Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (36 page)

It was massive, not something she’d expected to find deep within the side of a mountain. For that’s where she was sure the passage had brought her. She had no doubt about where she was. Where else would you find a place without real windows built in the architectural style last used prior to the Elven Wars?

She felt the flutter in the void fade away completely, and she let her eyes drift shut, taking a moment to be still. She didn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Intrigued by the mystery of the rooms, she pulled herself to her feet, dropped her winter cloak on the floor to mark the way out, then wandered down the grand hallway exploring the side rooms—spaced intermittently down the hall—at random. She found suites of rooms, most of them bare, some were furnished. The majority had been warded, like Master Therin’s workshop, for mage work. Extremely complex high-order weaves had been used. The generation of elves who had built this series of rooms had been powerful. Other rooms were clearly for sleeping, meetings, or lounging.

She realized as she wandered that the rooms must have been Mirëdell’s original living quarters, before the towers and buildings were raised at the surface. Her slippered feet shushed along the polished stone floor as she left a room that had obviously been a lounge or common area and crossed the hall into another suite of rooms.

The chambers were elegant. They were tall enough to be uplifting without being overwhelming. The lines forming the arches and stonework were simple and precise, with enough warmth and decorative work to make them intimate but not austere. The occasional motif of delicate leaf or vine brightened while intricate scrollwork personalized one of the rooms.

From what she’d seen, each resident had decorated to his or her own taste. Although most rooms were bare, traces of their handiwork remained woven into the floors and walls. She allowed her senses to meander as she walked. They flitted from shield, to ward, to weave; she identified many, but failed to recognize most. She sensed no ill intent from them toward her, so she continued on. Most were unarmed but had been left in place, ready to be activated within moments. She started to have the feeling that perhaps the peace hadn’t been trusted and the school’s founders had left these rooms as a safe haven to return to at a moment’s notice.

Analindë trailed her finger along one wall as she walked. The polished stone felt cool to the touch. She liked the connection she felt with this place. It calmed her as no other building had; she guessed that calming wards had been woven into the walls as they’d been constructed.

As she padded forward, a patch of wall shimmered on her right.
These
wards were still intact. Analindë hesitated, then turned and a took a step back, then another, and then again until she found herself standing opposite the patch. Curious, and with the wall up against her back, she slid down to sit on the floor. She tucked her skirts around herself and leaned forward with her arms on her knees and proceeded to study the pretty shimmer.

She felt compelled to push through that wall, just to see what was on the other side, but with Master Roshär’s chamomile lesson fresh on her mind, she wasn’t going to do anything of the sort. Instead, she pondered why the door—it was definitely a door—was yet shielded after all these years when none of the others had been.

She closed her eyes, slipped into magesight and studied the wall across from her. The illusion was cleverly done. It was seamless, with barely the slightest edge of one corner left unfeathered. It was the faintest of edges, not even an edge. Only a fineness of weave against a slightly less tight weave. Had it been a mistake? Or had the edge been left for others to find? Was it a trap? Or one more layer to the mystery of the ancient school. The founders had been obsessed with secrecy. Maybe it was a closet. Ha, like they’d guard a closet in a place like this.

Fall or Fly?
Her pulse quickened and a tingly feeling ran through her body.
Fall or Fly?
. . . “Fly,” she spoke aloud.

Analindë spun the finest of threads out to coil in front of herself, then pulled and stretched it thinner. There was more than one way to minimize the risk. She erected one of the more complicated shields Andulmaion had recently taught her around herself. Then before she could talk herself out of it, sent the coiled bit of Energy darting across the corridor. She slid the thread under the partially feathered edge and leaned forward in surprise.

It was beautiful.

The most colorful swirl of complex Energy she’d ever seen guarded the door. The dynamic, protective weave of the ward and shield struck her to the core. It resonated within her, calling to her as nothing else had.

However much she liked it, the barrier would incinerate her if she so much as twitched in the wrong direction. Her shield was puny; it was laughable that she’d thought it would protect her.

Who had commanded such incredible power that the shield would last even to this day, five thousand years later?

That someone, or even a group of someones, had been capable of creating such a thing boggled her mind. No matter how long she studied this weave, she’d absolutely never find a way through it.

She began to coil the Energy back into herself when a probing touch swept through her mind. She immediately stopped retracting the thread and froze. Was the ward about to kill her? She didn’t move. She didn’t think. She kept still. She waited and didn’t dare to do more.

An odd shifting sensation pushed at her and she thought of her family and how she missed them. And she felt the acute pain of knowing she’d never feel her mother’s touch again. She thought of death, that it was imminently to be hers, and she felt saddened. Curiously, her constant anxiety had left her, only the loneliness and sadness remained. She thought–

“Daughter.”
That
was not her mother’s voice. “Be welcome.”

