Chapter 7 – The Key
Cierwan opened the door to Mitri's house, the one place where he was still known as Edward Milne, and walked in to find Mitri sitting on the lounge with his face in the breasts of a girl whose make up was running down her face, there was no doubt as to her profession. She squealed with delight when Mitri's hands started to push away her many skirts. Edward cleared his throat, and Mitri looked up, embarrassed to find that this man, a business partner, had caught him with his pants down, literally. "Upstairs, wench," he hissed to the girl, who eyed Edward appreciatively and ran away. "That," he said, indicating the girl's backside, "is my new bride. Met her yesterday, married her today and today is our honeymoon," he finished, evidently unhappy with Cierwan's interruption. Cierwan grimaced, "Well, I am sorry to intrude but I came here to pack my things. I am leaving, going back to Frell, my mother has been taken ill and I must ride tonight to see her. So this is goodbye Mitri, and farewell." Cierwan held his hand out and Mitri shook it.
After having gathered up his things, Cierwan moved into the palace quarters, specifically for visiting ambassadors, and regarded the room sceptically. Thick and rich tapestries hung from the walls, dark maroon velvet covered the furniture and the roof was rather ostentatiously decorated with far too much gold-leaf than was necessary. Cierwan crinkled his nose; he had always preferred simplicity in his life. He walked over to his bag and pulled out a wooden bowl with intricate carvings and filled it with water. He sat down and crossed his legs, taking several deep breaths. Closing his eyes, Cierwan muttered an incantation under his breath, embodied with ancient power, and breathed onto the surface of the water. Myra, he whispered with his mind and instantly a picture of Myra was shown. She was standing with her back to him and was gazing into a forest, one hand shading her eyes when she dropped her arm, shook her hair, and walked into the forest. The picture changed and he saw Myra, elfin-clothed, her eyes shut, wind blowing about her, her arms outstretched. Cierwan's heart jumped with longing, and he realised how much he missed her. Then something caught his eye and brought him from out of his reverie. Myra was wearing the woven head band of a sorceress and it dawned on him. Myra was the one he had been searching for, she is the Key.
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Myra walked, hand in hand, with Yelon and he chatted animatedly. "You see this tree up ahead?" he asked, pointing to a large oak tree, the width of three fully grown men. She nodded. "Well, that tree, we call her Armaël. She is the eldest tree, the wisest, in this forest. We have held our ceremonies around her every year for the past 2000 years, for she carries the power of the Mother in her."
"The Mother?" Myra asked, puzzled. Yelon smiled pityingly, "Ah Myra, you will soon learn all that you have missed out on but you must wait until you meet Blohein."
"This Blohein, is she the Lady I have come to see?"
"All in good time, Myra-Armaël, all in good time." Yelon sighed peacefully, "Hope is here."