Allabrahni was in front of Felghanis’ eyes when he awoke. Her visage at once gave him hope and sorrow.
“You have earned a reward, Felghanis. What would you have that is suitable in the eyes of Araytor?”
“I would know what the Church want with the books,” Fel answered as the sleep seemed to wash from his mind and body as if born away by Allabrahni’s aura.
“That is unclear. It is certainly possible that the collection of the books are for their use, as you well suspect. What else would you know?”
“Where is Jonas headed?”
“To Dwarf Town. They plan to use the altar there.” The angel seemed to be expecting more questions.
“Where is the Titan’s Tear?”
“In the final tomb of the Hrimpursar elders.”
“And where is that?”
“At the feet of the Iron Teeth Mountains, in the silver forest. The trail is marked with stacks of carved stones.”
“How does Hydraxus fit into this?”
“Unclear, although Hydraxus claimed to be beyond the reach of cold when he claimed the throne of water on this plane.”
Felghanis was troubled. Hydraxus was a god, and on this plane? Does that mean the elemental lord of water walks Kiltayre? He shuddered.
“Will Araytor accept my worship?”
“Araytor accepts all worship,” Allabrahni smiled and gently caressed Felghanis’ brow as a mother might. “Be at peace and have Aid for this day.”
Felghanis was suddenly looking at the ceiling for Allabrahni was gone.
In Kalista’s room the young animist-wizard awoke.
“Ah, my girl. Araytor is proud of you,” Allabrahni beamed and took Kalista into an embrace.
“Now, what reward do you think is suitable from Araytor?”
“Of course my child,” Allabrahni touched Kalista on the forehead. A silver glow swelled and Kalista felt an energy surge through her. It was like her mind removed blocks and needles complexes – her soul grew.
When Kalista opened her eyes it was to a murky room without the safe warming glow of Allabrahni.
Don’ was already downstairs in the common room eating with the Dwarves. They all seemed distant and quiet, yet happy and content. Allabrahni had left a mark on their hearts and the enjoyed its lasting warmth.
“I had some questions answered,” Felghanis said as he joined them. He shared his impromptu interview with the angel to nods and smiles of approval.
“What should we do next?” It was Aenir who asked it once they were all fed.
“I’m not sure but my components are thin so I at least have to visit the markets,” Kalista said.
“The library likely holds answers for me. I want to know where the Iron Teeth Mountains is exactly and find out more about the Hrimpursar elders. Goran’s body needs to be buried. I can’t leave it there.”
“Goran’s body can wait, or someone else can take care of it, Felghanis.” Donhallan’s distaste for this was clear.
“What about the Scours?” Kellor aksed. “We might be able to catch them.”
“They’re too far gone,” Don’ said. “They have nearly a day’s head start on us and in the high plains it’ll be almost impossible to catch their trail.”
“You’re a bundle of joy,” Aenir mumbled into his beard.
Don’ scowled, “What we ought to be doing is finding out if Lady Sipran intends to go back to Vrim and then inform Lord Tovran.”
“Yes. Then let’s go see her,” Felghanis said.
“All of this is in one direction and we can stick together,” Kalista put forward, pleased that there was no need to separate.
The did so and at the Beaming Censer found the pompador they met last time.
“Ah, hello again. How may I help you?”
“We would like to speak to Lady Murelle, or Varnia, Sipran.”
The pompadour sat them in the lounge and returned shortly.
“Did you see an angel by the library last night, by chance"?”
“We saw a woman in a cloak,” Don said quickly, as Kalista covered her mouth in surprise.
“Oh. There are people looking for her and they’ll pay well to find her. If you see her do let me know.”
They were all distracted by the heavy footsteps of the shield guardian that shadowed Murelle Sipran to the lounge. Pompador left with a hurried bow.
“My young friends,” Lady Murelle said warmly but there was no smile.
The conversation was brief. Lady Sipran would be returning tomorrow.
The door of the Beaming Censer closed behind the last of them.
“She really had no idea what a treasure was passed down to her in the books,” Felghanis mused.
“It’s her dreams that bother me. She has so many that she can’t interpret them all. It’s sad,” Kalista added.
“Whatever the case she has been gracious and helpful. We will tell Lord Tovran.”
In the library they approached the keeper of books: the Blakh who was in four places at once. It smiled briefly.
“Is there a book on the Hrimpurar’s last tomb?”
“Hmm, this one may aid you.”
History of the Hrimpursar, Meyendir Aravalon – archmage & scholar.
The book was well-written and led them through many facts about the Hrimpursar, their society, and how they were exterminated by Kentos and his army. What stood out most to them was the Wunder Trial and how it was a requirement to enter the moot where debate for leadership of the clan could take place.
To Felghanis it was something else that stood out. Some of the elders who went to sleep, from which some would rise as Frost Titans, died or never came out of the last tomb. What if Hrimpursar had a ritual like a Baelnorn; undead guardian of a people? It caused tumultuous excitement but he contained it.
Brannighan was there for farewells and they left through the ‘private rooms’ of the Sipran family. Felghanis collected Goran’s corpse, two day old entrails fell all over him, and only Aenir would help.
Lord Tovran was pleased with their report and sent two servants with Felghanis to make the burial. He was surprised when Felghanis said he would bury Goran in the chapel’s graveyard.
The ground was hard and icy. With the rest of his party away Felghanis took a few spells on the shovel. It had been almost a lifetime since he’d unearthed a grave, or even dug one, and all that strength was lost. The servants were well used to labour and they kept at it far longer.
When Goran was interred Felghanis said a few words and instead of the normal closing line he replaced it with, “May Davinus watch over your soul.”
Something flew out of the grave. But it was so fast Felghanis thought he was seeing things.
One of the servants laughed, “That’ll teach him.”
The other answered, “Worshipping the wrong figure head. Everyone knows Davinus is the true head of the church.”
Felghanis was shocked. Not only did these peasants assume everyone knew that he felt something inside him. It was calling.
“Avenge me and I will aid you with the power of death.”
“What are you?”
“I am Goran.”