Thornton
When Thornton walked into the temple, he was struck by how familiar it felt; its halls were vast and seemed to resonate with power. It reminded him of Annoch’s temple, where he’d first been told that Miera was the Shaper of Ages reborn, how her spirit passed down from mother to daughter in an endless, unbroken line of ascension. He wondered if there was similar power here, and thought of the hammer strapped to his back. He remembered watching it burn blue when it had come in contact with the Anvil of the Worldforge. So far, it appeared that nothing in this temple would cause it to do so, but the memory still made him tense. It was the last thing he had seen before the half-eye Dailus had torn it from him.
Only a few dozen men had been chosen to address the High Keeper of Ellenos. Endar had been the one to call them out by name, sending the rest of the legion home. Granted, those not chosen were happy to be able to break off and see their families again (and there would inevitably be a boom in the Ellenian population about nine months from now), but it was a great honor to be called into the presence of High Keeper Sh’thanna. Thornton wasn’t sure why; he had met Sh’thanna’s counterpart, Aldryd, in Annoch, and no one was lining up to see him. Thornton supposed he would just wait to see what all the fuss was about.
***
Walking slightly behind Endar, with his sister to his left and Kethras on the right, Thornton’s breath nearly caught in his throat when they came into the throne room that made up the temple where Sh’thanna was Keeper. The inside was absolutely gigantic. The sloping walls of the pyramid had huge moon-windows carved into the sides that allowed the glow from the night sky to stream in and bathe the throne room in light. Everything around them had a bluish hue to it, owed to the marble that made up the temple, and there was hardly a spot on the walls or floor that wasn’t covered with some ornate weaving or tapestry.
And sitting on the throne was a woman who was every bit as regal as her chamber.
Endar knelt before her and bowed his head. “High Keeper Sh’thanna,” he said. The metallic sound of moving armor filled the chamber as the rest of his men did the same, taking one knee and placing two fingers on their left shoulders in a salute. “It is an honor.”
Thornton looked at the High Keeper on her throne and realized that, if she was anywhere near Aldryd’s age, she looked marvelous. Small streaks of gray ran through her light blonde hair, which she wore pulled back in elegant braids. Her piercing blue-on-blue eyes seemed to be taking in everything in the room, and the look on her face told Thornton that she was aware of everything that happened in her sphere of influence. She held a long wooden staff in her right hand, the purpose of which Thornton couldn’t make out, but it looked ceremonial in nature. Plain and white, it was topped with a circle that had three metal rings: one at the top, middle, and bottom. And the purple and gold robe she wore was flowing and elegant, with wide sleeves that nearly touched the ground as she sat.
“Rise, Endar, son of Olis,” the Keeper replied from her throne. She extended a hand, palm upward, and gestured for them to stand. “You have certainly earned it,” she said with a smile. Her eyes went to Thornton and his companions. “Now, please, introduce your friends to me.”
The warmth of the words made Thornton relax a bit. She did remind him of Aldryd after all—kind and compassionate—and he hoped his intuition was right.
“Of course, High Keeper,” Endar said. He motioned for Kethras to step forward, and the tall Kienari bowed his head. “This is Kethras, of Kienar. He and his sister Ynara were crucial in turning the tide against the Khyth, and his ferocity in battle is like none I have ever seen.”
Sh’thanna looked him up and down with raised eyebrows. “I am honored, Son of the Forest,” she said with a dip of her head. “This is my first time meeting one of your kind, though I have heard stories about you since I was a girl.”
Kethras bowed deeply and gracefully. “I am humbled to be welcomed so warmly into a city of men,” he said. With a nearly unnoticeable glance around, he added, “And Athrani.”
The Keeper smiled. “The pleasure is ours. Judging by Endar’s description of how you aided my men, I am the one who should be thanking you.” She turned to Thornton. “And you must be the Highglader I’ve heard so much about.”
Thornton, unsure of what to do, dipped his head and placed his hand over his left shoulder in an awkward salute. “Yes, High Keeper,” he answered. “Uh, Thornton, son of Olson”—he coughed—“blacksmith of Highglade?” The end of his sentence curled up, making it sound like a question. He’d never been in front of someone where everyone acted as formally as they were now, but he was fairly sure he had done it right. He wasn’t exactly used to dealing with royalty, or whatever Sh’thanna was.
“Pleased to meet you, Thornton, son of Olson,” the Keeper said with a smile. “I gather that you are the one who wields the Hammer.”
Hushed whispers swirled around Thornton, who, feeling the weight of Hammer of the Worldforge on his back, slid it out from its holder and grasped it vertically just below the solid black head. Its intricate and ancient engravings on a handle carved from white ash intimated the power that it held and, likewise, the power of the one who held it. The throne room was as silent as a tomb as everyone in attendance suddenly had their attention snatched up by one of the very artifacts of creation.
