The next thing she felt was a gentle
hand passing over her forehead. Somehow
reassured by that soft touch, Elu awoke.
It was Queen Zvazdra’s face that looked down into hers.
“Are you ill, my lady?” she asked
gently.
Elu shifted, half wondering at the
question and half taken off guard by the way the queen addressed her. She was still swathed close in her
blankets. Slowly, the events of the
previous night came back to her. She
almost started at the memory of it. She
remembered burrowing deep into the coverlets out of fear of something. A wolf, a wolf who could touch her
soul. She shuddered at the memory.
“No,” she mumbled, “I’m not
ill. Not ill.”
There was a concerned look on
Zvazdra’s face as she pressed a cool hand once more against Elu’s forehead.
“You are burning,” she remarked, her brow furrowed with worry. “And you have
sleeping for most of the morning.
Azuril has been anxious for you.”
Elu suddenly realised the source of
the queen’s concern. Lying enfolded in
the heavy covers all night had raised her temperature. She was actually sweating, half from fear and
half from the heat.
“I am all right,” she reassured the
queen, sitting up slowly. Already she
was beginning to feel cooler. She
exhaled heavily and swiped the sweat from her forehead. The sounds of morning activity bustled
outside her room, yet despite the welcoming of a new day could not stop her
from trembling as she recalled the night before.
“There is something that troubles
you,” Zvazdra persisted, looking hard at her. “I feel it inside you. What has happened?”
Elu knew then that the sad-faced
queen could touch her even as the Oak Tree and Azuril and the wolf had. But her touch was faint and subtle, so
delicate that she could not feel it.
Even the thought of that made Elu shudder. Still, she could not lie to the queen. She looked back at her over her shoulder.
“I saw a wolf,” she said slowly. She would have said more, but somehow the
words would not come out. It was hard
enough just thinking about what she had witnessed, let alone talking about
it. She lowered her eyes but when she
raised them again she saw that the queen’s face had gone very hard and white,
almost akin to a cold, grey stone statue.
Elu stared in alarm at the woman’s icy glare. It was almost as if she had stopped living for a moment.
“My queen…” Elu began anxiously, but Zvazdra cut her
off quickly.
“Elu, I must warn you,” she spoke quickly, sharply,
almost breathlessly. “Do not speak on what you have seen. Not to anyone. And especially not to Azuril.
You must promise me that. What
you saw you were not meant to have seen.”
“But…” Elu started, truly perplexed, but once again
Zvazdra interrupted her.
“Promise me.”
Elu paused, trying to think on it, but she could not
form any thought without it becoming muddled.
Finally, she nodded. Zvazdra’s
face relaxed, and once again the pallid smile was upon her face. Tenderly she reached out and stroked Elu’s
brow.
“Forget that you saw it,” she counselled softly,
“and soon the memory will pass.”
She smiled kindly at Elu, then rose. There was something odd about her expression
that troubled Elu. She was troubled too
at the queen’s desire for her to forget what she had seen. How could she forget anything so terrifying
as a wild wolf thrusting itself so invasively into her own soul? She wanted to ask her about it, about how
the wolf could do such a thing, and why she was so anxious at the mentioning of
the creature. But something made her
shut her mouth even as the questions began to pour from her lips. Something about Zvazdra’s face had warned
her more than words could.
At that moment Azuril came into her room, borne upon
the arm of one of Zvazdra’s guards. As
soon as he saw that Elu was awake he fluttered down from the guard’s arm to
perch on the nearby table. At a glance
from Zvazdra the soldier gracefully withdrew.
“So you are awake,” Azuril spoke, and he could not
help the relief from lining his voice. “Is she all right, lady Zvazdra?”
“She is fine,” Zvazdra spoke shortly and very
calmly.
“I could not sleep last night, is all,” Elu added
quickly. “That is why I couldn’t rouse this morning. But I am fine now.”
“Queen Zvazdra thought you were suffering from a
fever,” Azuril spoke. There was more
anxiety than suspicion to his voice.
“A passing thing,” Zvazdra spoke before Elu could.
“She is already recovering from what seems to be a small fever. But I shall brew her a tea of cool-root just
to make sure she is better.”
“That would be wise,” Azuril nodded his graceful
head. “I do not wish her to fall ill upon our journey to Mosdren. The weather has improved a little, but it shall
not last. The snows shall soon be
falling again.” He turned to Elu and when he next spoke his tone was softer. “I
am glad that you are well. For a while,
I thought that the worst would befall you.
Should that have happened, I would never have forgiven myself.”
