the trees we are here, and the trees will tell the court. We will wait here at the stones.”
Bedesh stared ahead as peace and security fell over him from merely stepping foot in the circle of trees. He followed the motions of the elf in front of him, got on his knees with his eyes toward the clouded sky in prayer. Mimicking every motion of his rescuer, the satyr leaned over and placed his hands palm down on the grass and earth, and kissed it softly. He could not follow the exact words or phrases the elf was issuing to Seirena, the Goddess of nature and life, but he did hum along and did his best to listen in the ancient forest tongue of his homeland elders.
Lavress Tilaniun stood up, his hands clasped in front of his waist, eyes closed, and he heard the song of the fey. Faint whispers in harmony, songs from small voices unseen, humming in yet deeper tones. The wind rushing through the branches, the synchronicity of it all made everything move, yet time stood still. The voices rose from the northern side of the circle, and the two weary fugitives felt relief as warm air and green light washed over them when the stone steps opposite them split, as vine and earth seemed to flow apart like water. Hours it took to widen, yet Lavress and Bedesh stayed still, a low peaceful rumble of deep splitting rock led into an ancient temple that slowly appeared.
From under split steps up and out of the grove, stairs down under the earth were revealed. Lights of red and green shimmered in the flickering morning sky as dozens of sprites, no bigger than the elf’s hand, darted about the entrance to the sacred hidden temple. The fey were inviting them, guarding, and whispering songs of the earth. Lavress raised his left hand to his chin, and then lowered it, tracing a circle around his chest, the salute of the Hedim Anah. The fey guardians of the court parted, and the shadow of a great cat began to form up the stairs. Bedesh stepped back, further behind Lavress, curious, but intimidated by a feline with glowing green eyes, especially as it was the size of a horse.
“Greetings Lavress Tilaniun, devout of the Hedim Anah, child of Gualidura. And to you as well, Bedesh of Haven Glen.” The deep voice came from the human countenance wreathed in a braided mane of gray and golden hair. The creature’s body was that of a large lion with golden feathered wings tinged with white tips. It strode gracefully forward to the center of the grove, its green feline eyes meeting the elf’s from several feet above.
“Kilbura, child of Mirash, guardian sphinx of the southern temple, it is an honor to be received. Seirena’s breath be within you.” Lavress bowed to the ancient winged feline with the face of a man, the bow followed by Bedesh and returned by the flitting fey and Kilbura alike. “I have recovered three tomes of the four, however...”
“However, you are being tracked, and it is no small threat. Kendari of Stillwood is known well to us, known well for nearly half a millennium. How is Queen Ganidaea Chaldre of your forest kingdom in Gualidura?” Kilbura smiled as the name escaped his tongue in ancient fey. “And your younger brother, Caliun?”
“They are well great one, at peace with the trees and with life, and I long to see them, and …”
“Lady Shinayne T’Sarrin. She has been following you great distances my friend. She travels with one that has seen a lost God, a son of Seirena, and carries his gift. Her path is uncertain, but let us speak inside. Princess Finwel-Dur is most anxious to see you and sends her love.” The great beast strode down the steps, scattering fey whisperers on tiny wings as he moved. Kilbura could easily finish the sentences and thoughts of those he remained close to, as could most of his kind.
“Are we going down there, Lavress?”
“Yes, though for how long I do not know. Time moves faster inside the temple of the Whitemoon, so we can not stay long, Bedesh. Remember my instructions, a princess of the fey will know your heart before it beats, and is thousands of years old. Mind your respects.”
Lavress followed the sphinx, and he and the satyr entered the most holy ground of ancient worship, deep into the earth. His spirit had led him here, knowing the books must return as ordered. The elf felt safe, knowing that the temple would move mystically across the continent to other sacred locations with an ancient ritual that the priests here alone were capable of. He had much to inform the court of, and was curious as to what Shinayne had gotten involved in.
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Relaxed and serene, Bedesh rested on the soft grass bed, eating grapes and drinking the honey wines brought to him by the multitude of flying fairy beings that lived in the underground temple. The hospitality was warm and full of love and spiritual peace . There was so much warm light and many creatures of all shapes and sizes in harmony with one another. He had seen much of Kilbura, the great sphinx and priest of the temple, but the princess’ court was busy with sealed doors of oak root and vines. Lavress had entered to meet with Finwel-Dur, and only her handmaidens and priests were allowed in.
The satyr felt strangely at ease, his nerves barely trembling, and the cold of the outside world had completely vanished. His thoughts gently drifted to Lady Shinayne and the others, wondering where they were, knowing they must have escaped the trolls and ogre that had swarmed them in the western wastes. Saberrak surely was watching out for her and the human knight that had challenged the legion of tusked warriors at the fields of Arouland.
