Chapter 19: Moonsong

Erik rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and sighed, his breath ruffling at some of the papers on his desk. Neat writing covered the pages, all concerning the now-bustling village of Suravale, nestled in amongst the ruins of the once-great city of the same name. He went over them again, the grainy feeling in his eyes making him blink more than normal. Working by the light of a single candle didn’t help, either. It was late, and sleep called to him, but he pushed the urge aside and focused on the task at hand; ensuring Suravale was in some semblance of functional order before he returned to the Temple.

Overall, a remarkable amount had been done in the short time since the refugees from the Sorral Plain had taken up residence. Many of them farmers, arable land had quickly been identified for the growing of crops, and some had even successfully forayed out for stray livestock roaming the plains. The town already had a makeshift forge, a farrier, and a windmill was under construction. It had come to Erik’s attention that a small handful of the older men had experience with fighting in their younger years, so he had assigned them to run daily lessons on a rotating basis, ensuring that everyone learned as much as possible. It wasn’t enough, Erik knew, but it was better than nothing.

Slowly but surely, the buildings that could be safely repaired had been chosen out, while the others were being taken apart for materials. New houses made almost entirely from the rubble of the old collapsed ones were going up. Erik thought there might be enough space under roofs for everyone within the next month or so.

Astonishingly, the numbers in Suravale had swelled into the thousands as the storms and earthquakes had driven people from the unprotected plains. They were fleeing south rather than north, for the Heralds occupied the cities, and sentiments toward them had changed drastically of late. There was not much love for the Heralds in Suravale. Many excursions from the hidden canyon aimed at finding livestock or more good land often returned with more people seeking shelter. Erik wondered just how many people would be living here, in the end.

Blinking several times, he held a sheet of paper up to his face, squinting as the words written there drifted in and out of focus. It was a report on the food stores, and from what Erik could read, there was not much good news on the page. More people arriving every day, and not enough food to go around. Crops had been planted, but they would need weeks to grow. Weeks they did not have. Something needed to be done, though Erik had little clue as to what that was.

So tired was he that he didn’t sense Sylvia’s presence until her fine-boned hands landed gently on his shoulders. “Come to bed,” she told him. “You cannot solve every problem in one night.” Her hands drifted down over his bare chest. It was a cool autumn night, but the robust fireplace in the small bedroom he shared with Sylvia warranted the lack of clothing while in the privacy of their room. She pressed herself into him and he felt the silky warmth of her bare skin against his back. Despite his exhaustion, he felt a thrill at her touch.

“If only I could,” he said with a sigh as he put the page down and spun on his stool. She moved back slightly to give him room and stood there proudly, wearing nothing but a smile. Erik looked her over with as much appreciation as he had the very first time, more than three years ago now. No number of sleepless nights could stop him from admiring the slim half-Elf. “But we’re leaving tomorrow, and I want to do as much as I can.”

“You have done everything you can,” she insisted softly, her emerald eyes earnest in the candlelight. Erik doubted that; surely the few hours he had left could be used for something, but he let the argument die on his tongue at the concerned look on her pretty face. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to lead him to the makeshift bed against the wall nearby, more a nest of spare clothing and blankets than an actual bed. Still, it was theirs and theirs alone.

“You’ve been poring over reports all night,” she whispered as she looked up at him. She was standing close, her skin brushing against the dense hair on his torso. He thought there might be a few more grey ones there now than there had been before Suravale. “You’re looking after everyone but yourself.” Erik started to say something in reply, but a monstrous yawn forced his jaws wide open. After, he couldn’t remember what he’d been about to say. Gently, Sylvia guided him to lay down, and as soon as he felt his body touch the blankets, sleep reached for him. “Sleep now, my love,” he heard dimly. “And tomorrow, we return home.”

Home. That sounded nice.

The next day Erik and Sylvia slipped out early, just before dawn. As they rode through the city, they saw a few other early risers emerging from buildings or tents erected in cleared spaces. Nobody paid them any mind as they reached the broad avenue that split the narrow city down the middle and headed east. Some of the rubble had been cleared from the avenue recently, making it easier for the horses to pick their way across the ancient flagstones. By the time they neared the passage that connected the canyon to the Sorral Plain, lights were starting to appear in some of the windows. Erik unlimbered a pole lantern tucked behind Quill’s saddle girth and reined the gelding in long enough to fill the lantern from a small flask of oil and set it alight with a flint. It would be dark in the passage for some time, yet, and Erik did not have Sylvia’s Elven eyes.