The illusionary shield shimmered, transmuted, and then released. Shaken, she respooled her senses and whimpered in relief, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She’d thought that she’d been about to lose her life. She knew without doubt that the shield could have reached out and flattened her with the ease one uses when flicking lint off a sleeve. It had simply chosen not to do so.

She opened her eyes with an overlay of magesight. The illusionary shield was gone. The shimmering door of power remained.

She looked down the corridor to safety and then back to the shifting block of power directly in front of her.
Daughter. The door had named her daughter.
She stood up.

It had bid her welcome.

She took a tentative step closer.

Her thumb began to play with the ring on her finger; she looked down the hall again, then strode forward to press her palm against the shield. Power flared brightly, then dimmed. A plain but beautiful solid wooden door loomed in front of her. She turned the handle and pushed. The door swung inward without sound and she stepped inside. The block of power sprang to life behind her, and the magelights activated to light the space.

It was a war room.

The Twenty-Second Chapter

T
he room was of moderate
size. A large oval table surrounded by chairs filled the room. It was an odd sight . . . austere but rich. The table was interesting. It was golden flecked, amber filled all of the surface except for a four hand span width of black marble around the edge. The base of the table was also made of marble. Dark woods accented the room and deep blues upholstered the chairs. A large map—showing the entire continent—was mounted on one wall. Positions, battles, strongholds, and enemy lines were all clearly marked. The map was also whispering something to her but she couldn’t quite catch what it was saying and didn’t understand.

She stared at the map for a moment longer, then circled the room. There was not much to it. The table, fifteen chairs, and a map on the wall. She stood at the head of the table and ran her fingertips along the black marble surface. Satiny coolness met her touch along with faint prickles and tugs of Energy. She yanked her fingers back away from the surface. Controls! The table was more than a table.

She hastily stepped back. She’d had enough discoveries for one day and didn’t want or need any more. A few more steps around the table and another shimmer formed on the wall.
No, no, no.
Suddenly on edge, she’d had enough. She kept walking. It snagged at her, calling.

No,
she thought.
Later. Perhaps another time.
The tugging faltered and retreated. Analindë stopped moving. It was reading her thoughts!
What was behind that door?!

She couldn’t leave the room fast enough.

Back in the long corridor she looked back at the war room door. The illusionary shield was gone and she wondered what others would see. A swirling chaotic mass of color waiting to strike them down or an innocuous wall with a slight spot where the edge of a mask hadn’t been completely feathered.

She jogged away from the war room, back the way she had come, in a jittery mess. Things were moving along too quickly, happening too fast. Three months ago she’d have been happy to have made a plant grow quickly under her father’s watchful eye. Now not only did she find slightly flawed illusionary seams, tumble through stone walls, feel the whisperings of ancient wartime artifacts, sense people tracking her in the void, have books appear when she needed them, hear things speak to her, but she was a hunted woman.

She needed to sit down.

There was nowhere to sit.

. . .

She kept walking.

There were too many doors. There hadn’t been this many doors when she’d walked this way before, had there? Was she going the right way? She spun around searching the corridor; the war room was behind her and she kept walking.

Relief swamped her when she reached the common room; she was headed in the right direction after all. New doors had simply appeared. Part of her wondered if it was because she’d entered the war room, or perhaps that the powerful shield had called her daughter? The other—more overwhelmed—part of her simply told her to ignore it all and keep walking.

Noticing a beautiful new archway across the hall, she moved closer to study the stone glyph carved beside it. The pattern reminded her of the glyph that hung next to Master Harwyn’s water garden. She paused, wondering, could this be the haven she’d been seeking? Leaning forward, she pressed her hand against the smooth carving. The wall within the arch disappeared and the entrance to a cultivated forest stood in its place. “A forest inside of a mountain?” she wondered aloud. The sound of her voice startled her. She chuckled and then she began to laugh.

The forest was complete with clouds in the sky and sunshine streaming down from above. “Why not?” She kept laughing.

She stepped through the archway and onto some sort of large terrace; the forest enveloped her, flagstones were beneath her feet. The fresh scent of pine blew past her, bringing with it bittersweet memories of home. It all seemed so real. She couldn’t stop laughing. She took a step further and felt the beginnings of some sort of weave begin to work upon her.

Chortling kept coming out of her; it was too, too much. She bent over, clutching her side; she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t catch her breath. This, on top of everything else, was too much for her. The hilarity of the situation brought tears to her eyes. This underground forest was the most absurd thing to have down here amongst these empty rooms.

She stepped forward onto the loamy soil. Peace and tranquility enveloped her, and her laughing tears swiftly changed to weeping. There was dappled sunlight ahead, so she brusquely strode forward, seeking it out. Passing the younger groves, she headed straight for the giant old growth trees that reminded her of home. Spring leaves budded on branches and the smell of green growing things filled the air. The trees were old here; most of the energies felt at least several millennia old.

