The Pilgrim Stone

by J D Bowens

  “Good morning,” Consus said.

  “So, it is,” Karinne said, “why are you so late?” Consus saw Leiwyn cast a sour glance at Karinne as though to silently object to her reaction.

  “Apologies, we were collecting the last of our supplies,” Kyran said. “But it is only a bit past dawn, and we still have the day ahead of us.”

  “And some of us may have had a problem getting on our horses this morning,” Ewan said under his breath.

  “I heard that remark!” Milo said before turning on his pony to bow to the elves. “A good morning to you ladies.”

  The small pack strapped over his shoulders threw Milo off balance. Consus reached over and grabbed hold of the halfling by the shoulder straps of his pack and helped him reposition himself on the saddle. Leiwyn let out a laugh, and even the stone faced Karinne had a smile on her face.

  “Please stay on your horse,” Kyran said. “And try not to lose it. If you do, you will be walking the remainder of the way.” Milo muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

  “The trip to the Nor Sea is roughly ten days,” Ewan said. “We will need to stop before the end of our journey to replenish provisions. There are a number of hamlets and villages in northern Grenloch but if we want to keep our presence a secret it may be better to avoid such places.”

  “Did you have another place in mind?” Leiwyn asked.

  “The Dawnrose Manor I mentioned last night. We have friends there, and they have maps I want to look at before we get to the Nor Sea,” Kyran said. “It’ll add a couple of days to the trip cause it’s out of the way, but the maps make it worth the trip. No objections?”

  “No, it seems a prudent decision,” Karinne said.

  “Then we should be on our way,” he said.

  “Oh look, a raven,” Milo exclaimed.

  Consus looked up to the sky a saw a raven hovering just above them. Does that bird have one leg?

  “Ravens are a bad omen for travelers,” Milo said. “It’s particularly bad luck for them to be flying above you.”

  Kyran rolled his eyes at the halfling. “Are you trying to get yourself banned from this journey?”

  “It is true, for a raven to fly overhead means that we could get lost or end up being attacked by barbarians or worse…” Consus groaned as the halfling continued to list the many terrible things that could happen to them. He himself was not given to superstition, but he feared to think that Milo may be scaring away their customers.

  He saw Ewan reach for his bow and notch an arrow. “Here is to bad luck.” He fired the arrow into the sky and watched as it landed squarely in the chest of the raven. Several feathers trailed behind the bird as it spiraled to the ground. “No more bad luck then.”

  Consus rubbed his temples as Kyran chastised Ewan for wasting the arrow. He dared not to look up to see Leiwyn's expression; he did not need to look up to know that Karinne was shaking her head.

  “Now you have created more bad luck for us,” Milo said.

  “How do I create more bad luck by killing the thing that brought us bad luck in the first place? How was I supposed to deal with it, charm the raven from the sky?”

  “Ewan, enough foolishness,” Kyran said. After a brief argument and apology to the elves, they all rode into the fog, their misfortune behind them.

  Chapter 12

  The men sat on their horses talking to the ladies. Such a dull lot muttering on about “luck.” She wanted to wander back into the city and find some more food. She was happy the fog was waning; now she would be able to see any delicious crumbs or bugs in the city streets. Oh, she could almost taste them.

  “Follow them,” her mistress commanded. She continued to watch them, sitting on their horses. They were all looking up at her now. Why were they doing that? She felt her mistress panic.

  An arrow pierced her wing, tearing through the bone and muscle under her feathers and landed in her chest. She cried out in pain unable to slow herself as she plummeted to the ground.

  -----------------------------

  Synara gasped and fell backwards on her seat. She clutched her chest for but a moment as she realized there was no arrow there. How did they know the raven was watching them? she wondered. Was it some spell from the elf that allowed her to divine such things? She twirled the withered raven’s foot in her hand as she considered how to deliver the news to Zamari. She would almost certainly be cross.

