Chapter 3: City of Mourning's Light

"I saw what you saw, through your eyes. A strange dream, yet you spoke not to me. To someone you knew, an old thing indeed. Azorez told me that dreams can be conduits, realms of places yet to come, things that had happened, things that exist in parallel. She told me that our dead miss us as we do them, even telling me Yvet's last words. Things don't make sense these days, I thought they would. Please, speak to me again, Ghost. I feel so much more at peace with you around."

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.68

Cori had to help me sit down at the table, my knees giving out before I could do so myself. The dim light in the tavern was a blessing as my eyes adjusted to the comfortable space. The Dwarven King had his men stand guard outside the cave opening, eyeing the cave mouth with a look I had only ever seen on Caleb. Someone set another bottle of that bile in front of me, pushing it away as the Dwarf sat at the table opposite me. 

"You look like death from the last time I saw you." His voice like gravel, rumbling in his throat. "Well, certainly the chance encounter that night, as it were. Besides, we haven't been idle since then either. For you, as well as me." Cori and Knoll both stood at the sides of the cave mouth as well, hands taken off their weapons at the wave of my hand. 

Ghet had set a pint in front of Halgier, a frothy, heady beer, the smell of spirits laced in it. "Well, seeing as Mother." 

I cut him off, irritated. "My name is Ilgor. I am not so feeble as to not speak Ghet." He shot an irritated look back at me with the same fervor. 

Halgier folded his hands over the tankard as he cleared his throat. "This is now the second time I've seen someone be scolded for addressing you with a title. Both being this old fellow. Might I give you a quick lesson in politics, accept your titles especially when you dislike them. When I see a vulnerability of any kind, in any nation, it only makes you look weak. It's something anyone can exploit, and if something as trivial as a title can put you on edge, what else can?" His eyes turned steel as he spoke. Something registering, this may be an ally, but he is more than capable of fighting, seeing as he just made a direct move against the King I spoke to on the hill. 

Stopping myself from looking away, I stared right back at him, hoping my tired eyes looked the same as his. "I see your point. It's a sensitive subject for me, Halgier, if I remember correctly." His face was as immovable as a stone; he only nodded. "How much do you know of what happened here?"

Ghet had pulled a notebook out from behind the bar top, and the sound of scribbling filled the quiet cave. "Some of what I'm going to tell you will anger you, and I need you keep calm and rational. I am extending an offer to become part of the Dwarven Wandering State as a Vassal City. You would have the full protection of our nation, an army for one of our generals to command in your interests. A resource line to help build your settlement, and an innumerable number of craftsmen and artisans to teach your people trades that would be useful in the wider world. An aspect that I hear you have expressed great interest in." Halgier's words took my breath away. I never expected such kind of support, let alone the exact avenue I was hoping to take. 

"What is the reason for doing this? This is a significant risk on your part, angering an ally like this, protecting a group of bandits. Beyond that, now that I think of it, how did you know I wanted to train my Family to be more than just what they are?" The words hurried, as plans and threats flew through my mind. Ghet's scribbling only doubled as the King spoke. 

"To be frankly honest, I am not entirely sure," Halgier said, finally draining the tankard in front of him. I couldn't help but smile as his cheeks immediately turned red from the drink. 

"What do you mean you don't know? You just go along offering your nation's resources and power to any lowly group you come across?" Scratching the back of my head, this Dwarf certainly had my attention enough to keep me wide awake now. 

"You need to stop talking about your people like that. You called yourself bandits, now lowly. What I see is far from it." Cori refilled his tankard. I didn't even notice her move from her station, setting a tankard of my own on the table. He continued, "I see a war-torn people, I see a marginalized race that has its own customs, its own faith. The ability to build solid defensive structures, I saw those gardens topside, clearly, you know a lot. You managed to attract the attention of one of the most important political figures in the world, Azorez the Necromancer. You managed to pique her interest enough to send for the Sages of Huron. To top that off, you repelled an attack from one of the Great Nations of the world as well. Lowly is not the description I would use." 

