She awoke later to find her eyesight
blurred and the taste in her mouth thick and metallic. Her head was still resting against the wall,
and though it ached, the pain was not so intense anymore. She sat up slowly, trying not to jar her
head. She did not want to remember
where she was or how she had got there, but the memories came flooding back in
an unwilling instant. She groaned out
loud. Suddenly she wished she were
still unconscious.
“You’ve been sleeping for an age.”
It was that woman’s voice, this time closer.
Elu had almost forgotten about her. “I was beginning to worry about
you. Are you injured?”
“Just a little knock to the head, is
all,” Elu mumbled. Her voice was dry
and cracked as she spoke. “It feels a little better now that I’ve slept some of
the pain off.” She paused. “Where are you?”
“In the cell next to yours,” the
woman replied. “At least, I think so.
There’s little method to Asalki building. Sprawling caves and corridors – their home is more akin to a maze
than anything else. Sometimes I wonder
how they manage to find their way around.” She sighed, the slight cheer in her
voice dying. “My name’s Nim,” she introduced herself spontaneously, probably to
make light conversation in the bleakness of the cells. “What’s yours?”
“Elu Eldeen,” Elu replied shortly,
“I’m from Éadan.”
“Éadan?” Nim sounded surprised.
“What brings you so far from home? I’d
always thought the people of Éadan were farmers, not travellers.”
“It’d take too long to tell,” Elu
replied wearily. She didn’t really want
to speak freely on the subject anymore.
A few weeks or even days ago her mind had burnt with the memory of all
that had passed since that autumn fateful day in Welle. Now she wanted to forget it.
“So, just why are you in here?” persisted the other woman, “I can’t imagine
why they would mistake one such as you for a thief. Most travellers hurry through the caves. There’s a lot of tales about the Asalki,
there are. Bad, most of them. Folk are too scared to stay about here for
too long a time.”
“I was meant to be meeting someone
here,” Elu replied. The words brought
back to mind the non-appearance of Grinda.
She thought on him with a mixture of chagrin and despair. Was he ever going to come?
“Really?” Nim continued. “Well, all
I can say is that this is not a wise choice for a place of meeting.” She seemed
to find the thought amusing, for she fell silent for a moment as if musing over
her own words. Elu took the opportunity
to ask a question of her own.
“So, you’re a thief? Of those stones? What do you do with them?”
“Oh, sell them to the merchants and
traders on the black market, if I can.” She sounded cheerful about it. “In
Mosdren, that is, the capital city of Rofaçilin, they are highly prized. I’m a thief all right, but I deal only in verda.
In my line of work, any other form of thieving is just plain, low-down
stealing. But with verda it’s an art, and requires a lot of skill. I’ve long been respected as being the best verda hunter there is.” There was a
pride to her voice that puzzled Elu. It
seemed strange to her, that someone should find pleasure and self-satisfaction
in breaking the law, and even in upsetting a species’ way of life. Was there nothing else in this Nim’s life
that meant anything to her? She quickly
refrained from asking the question.
The sound of footsteps approaching
broke off anything more they might have said.
To Elu, it meant the promise of food and water. She suddenly realised how both hungry and
thirsty she really was. She wondered if
they would untie her hands to allow her to eat. Surely it would not do any harm.
There was no way she would be able to find a way out through the wooden
bars without her dagger, let alone through solid rock. She sat up eagerly.
In the greenish hue of the verda stones three figures became
apparent to her. They stood in front of
her cell, eyeing her warily. For the
first time Elu saw the Asalki straight in the eye. They were women, tall and thin and willowy. They were beautiful, but their clothes were
simple and plain, and their faces were gaunt, almost emaciated. Their skin was pale, to the point of being
colourless. Their hair was long and
loose, and flowed down to their hips, unadorned. But the strangest things about them were their eyes. They were white, and that was all. They held no pupil, nor iris. To Elu they looked frighteningly like ghosts
or spirits. They were so pale they
seemed hardly to be real at all. None
of them carried food or water.
They stood there, considering her a
moment. Two of them seemed to be
guards. The other was taller, and wore
a fillet around her head. Elu did not
know what function she had, but she could easily surmise that she was more
important than the other two. After a
minute or so, the taller woman spoke, giving out an order to her subordinates
in the Asalki tongue. Obediently one of
the guards took out a key from a string on her belt and unlocked the cell
door. One by one the two of them
entered into the cell and advanced towards Elu. There was a purposeful look on their faces, one that caused Elu
to flinch from their touch as they took her under her arms and dragged her up
from the floor. What was happening now?
From the cell next to hers Elu heard
a short gasp from Nim.
“What are they doing to you?” she
asked fearfully.
“I don’t know,” Elu returned
shortly. She did not know whether it
was wise to speak or not. The Asalki
guards had cut through the rope on her ankles, but not on her wrists. They held her firmly by the shoulders as
they led her out of the cell. The tall
woman was still outside, a frown marring her face, as though she disapproved of
Elu’s release.
“Follow me.” She spoke awkwardly, as
though tripping over the unfamiliar tongue.
Then she looked at the guards again and spoke to them shortly and
sharply. All at once Elu felt a jab in
her back. It was the hilt of a small
dagger. She was to move forwards, and
follow the tall woman. So much
information, from just one small threatening poke in the spine, Elu thought
wryly. She did as she was bidden to do,
only looking back once to see if she could spot Nim, but the dimness did not
allow her to do so.
Again there was a maze of winding
corridors leading through the rock. The
light of the verda stones was bright
in some places and dim and shallow in others.
One guard carried a torch in her hand, but held it as though she
disliked the light that it shed. Elu
wondered at the way the woman held it away from her like it was a snake. Was fire so disdained by them?
