The Companions of Tartiël (42 page)

Of greater interest, however, was the vault that he had not previously noticed, hidden as it was behind a large filing cabinet. He had arrived for work one morning to find two clergy members struggling with the vault’s façade. Ducking into a nearby room, the halfling had escaped notice and marked the vault’s location for later perusal.

Until tonight, he had not had a chance to actually investigate after having caught a glimpse of the inside of the vault that day. It had contained what looked to be several tons of gold, as well as either silver or platinum, all in neatly stacked bars. No church needed that much hard currency for its daily expenses.

Tonight, however, most of the clergy had gone home, and those who had not had already been abed for the past three hours. The iron was hot.

Wild became little more than a restless shadow as he skulked the temple’s halls. Not a breath disturbed the grounds, not even Wild’s own, and he arrived at the accounting office less than two minutes after leaving his room. After listening at the door to ensure there was neither anyone inside nor nearby in the hallway, he pulled out a set of lock picks, stole inside, and locked the door behind him.

Despite his tiny stature, Wild had no trouble in moving the armoire out of the way by himself after sprinkling a thin layer of powdered graphite on the floor in the path of the furniture’s legs. With that out of the way, the halfling focused on the vault, which was protected by a sealed, circular door camouflaged as merely another section of the wall.

“Ha,” he muttered as he spun the combination dial on the heavy door, “these things were designed to be cracked by me. See? There it goes…” Hearing the click of the catch releasing, Wild heaved on the massive door, which swung silently open on its hinges.

Wild picked up his foot to step inside, but the wily halfling’s instincts told him at the very last moment that to continue into the vault might mean his end. While he found himself assaulted with a sudden curiosity as to exactly how his death would come, he knew that if he died, he would never have the chance to find out what was actually in the vault.

“Look, but do not touch,” he muttered to himself, “the bane of all halflings. How boring.”

The light inside the room itself had been supplied by that of the moon shining in through one window as it rose from the horizon; the vault, being windowless, was utterly dark. Retracting his foot from its precarious position a hair’s width above the floor Wild sensed was trapped, the halfling scampered over to the desk where he had sat all day for the past week and picked up the lamp there. He lit it with a deft strike of his flint against one of his new, magical daggers and brought the illumination to the gaping portal that led into the darkness of the vault beyond.

He had not been wrong in his estimate, Wild noted. The lamplight reflected back at him from hundreds of gold and—now that he could see them clearly, he knew what they were—platinum bars. If his calculations were correct, there were tens of thousands worth of precious metals right here. And there was likely more, he supposed, as his eyes roved to three large trunks stacked on top of each other. Each one would have been large enough to hold the halfling, with room left over to store a sizeable fortune of valuables.

A scowl crossed his features. “Look, but do not touch,” he grumbled again. “Oh, well. I’d best be going. Master Kaiyr and Caineye will want to hear about this discovery. Perhaps, Mr. Vault, you and I might have a discussion about exactly why a nature-oriented church has all these funds stashed away—and hidden from its bookkeeper’s records.”

Setting the lamp on the desk to brighten his work area while the moon rose and found its silver rays blocked by the living temple’s foliage, Wild pushed closed the vault’s foot-thick, steel-backed door. After giving the combination a few quick spins in both directions, he returned it to the value it had been on upon his arrival and dusted it with a rag. Then he pushed the armoire back into its original position, collected as much graphite as he could back into his pouch, and brushed the rest away to settle on the floor as nothing more than everyday dust.

“Well,” he murmured, blowing out the lamp and drawing the wick back down. “I suppose that’s that. Nice meeting you, Mr. Vault. I’m looking forward to my next visit.”

With that, he was out of the office and back into the temple’s hallways, again nothing but a whispering darkness.

*

“I must express my surprise,” Kaiyr said to Wild from across the dinner table the companions shared. Wild had returned to the inn not an hour before and suggested the whole group head out for a posh dinner. Serendipity had led them to the same restaurant where he had taken Solaria earlier that week.

