Exodus: The Windwalker Archive: Book 3 (Legends of Agora) (4 page)

I have seen my death, but I have seen my rebirth as well. I have not told Gretzen what part I see her playing in my resurrection, for I fear that I have meddled enough with the fates. Best to leave it alone.

-Azzeal, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive

Talon’s mind buzzed with anticipation as the elven ship approached the dock. There was a large group of elves waiting there, some on horseback, others standing, their flowing robes and cloaks dancing in the easterly breeze.

Gretzen stood beside him quietly, as stoic and mysterious as ever. He watched her closely, though he tried not to show it; there was something about her, an energy, or an aura, that Talon could not place. She had a light in her eyes that he had never seen. It was as if decades of worry had been washed from her mind.

“Where is Azzeal?” Talon asked.

“We speak more after you have been greeted by the queen,” said Gretzen.

“The queen!” Talon blurted, then bent his head and leaned closer to her. “The queen?”

“Yes, queen and elders very interested in you. Not often foreigners allowed on these lands. You are first Skomm to do so. Mind your manners.”

Talon suddenly felt terribly underdressed. His brown trousers, white undershirt, and dark brown vest were clean enough, but compared to the elegant attire of the elves, he looked like a beggar.

His trepidation tripled when he spotted the queen standing with her guards at the end of the long dock. She wore a dress of brilliant silver, which sparkled and shimmered in the noonday sun like winter stars. Her crown radiated with a light of its own and wreathed her head in a glowing aura, only adding to her radiance.

The ship stopped beside the dock too soon, and before he knew it, he was following Gretzen to the ramp.
His old amma bowed before the elven queen, who looked upon her warmly.

“My grandson, Talon,” said Gretzen, stepping aside.

The queen extended her hand, and Talon hesitantly took it, not knowing if he was supposed to kiss it. She smiled kindly.

“Hello, Talon Windwalker. I have heard so much about you. I am Queen Araveal of Drindellia.”

“Hello, Queen Araveal. I am honored to meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual. Please, enter Elladrindellia as my guest.”

“Thank you, good queen,” said Talon with an awkward bow.

His amma offered him a nod of approval when he glanced her way, and together they followed the queen across the dock toward the waiting carriage. A long line of elves stood at attention on either side of the dock. They had neither visible armor nor weapons, but Talon sensed that these were potentially very dangerous creatures. He had seen miracles performed by Azzeal, and he couldn’t imagine what the elves could do if they turned such magic to violence. Glancing at them as he passed, Talon noticed how some of them eyed his ring.

He climbed into the carriage after the women and sat with Gretzen across from the queen. Soon the carriage began to move.

“You have come a long way from Volnoss,” said Araveal.

“Yes, around nearly the entire continent,” said Talon, fidgeting with Kyrr.

Araveal looked to the ring, and her gaze lingered long. When she met Talon’s eyes once more, there were many questions in her look.

“You must have many questions,” said Araveal.

Talon only nodded.

“Let me illuminate your mind. Ralliad Azzeal has surrendered himself to the elder council so that he might stand in judgement for his crimes. We have heard his arguments, and his account of his time in Volnoss. Now, the council would like to hear from you in the matter. Then they will determine whether or not Azzeal shall be punished, and whether or not you will be allowed to keep the ring of righteous power.”

Talon glanced down at the ring, realizing that he had been absently turning it in circles on his finger. The thought of losing the ring filled him with both anger and dread.

“May I ask what he has been accused of?” Talon asked, attempting to tread lightly.

“I should not speak of this with you at length, as I am on the Council of Elders. But I will say this: he has been accused of interfering with the lives of the barbarians of Volnoss, namely your life. He has meddled with your destiny, and acted against the will of the council.”

“Will he…is the punishment death?”

The queen was genuinely surprised. “No, of course not, my dear child. Azzeal will not be put to death for what he has done. You need not fear for his or your life. You are not our prisoner, and you are not to be punished. It is a mighty ring that you wield. Our only concern is whether you
should
wield it.”

“I understand, thank you,” said Talon.

The queen offered her pleasant smile once more, one that seemed to come to her easily.

The carriage stopped suddenly, and Talon realized that he had forgotten that they had been traveling at all. He glanced out the window, and his eyes went wide with delight. Through the circular cut of glass he saw an impossibly tall, smooth, and shimmering crystal pyramid. At its apex shone the brightest of lights, and Talon thought for a fleeting moment that they must have somehow captured the North Star. Down through the three sides of the crystal the light shone, creating an inner radiance, like lamplight against a window frosted by the cold of winter. Light blue it shone, but then before his eyes it pulsed and hummed slowly, changing hues and then color to become green and then yellow. He could only imagine what it must look like in the nighttime.