There was true emotion in his voice, but Elu
wondered whether he would have missed her only because she would no longer be
there to save the world for him, or because he was genuinely fond of her. Almost as soon as she had thought that she
felt guilty. He only wanted the best
for her.
“Well,” Azuril spoke, “I shall now prepare for our
journey, Elu. Do not forget the thing I
have asked you to do.” There was meaningful note to his voice. Then he flapped his wings and was gone. Elu shook her head. She would never get used to that strange
bird form. It seemed somehow
unnatural. When she looked up, Zvazdra
was staring at her with a silently clandestine look. Elu sighed. More secrets
to keep. She did not like it one bit.
“I shall prepare the tea for you,” Zvazdra spoke,
rising. “It is best that you are well for this journey you are to
undertake. I will take no chances. You have had a distressing night.” She moved
as if to leave the room, but Elu stopped her, suddenly remembering what Azuril
had asked her to do.
“Zvazdra…I mean, your Highness,” she stumbled over
the unfamiliar address, unsure that she had used the wrong title. “There is a
favour I crave of you. If it pleases
you,” she added humbly. Zvazdra turned
and looked upon her with amusement.
“And what might that be, Lady Elu?”
“There is someone in your cells, a woman named Nim.”
She saw the look on Zvazdra’s face become hard, but she screwed up her courage
and asked anyway. “I beseech you to release her. She is important to my…cause.”
Zvazdra’s white eyes were narrowed as she looked
upon Elu.
“That woman has been a menace to our caves ever
since the first day she arrived here,” she spoke evenly but severely. “I will
not release her. I will not risk her
returning and taking more of our precious stones. She will trade them for coin, and in that they are precious to
her. But they are precious to us
because they provide us with light.” She paused and her voice was thin when she
began again. “The light of the stones is dying as the world succumbs to the
darkness of its fate. Every stone we
have must be saved. Already we must use
the hated flames of man to give us fire and warmth.”
Once again the sorrow of Zvazdra touched her. It was strange to know that every sadness
she felt was flowing through every one of her people at that very moment.
“I promise you, my queen,” Elu replied fervently,
“that I will take this woman Nim far away from your caves and your precious
stones.” She lowered her voice. “I wish her to journey with me. I feel I will have need of her help. I fear that she is a player in this game.”
Zvazdra looked surprised. “I thought that you did
not believe in such things.”
Elu hesitated.
She did not want to say that she did not believe in it; rather it was
Azuril’s beliefs that had influenced her to make this request. She chose her words carefully.
“I do not believe that it is merely a coincidence
that I met her here, and that she knows well the lands that Azuril and I wish
to traverse. Had Azuril not arrived
here late, I would never have met her.” She paused half in wonder at the
connection, but did not dwell on it. “You said yourself that fate is a game,
like chesspieces on a board. Well, I
believe that Nim could be one of those pieces.
I felt it when I spoke to her in the cells,” she added, hoping her lies
were convincing. She felt terrible for
lying to both Zvazdra and Azuril. She
hoped she would not have to do so for long.
Zvazdra stood still, her expression considering.
“All right,” she said at last, reluctantly. “I will release her. But only if she agrees never to return to
this place, and to leave my people in peace.”
“She will not be able to trouble your people if she
journeys with me,” Elu pointed out, “And as to what end we all face at the
conclusion of this journey, well, who knows?” She said the words quietly, as
though the gravity of the situation had finally sunk into her. Who indeed knew where this journey would
take her? Nothing to lose, she told
herself firmly. For Mirulas’ sake, she
must continue.
It was nearing afternoon by the time Elu was
summoned to the queen’s chambers. These
were light and airy rooms carved from natural coves that faced the vast
underground lake. Though plain, Zvazdra
had decorated the walls with small white star-like flowers that seemed to be
natural to the subterraneous habitat.
These flowers carpeted most of her room in a lace-like tapestry. An opening in the furthest wall looked out
over the lake. Even as Elu entered the
queen was staring out over into the water, a drawn expression on her face. Elu wondered whether she had been scrying
again. She did not think it was wise
that the queen spent so much of her time looking into matters that caused her
so much grief.
“My queen?” she addressed the lady standing stiff at
her window. Zvazdra turned and smiled
briefly.
“Ah, Lady Elu.” She gestured for Elu to sit at the
fruit-laden table beside her. Elu did
so.
“I have released the woman, as you requested,” the
queen told her. “I trust you are ready to depart?”
“I have packed what few belongings I have,” Elu
replied. Several of Zvazdra’s ladies
had brought all her confiscated goods back to her, much to her relief.
