Ancient Voices: Into the Depths

by Allison D. Reid

  “Lastly, the whole of the world seemed changed to me. I could not feel the warmth of the air. The brightness of the sun looked dull, and a gray film seemed to cling to everything around me. I could still feel the pulse of the dark presence and the subtle hum of every evil creature, connected to all the others as by a giant spider web draped over the lands. I wondered if I would ever be able to rid myself of that darkness, or if it would be forever part of my consciousness.

  “I lay there for what seemed like hours, trying to gather the strength to stand. Even more so, I was trying to gather the strength to face my brother, knowing what I had done. The hard-fought-for bag of pearl I grasped tightly in my fist, seemed to now be the bringer of death rather than life. It came with a price that I will pay for the rest of my days. Indeed, it is a price that the whole world will pay...the lives of many, for the sake of one man.

  “You see now why my brother cannot know from where his cure came. The knowledge would destroy him. Likewise, some of the men could lose faith in me if they knew, and I need their support, more now than ever. While I do not have the power to seal Alazoth back into his prison, I have vowed to spend my life fighting against him and the dark presence he serves, not only for my sake, but for the many I unwittingly sacrificed trying to save my brother. The dark spirits have not sat idle all of these years. I can feel their followers increasing in number as they build up their armies. They are gathering in the ancient forgotten places of the world, preparing themselves to burst out upon us. They may well overtake us in the end, but not easily. I am determined that the dark presence, whatever his name may be, shall pay a steep price for his victory, as I paid for mine.”

  “I want to help you in whatever way I can,” Morganne said, flushed with determination. Now that Glak’s dark secret was laid bare before them, Morganne felt no need to hide their own from him any longer. With Elowyn’s help, she relayed their story, telling Glak about how they came to Minhaven, about Einar and the ousting of the Circle, the lost relic, and of their encounters with Braeden.

  Elowyn was disappointed that Glak had never heard of Einar, but Glak was pleased to hear that Tervaise and Reyda had given them good help on their journey. They all wondered if Braeden might have been the dark monk who steered young Glak into the abyss to look for pearl. Einar had discovered that Braeden was practicing dark magic in the privacy of his chambers, and Elias warned them that he was calling the hounds and their master to his side. Just how far and deep were his connections to Alazoth and to the Shadow? His aspirations no doubt went beyond gaining political control of Tyroc. That was a single stepping stone on the path to something much larger, and far more sinister.

  “Ever since Gareth was kicked out of the Temple, I have known that I must join this fight,” Morganne said. “I have been waiting impatiently to find my place in Aviad’s army. Knowing what is at stake, I cannot remain fearful and helpless. What is my life worth if it does not serve Aviad? If I will not rise and act in such times, I might as well abandon my faith all together and give my soul over to the Shadow. I realize that I have neither the strength nor the skill to fight the beasts directly. But I can keep learning from the monks and scour the tomes you brought back from the mountains for answers. I can help supply your men with clothing when they need it. There must be other things I can do as well.”

  “Certainly the Kinship could use someone with your abilities. Not all of our members are fighters; there are men and women of many different skills and trades who support our cause all over the realm. We have influence in more places than our enemies may anticipate. I would never expect you to ride with us into battle, but you should learn to use a weapon for self-defense, both of you. I cannot guarantee the beasts won’t force battle upon us here in the streets of Minhaven.

  “I have a bow,” Elowyn chimed in, “but can’t find anyone willing to teach me. I’ve been told the men must be trained first. Every day I have gone to the granary with Cailean, waiting for my chance to learn.”

  “I shall see to it that your persistence is rewarded. When you go to the granary again, you will have a teacher.”

  Elowyn gave Glak a wide grateful smile, but restrained herself from throwing her arms out to hug him. Instead she reached into her pouch and grasped Nevon’s coin tightly in her fist. She vowed to herself that she would train hard enough to one day be as accomplished with the bow as Nevon and Einar had been. If she ever found Einar again, she wanted him to be proud of her, and she did not want Glak to regret his generosity towards her.

