Sons of Ironstorm - Book 3: New Alliance

Chapter 23: Covenant's Fruit

"Time then will pass, cycles and seasons

in the number of moons in a cycle

Before the Awakening of the Wielders,

Those called of the Creator to stand for the Light.

Three will be their number, mighty in works and intent."

- from the Norak Utterance, 1st Stanza

Dezi let a long, ragged breath whistle out her nostrils as she stared at the expanse of Elvenfast spreading out from the harbor below. It felt like somebody had ripped her open and tore out her heart, leaving her an empty husk. There was no measuring the pain and loss she now felt. In one fell swoop the meaning for her very existence, her Silver Flame, was gone.

So stunned was she, Dezi almost didn't feel Tamaryn step in close behind to slide her arms around her marriage sister and squeeze tight.

<<He's alright, Dezinor,>> the slender Merisin husked into Dezi's ear, her own pain echoed in each word. <<He's the Wielder of the Star Sword; he has to be alright.>>

But the beautiful dark elf woman couldn't hear Tamaryn's soft words of comfort through the howling in her mind, her soul in lament. She did, however, hear Shiana's next words:

<<Burn me to shards, this is so not over!>> the Ironstorm princess growled, shrugging off the Ben'havid trying to hold her back with almost no effort.

The sensation the young human woman was feeling was quite different than what Dezi now felt. Instead of loss, there was a strange sensation of dislocation, as if Shawn was still there but changed, somehow. And, along with that change, had come a surge of Wielder capabilities and power, enough to nearly overwhelm her. At least it would've, if a good measure of Shawn's amazing strength of will hadn't also abruptly pushed into her mind.

She blinked away the blizzard of runes she saw falling in her mind's eye and focused on the room as she gathered her strength. There the cleric Larengor was easing a sigh through his teeth as he suddenly looked so tired, he could barely stand. On the balcony Tamaryn clung to a forlorn Dezinor, the two wearing almost identical expressions of excruciating loss. And Draneen and Ygdarrinor weren't far off, holding each other as they both cried; soft, hollow sounding sobs with hope leached from them.

If Shawn had indeed been taken in some sort of trap, as she sensed, and his brother also, then their hope for the future was truly threatened. 'Threatened, but not ended,' Shiana darkly mused.

<<I hope I'm not too late.>> A quiet and somehow familiar voice said from the door. Turning towards the sound, Shiana frowned as she found a wiry figure standing there, flanked by stunned Ben'havid. If Shawn's memory served her, it was Cephanon, the keeper of the original Utterance scroll and master of the ancient fortress of Caeba na'Sunce. The elderly seer was heavily cloaked, the fine wool dark with rain.

<<I took the first available griffon from Aer e'Sulin,>> he continued, nodding in greeting to first Shiana then a bemused Larengor as he shook rainwater from his cloak with a sharp tug. <<As soon as the Creator's gift allowed me to see what was to transpire.>>

The sightless silver eyes quickly swung over the people in the room before finally landing on Shiana.

<<However, I see that I am, indeed too late.>> The lined face turned down in a frown for a brief moment before once again becoming serene. <<I cannot prevent Shawn from flying south to aide his fallen brother. But I am in time to see his sister graced with a measure of the Wielder's fate, and to announce that not all is lost.>>