by Joe Naff
The great Shimmer revealed to the early acolytes the location upon the water where the moment took place, and it was decided years later that the Temple would sit upon that very spot. It took decades of work and cost several acolytes their lives, but the Temple of Tranquility was finally built in the center of a massive, stone bridge straddling the water over the exact spot where Shimmer felt the Lady’s touch.
Firefly hovered at Sunrise’s side as he marched up the massive stone bridge to the Temple door. The bridge itself was over 140 feet long from one shore to the other and just over fifty feet wide. Walls of stone lined each side. Massive columns of solid granite extended down into the water from the center where the building stood, holding up the building’s massive weight.
“What do you think she wants?” Firefly inquired.
“I have no idea,” Sunrise answered. The duo came to the tall doors of the temple. Standing fifteen feet tall, the doors were made of solid gold. Two guards stood as still as the stone pillars surrounding them at the entrance. One human and one centaur, each dressed in acolyte robes covered in shining, silver armor. Recognizing both of their fellow acolytes, the guards each grabbed one of the doors and opened them with a loud groan.
The inside of the Temple was just as incredible to behold. High arches of stone crossed the ceiling, trailing down into long columns. The floor was a smooth plane of polished marble. Statues of seryans that had gone before stood in a large circle around a much larger statue of Shimmer herself. Towering thirty feet above the floor, the stone carving of the famous elf stood with her hands clasped in front of her chest and her head bowed. At her feet stood a chest-high pedestal, displaying a gleaming, golden urn.
Sunrise and Firefly each took their own paths around the statue of Shimmer, moving to the back wall of the Temple and up the stone steps where a large, granite table stretched in front of a circular stain-glass window. At the center of the table sat an elderly elven woman. Her skin was the color of coffee beans, with long white hair trailing down the back of her head in an intricate braid. Her robes were similar in design to those of the other acolytes, but her white fabric was replaced with a brilliant orange that glowed like a sunset.
“Grand Seryan,” Sunrise said has he took a seat across the table from her.
“Thank you for coming, acolyte,” the woman said kindly.
Firefly landed on the table and bowed, but said nothing. It was not her place to join in this conversation. In truth, she expected to be dismissed at any moment.
“What can I do for you?” Sunrise inquired.
Silvermist folded her hands and rested them on table. “I’ve been informed of a peculiar rumor coming from the Dwarven territory. It concerns the drought.”
“The drought is no rumor,” Sunrise said. “No rain has fallen in weeks. Even here we’re feeling the effects.”
“That’s just it,” the Silvermist said. “It seems the dwarves are doing just fine, flourishing even.”
Sunrise was perplexed. “That cannot be correct. The ground is dry well past the Lands of Order. No crops are doing well in any of the territories.”
“Well, I’ve received word that the dwarves have found a mysterious grove. They say the land there is producing enough crops to sustain all the territories in the Lands of Order.”
“That’s impossible,” Firefly said. She immediately covered her mouth with her hands. Sunrise and Silvermist shot her an unpleasant stare, silently communicating that she had spoken out of turn.
“What source is there for this news?” Sunrise asked.
“Acolyte Ruby just returned from Stonemouth this morning,” The Seryan answered. “She told me of the grove and the bounty it provides. According to her, the dwarves speak of a magical sorceress that lives in the Savage Lands north of Stonemouth and tends to the Grove. They say she can bring a tree from barren to bountiful with only a touch.”
Sunrise didn’t know what to make of this news. It was unlike anything he had ever heard before. “Do we have other acolytes stationed in the dwarven territory?”
“None, the Seryan said. “Besides, no acolyte, priest, priestess, or even seryan has ever possessed such a tremendous power.”
“Then what could this sorceress be?” Sunrise asked.
“That’s what I’m sending you to find out. You will travel to Stonemouth and learn everything you can about this mysterious sorceress. If possible, you will find her and bring her here so we can learn more about her power.”
“I will leave tomorrow at dawn,” Sunrise said. Traveling to Stonemouth would be a very long journey and the notice was quite sudden, but it was what his Grand Seryan commanded of him, and he would obey. With a bow of his head, Sunrise stood and made his way back towards the temple doors.
Firefly lifted off the table and followed him. She flapped her wings as silently as possible, not wanting to attract any more attention to herself.
“Sunrise,” the Seryan called out. Her voice echoed off the stone walls.
“Yes, great one?” Sunrise asked as he turned around.
Silvermist smiled. “Take your pupil with you. Perhaps you can teach her some reverence on the journey.”
Firefly turned her head. She wasn’t sure if the Grand Seryan could see her tiny face blushing from so far away, but she didn’t want to risk it.
Sunrise smiled in return as he turned to look at Firefly. “As you wish.”
Chapter 8
“Please, can you spare some bread?” Cherin asked to a random stranger passing him by. He was slumped down against the split-log wall of a half-finished house along the dirt road. His body was dirty, with long hair matted to the sides of his head. Though he’d only been able to grow facial hair for the last year and a half, the fullness of his long beard made him look like an old man. He’d never had the chance to shave it. Worn out, ratty clothes covered his body. His feet were bare, but so callused they were more like the hooves of a horse.