The Keeper’s eyes went from Thornton to the Hammer and back to Thornton.
“How is it,” she began, breaking the spell of silence that the Hammer had woven, “that you came to wield it?” Her words were pointed, but genuinely inquisitive. “The stories say that no Khyth may use the Hammer.”
Thornton flinched, as he was still not used to being referred to as that—Khyth.
“I . . . do not know, Keeper Sh’thanna,” Thornton said with a shrug. “Maybe the stories are wrong.”
He slid his hammer back into its leather carrier and saw that his answer clearly did not satisfy the Keeper. “It belonged to my father,” he went on, “and he passed it to me when I was old enough to swing it. I never knew that I was, well, what I was until the Hammer was taken from me. That was when”—he looked to Yasha, who nodded reassuringly—“I found out I was Khyth.”
He took a breath, searching for the right words. “It’s hard to explain, but I think the Hammer chose me somehow, like it was a part of me that was missing.”
The High Keeper raised her eyebrows. “That, I can believe. The Hammer of the Worldforge is a powerful thing, and it would not surprise me in the least to know that it is capable of attaching itself to something or someone.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “Even a Khyth. But I must say,” she went on, “I never would have thought I’d have one standing before me in the Temple of the Shaper.” She seemed amused, a slight smile curling its way onto her lips as she leaned forward. “But I’m told by Aldryd that you are friends with Her.”
Thornton gave her a quizzical look. “You mean Miera?” Sh’thanna raised an eyebrow, but Thornton kept going. “I mean, uh, yes, Keeper. That’s right. I’ve known the Shaper since she was small.” He added a bow at the end, hoping it would smooth things over.
The Keeper looked over at Endar, smiled, then looked back to Thornton. “Please, tell me what she’s like.”
Thornton had to think about it for a moment and realized that, in all the time he’d spent trying not to think of Miera, he missed her. He’d been pushing away the thoughts of her after she had sealed the Otherworld so that he’d almost forgotten about the part of his heart where she lived.
“She’s kind,” he started, “and thoughtful, but not afraid to be stern. She’s definitely headstrong, and she’ll disagree with you if she hears you say it”—Kethras laughed at this—“but most of all, she’s selfless. She almost never thinks of herself. I think it’s what I like most about her.”
Sh’thanna closed her eyes as if she was concentrating very deeply on something. “Yes,” she said without opening her eyes. “That sounds like her.” She took a deep breath and looked at Thornton again. “Her mother would be pleased,” she said with a weak smile.
Thornton nodded, thinking nothing of the words. Sh’thanna, peering behind him, said, “And what do we have here?” She was looking at Yasha.
Endar spoke up: “Ah, this is—” But before he could finish, Yasha stepped forward and introduced herself.
“Elyasha, Khyth of the Breaking,” she said defiantly. “Of Khala Val’ur.” She took a knee in a genuflection so graceful that even Thornton was surprised. With a bowed head, she said, “At your service, Keeper.”
A murmur went through the halls of the temple as the Athrani guards on either side of Sh’thanna shifted uncomfortably. They each had a sword in hand, and Thornton was sure that they could handle themselves against any threat, but the fact that one girl made them nervous was enough for him to take a second look at his sister.
“Forgive me, Elyasha,” the Keeper began, “but it is highly unusual to have a Khyth of the Breaking this deep in the heart of Ellenos. In fact, it is the first time in my lifetime that it has ever happened.” She looked reassuringly to the guards, and silence once again filled the throne room. “But if you have the trust of my best commander,” she said with a glance toward Endar, “then you have mine as well.”
Yasha relaxed visibly, and so did Thornton.
“And,” the Keeper went on, “I understand it was you who brought the traitor Dailus to us. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Yasha said softly.
Thornton knew that she had disobeyed her master by taking the half-eye Dailus to Annoch. She had done so at great risk to herself: she could never return to her home of Khala Val’ur, and there was no guarantee that she would be welcomed by anyone outside of it.
“Dailus had just surrendered the Hammer of the Worldforge to D’kane when they turned on him and tried to have him killed,” Yasha said. “They ordered me to bury him, but I saw my chance to escape, and I took it.” She had no hint of emotion on her face as she locked eyes with the Keeper.
“And for that you have my thanks,” Sh’thanna said. “Now. Since you were a witness to the crime—as were you, Thornton—you will take part in the sentencing.” She tapped her staff on the floor twice, and its echo filled the room.
There was a bit of commotion over Thornton’s shoulder, and he turned around to see just what. Sentencing—what is she talking about? he wondered.
Right as the thought finished floating through his head, Thornton felt his anger rising as none other than Dailus, traitor to the Athrani, was marched into the chamber in chains.