Tales of the Amber Vipers Chapter 44

Night had fallen and the world of green and gold under the canopy became a thick and cloying blackness, lit only by luminous mosses and rare glimpse of starlight through the branches. The harmonies of day faded, to be replaced with the notes of notional activity. The great trees ceased reaching for the warm sun and settled into dormancy, their boughs growing heavy with sap. The chirping of birds was replaced with the thrumming of moths and the gentle hooting of soft winged oulsus birds. The underbrush rustled with surging insects and tiny predators, while snapping tanglevines and meat eating whipbulbs sent their lashes darting out to catch unwary prey. Larger predators unfurled from their dens, hungry Jaquars and slinking Maccats stalked the darkness. Sinuous atters coiled around trees, scenting the air with forked tongues and hypnotic Dewmaidens lured in any foolish enough to listen.

The Everforest in daytime was a vibrant and vital thing, dangerous yes, but also wonderful. At night it became a wholly different world. Shadows moved in strange ways and the air hung heavily on the back of the neck. To set foot upon the ground was risky at the best of times but in the midnight gloom even the mightiest warrior was reduced to mere prey. Yet sometimes one must accept the risks, somethings were too important to ignore.

In a natural clearing of the Everforest arose a mound of rough stones. They seemed to be a random pile of boulders, forcing the trees aside, but appearances were deceiving. The mound had been carefully sculpted by fey hands, creating a natural appearance that hid the cunning barrow structure within. Lines of power ran through the mound, forming a complex knot of energies that sank deep within the loamy earth. Everything about this place had been meticulously planned, right down to its location atop a confluence of leylines. This was a Sacred Glade, a place where the World Spirit touched the living world and it was here that the Kinband came to lay their dead to rest.

Elhyn was standing upon a boulder, holding aloft a fungal glowglobe set atop a wooden stave. All around the barrow the Wind-Dancers stood in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Every one of them had shed their casual attire and donned rough robes of coarse leaf, black in hue, making them midnight silhouettes under the blaze of their lamps. These were ceremonial robes of mourning, they were seldom used for Eldar lives were long but when the time came they were always ready. Elhyn found them uncomfortable to wear, not only for their chafing material but for the reminder of mortality they forced upon him. Unto all things there was a season and his springtime was coming to an end. Soon the full summer bloom of adulthood would fall upon him, with all its responsibilities and from there it was a long slow descent into the autumn of maturity and the winter of dotage. Elhyn didn't want to think of such things, he wanted to be elsewhere, training with Wrymfang, but even he dare not defy the sacred rituals of his people.

The stillness of the night was broken as the Drakes perched in the trees around the clearing cawed loudly, acknowledging the approach of another, one far grander and more deadly than they. From the black sky dropped a board-winged beast, one with razor sharp talons and wings twice as wide as Ilfavor's. The hide was obscured by the gloom but Elhyn knew it to be silvery in hue and sleek to touch. Ruffled ridges ran down the length of the neck and the Drake's chin bore long whiskers that could scent prey on the breeze from far away. This was Veyana, a Tyirss or 'Elysian' breed of Drake, the largest of their kind and so reserved for the ruling Dynast herself.

Veyana settled down with a heavy thud, her broad wings buffeting the nearby watchers and nearly knocking them from their vigils. So large was Veyana that her back could carry a Bright Lance, a rare weapon traded from the Craftworlders and as such requiring a second rider. Yet today that position was taken by a cold body, wrapped in a shroud. This was the body of Betthaa, whose death the Wind-dancers had gathered to mourn. Yet it was lithe figure dismounting from the Drake that drew all eyes. Stepping down from the Drake's back came a tall female with a noble bearing and a cool expression. Her hair was bound into a long braid that was laid over her shoulders and her dress, while made of natural materials, was finely wrought and smooth, reaching her bare feet and boasting a high collar. Her brow bore a circlet of amber and at her hip was a slim sword of ancient make that glowed with psionic potential. This was the Dynast of the Wind-Dancers, Elhyn's mother and her name was Celasia.

