Weaponforger (Guardian's Prophecy Book 3)

by D A Godwin

  Elothlirial raised her hand, and the already quiet gathering fell to a hushed silence. “Faithful of Elurithlia, behold. Now is the time of Ascension. Before us comes Shalindra, second of that name.

  “Faith has guided our people since time unimaginable. Now, in the four thousand four hundredth and sixty-fourth year of Her eternal dominion, we are gathered to bestow Elurithlia’s blessing upon the one who is worthy. We have shielded her with armor.”

  “As She shields us from the darkness,” the assembly chanted in unison.

  “We have armed her with wisdom.”

  “As She guides us with justice,” they answered.

  “We have filled her with compassion.”

  “As Her love knows no bounds.”

  “So shall she ascend!” Elothlirial flung her arms open to Shalindra. “Who among us shall lend their strength to this purpose?”

  Though the participants had been determined days before, it was not an entirely ceremonial question. During Shalindra’s recent instruction, it had been revealed that the position was fraught with its own dangers. More than one of those assisting had died during prior ceremonies, and she prayed that such would not be the case today. Shalindra heard the soft footsteps behind her as those who had been chosen assembled at her back.

  “I shall assist,” came a voice.

  “Avrilia, daughter of Ormalian,” Eloth intoned.

  Shalindra felt a soft touch against her back as the old elf walked past and took her assigned place.

  “I shall assist,” came Enna’s voice.

  “Ennathalerial, daughter of Elothlirial.”

  Another touch on her back, this one accompanied by a wink as Enna moved past her to assume her place within a circle. Nine more volunteers were recognized, each placing their hand symbolically on her back in a gesture of support.

  Elothlirial turned to face her. “Now is the time. Shalindra of Actondel, Elurithlia has judged you worthy of ascension. Will you accept this charge and take up the mantle of Guardian, committing yourself to uphold Her values and glorify Her will?”

  “I shall,” she responded.

  “And will you use these gifts to protect your Sisters and our people in Her name, and as She would, wielding them only for such purpose as She may choose?”

  “I will always do what is best, in Her light,” Shalindra affirmed.

  “Take your place, Sister Ascendant.”

  Shalindra’s eyes sought Tormjere’s as she started forward, and the calmness she found there was the only thing that kept her knees from giving out. Reaching the center of the circle, she faced Elothlirial once more.

  The nine outer clerics knelt on cue, followed by the three inner. Shalindra’s emotions threatened to overwhelm her as she took a knee on the stone. Every woman who had worn Her armor and carried Her weapon had done the same, in this very spot. From the first of them more than four thousand years earlier, the woman whose name was so similar to her own, through to the last, whose purpose had never been fulfilled, each had done as she now did.

  I pray that I am worthy of your legacies.

  Shalindra turned her eyes heavenward as those around her began the ritualistic prayer. The full moon shone bright above, moments away from being in perfect alignment with the inscriptions upon the stone.

  Their prayers layered protections that manifested as shimmering, faceted domes, encasing her one after another. The first served to prevent anyone from entering the circle. The next blocked sound, rendering the elves’ own voices mute to Shalindra’s ears. Another surrounded her with a curtain of hazy white fog that swirled gently, obscuring everything from her vision.

  Shalindra was alone, isolated from the world and ready to meet Eluria as no one in living memory had. Time seemed to slow, until there was neither sound nor motion. Something familiar brushed against her mind, calling to her, and she cast her gaze to the heavens. Directly overhead, through a small circle in the fog surrounding her, was the moon. Shalindra felt their prayer end.

  Precisely when it was supposed to.

  Just as the full moon reached its zenith.

  At the exact moment when she was ready.

  Pinpricks of light began to fall about her like rain, each streaking down like a tiny star that tingled with warmth as it landed upon her. She closed her eyes, for she no longer needed them to see. She knew the detail of every thread and fiber of her robes, every curve and inlay in her armor, every note and tone of joy that lifted from the voices of those assembled around her, every motion and movement of the leaves in the trees that surrounded them.

  The brightness of the moon grew until the purity of its light was all she could behold. The trees slipped away, then the people, and even the rock beneath her, and in that moment of unimaginable warmth and purity, she felt the touch of her goddess as she had before, and surrendered to Her embrace.

  “Eluria, I am yours,” she whispered.

  Tormjere felt Shalindra’s joy, if none of her fervor, from where he leaned against the branches of the wall encircling the glade. The hazy whiteness of the barriers that had been erected between them did not fully obscure his vision, and the column of light surrounding her sparkled off the scales of her armor, causing the air inside the protective dome to shimmer like a midday heat.

  The elves had begun another prayer. Tormjere could understand their words no better than Shalindra, but the twelve priestesses were giving everything they had to the ceremony. Elothlirial’s voice guided them, raising in pitch as it became more impassioned, and the other women lifted their voices to match. Her brow creased with the effort of it. Avrilia appeared equally challenged, but Enna’s voice was strong and led them back to where they needed to be.