At last a light shone in the
distance, but it was not the green tinge of the verda stones, nor was it the tawny glow of natural fire. This, she realised, was sunlight. Pure sunlight. Had they realised their mistake in capturing her, and were they
leading her out again? The light
widened as they reached the end of the tunnel, and then dimmed as she walked
out of it and into another room. What
Elu saw caused her to gasp and hold her breath. She was standing in an immense cavern, as large as it was
wide. Though the verda stones clung to every surface of the rocky walls, they were
not the source of the light. A sort of
hole had been carved into the centre of the hall, up high in the ceiling. It was a small hole, but through it was
streaming a ray of pure white sunlight.
It emerged from the cavity like a pillar of glittering gold, it’s light
reflected on a large lake of still, clear water. The lake stretched back far into the cavern and beyond, its
gentle ripples glinting in a rainbow iridescence. The whole chamber was lit up with it. There was no need for torches here, nor for shining stones. This ray of sunlight was the only
light-source the Asalki could ever need.
A voice spoke, deep yet clear and
pure, in the Asalki language. Elu
turned to face it. To the far right of
the room, by the edge of the lake, was a small dais carved from the dark rock
and upon it was a seat, hewn intricately into patterns akin to the rippling and
flowing of water. Slats of verda had been inlaid into it, giving
off the effect of the glimmering of liquid.
Beside the chair was a mirror, inlaid with silver. It gathered the light from the sun and
reflected it upon the chair and the dais, causing the green stones to flicker
and glow even as a fire of emeralds.
Such was its simplicity and beauty that Elu could not help but wonder at
it all.
Upon the chair sat a woman. She was like to the rest of the Asalki that
Elu had seen, except that her face was wiser, and her eyes were gentler. Locks of her pale hair had been drawn back
and braided at the nape of her neck, but the rest had been left to cascade over
her shoulders and into her lap like a golden waterfall. The fillet she wore about her head was of
simple silver, and was adorned only by a single verda stone, which caught the light of the mirror. Handmaidens both stood and sat by her side,
watching Elu’s entrance quietly and with only an inkling of curiosity. The woman on the chair seemed older than
those who stood about her, even older than the tall woman who had led Elu
here. Her gaze as she looked upon Elu
was one of both interest and concern.
There was a kindness to her expression that brought a warmth to Elu’s
heart and a lump to her throat. She had
not known that the simple look of another mortal being could fill her with such
emotion. Instinctively she knew that
this woman who looked so compassionately upon her was no other than the queen
of the Asalki.
It was a while before the lady spoke
again, in her own language. It was a
command to the guards that were Elu’s escorts.
At once they moved to untie Elu’s wrists. As soon as they had done so, Elu flexed her fingers
anxiously. They were cold and sore from
the uncomfortable position, but no permanent damage had been done. She heaved a sigh of relief. She was free, but from the position of the
guards behind her she knew she was not free to go just yet. She looked up and faced the queen again,
waiting for her to speak. Was this a
trial, a judgment? Well, whatever was
meted out to her, Elu would have to accept it as graciously as she could.
The lady smiled. It was genuine smile, a warm one, almost
motherly in its depth. With one hand
she beckoned Elu to her. “Come,” she spoke.
Her accent was slight, and her pronunciation was perfect. Hesitantly, but with no other choice, Elu
walked over to her. She was not sure
whether she should stand or bow before the woman. After a moment’s consideration, she decided it would be wiser to
bend down on one knee.
The woman laughed.
“No, there is no need,” she spoke
softly. Her voice was like the light
sprinkling of a fountain. “We are equals here, you and I. Seldom does one such as yourself come to
meet with me.”
“So, you agree with me?” came
another voice. Suddenly Elu realised
that there was a bird upon the lady’s shoulder. Its feathers were of a golden hue, and its beak was yellow. It was like no other bird Elu had ever seen
before. It was large, but not
ungainly. Its frame was slender and
elegant, its legs and feet thin and tapering, its neck long and graceful. Upon its head rested golden plumes, and its
tail was long, like the spilling of a golden river. Its plumage was fine, like flaxen cobwebs. Truly this was a magnificent creature, a
king amongst birds. Elu had no idea
where it had come from, nor why it should be living in a place such as this,
where there was no free air to fly in.
“It would be wise to look upon her
first, and to speak with her,” the lady interjected calmly. “But yes, I believe
you could be right, Azuril.” She turned to Elu again. “Please, rise.”
Elu did so, slowly. She felt peculiar about the whole
thing. She knew the lady and the bird
were talking about her, in terms she did not understand. It made her uneasy.
“May I ask why I have been summoned
here?” she inquired as politely as she could.
Somehow the presence of this beautiful lady commanded it. At her tone the woman smiled, that warm,
welcoming smile.
“It is simple,” she answered softly,
“Azuril here informed me of your presence, and of who you were. If you are who he seems to think you are,
then there are some things I would wish to speak to you of, things of great
importance. Azuril has informed me of
your mission, and your quest.”
“Azuril?” Elu gazed on the golden
bird in astonishment. “But how could he know anything of my business?”
“It has been a while, Elu,” the bird
spoke up, “Yet already you have forgotten the sound of my voice. Do you not remember who I am?”
In a sudden instant she
understood. She almost keeled over,
such was the shock of the revelation. “Grinda!” she exclaimed, her knees going
momentarily weak.
“I promised I would meet you here,
did I not,” he spoke placidly, “Though I ask you to forgive me for the lateness
of my arrival. There were things I was
forced to attend to. Important
things. Unfortunately, I was delayed.”
