Jayn noticed Dahn glance across the Great Hall as the young woman absently brushed the single large flower in her hair with a finger, gently so as not to damage the fragile petals. It was a blue starlight bloom that grew from violet mountain moss. At one time, Jayn had been told, the beautiful hand-sized blossoms had grown everywhere in Hylan and its surrounding canyons. In fact, the moss had been so thick that bare rock hadn’t been visible at all in many passages. About the time Jayn had been born though, the mountain moss had started to thin out. Now, it could only be found in dark crevices high on the mountain sides—difficult to reach and dangerous to retrieve. K’Van Cmyth caught Dahn’s eye from his seat at a nearby table, grinning and looking away almost instantly, his face turning bright red. The young woman at Jayn’s side smiled and dropped her eyes to her plate.

  “How long has this been going on?” Jayn whispered, leaning over from her seat next to Dahn.

  “About three months ago they started making Great Moon eyes at each other,” Xahn answered from Jayn’s other side while he casually continued to eat.

  “Xahn!” Dahn said hotly, giving him an angry stare.

  “What?” her brother retorted around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Everyone knows it.”

  “Everyone but me, it would seem,” Jayn said with a grin. “I think it’s sweet. It’s a beautiful flower. Did he retrieve it himself?” Dahn nodded shyly and told her that he’d given it to her as she left the infirmary and wished her a speedy recovery. “Very impressive.” Her brow furrowed. “Isn’t he younger than you?”

  “Only a little,” the young woman protested.

  “Very tall and handsome for a twelve-year-old, though,” Jayn teased.

  “He’s thirteen!” Dahn protested. “As of last month!”

  Jayn laughed and adjusted her colored shawl. She enjoyed getting dressed up and wearing jewelry. She caressed her neckline and the green crystal that always hung there, feeling a brief pang of sadness about Ekatern. It was the crystal witch who had first showed her the talents of the green crystals and had helped to heal her broken heart.

  She remembered standing in this very Hall with the old woman—dressed in her typical green robes and scarf—as she taught Jayn about the four Key Crystals. The room had looked very different then: dusty, dingy, and empty except for a few piles of furniture and boxes stored around the edges. Jayn herself had also been very different—thin and worn with grief, almost like the poor women who wasted away with the Sadness. But the murals and crystals on the wall were as they had been for hundreds of years and as they were today.

  “Do you see the four large crystals in the walls?” Ekatern had asked her. “Can you point them out to me and tell me their colors?” Jayn remembered nodding weakly and halfheartedly lifting her hand and pointing. “Blue, red, gray, and green,” she had muttered before letting her hand fall limply at her side. The old woman had nodded, catching Jayn’s eyes, which wasn’t easy as she was always looking down in those days.

  “That’s right,” the wise woman had said. “They are important. We call them the Key Crystals. They represent the four ordinal positions: Gray for North, the color of snow and ice under cloudy skies. Blue for South, reminiscent of the seas. Red for east, like the rising sun. And finally Green, representing the West and the forests of Neworld. But they also symbolize the four basic elements: Earth is Green, Water is Blue, Fire is Red, and Air is Gray.”

  At that point, Ekatern had grabbed both of Jayn’s hands, suddenly and very firmly for a woman hundreds of years old. “There is also power in those crystals!” the witch had told her, sternly. “Power to see. Power to move. Power to heal. And even power to remember. Jayn, I cannot bring back your little girl or your husband. But I can help you to visit them whenever you want.”

  Jayn remembered Ekatern gently releasing her younger self’s hands and pulling forth from the old woman’s robes the necklace with the large green crystal which Jayn now wore. “I will teach you how to use the talent of the spirits embedded in this crystal to reach into your memories and make them come alive in ways you cannot now imagine.”

