Vantra threw up shield after shield, her attention on the blight wanting access to those she protected. Kenosera wrapped his arm around her waist and picked her up; she realized she had fallen behind, and that would not do. He ran to catch up with the others while she concentrated on their foe.
Magic slid beneath hers; it felt like Seja’s hand. It could not meld with her defense because she had not given the dweller the trigger, so she formed a bauble and tossed it at her; the evaki snagged and planted it in her palm, then yelled at her fellows. Offensive spells shot away from them, impacting the roots with flashes of intense nature-flavored power.
Yut-ta hit the road with the torches, and the blackened lengths followed them, smoke rising from their surface as they entered the light, but they continued their assault until they caught fire. The tips rose above the illumination, trailing ash and oily residue that sizzled upon striking the ground.
A flare from within; Eno threw a blazing ball to make a bonfire proud, and it struck the roots, blowing them into small pieces that fell to the ground and wiggled violently as eager flames ate them. She destroyed enough of the attacking plants that the assault paused until they reached a dilapidated square surrounded by torches.
The roots hovered over the fallen sandstone walls of once proud buildings, waving back and forth, refusing to encroach on the well-lit area. Rufang were there, but they cowered back, deserting their carts and supplies, refusing to interfere.
Eno roared at them, and they fled.
Yut-ta took an exit road opposite the forest, but the roots followed, striking, burning, dissolving, striking again. The way sharply inclined, and the injured and older dwellers slowed. All slowed with them; no leaving one behind. Those better able helped their companions, but their flight fell from a run to a fast walk.
“BAKJ DIA! BAKJ DIA!”
Someone shouted at them, but Vantra could not understand. It sounded elfine, though, like Kjaelle when she muttered something in her native tongue.
Black goop splattered the shielding.
She whimpered as it slid down, marring sight. She strengthened the layers; the stuff ate through, creating holes in her protections. Seja’s shields flared where it touched, and the gunk jerked away for a moment before swallowing the ryiam and sinking its maw onto the nature-tinged magic.
Light.
It ripped through her, and Vantra felt the punch of power dig into her essence; her shields fell, and expecting it to tear her apart, she panicked. Before she could react with Clear Rays, the illumination softened, and her core drank the energy, as it would a delectable mist. The brightness faded, and she blinked, then withdrew her head from Kenosera’s shoulder and looked up at him.
What happened?
He leaned against a smooth, whitewashed wall, holding her to his chest. He glanced down and smiled. She heard rustling, and a gentle hand settled on her arm; a swish of healing magic washed through her essence. The healer had whitish hair piled on top of her head and wore a white robe with golden embroidery decorating the sleeves and the collar; she recognized the favorite look of ancient elfine Sun and Light priests.
“I did not think you would make it,” she said quietly. “The roots much wanted you.”
Vantra shuddered. “We’re with the kidnapped shaman and leaders from the forest dwellers,” she whispered. “I think the enemy wants them back.”
“So I see. Many need healing help. Hopefully they will allow us to touch them.” She rose and shuffled on.
The darkness must not have affected her much, then. Relieved, she sternly told her essence to relax and sagged against the nomad before examining the space. They sat in a round room with a Light crystal hovering within a petal-like podium, though the area swam in a soft golden-brown, despite the whitewash that should have reflected the Light beams and brightened it. A handful of robed elfines spoke to the forest dwellers; while most regarded them with suspicion, Seja did not, and badgered more than one into letting the healers aid them.
Good. Vantra did not get the sense that they meant to harm.
She settled her head back on Kenosera’s shoulder. “Where’s Yut-ta?”
“Speaking with the high priestess.” He squeezed gently. “It’s a good thing the temple was closer than I thought it would be. I don’t think we could have made it to the top.”
They would have, but she would have been nothing more than her core when they arrived.
He leaned down. “Hold on,” he whispered, then pushed away from the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he gained his feet, wondering why he had to get up, then noticed Yut-ta waving them to join him. He stood in the doorway to a hall that, again, had a dim golden-brown look. What had this place felt like, when at full power?
“The high priestess is Elora,” Yut-ta told them as Kenosera reached him. “She wants to talk to us.” He clacked his beak and ruffled the back of his hair. “I, uh, mentioned Kjiven. She insists she has something to tell us.”
Ah.
The hallway, lit by finely ground Light crystals held in shallow pans hanging from the ceiling, led to an entry intersected by three other corridors. He took the left-hand one, which ended in a room brighter with the touch of Light. White pilasters carved with images of Light’s Ascension circled the space, landscapes depicting blue skies and broad meadows resting between them, all bathed in a heavenly haze. In the center stood a two-tiered fountain that misted the air, the broad pools tinged a tropical blue.
Sitting on the edge of the lower one, running her fingers through the water, was a lithe elfine. While she wore the same white robes and had the same whitish hair as the other acolytes, jeweled combs held her tresses from her warm, doe-brown eyes, hinting at her higher rank. Her gentle smile added to the sense of peace surrounding her.
