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Nyori had fallen asleep in darkness, cold and alone in the great abandoned temple. She awoke to the same surroundings, but in place of decaying and crumbling stones, grand and lofty marble pillars gleamed as if just erected. Instead of the gloom of darkness, she basked in the light as though the sun visited within the walls and painted them burnished gold. The cracked and pitted flagstones that she had slept on transformed into intricately embossed glazed tiles.
Autumn leaves drifted across the floor, impossibly slow.
Her heart pounded as she slowly stood. Impossible as it seemed, she must have unconsciously Shifted to her Inner mind and returned to Everfell, to a time where the temple had never been abandoned by the Aelon hands that created it.
A flicker of movement caught her eye.
An enormous lion padded ghostlike past the pillars. It turned its massive head to gaze at Nyori with serene eyes. Nyori knew she should have been scared witless, but somehow she knew it would not harm her. The lion gave a small shake of its shaggy head. Sparkling motes lifted, golden stardust that hung in the air as the lion turned and went deeper into the temple. Nyori was sure it wanted her to follow as if it had spoken. It was an easy decision. She had been alone for hours, and even a silent animal was better company than the more of the same.
When she turned and entered the rounded chamber, she gasped aloud. It was not the intricate scrollwork that covered the walls, nor the complimentary stained-glass windows that blushed in multihued glimmers. A figure sat in a high-backed stonewood chair on a dais in the center of the room. Nyori immediately recognized the woman who sat at his feet.
Ayna.
A beam of light shone down upon them from an aperture in the high ceiling, creating a scene so fragile it seemed that it would dissipate at the slightest stirring of a breeze. The lion climbed the short steps and sat on the opposite side of Ayna. Woman and beast gazed at Nyori with identical eyes.
"Welcome, Nyori of Halladen." The man's voice carried the wind in its notes, and his irises were pits of undying flame. "It has been long since any have walked the halls of Asfrior."
She couldn't tell if he was young or old. His soft blue and gold tunic was simple, which only served to contrast his splendor. His shoulder-length hair gleamed in thinly-braided cords, his face was gentle yet strong, and his gleaming skin was the color of the night sky if every star winked out of existence. She did not have to ask if he was an Aelon. She could not if she had tried; her mouth was a dusty, abandoned well. She respectfully knelt with downcast eyes to cover her muteness, fully expecting the flagstones to shatter from the reverberations of her wildly beating heart.
The Aelon spoke gently. "Do not be afraid. I have drawn you away from your sleeping form, and you will return to it unharmed. My name has not been spoken in many ages, but men have called me Riodran in times past, so it suits me to keep that name now. My friend here," he indicated the lion, "is Kusagra. Among the Aelon, I am a called a voroar–a warden. My wards include the Sha, among others. Few and gifted are those who make their way here. You are not yet ready, but yours is a special case, my young Shama."
"Why?" She did not mean to speak, but the words poured out her throat before she could help it. "Naresh and Takoda died because they tried to protect me. If I hadn't gone into Everfell, this never would have happened." Her voice was thick from the thoughts of her fallen protectors; her eyes blurred with tears. "If this was a test, my failure cost them their lives."
Ayna's eyes glimmered with sympathy. "Nyori. You must not blame yourself for what happened to my brother or Takoda. It was not your fault."
"It was ours." Riodran's voice tolled like a bell of mourning. "When we left your world, it was necessary to remove as many traces of our presence as possible, reducing our influence to only legend and fable in your memories. Much of your past was lost because of that act. Perhaps that was an even greater crime than exposing you to our presence."
His gaze smoldered with melancholy embers. "We left the Eye for the few with the talent and desire to discover the truth and learn from the mistakes we made." His head lowered, the chamber filled with his sigh. "Yet we did not foresee that the Eye could be used against you. Someone manipulated its energies to transfer you physically into Everfell. The Geods were hidden from your world for a reason. It was not our will that you reclaimed Eymunder."
"Someone? If it was not you, then—?"
"The identity of the individual remains to be discovered." Riodran stood. A thin line creased the center of his forehead, the only evidence of his consternation. "I have my suspicions, but until they are made evident, I cannot share them just yet." His fiery gaze swept the hall before settling on her. "The only secret is the one unspoken. There are eyes and ears everywhere."
