Messenger from Myris Dar (The Stone Guardians Book 1)

by Kindrie Grove

  Cerebus seated himself beside Queen Elana and nodded to Chancellor Galen. The old chancellor stepped forward and spoke in his sonorous voice. “The lady Rowan Mor Lanyar, Messenger and emissary from Myris Dar.”

  There were murmurs and sounds of exclamation around the chamber. The name of Rowan’s homeland had likely not been uttered here for a very long time.

  Rowan took a deep breath, rubbing her hands on her knees under the table. Before she could stand, she felt the sudden warmth of Torrin’s large hand closing over hers. She turned to look at him and found his blue eyes steady on her, an expression of encouragement on his face as he squeezed her hand.

  Rising, Rowan adjusted her sword in its scabbard and strode out to the centre of the council chamber floor. There, she stood, feet slightly apart, shoulders back. The comforting weight of her armour grounded her. Thankful for heft of her sword on her back, the tooled leather armour of her homeland that covered and protected her like a second skin, she steeled herself against the collective weight of every gaze in the chamber.

  She had no idea how she would present her people to this council or if she was even a fit representative for Myris Dar. A sword and armour did her no good in circumstances such as these, but it was all she knew.

  Rowan looked up at King Cerebus and smoothly knelt down on one knee. Her long golden braid slipped over her shoulder as she knelt and its end touched the floor beside her fist as she bowed her head. This was a man’s pose and she heard whispers among the watchers. Then, without waiting for leave she rose to her feet and waited.

  Cerebus inclined his head. “It is indeed long since one from the fabled isle has visited this land. I thank you for the honour you do us, and bid you welcome to Pellaris, though the circumstances are dire. I hope we can one day repay that honour.”

  Rowan smiled, remembering the look in King Cerebus’s eyes upon their first meeting. That same gaze shone through the formal tone of this public audience and her stomach unclenched a little. “The honour of fighting by your side in the defence of your home and your lives is repayment enough for any Myrian, your highness.”

  Cerebus blinked and the queen sat forward with an intrigued expression. Rowan nodded to her, then turned to look at the entire assembly before returning her gaze to the king. “I bring with me the good will of all my people. Those who fight for freedom and justice are ever high in our esteem and though I am but one warrior, I would lend my sword to that for which you fight. But first I must deliver the message I have been charged with bringing to the city of Pellaris and the king who rules here.

  “I was sent by the Seers of Danum, an ancient sect of mystics in my land who are bound to the protection of all Erys’s creatures. For centuries they have guarded against a darkness that will bring chaos and destruction to the world. In their visions, the Seers foresaw the peril hanging over Pellar and sent me in the hope that this doom will be somehow thwarted.”

  Rowan paused and felt the expectant silence in the chamber. She pulled in a breath, feeling like a lodestone, absorbing the charged energy of the space.

  “The message is this: Look not only to strength or all will be lost for the foe is too great. The gateway must not be opened for ill intent. Bind the Stone with evil. Free the Stone with purity of heart. The path to salvation lies in the hands of the Slayer.”

  Rowan closed her eyes, acutely aware of how cryptic her message was. She silently railed against the Seers for not giving her more. When she opened them again, the faces she saw were blank and perplexed. “When the little moon is hidden by her sister, the darkness of which I speak will be unleashed. Unless it is stopped, this city will fall.”

  A councillor wearing red robes, a long dark beard fanning out on his chest stood with an amused and patient expression on his broad face. He spoke as though to a child. “My dear lady, you came across the ocean and journeyed through Eryos to bring us news of the Raken hoard that stands beyond our gates?”

  Uncomfortable chuckles rolled through the crowd.

  Rowan turned to look the man in the eye. Her voice cut through the murmurs of people and echoed around the room. “I do not speak of the army besieging this city,” she said darkly. “I speak of the coming of the Wyoraith.”

  The councillor snorted with indignation. “The Wyoraith! Bah, children’s tales. My fellow councillors we have a real enough threat arrayed before the gates of this city without being distracted by nonsense. We should be seeing to the defence of our city!”

