Ancient Voices: Into the Depths

by Allison D. Reid

  Morganne was fascinated by these connections between ancient prophecy and the unfolding events that seemed to fulfill them. She felt as though she were standing before a beautiful mosaic that was decaying with age. The tomes contained the fallen tiles, and each connection she made allowed her to lift one of those ancient tiles out from the pages of obscurity, and tenderly put it back in its place. Some sections of the mosaic could be restored more quickly than others, allowing the full magnificence of its imagery to come back into focus. Others were still so decayed all she could discern were flashes of color—vague glimpses of the artist’s original vision.

  These sections intrigued Morganne the most, and the hope of discovering lost knowledge that could be given back to humanity routinely drove her to push beyond hunger and fatigue. Perhaps, too, she hoped to find the answers to some of her deepest questions; about the past, about Aviad, and even about herself.

  Elowyn could not be so academic about Morganne’s research. Truth be told, she had a difficult time finding beauty in the mosaic. Every piece Morganne put into place seemed to bring the world closer to the brink of some inevitable doom. She confessed this once to Morganne, who very practically pointed out that she was not making events happen—she was merely re-discovering past events that had already taken place, and finding clues to prophetic events that were bound to happen whether the world had fore-knowledge of them or not. Elowyn was not reassured, and her anxiety continued to grow.

  Elowyn was not the only one whose heart was troubled by the darkening horizon. In the wet, gray calm of the storm’s aftermath, the Kinship returned. Elowyn knew them well enough by now to see through their half-hearted shouts of victory. Under the hungry eyes of the villagers, they showed no fear, and no signs of defeat. Clustered together outside of the stable, beyond the scrutiny of the village proper, their mood was more reserved. Elowyn felt the strain and tension amongst them as she quietly helped them shed armor and saddle gear, and cool down their sweat-drenched horses. Glak seemed to bear the brunt of the pressure. More than once, Elowyn caught him trying to smooth the furrow from his brow with his fingertips, as though however hard he tried, that was the only way he could force his facial muscles to comply with his wishes.

  As was his custom, he did not prepare to leave until every last man and horse had been taken care of. He finally acknowledged Elowyn, who was watching him from the stable doorway. He glanced about for a few moments, making sure no one else was still milling about.

  “All the stable hands have gone now,” Elowyn assured him.

  The furrow came back to Glak’s brow. “The pulse of the dark presence has deepened in recent days, and where the beasts are, its strength suffocates me. The web draped over us is tightening.”

  Elowyn was not sure why Glak had chosen to bare his soul to her in that moment. Perhaps it brought him some relief to know that he could finally speak to another human being about the secret inner torment he endured. She didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter. Glak wasn’t seeking her advice. He was content to speak his mind without having to hide his vulnerability behind a façade.

  “The beasts toyed with us out there, Elowyn, and I think deep down, the men know it. The fight they gave us wasn’t real—it was all just a show to make us think we’d won...for the moment. Something is happening, something I can sense but do not have the clarity to see. They are moving...shifting their gaze. Not toward us, yet toward something they think will defeat us in the end. All of us. If only I could use my curse to look into the dark one’s mind, I might know his plans better. And yet that possibility is my greatest fear, for in knowing his mind, I would lose my own, and succumb to his corruption as the weak man that I am. I shall not take that path again.” Glak sighed heavily as he gazed towards the mountain peaks. His exhaustion was obvious, both physical and mental.

  “Surely the writings of the Prophets would make a safer guide,” Elowyn suggested carefully, shuddering at the thought of seeking to know the mind of the dark one. She could not forget the distress she had experienced under Braeden’s probing gaze—the dark connection Glak was forced to endure daily was unimaginable to her. “Morganne still believes the answers you seek are somewhere in the tomes you brought her.”

  “That is my hope as well,” Glak replied. “And that is why I want her to be present when I meet with the Kinship leaders. With her unique gifts and all the work she has put into translating the tomes, I should have no trouble justifying her presence without too many questions being asked. Please advise her that one of my men will seek her out on my behalf when that day comes. I would like for you to be there as well, though it will be more difficult to arrange. You have seen things, and know things, that others are not yet aware of.”

  “If you meet at the tavern, you could always ask Wyman to have me serve. I promise not to drop my pitcher this time,” Elowyn said, blushing.

  “I did not intend to impose on Wyman’s hospitality again, and truthfully I would prefer more privacy than the tavern can offer. My brother has extended me the use of our family home. But your idea has merit. I will hire you to help take care of my guests and no one will give your presence a second thought. If you have any counsel for me, I would take it beyond the hearing of the others, so that we can speak freely without breaking our oaths to each other.”

  “I understand,” Elowyn said.

  Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by the return of the stable hands. Glak departed, saying only, “Speak to Morganne for me. I will contact you when the day arrives.”

  Elowyn’s daily routine began to change after that. All regular practice at the granary was ended, though some of the men still went on their own to keep their skills fresh. Others had battle injuries to mend, or went back to plying their trades out of necessity. Elowyn still went to practice her archery when she was not needed at the tavern or helping the monks with their garden. Now that the initial struggle to learn and control the draw strength of the bow was behind her, she found practice to be soothing. The bow had begun to feel more natural, as though it were an extension of her own arm, and her aim had improved considerably. Even so, she knew that her skill was nowhere near Einar’s. She would have to work hard to achieve the precision he had made to seem so effortless.

