They needed to find the others.
A bold proclamation, and one Vantra had no idea how to fill. She suspected Jare and Mica had taken out the spintops, but where were they now? She doubted they stuck around the landing field after destroying them, and if they hid from the Wiiv and their allies, they hid from her, Kenosera and Yut-ta, too. And what about Kjaelle, Lorgan and the pirates? What happened to them?
Searching for them seemed foolhardy unless she did so in Ether form. Should she mention that to her companions? Queasy uncertainty was her answer; they would insist on joining her, even if it was far less dangerous for her to go alone.
She did not want to go alone.
Wind picked up, and a shower of dirt skitted across the courtyard’s sandstone tiles, starting at the entrance arch and ending at the doorway in which she stood. The trees lining the outer wall rustled, and she wondered how they grew inside the citadel without being touched by the darker magic that corrupted the other foliage. Perhaps it had something to do with the special lanterns. While Light-infused baubles sat in plain metal lamps hanging on either side of the door and the entry, the rest of the area had dozens of anti-darkness flames flickering in transparent glass holders on top of wrought-iron poles. They circled the space, forming a miniature wall.
Kjiven must be protecting Elora, because she doubted the Wiiv would have brought her the flames. If he still cared about her, perhaps they could use that to push him down another path.
Yut-ta padded up, handed her the shard, and placed his shoulder against the wall as he sucked down a wide bowl of cool water. Kenosera stopped next to her, holding an enemy spear in one hand, a drinking glass in the other. He drank just as greedily, and Vantra silently thanked Elora for providing needed hydration for the two.
“Do you believe her?” the hooskine asked after he wiped his beak on the back of his forearm.
Believe her? Vantra turned with a frown. “Why would I not?”
Kenosera peered into the empty foyer, then back outside. “I’m not certain I do.”
“Seems too neat,” Yut-ta agreed.
“Neat?” she asked, nonplussed.
“Making Hrivasine the villain, despite what Kjiven’s done,” the nomad said. “He took Strans’ mantle. It doesn’t matter who prompted him. It was still a terrible act, with terrible consequences.”
“Navosh said he regretted it,” she whispered. “And that’s what Elora told us, too.”
It had not occurred to her not to trust the elfine. She seemed desperate to regain the Touch of Light for the temple, and that would not happen if she lied to them. Of course, she had other motivations; loving Kjiven meant she wanted him safe from the Final Death, and dumping the bad intentions on Hrivasine and this nymph would direct them down a different path of blame.
Vantra did not have the sense of deception, though.
“Yut-ta, do you have any idea which nymph might have accompanied Hrivasine to Kjivendei?” Kenosera asked.
“Hmm.” He swung the bowl absently in thought. “I don’t know. Most of his close associates were elfines. Various ghosts tried to get into his good graces, like Rudarig, but I don’t recall any nymphs in his inner circle. Of course, if this nymph can alter their appearance to look elfine, then maybe he has one, and nobody knows.”
Vantra sagged. What if this nymph was not Hrivasine’s associate? She pressed her lips together and thought very, very hard in pseudo-prayer. She wanted to know if Rezenarza had been the elfine’s companion.
No.
She twitched at the firm negative.
I sense Light surrounding you.
Both her companions jerked; he must be speaking with them as well. “Yes, we’re at the Light temple, but only me, Kenosera and Yut-ta.”
Hmm. Separated? The ex-syimlin sounded distracted, then she had the impression he focused on them. There is much wrong with Strans’ Bargain, but Kjiven isn’t here, only a handful of shaman. Their tattoos warp their minds, and they lack thought. His presence faded momentarily. I’ve no wish to harm them; another hand controls their acts. It shall take me longer than I anticipated to remove the marks.
Vantra did not like the sound of that.
It means those you encounter who have them can’t be trusted. Our enemy will use them as he sees fit, whether they agree to his manipulations or not.
“We escaped the Wiiv with kidnapped forest dwellers. They have marks that are supposed to help them navigate the Labyrinth.”
If Kjiven or another shaman gave them the mark, they can’t be trusted. Find your companions. There is strength in numbers, and we will join you when we can.