  There were grumbles of agreement around the vaulted chamber and a few hands were slapped upon the wooden tabletops of the council seating.

  Rowan spoke over the noise and all eyes turned to her once more. “Here in this land the Wyoraith has slipped into legend, just as my homeland of Myris Dar is no longer remembered as truth; but as I stand before you real, made of flesh and blood, so too does the Wyoraith exist. The Seers of Danum have guarded against its coming for centuries and they believe here is where the wisdom and strength to battle that enemy will be found.

  “There is one who can meet this threat, one known as the Slayer of the Wyoraith. Just as the Seers foresaw the coming of the Wyoraith, so too do they tell of the one who will battle it. They do not know who he is or where in Pellar he is to be sought, only that he will be found here. The Seers must have hoped that someone here would understand the message and know what to do about it.”

  As Rowan finished, utter silence descended on the council chambers for a few heartbeats, then it erupted into cacophony. Councillors strove to speak over one another and the citizens in the upper tiers chattered loudly to each other.

  Rowan looked helplessly at her companions. Hathunor’s great head swung from side to side and he looked ready to leap to his feet if anything more than shouting occurred. But then she met Torrin’s steady gaze and felt some of his strength flow into her.

  A stout red-faced councillor bellowed through the din, “Are these Seers of Danum well known? How are we to verify the truth of their warning?”

  “Oh please, Marik,” scoffed another councillor. “Shall we convene a committee to look into it and wait until next spring for an answer?”

  “Or perhaps we could send a delegation to the island of Myris Dar to ask them to please elaborate upon this information that they have sent,” mocked another.

  Rowan frowned and scanned the council chambers, looking from face to face as the fifteen council members argued among themselves.

  Then she looked into the dark gaze of Tihir N’Avarin. His expression was hard, cold and disapproving. He sat quietly and the circular seal of Erys on his chest glowed like an eye against the black of his robes.

  “Enough!” roared the king.

  Silence fell over the chambers but councillors continued to eye one.

  “We have precious little time as it is without wasting it arguing over irrelevant points,” said Cerebus. “When we have the luxury of time, I will be happy to open the floor to debate as to how Pellar shall respond formally to Myris Dar. For now I will myself vouch for the honour of the messenger, for I have seen her risk her life in the defence of Pellaris.”

  “Hear, hear,” called General Preven, the scowl on his bluff face softened by the wink he gave Rowan.

  The soldiers sitting near the top of the rows of public benches began to stamp their feet in unison.

  Cerebus raised his hand once more for silence. He sighed and rubbed his brow. “My Lady Rowan, the news you bring is perplexing to say the least. Is there anything else that your Seers would have you say?”

  “Only that the Wyoraith is but a tool, it can only be used by the one who summons it. If the one trying to call it forth can be found and stopped, the Wyoraith’s coming will be thwarted. The Seers also believe that the Raken invading this land are connected to the one that is trying to summon the Wyoraith.”

  Cerebus sat forward, his grey gaze intense. “So by stopping the one trying to summon the Wyoraith, the Raken will also be stopped? Are you certain?”

  R
owan nodded. “I have the word of the Seers, but for myself I do not need it. From the time I first set foot in Eryos, I have been hunted by Raken. That they should pursue me so relentlessly, tells me that my message and the Raken are connected.”

  “Do the Seers know who it is?” Cerebus’s voice was intent.

  Rowan shook her head sadly. “The one trying to summon the Wyoraith is hidden from the Seers.”

  “What of the Stone in your message?” asked the queen. “Bind the Stone with evil. Free the Stone with purity of heart. What does that mean?”

  Rowan shook her head once more. “Forgive me, your Highness but I do not know. The Seers answered few of my questions. Either they couldn’t or they wouldn’t answer them for reasons of their own. I had hoped that the answers would lie here in ancient Kathorn – in Pellar.”

