Tolin had found himself surprised and concerned within moments of his meetings with the council. He had expected Berric of the Minocians and Mora of the Seomites to chastise him for not bringing Joile to them for approval. Even as High Priest, he was not free to act for all the families. After Tularos lead the Hakan against the other Rhiyan families, it was Berric who finally brought the families back together through the sheer force of his single legion.
Berric, the grandson of Minoc, was rumored to have the blood of Rhiya flowing through him. None would stand against him. Even when the Hakani thought he was defeated, kneeling before one of their captains a sword buried though his ribs, Berric pulled the sword from his flesh, roared and decapitated the captain standing before him. He was never subdued again. With his single legion and eight moons, the family wars were over. Berric never cared for Tolin, even as the High Priest, but he liked magic even less. So long as he was appraised, he stayed relatively quiet.
Mora was another story. As an Seomite, she was the enforcer against magic. Her great uncle Seom created the decree to outlaw magic. While he himself wielded it as a sword and shield, he believed it best left in the hands of those educated and in complete support of the Rhiyan families. The entire south became his battlefield. The battlefield she inherited and contained like a vice. Tolin had expected her to actually raise the most disdain for his actions as it superceded her authority. But Mora’s reports had been worrisome. So much so, Joile and the issues of his training would have to wait.
“We have a new enemy from our old enemy in the south. The ‘Lord of Windra’ relinquished his rule to his son. He and his ‘knights’ have begun taking and hiding the young gifted. For each summons in the past four moons has been returned with a dead messenger.” Mora started, standing rigidly in place delivering her news through pressed lips. Mora was a woman of battle, lithe on her feet and fluid in her motions. She never over exerted or over committed. To see her rattled was unnerving and wasn’t lost on Berric either.
“Why does this concern you so deeply. The Lord of Windra has always been a thorn to our families and nothing more. By giving rule to his son while he captures some gifted is little more than a nuisance. Why not simply take a legion and hunt him down. Should the new sickly Lord of Windra decide to test his youth, we could spare another legion to unseat him under the Ministry’s law of the arcane.” Berric stated plainly.
“I would tend to agree. We have the grounds. The order was sent for his son to appear before me and they have refused to do so. We are covered under the law. The Lord of Windra is only the Lord if we allow him such.” High Priest Tolin added. “What is it about this that troubles you? Is it because the boy has the will? This is something we can easily overcome.”
“The boy wasn’t sickly, merely overcome by his own power. I have reports he has returned to Windra. This return has bolstered many in the south and his numbers for soldiers have grown. Should his father continue to succeed we could see him add those with the will to his numbers. That would be a sizable force.” Mora added “We don’t want a war with the south, not when we aren’t sure what has happened with Hammerhold. Any war on two fronts is one that leaves us thin. Even with my legions we are too thin to keep Tabath supported.”
Tolin immediately understood what he had missed. Tabath was their supply hold. To lose it would be costly on any front. They could move to Stormfield or Skara, but could quickly be surrounded. Losing Hammerhold took away their strongest defense point.
“Blackroot!” Tolin stated suddenly. Seeing their surprised faces and their confusion, he explained further. “The old watch tower between Tabath and Stormfield. Joile reformed it all. The people have called it Blackroot. The changes he created, heavily rocky at the base with deep foliage surrounding it. Towers high to watch over. We haven’t lost anything yet, if we were to have to fight both.”
“I think we should commit to removing Windra, before they hit us.” Berric added. If we have a fall back point, we can start stockpiling from Tabath.”
“That would do well. I can have one of my legions begin to transport and then relocate at this Blackroot to prepare and guard it. I have some special units trained for scouting and other duties. But their methods are for private audience.” Mora looked to each of them.
“Sounds just right for hunting down the previous Lord of Windra.” Tolin stated with a smile. “You mentioned he has a night? What is this?”
“Local people have stated they are somehow holy. Blessed by Xhuri. They fight as a calvary in heavy armor. Sounds more to me they are powered with the will which suits my silence teams very well. However this still leaves us thin. With a legion on transport detail and another lessened in strength against Windra it leaves us with only two standing legions.”
“There isn’t another force near that large within Terra.” Barric answered with a frown. “Why are you so worried about this?”
“Hammerhold fell without a single sound. The strongest defensive position fell with no reports. No declaration of war, no troop movements. In fact from Hammerhold we are blind. No messenger has returned.” Mora responded.
“Send merchants. Be sure they are real ones. Tell them we will pay double for any goods they bring back. Triple for information that accompanies it. Merchants always want money. They are cheaper than spies anyway.” Tolin spoke as he thought. “I think the bigger question is where did this enemy come from? Or has Hammerhold simply befallen something else.”
“Boh Madrin.” Mora answered softly.
