He offered to take Morganne, Elowyn, and Adelin back to Evensong with him if they wanted to follow Glak’s advice, but Morganne declined.
“It’s just as well either way,” he said. “You can’t outrun Aviad’s will, you know. You’ll not live a day longer or shorter than what He has set for you. Best to just live your life and not worry too much about the how or when.” She couldn’t help but think that he and Jadon would get along marvelously.
The old farmer’s comment about history coming around again stirred Morganne's thoughts until she could not stop them even to sleep. She kept thinking about Evensong and everything happening there. He had told her on his previous visit that Evensong was blessed, that the revived shrine had begun something that was growing bigger each day. What if all the talk of rebuilding the monastery became more than talk?
She remembered the tomes she had read from the days before its destruction. It had been a beautiful place, run by monks wholly devoted to the Ancients; a place filled with prayer, song, and peace. Could such a place exist again in this time? She had been so focused on the return of Alazoth, and the Hounds, the beasts of the mountain, the Black Shrine, and all other manner of evil emerging from the past. Was evil the only force that could return? Surely the power of good could also rise up from the pages of history. Could the fallen shrines be revived? Could even the Prophets return, or others like them? How could such a monumental task be accomplished, and who could manage it? Were there even enough people of true faith left in the world?
A worn cup and a sprig of meadowsweet was all it had taken to bring Evensong’s shrine back to life. Only she knew that wasn’t really true. She and Elowyn had followed Aviad’s instruction, and He had revived it. What would have happened if they had not followed His direction? Would the shrine still be dead? Or would Aviad merely have found a different way, at a different time? So many questions and no real answers to satisfy them. But asking them brought a hope to her heart that she desperately needed. All was not lost...not yet.
Glak was right that the first snow was not far off. They awoke one morning to find Minhaven covered in a soft white powder that flashed and sparkled as if it had been made from finely crushed gems. The beauty of it brought a light smile to Elowyn’s face as she peered out the back door of the tavern, wrapped in a heavy blanket. It had not deterred progress on that section of the wall and tower, which were nearing completion.
Several more weeks came and went. The Kinship sent more scouting parties into the wilderness to keep a wary eye on the dark valley and the happenings there. They reported that the number of beasts seemed to be dwindling, and then one day they went back and the beasts were gone. They cautiously approached the unguarded Black Shrine in hopes that there was some way to destroy it. But as they neared the steps leading up to the platform, an invisible force threw them back. They could see nothing, yet somehow it was shielded, perhaps by the dark magics of the necromancer Elowyn had seen on her first visit there, if not by the Shadow himself. They wondered what this new development might mean. While it left Minhaven more time to prepare through the coming winter, what was in store for them come spring no one could say. It was an uneasy victory.
The time for the Winter Festival finally arrived, bringing a flood of emotion to both Morganne and Elowyn as they recalled everything that had happened to them over the past year. They expected given Minhaven’s precarious circumstances that the festival would be more subdued than the previous year. But in that they were wrong. If anything the festivities seemed more grand than ever, and it was difficult not to get swept up in the joy of the season despite their cares. They were reminded of what the festival was truly about, and nothing that the world, or even the Shadow, could throw at them would change that.
Elowyn was happy to work alongside Idna in the kitchen, and to help serve breakfast to the hunting party as Wyman gave them his traditional send-off. When it was time for the feast on that first night, Morganne and Elowyn were surprised at how many people they knew in contrast to the previous year. Instead of taking any open seat, they were invited to join a table with Bane and other members of the Kinship, which was for them a great honor. They sipped the blessing wine from the bowl, cheered for the one who found the lucky bean, and clapped along to the strains of music merrily played by Broguean the Bard, who had returned once again to enjoy the festival. Elowyn even joined in the traditional dance, though this time she did not need a shy little girl’s invitation.
The most difficult part of the festival for Elowyn turned out to be the tournaments. That was where she had met Cailean, standing against the wall behind Morganne’s shop. She could not help but go there, half expecting to find him waiting for her. Of course he was not. She slumped down on the ground, hugging her knees, tearfully watching across the field as all of the archers began to assemble for the start of the tournament.
“What are you waiting around over here for?” Davin came around the corner. She smiled weakly. She rarely saw him anymore, but his kindness in training both her and Morganne had not been forgotten.
“Cailean told me last year that this was the best place to watch...” Her voice trailed off. It was still difficult to speak his name out loud.
“Watch? The youth tournament is always the first to start. You need to go check in with the marshals and get your bow inspected.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, you’re competing, of course,” Davin said as if there was no question about it. “Why wouldn’t you? You’ve been training hard, and with the best I might add,” he said with a grin. “I know you can shoot. You need to hurry though, they’ll be setting up the lists shortly. Go on, then. I can hold them up for a few minutes while you grab your things.”
“But I’ve never—” Elowyn gasped with shock. “I can’t! I won’t!”
