“Then why did they have to die? Why did Ophelia have to die?” Agana sobbed into Tiffany’s shoulder.
Soothe the girl, she is innocent! Sing to us! The Saints are murderers! Tiffany patted Agana on the back. “All must die.” she breathed. “All must return to stardust.”
“But I don’t want them to be dead!” wailed Agana. “I don’t want them to be dead! Who will take care of me? Where will I go now?”
Help the girl! Return to your love! Sing us a song! Your lantern can light the way! The girl is innocent! Why won’t you sing? “I’ll take care of you now.” croaked Tiffany.
Agana sniffled and squeezed her arms around Tiffany. “Oh Tiffany! You’re always so kind!”
Tiffany held Agana for a long moment. She gave her one last rub on the back and then said, “I must finish before the night is over, lest the dead be angered.”
Agana sniffled and nodded. She began singing softly as Tiffany filled the grave. At last it was done, and thunder shook the earth. Lightning flashed in the clouds as Tiffany turned the headstone up and set it before the grave. Agana traced her finger over the letters of Loretta’s name scratched into the stone and said, “The man said my name is Ursula. Is that what I should be called now?”
Tiffany stroked her hand down Agana’s wet hair. “Your name is what feels right to you,” she rasped.
Agana looked up at her. “I don’t know what feels right anymore.”
Tell her! Tell her! Where is my body? Sing! Tell her! Tiffany knelt beside Agana. She licked her lips and looked at the ground. “My name was not always Tiffany.”
“What do you mean?” asked Agana.
Tiffany looked at her. “I was born Saint Asriel.” she croaked. “When I came here, the King told me I was to be known as Tiffany of the Graves.”
Agana’s brow scrunched up. “What do you mean? You were always here.”
Tiffany shook her head. “I was born in a far away place where all the Saints come from. I was sent here shortly before you were born.”
“Why were you sent here?”
“Because of what the dead told me.”
“What did the dead tell you?”
Tell her! Sing! We will take you to your love! A Saint took off my head! Sing to us some more! “They told me bad things.”
Agana frowned. Then she said, “So which name feels right to you?”
Tiffany looked at Agana and held her hand. “I am Tiffany of the Graves.”
“Then I am Agana Valdara.”
Tiffany smiled at her.
“Do you want to go back home?” asked Agana. “Back to where you came from?”
Tiffany shook her head.
“Then will we stay here?”
Tiffany shook her head again. “The bad people are here now. We cannot stay, child.”
“But then where will we go?” asked Agana, upset.
“I don’t know.” croaked Tiffany. She sat down in the mud beside Agana and put her arm around her. “Sing for me, will you?”
Agana began humming a tune and they sat in the rain beside one another for a long while. At length, when the sun began to wrestle with the eastern clouds, desperately trying to cast its rays upon the mirror-surface of the Graymere, Agana stopped singing and yawned. She rested her head upon Tiffany’s shoulder and said, “I know where we should go now.”
“Where is that, child?”
“The man said I had a brother named Rook.” said Agana. “I want to find him. I want to find him and marry him, just like mommy married her brother.”
Yes! Take her! Bring her to her brother and I am forgiven! Why do you not sing! Follow the child and we shall lead you to your love! Sing for us! I was killed near a river by a Saint! Follow her! Let your lantern light the way! Tiffany squeezed Agana’s hand and they both closed their eyes and slept upon the graves.
— 38 —
Hammer’s Hill
Solastron yawned as he lay beneath Isley’s open window. The great wolf took up most of the room’s far wall and Isley could feel his aquamarine eyes watching him as he stood before his mirror, tidying up his silver hair as he tried to get ready for the morning’s sermon.
Solastron yawned again and stretched, black claws scraping upon the stone floor. “Lord Egret comes.” he rumbled lazily.
Isley turned to the wolf. “How do you know this?”
There was a knock on the door. Solastron rested his head upon his paws and watched as Isley strode over and opened the door to find Egret standing there. “Lord Egret,” said Isley with some surprise. “I was not expecting you.”
