Moonshadow (37 page)

While Diana continued to bask in the majesty of the palace, she and Darien joined a queue to present themselves to the doorman. When they finally reached the grand doorway, a snooty-looking doorman, with an upturned nose and a large chip on his shoulder, stood with a long scroll of parchment staring at them, waiting to be addressed.

“
Endymion bel’Danel va’Laevanas ed Shavel
,” Darien replied in Vanicar before presenting the Archon signet ring around his index finger. Diana’s grasp of the language was growing ever stronger—enough to recognize that he had said
Endymion son of Danel of the Stoneheart, and guest.

The doorman nodded his affirmation of their allowed presence and they continued on into the palace ruins. Passing several sets of massive wooden doors inlaid with spiraling, organic, silver designs, Diana couldn’t help but notice the handles decorated with golden apples and coiling serpents—they were almost identical to the ornament they had found buried with Charlotte. Surely, Silvermoon Palace was where Diana was meant to find the answers she’d been seeking since the Veil had first held her in its shadowy grasp.

Passing through the final set of doors, Diana stepped into the open courtyard of the palace’s central gardens to find the vision she had been seeking all afternoon. In the midst of flowering hedgerows, pristine statues, and sparkling fountains, lively couples joyously danced with each other as minstrels, dressed in a rich array of colors, played beautiful melodies on their archaic instruments. It was Qir’Aflonas as it had been in ages past—filled with magic and life.

In the four corners of the courtyard, ceremonially robbed Almar stood in the center of squared altars surrounded by pools of water, engaged in their mesmerizing dances. With their fluid movements, the elements surrounding them ebbed and flowed with the same grace as the shrine maidens. Water and Fire Diana immediately recognized, but the swirling lights with the soft green glow and the jagged, arcane, dark red energies—that enveloped the Alma like lightning—were beyond her.  

As Diana gazed on the attendees standing about the courtyard, schmoozing and hobnobbing with crystal flutes resting in their hands, she couldn’t help but smile. The prestigious eleven ball was not all that different from the museum gala she had attended, all those weeks ago. Humans and Naphalei, both, view these types of events as opportunities to make connections, brag about accomplishments, and drink too much.
Blue-bloods are blue-bloods—no matter the species.

As they began walking further into the courtyard, Diana’s attention was quickly drawn to hillside directly above. Looming overhead on the pinnacle of the acropolis, the Temple of the Fallen stood in all its ancient glory like the otherworldly palace of a transcendent deity. It appeared to be the only building of ancient Qir’Aflonas that had been entirely saved from destruction. Built entirely of white marble, the temple complex consisted of a colossal central domed building with a pillared front portico, and six smaller domed structures that surrounded it, all connected by arched walkways.

Even from the palace below, Diana could see the likenesses of the Fallen carved into the midsections of the seven monumental pillars that held up the portico—Daerkon, Lord of Storms; Menivah, Lady of Life; Qaenel, the Mighty Smith; Tiyamah, the Ocean Mother; Nerrosar, the Dawnbringer; and Dikana, Lady of Balance and Fallen Queen of the Kratari. The central pillar was carved in the likeness of Udana, Lady of the Moon, with her sacred chalice held to her bosom. Diana had been growing very familiar with the Naphalei’s ancient parents as of late, having spent a fair amount of her study sessions translating their legendary tales.

“Well, what now?” she asked, tearing her gaze from the temple.

Darien smiled roguishly as he swiped two crystal flutes from the tray of a passing server.

“We partake of the festivities,” he said, handing one to Diana. “When the excitement dies down, we will sneak off and investigate the ruins below.”

“Sounds good,” Diana said, taking the glass in hand. “What about the temple? It looks rather ominous up there.”

Darien shifted his gaze to the magnificent structure on the hilltop. “It would be difficult to get inside—by conventional means, at any rate. Regardless, I’m fairly certain the Chalice isn’t inside.”

“Why is that?” Diana asked with a puzzled brow. “I think it sounds like a pretty good place to stash a holy relic.”

