you’ve finished with your search of the records?” her friend asked, arching an inquisitive eyebrow.
“I’m not finished, but I may have found something important. Let me change out of my clothes and gather my things and I will meet you and the others in the south Council chamber in an hour.”
Seersha nodded and, without pursuing the matter, went back out the door. As she disappeared, she gave a wave and said, “You-know-who has gone off alone again but is expected back soon. Still your heart, if you can.”
Bombax again. Aphenglow laughed and closed the door behind her.
It was way too late to do anything about her heart.
When she had washed and dressed in clean clothes, she walked through the corridors of the Keep toward the south Council chamber, taking her time, drinking in the smells, tastes, and sounds she had been missing during the year she was away. It was a ritual for her, a reconnecting with the place she called home. That she could feel such pleasure in a structure built of stone and iron would have surprised the Elves of Arborlon. But she saw so much more than simply the cold surfaces of the materials. The Keep was a living thing, a presence that could be felt and on occasion heard. It was protective of its children and incredibly dangerous to those who threatened them. Down in the Well, in the heart of the Keep, there was a magic that warded everything and could not be dislodged or destroyed. Time and again, when the Druid order had disappeared, died out, or simply stayed away for a long time, the magic of the Keep had come awake to keep watch until those who belonged returned.
Sometimes, when she was alone, walking down cavernous halls and through rooms layered with tapestries and shadows, she would sense the magic keeping her company, a silent, undemanding presence that wished only to share her space. It was little enough to request, and she gladly gave back what it asked.
Interestingly, no one else seemed to share her experience. In the early days after her arrival, she mentioned the unseen presence of the magic to the others. But while they nodded and smiled agreeably, she could tell they had no idea what she was talking about, that her experience was completely foreign to them.
“May I walk with you, Aphenglow?” Garroneck asked, appearing next to her out of nowhere.
She nodded wordlessly, forcing her heart to drop back down out of her throat. How did a creature so huge and ponderous appear like that without a sound? He could be a wraith when he chose, as silent as death’s shadows.
“Is your family well?” he asked conversationally.
“My sister is fine. My mother doesn’t speak to me.”
“One day she will.”
He said it with such conviction she was instantly persuaded he was right. “I would like that.”
They walked on without speaking until they reached the Council chamber entry. Light spilled through the open doors into the hallway, and she could hear the sound of voices coming from inside.
“I will be standing watch,” Garroneck advised. “No one will be allowed in while you give your report. Close the doors behind you.”
“Do you think we might be disturbed?” she asked.
He gave her a small shrug. “Not now I don’t.”
She smiled, turned, and entered the chamber, pausing to seal the doors behind her as he had asked.
The others, all but Bombax, were gathered about the long Council table. Long-limbed, loose-jointed, and rail-thin Carrick, the other member of the Race of Man, lounged in a chair at the far end, draped over the arms and seat like the scarecrow he resembled. He was bald and clean-shaven, and his pale skin seemed to radiate in the light, giving his startling blue eyes an especially vibrant look. He sat up at her appearance and clapped his hands enthusiastically.
“There she is, the woman of the hour! Welcome home, Aphenglow Elessedil. We have missed you greatly.”
“Not that greatly,” Seersha said quickly, giving her a wink. “But enough so
“I’m not finished, but I may have found something important. Let me change out of my clothes and gather my things and I will meet you and the others in the south Council chamber in an hour.”
Seersha nodded and, without pursuing the matter, went back out the door. As she disappeared, she gave a wave and said, “You-know-who has gone off alone again but is expected back soon. Still your heart, if you can.”
Bombax again. Aphenglow laughed and closed the door behind her.
It was way too late to do anything about her heart.
When she had washed and dressed in clean clothes, she walked through the corridors of the Keep toward the south Council chamber, taking her time, drinking in the smells, tastes, and sounds she had been missing during the year she was away. It was a ritual for her, a reconnecting with the place she called home. That she could feel such pleasure in a structure built of stone and iron would have surprised the Elves of Arborlon. But she saw so much more than simply the cold surfaces of the materials. The Keep was a living thing, a presence that could be felt and on occasion heard. It was protective of its children and incredibly dangerous to those who threatened them. Down in the Well, in the heart of the Keep, there was a magic that warded everything and could not be dislodged or destroyed. Time and again, when the Druid order had disappeared, died out, or simply stayed away for a long time, the magic of the Keep had come awake to keep watch until those who belonged returned.
Sometimes, when she was alone, walking down cavernous halls and through rooms layered with tapestries and shadows, she would sense the magic keeping her company, a silent, undemanding presence that wished only to share her space. It was little enough to request, and she gladly gave back what it asked.
Interestingly, no one else seemed to share her experience. In the early days after her arrival, she mentioned the unseen presence of the magic to the others. But while they nodded and smiled agreeably, she could tell they had no idea what she was talking about, that her experience was completely foreign to them.
“May I walk with you, Aphenglow?” Garroneck asked, appearing next to her out of nowhere.
She nodded wordlessly, forcing her heart to drop back down out of her throat. How did a creature so huge and ponderous appear like that without a sound? He could be a wraith when he chose, as silent as death’s shadows.
“Is your family well?” he asked conversationally.
“My sister is fine. My mother doesn’t speak to me.”
“One day she will.”
He said it with such conviction she was instantly persuaded he was right. “I would like that.”
They walked on without speaking until they reached the Council chamber entry. Light spilled through the open doors into the hallway, and she could hear the sound of voices coming from inside.
“I will be standing watch,” Garroneck advised. “No one will be allowed in while you give your report. Close the doors behind you.”
“Do you think we might be disturbed?” she asked.
He gave her a small shrug. “Not now I don’t.”
She smiled, turned, and entered the chamber, pausing to seal the doors behind her as he had asked.
The others, all but Bombax, were gathered about the long Council table. Long-limbed, loose-jointed, and rail-thin Carrick, the other member of the Race of Man, lounged in a chair at the far end, draped over the arms and seat like the scarecrow he resembled. He was bald and clean-shaven, and his pale skin seemed to radiate in the light, giving his startling blue eyes an especially vibrant look. He sat up at her appearance and clapped his hands enthusiastically.
“There she is, the woman of the hour! Welcome home, Aphenglow Elessedil. We have missed you greatly.”
“Not that greatly,” Seersha said quickly, giving her a wink. “But enough so
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