“May I have a moment?”
Isley looked over his shoulder and Solastron gave him a wink. He turned back to Egret. “Certainly. I have a guest, but please, come in.”
“A guest? Who is she?” said Egret playfully, but when he stepped into the room he was taken aback by the sight of the huge, blue and purple-striped wolf laying beneath the open window.
“I was as surprised as you.” said Isley, patting Egret on the shoulder.
“Solastron?” said Egret. The wolf looked at him with sparkling eyes and made a big, whining yawn. Egret turned to Isley. “Is Lord Etheil here?”
Isley shook his head. “Solastron showed up just the other night. He’s been staying with me here in my chamber.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” said Isley, and it was partially true. Solastron hadn’t said much to Isley about his true reasons for coming here, filling the last couple days with stories from the Grimwatch or enigmatic memories of ages long past. Solastron liked to reminisce, but was wary of sharing too many details, often explaining to Isley that the knowledge had not been earned by him or anybody of this world. And in that, Solastron seemed to hold some contempt toward him and everybody else. All Isley really knew was that Solastron had fled the north when his wounds were awoken by a great evil in the Shardgrims. Solastron wouldn’t say what that evil was, but he had confessed that he had attacked Etheil and others of the Grimwatch when the wound of Anger sent him into a rage. Isley figured Solastron was afraid to go back north, but he also knew Solastron had other reasons for coming here. The wolf’s charge to the Goddess was coming due.
Solastron somehow knew that Isley was seeking to find Celacia, and Solastron had told him the story of the Dragonstones and his duty to protect them and retrieve them only when the prophecy of Death walking the land and the Raven wielding Dragonfire had come to pass. It was quite obvious to both of them that Celacia was Death walking the land, but who the Raven was neither of them could speculate. Isley believed Solastron was staying here to find out, and he also believed the Dragonstones were somewhere nearby. Solastron was here to make good on his duty to the Goddess, and in that was all Isley could be certain.
Egret cautiously approached the big wolf. Solastron sat up to his full height as Egret knelt before him and rubbed at his chest. “Hey boy. What’s wrong?”
Solastron barked and swished his tail.
“Everything all right back home?” asked Egret, brushing his gauntleted hand over the wolf’s head. Solastron licked at Egret’s face, causing him to recoil and stand back up. Egret turned back to Isley. “I hope everything is well back at the Grimwatch. Odd that Solastron should show up here.”
“I think all is fine.” said Isley, looking at Solastron. The wolf regarded him in turn with a slight nod of his big head. “I think he perhaps needed some time alone to reflect on things. The house of Aeoria is a good place to get a baring on ones’ life.”
“I’m not sure what type of baring a wolf needs on its life.” said Egret. “But the sentiments of wolves isn’t why I’ve come.”
“Well, if it’s baring on your own life, service starts in an hour if you wish to stay.” said Isley with a smile.
Egret smirked. “I have no time for sermons. I came to tell you that I
learned something about the Dark Holds.”
Isley’s eyes lit up. Behind Egret, Solastron’s ears perked and the wolf stared at Isley.
“Don’t get too excited.” said Egret. “I asked about them in council yesterday. The Councilmen all denied anything about them, but I could tell I struck a nerve. The Dark Holds exist, that much I am certain, but where they are and what they are for I have no clue.”
Isley screwed his lips up. He looked past Egret to Solastron, who seemed to be troubled by this subject. Egret must have sensed the silent communication between the two, and he turned around. Solastron tilted his head at him.
Egret looked back at Isley. “At least you know you were on to something. I thought you might like to know that.”
“Absolutely.” said Isley, still looking at the wolf.
Egret turned around and the wolf once again cocked his head at him. Egret looked back at Isley. “Is there something you two aren’t telling me?”
“Sorry.” said Isley. “A thought occurred to me.”
“What type of thought?”
“I must reflect on it before I say anymore.” said Isley, curious as to what Solastron knew of the Dark Holds.
“Reflect on it with Solastron?” Egret chuckled.