  She also began to gradually explore the surrounding forest, careful not to press too far until she had learned to recognize where she was and how to quickly return to the outskirts of the village. Once or twice she tarried a little too long and was caught in the depths of the woods after the sun had sunk below the western foothills. From the deepening shadows she thought she saw glimpses of bright, shining lights moving about. But every time she turned to look, there was only darkness.

  Over the course of many days, the leaders of the Kinship began to arrive. Their arrival was met with excitement on the part of the villagers, and they were shown great hospitality by all. As with Jadon’s brother, Liam, people could not help but ply them with questions about events happening in the outside world. And as with Liam, they also found the Kinship leaders to be unusually tight-lipped. They made merry in the tavern and frequented the shops, but many saw their silence in regard to other parts of the realm as a sign that all was not well.

  One of the arrivals came as a great surprise to Morganne and Elowyn. They were taking their meal in the tavern one quiet evening when a man and woman who seemed very familiar walked through the door. The man was somewhat heavy with thick auburn hair that fell across his forehead. The woman was older, with long red braids streaked with gray. As soon as the woman saw them, she gasped in delight and ran right over to give them both a tight, motherly embrace.

  “Oh, my dears, you have no idea how it warms my heart to see you again!” Reyda said with tears in her eyes. “I’ve wondered and worried about you ever since our paths parted ways, especially when I heard about the trolls...” She stopped herself from saying anything further and contented herself to giving both girls another tight squeeze.

  Tervaise’s sm
ile held an unmistakable trace of relief. “I thought you might be headed this way, but dared not ask. I hope that your journey was uneventful.”

  “Not exactly,” Morganne said, “but here we are just the same. We will tell you what happened to us, but not here. Someplace private, when you are rested from your own journey. We cannot thank you enough for giving us your seal. It helped us immensely, and I don’t think we could ever adequately repay you.”

  “Not to worry,” Tervaise said graciously. “There is no need to try. That it helped to get you here safely is payment enough.”

  “Let me get a good look at you,” Reyda said as she held them each out before her at arm’s length. “Minhaven seems to be treating you well. You both have good color, and I dare say you’ve even put a bit of weight on your bones. It suits you.”

  “We have made a good life here,” Elowyn said.

  “Would you share a meal with us? Our treat this time,” Morganne said.

  “That would be lovely.” Reyda accepted the invitation without hesitation and sat down at the table. Tervaise saw there was no use in protesting and sat down as well. They had a pleasant meal together, during which Morganne and Elowyn told them about all they had been doing since they arrived in Minhaven. Reyda expressed excitement over the seamstress shop and vowed to visit it. Tervaise was astonished by Morganne’s work on the tomes and she caught him giving her thoughtful looks for the rest of the evening. Both were impressed that Elowyn had learned archery and trained alongside the Kinship. Reyda asked her if she intended to join them one day.

  “Join them?” Elowyn asked with surprise. “Oh, I’m not really a fighter. I just wanted to learn and they were kind enough to teach me. I don’t think I could ever go into battle.”

  “You wouldn’t need to, dear. Not all members of the Kinship are fighters. There are many of us who join to support their cause in other ways; with our trades, or special knowledge, or simply with our way of life.”

  “I didn’t know,” Elowyn said. “I suppose it is possible then...one day.”

  “Are you here to meet with them?” Morganne asked.

  “Yes,” Reyda answered. “We received Glak’s summons. It must be important for him to ask all of us to be here.”

  “I have been asked to attend as well, because of my work on the tomes. But I must confess, I am rather anxious about being included. I just hope that I will have something worthwhile to say if he asks me to speak.”

  “Well, you just sit by me, dear, and you’ll be fine.”

  Morganne shot her a grateful smile.

  Reyda and Tervaise also told a few light-hearted stories of their own travels, as they had recently returned from sailing to several different islands that made up the farthest reaches of the Sovereign’s realm. One of them in particular Reyda had loved so much that Tervaise had begun to build her a home there.

  “It is a rather small island,” Reyda explained, “with only one village surrounded by rolling meadows and woodlands. But it is so peaceful there, so beautiful. And the people are always welcoming. The cares of the mainland have not yet reached that place, and I hope they never do. I could easily spend the rest of my days staring out across the endless blue of the sea, falling asleep each night to the gentle lull of its waves meeting the shore. Perhaps one day you can come to visit me there and we shall have a lovely stroll together about the island.”

  Both Morganne and Elowyn agreed that sounded wonderful and hoped one day that dream might come to pass. All too soon the weariness brought on by the length of Tervaise and Reyda’s journey began to show. They had made arrangements to stay with another member of the Kinship who had a home in Minhaven and continued on their way.

  Reyda remained true to her word and went the next day to Morganne’s shop. She was so impressed by Morganne’s skill that she commissioned several garments, saying she had never seen such quality work outside of Tyroc. Morganne accepted the compliment graciously, veiling her trepidation. Until now, she had not considered that her own stitching, on which her livelihood depended, might in the end become her betrayer.

