Weaponforger (Guardian's Prophecy Book 3)

by D A Godwin

  He led them across the causeway and off the island, then followed the edge of the lake to where the river emptied into it. Enna wondered if he would stop there, but instead they continued up the river. Not long after, Tormjere made a sudden turn east onto the road running between the two villages, as though he had been unaware of or even forgotten its presence. This they followed all the way to Rumbleton, the perplexingly named collection of houses built atop the former goblin village near the base of the falls. It was a ramshackle assortment of dwellings that reminded her of Evermen’s Forge, and not in a good way. Only those who worked the mines lived here, and were it not for the bridge there was little reason to visit.

  Tormjere made for that bridge, which was nothing more than a series of ropes strung across the river above burnt pilings where something more solid once stood.

  They had been waiting for hours now, and she lamented not suggesting that they take horses, which would have gotten them here much more quickly. Enna’s mouth watered at the smell of fresh bread emanating from an outdoor oven, but neither Shalindra nor Tormjere seemed inclined to stop. Indeed, he ignored the village completely and barely slowed as he set foot on the bridge, despite how much it wobbled. With the three of them on it, it sagged almost enough to touch the raging waters near the middle.

  Once across, they pressed through the burned and abandoned remnants of the goblin village, and for once Enna was thankful for the rapid pace. There was something unsettling about an abandoned town, and it had left her with an eerie feeling the few times she had been near. She would have happily broken their silence just to stave off such unpleasant thoughts, but between the competing roars of both falls and river, even a simple conversation would have entailed yelling at each other to be heard.

  Only a short distance past the ruins, they reached a broken, weed-infested door in the base of the mountain. Another turn pointed them towards the valley wall, and they started to climb the steepening slope. There was neither path nor markings, but Tormjere clearly knew where he was leading them. They changed direction once more at an overgrown hole that resembled a large animal burrow large enough Enna would have been able to wriggle through. Soon their feet found their way onto a game trail, which continued steadily upwards. She began to grow nervous, for while this end of the valley was reasonably tame, the lands beyond were not.

  Tormjere forged upwards now with such purposeful strides that Enna nearly broke into a jog to keep up. Shalindra was forced to quicken her pace as well, but made no effort to alter their speed. At the end of the long climb the terrain leveled sharply, then began to descend as they crossed over the ridge. She briefly wondered if he meant to continue all the way down the other side. Instead, he stopped so unexpectedly that she assumed he had become lost and needed to regain his bearings.

  “Here,” was all he said.

  They were standing in a small rocky area clear of trees, allowing an unobstructed view in nearly every direction. Before them rose the Three Sisters, their majestic peaks lost in the thick clouds. To the west, beyond the wooded foothills, endless plains of grass faded into the grey gloom of approaching rain. Enna shivered as a cool breeze carried mist past them and over the exposed ridge. Looking back down into the valley, she could see the lake and island far in the distance—far enough that she doubted they would make it back before sunset.

  “Do you feel Her presence, Enna?” Shalindra asked in hushed tones. She was breathing heavily, though whether from the climb or her emotions Enna could not tell.

  Enna did not feel anything special, but Shalindra clearly did. She set aside her thoughts of weather and distance, and took Elurithlia’s symbol in her hand. Closing her eyes, she sought Her divine presence.

  There was something. It was faint, but subtle tones of warmth stirred in the air around her. Such sensations were common throughout this valley, however, and if this was indeed the site where the ceremony of Alta Amalia was to be performed, the moon was not in the proper alignment or phase to confirm his claim.

  Shalindra circled the area deliberately, then knelt facing the peaks. “It feels right, somehow.”

  She believed. Enna wanted to, for Shalindra’s sake if no other, but they had experienced so many failures. She looked down at the silver disk of Elurithlia she held in her hand. Three mountains were depicted in the lower edge, and the dome of a pearl represented the moon above them. Her eyes returned to the skies just as the clouds thinned, bringing the mountain tops once more into view. She raised her symbol, and her breath caught in her throat as the three peaks on it came into alignment with those of the mountains before her. The clue she had so desperately sought had been under her nose the entire time.

  Shalindra saw her, and aligned her symbol with the peaks as well. “It cannot be coincidence. This is the place, and we need only discover the time. I will come here the day of every full moon if I must, until…”

  “The first full moon after midsummer’s festival,” Tormjere said with a certainty that refuted any thought of argument.

  Enna almost screamed at the unfairness of it all. There was no explanation, no circumstance, which could justify his knowledge of either the location or the time. Her fists clenched as she spun to face him, but the angry denial died on her lips. Tormjere was not paying attention to either of them, or the mountains. He was staring at a stone flat enough to have been set there as a bench, and his hand trembled at his side.

  Before she could question him, he turned away, his words uncharacteristically somber. “We should head back if you want to reach the island before sundown.”

  Shalindra rose reluctantly. “Would that midsummer was tonight, yet this revelation has come to us just in time. The new moon is almost here, and then we are but two weeks away from the festival.”

  It was certainly a sign from Elurithlia for them to have found it so close to time, no matter the source of the revelation. Enna could not deny it, even had she wished to. But as they followed Tormjere back into the valley, she could not help but question why it had taken so long, or why she had not been the one to find it.