Isley looked at Egret. Excitement was getting the better of him and he wanted to converse alone with Solastron. “Thank you for coming here, Lord Egret.”
“I’ll try to find out more.” said Egret. “But the Council is going to be tight lipped on this. Not sure what else I might find.”
Solastron started whining and looking at the door. He barked.
Isley turned to the door just as it swung open. Lord Gregin came in, followed quickly by two of Isley’s Wolves. “I’m sorry, Saint Isley,” said a young man in white and black robes as he grabbed Gregin’s arm. “I told him that—”
Lord Gregin tore his arm away and pushed the man into the other. “Put your hand on me again and I’ll cut it off, you fanatic freak.” Gregin pushed his black shroud aside, revealing tidal-wave designs painted up and down the arms of his armor. His hand went for the sword at his side, its blue power crystal sparkling.
“Cool yourself, Lord Gregin.” said Egret. “What brings you?”
Lord Gregin scowled one last time at the two Wolves. Isley nodded at them and waved them away with his hand. The two bowed before taking their leave. Gregin turned around and noticed Solastron standing in the corner. His dark eyes flicked to Isley, then turned to Egret. “Something important, my Lord.”
“Report.” said Egret.
Gregin looked at Isley with something of a snarl and then stepped into Lord Egret and whispered into his ear. Isley knew that Lord Gregin was one of Egret’s lieutenants and a powerful Dark Star Knight. Next to Egret, he was shorter and stockier and his red hair was done up in long, thin braids that matched those of his beard. Isley couldn’t hear what Gregin whispered, but whatever it was it made Egret’s face sink.
Egret nodded at Gregin and turned to Isley. “Duty calls. Have a good sermon, Saint Isley.”
“Is something the matter?” asked Isley, sensing a dire urgency in the man.
“Nothing to concern yourself with.” said Egret. He looked at Solastron. “But do me a favor and make sure Solastron stays in your room this morning. Don’t let him leave the church.”
Isley nodded. “I will do my best.”
Egret turned and Lord Gregin followed him quickly out of the room. Isley heard their boots rushing down the stairs.
“Lord Etheil has come.” rumbled the wolf.
Isley turned to him. “How do you know?”
“Humans whisper too loudly for my keen ears.” said Solastron.
“Do you need to go to him?” asked Isley.
Solastron swished his tail and wuffled. “I shall respect Lord Egret’s wish that I stay here.”
Isley nodded. “Thank you.”
Solastron fixed Isley with his eyes. “The Dark Holds are a forbidden place, Saint Isley of the Long Hours. Why do you seek them?”
“I think they might be where Celacia is being held. Do you know of them?”
“I do.” said the wolf.
“Can you tell me where they are?”
“I have told you the legends of the Dragon Kings and their Avatars.” rumbled Solastron. “I have told you the tale of how Celacia killed the other Avatars for her master, Darkendrog, the great, black serpent. I have told you that it was done in the name of Apollyon, so that the Kaldenthrax might devour Aeoria’s soul.”
Isley nodded.
“And still you believe that Celacia would awaken the Goddess? Still you believe you must find her; find the one whose footsteps are the tidings of an age’s doom?”
“I do.” said Isley. “More than anything.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Located just a few miles east of Durtania, Hammer’s Hill was an ancient and sacred place dating back to the First Age; dual citadels carefully preserved for the last thousand and more years. They exactly mirrored each other but stood lonesome and independently, situated atop a pair of small mountains some five-hundred feet apart from one another. The mountains they were built upon were curious things and not truly mountains in the strictest sense of the word. They were inselbergs—colossal, sheer-faced stones jutting from the grassy fields—and looked as if the hand of a God had simply placed them there upon the land. Each rose nearly a thousand feet from the green fields that surrounded them and were crowned with those stern and rigid citadels whose size admitted no appeasement or compromise to the lands they dominated, nor to the heavens their high ramparts encroached upon.
