Nope, not testing it the way Chris Evans’s Human Torch had. I’d be much smarter than to jump off one of the pathways and just pray it worked on my way down. Who knows what I’d have to do, but I wasn’t about to just put my life on a coin toss like that.
“So, um… how common are these boons?” I asked.
“Well,” Diamiutar began, “We have records of them in legends…”
I blinked.
“So, they are about as common as a summons being successfully called,” Tavorwen admitted.
“What do you mean?” I demanded. “Why wouldn’t your gods give these gifts more often? What possible reason could they have to withhold these capabilities from elves for ages, just to start heaping them on me?”
The matrons exchanged glances.
“Well Master, none of us are exactly theologians. For all that you have selected a wide variety of skill sets, you have yet to select a priestess as a matron and they are the ones who would be most likely to be able to answer that question.” Diamiutar noted.
I wondered why. Why did the gods of this world make the decisions they did? Why had I been led to the matrons I had? I had fourteen matrons. How was it that there were still areas of expertise that were barely touched on by my house? It made no sense.
I blew my breath out in a frustrated sigh.
“I’m sorry, Master.” Sevrina apologized. “I could have studied at least basic theology, but I was intimidated by the volumes of basic theology.”
“Oh, come on, surely your bible can’t be that thick.” I laughed.
“… Bible?” Creadean asked.
“You know, your scriptures?” I retorted. “The book all the things your gods told you have been written in. You have one of those, right?”
The elves exchanged a glance. Risavis covered her mouth with her hand, but I could feel her mirth.
“Master, we do not have a single book. We have libraries.” Diamiutar explained gently. “Libraries for each member of the Enlightened Hosts, though each people has a more extensive library on their patrons deities than the other peoples. But… there are hundreds of volumes of direction from our gods through our high priestesses.”
My mouth went dry. “Hundreds…”
“Hundreds just for Abarith. Hundreds more for Mythrin. The Library of X’Thallion is the smallest since he usually allows his matrons to communicate with his children. We even have libraries on the gods which guide our sisters, but their libraries should be far more complete.” Diamiutar verified.
“Our libraries for Noriva and Elglathar were nearly lost after the Massacre,” Laliera admitted. “We prioritized the preservation of the volumes we believe to be unique to our collections. Our Elders believe that nothing was lost that did not exist in the libraries of others.”
“That’s a relief.” Diamiutar celebrated.
I was just shocked. When Sevrina had said she had been intimated by the volumes, I had assumed she was talking about the musing of scholars on the scriptures, not the scriptures themselves. I knew back home on Earth, most Christians argued about which translation of the Bible was the best, or if you could translate it at all, and the libraries of theology were just what some scholars thought about what they read, or how they wanted to add context to change how you looked at a verse. The fact that there was just so MUCH scripture here was… terrifying and intimidating.
“How… How do you even start trying to do what your gods ask you to with so much scripture?” I demanded, gobsmacked.
“Each god has foundational teachings that they ask their followers to try to adapt in their lives. These foundational teachings have helped to form the society we live in, the laws we obey, and the way we help one another.” Diamiutar replied. “So while only the wisest of sages of the divine understand all the dictates of our gods, the average elf can generally know how to live to avoid offending our gods with ease since that is how we all live.”
“Sounds like it would be pretty easy to hijack a society like that,” I noted. Religious tyrants, manipulating a poorly educated society, were a dime a dozen. Smaller societies like those of the elves, were more susceptible.
“What do you mean?” Nauveir pressed.
“Well, if only a small percentage of the population actually understands the scriptures, couldn’t someone use that ignorance to teach whatever they wanted, sprinkled with what is actually in the scriptures, to drive the people to follow them, or manipulate them into doing whatever they wanted?” I clarified.
“There are a few factors that complicate that.” Tavorwen pointed out. “First of all, most gods take offense at actions like that, and would either stop granting them divine magic or if severe enough, may cause the magic to recoil, causing harm to the user. Secondly, you would have to have a society where all the elders failed in their duties dramatically for generations upon generations. You said your people were much shorter lived, so you likely only have five or six generations at once, but… as long-lived as we are, my mother, and my mother’s mother, and her mother, back nineteen generations, are still alive. The manipulator would have to overcome so many generations to bend a people to her will.”
