Silver Cathedral Saga (15 page)
A Swan
Knight entered the Ready Room, alone, and saw the king.
“They have
changed direction, my lord. They are heading to Swansie now.”
“What?”
said the king in a loud burst. He rubbed his face to take some
tension out of what he just heard. “How long will it take them to
get there?”
“It could
take them as little as four days. We don’t think they ever knew
where the cathedral was. They were just roaming, seeing what they
could find. But it seems they have an agenda with Swansie.”
“Of course
they do. How thick can you get. They want to rid the world of us.
The cities are the best place for them to start.”
“Sorry, my
king,” said the Swan knight not knowing how else to respond.
“No—it is
me who should apologise. It seems the threat is taking over
me.”
“I don’t
blame you. These are tough times.”
“I don’t
think tough covers what this is Jeremiah. Give me an hour, then
meet me here. I have had enough of hiding now,” he said, looking
angry into the eyes of the man standing before him.
The Swan
knight nodded, then left the presence of the king, and then the
room.
In
Swansie, Ematay and the other three Spell-casters: Dak, Lauretta
and Adea, were still in search for the Gypsy known as the
Nightingale.
They had
asked around, but it seemed that one person would lead them in one
direction, and another in the opposite. The people at the council
were of little help after all.
Ematay
became frustrated and soon asked the other three Spell-casters to
split up and meet back in the centre of the city by the grand swan
fountain in an hour. They all checked their magick sundial watches
before separating.
The
Star-caster moved between the market place and public
attractions.
Twenty
minutes in he felt something happening, though wasn’t sure exactly
what it was.
He
continued to look around, ask then move on, hoping to find this
‘Nightingale’ person.
Eyes fell
upon him. He could feel somebody follow wherever he went and
quickly and slyly turned to see these spying eyes; when he looked
he noticed there was more than just one pair. There was two. A male
and female.
He made it
look like he didn’t see them, as he didn’t tilt his head directly
to facing their direction; his eyeballs quickly flicked to their
position, before going back to normal and looking around.
Ematay
wasn’t sure what this was all about, but he became weary from it
faster than he liked; and kept them in his mind as he
continued.
Though they
still continued to follow him as he kept growing farther and
farther from the centre of Swansie. They kept themselves behind
several lots of people, trying not to make it too obvious. But it
was too late for all that.
Ematay
quickly went down a narrow alley when a crowd of people blocked the
followers view of him. He used it to disappear down the path, and
wrestled with the people in the next main street when he ran onto
it.
These
unknown eyes felt as if they left him, for now.
There was
less people on this street, which he thought would work against
him, not being able to blend in as easy now. The rows of houses
separated most streets, like the one he walked down once more.
The
Star-caster was glad the two had gone for now, though he still
thought the male and female would be able to find him again. So he
had to work as fast as he could. He went the way he was meant to
before he noticed they were following him. Again. The dark skinned
Star-caster kept his eyes open, cautious. He came to the next
person the last one told him to see.
“Eve
Evans,” he said to the woman he knocked on the door of.
“Yes, who’s
asking?” replied the one in the doorway of a quaint home that was
thatched. She was fairly young. Not nearly thirty yet.
“I’m
Ematay. A Star-caster from the King’s Order.” He looked around, to
make sure these two spies were nowhere to be seen.
Her eyes
widened. “Can’t say I’ve seen a Star-caster yet. Elementalists and
Battle-casters, yeah. But not a Star-caster. What can I do for
you?”
“I was told
you might know where to find the Nightingale,” replied Ematay. “I
would not ask if it was not urgent. I am not even sure if urgent is
the right word. It is beyond that.”
She looked
around her house outside, then gestured her head to say ‘come in’.
She closed the door after as quick as possible. As soon as she did
she put a padlock on the door, which explains why it took some time
to open, and the tinkering sound he heard before the door moved to
see her face.
He followed
the woman to a small room at the back of her house. Then, she moved
a table which had a rug underneath, a grey one that was made of
fleece; she threw that aside, revealing a trap door with a little
hole a single finger would be able to poke through. Her finger
poked through as expected, and opened the horizontal door only a
single person could fit through at a time. She moved her hand to
the open door on the floor. Ematay went in, the woman following.
But she did not close the door. Ematay figured it would have been
pointless, as all of the objects were moved to draw attention to
the trapdoor if someone walked in that room; this place.
It was
quite dark. There was only several candles lighting underneath the
house. One of them was on a table as soon as they got down the very
steep seven steps.
“He’s here
to see the Nightingale,” said the female, picking up a candle
holder with a candle’s wick lit.
Another
female, soon enough, came to them. She was right up in Ematay’s
face. “And who’s asking?” she said in a nasty, bitter tone. When
the woman came into the light from the candle the younger woman was
holding, she appeared as a very old woman; someone that could
hardly walk and had very noticeable wrinkles.
“Someone
from the King’s Order,” replied the Star-caster, not feeling so
safe down here as he gazed around.
“And what
does the King want with the Nightingale now?” she said, just as
bitter, just as cold. Her voice was croaky, as if had been used to
sing for too long and never had a moments rest to ease itself. She
coughed, which also sounded tired straight after.
“We need
the Nightingale to locate a missing Stone Swan; one that was once
used to protect the Silver Cathedral.”
“A missing
Swan Stone. How odd. They were made invisible, so only those who
lived there and where trusted knew where they were in your
home.”
“We think
there is a traitor inside the Silver Cathedral. The King is keeping
a look out for anything strange, and has asked for help.”
