Analindë (The Chronicles of Lóresse) (53 page)

Andulmaion had seemed relatively happy, or at least had only put up token resistance to accept her plans, so maybe he’d
seen
their success.
Seen
that they should come?

Maybe he’d only seen Master Therin’s failure, she frowned. Would three scouts and two mage apprentices be enough to stop these three Humans?

Now that they were actually here, she had her doubts. What had she gotten them into? Yes, she. It was her fault. If she hadn’t bargained with Andulmaion yesterday, she wouldn’t be here and neither would Arandur and his two friends. The wind had shifted, and she was no longer far away enough to be alone. In the distance she heard that Andulmaion had already rejoined the others; their voices were muted by the softly blowing desert wind. They weren’t murmuring. But they sounded content; the barren desert simply amplified their voices across the sand.

She blocked them out and moved her thoughts away from the dangerous and quite valid self-doubting thoughts to the task at hand. Her tendril of Energy had easily slid through the warm upper layers of sand to chilled ones below. Now she was moving through the densely compacted earth, still searching.
There must be something down here somewhere
, she thought to herself as she sped the tendril of thought along further than she’d thought to look. At last she finally found a smallish pool of Energy. Grateful, she asked, «Please.»

The pool reached out to her, sending Energy made of fire. It felt of hot desert sands baked under an unrelenting summer sun. It swirled like strong desert winds within her and she felt as if she’d scorch from the inside out if she stayed connected for too long. With her source quickly replenished, she said, «Thank you,» and gingerly detached herself from the pool.

As she disengaged, the fiery source gripped her tendril of Energy stronger, holding her captive. She didn’t fight to free herself, but stilled, worried, and waiting. «If you have need, we will help you fight the threat.» And then it let go; the presence in her mind was gone.

Panicked, she called out, «What?» . . . But only silence answered her call. The pool of Energy was gone, it had moved elsewhere.

She pulled the tendril back into herself, worried and quite a bit unnerved. She looked to her source and caught her breath. It was beautiful. The dense, ancient Energy from Mirëdell had mixed with the fire from the deep sands. Her Energy now moved and flowed as if it burned. Dense and potent, it had a slippery, explosive feel to it.

It was a heady sensation. She strolled back to join the others in bliss, warmed from the inside.

She laid out her long coat to use as a bedroll, her sack for a pillow, and lay down, but sleep wouldn’t come. Excitement still buzzed at the edges of her mind and worries circled like vultures, waiting the opportune moment to strike.

She attempted to quiet her feelings, but it was impossible. It wasn’t pre-night jitters that kept her awake, it was the energies bubbling up from her source, keeping her mind active and her pulse speeding. Having pressed her capabilities in the past few days, she needed all the sleep she could get, so she practiced centering. She riveted her mind on one thing.

Nothing.

Clear blankness, narrow visioned, keeping all thoughts at bay. As her breathing calmed and her mind settled down and stilled, she sent a last thank you to the sands below before slipping away, at last, to sleep.

She did not wake until Andulmaion shook her gently by the shoulder. The pressure of his hand felt . . . reluctant. Reluctant? Her mind began to circle around the idea.

“Analindë, come. It is time.”

The Twenty-Eighth Chapter

T
hey stealthily crept across the
desert sands toward the forbidding fortress. Fine powder flew everywhere as they ran, embedding itself deep within their clothes and shoes.

The closer to the fortress they got, the more powdery the sand became. It was finer than any Analindë had ever seen before, quite unlike the sands found on the western edge of the desert or along the seashore. Fine as dust. If the wind blew strongly, it would choke them. On they went, up and down dunes large and small, drawing ever closer to their goal.

Arandur and Sintriel led the small party, searching for concealed traps in the sand which they might have missed. Analindë and Thalion followed close behind them. Andulmaion brought up the rear and cast a smoothing weave across the surface of the sand so that no trace of their passage would remain.

They reached the top of the last rise in the sand and stopped to study the view before them. Panting, Analindë brushed hair away from her face, wishing she’d tied it back better. A menacing darkness loomed before them. The fortress was more massive than she’d thought; the void and the scrying bowl had not done it justice. She’d gotten its size correct but hadn’t sensed its brute force and strength. Overwhelming. Surely the walls themselves wouldn’t strike them down. She felt intent wake and begin to stir, similar to the door of the war room down in the old part of the school; she switched to magesight but saw no shimmering shields nor edges left un-feathered.