“That might be why my people fell to my mother,” Amura murmured quietly.
Everyone immediately fell silent, to let the Shadow Elf speak. She glanced around nervously, but when she realized she was being permitted, even asked, to speak, she swallowed.
“Well, Ya’av encourages us to… weed out the weak. It isn’t worth feeding those who do not contribute. So my mother killed her mother and took over our house when she was only four hundred years of age. Only the strongest can survive long enough to see their children’s children. Perhaps that is why… So much I’ve seen and heard is unlike everything I was told and thought I knew… well before I was marked.” She declared, her eyes falling. “After I was marked, I was told nothing, save what I was to do.”
My heart ached for her. She had lived a grueling and horrific early life and before she had been shown the truth she had never had a reason to doubt the story she’d been taught. All things considered, she was adapting well to the revelations she had been given. To me, she was proof that hidden inside each Shadow Elf was a Night Elf, I just wasn’t sure what was required to qualify a Shadow Elf as a returned Night Elf, and how to accomplish it.
Her revelation about the brutality and weakness of Shadow Elf society was enlightening for me and seemed to be a bleak confirmation to my household.
It definitely put an oppressive blanket of pensive reflection on the gathering. Amura clearly felt bad for ruining the mood, and after a moment walked down the hall, retreating to her room.
The rest of the members of my house dispersed to their various activities for the evening. I was left mostly to myself. Benavur and Laliera lingered nearby, but the rest went their separate ways. I waited a bit, then excused myself and walked down the hall to Amura’s room. I knocked gently on her door.
“Amura… may I come in?” I asked through the door.
Silence met me.
“Amura…?” I repeated.
After a moment of silence, I got concerned and gently opened the door. Amura sat on her bed, staring blankly at the wall.
“Amura, are you okay?” I asked, slipping into the room and closing the door behind me.
She didn’t respond for a minute, then finally spoke. “You haven’t come to finally cave to your male weakness and force yourself on me… so why are you here?”
I thought for a moment. “I’m worried for you.”
“Worried?” She repeated, then turned to look at me with a mess of confusion, anger, and disgust on her face. “Am I so weak that you ‘worry’ that I cannot endure such a meager thing as… this?”
I looked her in the eyes. “The strongest man I’d ever known couldn’t stand the torment of his mind in the dark of the night. He ended himself. Even the strongest can succumb to a weakness of the mind.”
“Your understanding of strength is lacking.” She snapped, turning away. “If I had any such weaknesses, I’d have thrown myself from the tower of El’Muth’Ran decades ago.”
“You know how you’d have done it,” I stated. “That means you thought about it. That’s the first step. I’m glad you stepped back, but if you need help to not go there again, I’m here, as are the rest of the house-”
“YOU KNOW NOTHING!” She screamed. “I TRUST NO ONE! I CAN RELY ON NO ONE!”
I let her breathe as she panted, her explosion letting pain, anger, and fear slip through our bond.
“In El’Muth’Ran, to trust is death. To depend on another is death. To be weak is death.” She ranted. “Even now, I expect you to push a blade through my back. I stay close so if I am to be slain it is at least the first being to make me feel a spark of warmth to do it. I’d rather you than Creadean. She looks at me with suspicion and doubt. Or Heilantu. One of your precious impregnated. She loathes me and all that I am. I see it. I only eat what I see her eat to be sure she does not poison my food. Even then, I fear she has dosed herself in the antidote.”
She turned toward me, tears dripping from the corner of her eyes. “And you… I could do nothing before your magic. I could never cast a ward strong enough to prevent your rods of death from tearing me apart if they truly work how you told the whor-… Elves… of the plains. Now I have seen the power of your boons, I know you could tear me apart with your bare hands or summon fire, or whatever element you would, to end my miserable existence… So, why do I still drop my guard around you? Why do I feel… warm… in your presence?”
She clawed at her neck. “Still the magic binds me to you… and I hate you for it… just as I hated my mother… but you… You mock me by feigning to not be my slaver, but a kindly master. The Father claimed I was pivotal to his plan, but I realize all he requires is my womb. A breeding chamber for him to reclaim some kind of divine dignity as he uses me to reclaim his lost lineage.”