What actually happened Fenelon was not prepared for at all.
As the road veered one last time on itself and finally reached the plateau the Helehalians call 'the Last Step to Heaven' it kept going into the trees disappearing in the dense gloomy shade of the forest that was rendered all the more obscure for the thick mist hanging above the treetops. Ozna reached inside one of her travel bags and took a copper horn that she put to her lips. The short horn produced a clear ringing succession of notes. Ozna heeled her horse forward and blew the same sequence of sounds one more time. Finally, as she reached the forest's edge she put the horn to her lips one last time as she stopped her horse, as Fenelon came closer she motioned for him to enter the forest first. Riding on he was shocked to see her eyes brimming with tears. Her whole face was transformed by emotions, one last glance showed him that her chin was trembling. The trees closed above his head, the sounds of the world changed and the vastness of the mountains disappeared. He was in a confined world, sounds were hushed and colors came from a narrow palette of browns and greens. Cold sweat ran down his back as he forced himself to acclimate to the heavy, warm, fragrant air. He had to loosen his grip on the dark metal of the Rod and release the tension building in his shoulders and neck, the road became a path and started wounding around fire-trees so large they must have been as old as rock. He was trying to think of a way to tell the age of a tree when he saw them, pale faces on the side of the path in the shadows. They stood there in silence, unmoving, staring at him, then they started throwing things on the path before his horse. Flowers, it was flowers and yes they were smiling now, some were even crying like Ozna had, there were the faint echoes of songs and music far away but one child on the side of the path was humming to himself one of the tunes and he smiled at Fenelon as he passed him by. Men and women stood in groups in the space between the bodies of the trees, they smiled at him and some threw flower garlands at him, they were more now and most were singing, little girls danced in the glades and boys ran gleefully in the waters of a stream. It was joy. Not the hysterical, unbridled excitement of the Domn kind at the height of the festival season during the pilgrimage to the Altars. The simple, peaceful contentment; the blessed joy of those who have waited for a long time and know for certain that the wait is over. It came as a sigh of relief, of release. They danced the happy dance of early spring, they sang the light song of a mellow evening under the starlight. They wanted nothing from him but his presence, his coming was not an achievement, it was the signal for the beginning, their work wasn't done, it had merely begun in earnest.
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The path was now lined with several rows of people, some singing, some dancing, many staring with tears on their faces. Fenelon felt elated and terrified at the same time and as he noticed the crowd thickening some more, the path came to a glade by the lakeside.
They were there. The Sisters. A vast crowd of them and the people of Helehalians was now filling the space behind him. Ozna was nowhere to be seen, so he let his horse continue his course towards the Sisters in their light-colored robes. Upon reaching them he stopped the beast and felt inadequate towering above everybody else so he endeavored to climb down without getting entangled in the straps and falling flat on the ground but as he reached it everybody fell to their knees and prostrated. Frozen fast on the spot by this uncanny display Fenelon felt his cheeks turn bright red, glad only that since they all were looking at the grass they could not witness his embarrassing confusion. Should he say something? Should he ask them to stand up or order them? Was he even the one they were venerating or was their prostration aimed at the Rod itself? Awkwardly he walked to the nearest Sister and kneeled in front of her placing the Rod flat in the grass between them. She looked up at it tentatively and reached back with her hand to the sister on her side who looked up in turn and sat back on her heels only to start singing a slow soulful tune he could not understand. Little by little they all sat back and took up the tune until the whole glade was singing it and Fenelon felt himself rocking gently to its rhythm as he sat in the grass looking at the faces of the Sisters in front of him.
He was safe here.
These were good people, he had no idea how he could be certain of that, but he knew it. The Rod was meant to go through the hands of the Sisters in order to accomplish its fate as peacebringer.
