Chapter Two

“I am more than you have told me.” Joile stood in the doorway as he had each night for the past three cycles of the moon. Every night he would stand in the doorway of his masters room and contemplate the question and attempt to build the courage. While he filled his head each day with history and theories, every night he was assaulted with dreams. Every dream lead to deeper research the following day.

Joile knew everything hinted he was of the bloodline of the family of Kunellos, one of the families of the First Brood. His mother’s features pointed more toward the Hakani. Both families were broken and long thought destroyed. But the features of his parents nor the features of his own could he deny. The Ministry had to know. They simply knew too many other things. When the High Priest left, he even hinted the same as he told Joile, ‘there has not been one like you for hundreds of years’.

“You are but my student. There is nothing more you need know.” The elderly man answered. Almost as soon as they arrived, the High Priest introduced him to Visrook. When he titled him ‘Master of Schooling’ the old man had scoffed and frowned. Joile had mad a mental note of it, but showed no sign, as he was told to do whatever the Master told him.

“But there is more Master Visrook, and I have read it. Why keep this from me?” Joile stepped further into the room. A queer look from Visrook made him step back and look away.

“You can read all there is, find the answer yourself.” Visrook responded as he drank from his glass and turned toward the fire.

“If I could talk to the other students or masters, I could learn more?” He pleaded.

A loud snort of laughter came from Visrook as he rubbed his hands together and suddenly stood to face Joile. “You are either sly or have been fooling yourself boy. What other students? What others ‘masters’?” Visrook almost spat the words.
“But, I was told…” Joile began and trailed off. He knew the answer. He knew the answer back in Tabath, but he didn’t want to except it, didn’t want to face it. The stories were all true, but somehow he had stepped outside that norm. Still he had not wanted to hear it, not from his own thoughts.

“You were told what was necessary. Each and every other babe, child or adult that shows abilities are destroyed. It is our law and an act against the Ministry to have such power contained outside its teachings. It was for this very reason the Hakani were reduced to slavery and the Kunelli disappeared. It is a great responsibility that must be brought to fruition through teaching and secluded study. If nothing else for the very safety of the people. Or have you already forgotten the orchard? Go boy, bother me no further.”

“I am both Kunelli and Hakani! That is why the High Priest did not have me destroyed!” Joile blurted out suddenly.

Once again Visrook laughed. His white hair layed limp and long upon his face as his posture changed, his eyes almost glowing as they went milky white. “Now that you know, I suggest you guard it well. Almost as much as I sugguest you learn quickly what to do with it!”

Unlike his previous experiences, the air compressed suddenly and collapsed on him so quickly, Joile simply stood and took the blow. Tossed like a leaf in a storm, he crashed into the wall behind him. His skull bounced heavily upon the stones as he crumbled to the ground. Tremendous ache filled the muscles of his neck as he strained to look up. Visrook was coming for him as the air compressed and began to crackle.

“Would be simple to end this now.” Visrook laughed hauntingly at him. “To have a slave bastard restore a family long dead to power. You will succumb to the Ahrynite bloodline just as your lineage did. Or is it your Kuni blood that has placed you here. Yes we all know it boy, but you will simply become a memory.”

Joile saw and heard nothing, yet his entire body wretched in pain. Fire seemed to engulf his entire body. His scream never made it past his lips as his fingers strove to tear the fire from his body.

“No do not die yet, there is more for you to feel so when you join the shadow’s you can be the harbinger to your dead bloodline the power of the Ahrynites is second to none!”

He couldn’t even begin to open his eyes to see Visrook approach, but Joile could sense the compression he dreaded encompassing his body. It wasn’t like the orchard, the compression was centered around him, encasing his body, slowly crushing it. His bones slowly and painfully began to crack.

His voice! Joile must find his voice. There, deep, hiding fearful of what it may do. His childish fear gripped him. He must not sing, he had to endure the torture of Visrook. He was not ready to release this power. Visrook had been right, without teaching and control, it would consume him. Better him then someone else. Joile would die here in retaliation for that day in the orchard, for wishing the pain upon his parents. For wanting to use his power against them all.

No! I want to live, his inner voice screamed. Joile did want to live, to learn of his power. SING! He screamed to himself. It was then his voice came, strong and hard. It broke through from him destroying Visrook’s power. Joile didn’t understand the words, but he knew the intent. Strength filled him, renewed and wonderful. The fire was gone, his mind was clear, his body mended quickly. Joile was on his feet and moving at Visrook slowly. A terrible smile pressed his lips.