“Sure you can. And if you don’t, there will be a lot of disappointed fans among the Kinship’s archers. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but they’ve already placed bets that you’ll make it to the final round, and if you do, they’re buying you a better bow with the winnings.”
Too stunned to argue, Elowyn raced back to the tavern to grab her bow and quickly reported to the marshal for the youth archery tournament. She was the only girl. The boys were surprised to see her there, and she was sure they were whispering about her to each other behind her back. But that only made her more determined to do well.
Cailean would have been proud to see her standing there. She was certain that he would have entered the youth sword fighting tournament this year—and might have even won, had he been given the chance. Tears began to squeeze themselves out of the corners of her eyes. She angrily wiped them away. This was not the time for tears. It was time to prove herself, and to honor Cailean, and the Kinship who had taught her, in the best way she could.
When it was her turn, Elowyn stepped up to the range. Her fingers shook and she had trouble pulling back the string. She had never done anything like this before and her heart was racing wildly. She took a deep breath and tried to steady her nerves.
“Forget where you are,” Davin called out from behind the ropes holding back the spectators. “It’s just an ordinary day of practice at the granary. Now shoot!”
Elowyn let the arrow fly. It wasn’t a perfect shot, but it came closer than most of the other competitors.
“See? You can do this!” Davin called out. She looked back to see he wasn’t the only one cheering her on. All of the Kinship’s archers were there watching while they waited for the adult competition to get underway.
Elowyn tried to relax and focus. As her shots flew with strength and grace across the field toward their targets, her confidence grew. She made it through the first round with ease, then the second and third rounds. The fourth was more difficult now that her competition was getting better, but she managed to get through to the last round. She looked back toward the spectators. Members of the Kinship were not the only ones calling out encouragement now. No matter what the out
come, she could walk off the range with her head high.
In the end there were two older boys with better skills who won first and second place, but she came in at a close third and she was pleased enough with that. As she came off the range, there was no room for sorrow in her heart, only joy; not just from her unexpected accomplishment, but because of all the smiling faces waiting to greet her and offer their congratulations. Bane was among them—he had been watching the whole time. He said nothing...there was really no need. He smiled, his eyes twinkling with what could have been a misting of unfallen tears. She wondered if his thoughts were also on Cailean as hers had been.
How things had changed for Elowyn since she was but a strange little waif of a girl who had made her mother’s clients shake their heads with pity. Perhaps she really had found her place at last. And for however long Aviad allowed Minhaven to fend off its enemies, whether they came from the mountains, or the throne of Tyroc, she would stay, and stand beside it to the end.
Davin handed her an elegant, polished new bow that was sized more appropriately for her small stature, and a bundle of brand new arrows for her quiver. It was a simple weapon with no embellishment, but it was of far greater quality than the old worn out bow she had been using.
Davin winked at her and confessed, “We were going to give this to you no matter what place you came in—consider it a Winter Festival gift. But you seemed to need a bit of motivation to even get out there and try. Though it is never wise to take a weapon you’ve never used into a competition, we’ll expect to see you with it at the granary soon enough.”
“Of course! Thank you so much...for everything.” Elowyn looked around at all of them and beamed before she broke down into a flood of tears that were a release of sorrow and happiness all at the same time. She was home.
*****
And so Morganne and Elowyn’s first year in Minhaven ended as it had begun—in the warmth of the Winter Festival. Though they had many burdens to cast away into the fire, they had even more blessings to count. Minhaven in all its hardship and insecurity was truly a place of second chances; a community tied together by its secrets. It was a place where those who sought refuge must abandon their past lives in order to take on their new ones. Just like the young saplings outside my office window, the girls had been tested by their first harsh winter, forcing their skins to grow a little thicker, and their ability to endure a little stronger. For as Morganne was slowly beginning to understand, even though they had settled into Minhaven with no intention of leaving, their journey was not over. It continued on, to an unknown place that Aviad was preparing them for day by day. There would yet be many more seasons ahead, and Minhaven’s next harsh winter was only just beginning.
Historical Eras in Chronological Order
Era of the Ancients
The very first era, spanning thousands of years. It began when Aviad created the world. Evil also came into being during this era, known to humanity only as the Shadow. His glorious creation now tainted by darkness, Aviad’s first tear falls, revealing Immar (Perfect Love); his second tear falls, revealing Emeth (Truth). Immar purchases redemption for humanity with his willing sacrifice, but humanity must accept it and resist the lure of the Shadow’s influence.
Era of the Tomes
Humanity increases, building farms and large settlements. The very first monastic orders are formed. The Tomes of Aviad, Immar, and Emeth appear. They are powerful and sacred, their knowledge forming the perfect foundation against which all other spiritual writings are measured. There are rumors that the original writings have miraculously survived the ages, their locations known only by a privileged few who are sworn to secrecy. But scribed copies of each tome are abundant, their life-giving message available to all.
