by C. Greenwood
As they rose higher, the storm winds weakened and ceased to buffet them. Eydis didn’t realize her eyes were squeezed tightly shut until she opened them to find herself surrounded by stars and sailing through a clear night sky.
Looking downward, she saw a blur of color. Across the distance, it resembled a single big cloud of dust. Through the darkness and the sandstorm below, she could make out nothing of the enemy soldiers or their campfires.
The dragon climbed higher until even the storm disappeared from view. It was peaceful up here, flying in the soft moonlight. Alone among the stars with only Geveral and the dragon, lulled by the hypnotic rhythm of the dragon’s beating wings, Eydis could finally breathe again.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Geveral
Geveral had heard it said that the ancient trees of Silverwood Grove had stood strong for more lifetimes than anyone could remember. But as Kalandhia plowed through them, the old trees snapped like twigs and toppled to the ground with echoing crashes that could probably be heard a mile away.
Belatedly, Geveral realized that when he told Kalandhia to land at Silverwood Grove, he should have specified landing near the trees, not in the midst of them. He and Eydis were lucky not to be thrown from the dragon’s back when the great beast smashed through the trees and skidded to a rough halt.
In the sudden stillness that fell after their landing, Geveral imagined he could hear his blood rushing in his ears. His jaw ached from clenching it so tight, and he felt dizzy after the rush of the terrifying descent. It would be a long time before he could get used to this method of fast travel, especially the abrupt stops.
He turned around to find Eydis, seated behind him, looking as pale and shaken as he felt. But the important thing was that they had arrived. After their escape from Varian Nakul’s army and their desperate nightlong flight, Eydis had spotted the Temple of Tranquility in the early morning light and guided them down to it.
Now Geveral took in his surroundings. They were in a shady stand of immense trees that, if not for the wreckage they had created in landing, would have been a peaceful spot. Nearby was a pool of water that sparkled beneath the morning sun, its surface mirroring the surrounding trees. Around the pool were a pebbled walk, tall, ivy-draped pillars, and a handful of white-clad women Geveral took to be the pool attendants Eydis had told him about.
Their dramatic arrival had not gone unnoticed by the attendants. The women in white descended on them, their voices rising in unintelligible murmurs of consternation, their faces expressing horror at the damage the newcomers had wrought on their sacred trees. Geveral couldn’t imagine what sort of explanation or apology would suffice for the destruction.
But Eydis was at no loss for words. Seemingly recovered already from the shock of the landing, she slid easily down off Kalandhia’s back and met the women head-on.
“I am chosen by the First Mother and carry a message for the great oracle,” she said, wasting no time. “My friend and I must be taken to the temple at once.”
In case any of the attendants had any doubts about her fantastic declaration, she showed them the faint tracings on her skin, visible only at a certain angle and light, the markings that announced to all who looked on her she had been gifted with powers by the First Mother.
After that, the attendants led her away so quickly Geveral thought he might be left behind. He slid hastily down from his perch on Kalandhia’s back and gave the dragon a quick pat and a promise to return soon. Then he hurried after the departing party as fast as his limping would allow. The sword he still carried, the one taken from an undead soldier, was no substitute for his missing walking stick, so he couldn’t help struggling and lagging behind the others.
Leaving the pool and the sacred grove behind them, they followed a winding pebbled path lined by slender gold-blossomed trees. Little bells dangled from the delicate branches, chiming softly in the gentle breeze. On either side of the path was a carefully tended lawn, scattered with colorful flowerbeds and splashing fountains.
In the distance ahead, Geveral glimpsed for the first time the Temple of Tranquility. Up to this point, he had only ever heard of the place where the great oracle lived closed off from the world. It was a more striking sight than he had imagined, more impressive even than Eydis had described it. The temple’s beauty lay not only in its walls of gold-veined marble sparkling beneath the sun, but in the simplicity of its construction. In the multi-inclined roof that swept up to high peaks at the corners. In the open staircases that wound around its outer walls.
Having spent most of his life in a simple forest village, Geveral could easily call this the finest place he had ever seen.
Trailing Eydis and the white-clad attendants, he mounted the white marble steps leading up to the temple porch, where there stood tall dragon-carved double doors. The doors were flanked on either side by a pair of ugly doglike statues. Noticing one of them looked new and didn’t match the other, Geveral wondered if it was a replacement for the very statue Eydis had told him about. The one she had broken on her first visit to the temple.
If Eydis was remembering that occasion now, she didn’t appear unnerved by it. She looked confident and determined, caught up in the importance of her mission.
The attendants pulled open the double doors and ushered them into the cool well-lit interior of the temple. Here Geveral was startled as one dark-haired attendant with a severe face demanded he remove his boots. He had already left his sword on the temple porch. It had seemed wrong to bring an object of violence into such a peaceful-looking place. But he hadn’t expected to give up his boots.
“It’s a rule,” Eydis reassured him in a whisper. “Just do as they ask.”
Geveral cooperated, handing over his boots and replacing them with the delicate slippers he was offered in return. As he slid the new shoes on, he glanced around, taking in his surroundings.
