SciFi and Fantasy Stories: Memory's Deeping: Chapter 8

            The early spring sun was shining down on the two elves as they passed through the gates of the little town, riding in under the gaze of the gate guards who gave an especially wary glance in Kiyralynn’s direction as she passed.  The priestess had her face hidden under her black shawl to keep her pale skin from being too exposed to the sun.  It wrapped around her head, also hiding her stark white hair which, in combination with her other peculiar features, would draw too much unwanted attention.

            Kiyralynn was familiar with the small town, called Wysen, as she had spent many years living there and tending to the shrine of Arvoreen.  It had been countless years since she had stepped foot there, and was surprised by the growth it had undergone since her absence. 

            As they arrived in the town square, Ayrin pulled his horse to a stop and glanced in Kiyralynn’s direction for guidance.  He had discarded his cloak in the warmth of the afternoon, and the panther tattoo that had been hidden for so long was glinting against his skin in the light. 

            Kiyralynn stopped next to Ayrin and glanced around, her opaque eyes scanning the town.  She tried to ignore the curious glances that some of the townsfolk were sending in their direction.  “The shrine is down that street,” she said, pointing in the appropriate direction.  “But we should take up a room in the inn first.”

            Ayrin nodded his agreement.  His eyes lingered on Kiyralynn for a few extra moments.  They had been traveling for just over two weeks, having left the elven village the morning after the discovery of the crow massacre.  Kiyralynn’s health had held out for longer than he had expected, but he could see a distinct weariness in her pale eyes that told him the sickness was creeping up on her once more.  He had hope for her, though, as they had at last reached their destination after nearly four months of travel and waiting.  It had been far longer than either of them had anticipated, but they had achieved their goal at last.

            Within the hour they had paid for a room at the inn, put up their horses, and deposited their belongings in the small room they would share. 

            Ayrin pushed his rucksack and his sword under his bed and rose again to find Kiyralynn standing by the window and looking out of it, her hands on her hips.  He could only imagine the turmoil that was coursing through her head now that they had at last reached her destination, the one final step to determining her fate.

            “Do you wish to visit the shrine alone?” he asked. 

            Kiyralynn did not respond for some time.  Finally she shook her head, though she did not turn to look at her companion.  “No, you may come if you wish.” 

            Ayrin sat on the edge of his bed and watched her.  “Are you afraid of what you will find at the shrine?” he asked quietly. 

            He heard Kiyralynn sigh.  “I should be called a liar if I said no,” she replied.  “So long I have been waiting to come here and beg forgiveness for my trespass, yet now that I stand before the precipice I find myself…hesitating.” 

            “Understandable,” Ayrin said quietly, if only for support. 

            “I nearly find myself longing for last summer,” Kiyralynn said, her tone nearly bordering on a wistful humor.  “So much has transpired since then, from within and without.”

            “Do you wish it had not been so?”

            The priestess was silent for a moment.  “I have not yet decided,” she replied. 

            Ayrin was certain she was making mention of what had occurred between them, particularly in the woods outside the elven village.  He unconsciously brushed his hand against his face, his fingers lingering over the remnants of the cut Kiyralynn had served after hitting him.

            Kiyralynn turned finally, and looked over at him as he pulled his hand away from his face.  She seemed to consider him, and the connotation behind his motion.  She looked at him for a moment, considering what would be prudent to say.  It seemed they had spent the entire journey volleying back and forth, drawing closer one day and falling apart the next.  She was sure her stubbornness did not help matters.  Finally, after she could think of nothing, she picked up her shawl from the bed and crossed to the door.  Ayrin rose silently and followed her out the door.

~*~

            From the outside, the shrine looked plain, not quite what Ayrin had been expecting.  The temples he was so accustomed to on Evinmoore were considerably more grandiose and imposing, but this little church was quiet and unassuming, if not a little unwelcoming.  The building was enclosed within a large ironwork gate that was particularly beautiful in its design, but despite that, the gate was open.  Beyond that lay an array of huge, ancient trees whose winter-bare limbs curved over the iron fence, as if inviting passersby to pass through the gates.  Ayrin suspected that not many ever did.

            The shrine would have seemed nearly commonplace and normal, if it had not been for the loud cawing of the many crows that were lighted upon the fence and in the trees. 

            Kiyralynn paused as she looked upon the shrine, an impassive look upon her face as she considered the familiar sight.  Ayrin followed her as she made her way through the gate.

