Page 87 of The Cradle of Ice

Frell took a deep breath before answering. “If we have your word that such a boon will truly not damage our cause…”

Aalia bowed her head. “It is so given.”

Frell checked with Pratik, even Kanthe. The Chaaen nodded solemnly. Kanthe merely shrugged.

Satisfied, Frell pressed a palm over his heart. “It is so sworn.”

His companions followed suit.

Aalia stared a moment longer, as if judging their sincerity, then turned to the pages. She motioned Rami to her side, but not to engage him. She merely relieved him of his cup of sweet wine.

She took a sip and waved them over to the page atop the table. “This does describe a great war. One that started during the Forsaken Ages. Before the time of kingdoms and empires. Even before the Crown was fully forged.”

Frell stepped closer, remembering what he had learned in the glowing vault beneath the Northern Henge. “According to Shiya, after the world stopped turning on its axis, the Urth’s lands remained in chaos for countless millennia.”

Aalia nodded. “The pages tell of such a turmoil. People scrabbling to survive. The lands quaking and beset by storms that stripped forests and broke mountains.”

“But this war?” Pratik frowned down at the page. “If there were no kingdoms of men, who fought it?”

“I did not say they were men,” Aalia clarified. “In these pages, they’re called ta’wyn.”

She pointed to a set of illuminated images. They showed tiny battalions of shining knights. Some fought in great forces, crashing against one another. Others focused on smaller skirmishes, even on individuals brawling against one another.

“If not men, who are these ta’wyn?” Frell asked.

“I don’t know,” Aalia admitted.

Rami interceded. “In ancient Klashean, ta’wyn means undying gods.”

Pratik frowned. “Maybe the pages are referring to the Elder gods? The divinities before all others?”

No one had an answer.

Kanthe finally raised a question that had been plaguing Frell. “But what does this clash of gods have to do with moonfall or with the Shadow Queen?”

Aalia rubbed at her chin. “It’s unclear. The war ended, but it’s prophesied to start again. With the birth of the Vyk dyre Rha. Either the ta’wyn will hinder or help her. If we had more pages, or the entire book…”

She finished with a shrug.

Frell pictured that ancient tome burning in the pyre, along with one of the Dresh’ri. He inwardly cringed at the knowledge lost in those flames.

Kanthe scoffed next to him. “Then these pages don’t help us at all.”

Frell couldn’t disagree. Still, he shifted over and tapped a finger on a stylized picture of a stiff-limbed knight. The figure held an arm high, gripping a jagged bolt of lightning in one hand. The image filled an entire corner of a page, as if threatening all the other combatants in the war.

“This ta’wyn,” Frell said. “He looks like a leader of some sort.”

Aalia joined him. “Yes, but it never describes which faction he commands. Only his name.” She pointed to a word in faded ink under the image. “Eligor.”

“Which means Morning Star,” Rami shared.

Aalia frowned at him. “Brother, we spoke at length about this. You can’t truly say that with certainty—not when it’s merely written in ink. If spoken aloud with a stress on the first syllable, you are most correct in that definition. But if you stress the second syllable, the meaning changes.”

“Into what?” Kanthe asked.

She looked pointedly back at him with a flash of fire in her eyes. “It means Betrayer. Something you’re well familiar with.”

Kanthe lifted both palms. “Again, I’m sorry…”