The nymph now sat at the blademaster’s left elbow, enjoying her meal while she listened to the others talk. Wild and Caineye shared the side of the table opposite Kaiyr and Solaria, and Vinto loudly “wolfed” down a large, raw platter of steak on the floor—Caineye had not found Wild’s pun as amusing as the halfling himself had. The restaurant’s proprietor had initially balked at the idea of letting these guests rent a private room and bring such a large animal with them. But at the flash of a hefty sum of gold, he had quickly reversed his stance on the matter, and the companions enjoyed top-rate service all evening.

“I was concerned that you might have abandoned us, Master Wild,” Kaiyr continued. “I worried that our relationship had become too strained for either of us.”

Wild grinned and flipped an empty pork rib onto his plate, reaching for another. “Think nothing of it, Master Kaiyr. We were all having quite the terrible week, and even though I was possessed by that stupid ring, I said some words to you which were not fit for anyone’s ears.” He had already told the rest of the group his story about what Sayel’s green gem had done for his spirit and conscience earlier in the week. His continued absence, he claimed truthfully, was so he could thoroughly investigate the goings-on at the temple of Alduros Hol. By limiting his contact with his companions, he reduced the risk of them being discovered by the rest of the clergy.

Caineye sat in his chair, arms crossed. He had begun the meal in a cheery mood at seeing Wild again, but he had not touched his food after hearing the halfling rogue’s assessment of the situation at this temple. “So,” he said at last, “what’s our plan?” Dejectedly, he lifted a rib between his forefinger and thumb and nibbled on it.

Kaiyr exhaled through his nose and looked over at Solaria for a moment. Then, returning his gaze to his other companions, he said, “I, for one, shall visit Arvanos’s house tomorrow morning. I will tell Him of my decision regarding His offer. I also… have some words for Him which I omitted last time.”

“It’s okay, Master Kaiyr,” Wild said, munching happily on his next rib, “you can tell us you forgot something. We won’t hold it against you.” He threw the blademaster a wink.

Kaiyr nodded graciously. “I shall remember that, Master Wild.” Leaning forward, he folded his hands in his lap and straightened, looking at each of his companions in turn. The others listened closely, sensing the blademaster’s gravity. “What you have discovered deeply concerns me. It would appear that whatever forces are behind the desecration of Alduros Hol’s holy places have spread farther than any of us had imagined. These crimes cannot go unanswered, and I will do all in my power to stop them. Master Wild, I very much appreciate your work in that temple, and if I am not overstepping my bounds, I would like to ask you to continue monitoring their activities and sharing information with Master Caineye and myself. We will do what we can from the outside, and should the situation become dangerous, we will do everything in our power to extract you from that place.”

Wild facetiously waved away the blademaster’s words. “Nah, you don’t have to worry about me, Master Kaiyr. ‘Danger’ is my middle name, after all.”

Caineye, lightening, let out a chuckle. “I thought your middle name was ‘Trouble.’”

Throwing him a wink, Wild nodded. “That, too. It’s my second middle name.”

Solaria giggled, and next to her, Kaiyr nodded at the others. “Then it is settled. We may need to visit higher authorities, should the situation be more dangerous than we envision even now.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t go to them now?” Caineye asked.

“In truth, I would very much like to bring this to the attention of those in power,” Kaiyr said. “But I fear that our knowledge of this organization is still too incomplete for us to determine what the outcome of that may be. I believe we all remember what transpired when last we alerted those in power to the organization’s activities.” Wild grinned, and Caineye made a face. “Tomorrow, when I commune with Arvanos Sinterian, I will mention the current events and ascertain his position on the matter. Perhaps there is more to this than what we mortals can see and experience. The gods have their own agendas and troubles, as do we.”

Caineye nodded. “That’s entirely possible. While I do not exactly pray to Alduros Hol, I recognize him as the patron of nature. Yet… I have not heard His voice of late. It’s very disconcerting. If we were somewhere more connected to nature, I might be able to commune with the world and see what it knows, but since we are so deep into civilization, it’s impossible. Anyway, I’m bushed and about ready to head back. Thank you for treating us to this dinner, Master Kaiyr.”

The blademaster bowed his head. “Think nothing of it, Master Caineye. This meeting was necessary, as well as enjoyable. Let us meet again soon to discuss our individual findings.”