She shivered from the fear that rippled through her. "There is no safety anywhere, is there?"
Emotion abandoned his voice when he answered. "No. No longer. Your world is shrouded now; a curtain of shadow cloaks its future. We can only offer counsel, for our return is forbidden, even in the face of this threat. The security of a human world lies in human hands, no matter how we may wish otherwise."
Nyori wanted to protest, but it was all she could do to stand before Riodran and not tremble. The stories could not describe the feeling of inadequacy—a speck of sand placed beside a glittering diamond. But he loved her anyway. She could tell when he smiled. "And now, Nyori Sharlin of the Nutanbi clan, what can I do for you?"
"Tell me what I need to do." She wet her lips nervously. "Please. I am alone here, and the akhkharu wait for me outside the doors."
"Have no fear, Nyori. Asfrior has more safeguards than Banestone, and those that hunt you will have turned away by now if they still live."
"You will have to make your way back to the Steppes," Ayna said. "I have friends that are searching for you even as we speak. If they don't find you first, you must make your way to the closest clan of Mandru. Any will aid a Sha in need. I know it will be difficult, but you can do it, Nyori. Remember that we trained you in more than just academics. You know how to live off the land and survive until help arrives. Trust your instincts; you will be fine."
Riodran sat on the steps in between Kusagra and Ayna, who appeared diminutive next to the tall, willowy Aelon. He raised his eyes to Nyori. "You have other questions, I know. Make them swift, for you cannot remain long."
"Is this Everfell?"
"Yes."
Nyori frowned in confusion. "I thought that Leilavin was in control here."
Riodran's face seemed amused. "Can one control the ocean or command the stars in the sky? Leilavin styles herself a master of Everfell, but she only controls her Threshold in truth. Everfell itself is as vast as every dream of every being in every world.
"Once, we traversed it freely, but we had to abandon it when we departed from Irth. Leilavin reconstructed her Threshold so no one could enter without her knowledge. Physical access to Everfell has been barred for ages, and it was only through a cunningly placed loophole that you could enter."
Something in his voice fed her, ridding her of her doubts. "So is Everfell where your people reside then?"
"Again, no. This is not Nolavani, where my people dwell. There are several places of convergence in Everfell where mentors can communicate with their charges. Ayna assisted me in drawing you here, but in time you may be able to focus the Discipline yourself."
Nyori wet her lips. She finally arrived at the question she was afraid to ask. "Sura Ayna said that the Pale Lord wanted Eymunder more than anything. Enough to kill for it. Why?"
Riodran eyed the container at her waist as though the thick leather was no bar for him to see it. "Eymunder is an elemental fusorb that harnesses Eler, the living energy. It can amplify the talents of one trained in Apokrypy and is useful for the arts of healing and amplifying physical gifts. Alaric believes that Eymunder is the only thing that can cure him and his people of their curse to feed on humans to live."
Nyori shivered. "Can it?"
The light dimmed as Riodran frowned in thought. "I cannot say. Much remains in shadow at the moment, as though a game is being played outside of immediate events." His eyes shimmered as he looked beyond. "I fear that Stygan manipulates events somehow."
Nyori gasped. The chamber span about in dizzy circles, and she would have fallen had not Ayna caught her. Nyori leaned against her mentor as though her bones were feathers.
"She has been here too long." Anya's voice was muffled as though she spoke from a distance. Nyori clung to her for fear she would float away like chaff in the wind.
A bright presence she knew to be Riodran approached, and she felt his hand upon her brow. Heat rippled through her, soothing as the sun upon rose petals. "I am sending you back now, dear Nyori, for you were unprepared for this journey. I am sorry for that. But not all is lost, for you have Eymunder to protect you, and I have unlocked it so that you can access its secrets.
"Know this: Stygan is imprisoned, but he can touch this world through his Acolytes—fingers of his hand who serve him devotedly. You have already met one of them: Leilavin. She no longer serves him, but that makes her all the more dangerous. The last time she emerged from Everfell, she created the Reavers to burn the world of the akhkharu, for they rebelled against her authority and overthrew her station of power. Now they stir anew, and thunder sounds on the wind as the Night Mare approaches. The Reaver stands at the center of the maelstrom. And now, my dear one, so do you."
