Twinsoul, Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Illusion     

                            

The going was slow at first for Evandel, Bargo, Deida, and Zaken as they trekked through the western parts of the Elderwoods toward the caves in the hills.  The part of the woods near the elvish settlements was safe enough, but beyond that there were all manner of creatures that made their home in the deep, dark places of the forest, many of whom would find a foursome of adventurers a delightful meal. 

Fortunately, Bargo and Deida were well suited for travel here from the numerous times they had been on duty this area.  Deida had led several excursions into the gnolls’ territory, and knew all the best places to enter from.  Bargo was used to dealing with a larger unit, but he knew the area well from his mission with Deida and remembered the spots gnolls tended to frequent in the forest, and where to go to avoid them.  Zaken lent his hand and instinct to the intricacies of making their way quietly and leaving no trace of their passing.  The last thing they needed was a band of gnolls tracking them down and slitting their throats while they slept, giving their quest an abrupt and untimely end. 

Even with their expertise, it was slow going.  The trees were thick, and very little light got through the dense canopy.  It seemed longer still to Evandel, as he thought of what happened the morning he set out on his quest. 

Since Arthil had not forbid the other priests from speaking of the truth of the ceremony, all of the town was talking about it by nightfall.  In a gesture of warmhearted well-wishing typical of the Treehome Village, most of the town had shown up to see off the quartet of questers.  Prayers were spoken, tears were shed, and wishes of good luck were imparted to the four people setting out to save the village, if not the world. 

Both Deida and Bargo saw their parents before they began their journey.  Even Zaken shared a hug with his foster father, a display of affection that the stern man normally would not have made in public.  Arthil had shown up to send off his adopted grandson, but Siali had been absent all morning.  She had not even been in the house when Evandel had woken up that morning. 

To his surprise, he had been spoken to privately by Talhaias, of all people.  In the short time Evandel had known the priest he had perceived him to be cold, aloof, and austere.  Whether that had been a farce or not, the elf had transformed before Evandel’s eyes during their short talk.  With pleading eyes and strained voice, he had begged Evandel to come home from his ordeal, for the sake of his mother.

When Evandel asked him what his stake in his return was, Talhaias looked at him sincerely, saying, “Because if you break her heart, I shall never forgive you.”

Evandel could only blink his poor confused eyes.  Talhaias had went on to explain that he had been seeing Evandel’s mother for three years, shortly after he had come to Tyhal from Fisathvanna.  Siali had promised not to tell her son, for worry that she would disrupt his studies.  Talhaias had apologized for the secrecy, for his earlier behavior, and for Siali’s absence.  It seemed that the whole situation was tearing her apart, so she had retreated to Talhaias’ residence.  The meeting had ended when the priest told him that he hoped for Evandel’s return himself, so that they could start their relationship again on better terms.

Evandel’s mood seemed to shift even as he walked down the trail leading to the hills.  Sometimes he was excited at the thought of having a mother and a father waiting for him when he returned home, other times he resented his mother’s decision to keep him unaware of her intentions.  He was quiet and withdrawn throughout the march, though none of the others seemed to notice, at least until the second night out from Tyhal.

Evandel was the first to watch that night, since he needed uninterrupted sleep to use his magic properly the next day.  He hardly noticed when Zaken had come up beside him to relieve him for the night.

“Ev? You still with us?” Zaken said, prodding his arm.

Evandel shook his thoughts away, and nodded.  “I’m sorry.”

“Something’s bothering you, I can tell,” Zaken said, leaning against a tree.  He took out one of his two curved short swords and a whetstone, and started to work out the burrs on the blade.  At the same time, he fixed Evandel with his pale eyes, as though trying to read his mind.

“It’s nothing,” Evandel started, but Zaken pointed the whetstone at him.

“Never lie to a better liar, friend,” Zaken warned him.  “They always know when you’re hiding something.”

Evandel shrugged.  “There’s not much to say.  Talhaias talked with me before we left.”

“About him and your mother,” Zaken finished for him.

“By the Five Stars!” Evandel nearly shouted.  “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”

“Alright, calm down,” Zaken said, waving his hands to silence him.  “I happened to hear you and him talking.  I think you’re mom’s heart was in the right place, doing what she did.  She did have the best of intentions after all.”

“Yes, well, good intentions pave the winding path to the Darkplane,” Evandel grumbled.

“Don’t be so upset,” Zaken told him.  “You need to think of this in a much more positive light.”

“How?” Evandel said cynically.

“I don’t have a clue,” Zaken said simply.  “You need to figure that out yourself.  I do know that none of what’s happened recently has been fair to you, and I have a new respect for you with the way you’re handling everything.”

Evandel shrugged again.  He hadn’t really thought of recent events as unfair, but they had been taxing.

“However,” Zaken continued, replacing his first sword and drawing his second blade, “This is not a time to be thinking of things that bother you.  Either put it into a less depressing perspective or forget about it.  Any other option will make this whole trip arduous.”

Evandel thought for a moment.  “It would be nice, I guess,” he said, the phantom of a smile coming over his face, “having a mother and a father waiting for me to come back.”

Zaken grinned.  “That’s the spirit, buddy.”  He pocketed his whetstone, took out his other sword and spun both of them around in his hands before sheathing them, flowing from one motion to the next.  “The path is set before you, and adventure is on the horizon.  You must doubt not, just run into the blinding light to seize your glorious future.”

Evandel thought for a moment, then said, “That sounds familiar.  Where’s it from?”

Zaken shot him a wry smile.  “It’s the Glory Seeker’s credo.  That’s the adventurer’s guild I belong to.” 

Evandel nodded approvingly.  “Good words to live by.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Zaken said, waggling his finger at him.  “It’s the only way to live.”

Evandel thought long and hard on those words before he finally fell asleep that night.

******

The next day brought a thunderstorm that woke up the entire group.  Despite the cover provided by the leafy ceiling, the rain was pounding down hard enough to drench the four friends.  Evandel helped them all dry off by magically pulling the water from their clothes, and helped to keep them from getting soaked further by creating a broad, concave disk of water above him, keeping the rain from ever getting near them.  Today he was confident and spiritually strong, and his demeanor seemed to lift the spirits of his friends.  Today he really felt like a part of the team.

The third day of their march proved to be uneventful, and they made terrific progress.  By the end of the fourth day, they were sleeping out under the stars in the rolling hills of the gnolls territory, not even three miles from the caves Poerna had mentioned.  Evandel spent a long time awake, staring at the stars, for he was too restless to sleep.  Thoughts of the day to come caused a great deal of excitement to stir within him.  They would be in a damp, cold cavern, searching for an artifact that would help determine the fate of the world.  The mere thought of such adventure sent his heart racing in anticipation.

Sleep eventually found him, followed by dreams of high adventure and great discovery.  He woke the next morning in terrific spirits, eager to move on.  His friends were glad of his change of spirit from a few days earlier, but Bargo warned him that they were still in dangerous territory, and gnolls almost never took prisoners.  This advice gave the half-elf better perspective, but did little to quell his bubbling energy.  If gnolls were to attack, Evandel was more than ready to show them what a sorcerer was capable of in battle!

They found the cave easily, nestled at the foot of a cluster of hills.  Evandel could tell just by looking that if this was the right cave, it more than likely went fairly deep under the hills.  In front of the cave mouth was a barren looking area with a fire pit dug in the middle, spring grass poking up through the beaten ground. 

“I’ve been here before,” Deida said, a frown crossing her face and darkening her bright red eyes.

“You have?” Evandel asked, rather surprised.

“Yes,” Deida responded, crossing her arms.  “I don’t think this is the right place.”

“Why?” Zaken asked, his tail twitching.

“It used to be a gnoll supply cache,” she said.  She pointed to the fire pit.  “That’s the campsite where the guards were.”

“Used to be?” Zaken asked.

Deida smiled wryly.  “Right up until the Kathilasi heard about it.”  Zaken shared her smile, surmising her meaning.

“So there’s nothing there now?” Bargo said, scratching his head.  “Is there any other place we could look?”

Deida shook her head.  “Most other caves in this region are already in use,” she said.  “The ones that don’t house gnolls are far too shallow to hide anything but rabbits and foxes.”

Evandel thought about it for a moment.  “Let’s look anyway,” he suggested.  “There might have been something you missed.” Deida gave him a questioning look, and it was his turn to smile wryly.  “I don’t care how good the Kathilasi are, nobody is perfect.  After all, you weren’t looking for anything but gnolls.  There’s a very good chance you passed over something because it wasn’t part of your mission.”

Deida shrugged.  “We won’t know unless we look.”

“Let’s get on with this then,” Bargo said, lighting a torch and making his way to the entrance.  The others followed his lead, ready to be on their way.