Before I could respond, he rolled over my questioning look. "What I mean by 'I don't know’ is that I was not the one who made the choice to do this. I tried to talk Fourth King Gjorn out of this, well, I should say I cautioned him about the dangers associated with it. I tasked my Clan, the Sjrijic, to come and defend your borders at his request, while his Clan, the Rhojic, pulls up stakes north of the City and comes here. My Clan just happens to be better at moving quickly than his." 

"What were Gjorn's reasons for helping?" Ghet asked, his head in his palm, the quill in his hand finally ceasing its journey on the paper. "Well, the part our dear Priestess is leaving out is that we knew full well who our former Chief Yorm attacked, and we attempted to stop him in numerous ways before the deed was committed. We knew enough of the Galacian forces to know who and how they would retaliate. Our goal on that hill was to speak with their Commander and turn over Yorm willingly, as we also knew their demands. This fell apart quickly, and we defended ourselves. Ilgor took his life and became the new Chief in the process. We then brokered a deal with his crimes then having been paid for. So, we've told you the reasons we had." 

Halgier eyed the old veteran in a way I could have only called a conversation of wills. "I know. We had snipers gunning down Galacian soldiers when they refused to obey their Commander's orders. Another one of Gjorn's requests." 

"You, you were there?" Turning back to the King. "Why." It wasn't a question. 

Smiling, he responded, "Because we were hired as a cavalry unit in any military movement the King ordered in the next few months, as well as to observe their command habits and structure. We were also hired to train their officers in keeping their forces in line. A task we have yet to begin. A task that is now back on the table with King Berthelot for discussion due to our recent actions here." 

"Why give us your whole hand?" I asked; this was too much for it to be a coincidence.

"To show you, Ilgor Chiefess of the Skullbrood Clan, that we back you with every intention of goodwill," Halgier said, draining the second tankard. "Damn, that's good, something out of Port De Renard, a damn good stout!" 

He continued as Ghet went back to scribbling. "We know more about than we first let on. When I said we haven't been idle, I meant it. I know that you are worshippers of Bhal, I know about your raiders and their approximate numbers, and I know about some of your religious practices. And finally, Gjorn is hiding quite a bit from me, though is more than adamant on your protection. Especially since we know that under your leadership, you wanted to bring your people up to the same standards as Humanity." 

Setting the tankard back down, his eyes were much warmer than at the beginning of this conversation. "Gjorn has told me very little; he is an enigma to many of our Clans as well as his own. He has kept many things to himself, but he is a font of transformative information. Many years ago, in a battle known as the Black Fortress, he conquered a Gnomish Fort situated perfectly where we needed it to be, then disappeared for weeks." 

"What happened to him?" I asked, sipping the strong beer myself. 

"We don't know. He wouldn't tell us much, besides that he has a new allegiance to some Queen that he cannot speak of much. Quite literally that, he is stricken by the curse of silenced tongues, his mouth disappears and all for a time until he tells his mind not to speak what he was about to again." I'd seen that, more than once. The Sorcerer had the same thing happen to him, too. "He came back a changed Dwarf; he wasn't the same. Darker, stronger, much more powerful than when he left. He also came back with the same type of magic you all hold, that kind that pulls at the mind when you speak. Only his voice is far more potent than yours." 

"That doesn't explain much," I said. It really was a good beer. 

"I'm getting to it. What he came back with was an entirely unexplainable amount of information. With what he had learned wherever he Branch Walked to, we were able to build our City, Mhuzchet, to the impenetrable glory it today. With magics that only our most senior engineers understand. He also came back with extremely tight connections with the Wayfare Guild. His knowledge rocketed us into the strength we hold these days. There is a reason Galus is afraid to retaliate now that we are here. Suffice it to say, we don't know where he got his magic, as he was born with none." That perked my interest; his magic was so much like mine. "We don't know who this Queen is, we don't know how he had suddenly been able to make so many political connections that had refused us before, and we don't know how he had learned so much that he is constantly bombarded by the greatest artificers the world has ever known."

The scene of seeing Gjorn with the Forgemaster filled my mind. I had to admit that he was quite the character, the few times I met him. "But, that doesn't explain his interest in me or my people." Wondering out loud.

