Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [59]
Looking around, Larajin saw that she was in a forest. Ryhth stood beside her, and Goldheart was perched on the branches of a tree above, intent upon grooming herself, apparently none the worse for wear save for some ruffled fur. Wherever they were, the place didn't look familiar. Unlike the strong, shady oaks of the Tangled Trees, the trees all around them were leafless and mottled with blight, and several were leaning or had already fallen. The ground under Larajin's feet was spongy with a putrid-smelling layer of what looked like decayed ferns and moss, and the once-thick underbrush had died back, leaving only skeletal twigs. Through them, Larajin could see a road.
"Where are we?" she asked Rylith.
The druid remained silent, with her lips pressed tightly together. Her only answer was to nod at the long, rectangular shadow that fell across the spot where they stood.
Larajin turned around and saw an enormous slab of gray granite, its front and sides covered in flowing Elvish script. The bottom of the stone looked as though it had been damaged by frost. Bending over, she found she could peer right through the monument's base, which had a crack in it more than a handspan wide. The fissure narrowed rapidly, but the crack continued all the way to the top of the monument, dividing it in two. It looked as though the two halves were about to topple to either side at any moment.
When she turned back to Rylith, Larajin saw a tear trickle down the druid's tattooed cheek. She didn't need to ask what was wrong. As a novice cleric of two goddesses who valued natural beauty above all else, she too was struck by the wrongness of this blighted wood. She whispered prayers to Sune and Hanali Celanil, asking the goddesses to take pity upon this place.
This monument," Ryhth said in a sad voice, "was erected to commemorate a pact of friendship between human and elf. For centuries, nothing has marred its surface. It has withstood frost and fire and healed itself of the willful damage of blade and hammer. Now it is a cracked mirror, a sad reflection of our current troubles."
Larajin laid a fingertip against the monument-gently, lest the slight touch topple it. Despite the heat of the sun that glared down through the bare branches overhead, the granite was as cold as ice. She shivered, and withdrew her hand.
The Standing Stone," she said, remembering it from a book she'd read.
"You know its history?" Rylith asked. The story of when it was erected and what it signifies?"
Larajin nodded. "Why did you bring me here?" she asked. "Why did we have to use magic to sneak away?
Why wouldn't the elves let me leave the tent?"
Rylith sighed. "These are difficult times. Not only do the humans march against the forest, but the war has also pitted the council members against each other. There are many on the High Council who ignore the true threat to the forest, who refuse to heed our advice. One would think they had fallen victim to-"
She stopped abruptly, then shook her head, as if to dispel some disturbing thought.
"I have much work yet to do," she continued. "I can interrupt it for only a short time, and that time would be better spent speaking about your part in all of this than about mine." She extended a hand to Larajin. "Come. Walk with me. This is not a pleasant spot, and there is more I need to show you."
They walked for some time through the woods, Gold-heart following above, until they had left the monument and the blighted forest behind. Up ahead, Larajin heard