Song Of The Aura: Grym Prophet Part 7

"I'll be fetchin' the innkeeper, now, if it pleases you, Miss," Leafly stammered, clopping off conspicuously on his over-large hooves.

"Wella Lauro what?" the Wind Strider asked, still smiling benignly, but with a cold glint in his eye. It suddenly occurred to Elia just how volatile her situation was. Making the prince angry could well get her thrown out, jeopardizing all the progress she and Gribly had made so far. Gribly- Seas, I hope he's all righta "Well, what are you doing here?" she took a deep breath and did something she had rarely done before: lie. "I had no idea you were here."

"No? Well, the answer's easy enough. I came here searching for the Aura, just as you did."

"And have you found him?" She couldn't quite keep the excitement out of her voice.

Lauro looked at her sharply, obviously wondering how much she could be trusted. Finally he shrugged.

"No. The innkeeper here knows something, I'm sure of it, but he won't tell me anything or even get near to me if he can help it. A strange fellow, and I don't trust him."

"Oh." Only now Elia fully realized two things: that the common room had finally got back to normal around her, and that the commotion no longer bothered her as much as it had, now that she had something serious to focus on. With that encouragement, she went on. "When did you get here? I have to admit, we- I- was worried when there was no sign of youra s.h.i.+pa near any of the cliffs."

"The Chariot sunk," Lauro began, continuing to give her an appraising stare. He opened his mouth to continue before realizing something and snapping it shut again. His eyes narrowed. "You just said we. Who else is here with you? Gribly? That Frost Strider? Another Reethe?"

Blast.

"Ia I came with Gribly. We wanted to find you," she told the prince, and her voice took on as pleading a tone as she could give it without seeming false. "We didn't want you to die trying to do this quest alone."

All throughout their conversation the two had been drifting closer to the edge of the room. Now, suddenly and uncomfortably, Elia found her back up against the wall, Lauro in front and to the side of her. To her right was a table, preventing her from walking away. She was forced to look him straight in the face as he frowned slowly and deeply.

"I told youa" he said, the hint of a growl in his voice.

"But didn't you just say you were glad to see me?"

He blinked, and for a second Elia thought he was going to step away. Instead, his cold smile returned. "I am glad to see you. You haven't left my thoughts this whole time we've been separated. I have no memories of you other than joyous onesa It's Gribly who makes me angry. It's him I don't want around."

Oh no, Elia thought, he's talking like he loves mea this is worse than I thought. He's getting strangera angrier. Aloud, she stammered, "Wh-why? I haven't been any better to you than he hasa and he hasn't done anything to anger you. Why did you run away?" Lauro edged a little closer, and she tried to keep the distance between them.

"I'd tell you, if I was sure you wouldn't go right back and blurt it all to him." Lauro sounded genuinely hurt, genuinely concerned for her, but Elia ignored the tone. He was manipulating her, that was all. "I could help you," the Wind Strider continued. "I've got a room here, and suppliesa if you joined me, we could continue the quest and let Gribly fend for himself."

"What?!" she exclaimed, anger replacing her fear, "What's come over you? Don't you remember all he's done for you? All we've done for each other? It's supposed to be the three of us doing this, Lauro! How could you forget so fast?"

The prince became quietly menacing in an instant, leaning on the wall so that he was less than an inch from her face, his smile replaced with a sneer.

"You have no idea what my life has been like," he whispered, but his voice was painfully loud so close to her ear, and she winced. "I'll tell you the story," he continued, "So that you're satisfied, and we can get on to the real problem."

"Noa" she said in a shaky voice, but he kept going and there was no way to stop him. Her body seemed frozen in place with fear, her tongue thick and speechless in her mouth. She s.h.i.+vered from the prince's breath on her neck.

"I have to do this alone," Lauro hissed, "Because unless I do, my fathera the blasted King of all Vastiona will never, ever take me back. You and everyone else call me Princea it isn't true. I am no princea not anymore. Larion Vale stripped that t.i.tle from me when he exiled me in the desert north of his realm. Yes, Blast Desert, where I met Gribly. I know you've heard him talk of the royal order I carried. What even he doesn't know, though- what no one knows, is that I forged that letter."

