The elf wizard chatted with one of the other wizards at the helm. “We’ll fly into the eastern sky until the city is out of sight, then set down again in the water to resume the seaborne portion of our journey.”
Sondra could not enjoy the view from the inner sanctum. As she felt the craft fly, standing quietly by the chanting clerics, she found herself confined to a private world of hopes and fears. Experiencing the miracle of this flight, the calling of her faith lifted her soul. This ship enveloped the high point of her spiritual calling. All her fears and youthful torment seemed so small in the face of her god’s power. Although the clerics of Ganden had every right to look upon this vessel with pride, they actually acted quite humble around it. Sometimes that realization of meek servitude troubled Sondra, knowing the best she could ever achieve would only surmount to an indentured service to others. As the ship lifted under the force of prayer Sondra felt the strength of her faith surge. There was pride to be found when one didn’t look for it. All those who tormented her when young would be shamed to see Sondra able to wield such powerful miracles as this! The young acolyte realized that she should almost pity those immature doubters.
Sondra looked into the faces of the Chosen and saw the concentration and willpower they exerted. Sondra felt she should be more assertive and shield herself from worrying about what others thought of her. It was so hard to please people, but the only ones she needed to please were her god and herself by respecting her calling. She adopted her religion to repay a debt of kindness, yet had always felt she would never amount to much in life. Before, she had been a rather hopeless servant, but it was obvious that Ganden didn’t want her to view life that way. There was power and prestige in the calling, even if nonbelievers scoffed at the subservient attitude perceived in her church. Sondra needed to reexamine her view of her own faith.
Though the young acolyte didn’t realize it, Mother Evine secretly smiled at her. The older cleric saw the emotions on the acolyte’s face, and she approved the visible impact the flight was having on Sondra.
Doranil Star crossed the barrier between earth and sun as all of Orlaun watched her pass overhead. The shadow of the great vessel drifted over the largest warships in Orlaun’s armada. The mariners and their captains could only look up in silent admiration at the warship from a bygone age. After a time, the divine chariot became a speck among the clouds.
Revwar moved away from the porthole as he mused, “A great event in Orlaun. The last of a dying breed taking to the skies as another status symbol of the Gem of the World.”
“Indeed, ‘the last of a dying breed’, how appropriate.” Savannah set her skull helm on the writing desk, before pacing across the short cabin. The armor decorated with the images of death made hardly any noise as she moved. “All things die, so is the will of my goddess. Ganden has been able to hold on to his precious ship long enough, but even it feels the sting of time.”
Savannah ran a hand along one of the wooden planks on the wall. “This ship will die too, my goddess wills it.”
Revwar grinned evilly, “Soon enough, once the remaining stones are in our possession. I was just commenting; I wonder if all those who cheered today will truly remember this day in years to come. Will they look back and remember the day the Doranil Star sailed away to the skies, and never returned? We will remember that we sailed on the last voyage of the last divine chariot, before time finally brought her to ruin.”
On board the vessel, hidden away from all the noise and mood of the occasion, two green relic stones quietly sat in a protected container. Like the ship that carried them, they were also rare weapons of unimaginable power from a war long ago.
CHAPTER 13 “The Darkest Day of Her Life”
As his fingers finished their delicate dance across the length of his metal flute, Lindon flourished into an exaggerated bow. More than one haughty listener on the crowded deck restrained themselves to a mild applause. He noted the same ones who showed the most appreciation had also been grudgingly indulgent in moving their legs and bodies to the rhythm, while vainly trying to hold an air of indifference. Most of the nobles and royalty on deck were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay much attention to the minstrel. Far too many passengers were engrossed in their own political maneuvering despite the entertainment and festivities. As Doranil Star sailed over the waves of the sea, the performers seeking quick fame found themselves relegated to a position more akin to a colorful rug in an opulent room. They added to the scenery, but were largely ignored by the crowd they attempted to impress.
Two figures did not restrain their applause or compliments from the minstrel. Lindon met the gazes of Cat and Trestan. He offered them a special, private smile in appreciation. Maybe it was because they came from humble roots such as himself, but he felt a connection to their spirits. When the minstrel smiled his bright smile, or moved in his graceful dance steps, his performances were focused on those who appreciated him most. Trestan and Cat were not ashamed to move their feet and clap in public among such royalty, therefore Lindon directed his playful smile to them.
When Lindon had to surrender the small stage to the next performer, the two companions were ready to explore somewhere else. Trestan suggested their next destination, “The exhibit room will be open for us now. I feel the need to go down and see…see them from a closer perspective.”
Cat could understand Trestan’s reluctance to talk about the stone relics in public. “I’m ready, if you are willing to escort me, my knight.”
They giggled together as they went arm in arm past the throngs of important men who wore false smiles and spoke insincerities to potential partners or rivals. The companions wore formal clothes, though they were a far cry from being mistaken for nobility. Trestan and Cat both had their swords, as well as some slightly seasoned garments. Their displayed weapons proved to be of little concern to the other passengers. The important representatives had armed bodyguards of their own. Trestan’s elvish sword and Cat’s silver rapier were flamboyant enough to pass as ornamentation, instead of the deadly weapons that they truly could be.