The stranger looked down at him and then quickly scurried away like a startled mouse. More people came by, but gave much the same reaction. Soon, the people of Meadowgold began to form an arch around him, as though an invisible field was keeping them from getting too close. Cherin sighed as he leaned his head against the unfinished wall behind him. His stomach growled in protest to the lack of attention it was getting, but the young man had nothing with which to fill it. The sun shined brightly high above him, baking his leathery skin, and sucking out what little moisture was left in the dry, cracked earth. With no home, no food, and no one to turn to, Cherin couldn’t help but long for the old days.
Everything had seemed so bright before. The Phenomenon in the Savage Lands had happened years ago, and it still remained a complete mystery. Teams had surveyed the site and searched the surrounding forest, but no clues were found that could answer their questions. What’s more, not a single Balisekt had been seen anywhere near Meadowgold since that day. The Phenomenon had come and gone in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but a trail of destruction and questions.
Still, humans were resourceful creatures, and the Phenomenon had left them with a square mile of cleared forest and fallen timber. After his blighted brother murdered Lord Sansehr and disappeared into the Wilds, Lady Viyana took control of the village. Almost immediately, work began to clear the trees and build a new settlement. The fallen timber was turned into lumber and soon, a new village began to spring up from the chaos.
With the project came plenty of opportunity for work, and Cherin had eagerly signed up to aid in the construction. There was a fortune to be made and he wanted his share. He and the other men worked for two seasons to build the new town, set to be named the Viyanian Settlement. For months on end, the work came steadily, as did the money, food, and ale. They lived like lords, convinced they were set for the rest of their days. It wasn’t until the growing season started that a horrible reality was discovered.
Whatever the Balisekts had done to the land around the site of their strange ritual, it had cast a te
rrible curse upon it. Half of the tribe’s seed supply was brought to the new settlement to begin its agricultural endeavors. They were planted into freshly tilled soil, but not a single sprout ever pushed out from the earth.
Half of the tribe’s crops were lost and with them, the food supply for a large number of the population. Even with a new settlement set to boom in the growing human territory, only the farms and fields of Meadowgold were able to produce food, and half of their resources were lost in the Viyanian Settlement’s failed agricultural endeavors.
To make matters worse, the next summer brought with it a terrible drought. Crops and other food sources for all of the Lady’s tribes dried up before they could be harvested. Many didn’t survive the harsh winter that followed. With Meadowgold already struggling from a season of poor crops, the situation went from bad to desperate.
Fortunes quickly turned. Hunger and desperation swept through the territory as the people panicked. Violence spread and the rule of law crumbled. The wealthy hoarded their supplies, grinding the economy to a halt. The people prayed all winter that the Lady would give them a bountiful harvest season the following year, but with spring now here and the rains still sparse, it seemed the prayers continued to go unanswered. Cherin thought he would never be hungry again a day in his life.
He certainly didn’t think he’d ever be starving.
Cherin turned his head and spat onto the dusty ground, his sticky saliva evaporating upon impact. This land truly was cursed. Not only would the crops not grow here, not a drop of rain had fallen upon the settlement since the Phenomenon. The birds never flew overhead. Even the bugs stayed away. There were rumors for a while that perhaps the Blight had returned, but the curse never spread past the edges of the Viyanian Settlement.
“Spare some bread?” he asked again to another passerby, only to be met with the same response. He gripped tightly at the dirty rags covering his legs and fought back the tears. Without a way to provide for his livelihood, he would have no choice soon but to set out into the forest to forage for himself, or seek refuge with one of the other tribes. If he did either, he certainly would not be the first. There were many that had already taken similar options.
The ground began to tremble under him. Small dust clouds rose into the air as the trampling of horse hooves echoed between the unfinished buildings. Cherin looked to his left. Four black horses were riding at full gallop into the settlement. Three of the riders he didn’t recognize, but could tell from their armor and dress that they were of significant stature in the territory. The lead horse bore a rider he recognized all too well.
Viyana’s flowing hair bounced against her back from under her helmet as she rode. Her polished breastplate gleamed in the blinding sunlight and her sword bounded along at her side. This was puzzling. Lady Viyana hadn’t been to the settlement in weeks.
Cherin tucked in his legs and pushed his back up against the wall. It would be best just to fade into the background as the Lady and her entourage rode by. However, the band of riders stopped right in front of him, kicking up more of the dry dust. His heart started to race. Each rider dropped to the ground one by one. Their swords, chains, and jewelry clinked with each step of their boots in the dust. They quickly formed a semicircle around him, blocking any chance of escaping.
Viyana descended from her mount last. Her steps were louder than her companions. The metal plates of armor clicked against each other with each movement she made. Her long sword caught the sun as it swung at her side, casting bright reflections into his face. Cherin kept his head down as the Lady of Meadowgold stopped just a few feet in front of him.
He was certain now that she was here for him, but he couldn’t imagine why. Either way, it was suicide not to address her with all the respect she commanded. Cherin scrambled to his feet. His hands rubbed against each other nervously. “My Lady, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Cherin asked, masking his fear as well as he could. He’d never spoken with someone of such nobility before, and he was struggling to recall all the lessons on manners he’d carelessly dismissed throughout his life.