“I put no weight in the words of Amadagu. He has been the bane of the families since my grandfather.” The words spewed angrily from Berric. “Why should we even begin to think its him?”
“Dislike for him should not mean to ignore his writings. If there is an unknown force, then someone could have been chosen. If someone is chosen, we need to know immediately.” Tolin answered.
“You will need to go to Hammerhold yourself. Merchants are going to take too long. We have been too cavalier with our time. We need to not worry about the south until we know for certain if there is any truth to the Boh Madrin. Berric or I would be out of place. The High Priest however, would not be a surprise.” Mora exclaimed.
“Use your craft to kill those with the will.” Berric stated to their surprise. “If Windra wants them and we don’t. To eliminate them only helps us. I am going to take a legion north to Hammerhold, only a day behind you Tolin. No matter how we look at it, we are at war. Mora you will have to use the other legions to shore up Skara, Stormfield and make Blackroot your base.”
“Will I have any issues with Joile?” Mora questioned as she turned to leave.
“You are his aunt and he is ten.” Tolin answered directly. “I will return to Blackroot as soon as I am finished.”
“Iron and will.” Berric stated.
“Iron and will!” Mora and Tolin responded.
Tolin was never going to actually head to Hammerhold. As he made his way through the halls, he pulled the note he received and reviewed it again;
Hammerhold calls itself Tova. No need of supplies, envoys or visitors of any kind. No longer does it wish outside influence and has removed itself from the Ministry. Conflict non desired, simply to be left alone.”
While the others may wonder, it was clear, the ancient text’s of the Timewalker known as the Boh Madrin had begun its cycle. His ancestors wrote volumes attempting to disprove it, only to sanctify its meaning and truth. The greatest battle of history was beginning to set its roots. A champion for each side would be chosen. Rhiya would have to choose Joile and Tolin for his work with the boy would be rewarded and gifted. To find the other chosen would simply guaranty Rhiya’s victory.
Let the others deal with Hammerhold, training for Joile would have to be intensified and increased. The boy will have to know his place and position. His counterparts would have to be positioned as well.
Entering his private office, he quickly set upon writing a note. Finishing he walked to a hidden chamber in the room and lifted a flying creature from its cage. Its leathery wings stretched and fluttered as its eyes peered directly at the High Priest. The dragonette, pure energy in existence, took his message and darted out his window. Tolin knew Joile would sense the creature and the message. Mora would understand the power of the boy and he would be released upon Hammerhold once Berric failed. Berric and Mora would not die, but they would quickly understand. The Ministry and Rhiya needed only a single head to accomplish its tasks. Anything more would simply be demoted. Joile would find a release for his troubled history.
His thoughts were interrupted by Mora entering his office.
“You have simply gone too far. Your authority does not grant you such leniency.” Her voice was strong and refined. The anger of her eyes was stronger than her voice. She never moved from her place just within the door, her hands folded behind her back. “You Ahrynites always attempt to play your games and garner power that is not yours. You Tolin are the worst.”
“The Ministry has always determined and directed the magic of Terra.” Tolin fired back, “The boy is under my direct charge as the High Priest. I believe you should simply attend to our military matters. Say for instance the fall of Hammerhold.” He rose now and walked to the woman and placed his hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t respond, he walked behind her and spoke close to her ear. “Without a glimmer of anything, the great and powerful Hammerhold blinks into nothingness. Even your spies tell you nothing. Isn’t it odd that I knew and you didn’t?”
“Do not become cocky with your power “High Priest”, it too can be snuffed out. It continues by the grace of the families. It is not contained only in you. Does not your cousin share the same blood?” Mora offered him a smile that dared him to continue.
“His line has always been weaker.” Tolin felt himself walking into a trap, yet he could not stop himself. “The families would be ill served by a lesser blood. The power would be weaker.”
“Perhaps it would be best then to replace that line completely with one who’s power has yet to find a limit. Perhaps one that reformed a keep with but a thought?”
There it was, laid out before him. In a single comment Tolin knew he was in more jeopardy then he realized. Mora had sprung the trap, revealed her true purpose and it would be hard to slip from it. Joile had more power than Tolin could contain, he already knew that. But the boy was young and that would be his only advantage until Mora and the boy were brought together.
“Indeed, he has shown tremendous power. But would you really trust that to one so removed from all we do?” It was time for Tolin to return the favor of the trap. “Would you leave the families future to the hands of one that could perhaps challenge your control of the south? With but a thought no less.”