  Synara rose from where she sat, at the center of a twelve-pointed star surrounded by a circle. The white chalk outline of the symbol stood out in stark contrast to the black marble floor. The room was the center of the inner sanctum of the small but lavish temple next to the Maerstone Keep. Behind her stood a stone altar to Nemoth, the sculpture of a dragon wrapped around the base and its wings spread out behind. Several candles burned atop it, the wax melting and dripping along the edges.

  Fixing her robes, she walked out of the inner sanctum and locked the door before leaving the temple. Though she was safe to worship her true god here in the Grimhold court openly, she did not want to risk being discovered by an unexpected visitor from the outside world. There were many other Children of Nemoth in the temple openly praying and tending to their holy duties, but the inner sanctum was Synara’s personal responsibility. Many of the holy items used for sacrifice, worship, and spellcasting were kept in those chambers.

  The guards at the entrance did not stop her as she entered the keep and walked through the basilica. Fine tapestries depicting the Grimhold family history decorated the walls and the morning light from the windows poured in, giving them a gloriously golden hue.

  “Sister Synara, how are you this morning?” called a familiar voice.

  She turned to see a handsome man several years older than her wearing the sigil of Grimhold upon his chest. The dark brown beard on his face was well kept and, in his garments, he appeared almost as nobility. “Captain Dromedus Glemorian, it is good to see you this morning,” she said.

  “Is it really? You appear agitated.”

  Synara realized she was frowning and changed her countenance so that it did not reflect her inner turmoil. “My apologies, I have much on my mind. I was on my way to see Zamari.”

  “I am as well. Shall I accompany you?” Synara nodded. She would never refuse his company. It had been many months since she last saw him; but what else should she expect from the captain of Zamari’s army?

  “I was not aware that you were here,” she said. “I thought you would still be visiting with General Moredei in the Southern Empire.”

  “I have only returned early this morning. I managed to convince Moredei to join our cause more quickly than anticipated. He was in desperate need of coin and jewels.” Synara sighed inwardly, relieved that Dromedus had some good news to deliver to Zamari.

  “Do you believe it will be enough to take the continent then?”

  “With the men, we already have in our service, and with the alliance of Lord Gairun, we should have more than enough. That is, of course, once we have obtained Nemoth’s Blessing.”

  His statement made Synara flinch and think of her own failure. Nemoth’s Blessing, please let me not to be the one to have cost us this. We cannot take Amarant without an immortal army. She recognized one of Zamari’s handmaids walking past them. Synara stopped the woman and asked her where she could find her mistress.

  “The lady be at court,” she replied.

  Dromedus and Synara turned down a series of long hallways before coming upon a pair of large black oak double doors with Grimhold’s family symbol - a black hawk carrying a golden sword - engraved on them. She took a deep breath, tugged at a lock of her red hair, and then nodded to one of the two soldiers guarding the doors. This was Zamari’s favorite room, and while she seldom entertained foreign guests, she preferred to conduct most of her affairs in this room. Synara assumed the hall made Zamari feel regal.

  The floor was made from slabs of the black marble, carved out of the quarries to the east. The lantern lig
ht and chandeliers reflected on the well-polished marble floors. When she was younger, Synara had imagined the reflected lights were fairies flying in a dark pit. Now, Synara wished that the black marble would swallow her up with her pretend fairies. Anything to avoid failing Zamari.

  A crimson carpet led from the doors to the dais on the other end of the room; white marble pillars shot out of the black floors with tapestries adorned with the hawk and sword. Upon the raised dais, Zamari sat on her throne, a large seat carved from white marble, gilded and encrusted with precious stones from Lord Grimhold’s mines in the mountains. Even though Zamari had no guests to entertain, she preferred to spend much of her time in this room. She likes this room far too much. Zamari had always been like that though; she preferred large open spaces.

  Synara paused and bowed with Dromedus. Zamari raised her hand beckoning them to rise. The gaunt Lord Grimhold stood beside her. “Synara, my child. We were just discussing you and your progress with the elves. Have they proceeded to the hidden sanctuary of Arden yet?” Synara hesitated before speaking; she did not wish to embarrass herself in front of Dromedus with her failure. She looked at Zamari and nodded at him to indicate as much. “You needn’t be concerned with Dromedus overhearing this matter. He is well aware of the plans we have made.”

