The Chosen of Anthros Page 3

  Snow and ice made the tiles of the grand staircase slick beneath his booted feet. With great effort, Dolan made his way safely to the ruined foyer. He only gave his eyes a moment to look around the room. Doors were open into more empty, ruined rooms where tapestries hung off the walls, and wallpaper was torn and folded back like the pages of an old book.

  He turned away from the destruction and toward the library.

  The smell was stronger in the foyer, but he didn’t look around to try to locate where it was coming from. He was afraid he knew what the smell was, and that was dead bodies.

  The library, at least, seemed to be nearly untouched by the destruction that clung to the other parts of the house. The room was warmer, though there wasn’t any indication of a fire.

  Probably wyrded, Dolan thought. Fortarian had lived here recently, no doubt. Though it was apparent from the rest of the house that the cold and the elements didn’t bother the darkling any longer, there were still parts of the house that needed the warmth and the elements to stay out. One of those places was the library.

  There wasn’t any sign of dust on the long pine table in the center of the room. No dust and grime coated the spines of books that rested on floor to ceiling shelves. If Dolan could just close a door to the rest of the house, it would almost be like it used to be. If he could just ignore the smell of dead bodies that seemed even closer in the library than anywhere else, he might be able to convince himself that nothing dire had even happened here.

  But the desolation of the house, the smell of death that clung to its walls, was a testament of how ruined the nine worlds was becoming. If he hoped to stop the spread of the darkling wyrd, he had to do something. The rest of the birth golems, his darkling brethren had plans. Plans that Dolan didn’t want to see come to fruition. If he planned to find a way to stop the coming of the end times, he hoped to find answers here, within the library of Bauer Hall.

  But where to start?

  And what about the other God Slayer? He wondered. Dolan felt only slightly bad that he’d lied to Heimdall about what he was going to do. Dolan was afraid he knew the only way to stop the spread of the darkling wyrd. It was a way that Heimdall wouldn’t allow.

  Let’s hope it doesn’t come to more destruction. Let’s hope that I can find a way that will stop all of the destruction that is happening.

  Dolan turned back to the ruined foyer. The destruction had to stop. The darklings had to be called into check. There were likely places like this all through the nine worlds; places of happiness that were falling under the shadow of darklings. If he didn’t try to stop it, who would?

  But from what he understood of balance and ethereal things, it was very strange that the darklings had gained so much power while the forces of good seemed to be losing it. What had happened to cause this?

  His mind raced back to his meeting with Heimdall and the emptiness of the Ever After. There was something the God hadn’t been telling him. There was a reason the God of Peace was dead and the Ever After empty.

  There was a reason the gods were missing.

  Maybe if he could discover that, he could figure out how to bring all of this to an end?

  But certainly that wouldn’t be in any books, would it?

  Right, books of prophecy, he thought. Dolan rolled his eyes. He could almost hear Mattelyn laughing at the thought of prophecy. She was under the same belief he was when it came to prophecy, the less you know the better.

  “Prophets are charlatans,” she’d said. “Half of these prophecies come about because people know about them and work so hard to avoid what they foretell that they eventually make it happen.”

  But he had to know things that were unseen, and he didn’t have any kind of wyrd, so he would have to rely on what others before him had seen.

  With a sigh, Dolan dragged the library doors closed behind him, shutting out the complete destruction of a happier life he’d lived so long before.

  The train of horses pulled to a stop. The sun was sinking low on the western horizon, casting long shadows over the hoof-churned snow.

  Abagail let out a long fog of breath as she looked upon the site that could only be New Landanten. In fact, she didn’t see anything of this elven city that matched the rundown wooden settlement she’d spent a night in several weeks before.

  “You’re in complete awe, aren’t you?” Skye said from beside her. He’d pulled his horse to a halt and sat in his saddle, a hand on his waist and every inch of him radiating his smugness. “Go on, you can admit it. We elves are pretty awesome, after all.”

  “I just never expected this. Not after the unimpressive Landanten,” Abagail chided him. He scowled and Abagail laughed. His face broke into a smile and he gave her a slight shove. It was slight, but Abagail wasn’t expecting it and nearly fell off the horse. She grappled with the reigns and let out a little yelp as the horse danced sideways, trying to keep its rider on.

  A firm hand on her shoulder helped right her in the saddle. She looked up into Rowan’s scowling face.

  “As a harbinger, I expect you to be a little more put together. Stop fooling around, there’s no impression like a first impression.”

  Abagail glared at the harbingers retreating back before casting her gaze upon New Landanten.

  Large buildings of marble and gold sparkled in the light of the fading sun. There were more buildings occupying that city than Abagail had ever seen in her life. She couldn’t imagine a town harboring so many people, and she found herself wondering if this was the only place in Agaranth that the elves lived.

  The city spread out nearly as far as she could see in either direction. It was so large that Abagail wondered how she hadn’t seen it before. From the center of the town a towering tree rose dwarfing even the tallest of buildings. The tree was so tall in fact that its upper boughs were lost to the low lying clouds.