“In all of us, we share a common blood. Some it is the fire of will. Some the fire of battle. Both are need, iron and will. Already the iron is twice what the will is. This child would add to the will. Until that is done, we are vulnerable. If you play your games, you run the risk of the child being given to Berric for military training. I will support the boy, but you will support me. It should not have been hidden. His training should have been open to us. It was done in secret and without our approval. That is my issue. Berric is aging, our unity must be together on this. If it not, Berric will rule all the Ministry”
“Perhaps I should have consulted the council more directly, but time was simply against us. I recognize we are all the Ministry. I believe I acted in the best interest of the Ministry and the magic controls entrusted to me. It was ill of me to taunt you with our problems in Hammerhold. Let us talk with civility and forgive transgressions.” Perhaps she would see this as a retreat, but the truth of it would have to serve as merit. Berric was not one he could actually handle alone. Joile would do his part with Mora better if she were not already defensive.
Her smile let him know he had gotten exactly what he wanted from her. Acknowledging they were equals and made decisions together. It was best to keep her and her forces aligned, in principle, with his. She would likely outlive Berric and himself; if left to natural means.
“I believe it would be prudent to have regular reports on this child. There is little time before the council is to meet. Do you believe he will be ready?” Mora questioned.
“He will.” He learns so quickly, there is merely some precautions that have to be done. That training will begin in short order. I have already placed visual blocks for him. A visit from his Aunt would do him well.”
“You will make him aware of my intent to visit?” Mora questioned through pressed lips as if something had bit her.
“I have already done so.” Tolin smiled happily.
With a hushed and pressed lipped ‘mhm’, Mora left. Tolin, pleased with himself allowed a broad smile to stay pressed to his lips as he stared a while at the closed door.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Chapter Four
Emperor Vrok’s host proved to be a moving city. After three months of waiting another entire week was spent receiving and placing them. Everyone spoke softly of the new men and women that arrived. All were without the white bands bore upon the arms of the citizens of Tova. Yet as soon as they arrived it seemed almost half of them prepared to leave. Those children born of Tova disappeared into the mass of the host, only to be replaced by the children of the host.
Each child was first looked at by the tradesmen and women to be taken in as their own. Those trades that seemed lacking were even given the choice from those under the direct protection of the Emperor. Those not chosen were taken back to the host under the direction of Emperor Vrok himself to be educated by his scholars. Each person that arrived at the city took to their roles without question, even without the armbands. Once again Tova fell into a calm hum of activity and once again the city settled.
Building activity outside the city hit a fever as thousands more were added to the workforce. These were those citizens that had not obtained rank or position. Periodically they were gleaned from manual labor and formed into military divisions and sent off for training. Within a month the city supported an army larger than it had ever held. Food, supplies and items for trade never stopped pouring into the city nor out of the city.
For her part, Elidra was able to walk amongst the people with guards close by. They never interfered and they never talked. Any orders she observed them being given was through a series of hand signals. She was amazed to hear all the that arrived was from beyond Dragonspine Mountains, where only the Timeless One had visited and knew of. Very few ever dared venture a path through the mountains and even those that did returned lifeless or near to it. Yet these people that made Tova their own, they were from beyond the mountains. Their strong and masculine bodies, formed hard against the elements gave them a beauty Elidra could not quite put to words. Even in this Emperor Vrok stood above them. While they appeared almost brutish, their knowledge simply left her shocked to silence. Their ways of all aspects of life, so alien in appearance, flowed as natural as the river water itself. It made it easy for everyone follow and take in as their own, including her.
Stopping at the river where she witnessed the previous royal family drown in, she suddenly thought of them. Moreso, in her thoughts was the bitter cruelty in which Vrok himself had ended their lives. No allowance was given for gender or for age. Even those that served the royal family were given no options, no quarter. Yet she could see his reasoning. They had indeed failed the city and the citizens that trusted them for their care. Hammerhold was always independent. None had bothered the city since its creation. Ignoring the deities of the other cities, everyone simply trusted in the royal family and their dedication to the words of the Timewalker. Elidra could only wonder how he would react to see his statue destroyed in their square. What would the old citizens do? Each of his visits seemed to create stories and legends.
“You spoke the day of my arrival of bearing my children and being my wife.” Vroks strong steady voice interrupted her thoughts. Elidra turned to look at him and was immediately lost in his eyes and the power that swam through them. She could never look at him without be awashed by a desire.
“It is still my wants this day my Emperor.” She smiled sweetly and immediately took his hands into hers. She stopped as a coldness filled the barrier between them.
“Then to the Host you must go as your trials are to begin. I have lit a brazier in the center of the city. It will burn so long as you are alive. Beside it, I will sit this night and await your return. Should you have chosen poorly, it will be distinguished and I shall remain as I am now; without a child, without a wife and half of what I am with you.” While his eyes focused on her, his distance could not be ignored, nor could the seriousness of his words.
“I will not fail.” She stated plainly as she took her hands away.
“But will you remain who you are? The Shadows claim the lucky dead.” He stated as he turned and moved toward the center of the city.
