Spirits in the Edge
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The man with the long gray beard was waiting for him. He had his hand on a large iron key, and he smiled as if to say that this place belonged only to them now. The old priest’s eyes were closed but still alive; they seemed filled by fire or smoke—but there could be no doubt of their intent when he opened them again:
“Welcome home,” said Father Gildas. Then he turned away from Cale, gesturing toward the door behind him. “Come inside.”
Cale hesitated just outside the doorway, then followed Gildas into the small room beyond it. A single candle burned upon an altar at its center. In front of the flame sat two chairs facing each other across a low table between them.
Both were empty except for a bottle of wine and three cups set out before one chair near the window looking northward over the city rooftops below. There was also another cup beside the third chair where Father Gildas stood smiling expectantly… though something about his smile made Cale uneasy.
It wasn’t quite friendly enough, nor did it seem to match what he’d seen earlier in the churchyard among the graves.
“Sit down here, my son,” urged the old priest. His voice sounded like wind blowing through dry grasses under the summer sun. When Cale didn’t move immediately, Gildas added gently, almost coaxingly, “It is good you came back to us after all these years, even though we knew your heart would not stay so long with our flock.”
He paused, taking time to stare intently into Cale’s face until finally saying softly, “I know why you left us. I understand how much you suffered because of me…”
He went quiet for several seconds while Cale looked around uncertainly, wondering whether to tell him anything more than he already had told Jherek. After a moment, the old priest continued quietly, “But don’t let guilt keep you from returning to those who have cared deeply for you since childhood.”
With some effort, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. When he spoke next, his words became firmer: “We’ve been awaiting you ever since word reached us last night of your coming here today. Your return has brought great joy to many hearts within the Order.”
Cale glanced quickly at the empty seats opposite him and felt himself flush slightly. As he began moving forward cautiously, trying hard not to think too clearly about everything that had happened over the past few days, Gildas stepped aside holding up both hands placatingly. “Wait! Don’t go yet!”
When Cale stopped, the old priest walked swiftly around the table toward him. Taking hold of his arm firmly, he pulled Cale close. Looking closely into Cale’s eyes, Gildas asked, “Are you sure? Do you really want to come back?”
A strange expression flickered briefly across Cale’s features as he struggled against whatever spell held him captive. Finally, he nodded hesitantly, then whispered, “Yes.”
Gildas released his grip on Cale’s arms, allowing him to turn and take a seat in the empty chair nearest the table. Once seated, the priest poured wine into each glass then raised one in a toast. “To family, friends, and loved ones lost,” he said solemnly.
Then he drank.
After watching Cale sip his own drink, Gildas moved closer to stand directly before him once more. Leaning forward earnestly, he placed his right forefinger atop Cale’s head and pressed lightly for emphasis. “You are home, my son.” The old man leaned backward suddenly, releasing the finger from Cale’s hair.
Turning abruptly, he hurried around the table to sit down in the second vacant chair. For a brief instant, Cale wondered if he should do likewise, but instead remained standing.
Father Gildas put his hand to his mouth and whistled loudly, calling out sharply, “Harker! Come here!”
For a moment, silence reigned in the little chamber. No sooner had it begun than Cale heard footsteps pounding rapidly toward them along the stone flooring beneath their feet. Moments later, a tall figure dressed in black robes emerged into view bearing a tray laden with food and drinks. Hanging heavily at his side was the sword Cale remembered seeing him carry during their first meeting in the cathedral above the graveyard.
As soon as he saw Cale sitting alone at the table, the young monk gave a quick bow of greeting and said, “Good morning, Master Cale.”
“And to you, Brother Harker,” replied Cale politely. He waved off any further courtesy and asked pointedly, “What brings you here this early in the day?”
The younger boy smiled broadly. “Well, sir, as you might imagine, when our master received news that you would be visiting us again today, he decided to make certain there was plenty of breakfast ready for you.”
“Indeed,” agreed on Gildas. “Brother Harker always does such things well.”
“So I hear,” answered Cale.
