Riff looked up from his everflame, apparently tired of waiting for her to continue. “Well, what is the point? We cannot enter a settlement at night, not and keep our heads attached to our necks.”
“Agreed. We need to wait until morning.” She kept her voice even. She would not lose her temper with him. Why did everything he say seem to irritate her so much?
“Fine for us,” Riff said, pointing at the two of them. “But Lotte here will be killed as soon as they see him or have you forgotten what they do to humans who exist outside the settlements. Two Elks being your warder was the only thing that kept him alive and then just barely.”
“Druids and sorcerers can travel between the settlements. As my shieldwarden, Two Elks falls under the same laws. I will think of something for Lotte.”
“Oh, I'm sure you will,” Riff said, a smirk accompanying his words.
She was just about to let him know what she thought about him when a voice came from somewhere within the corn stalks.
“A Gwa A'Chook dwelling. Empty,” Two Elks called.
“Perfect timing,” Riff said, hastily scrambling to his feet, his eyes never meeting hers. “Come along, Lotte. You heard her, she'll think of something. Adventure awaits.”
20
Know Thyself
Ghile opened his eyes. He was in the Dreaming. He was in the clearing surrounding the Great Oak. He found it strange. He assumed he would enter the Dreaming at the same place he went to sleep on Allwyn since he was in the same place. He guessed it didn't work that way.
The Great Oak stretched upwards before him, overshadowing the other trees, its upper boughs lost in the dark grey clouds. Thunder played in the distance.
The Great Oak was not the only thing that was different. In Allwyn, many of the trees on the island were silvertrees. Ghile took in the trees around the clearing and didn't see even one.
Even with the differences it was obviously the same place and Ghile wanted to know why.
“Where are you, Adon?” he called. Only wind answered.
“Muk? What about you?”
Ghile waited, listening intently. There was no answer. He was alone. Of course they weren't there. Why would they be? They probably knew exactly why he was here.
He set off at a run, his face a tight grimace. He didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't just stand there and wait.
The sky glowed as lighting flashed somewhere nearby, the thunderclap followed almost instantaneously. The weather didn't bother him, somehow it seemed fitting, reflected his mood.
He pushed down with his force shield and soared into the air. He touched down on a limb only to push off and soar to the next. He lost himself in the movements, letting his anger play out.
When he found Adon, he was going to get answers. He was in no hurry to return from the Dreaming anytime soon. The keeper had made it clear they could not commune with Islmur until more of the Alvar answered Arenuin's call and came to the grove. He didn't know how many they needed for the ritual they would perform. It was obvious the Guardians were not going to tell him anymore than they thought he needed to know, which wasn't much.
Even his questions about the silvertrees seem to upset them. Arenuin was about to explain about the ritual to commune with Islmur and even had gotten so far as to say it had only been done once before in her lifetime, when the Keeper had motioned her to silence. Then he was told to wait. He had not had the opportunity to speak with Arenuin since.
That had been over four days ago. Four days of waiting, watching the island fill with Alvar, and none of them willing to say more than one word to him. He would have thought they would have been curious to speak with a human now that one was here who could understand their sing-song language, but they did not seem overly impressed. They simply congregated together in small groups and sang to one another. They sang softly on the island, it reminded Ghile of how people acted when they were in trouble and just waited on the punishment to be meted out.
He landed on a limb and brought himself to an abrupt halt. The mountain lake stretched out before him. He had reached the edge of the island. He pushed off and drifted down to the rock strewn shore, landing in a spray of sliding stones. He reached with his mind and began sending stones, one at a time, skipping out over the black water, its surface a reflection of the roiling clouds. The rocks blurred the image as they skipped along to finally disappear beneath the surface.
He didn't know how long he paced along the beach, buried in his thoughts, sending stones out over the water. But the storm he expected seemed to have passed by, the winds settled and small patches of blue appeared as the clouds thinned.
He sensed rather than heard something behind him and turned to see the shadow creature watching from the forest's edge. It no longer crouched or rubbed its hands, but simply stood there. There was no doubt the shape of it was him. A shadowy representation of him. Even though it had no eyes, or face for that matter, Ghile could feel it watching him. He felt like he was being weighed and measured.
It once again took two steps back and dissolved into black swirling smoke. The smoke stretched into a large open space between two trees. Within their confines a swirling black doorway formed.
Finally some answers, Ghile thought. He tightened his fists at his sides and strode forward. He passed between the trees and was swallowed by the smoke.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Be still, Ghile. The ceremony is about to begin,” his mother said.
Ghile swallowed the retort he was about to aim at Gar, who had just been bragging about how the druids would choose him as a Fang after his manhood tests, just like Adon. Beside Gar, pig-eyed Bralf was snickering and talking behind his hand into Gar's ear. Ghile could just hear the sarcastic, “be still, Ghile,” when a quick pinch from Aunt Jilla quieted him, much to Ghile's satisfaction. He gave Bralf a quick satisfied grin then turned back around before Aunt Jill saw him.