Yut-ta pushed from the wall. “I’ll tell Elora,” he whispered before grabbing Kenosera’s glass, turning and heading back inside.
“I wonder if that’s why she hesitated in taking them in.” Vantra hated that she had not realized it.
“I think she knows more about Kjiven’s acts than she admits,” Kenosera said. “But I also think that he cares enough about her, he doesn’t want her harmed.” He motioned to the courtyard. “That’s a lot of special fire, and I doubt the Wiiv gave it to the temple.”
They agreed on that. “Any ideas how we can find the others?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. When we ran uphill, there was a beam of light that shot from the top of the temple, and it caught our attention. Maybe we can use something like that?” He leaned in closer. “I’m not certain who triggered it, though. The acolytes didn’t seem to realize we followed a beacon.”
Nodding, she looked at the shard. The acolytes might not have realized, but she bet Elora did. She stepped from the doorway and looked into the sky; whatever they had seen, it no longer shone over the building. Kenosera padded to her side and turned in a circle, studying the courtyard and the front of the structure.
From all the talk about Kjiven’s grandiose personality, and considering the temple images in the fountain room, she expected a lavish exterior with molded fake columns, saintly sculptures in niches, enormous windows to allow light and air inside, and multiple spires with arm-thick points jutting from their roofs. Instead, it was plain sandstone brick with no openings but the door. True, the entrance had a decorative, vine-carved arch, but the elegance she associated with elfine architecture on Talis was absent.
If she did not know better, she would have assumed it was an example of rural construction, where the community lacked money for a grand structure, so built a smaller temple with their own hands and local materials. Those had personality and meant more to the acolytes and followers than a giant cathedral so enormous, so pristine, so illuminated, so decorated with sculpture and paintings, that no one could relate to it. Her mother claimed those structures echoed with emptiness—and she did not mean a lack of residents.
Gathering her courage, she held the shard above her head and concentrated on sending Clear Rays into the clouds. If a Light beam did not bring the enemy to their door, neither would another one tinged with Sun. A soft, honey light sped from the tip, rushed up, and burst apart before fading.
She lowered her arm; would their companions notice?
Just as she thought it, she heard the whirring of blades. Her shoulders slumped. She was not very good at this, was she? Kenosera backed into her side as the airborne machine topped the temple’s wall, blue lights racing along the black metal surface. She pushed the nomad to the door and slapped a shield across the front of the temple; even if it destroyed the tiled courtyard, she could make certain the building survived her folly.
Darkness swirled from the bottom of the craft, greyish purple twirling around a column of black. Kjaelle wafted from it and hastened over, a fierce expression brightening her face.
“You can drop the shield,” she said as she waved at Kenosera. Vantra did as she asked, and the nomad hastened to them, a pained look on his face as the spintop wobbled just beyond the outer arch, then rocked as it came to a rough landing in the empty square.
“Dough swore he could fly it,” Kjaelle said, shaking her head. “I’m not certain I’d call what we just did ‘flying’.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I don’t think he understands aircraft and watercraft are two distinct entities. He said he paid for flying lessons at Badeçasyon, but these spintops are nothing like those ships. He’s just guessing.”
At least ghosts could phase through the sides and escape a crashing machine. They shouldn’t let the living anywhere near it.
The blades slowed as Jare and Mica slipped out of the side. She looked at Kjaelle; where were the others?
“We don’t know what happened to Janny or Lorgan,” the elfine said. “We couldn’t find them, and from me to you, I’m concerned the Wiiv captured them.”
“They captured us,” Kenosera said. “They confined us with the kidnapped shaman. We all escaped, and the corrupted roots chased us here.”
Jare approached, an eyebrow raised as he regarded the temple; Mica looked even more skeptical. “This is sparse, considering what it once looked like,” he murmured. “Trying the redemption bit, eh?”
“I think Elora’s serious about regaining Talis’s Touch,” Vantra stressed.
“Elora?” He frowned, then shrugged. “I’m not certain I remember her. Mica?”
“No.”