“Then that is well,” Zvazdra nodded. “I have
endeavoured to have your horse ready for mounting. Do not worry, he was well taken care of,” she added when she saw
Elu’s relieved look as she remembered Ralling. “He is a fine animal, and will
stand you in good stead.”
“I thank you, my queen,” Elu said sincerely.
“It is nothing.
I only do what I can to help. If
it would not destroy my people, I would follow you on this journey of
yours. But I cannot, and so I will do
all I can from here.”
The reed woven door to the queen’s room was gently
tapped upon. It was a guard who
entered, and following her the woman Elu supposed was Nim. Behind her was Azuril, back inside his old
Grinda Bard form. The guard did not
look too pleased at having the errant thief released, but she said nothing on
her thoughts. Elu herself looked at Nim
in interest. She was taller than Elu,
but of middling height – certainly not as tall as the statuesque Ifith had
been. Nim instead was strong and robust
in her sinewy limbs, though ample about her bosom and hips. Both her hair and skin were a dark, rich
brown, and her lips were full, expressive and sensuous. She was an attractive woman, in an odd, wild
kind of way. The countenance on her
face was a mixture of masculine brashness and fervour. She emanated confidence. Already Elu was beginning to feel
half-afraid of her.
“So you are Elu,” the woman greeted her with a
hearty smile, throwing a nod in too.
Her voice was husky and rich. “It is a pleasure to speak to you face to
face at last. I must thank you for
setting me free.” She gave an elaborate bow.
Elu was not sure whether she was mocking her.
“That is enough,” Azuril spoke warningly, and Nim
grinned.
“So, I see my old friend, Grinda has made your
acquaintance,” she noted almost jealously. “Count yourself lucky. He’s a selective old fellow, and
bad-tempered to a fault. Well, I
suppose he had to deal with someone to get me out of that hell-hole.”
Elu gaped at Azuril but said nothing. She got the feeling that Nim knew nothing of
Azuril’s powers as a so-called shapeshifter.
And she also got the feeling that Azuril didn’t want her to say anything
about it. So she kept her mouth firmly
shut.
“The Lady Elu requested that I free you under great
duress,” Zvazdra spoke stiffly to the dark-haired woman. “Had she not, I would
never have released you from your cell.
You have caused us great distress in this place. But the Lady Elu promised me that she would
lead you far from this place. And since
you have agreed never to set foot in these caves again, I have decided to free
you.”
“The Lady Elu, eh?” Nim stared at Elu avariciously.
“So I hear I am to journey with you, and guide you through the arid plains to
Mosdren. And what price would the Lady
Elu be willing to pay me for my services?”
“I am not a Lady,” Elu answered, a little nettled at
the mess this situation was causing. “I’m just like you.” Nim wore a confused
look and she sighed. “I’ll explain it to you when I have time. I’m afraid I don’t have much to pay you
with. But what I do have, I will surely
give to you.”
Elu shot Azuril a sharp glance. Hadn’t he informed his so-called friend of
anything he had planned?
“Well, I don’t usually do anything for anyone
without discussing fees first,” Nim scratched her head. “But since you helped
in setting me free, and since you seem to be a friend of Grinda’s, I’ll do
it. We can sort out payment when we get
to Mosdren, all right?”
Her business-like tone was one that Elu could not
match. There was nothing for it but to
nod her assent.
“Then we are agreed,” Nim grinned. “I’ll go up top
and get my supplies ready. Meet you at
the cave mouth.” And with that, she left, Azuril following behind her, mouth
pursed shut. Elu was left to stare
after her incredulously.
“I only hope you have made a wise choice in bringing
that one along with you,” Zvazdra remarked archly. Elu said nothing. She was
beginning to hope so too.
“I should leave,” she spoke, rising slowly. “The
earlier we start out the better. We
shall want to make good headway before dark.”
Zvazdra nodded and rose. Her face was sombre as she approached Elu.
“Before you leave, there is something I must say to
you,” she said gently. Her eyes strayed
to the lake outside her rooms. “It is a small piece of advice. Only a small one.”
Elu followed her gaze over the cool waters. She knew instinctively that whatever the
queen had to tell her, it was something she had seen in the lake, during her
scrying, as Azuril called it. She was
not sure that she wanted to hear this advice.
“Do not worry,” Zvazdra smiled, “I bear no ill
tidings to you. And what I have seen,
perhaps it shall not come to pass.