“But, you…” Elu could hardly find
her tongue, “You are…you are not a man…” she began weakly.
“Did I not tell you I was a
shapeshifter?” he sounded slightly annoyed, “And yet you did not believe
me. If your mind is so closed then no
wonder you do not see the very thing that is inside yourself. Unless…” He trailed off, and cocked his head
to gaze upon her reflectively. She
thought there was worry on his bird face.
“Why do you not come here as a man?”
She finally asked, regaining her wits somewhat.
“Because in this place, the shape of
men is as great a hindrance as flies on food,” the bird answered dryly. The woman smiled. “Do not confuse her,” she
spoke warningly. “I can see that she knows and understands little.” She looked
upon Elu once more. “I am Zvazdra, Queen of the Asalki. Azuril here has asked me to aid you in your
quest. It is my sadness to admit that
there is little that I can do for you, but what help I am able to provide you
with, I will surely do so, my Lady.”
“My Lady?” Elu repeated weakly. She felt as if she were caught in the eye of
some huge hurricane. Everything was
moving too fast for her to understand.
But yet again Queen Zvazdra met her confusion with a slight smile.
“Is it still so hard to see?” she
spoke cryptically. She stretched out a
hand. “Come here, before me. Let me see
you clearly.”
The command was almost
irresistible. At once Elu obeyed her
and stood before the shimmering throne.
Zvazdra stood, and looked into Elu’s face gravely. She was a full head taller than Elu, who
felt very much belittled standing before her.
Yet she found she could not take her eyes off the queen’s colourless
own. Zvazdra’s gaze was singular,
powerful, yet not forbidding. Elu could
almost feel the strength of that one look surge through her like a tidal wave,
unlocking every defence within her, boring even into her soul. It was not an overly pleasant feeling, yet
not unpleasant either. It was an
exchange, a giving and a taking. All
Elu could do was to give freely.
Somehow, she trusted this woman and did not fear her, despite how deeply
she looked within her. After a moment,
Zvazdra withdrew, and lowered her gaze.
Elu thought she detected a sadness in her eyes, and a degree of
apprehension that sent her stomach churning.
“The bonds that hold her are great,”
she spoke at last, her voice thin, as though what she had done had wearied her.
“And I cannot undo them. Neither can
any other man; save for one.”
“We shall not speak his name,”
Azuril interrupted sharply. Then, more
calmly: “You forget, there is another.
And that is the one who gave them to her. But I shall seek neither man out. It is not the time.”
Elu listened to the brief exchange
with a deepening sense of curiosity and foreboding.
“Do you mean to say that I am a shapeshifter?” she asked, her voice
uncertain. Zvazdra cast her a short,
assessing glance.
“Do you know what a shapeshifter
is?” she asked in return.
“I know what they were supposed to
be,” Elu answered hesitantly. “But apart from tales and superstitions, I know
little else.” She paused. “I cannot be a shapeshifter. Surely I would know if I were. Even if someone had put these so-called
‘bonds’ on me.” She turned to Azuril. “Why won’t you tell me what you know
about me? It seems as though the both
of you know, yet neither of you will tell me.
You speak over me as if I was not here.
If I am a shapeshifter, why not tell me how I came to be and why?”
“Now is not the time,” Azuril spoke
sharply; but Zvazdra’s face was kindly.
“My Lady,” she said grimly, “it is
as Azuril says. Now is not the
time. There is danger in this world,
and sometimes to impart even the smallest ounce of information would add to the
danger. But I would speak with you, and
tell you what I may.” She gestured to hall. “Come, let us go to a place where
we may speak more freely.” She turned to Azuril and passed him a look, which he
seemed to understand. He flapped away
from her shoulder and in a moment was gone.
“What I have to say is for you
alone,” Zvazdra informed her staidly.
She led Elu away from the throne and
into the depths of the great chamber.
They followed the edge of the lake as they went, and once more Elu marvelled
at its clearness. The pool was almost
like a crystal, so bright and lucid was its water.
“We Asalki have always loved the
waters of the world,” Zvazdra explained when she caught Elu staring down into
its depths. “Once we lived deep in the pools of Izin Z’asalki, the great
eastern lake of Rofaçilin. But long ago
we were driven from our homes by those who wished to use the waters to irrigate
the burnt and arid lands. Many of us
were killed in the battle between Asalki and humans. What remnant of us remained came here, to the underground
waterways of the Calliss Plateau. Had
this place eluded us, we would be no more.” There was a sorrow to her voice
that shocked Elu to the core of her being.
Somehow, in a way she could not understand, she felt linked to the Queen
of the Asalki, in a deep, almost physical way.
Whatever emotion she felt was amplified into Elu so deeply that she felt
it herself. It was like the joining of
two souls, yet was less tangible than that.
She did not understand it. It almost
frightened her.
At last they stopped by a small
alcove that had been made to look like a grotto. This, Elu could tell, was a small place of worship. A spring bubbled forth here and ran over the
rocks to join with the main body of the lake.
Silver braziers had been set by both side of the spring, and glowed
forth with a green light. The small
stream that connected this place to the lake was clear and winding, like a
transparent snake coiling over the black rock.
On the wall, in between the braziers, was a carving inlaid with verda.
It was a depiction of a woman, with long flowing hair that seemed to
cover her face and her body. Her hair
was like a river, or the sea, rippling outward. She seemed to be a wraith of water, rather then a mortal being.
“Who is that?” Elu asked
breathlessly. Zvazdra turned to her.
“That is Éthar,” she explained.
“Éthar?” Elu replied, not
recognising the name.