They entered the rocky passage without speaking to anyone, and the men standing watch waved them through without delay; everyone knew who Erik and Sylvia were by now. Erik nodded at them and smiled as he rode past, though he didn’t stop to speak; he wanted to be as far toward Temple Sura by dark as he could. Mentally, he ran through the list of instructions he’d left for Harl, but he was sure nothing had been forgotten. Besides, Harl and Lissa were capable people; if Erik had left anything out, they would probably think of it anyway.

Gently heeling Quill to a trot, Erik lead the way into the passage, hoping there was not another earthquake while he and Sylvia were inside the rocky chasm. Neither he nor she said anything as they guided their horses through as quickly as they could, almost as if they were afraid the sounds of their voices alone could cause the rocks to slip down atop them. Beneath his tension, Erik found himself again marvelling at how easily Suravale could be defended against a large force with the only access to the city being this passage. “One or two hundred men, well entrenched,” he mused softly to himself.

“What?” Sylvia hissed from behind him.

Erik turned briefly to smile reassuringly. “Nothing,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Just thinking.”

The quarter-mile passage ended none too soon, and Erik relaxed once Quill stepped out into the welcome morning sunlight. From here he could see down over rolling foothills of the Karvanis to the sprawling Sorral Plain, vast and flat, unbroken but for the odd stand of fir and pine trees. Erik turned to look back at the mouth of the chasm. It looked like a gash left by a colossal axe in the sheer face of the cliff. There was no one up there, of course, but Erik had left instructions for men to be trained in scaling the cliffs in search of suitable watch posts. No army would get within a mile undetected if lookouts were posted high enough.

“Thinking again?” Sylvia teased as she watched him scan the cliff face. “I thought I could smell something burning.”

Erik barked a laugh. “My brain is cooked, no doubt,” he said before heeling Quill forward again. “It would have to be for me to enjoy spending my time with you.” There was no acid in his words; it was merely the way he’d learned to relate with Sylvia. She was ever one for a friendly jibe, and strangely, she seemed to delight in being the object of remarks that would leave most people offended.

Indeed, her joyful laugh tinkled in the crisp morning air as she clicked her mare forward to follow him down the stony slope toward the plain. Erik just shook his head; of all the women he’d known, none of them were loath to drop a tart comment when it suited them, but when you offered one in reply, they acted as if you’d physically slapped them. Sylvia, however, loved nothing more than some spirited banter. The girl was a breath of fresh air, most days, and so different from her mother, though Erik felt a pang of heartache when Lynelle crossed his mind; putting his arms around her again would be a treat indeed.

Once down into the grasses of the plain, they turned southeast and hugged the mountains as they travelled in that direction, curling further south as the miles went by. While both riders remained vigilant, neither detected any sign of Herald patrols, nor the tell-tale sight or smell of smoke from a campfire. Sylvia was quick enough with a sling to land a rabbit just after midday, and she hung it triumphantly on the back of her saddle for dinner. When twilight arrived, her keen eyes spotted a suitable campsite, and she led them a short distance uphill to the west, where a convenient hollow lay nestled among the hills.

It had been a long day in the saddle, and Erik was looking forward to some food and rest. They roasted the rabbit over the fire and ate eagerly; it had been a long time since either of them had enjoyed roasted meat of any kind. Stomachs full, they sat back and talked and laughed, and Erik began to feel more at ease than he had in weeks.

He got some rest eventually, but not until Sylvia’s insistence on him making love to her was satisfied. He took her there, in the hollow, their cloaks spread out beneath them and the stars glittering above. Afterwards, they slept peacefully, comfortable they would not be discovered up here by unwanted eyes.