The Dynast alighted her drake as a quartet of warriors came forth, bringing a bier for the body. The Dynast however stepped past them and approached Elhyn, who lowered his eyes in respect. Celasia looked down at him and said, "So, my wayward son decided to make an appearance."

Elhyn felt a hot flush of shame and replied, "I would not dishonour the dead by being absent."

Celasia replied, "And yet you think nothing of missing our hunt, so you can chase fleeting glory."

Elhyn rallied as he protested, "I removed the threat of Drachindar from our lands."

Celasia cut him off, "And in doing so scattered her young far and wide. There was a reason I desired the whole kinband to challenge her as one, we could have run down her brood before they could escape. Instead we have a thousand problems to confront tomorrow."

Elhyn had no defence and said, "I have defied you, I am humbled."

Celasia stared for a moment then relented and said, "This is the springtime of your life, a season for foolish mistakes and daring deeds. It is the province of the young to make mistakes, but you must learn from this. Soon summer will be upon you and there will be no time for such nonsense. You will have responsibilities of your own, your father's burden as huntmaster cannot be averred forever. Not when others have acted even more foolishly."

It was then that Elhyn noticed what was missing. The four Eldar bearing the body off the Drake did not include the son of the fallen. A warrior named Velsal was completely absent, a serious breach of tradition. Celasia confirmed his suspicions as she informed him, "Velsal took up his bow and entered the Webway. He seeks the cult the Ynnari, following the call of Ynead.

Elhyn was stunned and blurted, "He chases the dream of the Whispering God?"

It was a shocking revelation, even here on distant Athelling, word had come of a cosmological shift. A new god was stirring, one utterly opposed to Chaos: a promise of freedom from the depredations of She Who Thirsts. It was a fundamental change in the destiny of all Eldar and none had escaped the repercussions. Exodite, Craftworlder, Harlequin and even the Dark Kin, all had seen their kin departing, chasing a call in their heart and a promise of a new destiny.

Celasia spat, "A fool's dream, the Craftworlders meddle with cosmic affairs best left undisturbed. Such hubris led to the Fall and this attempt to upset the harmonies of the galaxy will only lead to disaster."

Elhyn shook his head and said, "You did not forbid Velsal from departing?"

Celasia blinked in surprise and stated, "Even a Dynast has limits on her authority, it is not for me to deny any of the Kinband the calling of their hearts. If Velsal thinks his place is no longer here, I cannot deny him. Still, his loss leaves us poorer."

Elhyn breathes deeply and declared, "I cannot imagine leaving the Everforest, where does my heart lie if not here?"

Celasia nodded in agreement and said, "That is good to hear, our people need us. Now let us attend to our duties."

Elhyn saw the pallbearers were waiting for them and they hurriedly took up their places at the head of the procession. The rest of the Wind-dancers formed up ahead of them, two long lines of illumination, forming a snake of light winding around the barrow. With stately dignity the Dynast began her walk, passing between the two lines with the body following her. As they walked voices arose in songs of lament, hauntingly beautiful melodies that carried over the barrow and out into the Everforest beyond. Elhyn was not ashamed that he wept at the beautiful sorrow, no Eldar could have denied the pain contained within. Their race felt their emotions more keenly than a stupid Ork or Mon-keigh could ever comprehend.

As the funeral dirge wafted over the forest the party reached the end of the line and stepped to the very crest of the barrow. At the crown of the mound awaited a circle of standing stones, describing a ring around a low altar. They were deceptively primitive, rough hewn and weathered by the elements, but that could not begin to detract from the currents of power blowing through them. This was a nexus of the World Spirit, an interface of the material world with the eternal psychic pulse of the planet. No cold and sterile Infinity Circuit awaited the Exodites; their souls would live forever in the life-force of the Everforest.

Standing by the altar was Laegwen, in her feathered robe and bearing a staff crested by a heavy rock. The Treesinger stood in shadow, bearing no light as she stepped forward to bar their path and uttered, "Who approaches?!"

Celasia replied in the ritual fashion, "A warrior of the people."

Laegwen countered, "Was his life without blemish?"

Celasia affirmed, "Betthaa lived in harmony with the world, his spirit is pure and uncorrupted by She Who Thirsts. He claims his eternal rest."