The two of them descended to the first sublevel, and then down another set of stairs to the open observation deck. They politely skirted around a knot of ostentatious tradesmen to get to the next set of stairs. Signs guided them through narrow passageways. Trestan and Cat found themselves standing in line behind others in order to enter the exhibit room.
The two of them had seen the relics earlier in the voyage, though only from a distance. Despite their chosen role as protectors, they had to respect the limitations set by their hosts. It could not be allowed for them or anyone else to simply walk into the chamber of treasured mage guild items at their leisure. It also would not do for Korrelothar’s guild to have a couple commoners taking liberties beyond what was offered to the royalty whom they tried to impress.
When Trestan and Cat finally entered the large exhibit hall, they found it was no easy task to walk straight to the relics’ resting place. They were content to take their time indulging in the other displays. Cat noted the displayed items were chosen in regards to entertainment and mystery. There were few powerful magic items in the room, most of the selection had been based on superficial values. A decorative shaman’s mask came with a description of some of the oddities of barbaric tribes. Another stand held a crystal ball emanating eerie sounds. Gold and jewels combined beautifully on a necklace reputed to have once belonged to an immortal. A spear hanging from a wall rack was another part of a collection of treasures from past heroes. All of the exhibits were roped off, with warnings that spells protected the items from theft.
Eventually they stood before the exhibit which commanded their interest. Displayed under a sheet of thin glass were two of the three known relics. Both were made of a smooth green stone, shaped like an egg, and bore white markings. The markings differentiated the stones somehow, though they were basically the same style. Compared with other exhibits, they seemed like painted rocks that would add to noth
ing more than a gaudy decoration. The description accompanying them admitted only that they were made during the Godswars for some unknown purpose, and that a slight magical aura still surrounded them. Trestan and Katressa knew all too well the awesome power the stones were capable of unleashing. The stone at Troutbrook had given life to the land as it warded off crop infestations and cattle diseases. Just by that fact alone the stones would be invaluable to a farming community. It wasn’t until Revwar took possession of the stones that their darker powers were unleashed. A knowledgeable person who controlled the relics could call forth elemental spirits and corpses to defend themself. Katressa witnessed firsthand how magic from the relics had shattered a stone balcony, and how it could also bring down a ceiling of stone. The companions weren’t sure if anyone except Revwar and his party knew the full potential of the relic stones. It was disheartening to know the elf already had regained possession of one of them; it would be a tragedy if he controlled the powers of all three.
“What’s this?” Cat murmured softly. “Tres, look at this leather skin lying with the stones. This is what one of the stones was wrapped in when we recovered them.”
Trestan saw the leathery scroll behind the glass screen. When they had set out four years ago aboard Dovewing it had been to recover two stolen relics: one from Troutbrook and one from the wizards’ guild in Orlaun. They had discovered a third stone, wrapped in some old skin with strange markings written on the leathery surface. The companions had given it a brief glance but never really examined it. Instead, they handed it over to Korrelothar’s guild for research.
“The letters are Elvish, but it makes nay sense. It’s all scrambled.” Cat wore a puzzled frown as she examined the graceful style of the writing.
Trestan read further into the description posted by the exhibit. He absently rubbed his fingers across the coraross about his neck as he spoke. “It says here, the scroll is in a dialect of Elvish, but written in some kind of code which the mages haven’t solved. The only portion that is legible is at the bottom where several names have been signed. It seems to be a list of persons who have sworn to the above heritage and pledged to guard it with their lives.”
Cat glanced over the bottom of the document with a little more scrutiny. A shocked expression overtook her, at the same time she made a desperate grab to hold Trestan’s arm. Trestan winced as her knuckles went white clutching his wrist. Cat stared at the document in stunned silence, eyes wide and mouth moving without words.
“You’re hurting me, what is it?”
Cat’s responded with a weak voice, “I recognize two of the names. One is Revwar…the other is Reatheneus Bilil…my father!”
* * * * *
“Lay back, Katressa. Relax your mind and body.”
Cat set aside the empty vial. “It’s hard to relax. This whole notion is scary.”
Korrelothar patted her head as she lay down on his bed. “I told you nay harm will come of it. You will relive the memories of the past as if they were happening before you, but that is all.”
Cat looked past the elf mage to her beloved standing over the bed. She looked pale. “That is scary enough. You are asking me to relive the single worst day of my entire life.”
Trestan reached a sympathetic hand out to clasp her own. “My love, know that my heart goes with you. If we can learn anything that may be useful, who knows what evil we may counter?”