With that, they began eating together, talking mostly about nothing important—or perhaps only seeming unimportant to someone else. But for Cale, every word spoken by either of the two monks seemed like water being offered to parched lips.
It made no difference what the men were discussing; just having them near helped him feel less frightened and confused. And although neither Gildas nor Harker mentioned anything of the events surrounding him since leaving Lyrabar or his encounter with the wizard in the catacombs below Stirk’s Cathedral, Cale sensed that both priests suspected something.
They could sense his fear and confusion without asking direct questions. In fact, the entire conversation between the three of them reminded him strongly of a game played by children, where each player tries to get others involved in telling stories that will eventually lead them all astray.
It didn’t matter how much time passed. Eventually, everyone gets caught up in the tale until it becomes impossible to stop playing.
Eventually, however, Gildas finished his meal and rose carefully to his feet. “I must leave now,” he announced apologetically. Reaching down to help Harker rise also, the old man added, “Please enjoy yourself here today, Cale. If you need me, call.” Then he turned away briskly and left through the door behind him. After closing it softly, he returned to his place beside the bed, sat down gingerly, and waited expectantly.
Cale watched the older man for several moments, wondering why he’d been summoned so rudely after finishing his meal. Finally, he shrugged and got to his feet. Walking slowly across the room toward the doorway leading deeper into the keep, he paused halfway and looked back at Father Gildas.
When the other old priest met his gaze, Cale spoke quietly and seriously. “Why did you ask me to stay? What is happening?”
Still looking straight ahead, Gildas responded in an even voice devoid of emotion: “There’s trouble brewing outside these walls, Cale. A great evil has awakened within the city itself. I have felt its presence ever since yesterday afternoon. Something terrible may happen very soon.”
***
Rising to her feet, Elaith stared intently at Dorn and said simply, “We go now.” She strode quickly past him and headed for the main entranceway to the inn.
Dorn followed closely on her heels. As he entered the common area of the building, he realized that nearly half the patrons had already risen from their tables and were following behind the pair as they exited the establishment.
All eyes fell upon them as they stepped onto the cobblestone street in front of the tavern. Several people called out greetings, but most kept silent while staring openly at the dwarf woman walking swiftly ahead of her human companion.
Elaith glanced over briefly at those who trailed behind and then continued moving at a pace slightly faster than normal. Without speaking, she led Dorn around the corner of the building and into one of the narrow alleys adjacent to the public thoroughfare.
Once they reached the end of the alley, which ended abruptly against another wall, Elaith slowed momentarily and stopped before turning to face him directly. Her expression revealed nothing more than a slight narrowing of her dark-brown eyes as she regarded the warrior uncertainly.
After waiting patiently for some indication from the elven woman that she wanted to continue, Dorn finally broke the heavy silence that hung thickly in the air between them. “You’re not going to tell me where we are heading next, right?” The question came out harsher than intended. His patience with Elaith was wearing thin, especially given the circumstances.
She nodded gravely and said calmly, “Correct. We aren’t taking any chances with your safety. You’ll see why shortly.” With that, she turned away and started off once more along the same path they’d taken earlier. At least fifty yards distant stood a single large windowless structure surrounded by stone walls.
From this vantage point, it appeared to be a little different than the rest of the buildings in the small village.
Without further comment or explanation, Elaith walked confidently forward and disappeared inside. Moments later, Dorn heard the sounds of movement coming from somewhere deep within the building.
There was no sign of anyone entering or exiting the structure, however, nor could he detect any kind of alarm system set up to warn visitors if danger approached. He frowned deeply and shook his head doubtfully. Clearly, whatever lay hidden within the building wasn’t meant to stand alone in the open and unprotected like many of the structures in this part of town.
When only two minutes remained before the hour when the sun would dip below the western horizon, Elaith emerged again, carrying something wrapped in a black cloth that covered almost all of her body except for the lower portion of her face. In her hand, she carried what looked like a long piece of wood about three feet wide and six inches high.