"Whya?" she tried to say, but it came out almost inaudibly. "Why?" she tried again, stronger, and "Why did you- why were youa"

"You don't need to know," he cut her off, breathing heavily with emotion. "Except this: I will learn what I need from the Aura. I will find out how to save the kingdoma I will save it by myselfa and then my father will respect me. He'll have to! He'lla"

The prince's voice died off abruptly as a wrinkled hand the size of a dinner platter took his shoulder and spun him around. Elia breathed a sigh of relief. It was Swaying Willow, the innkeeper.

"This is a night for idiocy like I have not encountered in many a year," drawled the huge man, frowning his dried, crinkly face until it resembled the knotted bark of a tree. His stringy gray hair flailed about as he shook his head and spoke. "It is a rule here, as I must constantly repeat tonight, young Wind Strider, that no violence of any kind is permitted in this place of rest. That includes, as any and every honorable man should know, violence that is threatened. Threatening expressionsa motionsa wordsa"

The tree-like face and deep yellow eyes turned deliberately to take in Elia where she stood stone-still against the wall. She couldn't meet that gaze, not even if she had wanted to, so she looked away into the rest of the room. She thought someone should have noticed the enormous innkeeper preparing to expel another patron, but it seemed no one did. The attendees of the inn went on with their drinking, eating and merrymaking, never pausing even for a moment to glance at the scene in the corner. Soon the innkeeper was speaking to Lauro again.

"You have threatened this young woman's safety and honor, in however subtle a way," Swaying Willow p.r.o.nounced solemnly, "And for that you must forfeit the time of peace you should have gained here." Elia couldn't see Lauro's face, but his back was rigid and his ears were red. With a shock she realized that he was deathly afraid. His right hand clenched and unclenched nervously, white at the knuckles. She gulped, wondering what would happen next.

What happened was simple: the innkeeper threw Lauro out, just as he had done to Gribly and the Pit Strider, Gramling. She vaguely saw the willowy man standing in the door, waiting for the disgraced young Strider to scamper off before returning to her.

"Now," the innkeeper began, but before he could say any more darkness rushed up on Elia and she felt herself falling forward in a faint, the exertions of the past few days finally catching up to her in spite of the short rest and food.

Arms caught her: steady, soft arms that could belong to none other than the innkeeper. A deep voice, like Swaying Willow's but richer, more soothing, seemed to come from all around her in the void, urging her to drift away and regain her strength; to rest, and grow healthy; to sleep without dreaming.

And she did.

Chapter Ten: Comings and Meetings.

Elia found herself in a forest of emerald and brown, bathed in the lingering twilight that belonged to neither night nor day.

Putting out her hand, she touched the trunk of the tree nearest to her. The bark felt smooth, twisting in wrinkled patterns under her hand, swaying and s.h.i.+fting in the breeze. She closed her eyes and inhaled the delicious, enlivening air of the forest around her, imagining for a moment that the noises of the tree were its breathing, in and out, in and out, as it took nourishment from the sun. A tree that breathed sunbeams.

With a start the Wave Strider opened her eyes and drew her hand away. It hadn't been all her imagination- the tree really was breathing! She had felt what she could have sworn was a pulse! With puzzled eyes she scrutinized its trunk and branches for any sign to explain the phenomenon, but there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary about the tree.

"What a strange place," she whispered, looking all around her before heading deeper into the forest. Every tree was a different shape, some short and some tall, some warped and some straight, but all seemed to have the same brown bark and silvery-green leaves, and all held the magical pulsating life she had felt in the first one.

Perhaps life was not the right word. Awareness, maybe. The trees all had an uncommon sort of intelligence... a vibrance... an aura...

Come. She s.h.i.+vered at the unexpected word which broke upon the outer edges of mind, trickling down her spine like the excited, uncomfortable symptoms of love... Love like the kind she was trying to hide. Like her love for Gribly, thin and untested as it still was. Love like she had never felt since her family and all those she cared about had been ripped from her life with b.l.o.o.d.y claws.

