A Trial of Souls Page 18

  “What was it, mother?” asked Dina. “What happened?”

  “I was called away.” Her voice seemed disconnected, as if she had somehow stepped outside of herself. “I felt an irresistible pull to the east. It was as if I was being called home. I tried to resist, but the more I tried the stronger it became. Finally, I relented and left the mountains. Each step I took seemed familiar, and each day my heart was less burdened. The guilt and loss I felt remained, but I could feel strength renewing my spirit. Eventually, I arrived in the desert.”

  She smiled and glanced over her shoulder. “As desolate as it may appear, I could feel life springing forth from the sand. It was like I could almost reach out and touch the Creator.” She laughed softly. “Of course, I had no idea what to do next, so like a fool I wandered off into the deep desert. With one flask of water and three days of food, I was near death in less than a week. If the elves of the desert had not found me, I surely would have died. At first I thought I was dead. I had given up, and laid myself down for a final time on the scorched earth. Then I heard the sound of cheerful elf voices coming to me like a distant echo. They carried me to an oasis where they had camped and nursed me back to health.

  “At first I was afraid. I kept asking myself: ‘What if they know of my crimes?’ Foolish perhaps. But I had lived for such a long time in constant fear, and it was difficult to let those feelings go. However, I soon realized that they knew nothing of me, or my kin. These were elves unburdened by the hatred of my people. I have lived among them ever since.”

  “So did you tell them why you were there?” asked Dina.

  Nahali’s smile was sweet, but her eyes were sad. “No. I told them nothing. I still feared that my kin could discover me. But it did not matter. They asked me nothing, and simply accepted me as one of their own. In fact, it was not until Darshan spoke of you and his story spread that I went to Lyrial and told her my tale in full.” She reached over to touch Dina’s cheek. “And now you are here. My beautiful girl is here.” She smiled and sighed. “I have missed so much of your life. And now that you know what became of me, I would hear all about you.”

  Dina related all the details of her life, beginning with her induction into the order of Amon Dähl. While recalling her first encounter with Linis she had to pause and take a deep breath in order to hold back the sobs. When she was finished, she embraced her mother once more. “Did you ever discover what it was that called you here?”

  “In a way,” she replied. “There are spectacular wonders in the deep desert. Things that I can scarcely believe exist. I have never been able to completely understand much of what I have seen, but it is clear to me that the hand of the Creator is directly involved. I am certain that is what called me here, and what makes it difficult for me to leave.”

  “If you ask it of me,” said Dina. “I will stay here with you.”

  Nahali shook her head. “No! It is I who will come with you. My exile is at an end, and I will walk hand in hand with my daughter in the land I once called home. And I will do so proudly.”

  “I would like that,” said Dina.

  A wry smile crept over Nahali’s face. “Tell me - how long have you loved Linis?”

  Dina blushed, suddenly feeling very much a child. “Almost from the moment I met him. And he seems to love me in return.”

  Nahali held her head high. “Naturally. He would be a fool not to.” Her serious countenance softened until she began to laugh. “And he is quite handsome as well, if I remember correctly.”

  Dina rocked back and forth with laughter. “I would say I haven’t noticed, but…”

  “He will make a fine mate,” said Nahali. “He is noble and strong.”

  “I can bring you to him if you’d like,” offered Dina.

  “Tomorrow,” she replied. “Tonight is for us, and I will have you to myself.”

  The rest of the evening they talked and laughed as if they had never been parted. Dina fell asleep under the pavilion cradled in her mother’s arms…contented.

  Chapter 13

  Gewey and Kaylia rose just before sunrise and gathered their things. Minnie was already about cleaning the common room, but when Gewey told her that they would be leaving their wagon behind, she scolded him harshly for making his wife walk in the snow. However, after it became evident that he would not be deterred, she insisted they have breakfast and sent them on their way with a small bundle of dried fruit, a wedge of cheese, and one of her few remaining bottles of good wine.

  A blanket of new snow covered the ground, which together with the light from the approaching dawn gave the earth a ghostly glow. The wind had stilled, allowing the vapor from their breaths to billow out. Gewey instinctively wrapped his arms around Kaylia.

  Kaylia pushed him off, pretending to be irritated. “I am not fragile. And the cold does not bother me.”

  Gewey shrugged and stepped away. “Then you are hardier than I.” He looked out at the quiet town. The streets were empty, and thin black smoke issued from the chimneys. “Where is...”

  “Felsafell is here,” came the voice of the old hermit from the corner of the inn. He was wrapped in a thick fur blanket. “And even the very old feel the bitter bite of winter’s jaws.” He bounded away, waving for them to follow. “Come now. Many miles and many trials ahead.”

  The road was empty as they left town; the only life they saw was a few squirrels and a white hare searching the ground in the bare vineyards. Felsafell barely left a footprint as he went along, and after only a mile burst into song.

  A measured sand in Creator’s hands,

  A river flows where the spirit knows,

  A destined cry of fallen sky,

  A heaven sent tomorrow

  The herald sings of flightless wings,

  The time will come when battles won,

  Will lay to rest on creation’s chest,

  A song that lifts our sorrow.

