The Ventifact Colossus (The Heroes of Spira Book 1) by Dorian Hart

Author:Dorian Hart [Hart, Dorian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TEMPLES TO THE Goddess Ell, large or small, shared a distinct architectural style that went beyond their monochromatic color scheme. Yes, they were painted uniformly black, such that persons not raised in darkness would perceive them as disquietingly featureless. But with her darksight, Morningstar could see that oversized upside-down triangles embellished the side walls, along with impressive pointed tympana speckled with smaller triangular adornments. The point-down black triangle was the holy symbol of the Ellish religion, representing the shield of darkness that would protect the innocent from nocturnal dangers.

No lamps or torches burned around the Tal Hae cathedral’s exterior, and its position in the city, nestled among other tall buildings, shielded it (quite intentionally) from more distant ambient light, but its detail was clear enough. Its familiar designs gave Morningstar comfort; they confirmed her time with Horn’s Company had not diminished her darksight.

The triangles might also have reminded her that the dictates and will of the Goddess were a constant, no matter the petty judgments of the sisters who served Her. But after the Mouth of Nahalm, she suspected more than ever that the judgment of Ell Herself had already been passed against her.

As she approached the dark front door and knocked, her apprehension grew. Had her reputation arrived here before her? She breathed deeply and sought for inner calm.

The door opened. A young novice stood in the doorway, black hair cut short.

“Good midnight,” said Morningstar.

“And to you.” The girl, no older than fifteen, stared at Morningstar, puzzled. Morningstar was wearing her Ellish robes but probably looked like an imposter with her snow-white hair and sunburned skin.

“I am Sister Morningstar from Port Kymer. I am here to speak with the Chroniclers. May I enter?”

The novice looked distinctively uncomfortable. “Oh, yes, forgive me. I am Sister Adriana. Please, sister, come in. I am sorry that you have missed the start of the midnight service, though you are welcome to attend what remains of it.”

Morningstar stepped into the darkened narthex and instinctively let her fingertips trail along the walls. Like the Ellish buildings in Port Kymer, the cathedral here featured tactile artwork at elbow height, black-on-black but textured so it could also be “seen” with one’s fingertips.

“I would be honored,” she said. Morningstar couldn’t help but feel nervous. On the one hand she might be better accepted after taking part in the temple’s holy traditions. On the other, being seen by more sisters increased the chance that she would be recognized, or at least be made an object of unwanted curiosity. Sister Adriana led her into the back of the nave, where she sat as unobtrusively as possible on a short padded bench. To her left, high up in a loft, was a choir three times the size of the one at Port Kymer. Its sound was hauntingly lovely, the hymn a traditional chant on a common theme: venerating Ell and Her role in allowing the Traveling Gods to escape the Great Adversary.

According to scripture, the Traveling Gods had fought a long and terrible war against the Great Adversary, in which most of the Gods had been slain.

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