            Immediately as she passed over the threshold of the shrine, the cawing of the crows stopped and all fell silent.  It seemed even the sounds of the town outside the gates of the temple had disappeared entirely.  Ayrin could not suppress a shiver.  The feeling that descended over him was eerie, as if he were being watched. 

            His companion, though, seemed not to notice. 

            As if on cue, a small man emerged from the doors of the shrine.  He appeared to be an older elven man, most assuredly the caretaker of the shrine.  Ayrin wondered if he had been there since Kiyralynn had taken her leave.  He looked across the expanse of the yard, as though surprised to see visitors.  But when his eyes set on Kiyralynn, though, his whole demeanor changed.  He brought his left hand up to his lips and kissed the side of his fingers, then pressed them to his forehead. 

            “We are truly blessed this day by the light of Arvoreen,” he said as he approached Kiyralynn.  His voice had the awed quality of one speaking to a favored idol.  “So many years it has been since you have shown yourself, Ainur.  We had long believed you gone forever.” 

            Kiyralynn vaguely recognized the diminutive elven man, named Sriveni.  She had not visited the shrine in almost seventy years, but she had last known the caretaker as one of the junior priests of the church.  He had done well for himself in ascending the ranks of the church; now presiding over the care of the holy shrine.  As she moved toward him, he held out his arms.

            “What brings you to our home this day, Ainur?  Perhaps a long stay?”

            “No, I am afraid,” Kiyralynn replied, fighting away the doubt that was rising in her chest.  The priest frowned.  “Only a brief visit.”

            Sriveni nodded and looked over Kiyralynn’s shoulder at Ayrin.  “Who is your companion?  A new disciple, perhaps?”

            Kiyralynn allowed herself a slight grin as she glanced back at her friend.  “Not yet,” she murmured.  Ayrin did not smile.  “He is simply my companion; he has journeyed with me from Cairndale.” 

            “I see,” the priest said.  “I know you remember your way, but may I introduce you to our newest priests?  Many of them have only heard of you in story and would be blessed to meet you.”

            “Later, I think.  I am on a rather pressing errand and must seek an attendance in the Holy Chamber immediately.”

            A clouded look crossed Sriveni’s face.  “Nothing serious, I pray.”

            Kiyralynn hesitated a moment.  “We shall see.” 

            He nodded and held out his arm.  “Then I shan’t keep you, Ainur.  Please attend to your duties, and we shall speak at a later time.”  Kiyralynn nodded at him and started to move toward the shrine.  The priest motioned for Ayrin and followed behind her.  “And your companion?” he asked as he walked.

            The priestess paused only for a moment and glanced back at Ayrin.  “Find him a place to sit if he wishes.” 

            The trio walked into the interior of the shrine, Kiyralynn leading.  Inside, it was dark and lit only by candles, long tapers that hung down from the ceiling in tiered layers, the spent wax rolling down and clinging to itself in thin streaks.  The candlelight spread a warm orange glow around the hall.  Ayrin glanced around in curiosity as they walked.  The walls were covered in murals of epic battle, and crows were present everywhere.  Even a few live ones perched on high bookshelves, leering down at the three elves as they moved past. 

            They came to the end of a hallway where two double doors presented the way into the Holy Chamber.  The doors were flanked by two massive candelabras. 

            “We have not used the Holy Chamber in some time, but I trust you know the way?” Sriveni said to Kiyralynn. 

            The priestess nodded her head.  She picked one of the tapers out of the candelabra by the door and held it between her hands, no doubt to take into the Holy Chamber and use it to light the other candles within.  Sriveni moved away, but held back for Ayrin.  The Bladesinger brushed close to Kiyralynn and caught her arm as he passed her.  He drew close to her ear so that Sriveni would not hear him.

            “Whatever happens in there…I will still be here when you return,” he whispered.

            Kiyralynn looked back at him and gave a slight smile.  “I know,” she said. 

            Ayrin nodded and moved away.  She watched him go for a moment, and then pulled open the door to the inner temple.

            Inside, it was dark and cool.  The scent of old incense burned long ago still lingered in the air.  The Holy Chamber was not often used; only for ceremonies and special rituals.  Kiyralynn was extremely familiar with the room, having spent many hours within it when she was the caretaker of the shrine.  Despite the darkness that had closed in around her save for her candle, she was able to cross the room to the largest ceremonial candle and light it with her taper.  She took her time in lighting all the candles, moving around the wide room with purpose as the light began to grow.  All the candle holders in the corners of the room looked like crows, their iron wings spread and supporting the thick candles.