She wasn’t sure what did it, the aura of comfort or the memories of home? But she found herself dredging up and remembering everything that she’d packed away inside. The loneliness, the fear. Anxiety about how to fit in with friends and new classmates. The stress of being far behind and not knowing how to catch up. Having no one to turn to when she was in need. No wise elders that could fix her problems. No family to hold her as she wept. Just she, herself, alone. To muddle things out by herself, hoping she chose right, hoping she didn’t do irreparable harm, and hoping beyond hope that she’d make it to the other side of her current trials semi-sane and not emotionally damaged for the rest of her life.

Now sobbing, she ignored a nearby bench and planted herself firmly on the ground, legs crossed, heedless of her dress and whatever stains the fabric might pick up. She cried out her sorrows as she laid her hands, palm up, on her knees, and closed her eyes to draw in a shaky breath. If she could just soak up some of this peace, let her worries go, maybe, just maybe she’d be able to keep it together.

She exhaled on a sob and took another deep breath, mindfully letting her thoughts clear. Trying to let her worries drift away, she focused on the hum of the forest surrounding her. She continued to sob as she listened to the buzz of an insect nearby, and then it flew away. A slight breeze picked up and she heard the soughing of wind through the pine forest. She imagined herself as part of the forest, at one with the peaceful energies winding past her. Her sobbing softened to weeping.

She kept trying to breathe deeply as she rolled her head around, stretching out her neck. Then she hunched her shoulders backward and forward, attempting to loosen stiff muscles. She twisted this way and that, then rolled to her knees, letting her body fold in on itself, stretching out her spine and legs. Her tears slowed, but sorrow remained.

She let her forehead rest against the loamy earth and then she breathed deeply, exhaling her sadness. After a long tranquil moment, she pushed herself up and rolled over onto her back. She simply laid there, arms and legs outstretched, palms up. Eyes closed, relaxed, she let herself be. She honed in on the magnetic pulse of the ground beneath her and tried to let that frequency resonate within her. Her body hummed with rightness. She exhaled, completely relaxed and at peace.

In this moment her fears, anxieties, and sorrows came at her again, but this time instead of crowding in on her, they came one by one. Contentment from joy of happier times also began to pool within her, balancing the sadness. The contentment centered in her, filling her with gladness. The positive feelings ebbed and flowed as she breathed in, then out, breathing the goodness in, expelling her poisonous fears and doubts back out. Setting things gone awry back on track, things gone wrong, made right. Problems and sorrows acknowledged and packed away nicely. She made peace with the realities in life. Sadness and turmoil lessened. Hope fluttered within her, then soared. All would be well; worry had no more place in her heart.

The warmth of the sun on her face felt wonderful. Her skin glowed and a faint buzzing filled her ears making her relax further.

It took her awhile to realize that the buzzing and glowing feeling was systematically moving down through the tip top of her head. It felt as if every cell it encountered had been picked up, shaken, stripped of anything that didn’t need to be there, and then put back in place, perfectly aligned and optimally functioning. It was a euphoric and calming feeling.

The buzzing warmth had trickled down past her forehead, the backs of her eyes and through her mind, saying relax.

It had moved down the bridge of her nose, across her cheeks, continuing its work.

She’d felt utter contentment. Warmth.

It had spread down her jaw to her throat.

She’d breathed deeply; her neck muscles had relaxed further and she’d let go of the last little worries that she hadn’t realized she’d been clinging to.

. . .

Calmness had come . . . the tendons and muscles connecting every single vertebrae down her neck had loosened. Connections had softened.

Tranquility had settled upon her.

The buzzing warmth had finished moving through every single bit of her neck and had continued on to her shoulders before she’d realized what was happening, and by then she didn’t care. Anything could have happened just then and she wouldn’t have moved a muscle.

She was solid, immobile, at rest. She hadn’t felt this good in . . . ever.

She breathed deep; the air smelled good, clean, healthy.

Time passed. Her mind drifted as the feeling moved lower. Her back, tummy, legs . . . all uncoiled. . . . Through her feet and out of the tips of her toes . . . tension fled.

The cells from the top of her head to the balls of her feet hummed with rightness. Serenity enveloped her.

Her mind drifted and she had no cares; anything was possible. The world was open to her with choices, lots of choices. She would chart her own path. Hope and possibilities were endless.

Contented swirls of Energy radiated from the plants and giant trees around her, washing over her. Stability and everlasting strength ebbed from the depths. The forest’s power overshadowed all else, as was its purpose. Purpose?

She breathed out the brief spike in tension that the thought had generated and her mind settled back down. She realized then that the garden and giant trees had intent—like Mirëdell’s source—intent to soothe.

. . .

Her body hummed with rightness. Worries had fled and muscles, once tight, now relaxed. She understood the purpose of this place. In a time of war such a haven would be an invaluable asset. To a troubled elve, such as herself, it was a blessing from the stars. She sent out a thought.

«Thank you.»

A gentle caress of warm glowing Energy answered. It was safe here. She was at peace. She was welcome to come again.