Chapter 4: Information

A coin sized silvery glitter disturbed the tranquil air and had the hare transfixed, the verdant thickleafed Eskil bush suddenly rescued from its predations. The predawn brightening had begun to eclipse the stars, and it was quite cool here, in the shadows of the hill fort. The gray furred creature leaped away in panic as the tiny glow spread and rose, brightening and assuming bipedal form, before it flared silently. Elorie shook her head to clear her senses, her inhuman vitality not providing complete protection from the backlash resulting from her teleportation spell striking a area proof against such magics and the effort of redirecting the phasing-in a couple of hundred yards away. Her eyes glittered blue with residual energy, and she turned, surveying the area, deliberately looking down from the skies. Atryx was receding, and moondark was but three days away.

The cold hand of fear clutched her heart, and the intake of air grew ragged as she shivered at the thought of what awaited her. The price of power, it would drive her mad all too soon. The strongest of her kin had held on for half a century, and restraining her had cost the lives and spirits of fifteen sisters, after a reign of terror that had claimed thousands of innocents. She had to find them all, and soon! Perhaps the Princess Guard would provide her with some protection, allow her to escape his clutches for at least part of the night, standing against the monstrous horde that always hurt her so, and would every time Khadi swallowed Atryx, for so long as Adur hid her rays behind the black curtain. Shaking the incipient hysteria away with an effort, she nodded appreciatively at the sturdy construction of the fortification, the perfection of its positioning and commanding view it offered, as well as the impressive defensive screens that she could sense like heat upon her skin, warding what seemed like nothing more than another hill fort of a minor noble or rich merchant guild. Tossing her curls back with a single shake of her head, she moved determinedly up the slope, deliberately walking on air, leaving behind footprints of blue-white moonflame that faded gradually.

He clutched his loaded crossbow tightly, the solid feel of the wood burning his palm, trying to stay awake. A hefty yawn escaped, and he tossed a guilty look at his two companions, standing statue-still at the gatehouse, scanning the area below for any threat. The brief look showed him that something was wrong with them, and his heart thudded fearfully as he took a step and then two, coming closer and ready to raise the alarm, even if it cost him his life... when he saw that they were not completely frozen, merely looking at something. He couldn't help it - he looked, looked and stood motionless, jaw threatening to drop at his feet, eyes bulging in shock. Walking on air toward them, calm as can be, was the most perfectly beautiful woman he had ever seen. His mouth dried as he traced her curves, evident through the shimmery silk of the revealing dress she wore, and his thoughts flew away altogether when his gaze settled on her face, wit drowning in those eyes that seemed to define the colour blue, delicate sculpted features inescapably leading to those knowing pools of glittery sapphire. Dark blue slip on white skin on black hair, the harmony of motion and gliding dance were more powerful than any spell of paralyzation, and he drew in air with an agonized sigh as she came nearer, not even realizing that he had come close to drowning on perfection, having forgotten to breath. Nor did he notice that his crossbow was pointed at the valley between her breasts until she stepped over the barbican wall and landed soundlessly on the parapet, pale fingers moving the weapon aside.

"Gentiran is high priest here," she asked/announced in a melodious, breathy voice that did not quite serve to draw the three guards out of their trance of adulation. Not unused to such reaction in those who had never seen her like before, Elorie snapped her fingers, the sharp sound jarring them into motion. With shocking suddenness, limp hands dropped loaded crossbows, the sound of metal and wood shattering on the stone below slapping their ears.

"Ah... no lady, Gentiran was called away," one sentry stuttered, "Jolana replaced him," another added helpfully.

"Jolana Stargard? Pretty blond girl?", Elorie asked, amusement painted on her face, changing solemn beauty into a pixie-like look of delight.

"Yes," gulped one, the shock of hearing anyone calling the high priestess a pretty girl subsumed by the concentration he lavished on his attempt to fix the woman he looked upon as an image in his memory.

"Well then, take me to her," she said, grasping his wrist and pulling him off the walkway with her.

A scream choked back in Kersk's throat as he floated gently down and away, borne by the wind towards the nearest arrowslit - there being no window large enough to accommodate an entry anywhere in the building - the soft grip on his wrist insistent and unshakable. His frantic attempt to break free was futile, and the scream locked in his throat. When he opened his eyes, the two had entered the main building, having somehow bypassed stone and mortar. Terror filled Kersk's thoughts, convinced as he was that some dark goddess in avatar form held him captive. He led her through twisting, empty corridors, brightly lighted with a sourceless pale opalescent light that seemed to seep from the very air, leaving not a trace of shadow against the whitewashed walls, eventually reaching a plain golden door. Before Kersk's hesitant hand could reach out to knock, She pushed the door open and stepped through.

The sitting room was utilitarian, but hardly spartan, with a trio of bookcases sporting several score volumes, a number of comfortable looking chairs grouped around a pair of tables, and several trestles holding a number of items, ranging from an exquisite flower of golden metal to a blocky cauldron of ebonite, an aura of power the only common factor. The room sported a pair of doorways, one leading to a bedroom, the other to a balcony overlooking an inner courtyard lavishly filled with greenery, a wilderness in miniature. Seated in one of the chairs, an intent look on her face as she read through a packet of papers, was a golden haired woman with a dark sun-scorched complexion, a mature figure beyond the first blush of youth who retained an attractiveness that went beyond mere loveliness, force of spirit evident in every move she made. Grey-green eyes grew flinty at the interruption, and the high priestess turned to castigate the intruder, for she had little enough time to herself. But when she glared at the newcomers to her room, words failed as her jaw sagged, eyes wide in astonishment.

"You!", she recovered quickly, standing upright. "Spawn of darkness, how dare you intrude upon holy ground!"

"My, but you've certainly grown pompous, love," Elorie shot her a hot look, "I do believe you need something to puncture such idiocy. A spanking will do nicely, and you'll thank me for it later," she added, moving her fingers deftly in a practiced spell gesture, keeping Kersk from drawing his sword - or moving.

Jolana began to call upon Adur to destroy the upstart miscreant, but naught occurred.

"You forgot, my dear," Elorie advanced upon her, a cruel smile casting a sinister light upon her visage, "that the lady of light favors me and my quest, such as it is. Only should I fail will your words prove accurate." A pointed finger, and the priestess was thrown back upon the table.