  Morganne’s distaste for learning to use a weapon was obvious, but Elowyn could not have been more elated. Her radiant face beamed out with an intensity of joy that astonished Glak. For a moment, the bright glow of a child’s happiness broke through the gray film of his world. It shone with the brilliance of a falling star breaking through the night sky. His heart remembered an innocence he had not felt since before the sorrow of his father’s passing. But all too soon the light faded, draping his vision in gray once again. Still, the moment gave him hope that he might one day live in the light again, to see things as they were and not as the Shadow would have them be. Though Glak, Morganne, and Elowyn were more anxious than ever about the struggles looming before them, they parted ways feeling comforted that they were not facing them alone. Their shared secrets, and their firm resolve to fight the coming darkness, bound them to each other in a way that no one else would understand.

  The Fear Within

  Glak was true to his word, for when Elowyn and Morganne arrived at the granary the next day, a trainer was waiting for them. Cailean was happy for Elowyn, knowing how patiently she had waited, but some of the men stared and grumbled under their breaths. This was a select, prestigious group of fighters. Cailean had been accepted among them for his loyalty and tenacity, but two girls with no fighting experience clearly did not belong in their midst.

  “Don’t mind them,” their trainer said, bowing graciously and introducing himself as Davin. “Glak asked you to be here. No doubt he has his reasons. My job is not to question those reasons, but to teach you, and I shall do that to the best of my ability. That being said, know that I can only teach you technique, not talent, and neither of those will be of any good use if you do not practice every day.”

  Davin turned to Elowyn and said, “Glak has told me that you wish to learn archery.” Elowyn nodded emphatically. “Present your bow for inspection, please.” Elowyn handed him the bow, which he examined thoroughly. He ran his fingers over the surface of the wood, looked carefully at its shape, and tested its draw strength. “It was a good bow once, but it is very old and has seen much wear,” he said. “It will do for practice. You will eventually outgrow it and need something better if you wish to master the use of this weapon.” Turning to Morganne, he said, “Glak did not tell me what weapon you would choose.”

  “I don’t know what would be best for me,” Morganne said, looking uncharacteristically lost. “I do not own a weapon of any kind. I must confess, I am somewhat...apprehensive about this training.”

  “You could use the dagger Einar gave me,” Elowyn said, pulling it from her belt where it often hung at her side.

  “That is indeed a lovely dagger,” Davin said kindly, looking it over and handing it back to Elowyn. “Truly, it is a noble defensive weapon for a woman. However, I believe I shall teach you to use an anelace. It is longer than a dagger, but not as difficult or cumbersome as a full sword, and with it you can learn to fend off a sword attack. An anelace can be carried unobtrusively at the small of your back or can be tucked into your belt. At first, you will use only a wooden one. When I feel you are ready, I shall lend you a rebated sword, which has had its edges blunted. Eventually, you will need to get a real weapon. But that shall come in good time.”

  Davin set Morganne against a training pole to begin her lesson. Some of the men snickered at her uncertain and comparatively feeble swings. Morganne blushed, trying to hide her face in her hood. Elowyn had never seen her so uncomfortable and u
nsure of herself. Davin glared at the men and encouraged Morganne to ignore them and keep going.

  While Morganne practiced, Davin took Elowyn over to the open doors of the granary where the archers were shooting. Elowyn had watched them for so long, she walked to the opening with excitement and confidence. She already knew to plant her feet sideways, and how to properly position her body. She grasped the bow firmly in her left hand, holding her arm straight out toward the open doorway. She even remembered to only use two fingers to draw the string back instead of grasping it with her whole hand.

  But watching well-practiced archers from afar had not prepared Elowyn for anything beyond that. She was a child, using a man’s bow. The muscles in her fingers and arms strained to draw the string back far enough to release an arrow. The arrow wobbled as she tried to hold it in place with her right hand while resting the tip end on her left thumb. Before she could release the arrow properly, she lost control of it, dropping it onto the floor.

