Third of Artula
Year 1182 of Emancipation
Shontelle could feel herself shaking as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and placed her feet upon the ground. It was a surprisingly strange feeling after being kept in the bed for the past few weeks under the command of the elven healers. She’d been in and out of unconsciousness the entire time, which the elves suspected to be the result of some curse that had been placed upon her. To the best of their reckoning it had ended the day that Belkai had killed the werewolves. Like their new lord, they did not believe in coincidences. It was only this morning that they had reluctantly agreed to allow her to try to move around a little.
“Take it slow,” a young male elf warned, and Shontelle smiled weakly at him. He held her arm as she rose slowly, swaying a few times before finally standing straight and steady.
“I’ll be okay,” she promised. The elf nodded and stepped back.
“Give it an hour, maybe,” he told her. “Probably not much more.”
Shontelle knew that he meant well, but she just nodded as she carefully made her way out of the healing rooms. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the forest air, her spirits instantly lifting with the life that she could sense around her. For the first time since Solstia, she almost felt a sense of peace.
“You don’t get used to it. It’s always this beautiful.”
Shontelle turned to see a woman watching her. Wavy brown hair fell down her back, and she wore a fur garment that hung loosely across her body. Soft brown eyes shone brightly as the young elf smiled.
“My name is Syndra. Belkai asked that I check on you.”
“Shontelle,” the Svaletan said unnecessarily. “You are a forest elf?”
“Of the Ingamai clan,” Syndra told her. “As are most of us in Narandir. I heard about your family. I am sorry.”
Shontelle turned away to hide the pain that flooded her body. Some wounds never truly healed. She heard Syndra take a quiet step closer.
“For what it’s worth, Belkai killed those responsible,” Syndra told her. “I know it’s not enough, but it’s justice at least. That’s more than many families will get in this life.”
“If I may ask, how old are you?” She looked young to Shontelle, but there was a weariness in her eyes that she recognised from the soldiers who passed through Solstia. She also showed the sort of wisdom that could only be born of loss.
“I’m only a hundred,” Syndra replied with a gentle smile. “That’s quite young for us.”
Shontelle shrugged. “Everyone knows that elves live for centuries.”
“Right. Of course.” Syndra laughed. “We haven’t seen many humans in the Forest during my lifetime. It’s still a lot to get used to.”
“Belkai sent you to check on me?” Shontelle asked, choosing to give Syndra a chance to recover from her embarrassment. “What did she say?”
She told me to put you at ease, Syndra thought as she tried to maintain her false shyness. It wasn’t an easy task, and for a moment she wondered if Belkai was trying to teach her a lesson about loss. From what she’d seen so far, that wouldn’t be too out of character for her. “She said that you’d been through hell. You could use a friendly face.”
Shontelle nodded sadly. “You said that those who killed my family are gone.”
“That’s right. Belkai tracked them down and killed them.”
Syndra knew that wasn’t the whole truth, but it was all that the Svaletan needed to know for now. She’d learn the full story in time, she was sure of that.
“Am I free to leave?” Shontelle asked. She misunderstood the look on Syndra’s face and quickly added, “I’m not rushing to get away. I just want to know my boundaries.”
“You’re not a prisoner,” Syndra assured her. “As soon as the healers are satisfied with your progress, you’re free to do as you wish.”
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She cocked her head. “Where would you go?”
Belkai had wanted to know that too. Was it simple curiosity, Syndra wondered, or was she genuinely concerned for the woman’s wellbeing?
Shontelle hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. She paused as she thought about the life that had been stolen from her. “Wexburg, I think. One of the cities. I don’t think I could face the countryside again. Not yet, at least.”
The more Shontelle thought about it in that moment, the more sense it made. Wexburg was metropolitan, well known for its learning and relaxed culture. And vatriloi can’t hide in a city, she thought. Yes, it would have to be Wexburg. And then she could start her new life.
“I have heard wonderful things about Wexburg,” Syndra said, though she had no love for cities. Her mind clicked on something that Belkai had mentioned when sending her to speak to Shontelle. “What about Lustria? I hear that it is a beautiful place.”
“That depends on where you end up,” Shontelle told her. “It’s said to be quite bleak around the mines. But the south, towards the border with Tios, is apparently quite lovely.”
They were a tough people in Lustria, Shontelle knew. It would be a very different life than what she’d known in Solstia, but that wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?