Era of the Shrines
The first shrines are built to house the original tomes, and the Order of Aviad, Order of Immar, and Order of Emeth are formed. Each of these monastic orders is dedicated to taking care of the tome and shrine of its namesake, and sharing its knowledge with the people. A few of the monks have extraordinary spiritual gifts; they are given prophetic visions and dreams, are able to speak in tongues, touch, read, and correctly interpret the original Tomes of the Ancients. These people begin to be known as the Prophets. They are well respected and become responsible for teaching, scribing new writings, and sharing their prophetic visions. They are also given the authority to name each era, recognizing when the present era has ended, and the next has begun. The end of the Era of the Shrines is marked by dark prophecies, foretelling a time of trial ahead.
Era of Desolation
The Shadow raises up two dark spirits, Alazoth (Destruction), and Tieced (Deceit). He forms a great crevasse in the earth, known as the Rift, from which billowing gasses, storms, famine, plague, pestilence, and dark creatures not made by Aviad emerge. The world is plunged into chaos and despair, as the first wars are waged against the Shadow and his armies. Some are deceived by the Shadow and willingly join his ranks. But toward the end of the era, the Prophets begin to receive visions of hope. A hero is coming who will change the course of history. It is said that he will appear when doom seems most imminent.
Era of Varol
The Shadow erects the Black Shrine, from which his armies can be brought back to life. Humanity has all but lost hope when Varol joins the fight. He is able to seal the Rift while the Order of Aviad traps Alazoth into the Chest of Sorrows. Varol is given the title Lord High Protector and a signet ring is bestowed upon him by the Prophets. The ring is passed down through generations of his descendants, all of whom seem to follow in his footsteps. He is buried with half of Emeth’s original tome, known as the Tome of Truth.
The silver clasp was removed from the Tome, shaped into a Talisman, and fitted onto a staff that was handed down to Varol’s descendants. The staff remained an object of power for generations afterward. When wielded by one of Varol’s line it was said to level entire armies that had been falsely resurrected by the Black Shrine. The end of the era is marked by much rejoicing over victories achieved with Varol’s staff, and hope for continued victories over the Shadow and his armies.
Era of the Great War
This is a bitter-sweet era for humanity. The Golden Age of the Prophets comes to a close as they are killed or mysteriously vanish from the pages of history. Many other important things are hidden, destroyed, or lost, among them the Staff of Varol. But an important victory is finally achieved with the destruction of the Black Shrine. At the end of the era, the dark armies seem to vanish as well, much to the relief of humanity which has spent thousands of years burying its dead and licking its wounds. The Guardians of the Ancients form in the wake of the lost Prophets. They warn that evil has not been defeated, that the Shadow’s armies will rebuild themselves and one day return. But that message is a hard one to hear and easily forgotten in the midst of seeming victory.
Era of Peace
With millennia of warfare behind it, humanity flourishes and grows. New innovations allow for advancements that improve the quality of people’s lives. Monks suddenly become teachers for secular matters as well as spiritual ones—teaching the children of the wealthy how to read, as well as about history, mathematics, philosophy, and astronomy. Humanity also has the luxury of adding creative works to its libraries: poetry, plays, and other literature. The main monastic orders further refine their belief systems and grow further apart in their structure and practice.
New cities are made while old cities grow larger. Tyroc becomes a major port city with walls and fortifications, and the first Sovereign comes to power. The Shrine of Aviad is rebuilt, but within the walls of Tyroc. The ruins of the original shrine are foolishly abandoned. The first Temple is also built. This is a feature peculiar to the order of Aviad which has become more and more focused on formal teaching, scribing, and preserving copied tomes. The Temple offers higher education to families who can afford it.
The Guardians of the Ancients and a minority of other monks can still sense th
at there is an epic spiritual battle raging beyond sight, and that humanity is taking part in it even though they do not realize it. Their strained message is not well-received, but they persist in calling out their warning to any who will hear them.
Era of Awakening
The naming of each era has always been determined by the Prophets. With the Prophets gone, and the world gradually turning away from both Aviad and its hard-fought-for heritage, only the Guardians recognize the shift in eras when it happens. They note in their recordkeeping that “the Era of Peace has ended, and the Era of Awakening has begun, when those who have long slept shall rise again, men and beasts alike.”
For now, this chronicle must end. Only time will allow the coming days to finally pass into memory, so that they, too, can be recorded by the scribes. May the deeds of the living be woven seamlessly into the fabric of history. They shall become part of an intricate pattern that began at the dawn of the first era, and continues on, waiting for the last thread to be tied off by Aviad’s hand.
Acknowledgements
Cover design by Kathryn Jenkins, Magical Designs
Map design by Kelly A. Jesberger
Ebook & Print Formatting by Renee Scattergood
Afterword
Thank you for reading Ancient Voices: Into the Depths—I hope you enjoyed it! If so, please leave a review. You can also send me a message through my blog.
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