“Forgive her, Songstress,” said Otholo. “For she is resting her voice, she hasn’t uttered a word in days, fearing that it will weaken her performance of the Eversong.”
The Songstress shook her head. “She does know it may take months before she is ready to sing in the church. Maybe more if she fails the trials.”
“She is more than ready, Songstress. If you were but to hear her sing, she would prove to you her quality and you would put her in sooner.”
The Songstress gave her another quizzical look. “Well, we shall see. It’s rare for someone so young to sing in the church, especially an outsider, but not unheard of. You’re welcome in our city.”
Her gaze fell on Diagus and Bray. “But these two are not. Please thank them for delivering you through what must have been a hardship and send them on their way. They may wait here for food and drink but cannot remain and will not pass the city gate.”
“What is she saying?” asked Diagus, eyeing the woman suspiciously. Elora wondered why he hadn’t heard her himself, but then she realised. The woman was speaking Minuan and neither Diagus or Bray could understand. It was only possible that she could through the tinker’s tongue charm.
“Songstress. It is the Shadojak’s wish to see my sister perform. He has...”
“Impossible. It is precisely because he’s a Shadojak that he cannot enter. Please relay to them what I’ve already told you.”
Otholo shook his head before turning to Diagus. “She won’t let you enter.”
Diagus folded his arms, his notched eyebrows met together forming a scowl. “Does she know who I am?”
“Yes,” replied the Songstress.
“So, you do speak the common tongue,” growled Diagus. “Why do you forbid the entrance of the Shadojak. Does Aslania not fall under the Empire?”
“It does, but no Shadojak has ever set foot on our lands. There are reasons, none which I can explain to you now but good enough reasons to keep you out.” She nodded to the guard who came forwards. Knuckles turning white upon spears.
Being that there were only three of them Elora guessed that the Songstress had no idea of the potential, Diagus or Bray had in combat.
“Come now, Otholo and Otheena. Say goodbye to your companions and follow me,” she turned and began to walk back through the gate when Diagus called her back.
“Does the entire city know that Solarius lives?” he spat. “Or have you been feeding them shit? Letting your bloody song of bonds weaken generation by generation until it is so piss-weak that the God of Chaos breaks free and wreaks havoc on the world. Tell me true Songstress. Do you hope he’ll remain under the mountain for a couple more generations? Just another hundred years. Hoping that maybe Minu will return to strengthen this bond?”
Elora watched the exchange, watched the woman stare open-mouthed with either disbelief of being spoken to like that, or by realising that the secret was out.
“Well let me tell you about hope Songstress. It isn’t worth crap where gods are involved. Solarius will break his bonds very soon. He’s already destroyed the magic on Earth and has manoeuvred his minions into position.”
The Songstress closed her open mouth, her fingers fidgeting together; a vein pulsing against her temple. Yet still she remained silent.
“I don’t understand how it works but trust me. This girl here,” he continued, pointing a shaky finger at Elora. “Is the key to rebuilding the bond. She’s what’s between Solarius and the worlds. Oh, and incidentally, the empire is on your doorstep. We left them at the pass with a broken bridge, but it won’t take them long to build another.”
The woman’s eyes opened wide, she placed a hand against her chest and took a step back.
“They’re here for Solarius,” said Bray.
“They know not what they meddle with. They’d set him loose in an attempt to kill him.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose with finger and thumb and stared hard at Elora. “Come with me, all of you. This changes everything. Wait, you can leave your weapons here with the guard. There is no need for weapons in Aslania.”
“I don’t have any weapons, as you can see,” said the Shadojak, opening his arms and turning slowly. “We’re on a peace-keeping mission, can’t very well keep the peace using violence. Bray?”
Bray imitated Diagus. “No, I’m unarmed.”
The Songstress appeared unconvinced. “Search them,” she ordered. They didn’t find any weapons on the Shadojak or Bray as their swords were hidden in their smuggler’s pouch, as was Elora’s. However, while patting down Otholo they found a small knife tucked in his boot, the guard holding the small blade up for all to see.
“Tut, tut, tut. I’m shocked,” said Diagus, a grin curling his lips. Elora needed to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
Otholo, shrugged. “A friend once told me; you can never have enough blades.”
“You can have it back when you leave,” said the Songstress. “Now, follow on. We need to seek council with the Sisters Devine.”
Elora followed the Songstress, her white and gold gown flowing around her as she strode through the gates, momentarily bathed in shadow as they passed through the huge rock, before stepping out into sunshine once again. The huge gate was a thick wall of granite that was part of the mountain itself. Once through, the guards closed the enormous doors, needing all three of them to push them together before sliding thick steel bars into place.
The cobbled path they followed led alongside the mountain. a sheer drop once again to the right of them and Elora fought the urge to take Bray’s hand. Somehow, he felt her worry and stepped between her and the drop, his fingertips gently brushing against hers.
As they came around the corner the path gave way to stone steps, leading down into a small city. Three mountain peaks, taller than the one they were on, were so close together they formed a huge bowl between them. At the bowl’s centre was a lake, its waters icy blue, fed from several streams that ran from the snow caps. Slate roof tops, pointed like witches’ hats, peppered the bowl and surrounded the lake - smoke trailing from many chimneys, the dwellings themselves were squat and round and made from the mountain granite.
On top of the tallest mountain were the spires of a church, the rest of the building carved into the peak itself with six thickly cut pillars supporting its base - richly carved with sweeping patterns that matched the slope of the mountain. Steps which were also carved from the rock, spiralled down from the church, meeting a central path that wound through the city to a large dome-shaped building, surrounded by lush grass and magnolia trees.
“It’s beautiful,” remarked Elora. Then clamped a hand to her mouth as she realised she had spoken in English.
“What was that?” asked the woman, descending the steps.
“As beautiful as I remember,” offered Otholo, as he himself seemed breathless, his eyes eating up the city below.
“Yes, yes,” agreed the Songstress, “It’s strange that you forget to appreciate its beauty once you’ve been here a while. There are subtle differences since you were last here,” she said, pointing to a stone aqueduct that ran from the lake to the higher dwelling on the far side. “It took the elemental manipulators years to complete, but now every home has running water.
Nat would have loved that, mused Elora, still soaking up the scenery.
They were led up further steps, along stone passageways between tall round houses; over wooden hump back bridges that lay across streams, before going down more steps. They wound around small courtyards with water fountains at the centre and beautiful trees and plants of all colours growing from pots and gardens along the path.
Faces appeared at leaded windows, the laughter of children carried on the breeze and the voices of adults came to them as they passed through the town. Everyone they met on the way, nodded respectively to the Songstress, a couple may have recognised Otholo for his name was whispered more than once and they all smiled on seeing them. Elora smiled back, feeling almost at home amongst them - well it was her home. This is where she was brought into the world.