  More than a decade later, Jayn’s heart still beat faster as she recalled how those words had lifted her, inspired her, given her hope. If it had not been for Ekatern’s relentless focus on bringing Jayn out the shadow of grief, she did not believe she would have survived. Yet, here she was, laughing and feasting with these fine folk, heart mended, and full of purpose. Her eyes instinctively went to the green crystal on the wall near to the Mayor’s table. Green was West and Forests and Memories. And Green was Ekatern.

  Glancing around the table, Jayn noted that most of the folks sitting there had known Ekatern personally. She wondered how those who didn’t already know would react to news of her death. For her part, Jayn was not at all sad, for she knew that the crystal witch’s memory would live on, quite literally.

  Mayor Helper and Karl Starei were engaged in a jovial but somewhat heated conversation at the far end of the table. Jayn noticed the Mayor’s wife was speaking her mind as well, a smile on her mouth but concern on her brow. The strangers Hyancinth had brought with her seemed to have adjusted to their new surroundings quite easily. The dark woman—Gabby, was it?—was listening intently to the Mayor’s conversation while consuming more food than seemed humanly possible. Jayn had to admit the woman was stunningly beautiful in that golden gown, but she didn’t think she’d ever seen someone eat so much so fast. Then again, the Hahnin woman also looked as though she hadn’t eaten in weeks. Her baby—slung in a colorful blanket on her back—had gone peacefully to sleep amid the din in the Hall.

  The tables were laden with more food than Jayn had ever seen in one place before. Roast pheasant, duck, goose, and turkey were sliced on plates next to seven different varieties of potato dishes, green salads with a dozen different garnishes and dressings, and pies both savory and sweet. Tureens of soup and gravy were squeezed between baskets of hot buttered bread. Colorful carafes of wine and other spirits had been placed wherever room could be found. This was a feast unlike any she’d ever seen. Jayn knew it had cost a small fortune—most of it she’d gathered from local farmers and bakers herself. But some items, like smoked fish, pickled crab, lobster bisque, and several of the libations she had sent for to Lolan—they had only arrived this morning.

  While she was enjoying the company—and a hot buttered rum, imported from the sugarcane fields of Hahn—Jayn caught the eye of the dark-skinned stranger, Gabby. For a moment, Jayn thought the woman was looking straight at her. She froze, her glass halfway to her mouth, her breath caught in her throat. Something about the look in her golden eyes was disturbing, even threatening. Then she realized the strange woman wasn’t looking at her at all; instead, the stranger’s eyes were fixed beside her. On Xahn. There was a very strange look on her face. It was like recognition, surprise, and … fear. And for the first time since the Feast had begun, Jayn began to dread what she knew was about to happen.

  “Karl, you must stop grimacing,” Daevy Helper complained to his friend while smiling and helping himself to another serving of turkey stuffing. “People will think something is wrong.”

  “Something is wrong, Mister Mayor,” Karl retorted. He then plastered the biggest smile he could muster on his face and said, “We are about to be attacked by demonspawn!”

  “That’s better,” the Mayor joked. “Was that so difficult?”

  “You two are fortunate that neither of our visitors hid this from me,” Hyacinth said, pointing her fork at each of them in turn. “If I were just finding out about this now, well … first of all, I wouldn’t have believed it.” She wrinkled her brow. “Not sure I do now, really.”

  Karl felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Myria’s face nearly even with his, though she was standing and he was seated. “News?” he asked, as quietly as possible amid the roar of dozens of different conversations echoing through the Hall.

  Myria nodded and said, “The sentry crystals—the purple ones—have reported a large force moving very quickly through the North Pass. And some extremely large bats in the air.”

  The Dashman sighed heavily. There were several equally heavy sighs around him. “Then, it is time. Exactly how do we enable the temple’s defenses?”

  “It is already done,” Myria told him, expanding her gaze to include everyone at this end of the table, ending with Gabby with an expression of fear, awe, and reverence on her face. “Before she died, Ekatern told me the defenses were armed and would only attack the Goblin Horde. There is a danger if a person were to get between defensive posts—the fence around the temple—and a demonspawn that they could get caught in the discharge. But that is unlikely inside the temple.”