Immediately her guards departed and followed the Emperor. She hadn’t noticed the huge brazier that was now the center of the city. It was beautifully crafted and she realized Vrok himself had been working on it. So many strange ceremonies became part of their lives. Non were explained, they were simply performed and others were taught what to do.
Approaching the royal keep, Elidra lost her breath as she viewed a line of people on either side, wrapped completely in white. Nothing of their bodies was uncovered. Even their eyes and mouths were covered in the loose cloth. The moment she stepped between them, their hands were upon her. Carefully, yet purposefully, all articles of clothing were removed from her. Panic wanted to set in, yet she immediately found no shame in her naked body. She stood royally before them, without interfering. She found their touch soft, yet without hesitation.
Once nothing remained upon her skin, Elidra was lifted into a seating position and carried, in slow ceremonial steps, into the keep. The warm air caressed her skin while smokey vapors filled the room. Beyond the haze she immediately saw Emperor Vrok’s generals and one other stood before her naked, yet armed.
As she was set down before them, the general she did not recognize and Kerve approached. With a nod, Kerve placed a soft cloth around her mouth while the other placed a similar cloth over her eyes. The crackles of a thunderbolt filled her mind, yet offered no pain, nor real sound.
‘You are calm when some would panic and flee. The spirits welcome you El’idra given in memory of the Mother Tree, whom they revere.’ The voice of Kerve filled her mind. Elidra could smell the oils of his body as he moved directly in front of her, then moved to her back. As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt his manhood press limp and soft against her buttocks. She stiffened in preparation.
‘I have no desire for that which belongs to my Emperor, mind your thoughts. I accept only what is offered by a woman.’ His weapon was forced into her hand. Quickly she was spun around as the weapon was driven into this body. She could feel the soft flesh give way to the pointed blade. His warm blood spilled upon her hand. Instinct made her want to remove the blindfold as she audibly gasped.
‘Speak your intent without words Empress, my life is in your hands. Should you fail, both our lives are forfeit.’ His minds voice still spoke into hers.
Before she could even think, another voice, a female one, commanded her as it filled her mind. ‘Use your blood power as you would in any craft. As it is you, it must obey you, let go this part of your being.’
Shani’s hands took the weapon from her hands and dropped it. Immediately one was placed on Elidra’s racing heart, another upon her temple. ‘Your mind and your heart must not always agree, but they must always be you.’
‘HELP ME!’ Elidra’s mind suddenly screamed out. She heard Shani groan and felt her hands tighten.
‘You wound me with your fear.’ Shani answered in a pant. Her heavy breathing was now strong and sweet in Elidra’s face. Before the weapon was placed in her hands, Elidra knew already what would happen. Within moments, using Shani’s weapon, the woman generals blood splashed against her hands, belly and legs.
‘Why do you wait? Yet another voice, calm yet strong, filled her mind. You have found the voice, now you must trust it.’ Old strong hands stroked her face. A kiss placed upon her forehead and her cheeks. Suddenly a piercing pain caused her entire body to shudder. The calm voice now roared. Not just in her mind, but physically her ears hurt from the power of the yell.
She felt his blood, yet Elidra knew not how she had failed. Something was wrong, all around her mental voices turned into mass confusion. Inside her chest, her lungs screamed as fire raged through them. Her mind threatened to collapse upon itself. Then she found the source. As raw as the earth itself, her birthright engulfed her. The screaming voices around her fell into order, as she could suddenly see the entire room around her as if her eyes had been open.
Laying at her feet, their lifeblood spilling around her feet lay Shani, Kerve and Dushot. Two were by her own hand, the third was by her assailent. Her mind’s eye trained immediately upon him as he moved lance the man she previously did not know. It was Emperor Vrok’s scholar Vektori who seemed to keep the general in a stalemate. Before she could understand what was being said by her own mind, her commands came.
“Allow him. Let his threat find truth that I may show his horror.” Elidra commanded Vektori. When he paused, her mind thundered into his. “In this I am the teacher. My people are born with its protection. Trust or be in the way.”
In an instant Vektori too laid at her feet with his blood heavily leaving his body. Elidra turned to face Ulnor. His mind screamed warnings and threats to her, yet already he knew he was powerless against her. Elidra losing all sense of herself lunged at the man, her body afire as the wraps from her eyes and mouth were shredded against her force. She could see his spirit attempting to flee his physical demise. Instantly she trapped his spirit and held in firm. Pulling it close she gave a simple command; ‘oblivion’. In that moment the spirit was gone, his physical body slumped to the ground.
Instinctively Elidra evaluated the worst wounded. Placing her hand over the spurting wound of Vektori, she audibly screamed a shrill cry. The pain seared the arm and hand that was placed over him. She could not draw it away and simply endured the pain as the wound healed and closed. A scar drew itself upon the arm as the pain subsided. Bracing herself, Elidra continued the practice until each general save for Ulnor were healed.