The cave started off in a sloping tunnel, which led to a large cavern, empty and silent.  The four split up and each started exploring a different corner.

After only a few minutes of searching, Evandel could tell something was amiss.  There was a vague energy in the air that he could not describe.  The roof of the cave was clustered by stalactite mounds, but the floor was almost completely smooth.  Scant traces of supplies the gnolls left behind were scattered about the floor.  The walls were roughly hewn, jutting out and forming small alcoves, but it was still easy to see everything.

Then it struck him.  The entire cave was visible to him, even from the corner he was standing in.  He canceled the light he had cast on his staff, and even then he could make out the forms of his friends, as though peering through dim twilight. 

“Ev, are you alright?” Zaken asked from across the room.  “Your light went out.”

“I’m fine,” Evandel said.  It then occurred to him that Zaken was not carrying a torch or any other light.  “Where’s your light?”

Zaken shrugged, and Evandel could see his tail twitch in the dim light.  “I can see fine in the dark.”

The sorcerer looked to Deida and Bargo, who were both carrying torches.  “Deida, Bargo, put out your lights.”

The two eyed him curiously, but obliged him.  Deida waved her hand over her torch, and it snuffed out, all the air removed from nearby.  Bargo simply dropped his to the ground and stepped on it liberally.

Yet with all the light sources doused, they could still see each other.

“What the . . .” Bargo said, scratching his head.

Deida looked up, as though the light might be coming from a crack in the ceiling.  She suddenly cried out, then pointed to the roof, her eyes amazed.  Evandel followed her gaze and saw exactly what she was looking at.

Softly glowing stalactites.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Zaken said, chuckling.  “That’s something else.  This must be the place.”

“Yeah, but where do we go from here?” Bargo asked.  “There’s no way out except the way we came in.”

“Just leave that to me,” Evandel said, raising his staff.  He had done magical purges before, and had fared well in his dispelling classes, but he did not know the nature of this magic.  The process was easy if it was merely illusion covering the walls or a transformation on the stone, but something told him that it could not be something as simple as that.

He activated his aura sense, but to his surprise found no magic.  No matter where he concentrated, there was no magic to be found.  Even the stalactites had no magic.

No, that couldn’t be right; he knew those had magic in them.  He could even sense it without his aura detection active.  There must have been something blocking his detection magic.

An idea struck him, and he scanned the ceiling again.  Most of the stalactites were typical stone mounds, nothing out of the ordinary.  One cluster stood out among the rest, the highest up on the concave ceiling, right in the center.  It was the largest cluster, but it did not seem as though it belonged.  Squinting in the dim light, he could make out a crease between the base of the mound and the roof of the cave.

“We need to break that down,” he said, pointing to the faulty stalactite. 

“Uh huh,” Zaken said wryly.  “How do you suppose we do that, genius?  Your water magic is strong, but that’s solid stone.  We’d need an earth principle to even try it.”

“What am I, gnoll droppings?” Bargo protested.

“No offense, big guy, but you don’t have any aura magic,” Deida said.  “You’ve been magically dry ever since you were little.”

Bargo grunted, and took his large, two handed sword from his back.  Deida instinctively backed up, but he paid her no heed, walking closer to the middle of the room.  Once there, he grasped the hilt underhand, holding it like he would a javelin.  With one swift motion, he launched his blade up to the top of the twenty foot ceiling, embedding it deep into the stone.  The shock of the sword striking the false stone proved too much, and it crashed unceremoniously to the cavern floor, echoing loudly in the chamber. 

After the echoes died and the dust cleared, Bargo moved to the pile of debris and retrieved his sword.  “I learned a long time ago that you don’t need magic to do everything.”

“I stand corrected,” Zaken said, bowing before his friend. 

Bargo nodded, and brushed off his blade.  He looked at the debris, and said, “Hey, this isn’t rock!”

Zaken moved over to the pile, and inspected a larger shard of false stone.  “This is gnomish plaster, good for imitation rock, mixed with . . .” he paused, squinting in the dark.  “I’m not sure what else is in this.”

“How’d you know about that, Ev?” Bargo asked, but his friend wasn’t listening.  His ocean blue eyes remained locked on the top of the cavern, an amazed smile on his face.  Bargo looked up with him, and his jaw dropped.  In the place where the fake stalactites hung was a cluster of a different kind, a vein of silvery white crystals.

“What is that?” Deida asked, transfixed by the glow.

“Just regular crystal,” Evandel said.  “It’s been enchanted.”

“To do what?” she asked.

“My guess would be to keep the other stalactites lit up,” Evandel said, raising his staff again.  “But I don’t think that’s all.”

He reached out his aura sense tentatively, careful not to be overwhelmed in case the crystal’s aura proved too much.  Now he could feel very powerful magic emanating from the entire room, save from the pile of rubble on the floor.  He focused on the crystal vein, one of the largest sources of light magic he ever sensed.  He began to draw the magic out, using the water in the air to act as a magical sponge.  Soon, the crystal’s shimmer seemed to expand into the air around it.  Just as quickly, it dispersed in a flash, leaving the room in darkness.

“Way to go, Ev,” Bargo said sarcastically.  “Now we can’t see anything.”

“Well that’s easy to fix,” the sorcerer replied, putting light back on his staff’s crystal. 

What he saw was a completely different chamber.  The floor was a crystal and glass mosaic set into white stone.  Gone were the rough hewn stone walls, replaced by marble and crystal slabs, with great silvery white crystal arches where bunches of crystals hung down, in the same areas as the glowing stalactites. The crystal vein he saw earlier was actually more of a fixture on the ceiling attached to a metal base, like a chandelier. 

“This is not normal,” Zaken said.  “Did you accidentally teleport us?”

“Teleporting is a little out of my range,” Evandel answered.  “No, we’re in the same place; the tunnel we came in from is over there.”  He moved to the wall across from the tunnel, to find a great door marked with the grand cross, the symbol of Alaron.  “And this is the way in.”

 “How did this happen?” Deida asked.  “Why did it transform?”

“It didn’t transform,” Evandel explained.  “We were being fooled by the illusion magic in the crystal.  There’s such a thing as a tactile illusion, where the bent light can actually be given texture and a semisolid form.”

“You’re saying that the entire cavern was made of light?” Bargo said, scratching his head again.

“Sort of,” Evandel said.  “It’s a little more complex than that, but that’s good enough for now.”  He tapped his staff against the door.  “Let’s figure out how to open this, shall we?  There’s no knob or anything.”

“Just leave that to me,” Zaken said.  “I’ve gotten into places with bigger doors than this.”  He produced a steel ring with what appeared to be several different keys, and started examining the door.  He ran a finger down the crease between the two doors, and then placed one of the keys inside near where he stopped his finger.  He pushed it in gently, and twisted the tip.  Slowly, the doors creaked open.

He held up the ring of keys and smiled.  “Urdez’s Unlockers,” he said.  “They were a gift from the Mistwatch thieves’ guild.”

“Right,” Deida said.  “I bet they only ‘gave’ them to you because they don’t know you have them!”

“Not yet, they don’t,” Zaken grinned.  “I wish I could see their guild leader’s face when he notices these are missing!”

They went through the now open doors into a sloping hallway, darkened as the last room was.  The walls were plain stone instead of marble, but several of the chandelier-like fixtures adorned the ceiling.  The hall continued down for some distance, never veering from its slope or direction.  Evandel led them on, but did not like the fact that there was no light in a temple that was supposedly devoted to Alaron. 

The end of the hall resulted in an archway that gave way to a long, expansive chamber marked by a pedestal in the center and the largest chandelier structure yet hanging from a ceiling too distant for Evandel’s light to reach.  The four once again split up, each to investigate a section of the room.  Zaken made his way across to the far wall, insisting that he could see fine.  Deida and Bargo set to exploring the other two walls, and Evandel found himself drawn to the pedestal.

The first thing he noticed was a glyph chiseled into the top of the pedestal, one that he could not decipher.  It was an exotic twisting figure, but resembled no character in any language he ever heard of.  At the same time, he felt like he should know what it meant.  Ringing the top was a phrase written in common: The truth is unseen to all who cannot believe the unbelievable.

Evandel thought on this phrase for a long time, until Bargo and Deida came back from their searching.

“Nothing on my end,” Bargo reported.

“Same here,” Deida said.  “What have you found?”

“A headache,” Evandel replied sarcastically.  “I’m not sure, but I think this is just decorative.”

“Have you tried touching the rune yet?” Bargo suggested.

“Please,” Deida sniffed.  “It wouldn’t be something that simple.”

“Well, just in case,” Evandel said, lifting his hand up to the rune and setting it down gently.  Nothing happened, and all three of them exhaled. 

Just before he lifted his hand again, Evandel noticed the symbol on the back of his hand was throbbing.  He looked closer at the twisted rune and noticed that basic shape of Taelri’s symbol could be traced within the glyph. 