  “Those smaller buildings around the larger ones, those are homes.” Skye pointed at smaller domed buildings that Abagail hadn’t noticed before then. “Those tallest buildings in the center are where official business happens and where most of our leaders live. The buildings around the tall ones, the ones that are half way between a house and government buildings? Those are apartments. I live in that one there.” He was point at a specific building, Abagail knew that much, but there were just so many buildings that she couldn’t find which one he was showing her.

  “What about that tree?” Abagail asked. “Is that the world tree?”

  “You mean the Tree at Eget Row?” Skye asked.

  She nodded. It didn’t look like the tree from her dream so long ago before she caught the plague, but it was definitely larger than she ever thought trees could get.

  “No, but the elves worship it like it is,” Skye told her. He turned his reverent eyes to the towering tree. “It’s said that that tree, the Lan Tree, came from a root of the Tree at Eget Row. It was supposedly found when the scepters were. It was planted here with a well erected around it. There’s no wyrd that protects it, but somehow the tree never dies and always bears fruit.”

  “So this was holy ground before the elves came to live here?” Abagail asked.

  “In a way. This was another settlement of elves. The dark elves preferred living outside of the forest. They didn’t see it as a home and more as a resource. It wasn’t until the darkling tide swept through the Fey Forest that the light elves had to come live with the dark elves.”

  Abagail wasn’t sure if it was all of the new information dumped on her, or the staggering size of the city, but she suddenly felt lightheaded. It must have shown in her eyes.

  “Don’t worry, it will all become as familiar as the back of your hand soon,” Skye said.

  “Since the coming of the shadow plague, the back of my hand is sometimes a complete mystery to me,” Abagail told him. It was true, sometimes her hand was gloved in shadows, and other times it was as bare as the day she was born.

  Skye smiled, but there didn’t seem to be any real humor in the g
esture. “It will get better,” he told her. “Once you start learning to control it, the back of your hand will be familiar once more.”

  Abagail looked at the pale elf and smiled. She believed him, even if she couldn’t fathom how she would ever learn to tame her emotions. There was just something about the way Skye said it that told her he wouldn’t let her fail. It was comforting and terrifying all at the same time.

  How was she ever going to learn to control her emotions if Skye was around her constantly throwing her emotions into turmoil?

  The line of horses was moving once more, and Abagail soon found that she couldn’t stare at the wonder of New Landanten towering high in the distance because if she did, she would start running into the horses in front of her.

  Night had truly fallen by the time they made their way to the edge of the city. In the distance Abagail could hear music and laughter, and she remembered what Gilphig said about there being regular festivals that happened every night.

  The streets leading into the city were hard and packed with snow, and here and there braziers of fire lit the way, giving the once civilized looking city a wilder look. Guards stood sentry along the perimeter; a reminder that the Fey Forest, teeming with darklings, wasn’t far away. Abagail felt comforted by knowing they were safe.

  As they entered the first few rows of smaller homes, the party of harbingers started to disperse along their own way, leaving Abagail feeling somewhat stranded along with Leona, Rorick, and Gilphig.

  “We are here,” Gilphig said to Abagail’s bewildered expression. “Everyone wants to enjoy some time out of the saddle.”

  “But not you,” Rowan barked as she rode up to them. “Not yet. First we are going to get you settled into your house. After that, you are free to do as you like.” Her steely gray eyes took in Abagail, and then shifted to Leona. There was some kind of emotion that passed over her gaze, but Abagail couldn’t read it. Almost as soon as the emotion had come, it was lost again. “This way,” Rowan said, this time a little softer.

  They fell in line behind Rowan and followed her lead through the twisting streets of New Landanten. For the first time Abagail found herself thankful for Rowan’s presence. If the harbinger hadn’t been there, she certainly would have gotten lost.

  Here and there groups of elves and harbingers stood talking or dancing around braziers. Abagail wasn’t sure what was normal for crowds in the elven city, but if human cities were any comparison, New Landanten seemed much more alive at night. More alive than she could have imagined.

  The most startling thing Abagail saw was the mingling crowds. There were some made up of just light elves or just dark elves, but more often than not there were both light and dark elves mixed in with humans all enjoying drinks and laughter. From what she’d deduced along her travel light elves and dark elves didn’t get along; however, what she was seeing in the streets was a completely different story.

  Laughter and music spilled out of an open door, and Abagail caught Rorick looking inside.

  “A tavern?” Leona asked. The shock in her voice mirrored Abagail’s disbelief.

  “Elves have taverns?” Abagail asked. Did Rowan just smile at that?

  “O must not have a lot of other races, huh?” Rowan asked them. “Elves have to have recreation just like everyone else. Their kind of drink might be different, but they still drink.”

  “Do you come up here often?” Leona asked.

  “I’ve been known to visit the elves on occasion. It seems like the younger harbingers enjoy the company of the elves more.”

  “Why’s that?” Rorick asked.

  “Probably because it’s the first time they feel like adults. They’re away from their family, living on their own. I remember being young and away from home. Everything seems like a discovery.”