Sweat poured throughout her body. Breathing heavily she examined her own arms to find deep red scars aching upon them. Elidra could see them ever so slowly recede and heal. The covered ones that had delivered her, stood stoically. As she reached out, she found a barrier that barred her from their minds. Pushing harding, she found the resulting force almost causing her to blacken out. She realized they were her some of her guards, more of those that did not speak.
“My Empress.” General Dushot stood before her, completely dressed in a royal suit she could not help but be amazed with. While the familiar skins adoned his chest and shoulders, there were strange yet beautiful links set heavily upon them.
Distressed she looked around and found no evidence of the carnage she had previously been party to. Immediately behind Dushot were the other generals and Vektori. Leaping to her feet, her mind immediately shot out at Ulnor only to return with such a force she found herself sprawled on the floor dazed.
“Please find calm my Empress. The battles of the spirits is not always the same as the battles of reality.” He spoke calmly as he helped Elidra to her feet. “You have passed his Grace has invisionsed.”
“I am disoriented, tired and sore.” Elidra stated.
“It will pass my Empress.” Vektori addressed her. “As you know, I am Scholar Vektori.” He bowed grandly and kissed her hand. Immediately she withdrew from him and covered her arms.
“I saw each of you dieing. Some by my hand and others by his!” She exclaimed as she pointed to Ulnor.
“The battle of unlike spirits.” General Kerve responded. “The healer must have victims and the rebel must attack. It is simply the nature of spirits. But even in this we must accept and exist my Empress.”
“Each of you now belong to me as you belong to my Emperor? But I do not physically belong to any of you, as such none of you have touched me?” Elidra questioned as she looked to each of them. “My trial is at an end?”
As each nodded, they stayed bowed before her. Carefully she walked to each of them and removed a chain link. Once they stood, she held out her hand containing the links. “From this day forth, I shall wear your links within my hair so all may know the service I owe to each of you.”
Saying nothing more she turned and waited for each of them to affix the links to her hair. Once they finished, she strode from the keep into the massive crowd of citizens that roared in triumph as Elidra emerged. Some gasped in shock as her naked form was hit by sunlight. Yet she felt nothing but pride from all of them. As the still morning air blew through her hair, the links chimed. Through the cheering crowd, she walked toward the city center.
Vrok stood proud at the center, his lips wide in a smile that warmed her. If her nakedness surprised him, he gave no sign of it. As she approached, Emperor Vrok removed a ruby link from his own shoulder garb. Without turning her, he wrapped his arms around her and began affixing it to her hair. So close to her, she felt his manhood’s response respond to her form and closeness.
Lifting herself by her toes, she pressed her lips into his neck as he finished. Gently he puller her head back by her hair and hungrily his mouth found hers. After his long kiss, he took his cloak and drapped it upon her shoulders.
“I am not ashamed of my body.” She quietly stated.
“Nor do I wish you to find chill without comfort my Empress.” Vrok responded with a smile. “The path to our bed could be met with a breeze.”
“It could only be a warm wind against our fire.” She smiled back to him as they began to walk to the keep amongst the still cheering crowd. “I am ready to bear a child my Emperor.”
“Then let us spend our day laboring for such fruits.” A boyish smile spread warm across his face.
Retreating to the keep of Tova, the Emperor and Empress strode wrapped in each others arms.
Each child was first looked at by the tradesmen and women to be taken in as their own. Those trades that seemed lacking were even given the choice from those under the direct protection of the Emperor. Those not chosen were taken back to the host under the direction of Emperor Vrok himself to be educated by his scholars. Each person that arrived at the city took to their roles without question, even without the armbands. Once again Tova fell into a calm hum of activity and once again the city settled.
Building activity outside the city hit a fever as thousands more were added to the workforce. These were those citizens that had not obtained rank or position. Periodically they were gleaned from manual labor and formed into military divisions and sent off for training. Within a month the city supported an army larger than it had ever held. Food, supplies and items for trade never stopped pouring into the city nor out of the city.
For her part, Elidra was able to walk amongst the people with guards close by. They never interfered and they never talked. Any orders she observed them being given was through a series of hand signals. She was amazed to hear all the that arrived was from beyond Dragonspine Mountains, where only the Timeless One had visited and knew of. Very few ever dared venture a path through the mountains and even those that did returned lifeless or near to it. Yet these people that made Tova their own, they were from beyond the mountains. Their strong and masculine bodies, formed hard against the elements gave them a beauty Elidra could not quite put to words. Even in this Emperor Vrok stood above them. While they appeared almost brutish, their knowledge simply left her shocked to silence. Their ways of all aspects of life, so alien in appearance, flowed as natural as the river water itself. It made it easy for everyone follow and take in as their own, including her.
