Weaponforger (Guardian's Prophecy Book 3)

by D A Godwin

  “Try not to forget the dohedron,” Honarch reminded Tormjere, fighting back a yawn. “I’ll look for your messages at sundown, at least until we determine how far apart they will work.”

  “I’ll keep you updated as I can. I have no idea how long it will take to get there and return.”

  Shalindra placed a hand on Birion’s arm. “Take care, and may Eluria watch over you.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. We will await word that you are headed north once more, and will meet you where we may. I’ll not sit idle while you walk all the way back by yourself.”

  “I hope it will only be a few weeks,” Shalindra said to them both, then bent close where only Birion and Honarch would hear. “Safeguard the elves as you would me. I would have them know that not every human they encounter is worthy of distrust.”

  “As you wish it, my lady,” Birion said with a salute. “We will be prepared to aid you in any way we can as soon as we have seen them to Silvalaria. Come, magician.”

  Pelan approached to a polite distance and bowed to Shalindra and Enna. “If you would follow me, Revered Sisters.”

  Tormjere shouldered his pack and fell in behind them, still unhappy about the decision.

  I know you did not want to be separated from your friend, but it will not be for long.

  Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

  There are a great many things which I dislike about this effort. I can only pray it will improve.

  Unlike the wide and flat riverboats she and Tormjere had ridden before, the one waiting for them was more like an elegant canoe. The vessel was long and thin, and carved from a single tree. The surface had been polished to a rich golden shine, and though it appeared sturdy enough for utilitarian purposes, there was artistry in its construction. Both ends curved upwards to an almost vertical point, which was carved in a similar motif as the houses.

  Their escorts took station at the front and rear of the vessel, while Shalindra occupied the middle with Enna and Tormjere. A modest amount of provisions had been loaded, leaving it a tight but not uncomfortable fit. Pelan untied from the docks, and a solid shove sent them away from shore to where the current quickly took them.

  Soon she would be in Eitholmir, in the place Eluria had wished her to be. Shalindra could only wonder what answers she would find when she arrived.

  Elvish Hospitality

  Shalindra stepped onto the dock almost before their craft had ceased moving, eager to escape the cramped confines of the boat they had been stuck in for two days. She placed a hand on her symbol of Eluria and pressed it against her chest. She was finally here.

  “I know the way,” Enna said to Pelan as she disembarked. “Thank you for the speed of our arrival.”

  Both elves bowed. “It was our honor, Revered Sisters. May your journey achieve as smooth a resolution.”

  It won’t.

  Stop being so pessimistic.

  Have you looked at Enna? She’s as nervous as a doe before a wolf.

  He was correct about that. Enna’s face was almost as pale as her hair, and she constantly fidgeted with the end of her belt as she led them away from the river. Shalindra resolved to ask her about it, but quickly became swept up in the sights and sounds of the elvish capital.

  Eitholmir was a city as active and vibrant as any in the Kingdom, yet it was difficult to grasp its scale because of the trees. The buildings rising between them were tall and thin, some soaring to the same height as the tallest branches surrounding them. Wood and stone intertwined in pleasing patterns, and with a minimum of straight lines. Natural tones dominated, save for the brightly colored signs, banners, and ribbons which hung from every doorway and window. Troops of minstrels played melodic tunes at various places, each attracting a small crowd that danced and clapped to the music. It was more festive than any celebration she had ever seen, yet the people went about their day as if nothing unusual was occurring.

  “Are we going straight to the temple?” Shalindra asked. She had given up on thinking she would recognize it, as nearly every building bore the symbol of Eluria somewhere upon it.

  “Oh,” Enna said, startled from her thoughts. She stood for a moment getting her bearings, then set off down one of the streets. “I thought we might get something to eat first. The meeting will likely take some time.”

  “Do you think we will we be able to see the Manalathlia this evening?”

