He emerged into a monsoon. As he ran, the sky unleashed a torrent of blinding rain. Asnir moved as far away as possible. Standing on a root at the edge of the lake he stared up at the tree, wondering if it would fall, and considered whether he should swim for shore. If the tree did go, his only hope was that it went in the opposite direction so he wouldn’t be crushed by it.
A marvelous flash lit up the sky, exposing movement within the clouds. He focused his keen vision. Thunderbolts became steady, flashing again and again, revealing dozens of gargans circling the tree. Their deep moans could be heard over cracking thunder. Among the gargans Asnir saw something else. Birds. White ravens to be specific. His attention was drawn back to the tree when its blooms started rotating on their stems. The petals opened wider. Then all hell broke loose.
Asnir cringed. He flattened his lean physique against the ground. One after another, bolts struck the tree’s flowers, casting a hoary glow across the sky. Piercing light and deafening sounds made one feel meek in comparison to the awesome power on display. Asnir was both terrified and mesmerized. For what seemed like eternity he watched captured energy being transferred through the flowers, into the branches, and then down the trunk. The entire tree throbbed with light during the transference. Sparks fanned out over the lake and fizzled out in a hiss of smoke when they landed in the water. Out of curiosity, Asnir was motivated to head back inside. He wanted to see firsthand how the Source Divine was recharged by the awesomeness of the heavens. But he had barely made it more than a few steps when a presence stopped him cold in his tracks.
A woman. A majestic, awe-inspiring woman emerged from the water. She glided effortlessly up one of the roots to position herself across from Asnir. With luminous skin and piercing eyes, one green and the other hazel, she smiled warmly. Her auburn hair twinkled as if it was sprinkled with candlelight. The rain stopped. The sky cleared. The soft hum of energy flowing through the tree fell silent. Monochromatic skinart was visible under the woman’s sheer dress. A musky smell hovered in the moist air.
“Asnir, Son of Ardis. Kalloire is humbled by your sacrifice. You have given all in service to others. Henceforth, these lands shall be known as Lower Lightendom. And you, my tree-dweller, will forever be known as the first light-bearer.” She paused to admire Asnir. He was slightly taller than others of his kind. And leaner. Asnir had a gritty look in his eyes that suggested confidence. His face, hidden behind a scruffy beard, had soft features. With big eyes, a permanent smile, and gentle curves, his relaxed appearance alluded to his kindness. Without Asnir having to utter a word the woman responded, “Ask your questions.”
Asnir swallowed. He wasn’t scared of the woman, only overcome by intense emotion as was his way. He cleared his throat. “Why are there no others like me?” he asked.
“The Eternal Tree decides who is worthy.” She continued after a short pause. “Tree-dwellers are the purest of Kalloire’s children. Your tribe has an astute awareness that is unparalleled. While others drift from the Origin, tree-dwellers remain connected to its essence. The Eternal Tree chose this place to grow. If light is to spread, you are the most suited to be its bearer.”
Asnir pressed for clarification. “But why me?”
“You have always known you were different, Asnir. Instead of ignoring your sensitivity, you chose to embrace your uniqueness. There are others though. Your task is to find them. Bring them here. Let them be nourished by the eternal waters. Within the light they will carry, hope will follow.”
She turned. The way she walked down the root’s slippery slope was refined, but she displayed a childlike quality when she reached the water. Half-submerged, she twirled and splashed with her hands. Asnir couldn’t help but laugh himself when the woman giggled. And just as she had appeared, she vanished under the surface, leaving Asnir with a profound sense of peace.
CHAPTER TWENTY
For so long Elinor had wondered what separated light-bearers from other tree-dwellers. She finally had her answer. Her ability to process information more deeply and her high level of empathy made her unique. She thought it was weakness to constantly feel overwhelmed. But it wasn’t. Elinor was deeply afflicted by her environment. And at present, Kalloire was in distress. There was an element of the origin story, however, that Elinor found strange. The woman who appeared to Asnir. She had striking similarities to another woman that Elinor knew. Was it possible for them to be the same woman? thought Elinor. And what about the child? There was no mention of her.
