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The Seeress and the Stone 42
French and Le’Mone walked for several more hours before they noticed that the passageway sloped upward. As they walked the incline increased. French turned to Le’Mone. Her face was exhaustion. He grasped her arm and pulled her to a stop. “Aunt Le’ we should stop.”
“I am fine, French. I don’t feel tired at all,” she responded, but he could hear how tired she really was. He stopped and removed his pack and sat on the ground. He motioned to her to do the same. She sat on the ground next to him and asked, “How long do you think we have been walking?”
“I don’t know. It feels like a week, but I’m not sure.” He pulled out some hard bread and holding up the water skin he said, “This one is almost empty.”
“There are two more in my pack.” Le’Mone replied. She looked down the passage where they had come from and then back to the trail ahead. She sighed. Without warning a short gust of wind whipped past them from the passage ahead.
“What was that?” French asked jumping to his feet.
Le’Mone stood slowly, breathed in the air and then replied, “It is time to go. We are almost there.” She got to her feet began walking into the dark passage. French followed.
“Almost where? Where did the wind come from?” he asked.
Le’Mone’s pace had increased dramatically and now French struggled to keep up, hastily he shoved the empty water skin into his pack and swung it over his shoulder.
“My grandmother used to sing a song about a place called Calle’ Thelelle, the Meeting Place. It is an ancient place where all the elements of nature combine together. It is a place of great power. Perhaps that is where we are going.” She paused and French almost ran into her. She turned to her nephew, her face solemn. “The last few days have been very difficult. I need my trees. But suddenly… I can’t explain, but I can feel my trees. They are here somehow.” She turned back to the passage.
French grabbed his aunt’s hand and began walking again. “Then let me take you to your trees.”
They walked for a few more minutes when French noticed that the passage leveled off. At the same time Le’Mone pointed into the darkness. A faint blue glow came from a bend in the passage. They both dropped their packs and ran ahead. When they rounded the corner they came to an abrupt stop. There in front of them sat an archway, spilling soft, blue light into the corridor. Beyond the arch, French could see a wide balcony and below a large cavern. He stepped quickly towards the archway but stopped when he realized a solid wall of crystal glass blocked the opening. The smooth crystal glass felt like the windowpanes in Le’Mone’s cottage and it had the same glow as Angelia’s crystal.
Le’Mone reached French’s side and pressed her nose against the crystal. “I can see a cavern,” she said excitedly. She took a deep breath. “This is Calle’ Thelelle.”
French stared at the large room behind the glass barrier. He could see the beautiful torch shaped crystals that glowed blue and the huge rounded ceiling. Each crystal torch looked unique but they were all the same size and height. From his vantage point he could see the floor of the cavern and the balcony directly across from them.
He gauged the distance across the room to the other balconies to be about one hundred lengths. As he looked he noticed movement on the floor of the cavern. Beside him Le’Mone gasped.
“Angelia?” Below he could clearly see Angelia looking around the cavern with awe.
French stood helpless, looking through the crystalline glass. He could see Angelia, but could not reach her. He pounded on the hard, smooth surface shouting her name. He moved his hands along the surface feeling for any change or catch that would remove this barrier that stood between him and his beloved.
After a few moments of hopeless searching Le’Mone stepped to the crystal wall. Pushing French aside she placed her hands firmly on the smooth surface.
“What are you doing?” French asked confused.
“I am going to remove the wall,” she replied.
His reply died on his lips as Le’Mone began to speak softly. He did not recognize the words she said, but the language sounded strangely familiar to him. As she spoke a soft blue light settled around her fingertips and then slowly began to spread through the smooth surface. Tiny cracks appeared beneath her hands and the light grew stronger. Then, as suddenly as it began, it faded. French looked at Le’Mone. Her face was pale and he could see the strength leaving her body. Her hands slowly slid down the wall. In desperation he grasped her hands and held them firmly in place. Willing his mind to blend with hers, he felt the energy rush from his own body through Le’Mone’s hands and into the wall.
Still the light continued to fade. Finally Le’Mone spoke, not to French but someone he could not see. “Help me. I know you’re there.”
A slight movement caught his eye. Through the thick crystalline glass he saw a tall, slim woman with long, auburn hair appear. The woman placed her hands against the wall opposite of Le’Mone’s hands. French could see her lips moving. At the same time Le’Mone spoke three more words.
“Csercyllth vele’ moru’un!” She spoke the powerful words with authority.
A loud crack resounded through the passages and caverns. The crystal shattered and fell to the ground in a cloud of blue dust. French reached out and caught Le’Mone as she fell unconscious. He turned to where the woman had been standing, but she was gone. He bent over his Aunt listening. Her breathing was shallow, but steady. He shook her gently, but she did not open her eyes.
Suddenly a voice behind him spoke, “Go French. I will care for Le’Mone.”
He whipped around and saw the woman who had helped shatter the wall. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I will explain later,” the woman replied. “Quick, take this and go to Angelia.” She pulled a clear stone from around her neck and shoved it into his hand.
“What is this?” he asked.
The woman took French’s hand and closed his fingers around the crystalline stone. “Trust the stone, French. Listen when it speaks. Act when it requires action from you.” Her deep green eyes looked earnestly into his blue eyes. “There is power in the stone, but it will only listen to those with pure intent. Seek within your heart and you will find that power. Now go. Angelia needs you.” She pointed to the balcony.
French crossed the stone hallway in two steps and pressed against the wall. He peered out into the great cavern. Below he could see Angelia. She leaned against the wall, fear on her face, as the King approached her. The King’s angry threats echoed deafeningly in the room. Peering over the edge of the balcony, he gauged the distance to the floor of the cavern. It was at least twenty feet. The fall would break his legs.
“How do I get down there?” He whispered under his breath. His fist clenched the blue stone tightly.
Then Angelia’s voice echoed deafeningly in the hall, “Ellinsha, help me!”