~*~
"AND NOW, MY DEAR ONE, so do you..."
Nyori's eyes opened to glowing specks of light. For a moment, she was unsure if she was awake or dreaming. She remembered the tiny Glyphs and realized she was back in the ruins of Asfrior. At once, she felt the stifling sensation of isolation and the sorrowful remembrance of Naresh and Takoda.
A humming noise from Eymunder interrupted her grief. She rose, flexing muscles tender from sleeping on the shattered floor. The shadows of the ancient pillars nearly swallowed her as she examined the glassy wand closer.
She almost dropped the rod when it abruptly vibrated and effused with pale, bluish light. It waned and stretched, growing in length until it morphed into a staff as tall as she. The golden orb glowed, shoving shadows across the colossal chamber.
"The staff of Eymunder is yours to wield, Nyori Sharlin. But you have little time to learn its uses." The orb pulsed with every spoken word, echoing among the pillars in the massive chamber.
"How is it that you can speak?"
The orb flickered, animating the surrounding shadows. "The sphere of amber that tops the staff is a well of preservation that Riodran has unlocked. I have stored information inside that will aid you in understanding the use of Eymunder."
Nyori brought the staff closer, bathing her face in the golden light. "Who are you?"
"Who I was is the more pertinent question. I was Teranse, called the Reader, although Theurgist would be a more accurate description since Theurgy is the study of Apokrypy. As one of the Five Sages, I was the last wielder of Eymunder. I infused Eymunder with basic knowledge of Apokrypy, the language of power. It is yours to serve as a foundation for your time as Eymunder's bearer."
"I don't understand—"
The light rippled. "You will, Nyori. Open your Inner mind."
Nyori hesitated for only a moment before Shifting. The orb atop of Eymunder flashed, and shadows scattered as the cavern flooded with light. Her vision danced in hues of violet and blue as serpentine strands sprang from the orb, glimmering golden mesh that slowly settled upon her. She felt the threads burrow into her skull, electric gossamer that laced across her mind. The web-like strands tightened as they sank in. She clutched her head in anticipation of pain, but there was only warmth, a swell of heat that tingled from head to toe.
Thoughts. Feelings. Memories. They flickered through her mind like rapid blinks of the eye. The life of Teranse the Theurgist whirred by; a windstorm of images impossible to take in as they settled into her subconscious. Impossible glass and steel buildings shimmered, and strange metallic constructions shot across the sky. A malevolent man's mouth opened into a doorway, and creatures of light emerged with baleful eyes. A dark-haired girl younger than Nyori rode a serpentine creature with a mane more magnificent than a lion. A powerfully built youth raised the very sword that Nyori saw in the Pale Lord's hands. A book filled her vision, fluttering pages filled with Glyphs that effused with golden light. Instead of unrecognizable runes, they distorted and became ordinary letters to her eyes.
Lastly, a mirror materialized in front of her. A slender, brown-skinned man wearing richly-cut gray robes looked at her from the other side with a wry smile on his face. In one hand, he held the staff Eymunder. He reached out the other hand as though in invitation.
Nyori took it.
"Hello, Shama Nyori of Halladen. As you might have guessed, I am Teranse. Or what remains of me, I suppose." The mirror had vanished. It was just Teranse and herself, hovering amidst an ocean of dancing blue shimmers.
"Hello," she said.
"You now have access to whatever memories I managed to cram into Eymunder's well. I suppose it will be a bit confusing sometimes, but it was the best way we could think of to make the passing of the Geods easier for a new wielder."
Nyori gazed at the legendary Sage. His face was surprisingly youthful. His brown eyes sparkled with intelligence, but she could have passed him anywhere without mention. She tried to find any similarities, anything to confirm he was an ancestor of hers, but it was too difficult. He could have been anyone.
"You look so ... normal. And the way that you speak—"
His wry smile returned. "Being a Sage requires nothing special, Nyori. I inherited the position by birthright, but more than mere birth is required to become the type of guide that this world needs. The Geods were crafted for the Elious to aid them in governing mankind. Eymunder is yours now, and you must learn to use it wisely if you would unlock its full potential."
"I was told that the Tome of Apokrypy would help me understand the use of Eymunder," Nyori said. "That is why I sought this place."