Elinor placed the heavy book on the floor. She held tight to a blanket draped over her shoulders, reflecting on the child. She still didn’t know who the child was. Or for that matter who the woman was. The child said they would never meet again. That meant she must have known she would die at Brim Hall. Did that also mean the woman was dead? How could anyone escape that level of destruction? Without help from the gargan, Elinor too would be dead.
She got up and paced in front of the fire. It didn’t matter anymore, she told herself. She was safe inside the temple. No one knew where she was. And Zi kept watch for aurora-hunters. If the woman had survived, then she would have already come for her. Why wait? Elinor tried to remember how many days had passed since arriving at the tree. Fifteen? Twenty at most? Her anxiety returned in full force. She steadily worked herself into a panic.
“Breathe,” she said out loud.
She shrugged off the blanket and approached the birthing pool that Asnir had constructed for the coming of his daughter. Every light-bearer since had been born in the eternal waters. Elinor would be the last. She bent down to quench her thirst. Her dull reflection was a grim reminder of what she had lost at Brim Hall. That evil woman had taken her glow. She felt empty without it. Elinor pushed the dreadful recollection from her mind and tried to focus on the positive. Fire! She still had the ability to make fire. It was more difficult than before, and took an extreme effort to summon enough energy, but she had fire, nonetheless. It was all that remained of her identity as a light-bearer. As Elinor drank from the pool, she felt uneasy. An uncomfortable feeling surged through her body. Her palms became clammy. She saw the hair on her arms standing rigid.
Elinor leapt to her feet. She extended her polearm, filling the space with flashes of light that streaked through the handle. “I know you’re there! Show yourself!” she demanded. There was a familiar determination displayed in her watchful eyes.
A ragged and seasoned-looking man emerged from shadow with his sword drawn. “Danger, my lady,” he bellowed. Opposite to him, across the room, another entity emerged. A scavenger. “Back to darkness, you vile cretin.” The man moved to meet the scavenger head-on, placing himself between it and Elinor. The scavenger snarled. Its gangly arms came together, twice, to make a threatening thumping sound. Its wispy tail swept across the floor in warning. Fearless, the scavenger shuffled forward.
Elinor screamed. “Stop!”
The man stood with his sword raised overhead, looking confused. “But it is a scavenger, my lady. It serves but one purpose.”
“This one’s a friend.” Elinor eyed a deep scar along the scavenger’s snout. She knew the marking well. The scavenger inside the temple was the same one that had saved her from aurora-hunters. She retracted her weapon and slowly approached. “It’s okay. We won’t hurt you,” she said in a soothing voice.
“Speak for yourself,” replied the man.
Elinor extended her hand. “Easy, girl. You’re safe now.”
“How do you know it is a she?”
“Does it really matter?” replied Elinor. “Now put down your sword. Slowly,” she added.
“You keep strange acquaintances, my lady.”
Elinor stood within striking distance of the scavenger’s tail. “She’s only trying to protect me.”
The man replied dryly, “From what?”
“From you. You’ve been watching me this entire time, haven’t you?”
“I needed to be sure.”
This time it was Elinor that responded
drolly. “Of what?”
“That it was you, Elinor.” He watched in disbelief as she stroked the scavenger’s snout, putting the creature at ease. Its boxy frame relaxed, and its lone eye appeared less hostile while still maintaining vigilance.
Elinor studied the man’s attire. “You’re a Lancian.”
“I am a friend. I was loyal to your father.” Elinor remained skeptical of his claims. He gestured to the fire. “May I? It has been a long time since I shared a fire in the company of another.” The man pointed at the scavenger. “That one stays there.”
Elinor cautiously retraced her steps. She was uneasy about who to trust. Neither the Lancian nor the scavenger seemed interested in further provocation. The scavenger proceeded to a nook underneath one of the staircases that lined the sanctuary’s main chamber. It sat back on its legs, rubbing its snout while grunting. Elinor took up position by the fire, but out of range of the Lancian should he decide to draw his weapon. An awkward silence descended. Neither spoke. Elinor stared at the man, who stared at the fire while rubbing his hands. He looked blissfully content.