Viyana removed her helmet and shook out her hair. “I am looking for a man named Cherin. Are you him?”
Now Cherin was really confused. “I am,” he replied. “Forgive me, my lady, but since when does the Lady of Meadowgold bother to learn the names of beggars?”
“I need you to come with me,” Viyana insisted, ignoring his question.
Cherin felt a cold sweat forming on the skin between his hands. His eyes darted wildly from one face to another as Viyana’s entourage tightened in around him. His mind tried to recall all the petty crimes he’d committed in order to get by, wondering if any of them had been noticed by the wrong people. “Are you saying I’m under arrest?”
“I’m saying that you need to come with me,” Viyana snapped. Her followers positioned themselves to draw their swords at a moment’s notice. “Whether you do it willingly or in chains is up to you.”
Though uncertain, Cherin wasn’t prepared to face three armed men. He still didn’t know what the Lady of Meadowgold could possibly want with him, but it seemed he had no choice but to find out. Admitting defeat, Cherin raised his hands out to his sides. “I’ll go willingly,” he said.
Lady Viyana’s home was easily the most luxurious thing Cherin had ever seen. Not only was it the only multi-level structure in all of Meadowgold, but it was furnished with some of the most opulent treasures he’d ever laid eyes on. His parent’s home had been furnished with simple chairs and tables, crudely constructed to serve a simple function.
Viyana’s manor contained long tables of dark, thick wood. The legs were ornately carved with beautiful artwork. The walls were adorned with tapestries of rich, vibrant colors. In the center of the room stood a large statue of Lord Sansehr, intricately carved from a massive oak log. Rugs of animal skins lined the smooth, stone floor. Cherin saw no bed or other items of personal comfort, but he assumed they were on the second level.
However, what caught the young man’s eye more than anything else was the large pile of fruits, grains, and breads sitting in the middle of the long table to the right of Sansehr’s statue. The smell of the bread filled his nose moments before he walked in, and seeing it now made his mouth water.
“Go and eat,” Viyana said as she entered her home. She removed her helmet and sword, placing them on a chair by the door.
Needing no further convincing, Cherin raced eagerly over to the table and began to devour the first load his hands could reach. The bread was soft and the feeling of it against his tongue just before it slid down his throat was beyond description. Somehow, between mouthfuls of bread and fruit, he managed to say a nearly silent thanks to the Lady of the Forest for filling his belly once again.
Viyana pulled out a chair at the table and snatched a small handful of grapes. She ate them slowly and without real interest, as though eating out of boredom. Being the Lady of an entire race had its advantages. Never going hungry was one of them. “I hope you enjoy your meal, for it will not come free,” she said.
Cherin swallowed another mouthful of bread. “I still don’t understand what you want with me,” he said.
“No doubt you’ve experienced first-hand the effects this drought has had on our entire tribe,” she said. “I’ve seen the suffering of the people in the streets. Lives have been lost to hunger and disease.”
Cherin nearly had to bite his tongue to keep his true thoughts from escaping his lips. This woman spoke of hardship when her plate was full and her skin was clean. His heart yearned to lash out, but his mind was wise enough to know doing so would mean his downfall. “It has been truly hard, your Ladyship,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Do not think me uncaring or insincere,” she snapped. “I have met with the Tri-Leaf Council at every change of the season, and each time I have begged the tribe elders for aid.”
“To no avail, I assume?” Cherin asked.
Viyana stood. Her chair scraped loudly against th
e stone floor. “Not until recently,” she exclaimed. With arms folded behind her back, she began pacing back and forth between her seat and the door. “I was there three days ago for the spring gathering. Once again, the elders, priestesses, lords, and ladies from each tribe met at Tri-Leaf Pass. Tensions were high. Famine and death were the only topics of conversation. Tempers flared. There was shouting, bickering, threats of violence, and then…”
“Then what?” Cherin asked. He still had no idea why he was here or why she felt it necessary to tell any of this to a lone street rat.
Viyana turned again to face him. Her expression seemed so soft, so unsure. He’d never seen the great leader in such a state. “Then the dwarves came.”
“I don’t understand,” Cherin said, sneaking another apple from the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer these hospitalities would be his to take advantage of, and he was determined to leave with his belly full. “The dwarves always meet with the other tribes, do they not?”
“Yes,” Viyana answered. “However, as the rest of us struggle with famine, the dwarves brought with them cart after cart of the biggest harvest I’ve ever seen. Wagons overflowing with fruits, vegetables, and grains caravanned into the meeting place. They were rolling off the top and onto the ground, but they didn’t even care.” She stopped and leaned her back against the wall, focusing on Cherin’s expression of curiosity. “What you’re eating now is from their harvest.”
Cherin was speechless. The fact that a harvest could grow this full in these conditions defied all logic. “It’s barely planting season. How did they do it?” he asked.
Viyana sighed. “We all asked the very same question. In fact, the council demanded to know how their fortunes were so grossly better than the other tribes.”