“The Temple of the Fallen is one of the most sacred sites on the planet, Diana. Deep within is one of the only known physical gateways into the Veil, and on the other side, the Fallen’s prison—the Pit of Shadows. The Veil forces are very powerful within the temple and quite deadly to the impure.”

“What do you mean by impure?” Diana asked, curious.

“Since we walk the line of the physical and spirit realms, we have to remain balanced or the Kratari will seek to destroy us.”

“How do you stay spiritually balanced, then?”

“How, indeed,” Darien replied, looking contemplative. “Not an easy question to answer—living a life void of extremes, for a start.”

Diana smirked at the notion. “Must be hard for
you
to be balanced, then.”

“You have no idea,” Darien said as his mouth twisted into a wide grin. “Why do you think I never joined the Ardeqai?” He took a sip of his drink.

“So can only the Almar and Ardeqai go inside the temple?”

“Pilgrims can go into the outer courts and visit the seven shrines, but the deep sanctums and the catacombs are off limits to the Uninitiated.”

“We should have brought Miri with us,” Diana said after considering his words.

“As I said before, the Chalice probably isn’t in the Temple—especially if Flinders and Charlotte somehow discovered its location. Humans are forbidden on the summit.”

“Not open to converts, eh?” Diana said with a sardonic smirk. “So the Chalice probably isn’t in the temple, got it.”

Diana finally took a sip of her drink and was amazed by the flavors dancing on her tongue. The bubbly beverage tasted quite a bit like champagne, but the strength of the bitter alcohol was masked by a pleasant berry flavor. Whatever it was, she loved it.

“What is this?” she asked before taking another sip. “It’s yummy.”

“We call it
Trilvina—
the drink of life
.”

“It tastes like really fruity champagne.”

“That’s probably because it
is
really fruity champagne,” he said, amused.

“Huh?”

“It’s just as you said. Both our peoples have brewed beverages using the same basic techniques for millennia; we simply use a bit of magic to make them tastier and more potent. You are drinking what some ancient humans called ‘elven wine.’”

Diana downed the rest of her glass and smiled wide. “I could get used to this.”

Darien laughed and took the empty glass from her hand.

“You’d better watch yourself, my lady,” he said before downing his own. “Trilvina is much stronger than human wine.”

“Yes sir,” Diana replied with a mock salute. He was right—it had only been a few minutes but she already felt her cheeks beginning to flush as the alcohol went to her head.

The lights suddenly began to dim and a hush fell over the entirety of the courtyard garden as dancing couples and celebrants silently cleared the central dance floor.

Diana watched on in anticipation as the crowds gathered around and the musicians began playing an eerie melodic tune. In moments, a procession of Almar entered into the courtyard through a far gate and occupied the empty dance floor. Each Alma priestess wore robes with ivory tops and blue skirts, identical to Miri’s, and after a brief pause and a change in the song’s tone, they began to dance in unison along with the four Almar artfully wielding their magic atop the altars in the corners of the courtyard. The hypnotic synchronized dance went on for several minutes as the celebrants watched in quiet contemplation.

Diana couldn’t help but join in the reflective silence, awed by the sense of wonder and beauty that seemed to permeate the courtyard as the Almar danced for the Fallen on their most hallowed of nights.

The tranquil mood changed with the key of the music as each Alma excitedly broke off from the synchronized group of priestesses to take a dance partner from out of the surrounding crowd. As they began their couples’ dance, many other celebrants followed suit.

“Would my Maiden Fair care to dance?” Darien asked with a playful bow.

“Most certainly, good sir,” Diana replied with a curtsey.

It only occurred to her after the fact—as they were making their way to the dance floor—that she didn’t know any Naphalei dances and that she was most likely about to embarrass herself. They didn’t need the unwanted attention.

“Um…I don’t know your dances,” Diana said in a panicked whisper.

“It’s simple,” he replied. “Just watch what the others are doing and follow my lead.