"I quote, "She'd have my balls on a plate if I let anything happen to her." He also mentioned that he couldn't allow so many of your people to die during the skirmish with the City. Hence why he ordered our snipers to aid you. I do not know what his motivations are, but he has never become an enemy to the Dwarven people. Whenever his intervention is involved, it tends to go exceptionally well for those he is answering on the behalf of. While there may be stronger armies than his, while there may be more well supplied nations than ours, while there may be stronger Dwarves than him, he has become one of the most influential figures on the continent. He earned the name EndSong for a reason." Songs, they called him the Bluejay, the Bard. The Sorcerer said, humming and singing, my magic would make it stronger too. This Dwarf was getting more and more interesting by the second.  

I couldn't help but think of what he had said earlier, "What is Branch Walking?" 

The Dwarven King's grin slipped from his face. "I think that would be a concept that Gjorn or perhaps Azorez would be able to answer. As for me, all I understand it as is teleporting between worlds." 

We continued our discussion, speaking at length about how and what the Dwarves would be helping with, and what our duties to his Clan would be. While not the citizenship I had first wanted, living as a Dwarven Vassal state certainly had its merits. We wouldn't be required to pay taxes to the Dwarves; however, all my raiders would be formally trained as Dwarven soldiers and be obligated to participate in conflicts should the need arise. We were allowed to retain our government and faith, so long as every able-bodied soul was required to learn a trade and be proficient in it. We wouldn't be allowed to make any political decision without consent from one of the Kings, though we were free to make whatever trade agreements we wished. 

He was quite the talker once he got going, seems like he enjoys speaking with people at length about anything they wished. For a Dwarf who admitted that his alias on the international stage was "Warlord", he certainly had the charm of a born leader. He spoke at length with Cori and Knoll about the hunting in the Forest, and things they might wish to try. Asking Ghet what he wished to gain from all this, he surprised me when he excused himself rather than speak his mind. His notebook absorbing his attention. 

Inviting his guards into the tavern turned the place into an altogether different affair. Loud and boisterous enough to draw the attention of more than a few of the Family. While I had taught as many as I could, their Common was a broken thing. They could understand much of the Dwarves, but not necessarily speak the language well. It brought a smile to my face to see them be patient with us, teaching them more. Though drink and friendly air did much to accompany this.

I excused myself from the drinking and song, wanting to be outside for a while. Cori and Knoll immediately hopped to their feet, trying to follow me in my wandering. I was barely out of the cave's mouth when Cori appeared at my side, Knoll following further back. Telling them I would be fine, we were inside the village after all. Here was the safest place I could have possibly been. Their looks told me they would only be following further behind, maybe out of sight, maybe not. 

Sighing, I turned and walked off toward the cliff's many staircases. Passing by the dozens of the Family who turned to watch me walk by, offering greetings, some condolences, others were silent. The raw feeling in the air, weighty. Like the humid heat in the midst of the summer, not quite oppressive, but unpleasant nonetheless. I suppose they wanted to know why these Dwarves were here, what would happen to them now. What direction I was aiming our futures toward, but then again, not a single one of them had challenged my decisions as of yet; it was their right to do so. 

My thoughts swam around what they were offering. To build us a city, to bring us into a new age, like I had wanted. Our lives are to change for, hopefully, the better. But, Gjorn. What was his endgame? What were his motives in all this? I wondered what had Ghet upset, why he didn't feel like speaking with Halgier or his men. I wouldn't force him to do so; he was his own mind, and he had been invaluable to me for any number of reasons in the wake of the Skirmish. 

The wet sand beneath my boots was nice; it reminded me of happier times. The dress Mother had given me swayed in the breeze, though my insistence that pants be needed at least saved me from an unpleasant cool. The feathers in my hair drifted past my eyes, the sound of my beads clinking was calming. Reaching the stairs, I didn't need to be told that Cori was already topside; I knew Knoll was somewhere below me. Only to have my suspicion proven when I saw her not quite hiding behind a tree that hadn't been felled yet. 

Ignoring her, I suppose, like people using titles for me, I'd have to get used to the fact that they would take their duty seriously. Twirling Mother's staff behind me while I walked. Listening to the surf below, hearing the wind through the branches of the trees outside the wall. Only vaguely paying attention to the glow of Halgier's army outside the gate, I had already permitted his soldiers to make camp topside. Perhaps Galus was being more insistent than first thought. 

