A Trial of Souls

by Brian D. Anderson

  But each night her heart was heavy. She had once thought that to acquire knowledge was a gift. She never imagined that too much knowledge could be a curse. Once, the origin of humankind had been a mystery, whereas now it was a known history. The place the gods held in the world was thought to be certain and definable, but now a different picture lay before her. Even the mystery of the elves had been solved. She wondered if they knew that it pained her as much as it did them when they tried to ask her for advice and understanding. That she had traveled with Gewey, who many now called Darshan, made them believe she could help. They were wrong.

  She finished her prayers half-heartedly and climbed into bed. Just as her eyes closed there was a light rap at the door. Maybell sighed irritably, got out of bed, donned her robe, and turned up the lantern.

  “Come in,” she called, trying to keep her voice pleasant.

  The door opened and High Lady Selena entered. Maybell curtsied in her usual formal manner and offered her a seat. Her room was far more luxurious than what she was accustomed to, boasting a small mahogany dining table, a hearth, and four soft chairs. There was even a large bookcase stocked with dozens of historical tomes. It was a palace when compared with typical temple quarters.

  “How are you faring?” asked Selena. A slight twitch on her smiling face betrayed her deep concern.

  “I am well,” she lied.

  Selena took notice of her attire. “I’m sorry to disturb you at such an hour, but this cannot wait.” She reached inside her robes and pulled out a small piece of parchment. “This was delivered to me this morning. I thought it was meant for my eyes, but it was not. It is for you.”

  Maybell took the parchment and read it carefully. Her stomach knotted as the meaning became clear. “I understand. I will leave at once.”

  “I truly am sorry,” said Selena.

  Maybell’s apprehension slowly turned to relief, and a tender smile grew from the corners of her mouth. “There is no need. I have been distraught. Now my life may have meaning.”

  “I will send knights...” Selena began, but Maybell’s eyes halted her words.

  “I go to meet my destiny alone,” Maybell said. “And I will meet it gladly.”

  Selena nodded and sat in silence for a few minutes. She then rose and bowed low. “I will pray for your safe return.”

  “Thank you, High Lady Selena,” said Maybell. “For everything.”

  After Selena left, Maybell began gathering her few belongings, the last of which was her priestess robe. As she held it up in front of her, a single tear fell. Brushing the moisture from her cheek, she folded the garment neatly and laid it on the bed.

  After opening the door to leave, she took one final sad look back to where it lay. Then, clutching the parchment, she steeled her wits and moved on.

  Chapter 22

  Gewey and Kaylia sat on Felsafell’s porch listening to the song of the few birds that populated the hills in winter. The snow surrounding them was unblemished. Icicles hung like crystal prisms, catching the light of the morning sun and bathing the ground in color.

  Neither of them was anxious to depart. The road ahead held many perils, and the here and now was like a sanctuary of peace. The Vrykol that lurked in the woods would not dare approach, and Gewey guessed that any soldiers would only be able to find the house if Felsafell allowed it.

  Even after having read the Book of Souls, the old hermit was still a mystery to Gewey. Every time he thought about the vastness of Felsafell’s life, his mind boggled. The knowledge he possessed must be beyond measure. And yet at times he seemed as innocent as a child.

  The door flew open and Felsafell came bounding out. “Are you ready?” He carried their packs in his arms and tossed them over as Gewey and Kaylia got to their feet. The scent of bread and honey reached their noses, promising at least one decent meal during the long journey back to Althetas.

  “You aren’t bringing anything?” asked Gewey.

  “My path differs from yours,” he replied. “Again I must seek my own answers.”

  Gewey’s heart sank. “Where will you go?”

  “To clear the way, oh yes.” His eyes sparkled and his voice was a song. “But again we will meet. I think it will be so. Destiny has a role yet for us both.”

  A musical laugh echoed off the trees. They turned to see the Oracle of Manisalia walking gracefully through the snow, her bare feet barely leaving an imprint. “Your destiny?” Her tone was teasing, yet kindly. “Old hermit. Your destiny is the most clouded of all. When even the mountains call you father, your past always overshadows your future.”