Queen Araveal exited the carriage, assisted by an elven soldier clad in silver armor, which was polished to a mirror’s sheen and reflected Talon’s face as he thought he must look just then; jaw hanging low, and eyes as big as wheat cakes. Talon followed Gretzen out, nearly slipping when he misjudged the one step, so lost in admiration for the grand city was he.

Stone walkways, wet by small, low rainclouds conjured by elf magic, wound through a city meticulously designed, yet wild and green in its own right. Smooth, clear rivers lazily meandered through the city. A roar of rushing water in the distance pronounced the final destination of the tributaries, and to Talon it sounded as though a thousand waterfalls were converging upon large, jutting stones worn smooth centuries ago.

“You are right,” the queen laughed. “That sound is the Thousand Falls.”

Talon smiled dreamily, but then recoiled and sobered, realizing that she had read his mind; or, as Azzeal had said, she
heard
his loud thoughts.

Speechless, he tried to quiet his mind and laughed despite himself. He was only at the doorstep of the magical city, and already he was enamored.

“This is where I leave you,” said the queen. “I am sure you and your
amma
have much catching up to do. She will show you to your quarters, and if it pleases you, I shall have you both join me for dinner when the sun is over the falls.”

“That would please me very much,” said Talon.

“Thank you, good queen,” said Gretzen with a bow.

Talon mimicked the gesture, mentally chastising himself for forgetting.

Araveal offered a smaller bow and blessed them once more with her joyous smile before returning to the carriage.

Talon watched it go. Strangely enough, he thought of Jahsin then, and Tyson as well. A pang of guilt quickened his heart as he pondered his luck, and his destiny.

You are the first Skomm in the elven lands, Talon. Don’t muck it up
, he told himself.

Knowing that grandson of Ragnar Spiritbone is liberator of Skomm fills my heart with hope, joy. My husband was good man. I see his spirit in boy’s eager eyes.

-Gretzen Spiritbone

Gretzen led Talon to a tall, thick, knotted tree with a door set at the middle of the wide trunk and circular windows that appeared to have been grown out of the thick bark. Curtains made of flower petals floated in and out of the open windows; with them they carried the smell of Amma’s gruel.

Talon laughed to himself—there was nothing more that he would rather have at that moment.

He and Gretzen retired into the old tree. He had with him only a satchel, which he tossed onto the bench carved into the entryway. After hanging his hooded cloak on one of the many pegs above the bench, he ventured deeper into the heart of the tree. To his surprise, a hearth burned low at the other end of the narrow room. To the right was the entrance to a wash room, along with a bed carved from the living wood. To the left, a cooking area looked out over the city beyond. The room was not grand by any means, but it was enough, and enough was all that Gretzen had ever cared to want.

He saw her touch everywhere, from the multitude of herbs hanging and drying above their heads, to the bones scattered and hung here and there about the room. A tapestry hung beside the bed closest to the wall, depicting the Timber Wolf Village at sundown—a testament to Gretzen’s enduring affection for her tribe.

“This is a nice place,” said Talon.

Gretzen pulled out a chair for him and tended the pot hanging above the fire. “Not my main stay, this is home when in city. Sun elves are generous. Though I feel curiosity motivates their hospitality.”

“I’d love to see your main hus,” said Talon.

“You will, soon enough. We see Azzeal then dine with queen.”

“Is he being kept in a prison?”

“Of sorts. Though he is own guard. His sense of duty is strong. I could speak no sense into him.”

Gretzen set out two wooden bowls and spooned steaming gruel into both of them. To Talon’s surprise, she brought the bowls to the wide counter, where she added honey, herbs, and a thick brown substance to the bowls and stirred them vigorously before serving.

When the steam met Talon’s nose, he smelled a different concoction than he was used to. He dipped his spoon and tasted it. Delighted, he laughed and had another spoonful, blowing it off within his mouth with a huff. “It is true!” he teased. “The elves are magic, for they have made your gruel delicious and hardy!”

Gretzen offered him a scowl. “Elf magic got your tongue. Eat and speak later.”

Talon grinned while he ate, noticing the smirk at the corner of her mouth.

She followed up the bowl of gruel with a light and tasty blackberry pie. Its crust flaked in such a way that Talon became suspicious, and when his eyes met his amma’s, she admitted that it was a gift from the elves.

“I’m learning though, mind you,” she added. “Elves have endless wonders. Their arts are many, and their expertise is all things it seems. For what can one master in a hundred lifetimes of no forgetting?”

