Storm of the Dead - Lisa Smedman [120]
The male returned. Indeed, grandson. It flows in your veins-and in the veins of all who can trace their ancestry back through bloodlines that are of pure Miyeritari descent. I suspect there are few of us, now-fewer with each generation. The Ilythiiri will have mixed their bloodlines with ours, producing yet more offspring who bear the demon's taint. But I am glad to hear that some of us continue to serve the goddess. Some of us remember her and keep the faith.
Both voices spoke together. Male and female, backed up by a chorus of dozens more. That is why this lorestone, and others like it, were placed here. Because we knew that, some day, the goddess might guide the footsteps of someone who would be able to hear us.
"Me," Q'arlynd whispered.
Yes.
He touched a finger to his forehead. "But why did you strip me of my memories, the first time I wore you?"
That was a different selu'kiira. Because you were not of its House, its embodied sentiences stripped you of all memory of it and forced you to return it to this place. They did the same to the boy. He was of the correct House but not wholly worthy of wearing that selu'kiira. He is fortunate that some dark elf blood, at least, flows in his veins. Else he would have died the instant it touched his mind.
"Just as the chitines did?"
He felt their disapproval and overheard a snatch of conversation.
… certain he is Miyeritari?
He is.
"So…" Q'arlynd glanced at Kraanfhaor's Door. By concentrating, he could just make it out. "There are more kiira in there?"
Dozens. One from each House whose patriarch or matriarch survived the Killing Storm.
He touched his forehead. "And since I'm a Melarn-a pure descendant of your House-you'll teach me high magic?"
When you're ready to wield arselu'tel'quess, then yes.
"What must I do to prepare?"
Learn to trust.
"Done." Q'arlynd waved a hand in the direction of his apprentices. "You can see the proof. I brought them along to share in whatever knowledge I might glean."
Is that why three of them still stand bound by your magic?
"I had to. Piri-"
You placed that enchantment into the rings long before that.
"Yes, but the point remains that Piri-"
What did you expect of someone who bonded with a demon? the male chided.
You cannot fault Q'arlynd for trying, the female interjected. The yearning for companionship, for family, comes instinctively to him. It was only the cruelties he suffered as a child that beat it into dormancy. There is a kindness in him still.
Q'arlynd bristled. They seemed to be implying that he was the equivalent of a surface elf, soft and weak. Not a true drow at all.
Your skin may be black, but you're no dhaerow, the female said. She gave the word its original meaning: traitor. A spark of moonlight flickers within your heart. The dhaerow did their best to extinguish it, but it dances there still.
That sounded just like something Qiluй had once said.
"Enough about me," Q'arlynd said. "Now, about those spells…"
When you're ready. After a century or two of study, perhaps.
"Surely I don't need to wait so long! Aren't you forgetting something? I already cast high magic, once before."
When Eilistraee willed it, yes.
Q'arlynd clutched at that straw. "Well, doesn't she will it again? If Kiaransalee's Crones aren't defeated, Faerzress throughout the Underdark will become as potent as it was at the time of the Descent. Your descendants are going to be trapped, just as you were. Aryvandaar will win."
Righteous anger hit him like a physical blow. He reeled. Then a wordless song eclipsed the angry voices. So beautiful was it that Q'arlynd's eyes welled with tears. A memory flooded his mind: Halisstra, singing to him, healing him, that time he lay unconscious after the riding accident.
Halisstra had used bae'qeshel magic, rather than Eilistraee's hymn, but she had saved him just the same. Maybe the goddess had been watching over him even then, using Halisstra as a conduit to…
"That's it!" he gasped. He turned his attention to the spot where the chorus had come from. By concentrating intently, he could see a