Home » Great Library at Hoeth » Book of Tales » Voice of the Phoenix » Voice of the Phoenix, Chapter Seven
| Voice of the Phoenix, Chapter Seven |
| by Calarion Sapherior |
“Wake now,” a voice said, and Howell’s eyes opened slowly. Not that sleep had been so pleasant that he wished to not forsake it now, but rather it was its absence that made him reluctant to stir. The elf hauled himself upright, and swiftly ran his eyes over the forest glade, the remnants of their campfire of the previous night, and Regulus groaning as Eilinel attempted to stir him.
“You city-dwelling popinjays are more likely to be a hindrance to me than a heaven-send,” the ranger sighed. “Look, help me get this sluggard up, will you?”
Howell rose to his feet. He did not feel rested, for his sleep had been anything but restful, but some of Asuryan’s fire flowed through him now, and there was more vitality in that than in any sleep.
Regulus staggered to his feet slowly, and stretched. “I think I must have had a tree root in my back all night,” he complained, wincing. Eilinel rolled her eyes.
“You’re too soft,” she said. “When did you last sleep outside, and in full armour?” But she did not give the Caledorian a chance to answer. “Come,” she said, and threw something at him. Regulus’ arms shot out and snagged the bag out of midair by one strap, his reflexes still as keen. “If it’d been just me, I’d have been after them hours ago, but now we shall have to hurry.”
“What, no food?” Regulus complained, but he flung the bag over his shoulder and followed Eilinel into the thick foliage.
“Try to keep up, if you can!” she sneered over her shoulder, and then ignored him, breaking into a swift jog, which the two warriors found hard to match. She was clearly faster than them, more adept at woodcraft, and judging from what Howell had seen in his vision a better warrior too. Not for the first time Howell wondered whether his presence would indeed be holding back the capable she-elf.
Ignoring the burning sensation in his legs, which screamed for rest after the marathon of the previous day, he increased his pace until he was just behind Eilinel. “Any signs of them?” he said gaspingly, his breath burning in his lungs.
She turned her head and grinned, and Howell knew that she had noticed his physical discomfort and was in a way pleased with it, and that her breath had scarcely changed, still as placid that morning’s.
“Can you not see them? You’re trampling all over them,” she said, and her lustrous brown eyes led his down, to the ground before them, where the grass was flattened by the passing of many feet. Now he could see the tracks, they were blatantly obvious to him, and he wondered how he had missed them the first time.
He looked up to see Eilinel smirking at him.
Or rather, he realised with a flash of insight, at herself. Surely the harshness she was directing at the two Caledorians would be nothing compared to the self-torment she would be inflicting upon herself, failing in her most important task, and damning Ulthuan to who knows what fate should they fail to retrieve the Tear.
“It’s not your fault,” he said softly as they continued to run through the forest.
Eilinel stopped, very suddenly, and her eyes stabbed into his with powerful emotion – hate, and anger, and... relief?
“What?” she said.
“It is not your fault that the Tear was lost to the Druchii,” Howell reiterated. “There is no point in punishing yourself for this. You did what you could do, then and now.”
Her face contained the same war of emotions, but she did not speak. Finally she swallowed, and whispered, “We have to keep going. The dark elves must not gain on us any longer.”
She turned and began walking away, and Howell followed, pretending he had not seen the tears beginning to well in the corners of her eyes.
They continued to travel for most of the day, stopping only when the dappled shadows of Avelorn’s glades spread to engulf the whole forest in darkness, as Asuryan’s red eye glared on the western horizon and turned the sky ablaze before retreating to allow the pale eye of Lileath to hold sway over the night. They stopped again, setting up camp under the broad branches of an Avelorian oak, and partaking ravenously of the trail rations Eilinel had with her. They tasted of fruits and flatbread, and were hard in the mouth and long to chew, but the Caledorians cared not after the long race through the woodlands.
Eilinel leant back against the bole of the oak and peered up at the sky, through the sheltering canopy of the leaves. Clouds filled the sky, and a light rain fell, turning into small hisses of steam when it struck their tiny fire. The light of the stars and moon shone dimly.
“I find it strange,” she said, musingly. “Your quest is to unite the Asur against the a foe attacking a different kingdom, so far away...” She saw Howell’s face darken, and she swiftly murmured, “I understand why! We cannot forsake our allies in their time of need, nor ignore our most ancient enemy. I just find it strange...you should be in Lothern, not running in the forests of Avelorn after some impossible quest.”
And then Howell surprised them all by replying ruefully, “That is what I wish to know, too...” His voice drifted off, and then suddenly it continued, low and quiet.
“I cannot help but accept that what I saw at the Shrine was divine, but...I cannot understand its motives. Certainly we have been told that the Tear must not fall into the hands of the Druchii, but why not? If it is a tool that lets mortals commune with the gods, might it not be a good thing if the Dark Elves could talk to Isha Herself and receive her blessings? Why should she withhold them if she truly loves all her children?”
“The dark elves are not her children any more,” Eilinel said. “They have betrayed and forsaken her.”
“Yes, but...I do not believe that she would forsake them in kind.”
Regulus lay down on the grass and said, “Isha is a goddess, we are but her children. How can we hope to understand such things?”
Howell frowned. “There is a reason, and I am sure of it.”
They ran again the next day. The rain became heaver, and the ground turned to thick mud under their boots, and their hair became plastered to their faces in damp tendrils. Ahead of them they could see the great white and grey peaks of the Annulii, pristine and perfect, rising up high into the darkened sky.
“It is not far to Nagarythe,” Eilinel warned. “If we do not catch the dark elves soon, then we never shall.”
But the sun reached the zenith of its path and had begun descending, and the three were exhausted. There was still no sign of their quarry.
“I think...they’ve lost us...” Regulus said, staggering wearily forward. He fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands, as mud slowly stained his fine clothes.
“Wait!” Howell shouted, new strength flowing through his veins. “What’s that?”
He sprang forward, his weariness flowing from him, and swiftly covered the ground to what he had seen, Eilinel a step behind him.
Pallid-faced, with a trickle of bright crimson blood flowing from one corner of its mouth, a Druchii warrior lay dead against a tree. The body’s face was drawn and emotionless, showing no sing of any fear or pain.
”There’s no wounds,” Howell said, feeling uncomfortable. There was something wrong with this place, and the trees now seemed to loom claustrophobically around him.
Eilinel vocalised the subconscious cause of his complaint. “There’s no sounds. Nothing. The birdsong has stopped.”
“What is this place?” Howell whispered, fearing what might happen next. “Where are we?”
“I do not know,” Eilinel said. “There is something wrong here, but...this way the dark elves went, into the heart of whatever lies ahead. We have no choice but to follow.”
Regulus appeared at Howell’s side. “She’s right. Whatever dangers might lie ahead, we have to risk them if it might restore the Tear to us.”
Howell felt the fires, which had flowed through him ever since the apparition in the Shrine, enter his heart, steeling him. “Very well, let us proceed.”
They strode ahead cautiously, into the ever-encroaching darkness and whatever unknown peril might lie ahead, and the Darkling Morass took them. |
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