When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the Citadel, Asiah parted the curtains to gaze at it. She had never had the chance to step foot in the Citadel despite her family's noble status. Entering the Citadel was something that was reserved for the heads of each of the twenty noble families who lived in Eldyngrove, the descendants of the First Men Magdellana had breathed life into.
She could not help but take it all in now. It was truly a marvel to behold. The graceful building was made of carefully melded stone—as if each rock had been picked out and placed with perfect care—and the spires were equally as perfectly placed in their spots on the rooves. The Citadel, like all buildings in Eldyngrove, was of Elven descent. Long before the Elves had abandoned these lands and fled to the forests of the south in their distaste for humans, they had lived here, in Eldyngrove, amongst the Goddess. This building and every home and shop in Eldyngrove revealed such a culture at a mere glance.
Kavaris, after he had stepped out of the carriage, held out his hand for Asiah to take. Although she was still unsure what to make of him—and his kindness toward her despite what she had done—she took his hand nonetheless. The Mages that had escorted them here all snuck glances at them, their eyes alight with bewilderment. They didn't stare outright, but still, she could feel their gazes on her skin.
Even the courtyard is more beautiful than anything I've ever seen, she mused to herself, staring at the well-trimmed grass and the eliacras growing along the pathway leading to the smooth stone steps that led inside.
The Elven woman—Maaleshiira the Mages called her—pulled the hood of her cloak down. Asiah tried her hardest not to stare at the points of her ears, but she couldn't help it. There weren't many Elves who wandered outside of their cities, they were notorious for not mingling with other races. All she had seen and heard of Elves, she had gotten from a book or some old nan's tale.
The Elf looked at them, her face twisted in distaste. "Come, then. Let us make our way to the Head, so she can take care of you and I can be done with this." She turned on her heels and made her way to the smooth stone steps.
The knot in her stomach tightened and she had to suck in a breath to force air into her lungs. Kavaris placed his hand over hers. Startled by this sudden contact, her eyes flickered over to his quickly, questioning.
He only smiled down at her. "No trouble will befall you, Lady Asiah. Of this, you have my word."
Had he been a normal man, Asiah might not have believed him but he was not. He was Kavaris the Sunbringer. He was the first of the sword masters and the last of the godchildren. Bards, even to this day, sung of his heroic deeds slaying dragons and honoring the wishes of his goddess-grandmother, Magdellana, and slaying the remnants of the Dark gods.
Not only that, but the expression he wore was so sure, so completely unfazed by everything as if he knew the outcome of the situation and was only waiting for it to come to pass in reality. It was hard not to believe such a man. She smiled at him and murmured her thanks.
The inside of the Citadel was as much of a marvel as the outside. Tapestries with the woven crests of the twenty supreme gods greeted them. Each tapestry thread was woven with gold, and in the center of the hall stood a giant statue of Magdellana Herself. Although this was not her first time laying eyes on the Goddess—for although folk didn't worship the gods fervently in this day and age, her mother had been devout—she couldn't help but stare at Her.
An inhumanly beautiful face carved in stone and a shapely body. She stood tall, nearly touching the high ceiling, her arms outstretched as if welcoming them, her face relaxed in a soft, beautiful smile.
Looking at her, it made sense why Kavaris was so handsome. Good looks must run in the family. At the thought of him, she glanced over at him to see him looking up at Magdellana. At that moment, his face was vulnerable. Ah, he missed her. She could tell. He had not expected to wake up and find his mother and grandmother gone from the world.
She wished to comfort him, but she knew she had no right.
As they walked past the statue and into a hall decorated with murals depicting different old stories of the gods, she decided she should take her mind off of the fact that she grew closer and closer to the Head's office with every step. She didn't think of her sisters, for she knew she'd cry if she did and such behavior was unbefitting of someone of her stature. Instead, she tried to place where she'd heard the Elven woman's name before.
Maaleshiira. It wasn't anything common, so she should remember it right away. She was someone important...It nagged at her.
And then, after they had turned the third corner, she remembered.
"Are you the fifth Arch-Mage?"
"I am. What of it?"
Asiah stared at the woman's back, seeing her anew. "Truly?"
"Truly."
Well, no wonder she had felt that this woman was more dangerous than the other Mages. She was an Arch-Mage, one of only ten in the whole world. If an ordinary Mage was good enough to fight off a group of fifty soldiers, a single Arch-Mage was strong enough to take on a battalion of four hundred on their own. In fact, the Arch-Mages had all gotten together and done such a thing during the war with King Calamar. In retaliation for killing a Mage, the ten of them had gathered—Maaleshiira included—and took on five battalions with a thousand soldiers in each. Five thousand soldiers met their end on that battlefield, with not even one being able to so much as touch the Arch-Mages. How the bards had sung of it! How the rumors had flown from the lips of every adventurer or mercenary who had been on Eldyngrove's side during the event. The Arch-Mages had dealt with the king and his soldiers so quickly that people called it a one-sided massacre. The entire kingdom of Del Adra had fallen after that, and the neighboring Pharoh of Fel Adra had taken it as soon as their king was pronounced dead.
Needless to say, no ruler ever killed their Court Mage again.
She knew Maaleshiira's name because of the song a passing bard who her father had paid to stay in their home and entertain them had sung.
"If men did not know to flee and to fear her
He knew on the day of the king's reckoning
The cold and the beauteous Lady Maaleshiira
Did heed the Goddess's beckoning
And she spoke from her lips, the old words of power
The ones gods spoke in the days of yore
Her lightning strikes, blooming like a flower
Hollowing men to the core."
They came to a stop in front of a set of large double doors. Nerves hit her at once because she knew where they were. The Goddess's face was carved with great care and precision into the white oak; her eyes closed as if in prayer.
Despite Kavaris saying he would ensure her safety—and despite her believing him, however idiotic that may have seemed—her nerves bubbled to the surface and she had to swallow so she would not sick herself all over the polished floors.
She had never seen the Head. Not many people had, to be fair. The Head holed herself up in her office and only presented herself to those she trusted or on important occasions that took place in the capital city or in rare instances like this one. Most people believed this was due to her diligence and devotion to caring for Eldyngrove, the city her father had left behind for her to protect. Others, though, made claims that the Head had lost her power when the Goddess left the world behind. That was why the former Head died, they said. She was extending her life with witchery, but witchery cannot equal the power of gods. Even with her life extended, she could not make herself young and strong the way Magdellana's blessing had always done for the Heads of Eldyngrove.
She was an old harpy, they said. Old and brittle and shutting herself away so that the world didn't see her for once you look upon her, the evidence of witchery is there. The brand of the witch—those horrendous markings like snake scales, oozing blood, and puss—covered her face.
Her stomach roiled at the very thought of it.
"I've brought them," Maaleshiira said.
A pause. "Bring them in, then," a voice replied.
If that was the Head who had spoken, she certainly didn't sound brittle.
Instead of pushing the door open, Maaleshiira gave a slight flick of her fingers and the great oak doors peeled back, bumping gently into the wall behind it.
Maaleshiira stepped into the room and Kavaris followed, his back straight and his eyes forward. He had nothing to fear.
Taking a deep breath, Asiah stepped into the room, the Mages who had escorted them in flanking in behind her.