In the morning, they were moving again at first light, following the same path. Again, there was no sign of danger, though a light rain did set in for several hours. They persevered, and by mid-afternoon they were climbing once again, this time aimed at one of the many hidden entrances to the Temple that lay in the mountains. They ascended carefully, dismounting and leading the horses over the wet stone to reduce the chance of the animals slipping, though this particular path wound through the rocks with least resistance, carved so long ago that now it looked like a channel etched by centuries of water rather than by people.

Dark came quickly on this side of the range, and Erik let Sylvia take the lead; her eyes were much better than his. Before full night arrived, the narrow path ended in a flat stone surface, smooth and carved with a sunburst. In the failing light, Erik watched Sylvia activate the door by pushing three distinct points on the sunburst simultaneously. The door began to swing inward with the deep grinding of stone on stone.

Erik felt Amina before he saw her; a wave of peace and contentment washed over him and he heard Sylvia sigh happily as the Priestess’s aura enveloped them, radiating from wherever she was, deeper into the Temple.

The first person they saw as they led the horses down one of the wide access corridors was Rayna. The fire-haired beauty was coming down an adjoining corridor, dressed in a short robe that left her creamy legs bare to the upper thigh. It was a good imitation of a vaima, though nowhere near as sheer. She beamed when she saw Erik and Sylvia and rushed forward to greet them. Hugs and kisses were exchanged, and while Erik wished they could have lasted a little longer – Rayna was a very pleasant armful – he had questions to ask.

She answered readily as she walked with them to the stables, giving them as much as she knew. Erik was troubled to hear that Sara had disappeared. Why she would leave was beyond Erik, but he did not claim to understand the motivations of the arohim, let alone a Priestess, fully trained or not. He was glad to hear that all appeared well with Aran, at least according to what Rayna could feel through the melda. She said he felt different, lately. ‘Whole,’ was the word she used, though Erik wasn’t sure what she meant exactly. Ayla and Tavish were working hard at their lessons under Amina, and Rayna thought there was something different about Ayla now, but she didn’t elaborate.

Once the horses were secured in the stables and settled for the night, Rayna took a good long look at them under the light of a nearby sunstone. “You two need a bath,” she said flatly, her plump lips twisting in what Erik could only call amused distaste. “Which is a good thing, because it just happens to be the hour for it. Come, the others should still be there. If they’re not, the water will still be hot.”

At the thought of bathing with the women, Erik’s heart skipped a beat. He’d done it countless times before, but it never grew old. Sylvia grinned broadly as she looked at him; his excitement must be showing in his face. Erik followed the women back into the Temple as they chatted about this and that, and despite his anticipation for being reunited with everyone, he couldn’t suppress a strong sense that he should go straight to Amina, wherever she was.

‘By the time I find her,’ he thought to himself. ‘She’ll have found me. She knows I’m here. She will come when she’s ready.’ Telling himself that that decision had nothing to do with having a bath with six beautiful women, he stayed his course. A few minutes later, feminine voices could be heard up ahead, echoing slightly down the stone halls. No sooner had they reached the archway than Rayna rounded on him, pulling him up short. Sylvia stopped too, wearing a knowing smile. She raised a finger to her lips as he opened his mouth to ask what was happening.

Rayna moved in close and put her lips near his ear. “We have had no access to men for some time,” she whispered as her hands went to the laces of his shirt. “You are going to popular for a while. I hope you are ready.”

A jolt of excitement shot through him at her words. While she worked on his shirt, Sylvia undid his belt and trousers before bending to pull his boots off. He watched them silently in the light of the sunstones on the walls, wondering how he had ever gotten so lucky. Tonight, he was going to need every inch of the enhanced stamina gifted to arondur.

Once he was naked, Rayna and Sylvia stripped their own garments and led him into the bath chamber, each holding one of his arms as if afraid he might try and escape, though that was the farthest thing from his mind. Inside, all chatter ceased as if cut by a knife, and four pretty faces turned as one to regard him. Erik’s mouth went dry as he looked around. There was Jeira, leaning back in the corner of the bath behind Bella, her hands tangled in Bella’s soapy hair. And Sorla, statuesque and buxom, her half-Orcish body glinting wetly in the firelight as she sat on a stool next to the bath while Lynelle dried her hair with a towel. The women didn’t appear to be up to anything sexual, but Erik still found it one of the most erotic scenes he’d ever witnessed.