Korrelothar blew out most of the remaining candles in his cabin as the female adventurer stretched out on his bed. Cat had only removed her boots before settling down for the spell of recollection. The Highwater Conjurer could honestly boast one of the most comfortable beds on board, yet for the purposes of this experiment Cat felt scant comfort resting there. She was not at ease with the knowledge of what she would face. Through a sort of hypnosis conjured by Korrelothar and the potion she had drunk, the half-elf would sift through memories long buried in order to examine them in fresh detail. Trestan held her hand, which was all the comfort the young paladin could offer. Cat did not look forward to reliving the terrible images haunting her darkest nightmares. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes and tried to think of an old lullaby from her home village.
Korrelothar allowed her to lay quiet as the potion slowly put her into a trance. The wizard watched as Cat started to speak incoherently. Though her eyes remained closed, she turned her head and squinted as if to see something better. In truth, the potion had put her into a state by which she was in a deep, dream-filled sleep. It was a state of consciousness that could be manipulated by a trained arcanist in order to explore things locked deep within the mind.
Korrelothar spoke softly to her. Trestan observed the wizard carefully studying her face as he spoke, while the fingers of one hand drew patterns in the air. Mysterious magic unfolded.
“Walk into the past with me, Katressa Bilil. Go back to the day when the demons invaded your home.”
Trestan watched as her breathing became quick and irregular. The half-elf gasped for air as she cried a couple words out in pain. Reflections from a younger Katressa despaired as she called for her mother and father.
“Go back to the beginning of the day. Go back to the time just before the attack…”
Trestan continued holding Cat’s hand as he watched her breathing change. The woman no longer saw the terrors of the demons, but the release of tears from her eyes reflected that the day had not started well either.
“Let events unfold as they did that day, and remember each moment with clarity. Mark well every word, deed and face. Remember, Katressa, remember…”
Cat’s mind descended past layers of repressed memories. Images which had been hidden under the specters of past nightmares were bared in the open. The half-elf fell into the past and relived it with no knowledge of how the future would unfold.
* * * * *
The light shining through the boughs of the great trees lit the simple pleasures of a young elf maiden’s room. The doll her mother made when she was a baby looked blindly back at her through her tear-blurred eyes. All the flowers blooming on her windowsill brought no comfort from the sting of the words of others. The world was quiet now save for the rustle of leaves in the wind outside, but the words repeated over and over in her mind. She huddled there on her bed, waiting for one of her parents to come home and comfort her.
She hated her heritage. Though she loved her human mother and her elf father, there seemed to be no place in an elven society for such an offspring of mixed blood. All she had wanted was to join the other elf children in fun games. After they teased her and laughed over the ingenuity of their own insults little Katressa could stand it no longer. She went home with a wounded heart. Not even her few friends could comfort her. Katressa knew every time they looked at her they saw her mortality. All of her friends would likely outlive her by more than a hundred years, and it strained their relationships. It did not help that the young half-elf was maturing faster than elves her age. The elder teen years were the hardest for half-elves to endure. Their elf side wanted to linger in childhood, while their human side had already forced the emotional and physical changes from puberty upon them. The differences made her stand out all the more from the other children.
Distracted by her own problems, it was some time before she noticed the sounds of the woods had changed. She heard shouting coming from outside. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tones reflected fear and anger. The half-elf quietly listened, though her hearing was muffled by her own sniffles. After she tried to clear her nose, she detected a new smell in the air. The wind carried the scent of smoke through the open window.
Alarmed, young Katressa grabbed her coat and went to see what was happening. Her first worry was that a fire had started in the forest. Katressa’s home was nestled in the branches of the tall trees. When she walked out of her door, she was standing on a walkway suspended well above the forest floor. Smoke thickened the air, obscuring much of the ground and nearby trees. She squinted through the smoke to get an idea
where the fire might be, but then she heard the voices of elves calling for others to grab weapons. Elves ran past on nearby walkways armed with bows and wearing armor. The young maiden realized there was more at hand then a simple fire.
Overhead, a dark shape shrieked as it flew past. Fear overtook the young half-elf as she backed against her house to escape the nameless threat. The elves stopped to notch arrows into their bows. A volley of missiles unleashed into the smoky haze. Even with her keen elvish vision Katressa had not been able to see any detail of the flying creature, nor if it had been hit.
Like out of a dream, Katressa’s mother came out of the smoke at a run. Although she showed the age of her advanced human years, she ran up the suspended path with the fear for her daughter sustaining her pace. Borne from the urgency of panic the human woman raced to be beside her one and only child. Katressa’s short relief turned to fear as she saw a patch of red blood amongst her mother’s graying hair. The woman carried her trusted staff, which also had fresh blood running along its length.
“Mother!” Katressa buried her tearful face into her mother’s dress as they met.
After a brief hug, the human leaned over and held Katressa’s shoulders so they could stare face to face. “Listen to me, Cat. Our home is under attack by a dangerous foe. Demons from another world have opened a portal to attack our world, but you must not give in to fear.”
Cat numbly nodded as she listened. “Your father is with others trying to handle the threat, but we must get you to safety. Some of these demons fly, so the walkways are not safe. We will have more freedom of movement if we can get you down to the ground.”
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 22