Perhaps it is only an obscure thread of the fabric that is our
future. Yet when the moment comes, you
shall know it. And I only hope to
influence the moment, by helping you make a decision.” She took Elu’s
shoulders, looked down gravely into her eyes. “You will face a Choice,
Elu. I very great Choice. I cannot tell you what the right decision
will be. It could be that there is no
right decision, and if this is the case, your heart will be troubled at the
deed you must do. But heed my words –
do not follow the path the wolf would wish you to take. Take instead the path that he holds to
himself, and walk without turning back.
Walk his path, Elu.” She
halted, and it seemed as though her pale eyes were suddenly aflame. Elu shuddered involuntarily at the
mentioning of the wolf. Zvazdra’s words
clove deep into her heart with a coldness that clung even to her limbs. Whatever the words meant, she did not know. Neither did she want to find out, but they
held her in a dread inevitability that she somehow felt she could not escape.
“I will try to do as you say,” she whispered, her
voice wavering. The severity went out
of Zvazdra’s eyes, and was replaced only with kindliness. Very gently she raised a hand and pressed it
to Elu’s brow in a lingering gesture.
Instinctively Elu knew this was a sign of farewell. She bent her head to the touch.
“Farewell, my Lady,” the queen spoke softly, “And
may the mother Éthar light your path.
Think on me upon your travels, and on my people. For I fear we shall not meet again as we meet
together now.”
Elu swallowed, and bowed her head silently. Something in the queen’s words saddened
her. When she left the room, she looked
back only once. But the queen stood beside her window, gazing down into the
clear blue waters once more. There was
a look of anguish on her face, as though she had thrown something away, and she
knew that she would never find it again.
As Azuril had said, the weather had improved greatly
in the day or two Elu had spent in the underground caves. The snow had stopped and the sun was
shining. The air was cool, crisp and
invigorating. Ralling was already
outside with the small group of Azuril, Nim and two fresh horses, looking
impatient to be on the move. Elu sensed
that being underground did not agree with him, and she did not blame him. To be out in the open, and breathing the
clean fresh air, and looking at blue sky was something of a blessing. Nim evidently felt the same.
“I do so hate being cooped up in those dark old
caverns,” she greeted Elu as she emerged from the caves. She stretched with a feline grace that Elu
already admired. “It’s as unnatural as being a fish out of water.”
Ralling stomped, agreeing heartily. Elu busied herself with securing the saddle,
then stroked him with a calming touch.
He was proving to be a bit of a handful already. Ralling was a young, willful horse and there
was fire in him. She was slightly
worried that Nim’s horse was a dark mare.
Come spring, the both of them would be in heat. It wasn’t a promising situation.
“Horses can be controlled,” Azuril remarked, picking
up her thoughts. She glared at him as
he mounted his own horse.
“Please don’t do that,” she begged him.
“Sorry.”
Nim was regarding the two of them with an odd
expression. “Do what?”
“Oh nothing,” Elu muttered. She didn’t want to explain the strangeness of
the situation to Nim. She thought the
girl would only laugh at her. “Let’s just get moving, shall we?”
They had come out on the other side of the Calliss
Plateau, and were now within the lands of the eastern kingdom of
Rofaçilin. All about the lands rolled
before them, patches of verdant green peeking out from under the layer of
already melting snow. Elu had heard
that Rofaçilin was a barren country, where wide strips of land went mostly
uninhabited. Her first impression of
the land though, was that it was relatively green and arable. She told Nim so.
“Ah, perhaps here the land is green,” she began
laughingly, “But wait until we get a few miles east, and you’ll see how dry the
country is. The soil is rich here only
because we are near the vast underground waterways of Zikthra Z’asalki. But a little further on, and the land
becomes more and more arid.
Fortunately, we are travelling south, and the country there is
friendlier. Had we been travelling
north, we would have had to face something akin to a desert.”
Elu did not like the sound of any of this, but Nim
looked cheerful enough as she said it.
Already her cheeks were red from the riding and the force of the winter
breeze against her face. She looked very
attractive in her fur coat and cap, and her hair flowing about her like a wild
woman of the mountain tribes. Elu had
always been pale of skin, and had none of Nim’s voluptuous looks. Her black hair, which had only been allowed
to grow since her handfasting to Mirulas, was now at an unmanageable stage,
sticking out in the most unruly and inconvenient places. She had been tempted more than once to chop
it off, but had refrained from doing so out of her respect for her pledged
status to Mirulas. To cut off her hair
would have been akin to cutting off one of the most important parts of her
life.
“So why do you need to go to Mosdren for?” Nim
asked, by way of making conversation. “Do you have relatives out there?”