Telling myself it was unlikely, the Dwarf seemed far more military than he let on. He would have been topside to lead a defense if something was happening. Maybe he was letting us grieve with fewer eyes watching, I at least appreciated that. Humming an old song that Mother had taught me, not bothering to watch what my voice was doing. Shimmering waves of power like waves in a pond where I walked.

Thinking back to how she used to teach me as a child, she would always sing me to sleep. Spending so much time with me more than the other Orphans, always telling me she loved all the kids the same. But, I was always called mama's favorite by the others; I suppose they were right after all was said and done. 

I just wondered how much of this she had planned. I wondered if it was her idea or Yorm's to make me Priestess. As Priestess, I was equal to Yorm inside the village, outside, well, I had the raiders' support. It didn't make sense if it was Yorm's idea; he knew I had far more power than him with the Family. If it was, I wondered if he thought I'd try to keep to tradition and not question him, as if it mattered to me. 

The rocks beneath my boots found their way to another staircase. The moon was just beginning to rise over the sea, the clouds had finally begun breaking up a few days back after the hurricane stalled out over the deepest parts of the Forest. The mountains made a great barrier for the mighty storms to the west. Most of the Family having retreated to the caves for the night, cooking fires having been snuffed out long ago. Only the Raiders sit and watch, each having their own vantage of the beach and caves. Each one made the sign of the clan at me as I descended the stairs. 

The fact that I didn't really acknowledge them told them everything they needed to know from their Chief. No words were needed from bloodied hand to hand. Making my way back down toward the burial rafts, thinking I'd push them out to sea for their burials to be complete. It was the least I could do for them, their rites having been given to them, more to do tomorrow. We would need to finish them soon; the Family would never forgive me if they started to rot before being given their final rites. A few more days of this, and this would be done. 

I felt the wetness on my cheeks before realizing it was crying again. Nearing the first raft, Yry, she was always sweet to me when I was a child. I couldn't help but feel this was still all my fault. I could have done more to stop Yorm. I could have challenged him sooner, I could have tried harder to get him to understand. With a gentle push, the raft slid into the seas on the rollers, and she drifted away as the current pulled her body out. 

Hursk, grizzled old man. Never had much to say, but he always found a way to bring us kids extra food when he could. It took me hours to clean the blood from his hair, those lifeless eyes staring back at me without the hint of accusation in them. I could have tried to be a better Priestess, less antagonistic with Yorm. I could have just let him continue doing what he wanted; at least it was stable. He might not have even been out there that day if I had just been a bit more obedient. The rollers rustled as his raft was pushed out to sea, as well, thanking the gods above that these were clear skies for them to see the stars one last time. 

Seven others, their names rolling off my tongue. Their lives remembered, their stories not forgotten with me. They were my raiders as much as they were my Family; it was my job to protect them, and I failed them. Seven more, only distantly aware that some of the Family was watching me complete their burials. The bags under my eyes only felt heavier with each one, barely paying attention as the names and faces ran by. 

Nearly jumping out of my skin when Ghet was on the next raft. Smoking something rich in his pipe, as an empty shot glass sat next to him with another poured for the soul he sat next to. "I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to see me." He said dryly, not bothering to look up at me. 

"I'm sorry, I was absorbed in..." I saw Yvet's body next, after this, the end of the line.

"It's fine. I was just saying goodbye to a friend. You know, Tyrk was a good lad. Young, too young to die. It's always the old that live on, new blood to pay for our ways. Never ours." Ghet said, resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I tried to have him moved to Hob's command when he passed his Trial, but Yorm was quite a bit more preoccupied than listening to me."

"I'm sorry, I didn't want this." I started, only for Ghet to hold up a hand. 

"I'm not blaming you; you did what needed to happen. It just breaks my heart to know that I have now lived through two massacres, and to know I had a hand in both." He ran a hand over his face before continuing. "New blood pays for their inexperience, a price often too steep. Often not worth the cost they paid." 

"What do you mean, a hand in both? I am the one who wanted to change the Clan. I'm the one who couldn't stop Yorm from acting foolishly." Resting a hand on his shoulder.