It seemed to be made entirely of sharpened steel. Upon closer inspection, Dorn saw that the weapon had numerous points protruding outward from both sides of the blade. One side also sported a vicious-looking hook.
Although he couldn’t determine exactly how it worked—or whether there really was anything inside the wooden object at all—he knew intuitively that such a deadly device required constant vigilance.
The elf woman moved purposefully toward the front doors of the structure without saying a word to Dorn. Once there, she opened them silently and slipped inside. Turning to look back at Dorn, she motioned to indicate that he should follow her.
Stepping cautiously through the opening, he immediately noticed signs of activity everywhere throughout the interior. Most of the rooms contained rows of shelves lined with bottles filled with various liquids and powders; others held racks containing weapons ranging from swords and spears to bows and arrows.
Many of the objects bore marks suggesting they were crafted by artisans skilled enough to make them appear lifelike rather than merely functional. Even the furniture scattered haphazardly among the chamber’s furnishings seemed to possess a certain sense of life. Everything had a distinct aura of age and character despite its apparent lack of purposeful design.
“Where do you suppose all this stuff comes from?” asked Dorn curiously.
He hadn’t known what to expect from the enigmatic creature named Elaith who had suddenly shown up in his bedchamber several days ago claiming to know him intimately and wanting to help him find answers regarding his mysterious origins. What he found instead, though, was far beyond his wildest expectations. And none of it made any damned sense!
Before answering, she gave Dorn a strange sidelong glance as if trying to gauge his reaction. Then she answered him softly, “This is my home.” She paused, looking thoughtfully down at the floor for an instant before continuing, “I am sure I don’t have to explain much else to you after seeing everything here yourself.
But let me say this: You will understand soon enough, just as I did years ago when first I laid eyes upon these things. Only then can you begin to comprehend the full meaning of our work.”
With that, Elaith turned away and began making her way deeper into the building. Dorn followed behind her, marveling at the wealth of items he was now witnessing firsthand. He had never seen so many interesting pieces gathered together in one place during his entire lifetime.
Yet even knowing how impressive the contents of the room must be didn’t prepare him for what he actually observed. For example, there were dozens of suits of armor standing against the wall near the entranceway.
All of them bore similar markings, but each differed slightly from the other, indicating that they belonged to individuals who wore unique sets of garments underneath their protective covering. Some of the armors displayed intricate designs etched on metal plates affixed over the chest area while others showed elaborate engravings around the neckline, shoulders, arms, and legs.
The weapons hanging nearby suggested that those wearing the suits might well be highly trained warriors capable of wielding blades of great power.
After passing several closed doors leading to smaller chambers farther inside, Elaith stopped abruptly and pointed ahead. Standing directly across from where the pair stood, a doorway led out onto a balcony overlooking a vast expanse of land stretching eastward in every direction.
Below, a large river snaked south past the city limits until eventually emptying itself into the sea. To either side of the watercourse ran thick forests interspersed with small villages, farms, fields, and stands of trees. As Dorn stared at the scene spread beneath him, he felt a rush of excitement course through him. This was truly a beautiful country!
But then another question occurred to him. How could someone possibly live outside in places like this? Surely everyone would starve to death unless they took advantage of the fertile soil and abundant foodstuffs lying dormant underfoot.
Or perhaps there was some method of transportation used by people living here that allowed them to reach more distant regions. Either way, the idea that anyone might willingly choose to abandon such an obviously pleasant environment seemed incomprehensible to Dorn.
Elaith stepped forward and gazed intently at the view below. When she spoke next, her voice came as no surprise to Dorn whatsoever because it sounded very familiar indeed. “We call this place Athalantar,” she said simply.
Dorn nodded approvingly at her answer. It was exactly as he expected it to sound, yet somehow he couldn’t quite grasp why it made perfect sense to him. In fact, he knew only too well that he understood absolutely nothing about anything going on around him right now.
Still, something deep within told him he needed to trust Elaith completely—no matter what bizarre revelations awaited him in the future. After all, it was obvious she already possessed knowledge that had eluded him thus far. So he decided not to ask questions or challenge her in any way. Instead, he merely waited patiently for her to continue speaking.