“No Visrook. Neither of us will die today.” Joile continued pressing forward as Visrook began to stumble back. His eyes still milky white, but his power was fading quickly. Joile played with the harmonies in the air. With a thought he found he could change the direction, pitch and flow of the sound. It easily compressed and bent to his will the instant he thought it.

He found Visrooks power, strong with its intent, but very different from Joile’s. Visrook created new energies and thoughts. Joile simply manipulated all from around him. There was nothing to create. It was simply touching the air itself and working with it. He could hear thoughts on it, feel energies flow through it. He felt nature talk amongst it while shadows and the dead tumbled and bumped against it. Joile recognized his own life force and the air that swirled around it. Visrook had been there too. He found he could actually find each part of Visrook amongst the air. Not just his physical being but memories as well.

He tested the air strands, pulling harshly on one entwined with Visrooks lower right leg. Joile found he could snap the strand. Before him, Visrooks leg broke, the bone piercing through the skin exposing itself. Visrook screamed in agony, dropped to the ground and clutched his leg. The old mans eyes had returned to their normal and was instantly filled with tears of pain.

When the strand broke, Joile saw several other strands break with it, tho he had not willed them so. Experimenting, he tried to return them to their smooth harmony. He then realized there was an order. While he could break one and others would give way to it, they had to be fixed in a particular order. Each strand of harmony had a hierarchy. Joile was lost in the amazement of it. He could actually see the order and realized some seemed to vibrate louder, some faster. Joile was so lost in his amazement, he had almost forgotten about Visrook.

The boy could see another strands beginning to waiver as they flowed into the energies that made up Visrook. Joile could hear the heartbeat begin to vibrate irradically. In panic he returned himself to a normal sight. He saw in horror that Visrook was sitting in a pool of blood, screaming in pain and panting harshly. He was dieing and he was dieing in torture. A panic threatened Joile, yet once again he looked for the strands. The vision of the harmonies came to him quickly now. Meticulously he rewound the strands and placed them gently back into order. He calmed the strands of the heart until it returned to its normal rhythm. Beyond his sight, Visrook’s leg mended and his breathing, while shallow continued a normal pace. Sweat poured from Joile as he dove deeper and deeper into the strands around him.

Joile found he could not return the blood as those strands were all temporary. If there cycle was broken it was replaced by new strands being born. Yet those strands were carefully encased by others. Tracing back the encasing strands, he found hidden thoughts and memories of Master Visrook. With careful and slow work, he was able to pull strands of memories from Visrook and combine them with his own. As each strand was removed, he could feel the energies of Visrook begin to fade.

The old man was very weak. That which he would hide from Joile was no longer hidden. It would simply take time. Time was the one thing Joile felt he had more than anything. Already he could pull all the old man knew about the mystical powers. None had been like Joile, he found that quickly. Visrook was the brother of the High Priest and a Lord in the Ahryn line, as such his knowledge was deep rooted. Joile would know all of the Ministry before he was finished. Once finished, he would need the old man no further. The boy would not be quick to forget the impending death Visrook had meant for him. But he had to leave the old man alone now. His energies had grown even weaker. Carefully Joile stepped out from the strands and began to discover the strands of all things around him.

The slow almost dead energies of the building itself gave way for him. Joile found he could infuse them and move them without much of his own energy. Even the trees, ground and grass bent their will to him as he played the strands like one intertwined song. All of the building was open to him as well as every furnishing. With joy he began changing all the strands, combining them in new ways and new connections. Dreaming as a child, beyond his own visual sight, the building shuddered, moved and changed. Old vines receded back as smooth, almost glassy stone walls grew and expanded into the air. Behind the walls the structures formed around a courtyard deep and lush in greenery. What was once old, overrun with vegetation and falling down, was now clean, cultured and manicured. Moonlight seemed brighter as it played off the stone walls and reflected to the courtyard. A single tower in the center threatened to touch the sky.

Even then there was more. Beneath the surface, the ground moved aside and allowed footings to take hold, a cellar to form as the night continued to pass. By the time the first rays of the sun began to shine and streak into the courtyard, Joile was soaked in his own sweat. Never did his breathing break a rhythmic in and out. His eyes wide and seeing beyond what any child, or man, could see. Joile’s voice and song permeated the surrounding woods, seeming to rejuvenating it. At the sound of his master’s cracking voice, he returned to his normal world.