The floor was scattered with rush mats and occasional cushions for seating. There were low tables and a few tall vases filled with pale lilies and cattails but little else in the way of furnishings. Tall slits in the high walls let in rays of morning sunlight, a gentle breeze, and the soft sounds of the outdoors.
Geveral realized that Eydis was being led away and that the attendants were quietly indicating he should remain behind, just inside the doors. He stood frozen, unsure whether to comply with their wishes or risk giving offense by following after Eydis.
Luckily, Eydis looked back and saw his dilemma.
“My friend must accompany me,” she told the attendants firmly. “He too is a chosen one and necessary to the First Mother’s plan.”
The frowning attendants conferred with one another.
“It is not usual for men to enter the oracle’s presence,” one woman suggested. “It is against the custom of the temple.”
A second attendant nudged the first. “But that rule has been bent a great deal recently. There was the barbarian and that other one.”
“What other one?” asked Eydis, appearing suddenly alert.
The woman shrugged. “A common thieftaker. No one of consequence.”
“But that time was different,” the first attendant argued. “The oracle specifically sent for the thieftaker. She has not requested the presence of this stranger.”
“It is of no matter,” Eydis cut in, putting an end to the argument. “The oracle will make another exception today. She is eager to see us and will be very angry if we are delayed. If you doubt me, run and ask her.”
The attendants exchanged uneasy glances. Geveral wondered if they were intimidated by Eydis or if there was some other cause lurking behind their uncertainty.
“That will not be necessary,” one of them finally decided. “Both our visitors may come this way.”
She turned and led them swiftly down a short corridor, at the end of which Geveral could see a sturdy-looking door of sparkling granite.
As they approached the door, Geveral glances sideways and noticed a new tension that had not been in
Eydis’s face before.
“Is something troubling you?” he asked.
“It’s this talk of a thieftaker. He sounds like the one hunting Orrick,” she whispered back. She said no more on the subject as if all too aware of the many ears surrounding them.
Geveral knew Eydis was uncomfortable with the oracle’s methods in dealing with Orrick. That she felt the barbarian had been treated in an unexpectedly ruthless fashion. Perhaps she wondered whether they too might be manipulated in a like manner if the oracle ever found them uncooperative.
“There’s something else too,” Eydis added, interrupting his thoughts. “Something is wrong within the temple. I feel there has been a terrible happening here and it is being hidden from us.”
She broke off, nodding toward the nearest attendants.
Geveral supposed she was more familiar with the mood of the place than he was. For him, it was impossible to tell whether the attendants were behaving out of the ordinary or if they were always so furtive in their glances and short with their words.
They reached the granite door, flanked on either side by a pair of female guards. One of their escort motioned Geveral and Eydis to wait while the guards dragged open the thick door and she slipped through it.
“She is announcing us to the oracle,” Eydis explained.
But when the door opened again a moment later, it was not the white-robed attendant or the oracle who stood facing them. Eydis had described the oracle to Geveral before, and that description didn’t remotely fit the woman who met them now.
She was slim, striking-looking, and might have been of any age at all. Despite the smooth youthfulness of her skin, the hair trailing in a long braid down her back was as silvery as that of an older woman. She was not dressed in the pure white of the pool attendants but wore a loose flowing wrap of floral patterned fabric, bound at the waist with a fringed cord.
She was surveying them now with disapproval in her ice-gray eyes that made the behavior of all the other attendants seem comparatively welcoming.
Ignoring Geveral, the woman fixed her gaze on Eydis. “So you have returned alive to us,” she said, not sounding particularly pleased at the fact.
“Server Parthenia,” Eydis greeted her with equal coolness. “We have come to deliver important news to the oracle. It is urgent we see her at once.”
“So I have heard,” the server answered. But she made no move to usher them into the room behind her. “Who is it you bring a message from?”
“Part of the information comes from my visions,” said Eydis. “Therefore it is sent by the First Mother herself.”
Server Parthenia raised an eyebrow doubtfully. “Indeed? So you commune with the Mother directly now, do you? No doubt you think you have risen above even the oracle. If that is so, I wonder that you have any need of her counsel at all.”
Eydis made an impatient face. “This is no time for petty games. We have seen the enemy’s plans, both through my visions and with our waking eyes. We must learn what the oracle would have us do to counter the darkness that descends from Rathnakar. And we must place a certain golden scepter into her hands for safekeeping.”
At this, the server’s demeanor changed. “A golden scepter?” she demanded, eyes widening. “You have it with you now?”
“Of course,” Geveral cut into the conversation. “I’m carrying it.”
He would have produced the scepter then and there, but Eydis gave a tiny shake of her head as if to warn him against the idea. It was probably just as well, since the scepter was still concealed down the leg of his trousers where he had strapped it to his thigh to hide it from Varian Nakul and his undead soldiers. Uncomfortable as it was becoming, there was no smooth way to extract it in front of the already disapproving group gathered around.
It didn’t matter anyway. The mere mention of the scepter was clearly enough to make Server Parthenia reconsider whatever initial instinct she might have had about turning them away. She appeared to reach an abrupt decision.
