Another pause.
"Ascended to the next level, your worship," said the acolyte, the intonation making his words sound more like a question than a statement.
"Yes," hissed the Kingpriest. "If I have acquired the powers of the gods, then, by rights, I must be a god myself."
The hall was deathly silent.
The acolyte looked at the Kingpriest, nodded his head slightly and said in a trembling voice. "Yes, your worship."
"Then I will ascend to the heavens and take my place at the right hand of Paladine. The gods will greet me with open arms and thank me for spreading virtue and goodness across the four corners of Krynn."
The Kingpriest's eyes were looking upward, glinting with a sort of madness, as if he were looking through the stone ceiling of the temple and into the starry night sky above it.
The Kingpriest stood up. "If I have the power of a god, then I will become a god!"
The acolyte was silent, looking strangely at the Kingpriest.
"A god," he repeated breathily, as if considering the possibilities.
The acolyte lowered his head like one doomed. "Yes, your worship."
Chapter 16
Together, Mirrel and Lady Korinne rode south for over An hour before turning east and riding into the northern lip of a deep rift in the
Dargaard Mountains called the Soul's Wound.
Korinne had heard stories about the inhabitants of these mountains ever since she was a child. Although she'd always felt it hard to believe the tales while living in the comfort of her parent's home in Palanthas, such was not the case after she'd moved into Dargaard Keep.
Everyone in the keep from the knights to the laundresses, from the squires to the cooks, could tell stories of the lost folk who supposedly lived in the most impenetrable valleys or on the most treacherous mountainsides of the Dargaard range. The lizard-like Bakali, the otherworldly Huldrefolk, the birdlike Kyrie, and the bat-like Shadowpeople. All were reported to live deep within these mountains although none of these creatures had been reliably witnessed for hundreds of years. Still, that fact did little to alter people's beliefs in them and the interior of the mountain range slowly grew to be a darkly mystical place where those who were ill-suited to blend into Solamnic society found the perfect place in which to live out their lives in peace.
However, that didn't mean there was never any contact between the two worlds.
When Korinne first thought of making this trip she had only a vague idea of where she might find help. Mirrel had proved helpful in this regard, securing directions and ensuring they wouldn't be turned away once they arrived at their destination.
Their goal was a small stone cottage at the foot of a snowcapped mountain. The cottage was half-buried in earth and looked as if the mountainside had crept up to it over the past few centuries and would eventually engulf the structure with the passage of the next several hundred years.
There was a faint yellow light shining in one of the cottage's two exposed windows. Considering the time of night, the light was a good sign that whoever lived within was expecting company.
The two women slowed their mounts as they approached the tiny cottage, content to walk the last little bit after what had been an especially long and hard ride.
They secured their horses, the beasts seeming infinitely grateful for the rest, and approached the cottage's front door.
The wooden door was slightly ajar, but Mirrel stopped Lady Korinne from pushing it open and suggested that she knock first.
Korinne nodded at this, reminding herself that her status as lady of the keep would carry little weight in the home of a hedge witch. She pulled her robe back from her right wrist and knocked on the door with three sharp raps of her knuckles.
There was no answer.
"Maybe we should go," suggested Mirrel.
Korinne knocked again.
"Open is the door," said a gravel-throated voice. "Enter if you wish."
Korinne looked at Mirrel and the younger woman nodded.
Then Korinne pushed the door open and entered the cottage, Mirrel close behind her.
The ceiling of the cottage was low, and the two women had to stoop in order to move about without bumping their heads.
The hedge witch was sitting in an old wooden chair by a fire. The chair was oddly shaped and of a strange design that looked as if it could only be comfortable to the witch herself. Thankfully, there were two other chairs by the fire-chairs shaped for more normal postures. The witch extended a gnarled, bony hand, inviting the two women to take their seats. Korinne and Mirrel quickly sat down, grateful-like their horses-for the respite.
In the flickering light of the fire, Korinne tried to make out the witch's features. Other than her being human, Korinne could not discern any of the witch's finer features with any clarity.
As if the witch had read her mind, she waved a hand in the direction of the fire and the flames suddenly burned hotter. The inside of the cottage became brighter and Korinne could easily make out the crag-like texture of the witch's skin, now brought out in high relief by the contrast of light and shadow on her face. There were also several moles under the witch's chin which seemed to be in a different position each time Korinne glanced at them-a trick of the light, she surmised. And finally, she looked at the witch's eyes. They were dark, almost black, even in the bright light of the fire.
Korinne was not repulsed. Compared to what she'd heard in tales of the lost folk, this witch was almost attractive.
"Have you seen enough?" said the witch, waving her hand at the fire once more. The flames suddenly died down and the inside of the cottage was once again dim. "Now, why is it that you've come? What is it that you want?"
Korinne's heart was racing. It felt wrong to be here, but she'd come this far and she refused to give up now. "My name is Korinne Soth, Lady
Korinne-" "Who you are, I know," said the witch, cutting off Korinne's words. "What you want, I know." She smiled on one side of her mouth, showing the women several of her dirty brown teeth. "But I want to hear you tell me anyway."
Korinne paused. She'd spoken about her troubles only with her husband and Mirrel. No one else. But she was surprised to learn that she had no qualms about telling this hedge witch that she could not conceive.
Somehow, she knew that what was spoken here tonight would never leave the stone walls of the cottage.
"I am barren," said Korinne, a hint of sadness in her voice.
"Despite all my efforts, I have not been able to conceive." "No?" the witch asked playfully. "How do you know that you are the one unable to conceive?"
Korinne was silent.
"How do you know that the problem does not lie with the great Lord Soth, Knight of the Rose?"
Korinne gasped. She'd never even considered such a thing.
"How do you know," continued the witch, "that Soth's seed is not to blame?"
Korinne felt compelled to answer. If she didn't the witch might continue to ask the same disturbing question. "I don't," she said, a slight tremor in her voice. "I don't."
"Then perhaps you should come back when you know."
"How could I find out?"
The witch let out a small, dry laugh. "Take a lover, or wait until your mighty lord produces a bastard."
"No," whispered Korinne. "I couldn't."
"I see. So what you want is not for me to make you fertile, but to give you a child."
Korinne was silent. She turned to Mirrel for some help, but the young maid seemed as befuddled as Korinne was.
Finally Korinne simply said, "Yes." "Well, I cannot," said the witch.
"Why not?"
"What you are asking me to do is very dangerous magic. Even if I did try and help, you wouldn't know if I was successful for many months. And by then it would be too late."