The High Priestess of Resh’ketu considered me with eyes that glistened with moisture in the pale moonlight. For someone proclaiming to serve the dark-elven goddess of vengeance, the emotion that stirred in her eyes was contrary to all beliefs.
Only Taltil broke the subtle tension permeating the space. “Grand Mistress, what are your orders?”
Breaking contact from the Old dark elf, I tilted my head to see Taltil, accompanied by Theko standing close. “Take a rest. If she meant to harm us, she would have done so by now.”
At my words, Taltil followed by Theko helped the two human Captains to their feet. While the four of them scurried away, Merowyn still held his defensive stance, muscles tensed and lips pursed.
“State your purpose,” I asked the High Priestess.
“What I have to discuss is not something simple as a tale to be shared over a campfire,” she answered, the contemptuous edge slipping back into her tone, “The secret of my order is not the be trifled with, even if it is you.”
“Yet you are here, seeking me out.”
“A valid point,” she responded, “Important as the issue I bring forth, we still have time. Go back to your Hold, Take a good rest. We can talk when you are refreshed and sound of mind.”
“And I suppose you are expecting me to invite you into the Hold?” I taunted back. “Your cult might not be in alliance with any of the dark elven houses, but I am not gullible to let you roam inside the walls.”
“Hush, child,” she sneered, the bones of her joints almost creaking audibly in response as she stiffened. “My daughters and sisters have survived for long in the wilderness and in hiding that the comfort of your Hold carries little appeal. Besides, I am not foolish to share the hearth of one whose neck feels the tightening of the noose.”
“And still you have come to me.” I could not let her affront slip by.
“I will ignore those words of yours as a taunt of a petulant youngster,” she responded. “But heed to me. Should you need help, my sisters and daughters will stand by your side.”
A host of unspoken emotions passed between us. Each one tempting the will and the resilience of the others. In the end, the High Priestess acquiesced.
“Fair enough, I have given you no reason to trust, but I will not leave the pass until my creed is filled,” she answered.
“Let me warn you, I do not appreciate unauthorized intruders in the Pass. Especially not while the horde is on the march,” I cautioned her, despite knowing that her allegiances are probably not tied to the One-Horned Warlord.
“As I have said before, the ambitions of an upstart warlord hold little interest to me. Nor to my goddess. I will seek you out in a few days’ time.” With those words, she signaled her members and they disappeared like spring dew under sunlight.
“May I ask you wisdom in turning down help when they presented themselves?” asked Merowyn, carefully choosing his words.
“Do you believe she lent her help out of the altruism brimming from her heart?”
Merowyn only nodded as a non-verbal response.
“She might not serve the Cambion-Warlord but the patrons she serves are far more dangerous.” As an afterthought, I added, “That is if she even serves another patron. Be wary.”
The last dying embers of the small fire reflected in Merowyn’s deep sunken eyes, making his amber eyes flare almost a brilliant orange, and once again, I was surprised by the resemblance to Urganza.
“Any further orders for me?” asked Merowyn disturbing my sudden reverie.
“I want you to take the ranger ahead and rush to High-Crag Hold. There are three tasks. First, inform the quartermaster to prepare for the wounded and civilians to leave the hold. Second, instruct Finn to investigate if he could find any information pertinent to vampire attacks in High-Crag Pass. It is evident that there is another claiming the pass.”
Merowyn grumbled, barely audibly at the mention of Finn.
Chuckling, I added, “Tell him to take the shieldmaiden with him. They drink and are good with liberating loose tongues. What better way to get the information we need?”
“Final task?” asked Merowyn with the hope that the third task would bring him away from Finn.
“Take a small select group of soldiers to patrol the pass till Fort Halycon. If you meet with Arlene and the rest of the Shieldmaidens, assist them in reaching the Hold soon.”
I expected Merowyn’s face to brighten at the mention of Arlene, but the shadow of pessimism still hung around him.
“May I ask something?” he asked and without waiting for a response continued. “Just a moment ago, you glared intensely at my face.”
“I was surprised by your sudden resemblance to Orc Overlord Urganza,” I replied.
A wry laugh devoid of any mirth came from Merowyn. “Is she from the thunder caller tribe?”