“She’s the high priestess.” She waved them nearer, and they clustered around her. “She said Hrivasine came nosing about the ruins, and when he realized Kjiven was here at the temple—”
“Here?” Mica asked, startled, pointing at the building. She nodded as Yut-ta joined them—with Elora a step behind. He handed Kenosera a refilled glass, and they both drank deeply. Were they hungry as well? Their day had been a strenuous adventure.
The priestess eyed Dough phasing through the craft, then turned to the group in front of her. “From me to you, I’m Elora, priestess of this temple of Light.” She stepped near as well, as if she did not wish her voice to carry. “We took Kjiven in after the flood. He was a shell, and I knew his family would pick him apart to scavenge what power they could, if they knew. He attempted to save Selaserat, and failed—the might whizan, brought down by water. When he reached Kjivendei and realized what the Wiiv had done to his beloved city . . . his mind fractured, and it still has yet to heal. I don’t think he wants to return to who he was, so lets his past wither.”
“Many ghosts do,” Jare said.
“It’s common enough, I suppose. Unfortunately, Hrivasine discovered him here, and he, with a disguised nymph, convinced him to steal Strans’ mantle. He regretted it immediately, and I convinced him to repent. He nearly did so, but they returned and changed his mind. The encounters now cycle, and I have yet to win.” She tugged on the hems of her robe’s belled sleeves, then folded her hands in front of her. “From me to you, Kjiven laments what he’s done, but something gnaws at him and warps his intent.”
“Has that affected the mantle?” Jare asked.
Embarrassment throbbed through Vantra. So many things she should have asked, but that never occurred to her. Kenosera’s startled look did not make her feel better, either. Her Finder training emphasized good questioning techniques because in the field, the acolytes had to weasel information from those who may not trust them, or those whom they found of questionable character. She had sat in classes, listening to the instruction, wishing she had her mother’s charisma. When Kasoris smiled and put that hum in her voice, few denied her what she wanted.
“I don’t know,” Elora said. “There is darkness, one not of his or Strans’ making, that rides with him.” Her eyes shimmered as she studied him and Mica. “You are Light-blessed? Your companions spoke of one named Jare.”
“That’s me,” Jare admitted. “Mica and I know most of the Light clergy in Greenglimmer, but I don’t recall meeting you. Do you visit Selaserat?”
“It’s rare, that I do,” she said. “The temple needs protection from the forest’s encroachment, and my presence keeps it clear. If I leave, it’s to Embeckourteine, a quick trip.”
“How does your presence keep the forest away?” Kjaelle asked, her gaze drifting to the trees planted near the wall.
“Kjiven is kjoye yaousenei. That hasn’t changed, even if I sometimes doubt his mind.”
“I see. Then that explains the torches.”
“When last we spoke, he insisted on surrounding the temple with them. His worry infected me, and then the Wiiv and their allies arrived. If he summoned them, he did not tell me, but they could not pass the torches.” She glanced at the pirate as Dough strode towards them. “Their shaman burned when they entered the torchlight, so retreated.”
“That doesn’t sound like the typical flame they use to keep the darkness at bay,” Kjaelle said.
“No, and I’m not certain what he did to alter the magic in these.”
“Then how did the forest dwellers with us bypass them?” Vantra asked.
“I don’t know.” Elora shook her head and shrugged, at a loss. “All should have experienced burning from the symbol site. I gather they are skeptics, though, so that might be why. Their marks allow them passage through the Labyrinth, but nothing more. Their symbols say ‘free walking’, while the Wiiv ones are numerous and of darker intent.”
Dough joined them, smacking his hands together, all too enthusiastic about his role as pilot.
“How did you steal that?” Yut-ta asked, eyeing the machine with deep distrust.
“We boarded one already in the air,” Dough said with undisguised glee. “Ghosts manned it, and we dumped them out before I piloted us away.” He put a hand over his eyes and looked over the wall. “The other two didn’t follow us.”
“We think we know why Hrivasine’s here.”
All humor dwindled, and Vantra found herself under scrutiny. Perhaps she should have left the explanations to Elora. The elfine nodded, solemn, taking the lead without being asked. “It is true. I believe there is a vast lake of ryiam left over from the guards who protected Kjivendei.”
Jare clucked his tongue and narrowed his eyes. “Kjiven was collecting ryiam below Kjivendei, wasn’t he?”