Come. There was a distinctness to this voice that she could not ignore. It was calling her, and she must obey: it was that simple.

Come. The haunting melody of string instruments she couldn't see pulled at the edge of Elia's hearing, bringing back memories both sad and endearing.

Her feet were moving beneath her. She looked up and found to her utter astonishment that she had been walking for some time, and that the gra.s.s and foliage beneath her had begun to slope downwards significantly. It was all so strange, she wasn't sure whether to be excited or afraid. The melody continued, her heart pumped, and the voice in her head spoke one last time. Come.

Just as the last echoes of the word died away, Elia found herself at the bottom of the wooded slope, standing at the edge of an open, gra.s.sy dell which swam in a misty light. The cool radiance seemed not to come from the sky, but from the human-like being who sat in the center of the clearing.

It was a man, or what looked like one, clothed in white, with light-colored skin and golden eyes. He was sitting in the nook of a mighty tree, the only one in the clearing, on what looked to be a living throne made of the tree itself. In an almost-disconcerting way, Elia could see his features clearly despite the light that emanated from him. It made her think of a gla.s.s vessel, such as a king or prince might use to drink from. The man was the vessel, and the light was s.h.i.+ning through him into the world beyond.

She s.h.i.+vered. The man on the throne lifted one hand serenely, and beckoned.

She took a step closer, putting her bare foot in the long gra.s.s of the dell. Then she took another.

And another.

She walked towards the white-clad man, who rose to greet her, taking her hand in his.

Then she knew. He was Swaying Willow, the innkeeper, but he was Wanderwillow, too.

He was an Aura.

"Welcome, Child," he said, calmly gazing at her in the way only her father had done before.

The feeling she had felt at the first touch of his mind, back in the forest, returned to wash her mind clean of all thoughts but one.

"My will is yours, Nympharch," she said, her voice trembling as she spoke in her native tongue. Kneeling, she bent her head in reverence. This was the Lord of Nymphs. She knew it, though she had never been told. She knew it as she felt any nymph to meet him would know... Wanderwillow was the part of the Aura that most resembled nymphkind; the spirit of the World most in love with the race that had given her birth. Perhaps he himself had created them?

"No, dearest. I did not create. Only One has, and it is He Who creates All. I am only the Protector... the Guardian and Patron of your race."

One hand touched her chin, raising it up. She looked into Wanderwillow's eyes and saw all the vast wisdom of the Aura reflected in his glance; reflected from above, as was the light that shone through him. It came from a higher place than himself- higher, even, than all the Aura or any beings like them.

She saw, or knew, or felt all at once...

His power was from the Creator Himself.

"Rise, Halanyad," the Aura said, taking her hands and helping her to stand. "I am not worthy of your wors.h.i.+p. We are both no more than a single thread in the tapestry which the Creator wields over all of Time and Distance. And your own part in that pattern is no small one. Feel no shame, Halanyad. Be free, be loved."

She s.h.i.+vered, feeling the power of the unfamiliar name by which he called her... but she held his gaze. "Thank you," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "Thank you..."

She wasn't sure exactly what for, but she knew that she needed to say it, just as she had known without being told who this Aura was.

"Now you are healed," intoned Wanderwillow. The light that shone through him grew brighter, and Elia felt beyond a doubt that his words were true. She bowed her head, smiling through tears of peace and joy. "Elia." Now he was speaking the name she knew was her own. "Child. I have waited long for you to come and find me, and we will have much to speak of; but I sense much fear and anxiety on your heart. Tell me what troubles youa" And she did.

In the night-shrouded honeycomb of stone spires behind the Swaying Willow Inn, Gramling stalked from shadow to shadow in what could only be called the most contemplative- and dangerous- mood he had ever been in.

There has to be a way to break whatever spell is nullifying my powers, he told himself now, focusing on the problem ahead while simultaneously scanning the surrounding terrain for enemies. On a whim, he snapped his wrist twice in a Pit Striding technique for generating fire.