Something clicked in his mind, and he wanted to slap himself for being so blind.  “Believe the unbelievable, huh?”  He muttered, sliding his finger in the grooves of the rune.  The outline of Taelri’s crystal eye symbol began to glow with faint blue light.  Looking closely, he also found the shape of the grand cross of Alaron and traced it, lighting it with a brilliant yellow

“Hey, I get it,” Bargo said, and traced his finger in the shape of a bear paw print, the symbol of Kumadan, the god of the earth, making that symbol glow golden brown.

“Really? … fine, sure,” Deida said, shaking her head and tracing the open wing symbol of Pelyphis, the wind goddess, and creating a silvery white glow.

“That leaves . . .” Evandel traced Faarthus’ symbol into the rune, lighting it a smoldering crimson.  They waited, but nothing happened.

“That’s weird,” Deida said.  “We got all of them, didn’t we?”

“Well, yeah, except Forgotten,” Evandel said, remembering the lost god of darkness.

“How are we supposed to know the symbol for a god nobody’s worshipped in centuries?” Bargo asked.

Evandel shook his head.  He could see that there was a line that was still untraced, but parts of it weaved in and out of the other five symbols.  They only way to solve it would be to actually know what the symbol was.

“Everyone else finished?” Zaken said, coming up to join them.  “I found the door, I think.  My keys did their job, but there’s nothing beyond it save a very far drop.”  He looked at the symbols on the pedestal.  “What’s all this?”

“It’s a glyph that combines the symbols of the gods, but we don’t know the last one,” Evandel said.  “You wouldn’t happen to know Forgotten’s symbol, would you?”

Without a word, Zaken traced his finger around a path on the glyph, setting a purple light in the shape of jagged, asymmetrical dagger.

The rune flashed, and all of the other lines except the ones that constituted Alaron’s symbol disappeared.  A light blazed from the pedestal to the crystal chandelier above, and the entire room was engulfed in radiance as though the sun itself shone from above.

“So that’s what makes those come back on,” Zaken said, ignoring his friends’ disbelieving stares.  “I bet all the other ones are lit up, too.  Let’s go check the door again.”

Evandel shook his head, and followed his friend, whose mysteries were beginning to compound themselves. 

The door Zaken led them was indeed a drop off, but now that there was light all about, they could see a set of indentations that started at the edge of the drop and went all the way to the floor.  On the opposite wall was a series of lanterns that housed glowing crystals instead of candles.  Evandel understood that they were now much deeper than he originally thought they might go, and began to suspect that this was not an entire temple, but perhaps a catacombs or an understructure of some sort.

At the foot of the drop was another archway, leading into a cave-like chamber that appeared to be made entirely out of crystal.  Instead of crystal lanterns or chandeliers, the room itself seemed to be glowing. The far end from where they stood featured a pair of roughhewn crystal archways.  Between them was a ten foot tall statue of an angelic guardian figure, clad in full plate armor.  A great stone spear was held upright in its mailed hands, speaking of a patience and vigilance not known to the mortal world. 

“Wow,” Deida said, eyes glittering with the shimmering crystal around her.  “I’ve never seen this much crystal in one place before!”

“Are you sure it’s crystal, and not just another illusion?” Bargo asked, looking to Evandel for confirmation.

“I think we’re past the part where the makers of this place needed to disguise it,” Evandel answered.   He reached out his aura sense, just to humor Bargo.  “No, this is genuine glowing crystal.”

“You mean no tricks at all?” Bargo asked.  Evandel nodded, and the big man’s eyes went wide.  “Wow, no wonder this place is sacred to Alaron.”

They walked across the room to the archways, but Zaken stopped in front of the guardian statue.  Evandel turned to him when he stopped, seeing the apprehension in the man’s pale blue eyes, and his tail seemed to quiver uncontrollably.

“What is it?” Evandel said, stepping closer. 

“I should not have come with you,” Zaken said, his voice wavering as he drew his swords.  “I’m not wanted here.”

“What are you talking about?” Evandel started to say, then turned to the statue and paused.  Hadn’t the sentinel been looking forward, not down?

Without warning the guardian stepped forward, its limbs creaking to life.  It angled the spear at the thin man, and spoke in a deep, grating voice, “Soracht!  Hevonis soracht!”

Hearing the commotion, Bargo and Deida rushed back into the room.  Bargo drew his sword, and Deida took her bow off her shoulder and notched an arrow in one fluid motion.  Evandel could only lift his staff and prepare for the worst.

The guardian poised its spear to strike the man before it, but as the tip closed in an orb of water collided with it, driving it aside.  An arrow bounced off its stone helm, then two more crossed in front of its face.  When it turned toward the source, Bargo dashed forward and swept his blade at the back of the sentinel’s knee. The impact knocked the guardian’s feet from under it.

“Let’s go, now!” Bargo shouted, pointing to the archways. 

The four of them scurried out of the room, even as the animated statue picked itself up.  They followed a short hallway to another crystal cavern, split by a vast gorge.  Spanning the gorge were four glass-like bridges with no rails that weaved over and under each other, splitting off in various directions, some ending abruptly and others curving up at angles that were impossible to climb.  At the bridge’s end stood another archway, sealed off with a crystal gate.

“What was it saying?” Evandel asked.

“Traitor, Heaven’s Traitor,” Zaken said solemnly.  “It means me.”

“Why?” Evandel said.  “What have you done?”

“Not what I did, what I am.”

“What . . .”

“How many other people do you know are born with tails?” Zaken asked, sheathing his short swords.  “I’m not human, Ev!”

“Then what are . . .” Evandel started, but a memory flickered to life in his mind, from his planar studies classes.  “You’re a tiefling, aren’t you?”

Zaken smirked wryly.  “Half-demons, darktouched, The last scar of the horde, nightmare children, or yeah, you could use that one.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Bargo said.  “We wouldn’t have cared!”

“I couldn’t let anyone know, friend,” Zaken said.  “If anyone outside the village found out I lived there, zealots and demon-haters from all over would burn me at the stake and set fire to Tyhal for housing me.” 

“But you haven’t done anything wrong,” Evandel said.  “You’re as innocent as any of us!”

“It must be programmed to attack anything that even remotely resembles a demon,” Deida reasoned.  “We slowed it down, but it won’t be long before . . .”

“Sorachtes!  Osala sorachtes vi hevonis! Vamore!” the sentinel bellowed from down the hallway, its steps crashing on the ground like thunder.

“What now?” Evandel asked, backing away.

“It’s calling all of us traitors now,” Zaken said.  “I guess if you help a demon, you’re just as bad.”

The group started for the bridges, just as the sentinel crashed into the chamber. 

“Split up!” Evandel called out.  “All to a different bridge!”  Just as he commanded, they scattered, Zaken taking the far right, Deida taking the far left, and Bargo and Evandel taking the inner left and right bridges respectively. 

Evandel looked over his shoulder as he ran, eying the movements of the sentinel.  It stopped before it got to the bridges, which seemed too thin to support its weight.  A flicker of hope sparked in his heart, and hoped they confounded the guardian.

That hope was snuffed out as the stone wings on the sentinel’s back unfurled and magical flight took it flying after Zaken.

“Zaken!  Look out!” Evandel shouted.  Zaken seemed well aware that the construct had followed him, and with great agility darted under an overhanging bridge as the sentinel passed over.

Onward they scurried over the enmeshed walkways, moving as swiftly as they could while simultaneously trying not to fall over the sides.  Evandel watched as Bargo reached his bridge’s end first, and Deida shortly after him.  The half-elf had taken a path that had sent him under most of Zaken’s bridge, and so was able to keep an eye on his friend’s progress as he followed his own way to the end.

Zaken’s tenacity was incredible.  He sprinted from shelter to shelter, from overhang to opposite bridge with the swiftness and lightness of a spring zephyr.  He narrowly missed being skewered by the sentinel’s spear several times, but with each time he became wiser, avoiding the same sort of situations. 

Evandel looked ahead and saw Zaken’s path split, a low road and a high road. Slightly ahead he could see a bridge that curved up at a right angle, one of the impossible climbs.

“Take the low road!” he called out.  “I’ll meet you there!” 

Zaken nodded as he leapt from his hiding spot, dashing for the low road.  Evandel hurried along his walkway until he came to the spot he had seen the paths diverge.

They doubled back on themselves! The low road was the one that headed for the impossible climb, not the high road!  He started to call out again, but he watched as Zaken sprinted down the low road.  Flustered, Evandel rushed on, hoping he had not just led his friend to his death.

******

Zaken cursed as he watched the path before him start to climb out to the erect part of the bridge.  A quick look behind him told him he did not have enough time to think again; the sentinel was hot on his heels. 