“No,” Elu replied carefully. She wanted to ask Azuril’s advice, but he
was silent, riding alongside Nim with an inscrutable look on his lined face. “I
have some business to attend to there.
Important business.”
To her surprise Nim laughed raucously. “Everyone has
business in Mosdren,” she commented, “It’s a haven for thieves and
cut-throats. All sorts of nasties lurk
round there.” She grinned at Elu’s horrified look. “What I want to know is why
someone like you would be involved in any ‘business’ down there.”
“That’s my ‘business’ and not yours,” Elu retorted
stubbornly.
“Suit yourself,” Nim shrugged. “It just seems
strange that you managed to wheedle your way round to that Asalki queen, that’s
all. And how you managed to win my
Grinda’s trust so easily.” There was a probing note to her voice that
immediately told Elu that she was suspicious.
Though it worried her, she chose instead to ignore it.
“Everyone’s allowed a few intrigues in their
lifetime,” she answered as evenly as she could. “I hear you’re a thief.”
“Oh yes, I make no secret of that,” Nim looked
almost proud of it on the contrary. “And as you can see, it’s landed me into a
fair amount of trouble.” She smiled more to herself than to Elu.
“What made you become a thief?” Elu asked.
“I don’t know,” Nim shrugged, but her face sagged a
little. “Circumstance, I suppose. I was
poor, and I had no family, so I had little choice but to fend for myself. I was young when I started out. Had no skills, no prospects. There was nothing else I could do.” She
spoke openly, but there was a hint of defensiveness to her voice, so Elu did
not think it wise to pursue her questioning further. She did not think Nim a native of Rofaçilin. The girl’s dark skin and fuller figure spoke
more of a western connection than an eastern one.
“Where did you meet Grinda?” she asked at last,
trying to sound as nonchalant as she could.
The relationship between the two intrigued her. In Elu’s presence, Azuril had been the
forthright, business-like Grinda. But
now, riding dark-cowled and surly alongside the younger woman, he seemed more
akin to a figure of Death than the canny bard.
“Grinda?” Nim laughed. “We have known each other
almost since I was a girl. Let’s just
say he helped me out of a terrible scrape.
Nowadays I like to think we are comrades, lost souls that have met on
the twisting tracks of fate.” She did not notice Elu’s blanching at the
comment. “I suppose you could call him a friend.” She absently smiled at the
man beside her, but did not seem to expect one in return. Of course, she received none.
“Has he always been so…silent?” Elu queried.
“Silent?” Again Nim gave a bark of a laugh.
“Irritable and bad-tempered, you mean.
Yes – he’s always been that. But
he’s deft with a stave, and he doesn’t ask any questions. Which I’d rather have than a loose-tongued
friend. He’s half the reason why I’ve
managed to stay alive as long as I have.”
Elu said nothing.
This was not the Azuril she knew.
He seemed to be more of a chameleon than a shapeshifter. Again, Elu cast Azuril a questioning look,
but he did not return it. His reasons,
she supposed, were his own. She
suddenly realised that Azuril had been watching Nim for a long time, just as he
had been watching Elu. But for some
reason, he had attached himself to this wayward thief woman. Truly, it seemed it had been his goal to
bring the two of them together. Could
it be perhaps that it was Azuril who was the man with the cards, with the pawns
in his hands? Elu pinched her lips up
tight. If Azuril was hiding such a
thing from her, then she was determined to find out.
“At least the Asalki like him,” Nim continued almost
casually, “And he’s spent all his life wheedling his way into their affections
– Aan knows how. But the Asalki, they
have no affection for the female of the species. It is strange that they should take to you so well.” She cast Elu
a searching look, one that openly spoke her suspicions.
“I too spent most of my youth learning about the
Asalki,” Elu answered cautiously, “And I have spent several years studying them
and their secrets.”
Nim grunted to show her disbelief. “Oh yes? And how might that be?”
“My father, Eldeen, was well versed in the ancient
lore of the land,” Elu replied quietly. “He was always interested in the
esoteric laws of the old people of Fithandani.
He taught me all he knew, and often took me to the Zikthra-Z’asalki when
I was a child. The Asalki always
welcomed me into their midst. But I had
not returned there for many years, and when I did they did not recognise me,
and threw me into their cells.” She fell silent at the half-lie, remembering
how Eldeen had indeed always been interested in mythical stories and legends.
“I see,” Nim replied shortly, but her voice
suggested she was less than convinced.