He looked out at the line of young men and women, who were of age, forming up between the two nearest bonfires. The sun had long since lowered behind Lakeside's wooden palisade, muting the colors of the many tents sheltered under its outer wall. The fires in the festival field cast long shadows, causing the faces of the other spectators to dance between shadow and light. Two armored dwarves standing near the dwarven elders held torches of Everflame. The light of the bonfire's paled in comparison.
He wondered if he might be chosen as a Fang? At ten, he had four more years before he would take his manhood tests. Ghile only hoped he could do as well as Adon had.
The earlier exuberance of the crowd was dying down, quieted by the seriousness of the upcoming Rite of Attrition. His father and Uncle Toren were still grinning with pride from the earlier news and spoke softly with Uncle Dargen, who was still patting Ghile's father on the shoulder and congratulating him.
As was custom, the whole family had stood before the eldest of the druids for Adon's final ceremony of the Manhood Rites, the Choosing. His father and mother right behind Adon, with Ghile to his mother's right. She had sensed Ghile's apprehension and held his hand comfortingly, her other rubbing the side of her small swollen belly.
They followed along behind Adon as he waited his turn to stand before the druid. The initiates before them each approached and stood before her, waiting. She continued to sing, ignoring them. They moved on and the next group moved forward.
The old druid was lost in the song when they approached with Adon. Several other druids stood behind her, heads bowed, singing along in unison. Mother Brambles reminded him of a shriveled fruit someone forgot and left out in the sun.
It seemed everyone froze when she opened her eyes and pointed her gnarled staff at Adon. Behind her eyes Ghile saw something flowing, like a river of streaming lights. He started to scream, but luckily his cries were consumed by the cheers of the crowd. Adon was to be a Fang of the Cradle.
It hadn't really surprise Ghile, he had half expected it. Everything great always happened to Adon. He had be
en the first to emerge from the Redwood that morning and the only one chosen by the druids. Ghile felt a slight pang in his chest and wondered if he had eaten too much of the hard candy he traded that other boy his wool hat for. He rubbed his chest and shifted impatiently.
All that was left was the formalities of this Rite the dwarves added on to the ceremonies and then he could go play with all the other boys. All the adults would be celebrating well into the night. Maybe he would find a game of ghost in the graveyard around the tents to join in. The others always wanted him and Adon to play. But Ghile wondered if he would still be invited if Adon wasn't there. He was a man now, he would be celebrating with the adults. Ghile felt another pain in his chest. A horn sounded, announcing the beginning of the Rite of Attrition.
A dwarf in a flowing cloak and heavy armor strode into view. The cloak billowed with each of his steps and his armor shimmered as if it were on fire. Most impressive was the intricate hammer the dwarf carried before him in both hands. The head of the hammer was huge. Ghile forgot about his upset stomach as he watched the Culler step before the first human in line.
Ghile shifted left and right to try and get a better view. He was behind the Culler and couldn't see what was happening. Dwarves were not a tall race, but they were twice as wide as a human and the first one in line was a diminutive girl. The dwarf turned and moved before the next in line. Ghile could see the Culler still held the hammer before him.
This rite was always the most difficult to wait through. Ghile was always confused about it. The initiates from the manhood tests, even the ones who failed, lined up with the young women who had come of age to be handfasted and an armored dwarf would walk before them. Adults and dwarves did a lot of things Ghile didn't really understand, but this ceremony always seemed to scare the older women and irritate the men. Ghile watched his father, who still spoke with Uncle Toren and Uncle Dargen in hushed tones. There was still a slight grin on his father's face, but something about the set of his father's eyes made Ghile uneasy.
Ghile's mother wore concern plainly on her face and he could feel her hand tightening on his shoulder each time the culler moved down the line and closer to Adon.
The culler eventually reached Adon and moved to stand before him. Ghile could see Adon's head above the dwarf's helmet. Adon's eye's widened at the same time Ghile's mother let go of his shoulder and covered a wail.
Adon had been chosen again. Ghile moaned and rolled his eyes, was there no contest his brother wouldn't win. Uncle Toren and his father were holding his mother and she struggled to reach Adon, who was being escorted another dwarf who looked as surprised as Adon. He was going to get to go into the Bastion.
Ghile stared after his brother as Adon was escorted away towards the main gate into Laketown, when the pain in his chest became so intense he clutched at his chest and fell to his knees. He could feel two small solid lumps under his skin. The soulstones.
His mother's cries were gone and the only sound he heard were the flickering of the many bonfires.
Still holding the pressure to his chest Ghile rose. How had he come to be here? It didn't make any sense. He had been in the dreaming and stepped through the shadow door. He shook his head. Why did he think is was ten?
The festival field was empty. He was alone and himself again. Where was he? He turned to look at the tents along the palisade wall, a flap on one had come undone and snapped lazily in the breeze.
“He was our brother,” a young voice said. Ghile had heard that familiar voice before, but it was somehow different.
He turned around to stare into his own ten year old face.
“Who are you?” Ghile said. He took a step back, his eyes darting left and right looking for any other dangers. He reached for his belt pouch and the stones within.
“He was our brother,” young Ghile said again.
Ghile didn't see anyone else and focused his attentions on the younger version of himself. He had never heard his own voice from outside his head and the difference was unsettling.