“Initially, yes. It attracted the forest, and the forest’s touch made it palatable for faelareign use. The plants absorbed the raw and emitted a gentler energy, like how mist rising from water makes ryiam easier to digest. But after the citadel fell to the Wiiv, that power faded back into the foliage.” She bit her lower lip, then gathered herself. “The Labyrinth never reached this far when Kjiven sat on the citadel’s throne, but the Elfiniti was still a creature of its own making. Now? The twisted ways reach beyond. The roots writhe below the lowlands and have spread throughout the southern Uprise Mountains. They corrupt the Elfiniti, driving it from what it was to a darker incarnation of the Labyrinth. I’ve tried to convince Kjiven to reject it, and every time he comes close, Hrivasine and the nymph interfere.”
She could not contain her hate. Vantra felt it, a prick of darkness, deep within her essence.
“A nymph, huh?” Jare looked at Mica. “I don’t recall a nymph being part of Hrivasine’s inner circle.”
“He trusts nymphs as much as most wildelfines,” Mica replied, his mouth wormed over in a sarcastic grimace. Yut-ta hmphed in agreement, as if he experienced the prejudices of Selaserat elfines.
“But it’s not Kjiven’s lake we need to worry about,” Vantra said.
“No,” Elora agreed, motioning to her, Kenosera and Yut-ta, “As I told them, Jorcasas Ilvandekj was very strict about his charge. He gathered the energy in bedrock and shielded it to the point, only the strongest whizen could sense it. He wanted it as a reserve, dark power for dark days, so concealing it was necessary.”
“He’s not still around, is he?” Jare asked.
“I haven’t seen him since Kjiven stole Strans’ mantle,” Elora said. “He’s likely in Embeckourteine, hiding as so many from the citadel do.” Her disapproval flavored the air.
“We’ve two of our number who are still lost,” Kjaelle said. “If they come here, please tell them what you told us. They are Lorgan and Janny.” Her ghost of an amused smile confused Vantra. “Lorgan’s a human scholar from Reddown under Lake, and Janny’s a pirate.”
Elora’s eyes widened. “A human, at Reddown? That’s incredible. How magnificent a mystic is he?”
“Magnificent enough, the nymphs tapped him.” Jare looked over his shoulder. “And I thought we’d be flying to the top of the citadel,” he said. “Kjiven’s seat is there.”
“It is,” Elora said, with stilted reluctance. “But whether he sits upon or beneath it is a different tale.”
“We need to find that lake, Jare,” Kjaelle said.
“Do you know how to get to it, Elora?” Mica asked.
“I know how one used to get there,” she said. “The guardhouse rested above it, but those entrances are now clogged with corrupted vines.” She held out her hands, and a square of sparkling energy formed over her palms. She used her index finger to draw a crude outline that Vantra assumed represented Kjivendei, and placed a dot on the square, towards the center left. “This is the Light temple. The citadel’s tower rests here,” and she made another dot at the top left. “The guard complex is here,” and she made a mark below the tower. “Kjiven as ruler was a paranoid man. Because of this, he built various tunnel escape routes throughout the citadel. Others added their own passages, so below the ruins are more ruins. You may wish to scout the complex, but I suspect you'll need to take these other routes to reach the underground. Unfortunately, I don’t know if they, too, are barricaded.”
Vantra stared at the map. “You said corrupted vines, not roots?”
“No, they are vines. I’ve witnessed them myself.”
Kenosera raised the spear. “And this spear is a key. In the jail, it unlocked the vines holding the cell doors together, and if they’re the same kind, we should be able to get inside.”
“The spears also trigger confinement shields,” Vantra said.
“Where did you get it from?” Mica asked, studying the metal tip.
“One of the Wiiv guards. The forest dwellers we escaped with have the other two.”
“Maybe we can borrow those as well,” he said, looking at the interior.
“If you take the road that curves up the mountain, you will reach the complex,” Elora said, pointing across the square. “It sits within a depression. Many of the clifftop buildings have excavated entrances leading to the tunnels, courtesy of Hrivasine.”
“That’s nice of him,” Jare said. “Let’s get those spears and go, before we attract unwanted attention.”