  More snickering floated over from the fighting men, who were obviously watching with great interest. Davin encouraged her to try again. On her second try, she managed to release a wobbly arrow that barely cleared the granary doors. A few of the men laughed outright. Certainly this would be a greater challenge than Elowyn had imagined, but she wasn’t ready to give up. She had waited and hoped for this for far too long.

  “Hey, Davin,” one of the men called out with laughter. “Are these the best new recruits you could find? Are we training women and children to fight with us now?”

  “Aye,” another man chimed in. “What did you do that Glak demoted you to nursemaid duty?”

  “He did exactly as I asked, which is what I expect of my men.” Glak suddenly appeared in the doorway of the granary. His angry expression brought an abrupt end to the laughter, and the men quickly returned to their training without saying another word.

  “His obedience honors me, and for that, he will be rewarded. Do you have a problem with my request?” Glak asked pointedly of the men who had spoken out. “If so, let us deal with it here and now.”

  “There is no problem,” the first man said carefully. “We only thought their presence to be...unusual. Would these girls not be better served learning home defense with Brant’s men? Surely they are not meant to battle with us in the mountains.”

  “Of course not,” Glak responded. “But have you already forgotten what happened at Solis? How many slain young women and children did we cast upon the flames?” He looked earnestly into the faces of the men who had been there with him. “I know how it eases our sleep at night to forget that place, but when we forget, we dishonor those who were lost, and we lose our focus. Were we living in Tyroc, or some other strong, fortified place, I would think as you. Let the women and children do their work behind the barricades; leave them to care for home and hearth, and worry them not about dark tales from the field of battle. But we are in an open place on the edge of the wilderness, facing an enemy unlike any other we’ve encountered.

  “If these girls have a heart to learn either blade or bow, and use it well, who here has the right to deny them? Were it possible, I would have the whole village training here with us. In time, perhaps, I shall send these girls over to Brant,” Glak said. “But for now, it is my wish to personally oversee their training. My reasons are my own. I expect them to be treated well while they are here.”

  “Aye, they shall. We did not mean you any disrespect.”

  “Good. Now let us get back to our true purpose and leave this business behind us.”

  Glak worked the men extra hard that day. No doubt his conversation with Morganne and Elowyn from the day before had intensified both his resolve and his restlessness. He pushed himself, and his men, to the brink of exhaustion. Yet even when they looked as though they could do no more, and Glak’s own wild red locks had been soaked in sweat and pressed submissively against his head, he would not stand down. He remained on the floor with his weapon poised until there was no one left with the strength to challenge him.

  Elowyn could see the disappointment behind his eyes, but she knew it was not with the men. She understood now that Glak was a man trying to quench a dire thirst with salt water. No matter how hard he fought, or how many battles he won, the weight of his own guilt clung to him like a death shroud, suffocating him as he lay bound in a tomb of his own making. So long as he remained unable to forgive himself, he would continue to struggle against his bonds, relentless yet unfulfilled.

  Elowyn delighted in her daily training sessions under the watchful eyes of Davin and Glak, who paused to give her encouragement now and then. She finally knew at least some of the misery Cailean had endured, as she pushed her body beyond fatigue, beyond pain. She practiced each day until the tips of her fingers had been rubbed raw by the bowstring, and she had lost all command over the muscles in her arms and back. But her eyes shone brightly as she drug herself home each day, grasping Nevon’s coin stiffly in her aching fingers.

  Morganne, to the contrary, found no delight in her training sessions. She was not prepared to endure the punishing pace Glak set for his men, nor could she afford to spend all of her days practicing at the granary. She had a busy shop to run, and the lure of the tomes waiting expectantly for her in the monks’ library was almost unbearable. She could only imagine what treasures of information they might contain. She vented her frustrations on the training pole before her without gleaning any satisfaction from her efforts. It all felt like such a waste of time. Were it not for Glak, she would have flung down her practice weapon in disgust on the first day and not come back. Davin reminded her of the importance of learning self-protection, and she knew he was right. But her heart was pressing her to focus her energies elsewhere, and it was a call she found difficult to ignore.

