The thought she had not quite finished was of her great, great, great grandmother, Aleria. If anyone knew about Vila, it would be her. Aleria had fought against the witch, so to speak, while helping the Gan dragons escape Barais’gin. “Is that going to happen every time I think of something? Am I going to get dragged off?”
“Is what going to happen?” The woman’s voice came from the barn. An older lady, maybe forty, came to the door. Brea knew her immediately as Aleria. She could be the twin of her mother – if not nearly so full-figured, Affrair did like her cakes.
“Oh, it’s you,” Aleria said. “I was wondering when you would get here.” She didn’t look very happy.
Brea’s mind filled with questions, none more so than “How can I be talking to you?” But all that came out was, “Are you a ghost?”
The older woman laughed. “A ghost? Me? I’m no more dead than you are, child.” Brea creased her brow. The woman stopped chuckling and continued, “I’m sorry, I forget how little I knew when I started. No, I’m not a ghost. I’m very much alive, thank you very much. Didn’t your mother tell you?” Aleria smiled. “I haven’t seen her for what… fourteen years? Not since your father left.”
“Left? I thought he was dead.”
“Did your mother tell you? No, of course she didn’t. Brin is down here with me, guarding the Waterstone.”
Brea felt anger twisting her belly. “Why didn’t my mother tell me? I have spent my life thinking he was dead, or that he’d left with some woman or other.”
“How could she, Brea? What could she say that a child would understand? No, don’t you blame your mother. She has had the worst of it, in many ways. Stuck between two Oracles, not having a choice but to lead you where you must go. I’m not surprised she wanted nothing to do with Brin when he chose to leave.”
“Why did he choose to leave?”
Aleria laughed again. “I’ve been asking him that every week for years. He thinks by doing this he will save you from it.” The older woman pursed her lips. “Maybe he will at that, he’s certainly doing a good job.”
“But what about—”
“Now, now, child, we don’t have time for family matters. Your mother has raised you well; your father is doing his job. This won’t be the last time your circumstances will seem… inconvenient. Now then, we should talk about Vila’slae. We can’t stay in here forever. Well, I can, but you need proper rest, by the looks of you.”
“I feel fine.” Inconvenient? What does she mean by that?
Aleria snorted. “Typical child, don’t know what’s good for you. You listen to me and take my advice,” Aleria stabbed a finger in Brea’s direction. “You go slowly the first few times in here. You’re more awake than you are in the real world.”
That was another question. “How do I come back?”
“The stone, Brea; you must have a Shard, or you wouldn’t be here. Make a necklace of it, or a bracelet, and wear it when you need to visit, but mind my words and be careful. There’s a lot to learn, and this place is far from safe.”
Brea nodded. “Yes, I was just near Vila and came over sick.”
Aleria’s eyebrow rose. “You went looking for Vila? Well, there is a foolish thing to do if I ever heard one. She’s older than me, and though she’s blocked, if she had sensed you, she could have trapped you in here forever.”
Brea gulped. A chill ran down her spine. Thinking about it, it was a stupid, foolish thing to do. “She is blocked then. I wondered if she would be. Bausamon said so—”
“Yes, yes, she’s blocked.” Aleria put down the bucket she was carrying. “I see this is going to take longer than I expected. If we’re going to talk about everything, let’s at least go inside and have a cup of tea. Those damn wolves could be out spying on us, and I don’t want them to see us together.”
“Wolves?”
“Yes, Brea, wolves. The Karakin, they don’t usually come down this far, but I have seen them sniffing around, once or twice.” Brea blinked, and then gulped. “Ah, I see you have heard of them!”
“Enough to run the other way,” Brea said, with a croak in her voice.
Aleria hummed in approval. “Seems I won’t have to teach you everything.”
Brea followed her great, great, great grandmother inside the small farmhouse.
Why the village looked like the Braylair of a century ago was another question amongst many that Brea asked over the next hour. Aleria answered all of them.