  “That sounds familiar,” said Gewey.

  “An old song it is,” replied Felsafell, his voice still carrying the tune. “Young I was when first I heard it.”

  “How old are you?” asked Gewey. “The Book of Souls says your people lived over a hundred-thousand years ago.”

  “Immortal yes,” he answered, and twirled on his heels. “And old I am. Death cannot find me, but I can look for death. Though I forget too often. An old mind and a weary heart…oh yes. I forget to seek it.”

  “So you wish to die?” asked Kaylia.

  “When my journey ends and my work is done,” said Felsafell. “I will be paid what is owed. Rest and reunion will be my reward.”

  A sudden realization struck Gewey. “That is what you meant when I saw you in the spirit world after I fought Harlando. You want me to kill you.”

  Felsafell burst into merry laughter. “No, oh no. I would not burden your heart with such a thing. When evil is vanquished and your father released, I will seek him out. And he will send me to my brothers and sisters. But first there is much to be done.”

  By midday the snow began to fall once more. Gewey responded by using the flow of the air to warm them, and the flow of water to keep them dry.

  “A useful skill,” remarked Felsafell. “It is indeed.”

  “Why is it your people can’t use the flow?” asked Gewey.

  “Why can a deer not fly?” he replied offhandedly. “Why can a snake not walk? The Creator made us, and change we cannot.”

  “But the Book describes you very differently than you appear,” countered Gewey.

  Felsafell shrugged. “One can put a dress on a bear, but a bear it remains. It does not transform into a comely maid.”

  “I see,” said Gewey, his face twisting into a half-frown. “At least, I think I do.”

  Felsafell halted and sniffed the air. “Into the hills we go.” In an instant he left the road and was moving nimbly into the forest.

  The snow-covered ground was riddled with hidden roots and shallow holes, making Gewey grateful for his training. Even so, Kaylia
still had to catch him several times.

  Just before nightfall Felsafell led them to a small clearing, where Gewey used the flow to melt the snow and dry the ground. Soon they had a warm fire and were eating the fruit and cheese Minnie had provided for them.

  “Night has come,” said Felsafell, his eyes cast skyward. “Tonight the stars are hidden, but still I know the way. Sleep while you can. Soon I must show you what you must see.”

  Gewey and Kaylia covered themselves with a wool blanket and huddled together beside the fire. Within moments they were both fast asleep. Gewey’s dreams held images of Kaylia holding their child in her arms. But instead of delight and joy, his heart was filled with fear and anxiety. Should their enemies gain knowledge of the child, they would certainly try to use it against him. I must defeat the Dark Knight before Kaylia gives birth, he told himself. Whatever the cost! Fear was replaced by unrelenting determination. At that moment he was shaken awake.

  Felsafell was kneeling beside him. “Wake now, Child of Heaven. The night will reveal the door. And in you must go.”

  Kaylia was already packing away their blankets. She used the flow to create a short blast of air to douse the fire. Smiling at Gewey, she told him: “You are not the only one with useful powers.”

  Gewey smiled in return. It still amazed him how much she had learned from Nehrutu and the look of pride and happiness in her eyes warmed his heart.

  Felsafell led them to a narrow trail. Oddly, the snow had not settled on it, leaving the rough, root covered earth exposed. Tiny silver pebbles were scattered about, gleaming and twinkling in spite of the fact that the clouded sky hid the moon from view. As they continued, the air grew warmer to the point of discomfort. The trees, covered with tiny flowers and ripe berries, were as lush and healthy as they would be in spring. The trail dipped and turned several times until ending in front of a tall hill, thick with soft grass.

  Felsafell stopped and turned to Gewey. “You must go forward alone.”

  Kaylia opened her mouth to protest.

  “We cannot enter,” said Felsafell, before she could utter a word. “Only one vision will this place reveal at a time, and no more. Alone one must enter, and alone must they see.” He took Kaylia’s hands. “When his is done, you must go alone as well.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Gewey. He looked at the hill closely. “There’s nothing here. It’s just a hill.”

  Felsafell looked at him critically, his kindly face turned to a scolding stare. “After what you have seen? The wonders you witnessed…have you learned nothing? I can smell the scent of the sands still on you, where the Creator spilled her blood. And still you think your eyes tell all?” He shook his head.

  Gewey nodded and looked at Kaylia. “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  He took a few steps forward and the hill immediately faded away. In its place stood a small house built of red cedar. It was about the same size as Felsafell’s home. The scent of lavender and honey filled his nostrils, and the darkness of the night had now turned to bright day. He looked up. There was no sun in the sky, just a never ending blue with wisps of white clouds. The door was ajar, and a warm light from a hearth reflected off the wood. Cautiously, Gewey peered inside.

  A grey stone hearth was directly ahead against the far wall. The rest of the room was bare except for a thick brown rug in the center. Sitting cross-legged atop the rug was a young woman in a tan tunic and trousers; her black hair and smooth, ageless skin soaked in the light to create a faint aura around her body. Gewey felt a strange sensation as he looked at her. Something was not quite right. Her dark eyes twinkled as she met his gaze and smiled.