“She is the mother of all,” Zvazdra
said softly. “Many of the mortals overland refer to the Elder God, Aan, as the
creator of the world, and indeed it was by his hand that the lands of
Fithandani were shaped and came into existence. But before him was his mother, Éthar, the Lady Green Water. Before she died she mated with the god
Gorsith, the Void, and from their union was born the Ocean of All Life. It was from this ocean that Aan created
Mil-Milobal, the Holy Well that contains the green waters of life, which men
today call ether. Ether is the word
that comes from Éthar’s own name, which means ‘green water.’ We Asalki have always known this ancient
knowledge and have cherished it for many generations. That is why the natural rock pools of this world are special to
us and all our kind. We believe that
the essence of Éthar flows within the very bowels of this earth.”
She paused and gazed upon Elu
closely, a light in her white eyes.
“Éthar was the mother of both men
and gods. She is the mother of
all. But there is an ancient lore that
says that Éthar was the precursor of a line that was always highly regarded
throughout ancient cultures. It was
based on a line of females that inherited the sacred bloodline of Éthar, the
original mother of the world. In time,
this bloodline, which passed always through the eldest daughter, faded into
obscurity and eventually vanished. No
man left alive knows of the true fate of the Scions of Éthar. But they belong to a family great and
powerful, one that we are told will someday bring Balance back to the earth.”
She paused, perusing the icon of the mother goddess with a hunger in her eyes
that Elu felt. Then she turned to Elu
once more, and her face was oddly triumphant. “The shapeshifters, Elu, were
said to belong to that ancient family.”
Elu was silent, drinking this all
in. After a heavy silence, she spoke,
stammering as she did so.
“And so you think…that I belong to this family of
shapeshifters?”
Zvazdra smiled enigmatically. “From
the very beginning the Asalki were made to guard the line of queens that issued
forth from Éthar’s blood. We were
called the Guardians of the Waters – it is a symbolic title, you know. We were the protectors of the Scions of
Éthar, the shapeshifters. But in time,
the bloodline was lost; no one remembers how or why, not even the Asalki. We failed in our duty, as we presumed the
bloodline did.” Her voice became wistful. “When I was young, a prophecy was
made. That in my time the Asalki would
once more become joined to the bloodline of Éthar, that their lost connection
would once more be re-forged. I always
hoped such a moment would arrive, and now…now, I believe it has, whatever the
price of such a rejoining may be.” Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Elu
again, her gaze once more sad. Elu was
breathless.
“But it cannot be true. How could I be what you say I am? How
could I be of royal, no divine, blood?”
“I do not know what you are,”
Zvazdra shook her head, looking dispirited. “The story of the shapeshifters and
even their origins are shrouded in much mystery. Even the Asalki, who knew much of their secrets, have forgotten
what they once so treasured. But I have
told you what I know of these matters.
It is possible that the Scions of Éthar were invented by the
shapeshifters themselves, in order to protect their own lives.”
“What do you mean?” Elu asked,
foreboding taking her heart in a sudden chill.
“After the War of the Sundering,
something happened to the shapeshifters,” Zvazdra murmured. “Mortals began to
loathe and despise them. They hunted
them down and killed them. That is why
nowadays no man believes they exist.”
“Yet they do,” Elu added
quietly. She looked up. “What about
Grinda, or Azuril as you call him? Is
he not of this shapeshifting family you speak of?”
“No.” There was a wry look on the
queen’s face as she said it. “He is different, that one. He shapeshifts, yet he is not a
shapeshifter. He is an older creature
than you suppose. But take heart – I
know with certainty that he is a servant of the Light.” She paused. “I do not
feel the connection with him that I do with you. The connection that tells me that you are what I know you to be.”
Elu sucked in a breath. “Then you
want to me to save the world,” she whispered. “It is not possible.”
“Possible or no, the time is nigh,”
Zvazdra replied darkly. “The prophecy speaks that this is the time.”
“The Prophecy,” Elu muttered
disdainfully. “I have read it. It means
nothing that makes any sense. How can
one prophecy have precedence over the many others that exist in this world? I do not believe them.”
The white-faced queen cast her an
almost pitying gaze. “Not all prophecies are written by the hands of men. Some are locked within the earth
itself. Perhaps these are the
prophecies that speak the truth.” Then she bent forwards and took up a silver
bowl that had been lying underneath the icon of the goddess on the wall. Slowly, reverently, she dipped the bowl into
the shimmering stream at her feet. The
lining of the basin glittered brightly in the light of the braziers as she laid
it down back before the holy icon. With
a motion of her hand, she bade Elu join her.
Wonderingly, Elu lowered herself onto her knees by the queen’s side.
“Look into the water,” Zvazdra
ordered her softly. “Tell me what you see.”
Elu looked down into the bowl, into
the clear depths of the water. Never
had she seen water so clear, so transparent.
She wondered how she was ever able to make anything out of it. She shook her head slowly. “I see nothing,”
she said at last. There was no surprise
in Zvazdra’s face at her words; only a lingering despondency. “You do not see
because you do not want to. Yet the
power to do so is great within you.
Have you not delved into the depths of other living things? A dog, a cat, a bird? A flower or a tree? Or perhaps even another human being?” Elu
could not stop herself from starting at the other woman’s words. The accuracy of what she had suggested
chilled the very blood in her veins.
“If the truth must be spoken, I fear
to see what may lie within the waters,” she spoke at last, carefully. She sensed that the queen was disappointed with
her. But Zvazdra’s eyes were no longer
upon her, but back upon the water. Her
ashen eyes glistened like tears in the reflected light.