Amongst other things, Brea was surprised to learn that the road was the Knowledge of Ages. She had expected everything placed into her mind, somehow. Aleria laughed at that idea, saying, “That much knowledge at once would drive you mad.” Learning that annoyed Brea a little, annoyed her that she would have to go to sleep to find the answers to her questions. But then again, she had to admit it was better than never knowing. Tamson was a shock; it seemed that the crazy old man that lived in the Tunnels of Aldregair was about the only thing keeping Diobael from “Running amuck,” as Aleria called it. Brea bit her lip when her ancestor told her that Diobael would do just that if – or when – Tamri Maison died.
And that brought the conversation along to the Stones. Aleria told her where they all were, and what each one meant. The Barrowstone, or Earthstone, was in Eiras, the witch’s island. Which was hardly surprising. How the Shard controlled Ein’laig’s voice was a little confusing, though. Brea knew a bit about it, but not as much as she had thought. The Arcstone, or Skystone, was in Aldreg Cave. That wasn’t much of a surprise, either. Brea had figured the thing at the bottom of the Moon Pool was not just any old rock. The Wellstone, or Waterstone, as some called it, was down beyond Eurmac, in the Land of the Giants. But the biggest surprise was that the Godstone, or Spiritstone, as Aleria called it, was right there in Arenthenia. Brea wasn’t particularly surprised that it was there – after all, it was a spirit realm – just that Aleria knew about it. Who had told her that?
Three cups of tea later, and Brea was all out of questions.
Aleria asked one of her own. “Is the Cinnè’arth back?”
That made Brea spill what was left of her tea; just how much did the woman know? She must have her own Lier’sinn. “Yes he is, but we mostly call him, Arfael. Why do you ask?”
Aleria took a sip of her tea and regarded Brea over the rim. “Did you know he spent two years helping Vila’slae?”
Brea felt her eyes widen. The shock nearly made her choke. “Arfael…? Working with Vila…? I do not believe that. Besides, she would have recognised him when we were outside the— No she wouldn’t, not if she’d only seen him in beast form.” She can’t be right; of all people, Arfael was the most determined to destroy Vila’slae. “How do you know this?”
“Oh, it was no secret. He helped her openly right up until the day she killed most of the Gan Dragons. Then he went mad and tried to kill her. She managed to escape, but after casting a spell on him, binding him to the Barrowstone. I assume you know all about that.” Aleria nodded to herself. “It must have been nice, spending a hundred years not remembering what he did. I would bet he remembers now, though. I’d bet he’s been acting differently since the Barrowstone Shard was destroyed.”
Brea didn’t want to say that Aleria was right. Arfael had been acting strangely since their return to Braylair, and what about those arguments with Tor… “Why did Arfael help her in the first place?”
“Now that, I can’t blame him for,” Aleria said, putting down her cup and straightened herself up. “There was a time when what Vila’slae preached made sense. We have known for eight centuries that Diobael would eventually escape Aldregair – actually, it’s not called Aldregair, but that’s another story. Most thought, quite rightly, that a united front was the best plan. After the civil war in Toi’ifael, when Vila’slae emerged as their leader, she proposed an alliance with the Gan Dragons, and the Kel’mai. They would join forces, and together the two islands would… persuade the mainland to fall in line. Of course, that is not how things turned o
ut. Vila’slae took the opportunity to rid herself of most of the Gan, and was all but poised to attack Bailryn. Were it not for the Karakin, she would have succeeded, and quite possibly she could have had control of three of the four Power Stones.” Aleria snorted. Picking up her tea, she continued, “Whoever thought we would be thankful for the Karakin?
“It’s all about the Stones, Brea,” Aleria said. “Whoever controls the Stones, controls everything. Why do you think Diobael turned the Karakin Alphas into Spirit Wolves in the first place? Yes, he needed them to search Arenthenia for the Godstone… uh… Spiritstone, as most call it. If he manages to take control of even three of them, he will force a change in the Balance of good and evil. The essence of the world will turn to the Black forever.”
Brea’s shoulders slumped. She thought she might sick-up any second. Slowly putting the teacup back on its saucer, she asked, “Is that the real battle then? Is all this with Vila’slae just the beginning?” Gods, she hoped not. Dealing with Vila’slae was bad enough; dealing with the evil… whatever Diobael was and a horde of spirit wolves. That thought made Vila’s invasion seem like a brawl at an inn.
