Page 54 of The Source of Storms

The front door creaked open, and Byrgir’s familiar footsteps climbed the stairs and crossed the sitting room. Judging by his gait, he was in a hurry. Some of the constant tension I’d carried since he’d left eased away as I was flooded with relief.

“You’re back!” I said with a smile as he entered the kitchen.

“Safe and sound. Crow’s back too,” he said. “Just messaged me.”

During my time with them, I had learned that Crow and some of the other Rangers knew magic that allowed them to speak telepathically into the minds of others over relatively short distances. I assumed this was the kind of message Byrgir meant.

“What did he say?” El asked.

Byrgir shrugged. “Just that he was back. What I just said.”

El rolled her eyes and set down the knife she had been chopping vegetables with. “Obviously. You didn’t ask him anything else?”

“About to go meet him at the tavern to ask him all about it. Came by to get you two first.”

We tugged on layers and boots, then made our way to the tavern, the late spring sun still high in the sky. Crow was halfway through his dinner when we got there. His dark eyes were shadowed with exhaustion.

El took her seat next to him and got right to business. “So how did it go? You look like hell.”

“Itwashell, actually. Barely slept the last few days. The last few weeks really. But we did find out that she’s being held in the Temple of the Paragons. She was taken under orders of the High Priestess of Enos herself, who apparently had the king’s approval to do it. The guards around that place are no joke. It’s a fortress, and they got wards too. Different kind of magic though. I spent weeks just trying to unravel them and didn’t get anywhere.”

“So you didn’t get anybody on the inside?” El asked.

“No, not yet. We made some progress, but I came home to regroup. The chance of getting caught is great, and the consequences of that are greater. This High Priestess isn’t fucking around.”

“Did you find out if there will be a trial?” I asked.

“I doubt it. Seemed like it was less of an arrest and more of a kidnapping, so I don’t think they’re planning on sticking to the usual trial system for this,” Crow said.

“Do you have to go back, then?” El asked.

“Yes, but not sure when yet, or who will go. I left a few Rangers to be my permanent eyes in the district for now.” Crow ran a tired hand over his face.

“Permanent eyes... You don’t think this will end soon, then,” Byrgir said, more of an observation than a question.

“No. It will get worse before it gets better. That Priestess is on a warpath. She’s one of the few advisers left to King Evander. She has more influence than his remaining council members, and is the reason some of the others quit, or were forced to step down. She isn’t just above the law, she’s becoming the law.” Crow took a deep pull from his beer and glanced at El, bracing himself for her reaction to what he was going to say next. “And, according to new laws just adopted by King Evander, Sourcery and practice of the Old Ways is no longer legal. In fact, they’re a criminal offense, deemed as heresy. An offense against the Temple is an offense against the Crown.”

El leaned back and blew out a long breath. She ran a hand over her wild red hair. “That bitch.”

“It’s… tense in Avanis, to say the least,” Crow continued. “Contempt is rising. And the resentment for the fae-touched is already high. I’m afraid this will only end in blood.”

A hush followed his words.

“You briefed Celestine already?” Byrgir asked, and Crow nodded as he chewed another bite of his dinner. Nax Celestine, I had learned, was the general of the Rangers and served on the Council.

“Council wants to discuss it in the morning,” Crow said. “All of us can attend.”

∞∞∞

The great waterfall of the Arcaena River roared above our heads, plummeting hundreds of feet from its birth in the cliff to meetthe pool beneath with such force that the river was scattered into tiny droplets, suspended over the valley as fine mist.

A set of stairs carved into the cliff base led up alongside the waterfall. As we ascended the lower portion of the staircase, the humidity and wind generated by the waterfall’s plunge reached us. I pulled up the hood of my cloak as we began to be buffeted by wind and water, but as we drew nearer to the rushing waterfall itself, the wind calmed and the mist did not feel wet. I felt us pass through an unseen barrier, and although I could still see the water smashing down into the deep pool at its base, I could no longer feel the turmoil it caused.

The stairs were steep and slick, worn soft by ancient feet. We followed them up until they passed directly into the waterfall itself. My friends stepped through it, one by one, in front of me. I hesitated, left alone on the rock ledge, then took a deep breath and stepped through. Of course the water didn’t touch me, and I was neither cold nor wet on the other side. I passed into a cavern lit lavender by glowing magic orbs set into alcoves along its walls. The lights glinted off crystal clusters protruding from the walls, some in small groups, others forming spires larger than me.

In the middle of the cavern sat a dark, still pool of water reflecting the light of an ornate chandelier of fae lights suspended above it. Several members of the Council––I assumed, at least––were already seated in wooden chairs around it. Others stood in pairs, talking quietly. A few of them looked up as we entered. I followed my friends as we approached the pool.

“Welcome, Council members.” A tall man with broad shoulders, a salt-gray beard, and graying dark hair shaved on the sides and braided back from the top stood from his seat and addressed the room. He had the build and confidence of a seasoned warrior.

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