“No,” I answered nudging the answer from the depths of my memory, “I believe she is from Stone Cleaver Orcs. But orc tribes do intermarry. So there might be an element of truth to it.”
“It is dark with only pale moonlight and dying embers to cast light,” said Merowyn shrugging absolving himself of any culpability, “Silhouettes do have a habit of misleading people.”
“I think you are just running from everything orc related,” I replied. “Besides, I am a dark elf. My vision is perfect in the dark.”
“Well, then let me offer another perspective,” said Merowyn, neither antagonism nor mockery in his words. “Think of a person really close to you.”
Delyn’s face filled my thoughts immediately.
“If you think about all the other people you have met in your life, there is definitely another person with a similar facial profile.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
In a surprising turn of events, Antilorwe’s face jumped out of all.
“Those two people would be totally not related to each other,” said Merowyn.
I gave him a warm smile. “Perhaps, you are right.” Delyn and Antilorwe are two different people. Not even of the same race. Chuckling to myself, I added, “You should leave now then.”
With tired eyes, I watched Merowyn lead the company of Viridian Dawn Rangers through the night.
----------------------------------------
After two days of making sure that Maapu and his Ogre Rock Hurlers, were positioned and suitably equipped to handle the threat when the horde reaches, their position, they gathered the remaining and we slowly marched towards the safety of High-Crag Hold.
As I neared the gate keep, Zaehran in the company of Merowyn blocked my path.
“Is this urgent?” I asked, lowering my voice to conspiratorial depths.
For an interminably brief moment, the sea of tranquility surrounding the ascetic monk dispersed revealing a tumultuous expression.
No further verbal confirmation was needed. “Lead me.”
Without further delay, the two of them swiftly ushered me towards a small room, tended by one of the druid crones, the one who had trouble smiling.
“What would she do?” asked the crone, pointing at me. “I told you nothing could save her.” Then she tilted her eyes back to the one lying on the cot in the center of the small room, with eyes staring blankly.
“Who is she?” I asked looking at the mousy girl lying expressionlessly before me. “Can’t say I remember seeing her.”
“That is because, she just arrived,” answered Talus. His huge forming made the small room appear even smaller.
“From?”
Every eye darted towards Merowyn. “I was on patrol when I found her. She wanted to meet you. Said it is urgent.”
“Who is she?”
“She claims to be Antilorwe’s maid. Her mistress had entrusted her with information meant only for your eyes,” revealed Merowyn.
That fact aligns well with what I know of Antilorwe. She would have made contingency plans and failsafe plans should her contingency plans fail.
“Continue.”
“Since I had the feeling that she is about to deliver something important, I felt it would be best that she should wait at your wife’s forge.”
“That is a commendable prudent choice, Merowyn. What happened next?”
Merowyn held his tongue and let his gaze slowly linger toward Talus. This is bad. Everyone skirting around the issue! Something extremely serious then.
“I was at the forge when she stepped in,” started Talus, “When Mother Lyria saw her, she was alerted immediately.”
“Alerted?”
“There was a weak bond connecting her to another demonic realm,” stated Talus with mechanical pauses. “Very weak to be discernible. Almost like a suppressed timed feedback.”
Not knowing what a suppressed timed feedback meant, I could only associate it with something extremely weak. Like those sleeper spies that dark elf houses place in other dark elf houses.
A maelstrom of questions surged with his words.
Granted Cyrene has too many things going on in her life, but she is a consummate planar mage. Surely Cyrene would have noticed it. Which brings the question, why did Cyrene allow it? Was she unable to do anything? Powerless? Was the demon on the other end, too formidable for Cyrene to handle?
More importantly, was Antilorwe aware of it? Did she allow it willingly? Did she trust a demon sympathizer to carry her orders?
Was Antilorwe in cahoots with the demons?
Was Urganza fooled? Fell into a ploy?
Talus continued, breaking me from the barrage of doubts. “At Mother Lyria’s presence, the connection flared and it broke like an elastic band stretched far too long and far too wide. The result on her was cathartic.”
“The connection flared?” I repeated, coaxing Talus to reveal more.