  All of the Kinship leaders, from the farthest reaches of the Sovereign’s realm, had finally arrived and all were called to meet at Grindan’s home. It was perched on a green hillside a good walking distance from the village proper, facing the austere mountain peaks. At this time of year, it was surrounded by a delightful array of lush spring grasses and wildflowers. If Elowyn had not been invited there under such serious circumstances, she might well have lain down among them, allowing their aroma to permeate her hair and clothing while she stared into the depths of blue above.

  The house itself was fairly large, though Grindan lived there alone. Elowyn could tell that it had once been nothing more than a humble cottage like her mother’s, but that the main structure had been built upon and expanded over the years. She expected a stark, rustic home, much like Glak’s humble cottage. What she found instead were nicely decorated rooms with polished wooden beams, carefully wrought iron fixtures, and colorful woven wall hangings. The main room had furniture that was plush and well-crafted, covered in fabrics and pillows. Grindan apparently enjoyed fine things, and was well off enough that he could afford them.

  She could understand why Grindan was so perplexed, and hurt, by Glak’s choice to remain alone in his empty cottage rather than stay in this beautiful home with him. Yet she also now understood why Glak continued to distance himself from his brother, even while it pained him to do so.

  Grindan had already set up a large trestle table and covered it with a rich red cloth. Not forgetting that she was there on the pretense of serving, Elowyn went to work setting out cups and simple foods at Grindan’s direction, while the Kinship leaders greeted one another and gradually found their places around the table. Morganne arrived with Tervaise and Reyda, who secured her a seat by their side. Elowyn could tell by the pallor of her cheeks and the way she kept smoothing out the folds of her dress that Morganne was nervous. No doubt she felt out of place amidst this older group of seasoned leaders.

  Glak wasted no time calling the meeting to order and asked for each to report in turn on happenings in their respective regions. On the whole, the news was not encouraging.

  “I might as well begin,” Tervaise said, “as I’m sure you’ve already heard that Tyroc and the outlying farming regions are in great turmoil. Many of the merchants I trade with there are in a panic. Their shops are full of desperate people, not trying to buy goods, but to sell them for any amount they can get. Food prices have risen so quickly that people don’t know what else to do. Since word has gotten around that it is still too wet for spring planting, matters have only grown worse.

  “I was able to help out a few of the merchants there by connecting them with buyers in places like Port’s Keep and some of the larger towns in the Midlands, but there wasn’t much else I could do. Certainly I do not have the means to purchase Tyroc’s surplus goods, especially after my own business dealings there fell through. Many of the shops are simply closing their doors and holding tight to what they have, hoping they can wait out these difficult days.

  “Even worse yet, Tyroc has been plagued by a growing number of wolf-like beasts that are making travel in and out of the city difficult. Several groups of travelers were recently attacked and killed, and those living beyond the outer walls have been terrorized by their nightly howling. No one knows what they are, where they came from, or what to do about them.

  “The people are starting to ask why the guard has not been sent out to fight them, but response from the castle has been strangely slow and inadequate considering the gravity of the situation. The number of guards that keep watch along the city walls has increased, and once a day they hand out a pittance of grain to the starving. There is not nearly enough to go around, and the weakest are most often shoved out of the way and forced to leave with nothing.

  “Sickness is starting to spread in the poorest quarters of the city. The Guard has imposed a curfew, and for the firs
t time, the massive East and North Gates are being barred shut at sundown. Many are grumbling that the Sovereign would never have allowed such conditions, and they have turned their gaze expectantly toward Braeden and the Council for answers. Reyda and I stayed there as long as we dared. But we feared the people were near to the point of riot, and we were also concerned about getting safely past the creatures surrounding the city. We secured passage on an outbound vessel and departed before the situation deteriorated any further. That was several weeks ago and we have not been back since. I am still in contact with some of the merchants by courier, but will not resume my business dealings there until the situation has stabilized.”

  “Has Braeden or the Council yet responded to the people’s demands?” Glak asked.

  “Perhaps I can answer that, if I may speak,” said a man sitting across from Tervaise. By the rich clothes and finery he wore, Elowyn guessed that he must be a nobleman. His dark hair and beard were impeccably groomed, and his glance was sharp and full of wit.

  “Certainly, Fenrich.”

  “In all the years that my family has served the Sovereign’s house, never has the relationship been so strange...or strained. I, and many of the other lords, have been scratching our beards in bewilderment, wondering about the true intent of Braeden and the Council. They are certainly making plans for Tyroc, but perhaps not quite the plans the people are expecting. In the midst of all this turmoil, Braeden is making ready to announce the marriage of the Sovereign’s youngest son, Darik, to a foreign woman with no previous ties to the Sovereign’s house.

  “Where he found her is anyone’s guess. But I can tell you that the other lords, who have spent their lives courting the Sovereign’s favor and funding his causes in the hopes that their daughters might be considered for the honor, are beside themselves with fury. From all accounts, the woman is haughty, unseemly, and far too free with her speech—in short, a complete disaster for such a high position.