The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith

by Douglas Van Dyke

  They marched through gathering crowds to the heart of the city. A column of unbroken sunshine called attention to a central assembly of elves. In the Moonglen, a clearing used for gatherings and bordered by medicinal plants, they faced several members of the ruling council. Many elves stood nearby as armed guards or spectators, but it wasn’t hard to pick out the elven leaders. The councilors, all female, walked with an air of confidence and masked all feelings behind impassionate faces. Each wore colorful garlands as necklaces. Among scattered conversations, Katressa overhead a title by which other elves referred to their leaders: Naef’ad, which meant nurturer. The half-elf was able to understand more of this society at a glance than her companions, seeing the Naef’ad as motherly figures in a matriarchal society. Cat identified the religious symbols that each displayed favoring the Treemother, Laedelious.

  A few members of the scouting party conversed with the councilors. The companions’ weapons were laid out before the Naef’ad. Trestan’s elvish sword seemed to be of particular interest to them. The elves also had discussions over the rust-colored leather satchel in which Sondra carried her healing supplies and religious items, as well as the mandolin taken from Lindon.

  One of the Naef’ad, whose green hair cascaded below down to her thighs, initiated a cordial greeting despite eyes betraying her suspicious nature. Cat translated the elvish words for the others.

  “She greets us to the city of Serud’Thanil, and introduces herself as Naef’ad Illwinu Wessail. She holds a position on a ruling council from what I can understand. Naef’ad Illwinu asks our intentions in trespassing on their lands.”

  Trestan stood at the fore of the companions. He gave a low, respectful bow, aware of the many elven weapons poised to slay him. The bow helped bring attention to the coraross symbol hanging from his necklace. He smiled in hopeful friendship as he spoke. “We mean nay trouble for the hosts of this land. We arrived by means of a flying ship that may have fallen out of the sky near here. We seek that ship to reclaim valuables left on board.”

  As Cat translated, Trestan watched the eyes of the councilor. There seemed to be a slight reaction as Cat mentioned the flying ship. It was a bare flicker of recognition or understanding in the eyes of the elven leader, though a moment later it disappeared under feigned ignorance. The elf replied in a cool demeanor as she spoke again.

  Cat relayed, “She says we scared some children at the borders of the city, and one was injured.”

  Trestan believed a more accurate account of events was already relayed to the elder. She was likely testing their reactions. “He injured himself in his own fright, and his sudden appearance put a scare into us as well. We did not treat him unkindly or ask about your lands. We simply offered him our healing services and allowed him to go on.”

  As Cat translated, Trestan spotted the brief glance the Naef’ad took towards the flower the elf lad had placed in Sondra’s hair. The cleric of Ganden shied away from those eyes. Cat was finishing her translation as a runner forced a passage through the crowd. The runner approached Naef’ad Illwinu and whispered in her ear.

  The elven councilor’s face turned from a blank diplomatic calm into barely contained rage. Angry murmurs came from others close enough to hear the runner’s words. The scout had not yet finished his entire message and yet outraged reactions swept through the crowd.

  Lindon observed, “They are very upset about something. We could be in serious trouble…what are they saying?”

  Cat tried to listen to several elf voices at once. Her fine skin seemed to pale slightly. “There has been a death…a murder at the edge of their domain. Some are calling for us to be punished.”

  Naef’ad Illwinu Wessail and the other councilors commanded silence even as they debated the news. Some discontented voices continued to suggest courses of action to her back when she turned to address the companions.

  “You brought weapons into our home with the intent to do harm!” Cat translated from elvish, making it clear as well that the elf’s words were made as a statement rather than a question.

  Cat quickly switched from the human tongue to elvish as Trestan started speaking before the translation finished. The champion of Abriana held his hands out and open to gesture that he lacked hostility. “We came with nay such intent. We happened upon your homeland accidentally in our search, but caused nay harm.”

  Cat listened to the elf councilor’s reply, as a disturbance approached the Moonglen from a different direction. The half-elf and her companions understood the body language when Naef’ad Illwinu indicated the new arrivals. Cat relayed the meaning, “She says our friends attacked some of their people without provocation, and killed a few innocents.”

  Montanya scowled, “What friends?”

  The companions focused on the commotion that was fast approaching. As soon as Lindon recognized the prisoners, he said, “Make sure they know we don’t consider those people our friends.”

  A large party of elf scouts forcefully dragged a quartet of troublemakers towards the gathering. The companions spotted their adversaries struggling amongst the rough handling of captors. Revwar’s silver hair, normally braided, flung about his head in a twisted mess. An elf guard held each arm of the spellcaster as they shoved him. The charming mentalist Jentan suffered a muffling gag tied across his mouth. Savannah limped between another pair of guards. The shaft of an arrow jutted from one leg, yet she was forced to walk on it without the use of her healing abilities. They carried Kemora forth in a most undignified way…arms and legs tied to a pole carried between two elves. A ring of druids accompanied the guards, offering little chance that the band would be able to use magical arts successfully without being made to pay for it.

  The crowd erupted in greater tumult as the lead elves displayed the band’s weapons. A coat of blood colored the halfling’s sword, as well as the head of Savannah’s flail.