The spreading light fell upon an idol of Arvoreen, at the top of a small set of steps and looking down on the room.  The life-sized statue of the stocky elven man depicted him with a bow slung over one shoulder and holding one of his hands out flat, upon which a watchful crow was perched.  In front of the idol, at the base of the steps, was a podium in the shape of a crow with wings spread. 

            She withdrew from her bag her ancient leather-bound book, and set it on the back of the crow, spreading its pages over the bird’s outstretched wings.  She flipped to the correct page, gently smoothed its oft-turned parchment, and let her eyes linger over the old, faded writing.  She knew all the words written upon it in her own handwriting despite not having looked at it in years. 

            Her task completed, Kiyralynn stepped to the side and looked up at the idol of Arvoreen.  She touched her fingers to her lips and the pressed them to her forehead, just as the priest Sriveni had.  Then she knelt at the first step, clasped her hands together, and began to pray.

            She knew, in that moment, that her whole life was waiting on the brink of something she did not even want to consider.

~*~

            Sriveni and Ayrin walked along the halls of the shrine, occasionally passing another priest or monk.  The passing elves would glance at Ayrin curiously, but said nothing, nor did they stop to ask about Sriveni’s apparent joy.  The small elven man seemed beside himself.

            “I can not tell you how surprised I am to see our priestess Kiyralynn here once more,” he said.  “I was but a monk when she was caretaker here.”

            “Is she required to spend time here?” Ayrin asked.

            “The Ainur is not required to do anything.  She is our high priestess!  She is the only one among us who can commune directly to our father Arvoreen.  We are here for new disciples, and for ourselves.  Our religion has no rules, no boundaries.  It is a personal journey.”

            Ayrin nodded.  “Unconventional,” he muttered to himself.

            “Tell me, why has Kiyralynn traveled so far?  I hope no trouble has befallen her.”

            “Ill health,” Ayrin replied.  “Last summer she saved the life of a friend, quite literally brought her back from the dead.  But it left her weak, and she decided in the late autumn she would make a pilgrimage.”

            “Unfortunate,” Sriveni said.  “And what of you?  Simply a companion?”

            Ayrin stared at the tiled floor as he walked.  “We met last summer.  My Captain is a friend of Kiyralynn’s, and he suggested we go together, more for safety than anything else.  Needless to say it has been a particularly…enlightening journey.”

            “Kiyralynn alluded that you may one day be a follower.”

            Ayrin resisted a grin.  “She believes I could be one,” he said.  Sriveni looked at him curiously.  “Years ago, my wife and son were murdered.  What more need is there for vengeance, Kiyralynn claims.” 

            “Indeed,” Sriveni replied, appearing interested.  “Is vengeance something you yearn for?” 

            “I have gone many years without it,” Ayrin said.  “It has served me fine so far.  Kiyralynn wishes to convert me, I have no doubt.  But I have yet to see what lies in my heart, and if it is strong enough to make such a commitment.” 

            “You have no better teacher than Kiyralynn,” Sriveni said.  “She will help you to see what lies ahead for your heart.”

            Ayrin nodded to himself.  “I believe she will.”

~*~

            When Kiyralynn opened her eyes, Arvoreen’s avatar was standing two steps above her near the flickering candle on top of the shrine, looking down upon her.  She leaned her head back to look up at him, but did not rise to her feet.  The priestess was silent.  Part of her was surprised that he had appeared before her at all.  As she looked up at him, however, her stomach clenched with the fear of what was to come.  After a minute Arvoreen descended the two steps and sat on the lowest one, still above Kiyralynn. 

            Humbled in his presence as she had never before been, Kiyralynn lowered her head, unable to match his strong gaze.  She had never felt so inferior in his attendance, but yet, she knew the only reason she had come before him now was because she had, essentially, failed her quest to protect Analaeia.  Without his intervention, Analaeia would have died.  She knew, and had known, that she could never have performed that life-saving spell alone, and subsequently should never have attempted it. 

            “You look weary,” Arvoreen said at last.  His voice was firm, fatherly.  It did not have the harsh, bitter edge that she had expected it to.  The words were hardly what Kiyralynn expected to hear from him.

            Still looking down at her own clasped hands, she nodded her head. 

            “You did not expect me to come,” he remarked. 

            Kiyralynn shook her head. 

            “You have so little faith in me?” 

            “I failed your quest,” Kiyralynn whispered swiftly.  Saying the words aloud, although she had been hearing them in her head for months, finally brought a strong dose of reality to the situation, and before she had even finished saying the words, a sob came to her lips and she bowed her head, eyes growing wet with tears. 

