Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Chapter 38: The Enemy Within

"And in the midst of the Gathering of Shadows;

There began a Diaspora, a Journey of Discovery.

A test for the Hearts of the Valiant,

And the Faith of the Dedicated.

A winnowing out of those without the strength

To stand with the Light in the Final Conflict."

- from the Norak Utterance, Second Stanza

Collecting their weapons from the Ben'havid at the door, Ciramax, Xanedra and the others stepped past the grim looking sentinels and into the hallway beyond. And they nearly stumbled to a halt when they found themselves facing an uneasy crowd of worried looking clerics. There was enough of the robed individuals that they filled the massive corridor wall to wall, leaving only the narrowest of passageways for them to slip through.

<<Probably wondering what went on in the meeting inside,>> Halen noted softly, his words meant only for the Aquilans as they carefully eased along the narrow passage, keeping their eyes trained on the shifting wall of elven faces staring at them.

<<Strange that their leadership wouldn't let them in on what we talked about,>> Ciramax responded with a frown. <<For an organization so focused on truth and revelation, they don't appear to use either with the members of their own order.>>

<<I wouldn't be so hasty to jump to such a conclusion, friend,>> a big Lithosin elf smoothly said as he abruptly stepped from the crowd to stand in front of them, forcing Ciramax to signal their column hold their places. 

<<There's a great deal you don't know here, whether it be about the High King's city, or the Hand of the Maker.>>

Ciramax fought to keep a frown from his face as he stared at the elf, obviously a cleric, now blocking their path, a serene expression of superiority on his handsome face. The newcomer was a powerful looking fellow, clad in a simple white tunic with black breeches and boots of leather. His dark graying hair, in contrast to the close shorn heads all around him, was pulled into a functional tail and he was clean-shaven, possessing a square jaw and high cheekbones. His eyes, currently focused on the Aquilan prince, were almost the color of night, with barely visible suura of silver as a smile danced at the corners of his mouth, hinting at some sort of internal amusement.

<<Thanks for the advice, friend,>> Ciramax said in reply, keeping his voice carefully neutral. They were certainly outnumbered by the clerics crowded into the corridor. No sense in perturbing them with hard words to the point something unfortunate came out of it.

<<We'll be sure to keep our eyes open.>>

<<Oh, you'll have to do much better than that, southerner,>> the big cleric said, his smile growing more apparent; a smile that never reached his eyes. <<There are people here that will slit your throat for looking at them the wrong way. Even with your eyes open, they'll come from behind and take you unawares. Trust no-one.>>

<<Does that include you?>> the wiry prince asked tightly. He was getting tired of this fool's rather vague and dubious suggestions. <<If so, I shouldn't be listening to you and should be, instead, about my business. Which means you need to get out of our way. Now.>>

The cleric lifted his hands in a mollifying gesture, chuckling softly.

<<No need to be rude, boy,>> he said. <<I just wanted to pass on to you some friendly advice. The Var Ethisdil has been working towards finding the Utterance for more cycles than your kingdom has existed. We know a few things, ...>>