"I encouraged you to do so. I put dreams in your head, and I put my desire for change in you, hoping that I wouldn't have to see this again." A tear rolled down his face. "I thought I ran out of those alone time ago." 

There was no changing his mind; there wasn't any point in trying to do so right now. I was beginning to think I now understood why he hated himself for the creation of the Orphans. We both had blood on our hands now, blood that wouldn't be washed away so easily as a few comforting words. Only now beginning to understand why he pushed us so hard, why he cared too much. Why he never gave up on us, or why he was in my Raiding Party. My Wryemi. 

He got up and pushed the raft down toward the sea, his shot glass and pipe going with it. Turning to me, that look in his eyes finally looked familiar. Like looking into my own eyes, that weight behind them, that understanding he always had. Waving a hand to the final raft of the night, toward Yvet. 

My face reflected in his eyes, seeing the quivering lip in them. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it just as fast. There was nothing that needed to be said; there were no kind words that would change the reality before me. Approaching Yvet, resting a hand on his. Plucking a bead off my necklace placing it in his palm. Cold, nothing like the hands I had grown to know. 

Leaning over, pressing my lips to his. "I wish this never happened to you. I wish I could have given you more. I wish I could have given you everything you ever wanted." My tears were dripping on his face as I kicked the raft's choke out, not wanting to see his body be pulled out to sea, I turned as it trundled on the rollers. Looking up, I saw that much of the Family had gathered to watch the final burial for the night. The moon hanging high in the sky, the seas calm, the wind having died down. Biting down hard on the sob that tried to leave my throat, as Ghet set a hand on my shoulder this time. 

***

Year of Wrath 1231, Season of Waiting D.71

I sat watching the Dwarves set up their preliminary camps, as they called them. Massive things, I wouldn't have called them made of canvas, it was a harder leather made from the hides of their Boars. Even those beasts were mighty creatures, penned to one side of their camp, their Herd masters having to take control of more than one unruly bull. Even the King Halgeir made an impressive display of it, his muscles damn near bursting as he took hold of the beast's tusks and flipped it on its side. Despite being tiny compared to it, getting back up, it kowtowed to him before returning to the rest of their herd. 

Their entire encampment was organized in ways we hadn't seen in the Humans, not in any living memory, as it were. Grouped in squads of twenty, around one fire, one pot, sharing the same massive tent. Their traveling cots even looked nicer than anything we had. "I have to stop comparing our situation to theirs. They are Nomads from one of the wealthiest nations in the world. I finished the last of the burials, no one said a word to me about Yvet."

My thoughts were wandering as I watched their soldiers turn craftsman today. Watching as their soldiers began asking Ghet, Cori, and Knoll, who were all the raiders in the village. Halgier had told everyone to leave me be, to rest. Though it wasn't missed by me that he was also in the group that watched me finish Yvet's burial. Maybe it was just to let me mourn, I would thank him for it nonetheless. 

Azorez had taken to sitting with me more and more, her little girl more than happy to read the books she gave her in silence. She was a good listener, listening to me speak of the lives of the Clan. Listening, I went silent when the more painful ones bubbled to the surface. Never pushing me for more information, never pushing me to speak when it hurt. "No matter how much encouragement I give, healing is an internal affair. It is wound like any other. I may help it from spreading, I may keep the wound clean, but I cannot heal that pain. You must give yourself the grace to heal, but that takes time. I would not take time away from you if it meant that you could not forgive yourself." 

I remembered her telling me that the first time, her back was to me while she whispered her own magic to the dead. Speaking with voices I could not hear, when pressing her for what she would do, she simply said. "I am not the one to ask that question; these are not my people. I have lost loves, I have witnessed torment and sorrow. I have seen the end and where they go afterward. Loss and grief are not something I feel any longer. In your place, I would rest. Sleep, you're trying to deal with your emotions while working with very little rest. It only makes it harder." 

