Soulseeker

Lithoniel 4.3

Naevys's tent was the biggest among the entire tribe, a pavilion serving as the command center, a symbol of prestige for the Loremaster, their leader and the same time the keeper of the elves' traditions, the few remains of a civilization that was disappearing from these lands. Therefore, it wasn't surprising most of the tent was filled with books, the majority of which written in the current elven tongue - the language they adopted from the humans - while just a few of them were in the ancient elven, something the elves had tried to decipher for centuries without success.

But books were just a small part of Naevys' disparate collection; a jumble of weird and marvelous objects going from the alembics once used for the creation of potions to exotic weapons of shiny metal, their blades tougher than steel but curved, not straight. However, the most notable things were probably those parchments; ancient scrolls of power dating back to the age of magic when the elves were still capable of wielding the power of elements.

Lithoniel kept staring at them like she was trying to unravel their secrets. Of course, it was just a ploy, a way to divert her attention and not to think about what she had to do. Because if there was someone Lithoniel feared it was her teacher, Naevys. The old elf sat in front of her, the countless wrinkles on her aged face second only to the ones of the man beside her. It was Elwin "the ancient", Master of the woodcarvers, the craftsmen's caste.

But it was what he had in his hands which filled Lithoniel with terror. It was a black pipe, its chamber filled with a fine powder. They were ebonroots, dried and turned into dust to produce a mild hallucinogen. The ebonroots most distinctive feature was another: whoever smoked them couldn't lie.

"Teacher, is it really necessary?" Lithoniel asked, trying to hide the unease she was feeling.

"Truth of your heart, truth from your mouth, Lithoniel" Naevys croaked, staring at her without blinking. "Fifty-two left the tribe, only twelve came back. We have to know what happened."

She looked at her, but Naevys just stared back at her, in the old woman's veiled eyes a hint of that unshakable determination Lithoniel had come to know so well.

Lithoniel sighed before taking the pipe from Elwin's hands and inhaled; the ebonwood's taste, similar to wet grass after rain, filling her mouth when she exhaled. The effect was instantaneous; she started seeing double while a strange numbness spread across her body.

"Tell me what happened, child." Neavys' voice was muffled and low like it came from far away, and yet Lithoniel could do nothing but obey.

She started speaking, her voice a little shaky at first, but it became more steady as she talked. She told them about the Nightstalker's death and explained how she defeated the Zaruk. Then she started talking about the return journey, the words slipping out from her mouth like a river in flood. Naevys frowned when Lithoniel talked about Liara, her expression becoming grimmer and grimmer as she heard about the oath.

"Stupid child." She said, shaking her head. "Why did you do something like that?"

"I-I..." Lithoniel stammered. "Liara..." She started, but she trailed off. Even if she was under the effect of the drug, she was unable to answer.

"Nevermind." Naevys said. "We'll talk about this later. Continue."

Lithoniel swallowed. She really didn't want to talk about this.

"Speak" Naevys ordered, her voice growing harsher as Lithoniel stayed silent.

Lithoniel bit her lips and shut her eyes, a single tear running on her cheek and then falling on the floor as she tried to resist Naevys's command. But she couldn't, she had to talk.