            For a minute, Arvoreen gave no response.  Kiyralynn kept her head low, hands clasped tightly, partly to keep her fingers from trembling.  An intense fear had come over her suddenly as she prayed before her god, a fear that in finally admitting her failure, her expulsion from the Order was upon her.  She had tried to avoid it since it had happened, but there was no looking away any longer.  She was about to lose everything she had done in her life.

            The avatar moved finally, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his fingers together.  He looked down at Kiyralynn.

            “If you had failed, as you so believe you have, you would not be in audience with me now.” 

            Kiyralynn’s only response was another sob, though this one was more grateful than ashamed, and she dipped her forehead onto her clenched hands as if unable to hold her head up any longer.

            “Why did you not come to me?” she asked quietly. 

            “You never asked.” 

            Kiyralynn lifted her head somewhat defensively, but still refused to look up at her god.  “I did,” she argued, trying to keep her voice from sounding like it was constricted.  “Out in the woods the night before we were attacked by the orcs…I spoke to you, but you did not respond.”

            Arvoreen’s avatar smirked.  “You did not ask for me.  You were speaking aloud to yourself, Kiyralynn.  Those words you spoke were of internal fears, not a request to speak to me.  I could not have helped you in any case.  I can not fix the discontent in your heart.” 

            The words stirred something in Kiyralynn, as they were almost mocking her stubbornness, but she tried her best to ignore them.  “My spells,” she said, as if determined to prove that her god had left her, though she had no logical reason for doing so. 

            “Never left you,” Arvoreen finished for her.  “You chose not to cast them out of fear they would not work.  Ayrin was right.  You convinced yourself that they would not work even though you never even tried.”  The god paused.  “And before you ask, the dead birds were not of my doing.”

            This, though comforting on some level, disconcerted Kiyralynn.  It meant that someone else had procured the gruesome display.  She had an uncomfortable feeling she knew who.

            “You guessed the reason of your failing health long ago, before you left Cairndale.  That spell was too much for you to handle, and the answer truly is as simple as that.  Your fears were unfounded, but you caused them yourself.

            “You are my High Priestess, my Ainur,” Arvoreen continued quietly.  There was a touch of comfort in his voice.  “I would not turn away from you so hastily.  The fight with Dhaerow in Brooks Dell was more than even I could have foreseen.  But in that moment of desperation, you reached for the one spell you knew could save Analaeia and Aurora, even though you knew also you could not complete it alone.  You had such faith, and indeed, such fear for completing your task that you forsook your own well-being for Analaeia’s.  Instead of letting her die, and failing your quest, you reached forth for me with every ounce of willpower you possessed.  Your faith in me was wholly absolute, and I did not look away from that.  I knew you would have done anything to complete your quest.  Over one hundred years of servitude have not been for naught.” 

            At last Kiyralynn raised her head and looked up at her god. 

            “One day, my priestess, you will be spoken of in legend,” Arvoreen said, a slight smile chancing across his face.  “Kiyralynn, Tel’Amandil en’Arvoreen, the one whom the Dark Archer smiled upon.” 

            Kiyralynn smiled finally as she looked up at him.  “Diola lle,” she said, thanking him in Elven.

            The avatar reached a hand toward her and rested it on her clasped hands, squeezing them firmly.  Kiyralynn closed her eyes and allowed her god’s light and warmth to sweep over her.  It was a feeling of absolute comfort that spread over her, warming her like a blanket.  She finally felt wholly well once more, perhaps more so than she had felt even before falling ill.  It was the return of her health, but perhaps more the return of her peace of mind that comforted her the most.

             “You still have much on your mind,” Arvoreen murmured after some time.

            Kiyralynn raised her head.  She did not know how to respond; in any case she felt certain her god would know even if she was lying.  “I suppose,” she replied finally.

            “I speak of Ayrin, of course.”

            Of course.

            “Yes, of course,” Arvoreen replied jauntily. 

            Kiyralynn sighed.  “I do not know what to do.”

            “I can not help you.  As I said, I can not fix the discontent in your heart.”

            “But would you approve?” Kiyralynn asked quietly. 

            “Why not?” Arvoreen said.  “Were you not present when I told Analaeia one of the greatest lessons I hope to teach my followers is that of love?  It may not seem appropriate, but it is.  It has taken great love for you both to come as far as you have, Ayrin especially.  There is a great rift in his heart, one that I believe he is looking for you to fill.”