The gust of flame that spurted from his hand surprised him so much that he let go of the flow that sustained his power. His powers were back, but why so soon?

The answer came to him at once. Because that fool of an innkeeper meant just what he said. He's no sorcerer or cleric! Striding is only deadened by the power of that blasted inn... so now that I'm far enough away, my powers are back. Simple as that.

It really was simple, and he cursed himself profusely for not figuring it out sooner. He'd let his guard down and his ambition fade, fleeing battle with his tail between his legs like some muddy cur, thrashed by a bigger dog than itself.

He needed to test this new revelation, determining to what extent his powers had returned. Reaching out into the nightly shadows with the dark strength of his mind, he called out in the language of the Pit Beasts.

Bonedale.

Not very much to his surprise, the deep, raspy voice of his falconhorse companion responded. What shocked him was that it came from directly above him.

"Master."

The only sign that Gramling's composure was shaken was the twitching of his eyebrows as he jerked his neck to stare up at the silently flying mount above him.

"Impressive. You are a worthy servant indeed."

"I am no longer your servant."

"What?!" Gramling's danger sense buzzed furiously in the back of his skull, and sparks of flame were dancing between his fingers the next second.

"You were a worthy master, but another has come. One vastly more powerful than you. I have no choice but to serve him. He has commanded it, and the Powers of the Pit stand behind him."

"Noa" Gramling hissed, icy understanding churning his stomach. "It can't bea He can't have come yet! I haven't failed, blast it all!"

"Oha but you have, my child."

Gramling froze in utter horror as a familiar presence gripped his body in a vice of power and turned him forcibly around. A tall, hideous form melted out of the night, deeper and blacker than any shadow.

Straight back, hooded face. Clawed fingers, glinting eyes, and dark robes Gramling knew to be splattered with blood.

"Look into my eyes." It was the Golden One. The Death of Worlds. The Breaker of Minds. His voice echoed of shattered stone; of broken ice and burning wave; of death and decay and violence.

When his Master spoke, the command had to be obeyed. He had no choice but to meet the fiery gaze of the Golden One.

"Spare me, Master..." he pleaded, voice sinking to a pitiful whine. "I can do this... I won't fail again, I promise you!" His words died into a scream as his body suddenly moved with a mind of its own. His limbs splayed out as he was lifted into the air by an unseen force, the blood boiling in his veins as his back bent farther and farther, threatening to snap at any moment.

Gramling's vision was a sea of blood and fire as pain wracked his body. Slas.h.i.+ng through the white noise of suffering was the insistent whisper of the Golden One.

"I do not reward failure with death, my child. Only fools in power do so. Your punishment will be great, but it will be because I wish you to be a better servant for me. I have taught you to conquer pain- have you forgotten that? No... you will not die. You will only become stronger, the more you are chastised."

Suddenly the grip on his body vanished, and Gramling went tumbling to the ground. His Master's words filling his mind, he managed to ignore the pain in his body enough to land in a battle-ready crouch, a sneer on his face.

"Command me," he grunted, his concentrated effort to not break into tears lending a hard edge to his voice.

The Golden One chuckled, low and unmelodious. "Your punishment will not come immediately. I am a merciful G.o.d, my child. Should you prove yourself in the coming struggle, I may go so far as to rescind it entirely."

"S... s... struggle?" Gramling managed, standing warily.

"The time has come." The young Pit Strider felt himself tense, from excitement this time. "You have failed in your original mission... it is true. But in doing so you have led me straight to the root of the last thorn in my side."

The shadows fled as the Golden One let his hood fall away, revealing the glowing golden skin and yellow eyes beneath.

"The inn, Master?"

"The innkeeper."

"Swaying Willow? I knew there was-"

"Silence."

The single word froze Gramling's blood again. Blood. One of Pit Striding's most complicated- and powerful- elements. His Master could control the blood of his minions with a single thought. Best to stay silent. His chance of redemption would be ruined if he spoke again.