He started to spring over to the other side, but a quick look down the way told him that was futile as well; the bridge on that path had been broken off.  Any way he went, his path ended before the goal.  He quickly surveyed the other bridges in the area, and formed a plan. 

Using all of his skill and agility, he made a mad dash for the erect bridge.  He leapt at the upward bent path, and focused his aura to his feet.  Concentrating with all his might, he pushed up instead of forward with each step, climbing in what looked like a vertical run up to the top of the dead end bridge.

The angelic sentinel slowed and eventually hovered in front of the spire-like bridge.

“Your tainted soul must be cleansed, traitor,” the sentinel demanded, its spear poised.

Zaken, balanced perfectly on the edge of the twisted bridge looked down to affirm his path, and gave a sly smile as the sentinel closed.

 “Fool.  Tieflings don’t have souls.”

He thrust his hand forward, loosing a black bolt on the sentinel’s face.  It reeled backwards, and thrashed forward meaning to impale the dark man.  It instead crashed into the upturned bridge as the foolhardy tiefling leaped off into the darkness.

******

Evandel felt his breath leave him when he watched Zaken leap from the spire into thin air.  With no time to concentrate on levitation, he could only watch him plummet.

And land on the bridge behind him.

A part of Evandel wanted to strangle Zaken for being so reckless, and another part just wanted to cheer for such a spectacular stunt. 

The dexterous rogue rushed forward, and smiled at his friend.  “That darkness won’t faze him long, we need to get moving.”

Evandel nodded, as though automated, and followed him down the final stretch of the bridge.

Bargo slapped Zaken on the back, laughing heartily, and Deida let off a continuous stream of berating about how stupid he was and how he could have been killed, then settled down and threw her arms around him and admitted that she had never seen anything so incredible.

“What about the gate?” Zaken asked, gently pushing her away.

“There’s an indentation like a handprint,” she said.  “We tried it, but nothing happened.  I think it needs Evandel’s hand.” 

Evandel nodded and started forward, but then turned as Bargo gave a warning shout.  The sentinel was flying straight for him, its spear set to impale.  It was moving too fast for him to do any casting, so he just lifted his staff in a vain effort to deflect the crazed construct’s weapon.

A split second later, Evandel stood, wondering why he hadn’t been skewered.  The spear was stopped before it reached him, but not by his staff.

Zaken stood, swords crossed, between him and the sentinel, the tip of the stone spear poking out his back.

“I guess I needed to be more firm,” Zaken growled between clenched teeth.  His swords emanated dark energy, and he flung them into the sentinel’s face.  The blades embedded themselves up to the hilts, and the sentinel dropped its spear and just seemed to halt.  With no magic left to keep it aloft, it crashed on the ledge, and slipped into the abyss.

Zaken toppled backward awkwardly, and Evandel caught him before he fell.  He guided his dear friend down to the floor, realizing just what had happened.  Tears began to well in his eyes, and all the rest of the world seemed to fade away.  He barely heard Deida’s cry, or Bargo’s roar of defiance.  His eyes were fixed firmly on the now incredibly pale man dying in his arms.

“Told you I shouldn’t have come,” Zaken hissed through clenched teeth.

“Don’t talk,” Evandel whispered.  “Deida can try to heal you.”

Deida was already rushing forward, and in moments she knelt beside them.  She weaved the air into his wound to try and staunch the flow of blood, but she shook her head.  “I can’t do it, the flow is too strong!”

“Keep trying!” Evandel nearly shouted between his tears, but Zaken raised his hand.

“Don’t worry about it, Ev . . . I’m done.  I did what I wanted to here, and I’m ready to go.  This is nothing to cry about.  I’ve been ready for a long time, actually.  It comes with the trade.”

“Zak . . .” Evandel sobbed, as though pleading his friend to stop.

“There are some things you need to hear, and I don’t have long.” Zaken reached to his belt, and drew out a black bladed dagger, the same shape as the symbol he drew on the rune.  “This is a key to something very important.  I stole it . . . from the Faarthusian orcs.  They want it for something . . .  I thought I might try to get there first.  But now I know what they’re planning, and it doesn’t look good.  I don’t know if this has something to do with the dawn crystal . . . I’d rather we didn’t find out.”

He handed the dagger to Evandel, who took hold of it tentatively.  Zaken’s other hand held his firmly, and his eyes spoke of urgency.  “Do not let them have this, Ev!  Keep it safe at all costs, and stay away from Faarthusia . . .”

“I will …” Evandel said, choking on the promise.

The tiefling leaned back, letting go of the sorcerer’s hand and smiling as the light left his eyes.  “I’m glad I met you all.  Maybe I do have a soul after all . . .”

The silence that followed was more than Evandel’s heart could bear.  He did not weep; Zaken had asked him not to.  Instead he placed the dagger in his belt and closed Zaken’s eyes.  He looked to his remaining friends. Bargo had closed his eyes, and seemed to be praying.  Deida seemed to be simply staring sadly into the distance.  They had seen death before on the battlefield, but Evandel could tell this had truly shaken them.

A curious strength crept into his heart, and he stood up.  He knew that he must go on, for the sake of his friends.  Bargo and Deida looked to him as he stood, and he nodded to them.  He walked up to the gate and pressed his right hand into the handprint in the center of the gate.

The crystal dematerialized at his touch, opening the way to a small stone chamber that was lit by a single crystal above an altar.  Upon the altar was a pendant, or at least half of a pendant.  It was a piece of ivory in the shape of a half-sun set with ambers, hanging from a thin gold chain.  The flat edge of the pendant was ridged, and looked as though a second half was meant to be attached.

“That must be the Sun Symbol,” Bargo said quietly.  Evandel nodded, and approached the altar.  He reached out for it and closed his fingers around it.

No sooner than he touched it, a blinding light surged into his mind.  He closed his eyes, tried to look away, but the light was all consuming, and he felt himself falling.  Soon after, he felt a presence in his mind, not unlike telepathic contact.

“Greetings, Evandel of Tyhal.  I am known as Warrane, leader of the United.”

“You’re the leader of Unity?” Evandel asked.

“Yes, young one.  Long have I awaited you and your allies.  I am at once glad and troubled that you come; troubled that the prophecy has come to pass so soon, and glad to see that you are willing to rise to the challenges that now await you. 

“You must be off soon, Deepseeker.  The artifacts you seek are wide and far upon this land.  The Serenity Sapphire is kept in a place of great knowledge.  The Stone Bracers are held by a denizen deep within the Urdor Mountain.  The Wing Circlet can be found where the sky and earth are as one.  The mists of the gnomes’ homeland hide the home of the Moon Glyph.  The Fire Hand resides with a saddened soul deep in the heart of Faarthusia.  Go to them, and find the one who shares your fate.  Together, with your friends, you may give our world its second chance.”

Images of the artifacts whirled around in Evandel’s mind, and he could feel himself rise again into the real world.  He stood as he once did, with his fingers gripped tightly on the Sun Symbol. 

“Evandel?  Are you okay?” Deida asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.  “You seized up all of a sudden, like you were in pain.”

“No, I’m alright.” Evandel said.  He put the Sun Symbol's chain around his neck, and turned to his friends.   “I think we need to get a move on.  We have a very long way to go.”

Twinsoul, Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Future

The morning after Evandel and his friends got together in the Singing Storm was the morning before the day of the festival. Everyone in the town had something to do with the preparations. It was a day that Evandel wanted to be prepared to face. In order to prepare for something like this, he would need to meditate. He knew the perfect place to do just that. Besides, there was still one person he had not been to see.

An hour before sunrise, he left the village going west. When he passed through the apple orchards, he snagged two apples from low branches. He placed them in his pouch and made his way quietly, keeping to routes still shrouded by the cloak of predawn darkness. He did not want anyone to find out where he was going. He was going to visit his favorite place, and he could only hope that no one else had found it in four years.

He arrived at his destination shortly after dawn, a large, deep pond in the middle of a vast meadow. There was a special connection he felt here, a deep serenity that flowed through him and gave him strength. He understood better now, after four years of studying magic, why he felt that way. He was naturally drawn to concentrations of water, since that was his Principle. It was where he was most at ease. He smiled, looking forward to the coming reunion. All that was left was to wait.

“I can see why you didn’t want anyone to follow you here,” said a voice that came from behind Evandel, startling him. “This is a pretty nice spot.”

Evandel whirled around, surprised to see all three of his friends standing there, Zaken in front with a smug grin. His first inclination was to pelt all three of them with water orbs for following him, but instead he settled for glaring at them.

“Do all sorcerers learn how to contradict themselves so well?” Deida said, crossing her arms looking at him accusingly. “You give me a lecture on telling people where I am, and then you turn around and do the same thing?”

“This is different,” Evandel said pointedly. “I just came here to meditate.”

