The Night's Curse #3 (Waverly Stump and The 7 Realms)

Chapter 26

Aurora was still weary of Waverly.

Later that night, Waverly decided to take a quiet stroll. The old village on the Plateaus was calm all around and the air was clean. She took a pony and rode over the bridge into Gayl's temple. The gigantesque edifice still felt the same to her but it seemed less its usual size partly because she had seen it more than enough times already. She harnessed the pony to a post then strolled through the long curving pavement and came to a spacious porch overlooking the rest of the Plateaus. Waverly counted six tablelands in total.

The terrains resembled a small mountain range and despite the constant snowfall were still lushly green and beautiful. Waverly leaned on the cold railing of the porch and gazed at whatever her heavy eyes could take in. She heaved a long sigh, drinking in the silence and comfort of the relatively peaceful atmosphere. Grief remained burdensome in her heart and mind and there was the perpetual absence of Dermot in her life but she endeavored to keep a clear head. Somehow, speaking to him had lightened the burden that weighed her down and allowed her to breathe again.

She absentmindedly felt the hunting cloak which she had worn right after Diarmaid had given it to her. During some of the leisure time they spent together, Dermot had told her only a few tales of his mother. What she remembered most of Laguna was that she had been one of the best huntresses of her time. Laguna had believed that her cloak was filled with luck and would wear it to every hunt; all of which proved successful. Waverly thought the goddess Andaie would have loved the Elfin for holding such a strong belief.

She felt responsible for the cloak now and it scared her witless. She was aware of how horrible she was at taking care of things handed to her for safekeeping. She glanced down at Calaire and the precious stones hanging from weed bracelets, both of which were still intact solely because they were bound to her wrists like shackles.

Her train of thoughts ended abruptly and her mind went blank for a few moments. Then, a sudden movement from afar caught her eye.

Waverly stilled immediately, peering at the swaying plants up ahead on the other side of the plateau. It looked as if someone were walking through the dense vegetation but with an inadequate amount of required stealth. She inadvertently reached for Calaire  whilst keeping her eyes fixed on the movement as it progressed then disappeared where the cluster of leaves curved into a place her eyes could not follow. Waverly instantly had the feeling they were being watched.

She darted back to her pony and rode back to the village. It was as normal as rain on a sunny day for Elven soldiers to be up late and engaged in something lively but as Waverly walked through the temple hallways she noticed how the faces she saw were slack with exhaustion. Soldiers sat lazily about. Some sobbed quiet prayers to Gayl while others did nothing but stare blankly in deep thought with their chins propped up by their hands. It was obvious that many had capitulated and were simply waiting for death to find them.

Over the last few days - the ones Waverly had missed - the tragedies had become more disheartening and unbearable. The ruins and wreckages looked uglier and even more disastrous whenever the sun rose every morning.

Waverly walked in quick steps, headed for her room but slowed down halfway to the door when she heard gentle, overlapping voices. She went in as quietly as she could and came upon a small meeting. Her friends were bent over a spread out parchment - what she figured was a map - and speaking in quiet whispers. They were yet to notice her intrusive presence and Waverly took that as an advantage to listen to their conversation.

". . .hese suspicions. Youse cannot blame the old man." Grace was saying quietly. She sat on a chair with her back to the door whilst Regent, Ceylon and Phyllis stood in a line behind her.