  Tormjere continued watching, waiting for something to happen, but there was nothing to see. Out of idle curiosity he allowed his vision to shift as he did when seeking the energy of a dying demon, and the scene blossomed to life. Rather than shimmering light, he now saw flickering embers streaking towards her. A lattice of silvery tendrils served to funnel them into Shalindra, and they sparked as they were absorbed into her being. There was motion in those energies, a rhythm in the swirls and eddies as they descended. Yet, despite the power that he witnessed, the ceremony was both calm and deliberate, even loving. It was like the reverse of an act that he had performed countless times.

  Except that he had consumed more from the demons he had killed than was being given to her.

  The pitch of Elothlirial’s voice deepened, which meant that the ceremony had passed its midpoint. But it was too soon, and it was a small gift indeed.

  He had expected her to emerge from this ritual stronger than he could ever hope to become, an equal to the might of creatures that he knew existed. The realization that she would not brought a bitter taste to his mouth. She would continue to be woefully underprepared for whatever was to come—strong enough to try but weak enough to fail.

  His fists clenched in frustration as he stared helplessly at the moon.

  This will never be enough.

  ~ No, it will not ~

  The words carried an all-consuming majesty that pierced his mind like icy daggers, and he winced even as they melted to a distressful warmth. He looked at Shalindra, certain that it was not her thought he had heard. That could only mean…

  Mistress Eluria?

  ~ So I am named ~

  Tormjere probably should have knelt or bowed or otherwise offered some form of respect, but his question formed before he could prevent it.

  If you know this is not enough, why is it all she receives?

  It was probably blasphemous to question a god, but he struggled to focus as Her words blotted out every sense that he possessed.

  ~ The Ascension is the greatest request they may make of me ~

  Can’t you just give her more?

  He hoped that thought was as complimentary as possible.

  ~ Even for those whom you call gods, there are rules ~

  That made little sense, but he was certainl
y not going to argue the point.

  ~ That which cannot be given, must be taken ~

  His skin was beginning to prickle, as if it had been left in freezing water too long, and he was thankful he was leaning against a tree or he surely would have fallen by now.

  ~ You know of a way ~

  Did he? His body shuddered as a memory was dragged from the depths in which he had buried it, and it played before him as if he were again there.

  The glade disappeared. He stood now on a rocky crag, staring down across a desolate plain dominated by a thick, conical spire so tall that its pinnacle, if it even had one, was lost in the dark clouds that perpetually blanketed the skies. The circumference of its base would have taken days to navigate, and its craggy surface was unmarred by road or doorway. Around and upon that spire danced thousands—perhaps tens of thousands—of demons, their massive bodies as tiny as ants from his vantage point. There came a terrible rending sound, as if the sky itself was being torn open, and the world shook with the rage of a tormented god. Streaks of red hurtled through the clouds like meteors of flame. Into the assembled hordes they fell, to be fought over and killed for in an orgy of power and death. When it was finished, every participant, both willing and unwilling alike, emerged with scars, but those closest to the top, those who had captured the largest bounties, strode forth stronger than any creature had a right to become.

  The vision blurred and was gone, and Tormjere was left all the worse for having remembered it.

  You suggest the impossible. I have never known such power.

  ~ You have never asked ~

  Tormjere’s mind reeled, too stunned with the implications of that statement to respond. Had Eluria actually offered to give him the power needed, only so he could use that same gift to force from Her what Shalindra needed?

  Why? I do not carry your symbol, and I have never worshiped you.

  ~ Do you not? ~

  She seemed amused at his confusion.

  Tormjere had never… His eyes went again to Shalindra.

  ~ Every day, since the first ~

  He was sitting in his home valley, hoping that the blue-eyed girl would be safe from the spies that followed her father.

  ~ You have watched over her like no other ~

  He stood with sword in hand in the streets of Jonrin, facing her would-be kidnappers.

  ~ Shielded her from darkness ~

  He held tight to her hand as the river surged around them, refusing to let go.

  ~ Guided her path ~

  He looked out from a mountain searching for her uncle amidst armies who clashed in the fields.

  ~ And stopped at nothing to protect her ~

  He stood alone before Mataasrhu as the demon beckoned him into the mist gate.

  ~ And all you have ever asked for was her safety ~

  I didn’t know anyone was listening.

  ~ We are always listening. Take your place beside her ~

  His head ached from the conversation, but he forced his body to remain where it was.

  Will it hurt you?

  ~ Would it matter to you if it did? ~

  She already knew the answer as surely as he did. Without a sound he left his appointed place, walking past the startled looks of the other clerics in the room.

  As he set foot on the stone, Enna’s worried eyes met his.

  What are you doing?

  He slowed his steps just enough to allow her an answer.

  Walking my path.

  Tormjere passed through their barriers without any resistance, leaving Enna and the other elves behind.

  The stone beneath him was bathed in pure light, while a hazy fog wrapped around them on all sides, obscuring everything outside. Shalindra knelt within the inscription of the full moon, her head tilted to the sky and her eyes closed.

  The most wonderful feeling of peace enveloped them both, a deep and abiding sensation of contentment that eased away every worry and care.

  Time slowed to a crawl, yet he knew that it was a commodity that could not be wasted. He stepped behind Shalindra and rested his hands on her shoulders, not understanding why but knowing it was needed.