“Is that why you stole apples from the orchard?” Bargo said, grinning.

“Two apples! No one will miss two apples,” Evandel said defensively.

“Calm down, friend,” Zaken said, chuckling. “We just wanted to see what you were up to.”

“Yeah, you never said anything about this place to us,” Bargo said looking around. “It’s not like you to hide something like this from your friends.”

Evandel looked away, a little embarrassed. “I did not mean to hide anything,” he said. “I wasn’t sure that you would be welcome here.”

“Welcome?” Zaken said, giving him a funny look. “Are the trees going to tell us to go away?”

“Not the trees,” Evandel told him. “He should be here soon.”         

“Who?” Bargo asked.

As if in answer to his question, the wind picked up in the clearing. The sudden change in environment put the three battle trained warriors on the defensive. Zaken looked furtively to the sky, as though a great winged beast had caused the gale. Bargo watched the pond, and Deida kept an eye on the treetops. Evandel ignored them all and watched the edge of the woods.

“I wondered when you would come and see me, Deepseeker,” Poerna said pleasantly. “But I didn’t think you would bring guests.”

At this time, the other three had felt the asperi’s telepathic communication. They all turned toward Evandel, and then followed his gaze. From the edge of the clearing strode a white horse from the opposite side of the clearing, with a long, flowing gray mane and tail. The breeze seemed to emanate from the silvery white horse, tossing his mane out wildly. When the air calmed, the mane settled on his back, and the tail brushed the ground. His eyes shone of intelligence far beyond that of a mere beast.

Bargo’s jaw dropped, and Deida looked absolutely entranced.  Zaken paled and started to back away, a spark of fear in his eyes. Evandel noted this and looked at him curiously.

“What is it?” Evandel asked him. “It’s fine; he is a friend of mine.”

Zaken swallowed and regained his composure. “I’m sorry. I just . . . He just surprised me.”

“Greeting, friends of Deepseeker,” the asperi said, dipping his head low politely. “I am Poerna. Welcome to my home.”

“Is this why you didn’t tell us?” Deida asked, pointing to Poerna.  Evandel nodded. “Well, I suppose that explains it.”

“What does that explain?” Bargo said. “It’s a talking horse, so I could see why he would want to keep him a secret. I mean, there are circus troupes that would . . .”

Deida cut him off with a slap to the back of his head. “This isn’t just a talking horse, rock-head. He’s an asperi, a wind horse. They are very solitary creatures: Evandel probably didn’t want us to bother him,” she paused, cringing, and looked apologetically toward the white horse, “just like we probably are doing now.”

“You are well versed in your knowledge of beasts, young lady,” Poerna congratulated her, coming over to the small group. He looked at Bargo, saying, “Not many people can say they know what an asperi is, young man, so don’t be embarrassed.”

“Thanks,” Bargo said, unsure of how to accept that statement.

“Poerna,” Evandel said, gesturing to his companions, “This is Bargo Tramas, Deida Laiken, and Zaken Ryts. These are the friends I told you about.”

“I am honored to meet you all,” Poerna said, dipping his head politely again. “Evandel has told me much of you.”

“Yeah, well don’t believe a word of it,” Zaken said, laughing uneasily. “Not until we’ve had a chance to defend ourselves.”

“I thought I’d seen everything,” Bargo said, shaking his head. “I never thought I’d see anything quite like this.”

“Speaking of which, how did you meet him, Ev?” Zaken said, still a little nervous.

“Actually, he would not remember when he first met me,” Poerna said. “He was an infant at the time.”

All three of his friends looked at the half-elf sorcerer. He just smiled and nodded. “Poerna was the one that found me in the woods, and brought me to Tyhal.”

“Here in this very clearing, actually.” Poerna seemed to eye the pond, as though distracted by some thought.

“So someone had just abandoned him, then?” Zaken said, and he shook his head. “That’s just terrible.”

Poerna gave him a look that Evandel perceived as surprise, his tail waving. “You have grown in an interesting way, judging by that remark alone.”

Zaken looked away, and his own tail switched uneasily. “What’re you talking about, we just met!”

“I might not know you, but I know who taught you.” Poerna looked at him earnestly. “You think much differently from him.”

Zaken eyed him cautiously. “How do you know him?”

Evandel looked back and forth between them. “Poerna? Is something wrong?”

“No, everything is fine. I just didn’t think Lyxas’s disciple would have such sensitive views of orphans, even if he is one himself.”

Zaken shrugged. “Lyxas taught me many things. He never once tried to force his views on me.”

“To the relief of us all,” Poerna said, rolling his eyes.           

Zaken laughed, and seemed to relax. “That’s for sure.”

“Who’s Lyxas?” Evandel asked, confused by the conversation as much as Bargo and Deida were. “How do you both know him?”

“Lyxas was someone I met in my travels,” Zaken said. “He helped me refine my aura spells.”

“I have known Lyxas for a very long time,” Poerna explained. “He was once my enemy, but we have since made amends.”

Evandel nodded, accepting the carefully worded explanation as enough for now.

“Well, if you don’t really want our company right now, we’ll head back,” Deida said, tugging on Bargo’s arm.

“No, by all means, stay! After Deepseeker feeds me the apple I can smell on him, he’s going to meditate, like he always does. I’d much appreciate someone to talk to.”

Evandel laughed, and brought out one of the apples he’d stolen from his pouch. He held it out to Poerna, smiling. “I know they’re your favorite.”

“The best apple orchards in the country,” Poerna said as he munched on the offered fruit. Deida walked cautiously over to the wind horse and brought her hand up, as though to pet him. She hesitated at first, but Poerna nodded, approving her motion. She smiled as she stroked his soft mane, and the big horse seemed to appreciate the affectionate gesture.

Evandel spent about an hour in meditation before Bargo suggested that they start back before people notice that they were missing. Before they left, Evandel asked Poerna if he wanted to go to the festival.

“I think I will,” Poerna said, nodding. “I need to see more of Tyhal after so much time away.”

“There’s sure to be more apples at the feast, too,” Zaken said, grinning. Evandel was glad that he had grown accustomed to the asperi. He wanted to ask why he had been so tense when they had first met, but he figured that question was best left for later.

“I will look forward to tomorrow then,” Poerna said. “It is sure to be an exciting day.”

Evandel and his friends left, and Poerna sighed. He hoped that tomorrow was not as exciting as he feared it would become.

******

The Festival of Dawn’s Blessing was the highlight of the year in the Treehome Village. For as long as the oldest elves in Tyhal could remember, the ceremony held during the festival had prospered under the blessings of Taelri, the goddess of water and Alaron, the god of light. The festival and ceremony were conducted every year in the spring to insure the continued guidance and blessings from the gods.

What had started as a religious ceremony in a tiny settlement had become a grand festival for a small town. Everyone found some way to aid in the preparations, which many felt came from the fellowship between men and elves that had founded the village in the first place, which was what Taelri and Alaron had given their blessings. Everything about the festival was important to the village.

The festival actually began on the night before it was said to begin, starting very late at night and welcoming the dawn, at which point the ceremony took place. A feast followed the ceremony, mixed with revelry and merrymaking that often lasted on to the following night. The elves, who required little sleep, were more suited to the time span of the festival. The humans and half-elves that planned on taking part in the entirety of the celebration slept earlier in the day, to prepare their bodies for the long festival.

Evandel hardly remembered falling asleep for how hard he had worked. His magic had proved a boon in helping set up the center of the village for the dancing and musicians. He had used up all his energy by levitating workers into the air to hang up decorations and lifting heavy objects, as well as conjuring and cleaning water for the drinking pools. He was used to performing such feats, and his meditation had prepared him greatly, but he had obviously not remembered the amount of work to be done for the festival. He had closed his eyes while starting to lie down on his bed, and the next thing he heard was the sound of lively music in the dark.

Upon leaving the house, he gazed upon a much welcome sight, one he had not seen in four long years. Magical lanterns hanging from high upon the bridges that connected the houses in the treetops illuminated the clearing in a pale blue light. High above, the moon and stars could still be seen, shining through the clear night sky, parts teasingly hid behind the veil of branches and leaves. Upon the forest floor, the inhabitants of the Treehome village all gathered around a raised platform. Many were talking and laughing, and most were dancing to the midnight melodies provided by the instrumentalists playing atop the platform.

At the center of the platform was an altar, which would be used in the ceremony at dawn. Resting on the altar was the most treasured relic of the village, the Dawn Crystal. The crystal was an orb the size of a pumpkin, with a surface smooth as water and as clear as the purest spring. It was said to be the proof of Taelri and Alaron’s blessings by the priests, and its light foretold the prosperity of Tyhal in the next year.

