A Shield of Faith (BOOK 4)

Chapter 40

FENRER

Silver streamers fluttered over the mountain's hidden outcroppings, blessed by the fiery trails of the Princess of Evenfall's cyclic ascension. Lamps swung on the outside of the citadel's highest peaks, roping in the clouds which came from the ocean's maw. An aura, ancient and powerful, bloomed out from the volcano's deep, island roots to create the barrier which protected the Storm Wardens and all who sought sanctuary on the hallowed, fertile soil, only complete with the rain. Hand over his brow when he slowed to a stop at the edge, the brine swirled into his lungs when he took in a deep breath from his soul, his shirt following the movement as the wind tangled through his hair, and he let his hand drop to his side while his necklace bounced with the next harsher brush of the breeze. Gaze upon the world's flow, children of magick. He both hands over his eyes to show deference to its beauty, purity. Follow the footsteps of the Traveller. Seek shelter in the Gatekeeper's embrace. Find truth in knowledge. Freedom in the flames. In this cyclic breath, follow the next.

Moondust sprinkled across the foam.

Silver light heralds the dawn.

Fenrer found the batch of southron stars across the near cloudless sky, a sailor's compass, the point where King Pyren struck through the Derelict smog and brought the dawn back to the world. Fenrer found the brightest star, Luiitulem — the crossing Starbearer. Waves below him lapped, hungry for the mountain's erosion as the Derelicts savored for the world's, and he took a small step back from the precarious edge. Dampness clung on his fingers, in between the tight recesses of loose stones. He brushed his finger across the smaller wardstones he passed, the spirals whispering with the magick he gave, his strength back in full force. Underneath nature's archways, he spotted the main entrance ahead, where wings held up the guard towers whose entrances dug into small tunnels which wound their way back into the citadel.

Cyclic.

Everything is a cycle. Fenrer hopped down the stone steps and wandered outside the rim of the garden walled off with marble songs. Languages mixed to create the truth of the world, on the rim of alabaster. Flowerbeds stretched across the border, where a lone star tree stood the test of time on its black, smooth bark, and closeby on the small hill, the obsidian stone which carried the names of Storm Wardens old. He found a smile growing on his face at his shattered childhood, as he dragged a white-haired boy out of the shadows, kicking and screaming, but he got him out into the bright sun. Auras bled gold when he swept his gaze around the training fields and dummies left unpowered on their tracks.

Underneath the blanket of sprinkled light, the same warmth he found in the estate of two broken glaives. Sapphires provided fuel to the flames, and he drew himself back into the citadel, stretching out the flow in his eyes to try and follow its tracks.

Through the gaps in the moonlight slipping past the tall, thin windows, he came to a stop in front of the giant wood doors to the Annex, lined with protective silver bolts. He pressed himself inside, sending a flicker of embers colored with the morning sun into the nearby lamps overhanging on small posts attached to the taller bookcases. Numbers and letters denoted the placement of titles and those who wrote them. Right to the back, where the oldest of the Warden records sat upon criss-crossed stacks in tightly bound, sealed scrolls. Hm... He squeezed between tables, going for one of the smaller shelves tucked in the corner, full of little notebooks, teaching material, and stories. He thumbed a spiny book, tugging it out to flick through the contents — all information and Glyphic Theory. Yuven's going to give her the more... flowery version. He tucked it in his small pack. Now... where was Basics of Hanekan? Ah. He found the short and simple introduction to his home tongue, adding it to the collection of pages. Right where I last saw it...