Elu sighed and frowned. She
wished Azuril hadn’t made things so difficult for her. She didn’t like lying and wasn’t very good
at it. He could at least have warned
her of his plans.
They travelled on.
They still had several days left before they would reach Mosdren. By the end of the first day of their journey
the lands were still relatively green and fertile. The people of Rofaçilin had taken advantage of the arable ground
here that was so rare in their country.
There was a high concentration of farms in the region, which the small
group were pleased to make use of. As
nightfall cast its shadow over the land, another small ranch appeared over the
horizon.
“There,” Nim spoke, pointing at the small silhouette
of the farmstead. “We may not have to sleep out in the open tonight after all.”
She grinned at Elu. “We should make the best of a warm bed while we have
it. I fear this may be the last time we
get such a luxury before we reach Mosdren.”
Elu spurred Ralling on grimly. As the sun left the world it had grown
steadily colder, so cold that even Lady Laoda’s fur cape had done little to
dispel it. She knew that by tomorrow
morning it would probably be snowing again.
She was not looking forward to having to sleep outdoors once more in
that type of weather.
The house they approached was only a small one, and
the farmer that lived there was a poor one.
His family was a large one, and the winter months had been especially
hard on him. He was reluctant to let in
guests, but Nim assured him that they would take none of their food, and were
only craving somewhere to sleep for the night.
“The barn is free,” the farmer’s wife spoke up
peremptorily. She was standing over a
stove, cooking a broth for her six children.
Her face was lined and worn, and her hair was already touched by grey.
“We have no other space in this house for visitors. You’ll have to make it do.”
“We shall make it do,” Nim returned, just as
emphatically. Elu had the impression
that Nim was used to this kind of rebuff.
She led them out into the barn, which was round the back of the
building. It was not exactly welcoming:
it was crammed full of oxen and other such animals, and it smelled abominably,
but Elu was determined to make the most of it.
She helped Nim make up rough beds of straw, and build up a small fire. The chill had almost grown unbearable, and the
flames added little warmth. Elu was
forced to keep herself wrapped up in her many cloaks and blankets. Outside, it was still not snowing. It was far too cold.
They ate a meagre meal that night. Nim had insisted on conserving as much food
as they could, as the journey ahead would be long and difficult. Elu agreed.
She had rarely felt hungry since her sojourn at Zikthra Z’asalki. Her thoughts had been on too many things to
think on her empty stomach – the Prophecy, the impending war of the tűrkals against
the followers of the Light, the wolf, Queen Zvazdra’s strange warnings and
predictions, and Nim’s blatant suspicions of her. If Nim noticed her small appetite she did not comment on it. She carried on making light banter and
jokes, ignoring Elu’s reluctance to engage in conversation. Azuril, true to his new character, was
frosty and silent. They went to bed
early that night, hoping to awaken early the next morning and continue on their
journey. Elu was glad to agree to such
a plan. She did not wish to intrude
anymore upon their unfriendly hosts than she could.
The night seemed to be alive with the sounds and
smells of the animals in the barn. Elu
tossed and turned under her blankets, but Nim seemed to fall asleep quite
quickly and happily. In a way Elu was
glad not to sleep. She had feared for
some time now the pull of her dreams, dreams that nevertheless had not troubled
her for several days now. She had also
feared that her thoughts that day had been such that they would coax out such
dreams. But the thought that kept her
awake most of all was the thought of Mirulas’ death. He had died, Zvazdra had said, in the cold of the north. So the Aksees had traded him as a slave to the tűrkals. But the tűrkals had not used him as a slave. They had done something to him, something
terrible. She shuddered just thinking
about it. The certainty that Mirulas
was now truly out of her life made her cold.
There was an emptiness inside her that she knew could never be
filled. At night she would hug herself
tightly, as though somehow the action would hold something inside of her. Her soul?
Her spirit? Or simply herself? She did not know what it was – all she knew
was that something was missing now and she would never get it back. She tried to reach out for him. She tried to touch those memories and those
moments that they had shared. With each
day she found it increasingly harder.
It was as though every moment without him brought about its own death
within her. A desperation had grown
inside her since she had left the caves of the Asalki. It had grown out of a fear that she would
someday forget him. That one day it
would make her grow cold.
The thought of becoming such a thing shook her into
wakefulness. Unable to sleep, she sat
up quickly. Nim was in her corner,
snoring lightly. Elu envied her. She got up and walked over to the barn door,
creaking it open a little to look out.