“Yes,” she murmured thoughtfully,
“There is fear, when one looks into the unknown. I have seen my own death in these waters, and the death of my
race. I grow old,” she added, drawing a
heavy lock of her pale hair over her shoulder. “The Asalki live for many ages
more than men. But time beats upon me
relentlessly, chips away at my body as an axe picks at stone. The waters have already spoken their truth
to me. That I will die, and I will bear
no child to take my place. Both I and
all of my kind shall die with me. That
is my sacrifice, and even the prophecy has spoken of it.”
Elu was silent, unable to speak for
the sudden wave of indescribable anguish that came over her. It took her unawares, as a flood will rise
and devour any village in its wake. For
a moment, she thought she would weep with the all-consuming sorrow of Zvazdra’s
silent grief. She bit her lip, trying
to hold down the lump in her throat until it passed. When it did the queen’s lips bore a wan smile. “Ah well. Each one of us will bear his burden. A queen is no exception, even if she be an
ancient Lady of the Waters.” She poured the water from the bowl back into the
spring and stood.
“What makes you believe that
anything, even the earth itself, can determine the course of the future?” Elu
asked, rising with her. Zvazdra’s eyes
were far away, and they did not look upon her as she replied.
“Because the earth itself is the course of the future,” she
answered gently. “It was made for one purpose, and that was to fulfill the
purpose of its maker.” She smiled at Elu’s look of frustration. “Do not look
upon the future as a set of prophecies, all lined up against one another, vying
for credibility. Look upon it as a
game, Elu. A man sits at his table, and
draws from a pack of cards.” She gestured elegantly with a slender hand. “Each
card represents a certain force on the course of history. It may be a person, or a place, or an
event. He does not know what cards he
draws; yet every time he lays them out upon his table, he strives to make the
best of the spread he lays before him.
Think of how many spreads are possible from those cards. All are a thread, a skein of the unseen and
the unknown that we call our future.
The prophets only see one thread, but there are many. No one knows what the true outcome really
is.”
“But,” Elu countered persistently,
“surely the question is not what cards the man will draw, but who is the man
that draws them. If there is no man
then no cards can be drawn, and hence no prophecies.” She paused, a thought
coming to her. “Or are you going to tell me that you know who it is who is
playing this eternal game?” she questioned quietly.
“No one knows,” Zvazdra returned
gravely. “For the game has become more akin to a battle than anything else.”
“I do not understand.” Elu creased
her brow.
“When the Spheres of Harmony that were made
by the Elder Mithlonei were destroyed, the earth was plunged into madness. The Fates were split into two: The Prophecy
of the Light, and the Prophecy of the Dark.
There is no longer one man at his table – there are two. And they vie with one another, setting pawns
upon their table, moving them as they would chesspieces. Their goal is only to destroy one or the
other. Such is the fate of our
world. We are teetering on the precipice
of total chaos, of ultimate imbalance.
Already the universe struggles to maintain the concept that it has been
split down the very middle. Yet the two
halves, they do not seek unity once more.
They seek the annihilation of one another.” Her gaze turned to Elu’s
then and it was suddenly as piercing ice. “What should we settle for, Elu? Should either the Light or the Dark win, we
face only half a world, where harmony shall be forever lost to us. But the shapeshifters, their task was ever
to restore balance to this world. Shall
the Light or the Dark be joined, or shall one die and leave a cloven half
behind?”
Elu understood then, the quest that
she had set foot upon. Grinda had had
no intention of bringing her along with him to aid him in spreading the word of
the encroaching war with the armies of the Dark. That had been a feint, an excuse. He had brought her along with him believing that she would
restore the world to its former glory.
Somehow, the fact that she had survived the attack on Welle and had come
to him in Grimhabim had reinforced this belief. It was almost too preposterous to be believed, yet somehow, deep
within her, an element of it rang true.
She could not explain why. She
did not know whether it was her lost memories, or her dreams, or the
strangeness of her encounters with the Oak Tree back in Welle. But it was something. And she was not sure whether she wanted to
find it out.
“There is one more thing I must tell
you,” Zvazdra spoke, and the sorrow was thick in her voice as she took Elu hard
by the shoulders, “before you leave this place with Azuril. And that is that the man you seek is dead.”
Her eyes became glazed, her voice dream-like. “He reached the snow-laden city
of Degenray in Dűrval. But when he got
there they did something to him. An
unspeakable horror. He died that day,
in the snow and the cold, without a friend, without comfort to hand. What spirit he had fled. He is gone.
Yet he died thinking of you, calling your name. His last memories were of you.” She trailed
off then, the grip of her hands tightening, her breath coming hard as though
she had raced a great distance. Elu
stood, dumbfounded, her own breath clamouring to release itself from the
tightness of her chest. News she had
feared, yet she had denied so strongly that it was the only thing that had kept
her moving. Hot tears welled in her
eyes. Mirulas, her Mirulas, was
dead. There was no reason now to carry
on. She had nothing left. It was almost a physical thing – she almost
felt the very thing that had kept her alive all this time deflate and slide out
of her, leaving only the deep ache of emptiness within her.
For the first time in all the days
that she could remember, Elu felt truly alone.
Though strangely aloof and
untrustworthy of humans, the Asalki could be hospitable hosts when they put
their minds to it. A room of sorts had
been made available to Elu for the night.
The rooms were bare, reflecting the simple ways of the Asalki life. Beds were carved niches in the hard stone
walls, and pallets were built up within to provide warmth and comfort during
sleep. There was a small table in a
corner of Elu’s room that was laden with a strange kind of fruit. They had not looked particularly appetizing
to Elu, but once she had tasted them she was forced to reform her
preconceptions. The flesh was soft and
sweet, but mellow. Rather like the melons that Mistress Eldeen had so loved
during the summer months. That memory
was one that so pained Elu that she turned it out of her mind as soon as she
had thought it. She could not bear to
think anymore on all that she had lost.
