Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [90]
Larajin nodded, her face pale.
"I'm going to try to find them and make sure they keep traveling away from the lake. They'll trust me. I look… like one of them."
"How will you find me again?" Larajin asked.
Leifander had to smile. "When you get to the lake, find the headland. You'll know it by the oak tree that grows out of the bluff at the end of it. The tree was struck by lightning years ago and now has a fork near its base, and two trunks."
Larajin gave him a wry smile. "Hardly a good omen." "Fll meet you at the oak before moonrise," Leifander continued. "Hide yourself well, and wait for me there."
The moon crested the trees, spilling a shimmering line of white across the lake's surface. Lake Sember was truly as beautiful as Diurgo had said it would be. A wide expanse of deep water, the lake was bright turquoise in sunlight, a darker blue by moonlight. Its water smelled fresh and clean, tempting Larajin to slake her thirst, but instead she'd honored the prohibition against any but full-blooded elves drinking from the lake. Hanali Celanil might favor her, but she didn't want to risk the wrath of the other elf gods.
For the hundredth time since she'd hidden herself in a clump of brambles near the lakeshore, she rose from her crouch and peered into the forest. Wind whispered through the trees, stirring branches into motion. The only other sounds were the deep croaking of the frogs that lived in the rushes farther down the lakeshore and the occasional distant splash of a fish feeding on the insects that hovered over the lake at night.
"Where are you, Leifander?" she whispered to herself. "What's happened to you?"
She was certain she was in the right spot. A few paces away was the oak tree Leifander had described, its twinned trunks growing at angles to one another. Just beyond it was a drop of a pace or two and the water's edge.
Beside her, Goldheart sniffed the breeze, then dropped her jaw and inhaled deeply, having caught a scent. She turned her head this way and that, as if trying to catch the direction from which it came.
"What is it?" Larajin asked.
An instant later, she heard a crackling sound that seemed to originate from somewhere out on the lake. The noise was very faint, but it seemed familiar. After a moment, she realized what it reminded her of: spring thaw, in the River Arkhen, when the ice was breaking up.
Goldheart dropped to a crouch and slunk away through the brambles. Once she was clear, she launched herself into the air and flew to the oak. She landed on one of its branches and folded her wings, staring fixedly out at the lake.
Curious, Larajin crawled out through the path she'd made through the brambles. She walked to the oak tree and crouched in the shadow of its trunk, keeping it between herself and the forest. Squinting, she tried to see what had captured Goldheart's attention.
She spotted it almost at once. It was a finger of what looked like an inverted icicle rising slowly out of the lake some distance from the shore. A second shimmering spire followed a moment later, then a third. They were too distant to make out clearly, but she could see that each was rising from below the water's surface, one after the other in a line as the moonbeam spread across the lake. There were four of them, each making the crackling noise as it
rose, yet leaving the surface of the lake eerily still. Each had to be at least a hundred paces high.
Larajin breathed a prayer to Hanali Celanil and Sune both, thanking them for allowing her to witness this wonderful sight. She stared at the lake until the last of the crystalline towers had finished rising, then glanced at the moon. It