At least, that was what the priests told everyone. Evandel researched crystals like the Dawn Crystal, which were similar in nature to the crystals that capped sorcerer’s staffs. They were all made up of a special mineral that focused and amplified auras. Most were adaptable to any magic, barring certain strains that reacted only to specific elements, but they could be specialized to affect one kind of spell above all others.

The Dawn Crystal’s sole power was to amplify a simple augury, a spell designed to foretell if a certain action would have good or bad results. The magic was augmented to cover the fate of the entire village over a year. In his readings, there had been no other crystals that had this kind of power that were known of on Kayledon. This alone was evidence that the gods were involved somehow, in Evandel’s opinion.

He had asked his grandfather a long time ago how the priests read the light. Arthil had told him that the light would glow white if peace and prosperity were in store. In all of Evandel’s life, he had only seen the Dawn Crystal shine white. He had then asked what would happen if the crystal did not turn white. His grandfather had frowned, saying the only time the crystal had turned any other color was a year nearly a century ago, when it had turned the color of flame and ash.

That was the year that the Demon Horde had come.

Evandel found Zaken first, sitting by the refreshments and ale. He knew that was where he would find him: Zaken, for all his personable nature, did not like parties or dancing. Evandel had a feeling that it had something to do with his tail.

“Good evening,” Zaken said, smiling as Evandel approached. “Have a good nap?”

“I hadn’t even noticed that I fell asleep until I woke up,” Evandel said, taking a seat and joining his companion. “Where are Bargo and Deida?”

Zaken smiled broader and pointed to the dancers. Evandel’s face lit up in a big grin when he saw his two friends dancing together, Bargo being as graceful as his muscular frame would allow, and Deida moving as though dancing were just as easy as walking.

“This party here never ceases to amaze me,” Zaken said. “One minute they were here talking to me, the next thing I know Deida is asking Bargo to join her for a dance, while we wait for you.”

“They seem to be having fun,” Evandel said. “Let’s give them a few more minutes.”

When Deida and Bargo noticed that Evandel and Zaken were watching them, they came over. Bargo seemed embarrassed that he had seen them dancing, but Deida acted as though it was nothing.

The four walked around the clearing, and Evandel took the time to talk with some of the townsfolk that he had not been able to see again. He had not realized just how much could happen in four years. Some families had grown, others all but dispersed. There were those that had sent their children out to Luereth, the sister school of Solreth, in hopes that they would be accepted like Evandel. Others had stayed in the town, and had already started families of their own.

There was much commotion indeed when Poerna descended upon the clearing, and landed on the platform with the altar. Evandel made his way to greet his old friend, and could see his friends coming to do the same. Before they even got there, Evandel’s mother and grandfather had already received the asperi. Arthil was talking to the wind horse as he would an old friend, something that surprised even Evandel. Poerna explained that he and Arthil were old acquaintances, and that he had known Arthil’s family for a long time. Evandel had a hard time believing that, but didn’t care enough at the moment to ask about it. When Arthil invited Poerna to aid in the ceremony, he declined, saying that it was the privilege of the village leader and eldest priest to carry out that duty.

The time came when dawn was nearly upon the clearing. The music and the dancing came to a stop, and Evandel’s heart began to race. He always became excited when the ceremony was going to begin, perhaps of all the magic that hung in the air, gathered for one purpose. Everyone’s attention turned to the altar, and the Dawn Crystal. Arthil and his fellow priests stood around the crystal in reverie, as if awaiting some great sign. At last, Arthil turned to the people of Tyhal, who were awaiting eagerly the ceremony.

“People of the Treehome Village,” Arthil greeted the crowd, his old voice still holding much of its power, “the time is near for the ceremony to begin! We shall know again what the future holds for our fair community for another year. Pray now for the prosperity that we have worked so hard to bring to each other, through the ancient pact of friendship entered into by our ancestors.”

With this, he turned to the altar, and began to chant the prayer, the words of priestly magic that began the ceremony. Evandel could tell now that the spell was indeed an augury charm. He could feel the magic of the each of the other priests’ words strengthen his grandfather’s spell. Evandel felt awe overcome him when he could almost see the magical energy being sent to the crystal. He had no idea that the magics taking place during the festival were so incredibly powerful. He felt like his own magic was meager as compared to the power before him now.

The chants began to rise, and the light of dawn brightened the clearing, though the sun had not yet breached the tree line. Simply being in the proximity of the crystal now was a rapture he had never felt before. He was startled when Bargo put his hand on Evandel’s shoulder.

“Are you okay?” The big man asked. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

“I’m fine,” Evandel said shakily. “The magic is so powerful. Now that I can sense it better, I can see how much energy it actually takes for this.”

“This is really that powerful?” Bargo said, doubt at the edge of his voice.

“A normal augury is meant for one action,” Evandel said. “This spell covers the actions of not only the entire town, but the actions of unknown forces that will affect us in the future. Weather, accidents, invaders, other towns . . . it takes immense amounts of power.”

“That’s incredible,” Bargo said, staring at the crystal, as though trying to see what his friend saw.

The chants were coming to a crescendo, and Evandel was nearly knocked off his feet by the surge of auras coming together inside the crystal. He wished for a moment that he had brought his staff, so he could lean on it. Fortunately, Bargo did the job just fine, reaching out to catch him. The knight errant held his nearly swooning friend to keep him from falling to the ground.

The chanting stopped, and the first light of dawn found the crystal.

Arthil stepped closer and brought his arms out wide. “Lore Mistress, Sun Master, hear our call! Shine your light upon our future, and bless us with your knowledge! Shall our town come to prosper in the coming cycle of seasons?”

Evandel’s heart began to race again, but his time it was different. A cold dread swept over him, a shadow of fear that crept into his heart and mind. He wanted to cry out, to scream that something was not right, but his cry seemed lodged in his throat. A wave of revulsion overcame him when he saw a sparkle in the heart of the crystal. He knew its color before he even saw it.

It was red.

Fiery light flared from the crystal, and all of the priests fell back, some falling over. Poerna whinnied and reared, then galloped over to Arthil’s side, and people began panicking. Immediately, Deida and Bargo began crowd control, trying to keep people from rioting and calming them down.

The chaos was maddening; adding to the screaming energy Evandel could feel all around him. He could see that something was truly wrong, however, when the platform started to break apart.

He rushed toward the stage, not entirely in control of himself. He could tell that there was some powerful magic emanating from the crystal, something that was not supposed to be there. He did not know what to do, but knew he had to do something. He had barely reached the stage when altar that the crystal rested on shattered, covering those nearby with stone fragments. The crystal remained aloft, still bombarding the stage with its foul energies.

Evandel cried out for his grandfather and Poerna, but could hardly see them in the blinding red glare that now issued from the crystal. He ran as fast as he could, and without fear for his own safety, he climbed on top of the stage.

No sooner than he had stepped upon the platform, the crystal’s light shifted. The fiery gleam became a shining, white light. The light gradually became purer, and eventually the crystal shone as clearly and strongly as it had ever before. Evandel could feel the radiance come closer to him, and he felt encompassed, as though it embraced him. The brightness died away, and he could see the crystal still hanging in the air, several feet above him. He reached up, and it fell to touch his fingertips, the light ceasing to emanate from the crystal. He stood in the light of dawn, with the crystal held above his head.

He became suddenly aware that everyone in the clearing was now looking directly at him. He found the eyes of his friends; the awe that was on their faces was reflected in the faces of everyone else in the clearing. He turned to his grandfather, who was leaning on Poerna’s side. Arthil looked astonished, but Poerna seemed to be smiling.

“I knew I could expect great things from you, Deepseeker,” Poerna whispered into his mind.

******

Evandel stood in the clearing, hours after the Festival of Dawn’s Blessing had been declared over, and the presiding priests had gone to discuss what had happened. He still held on to the crystal, the only tangible thing that he had to hold on to at the moment. It seemed as though the ceremony had dispersed all semblance of order in his little village.

That said, the aftermath of the festival was not as chaotic as it could have been. The spectacle of what happened with the Dawn Crystal had everyone confused as to what the message of the ceremony was. Arthil called a meeting with all the other priests, but he would not say to the public what it was about.  

Fortunately, no one was hurt by the crystal’s corrupted energy, or the panic that had ensued because of it. There was damage to the platform that had weakened it considerably, which seemed to Evandel like fire damage, but the wood seemed warped and darkened in a way that was not normal for burnt wood.

“It’s not burnt,” Zaken told him. Evandel turned to see him standing there, apparently for some time. “There are parts that are burnt, but the other parts are corrupted.”

“Corrupted?” Evandel said. “What do you mean?”

“It’s simple,” Zaken said, smiling smugly. “Fire burns, cold freezes, lightning shocks, and darkness corrupts.”

“Dark magic?” Evandel said, trying hard to process how that could be. “All that went in was an augury, cast by several light Principles! How is that even possible?”