“Come this way,” she demanded curtly. Turning, she gestured to the female guards to again drag open the thick door of the room she had so recently exited.
As the door opened, Geveral caught a foul smell drifting out from the darkened chamber on the other side. It was an odor that brought back distant childhood memories of his mother’s last days as she had lain dying from the blood fever. It spoke of sickness and of someone being shut up too long in a closed and windowless room.
A sense of foreboding fell over him then even as he followed Eydis and Server Parthenia into the room. None of the attendants accompanied them.
Geveral tried not to jump at the sound of the heavy door closing behind them, cutting them off from the light and fresh air of the outer corridor. Within, all was close and dim, as if they had walked into a dungeon. The room was damp, moisture drops on the walls glistening like diamonds beneath the flickering glow of torches mounted at intervals around the room.
It was strange that the space wasn’t warmer because there were large caldrons or braziers lining a path down the center of the room where a raised dais stood. But there were no flames in the caldrons.
At first, it seemed like the chamber was unoccupied. The dais ahead was empty, with no sign of the exalted being Geveral had expected to find awaiting them. But then his searching gaze lit on something in the corner at the opposite end of the room. A lone figure lay crumpled in the floor along the wall.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Eydis must have seen the figure in the same instant he did because she made a startled noise and rushed across the room. Geveral hurried after her as quickly as his injured leg would allow, with Server Parthenia following more slowly.
As they reached the still body, Geveral saw that it had clearly suffered no violence. It lay carefully arranged upon a clean sheet spread over a rush mat on the floor. There was no sign of injury, only emaciation.
Although the oracle had already been described to him, Geveral felt a ripple of surprise at seeing her in person. He had been prepared to face an unusual figure, but the sight before him was even more bizarre than expected. Although the oracle had the appearance of a girl no more than fourteen years of age, she did not possess the features of a typical young woman. Her skin was an unnatural shade of violet with delicate patterns tracing across her face and arms. It was difficult to guess whether she had been born with the designs or if the art was self-inflicted.
Her round head lay bald upon her pillow, and the rest of her was nearly as bare but for a lapcloth and a simple strip of fabric wound around her breasts. Her most unusual features were her four arms, the lower pair lying flat at her sides, the upper pair arranged so that her hands were folded across her small chest. Each arm bore a collection of brass bracelets at wrist and elbow that matched the brass collar fastened around her neck. With her lashless eyelids closed, her face wore an expression of calm repose.
At first glance, Geveral thought her dead. But then he noticed her chest was rising and falling as she drew slow deep breaths.
“What is this?” Eydis demanded of Server Parthenia, her voice betraying her shock. “What has happened to her?”
The server fixed solemn eyes on the sleeping oracle. “After depriving herself too long of food and rest in order to strengthen her connection with the First Mother, the oracle has slipped into a deep sleep. It occurred some days ago, and no one has been able to wake her since. Her body already weakened, I fear in only a short time she will achieve a more permanent joining with the Mother than she anticipated.”
“You mean she is dying?” asked Eydis. “Why was I not told of this before?”
Turning her attention from the still form on the floor, Server Parthenia regained her chilly demeanor. “The oracle’s unfortunate condition is not known outside these walls. In such uncertain times, Her Wisdom would not want to excite fear and speculation. This is a temple matter.”
Eydis looked only slightly mollified. She also looked worried. “Something has to be done,�
� she said. “Without the oracle’s guidance, our cause is lost. We must find a way to ask the First Mother herself for direction.”
Server Parthenia narrowed her eyes. “I suppose you mean to revisit our sacred pool. The last time one of you catalysts entered the pool, the results were disastrous.”
Eydis appeared confused by that information, but she quickly dismissed it. “No matter. Bathing in the sacred pool is not what I had in mind. We need something else. Something more powerful.”
Her face lit, as if with sudden inspiration. “Server Parthenia, the oracle must be removed from this room at once,” she said.
“I hardly think it your place to give orders within this temple,” answered the server. But she looked more perplexed than offended. “Anyway, why should Her Wisdom be moved?”
“Because,” said Eydis, “it’s about to get dangerously hot in here. In her weakened condition, the oracle shouldn’t be exposed to extreme changes in temperature. It could be fatal for her.”
Eydis moved about the room, eyes aglow with a new intensity. “These braziers must be lit,” she said, indicating the great caldrons at the center of the room. “The chamber must be heated to the same terrible temperature it was the first time I visited here. Even hotter, if possible.”
Comprehension dawned on Server Parthenia’s face. “You cannot hope to connect with the Mother in the manner of the oracle?” she asked.
“Not only do I hope it, I intend it,” Eydis answered. “But I’ll need your help. I need you to teach me the tricks of the oracle. Her methods. Her rituals. Anything that might help me break through. I wouldn’t ask it if I didn’t believe the oracle herself would approve were she able to say so.”
The server seemed scandalized at the idea but also faintly intrigued. She looked down on the unconscious oracle, and it seemed to Geveral that her expression held something other than the faithful devotion of a follower. It held distrust. Disillusionment. What could inspire such doubt in one of the oracle’s closest followers? Did she know something about the oracle that the rest of them did not?