“We need to be careful, I–” she called quietly over her shoulder.

“We will be, don’t worry.” Andulmaion turned away from her to smooth the last bits of sand back into place. He and Sintriel had probably sensed the powerful watching barrier last evening and were prepared.

As they slowly made their way toward the breach in the fortress walls, the pale dawn light increased. She saw that the fortress walls were unbroken solid smooth stone, save in one place. Directly in front of them lay the only opening, and open it was. An enormous blast of some sort had blown the wall apart. Gigantic heaps of rubble fanned out across the sands, leaving a gaping hole in the wall about sixty paces across. Massive hunks of rock had been left where they’d fallen. With no path cleared to enter the fortress. They’d have to pick their way over and around the heaps to enter the city.

The small group descended the dune more cautiously than they had any of the others, wary and alert for danger. They were a good length away from the first pieces of the rubble when Arandur stopped. The scouts caught the signal he had flashed, but Analindë missed it and crashed into Sintriel’s back, almost toppling her. Arandur motioned for Andulmaion to stop his spell work.

“Look and see,” he whispered. Analindë looked deep into the sands with her magesight but saw nothing.

Sintriel spoke, “It’s an ancient weapon.”

“I don’t see anything,” said Analindë.

Sintriel continued, “Large scythe-like blades lay deep in the sand, each about twice the height of an elve. There are several sets which lay in a pattern resembling the bones of a whale.” The desert winds gusted past them; a soft swooshing sound accompanied it as it picked up sand. “When triggered, they’ll shoot skyward and collapse inward, slicing whatever lay in their path. . . . There is yet enough Energy in them to move.”

“Andulmaion, why did you not find these before?” asked Analindë.

He studied the fortress, “I can’t see them either. This wreckage most likely dates back prior to the Wars. If it was elves they guarded against, a weapon such as this would be shielded against those who searched for it. We are lucky Arandur and Sintriel sensed it.”

“The good news is that they only extend up until the rubble you see before us,” said Sintriel.

“Would it be easier to find the front gate?” Analindë shuddered as she imagined flying sand and slashing scythes. Nowhere to run, no way to see.

“Analindë,” said Arandur, “This was the front gate. We believe no other entrance exists. However, there will be a passage through; it is our challenge to find it.”

Sintriel spoke up, “I estimate that perhaps one, maybe two paths exist. The defenders would have known it safe to leave one small path open, because the guard could have easily picked them off. They’d need a few paths open for their scouts to come and go.

“Don’t use any Energy as we pass, and step only where we have stepped.” Analindë nodded her agreement to Sintriel; Andulmaion shoved his hands deep into his pockets and turned to frown off at the seemingly short distance between them and rubble marking the entrance to the city.

They painstakingly crept forward step by step, pausing every so often for the scouts to confer with one another before resuming the slow crawl forward for another few paces. Gradually a pattern began to form in Analindë’s mind and she began to see the path just before the scouts would decide upon it and point the way. She mused over her new talent, but said nothing.

At last, they reached the edge of the rock field. Enormous mounds of boulders, two maybe three times her height, barred the way. Several narrow openings lay before her; the one far to the right shimmered at her.

“A place of testing.” A note of wariness had crept into Thalion’s voice.

“What does it mean?” asked Analindë.

“What?” Sintriel asked at the same time.

“A place of testing.” Thalion gestured at the words etched deep into a great boulder that lay not five paces from them.

“Come, the way is clear,” said Arandur, pointing to a break in the stones just in front of them and to the left.

The path to her right shimmered again; the path Arandur had indicated lay quiet and still. She cleared her throat and said, “No, Arandur, I believe the way lies there.” She raised her arm, pointing far off to the right at the path that shimmered.

“No, the path is clearly mar–”

“I, too, believe our path lies to the right.” A deep voice sounded directly behind her. Analindë jumped and turned to look up into Andulmaion’s face. “It winks at me to catch my attention.”

Arandur stared off to the right as if he could see where the path would lead them, but shook his head in disappointment. “Perhaps your way does lie there, but ours is here. We will meet you on the other side of this place.”

“So be it,” said Andulmaion as he strode toward the opening on the right; Analindë scurried to keep up with him.

The shimmering faded away as they approached, and it disappeared altogether once they stepped upon the path itself. Mounds of rubble became steeper, forming walls to a corridor that wove between the two piles. She wondered what kept the rocks in place, from collapsing down upon them. There was no wind.

