The Beginnings Omnibus: Beginnings 1, 2, 3 & Legend of Ashenclaw novella (Realm of Ashenclaw Beginnings Saga) (42 page)

Thaurion heard something again outside their prison door. He woke Alana and pointed, keeping his finger over her mouth to keep her from speaking.

“There is something at the door,” he whispered. “I hear voices.”

Alana slowly and quietly stood up and tiptoed to the door softly and listened.

She heard the voices, too. Thaurion joined her. He noticed that there was a peephole in the door. Suddenly it slid open and a pair of black, ferocious eyes, like that of a rabid beast, stared back at him. He heard a snarl or a growl of some kind that certainly was not human.

“I don’t think ye’ll be leavin’,” he heard a guttural voice say in the broken, ancient trade-speak known as Wothlondian. They understood the words as each family taught their children this common language used by their ancestors when trading various services or goods in the past. “So ye’ better get used to it in there. Some of ye still livin’, too…that’s good,” the voice continued.

“Three of us yet live!” Alana answered in defiance before she even realized she had said anything. Thaurion looked wide-eyed at her and she was just as surprised she had answered so honestly.

“Kelgarek and Grubb got plans for ye,” they heard again through the door, though from a distinctly different voice, still in the trade-speak, followed by some bestial snickers. “Try yer best to stay alive!”

The cover slid back in place and Alana and Thaurion looked at one another, each with a concerned stare that mirrored each other’s.

Hope seemed to be running out.

Elec sat in the well-made, oaken chair, admiring its craftsmanship before finally standing. It had been a long day and he was thankful for the brief respite he had been given before the meeting with the rest of the proposed group.

Garius and the High Council agreed that they would make for their destination by mid-day. Evidently all of the others were here and had stayed the night within the Hall in one of its many rooms reserved for out-of-town guests.

Elec was up much earlier than anyone else and had not even heard the second bells toll yet, which was just after midnight. He realized he had some free time and wanted to work on possible alterations to some of his elixirs.

He reached for a ring in his belt pouch and reflected momentarily, silently thanking his Uncle Faorath once more for this ancient gift. It glowed with a very bright light as if it were trying to penetrate the air, but was unable. Elec placed the ring on his finger and spoke an ancient elven phrase as the ring’s glow began to spread.

Suddenly, a glittering portal opened in front of him and he stepped inside, into a portion of the ethereal plane that his uncle had somehow tied to the ring, making it his own. He stood within a luminescent space that slowly began to settle, eventually becoming tangible.

Inside the space, he recognized the familiar shelves lining each wall. Upon the shelves were beakers and vials made of clear glass containing various colored liquids of all imaginable shades. More shelves contained various leaves and plant strains in various states of preservation. In the center of the space was a masterfully crafted alchemist’s table complete with burners and candles.

Elec pulled from a second belt pouch the leaves from the plants he had discovered earlier around the Dragon Fang Mountains. He retrieved those, along with a few more stalks and petals that he’d collected for this particular recipe, and arranged them on the table in front of him. He lit the candles and began to grind the ingredients down. The bells tolled twice, unbeknownst to him, as he continued conducting tests.

Garius strode into the council chamber after a good eve’s rest and took his place to the immediate left of Tiyarnon’s seat at the head of the table.

“You are here already,” Tiyarnon greeted his former student, who nodded an affirmation, and then took his seat.

“I have sent word for the women and Elec to meet us here immediately. The sun’s rays are shining bright and we need to set out onto the soon-to-be snowy path,” Garius said. “Have you arranged for our passage as we discussed?”

“Aye,” nodded Tiyarnon. “Or should I say that Nimaira has arranged for you.” The man adjusted his robes and stroked his gray beard. He began thinking about what was to come with the talks they would have to endure with Queen Lynessa of Norgeld. He had hoped that Ganthorpe was making some headway with it after missing all of this.

“What troubles you, old friend,” Garius asked, pulling the high priest from his concerns.

“I did not sleep well,” replied Tiyarnon honestly. “Sadreth’s memory is haunting my dreams.” Tiyarnon yawned and tried to shake the feeling of guilt from his face, but his eyes betrayed him.

“You cannot hide your troubles from me, old man,” said the Inquisitor. “I know you well—better than you know yourself, perhaps—and do not need divine help in reading your telling expressions. After all, was it not
I
who studied under
you
not so long ago?”

Tiyarnon smiled and nodded. “Yes, you did and you learned very quickly. It is no wonder the Inquisition sought you out. Nor is it a surprise that you advanced through their ranks so quickly to become a highly-ranking authority, and a Faceless Knight of the Order,” Tiyarnon added with an admiring nod of his head.

Garius smiled deeply, accepting the compliment. It was not something he did very often and Tiyarnon noted that the smile was refreshing to see on the man’s face, which was at best, sullen in nature.

“That is not all that concerns you,” Garius stated bluntly.

“I had a nightmare about the time that we faced the demon and that he…is not gone after all, as I was led to believe,” Tiyarnon revealed, bestowing a troubled look toward Garius.

“Of that we cannot be sure. Understand that we will find the phylactery—and your apprentices,” Garius assured his friend. “And we will bring them all back here safely to you. The Shimmering One and all of the gods will no doubt guide me,” he finished confidently and with a certain strength and conviction to his words that reassured the high priest.