I had to admit, even now, while she sat next to me, knitting a thicker scarf for Talia, she was quiet. She was right, after being forced to sleep while Ghet took care of the visitors from the Dwarves and Galus, while Cori and Knoll dealt with the military aspect of our new obligations for the moment, I was starting to feel better. It was three days I was asleep, thirsty, and lonely. When I walked up here to sit and watch the progress, Ghet had already stopped many Dwarven Engineers from speaking with me. Walking them down some ways before writing something down and walking back to my little sitting area. 

It was comfortable, a wooden folding chair with a soft cushion. A small slatted table set with food I hadn't touched yet, a cup of something called coffee. Pot of cream and sugar next to it, a vase with a bouquet of glowbells. I tried to ask Ghet when Gjorn would be returning, but he told me he didn't know and went to find Halgier for that answer. While he was gone, the Dwarves had brought a group of volunteers from the village below and began teaching them woodworking basics. 

Caleb taught me many of the same things that filled my mind. The feeling of the forge heating his little encampment, his patient attitude as I ruined the first set of dowels and joints, he told me how to make. I remembered his laugh when I snapped one of his knives, thinking he'd be furious with me. The way he taught us theory as he taught us the practical aspects of what he knew. I saw a lot of my time in what I was watching, many of the Dwarves first teaching them the names of the tools first. Simple phrases, as they showed them even simpler joints and planning. 

The smell of spices wafted through the chill winter air, the sound of Azorez's needles. The quiet pages turning from Talia's book, the muffled and distorted conversation from the encampment. Hammers pounding in the distance from the Dwarves shoring up our walls. The bellows working as machine parts were being made for workshops whose frames were already being erected. I could hear the sound of the surf below, every footstep below on the soft sand. The happy chatter mixed with those still grieving carried on the thermals off the cliff. 

The village had never known this kind of help, yet this was what I was hoping for. Dwarven Surveyors are already planning out roads with their maps, speaking in that slightly different Common than what I knew. Stopping to speak with any of the Family who could understand them enough, asking what their thoughts on the maps were. As they went pounding stakes in the ground, tied a cloth ribbon to denote something. The Goblins a top the walls, being relieved from their watch with Dwarven replacements. The friendly greetings were audible to me even at this distance. 

"I think I am starting to feel better." Azorez's needles didn't stop, but she didn't say anything either. Waiting for me continue. "I don't feel as tired. I'm starting to think about what we are going to do about the village." 

"That is good." Her wispy voice responded, "You should eat, Mother." 

Only when she said it did my stomach groan with the neglect it finally felt. Suddenly hungry, eyeing the food at the table. It was mostly meat, a seared steak, the butter having hardened on it some time ago. A smoked carp that was fished out of the rivers this last Season of Heat. Fried ham, still crispy and not all of its heat completely lost. A fresh loaf of bread, the crunch heavenly. Sipping the coffee, but immediately grimacing at the bitterness. Azorez laughed in her raspy way, telling the cream and sugar help immensely. 

She was right, pouring myself a cup of water from the pitcher that was left for me. Digging into the meal, loving the taste. I didn't realize how hungry I was, as most of it disappeared in minutes. The steak was nothing more than an eyebone left on the plate, the fish nothing more than a pile of small bones. Ripping apart the bread and dipping it in the creamy and sweet dark drink, it was wonderful. Warmth finally welling in my skin once again, some of the exhaustion gone from my eyes, feeling just a bit happier again. 

Ghet had returned as I was in the middle of my bread. "Well! Look who's back from the dead!" He smiled as he walked back up to Azorez and me. "We were starting to get worried, you hadn't eaten or slept in days. You're already starting to look better, Illy. You have some color back in your cheeks."

Well, now that did color my cheeks more. Sitting at one of the empty chairs that were left here, he opened his notebook. Glancing down at it, it was filled from edge to edge with words and bullet points. He was keeping records of all his conversations with the Engineers and the Clan. Noticing our conversation that first night with Halgier written out as if it were a contract, as he flipped past the pages more. Finally stopping at one of the pages that wasn't completely filled, as I finished the last of my bread. 

"King Gjorn will be here within the next few days. King Halgier had received word from the Rhojic just this morning. Their encampment will be here soon, though he suspects that Gjorn will appear before the rest of his Clan. Apparently, he has a habit of not leading his Clan on the frontlines like Halgier does, trusting his Generals with much of the day-to-day operations." Pouring himself a cup of the bitter black drink, not bothering with the cream or sugar, he downed it. Not understanding how he could ignore the tongue desiccating bitterness of it. 