The light source in her room was the
verda in the walls, and a small
brazier with a natural flame in a corner.
The mixture struck her as odd, but she kept the torch glowing. It was a comfort of the outside world that
she could not help but cling onto in this strange place. Though the light of the green stones was
beautiful to look upon, there was an eerie air about them that unsettled
her. The rest of the room was quite
bare.
Once she had eaten, Grinda came to
visit her in his strange new bird form.
That too had unsettled her. She
was forced grudgingly to believe that he was a shapeshifter of sorts, for she
could not deny that it was Grinda’s voice that emerged from the bird’s
beak. Yet she was not entirely willing
to admit that it was a more than a cheap conjurer’s trick.
“Why did you have to get me all the
way here before I got to hear the truth?” she rounded on him as soon as he had
perched himself on her table. The
golden bird cocked its head in the most irritable fashion it could manage, its
plumage glinting in the firelight.
“Because had I told you sooner, you
would not have believed me,” he answered simply. “But Zvazdra…she is more
persuasive. Whatever the truth of the
matter, she does not lie. She believes
what she says.”
“As you obviously do,” Elu shot at
him, angered at the simplicity of his answer.
“And do you not?” he inquired
mildly. Elu glared at him.
“I do not know.” She sighed heavily.
“My mind says one thing, and my heart another.
There is truth in what the both of you say; I cannot deny it because I
feel it. But what is true and what is
false I cannot decide.”
“You cannot decide until you learn
more,” he spoke almost wheedlingly. “And to learn more you must journey on with
me, Elu. There is no other way.”
She would have argued with him then,
but something went out of her instead. “I have nothing left. Even if I am not the person you think I am,
what would be the use wandering aimlessly about the world, trying to find
another home? I will not love another
man. I will be no other’s wife.” She
got up and threw herself onto her bed, feeling exhaustion rather than pain take
her. She was so weary of it all. “I
have thought long on it this morning.
Would there be anything to lose if I went with you? I do not think so.” She rolled over to face
the golden bird again. “And from all that Queen Zvazdra has told me, I have
become curious. Do the shapeshifters
really exist? And are the prophecies
true? What is the fate of this world?”
The bird blinked at her, saying
nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“And,” she began again at last, her
expression harder, “I wish to find out what they did to Mirulas and why. I shall not rest until I do so. Even if I cannot have vengeance I will learn
the reasons for the cruelty of those who follow the Dark. For Mirulas’ sake, they shall not escape
me.” She raised her eyes to look at the bird.
It bent its neck solemnly.
“You know what I wish, Elu,”
Grinda’s voice answered softly. “And my intentions for you shall not
change. Take my offer as you will.”
“Then I shall journey with you,” she
decided, but there was a hesitancy in her heart that she did not voice. Perhaps it was a fear that on her travels
she would find out for herself what she truly was. She shook her mind free of all such anxieties, and glared at the
bird. “Why must you take this form, Grinda?” she queried agitatedly. “It
unnerves me.”
“I have already told you, within
these caves the form of a man is a hindrance.” It was his turn to look annoyed.
“And please, my true name is Azuril, not Grinda.”
“Azuril, Grinda, what difference
does it make,” she sighed. “I hardly know who you are anyway.” She paused in
puzzlement. “Why is the form of a man so troublesome in this place?”
“Have you not seen it?” He looked
surprised. “The Asalki are a female race.
Never is a male child born to them.
How do you think they reproduce?” She thought she detected a sly note to
his voice as he spoke. “Many a man has passed through these caves and never
returned to the surface. What do you
think has became of them? Not the many
horrors the tales and superstitions bestowed upon them. Their fate was a much more pleasurable one.”
There was only humour in his voice, but Elu felt her cheeks redden as she
understood him. “I myself have had no interest in such an end,” he continued
remorselessly. “I have far more pressing matters that concern me in this
place.”
Elu reflected on what he had said.
“Has no man come this way for a long time then?” she asked.
“Men come and go as they ever have,”
he replied evasively. “Why?”
“It was just something the
queen said. She had seen a vision in
the waters, I think. That she would die
childless and that because of that her race would die away.” She shuddered
remembering the sharp anguish of the queen that had cut through her.
“Ah,” Azuril’s voice held its own
note of sadness. “The queen is not blind when she looks into the waters. But she has known her fate far longer than
her talent for scrying became clear.” He cocked his head towards Elu. “You see,
Elu, the Asalki have a rule, and that is that a maid may not have relations
with a male until the queen has borne her first child and heir. And there is another rule – that no Asalki
may bind herself to a mortal man, be he human or elf or sephira or even tűrkal. Such an act would have no benefit to the
Asalki society. They have no need for
men, save for that of producing the next generation. To bind oneself to a man invites all sorts of complications and
troubles. The Asalki have never
approved of it.” He sighed. “But Queen Zvazdra, she disobeyed the rules. She fell in love with a man, and bound her
heart to him. She loved him as ardently
as he did not love her. He knew what
his love would have meant to her, and to her race. Yet still, he refused her. ”
“Could a man be so cruel?” Elu
voiced in wonder. There was an odd look
on Azuril’s bird-like face as he regarded her for a moment.
“It was not without shame and regret
that he refused the love of the Queen,” he spoke, a note of caution to his
voice. “But that man’s heart had already been given to another, and such was
his passion for that woman that he would not forsake her, even to save an
entire race from extinction. But
Zvazdra, she swore that if she could not be his bride then no other man would
possess her. And to this day, she holds
to that promise.”
