The Weaver's Source

Chapter 45

I entered Lillith's hut with only a small amount of caution. I stood by the door, keeping close to Grigore's large frame close as I gazed about the tiny hut.

It was dark and the air a strong mix of smoke and moss. Next to the door was an iron fireplace where small flames flickered, giving some heat to the frozen room. A simple bed stuffed with hay and goose feathers was pressed to the far wall and lank curtains were hung in front of the only window. I could feel the cold air seeping into the room through the hut's panelling and even see daylight shining through. It made me a little sad to see my fellow Source's home but that sadness was abruptly stopped when my eyes caught hold of a stand in the far corner.

Covering a dummy was a full suit of armour. Made from the dark grey iron and deep brown fur, it was a fine and strong set. It looked nothing like the simple leather and chainmail armour Otto and his guards wore. While it was clearly old, scuffed and worn from use, it was lavishly decorated with an insignia burned into the chest. Beside it, attached to the wall and locked there, was a massive longsword with a long deep brown sheathe sheath covering its blade beside a battered looking shield.

Lillith, who had been making tea quietly, was about to offer us a seat but paused. She noticed my intense gaze and turned to see what had grabbed my attention. She smiled when she realised it was the claymore and armour.

"Ah, those old things." She said as she placed two clay cups on the tiny table that took up most of the space of the room.

"Whose are they?" I asked as I sat down.

"Mine." Lillith said with a smile.

Grigore, who had refused the chair and remained standing behind me, frowned a little as my interest perked up sharply, making me lean forward.

"You're a soldier as well as a Source?" I asked curiously, my tongue full of questions.

"I was a soldier once but not anymore. The next time I don that ancient armour and have Wolfbane in my hands is when I'm cold and buried." She said, smiling still.

I frowned and quietly hoped it wouldn't be for a long time. It comforted me to know there was another Source alive in the world, but she was old, quite old and she looked worn down. Her eyes were dull with distant exhaustion.

Lillith settled in the chair opposite me and took a long sip of her tea. She looked content as she gazed at me, all curiosity and happiness.

"I'm sorry I called you so roughly." She apologised. "It's been a while since I met another Source, especially one so young."

"You're a Source?" Grigore echoed.

I swivelled to look at him confused. "You can't hear her song?"

"No." Grigore said with a deep frown. "Nor can I see the colour shifting in her eyes."

Lillith smiled at him knowingly. "That's because you only have eyes and ears for her."

While my eyes swirled pink and my pulse quickened, Grigore stiffened behind me and fell swiftly silent. Lillith only laughed.

"What's your name?' Lillith asked gently.

"Lyra." I replied softly.

"And yours, Weaver?"

"Grigore." He said with a clipped tone.

"From the north by the sounds of it."

He only grunted in response. Lillith smiled gently, clearly amused by his stern attitude, and her swirling eyes slipped back to me.

"How far have you come, Lyra?"

"From the farmlands. I've only been on the road for a couple of months."