  “Her name is Elothlirial,” Enna said, “though she prefers to be addressed by title no matter the setting. It might be possible to see her before the evening prayers, but once begun she will not make herself available until tomorrow.”

  Enna lapsed back into silence, and Shalindra left her to her thoughts. The winding streets were cool and shaded despite the summer heat, and speckled with sunlight as it filtered through the branches high above. There seemed as many squirrels, birds, and other woodland creatures as there were elves. Commerce moved apace with every appearance of normalcy, but there was a nervous undercurrent—an urgency—to many of the activities. More than a few of the people they saw cast suspicious glances their way, and others stopped to stare and whisper.

  For all their joyous mannerisms, it reminds me of Tiridon during the siege.

  You’re right. It could be this border conflict is closer to outright war than we thought.

  I pray it is not. My father was never eager for conquest.

  Enna led them down a street with more buildings than trees, and then to a pleasant little shop with large windows. The sign affixed above the window was in elvish, but the smell of fresh breads drifting from the open door spoke to what lay inside. The interior of the shop was crowded with both people and tables piled high with baked goods, and further warmed by a pair of ovens in the back wall.

  Enna picked a loaf from one table and cheese from another, then caught the baker’s attention. The man eyed what was in her hands and gave her a respectful nod, then turned back to his other customers.

  They exited through a different doorway and onto a shaded porch surrounded by manicured bushes which shielded it from the street. Cups had been stacked beside a fountain bubbling with cool, clear water. They each filled one and then found seats at a small, round table near the edge of the porch.

  “We will not need to pay for this?” Shalindra asked as she accepted her portion.

  Enna shook her head. “No. He will keep an accounting and petition the temple for reimbursement.”

  The smells were making her hungry, and Shalindra took an eager bite. The bread proved light and sweet, and the cheese was sharper than what she was accustomed to but nonetheless delicious.

  “I cannot imagine such transactions taking place on nothing more than faith in the Kingdom, save perhaps for those who follow Toush,” Shalindra observed.

  “My people follow the gods, and Elurithlia in particular, with more reverence than yours. It is a complex relationship, one that is woven into the fabric of our society.”

  They finished their meal and returned to the street. People were moving up and down the road as would be expected, but as she followed Enna a group of elves who had been watching the bakery suddenly straightened and fell silent.

  She felt Tormjere drift closer, walking protectively on her right hand and slightly behind. Shalindra risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the entire group trailing at a respectful distance behind them.

  Why are they following us?

  They aren’t following us; they’re following you.

  Enna became aware of them as well, for she increased her pace, looking neither left nor right.

  A young girl plucking apples from a cart stopped what she was doing and tugged at her mother’s dress, pointing in Shalindra’s direction. The woman began to say something in response, but her mouth dropped open as Shalindra walked past.

  Enna rounded a corner onto a thoroughfare packed with people. She slowed, then took a sudden turn back the way they had come. The group that had been following them was caught off guard by the sudden ch
ange. The followers stepped aside, and more than one bowed to Shalindra as she passed through them. Their actions added haste to Enna’s already hurried steps, and Shalindra was almost at a jog to keep up. By the time they had reached their destination, there were several dozen elves in tow, and their numbers were growing.

  Shalindra had expected the temple of Eluria to be constructed of white marble, but instead they were greeted by only a wall of trees so thick that it was impossible to see through. Piercing the greenery were two tall, arched tunnels formed by interwoven branches that looked as old as the world itself. Set a good twenty paces from each other, both were wide enough to have allowed four horses abreast. Centered high between the entryways was a large but tastefully sized symbol of Eluria. Its wooden surface was polished to a bright finish, but from the patterns in the grain she could not tell if it had been carved or simply grown in that shape.

  She followed Enna into the nearest tunnel, the floor of which was of stones arranged in curving arcs and worn smooth by countless feet over centuries of use. Soft lights floated near the ceiling, each slowly pulsing in a pattern that was as random as it was deliberately soothing. Shalindra’s heart beat fast as the bustle of the city faded behind them.