Tiyarnon nodded his agreement, but couldn’t rid himself of the feeling of dread for his friend and what they hoped to accomplish on this mission. It was an assignment that seemed too much for such a small group, as he and his own companions had experienced firsthand.

He hoped that they had made the right personnel choices.
Only time will tell now
, Tiyarnon thought.

A knock sounded on Saeunn’s door. She had not slept much this night and was already awake and dressed.

A half-elf male with long blonde hair and eyes of blue stood before her. He was dressed as an official of both the High Council and The Oakhaven Watch.  

“I am Aeldur, you may remember,” the half-elf said flatly. She turned on him, almost ignoring him completely at first. “I was the one who interviewed you….”

 He looked her over, regarding her thoroughly, but this time, he sensed a softer side of her, despite her attempts to hide that aspect with an uncaring demeanor. She was so naturally beautiful, he admitted, but in a different way than most others of the female persuasion. He could not quite single out the quality.

“I recall,” Saeunn finally replied, continuing to gather her things.

“I hope you are not angry with me,” Aeldur remarked, again drawing no response as she tied her sash in place to keep the hair out of her face.

She did not react and so he prodded her a bit more.

“How does so little protection serve you?” Aeldur enquired as he gestured toward the remains of her unkempt armor, trying to understand her choices.

Saeunn, like most barbarian women, held to the traditions of her tribe. She wore a chainmail top, although it looked like a partial one at best and offered minimal protection, especially in its current state. It hung around her neck from a loose collar. The woven chains hung loosely over her breasts and offered her protection for her upper torso, but left her midsection exposed.

Her arms and hands were also bare, but were covered in tribal tattoos and a few pieces of strategically placed armbands—which provided her no obvious defense that he could see. Her lower half was sheltered by a loincloth made of mostly animal hides with intermingling leather straps dangling from its front and back, leaving her tight and heavily muscled legs exposed, too. She wore boots of leather that went up just past the middle of her shin.

“I have chosen to wear the very same armor that I fought in the day that my people were killed,” Saeunn informed him, measuring his gaze and conveying with a cold stare that this was not a topic she wanted to discuss. “I understand that to you it is partially worn and broken, seeming to offer little or no protection,” she explained, handling the loosely hanging chain shirt as she spoke, “especially to those that are used to wearing heavier armor. But I choose to be free. I need to move swiftly in combat and I do not want to be encumbered by heavy armors. So, it suits me.”

Aeldur nodded, not expecting to hear so thorough an answer. He was noticeably embarrassed for a moment, having not understood the emotional attachment that she had with the armor.

“If you are ready then follow me,” he directed in an acquiescent manner. Then, realizing his behavior was still rude, he turned to her again as she strapped on her greatsword.

“I hope you slept well,” he added with an honest smile.

“I did not,” she finally answered him.

She scooped up her pack, flung it over her shoulder and followed him, wide-eyed with anticipation.

A rapping sounded upon Rose’s door that morning. She barely shifted at the first series and after a long pause, the knock sounded once more.

A minute later, a sleepy-eyed and slightly bruised Rose Thorne slowly opened the door, annoyed at being disturbed.

Nimaira Silvershade stood in the threshold of her room and waited patiently, saying nothing at first.

Rose was slightly hung-over on top of feeling the lingering bruises from her recent fight.

She had brought a few flasks with her to celebrate with the others only to realize last eve that she was made to remain in her room alone. She had imbibed it all by herself, attempting to dull the pain of her injuries, but managing instead to get herself unnecessarily drunk.

“We must go now,” the woman instructed Rose, urging her to get moving faster.

“All right, all right,” Rose replied hurriedly, standing before a door-length mirror and removing her robe to reveal a lithe, athletic body that exhibited a few too many scars around the stomach and upper thighs. She began slowly fastening on her leathers, piece by piece, and strapping on her thigh-belted scabbards that stored
her enchanted daggers, one on each leg. She then affixed her cloak, boots and gloves.

“Is there anything to break my fast this morning?” Rose asked absently.

“I am not sure, but we can provide whatever you need,” Nimaira replied politely.

Quickly gazing into her room’s mirror once more, Rose straightened her hair and played with it, shifting it this way and that, seeing how the different hair styles might look on her.

She knew it was making them late to the meeting, but she wasn’t all that concerned. She was becoming more and more enthusiastic and excited about the thrills of the unknown. This made her feel as vibrant as she had in her youth, the same way that she had felt when she was merely surviving on the streets of Oakhaven.

She pulled a brush deliberately through her crimson locks and quickly drew some lines around her eyes with some kind of ink and wax combination she’d been using since her days with Marielle.

After a long wait, the half-elven mage, who was notably at the end of her patience, finally spoke.

“Please, dear, we must—”

“Hurry… I know,” Rose finished and gestured for the half-elf to lead the way. She tossed the brush and make-up kit into her pack, slung it over her shoulder and stared after Nimaira, who turned to walk away. She couldn’t help but take one more glance into the mirror. What stared back at her was a young woman who was suddenly eager to reestablish her long lost path in the world.

It was then that she recognized the excitement behind her eyes that had lain dormant for so long.

A loud knocking sounded from Elec’s door that seemed as if it were intended to batter it down.

“Get up, elf!” came the call. Elec heard something outside of his extra-planar workspace and blew out the burners he’d been using for the last few hours.