“Has he not
sent for readers from Amaranth? People may be able to shield
themselves from normal Battle-caster mind reading powers. But
readers are specifically trained in this art, to seek the truth. In
however ugly a form it maybe. It is said, that a trained reader can
locate deceiving thoughts—for up to a mile. Pretty impressive
stuff, I would say.”
“Impressive, yes. But the response from our call for them was not.
The King called for them but got no readers when they said they
would be here. And he can’t get in contact with them anymore. Even
several Star-casters have disappeared and never returned.” He held
up the map for the Nightingale to see. To locate the stone.
The old
female, the Nightingale, pointed to the corner, where a candle
stood on a table with five chairs sitting around it. “I think we
should have a more lengthy chat,” she said whilst pointing to the
furniture. The Star-caster went to the chair and sat down, then
gave out a long, expected and worried deep exhale of breath.
The young
woman joined them but before she did she went upstairs. Soon to
bring down some meade to drink for all three. There was a lingering
silence, an the dread seemed to settle in even more when the young
woman was gone, with Ematay starring at the frightening face of the
Nightingale.
Ematay
cleared his throat, about to speak. But the old woman hummed,
blocking what he was about to say with a loud tone, but at the same
time an incredibly beautiful one, melodic. She carried on, and as
she did the young woman was entranced, the same as Ematay. The
worries of everyone in that room, listening, seemed to slip away.
Hearing this spine tingling voice, just focusing on the music it
created. The old woman held the map in her hand before she started
singing given from Ematay. The Nightingale started to sing actual
words after what seemed much longer than it was:
Missing stone
Alone in this world
Hear my song
Hear my plea
Show on the map
And glow with me
With my voice
With this plea
When
the old woman stopped singing these words, she continued humming
what she just sang. All three looked at the map, hoping something
helpful would happen and arrive.
A little
light, like from a candle in the dark basement, glowed on the map;
it was dim to begin with, and wasn’t easy to see. But it got a
little brighter, and it became clear where the Swan Stone was
now.
“This is
not good,” said the Nightingale.
“I thought
‘
Nightingale’ would just be a nickname for
you. It fits you. In every way. I didn’t know you would be able to
sing as beautiful as that.”
“Focus
Spell-caster. Flattery is always nice, but it will not help here.”
She continued after coughing again. “The signal is being blocked by
something.” She pointed to where it shone on the map. “This should
be much brighter. There is a magick hear trying to hide it.
Granted, not a fine one, but a magick nonetheless.” She paused to
look at the map for some moments, analysing it. “Hmm. Where the
stone is is not a place you will get to easily.” She pointed at the
map for him to look for himself.
He put his
hand over his mouth before whispering where it was: “It’s on top
the Mistless Mountains.”
“Look
again. Look deeper.”
He done as
she said. “It can’t be on the mountain, so it has to be within it.
Which is how we got back…” he just realised what he was just about
to say.
The old
woman frowned, waiting for his answer. “For a Spell-caster, you
don’t know Astora very well, do you?”
“Geography
and directions were never my thing.”
“Well, I
guess you would have heard of the ‘Heart of the Mountain’,
yes?”
“That goes
without saying. From ‘Legend of Creation’. The ‘Heart of the
Mountain’ was said to be the first part of Astora that was created,
and grew from there.”
“But do you
know what else is said to lay there…”
The young
woman left to get some more meade now. She thought the situation
needed it.
“The
Apostle Stone?” replied Ematay.
“The legend
tells us that the first follower’s spirit who died following what
is now called the Edeolon religion was put into a stone. All of his
magick stored inside. At the Heart of the Mountain. The very reason
mist or clogs do not lay on it is because this stone has a
permanent passive magick radiate from beneath the mountain.”
“If it
exists then why has nobody found it yet?” asked Ematay as the young
woman came back in.
“Oh, it has
been found by many,” screeched the Nightingale. “Only, they have
suffered a fate worse than death because of it. You see, some
things are not meant to be found. The Apostle Stone is thee very
magick that keeps the…” she stopped herself, like Ematay did when
he was just about to tell her about the travellers entrance to the
Silver Cathedral.
“What—it
keeps the what?” asked Ematay.
“If you
have not already been told, then you must not know. It is not my
position to tell you these things. Lets just say this stone is
vital to keeping the balance of justice.”
“But I have
came here to find the Stone Swan. Not the Apostle Stone. And that
is what I must do, at any cost. All of our lives are at stake.”
“Something
tells me this information will come in handy when the time
comes,
”
smiled the Nightingale, and in a
way as if she knew something Ematay did not.
A banging
emerged from upstairs; the front door. The young woman went up and
told them all to be quiet as she closed the horizontal door and put
the rug and table back, so nobody would be able to notice it
again.
She then
opened the door to see three other people she had never seen
before.
“We’re here
to see the Nightingale,” said the male in front. “Here on the
King’s orders.”
“Just give
me a minute or two,” said the woman grabbing her long dress from
trailing on the floor as she scurried after closing the door,
running back to the hidden cellar.
“Man; I
don’t know your name?” said the young woman as she burst in.
“My name is
Ematay.”
“Ematay,
there is three people at the door from the King’s orders also.”
“Oh, let
them in. They will be the rest of our party that is supposed to
find this Swan Stone.
“Okay,” she
said, running back to the front door, tapping the floor boards to
get to them. So she could let them in. Let them into the hole in
the ground.
They all
went down, cautious at first.
“Ah,
Ematay,” said the female Fire-caster. “Did you find the
Nightingale?”
Nobody
talked or answered.
Until the
old woman answered for him. “I’m the Nightingale.”
Ematay
and his group soon thanked them for the mead and help.