  Morganne had hoped that sharing the contents of the first tome with Glak would soothe her anxiety, yet the opposite seemed to be true. The thrill of running her own shop had diminished quickly against the pressing urgency of the world’s plight. Only the weight of responsibility she bore for her sisters, and the young girls who worked for her, kept her from abandoning everything in favor of her studies. She coveted the late hours she kept after Adelin and Elowyn had gone to sleep, when she could cradle one of the fragile tomes in her lap and read without distraction. She barely slept anymore, but what was weariness compared with the bliss of knowledge?

  The next tome Jadon had given her was challenging, not because of its message this time, but because it had been written mostly in verse. The tome was a beautiful one, with colorful illuminations and smooth, flourishing script. The monks of Evensong had written it to preserve their way of life through poetry, song, and prayer. Morganne was captivated, finally gaining a much-longed-for glimpse into a world that would always be closed to her. The vibrant life of Evensong’s abbey came alive on those pages, even as Morganne struggled with their translation.

  At first it was difficult for her to fathom that the barren ruin on the cliff top where she had sought Aviad’s guidance not so long ago, had once held a thriving monastic community. But these lovely, simple verses the monks had left behind allowed her to resurrect its memory. For a brief time, the sturdy walls and pillars of the ancient abbey were raised up again, their halls echoing with voices, footsteps, and the sounds of steady work.

  Morganne could almost hear the chants of the monks as they heralded the sun’s rising each morning, their soft, haunting melodies floating down the cool stone corridors of the abbey. She could imagine the smell of the strong sea air mingled with the aromas of the gardens and the orchards that the monks labored each day to care for. Yet it was not a labor they dreaded, rather one that they relished as a physical offering of the strength of their bodies. Morganne was particularly intrigued by verses that spoke of the shrine. It had been a central part of the abbey then, enclosed by a circular, open-roofed chapel, with carved columns and a floor of polished stone. Monks and pilgrims through the ages had spent countless hours there in silent reflection,
lifting their most intimate prayers to Immar, the Ancient to whom the shrine had been dedicated.

  Reading the tome’s humble, awe-filled verses rekindled the deep connection to the Ancients Morganne had felt as she’d sat sobbing like a child at the shrine’s base. In her brokenness, Immar’s gentle hand had found her there and embraced her, as He had embraced so many others before her. The monk in Greywalle was among those who believed the shrine to be a significant place of power, even while it stood dry and lifeless amidst the rubble of the abbey. In her heart, Morganne knew he had been right all along. Men might have abandoned that place, but the Ancients had not, and now water flowed freely from the shrine’s fountain once again.

  Why the Ancients had chosen this time, this era, to revive it no doubt held a greater purpose than Morganne would ever know. Why her own offering had seemed to coincide with its revival was an even greater mystery, and one that she pondered daily with great humility. She hoped that should the answer ever be revealed to her, she might find within it divine guidance for her own life.

  There were a few verses in the tome that spoke of the world beyond the confines of the abbey as news was brought to them by traveling monks and pilgrims to the shrine, but visitors were rare. Morganne realized that this tome had been written during a time when Evensong was alone, buried deep in the wilderness so that the monks might better find the Ancients in seclusion, apart from the world. Yet in the end, the world found them anyway. The Great War had begun, and even the wilderness was no safe haven from the turmoil that ensued. The last pages of the tome became darker, sadder, as the monks came to fully understand the danger lurking just beyond their doorstep. The verses ended abruptly, the last one lamenting that the abbey’s greatest tomes and treasures were being moved, and praying that they might find their way safely into the hands of their new guardians.