At that moment, Gretzen seemed to Talon like a sixteen-spring lass, an age she had often mentioned to him. It was an age when, he imagined, she was free from care, thought that she had it all figured out, and was just realizing her adult body. It was in the spring that she came of age, a spring on Volnoss as had not been enjoyed in a quarter century. The Spring of Bounty, they had called it, and many songs were still sung in its memory. For the spring of Gretzen’s birth into adulthood brought with it many strong Vald children. The summer was long that year, and the fall merciful. The winter brought cold like every other, still, it was short, and the harvest lasted well into the next spring. Even then, fish were aplenty and the waters were warm. It was the summer that she met Ragnar Spiritbone.

Ragnar, son of Arlow Spiritbone, was a hunter of great renown. Known for barely having met the measure, he was yet a man of wide chest, with a reach once and again half that of most Vald, and a left hook known to leave many would-be challengers sprawled out in the dirt. Known for his forthright mouth and moral compass, Ragnar Spiritbone was respected by all. For he was a man of moral fortitude, and one who hinted more than once what a waste the Skomm village was. It was he, who in a rush of a drunken night of celebration declared that, “The Vald make a mistake in discarding those of weak appearance, for survival is the greatest show of strength, and what is it to survive while well equipped? Mere natural selection that be. But to survive in a harsh world when apparently weak, is it not the greater strength?”

Ragnar’s words were forgotten by none, and recited by few, still, they were known to all.

One summer night, a young and long-haired Gretzen had stumbled upon the Samnadr hall. The echo of a passionate man’s voice danced through the surrounding pines, and the closer she got, the more her heart fluttered and her spirit soared with the words.

The next spring, Talon’s mother was born.

Talon had heard the stories—usually after Gretzen had partaken in festivities that he would never see—and he had never forgotten a word.

“You seem very happy here,” said Talon.

“What is happy?” said Gretzen. “Roof over head, food aplenty, wind in face and smiling sun; these things make happy. Volnoss is a miserable place. Has many angry spirits. They make unhappy.”

“Do you speak with spirits here? Like…elf spirits?”

“Sometimes. They speak in strange tongue. Very old. Azzeal teaches me the words. Gives me books.”

“Do you think he’s in big trouble?”

Again she shrugged. “Worst they do is strip his power.”

“I never wanted something like this to happen.”

“Not your fault,” said Gretzen. “Azzeal make own decisions.”

“Do you think that the elves will take my ring?”

“Not if Gretzen has voice to speak about it. Summon Chief, I would see him again.”

Talon fished the trinket out of his pocket and summoned forth the spirit wolf. Chief swirled out and solidified before Gretzen. When he saw her, he leapt up and licked her face until she was chuckling.

“Good wolf,” she said, petting his coat. She stared intently at the wolf, as though she were reading something of his look. Finally, she glanced up at Talon. “Wolf say that he was stolen…twice.”

The pie became a lump in Talon’s throat, and he swallowed it down with effort. After washing it down with sparkling water, he regarded his amma, knowing that he could not hide his guilt.

Talon told her everything that had happened since he left Volnoss. When she learned that he had freed Tyson and the others, she nodded with approval. However, when he told her of their fates, she scowled and shook her head. Talon admitted to killing the slavers who had murdered Windy, Marcus, and Thorg, and to his surprise, Gretzen said nothing about it; she only listened more intently. When he spoke of the cave of dreams, she nodded knowingly. Then came Tyson’s death, Talon’s pursuit of the Sea Queen, and then his meeting with Captain McGillus.

After he was finished explaining how he had beaten McGillus and taken over the ship, Gretzen’s face was alight with pride.

“I tell you of your stars. You never believe me. Now you believe?”

Talon felt his face flush; it hadn’t been all him after all. “I do the best I can with what I’ve got,” he told her.

“Humble is good, but sometimes naïve. It is not stars that make you good man, they only speak of what you might do. You still have to do it.”

“I was just trying to find Akerri,” said Talon. “I didn’t know all this would happen.”

“This no mistake. This what you were born to do. This your calling.”

“And what about Akerri?”

“She is one of many.”

“I love her, Amma. What are you saying? To give up on the search?”

“Put no words in my mouth! I say only to remember your people. What if you find her? You think fight is over?”

“No,” said Talon. “I made a promise to Jahsin. But I’m still going to find her. She is my first priority right now.”

“Of course,” said Gretzen.

She got up from the table with more ease than Talon remembered. She seemed taller as well, and held herself higher than her hunched back had previously allowed.

“Come. Now we go see elf.”