  “Karl,” said Gabby in a soft voice beside him. “Is that your boy over there?” She pointed at Xahn with her chin. The Dashman told her it was. “He is the spitting image of Maho’Ni at that age,” she said, almost in a whisper.

  “How would you know that?” Hyacinth asked in confusion.

  “He was my husband in the Before World,” Gabby said casually, as if asking her to pass the yams.

  There was stunned silence at the table while Karl and Myria exchanged knowing looks. Finally, Hyacinth found her voice. “Your real name … it isn’t Gabriella, is it?” Gabby shook her head.

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  “Never mind all this,” Karl said gruffly. “We need to alert all the people to the danger and begin moving them to the mines.”

  “Ekatern took care of that, as well,” Myria told them as her gaze moved to the large green crystal embedded in the wall near their table. It was glowing. Not the gentle, persistent glow of most crystals—this was a brilliant, pulsing beacon that began to bath the entire Great Hall in green radiance. People around the Hall noticed it and turned to look, their conversations dying down to a whisper.

  “The witch is givin’ us a show!” shouted Neemin Sucram from the far side of the Hall. Several in group guffawed at that, while other laughs scatter throughout the room sounded more like nervous coughs.

  “Should have left him in mines with the others,” Daevy grumbled. “Don’t like that man. Not one bit.”

  “Never mind him,” the Mayor’s wife told her husband, putting her hand on top of his and squeezing a bit. “There is something very important happening with that crystal. I can feel it.”

  There was the sound of breaking crockery from the far end of the table. Karl shot to his feet and Jayn shouted in alarm as both the twins shot upwards on their feet, knocking their plates, cups and utensils to the marble floor. The twins looked like they had been struck by lightning with their eyes wide and rolled up so that only whites showed. Their arms were straight out to their sides. Even their hair was standing on its ends. The Dashman rushed to children’s side and tried to take them in his arms. He was flung away by a powerful force in a flash of light and sound like thunder. If the room hadn’t been filled with tables, chairs and people, he would have been hurled across the entire Hall. Instead, he hit the table next to them with such force that it turned on its side, spilling food, drink and crockery. The people sitting at the table screamed in shock and fear. Two men shouted in panic as they were pinned between the table and the floor. Karl should have been knocked unconscious or at least injured with broken bones and bruises, but the Dashman simply shook his head quickly and rose to his feet. He even took a moment to help free the trapped men and see that they were alright before he bolted back to his children.

  “What’s going on?” Karl demanded of Jayn.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted in a shout with a hand on her chest. “I can feel the power of the green crystal, but it’s only a dim buzzing in my heart. Dahn and Xahn—they seem to be much more susceptible to crystal enchantment than anyone I’ve ever seen or heard about.”

  A gasp went up from the crowd and instinctively Karl looked up … and gasped as well. A shimmering veil of light spread from the green crystal, like a green mist large enough to fill the domed ceiling of the Great Hall. It floated in the air above the feasters, drawing their attention. Then to everyone’s amazement, it spoke.

  “People of Hylan!” the voice boomed, the cloud of green light flashing with each syllable. “Hear me!” Karl knew the voice instantly. He glanced at Jayn and saw that she recognized it as well. The mist of light twisted and billowed, like a thunderhead in a storm, casting undulating green beams everywhere. Slowly, the cloud began to take shape, coalescing into … a woman. First there was her face and her long hair, then her neck and body took shape. She randomly appeared to be a young, middle aged, and old, finally settling on an old woman with white hair wearing a billowing robe and a sliver band around her head–a band with a green crystal in it.

  “Ekatern the Crystal Priestess,” the shade of the woman said in a clear, loud voice, “is dead.” A roar of voices exploded around the room. Some of the folk in the back of the Hall near the door ran to escape. They struggled but were unable to open the red door. The man with his hand on the star-encircled doorknob ran back into the Hall and shouted with vitriol in his voice, “The bloody door’s locked! We’re trapped!”