  To the rear of the band followed another group of elves. Scouts carried the bodies of those killed, as wounded staggered behind them. The hostility in the air weighed like a palpable thing as those cloak-covered corpses entered the glen.

  The encroaching elves marched the trespassing band towards the companions. The elves were lumping all of their perceived enemies together. Cat held Naef’ad Illwinu’s attention as she tried to explain that the newcomers were thieves whom they had crossed blades with in the past. Cat accused them of sabotaging the ship into falling out of the sky. While the elf councilor appeared to listen, it was hard to tell if Cat’s words were convincing enough in the drowning shouts of the crowd.

  Montanya soon made a statement in her own way. The enemy band came within footsteps of the companions, though both parties were surrounded by many guards. The angry chiaso shoved an elf’s spear to the side, not caring about the minor cut she received in the process, as she charged at Revwar. The guards around the wizard put up their guard as they expected the attack to come at them. The youth flew between them as she kicked Revwar hard in the gut.

  “Where is my locket!?”

  Her hands grabbed around his collar. She didn’t find her necklace around his neck, so she contented herself with flinging him into the path of approaching guards. The wizard might have put up more of a fight if he wasn’t still dazed by druid spellcraft. The chiaso bolted from Revwar towards a new target, unaware of the elven arrow that narrowly missed piercing her back. Kemora remained helplessly tied to the pole when the angry youth launched into her. Montanya, Kemora, and the elves holding the pole rolled into a heap.

  With the initial confusion distracting attention from her, Savannah whispered a prayer to her goddess. Limping on her injured leg, she drew into creation a black orb which hung in the air. Trestan noticed the miracle take shape and reacted. The champion of Abriana went through a hasty prayer of his own. Savannah launched the dark missile at the one voice the companions had to communicate with the elves. Trestan dove into the path of the projectile, interrupting Naef’ad Illwinu and Cat’s words. Trestan’s summoned shield abso
rbed the black energy before it could strike the half-elf. The infiltrator from Kashmer responded with a quick and accurate throw from a hidden dagger the guards failed to find. The blade bounced off the cleric’s bracer as she raised her arm to protect her face.

  A whistling arrow of warning hit the ground by Cat’s feet; it was not the only one. For Jentan, Sondra, and Lindon, whom had not participated in the brief struggle, guards simply forced them to their knees. Elves swarmed around Trestan and Cat, roughly taking them to the ground and searching them for any more hidden weapons. Revwar alike was thrown down while a pair of druids assured he could not cast any spells. Another druid called forth energies from natura, taking the air around Savannah’s mouth and rendering it into a solid yet unseen force. Her cold, blue eyes bulged as she lost her ability to breathe. A number of warriors wearing crafted caleocht armor subdued her only seconds later. Montanya fought wildly to hurt Kemora until a scout with a kittane hit her from behind. The war club popped against her skull, dropping her like a string-cut puppet.

  Even as the warriors swarmed the prisoners, an angry crowd of townspeople had to be held back from satisfying a blood vengeance for their own fallen. Cat tried to make sense of the many voices shouting in the Moonglen. She overheard one phrase from Councilor Illwinu Wessail: imprisonment until sentenced by the governess of the people.

  CHAPTER 25 “Interrogations in the Trees”

  Thin eyebrows raised periodically as her greenish-blue eyes examined the wooden barricade in a curious manner. “It is definitely caleocht wood. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much in one place as we have here. This portion is shaped so well as to be unbelievable. Hardly any cut boards at all…just a living tree grown in such a way as to form a prison.”

  Montanya allowed her hand to slide along the tough bark of the tree. The branches she touched sprouted from the same tree, growing together in an intermingling pattern that formed a cage around the companions. The wooden framework that hemmed them in was still part of a growing tree. In a few select places a section of dead wood blocked the more open spaces. Even the dead wood fused to the tree by means of druidic magic, needing no nails or ropes to bind them together.

  The chiaso let her hand drop back to her side as she let out a sigh. The companions were becoming used to her hopeless sighs. “This was a test my sensei put before all his students. We would hone our bodies and minds until we could break a caleocht board. We trained hard to achieve that goal. Few could do it without years of training, and the occasional broken bone.”

  Lindon Taleweaver sat against one side of their entrapment, studying the interwoven connection of limbs barring them from freedom. The enclosure would have been considered a masterwork of art if displayed in Orlaun. Spaces in the limbs permitted the passage of sunlight and wind, also fruits and water to be passed through to the occupants. It was comparable to a metal cage for those who had no tools to loosen the tree’s grip. Druidic magic reinforced the branches, and often those same druids stood nearby to make sure no other magic could enable an escape before they could respond.

  The minstrel pushed back the wide brim of his red feather hat so he could view the long-legged youth better. “Were you able to break a caleocht board?”

  A wry smirk stole across her mouth as she shook her head slightly. “Nay, I never could. I spent most of my years training hard to perfect my muscles. I thought I was tough enough…I was certainly stronger than any of the other girls. Yet I saw them do what I could not. I don’t know how I couldn’t move my muscles to do what my heart wanted. More often than not, I broke a bone while the board mocked me. I cost the master much more in healing potions than the price of the board.”