The walls of the citadels were as sheer as the cliffs and built right up to the edges. The ages had done little to weather their smooth, sand-colored granite blocks, and the corners of each of their four walls were as sharp as the day they were built. Each citadel had four towers, one upon each corner, and they too were perfectly square. They rose like pikes into the sky, capped with pyramidal roofs of granite. There were no windows allowing relief to the uncompromising geometry of the giant blocks, although the citadels did snarl with great, iron portcullises large enough to accommodate the giants of legend.
These portcullises were spanned by a bridge of massive timbers, paved with square slabs of stone, each twenty-feet on all sides. It took more than two-dozen of these slabs to complete the length of the gorge that separated the citadels, and the entire bridge was held aloft by iron chains whose links were larger than a man. These chains were secured to the citadel walls, just above those dark portcullises.
It was on the northern side of this bridge, just outside the citadel, that Etheil stood. The drowsy but fiery light of a rising sun in the east cast the citadels in a contrast of burnished stone on one side and cold shadows on the other. So high up, Etheil could see the fields and trees bend as the wind swept its hand across them. At the other side of the bridge stood the southern citadel, blocking any view of the road to Durtania behind it, as well as the great steps that led up to it. The portcullis there was opened, the great, iron teeth raised to reveal only a dark throat into the complex beyond.
Etheil’s black shroud gave a loud flap as a powerful gust swept the bridge. Firebrand was in its scabbard at his side, and the red power crystal was caught in the dawn’s early light. Behind him stood Lord Samrildar, the Guardian of Hammer’s Hill, and a dozen of his Keepers of the Hill in silvery shrouds that shimmered with a rainbow sheen. Samrildar was a Dark Star Knight like Etheil, though he was much larger and broader of shoulder. His hair was as black as his armor and shroud, and where Etheil had flames painted up his sleeves, Samrildar’s glossy armor had rippling patterns like shockwaves in a contrasting matte, black finish. His sword, Warmouth, was something legendary among the order of Dark Star Knights. In its pommel a black crystal radiated a light all its own.
Etheil could sense the uneasiness of Samrildar and his men and he puffed out a long breath. He hoped the King had received his message and would come to speak with him, and he chewed his bottom lip nervously as he waited for Dagrir to make an appearance at the opposite side of the bridge. King Dagrir was level-headed and Etheil knew he loved his brother. It was more than likely he would come, and equally as likely he would offer whatever aid Etheil asked for. Still, there was a chance this meeting could go very wrong. Etheil knew he was considered an Enemy of Duroton, and as such his head was fair game. Samrildar allowed Etheil here only by virtue of Hammer’s Hill being a sacred and neutral location.
Hammer’s Hill was considered its own, unique entity within Duroton, and as such, Duroton’s laws did not apply. Despite that, there was a tension in Etheil about the possibility that the Council would send their men to arrest him—or worse—and Lord Samrildar sensed it too. “If so much as a single stone here is scuffed, I shall throw you from this bridge, Enemy of Duroton.” intoned the man.
Etheil’s eyes turned to the side of the bridge and the great expanse between the two mountains it stretched. Such a fall would be a long and unpleasant one. Legend said that at one time the inselbergs were a single stone, but the claw of a dragon scraped the land and cleaved it in half.
With the thought of dragons now in his mind, Etheil contemplated the history of this storied location. Before being called Hammer’s Hill it was known as the High Citadels. In their day, the citadels atop these two monolithic stones were a symbol of Duroton’s might and their steadfast courage in holding back the Kald from reaching the southern kingdoms. They were the strongholds of the Durotonian Guard, elite soldiers that predated the Dark Star Knights. Only the most worthy were chosen to study and train at the High Citadels and they were made into warriors unrivaled in their skills with sabers.
Affectionately known as the whirling warriors, the Durotonian Guard were renowned for their acrobatics in combat and their furious and unstoppable spinning attacks—a fighting style known as Terra Praesidio, whose techniques were long lost to history, and which most people of Duroton today believed were greatly exaggerated or even just a myth. But the Durotonian Guard had been more than just the Land’s protectors and the bastions of Duroton. They were scholars, schooled in magic and mechanics and they predated the Jinn.
Here Shines the Sun Page 71