  Breaking Point

  The door to Tormjere’s cottage opened just as Enna raised her hand to knock.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  Caught off guard, she froze, then pushed past him and waited for him to close the door.

  “How did you know?” she demanded.

  “Know what?”

  “Do not play games with me. How did you know where to see Elurithlia atop the Three Sisters?”

  “I saw it the last time we were here. Would you like to sit down?”

  “No. Explain why you were there at just the right time, on just the right day.”

  He winced at what was obviously an unpleasant memory. “Maybe I’m just lucky. It certainly wasn’t where we intended to be that night. And you never really told me what was so special about it.”

  “When the full moon sits in alignment atop the tallest peak our Mistress is at Her strongest. The one who stands aligned with Her would celebrate Her greatness and be given what guidance they seek. It is known as Alta Amalia: the Moon’s Wisdom. Shalindra could learn what she is to accomplish as Guardian.”

  “Shouldn’t she go see the Manalathlia for that? I’m sure there’s a shrine or statues or someplace there where she can figure it out better than here.”

  Enna stared at him. He had never been there either, and somehow he still knew. Enraged to the point that coherent words would not come, she struck his shoulder with her fist.

  “What was that for?”

  In answer, she hit him again, and what she lacked in strength she made up for with emotion. Then she was hitting him over and over.

  “Stop knowing things!” she shouted.

  “What’s wrong with knowing things?” he protested as he backed away, wisely placing the small table between them.

  “You helped retrieve Amalthee’s Book. You guided Shalindra to Shining Moon and were at her side when it was presented to her. Now you revea
l the exact time and location where Elurithlia can be seen resting atop the Three Sisters, a sacred place that has been sought unsuccessfully for thousands of years. Why?”

  “Maybe I just pay attention?”

  “I almost died searching for it! Do you think I’ve just been sitting here waiting for you to come back and tell me where it was? No one knows what you do. No one should know. The wisest scholars cannot answer the questions you so casually reveal!”

  “I’m pretty sure they’re smarter than me, whoever they are. I can’t know everything.”

  “Whose conundrum established the tenants of our pacifism?” she challenged.

  “Ah… Glimeralis?”

  With an inarticulate sound of rage, Enna grabbed the closest pot and sent it whizzing at his head.

  “What?” he asked, ducking. “You were supposed to pick something I don’t know.”

  “You know everything! Which type of tree is safest to shelter beneath in a storm?”

  “Everyone knows that.”

  “No, they don’t! Name my closest childhood friend.”

  “How am I supposed to—”

  “Name her!” Enna shrieked, seizing a mug from above the fireplace.

  “Trilaria?”

  That name struck her like ice water in the heat of summer, and the cup slipped from her numb fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the images of that terrible day were burned into her mind forever. The noise and chaos of the battle. Her decision to remain behind as the other elves climbed the hill with the Kingdom knights. Trilaria’s scream as her body was torn open by the claws of a demon.

  The day before Tormjere and Shalindra had walked into her life.

  “What happened wasn’t your fault,” he said, taking a step towards her. “You can’t—”

  “I could have.” Enna clenched Elurithlia’s symbol tightly in her hand, then turned away to hide her tears. “But you are right, as always.”

  Her tortured green eyes made fleeting contact with his, then she pushed her way out the door and was gone.

  Tormjere began to follow but doubled over as his stomach spasmed. His breath hissed through clenched teeth and he gripped the table for support, squeezing it tightly enough to snap a corner off. He pushed himself upright as the pain subsided, but by the time he stepped outside, Enna was nowhere to be seen.

  What is wrong?

  Nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.

  Enna is a mess. What happened?

  I accidentally reopened an old wound.

  We are all growing restless, no matter how much we pretend otherwise.

  Tormjere turned towards the keep, certain that Enna had gone that way. Restless was not the word he would have chosen—something deeper than his accidental knowledge of where elvish ceremonies were to be held was eating at her. Maybe she knew that staying here would resolve nothing, no matter what religious significance was to be found. His thoughts were interrupted by a shout.

  “Ho, Tormjere!” Birion called, waving him over to where Edward was drilling several squads of soldiers in the cleared space outside the castle walls.

  Tormjere hesitated, more eager to find Enna than talk about soldiering.

  Go. They need your help, and I will speak to Enna.

  Tormjere suppressed a sigh as he turned towards the men.

  “Heading somewhere specific?” Birion asked, setting aside his practice sword. He was sweating beneath a double gambeson, and reached for a waterskin offered by a squire.

  “Not particularly,” Tormjere lied.

  “Good. We’re aware that, sooner or later, we’ll face another demon, or if not one of them then something equally large and dangerous.”

  “Ogres, wyverns, and who knows what else inhabit these mountains,” Edward added as he joined them. “We can’t always rely on magic, so we need to find other ways to effectively deal with such creatures.”

  “A horse charge remains our best option,” Birion said, “but it’s unlikely we will have the opportunity to meet anything in the open field as we did at Tiridon. Considering this, we’ve made several attempts to redesign our spears.”