Joile sucked in a sudden breath of air, seeing the room was no longer the same. It was what he visioned in his head as he played with the strands of being and energy around him. A swell of pride filled him deeply.

“You are taking my memories.” Old Visrook croaked under labored breath and obvious fatigue. “Why do you keep me alive. Allow me to pass to the shadows.”

“No Visrook. All that you would keep from me I will know. I would be done with it, but it is simply too much strain.” Joile commented calmly.

“You may be a boy, but you have the cruelty of a beast. We should have killed you from the beginning. The High Priest will know of this.” Visrook could barely lift his head or speak, his voice breaking and cracking more with each word.

“Your brother will know soon enough. But it will not be from you lips. You will be a shadow long before then. When I have from you all I seek, I will give you the death you planned for me.”

“Only the Blood of Rhiya could be so strong in one so young.” Visrook gasped. “You are a demon and may the shadows.”

Joile felt the compression as Visrook tried to use his power on him. Calmly, Joile returned to the strands, immediately finding those pushing through the air. Joile’s mental fingers folded the strands onto each other, effectively collapsing them into nothingness. Several strands seemed to reach out to him aggressively. Joile deftly altered their course, once again collapsing them into each other. He could see Visrook trying to do more and simply collapsing. Energy tried to flee from the old man, but Joile could not allow that to be.

Tracing the source of Visrooks last attempt, Joile could actually see the center of his power. It hissed of energy and swirled like a torrent. All energies, all life of Visrook originated from the energy. As Joile approached, it lashed out, warding him away. It wasn’t a conscious attempt by Visrook, it was plainly obvious to Joile. It was the energy source protecting itself. All the strands connected to it had no such protection, just the source.

The boy in Joile had to play with the source, to find a way in. Nothing could be found, yet Joile enjoyed the exercise, almost as if it were a game of chase and catch. Every now and then the source would actually seem to burn him as he attempted to touch it directly. The boy was completely ignorant to the various grunts and moans of Visrook, still crumpled to the ground unconscious.

Several times the source had struck hard and fast. The pain of the burn had a lasting sting and a residual hum. Taking a sudden risk, Joile wrapped his mental fingers completely around the source. It lit him like a fire, blinding him anything but the source. The energies threatened to explode within him. He became away it was having a similar effect on his physical body. The faint smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils. Yet Joile couldn’t let go. His mind was awash with thoughts, feelings, desires and fears. In a new panic, Joile threw it from him and retreated until he found himself almost entangled in various strands. Carelessly he had become completely mixed within all the strands around him. Beyond his vision, his body struggled and convulsed. He could taste blood somewhere in his thoughts.

Gently and in tedium he worked each strand, piece by piece until he found his own energy source. Finally unwoven from all around him, he realized his physical form was collapsing without the energy being woven to it. Joile could see the energy threatening to leave the physical. Quickly, but gently, he reattached the strands to the energy. Thousands upon thousands of strands had to be reworked and reattached. With each one, the energy coursed strong and bright. The more he did, the more he could see both as his vision and the physical world. Light poured into the room and gave way to a more subtle light as he worked more and more strands.

When Joile finished, he could clearly call upon his vision of the strands without giving up his sight in the physical. Everything was different around him, yet still conformed to his vision. Crumbled in the corner was Visrook, mumbling and weaping. Gnawing hunger filled Joile belly, there was no fire and the room had grown cool. He was still wet with his own perspiration from head to foot. Against the coolness of the room, he shivered. It was obvious now he had been working for days. Visrook was pale and sickly looking.

“We need to eat master Visrook.” Joile walked to the man and worked at helping him up. “Without we will both die.”

“I am already dead, more in shadow than here before you. To the shadows with you boy, I would be left to die.” Visrook whispered into Joile’s ear.

“Not until we finish.” Joile said as he felt all strength leaving him. He went to say more, but instead collapsed beside Visrook.

Joile dreamed heavily, watching all of his family from the First Brood until himself as if he were living it. Visrook was there, always over him trying to cover his eyes. Always as he pushed the old mans hands away, he saw deeper and further. He seemed to stay forever as the fabled Minoc stormed into Hightower and slaughtered his great nieces and nephews and any member sworn to Tularos, son of Hakan. Joile knew that he was of the same blood as Tularos and Hakan. He looked identical to Hakan.

