Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

The Sword

Seeing their escort depart and Merikas quickly being swallowed by the throng inside, Ciradaan quickly indicated they follow and the Aquilans moved in, as close on the cleric's heels as possible. And in doing so, they missed the liveried messenger that bolted from a side door to run full speed towards the nearest cathedral, the massive rectangular building grim in the early morning light.

Heading in a straight line, it didn't take the fleet-footed messenger long to cross the intervening distance between the kings' council chamber and the cathedral. Skidding on the paved path leading up to the heavy oaken portals standing as the cathedral's front entrance, he turned tightly and bore straight for the dark space beyond the doors, the soft sound of prayer chants already filling his ears.

With only the slightest pause at the threshold to lightly kiss his fingertips before brushing them over the tree symbol on the door face, the messenger stepped inside. Straight past the Ben'havid weapon rack sitting full in the antechamber he went, the holy warriors forbidden from carrying arms on consecrated ground. And from out of the antechamber he stepped into the cathedral's massive, open interior. Marching in regular step from antechamber to altar, pairs of stone columns reached towards the roof to brace the vaulted ceiling, a series of stone arches built to hold the heavy roof in place.

On either side of the lines of columns were smaller side chambers where prayers could be made privately or discussions had without disturbing others in the great space. Within the lines were a series of wooden benches, finely crafted and polished until they glowed in the sunlight spilled in through the tall, stained-glass windows that marched as regularly down the walls as the columns. And running through the benches was a central corridor, which the messenger now traversed, his booted feet 'chuffing' as they made their way across the inlaid marble tile underfoot towards the altar dais, set at the chamber's far end.

Vast the chamber was, but hardly empty. Over half of the benches were filled with uniformed Ben'havid, heads bent in prayer or quiet contemplation. Another quarter of the benches were occupied by gray robed Var Ethisdil doing much the same thing, hands clasped in front of them as they pondered what their future now held with the Utterance newly discovered in their hands.

On the dais stood staggered benches, facing each other on opposite ends of the raised platform, the altar, a rectangular mass of carved and polished stone, between them. They were filled with more robed Var Ethisdil, murmuring prayer chants and swinging incense burners from long braided chains to help focus those in prayer in the benches. And set into the back wall was a great circular window of stained glass, depicting Aesthegon in prayer as he made the Plea for the Races to be born. It was as twice as tall as the height of two men standing on each others' shoulders, spilling multi-colored light in over the dais and the rest of the floor.

As impressive as the space was, the messenger had seen it all before. Crossing through the open space before the dais, with its inlaid Var Ethisdil leaf stretching three armlengths across underfoot, he ignored it all and made straight for the robed figure kneeling at the altar. Climbing the brief flight of steps that marked the dais' leading edge, he reached out with a light hand to touch the robed figure on the shoulder.

<<Gae'tha Larengor. The ambassadors assemble in the council chamber, as you instructed,>> he quietly reported and the robed figure nodded in acknowledgment.

<<Let the Voice know I will attend them shortly,>> Larengor instructed and turned back to the tree symbol carved in the very center of the altar's heavy, dark face as the messenger ran back the way he came in to carry out his command. 'It has begun, Master of All. I ask only for the strength to see it through to the end!' He fervently prayed.

As the Aquilans stepped inside, they paused a moment to wait for their eyes to adjust from the early morning sunlight to the dimness inside, broken only by massive globes set into the wall with equally massive stone brackets. They were aglow with some sort of magical illumination, casting a soft, golden light all around them.