She raised her hand and motioned to a long bench positioned in front of a wide, white fabric screen painted with a towering Light temple bathed in ethereal rays. Vantra did not recognize the architecture and wondered at its age. Was it Kjiven old, perhaps? That would make it over forty thousand, ancient even by elfine standards.
Kenosera set her down, which she knew needed to happen, but she enjoyed being carried by him and a small part of her wanted to remain in his arms. A foolish thought, considering the situation, and she buried it as she sank between her companions.
“I’m Elora,” the elfine said. Her voice was as soft as her gaze, something Vantra had read ancient Light acolytes aspired to. “Yut-ta introduced himself. And you are?”
“I’m Vantra.”
“Kenosera.”
She nodded and raised her hand, shaking the drops from her fingertips. “I’m surprised there is anyone other than the Wiiv and their allies prowling the citadel.”
Vantra folded her hands in her lap, unease descending. The elfine did not seem other than kind, but her experience with the Finders proved that exterior sheens often did not reflect inner darkness. “Greenglimmer is being cut off from the rest of the Elfiniti, and we came to stop the one doing it. We happened upon the kidnapped forest dwellers by accident.”
Her brows jutted down briefly. “Cut off?”
“The Wiiv blew a Deccavent dam under the influence of the false Strans, and debris entered the Dryanflow,” Kenosera said. “Vines grow over roads, roots attack travelers.”
She settled her hands on her folded legs and closed her eyes. “They blew a dam.” She opened them and pressed her lips together, reflecting inner turmoil. “How could he?”
Did she know who Strans was? She sounded as if she did. “You know who he is.”
She met Vantra’s gaze and nodded. “Kjiven,” she whispered. Melancholy and pain filled her voice, filled her visage. “He is mad, and I can’t wrest him from it. He once treated me kindly, spoke with soft words and touched me with gentle fingers. But then he disappeared into the Labyrinth as he had before, and returned with another’s visage, another’s power. He claimed himself the defender of the twisted ways, and I couldn’t dissuade him from his choice.” She looked at the Light-saturated lantern hanging beside the door, then at the gently lapping water. “Hrivasine intervened.”
The hate when she said that name startled Vantra. She glanced at Kenosera and Yut-ta, then back to the elfine.
“Hrivasine saw someone he could manipulate, someone who did not have the mental capacity to reject his false words. Kjiven was too burned, and needed healing, not untruths that turned to hate.” She looked up, her lower lip trembling. “I once walked Kjivendei, found comfort in the forest that slowly swallowed it. Now, I cannot even step beyond the door, for fear my existence will end by Kjiven’s hand.”
“He can’t come in here?” Yut-ta asked, glancing about. Vantra understood his concern; for a Light temple, the place glowed too dimly to have much of Talis’s blessing, and she did not doubt Kjiven would take advantage.
“No. However blunted, Light is master here, not Nature. Not the stolen power of Strans. If he were as he was after the flood, yes, he could enter. The trauma to his essence made him forget his loathing of Talis for breaking the Dryanflow barrier.” She settled a hand to her breast. “We had centuries together, and his inner light and mine fused.
“But Hrivasine visited. I’ve no idea why. He hunted for something beneath the surface ruins, deep within the mountain. Kjiven confronted him, bid him leave—he recognized his grandfather, and the shock he still existed took hold. He questioned him, long and hard enough Kjiven retreated here to be rid of him. He followed, broke into the temple, confronted him, confronted me.” She laughed, sharp, aching. “He did not like that we did not bow to his brutish nature, and left, promising to return.”
“Sounds like him,” Yut-ta said. “His reputation in Selaserat isn’t good.”
“He lusts for power, in any way he can grab it.” She flicked her fingers. “He should remember, how that turned out. Talis did not just draw his Light from the temple, and Hrivasine knows this.”
“What do you mean?” Vantra asked.
Elora smiled in self-mockery. “There was a darkness he noticed, within every soul in Kjivendei. I hadn’t realized it, though the previous high priest did. Talis took his robes and was unkind about it. We originally thought him hateful towards elfines, but the cover the high priest gave to the darkness lifted, and we saw what he attempted to hide. I’m not sure Kjiven knew of it; if he did, he doesn’t remember. Much of that is due to Hrivasine.
“He returned with another, a ghost of darker thought and deed. He looked elfine, but I knew he was not. Nymph, perhaps, one skilled in manipulating visages. They cornered Kjiven out of my presence, and something happened—I don’t know what—but afterwards, he said the Labyrinth called him, as it had those long years ago. He disappeared that night. The other priests drove Hrivasine and the nymph away, but they looked too smug, like they already had what they came for.
“When Kjiven returned with Strans’ mantle, I knew something terrible had happened.” She tapped her forehead. “He claimed he regained his memory, but he had huge gaps, both of his living and dead years, especially concerning family and friends. Hrivasine seemed centered, when before, he spoke infrequently of him, and with much angst. I wanted to support him, but I told him that this was not the way. He took my words seriously, but the next time Hrivasine visited, his doubts disappeared.”
“So Hrivasine and this nymph are using him,” Kenosera said.