Zaken shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me. I have never seen anything like that.”

“That makes two of us.” Evandel’s gaze dropped to the Dawn Crystal. “This crystal isn’t even configured for any offensive or destructive magic.”

“Ideally, it wouldn’t have to be,” Zaken said, leaning up against the corrupted platform.  “If a fire aura is focused strongly enough, it can smolder clothes and paper nearby. Whatever caused that reaction is a truly powerful source of dark and fire magic.”

Evandel nodded. He knew full well the results of an over focused aura. He had frozen half his classroom and half of his professor by focusing way more than was necessary.

What he did not understand is where the sudden excess of dark and fire came from. He knew for a fact that each of the priests involved in the ceremony was a light Principle. Something outside of the influence of the village had caused this, and that worried him.

Deida came over then, trying to smile, but looking more concerned than anything. Bargo followed on her heels, his anxious frown far less subtle than Deida’s expression.

“Are you all right, Ev?” Deida asked. Her voice seemed between emotions.

“I’m fine, just as much as anyone else,” Evandel said, managing a weak smile of his own.

“What did you do?” she asked. “You changed the light, how did it happen?”

Evandel shook his head. “It wasn’t me. It changed and came to me on its own.”

“You’re saying that you had nothing to do with it?” Deida said, her eyes not fully believing him. “You, a student of Solreth and a practiced sorcerer?”

“I wish I could explain it,” Evandel sighed. “You must understand that auguries and their like are not my kind of magic. Mine has more tangible effects. Priests can use their auras for interacting on spiritual levels.” He furrowed his brow, taking in his own words. “Now that I think of it, I couldn’t have done anything, even if I wanted.”

Bargo grinned warmly. “Well, you did. I suppose it doesn’t matter how, but you probably saved the entire village just now.”

“No doubt about it, you at least saved the priests and Poe,” Zaken said. “The big guy’s right. You don’t know how you did it, but that doesn’t make you any less a hero.”

“A hero? Me?” Evandel said, raising his eyebrows. As far as he could tell, he simply came close to the crystal and it changed its light. He hardly thought that made him a hero.

But why did it react only to him?

Just then, Evandel saw one of the priests from the ceremony walking toward them. It was an elven man, but one Evandel did not remember from his days before Solreth. “Greetings, Master Evandel,” he said as he approached.

“Master Evandel?” Zaken said incredulously.

Evandel shrugged again. “Part of being a sorcerer is the title that comes with it.”

“Just don’t let it go to your head, and I’ll still have respect for you,” Zaken said, smiling and shaking his head.

The priest continued. “I am Talhaias. I am one of the priests of Alaron under your grandfather. He has asked me to come and find you, and bring you to our council.”

Evandel nodded, and started to follow the elf to the tree houses. Zaken and Deida stepped up beside them, and the priest looked at him questioningly.

“Does the high priest mind if we come along?” Zaken said.

Talhaias frowned. “He did not say you couldn’t, but he did ask for only Master Evandel.”

“I’ve only heard that twice, and I’m already sick of it,” Deida muttered.

“But he didn’t say we couldn’t,” Zaken said, grinning.

“I have to check in with the other guards, but I’ll be wanting to hear this too,” Bargo said, hurrying away in search of his fellows.

“Lord Arthil doesn’t like being kept waiting,” Talhaias said, impatiently.

“He can wait for his grandson,” Evandel reassured him. “I won’t be going unless it is with them.”

“As you wish,” the elven priest said, heading toward the nearest bridge ladders. “I will tell him you are on the way, when you arrive, you can explain why you are late.”

Evandel frowned, and briefly entertained cursing the holy man. He might have expected treatment like that in Vainemar or Fisathvanna, but not from a fellow villager. Even though he had been gone for four years, he thought that he would at least garner some respect or at least recognition from his fellow townsmen. Perhaps Talhaias was the exception, but Evandel was earnestly beginning to feel as though half-elves did not belong anywhere, even in Tyhal.

Bargo returned a few short minutes later, and they all climbed the ladders up to the bridges connecting all the tree houses. The size of the trees in the area of the forest in Tyhal meant they were able to hold up fairly large domiciles, including a handful of shops and a tavern. The elves had lent their expertise by growing the trees in such a way that building on the branches was safe, sturdy, and relatively easy. The construction of the bridges, however, was a matter of human ingenuity. It was one of the many testaments of cooperation that made Tyhal what it was.

The bridges were broad and strong enough that many people could be on them at once, and there were many bridges that connected the town together, joined in circle in the middle of the town. Since it had grown, there were more buildings built in the trees and more bridges built to reach them, becoming a web of wood and rope. At the center of the town was the largest tree in the area. At the base was the home of the village elder and above that was a small temple to Taelri and Alaron.

Evandel expected that the temple would not change in four years, for it had not ever been subject to the few changes that had happened to the village in all of Evandel’s life. Indeed, there were no outward differences in the structure. It was not until he crossed the threshold of the sanctum that he noticed the change.

For his whole life, there was a magic that permeated the temple, an inextinguishable light that made the temple feel safe. A ceremonial shallow pool in the center of the structure emanated a serenity that rivaled that of the deep pond in the western woods. Now, the light and serenity were all but gone, fading as though the sanctity of the temple was disappearing.

Arthil and his priests stood around the pool, talking in hushed voices. Talhaias, standing near to Arthil, pointed out Evandel’s arrival. Arthil beckoned him and his friends to come near, and the circle of priests made room for them. Evandel walked forward tentatively, not used to the lack of magic in the temple.

“Greetings, Evandel,” Arthil said, with all the presence he had during the ceremony. “You are late.”

“I’m sorry grandfather,” Evandel said, immediately regretting his slip of tongue.

“You are to call him Lord while you are here,” Talhaias said sternly. Arthil looked disapprovingly at the reprimanding priest.

“Do not take that tone with my grandson, Talhaias,” Arthil said, his tone no less imposing. “He is welcome to address me as he wishes, as are his friends.”

Evandel nodded, and was glad that his grandfather had never been much for titles. Talhaias fixed the half-elf with a disapproving look one last time and nodded as well.

“I am glad you all came, for you all should hear what we have discussed.” Arthil motioned toward the Dawn Crystal, still held by Evandel. “We do not believe that it was a coincidence that the crystal changed its light when you drew near. Rather, we believe it is part of the message sent to us by Taelri.”

Zaken tentatively raised his hand. “Why do you say Taelri, and not Alaron?”

Arthil chuckled. “Unlike other questions we have, that one is simple, Zaken.” The elder priest pointed to Evandel’s right hand. “You have undoubtedly seen the mark on his hand.”

“Ev’s birthmark?” Bargo asked. “Yes, it’s the symbol of Taelri. So what?”

“So, my dear knight,” Arthil said with a growing smile, “that is not a birthmark, at least not in the traditional sense. It marks him as Taelri’s chosen. Therefore, it is she who sent us this message.”

“And have you analyzed the events of the ceremony?” Evandel asked, placing his left hand over the back of his right. His markings had never made him feel so uncomfortable before, but the idea that he was chosen by Taelri now felt a little unnerving. He always knew that the Lore Mistress favored him, but he had never felt like he was chosen for anything.

Arthil nodded. “We believe we have. The red light that came from the crystal, what did it feel like to you?”

“It was like fire, but darker somehow,” Evandel said, and his friends nodded.

“I have seen the effects of dark magic elsewhere,” Zaken said. “It was similar to the damage done to the platform and altar.”

“It was also similar to the hex magic used by the gnolls,” Bargo put in. “It’s said they draw their power from the Darkplane itself.”

Arthil nodded gravely. “You may be more right than anyone else, Bargo.” He turned to Evandel. “Do you remember what I told you about the crystal, and the last time the light was a different color?”

“Yes, you said it was the time of the Demon Horde,” Evandel said, growing worried. This was not the direction he hoped things would go, though he had a feeling something like this was what happened.

“Are you saying that there will be another demon attack?” Deida asked.

Arthil shrugged. “That would be impossible to say for certain. All it means is that the Darkplane is somehow involved in our future.” He returned his gaze to his grandson. “What we have discerned is why the light changed the way it did. There is a legend of a pair of chosen, one of Taelri and one of Faarthus, who face and destroy an ancient evil, one encountered before by the people of Kayledon. The legend is relatively new, but it is highly regarded. We believe Taelri’s chosen is you, Evandel.”

Evandel was positive that his heart stopped for a moment. “Are you serious? Me?”           

Arthil nodded. “The legend speaks of the Taelri chosen having the mark on their right hand.”

Zaken gave him a sly look. “And you said you were worried about impressing us.”

“But . . . I . . . It cannot be me!” Evandel protested vainly. He was grasping at the meager strands of reality still dangling before him; his world was unraveling before his eyes.