The cold air that blasted in was not as cold as it had been during the
day. In the indigo light she saw that
it had begun to snow, very lightly. The
wind had dropped. It was almost calm,
but for the stirrings within the barn itself as the animals slept. Elu stood still for a moment, watching the
snowfall. Somehow it seemed to calm
her. She remembered that it had rarely
snowed in Welle, and when it had, everyone had regarded it with a sort of
wonder. This kind of snow was different
from the sharp blizzards and storms that she had witnessed on the Grimhabim
Bluffs. It was both tranquil and somehow heartening. Elu was so engrossed in watching it that she hardly noticed that
Azuril himself had got up out of bed and was standing behind her.
“It is late,” he whispered, “and you should
sleep. Close the door, Elu, and go back
to bed.”
“I cannot sleep,” she whispered back. When he did not leave her side she turned to
him. “Why do you not sleep?” she asked him.
“Sleep is a requirement that one such as I has
little need for,” he answered enigmatically. “But such is not the case with
you. There are long, arduous days ahead
of us, Elu – it is best that you sleep.” He paused and cocked his head to look
at Elu closely, looking disconcertingly bird-like. “Is there something that
troubles you, Elu?”
“Many things trouble me,” she sighed. She was not sure whether she wanted to speak
on these matters. “Queen Zvazdra told me that Mirulas was dead,” she confessed
quietly.
Azuril was silent for a moment. “What else did she
tell you?” he asked. Elu chafed a
little under his insensitivity.
“She told me that he had been taken north, to the
snow plains. And that they had done
something to him, something horrible.” She shivered, and it was not for the
cold. “I do not wish to think on it any longer. But it is impossible. I
cannot help but wonder what they did to him.
It is as though all my thoughts are bound to it.”
“He is gone,” Azuril said matter-of-factly, “and he
will not return to you, Elu. Mourn as
you will, but try to think no more on him.
He was not a player in this game.
At first I thought he might have been, but now I see he was not.”
Elu bristled at is words. “So you say that Fate
intentionally cast him aside, so that he would not hinder the task that was set
before me?” She almost forgot to keep her voice down, and she had to stop and
calm herself before she could lower her tone. “Why do you do this, Azuril? Why do you expect me to do as you wish when
you do not even tell me of the path I must take?”
“I have told you what I expect of you,” he retorted,
sounding a little upset. “I have held nothing from you!”
“Then why have you not told me that this Nim knows
nothing of our plans?” she hissed back. “She speaks to me as blatantly as she
may about her suspicions. I do not know
what to say to her to defend myself.
You could at least have warned me.”
“I am sorry,” Azuril apologised lightly. “I admit
that such a thing had not occurred to me.
I did not want Nim to know of our true purpose here. At least, not yet. She is a dear friend to me, but there is much that she as yet
does not know about me. I will tell her
the truth, but not now.”
“When? I
cannot lie for much longer.”
“When we have discovered what awaits us in Mosdren,”
Azuril answered softly. “There is a possibility that we shall not need Nim any
longer when we get there.”
“I thought she was meant to be a pawn in your game,”
Elu returned sarcastically.
“Yes, but to what extent I am as yet uncertain.”
Azuril’s voice was subdued.
Elu was quiet at that. All this talk of carefully played out fates was beginning to
perplex her. It suddenly reminded her
of something she had wanted to ask him.
“Azuril,” she began softly. “There is something I
must ask you. While I was in Grimhabim
I read a prophecy that Brinda and Lairin seemed to believe was very
important. It mentioned something that
troubled me.”
“Ah,” Azuril interrupted, “That is the Prophecy of
Genlam. Some say it is the oldest in
the world.”
“Genlam?” Elu repeated slowly.
“He was a tűrkal,” Azuril explained, “One of the
most powerful men of his time. He was
the chief of the Circle of Mages during the time of the War of the
Sundering. He was the Princess
Tolminäre’s lieutenant, and the first pupil of her magic arts. But after the defeat of the armies of the
Dark, and the death of his queen, he became mad. He began to write, day in, day out, like a man possessed. What he wrote were prophecies. Prophecies of the times to come, of the
changes the world would undergo. He
wrote of the end of the Age of Dark and the beginning of the Age of Twilight,
that the Dark religion as we know it will not survive.” There was wry note to
his voice as he continued. “As you can imagine, he was not popular after he
emerged from his chambers and produced his so-called prophecies. He was turned out of his home and banished
to wander the snow plains of Dűrval until his death. He was never heard of again.
It is not even known how his writings came south to the lands of the
Light. Perhaps he himself brought them
here, and escaped his death.”
