Page 57 of The Source of Storms

El rolled her eyes. “And what the hell was with Magnus? Speaking down to Halja like that?”

“It felt like he was trying to undermine your credibility in front of the Council,” Byrgir said, both to and about me. “Just to prove his own point, to keep us out of any kind of conflict with the Crown.”

“And so condescending too! Gods, I could’ve smacked that stupid smirk right off his face,” El added.

We followed the path downhill through mountain heather and melting snow. Lamps and enchanted lights peeked through the shadows in the trees of the city. I was warmed by the sight. Rhyanaes was beginning to feel like home.

Crow left that afternoon for Avanis, to continue to guide the Rangers’ efforts in gathering information on the Temple. Even if we had no approval to extract Eilith, it was wise to at least learn how to dismantle their wards and prepare to infiltrate the Temple if need be.

That evening, we received word that our request to visit the Temple of Enos and ask after Eilith had been approved by the Council. We had a short discussion with Generals Calder and Celestine at the tavern, where they advised us to proceed with caution, be polite, and not to suggest even a hint of force.

We packed our bags, prepared our mounts, and left with the lavender-gray light of dawn the following morning, the wolves at our heels.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We rode southeast for two full days and crossed the Gravesend River early on the third morning. Mist still hung over the cold waters, seeping through the trees on the other side. The horses’ hooves thumped on the wooden beams of the high bridge, high enough for merchant ships to pass beneath on their way to Avanis. Rolling hills decked in lush summer greenery lay beyond, the road winding up through them.

The city of Avanis came into view, wrapped around the shoulders of a tall hill like a gray shroud. It was a living creature, a breathing, moving mass of human life that I could hear, smell, and feel as we approached. At the base of the hill, a harbor was built into a wide natural bend of the river, with rows upon rows of docks busy with ships. On the hill’s pinnacle squatted the Temple, hunched and hulking like a stone gargoyle, surveying the city beneath.

The wolves dissolved into the misty woods as the road brought us nearer to the city walls.

“Put your hood up,” Byrgir ordered, his voice low, as we approached the city gates.

I glanced back at El. Her wide hood was already up, easily concealing her curled horns. I saw only the tip of her sharp nose, slim mouth, and jawline beneath its shadow. I obeyed Byrgir, pulling my own charcoal hood over my light hair, shading my eyes. I didn’t appreciate his tone, but I understood.

Byrgir led the way to the main gate of Avanis. Wooden doors thick as tree trunks and nearly as high, braced with iron beams, stood open in a gap in the stone walls that hemmed the city in. Two guards stationed at the gate looked over me and El with suspicion, but after a reassuring smile from Byrgir, a normal looking human, they nodded us inside.

People bustled about, merchants announcing their wares and prices from carts and storefronts. Wagons laden with goods thundered by, and music carried out through the open doors of a large pub. Laughter echoed from inside. A man argued loudly with two city guards while his dog barked at them. The sounds of our horses’ hooves clacking against clean cobblestone were lost to the rest of the din.

The smell of baked bread, old straw, horse manure, brewing beer, and many other scents I couldn’t untangle from one another filled the streets. The air was still, the morning sun already warming the stone streets beneath us.

The familiar, comforting thrum of nature was suppressed, drowned in stone, muffled by the weight of civilization set squarely atop it. Soil, plant life, and the soft flow of nature was angled and organized, shaped by refined edges and sharp building blocks. I felt my anxiety rising, along with the pull of an unfamiliar, unnatural tide. I had never seen anything like this before. I could feel the energy of the city around me, thick and chaotic, like swimming in mud.

This is what Eilith had meant when she’d said I needed to learn to filter, to shut off my energy channels. I had not realized how casual I had become with my energetic awareness in Rhyanaes. Nearly everyone there had some level of training in the flow of Source. I was so used to being surrounded by other magic practitioners and warriors, people adept at staying over their own mental center of gravity, that I rarely had to manage itmyself. Even the land there was a comfort, a friend. But I would drown in this energy if I didn’t take precautions.

I took a deep, grounding breath, then another. I narrowed my focus, brought my awareness back within my body, reeled my sensing in to a tight bubble around myself, Byrgir, and El.

I felt a gentle push against my energetic edge, akin to a calming hand on my shoulder. The same weight and feel of El’s hand. I glanced back at her again, but she was surveying the contents of a bakery window as we passed, always on the lookout for baked sweets, giving no outward indication that she had reached for me at all. Byrgir glanced at me with a smile, and his energy shifted to comfort me. Their gentle reassurance was steadying.

We wove through streets, climbing uphill toward the looming Temple. It grew quieter as we ascended. Where the other city districts had buzzed with life and the sounds and smells of daily human routines, the Temple district was immaculate, spotless, and austere. Everyone we passed carried themselves with confidence and importance.

El found us an inn in the district, where we had the horses boarded, ate a warm meal, and found the bath house to clean ourselves up. I opted for the deep ocean-blue dress El had purchased for me from a clothier in Rhyanaes. It was detailed with silver thread twisted in a simple knotwork pattern that complimented my platinum hair, and laced down the front. Simple to most, but it was one of the most beautiful garments I’d ever worn. Both flattering in the bust and loose beneath the cinched waist in case I needed to move or fight.

“Wow,” El whistled, half teasingly, as I stepped out from behind the divider in the bathing room of the inn. “Look at the village kid all cleaned up.”

I gave her a sarcastic curtsy. She wore a beautiful, fitted lace top with flowing sleeves, paired with tight leather pants. Overthe lace top, she wore intricate ring mail that clasped around her throat and fit tightly over her chest. It looked like a delightful mix between light armor and extravagant jewelry.

"Ring mail for a meeting?" I asked.

"Can never be too careful," she said with a wink.

Byrgir was dressed the same as usual when we found him waiting outside the inn for us. Clean black linen shirt, no leather armor in sight. Yet his huge sword hung strapped across his back, the hilt visible over his shoulder, gleaming like it had just been cleaned and oiled. A few more daggers hung from his belt.

“You couldn’t look more fae if you tried, El,” Byrgir grumbled.

“Is that a problem?” El challenged.

“Here it is, yes,” he answered. “Keep your cloak on and your hood up.”

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