At his appearance, the faces of the four women lit up with warm smiles, though Erik noted with amusement there was a predatory touch to their eyes. “Ah, it’s good to be back!” Sylvia said with a sigh as she released his arm and strolled to the bath. “Seeing as I’ve had him all to myself these past weeks,” she began, jerking her head back toward Erik. “It’s only fair I leave him to you. I’ll get a turn later, if he survives!” She finished that last with a chuckle and dove into the water cleanly, making only the barest of splashes.

The others laughed, and Erik did too, at least until Rayna’s lips found his. After that, he didn’t have a coherent thought for quite some time.

The next morning, Erik looked everywhere for Amina. He traversed what felt like miles of halls and corridors, but it was as if she had disappeared. Figuring she must be in her quarters, which were forbidden unless one was invited, he made for the library she had granted him access to, hoping to find more information on Palavus Ironrod. He found himself grinning as he entered the huge room deep in the bowels of the Temple. Even this far down, Amina’s vala had the sunstones blazing, and the rows upon rows of finely crafted stone shelves sung with volume upon volume of books and scrolls and parchments, heavy with the dust of an age.

By a miracle – or perhaps somehow prevented by Amina – the library was unaffected by the multitude of collapses that had occurred elsewhere in the Temple, and so Erik walked among the tall rows of shelves, holding up a small sunstone for light to read by in places where the shadows grew too deep. This truly was a trove of knowledge such as he had never imagined finding. The Heralds had burned most, if not all, the knowledge of the years before the car’mori, at least in the Human cities. If the Elves or Dwarves had ancient libraries like this, they were so far away they might as well not exist anyway.

“Where to start?” He muttered as his light passed over a book titled: ‘Great Composers of the Age.’ That one would be an interesting read; Erik rather liked music. He wondered what instruments existed in times past. He had read bits and pieces over the years of strange things like long brass tubes riddled with holes that worked a little like a flute, as he understood it, but what he had found was too vague to paint an accurate picture. One piece he had found even claimed that such an instrument existed which actually wrapped around the player’s body like a snake and produced the sound from a huge bell above one’s head!

Other titles jumped out at him, too, like: ‘The Rise and Fall of Eshendi,’ ‘Studies of the Andrakin,’ and ‘Nazar: A City in the Sands.’ Erik’s mind spun giddily as he imagined the knowledge contained in these pages, but so far, he had not found what he sought. High and low he looked, scouring every aisle, and just as he was about to conclude that it didn’t exist, a stack of pages bundled with a thin leather cord caught his eye. Strangely, the leather looked reasonably new compared to the age-yellowed pages. The layer of dust was also thinner. Had Amina looked at these recently?

Carefully picking the pages up, Erik sat down on the floor and gingerly plucked at the knot on the cord until it came free. The first sheet was blank, but the next made Erik’s heart skip a beat. This was it! ‘Interviews with the Ironrod: A Biography of the Hero of Raengarde.’ The author’s name was penned in smaller print below; ‘Edelielle Vinasia.’ Erik had never heard of the author, but he knew the name Raengarde. It had been a beautiful city in the northwest of Ekistair, between Beringarde and Maralon, a hub of trade and prosperity for Humans, Elves, Orcs, Dwarves, Andrakin, and many other races. Sadly, the city had not survived the Purge.

Wondering how Palavus had come by the title ‘Hero of Raengarde,’ Erik eagerly – but cautiously – lifted the page away to read the next, and then the next, and so on, his eyes gobbling up the text greedily. He didn’t know how much time passed, but it had only felt like minutes as he finished the final page and placed it upside down on top of the stack next to him. All in all, Edelielle Vinasia – who it seemed had never actually published the book – had painted a rather grandiose picture of Palavus, and if she had written true to events, it seemed that Palavus was not a man burdened by modesty. In the interviews transcribed within, Palavus was all too happy to discuss his heroic exploits in detail. This was a much different man than the one Erik had met.