“Who are you? Tell me now,” Ghile said. He had pulled the stones from his pouch and held them before him.
“I know who we are,” the younger Ghile said, “But do you? He was our brother and he was chosen to be culled, murdered by the dwarves,” the younger Ghile said as a grin spread across his face, “and we were happy about it.”
Ghile stepped back as if slapped. “What? What are you talking about? He was my brother. I loved, Adon!” Ghile remembered the confusion, the guilt, he felt when his father later explained what happened to Adon within the Bastion. He remembered his mother constantly crying and almost losing the baby, the baby that would become Tia, his little sister.
“We were relieved when we found out. We no longer had to live in our older brother's shadow,” the younger Ghile said.
“What are you talking about? I loved my brother. I miss him every day. You don't know what his death did to my mother, my father!” Ghile said. His voice trembled with emotion and he tried to blink away the wetness that gathered in the corners of his eyes.
“You keep saying that like it makes things better. We were happy when we found out. Why can't you just admit it?” younger Ghile said. The look of disgust on his face burned as bad as his words.
Ghile shook his head and turned, the stones in his hand forgotten on the ground. He had to get out of here, to escape. He ran towards the gatehouse. Maybe he could stop them from taking Adon into the Bastion. Maybe he could save him.
“Adon!” Ghile cried out as everything around him turned into swirling grey smoke.
Ghile sat on the pebbled beach next to the two trees. He turned a small bit of moss over and over in his hand. He wasn't really looking at it as much as using it for something to distract a portion of his mind from what he had seen and said.
The tears had long since dried, but the emotion was still there, just below the surface, threatening to pour forth. He knew that had been him, his memories of that night. A part of him wished he had used the stones against his younger self. As much for what his younger self said as the look of contempt on his face.
How could he have been happy that his older brother was taken? Ghile violently shook his head as if it would throw the black thoughts away, freeing him from them.
Adon did not deserve to die. The dwarves had no right to take him and kill him. They had no right to take anyone! Ghile felt a fire-like heat wash over his skin.
“Don't change the subject,” Ghile said to himself.
“But I have not spoken, Ghile Stonechosen.”
Ghile bolted up. “Akira!” The irresistible pull of her soulstone tugged at his chest.
A smile touched her lips and Ghile felt a momentary happiness that passed all too quickly as her look turned to concern.
“You have been crying, what happened?” Akira said, stepping forward and reaching for his face.
Ghile quickly wiped at his face with his sleeve. “Nothing, it's nothing.”
She lowered her hand quickly. “I don't know what I hoped to wipe away.”
Ghile looked up at the thickness of her voice. She was staring at her hand, made of the same grey swirling smoke as the rest of her.
“I'm sorry Akira, I was on my way to help you.”
She looked up then and tilted her head slightly to the side. “You're so far away now, Ghile. What happened? Where are you?”
“I'm with the Alvar.”
“The Elves? Ghile you are not safe, the elves have no love for our kind,” Akira said.
Ghile raised his hands and tried to calm her. “It is alright, I'm fine. I'm safe. But, they have brought me somewhere far from the City of the Fallen and for that I am sorry.”
He went on to tell her about leaving his companions and setting off into the Deepwood, about meeting the Fae, Arenuin, and fighting off the Fallen.
“I have seen the work of this evil sorcerer first hand, Akira. What he did to those people and those Vargan…it…it was horrible. Is that what you were ta
lking about when you said there were things in the mists?”
Akira just stared at him, her face unreadable. Finally she said, “yes…yes, they are horrible.”
“So, I'm sorry, but the sorcerer somehow knew I was coming to help you and sent those things to stop me. I couldn't risk leading them to you and your brother. I need to speak with Islmur. Maybe she can help all of us,” Ghile said.
Akira simply nodded and said nothing. Had he frightened her, he thought. It made sense. She and her brother were hidden somewhere in the City of the Fallen and there was some powerful sorcerer hunting for them. She was stonechosen and Ghile had seen firsthand how having a stonechosen nearby increased a sorcerer's strength. He said as much to Akira.
“The part that confuses me, though, is how the sorcerer knew I was coming to help you? There is no doubt those Fallen were after me,” Ghile said.
“I don't know, Ghile. But, I don't think there is time for you to speak to Ismur. How do you know the elves will even let you go once you do?” Akira said.
He had to speak to Islmur. There were so many things he didn't know. Now that he had gone through the shadow door, there was yet another.
“I don't know how to explain it, but I trust them. At least, I trust Arenuin. I don't think the others mean me harm. If they did, they would have done something already,” Ghile said.
Akira made to sit down next to him and Ghile moved over to make room. They sat there for a moment and looked out over the waters. Ghile kept glancing at her. He wanted to talk to her about the shadow door and could tell she wanting to talk about something as well and like him didn't know where to begin.
“This is a beautiful place, Ghile,” Akira finally said.
“It is. I remember you said your dreaming was a clearing in a forest with a stream?”
“Yes, it, too, was a beautiful place.”
Time of the Stonechosen (The Soulstone Prophecy Book 2) Page 22