  A woman in the sleeveless white robes of Eluria awaited them in an alcove halfway through, but before she could greet them her eyes grew wide.

  “Alta Suralia!” She stammered something else in elvish, then turned and hurried through the tunnel without waiting for a response.

  Shalindra understood none of the words but their meaning was clear, and they hurried after the woman.

  The tunnel soon opened into a sunlit clearing of immense size, large enough to have contained the castle in Newlmir three or four times over. The space was empty save for a modest number of worshippers clustered together at the far side.

  The Sister they were following took them directly through the center of the clearing, which drew the attention of those who were already there. Whether due to the speed of their approach or the crowd that pressed in eagerly behind her Shalindra could not tell.

  The assemblage was facing a line of eleven Sisters of Eluria, all but one draped in elegantly sleeveless robes of white and displaying a silver symbol of their goddess more intricately detailed than any she had ever seen. There was no dais or stage, but the ground rose gently such that they stood above the floor of the clearing.

  The woman in the center of those eleven Sisters stood out from all present in both dress and demeanor. Her robes were of a translucent white and silver with hints of green, and of such a delicate material that they seemed to float about her as she moved. The fine lines of her face matched Enna’s so closely that the resemblance was impossible to miss, though she was older and her flowing hair was the palest of yellows. Her bearing could only be described as regal, but her eyes were as joyless as a statue’s.

  Her hand moved, and an expectant hush settled over the clearing.

  The Sister who had brought them across the field was excused by another delicate motion, and she bowed and backed away, leaving the three of them to stand alone before the council.

  Shalindra suddenly became aware of her own tattered appearance, with her robe worn thin in spots and stained with the dirt of the road at the hem.

  The Manalathlia, for that is what she must have been, addressed Enna formally, her words as graceful as they were incomprehensible.

  “I am pleased to return, mother,” Enna replied in the common tongue. “It has been a difficult journey.”

  The woman regarded Shalindra and Tormjere coolly. “You have brought guests.”

  I’ve never heard ‘guests’ used so contemptuously.

  “Yes. Manalathlia Elothlirial, may I present Sister Shalindra, bearer of Shining Moon, and Tormjere Valtilaniar.”

  A second ripple of surprise ran through the assembled priestesses and was echoed by the crowd behind them.

  Why did she say that?

  Elothlirial’s brow creased in the same way Enna’s did when she was annoyed.

  “Auspicious names. It is even more auspicious to see Alta Suralia brought home. I must thank you for returning Elurithlia’s sacred warhammer to us so that it may join Her other gifts.”

  “I have come seeking guidance, not bearing gifts,” Shalindra replied, annoyed at being spoken down to.

  “Do you then not follow our Mistress’ prophecy?” Elothlirial said. “Did you fail to notice the blood moon that placed Her weapon on its journey to where it belongs? That is Her command, as we have always known. You would not seek to go against Her will, would you?”

  “Her prophecy seems to have found me, and it is by Her direction that I have come to this place.”

  “Manalathlia,” Enna interjected, “I fear that in our haste we are communicating this tale from the middle rather than the beginning. Not only has Alta Suralia returned, but Sister Shalindra received Alta Amalia.”

  The declaration elicited excitement and even cries of joy from the crowd.

  Such reactions were unsettling, and Shalindra glanced around uncertainly. Everyone here seemed to know and even expect these things that she had not imagined until they had happened, and she began to realize just how great her lack of understanding was.

  You’ve lived what they’ve only dreamed about. Remember who you are, and don’t let her intimidate you.

  Elothlirial quieted the assemblage once more, though even she seemed affected by this proclamation. “To spurn Her word is to flirt with darkness.”

  Shalindra did not flinch from Elothlirial’s imperious gaze. “I have faced darkness already, and I do not fear it. It is in darkness that Her light shines the brightest.”

