Pillars Of Grace - The God Pillars Trilogy - Book 1

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The bath, though cold, made Miraveh feel almost human again. Her clothing, however, still retained most of the stench she had collected within the deep cuts, ravines and buttes of the Goblin Trails. There was little she could do about that right now, save for a quick wipe of her leather outer-armour to remove the dried blood. Her hair fell limp against her back as she left the hut to find another Witch waiting for her.

This one was younger, male, and reminded her a little of Sialira. He had the usual arrogance about him, but she could tell a hint of nervousness. A lack of confidence. Only when she concentrated, trying to drown out the cacophony of magic all around, from the dragon, the necklace and the sense of other Witches all around, did she notice how little magic the young man had. Barely enough to even describe him as a Witch.

He curled his nose at the smell emanating from Miraveh's clothing and waved a hand, inviting her to follow him. Miraveh had started to feel more than a little annoyed at the silence. The auburn-haired Witch had not said nearly enough and this man, this boy, didn't even say where he was taking her, only expecting her to follow without challenge. Miraveh was not about to allow that.

"Where are you taking me?" Planting her feet, Miraveh forced the man to wait for her. "And where are my companions? Are they even here? The other one, she said they were, but I need to see them to be certain."

"Northerners." Spoken under his breath, the word came through gritted teeth that soon turned into a forced smile. "This way. To the tower. Please."

He waved a hand again and then folded his hands before him, waiting. One finger tapped against the others and Miraveh considered staying right where she was, if only to spite the impatient young Witch. Instead, she stepped forward, hand falling to where her sword would hang were it still at her side. She didn't like not having the comfort of its weight against her hip. As soon as she moved, the young man turned, leading the way.

Once again, they passed the remains of the funeral pyres. Five of them in a row and, by the depth of the ashes, Miraveh surmised they had burned more than a few times, for several bodies. Yet the other Witch had scoffed at the idea the dragon had caused the deaths, citing the Hunters O' The Dark instead. Miraveh had not seen any Hunters as she had passed through the city and she doubted they would have retreated before killing every Witch they could find.

As they walked to the entrance to the tower, Miraveh and the young Witch passed a number of people. Witches, with differing strengths in magic, servants scurrying to and fro, guards tending to weapons and armour. Each time they passed someone, Miraveh felt their eyes fall upon her, especially those of the Witches and the guards, though, she thought, for different reasons.

The Witches could no doubt feel the strength of her magic. It didn't matter that she didn't use it. As so many had said now, her magical potential was great and the Witches could feel it as she neared them. The guards could tell someone with skills. No matter that she had shown herself lacking in that area, a warrior could always tell another with training and she had had a superlative tutor in Alran, even if she sullied his memory by failing to live up to that training.

More guards stood outside the main doors to the tower and Miraveh mused that they almost had enough warriors to fight a small war. No other Coven had ever had guards or warriors within the gates of their Coven Houses. Though Miraveh had to admit, she had only ever seen Coven Houses in the north and west. Perhaps things were different in the south?

Still in silence, the young Witch passed through the great hall of the tower, heading toward a grand staircase that clung to the curved wall, curling upwards until it passed beyond the ceiling. This looked familiar. A similar design to the tower of the Coven of Scales. There, the upper floors contained the areas of magical studies and quarters of the Phrenica, the leader of that particular Coven. Here, she found the upper floors filled with self-contained rooms. Living quarters.