"Then bring forth the fallen," Laegwen replied.

The body was set down and Elhyn stepped forward to play his role. He knelt over the corpse and reverently removed the spirit stone, cutting the bindings between the receptacle and the body. He left the body behind, no more than cold meat to be thrown into the forest and presented the stone to the Treesinger. Laegwen took it in her hands then turned and placed it upon the altar. The stone glowed with the rich essence of the soul it contained as Laegwen took up her staff and proclaimed, "Betthaa, join your ancestors in eternity and see again all those you have missed. You shall live on in the song, for as long as the Everforst endures so too shall you. We ask you to speak of the living and welcome us when our time comes."

With those words she swung her staff, smashing the heavy rock into the spirit stone. The priceless jewel cracked under the force of the blow, breaking its integrity and freeing the soul within. A warm rush of vital psychic power flowed out, seeking a harbour in the cold and unforgiving world. For an instant something predatory and hungry brushed over their hearts, the ravenous touch of She Who Thirsts seeking the soul of an Eldar, but before the Chaos God could feast the circle of standing stones flared with invisible power and snatched up the drifting soul. Betthaa was enjoined with the World Spirit, adding his voice to the song of Athelling. Elhyn felt its notes in his soul, the voices of all his ancestors joined as one with the life-force of the planet and in that multitude he thought he could hear his father singing.

The outpouring of psychic power lit up the forest, flowing over all present and easing their pain and sorrow. All felt the touch of their lost loved ones and for a moment their grief was assuaged. But then something most unexpected happened. Laegwen's eyes blazed as the power poured through her, her connection deeper and more potent than any other's. Her face creased with agony and she threw back her head to scream, "Darkness, death and doom! It comes, the ochre serpent seeks to sink poisoned fangs into the world and destruction rides in its wake!"

Elhyn was shocked by the cry and all started in fear. This was not part of the ritual and all fell back as the Treesinger's voice became a scream of terror. The cry was part warning, part pain and part sorrow, a feral scream of raw anguish. Elhyn froze in shock at the sound but his mother reacted instantly. The Dynast stepped forward and swung her arm, slapping Laegwen across the face. The Treesinger's cry was cut off and she staggered, pressing a hand to her cheek which was red raw. Her eyes blinked furiously as she sought to understand what had happened, then they cleared and she nodded in gratitude.

Elhyn gasped, "What was that?"

Laegwen answered breathlessly, "The World Spirit opened up to me and showed me a glimpse into the cycles of time. The Skein of the future and its infinite permutations were laid before me."

Celasia hurriedly snapped, "What did you see? Tell me quickly."

Laegwen drew in a breath and said, "Doom, I saw doom. A great orange serpent opened its jaws to consume Athelling and swallow it whole. The lands of the Wind-dancers suffered under a blight, a cursed darkness falling from on high. It consumed the trees and the animals, poisoned the ground and sowed the soil with salt. Nothing could grow for a thousand leagues in any direction and the World Spirit withered under its touch."

Elhyn started, "Who would do such a thing, who brings this doom?!"

Laegwen furrowed her brow and said, "I am no Farseer, the vision fades. I cannot hold it in my mind… no wait… Yes, I saw the Mon-Keigh. The Mon-keigh did this."

"Mon-keigh," Elhyn breathed in shock. He had seen the primitive apes before, invading the forests with their ignorance and brutality. The Eldar hunted down these invaders mercilessly and drove them out, but they always came back.

Celasia straightened up and said, "They seek the Vale of Midnight Tears, but it forbidden. Every prophecy foretells that should its borders be violated a catastrophe will befall Athelling. We must deny that future."

"How?" Elhyn questioned.

Celasia declared, "Summon the Drakes, gather your weapons and set a watch upon the forest. We must know the second the invaders come. I shall call a Kin-moot and all Kinbands along our borders shall be summoned. No matter our rivalries this is a threat to all Eldar: all must make ready for war."

Elhyn bowed deeply at the command but his mind dwelt on his new spear. It seemed Wyrmfang would taste blood sooner than he had expected. He could only hope it proved potent enough for what was to come.