  Queen Elana nodded and Cerebus frowned in concentration. He turned to Hathunor. “Your Raken friend, why is he so different from the army outside?”

  Rowan beckoned for Hathunor to join her. She registered a collective gasp as the huge Saa Raken rose smoothly to his feet and padded across to her, the clicking of his claws on the floor audible and his red eyes sweeping the chamber. He stopped next to her and Rowan reached out to touch his arm.

  “Hathunor’s kin beyond the gates are under a spell. They are enslaved and have no choice in what they do.”

  A murmur of exclamation spun through the council chamber.

  “Hathunor owe Rowan rrrrffethhtickh.” The last word began as a rumble and ended in an odd clicking. The giant Raken looked curiously at the shocked faces around the chamber, then tilted his head and said, “Life debt.”

  “You saved his life?” General Preven asked incredulously.

  Rowan nodded. “Even the largest and strongest among us need help sometimes.”

  Tihir N’Avarin rose to his feet and cleared his throat, turning to address King Cerebus. “Your Majesty, I beg you to consider the full ramifications of what has been placed before us. The Lady Rowan –” Tihir cast a dark glance at her – “has proven herself valorous in the defence of our beloved city but I must stress the consequences of placing such trust in one who has strayed so far from Erys’s appointed path. The Goddess in her wisdom created men and women to fulfill specific roles. To deviate from that path flies in the face of Her righteous judgment. We must beware the follies of what our visitor brings with her. Although her intentions might be pure, she lacks the benefits of proper schooling and as such represents a danger to our way of life. We must beware what her message brings, tainted as it is with the intentions of the unfaithful.”

  As the priest spoke Rowan clenched her hands into fists, anger blooming in her chest. She understood now why Torrin felt as he did about the Priesthood.

  Cerebus sighed and shook his head. “N’Avarin, Rowan Mor Lanyar is a foreigner and stands outside of the jurisdiction and judgment of the Priesthood. Her message, though cryptic, must be considered with the fullest respect and seriousness.”

  “Are these Seers always right? Does what they see always come to pass?” asked N’Avarin, his dark gaze boring into Rowan.

  “The Seers are not all-seeing,” replied Rowan. “They catch only glimpses of what has passed and what is to come. The fullest understanding of what they see only comes after years of contemplation and study.”

  “Then how are we to know what these Seers say is even true?” N’Avarin turned to address the assembly. His voice was slowly rising and its power held the listeners enthralled. “It could be gibberish. Flights of fancy in which we are told we must place our trust. Why now after so long does Myris Dar wish to make contact with us? They send into our midst a single woman with a wild tale and expect us to accept without question what they say? My king and fellow councillors, am I alone in seeing the true danger here? Why should we bow to the whims of heresy from a foreign land? Are we to now take our orders from blasphemous Myrian fanatics?”

  Heat flushed Rowan’s face as all that she had faced and overcome to get to this city with her message was spun by the priest into an act of dubious and hostile plotting. The man not only impugned Rowan, but maligned her people as well. Wide eyed she looked at the priest; her worst fears coming to pass. She tore her gaze away from N’Avarin to look to the king and queen. They had their heads together, and Elana speaking quietly to Cerebus. They seemed not to be swayed by the priest’s words. It was a mercy Rowan clung to.

  As Tihir N’Avarin finished, there were echoes of agreement from the robed councillors and many nodded heads in the rest of the crowd.

  Rowan stood up straighter and stepped forward, taking a deep breath to defend herself and her people. Before she could speak, a large figure appeared beside her. She turned to place a calming hand on Hathunor but found Torrin instead. By the look on his face, Rowan thought he might draw his sword. His dark expression took in the entire assembly and then settled with weight on Tihir N’Avarin.

  His voice held something dangerous. “You would speak of heresy? Of blasphemy and fanaticism? Be careful priest, for you are treading dangerously close to hypocrisy.”