Stopping at the river where she witnessed the previous royal family drown in, she suddenly thought of them. Moreso, in her thoughts was the bitter cruelty in which Vrok himself had ended their lives. No allowance was given for gender or for age. Even those that served the royal family were given no options, no quarter. Yet she could see his reasoning. They had indeed failed the city and the citizens that trusted them for their care. Hammerhold was always independent. None had bothered the city since its creation. Ignoring the deities of the other cities, everyone simply trusted in the royal family and their dedication to the words of the Timewalker. Elidra could only wonder how he would react to see his statue destroyed in their square. What would the old citizens do? Each of his visits seemed to create stories and legends.
“You spoke the day of my arrival of bearing my children and being my wife.” Vroks strong steady voice interrupted her thoughts. Elidra turned to look at him and was immediately lost in his eyes and the power that swam through them. She could never look at him without be awashed by a desire.
“It is still my wants this day my Emperor.” She smiled sweetly and immediately took his hands into hers. She stopped as a coldness filled the barrier between them.
“Then to the Host you must go as your trials are to begin. I have lit a brazier in the center of the city. It will burn so long as you are alive. Beside it, I will sit this night and await your return. Should you have chosen poorly, it will be distinguished and I shall remain as I am now; without a child, without a wife and half of what I am with you.” While his eyes focused on her, his distance could not be ignored, nor could the seriousness of his words.
“I will not fail.” She stated plainly as she took her hands away.
“But will you remain who you are? The Shadows claim the lucky dead.” He stated as he turned and moved toward the center of the city.
Immediately her guards departed and followed the Emperor. She hadn’t noticed the huge brazier that was now the center of the city. It was beautifully crafted and she realized Vrok himself had been working on it. So many strange ceremonies became part of their lives. Non were explained, they were simply performed and others were taught what to do.
Approaching the royal keep, Elidra lost her breath as she viewed a line of people on either side, wrapped completely in white. Nothing of their bodies was uncovered. Even their eyes and mouths were covered in the loose cloth. The moment she stepped between them, their hands were upon her. Carefully, yet purposefully, all articles of clothing were removed from her. Panic wanted to set in, yet she immediately found no shame in her naked body. She stood royally before them, without interfering. She found their touch soft, yet without hesitation.
Once nothing remained upon her skin, Elidra was lifted into a seating position and carried, in slow ceremonial steps, into the keep. The warm air caressed her skin while smokey vapors filled the room. Beyond the haze she immediately saw Emperor Vrok’s generals and one other stood before her naked, yet armed.
As she was set down before them, the general she did not recognize and Kerve approached. With a nod, Kerve placed a soft cloth around her mouth while the other placed a similar cloth over her eyes. The crackles of a thunderbolt filled her mind, yet offered no pain, nor real sound.
‘You are calm when some would panic and flee. The spirits welcome you El’idra given in memory of the Mother Tree, whom they revere.’ The voice of Kerve filled her mind. Elidra could smell the oils of his body as he moved directly in front of her, then moved to her back. As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt his manhood press limp and soft against her buttocks. She stiffened in preparation.
‘I have no desire for that which belongs to my Emperor, mind your thoughts. I accept only what is offered by a woman.’ His weapon was forced into her hand. Quickly she was spun around as the weapon was driven into this body. She could feel the soft flesh give way to the pointed blade. His warm blood spilled upon her hand. Instinct made her want to remove the blindfold as she audibly gasped.
‘Speak your intent without words Empress, my life is in your hands. Should you fail, both our lives are forfeit.’ His minds voice still spoke into hers.
Before she could even think, another voice, a female one, commanded her as it filled her mind. ‘Use your blood power as you would in any craft. As it is you, it must obey you, let go this part of your being.’
Shani’s hands took the weapon from her hands and dropped it. Immediately one was placed on Elidra’s racing heart, another upon her temple. ‘Your mind and your heart must not always agree, but they must always be you.’
‘HELP ME!’ Elidra’s mind suddenly screamed out. She heard Shani groan and felt her hands tighten.
‘You wound me with your fear.’ Shani answered in a pant. Her heavy breathing was now strong and sweet in Elidra’s face. Before the weapon was placed in her hands, Elidra knew already what would happen. Within moments, using Shani’s weapon, the woman generals blood splashed against her hands, belly and legs.
‘Why do you wait? Yet another voice, calm yet strong, filled her mind. You have found the voice, now you must trust it.’ Old strong hands stroked her face. A kiss placed upon her forehead and her cheeks. Suddenly a piercing pain caused her entire body to shudder. The calm voice now roared. Not just in her mind, but physically her ears hurt from the power of the yell.