  “Don’t they get into trouble?” Abagail asked.

  “The harbingers are trained well. There are stiff penalties if they get out of hand.” Rowan nodded to Abagail’s glove. “But most of them have been forced to grow up fast, having an incurable plague that can easily be transmitted does that to a person.”

  Abagail had to agree. How often was she faced with that same hardship in this journey? It was more than just taking over for her father when he got injured. This was growing up in a way she couldn’t have guessed. This was either learn to do the right thing, or die. That was a pretty stiff ultimatum.

  Soon Rowan was leading them away from the noise and activity of New Landanten and along a series of switchback trails down the edge of the mountain. Braziers stood along the path as well as guards. It was a wide and well used path with railings on the side.

  That’s probably a good thing, Abagail thought. With all the drunk harbingers that probably stumble home after a night with the elves.

  Haven was much larger and well put together than Abagail had expected. The houses weren’t nearly as rundown as she’d imagined. They weren’t luxury houses by any means, but they were much better than little shacks.

  The switchback trail opened up to larger ledges where the settlement dotted the side of the mountain. The setup kind of reminded Abagail of stairs. Houses decorated the top platform with a trail that led down to the next ledge and so forth.

  The activity in Haven was much more muted than New Landanten, where Abagail could still hear laughter and music coming from. There was little to show that people were even in Haven save for lights coming through windows and the occasional shadow that passed by a window.

  They followed Rowan silently down several more trails until there weren’t many platforms of houses left. Right in the middle, Abagail thought. Three from the top, three from the bottom.

  There were numerous houses here, and she wasn’t sure if this was where most of the new recruits were housed to keep them safe, or how their housing structure went. She could tell that many people weren’t home though, most of the houses were dark so either they went to bed early, or they were with the elves.

  “This is where we house the new arrivals,” Rowan told them, drawing to a halt before a two story white house. There were pink shutters on the outside, and plant boxes on the windows, even though it was too cold for any kinds of plants to grow there. “If you picket your horses to the back someone will be along to tend to them. We should discuss what’s required of people here.”

  Rowan tethered her horse to a hitching post out front, and went into the house. Abagail followed Leona and Rorick to the back where they picketed their horses, and grabbed what meager supplies they had with them. Mostly weapons.

  Her feet thunked hollowly on the stairs and porch. The door stood open, to show numerous lamps lit around the interior of the house. Abagail entered in time to see Rowan conjuring a fire within the fireplace.

  “It will be cold for now, I’m sorry about that. No one was around to get the house ready for you. But we do keep all of the houses clean, even the vacant ones, so you shouldn’t have to worry about bugs.”

  Abagail looked around the main room. There was a steep staircase to the back that led up to the second floor;however, the main floor was largely open. To the right of the door was a table nestled in a corner bearing several windows that looked out around Haven. To the left of the door was a sink and a stove for cooking. Abagail had seen that kind of stove before. Wood was loaded inside of it, and the cooking was done on the top.

  In the back and to the left was another room that Leona was checking out. The light inside flickered around furnishings that could only belong in a bathroom.

  The entirety of the downstairs was covered in wooden floors with few rugs scattered here and there. The walls were white with nothing on them that wasn’t functional.

  “Before you get cleaned up,” Rowan called to Leona. “We should discuss the housing arrangements.”

  Reluctantly Leona came back out and dropped her gear beside the bathroom. Rowan frowned, but didn’t say anything.

  “This is your home now,” she told them as she sank into a chair at the table. �
��The three of you will live here together. There are four rooms upstairs, but since there are so many of you it’s unlikely that we will house another harbinger with you. You can take meals as a household, or you can join the harbingers at the central hall. In the morning you will be able to see that better, it’s a large building on this level.

  “You are expected to keep this house clean,” she said, glancing pointedly at where Leona had dropped her gear. If the younger girl noticed, she didn’t say anything or move to clean it up. “And as I’m told by Gilphig, you have been notified that we all pull our weight around here. There are many tasks that we need doing. Tomorrow you will all be appraised for what talents you have and how you can earn your keep around here. Are there any questions so far?”

  Abagail shook her head.

  “If I’m not a harbinger, is there still training I can take with them?” Rorick asked, leaning against the door.

  “What did you have in mind?” Rowan asked, appraising the bulky youth.

  “Fighting, guarding. Something that will make me useful to Abagail and Leona.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged. We aren’t all harbingers here. Some families do send their children here for other kind of training like blacksmithing and fencing. We will find something to make you useful to them.”

  Abagail looked to Leona to see if her sister had anything to add, but Leona looked too tired to say much of anything.

  “Now, about your training,” Rowan said.

  Abagail stiffened and yanked on her glove.

  “I know on the road I’ve been harsh with you,” Rowan said. “That was necessary to try to get your emotions in check. You’ve been doing well, but not well enough to start working with wyrd on your own. So we will have to use several dampening relics we have. When you’re settled in, most likely tomorrow, you will learn more of the basics of working with your wyrd.