“Yes. He doubts them, then they visit and secret him away from me, and he exits those meetings darker than when he entered.” She cupped her nose, as if uncertain whether to continue, then pressed on. “They aren’t as effective as they once were. He fears he made a terrible error, and the guilt over what he did to Strans eats him. He fights the compulsion, but something overrides him after he decides to return the mantle, directing him down another path. It is of darkness, but not syimlin Darkness. It is of rotting death, a contamination of wind and soil, body and soul. It infects Greenglimmer, as you have seen, and I don’t know how to stop it. We of the temple have attempted to eradicate it from the citadel, but with no success.”
“Any guesses what Hrivasine might have searched for within the ruins?” Yut-ta asked.
“We priests have spoken of it.” She smoothed her dress, then made nervous small circles on her thighs. “We have no consensus, but I believe I have guessed. Before the Wiiv, Kjivendei was a magic city, like the great Kor Restat.”
Vantra knew Kor Restat; it became the example for temples throughout the ages due to its magnificent beauty and elegant architecture, and the Spiral Sun was a miniature copy. Kenosera and Yut-ta exchanged glances, and Elora smiled at them.
“If you do not know, Kor Restat was an ancient city commissioned by Nevarikja, once-symilin of Moon, and built with magic. It infused every wall, every street, every fae who resided within. Wondrous things of exquisite design, powered by ryiam, filled the streets. The buildings themselves could float, the river waters twirled in the air, glass pods could swallow one and they would appear at their destination in a matter of breaths. Kjiven, inspired, constructed the citadel with that in mind. He collected ryiam, but instead of forming a giant lake like the dryans or nymphs, he saturated the stone beneath the city with it. Rainforest plants, attracted to the bounty, encroached here, and grew tall and wholesome.
“Kjiven did not drive them away but welcomed them. The forest dwellers noticed, too, and many of them disliked that a ghost-designed habitation drew the foliage. The Wiiv and the Hiatre were especially sharp, for they saw in Kjivendei another Dryanthium. They did not want to lose their homes yet again. They attacked travelers and supply caravans, but never the city directly. The Shield became a necessity to protect all who fell under Kjiven’s rule.
“Jorcasas Ilvandekj was very strict about his charge. He erected forts all along the mountains, with the Shield as a base. In Kjivendei, beneath the guard headquarters, he created a magic reservoir fed by the ryiam stored in the bedrock. It was a darker magic for a darker use, and I think it’s this power that Hrivasine sought. It’s still there, fed by nature, but I doubt the spells making the raw energy digestible are extant.”
“A wildelfine for a wild magic,” Kenosera said. Elora blinked as Vantra met Yut-ta’s worried eyes. That made sense. Kjiven had bragged how he understood the forest, and if Hrivasine wanted a large amount of ryiam but it was too raw for him to handle, why not take advantage of mental tenderness and conscript the ghost who had already proven he could work with it?
Elora whimpered. “He would sacrifice Kjiven?” She put her head in her hands and trembled.
That made too much sense. “You think Hrivasine found the reservoir?” Vantra asked.
“I . . . don’t know for certain. Neither he nor Kjiven mentioned it, if he did. It’s true, there are artefacts and other things he might have been looking for, but my best guess is he happened upon it, and mastering it became his goal.”
Heading down, into the darkness, like the cave she, Jare and Laken traversed, squicked her, but she did not see any other way to find the cause of the corruption and destroy it. That would free the rainforest dwellers because it would sever the connection between their symbols and the enemy, perhaps free Kjiven, and expose who worked with Hrivasine to covet what did not belong to them.
“We need to find the others,” Yut-ta said.
“Others?” Elora raised her head.
“We came with a Darkness acolyte named Kjaelle, two Light-blessed, Jare and Mica, and two pirates, Dough and Janny.”
She blinked. “That . . . is quite the collection of allies.”
“Rezenarza might show up, too.”
She frowned, considering the words, then shrugged. “During his tenure as Darkness, he loved the Elfiniti. He visited Kjivendei often with Oubliette, and they would purchase supplies and disappear into the trees. He found comfort in its shadows.” She glanced at the fountain’s water, contemplating. “He would hate to see any part of it corrupted as it has been.”
Vantra decided she did not have to know that the ex-syimlin was not innocent when it came to promoting the pollution throughout the rainforest. “Can the forest dwellers stay here? We need to find this reservoir and make certain it isn’t the cause of the corruption before we return them home.”
Elora hesitated, then nodded, though she did not seem happy about it. “If they wish protection from the Wiiv, they can rest with us. But I’ll not suffer them harming any part of this temple. We stand on an unstable bridge to Talis, and I don’t want to jeopardize that again.” She set her hands to her chest. “He saw that some of us were not wed to the greed, but we numbered too few. Now we are all who are left, and we are desperate for his renewed Touch.”
“Help us, and I bet we can convince him to bless this temple again,” Kenosera said.
She cocked her head, suspicious. “How?”
“Our companion, Jare,” Vantra said. “He’s the Light-blessed that put the crown on Talis’s head.” Her eyes widened as she nodded solemnly. “So we do have a voice who can speak to him about a re-blessing.”
If Qira were well enough to fulfill it.