            “I do not know if I can,” Kiyralynn said honestly.  “I fight against so many years of hate to see that shred of love.”

            “One shred of love is far more powerful than one hundred years of hate,” Arvoreen said wisely.  “You will come to see it.  I know you have been hurt, and that is why you are here, but do not force yourself to miss what is right in front of you.  You can put yourself in both things.” 

            Kiyralynn considered his words and nodded her head.  “I feel so much has changed since summer.  I feel something has changed so drastically, it will never be the same, and whether that is within myself or something else, I am not yet sure.” 

            Arvoreen considered her for a moment.  “What happened last summer in Brooks Dell was only the beginning,” he murmured.

            Kiyralynn looked up at him.  “The beginning of what?”

            The god’s avatar only gave a wan smile.  “You will learn soon enough,” he said gravely.  “I am not yet certain if what lies ahead will be worse for you, or for Analaeia and Kaelimine.” 

            The priestess stared at her god shrewdly.  “You mean about their daughter?”

            Arvoreen did not reply.  “You will find out before you reach Cairndale.” 

            Kiyralynn found herself rolling her eyes and dipping her head in frustration.  She could never get a straight answer out of her god.  Then she realized something, and looked up again.  “Is it Dhaerow?” she breathed.  “Ayrin thinks he has been following us.”

            “You will meet him again before the season is out,” Arvoreen said. 

            Kiyralynn gave a growl and jumped to her feet in anger.  She began to pace the room.  “I wish I had simply killed the bastard,” she snapped. 

            “Perhaps so, but you need him,” the avatar said, prompting Kiyralynn to turn back to him.  She had a look of disgust on her face.  “What happened in Brooks Dell was only the beginning, but he has the answers you need, for yourself and for the Captain.  Do not kill him until you understand what happened in Brooks Dell, for it is of vital importance.  What is to come is grave, and you must find out before it is simply thrust upon Analaeia and Kaelimine, for it will be, and it will be harsh.  For their sake and yours, you must learn the truth before they do.  You will be able to help them understand.” 

            Kiyralynn stared at her god for a minute, her mind whirling.  She could hardly imagine what would be so important.  “If it is so grave, why do you not simply tell me first?” she asked rhetorically. 

            Arvoreen grinned.  “If that were the case, there would be no need for you to live your own life.”  This garnered a frown from Kiyralynn.  She heard Arvoreen’s next words before she had even finished thinking it.  “And yes, of course I know what lies ahead between you and Ayrin.  But you must find that out for yourself.” 

            She groaned and rubbed a hand over her face.  “It has been a long year,” she muttered wearily.  “And I would rather be in Cairndale than here, especially after what we went through in the Rakenmoors.”

            “You did not have to come,” Arvoreen replied, his tone bordering on amusement.  “I too wished you would have stayed in Cairndale, for your own sake.  I can speak to you from anywhere, and you know that.” 

            Kiyralynn nodded slowly.  “I know…” she whispered.  “But that doubt was eating away at me, not to mention the illness.  I could not sit there and wait.” 

            “I understand.” 

            She fell silent for a moment and considered her words.  “And yet…I do not lament this time I have spent with Ayrin,” she said.  She paused and then shook her head.  Suddenly deciding to change the subject, she asked, “Has Analaeia had the child yet?”

            “She will arrive in several weeks.”

            Kiyralynn shook her head.  “I’ll never make it back in time,” she mused quietly, more to herself than Arvoreen.  “Even with good weather and clear roads it might take six weeks to make it back to Cairndale.”

            Arvoreen nodded.  “Analaeia will be fine.” 

            Kiyralynn fell silent once more.  She wandered back to the steps and sat down, still a step below her god’s avatar.  The god and the high priestess sat in silence for some time.  After a while Kiyralynn looked up over her shoulder; Arvoreen seemed to be contemplating something.

            “Tell Ayrin,” he said, “that his wife is at peace, and he need not fear betraying her.” 

            Kiyralynn considered her god for some time.  It was such an odd thing to hear from him.  She knew it was a comment for her benefit as much as Ayrin’s.  She nodded her head finally. 

            “I will tell him.”

~*~

            When Kiyralynn exited the Holy Chamber, Ayrin was within sight, just down the hall and reading text that had been painted onto a wall amidst a mural.  He was alone.  When he heard the door snap shut, he looked over at her.  A slight smile crossed his face, as though happy to see her, and he moved toward her.  When she said nothing, he raised his eyebrows, anticipating the news. 