She felt his blood, yet Elidra knew not how she had failed. Something was wrong, all around her mental voices turned into mass confusion. Inside her chest, her lungs screamed as fire raged through them. Her mind threatened to collapse upon itself. Then she found the source. As raw as the earth itself, her birthright engulfed her. The screaming voices around her fell into order, as she could suddenly see the entire room around her as if her eyes had been open.
Laying at her feet, their lifeblood spilling around her feet lay Shani, Kerve and Dushot. Two were by her own hand, the third was by her assailent. Her mind’s eye trained immediately upon him as he moved lance the man she previously did not know. It was Emperor Vrok’s scholar Vektori who seemed to keep the general in a stalemate. Before she could understand what was being said by her own mind, her commands came.
“Allow him. Let his threat find truth that I may show his horror.” Elidra commanded Vektori. When he paused, her mind thundered into his. “In this I am the teacher. My people are born with its protection. Trust or be in the way.”
In an instant Vektori too laid at her feet with his blood heavily leaving his body. Elidra turned to face Ulnor. His mind screamed warnings and threats to her, yet already he knew he was powerless against her. Elidra losing all sense of herself lunged at the man, her body afire as the wraps from her eyes and mouth were shredded against her force. She could see his spirit attempting to flee his physical demise. Instantly she trapped his spirit and held in firm. Pulling it close she gave a simple command; ‘oblivion’. In that moment the spirit was gone, his physical body slumped to the ground.
Instinctively Elidra evaluated the worst wounded. Placing her hand over the spurting wound of Vektori, she audibly screamed a shrill cry. The pain seared the arm and hand that was placed over him. She could not draw it away and simply endured the pain as the wound healed and closed. A scar drew itself upon the arm as the pain subsided. Bracing herself, Elidra continued the practice until each general save for Ulnor were healed.
Sweat poured throughout her body. Breathing heavily she examined her own arms to find deep red scars aching upon them. Elidra could see them ever so slowly recede and heal. The covered ones that had delivered her, stood stoically. As she reached out, she found a barrier that barred her from their minds. Pushing harding, she found the resulting force almost causing her to blacken out. She realized they were her some of her guards, more of those that did not speak.
“My Empress.” General Dushot stood before her, completely dressed in a royal suit she could not help but be amazed with. While the familiar skins adoned his chest and shoulders, there were strange yet beautiful links set heavily upon them.
Distressed she looked around and found no evidence of the carnage she had previously been party to. Immediately behind Dushot were the other generals and Vektori. Leaping to her feet, her mind immediately shot out at Ulnor only to return with such a force she found herself sprawled on the floor dazed.
“Please find calm my Empress. The battles of the spirits is not always the same as the battles of reality.” He spoke calmly as he helped Elidra to her feet. “You have passed his Grace has invisionsed.”
“I am disoriented, tired and sore.” Elidra stated.
“It will pass my Empress.” Vektori addressed her. “As you know, I am Scholar Vektori.” He bowed grandly and kissed her hand. Immediately she withdrew from him and covered her arms.
“I saw each of you dieing. Some by my hand and others by his!” She exclaimed as she pointed to Ulnor.
“The battle of unlike spirits.” General Kerve responded. “The healer must have victims and the rebel must attack. It is simply the nature of spirits. But even in this we must accept and exist my Empress.”
“Each of you now belong to me as you belong to my Emperor? But I do not physically belong to any of you, as such none of you have touched me?” Elidra questioned as she looked to each of them. “My trial is at an end?”
As each nodded, they stayed bowed before her. Carefully she walked to each of them and removed a chain link. Once they stood, she held out her hand containing the links. “From this day forth, I shall wear your links within my hair so all may know the service I owe to each of you.”
Saying nothing more she turned and waited for each of them to affix the links to her hair. Once they finished, she strode from the keep into the massive crowd of citizens that roared in triumph as Elidra emerged. Some gasped in shock as her naked form was hit by sunlight. Yet she felt nothing but pride from all of them. As the still morning air blew through her hair, the links chimed. Through the cheering crowd, she walked toward the city center.
Vrok stood proud at the center, his lips wide in a smile that warmed her. If her nakedness surprised him, he gave no sign of it. As she approached, Emperor Vrok removed a ruby link from his own shoulder garb. Without turning her, he wrapped his arms around her and began affixing it to her hair. So close to her, she felt his manhood’s response respond to her form and closeness.
Lifting herself by her toes, she pressed her lips into his neck as he finished. Gently he puller her head back by her hair and hungrily his mouth found hers. After his long kiss, he took his cloak and drapped it upon her shoulders.
“I am not ashamed of my body.” She quietly stated.
“Nor do I wish you to find chill without comfort my Empress.” Vrok responded with a smile. “The path to our bed could be met with a breeze.”
“It could only be a warm wind against our fire.” She smiled back to him as they began to walk to the keep amongst the still cheering crowd. “I am ready to bear a child my Emperor.”