“I see you found Edeli’s unfinished work,” Amina said suddenly. Erik started at the sound of her voice. He looked over to see her standing at the end of his aisle, leaning against the shelf with her arms folded. His heart swelled to behold her, and his loins ached at her allure, despite the extensive exercise they’d recently been given. “Don’t put too much faith in the style of her words,” the Priestess continued. “The stories are true, for the most part, but Edeli was in love with Palavus – Gods, most women were – and she liked embellishing his glory. He was actually quite modest, for a man.”

Erik nodded, smiling at the friendly jibe. “I was wondering that. Thank you for clarifying.” He stood slowly, careful not to disturb the stack of pages. “I was searching for you yesterday, and today.”

Amina inclined her head, confirming this was not news to her. “I know. I was busy with Ayla. You have heard what happened?” She meant Sara. When Erik confirmed, she went on. “The girl takes much of my time, now. She is progressing quickly, however. Much more so than I expected. It is almost enough for me to awaken Tavish. Almost.” Shaking her head, she straightened and swayed toward him.

Erik heard himself moan as they embraced and shared a deep kiss. Remembering what he needed to tell her, though, he gently and reluctantly pulled back a little. One more second of that, and he would lose himself in her. Her sapphire eyes searched his as she read him. “What troubles you?” Erik’s heart thumped in his chest. Did Amina even know Palavus was alive? What would her reaction be? “Erik?” She said, concern in her crystalline voice. “What has you so afraid? Are you in danger?”

For his loyalty to Amina, he was going to break his word to Palavus. Silently, he apologised to the Paladin, wherever he may be. “We found him,” Erik whispered. “Palavus.”

For a moment Amina did not respond, but she finally smiled. “I wish that were true, child, but that is impossible. Palavus has been dead for centuries.” She released him from the embrace and stepped back slightly.

Erik took a deep breath. Was he sure about this? Completely and utterly? He found the words tumbling from his lips on their own. “Forgive me, Priestess, but did you ever see his body?”

Her smile turned sad, and Erik hated himself for making her feel that way. “No, I did not. But I felt the pain of him leaving this world. Leaving me.” She finished softly, barely a whisper. Her gaze had turned inward, as if remembering that pain. “We were amatharn, you see. Like Aran and Elaina. It is a powerful bond, and one does not mistake the feeling of it being broken.”

“We were in Suravale,” Erik explained. “There was a house there, in better shape than the others around, like someone had been living in it. A man came, tall and good-looking, with eyes as blue and hair as golden as yours.” He went on, telling her everything as clearly as he could remember. Amina’s expression changed slowly as he spoke, and when he got to the part about Sylvia feeling the echo of a vala, she sagged visibly as if struck, and would have fallen if Erik had not caught her and lowered her to the ground.

“He wouldn’t have,” she murmured as Erik set her back against a shelf and knelt beside her. Eyes wide, her face was a picture of shock, her beautiful features decidedly pale. Erik had never seen her so out of countenance; it was alarming to say the least. “He wouldn’t have!” She said, more firmly this time. Her gaze sharpened, and she turned it on him, pinning him to the spot with twin augurs. “What else?” She asked him.

Erik answered her, his voice sounding distant in his own ears. May he be damned for uncovering centuries of pain in someone he loved so dearly. “He told me to keep his existence a secret from you. He said it was better for everyone if he remains forgotten.” His heart ached as a tear welled in her eye and fell down her cheek. “I’m so sorry.” He knew why she was sad; if Palavus wasn’t dead, that meant he had somehow cut himself off from the vala and Amina willingly. What would it be like to be alone for a thousand years, and then discover that the one closest to you had been alive all this time? If Amina’s heart wasn’t breaking all over again, it had to be close to it. More tears fell, and Erik watched, not knowing what to do or say. Perhaps there was nothing. Never had he felt so helpless.

She pushed herself to her feet slowly. Erik held onto her arm; she still seemed a little unsteady. She pushed him off, though, and straightened her robe as she took a deep breath. Her composure returned quickly; Erik’s admiration for her increased as he watched her return to her normal self.

“Whatever you need, I will do,” he told her with as much certainty as he could muster. When she looked at him, he saw something in her had changed, as if she had let go of something she’d been holding for a long time.