  “Is that Neemin Sucram’s damned voice again?” Daevy Helper asked his wife. “I swear I’m going to hurl that man down the mineshaft when we reach it!”

  “Silence,” said the glowing green woman from above. The resounding voice was neither harsh nor demanding, but it was definitely a command. The room grew quiet almost instantly. “I am the shade of Ekatern,” the woman told them. “I am a memory of her. An echo. For hundreds of years, she watched over you from this temple. She protected you. Now she … I … will do it one more time.

  “The Goblin Horde has escaped their prison and have descended to Neworld. They have built Hellsgate in the north and have bolstered their numbers with demonspawn. And they are now upon us.”

  The Great Hall was completely silent. Then one person started to laugh—probably Neemin Sucram, Daevy thought. The laughter spread throughout the room and the tension began to dissipate. This was obviously a joke, folk told one another. This was a bit of fun the crystal witch was having with them.

  “I understand your feelings,” the shade of Ekatern told them, not unkindly. “But this is no jest, no trick.” The glowing green woman looked down at the Mayor’s table. “Gabriella,” she called. “Tell them. Tell them who you really are.” Gabriella calmly stepped upon the surface of the table before her and faced the throng.

  “I am known as Gabriella the minstrel,” she shouted in a loud, clear voice that was easily heard throughout the Great Hall. “Five thousand three hundred and twenty-seven years ago, on this very day, the Vessel arrived. I know because I sing the songs of the Vessel that have been passed down from that day. I sing of the Before World, where we lived with gods as though we were gods. I sing of the Fall of Humankind and our Expulsion from the Before World. I sing of the Vessel taking us in Her hands and carrying us through the skies in search of our new home. I sing of the attack of the Goblin Horde and the Grand Battle in Heaven. I sing of our hero Maho’Ni and of his wife M’Randa who wielded the Sword of Heaven, drove out the Goblin Horde, and imprisoned them on the Great Moon, Jared. I sing of the Arrival of the Vessel on Neworld and how She sat us down gently upon the Continent and helped us make it our own. I sing of the Angelic Revolt, when Nilrem and his minions fought against the other angels and tried to destroy the Vessel to claim Her power for themselves. And I sing of the Infinite Sacrifice of the Vessel as she threw herself into the sky and into the moon Jared, leaving the scar in the shape of the Sword of Heaven. And I sing of the Wandering Woman, M’Randa, Maho’Ni’s wife—the Soul of the Vessel who could not die but was instead entrusted with protecting the world against a terrible future that Maho’Ni saw—the return of the Goblin Horde.”

  With flourish, Gabriella spun around on the table, shed her golden gown, revealing the bronze breastplate and leather armor that she had been wearing beneath it. She shook her head, and her braids fell free around her head and shoulders, then then stood heroically before the crowd.

  “My name is not Gabriella the minstrel. I AM M’RANDA THE WANDERING WOMAN!” she shouted to the disbelieving crowd. She took the sword from the scabbard on her back and lifted it high in the air. “AND THIS IS THE SWORD OF HEAVEN!” She pressed a red gem under her thumb on the hilt and instantly the sword’s blade lit up bright yellow, nearly blinding those who looked directly at it. M’Randa, however, looked directly at the Sword, her golden eyes glowing like iron in a hot fire, then she lowered her head and stared at the people with the same intensity. “The Sword and I will defend you and get you to safety, if you do as I say.”

  As one, the crowd shouted in awe and fear. Some fell to their knees and started supplicating the Vessel. Some clasped their hands before them, tears of joy and fear on their faces. But most people were like Navi Jespon who simply stood quietly and stared at Gabby, unable to reconcile the stories had heard in childhood—from parents and grandparents, from navis and chapel-goers—with the woman who stood on a table wielding a glowing sword.