“Could not she change the rules of
the Asalki?” Elu asked eagerly. “Could not she allow her people to mate before
she herself did?”
“It is not possible.” Azuril shook
his head. “Only one woman may be the Queen of the Asalki and that is the child
of the present queen. If no queen is
born, and if no queen takes to the Green Throne then the Asalki society will
crumble into ruin. The queen is like
the queen of a beehive. She holds every
one of her people in her mind; she is the order of a group cohesiveness. Without her, a madness would descend upon
the Asalki. They would die terrible,
lingering deaths, even as one would pass from the festering of a lost limb. Zvazdra has sacrificed much, for simple
love. But her people do not resent her.
They feel her pain every day; they even
share in it. Each one of them mourns as
she does.”
Elu was silent for a moment,
listening to the crackling of the fire in the brazier. She understood now the pale queen’s deep
sadness, and the horrible sacrifice she had made. She wondered whether she, Elu, would be brave enough to make such
a sacrifice for the man she loved.
“It is a grievous tale,” she spoke
at last.
“It is a terrible one,” he agreed,
“but such things cannot be helped.
Despite all, who can take away the power of mortal hearts?”
Elu considered it a
moment. The words seemed somehow both
heartening and foreboding. She did not
like it.
“So what are we going to do now?”
she asked at last.
“We are going to do as we planned
before,” Azuril said taking a more business-like tone. “We shall travel to
Mosdren, the capital city of Rofaçilin, and there we shall warn the King
Morçant of the tűrkals’ movements.
Whatever plans I have for you Elu, it is no use waiting on the events of
prophecies to simply happen. One must
put the key players into motion.” He stopped, as though musing on the remark.
“Speaking of players, there is something I wish you to do for me. It is the thing I wished you to do once you
had arrived here, the thing only you could do.”
“What is that?” she asked, curious.
“There is a friend of mine trapped
in the Asalki cells,” he returned. “I need her, but Zvazdra will not allow me
to free her.”
“Nim?” Elu voiced in surprise. That thief was a friend of Azuril’s?
“You know her? But of course, you were in there with her.”
He raised his voice. “I need her for the journey to Mosdren. She knows those parts better than anybody
else I know. I have often suggested to
her that she should be a guide or a ranger rather than a common thief. But she will have none of it.”
“Why won’t Zvazdra let her
free? Surely she knows how important
this is to you.”
“Unfortunately Nim has made too much
of a habit of stealing the Asalki’s precious verda stones. At first I
was able to secure her release with little problem. But now she has tried her tricks one time too many. Zvazdra’s people complain of the chaos she
causes to them. Zvazdra even went so
far as to call her a fly gnawing on the group cohesiveness. Or something to that effect.” He broke into
a mutter. “Much as I am fond of her, that Nim has gone too far this time.”
“How am I supposed to be any help?”
Elu asked, baffled.
“Have you so soon forgotten? The Queen sees you as a pawn on a
chessboard, a woman on a mission, going to her fate. Is it not your right to gather all other pawns that might be
considered allies to your side?” His bird eyes glinted slyly. “Tell her that
Nim is a pawn in your game, and she will believe you.”
“How can I do that, when even I do
not believe it?” she demanded irately. “Why not just get another ranger? I’m sure they are plentiful, Grinda.”
“Azuril,” he corrected her grimly.
“She is my friend, Elu. Is that not
enough for you? Would you not do the
same for your own friend?”
“I have none left,” Elu retorted bitterly.
“They’re all dead.” She did not expect Azuril to answer that and he didn’t. “So
when do we leave?” she asked him, regretting her cruelty to him somewhat.
“Tomorrow morning, as soon as Nim
has been released,” he replied. “We must make haste. Already much time has been wasted here. Luckily I have secured some horses and supplies. And Ralling is still in their custody. Fine horse, that one is,” he added as an
after thought. Elu looked at him
curiously again. The mentioning of
wasted time made her think of something.
“Why were you not here waiting for
me when I arrived, Azuril?” she asked quietly. “I had thought I was late, yet
still you were not there. What was it
that delayed you?”
She caught his reluctance to speak
even before it showed in his voice.
“Let us not speak on it now, Elu, my
child,” he avoided her question softly. “Now there are things I must attend to,
and I wish you to save your strength for the morrow. When the time is ready I will tell all. For now, let us leave it to rest.”
The hesitancy in his voice caused
her to be silent. Whatever he had
chosen to hide from her she knew was something that somehow pained or troubled
him. She decided not to push it
further, even though her curiosity was beginning to brim over. So many things she had found out this day,
and yet so many questions had remained unanswered. A journey stretched out before her once more. She wondered if anything she would ever encounter
on her travels would explain to her the meaning of this all.
That night she slept, and her dreams
were vague and patchy. She had not
dreamt vividly for some nights now, for which she had been grateful at
first. But that night there was a
strange longing in her heart. Now she
wished for answers, and she felt somehow that her dreams would provide them for
her. For the first time in several
days, she turned her mind back onto the ancient prophecy she had read in
Grimhabim. She wondered which thread of
the many fates the prophecy had referred to.
What had it mentioned? A Dragon
and an Owl. There had been a dragon in
her dreams, twice. A magnificent,
golden creature, one that filled her with hate and loathing. It had killed many men, burnt them to a
cinder on that cold, grey battlefield.
She had wanted to kill the dragon, and avenge those many deaths. But her sword had cut through nothing. The finely wrought scales of the dragon had
rebuffed even the hardiest of her strikes.