Everyone stood up, and after settling the impressive bill, they were on their way: Wild, back to the temple; and the others, to the inn.

*

It was not Altaïr, but Kolatev, who invoked the ritual required to put Kaiyr in contact with his deity. Altaïr was busy with other matters, and since this ritual was far simpler than the elaborate one the blademaster had previously requested, it could be given to a cleric of lower rank.

This morning, Kaiyr had come alone; Solaria had told him she did not feel comfortable coming along even though he had not invited her. He had simply felt that this communion should be a more private one, and so it was that Kaiyr found himself once more in the presence of Arvanos Sinterian. The deity entered the spiritual clearing from between two trees, flicking blood from Valthana’s blade before sheathing the longsword in its scabbard.

As He saw who now petitioned Him, a small smile played about the god’s features. “Young Blademaster Daioskaiyr Stellarovim. It brightens my day to see you took my advice and returned soon.”

Bowing low, the blademaster replied, “My god, You honor me with Your presence.”

Arvanos settled Himself on a log and looked Kaiyr in the eye. “You have come to me with your answer, Kaiyr. But there is something else, is there not?”

The blademaster’s expression softened. “I… yes, there is. I have committed acts during my travels that do not define the conduct of a blademaster. I recognize my failures and seek atonement. I am willing to accept whatever task or tasks You assign to me.”

Smiling, Arvanos motioned for him to continue. “And what transgressions do you believe you have committed, young blademaster?”

It was not lost on Kaiyr the fact that the god did not demand to know his sins, but to know in what way Kaiyr thought he had sinned. Nevertheless, the blademaster complied. “I have forgotten my humility,” he started, kneeling as he counted his offenses, “and in my hubris, I have lashed out with both tongue and blade—and the latter made of nothing less than my own soul. I have taken many lives, more lives than I can count. And, worst of all, it was my hand which killed many children, Your children, in Andorra.”

Arvanos Sinterian stood from where He perched on the fallen tree and strode over to Kaiyr, standing before the young elf. Kaiyr could not raise his gaze, so heavy was his shame. He could hear, however, the slight swish of air as the elven deity shook His head. “My child, rise and look at me.”

Kaiyr did not wish to test Arvanos’s patience, but he struggled to find the strength to move his legs, straighten his knees, back, and neck, and look up at the divine being before him.

“Now,” the god said, extending His arm, “manifest your soulblade. Show me your spirit.”

Kaiyr did as he was told, summoning his soulblade and manifesting it before him.

“See?” said Arvanos, running one finger along the sharp edge of the glassy blade. “Your spirit is yet clear. It is as simple as that. Do you remember when we last met like this, and I told you I would strike you dead if I deemed it necessary? I have not done so, and that should tell you all you need to know.”

“But—”

“It is enough that you have felt guilt,” Arvanos said, cutting off Kaiyr’s feeble protest. “It is enough that you feel that weight upon your soul, Blademaster Kaiyr. That is proof of your atonement. All I can ask of you is that you not forget that feeling, not until the end of your days on this world, and not even after you join me in the Everwood.”

“It is not enough for me,” Kaiyr said quietly, releasing his call to his spirit. His soulblade slowly faded rather than quickly vanishing. “I must earn my absolution.”

Arvanos shook His head again, chuckling. “Blademasters,” He muttered. Then, more directly, He said, “Then I shall ask of you a quest. I already know you have accepted my previous offer, and that I shall give to you, as well. So, I offer you two things and ask of you two in return: that you remain in Ik’durel and wait out the coming storm. This city will need you, and whether or not you can survive this storm may in some way determine the course of your entire world. The other task I have for you requires fewer words but is by no means simpler. Forgive yourself. You have learned as a blademaster to forgive others—once—but you have never learned to forgive yourself. Do so, and you will truly earn the title of your station, whether or not your mortal father has bestowed it upon you.

“In return, I offer forgiveness from my own heart, and I will do everything in my power to return to the mortal flesh the one whom you seek.” A frown crossed Arvanos’s features. “That, however, may be a difficult task, and I demand your patience. All is not well in the realms of the divine.”