“Where is your afterglow?” the man finally asked.
“Taken. Now explain who you are and why you’re here.”
“I am Simtoren. Of House Aysgarth. I have been waiting here since I lost contact with your father. Is his absence the making of what I fear?” There was no need for Elinor to respond. Simtoren could tell that Morbis was dead by Elinor’s response. Her pursed lips and glistening eyes said it all. “I mourn his loss. He was a great warrior. And an even better friend.”
Elinor looked at him closely. Concealed behind his gray beard and creased face was the man that had swooped her into the blanket after her birth. “I know you. You were there, here,” Elinor said while looking around, “at my birth.”
“How can you possibly know this?”
Disarmed by her knowledge of who the Lancian was, Elinor came closer, and sat next to Simtoren on the cushioned floor. “I’ve been reading every day. There is so much I don’t know. I suspect you can help fill in some of the gaps. Like what happened after my birth? How did you get here? What do you know of Light Fall? Did you know Aysgarth? Is he still alive?” The last question puzzled Simtoren. He thought it strange for her to ask.
“I will tell you what I know. But remember. There are two sides to every story. Somewhere between lies the truth. I am of House Aysgarth. That is where my allegiance lies. There was more than one ruling family however in the Lancian Kingdom. If you were to ask one of them, I suspect they might have a differing opinion.”
Elinor nodded. “Please. I desperately need answers.”
“Very well.” Simtoren nodded at the smoked fish hanging by the fire. The lake the tree grew from was the only water known to sustain indigenous life. “But first let us eat. I am half-starved. Algae may be suitable for a tree-dweller, but not for sustaining a Lancian. I dared not show my face outside. I had no wish to be eaten by that gargan of yours.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
No one knows how she came to be. All that is for certain is she was the first of her kind. A shadow raven. An omen of darkness is how most saw her. They believed she was a prelude to the evil that would follow. Aysgarth had disagreed. He pleaded for diplomacy and warned that ancient ones were powerful, and that their ways were not fully understood. Any provocation against the newborn could be viewed as an act of war. And a war with ancient ones, Aysgarth had insisted, was unwinnable. In order to maintain the peace, he had put his reputation on the line. In exchange for her life, Aysgarth vowed to keep a close watch on the shadow raven’s development. Any irregularities in her behavior would be reported immediately to the Circle of Six. Reluctantly, the tribes agreed.
Aysgarth was true to his word. He used his good standing with the ancient ones to monitor the child’s development. It took only two moon frosts for her to reach adulthood. That was not unusual. But what was strange is how she took to Aysgarth. Ancient ones were renowned for their neutrality in all things. No matter how simple or complex an issue, they maintained indifference. They were a strange sort of kind, never showing emotion or an inkling of bias. Ancient ones merely followed the light. And during those days, the brightest light came from Raven Rock. House Aysgarth stood as a stalwart for peace and prosperity. Having the strongest fleet and best trained warriors, Aysgarth often became a reluctant mediator during turbulent times. Whether forced to intercede in disagreements between other Lancian houses, or distant tribes, it was fear of Aysgarth’s retribution that had kept the peace.
But as their relationship grew stronger, so too did the winds of change. Rumblings of how an alliance between House Aysgarth and an ancient one would create an unstoppable force took hold. Distrust and deceit spread within the Lancian ranks as well as the Circle of Six. Aysgarth could no longer be trusted, some said. The shadow raven must be dealt with, others demanded. Kalloire’s fragile peace was on the verge of fracturing.
The breaking point came when Aysgarth was presented with a powerful gift. A mighty sword forged by the shadow raven. Rumor had it the sword was capable of conjuring dark forces. Some claimed it allowed Aysgarth to control light by traveling in shimmer, something only ancient ones were capable of. It was decided in secret the situation had to be dealt with.