“Perhaps,” Elu spoke. So a very real person had written those prophecies; they had not
just simply come into existence as Elu had somehow felt they had. They had simply seemed too old and too
mystifying for anyone to have had a hand in making them. She did not find it hard to believe that
Genlam had become mad after the destruction of his nation and his queen.
“And there is something about his prophecy that
troubles you?” Azuril broke into her thoughts.
“It mentions something that concerns me.” She
furrowed her brow, trying to remember the words. “ ‘…The Owl and the Dragon
shall battle one last time to no avail.
The Dark One shall bring them down, and their lives shall end. But the great Val-Sontűr…’” She trailed off,
shaking her head, feeling that there was something else important that she had
wanted to mention. “It’s no good. I
can’t remember the rest.” She paused and looked at Azuril, whose bright eyes
were glaring into hers sharply, attentive. “Do you know what any of these
characters mentioned in the prophecy refer to?”
“Characters?” His voice was wary.
“The Owl, the Dragon. It is evident that they stand for something. They’re symbols, I suppose. And this sword, Val-Sontűr. You must know something about such things,
Azuril. Do you have any idea of what
these symbols could signify?”
“People have wondered on such questions for many
centuries,” Azuril answered slowly. “Like them, I cannot say for sure what they
mean.” He paused. “There were tales of such a sword, though. All the cultures of Fithandani have various
tales saying that the balance of the world would be restored by the use of Val-Sontűr,
the Sword of Air. But no one knows
where it is, or even if it exists at all.”
“What about the Dragon?” Elu asked eagerly. “Do you
remember anything you’ve heard about a dragon in your travels?”
Azuril passed her a strange look, cocking his head at
a deep angle as he perused her. “Why are you so anxious to hear my words on
this matter?”
For a moment she considered telling him. She wasn’t sure whether she should still
trust him; and her dreams were private things, and she did not want to explain
them to him. She also got the
impression that he would not offer her any explanation, even if she did tell
him. After a short silence she decided
to change tack. “Because when I read the prophecy, it was incomplete. Someone had tampered with it. I was unable to read the last passage, since
it had been completely cut away from the rest of the parchment.”
Azuril’s face was suddenly alert. “Cut away, you
say? Why was I not informed of this?”
“I did not think it important, until now,” Elu
admitted. “The librarian went and informed the Master Librarian of what had
happened, and I supposed that he would have told the Lord Brinda, and that he
would have informed you. Obviously, no
such steps were taken.” She paused thoughtfully. “What do you think it all
means?”
“Well, the fact that the ending was cut off leads me
to think of more than just plain vandalism,” he answered reflectively. “No: I’d
say that someone intentionally took the prophecy’s conclusion, either for his
own ends, or to stop anyone else from reading it.”
“That’s what I thought,” agreed Elu, “Just as it was
about to tell the whereabouts of this sword, it was torn off.”
“It must be a tűrkal spy,” Azuril said, stroking his
chin, “And not just any normal spy, but a thief, one that would not be caught. Evidently, this sword is more important to
the enemy than anyone has given it credit for.” He closed his eyes and put a
hand to his forehead in concentration. “I have read the prophecy before, but it
was many years ago. Such an
insignificant passage…No one took Val-Sontűr seriously – I just can’t remember
what it says.”
Elu was quiet.
This latest development, and Azuril’s concern over the missing part of
the prophecy worried her. It seemed
that forces had begun to move against them, long before they themselves had
even begun this quest. That knowledge
left her feeling vulnerable and defenceless.
How could they fight an enemy who was unknown and unseen, who was always
one step ahead, and whose motives and reasons were only half-explained? Could they ever hope to win? Could Azuril’s plan, whatever it truly was,
hope to work?
The sound of rustling from the corner of the room
interrupted her train of thought. It
was Nim awakening.
“Is that you, Elu?” came the woman’s sleepy voice.
“Oh, it is you. I thought it might be someone else. Shut the door and come to bed. It’s cold.”
As Nim huddled back down into her bedding, Elu shut the door softly, her mind working hard on her various questions. Azuril had already left her side and was settling back into his paltry pallet. Elu nestled down into her own blankets, holding them close to dispel the chill. She had wanted to ask Azuril about the wolf, but the promise she had made to Zvazdra had stopped her from doing so. Nevertheless, she felt that if she had asked his opinion on what she had seen back in the Caves of the Asalki, he would not have told her much anyway. Somehow all the questions that she had put to him that night had been avoided and evaded. She fell into sleep thinking feverishly that Azuril was taking great pains to hide something of vast importance from her.