            He noticed immediately how much more serene she looked.  She looked rejuvenated and, perhaps even more so, she looked as though she had gained some sort of enlightening insight during her audience with her god.  It suited her.

            Kiyralynn approached him, her hands folded in front of her.  “All is well,” she said with a slight smile.

            Ayrin smiled in response.  “As I suspected,” he murmured.  Kiyralynn nodded. 

            She looked at her companion for a moment.  Considering Arvoreen’s words, she contemplated relaying the message then and there, but then decided it was for a more private time, perhaps when they were back at the inn together. 

            “I have news, but I think it can wait until later tonight.  There are some things I need to see to here in the meantime.  I do not want to keep you waiting for me, so I wonder if you might attend to an errand for me.”

            “Of course,” Ayrin said with a nod.

            “Go to the town’s courier and send a letter along to Kaelimine and Analaeia.  By the time it reaches them, their child will have been born, and I want them to know we are thinking of them.  Tell them also we should be home by summer.  I suspect they will want to hear from us after such a long absence.” 

            Ayrin noticed the way Kiyralynn had referred to Cairndale as “home,” something she had never done before.  She did not seem to notice.  He could not help but smile.  “I will see to it,” he said.  He turned and started to go.  “I shall meet you later, then,” he said. 

            Kiyralynn nodded.  She watched him go.  “Ayrin,” she said suddenly.  He turned.  She had put a finger to her lips, as though she was seriously considering something.  “No, never mind.  I’ll tell you later.”  

            Ayrin hesitated, but then nodded and started off again. 

She had thought about telling him what Arvoreen had said, but decided finally it was too personal to say there at the shrine. 

            It could wait an hour. 

~*~

            It was much later in the afternoon by the time Ayrin reached the inn.  He had stopped at the courier and written the letter to Kaelimine as Kiyralynn had requested.  As small as the town was, there were only enough messengers to make one trip a month.  It appeared Ayrin was in luck that day, as the next departure was set to take place later that week, and it would not delay the delivery of the message by too long—it was already a good six weeks on the road to Cairndale anyway. 

            Ayrin opened the door to the inn and stepped into the common area.  He paused and took a glance around, realizing that it seemed peculiarly empty given the time of day.  Not even the barman was at his post.  He furrowed his brow but gave it no more thought, deciding perhaps he was in the back since the room was so empty.  He turned to the staircase and started to climb up to the second floor, where the room he and Kiyralynn had rented was. 

            When he slid the key into the door and stepped inside, he noticed immediately that the window had been shuttered, and it was dark in the room.  He distinctly remembered they had been open before he and Kiyralynn left for the shrine; she had been looking out of it. 

            But he had no time to think about it.  Before he had even gotten the key out of the door, something collided with Ayrin from off to the side.  The force of the impact knocked him to the floor.  His warrior instincts kicked in immediately and he blindly reached up to retaliate at his attacker, but his foe was quicker.  A hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and used it as leverage to slam his face into the floor. 

            Stars jumped into Ayrin’s vision and he quickly blacked out.

~*~

            Kiyralynn bid a good evening to Sriveni and the other priests at the shrine after she had taken her obligatory tour, promising to return again before she departed Wysen.  She imagined they would be spending another week, if not more, before departing again for Cairndale.  They could both use some time to rest after such a long and grueling journey. 

            She was looking forward to talking with Ayrin, and telling him what Arvoreen had told her.  For once, she felt content with herself, and what lay ahead.  She finally felt strong again, which was an empowering feeling after being left so helpless in the Rakenmoors after the orc ambush. 

            Long afternoon shadows fell over the streets as she walked back to the inn.  She stepped into the common area of the inn and had the same thought that occurred to Ayrin: the room certainly was empty for so late in the afternoon.  She ascended the stairwell and moved down the hallway toward her room.

            It was so quiet in the inn, it gave Kiyralynn a sense of unease, as if something was not right.  She gave a glance around before putting the key in the door, feeling like she was being watched. 

            Kiyralynn stepped into the room and did not even have time to consider the fact that the windows were shuttered.  As soon as she crossed the threshold of the room, her head burst into a blaze of pain that was not entirely unfamiliar.  It knocked her to her knees and she collapsed, sprawling onto the floor.

            She heard the familiar, evil voice just before she passed out.

            “Hello, Kiyralynn.”

Elvish translation:

Tel’Amandil en’Arvoreen = “High Priestess of Arvoreen”

Diola lle = “Thank you”

Ainur = “Holy one”