  He studied the stream of Eluria’s gift that flowed into her. They were tangible things, little glowing pieces that fell from above to be absorbed by Shalindra. The memory of the demon ritual still fresh in his mind, Tormjere realized that the same process was happening here, but more gently. Instead of taking, the ceremony was an elaborate request, a prayer for a specific gift. Eluria wasn’t just giving power or knowledge, She was giving herself.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the delicate caress of Shalindra’s mind touching his.

  I knew you would come, because I needed you. This is all so much, so fast.

  You’ll be fine, and you will use this gift as no other could.

  And if I fail them, in spite of what I have been given?

  He realized that she was aware of the shortcomings of this gift, and of the almost certain failure that lay somewhere ahead of her.

  If you fail, it will be because this isn’t enough.

  Yet it is all that they can do. And, as always, we will do all that we can.

  Tormjere felt a nudge in his mind, and he knew that time was short.

  She must be told, or I won’t do it.

  Do what? Who are talking to?

  You need to meet your goddess.

  I am already speaking with her.

  Not like this.

  What could he be talking about?

  ~ Sister Ascendant ~

  Shalindra gasped as Eluria’s words poured through her body like a warm drink on a winter’s day. She could not breathe, could not think of anything beyond the glory washing over her, and could only be thankful she was already on her knees. Tormjere’s grip on her shoulder tightened, steadying her.

  Mistress Eluria?

  ~ It is time to receive what you must, but for none of us will this be pleasant ~

  Mistress, I have so many questions.

  ~ For our next meeting they must wait. Open yourself to him ~

  I always have.

  Tormjere slid into Shalindra’s mind, seeking her connection to her goddess. Finding it, he made his request.

  Eluria, allow me the strength to give her all that she deserves.

  Power dwarfing anything Tormjere could have conceived was thrust upon him. It permeated him, burning its way into every extent of his body, and infusing him with such strength and purpose that he could have conquered armies and brought empires to heel without struggle. Like an ocean trapped in a bottle it demanded release, surging upwards of its own will, dragging Tormjere’s consciousness with it. Up the streaming energies of Eluria’s gifts they flew, past mountains and clouds and even sky. Somewhere in the darkness lit by infinite stars, they reached the junction between this world and the divine.

  Through the barest of pinholes, Eluria’s majesty trickled like a stream in drought. The power Tormjere channeled sought to force its way through, but it was denied. Recognizing the solution, he seized the edges of that gate, twisting at the very fabric that enforced limits on both night and day.

  Fueled by Eluria’s own power, Tormjere thrust himself through the opening. Ripping and shredding with almost carnal glee, he tore from her what could not be freely given, and like a river risen to flood, the gentle shower descending upon Shalindra turned to a raging torrent. Energy unimaginable fell unto the world, and he funneled it downwards to where it belonged.

  Shalindra stiffened and let out a low moan. Her mortal form seemed to dissolve into nothingness, even as her consciousness expanded in ways impossible to name. Memories and feelings flooded into her, transforming her in strange and joyous ways.

  She soared through the stars, travelled across ancient deserts to battle desiccated corpses brought to life, slew dragons, and brought order to a vast wilderness. The joys of a thousand childbirths threw her soul into ecstasy. Lore long forgotten came to her, but in pieces and fragments and strange group
ings. There was a pattern to it, but she remained unaware of its predictability. Faraway lands, cosmic secrets, and places that had never seen a mortal’s footsteps passed into her awareness.

  Then, like a vessel filled to overflowing, her perceptions began to buckle. She grasped desperately for something tangible, but there was no reality from which she could escape, and her consciousness plummeted into the chaos of a world torn asunder.

  Tormjere could feel her tumbling, lost to what was happening or why. He sought her mind, but it was in a thousand places at once. Cracks fractured the walls of reality around them.

  It was too much.

  He tried to free himself from power consuming him, to seal the gate and return to her or somehow slow its effects. But the power he channeled had a mind of its own and continued ravaging its prey regardless of his every attempt.

  Shalindra’s terror bombarded him suddenly from every direction. That blast of pain severed him from the power’s control and sent him hurtling downwards. His eyes snapped open, and he was once more standing with his hands on her shoulders.

  He had to get back to her.

  He closed his eyes and forced his thoughts back to that place, seeking her mind, but it was as futile as grasping at clouds. Shalindra’s body began to shake. He watched helplessly as embers of silvery power shot across his vision and disappeared into her. They needed to abort the ritual. Could no one see that it was wrong? He threw himself at the stream of Eluria’s power, desperate to regain control before it drowned her with the very gifts that were meant to be her salvation. It resisted, forcing ever more… into her!

  If it could not be breached or bent, could he follow it and reach her in the same way it did?

  He conjured a memory of a flower he had seen earlier that day and thrust it into the stream. It stung like a thorn-prick as it left him, then shot downwards, a tiny flicker of red in a river of silver. He watched it until it landed inside her, illuminating Shalindra’s mind like a beacon in the night. He made fleeting contact, but she disappeared again. Tormjere could no longer remember what he had just given her, but knew it had worked. He sent another memory into the stream, then another, tracking each sliver of redness steadily closer to her.