“Ev, I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen what you did,” Bargo said. “I have to agree.”

Evandel’s head swam with thoughts, while everything that had happened buoyed on the surface. He never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would be at the center of something as big as this. Part of him wanted to deny that it was even possible for someone like him to be in the middle of a legend or prophecy, that he was no different from anyone else who carried a sorcerer’s staff. It made him sick to his stomach to think that his village’s future would depend solely on him.

But another part of him felt that he knew it was the truth. In fact, he was thrilled at the prospect of being the chosen of Taelri. He had a hunger for the kind of adventure that Zaken chased, to see the hidden places of the world and unearth ancient secrets. This might his big chance to do all of that.

“Suppose this is my future,” Evandel said, still not sure of himself. “Does the legend tell what I must do?”

“The legend says that the chosen use the artifacts of Unity to combat the evil,” Talhaias explained. “Are you familiar with them?”

“I hate to say that I am not,” Evandel said.

Arthil nodded. “It’s not surprising. It is a little known prophecy, known only by a few dozen scholars and people who were around when it was conceived.” He cleared his throat, assuming a scholarly posture. “Unity was a group of important people from all races, and walks of life, who stood up to the Great Demon, who led the Demon Horde. All of them were holders of an item of power, which we have come to know as the artifacts of Unity. They have been entrusted to guardians, and hidden around Kayledon, waiting for the chosen to claim them.”

“You said before that I am the chosen of Taelri,” Evandel said, starting to warm up to the idea. “Who is the chosen of Faarthus?”

“We do not know that,” Talhaias admitted. “What we do know is that you shall meet with him in your travels. Know this, we don’t know when this evil will be upon us, but it could be any time now. If you intend to live up to your fate, you must begin soon.”

“You may take as much time as you need to prepare, Evandel,” Arthil said. “Your journey will be long and difficult.”

“Wait,” Deida said, interrupting. “Does the legend say anything about us? You know, the friends of the chosen going along with him?”

“Yeah, we aren’t going to let him go alone, you know,” Bargo said, clapping his hand on Evandel’s shoulder. Zaken nodded his agreement, standing closer to his friends.

Talhaias and Arthil looked at each other, then to some of the other priests. Talhaias looked at them sternly. “No, it mentions only the chosen embarking on this journey.”

“However,” one of the other priests said, “It does not say anything about them not going.” Talhaias fixed him with a venomous glare, but the man continued. “If it is the wish of the Chosen, then it is our will that you follow him,” he said.

Arthil nodded. “No one can walk life’s journey alone, much less an endeavor of this importance. You are hereby commanded to accompany the Chosen of Taelri, through the spirit of fellowship of Tyhal and the gods that bless us.” He looked to his grandson, as though waiting for his affirmation.

Evandel studied his friends. They had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Evandel could hardly understand the seriousness of the situation himself. Yet their postures remained strong, their eyes determined. He would give the world to feel that way at the moment. How could he ask them to aid him in something so dangerous?

That danger, he realized, was the exact reason he needed to ask their help. This might be his destiny, but to face it alone would be madness. The dark power he had felt coursing through the crystal was not something he could face all by himself, even with another Chosen standing beside him in the end. His friends were what made him strong enough to get through Solreth, what drove him to be something. He could not be without them.

Evandel looked at each of them in turn, and said, “I would be honored if you came with me.”

******

           

Within a day, Evandel was prepared to leave Tyhal. He found that sorcerer’s traveled light, as they could provide most of what they need through magic. His friends had informed him that they would need another day, so Evandel found himself with more time than he would have liked to have to himself. He returned home, but could do little more than sit on the edge of his bed, staring at his old bookshelf, thinking of what his grandfather had told him, wondering if this was truly his fate.

He heard a knock on the door, followed by it creaking open. His mother stood in the doorway, and gave him a curious look.

“Back so soon? I thought you were ready?” she asked, coming into the room.

He smiled at her when she entered, and shrugged. “Everyone needed more time.”

Siali smiled back gently and sat beside him on the bed. “Are you sure you didn’t just want one last look at your old room? You’ve hardly been here the short time you had at home.”

“I feel the same, and I guess I’m going to regret it,” he said somberly. “I may never see this room or you again.”

Siali sighed. She looked at her son in the way she used to when he was in trouble. “Do you doubt yourself?”

Evandel balked at her question. “What?”

“Do you, Deepseeker?”

Evandel found suddenly that he could not meet his mother’s gaze. “This is so beyond anything I ever thought would happen I don’t know what to think. Yes, I have much doubt in this matter.”

Siali put her arm on her son’s shoulder. She lifted his chin to bring his ocean blue gaze to her almond shaped green eyes. “You are no more than the challenges you can overcome. We will never know if the obstacles on the Winding Paths are ones we can overcome until we challenge them ourselves.”

“You have said that before,” Evandel said, remembering the words from night before he left for Solreth. “I feel this is much different from that.”

Siali shook her head. “The moment I picked you up as an infant, I knew you were destined for great things, Evandel. Events that are bigger than this village, indeed, bigger than our country would take you far away from me. That is your fate, the one path that you have before you. Not many have their choice so simple. All that is left is for you to walk it.”

After she left him, Evandel still felt strongly that he was not ready. He took up his staff, and went to the door of his room. Before leaving, he cast a spell to hide himself from the senses of others. He walked right past his mother, sitting at the table with a cup of tea, looking troubled. He left the village, the sun still high in the sky, heading for the western pond.

When he arrived, he released his spell just in time to see Poerna standing there, almost as though the horse was waiting for him.

“Greetings again, Deepseeker,” Poerna welcomed him. “I was going to come see you, but I guess you beat me to it.”

“You were going to come see me?” Evandel asked, walking up to the wind horse. “What for?”

“To ask when you are leaving.”

“I will be gone early tomorrow, I would guess,” Evandel shrugged. “You do not need to pack much when you have magic to help you out. My friends, however, needed a little more time.”

“Undoubtedly, they are preparing themselves in more ways than just packing,” Poerna said. “Is that what you have come here for?”

 “Yes,” Evandel admitted. “Meditation, focus, a little practice . . .”

“I recommend the practice, but the meditation I would not suggest.”

Evandel scratched his head. “Why not?”

Poerna sighed. “It is in my experience that when one is faced with a difficult future, one tends to think on it. When this happens, one is warrant to fill one’s own mind with doubts and fears that never would have been there if one had just accepted the future before one’s self.”

“You can’t mean that,” Evandel said.

“I do, Deepseeker,” Poerna stated firmly. “Resolve yourself to your future before you talk yourself down from it.”

Evandel let Poerna’s words sink in before he asked his next question. “Why practice and not meditation?”

“Distraction is what you need,” he responded simply. “You will feel better about what is to come if you do not dwell on the inevitable. If you fear what is to come, you will live with doubt and resentment. Face the future with courage, and do not hesitate. In doing so, you may shape the path before you.  

“Now, you cannot be expected to ignore what is to come. That would be dangerous and arrogant. In honing your skills, you divert your thoughts from disruptive doubts, and prepare yourself for the times ahead. That and any more confidence you can instill in yourself through training before an undertaking like this is well worth it.”

Evandel chuckled. “You make a compelling argument. I guess I should listen to you. After all, you have been around longer than any of us. How many centuries did you say?”

“Five, but that might not be perfectly accurate; it is a long time to keep track.” Evandel could feel a humorous tone in the asperi’s telepathic voice, which faded with his next statement. “I should be perfectly frank with you, Deepseeker, I want to go with you.”

Evandel felt surprise at this revelation, but it fell quickly to the joy that followed. “You do?”

“Indeed. There are things I must attend to before I can join you and your friends, but I will catch up in time.”

“How will you know where to find us?”

“Simple. I know where the first artifact is found. I will meet up with you after you recover it.”

Evandel could not stop his curiosity. “How do you know where to find it?”

“I have been watching over its location for many years, as a promise to an old friend,” Poerna explained. “I had a feeling you would be the one to seek it out, regardless of your future.”

“Where is it?” Evandel’s curiosity continued.

“You’ll find it in a cave southwest of this pond, in the hills of the gnolls. Bargo and Deida, with their knowledge of the area, should have no problem getting you there. The artifact is known as the Sun Symbol, and is the former property of a Knight of the Shining Order, once known as Warrane.”

Evandel nodded. “Thank you, Poerna. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

The white horse seemed to shrug. “You would have found it eventually. You’re a resourceful one; I’ll give you that. Now, I’ll leave you to your practice.” Poerna started to trot out of the clearing.

“Wait!” Evandel called after him. The asperi turned around curiously, and Evandel grinned. “I could use a sparring partner.”

Poerna seemed to grin back, and the air around him flared to life. “Sounds like fun.”