  “What are you doing here?” snapped Felsafell.

  Gewey and Kaylia were startled by his harsh tone and sudden anger.

  But the Oracle took no notice. She stepped onto the porch. “I did what I must.”

  Felsafell’s expression softened. “But they will see you. They will know where you are.”

  She touched Felsafell’s cheek. “That they will, my love. But it could not be helped.” She turned to Gewey and Kaylia. “Fresh word has come to me. You must not go to Althetas. If you do, all will be lost.”

  “Then where should we go?” asked Gewey.

  “Your enemy has begun his assault on the west,” she explained. “And soon the west will fall unless help arrives quickly. Your friends have joined with the elves of the desert and hurry to their aid, but they will not make it in time. Not unless you are there with them.”

  “Where are they now?” asked Gewey.

  “I only know they march west,” she replied. “But I suspect an army of elves will not be difficult to find.”

  “How is it that you know this?” asked Kaylia. The idea of meeting the desert elves excited her. “I thought your abilities were limited now that the gods are trapped.”

  “The shadow of Ayliazarah still retains certain powers,” said the Oracle. “And clearly she wanted me out of my sanctuary. Otherwise I would have had this knowledge to pass on to you when first we met.” She let out a cheerful laugh. “So now my destiny is a mystery as well. Perhaps my end has come at last. The Vrykol will brave anything to capture me. Even the house of Felsafell.”

  Felsafell took hold of her hands. “I will protect you.”

  Gewey and Kaylia stared at him in wonder. The hermit was transformed. No longer was Felsafell a bent old man with a scraggly beard and crooked teeth. He was tall, at least a foot taller than Gewey, with a slim yet muscular frame. His flawless ebony skin accentuated his piercing grey eyes. His ears were twice as long as an elf’s, swooping up into a slender point, and his hair was like polished silver shining in the morning sun as it fell to his waist. The familiar animal skin clothing was now a purple and gold robe made from the finest satin. Embroidered on this with gleaming silver threads were a series of undulating and intricate circular patterns.

  “They will not touch you, my darling,” said Felsafell, looking into her eyes with intense affection. His voice had become a deep and powerful baritone.

  “Then I will never again leave your side,” she replied. “We will meet our fate as immortal fools, then return to the Creator’s loving embrace together.”

  He leaned down and kissed her lips, lingering for several long moments before releasing her hands.

  And then it was over. Once again, the old Felsafell they knew stood before them. Gewey could only stand there, mouth agape. The Oracle giggled like a young girl. “My love is handsome, is he not?”

  “How did you do that?” asked Kaylia, her eyes fixed on Felsafell.

  “I showed you his true self,” she replied. “Did you truly think the eldest so bent and frail as he appears to you now?”

  “I thought your kind were unable to use the flow,” said Gewey. “How is it you changed your appearance?”

  Felsafell shrugged awkwardly. “I need not the flow to affect my body. I appear as I choose without glamour and illusion.”

  “But why…this?” asked Gewey.

  Felsafell grinned. “Easier
to pass through the world unseen and misunderstood. The world could not fathom me. Nor have they ever seen my kind in true form. Trouble enough between elf and man without me stirring the pot.”

  “But even your manner of speech was different,” said Gewey. “In this form you speak in riddles.”

  “In this form I speak your language,” he said. “You heard my true tongue uttering from my lips. Not this harsh tangle of misunderstandings.”

  “You understood because it is your native language as well,” explained the Oracle. “And Kaylia because of your bond.”

  Gewey shook his head, laughing at the thought of what people saw when looking at Felsafell. If they only knew what lay behind his comical form.

  A loud screech tore through the air, snapping him to attention.

  “They come for me,” said the Oracle. “They will not wait for you to leave.”

  “Then go inside,” said Felsafell. “And let them come to their doom.”

  The Oracle kissed him on the cheek and obeyed.

  Felsafell turned to Kaylia. “Follow her and guard my treasure. Should they pass, only you can save her.”

  Kaylia hesitated, then nodded in compliance. “And you guard mine.”