"That's all? What about the Engineers? What about Cori and Knoll with the raiders? What about the Family and their training? Has there been any more news from Galus, or what is going on outside the walls?" The questions fell out of my mouth before the first was finished. 

Ghet set a hand on mine, "You asked about Gjorn. The rest we can worry about later when you've had more rest. A few more days, Illy. Please." 

"I feel better now, though." I tried, but Azorez added her voice to the conversation. 

"You feel better by comparison, you should listen to your Advisor, Mother. A few more days will at least let your body recover from the endurance test you put it through." Her needles stopped as she spoke, looking me in the eye. "Your heart will be another challenge, but you won a battle, buried nearly two-hundred souls, and are dealing with politics that you don't know the full scope of. You had to say goodbye to far too many; you need rest." 

It was hours later when I had finally had enough of watching the village go about the beginnings of this new start. Azorez had retired far sooner than I, picking a sleeping Talia up in her arms before wishing me a goodnight. The little girl barely waking up enough to wave at me while they descended the stairs. Listening to the Dwarves strike up conversations with one another, speaking of places I had never heard of. Speaking of people and events I never knew. 

Getting up from my soft chair wrapping the blanket around me tighter. The foot path from generations of Goblins ambling back home, now marked with stakes for a new road to eventually go, they certainly weren't wasting any time at all. I just hoped that the rest of the Family would be willing to let some memories go; I wouldn't allow them to place any roads down on the beach. But, they were taking measurements of the caves, seeing about carving them out for both material and room for building to take place. 

Another thing I wouldn't let them touch was the main chamber, the last holy site we knew of. In that lofty cavern were the pillars and arches made of our Keystones, both graveyard and chapel. It was the one place that I would never allow them to change, too many memories for the Family, too many lessons that I could still learn from the departed. The lower the Keystones went, the older they became, should the Priestess ever need to speak with the Elders of the Clan. It would take weeks to carefully pull them all down without collapsing the entire structure. 

Lost in my memories, I found myself standing in front of the very cave I had been thinking about. My breath caught every time I came here; today was no different. Each stone carefully chiseled with their names, decorated with the events of their lives. The candles dotting the alcoves and pillars of the grand structure had gone out as the great curtains flowed with the wind. With a whisper, the candles breathed new life into them. 

Walking toward the altar to Bhal in the center of the chamber, I thought back to countless sermons and prayers Mother had delivered here. I could almost hear her voice again as my soft humming filled the halls of the fallen. "To those we have left behind, for the ones who could not follow. We remember, we sing of your times in life, and we sing of your memory. Oh Great Father, do you not grant us the clemency we seek? You still wish us to seek our ambition as we see fit?" 

Tying the blanket around my shoulders, an absurdly oversized shawl, all things considered. It hung past my own braid that nearly dragged on the ground. Kneeling before that altar, "You told us to seek glory in your name, it isn't for you. You wanted us to seek glory in all ways. I've done that, haven't I?" 

Placing a hand over the groove that every priestess before had worn away in their time, Mother's. Her Mother, the Mother before her. Rythia in days of old, answers I still wanted from that Ghost, even if I didn't know her name, she knew an awful lot about everything about us. "I claimed power, I am bringing our people into a golden age, am I not worthy to hear your voice? I slew my Father as your traditions demanded, and I will see to it that it never happens again. I chase my ambitions while I still follow your words. So why have I never heard your voice?" 

"Like a falling star, it's like a sunrise." I jumped when I heard his voice. Only to have my hopes be dashed the second I realized I knew that voice. King Halgier placed a Winter's Bloom at the altar, rare all things considered. "We have always been wanderers in this world. Since the star fell with the hammer strike. Till the break of dawn, till we burst through the night." 

He knelt at the altar with me, something I wasn't expecting. He made it more than well known he had no love for Bhal or many of his teachings. "My father always used to tell me, glory isn't something worth chasing. In the end, all glory buys you is pride in throat, but not safety for the people. Striving to serve for the betterment of the people? That is glorious. He told me before he passed that to chase after nothing was shameful. To chase a dream without an idea of what that dream was, needless." 