She continued gazing out over the landscape for several moments longer before finally turning back toward Dorn again. Her face shone brightly in the sunlight streaming in through the open doorway above. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you wish.
There’s plenty of space for you to stretch your wings. We’ll make arrangements for your travel once we’ve finished discussing matters further.” With that, she walked off briskly without waiting for a reply from Dorn.
For several minutes afterward, Dorn remained staring dumbfounded at the view below. His mind reeled from having witnessed so many wondrous sights in such a short period of time. At last, however, he managed to shake himself free of his daze and follow after Elaith once more.
As they proceeded onward, Dorn noticed that most of the inhabitants in sight appeared to be humanoids. They moved along the roads and trails weaving between the various settlements, towns, and cities as if they owned everything in sight.
Even though he’d been raised among elves, he wasn’t particularly accustomed to encountering humans so close up. Nor did he know whether they lived anywhere else besides the region surrounding this particular settlement. If he guessed correctly, then they were probably the descendants of adventurers who traveled abroad seeking new experiences beyond their native lands.
Yet despite the apparent familiarity of their faces, Dorn still found it difficult to accept the notion of interacting with people who looked so different from him. He wondered if they ever experienced feelings akin to loneliness and isolation, especially considering their inability to communicate effectively with others of their own kind.
Perhaps this was just what happened when one grew old enough to realize that life held little meaning anymore. Then again, maybe these people weren’t as lonely as he assumed; perhaps they instead considered themselves superior beings who should have no need to interact with lesser creatures like him.
Either way, Dorn soon realized that the presence of strangers in a community always brought its share of problems. These individuals inevitably caused trouble sooner or later, usually due to misunderstandings arising from language difficulties.
And since the majority of people residing in a given location tended to avoid conflict whenever possible, it often fell upon outsiders to solve issues that otherwise would never get resolved. That certainly explained why travelers frequently sought out friendly environments in which to pass the rest of their days.
For whatever reason, the residents of this area apparently believed the same thing, judging by how welcoming they behaved toward newcomers.
Eventually, Elaith halted beside a large tree growing near the edge of a forest clearing. She motioned for Dorn to join her, so he followed suit while keeping a wary eye on nearby dwellings and other potential threats. Once safely ensconced behind the sheltering branches, Elaith began addressing him again.
“I’m sure you must have many questions regarding our ways and customs here,” she stated plainly. “So let me begin by explaining that I am called Elaith Silvershade.” The elf smiled briefly before continuing. “My sister is also named Elaith, but hers goes by the name Elandril. You may address either of us as ‘sister’ or simply use the honorific title ‘Lady.’ Do you understand?”
“Yes,” replied Dorn honestly, although he didn’t fully comprehend what she meant. Why would anyone consider someone else’s sibling an equal? Surely there ought to exist some sort of hierarchy where one individual could rightfully claim superiority over another.
Yet according to Elaith’s words, such distinctions seemed entirely arbitrary—at least in terms of personal relationships. As much as he wanted to learn more about her world, this concept proved even harder than learning to fly.
Still, Dorn kept his response brief and noncommittal. He figured it best to keep things simple until he learned exactly why she felt compelled to explain herself so thoroughly. Besides, he had bigger fish to fry anyway.
Right now, all he really cared about was figuring out how to convince her to help him locate Kaelariel. Although he tried hard to hide it, Dorn’s heart sank considerably upon hearing that the demon lord was nowhere to be seen.
This realization left him feeling somewhat hopeless, as he hadn’t known precisely what to expect in advance. But the news itself was hardly surprising. After all, it took very little effort for Dorn to imagine that the demon might have escaped somewhere outside the castle walls.
In any case, Dorn knew better than to waste time worrying about something he couldn’t change right away. So rather than dwell on the problem at hand, he decided to focus solely on discovering how to accomplish his goal. Only then would he be able to find solace and purpose again.
The End