Excerpt: Armor of Sight

The moldering tomes towered in the rapidly shrinking room. The small female dressed in a dust colored robe with black hems, easily four inches too long for her, dragged on the floor scraping up and collecting the dust that the wooden floor gave back to the room.
Her face frantic at what she saw in the black bound tome with the mysterious character shaped like a cream colored diamond bisected with a straight line and a second book with two interlocking triangles. The two books that provide her with strong evidence of the one fear she has had for more than twenty years. The raids and incursions by forces loyal to the Faith are part of truth a taste a persecution against magic and a deprivation of knowledge. Why? A passage in the interlocking triangled book with the black binding and cover.
The passage that yells trouble to the woman in the floor sweeping robe.

It’s face, quite black, not painted. The tail barbed. The eyes, scarley, and it told Marret, Go forth spread the truth and obey my strictures.

The sentences, if true casts a great shadow over the Faith. That the demon Mehenazavot gives sanction to the Faith means all that they are in invalid and a lie. There is a truth that needs answers and some place the answers be found before the partisans destroy everything . Yet she also knew in the other tome a passage that screams to her the presence of a stray artifact that migh provide a counter point to this problem.

Strapped to the warrior’s body, the breastplate glistens. Yet its bearer notices strange symbolic palls. Every time it wars what some have dubbed the Armor of Sight, the sense that is bearer sees the truth of a person’s essence, not the false facade that flesh, clothing and silver voices provide.

What if, she thinks to herself this is the check to Mehenazavot’s power that I need. It needs an appropriate bearer, yet it will not be one that I know for sure. A warrior. Someone not of this place or time?
Picturing a warrior she gazes out over her window looking at the sea, and trying to match the sight, and her own talents to bring about a change to the land of Tsoroth. Her hands do not move. Her voice is only a whisper to keep the Partisans and Priests away from her presence.
“Match the Armor of Sight to its bearer. Find the one meant to bear its burden. I send the summons now and wring the magic in truth and time.”
As she finished her verse that triggered this spell of finding, a rumbling louder than the sea crashing into the rocks at the below, and a knock at her door crossed paths with each other startling her to check the door and see a known Knight of Daer Sholtz at the other side of the door which she opened with alacrity.