A waiting silence had taken the place of normal sound; soft sand cushioned their feet as they moved cautiously along the path, blind without the use of their powers. They squeezed between two gigantic slabs of rock that had fallen from the walls and entered a circular area that couldn’t have formed naturally.

The space was perhaps ten paces across with gigantic chunks of stone spaced evenly around the perimeter, forming alternate paths to take. A subtle light winked at her from the path directly across from the one they’d exited. The light was so faint she’d almost missed it. She opened her mouth to tell Andulmaion, but he spoke first.

“There,” he said, pointing to an opening three over to the right from the one she had chosen, or rather, the one that had chosen her.

“Andulmaion, I believe we should take this one,” she said, pointing directly in front of them.

“No, it’s clearly marked. We should take this path over here.” He walked across the circle and studied the entrance. He reached out to run his finger along the stone. It looked like he was tracing a glyph, but the stone was smooth beneath his hand.

The light on her path had faded until it barely glistened. “I think that we should split up. My path lies here.” She took tentative steps toward her path.

“No, we must stay together. How else am I to guard you?” He swung around and pinned her with a look that made something inside her flip over and buzz with anxiety.

She thought of the barely glistening path and said, “I’ll guard myself.” He didn’t look happy. “Andulmaion, our paths lie in different directions; who knows what will befall us should we choose differently than what is given us?”

“I would go with you Analindë,” he said sadly. Andulmaion spun around and slipped through the opening that had called him.

Alone now Analindë turned back to her path; the light barely winked at all. She stepped forward across the sands and through the opening, only to have the rock immediately seal closed behind and in front of her. The walls around her grew tall, then curved inward, sealing her in a narrow opening. She couldn’t move forward or back. Solid rock surrounded her; not even an opening remained to the sky. She reached out and touched the stone on both sides of her, not even able to extend her arms completely.

Her heart raced, perspiration broke out upon her face and her hands became clammy. She couldn’t breathe; there was no air.

She’d never see the light of day again.

She couldn’t breathe! . . .
Stop it!
she thought.

She gasped for breath and attempted to quiet her mind. There was a way out. She’d just have to find it. She closed her eyes; if she couldn’t see the narrow space she could pretend it wasn’t there. She forced herself to take slow deep breaths—to no avail—and wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. She switched to magesight and then began to scour the walls for signs of un-feathered edges and glyphs.

She felt the rock awaken around her. Energy pulsed from the stone circling her. Was it going to squash her?

The Energy passed through her and began to weigh and measure her. Although familiar, the process was a far cry from what Mirëdell’s source or the bookcase had done to her. It reached deep down into the depths of her, opening and closing hidden spaces, places where her boxed up feelings lived, places she kept secret even from herself, places that had never been opened and might never open again. Places that she had no idea existed. The walls of this place looked at her ancestry and then at her potential. Feelings and impressions flipped past her quickly; some of them she caught. She would be great. She had the greatness within her to hold great power. She had inherited the potential for greatness from ancestors past. Great things lay hidden from her, just beyond her grasp to understand and comprehend. The impressions thrilled her, made her pulse leap, her mind expand with possibilities and greatness of good things which could come.

And then came the fear. Fear of leading, fear of being followed. Fear of leading a life she hadn’t chosen. Fear of things beyond her control. She cringed, shutting down, drawing into herself to find safety.

The search was invasive. Nowhere was safe from the meticulous, crushing mental searching and weighing. What would happen if she resisted? She shuddered, then took deep calming breaths and attempted to narrow her focus in order to stop her mind from racing into some type of mania. As her breathing slowed and became even, she felt the stone reach out toward her with a tendril of Energy. She flinched back in fear as saw that it only hovered in front of her waiting. She forced herself to put the panic at bay, to focus on her senses. Then it came to her; the Energy ebbed only good intent. She tentatively reached out with a tendril of her own and gently grasped the metaphorical hand it offered.

A sense of great age enveloped her. Maybe five or six or ten times older than Mirëdell, it felt of sun-baked summers and cool crisp winters. It hinted of great, marvelous things that had not been seen in millennia.

«What name do you bear?» a voice that had the strength of ages asked.

«Analindë of Lindënolwë.»

«Lindënolwë.» The name rolled slowly back to her, not as a name, but as a word of power. It resonated in her core, awakening or summoning parts of her that had gone unnoticed despite the thorough search. «Long we have waited for your return. When you are ready, come to us again and heal our walls. Then will the haven be made safe again. Now go.»