Tangled webs - Elaine Cunningham [125]
instinctively, Liriel began to dance-slowly at first, her body swaying and her arms reaching up toward the silvery path. Then she circled the clearing, her feet moving in an intricate pattem she had not realized she knew. It had been too long since Liriel had danced, and her deep and innate love of it swept her deeper into the gathering ecstasy of the dance. She whirled and dipped and leaped, finding the pattern and moving with it.
Caught up in the magic and movement, the drow did not know time. For her, there was only the dance. Only when the moon had disappeared behind the distant mountains did she stop, her heart beating wildly and her tunic clinging to her glistening body.
A faint sound came to her from the forest nearby, and the drow whirled, dagger in hand. Ulf emerged from the leafy hiding place, his bearded face suffused with awe. He walked up to the drow, ignoring the blade in her hand, and gingerly reached out to touch one of her damp curls.
Liriel's gaze followed the movement ofhis hand, and her eyes widened. Her hair, which had always been whiter than fine parchment, shone with faint, silvery light. Beyond doubt, it was a sign of Eilistraee's favor.
Joy flooded the drow's heart. The pervasive, smothering sense of evil that had gripped her since the day Lloth had claimed her as priestess parted like mist before the sun. Then, just as quickly, the darkness snapped shut around her, oppressive, yes, but heavy with the promise of power. The shining light disappeared from Liriel's hair as abruptly as if someone had blown the flame from a candle. Lloth had reclaimed her own.
"Never have i seen such a thing," marveled Ulf. "i would not have thought it possible, but it may be that you are ready to face Y ggsdrasil's Child now-tonight! i will show you the way."
"No need," the drow responded evenly. Although the gift of Eilistraee had been snatched from her, she now understood that all places and persons had a magic of their own, and she remembered the shining path that led to the sacred oak. And so she turned and pushed her way into the forest, the incredulous shaman following in her wake. Liriel made her way unerringly through the thick woods, following the lines of power that led to the sacred tree. Finally she stopped before an enormous oak. It was ancient, far older than even the long-lived drow could hope to become, yet there was nothing about its thick truck and fresh spring leaves that set it apart from other, equally large trees that they had passed by.
"This is it," she said positively.
"But there are no runes carved upon it," Ulfpointed out. In response the drow closed her eyes and extended both hands before her. She wasn't certain her wizardly spells could reveal magic of this nature; the shaman's sharp intake of breath spoke of her success.
Liriel gazed upon the tree. Carved on the massive trunk were dozens of complex markings-runes, each one completely unique. She ran her finger over one of them and felt the ancient indentation. The marks were carved into the physical tree, but the magic ofYggsdrasil's Child shielded them from casual gaze.
"You have done well," Ulf commended her. "There are five ritual questions that must be spoken before you begin. First: What is Yggsdrasil's Child?"
"it is a symbol," Liriel responded, quoting from the books of lore she had studied. "The Tree of Yggsdrasil holds all of life; entire worlds are like fruit in her branches." "Why have you come?"
"To carve on the sacred tree a rune of power," the drow said, picturing in her mind the elaborate