  Gewey drew his sword and allowed the flow to enter. “You have no weapon.”

  Felsafell’s eyes were dark and menacing. “A weapon I do not need. The enemy has good reason to fear this place.”

  They took a few steps in front of the house and waited. Gewey could feel the Vrykol approaching.

  “There are more than twenty,” he said. “Maybe you should...” But Felsafell had vanished without a sound, leaving no footprint behind.

  A few seconds later Gewey spotted dark figures with blades in hand darting back and forth between the trees. There were enough to hinder his abilities, but he had no intention of using fire to destroy his enemy, nor earth to slow them. The playful sound of the spirit surrounded him and the wisps of light danced and swirled. Reaching out he touched the corrupted spirit of the nearest Vrykol. It recoiled, and he could feel sudden resistance. Gewey smiled inwardly as he reached in and ripped the tainted soul from its body. Its piercing shriek cut through the woods, tearing at Gewey’s ears as the body crumbled to black dust. The other Vrykol paused, and Gewey could feel their fear. He laughed out loud.

  “I thought the Vrykol did not feel fear,” he challenged. “Come. Today is your last.”

  Infuriated by his mocking, they charged as one. But when they were about fifty yards away, Gewey saw a gray form fall from the treetops and land on the shoulders of the leading Vrykol. It was Felsafell. In a single swift motion he tore the head from the beast and then sprang atop another, gliding as if weightless. In just a few seconds, six Vrykol had fallen.

  Gewey destroyed three more, but the rest were on him in moments. His sword came to life in his hands. With two strokes he sent heads rolling on the ground. Cruel blades sliced at his neck as he stepped back and spun around. But by now the Vrykol had closed in. The tip of a jagged sword sliced through his left arm. Ignoring the pain, he ran another through and jerked up, splitting the beast in half. Another Vrykol strike found the back of his right shoulder, this time deep enough to scrape bone. Gewey cried out. Knowing that another blow would quickly follow, he leaned forward to lessen its cut.

  But no blow came.

  When he turned around he saw Felsafell standing in the midst of the remaining Vrykol, their headless bodies scattered all around him.

  “Not fast enough to save you pain, I’m afraid,” said Felsafell, seemingly calm. “But healing is near, as well as a moment more of peace.”

  The pain from his wounds was burning fiercely as Gewey stepped over the bodies and entered the house. The two women were sitting by the fire, Kaylia with her long knife resting across her lap. She sprang up and was across the room to him before he had barely crossed the threshold. Taking off his ruined shirt, he cleaned his sword while she examined his injuries.

  Felsafell joined the Oracle and sat beside her. They spoke in hushed whispers as Kaylia used the flow in the way Nehrutu and Aaliyah had taught her, to heal Gewey’s wounds.

  “Another night you should spend,” said Felsafell. “Recover your strength and eat hearty tonight.”

  Gewey put on another shirt. “I suppose that would depend on what the Oracle has to say.”

  She smiled and took Felsafell’s hand. “One night will force you to press your pace. But the reward is worth the risk. And I am no longer the Oracle. Once, long ago, I was called Basanti. I think it is time I was called that again.”

  Gewey smiled and bowed. “As you wish, Basanti.”

  Felsafell left for a time, returning with a wild turkey and herbs. By nightfall the wine was flowing and the meal prepared. Soon they were all sitting around the table with spirits lifted. For one evening at least, their troubles were forgotten.

  “If it is not too personal,” said Kaylia to Basanti. “Were you ever human?”

  “I was indeed,” she replied. “When humans left the sands in the east, I was among the first of the children born unto them. And until the gods asked me to serve, I lived on a small farm with my parents and brothers.”

  “Why did the gods change you?” asked Gewey.

  “The goddess Pósix came to me one spring afternoon.” Basanti’s eyes were far away, and a tiny smile crept upon her rosy lips. “She was so beautiful, I thought I had wandered into a dream. I was picking herbs in the forest near to our house when the figure of a young woman appeared. But of course, this was no ordinary woman. I can’t describe how it felt.” She looked to Gewey and Kaylia. “Can you recall how you felt when you met the essence of Ayliazarah?”