Syndra shrugged and waved for Shontelle to follow her as she moved into the Forest. “These are decisions for another day. For now, though, let me show you something of Narandir.”
***
Siara didn’t know where her visitor hailed from. His skin was bronzed, his dark hair was cut short enough to qualify as stubble, and he was shorter than most humans. Perhaps he was from one of the northern tribes, she thought absently as she studied him. He had introduced himself as Harleigh and had presented a letter of recommendation from the Brilhardem. He sat in the leather chair before the fireplace, and Siara sat across from him. Her student Sashai stood with hands clasped to Siara’s right.
“You bring a message from Brimur,” Siara said quietly. Harleigh nodded.
“I do, and thank you both for meeting with me.” He looked up at Sashai, who held his gaze despite her discomfort at his stare. He was at least thirty in the teenager’s estimation, and his eyes burned with a fierce determination. He turned back to Siara and laid a sealed scroll on the table between them.
“I have been asked to request that you do not open this until I have left,” he said, and the Prophetess didn’t respond. “Brimur is concerned by recent events. Ashelath’s actions, while hidden from many in the kingdoms, are well known among the magic orders. And the Arcane seem to be taking great advantage of the situation. You know this well.”
“We have lost some of our own,” Siara acknowledged. The proof of that lay in the soldiers who now roamed the grounds and corridors of the Temple. It was too late in Siara’s mind, but at least there would be no repeat of the previous attack. If events continued at their current pace, they just might need those soldiers.
“I am sorry for your losses,” Harleigh told her. He glanced at Sashai before continuing. “Your Temple has long been neutral in this world’s affairs, but you have been a friend to Belkai Androva. That makes you a friend of the Order, and highly esteemed amongst us. Your presence is requested at an emergency meeting of the orders.”
“Brimur called the council?” Siara asked, keeping her voice calm despite the shock that she felt. “We have not seen such a meeting since Palia fell.”
“These are times that call us to return to older paths,” Harleigh acknowledged. “We are requesting the presence of every order. That scroll contains the details. I am not permitted to disclose more.”
“Thank you, Harleigh.” Siara briefly bowed her head, understanding that he had little else to offer. “Sashai, please guide Harleigh to his carriage.”
As the two of them left, Siara turned and looked into the open fire. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the council, she realised. The Arcane had now made two attempts to seize Narandir. On top of that, Belkai had personally killed a hunter team from the Watchers. She would have to answer to the council for that. Had Brimur invited Belkai as well? Siara hadn’t been exaggerating when she’d told Davos that his wife was likely the most powerful mage now living. No other had managed to kill an Arcane – nor had any other put themselves in a position where they’d need to. These were indeed unique times.
Sashai quietly entered the room another twenty minutes later to find that the Prophetess hadn’t moved as she stared into the burning fireplace.
“Take a seat,” Siara ordered without looking. Sashai didn’t hesitate, though she was still overcoming the formalities that had been drilled into her. Being the Prophetess’s confidant carried its advantages, but also ran against her years of training. Once she was seated Siara asked, “What are your thoughts?”
“The situation is at a critical point,” Sashai replied. “With the Sons of Retribution dead, we are on the verge of a war with the Arcane. The magic orders are obliged to intervene.”
“Explain.” Siara still do not look over at her.
Sashai chose her words carefully. “Each Order has a reason to oppose the Arcane. In our own ways, we all oppose direct Arcane intervention into the world. And we are on the brink of such intervention.”
“Brimur will ask us to openly side with Belkai,” Siara pointed out, cutting to the chase. “We have acted neutrally thus far. Can we afford to change that?”
“May I speak freely?” Sashai asked.
Siara frowned, and finally turned to face her. “Of course.”
“Every time that I have met with Belkai I have been impressed by her nature. She only seeks freedom. Never has she sought power for its own sake.” Sashai swallowed nervously. “If it were my call, I would side with her.”
“Hmm.” Siara tapped her fingers on the scroll absentmindedly. “I want you at this council in my stead. I will find a soldier to be your escort. It is no longer safe to travel alone. I do not disagree with your position, but do try to keep an open mind.”
“As you wish.” Sashai couldn’t hide the joy on her face. Sixteen and representing the Temple to the Council of Mages? It was almost unheard of. “What is our aim in attending?”
Siara raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? To prevent a war between mortals and the Arcane.”