Chapter 20
Unspoken Truth
Having entered the gates, Eirin and Sorcha proceeded directly to the Druid School, a place where Commander Nethran often spent his time.
He could usually be found there if he wasn’t out on patrol or stationed at the gates.
Unlike the small, quaint elementary school filled with the sounds of children, the Druid School was ornate and richly decorated, like everything else in Lumora connected to the Circle.
Its enormous spires, crafted with crystal cut prisms, pierced the skyline, causing the city to glow in rainbow hues during the day.
Rhosyn, Riona, and Emry stayed behind at the stables to unload the horses, ensuring the goods were carefully handled and accounted for.
Eirin and Sorcha passed through a large, grated courtyard, surrounded by towering iron gates entwined with greenery, which kept prying eyes away.
Etched runes further protected those inside.
An incantation opened the gates, revealing the courtyard’s centerpiece: a gleaming statue of Lugh.
The sun god stood in a throwing stance, his spear poised as if ready to strike.
A perfect circle of flowers around him mimicked the hues of a sunset.
As they climbed the steps to the main hall, familiar sounds filled the air: the clash of swords, instructors shouting movements, the hurried shuffle of feet, and the overlapping buzz of conversations.
A faint smile crept across Sorcha’s face, stirring memories of her own days there.
Her eyes drifted to the tapestries hanging high above, each depicting scenes from the first and second battles of Mag Tuired.
She could still recite the stories of the forgotten gods and creatures shown on the tapestries by heart after many late nights studying them.
Brushing her fingers lightly against the pillars, they reached Commander Nethran’s office.
Inside, the commander sat at his desk, pen scratching against parchment.
He glanced up briefly as they entered, then returned to his task.
“At ease,” Commander Nethran said, his gaze sweeping over them. “I appreciate your professionalism in this setting.” A quick smirk appeared on his face, only to vanish as swiftly as it came. “Did you secure all the necessities for the festival?”
Eirin stood quietly as Sorcha shifted her weight, her nerves flickering in the slight twist of her rings.
Rhosyn had prepared them well, and it was her inventory list that Eirin handed to the commander.
“Rhosyn provided this, sir,” he said. “It’s the list of all items purchased, cross referenced with what’s needed for the festival. Everything is accounted for.”
Commander Nethran nodded as he reviewed the list.
“Anything to report? How was the coast?”
Sorcha glanced at Eirin, then took a breath as she stepped forward. “Sir,” she began, her voice steady though her hands still twisted nervously. “We encountered something unusual at the harbor. Kelpies surrounded the harbor.”
Nethran’s pen stilled as he looked up. Sorcha continued, her voice quieter now.
“I saw it firsthand, and so did the others. We had a direct encounter. Eirin… he almost walked off the pier into the sea. We heard their song, but Eirin and Emry reacted to it. They were in some sort of trance when we tried to pull them back, but nothing worked until…”
Her voice faltered, and she hesitated, choosing her next words carefully.
She wasn’t ready to explain what had happened.
The runes, the inexplicable heat, or the way the kelpie had recoiled.
Not yet. If she did, the commander might order her to step down from active duty during the festival preparations, or worse, the festival itself.
Eirin, sensing her hesitation, stepped in. “Until something frightened them off, Sir. Sorcha and the others held us back long enough for the kelpie to let us go and when we were finally off the pier, we saw them.
Commander, there were dozens of eyes staring back at us.”
Commander Nethran’s expression darkened. His fingers drummed against the desk as he processed the information. “Dozens, you say?”
Eirin nodded. “Yes, sir. They were watching us.”
Nethran leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the edge of his desk for a few moments that stretched in the silence.
“I’ll look into this. Until then, none of this leaves this room. The last thing we need is panic spreading before the festival. Understood?”
They nodded, their unspoken relief palpable. “Dismissed,” Nethran said, his tone firm but not unkind. “And Sorcha, make sure you hand in a detailed report. I want everything documented.”
As they left the office, Sorcha exchanged a glance with Eirin, who gave her a reassuring nod. Outside, Rhosyn, Riona, and Emry were waiting near the stables, having finished unloading the goods and checking the horses.
Riona stretched her arms above her head, letting out a long sigh. “Finally back. I don’t know about you all, but I’m eager to disappear into my bed.”
Sorcha smirked, her stare lingering on Eirin. He looked worn, his usual demeanor dulled by the weight of the kelpie encounter. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “You should head home and rest, Eirin. You’ve earned it.”
Eirin nodded, his voice low. “Yeah… sleep sounds good. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to Sorcha before he turned on his heel and headed toward the quieter parts of town.
Emry, brushing his horse’s flank as he untied the last saddlebag, glanced at Eirin’s retreating figure. “I’m not used to seeing him that shaken. Whatever that thing was, it got under his skin.”
“It got under all our skins,” Sorcha said softly, wrapping her arms around herself as if warding off a chill.
Rhosyn adjusted the bag of festival goods slung over her shoulder. “I’ll be heading straight to the festival planners. These materials aren’t going to deliver themselves.”
Riona rolled her eyes but chuckled softly. “Of course, you’re going to work the moment we get back. Fine, I’ll come with you. I could use something normal after the last forty eight hours.”
“You mean harassing festival planners is normal for you?” Sorcha teased, earning an exaggerated shrug from Riona.
“Keeps life interesting.”
Rhosyn smiled warmly. “You’re more than welcome to join me, Riona. The company will make the task less tedious.” Together, they set off toward the center of the city.
Emry stepped closer to Sorcha, his expression softening. “And what about you? I don’t suppose you’ll actually get any rest tonight.”
Sorcha huffed a soft laugh. “I’ll try, but there’s a report to finish first.”
“Of course there is.” Emry’s smile was faint, though there was a glimmer of understanding in his blue eyes. “Don’t let it keep you up too late.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Emry squeezed her shoulder, offering silent comfort, then turned his horse toward the stables, leaving Sorcha to her thoughts.
She stood for a moment, absorbing the familiar scene in Lumora.
The Druid School’s tall spires gleamed in the fading light, and the excited chatter of townsfolk preparing for the festival drifted on the breeze.
Breathing deeply, Sorcha replayed the events of the past two days in her mind.
The walk home was quick, her thoughts racing between the kelpie’s haunting song and the pressure of her unfinished report.
With a sigh, Sorcha opened the front door.
After dropping her things, she grabbed her journal and settled into her chair.
Dipping her pen in the ink, she began to write, each word drawing her deeper into the memory of the harbor.
She wrote every detail: the sound of the song, its effect on Eirin and Emry, and the many eyes that had watched them from the water.
“This had better make sense,” she muttered, finishing the last line.
Satisfied with her account, she closed the journal and set it aside.
Tomorrow she would give it to Commander Nethran. But tonight, she would try to rest.