“I know,” she said quietly, touching his face. “Here is what I need, Erik arondur; gather the others and ready them for travel. It is time for Amina Moonsong to enter the world once again.” At that, she strode from the room, leaving Erik standing in stunned stillness. Something told him that if she ever found Palavus, the man would have much to answer for.

“Moonsong,” he heard himself whisper as he gently retied the leather cord around the pages he’d just read. All this time with Amina, and he’d never thought to ask about her second name, or if she even had one. It had a nice ring to it.

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19.2: The Third Ring

Maloth appeared in the centre of a hard-packed circle of earth surrounded by lush grass. Nearby was a building all of smooth white stone, set with tall arched windows. The glass in those windows flashed as they reflected the lightning that spidered across the roiling black sky above; the hallmark of Maloth’s presence. He came to this world when he dreamed, of late, but this was his first time at this particular location. Was it a real place, in the waking world? Or was it something he had created in his mind?

Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs and filtered the scents of the area through his nose. There was the coolness of the wind, the heaviness of the air beneath the storm, and the usual, more subtle scents of the earth, trees and grass. But one overpowered all the others; the prickling, agitating scent of arohim, hot and sharp in his nose. It was strong here, very strong. Almost as if more than one had gathered in this very spot not long ago.

Turning in place, he studied the area. The house and yard were encircled by an eight-foot wall, made from smooth, round stones. The wall was so overgrown with mosses and vines that the stone was almost completely hidden in places. What was this place? It wasn’t until Maloth studied the building that he noticed the sunburst emblazoned in gold on the door. The same sunburst on the cloaks of the ones who had killed his mother, so long ago.

He felt a cold smile cross his face as his fingers brushed the gold inlay in the polished blackwood door. “This was your home, wasn’t it, brother?” He murmured as he pushed the door open and walked inside. There was no evidence that the Anarion had lived here, but somehow, Maloth knew it for truth. “I will find this place,” he said aloud as he stalked the halls. Barely more than a hovel, it was hardly the grand abode he had imagined the arohim living in. “And burn it to the ground.”

He stopped in the dining room to stare at a painting hanging on the wall between two arched windows. It was of a man, tall and noble, with fiery hair and piercing blue eyes. He was all in white, with a gold sunburst blazing on his breast and a sword of fire clutched in his fist. That blue stare held Maloth fast, as if it had a power over him.

Maloth remembered the eyes of his father well. Embrace my legacy, that stare seemed to implore from within the painting. You are more than what you are. Maloth ignored it.

“You were too weak, father,” he told the man in the painting. “Too weak to save us. To save mother. I will not be.” Something flickered deep inside him, warm and uncomfortable, stirred to life by ancient memory. He shoved it down mercilessly and covered it with cold, hard resolve. “I reject your feeble power. When I find my half-brother, I will kill him.”

Maloth thought he heard laughter, dark and grim, echoing from somewhere else. It happened sometimes, that and faint whispering just on the edge of hearing. Perhaps he was losing his sanity, or perhaps he was evolving beyond what he was used to. Either way, it would not stop him taking what he wanted. Leaving the room, he made his way back outside and continued his exploration of this strange world.

Elaina took a long pull from the heavy pewter mug in her hand and placed it back on the polished stone table. This Dwarvish ale was quite good, and she was on her third round already. After walking the streets of Dun’Arghol for hours on end, she’d finally settled on a tavern where she could eat and have an ale. This establishment – simply called ‘The Royal’ -- was a lively place, though short of raucous. Elaina had been here over an hour and hadn’t seen one fight, or even so much as a harsh word. The patrons were well-dressed, not as elegantly as nobles, but certainly more so than the working class.

She was seated at a booth in the back corner from which she had a good view of the whole room. A long stone bar stretched the length of the room on one side and a roaring fireplace at either end kept the cool mountain air at bay. Patrons sat atop stools along the bar, talking and laughing with the barmaids, whose necklines were slung low enough to threaten full exposure, though in Dun’Arghol, that was nothing to sneeze at. Dwarves believed in flaunting their assets, and Elaina was happy to enjoy the view. She had walked past more than one tavern promoting nude waitresses, but as much fun as that would have been, Elaina wanted somewhere quieter, at least for today.