I stayed quiet as he wrapped his cloak around me as well. It was warm, far more so than the blanket. "If not for the glory of the gods, then whom do you strive to earn glory for?" I answered him. 

"I believe you said it yourself, ambition. What do we value? What do we strive for if not to follow our own path, not the one set for you. Should that path lead to wealth, to fame, to posterity, any path these entwining branches take us. But the one thing that remains the entire time, the drive, the passion to see through the choices we had made. Yours is to see your people happy, safe, and prosperous. I seek the same thing." He rose from his position, staring out at the Keystone archways. 

He certainly did look regal; he wore no crown, he wore no jewelry that I had become accustomed to seeing on Humans. His shoulders squared, his beard neat and clean, his eyes gleaming with pride that wouldn't fade with time.  Glowing amber in the dim candlelit chapel. "Tell me, Halgier. Why did you want to help us?" I asked as I too rose from the altar. 

"Simply, I'm following the path Gjorn is walking. Whatever is on my path, I will experience." He spoke, setting his hands on his hips. 

"Weren't you the one who just said to follow your own path?" I teased, smirking now, wondering where he was going with this. 

"I never said paths can't converge. Besides, Gjorn may have his agenda, but there are elements in this village I, too, wish to know more of." He placed a hand on the altar again, close to our holy book that sat on its plinth. 

"Like what?" The question fell from my mouth, knowing how it sounded. 

He turned to me with a smirk. "Tell me, Ilgor, what are these stones I'm looking at? I do not know much about your faith, beyond that it is one of the Cults of Bhal." 

I stepped down from the altar, walking over to one of the many pillars that lined the cavern. Picking up one that hadn't yet been placed, carrying it like a newborn babe. "These are what remains. We send our dead out to sea to return to the Shores Beyond, under the night sky, so that they may bear witness to the stars one final time before departing. A right that was refused to my Father, these stones bear their memory. Their name, their lives, their spirit memory." 

His plate armor clinked as he walked over to examine the stone. "I do not understand the written Elder Fae language. I'm sure that artificer in your clan would be ecstatic to study them. What was this one's name? What do the carvings tell?" 

"Hursk, I suppose it means 'Wall', or 'Strength' in Common. It wouldn't have a direct translation, but the carving tells of the story that we will remember him by. He was one of the raiders of the Forest, a hunter for many years as he grew older. A kind soul to the children of the Clan, a kinder soul to his wife and children. He volunteered to aid us on the day the Skirmish happened. He was a man of few words, but his words were always wise." I traced my fingers along the symbols lovingly carved into the soft stone by his Son. 

"But his spirit remains inside? Shouldn't it have gone to the Shores Beyond?" Halgier asked curiously. 

"With a greeting fitting for the Famille, and a prayerful request, their memory is retained in their stones. A tether to this world should ever the clan need for their guidance again, not their soul, but an imprint of their existence. They sleep peacefully while they wait to be woken if ever the need arises. Though few would do so to any but the Chiefs and Priestesses of the Clan. I would perform the ritual of stars for the fallen to see the skies that were their home, if the Family wished to speak with them again." I explained that while I placed his stone atop the new column we were building. 

"Necromancy? It sounds so gentle, I knew now why Azorez wanted to be here." He said with an air of certainty that struck me wrong. 

"It's not necromancy, she said as much. It's older, something older than what she had ever come across. She wanted to watch me perform the ritual, but it's an emotional thing for the family, as well as for me. I need to speak with the older priestesses soon. I, too, have answers I wish to seek. But, I'm sorry, I don't really have a way of explaining it." He set a hand on my shoulder. 

"There is no need, I understand. You need not explain the whys to someone who isn't going to know its significance with so little exposure to your people." He smiled brightly, his previous words forgiven. His cheeks were nearly closing his eyes while doing so. "Come now, why don't we have a drink at that Tavern. Warm your bones as well as mine. I wouldn't mind more of that Renari beer if it could be found." 

"It was quite nice, wasn't it?" Smiling back at him, walking out of the chapel together.