  She was completely unprepared for the reaction those words would cause. Elothlirial drew back as if stung, as the others in the council looked among themselves with nervous glances. Even Enna turned to her in surprise.

  Elothlirial recovered quickly. “It may be that you have, and yet words are easy to come by.”

  “Manalathlia,” a woman in line with her spoke up, “it would seem that the test would put this issue to rest with a minimum of theatrics.”

  This drew nods from up and down the line of… Shalindra had no idea what the eleven Sisters should be called. They reminded her of the councilors from Rivermist, but no temple she had ever visited had any rank beyond Sister Superior. She would have to ask Enna to explain it to her later.

  “Yes. Those who would ascend must be judged.”

  “We have only just arrived,” Enna protested. “Our journey has been anything but easy.”

  “No Guardian’s journey is easy,” Elothlirial proclaimed. “Nor should it be influenced. Follow.”

  Enna’s face was a mixture of helplessness and terror, but after all that Shalindra had been through she feared no test of Eluria’s.

  The congregation erupted into excited talking all at once as Elothlirial and the Sisters Superior filed from the clearing and onto a narrow trail. The path wound its way through woods that were thick but not dark, leading them past only a single pair of intersecting trails before coming to an end at a small, oval clearing surrounded by a similarly thick wall of trees. In the center lay a curved pool of clear, still water, ringed with stones. A trio of rocks arranged like an oddly primitive alter rested in an alcove opposite where she had entered.

  “Stand here,” Elothlirial beckoned, directing Shalindra to a place beside the pool. She did so, noting that the edge stone at her feet was inscribed with a symbol matching the current phase of the moon: just a few days past half as it marched towards fullness.

  Elothlirial moved around the pool as she spoke. “You stand now in the Glade of Atonement.”

  Reaching a place directly opposite Shalindra she halted, waiting for the nine other Sisters Superior to space themselves evenly around the pool. The last of the Sisters Superior approached her with a beautifully inlaid box, perfectly sized to hold the weapon.

  “All who seek to ascend are judged by our Mistress.
There is no risk to you beyond that of failure, but you must clear your mind and open it to Elurithlia,” Elothlirial said. “To do this requires that Shining Moon be set aside, as its power will alter the results unfavorably.”

  Shalindra lifted the hammer from her belt and handed it back to Tormjere without ever taking her eyes from Elothlirial. The shock that travelled through the room as his hand wrapped around the hilt was almost tangible.

  “How far away should it be taken?” she asked.

  Elothlirial’s eyes narrowed, but she waved the last Sister with the box away and swallowed whatever words had first come to mind. “To the side near the entryway is sufficient.”

  There was a moment’s pause as the last Sister set the box aside and settled into her position, and when all were in alignment Elothlirial commanded Shalindra’s attention once more. “Now, center your thoughts upon the task our Mistress has given you to perform. Focus on it to the exclusion of all else around you.”

  “I am ready.”

  Elothlirial’s voice lifted, her chant filled with ritualistic inflections. The other elves delivered a unified response at specific intervals, their words intertwining to weave a prayer which was deliberate and purposeful in ways Shalindra’s had never been.

  Energy seeped into the glade, filling it with a humbling majesty that defied words and evoked memories of her night at the Three Sisters. Yet the sensation was different, and less comforting in its structure.

  Shalindra felt Tormjere’s awareness latch onto hers protectively as a hazy curtain obscured her view of everything around her.

  Don’t let her isolate you.

  She closed her eyes and sought the vision she had been shown of Ildalarial in flames. Though indelibly etched into her memory, the scene fled as pressure squeezed against her from every direction.

  I cannot focus. Something is trying to enter my mind.

  She felt him fighting whatever was trying to interpose itself between her mind and his, and she pushed towards him with equal vigor. The more they sought to remain together, the more the discomfort grew, until it crossed the threshold into pain and left her teetering unsteadily.