Into the Dark Lands Read Free Page B

sure that she didn’t give her word. But if her father was leaving, she wanted to give him one last thing: the gift of her newly discovered light.
    Maybe, she thought, as she watched her mother disappear down the winding path, maybe if he’s happy, maybe if he’s proud, he won’t go away. He’ll come home with Mommy and me.
    She remembered clearly the look on his face the last time he had gone out to fight. He hadn’t wanted to leave them.
    As soon as her mother had disappeared, Erin put on her shoes, tying them painstakingly. The Lady of all Elliath would be there herself, and Erin didn’t want to look bad. She waited for a few moments more, then timidly pushed the front door of her house open and took her first step onto the well-trodden path.
    She knew the way to the Great Hall; she’d been there many times, with many different people. It felt strange to be going there alone. Everything seemed quiet, as if the trees, sky, and wind were watching her and listening.
    What if the doors are closed?
    She tried not to think about it. If they were, she would have to go home without seeing her father; they were too large and heavy for her to open.
    She walked more quickly. What if he left before she got there? The Great Hall seemed suddenly too far away, and she ended up running the rest of the way.
    The path curved gently beneath her racing feet, but her eyes sought the height of the Great Hall’s large dome. It stood mute beneath the pale gray sky, a work of stone with hints of gold along its ribs. It was huge—easily ten times the size of the building
that she called home—and it towered above Elliath like a watchful guardian.
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    Lungs heaving, she reached the doors and froze. The wooden, peaked doors were open; people—adults—were entering quietly in ones and twos beneath the petaled arch of the inner hall. Like the breeze, they were silent.
    She forgot about catching her breath because she was holding it. She stood very still, hoping not to be noticed. When the last of the people had entered, she slid between the large doors and into the hall itself. She had never felt so small as she looked up, and up, and up to the center point of the vaulted ceiling. At twelve points of the circle, the Twelve Servants of God, carved in marble, watched down upon her. She looked away then, to the crowd ahead.
    All she could see were the backs of the line members that crowded into the hall. They were pressed together in the shape of a human wall. There were almost too many for the silver circle along the ground to contain.
    After a minute, she began to sidle along the wall, traveling the arc of the chamber until she could see the front of the room more clearly. No one seemed to notice her; all eyes were upon the Lady of Elliath.
    Erin found herself staring at the Lady as well. She had forgotten—she always forgot—just how beautiful the Lady was, all ringed in bright, soft light. The Lady was speaking, but Erin could not hear the words. She inched along the wall, coming closer to where the Lady stood.
    In front of the Lady, in a half circle, stood several of the warrior-priests, those like her father, who fought the enemy with sword and blood. They wore their full uniforms, chain mail beneath silver-bordered gray surcoats that seemed to melt into gorges, and they held unsheathed blades rigidly forward. One of them, the youngest, was crying. The tears ran down his cheeks, but he kept his position. In the center of the half circle was Telvar. Anyone, child or adult, recognized him on sight—he was the finest warrior in the Line Elliath, perhaps in all of the rest of the lines as well.
    Today he looked old, his face more dour and grim than ever. Erin stopped moving, afraid to attract his attention; he always noticed everything.
    She relaxed as she realized that he, too, stood rigid and unmoving. She could not see what this half circle of warriors stood
guard over, but she could