  Synara fiddled with her sleeves. There was no avoiding it and if she further delayed it would only agitate Zamari. “I believe they have begun their journey there, mistress, but I may have lost them.” Realizing she was in a slouch, she straightened her back and held her gaze with Zamari. Nemoth found cowardice unforgivable. “My raven was felled by an arrow from one of the men escorting the elves. I am not sure as of yet as to why they did so –“

  Zamari rose from her throne, her eyes wide under her furrowed brow. She stepped down from the dais and walked towards Synara. “So now they are aware of our presence?”

  “No mistress, I do not believe so. They showed no sign of concern.” Zamari stopped just a step away from her. “From what I could hear of their conversation they believed the raven to be bad luck.”

  Lord Grimhold scoffed from the dais. “The superstition of the northerners. They think ravens are bad spirits.” He looked at Synara, “next time send a finch.”

  Zamari looked at her puppet husband. “You believe these men shot the raven because they believed it to be bad luck?”

  Grimhold nodded. “Happens all the time. Ravens are actually becoming quite scarce in the northernmost regions.”

  Zamari visibly relaxed and for once Synara was grateful for the puppet lord’s presence. She tensed though as Zamari placed a hand on her shoulder. “You have done well enough, my child, and the fault appears not to be entirely yours. It is time to carry our plans further. Did your raven reveal to you where they were headed?”

  “No, mistress, it did not.”

  Zamari turned her attention to Dromedus. “Prepare a squadron of troops to pursue after the elves and their escort. Go to Normead and find out where they went.”

  “M’lady, if I may speak freely,” Dromedus said, “Grenloch will not take kindly to foreign nobility invading their lands, even if it is only to pursue after a couple of elves.”

  “Then be careful not to carry any markings of the House of Grimhold. Travel under the guise of Servants of the Quintetta. Synara shall accompany you, and if anyone questions your purpose, you are hunting for heretics who harbor elves. That should frighten any soul into silence.”

  “I can be prepared to depart in the morning then.” Dromedus looked to Synara.

  “I can be ready as well, Mistress,” she said.

  “I am sure you will be,” Zamari said. “See to it that Malin is also prepared to join you.” Synara frowned before she could stop herself. “He will be under your supervision. You will need the extra spellcaster when you encounter the elves. Allow them to enter the sanctuary wherever that may be. They will need to be the ones to retrieve the stone for us. I do not know what traps the lost Children of Arden may have left behind. Once they have retrieved the stone, take it from them and bring the elves here alive. Kill their escorts.”

  Bring the elves back alive? They will not be easy to subdue. She had never been in magic combat, and though she was a talented spellcaster, she was unsure of her opponent’s ability. Hopefully, I will be able to sense their ability before we are too close.

  The doors to the great hall creaked open, and Synara turned with everyone else to see a chubby middle-aged woman, Sister Lorna. Thin gray streaks escaped the tight bun her hair was wrapped in. She approached and bowed low, speaking as she rose. “Mistress Zamari, I have news from Anidrack.” Lorna looked quizzically about the room and its occupants.

  Zamari waved a hand signaling everyone to leave. Synara turned and was nearly halfway to the door when Zamari called for her. “Do not go far Synara. I need to speak with you after.”

  Synara waited outside the thick oak doors as Dromedus continued down the corridor. She strained to hear what was being discussed with Lorna, but she could not do so without casting a spell. She dared not do that at the risk of being caught by Lorna or Zamari. From what little she knew; Sister Lorna was working on something related to retrieving the Crimson Throne. Zamari refused to include anyone else in their discussions.

  “Hello, Synara.” She turned to see a thin mop-haired boy her own age. “Is Zamari in court?”

  “Yes, Brother Cassian. She is visiting with Sister Lorna this moment. Did she send for you?”

