The Eternal Light of the Ten Song Lantern

Darkness lay like a blanket over the peaks and valleys of the Spires of Hildefund. The pale moonlight bounced off the ribbon of the snow-crusted pass, Gelvira’s crunching footprints the only blemish upon the pristine meandering track. It was rare that the Sisterhood of the Ten Song Lantern sent its priestesses above ground. Rarer still was it that they were sent without the accompaniment of a Swordsinger, those brave and noble warriors who were sworn to protect them.

Gelvira’s boots were warm, crafted in the way of the People of the Hovihar, with the fur of the mountain goat towards the inside. They were still fairly new, gifted to her only upon her appointment to this particular task. In truth, her entire suit evoked an image of those great Hovihar warriors of old, standing strong against the blizzard. Her deep cowled cloak and thick woolen clothes protected her from both the howling winds and the biting cold.

“It has been almost two centuries since the Hovihar walked these peaks and passes,” She mused, marveling at the fact that all this beauty could go unobserved for so long.

The Hovihar had once been masters of these mountains just as her own people were masters of the caverns beneath. In days of old, their alliance worked to the benefit of both races but since their demise, the Adosinda had retreated deeper into the mountain. Thus was the reason for her appointment to this most venerated station.

The summer solstice was a time for great celebration, the giving of thanks, and gathering the light for the Ten Song Lantern. The only light they would have for the coming year. Ten songs would be sung before the sun rose again. She placed her gloved hand gently upon the satchel at her hip. She had gained a muffled response not unlike that of the twinkling bells within the deep caverns of the Adosinda.

“But I am far from the warmth of our caverns,” She reminded herself.

Instinctively she slipped her pointer, middle, and ring fingers through the slit at their bases in the glove, exposing them to the cold. Stepping through the arc of her recurve bow she strung it and knocked an arrow from the quiver upon her back in one fluid motion, as if the maneuver had been executed as simply as walking.

The bow itself was short, for she herself only stood but seven spans off above ground. Her wide nostrils flared and large dark eyes glinted only for a moment as she turned to face the moon. The woody scent of pine filled her head and she breathed in the aroma, storing it up knowing that she may never be gifted a trip to the Hovihar lands again. She lifted her chin and allowed her lower jaw to open just a fraction before breathing the inaudible “chirp” ricocheting across the landscape. Its returning echoes helped her sense what her eyes could not see.

The darkness was retreating, and nature was slowly rising to meet it. She received the impressions of many small things, things she would have hunted if she had the leisure, but food was not her mission. They scurried out of their dens and burrows and stood upon the frozen scrub lining the plateaus over which she gazed. She raised her eyes to the sky, tracing an arc from the burgeoning glow in the east to the steadfast darkness in the west.

“No sign of them,” She whispered and received a light twittering reply from the satchel. “So we will wait.”

With her bow in her lap, she perched, resting on her heels upon an upward jutting stone. The warm glow had overtaken the eastern horizon and she kept her large eyes peeled for any sign of her prey. Once the sun was within sight she would have to work fast. It would only be above the horizon for moments before the world was once again sunk in darkness.

The Spellsingers had worked all year, breeding and enchanting the Amelina. The tiny serpents were born in the deep dark places within the mountains. They were clever and quick and produced a pheromone that her prey found completely irresistible. They would not last long in this cold. If they were to die in flight, before they served their purpose as bait, she would feed herself to the hungry cold of the mountain rather than face the shame of returning a failure.

She realized she had been holding her breath. The pressure had been building in her chest for uncounted moments for her eyes watched, growing larger and larger as the curved disk of the sun peaked over the horizon and bathed the entire range in the amber light of dawn.

As if in answer, there was a thunderous fluttering of wings, and up into the deep blue sky soared those great northern Beltreo hawks. Their wingspans were enormous and their great calls echoed into the sky like the scraping of swords against shields. Bright purples, blues, and greens trimmed the feathers of their great wings and tail feathers as they circled, climbing ever higher into the vaults of the heavens.

When it appeared that they had reached the limit of their height their tailfeathers began to glow, collecting the warmth and light of the summer sun. It was that light that would sustain the Ten Song Lantern for another year. They began to glow with such intensity that it appeared multicolored stars were swirling in the sky.

She couldn’t have watched them for more than a handful of minutes before she noticed the amber light fade. She grabbed the satchel from her hip and kissed it bestowing a silent prayer upon the Spirits to let her hunt be successful. She looked to the west and saw that the bright, blazing rim that was all her people had even known of the sun was now descending beneath the horizon line. The amber light turned to a golden brown before it gradually sunk back to darkness.