  “There is a plan,” the witch’s shade told the crowd. “Bringing you here before the Horde was part of this plan. Inside this temple you are safe, at least for a while. There is an escape route through the mines to Lolan. You will be travelling underground, and the Goblin Horde will not be able to track you. Follow the Mayor, Karl Starei, and their team. Move quickly and you will escape the Horde. Linger, and you may not survive the night.”

  Those in crowd tried to grasp the concepts. They were overwhelmed by the scene: a floating green woman in the air above them, and The Wandering Woman standing on a table holding the brilliantly lit Sword of Heaven. They were overwhelmed, frozen where they stood.

  “They are here,” said the shade of Ekatern, a sad look upon her face. “Go! Go now! There is no more time!” With those final words of warning, the ghost of the crystal witch faded away.

  From outside the stained windows, an inhuman, otherworldly shriek split the crowd’s stunned silence. It was followed by another and another and another, all joining together in a demonic chorus that shook the throng to their souls. Cups and mugs shattered loudly on the floor as people dropped them in shock and dread. The ground began to shake as something very large took booming footsteps towards them from the North Pass. Men and women around the room began to scream and panic.

  Karl sprinted over to where his children still stood, frozen by some unseen but powerful force. He gently touched Xahn’s cheek with the back of his hand. There was no light, no explosion, not even a spark. Carefully, he reached out his other hand towards his daughter. As Karl’s hand neared Dahn’s cheek, he could feel a crackling energy begin to build—a blue-white glow began to brighten around his daughter and thin strands of tiny lightening leapt from his hand to Dahn’s face. It began to sting in sharp jabs, as if an invisible needle were stabbing his hand. There was an acrid scent in the air, like when metal was hot in the forge. The closer he got, the worse the smell, the greater the pain, the larger the lightening, and the brighter the glow. The Dashman dropped his arm to his side and the crackling energy vanished, as if it had never been.

  Looking up at the Wandering Woman who stood on the table beside him, glowing Sword still raised high, Karl pleaded, “My children! I cannot carry both at once! Please, help me!”

  “Take your daughter,” M’Randa told him. “I will take Maho’Ni’s progeny with me. He will be safe, I swear it!”

  Karl nodded sharply, ran to the other side of the table where both of his children stood as if statues. He slung Dahn over one shoulder, glanced lovingly, longingly at his son, then blew out a breath and dashed away toward the hallway where he would be needed.

  “The priestess wasn’t kidding folks!” M’Randa shouted at the crowd, waving the glowing sword. “Let’s get a move on! Follow the Mayor and the Healer over by the main hallway. Go! Now!” Hundreds of people suddenly began sprinting to the hallway, some running over the tops of the dinner tables to get there first. Slower folk were knocked out of the way by those who were strong and fast.

  “Slow it down!” Mayor Daevy shouted to the crowd. “These are your neighbors, your friends, your families! Let’s all get out together, yeah? Help those who have fallen and pass down the hallway four or five abreast. Stay steady, do not run. That is how we do this quickly!”

  Whether it was from years of following the Mayor’s directions or the confidence he exuded, the people did as Daevy told them. Those who had knocked others over, reached down to pick them up, some even carrying them if they were injured. They moved in groups of four or five, parents caring for children—mostly their own, but often those of their friends and neighbors. Even Neemin Sucram took the hands of children and guided them to the hallway, where Karl was waiting.

  “Hear me!” Karl told them, his daughter still slung like a sack of grain over his shoulder. The noise of the crowd had diminished drastically after the Mayor’s admonition and the Dashman could see in their eyes that everyone could hear him and were ready to do as he said. Hylanders, he thought to himself. I’ve lived among them for decades and still they surprise me with their grit.

  “Move quickly but smoothly! Stay together!” he admonished them. Raising is free hand so everyone could see, he shouted, “Let’s go!” As one, they began moving down the hall towards the hope of freedom.