Teranse's smile faded. "The Tome is no longer here, Nyori. I'm afraid that someone arrived here before you did. Long before you did. The Tome was removed centuries ago."
Nyori's heart quickened. "The Pale Lord. Alaric."
Teranse's outline shimmered as though he stood in a tunnel of pure light. "I don't know who it was, although your assumption has merit. I met Alaric before his descent into darkness. He was a noble man whose honor was matched only by his ambition. The significant point is that your use of Eymunder will be extremely limited without the Tome."
"What do I do, then?" Nyori asked. "I can't get it back if Alaric has taken it."
The light had enveloped Teranse; his features faded before her eyes. "I don't know the solution to that problem, Nyori. After all, I am only the visual remnants of my memories. You will have to find out on your own. Let Eymunder guide you, and you might find a way."
Teranse vanished in the blinding luminance. Just as quickly, the light dissipated, and the orb returned to its soft golden glow. The visions vanished, Asfrior returned to a tomb.
Nyori shifted back to her Outer mind.
She inhaled sharply and groaned, massaging her temples. Her head throbbed with an agonizing rhythm. She was alone again, but fear did not touch her as before. Eymunder stood beside her as if planted into the ground, still effusing its soft glow.
She hefted it easily. It was as light as the bamboo poles they used for fishing back home, but she knew it was stronger than the strongest steel. She was aware of other things as well. She recognized the paths of Asfrior as surely as Teranse the Theurgist did. The ghosts of memory guided her through the darkness to a carefully concealed doorway. The outline glimmered the same color of the staff, visible only in its rays. There were no handles or any other way to open them.
Nyori focused. It was very similar to the concentration required to Shift minds, but instead of directing her attention inward, she fixated solely on the door. The patterned Glyphs on her arms and hands glowed, illuminating the darkness of the cavern. She pointed Eymunder at the doorway. The orb pulsed, and a Glyph materialized in the center of the door. The sequence was important: the Glyph had to be formed correctly as the word had to be pronounced, or nothing would occur. Nyori spoke the word of command that sprang into her mind as though a part of her memory.
"Petah."
The door rumbled open, exposing a tunnel that glowed in the distance with the promise of daylight. She strode forward, feeling almost as she did only weeks earlier when she entered the tunnel that led to the Pools and inadvertently to Everfell. As then, it was a moment of passage from which she would emerge a different person.
After a short time, she squinted from the sun's welcoming light. As soon as the stone door slid close behind her, the pounding in her head faded like a dream. When the door sealed, it looked no different from any other part of the mountain. The forbidding peaks of the Dragonspine towered around her, cloaked in mists and low-hanging clouds. The darkened mountains reminded her of the ordeal that had brought her there in the first place. The gloomy halls of Asfrior seemed hospitable in comparison.
No task can be completed by desire alone.
She swallowed hard as the memory of her last moments with Takoda and Naresh resurfaced. But she forced the thoughts away, concentrating on the moment. She was alone in the most dangerous region known, with no food or water. Eymunder could not conjure up her means of survival, nor magically transport her home. But she knew that there were passages through the mountains, and perhaps travelers or refugees from the war would be there. She drank as much as she could and started forward.
The rest of the day was spent braving the Dragonspine. There was a dark majesty to the forbidding jagged peaks that thrust upward like broken daggers. The wind carried strange clouds, swirling masses of yellow-white cotton that danced with flickering lights. Wild goats and bighorn sheep leaped fearlessly across the precipices.
Later, while almost blinded by fog, Eymunder vibrated hard enough to jolt her arms. Nyori watched in fear and awe as a hulking, cloud-colored beast shook the ground as it passed by mere paces from where she hid behind a moss-covered boulder. She knew of apes from her studies, and the creature bore a slight resemblance. But it was five times the size of any ape Nyori knew about. Its fur was thicker, almost like sheep wool. It rose on its small hind legs and sniffed the air searching for something.
Nyori froze in her hiding place, praying that she avoided detection. The creature made a low, rumbling sound from deep in its chest, and the sound was answered a short distance away by something hidden from view. When Nyori found the nerve to sneak a look, it was almost lost in the mists, following a more indistinct shape that appeared to be another creature of its kind. She waited until their sounds faded before resuming her journey.