  Cassian nodded anxiously. He waited by the door in silence with her. Like her, he came from the city of Denipoor. He had joined the Children of Nemoth only a few years ago. He was not a particularly talented spellcaster, but Synara liked him. His jokes and friendly manner made it easier for her to work in the temple with some of the drearier souls. She noticed him fidget with his robes as a thin sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.

  What has he done? she wondered. After several moments, the great doors opened, and Zamari emerged from the great hall, Lord Grimhold and Sister Lorna at her side.

  “Oh, Cassian, how good to see you,” Zamari said. She waved Grimhold away and beckoned them both to follow her. Synara obeyed and walked with her and Lorna deeper into the Maerstone Keep. Cassian scurrying after them.

  “You are blessed with a rare gift, Synara,” Zamari said. “You can sense the divina magic in other souls. You have helped me find many acolytes throughout Denipoor, like Cassian. Nemoth has told me that he looks on you with favor.”

  Synara gasped at the unexpected praise. “Thank you, mistress. You are too kind.”

  “Yet even the gifted make mistakes; our Father is understanding of this. But when mistakes are made that place us all at great risk, they must be dealt with in a swift manner.” They turned down a stairwell, and Synara sensed the sudden shift in tone. She knew where Zamari was taking them.

  Lorna grabbed Cassian’s wrist, perhaps to keep him from running. He did not struggle or try to escape. Instead, he began to cry, a pitiful whimper escaping his lips.

  “Mugra was once a talented Child,” Zamari continued, “but he made too many mistakes, and I was far too kind to him. I should have properly motivated him before he became completely useless. His error could have exposed us to the world. I will not make such mistakes again, not with you Synara.”

  “I am sorry, Mistress,” Synara said.

  “So many lives are at stake, not only our own but those of the entire continent, Synara. The whole world lives under a false shadow of the Quintetta. We would bring all of mankind under the protection of Nemoth and my guidance. With an eternal ruler, wars would end, righteousness and justice would prevail. The world would know true peace under the abiding wings of Nemoth.”

  Zamari glanced over her shoulder to look at her, a fire in her eyes. Cassian began to resist as Lorna dragged him forward down the stairs. “Please, mistress, I beg you. I have not failed you,” Cassian pleaded. Zamari appeared to ignore him. “I could not help myself. It’s been so long sin
ce I saw my parents. I just wanted to see them to let them know I was alright.”

  “We watched you through the scrying bowl,” Zamari said. “You told them about Nemoth, who you serve, and you told them of me. You placed us in great danger if the Quintetta were to find out.”

  “My parents, they will tell no one. I swear.”

  “You are right, Cassian; they will not. They will never speak to anyone again.” A disparaging wail escaped the boy as he realized his family was dead. “You have only yourself to blame; I warned you when you joined us, Cassian.”

  Synara felt chilled at the thought. How could Cassian be so stupid? And yet she welled up with sorrow for him.

  They stepped into a dark, cold room in the depths of the keep, a room Synara recognized. Though torches lit the walls, the room remained dark, as though the shadows were a permanent stain upon the stone. Several lengths of black chains with bracers hung from the ceiling above, marred with dry streaks of brown. Lorna fastened Cassian’s wrists to a pair of bracers. She walked to a nearby crank and turned it. The chains rose high above Cassian’s head so that he was forced to stand on his toes. Synara wept as he struggled to balance himself.

  Zamari stepped around her side and cradled her face in her hands. “Please do not cry so much, child. I make you watch this so that you remember the cost of failure. The cost of our being exposed to the world.” Zamari rubbed away the tears on Synara’s face. “Mugra gave his life for his failure and now Cassian will too. Your task is so important that death itself will not be great enough of a punishment. Nemoth himself will torment you if you fail. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, mistress.” She nodded vigorously with tears. She dared not plead for Cassian’s life, not at the expense of her own.

  Lorna undid the top of Cassian’s robes baring his chest and back to the open air. Zamari stepped to a table where a long wooden box lay. She pulled from her pocket a key to unlock it and opening it she retrieved a cruel black whip. The Elhein’ Kul, Synara recognized.