Her dreams that night offered her no
solutions. Images glinted over her
mind’s eye like cold flames over the blade of a sword. Everything seemed dark. She thought she caught the pungent odour of
thick smoke, but she saw nothing. It
was as though the universe was spinning in and around her, as though she
belonged to it and it belonged to her.
She awoke in the middle of the night, still reeling from a sensation of
dizziness. It took her awhile to steady
herself enough to clamber out of the niche in the wall and pour herself some
water from a jug that had been left on her table. It was as she was drinking the cool, clean liquid that she felt
it. The sense of another, outside yet
near her room, prowling, lurking in the darkness. The feel of that foreign consciousness wafted up against her own
like the gentleness of a subtle scent.
She was not sure if it was seeking her, but it was definitely seeking
something. In a moment the sensation
had passed and she was alone once more.
She stood stock still, her glass
clutched tightly in her head. She
suddenly realised that she was trembling.
Whatever was outside, it was hunting.
It was looking for something.
And its spirit was deadly powerful.
Her hand shaking, she set her glass
down upon the table. A part of her
wanted to run back into her bed and under the covers, but another part of her
was burning with curiosity. For several
minutes she stood, trying to weigh up the advantages of both courses of
action. She did not know why she
decided to go out and discover just what that predator had been. In the end, it was more of an impulse than a
carefully thought out judgement.
All was in darkness outside, except
for the dim glow of the verda
stones. The eerie shadows that it cast
about the place were unsettling, but Elu steeled herself against it. This was no time for fear now. If anything happened to her, she would
scream. She knew that people were
sleeping nearby. They would hear her,
and come to her rescue. She was safe. Nevertheless she kept close to the wall and
trod slowly, almost on tiptoe. If she
could avoid any conflict she would do so.
Better to stay close to the protection the dark walls offered.
Somehow her senses led her straight
into Zvazdra’s throne room. By the day,
the room had been lit by that bright column of sunlight shining in over the
waters of the lake. By night, blazing
braziers and verda provided a
constant yet murky glow on the waters and its surroundings. Elu stopped in the entrance, her heart
beating fast. She listened, both with
ears and mind. There was not a sound as
she stood there, silent, except for the gentle lapping of the waves against the
rim of the lake. She gazed out over
it. The water was clear and indigo in
colour, except where a shaft of pale moonlight glimmered over the still
pool. It was like a mirror, both bright
and compelling. Unwillingly, yet unable
to stop herself from doing so, she stepped forward into the room and walked to
the edge of the lake. She skirted it,
drawing near to the place where the column of moonlight gathered over the
water. Slowly, she knelt, assessing the
play of the light upon the clearness of the unmoving liquid. From that position, she could even see the
bottom of the lake. It was shallow near
her end, and there was only black rock below, no algae, and no creatures. But it was beautiful somehow. She thought again on what Zvazdra had
said. That these waters could show the
history and future of the earth. That
they were born from the mother goddess Éthar.
She held her breath and looked in deeper.
In a moment the waters came to shift
and change. A vision streaked across
them, so quickly she did not think she had seen it at first. Then she saw it, a dark blob of black
against a deep blue sky. An eagle,
gently circling the currents of the wind.
It dove gracefully, effortlessly, letting its wings span its side to
take a hovering position over a field.
A green field? No, black. There were people on the field, Elu could
see. Lots of people. Why so many…? They were fighting. The
realisation caught at her throat so that she could not breathe. It was a war. This was a battlefield.
Two armies were fighting, slaughtering each other.
For a moment, the eagle hovered
above the scene, wordless, witnessing all.
Then it opened its beak. Elu did
not hear the call that echoed from its throat.
In another swift moment, it was gone, lost to a blackening sky. With that, the vision ended.
Elu sprawled back onto her buttocks,
gasping for breath. It had only been a
short, simple scene that she had witnessed, no sound, only a short sight. Yet it had troubled her more deeply than she
could tell. She wanted to vomit. This was no scene of the past, no
dream. She had seen the future.
Suddenly, she felt it again, this
time stronger. A presence, brushing up
against hers, roughly, primitively, but definitely there. She gasped and swung round. Darkness met her. She felt her heart crash in her breast.
“Who is there?” she demanded out
loud, yet her voice betrayed her fear by shaking violently. She stood, shivering. A coldness bit into her that she had not
felt before. “Who is watching?”
Again, someone’s consciousness
collided into hers, almost taking the breath out of her. But it was not an attack. This she knew for certain. It was a searching spirit, one that was only
looking into her own out of curiosity.
It cupped her, it embraced her, it surrounded her in tendrils of
something akin to joy and wonder. Her
knees buckled at the way it flooded in over her. She felt as though she had been stripped naked by whatever it
was, and that all her secrets had been laid bare for it to see. Yet even as she dropped onto her knees the
consciousness left her as swiftly as it had come, and she was left, trembling,
in the dirt and rock.
“Who are you?” she cried, her voice
weaker. She had expected no
answer. But even if someone had
answered her with words, it would not have prepared her for the astonishment
she was met with next. For from the
shadows and the darkness before her there emerged an unfamiliar figure,
advancing towards her with strength, and purpose. It came forward, into the pale light, looked at her, sat back on
its grey haunches. It was a wolf.
A scream leapt into her throat, but
she held it down long enough to jump to her feet. The blindness of her terror was such that she did not see that it
had no intention of attacking her. Fear
gripping every limb in her body, she turned and ran. She did not stop until she had returned to her room, and had
buried herself deep inside her bedding.
Shuddering she held the coverlets close to her as though they would ward
away the consciousness of that great grey wolf. Perhaps they did, perhaps they did not. Even as she drifted off into a feverish sleep, she did not feel
the wolf climb into her soul again.
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Eleven