Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [97]
"Somnilthra," she said into the darkened tunnel. "Can you hear me?"
A part of her was startled to realize that she was speaking fluent Elvish. Another part of her, embraced by the love of the goddesses, remained serene and listened for the answer. When it came, it was little more than a sigh, one laden with the exhaustion of many long years in Reverie.
Yes?
Leifander glanced up, an exuberant look in his eye. Had he heard the voice too? Who…?
After that single word, the voice faded beyond hearing. Larajin tapped her brother's shoulder. "Keep praying," she hissed.
Nodding grimly, Leifander bowed his head and resumed his chant.
At the same time Larajin spoke again-quickly-into the hole.
"Somnilthra, it is your half…" She paused, then amended her words. "It is your sister and brother, Larar jin and Leifander, the twins. The rift you predicted between human and elf has come to pass. Sembia and what remains of Cormanthor are at war. You prophesied that we could end the strife between the two races, but we don't know how. Tell us what to do!"
Inside the ice, Somnilthra's head shifted ever so slightly, as if she were trying to turn her face in their direction. The skin above her eyebrows was creased, in what Larajin imagined to be a frown. Her voice, heavy from the Reverie, drifted gently into Larajin's ear, though her sister's lips did not move.
To heal the splinter in the stone, you must use a heart. Hate may win wars, but only love will conquer them. Harness love, and you will win everything. Unharness hate, and you will lose everything, even your very lives.
"But what does that mean?" Larajin asked, speaking louder now. "How do we use love to conquer war?"
Somnilthra sighed-a sigh deeper than any Larajin had ever heard before.
Your gods will show you the way. Once again, her voice was growing faint. I must…
And it was gone.
Leifander rose to his feet. Despite the fact that he was barefoot on the ice, he was sweating., "I couldn't stay in contact with her any longer," he said, shaking his head. "She drifted away."
The spire of ice shuddered under Larajin's bare feet. She peered down at the surface of the lake-closer now than it had been when they started their prayers.
"Could you hear Somnilthra when she spoke?" Larajin asked.
Leifander nodded. "I heard her words, but I don't know what they meant. We need wisdom-a wisdom well beyond our twenty-five years. Someone older, wiser, and more versed in the ways of magic must answer the riddle we've just been given."
They glanced at each other and said the name at the same time: "Rylith."
"The last time I saw her was several days ago, at the Standing Stone," Larajin said. "The gods only know where she is now."
"The gods aren't the only ones who will know where she is," Leifander said. "The other members of the sacred circle will know where she is-or, at least, should be able to get a message to her."
"Where can we find them?" Larajin asked. "Are they far from here?"
Leifander pointed to the northeast. "The druids-at least one of them, at all times-maintain a constant vigil
at Moontouch Oak. It lies in that direction." Then he added with a chuckle, as if at a private joke, "It's not far, as the crow flies."
"How many days on foot?"
His mirth vanished. "At least eight… possibly ten or twelve. The forest is quite thick, and there's the River Ashaba to ford."
Larajin winced. "That's too long," she said grimly. "By then Tal might be-"
She caught sight of a familiar figure winging its way toward them across the lake. She waved to attract Gold-heart's attention, and the tressym did a graceful loop. Larajin was relieved by the creature's playful antics. Whatever Goldheart had been up to, she at least hadn't gotten feathered by elven arrows.
Goldheart landed on the ridge beside them and rubbed against Larajin's leg. She filled the air with a loud purring, as if relieved to see that Larajin had survived her brush with the elf archer.
"Easy for you to say, Goldheart," Larajin chided. "You flew away when things got dangerous. By the time the elf shot