“Well, the connection was very subtle and barely perceptible but Mother Lyria noticed it. Alarmed, Mother Lyria became true.” A gray glow of indecisiveness passed behind his eye slot and soon was replaced by a clear blue of the sky. “The essence of being was stripped, extracted from the depths, and coalesced to Mother Lyria and she became true than the truth.”
“Lyria became what?” I prodded.
“The essence of everything flowed, summoned from where it was bound and Mother Lyria became beyond the truth,” said Talus as if that would make sense to anyone except himself.
All I could hang onto was his words and memory of Lyria, from the time when she fought the Empyrean Hydra -- of how the reality distorted around her, while she took another form. So Lyria’s other form scarred even a high profile demon capable of subtle anchoring to abandon its hold.
“Her mind is fractured,” finally spoke the old crone. “She would require intense healing to mend and even then she might never recover fully well.”
“What about the message she carried?” I asked.
Every shrugged in denial except Talus, who did not because he was not provided with the function. Had Colby designed on, I am sure Talus would have shrugged too.
“Any letter or signet or other important articles she carried on her?”
“I checked her personal belongings and found none,” replied Merowyn, turning apologetically he pointed at Zaehran, “Perhaps, the venerable monk could take over from here.”
Word, serene and calm flowed from the ascetic monk, yet the contents were any but turbulent. “When she fainted, the Forge Mistress sent your son to fetch a healer, while she remained alone with her.”
With no moment to spar, I liberated myself from the suffocating presence of everyone and barged into Lyria’s forge.
Lyria was striking at the anvil but dropped her forge hammer, at my approach. Her powerful arms snaked around my waist, callous palms caressing sensing the warm sensation of my skin while her lips sought out mine.
“Lyria, stop,” I commanded. “Did Antilorwe’s maid bring anything of importance?”
Lyria’s hands stopped midway. “Yes, she did carry a letter on her. I burned it.”
Sheer anger took refuge in me. My lips trembled in rage, while my blood heated to molten lava at those words.
“Rils,” said Lyria, her voice solemn and direct, “Do you trust me when I say that I have the best intentions for you?”
“Of course,” I finally managed to push those words, yoking the razing inferno of ire, “even if you think you have every right to keep me away, exclude me from secrets. Withheld details from me.” The venom-laced words still spilled out.
“Rils, that was the only way to protect you from the contents of Antilorwe’s message.”
“Antilorwe meant those for me,” I screamed, words cutting like the searing edge of a sharpened hot blade.
“Antilorwe herself was unaware of the contents when she wrote it, nor was she aware of you, or of Delyn.”
“What has Delyn got to do anything with all this?” Despite my attempts to calm my nerves, I found myself falling sinking deeper and deeper, swallowed by a pestilent swamp of frustration.
“Rils, make peace with your father, and with your daughter, please,” pleaded Lyria. Her silvery-grey eyes, filled with unshed tears, begged me, imploringly. But sensing my unrelenting stance, she finally gave a huge sigh. “Rils, not all angelic-blooded inherit the same abilities.”
“Give me a good reason, Lyria,”
“Delyn’s abilities, or at least one of her abilities...” Lyria struggled with her words, lips tightly pursed, refusing to cooperate. Finally, by dint of her own volition, she uttered, “Her eyes, she could see through things. Know the truth or rather make it impossible to lie. Her look could sham. Every guilt, regret, will spill forth at her presence.”
“Impossible, She does not possess such ability.” I refused.
“That’s because your authority as her mother, made you immune but with the separation and her growing into her own person, her ability would only manifest stronger,” replied Lyria, “and not even you could resist. And knowing the contents of Antilorwe’s message would sham you in Delyn’s presence.”
“I have never done anything to feel disgraceful before Delyn, should she even possess such abilities.”
“Rils, it is not what you have done but what you would do,” replied Lyria. Reaching with her callous palms, she slowly stroked my cheeks, tenderly, “Besides, we have another important task cut out for us.”
I raised my eyebrows, quizzingly.
“I managed to glean bits of information from her before the bond snapped. Kriale - The Enchanted City of Dark Desires is where we would find clues to Antilorwe and Cyrene,” said Lyria.
“Never heard of it.”
“In the domain of Opprobrium, ruled by the prime demon Zar’Amaris.”