  “Only rare people can easily touch a talent the likes of which few learn. I have been blessed with my musical abilities, though I can not claim I was born with an instrument in hand. I’m sure you will find ways to focus your abilities. To have trained so long you must be close to your goal of breaking past such a barrier. Hopefully the right inspiration will find you soon.”

  Montanya looked at Lindon in a way that she rarely looked at anyone. Her customary scowl replaced in favor of respect and adoration. “I am inspired by your music. When you played for me in the woods, and I danced the butterfly movements, I felt like I had found the potential I had been missing.”

  She sighed again as she leaned her forehead against the entrapping branches. “I wish they hadn’t taken your mandolin. I would love to stretch my muscles to your tunes again.”

  A mischievous smile found its way to the minstrel’s face. A sly glint came to his blue eyes as he admitted, “They didn’t find all of my instruments.”

  The other companions watched as the red-bearded minstrel pulled forth the bamboo flute from a pocket that appeared too small to contain it. Montanya found a rare smile upon her face as he settled his nimble fingers in the right places. She spoke, “I’m glad you have it, but what if they take it away? Maybe we should hide it until later.”

  “As long as I’m simply playing a dance tune I don’t think they’ll have reason to complain. Music is best shared among people.” Lindon put the flute close to his lips. “As far as timing, they have already kept us locked here for close to three days. We might as well spend the use of our time better.”

  Lindon began the notes of his song, keeping the pace relaxed enough for Montanya to focus on every step of her movements. The chiaso let the rhythm guide her as she indulged in her routine. She danced the familiar steps of Butterfly in the Windmill as alarmed elves outside the prison took an interest in what was going on. A couple druids conversed regarding the nature of the music before apparently deciding to leave the matter alone. They merely observed as Lindon’s music brought Montanya to a better appreciation for her own movements. In that relaxed state, the chiaso came to a better understanding of her abilities and limitations.

  Sondra sulked in a corner, unable to let herself enjoy Lindon’s music. Her companions noted the increase in her anxiety as each day passed. The human woman had grown increasingly despondent at her situation and the choices she had made leading to it. She spoke, quiet words passing her frown and aimed into the floor. “Why have we been here three days with naught more than a few questions directed at us? Why are we still alive?”

  Cat had no answer, so the half-elf looked towards Trestan. The paladin-aspirant stroked fingers over his mustache. She knew whenever he did that, he seemed to always be deep in thought.

  Trestan was not so distracted that he missed Sondra’s question. “I don’t think they know the best way to handle us yet, I suppose. They questioned our story about the Doranil Star, and they played innocent while we responded. I’m sure that green-haired Naef’ad knows something she isn’t telling us about the vessel. They also must presume that we didn’t tell them everything…which would be correct. They don’t have to be in any hurry to kill any of us. They want to extract the most information from us that they can before serving the best interests of their people.”

  Sondra glanced over one shoulder, “Then why are the elves also keeping them alive. They were the ones that drew blood.”

  The roll of her eyes indicated the identical tree prison holding Revwar and his cohorts. The four members of his band had been healed of their beating by Savannah, though druidic spheres attached around their cage dampened much of the effects of arcana and miracles. The same spheres positioned around both prisons to absorb magical energies. They did not totally suppress magic, but they drained much of a spell’s energy and depleted the mental reserves of the caster. The result was that Revwar, Savannah and Jentan were unable to blast through the walls of their prison, at least not without totally exhausting themselves with the effort. Sondra and Trestan felt the drain on their own miracles when they had attempted to heal the wounds suffered by their party in the Moonglen.

  Both parties hung suspended a good distance above the forest floor. The ground foliage was easily visible, and yet a fall from such a height would seriously injure anyone
. Walkways extended to reach the prisons when the elves wanted to bring food and water. When not actively used, these walkways withdrew to a position that would be an impossible leap for human or elf.

  The companions were within easy shouting range of the evil foursome. Few words had been exchanged during their days of captivity. Both Revwar and Savannah had tested the magical dampeners around their cell by firing lethal spells at the companions. In each case, the magical forces were drained before they could span the gap. From time to time Revwar called out to his guards in Elvish. It was hard for the companions to hear his words, but the only response that came from the elves of Serud’Thanil consisted of spitting in his direction. There seemed to be not even the slightest amount of respect between the elf wizard and his captors.

  “I think,” Trestan mused, “That the main reason Revwar and Savannah haven’t been killed by the elves is due to us.”

  “How so?” Sondra turned to face him squarely.

  Trestan seemed to idly twist Faithful’s Companion around his finger as he talked. “I’m guessing, based on what we told them about our search for the divine chariot, that they hope to confirm or contradict any parts of our story through what those others might say. Savannah and that halfling were caught with blood on their weapons and elves were killed around their party. They are guilty as any elf can see, and would likely suffer swift justice. However, I sense that the elves aren’t so sure what to do with us. We told them why we are here, and did not cause them any harm. Unfortunately, our best intentions are secondary compared to the goals of their leaders in seeing to their people. It was probably in their best interests to question our enemies to determine how they should view us.”