  Tormjere felt a sudden upwelling of strong emotion from Shalindra, unrelated to himself, and glanced anxiously towards the keep.

  “Are we keeping you from more pressing business?” Birion asked. “The castle walls will remain standing without you leaning against them all day.”

  I am fine. They need your expertise, and you need something to do.

  Tormjere capitulated, returning his attention to the former knight. “Are those the spears?”

  Edward hefted one from the ground and handed it to Tormjere. “It’s a beast, and inconvenient on horseback.”

  Tormjere took it in one hand and judged its weight and balance. It was thicker than a typical spear—almost a lance, really—and the point was little more than a squared spike the length of his forearm.

  “It should work better against a thicker hide,” he said, “if you can put enough force behind it.”

  “That’s what we’re attempting to sort out,” Birion said, pointing to where one of the squads was taking turns using wooden versions of the spear on a target typically employed for jousting practice.

  “The quintain is fine for tournaments, but it doesn’t move or fight back,” Tormjere pointed out. “You’ve both seen how fast a demon can move.”

  Birion gave him an appraising look. “Do you have another suggestion? You know better than any of us how demons fight.”

  “So does Shalindra.”

  “She’s tried before,” Edward said. “But she uses magic or the power of the gods or whatever you call what she does. No demon we have seen has employed either weapon or magic against us. You understand how to physically attack them. Besides, everyone was terrified of hurting her.” It went unsaid that no one was likely to have such reservations about Tormjere.

  Birion offered him an oversized shield. “Perhaps you could take a turn offering them a more mobile target. I’ve done my best, but you’re faster. Unless you’re afraid they’ll knock you around too much.”

  Tormjere rolled his eyes but accepted the shield anyway and moved to a clear spot. Edward called a squad over to explain the plan, and they faced off against Tormjere with shields and practice spears.

  “Wedge!” Edward shouted.

  The three soldiers in front dropped their spears and locked shields together, while the remainder of the squad fell in behind them and leveled their weapons at him.

  “Advance!”

  Though it was only a game, Tormjere’s shield instantly came up, and he slid to the side to force them to alter their path. The squad pivoted smartly but struggled to bring the heavy spears to bear. He leapt at the opening, using his shield to force his way into their side and shoulder half of them to the ground with a shove.

  Edward shared a surprised glance with Birion. “Tighten up and hold in the middle!”

  The soldiers tried again, with the same results. More than one rose from the soggy ground with a groan or muttered curse.

  Tormjere found himself enjoying the exercise and backed away once more. “Plant the shafts against the ground next time and see if that helps.”

  They did it better that time, and he almost came to a stop as he pressed the shield against them, but the soggy ground gave way and their line began to collapse once again.

  Tormjere was about to congratulate them on getting killed a little slower when the wooden point of a spear skidded past his shield and struck him hard in the temple, snapping his head around. His reaction was instinctive: his hand latched onto the spear like a vise, and he slung both the weapon and the hapless soldier still holding it across the field. He swung his shield edge-first like a scythe, cutting across the spears leveled at him in a shower of splintered wood. The soldier before him barely had time to raise his shield in defense before Tormjere drove his fist into it, smashing the man to the ground.

  People were shouting, but he did not care. He kicked the next man
to the ground and slashed his hand towards the now unprotected throat, but his arm came to a sudden stop in a shower of silver sparks.

  Stop.

  He pivoted and swung at another soldier, striking the sparkling barrier hard enough that a stab of pain jolted through his mind.

  You must stop, they are your friends.

  Tormjere spun. Shalindra stood just outside the castle gate, her symbol of Eluria radiating a silver glow as she held it before her. Her blue eyes locked on his, piercing the darkness that clouded the edges of his vision.

  Tormjere let the tension drain from his body, and Shalindra lowered her symbol. Enna came rushing out beside her, and gasped when she saw the carnage at his back.

  Without a word, he stalked past them both and disappeared into the forest.

  * * *

  Tormjere stood alone by the shore, watching the water lap gently against the rocks. Neither the water nor the distant, pleasing rumble of the falls did anything to soothe his mind. Cautious footsteps betrayed Shalindra’s approach.

  “At least I didn’t kill anyone,” he said without turning.

  “No, but you could have.” She came to stand beside him. “Why?”

  “I haven’t been around friends in a while.”

  “Who is it then that has surrounded you these past weeks?”

  He did not answer, because he had spent his time avoiding most of them.

  “This cannot continue. You must tell me what happened to you.”

  “It wasn’t pleasant,” he replied, still avoiding her gaze, “and it can’t be changed. I would spare you the unhappiness of knowing.”

  She brought his eyes to hers. “We have known unhappiness together from the very day you rescued me. Life has been anything but kind to me in the years since then. I was betrayed by those I trusted most, been hunted and beaten, faced horrors I could never have imagined, and lost the family I held dear. Had I to walk the same path again, there is no one else I would have by my side. Allow me to share your pain, as you have shared so much of mine.”

  He did not turn away. She saw neither regret nor remorse in his eyes, but, somehow, he had never appeared so vulnerable. That was more terrifying to her than any enemy they had faced, but she refused to yield to her fears.