The Sisters Devine had turned up to observe her performance, smiling reassuringly at her as she entered. Sat along a row of benches were other trios as they waited for their turn to sing. Elora thought that she would be with them at first but the Devine sister Fraya, indicated that they should be next. So when one of the singing trio completed her final verse, she peeled away from the font and Miathlin took her place. Elora was impressed with the practice skill of the movement, so slick and graceful. When the second of the trio peeled away her mother took her place as Miathlin’s voice merged with the remaining Songstress’s.
Elora felt excitement as the last of the trio finished the song and peeled away. She gave Elora a curious smile as they swapped places. Her mother had explained to her, as they made breakfast earlier, that new singers slowly blended on with the other trios. Watching from the benches and learning the craft before taking a place at the font and only after many hours spent practicing in the trial hall. This was a way for the other songstresses to familiarise themselves with the new singer and they would naturally find a place amongst them. Athena explained that singing at the font the very next day after only one song in the trial hall was unheard of, so she may expect to receive curious glances from the women about the church.
Her eyes drifted to the spinning sphere of light that glowed in front of her, casting its warm reflection upon her mother. As Athena began to sing, the light brightened, matching the beauty in her mother’s voice. Her own turn to sing would be when this verse finished.
Bray ran through Aslania, leaving the guard far behind. When he arrived at the gate he was greeted with shouts of anger from a commotion happening outside the huge doors. When he investigated he saw that two guards lay on the floor, unconscious - huge dents in their armour, the rest of the guard were shouting at another who was pulled into the corner of the rock, his red face towards them, arms raised and knife held to his throat.
“About bloody time you turned up,” came a familiar voice from behind the hostage, blonde spiky hair protruding above his shoulder. “Any longer and things would have gotten ugly.”
“You don’t think things already have?” asked Bray as he raised his arms to placate the men. “Easy fellas, she’s with me.” He pushed the point of a spear away that was being raised against the Viking and took the knife from Ejan. The man who had been held hostage staggered away, a hand delicately probing his neck.
“Where’s Nathanial?” he asked. Then saw Elora’s uncle sat against the rock face, legs drawn up to his chest, his head resting on his knees. “Is he alright?”
“No, not really. But he’ll live. Where’s Elora?” Ejan, asked urgently.
“In the church. She’s about to sing, why?” Bray asked, beginning to get an awful feeling that something terrible was about to happen. Ejan’s eyes widening in panic only confirmed his suspicion.
Timing her breathing to coincide with her mother’s, Elora prepared to sing. She swallowed a nervous lump in her throat as Athena ended her verse, inhaling deeply then following the song, she sung the first words.
Immediately the sphere brightened and began to pick up speed, spinning fast enough to flick drops of water at her song-sisters. Even the words and symbols that spiralled down the well brightened to the point where the runes all seemed to merge into one. Her mother smiled at her warmly, the light reflecting in her blue eyes.
Elora continued to sing, hearing whispers of astonishment from the benches and then gasps as the spinning orb lifted above the font, floating higher with each word. Light filled the entire church, drowning out the sun’s rays which had previously began to fall on the granite walls.
Elora felt weightless and wondered if she would float above the ground as the sphere was. Her words washing back and forth in increasingly heavier waves that had her song-sisters swaying to the rhythm. She felt euphoric, her mind pulsing with a static energy that crackled through every fibre of her body, every cell singing the Eversong.
Then she felt a sudden change.
The air seemed to become thicker, as if charged with a powerful unseen energy, a heaviness that pushed against her, squeezing her chest. Others felt the shift, smiles becoming frowns, tendons appearing on Miathlin’s neck, her mother’s fingers turning white as she gripped the font.
Elora felt an explosion of pain in the pit of her stomach as if somebody rammed a fist into her guts. She doubled over, hands remaining locked upon the font as the song was torn from her chest. Her voice dropped an entire octave and a single word was forced from her lips.
“Free!”
The light in the church abruptly went out as the floating sphere turned black and fell into the font. Darkness spread down the well, chasing the light until the entire hall drowned in shadow. Only the red light casting through the window illuminated the shocked faces of the Sisters Devine.
Time stood still - nobody spoke, nobody moved. The only sound came from the bottom of the well; a violent wind, extremely deep, rumbled inside the mountain.
Elora found her mother’s stare, locked accusingly on her.
“What have you done?” Her whisper carried about the hall and magnified so nobody failed to hear.
What had she done? Elora tried to speak but no voice came to her mouth, no words passed her lips. She felt stunned as she fought the rising tears. But they came, running from her cheeks and dripping into the font. Her vision blurred for a second and something heavier dropped into the water. The contact lenses.
“Elora?” asked Athena, incredulously. “Is It truly you?”
Before Elora replied, there came a tortuous sound of rock grating against rock. It echoed up the well followed by a violent tremor that rippled through the ground. She glanced down and witnessed a red ball of light rising up the shaft towards them. As it neared she saw that it was fire; spitting and curling around the circular wall as sharp flames licked the runes, hungry for something to burn.
Without thinking, Elora gripped the side of the font for support and shoved as hard as she could against Miathlin’s chest. Then spun about and throwing an arm around her mother’s waist she threw herself from the platform.
They landed hard, a wave of heat passing up where they had just been. Crimson flames engulfed the font, scorching the very air as it funnelled up to the ceiling, burning through the carved rock. The glass in the round window shattered outwards letting more air in to vent the fire’s rage.
Cutting through the screams and shouts in the hall, came sister Fraya’s commanding voice.
“Sing, sisters.” Elora heard her bellow. “Calm yourselves and sing.” The old lady burst into the first verse of the Eversong and her elderly partners joined in with her. By the time Elora rose to her feet, every woman in the church was joining their voices to the Sisters Devine. Even her mother, who nursed Miathlin, her head lying unconscious in her lap, was singing, yet she glowered at Elora.
All at once the well exploded, spitting rock and fragments of the font to all corners of the hall and knocking anything in their path to the floor, including several singers. Flames continued to burn the roof and now Elora could see daylight through the black smoke - the fire reaching impossibly high.
Men suddenly burst into the hall. Armoured guards charged in, the blaze reflecting from silver chests and helmets. Bray and Diagus were beside them, swords already drawn and scanning the room for an enemy. When he failed to see a threat, Bray came to Elora’s side.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, concern thick in his throat.
Elora shook her head. “I don’t know what happened. One second I was singing, the next...” She held her hand out, pointing towards the raging fire.
“Your voice was the key to unlock Solarius,” said Athena, sitting a coughing Miathlin up.
“But, Nat told me...”
Bray placed an arm around her shoulder. “Nat’s body wasn’t his own. He had been possessed by a spliceck. Ejan killed it and came to warn us as soon as she could.”
“What about Nat, is he alright?” asked Elora, feeling a surge of panic rising in her chest.
“He’s hurt, but alive,” replied Bray, then protectively stepped in front of Elora as Diagus approached them.
The Shadojak’s face said what his words did not. Eyes narrowed to slits, the puckered scar running up his face pulled so tight his cheek turned as white as the pearl in his socket. Elora knew her life had just been forfeit and stepped around Bray’s protection. She would willingly sacrifice herself so Bray wouldn’t die. It’s what she deserved.
As she ducked under his arm his face hardened into a look of anguish. It was then that Diagus struck him on the side of the head, steel pummel connecting with his temple. Bray collapsed to the floor, his sword scraping away from slack fingers.
“Will you make him your Shaigun again?” asked Elora, forcing herself to step over Bray’s unconscious body.