Bedesh had told Lavress of the battles and of Shinayne foll
owing him to Chazzrynn, but it was if he already knew, or had not the time to be distracted by it. He barely noticed, in his relaxed wandering mind, the naked women of the forest walking through the walls of earth and vine, almost floating down the stone steps into the inner temple. Three of them, pale skinned, long red and green forest curls with flowers of various colors seeming to sprout from their locks, all looking at him and smiling as they passed through the door to the princesses’ private domicile. Despite wearing nothing to cover themselves, the fey women of the forest looked as regal as any noble he had ever laid eyes upon. The forest satyr, many months from home, felt peace and sleep come over him after but a glance from the three sultry and divine dryads of the temple. And his eyes closed.
The three dryads closed the door, bowed, and weaved through the earthen roots, each winking at the elf. Lavress remained on a knee, his head bowed before the twisted roots that formed the face of Seirena, Goddess of the earth, mother of life, and of the beauty of the fey. The incense burned, candles cast green and orange light throughout the circular room, and the sounds in ancient tongues whispered from fairy, to sphinx, to dryad, and even the sprites that gathered the foods of the forest and maintained the decorations. They spoke of the three books of ancient high elven magic, ones that could not ever be duplicated and that sat on the small stone table atop the earthen floor of the temple. They glowed with their golden light, bound in gold and etched in elven so old that Lavress could not make out a word. He knew also that many concerns were spoken of the fourth book and where the renegade noble elf, Eliah Shendrynn, could be taking it.
The high protector of this temple, as there were seven on this continent of which Lavress was aware, stared at him in silence. Also a member of the Hedim Anah, Jevendial of the Greenbanyans pack was as tall as Lavress, but his smooth brown canine appearance marked him as a hiroon, a wise and powerful wolf lord found only in hiding around temples as they had but less than a hundred in their race remaining. The hiroon were deadly in their hunting packs and with blades, their enemies rarely saw them coming until it was too late. Many millenia ago, the Altestan Empires sought to destroy most lesser races of the forests and moons, and the hiroon wolf lords were among the hardest and most enduring of the tribes. So the Altestani targeted their women instead, and left them to this continent to face extinction. Lavress knew their tales, respected their abilities of hunting and battle, yet felt great sorrow in their presence.
The canine protector spoke slowly, in elven. “Lavress Tilaniun, you come to the temple with great gifts, with honor, and with much on your heart. You are hunted by the Nadderi, by a lover, and by your own past. What can ease your spirit?”
Lavress rose to stand, gestured by the hiroon guardian. As he did, the sphinx Kilbura, and the princess of the temple were suddenly there in front of him, bowing as he rose, sitting in their ornate chairs of root and leaf. The songs of the fey in the room were sung by the dryads in a choir behind him and seemed to invoke a spirit beyond the presence already covering such a sacred and ancient place as this. He touched his heart, brow, and then his chin, as a sign of service, love, and respect to the keepers of the temple, and bowed his head once again.
“I am at peace and ease, great hiroon, I wish only to serve the Whitemoon further.”
“You shall have that chance for certain. I was asking about you and those around you.” Jevendial walked closer, his hand on his heart, his long curved blade tapping his fur. He met Lavress’ eyes evenly, his brown dark canine eyes staring into the wood elf’s round vibrant array of browns and topaz.
“You do not wish to speak of Lady Shinayne or your past with her and her family. Your focus gives you distraction to avoid such thoughts. It will need to be dealt with on the inside, lest it take form on the outside, great hunter.” His tail wagged slowly, and his short dark brown fur moved with the breeze found nowhere within the temple, yet it was all around.
Lavress bowed again. “Thank you wise one, I will consider the matter and ask for Seirena’s guidance.”
The choir of otherworldly and uplifting fey music stopped, and all eyes of the sphinx, the hiroon, the dryads, the fairies, sprites, and the hunter, turned to face the princess on her throne of earth and nature. Her form was aglow with faint green and blue, her eyes dazzled like etchings of diamond had been placed within the blue orbs, and her winged form sat powerfully enchanting over all, despite her three feet in height. Waves of blonde danced around her translucent wings as the breeze seemed to ebb and flow from nowhere with her smile and through her hair.