“Okay…but if I fall on my face and embarrass us, it’s on you.” Diana took Darien’s hand and they quickly joined the other dancing couples.

After a few minutes of trial, error, and observation, Diana found that Naphalei dancing was very much like waltzes. She now blessed her mother—in place of the various curses she had often spewed—for making her learn how to waltz. Diana had hated it at the time, but her mother always told her that every proper lady should know how to waltz. Contrary to her mother’s belief, however, there were no proper ladies at school dances and Diana had never once needed to know how to waltz—not until she discovered magic, journeyed across the ocean, and attended a prestigious ball with her elven lord boyfriend.
If mom only knew.

Lost in the simple joy she felt as Darien gracefully guided her throughout the dance floor, Diana couldn’t take her eyes from his, and he from hers, their warm smiles matching the beauty of the moment.

The wonder of the fairy tale dance came to an abrupt end when a sudden, startled, fear entered into Darien’s eyes, making them go wide as he tightly gripped Diana’s hand and stopped moving.

“This is certainly a surprise,
Din’issi
,” said a female voice speaking Vanicar from behind Darien. “It has been some time since I’ve seen you dance.” Though gravely startled, Diana felt a fair amount of pride at her understanding of the Naphalei tongue. She still struggled with some of the honorifics, however. 

When Darien moved to face the bearer of the voice, Diana immediately felt the tension rise and twist inside her chest as she recognized the woman.

It was Edea Stoneheart—Darien’s twin sister.

“
Dina’ssia
! I wasn’t aware that you’d be attending tonight,” Darien replied with a tone that matched the peculiar emotions Diana felt from him. It was either fake joy mixed with utter surprise, or genuine joy mixed with fear and irritation. Either way, it probably wasn’t good.

Diana stood as silent and unmoving as a statue, feeling the greatest amount of angst she’d ever felt in her life, as she stared at Darien’s sister. From what Diana had learned, Edea was arguably the most powerful woman in the dominion of Qir’Halzereth. Apart from being an accomplished stone mage like her brother, she sat upon the Raven Throne—one of the highest offices in the land. Unlike most Naphalei dominions, Qir’Halzereth was ruled by a triumvirate elected by a High Council of Elders and Archons. Each Triumvir governed an area of society; the Lion Throne oversaw military and security, the Bull Throne oversaw economic matters, and the Raven Throne oversaw all matters of a religious or philosophical nature. In order to sit on the throne, each triumvir was to give up everything for the sake of leadership. They held no land or titles, had no wealth or possessions—they were to be bondservants to the people. The office was usually held for life, but a Triumvir was able to step down—if they felt so inclined—and could also be voted out of office if the High Council deemed it necessary. In either case, their former titles and possessions were not returned to them, the custom giving leadership the proper perspective.

This night, Edea Stoneheart did not look the part of the humble public servant that Diana had expected. She wore a black floor-length gown, the skirts in the mermaid style that hugged the thighs and flared out at the knees, and matching, arm-length, silken black gloves. Over her shoulders she wore a mantle made of long black feathers that gave her the effect of having raven’s wings. Her necklace of polished purple amethysts accented her matching lipstick perfectly and her black hair was tightly woven up under a pointed metal crown that sat upon her brow. Made from thick iron, the crown looked a great deal like a bird’s talons clutching at her head; it also looked quite ancient—likely a symbol of her office that had been passed on for thousands of years.

The very presence of the woman made Diana feel small and insignificant.

“I hadn’t been set on attending this year, but I decided it was necessary to keep my sanity,” Edea replied to her brother’s inquires. “The throne has been so vexing, lately,” Edea began rubbing at her temple with a gloved hand. “I also get very few opportunities to shed the shackles of service for a night and simply enjoy myself.”

“Too true,
Dina’ssia
,” Darien replied with a nod and Diana finally recognized
dina
meant “sister” and that he was using one of those confusing honorifics. “Sometimes it escapes me how trying it must be to be the youngest to sit on the Raven Throne in three millennia.”