  “Come in,” she said. Her voice was that of a young girl not quite out of her teens. “I have been waiting a very long time for you.”

  Gewey took a tentative step forward. “Who are you?”

  “You ask who I am,” she replied. “But you really want to know what I am. You are not the first to ask this question, but you are the only one who can puzzle it out.” She giggled girlishly at Gewey’s hesitation. “Don’t worry, it will come to you.”

  Gewey took another step forward. As he did so, his feeling of uncertainty increased. “Are you really here?” he asked.

  She cocked her head. “A strange question indeed. But the answer is yes. I am no spirit or phantom. I am flesh and blood and here with you now.”

  “If you had seen what I have seen then you wouldn’t think my question so strange,” said Gewey. He took another step, followed by another, and another, until he was at the very edge of the rug.

  “Then you have already been to the desert,” she replied playfully. “You have been to the temple and ridden the blood of the sands.”

  “You have seen these things yourself?” asked Gewey incredulously.

  “I have seen many things,” she replied. “Not as much as the old hermit outside, but much nonetheless.”

  Gewey took another pace, but the moment his foot touched the rug a flash of realization swept over him. “Vrykol!” His voice boomed out and his hand shot to the hilt of his sword.

  The girl was unflinching. “In a way, yes. I’m known as the Oracle of Manisalia, but I have had many other names. Vrykol is not among those I enjoy.” She leaned back on her elbows. “Do you intend to kill me young godling?”

  Gewey was unsure what to do. “How can you be the Oracle?” His voice stammered.

  She shrugged. “I am who I am. Though what I am seems to concern you more. And were I a creation of the betrayer, your worries would be justified. But I am not.” She nodded to the space in front of her. “Sit and take your ease. I promise I will help you to understand.”

  Gewey remained still for more than a minute. Finally he moved closer and sat on the rug. “Know that if you attack me, your head will leave your shoulders before you can move an inch.”

  Her laughter sounded loud. “A fair deal if ever I heard one. But as I have already said, I have no intention of harming you. I am, as you say, a Vrykol - at least, that’s a crude name for what I am. One used out of fear and misgivings by those we tried to help. I was created long ago by Pósix, goddess of the dawn and light, to do her will on this earth. There were once many others like me, but they have long since been slain.”

  “I have heard that the gods once created assassins,” said Gewey. “They were said to be like the creatures the Reborn King has made.”

  The Oracle frowned. “We were nothing like that. And we were never assassins.” Her voice was ice. “We were servants - nothing more. I was given the gift of prophecy by Pósix herself to guide humans through hardship. I have never held a sword, let alone taken a life. History has done my kind a great injustice.” Her voice softened. “But that is another tale and matters little.”

  “Why are you here?” asked Gewey. His heart wanted to believe her, but he knew better than to be too trusting.

  “I was forced to flee,” she replied sadly. “Had I not, I would have been brought to Angrääl and corrupted. This place is known only to myself and the hermit. All others who could find it died many ages ago. Now, it is all but forgotten.”

  “Are you to give me a prophecy?” asked Gewey.

  She smiled and shook her head. “No. I cannot foretell the future of a god. Your path is hidden from my sight. My duty was to guide the mortal world, though it seems that task is at an end for now. But I can tell you that what you are about to face will not be easy. You have come to test your spirit. And for one such as you, that can be extremely dangerous.”

  Gewey looked into her unblinking eyes. “Dangerous how?”

  “In a few moments, your soul will be revealed to you,” she replied gravely. “And for the gods to look so deep is…well…a very serious thing.” Her smile returned. “But then you are as much human in your heart as those you are charged with protecting. That would be clear to me even had I no eyes to see.” She sprang to her feet. “But this is no time for chatter. Your friends await your return, and the old hermit would not appreciate i
t if I kept you overlong.”

  As Gewey rose he noticed a narrow wooden door had appeared beside the hearth. “Will you come in with me?”

  She shook her head. “I cannot. Only one at a time can enter. The exposed soul of any person is a private affair. Even more so when that person is a god.” She held out her hands. “If it is not too much to ask, I would touch you once. I have spent many years anticipating your arrival, and I would desire that as reward for my patience.”

  Gewey thought for a moment, then reached out and took her hands. Instantly, he knew she had told him the truth. He could feel the touch of the gods flowing within her. But unlike the vile taint of the Vrykol, her spirit was not trapped unwillingly.

  “I am sorry I doubted you,” whispered Gewey. “This thing you are is…beautiful.”

  “Your doubt is understandable, and I thank you for your kind words,” she replied wistfully. Releasing his hands, she danced gracefully to the door. “You should have seen Lee Starfinder when he met me. Poor boy didn’t know what to do. I think it might have been the puppy I had that perplexed him.” She sighed. “I must ask the hermit for another to keep me company.”

  This brought a chuckle from Gewey. Suddenly he missed his friend. “Thank you,” he said, bowing low and turning the knob. “And I will ask Felsafell to bring you a new puppy.”