According to legend, the only means to subdue an ancient one was to have them bound in what they coveted most. The Fyr-Re were charged with creating fire ropes. The Ma΄Ranie then took the ropes to Brim Hall and used their sun crystals to infuse them with light. All agreed that for the plan to work, the shadow raven needed to be coaxed from the safety of Raven Rock. An olive branch was extended under the guise that the Circle of Six wished to formally accept her presence as peaceful. It was a lie of course.
On the eve of peace, Aysgarth arrived at the witan with his raven in tow. Those in attendance and even Aysgarth’s personal guards were surprised by how he capitulated without a fight when she was bound and taken away. But his anger and pain were made evident by the manner in which he departed. Aysgarth never uttered a word. He never attempted to draw his sword. He but watched with slumped shoulders, alone in his pain. His eyes glistened and his cheeks pulsated from the slow grinding of his teeth. Then he turned and walked away.
The shadow raven was later burned inside the Emory Tree to ensure her death. Aysgarth was escorted back to Raven Rock under threat that if he chose to retaliate, he would face the full might of the Circle of Six. There was no need for him to seek vengeance though. Because upon his return the shroud had already begun to descend. It started in Lancia and then spread swiftly to the mainland. Once it took hold and blocked the sun, next came the aurora-hunters.
Throughout Simtoren’s retelling of the backstory to Kalloire’s fall, Elinor never flinched a muscle. She listened to every word, both captivated and horrified by what she heard. When he finally took a break to add wood to the fire, Elinor interjected, “I saw images near the witan suggesting a Lancian civil war. That never happened, did it?” she asked.
“More lies. True, some were displeased with his relationship with the ancient one. But there was no war between the Lancian houses. That story was fabricated to gather support for action against House Aysgarth. If his own people were against him, then unquestionably, he must be on the wrong side of righteousness. As one tribe after another fell, the story took on a life of its own. Lancians were blamed for Kalloire’s downfall. Nothing could be further from the truth, my lady. You see, it was not Lord Aysgarth or a shadow raven that led to this darkness. It was the actions of the alliance.”
“How did you come to be here?”
“At the direction of Lord Aysgarth, my great grandfather, along with Raven Rock’s survivors left for Wenceslaus to seek shelter,” he said in reference to mainland Kalloire’s most eastern city. “By the time the fleet arrived, whispers had already spread of a great evil working its way across the sea. We quickly discovered we were unwelcome. It was decided to travel here instead.” As he recalled events,
Simtoren took a short pause, then continued. “Light-bearers realized too late they had been wrong to side with the other tribes against House Aysgarth. Our arrival therefore was kept a secret. A last alliance of your ancestors and Lancians were all that stood between the fall of Lower Lightendom, and the coming darkness. You and I are the last remnants of that alliance, Elinor. I was born in this temple, the same as you.”
“That’s how we resisted for so long,” Elinor said in realization. “Without Lancian support we would have fallen much sooner.”
“Most likely.”
Elinor got up and circled the fire. The scavenger kept close tabs on her every move. In gentle strokes, her fingers caressed the pendant hanging from her neck. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.
“My great grandfather was captain of the Lancian Guard for House Aysgarth. That amulet you possess was brought with him from Raven Rock. It was given to him by Lord Aysgarth, who in turn received it from the shadow raven. It was another gift. All I know is it contains vast power. My great grandfather feared it. He taught others to respect it. I know not how to wield it. What is for certain is Lord Aysgarth wanted that amulet here. He gave implicit instructions for it to be entrusted to your kind.”
“Why tree-dwellers?”
“Not tree-dwellers, my lady. Light-bearers. I do not know why.”
Elinor proceeded to her satchel and removed the Lancian standard she had somehow managed to retain throughout her ordeal. She handed it to Simtoren. “I believe this belongs to you.”
His failing eyes took on new life. “This sigil is of great significance to me.” Simtoren held the tattered cloth in his hands. “Thank you, my lady. This is a fine gift.” The sea wolf’s gold stitching reminded Simtoren of Elinor’s interest in Aysgarth. “Why did you ask if Lord Aysgarth is still alive?”
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