Acadian: Hopefully they will be magnificent!
Betrayed by too many betrayals. Who ever would have seen that coming? Thanks for catching that!
Chapter 4.1Aela resisted the urge to elbow Loria. The Light Elf was fidgeting again, as was his wont when made to wait. First it was his leg bouncing up and down a hundred times a minute. Then he was drumming his palms on his thighs. This made it clear that Loria was no musician. Now he was loudly cracking his knuckles, his neck, and all the other joints in his body. Aela knew that next would come his amethyst ring. First he would spin it around his finger, then he would take it off and roll it around on the nearest table.
Aela tried to ignore the pent-up ball of energy that was her
Silaine friend, and instead turned her gaze around the room once more. The chamber was floored with polished hardwood. Divided into square panels three feet on a side, each section of floor was made up of a diagonal mesh, framed with strips of oak. The walls were painted a soothing shade of cream, complementing the gold that gilded them. Sunlight spilled in from windows lining one wall, enhanced by the light of several glowstones set into sconces along the opposite side of the room.
A huge mural of the world goddess Dohman took up the entire ceiling. Here she had fallen into her long slumber after giving birth to the gods. Surrounding her were her children: Mhuira the sea god, Sirona the healing goddess, Esus the woodworker, Toutatis the defender, Karnon the horned god, Tarann the god of thunder, Suil the goddess of rivers, Brighinde the goddess of fire, poetry, and smithing, Mhorlor the raven goddess of magic and death, and many others.
The new gods were singing to their mother, and from their music sprang the first of the
solascran, the great glowing trees of the Light Elves' far-off land. Then came the elves themselves, and finally the other races. Shining high in the sky over all were Dohman's own progenitors: Egrieine the sun god, and Gealas the moon goddess.
All of Creation loomed overhead. It was a big ceiling.
"Lord Camna will see you now." Aela nearly started at the servant's voice. He was a young man, with the olive skin and dark hair that bespoke of Rasenna birth. The green and white livery he wore was of soft velvet and silk, stitched with cloth of gold. Aela was certain that he was wearing more than she was worth, not counting the loot she and Loria had so recently gained from the Dark Barrow.
"Brilliant!" Loria sprang to his feet in delight. He hefted the canvas sack at his feet with an effort. Then Aela felt a wash of weight-reducing mana flow down the elf's fingers. "Let's get cracking then!"
Aela rose feeling less enthusiastic than her partner in spells. Her own gentrified birth notwithstanding, she never liked dealing with aristocrats. They literally lived according to their own laws, and woe betide any mere commoner whom they decided to cross.
The youthful retainer led them to a grand hall. The polished green marble floor was inlayed with the design of a great white stag's head with spreading antlers. The vaulted ceiling was supported by a double row of circular columns that were leafed with gold. Sunlight pierced the chamber from clerestories floating high overhead, filling the hall with warmth. A pair of massive bronze doors led to the street outside. Across the room brooded a second, mahogany-paneled door, nestled between by a pair of curving staircases that rose to the second floor of the manor,
Coming from that door was a human woman wearing a simple gray tunic. A cape of the same color fell to her knees, with its attached hood thrown back over her shoulders. Her legs were covered by white leggings of the Skanjr fashion, tied about with gray cord. Her hair was white as snow, matching her milk-pale skin. Her features were delicate, beautiful even. Yet from a distance Aela could not miss the mass of long scars that marred her left cheek and chin.
Aela might have thought she was a Light Elf, like Loria. But while her skin and hair were the right color, her gray eyes were far too plain, and her ears failed to poke through the strands of her hair with a characteristic elven point. For that matter, her hair looked rough and coarse, words never associated with any elf. She was clearly human, and Aela wondered if she might be an albino?
As the mages approached, another servant appeared alongside the white-haired woman. He seemed to be the double of the man who led them. This new retainer was much older however, with a neat-beard sprinkled with gray. Father and son, the Arvern Witch imagined.
The older servant handed the woman a bared longsword of silvery
astril. Its double-edged blade was a good three and a half feet long, including a blunt ricasso that stretched a hand-span above the guard. The crossbar curved slightly toward the point, thickening as it did so. The long hilt was wrapped with what appeared be dark leather, and ended at a large pommel shaped like a multi-faceted scent stopper.
White-Hair took the weapon without a sound. A silver glow emanated from her hand and flowed down across the sword. Aela could feel the mana rising in both woman and weapon, clear and cold as a mountain stream. The sword faded into the light, and vanished entirely.
"Now that is something you don't see every day," Aela said dryly.
"Aura-bonding," Loria said, "an ancient technique. I read about it in some of the restricted books."
The older servant openly gawked for a moment. Then he composed himself. With a grunt of effort, he handed the woman a massive book, bound with cracked brown leather. The great volume must have been heavier than a money-lender's conscience, but the white-haired woman tucked it under one arm with only a nod to the retainer. He said nothing to her, and Aela noted a sour look on the middle-aged man's face. White-Hair paid him no more heed, and instead turned and strode purposely across the hall toward Aela and Loria.
She stared Aela directly in the eye as she approached, without flinching or even blinking. Aela gave back her stare evenly, and noted that like the rest of her monochrome appearance, the swordswoman's eyes were hard gray steel.
As they closed, Aela shifted her perception to the aether. White-Hair's aura sprang to life in a brilliant tapestry. She appeared normal in the spirit realm, possessing bright threads of power that spoke of magical training. Aela saw no signs of albinism in her aura, though with such a cursory glance she imagined she might simply be overlooking it. What she did feel most of all from the other woman was... coldness. Like the steel of her eyes, or the snowy mane of coarse hair that spilled from her scalp. Aela could not put her finger upon why, but she felt a chill crawl up her spine as they silently passed one another.
Aela pulled her senses back to the mundane world. The chill passed, and a moment later she felt the warmth of the sun kissing her skin. Aela spared a glance back at the white swordswoman, and wondered if she had imagined the entire thing?
"Who was that?" Loria's voice lilted softly beside her.
The young retainer made a sound that was half grumble and half growl. "Just some hired thug," he murmured in a low voice, "no one of interest."
A hired thug who could magically meld her sword into her aura, and took a book as some form of payment? Now that sounded interesting to Aela.
"She never blinked," Loria whispered in an even softer voice, one Aela knew was meant for only her. "Not once, the entire time."
"She didn't breathe either," Aela replied in an equally low tone.
The woman in whiteher sword