Aside from the one encounter, her travel was mostly undisturbed. When she hungered, her training led her to edible roots and berries, and mountain streams quenched her thirst. She lost herself in dark thoughts, feeling that her isolation was a fitting recompense for her failure to keep Naresh and Takoda alive. She missed the presence of Ayna and even Riodran, despite having known him only for moments.
Hours waned before she found a shallow cavern where she could rest for the night. Yet sleep eluded her. The night was full of foreign sounds: the shriek of an owl that sounded eerily human, strange creaking, the mournful groans of the bitter wind. She considered her pitiable state and sighed, feeling her solitude more acutely than ever. Even with Eymunder's help, I'll wander out here until I freeze or end up eaten by some beast. Shama's burden. She wondered if it ever got any lighter.
She didn't even realize her eyes closed, but she awoke shivering in the grainy dawn to the sound of voices. She gave a start and snatched up Eymunder. Steeling herself, she peeked from behind the alcove.
It was almost a relief that they were not the white-garbed phantoms that had pursued her earlier. Then she realized that her situation was still as bad or worse. The two men had to be Bruallians, Gutoths by their look. Gutoth barbarian tribes were known for their ruthless raids across the border and their particularly vicious nature. They dusted their skin with blue mud and tattooed their faces to distort their features in terrifying ways. They were notorious for adorning themselves with the scalps, ears, and other parts of their slain victims.
The stories played in Nyori's mind as she watched them fearfully from her vantage point. Mismatched furs and scraps of leather gave them a bestial appearance as they stalked in her direction. Jagged daggers dangled from their belts, and they hefted thick spears with short hafts and barbed spearheads. Tall and sinewy, the Gutoths had wild manes of dark hair entwined with beads and bone. One had a shaggy beard that hid most of his tattooed face. He spoke in a coarse voice in a language Nyori did not know.
She clutched Eymunder tightly as she trembled. She felt like screaming, half-mad from the thoughts of what would happen if the Gutoths found her. She looked at the staff, but it remained mockingly pale and silent. Teranse, please. Tell me how to get out of this. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face as the Gutoths drew nearer.
Shadows blocked the moonlight. Tall, menacing silhouettes chuckled darkly.
One spoke in the same harsh voice, but in Jenera so that she could understand. "What's this? A Steppes wench, from the look." She flinched when he seized a handful of her hair and sniffed it, chuckling at her expression. "You're good and lost, aren't you, little sparrow? You some trader's spawn? Folks get robbed on the road? Not to worry; we'll take good care of you."
He stabbed his spear into the earth and knelt, bringing his tattooed face close. It was even more hideous than she imagined. His foul breath smothered her nostrils as he grinned, exposing broken and yellowed teeth. "You're an ugly thing, you are. But Rohn and I will make you pretty enough, eh Rohn?"
The other Gutoth laughed. "Aye, pretty as a roasted goat. That's a lovely staff you got there, girl. Where did you steal it?"
Nyori clutched Eymunder to her chest. "It's mine. You cannot have it."
Rohn looked at his companion and laughed again. "You hear her, Charak? This one has spirit; she does. I like a wench with spirit. Like a horse, only the ride is better."
Charak chuckled. His hungry eyes had never left off staring at Nyori. "She don't know better, Rohn. But she can be taught." He gripped her face under her chin, calloused fingers digging into her skin painfully. "So many ways I can teach her..."
The Glyphs on Nyori's arms pulsed as she thrust Eymunder forward. Certain actions were infused into the staff; one only had to know the command to activate them. And with the Theurgist's knowledge entwined with her own, it was simple to do so.
"Sumu nara."
The orb flashed brighter than daylight, but somehow she was not blinded; her eyes beheld the surrounding terrain clearly. The barbarians fared far worse. They howled and clutched their faces, stumbling awkwardly. Charak tripped and fell to the earth, clawing at the dirt in panic.
"The witch has blinded me! I ... I can't see nothing!"
Charak roared as he waved his long arms about uselessly. "You'll pay for this, girl. You hear me? I'll skin you alive!"
Stepping clear of their sightlessly grasping limbs, Nyori hefted Eymunder and ran, followed by their howling screams and curses.