“Now!” She whispered excitedly, opening the satchel and holding it up into the sky.

The Amelina came whizzing and whirring from their warm hiding place. Into the heavens they streaked as the glowing orbs of light, all that was left to be seen of the Beltreo as darkness once again consumed the range, began to descend from their circling dance to the ground below. The serpents’ crystalline scales shimmered like the phantom veil that appeared across the winter sky from time to time. Their keening cries beckoned to the great glowing birds whose lazy descent seemed to stop for a heartbeat, fixing them in the air before they streaked toward the shimmering haze left in the wake of the Amelinas’ flight.

Gelvira readied her bow, her hands loosely holding the string, her arrow knocked and readied. The Amelina were doing their job well but she quietly urged them on for the cold would rob them of their speed in short order. As if answering her thought, the gemstone serpent streaked towards her with a Beltreo in tow.

Gelvira drew the string to the corner of her mouth and breathed. The serpent was racing towards her, knowing its survival depended on luring its prey back to its keeper. In a last burst of speed, it darted past Gelvira and the hawk followed, leaving her with a perfect shot.

Everyone knew that no arrow could pierce the feathered breast of a Beltreo hawk, those armor-like quills protecting like plate mail against any frontal assault. But, from behind, Gelvira’s arrow parted the backward-facing feathers and struck home. The great bird cried as it fell to the frozen ground.

“That’s one,” She said excitedly to herself. “Two more will complete the task. If I can take all five the Ten Song Lantern will shine brighter than it has in ages.”

The Amelina quickly retreated into the satchel where it could gather the warmth to be found there. Its shimmering scales conjured the image of a multihued campfire burning deep within. Its brood mates had done their jobs equally well and Gelvira’s arrows felled two more of the great birds with ease.

As the fourth hawk streaked towards her, its great blue feathers blazing like the fires in the smith’s forges, she heard a cry of despair as the Amelina was overcome. The Beltreo shrieked in agony, its bill breaking across the hardened scales of the gemstone serpent but that did not keep it from swallowing the creature whole. Nursing its wounds, it dove behind the next peak and vanished.

“One left,” She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and readied herself.

The lone remaining Amelina was whizzing through the pine trees and in and out of deep canyons with the hawk in tow. Gelvira was astounded that the creature possessed such stamina but it, just like the others, lured the hawk past her and her arrow struck true. The great bird faltered but managed to glide on unsteady wings into the forest beyond the next peak where it disappeared.

With four of the five gemstone serpents now returned to the satchel, Gelvira covered it and set it back upon her hip. She easily found her prey, for their feathers still glowed as brightly as they had in life. Gently she placed her hand upon each one, thanking them for their sacrifice and anointing each with the holy oils that would see their souls claimed by the Collector of Spirits. Then she gently plucked each glowing feather and carefully placed them in her quiver.

“Looks like we will have to track the last one,” She said to her satchel knowing that she had already recovered all that was required but relishing the idea of returning home with an even greater bounty.

While there were no tracks to follow there were not many places the Beltreo could have gone. She traversed the peak around which she had seen it disappear and found its warm purple glow emanating from within the upper branches of an ancient pine tree.

Being Adosinda, the climb was fairly easy but halfway up the great trunk she began to hear the despairing cries of hatchlings. When her large dark eyes crested the rim of the nest, the mother hawk lay dead, its wing spread protectively over the nest’s skyward facing opening. Gelvira gently moved the wing aside to reveal five small chicks. Barely fledglings, their spiny feathers were just beginning to grow.

“Hello, little ones.” She whispered and their mouths shot open expecting to be fed. Their chirping made her laugh the type of laugh normally reserved for babies, warm and joyful.

She prepared their mother for the Collector of Spirits, gathered them to her closely, hiding each within the folds of her thick warm cloak, and descended the tree.

“And brought them back to us?” The young girl asked.

“Exactly so,” The Mother of the Ten Song Lantern declared. “And that is how,”

“We filled the rookery?” The young girl interrupted.

“It took quite some time for us to fill the rookery.” She answered. “But those five eyas were the source from which all others sprang.”

“And now we no longer hunt the Beltreo?”

“And now we no longer hunt the Beltreo.”

“And now we always have light! Praise Gelvira.” The little girl said with practiced respect.

“Indeed, little priestess. Praise Gelvira, Eternal Light of the Ten Song Lantern.” Intoned The Blessed Mother.