He sat in amazement as Rivas ot’Kunellos stood before the families and pleaded on behalf of the Hakani for their return to the royal family. Joile couldn’t be torn away as Rivas met with his family, vast as it was and ordered them to scatter. He stood before an old and tired Minoc, on his deathbed and forgave him for the murdering of the Hakani. He could feel the saliva hit Rivas’ face as Minoc spit on him and died.

Joile’s mind was filled with all of it, each detail and each line that lead to him. His father the great grandson three times over to Rivas. His mother four hundred years removed from her great father Hakan. Twice over he was the blood of Rhiya. Rhiya’s power and the power of two of her children flowed through him.

It all filled him, making the unknown known and giving him great comfort. His parents had never known their line and their secrets. They were born and bred that way. That was their disappointment, their child could never be like them. Joile had never wanted to be like them. He knew that now. Joile wanted his rightful place among the families as a child of Rhiya. Royal above the common people, royal even beyond the families, for he was of two great lines.

The High Priest, a direct child of Ahryn would know of this. He would help Joile to return to his home, as he had already done by saving him from death. It wasn’t a curse, it was a righting of an old wrong. His family would welcome him back once they knew the power he held and the knowledge he now possessed. He would be revered and he would be honored. Joile had no doubt of this. Even as the dream ended and he opened his eyes.

Master Visrook was dead and decaying around him. Joile realized he took from Visrook all he had. Part of the knowledge was from him. But where did the rest come from. It only bothered him a minute before Joile realized he didn’t care. He had it now. There were no secrets before him. All had been revealed and Visrook was no longer important to him. A direct line of Ahryn to be sure, but he was weak and now his weakness would no longer spread.

Joile was tired beyond anything he had felt before and physically weak. So much so, he actually had to use the strands to move about and search for food. The smell of food became strong as he neared the stairs he knew would bring him to the main area of his home, as his vision had created. To his surprise the kitchen was occupied by several women and a boy slightly older than he.

“Oh good you have woken.” A round red faced woman smiled to him as she pulled a large mound of cooked meat from the fire. The smell of the flesh churned his stomach as he wretched dry before her. “Do not worry, it has been long, but your body will remember what to do with the food. You must eat my lord.”

He wanted to question her. Why she was here and who ordered the food to be made. The food smelled wonderful and rich, yet his body seemed to rebel against it. The other boy took a corner of his smock and tried to lead him away.

“Come my lord, we must clean you. Once you have been cleaned and have eaten, perhaps you would like to lay with my sister?”

His words were met with the heavy hand of the round woman. “Boy, when the Lord is ready, he will do what he pleases and will not take prodding from you. Tend to his needs, but do not force his needs or it will be you that suffers. If he takes a fancy to your sister, it will be short lived.”

“Yes ma’am.” The boy responded. “He only looked so pale I felt it would be good to bring his color back.”

“Please forgive him Lord Joile. He was not raised for the duty of royal tending. He only knows hunting.” There was genuine fear in her eyes. “The High Priest will be pleased to know you are awake. At your desire, a proper house will be set for you. I shall see to that.”

Finally his voice returned, horse and strange. “Why would I need a proper house? What is this?”

“My Lord you are the Lord and Master Joile of the house Hakan. As such you must have a proper house. The High Priest and the Royal houses have granted your family their rights and position.” She looked directly at him as he tried to ask her more. She hung on every sound trying to understand.

“How long?” He finally got out.

“Since we arrived my Lord?” She questioned. As he nodded a slow yes. “Three months past my Lord. We were told never to approach your tower until such time as you entered the kitchen. Once you did, we were commanded to set your house in order in accordance to your need.”

Joile’s head swimmed heavily. Saying not another word he allowed the other boy to lead him to a scalding bath in a warm room. As he lay wearily in the water, food was brought to him. Although he wretched at each bit, he could feel his body attack the nutrients he needed. Each bite he was stronger and could feel more of the fatigue that wracked his body.

Soon his body would recover completely. Already his house had been returned to him. It would not be much sooner before all was set right in his new house and honor would be returned to both lines of his family. He would be able to count on his ‘uncle’ the High Priest, of this he was certain. Joile smiled to himself, proud of all he had accomplished in such a small time. All due to his gift and his power. Born to him as natural as his royal family and thus could not be taken. All before his change to a man.

“I will be a powerful man.” Joile said quietly to himself as a smile spread from ear to ear. “Rhiya herself we proclaim my Godhood.”