“Eventually, yes, we will have to face Diobael. But we don’t know when. It could be another hundred years. And there’s no saying a replacement for Tamson won’t be found. If we manage that, it could be millennia before we have to deal with him. Not that I’d envy anyone Tamson’s job, but someone has to do it.”
“But it will happen, someday.”
“Yes, Brea. One day.”
The conversation dried up soon after that revelation. Brea just didn’t want to talk about it anymore, at least not yet. They spent another hour talking about less important matters. Aleria told Brea how proud she was that her descendant had become a full Soul Guardian, as well as an Oracle. Brea made her ancestor laugh with stories about Rek. Then Aleria asked if Brea had a man in her life. Brea wanted to talk about that even less. But when pressed on the subject, she had to admit that there might be, even if he – mentioning no names – didn’t know himself. The image of Gialyn standing at their kitchen door flashed through her mind, even though it was an imaginary kitchen door.
When they had finished yet another pot of tea, Aleria told her how to wake herself up. It was easy really; just a case of keeping your eyes closed for half a minute. They said their goodbyes and promised to meet up in the same place in one week. Brea closed her eyes, and…
* * *
Tor and Tiama were standing over her, peering down at where she slept. Rek was forcing his head in between them, trying to get close. Arfael and the two Cren were there, too. Arfael looked embarrassed. Maybe he was aware of what she now knew. It wasn’t something Brea wanted to discuss, though. Besides, if Tor could still work with him, then what argument could she make?
“Are you well, child?” Tiama asked. “Did everything, uh, work?”
“Yes,” Brea said, sitting herself up on her elbows. Rek pushed in and licked her face. That brought a laugh; she could always count on her little man to cheer her up.
“So… what happened?” Tor asked.
“Too much to begin right now, Tor, and I suspect you already know more than half of it.” She gave him a rueful stare. It was Tor’s turn to look embarrassed. And so he should, how could he let me go on not knowing the truth? “But that’s for another day.” Brea stood and brushed herself down. “For now, I have made my first decision as Oracle.”
Tor coughed, and Tiama smiled. Arfael looked even more embarrassed, and the two Cren took a step closer.
“We usually discuss decisions,” Tor said, in his most officious voice.
“Well, we won’t be discussing this one, Tor. I am going to Eiras with Arfael.”
Tor blinked, and Tiama nodded. Arfael nodded, too. “It is what I expected,” he said, looking straight at Brea.
Brea nodded back to him. She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. Was this why he was in such a rush to leave? Did he want to go before I found out about him? Yes, it would have been better if they just crammed the Knowledge of Ages into her head. Well, she would have to make do.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing.” Brea waited until everyone settled. For this, she was expecting an argument. “Gialyn Re’adh is coming with us.”
CHAPTER 5
Aleban’s Lot: Part One
Aleban backed off a step when the huge wolf sat down in front of him. He found himself sitting, too, still staring into the eyes of the horse-sized black beast. For the moment, his tongue felt like lead. What do you say to a legend? At least the Darkin didn’t look as if he were about to attack them. That was a good start, he supposed. Yet he dared not take his eyes off him.
He could hear Kalina whimpering. A quick glance to his right and Aleban saw the young woman kneeling on her bedroll, eyes wide, staring at the Darkin with her hand over her mouth. Sarai was trying to soothe her. He hoped Kalina would not try to run, yet he wouldn’t blame her if she did. The big wolf was … imposing, to say the least. As for Arlec, the old archer was standing with the teapot in his hand, jaw wide open, gawking.
The beast’s black fur shone in the orange glow of their campfire. His eyes, a sharp grey-green, seemed placid enough, and from head to toe the black animal was as clean as a pup on bath day. So, they are not feral beasts! Aleban thought. He would have to have words with Gaiden; tell the Rukin Elder to stop listening to travellers’ tales. All in all, Aleban’s first sight of a Darkin was nothing like he had imagined. Stranger still was the collar around its neck. A collar! Who put that there?