  “It was like love and passion were things I could hold in my hands,” answered Kaylia. “It was almost too much to bear.”

  “Then imagine the goddess of the dawn and light,” she said. “The real goddess. Standing before you. She looked at me and smiled.” Basanti laughed softly. “I actually fell to my knees and wept, overcome with joy. I knew at once who she was, but couldn’t imagine why she was there.

  “She took my hand, dried my tears, and asked me if I loved my family. Her voice was enough to make me weep again, but I told her that of course I did. Then she asked if I would be willing to sacrifice everything to serve them - to keep them safe from harm. I didn’t understand what she meant, but naturally I said yes anyway.

  “It was then I felt my spirit leaving my body. The earth was the same, but above me was a light so bright and pure that it made my heart swell. It took me a minute to understand what had happened, and when I did, I was terrified. I thought this meant I was dead. But Pósix rose from the earth and took my face in her hands. She explained that I would only die if I chose to, but first she had something to show me.

  “Needless to say, I was unable to refuse, so I let her lift me up until we had passed through the light. And that is when I saw them…the gates of heaven.”

  Kaylia gasped. “You saw them with your own eyes? How is such a thing possible?”

  “How is Darshan walking among us?” she replied simply. “To me, that is just as wondrous. I did in fact see them, but they are not as you might think. The gates of heaven are not actual gates. At least, not in the way a mortal might imagine them. It was more like a great tempest of light and color, infinitely large and impossibly deep. I had thought the beauty of Pósix was beyond anything I could ever fathom, but she was plain and ordinary by comparison. It was as if I were seeing the heart of creation in all its majesty. I could neither move nor speak. I longed to touch it and pass inside, but she held me fast. She told me that, if I chose to, I could be one of its guardians. Beyond lived the souls of all human kind, but to reach this place they needed help and guidance. I was to be given the gift of prophecy to shepherd them along the right path.

  “The gate grew distant and I wailed and cried to see it one last time. But in an instant I was back inside my own body. I screamed and sobbed at the loss of such untempered g
race. Pósix sat beside me, stroking my hair and singing softly in my ear until I regained my wits.”

  A single tear fell down Basanti’s cheek. “She asked me again if I would serve her. Instantly, I said yes. That was when I died. At least ...when my mortal self died.”

  “That is when she made you a Vrykol?” asked Gewey.

  Basanti shot him an angry glance. “Please do not call me that. The stories of the Vrykol were an invention of the elves. They feared us and sought to destroy us. And for the most part, they succeeded.”

  “I am sorry,” said Kaylia. “I regret that my people have wronged you.”

  She gave Kaylia a forgiving smile. “Thank you, my dear. But that was long ago, and I do not hold you or your kin accountable.”

  “Did it hurt?” asked Gewey. “You know - when she killed you.”

  She cocked her head. “It was strange to say the least. But I would not say it hurt. Pósix changed my spirit and wove it back into my body. From that moment to this, I have been unchanging, immortal…and alone.”

  “Alone no longer,” Felsafell objected. “The old hermit do you have as your servant.”

  She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “And for that I am grateful.” She took a sip of wine.

  Felsafell tenderly stroked her hair. “But the time for tales has come and gone,” he said. “The time for sleep is now. The morning comes quick, and I would walk with my lady under the stars.” He pushed back his chair and led Basanti to the door.

  Gewey and Kaylia prepared a bedroll in front of the fire. They sat there quietly, watching the flames dance and pop.

  “The wonders of this world seem never ending,” remarked Kaylia after a spell of comfortable silence.

  Gewey nodded, then gently placed his hand on Kaylia’s belly. “And there are more to come. Of that I am certain.”

  Chapter 23

  The next morning Gewey awoke to find Felsafell and Basanti gone. A folded note had been placed beside his bedroll.

  Kaylia was still sleeping, a wry grin on her face. He was tempted to touch her mind to see what she was dreaming of, but the light shining in through the window told him that they needed to depart. Unfolding the note, he held it near to the dying fire.