Finwel-Dur was one of the sisters of the chosen daughter Lanaru-Fin, who was reputed in elven myth as the first child of Seirena and Siril, in a union that took place thousands of years ago in a sacred grove outside Kilikala, homeland of the elves. When the queen passed on last millennium, her sisters inherited the temples of the Whitemoon while the sacred groves passed to the children of Siril, the highborn elves of the north. While the fey saw this as a strength to the Order of the Whitemoon, the elves of Kilikala, Gualidura, Shalokahn, and other elven kingdoms, fought and waged verbal wars on many political and noble levels over the sacred and enchanted places of their history. The T’Sarrin family and the Sassari family held a private war, one that led Lavress to meet Shinayne and place her parents in hiding when she was still very young. There were many things that she did not know, that he could not tell her, and that she would want to see undone. All over lands that children of the Gods had passed to mortals, spiritual places that had been stained by greed and power.
“You think deeply of her, and often. Tell me, Lavress of the Hedim Anah, why do you not seek her now?” Finwell’s voice was like a flash of light that could not be ignored, music in words, soft and powerful, and it reached into his mind and heart with ease. Her gaze brought a smile. Not of his own as he focused on his composure, but one against his will with the love and life that her very presence commanded.
“I have matters of duty here, princess. My loyalty is to the temple and the order, the lady must understand that.” The elf bowed again as he spoke, keeping his gaze locked with hers.
“She does, and that is one of the things she admires most in you, but she, like myself, can see beyond that and into your heart. Women have this gift, and many more that I am sure you are aware of.” Laughter rolled from those gathered as Finwel-Dur smiled and pointed her finger playfully at the wood elf’s blushing face.
“I am aware your highness, and I will acknowledge that I keep my emotions deep as to focus on what needs be done at the moment, for the heart can distract.” His face was warm and flushed, very obvious even in such light as this and even on his tan skin. Lavress glanced at the books on the small pedestal hoping to change the subject.
The sphinx sat down on all four legs, stretched out and comfortable, looked at the fey princess, and began to speak. “Princess, Lavress Tilaniun has encountered Eliah Shendrynn in the south and managed to recover three of the four stolen books of high elven magic. The task was undoubtedly dangerous and tiring. Should we now try and locate where he and the fourth book have gone to?”
“How did the renegade noble escape you, hunter of the Hedim Anah?” Her gaze was intent on him, full of interest and care. Several pixies flitted past, leaving a small glass of wine and a tray of fresh berries and herbs.
“His traitorous guards were of no trouble your majesty, yet his skills in the arts were powerful indeed. Through his distracting spells, I was able to get close enough to attain three books, but he had opened a portal in an ancient cavern shrine. I had no way to follow, and the fourth book was in his hand. I have tracked this one for decades, and watched his movements in and around the Sassari family in Shalokahn. He has sought to weaken the rule of Kilikala and assist that rival family in many political endeavors. I would hope to have the chance to find him again, should we be able to locate him.” The hunter was eager to offer his services to complete what he left unfinished, and to see justice done for far more crimes than even the order was aware
.
“We have located him, hunter of Gualidura, and he is north of Shalokahn now, in Caberra. The portal in the old mountain shrine to the Gimmorians took him out of sight from the wizards and elves that hunt him, but not from us. This temple can get you near, close enough to possibly intercept him if we close the circle soon. Would you be willing to perform such a task for the Order of the Whitemoon once again?” Finwel-Dur already knew the answer to that, seeing Lavress’ eyes light up.
“Of course, princess, I look forward to it.”
“If Eliah can make use of the forbidden Gimmorian temples, it will not be long before those ancient and dark ways give him powers no mortal should have.” Kilbura added.
“I will not let that happen.” Lavress bowed.
Finwel-Dur cast a glance at Jevendial the wolf lord, and he nodded and walked out of the sacred chamber toward the main temple. He cast a glance and a smile to Lavress in passing, his hand securely on the grip of his scimitar. The princess returned her gaze to the elven hunter. Her eyes were not as full of unbridled joy as they were moments past.
Kilbura the sphinx spoke softly, yet sternly, “We have a most unwelcome being nearing the temple grounds. I sense a demonic emmisary has made contact with the world, and is here, not far away. Prepare to close the circle and protect the princess.”
Exodus I:VIII
Eastern Chazzrynn Trails
The road had not been easy across the eastern edge of Chazzrynn. Though it was a well used trail, heavy snowfall and winter in full form made for hard travel. Wind had turned to gales, then to storms that stole the very sky and forced them to look to their feet to see. The wagon slowed, the horses withdrew from obedience at times, and direction became most uncertain.
Azenairk spent almost an hour each morning and each night just in prayer over James, out of pity for the man and his apparent endless lust for wine and oblivion. His outbursts had been infrequent, yet consistent throughout his waking hours, yelling of ogre and death, pain and loss, swords and imprisonment in varied forms. Tears from his mental state, and from his drinking, ran uncontrollably down his face. More tears came falling off of his beard when he was in urgent need of the spirits in the bottle. The water had not tricked him, and Zen felt responsible now for making things worse with James’ behavior.