Aleban had just about gathered enough of his wit to introduce himself when he heard a rustling in the trees. He felt his jaw drop as a Cren Woodsman, a good hand taller than Cal, stepped up beside the black wolf. The Cren bowed, of all things.
“A welcome to you, Rukin,” the tall man said. Aleban heard Sarai gasp behind him, and Kalina whispered something that sounded like, “Gods, now what?” The Cren continued without pause. “My name is Renik. This is Farnok, the Darkin Alpha” – he laid his hand on the wolf’s shoulder – “The two in the trees are Goranae – his Prime, and Qiel – their son.” Renik gestured towards the trees, from where the other two Darkin were just now emerging.
Shaking himself back to reality, Aleban quickly introduced his group. He stumbled for a moment, trying to remember Kalina’s name until Sarai prompted him. That brought a laugh from Renik. Even the wolf looked amused.
A smile creased the tall Cren’s face. “You have nothing to fear from us, Aleban. Your clan has right of passage through Crenach’coi.” He still looked amused.
“Oh, yes, yes, of course; Kirin’thar granted the rights.” Gods, he thinks that is what bothers me. Aleban moved to the far side of the fire, allowing the other two Darkin to squeeze into their small camp – and it was a squeeze. “That’s not— I mean… I’m… Well, I’m a little puzzled. I did not expect to see a Cren with the Darkin. Are you kin?”
“Kin?” Farnok said. His lip curled around the word.
Aleban blinked. Perhaps not everything Gaiden had told him was wrong. Stories of betrayal, treachery, broken promises; Aleban knew there was some bad blood between their two clans, but not even the Elders were clear on when and why the trouble started. Maybe the Darkin had longer memories. At least they would talk openly, instead of pretending they could not – more than could be said for the Wildlings.
“Let’s not start off on the wrong foot,” Renik told the big wolf.
Farnok snapped his teeth shut and shook his head slowly. The other two mirrored his sentiment, if not quite so openly. Goranae gave Renik a look that said he had gone too far, and Qiel grumbled in his throat.
Renik ignored them. “Is that tea?” he asked, pointing at the pot in Arlec’s hand.
Arlec blinked at the pot he was holding. “Uh, yes. Do you—”
“I certainly do,” Renik interrupted, crossing his legs and sitting down by the fire. Even seated, he was still as tall as Kalina would be standing. The Cren
placed his huge staff and bow behind him and, dry-washing his hands, stared at the teapot. It seemed he really liked tea.
Kalina and Sarai both sat around the fire, too. Kalina needed a push, but both looked as weary as Arlec. Sarai gave a pleasant enough smile, though, as she handed the tall man an empty cup for Arlec to fill. Kalina wasn’t nearly so reticent.
“Have you been out there long? Why did it take you six days to introduce yourselves?” Apparently, she had recovered from her shock.
Renik smiled at her and chortled – at least he thought it was funny; Sarai was looking daggers at the young woman.
Renik reached out for Arlec to fill his cup while he answered. “I was on my way back to Brae’vis, after delivering word of the invasion to Renok. When I crossed the canyon pass, the Darkin told me you were here. They did not know about your recent rights. You were lucky they didn’t chase you back to Illeas.” Farnok nodded, and Qiel gave him a look that said he would still like to do that. “The Cren are gathering in southern Aralan, ready for the march to Bailryn.” Renik pinched his brow. “I thought you would know this. Did Kirin’thar not send word?”
“Perhaps; we have been gone nine days,” Aleban said. Gathering in Aralan! That is still over a week by fast horse to Bailryn.
Taking a sip of tea, Renik nodded his approval at Arlec. “Why are you here? The battle is in the east. Why come south? Are you looking for someone?”
Farnok grunted before circling on the spot and lying down.
Aleban thought the big wolf had already guessed the reason for their visit. He hesitated before saying as much; he had not expected events to unfold so quickly. He expected to find the Darkin, have Sarai perform the old rituals – in a timely manner. Then, maybe after a day or two, ask the Darkin to join them in the battle for Aleras’moya. Not this; he did not expect to blurt it out as if talking about what he had had for dinner. There didn’t seem to be much choice, though. “We have come to ask the Darkin to honour the old treaties and stand with us against the Kel’madden.”
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