  Tihir N’Avarin’s eyes went wide and he drew himself up. But Torrin didn’t let him reply. “When we met this woman,” he turned to look at Rowan, “she was traveling through the Wilds with a Raken trieton chasing her.” Torrin glared back at N’Avarin and lowered his voice. “Have you risked your life in the face of a Raken hoard?” His eyes traveled around the faces in the council chamber, then back to N’Avarin. “When Raken killed her party in Dendor, she set out for Pellaris alone to bring you this message. Raken pursued her the entire way. Tell me, why would they have been interested in one woman if she was but a single seed planted by another nation with designs on Pellar? One lone woman would present little threat to a Raken invasion of Pellar unless she had something they wanted, threatened them in some way. Whoever controls the Raken beasts knew what she was bringing to you and very nearly stopped her.” Torrin raked his eyes over the listeners. He pointed back to the walls of the chamber as though he could see through them and out over the city. “That army waiting out there, is that the way a normal army acts? Standing like statues under the sun and rain as though waiting constantly for a signal. Then they attack without warning – no commands given; no sound; only the sudden unexplained attacks. Look at this Raken we call friend,” Torrin indicated Hathunor, standing behind Rowan. “Does he act like the Raken outside the gate?”

  Torrin looked back at N’Avarin and his voice dropped with menace. “Do not forget the facts that stand before you when you try to spin a tale for your own purposes, priest.”

  Rowan felt tears just below the surface. None of this mattered – what people decided to think of her and her homeland was irrelevant. She knew who she was, and her friends knew it also. The last of her distress and anger slipped away and she turned to look at Cerebus.

  The king was watching Torrin with interest. “What can you tell us of the Raken? If they are being controlled by someone, how is it being done?”

  Dalemar answered, striding from the table to stand with them on the floor of the council chamber. “We are not certain, King Cerebus, but as they are being controlled, we believe there must be a way they can be freed of that control. There is something about Hathunor that saved him from the same fate as the Drae Raken beyond your gates.”

  “Drae Raken?” asked Cerebus.

  Dalemar nodded. “Hathunor has told us that there are four races of Raken and that two of them are being used here in Pellar. As far as we know, Hathunor is the only Saa Raken in Eryos. He is from the warrior class of his people. His enslaved kin are like our common people. The reason that he has not been enslaved we believe lies in the ability of all Saa Raken to capture and use magic.”

  Cerebus blinked. The people in the chamber looked at Hathunor with renewed interest.

  “He can wield magic?” asked Queen Elana.

  Dalemar nodded.

  “Then he is like a Rith,” said General Preven.

>   Dalemar shook his head. “His ability is passive; he can only use magic that flows into him. The land that he comes from has magic that flows through it naturally and undirected. The Raken have developed the ability to use it.”

  Astonished conversation filled the chamber as Cerebus considered the full weight of what the Rith claimed. “Then you believe the Raken are being controlled through the use of magic, and have been brought here from some other land? To what end?”

  “I can see no other way for so many to be controlled. It must be magic, and it is not a thing lightly done. Whoever is behind it, is very powerful. We have no reason to question Hathunor’s word that the Raken have been somehow brought here from his homeland. But to what end,” Dalemar exchanged looks with Rowan and Torrin, “we do not fully know.”

  “A Rith then is behind this invasion?” asked one of the councillors.

  Dalemar sighed. “There are more questions than answers, but yes a Rith or someone with an ability to control Rithkind as well and bend them to his will.”

  Queen Elana stirred, her skirts rustling. “Where are they from? You mentioned their homeland. Why have we never seen their kind before now?”

  “Hathunor’s people are from a land far to the south and west beyond the great Timor Mountains,” replied Dalemar. “We have no idea how his kin were brought here, but when Rowan found Hathunor, he was about to be killed by Drae Raken under the spell. She saved his life.”

  The chamber hummed.

  “These Drae Raken at the gates do seem to have magical abilities,” said Preven. “We have not been able to discover how they are supplied. As you said Torrin, they stand as though waiting. We have not seen them eat or drink. They do not act as a normal army would; far from it.”