“Then let us spend our day laboring for such fruits.” A boyish smile spread warm across his face.
Retreating to the keep of Tova, the Emperor and Empress strode wrapped in each others arms.
Monday, April 26, 2010
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.”
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.”
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A quick note
I wish to share this with whomever reads. I stand by a few ideals and such. One of which is the following:
If you have the balls to ask, I have the balls to answer. Just make sure you want to know the answer :)
But seriously, any questions or whatever, feel free. I know I don't dialogue well at all and my spelling and such is simply atrocious. But I guess that is why I publish to a blog at this point and am not a commercial author :)
If you have the balls to ask, I have the balls to answer. Just make sure you want to know the answer :)
But seriously, any questions or whatever, feel free. I know I don't dialogue well at all and my spelling and such is simply atrocious. But I guess that is why I publish to a blog at this point and am not a commercial author :)
Chapter One
Tumultuous was what his mother had called the high court. She quickly added several other word, not so kind in nature, whenever the topic came about. Now that he stood in the same halls decades since her visit, he could only agree. He would add pompous, cruel and stuffy as well, however such words would have to be kept to themselves.
His trip had taken the better part of a month, yet a summons could not be ignored. It was never a matter of time, simply a matter of drop everything and come. When the Ministry’s High Priest issues a summons, it is against the law for anyone to impede your journey. It struck him odd that even thieves honored this, when no other law even gave them pause. How his mother cried when she saw it, even before it was opened. His father dropped his head as it was opened. They had all known it was only a matter of time before such a summons would arrive.
When Joile had passed his eighth year, he set fire to a tree by merely touching it. No one else was around to see it as it happened, but everyone saw the charred tree. Mother had made father cut it down, but the word was already out. Family friends, neighbors and even members of their family quickly distanced themselves. What few friends he had no longer met him in the orchards to play and tease the workers. When they walked through the market, a clear path was always before him, causing Joile only to wish he could be invisible. Each time his magic manifested itself beyond control, he would curl up and cry until he was asleep.
After the first few months of it, Joile began to grow tired of himself and his retreating. He spent hours at the lakes edge trying to focus and understand what was happening. It was then, at the peace of sunset, he first raised his head to the sky and began to sing. Joile’s voice boomed and began to intertwine with the very air, then the water and finally everything around him.
Clarity filled his mind and for several moments he felt peace. It was the faint heartbeat that drew his attention across the water where a fox, hidden by the overgrowth dipped its snout into the water and began to drink Joile felt the fox’s refreshment and alertness as the water spilled over its tongue into its throat. The fox had been leary of several other creatures it sniffed in the air. In shock, Joile stopped his song with his eyes wide and surprised. The air around him condensed and thunderstruck him to the ground. Joile had not been sure just how long he was left along the lake, but when he awakened the moon was high above him.
In panic he ran all the way home, humming to himself. As he approached the house, he could feel his mother and his father. They were both sad, but yet releaved, he could sense it about them. Joile did not announce his arrival, but rather stayed outside their home and hummed louder as he focused on their thoughts. They had thought he was dead or taken. Even though this saddened them terribly, they were relieved. Relieved his curse would no longer alter their lives. Tears poured down his face as the impact of the thoughts began to wear him down. Everything immediately felt heavy and foreign. Joile wanted to run, to be free of all of what he felt. But deeper there was a want to know more, to see more and explore what he could do. He realized now it was his humming or singing that opened up and gave life to his magic. Joile knew he was humming loud enough they should have heard him, but yet they never responded.
The orchard. He could find peace there as the lake didn’t offer him enough cover for the night. Entering the grove, he plucked a pear from the first tree, which was his favorite. Biting in deeply, he felt some of the juice dribble onto his chin. The fruit had the taste of sweetness that only caused his stomach to gumble lightly. Walking further in, the emotions of his parents began to swim through his mind. While the hurt was still there, anger began to well. He did not ask for this. He did not do it to anyone. Joile was content with his life to be an orchard keeper like his father and family had always been. He loved the open spaces that felt so inviting to him over the bustling of city. Each time they visited the market in Tabath he only wanted to return to the grove and be among the trees. So why would his parents feel this way about him. Was it not their fault, did he not somehow get this from them? How dare they wish for his death!
His anger continued to swell and began to cloud his vision. Standing in the center of the grove, his hands outstretched and clenched, eyes wide and blind in fury, Joile screamed. His humming stopped abruptly. The compression in the air lifted him from the ground only a inch or so, but he felt the world drop beneath him. He saw once again, but it was from above his own body, looking down onto himself and the orchard. The pain and anger rushed through him as he suddenly screamed into the night. As he did, he felt his feet back on the ground and realized the earth was trembling. In horror he looked around him and saw the blackness of the grass and the trees. The entire orchard was charred and destroyed. Joile didn’t wan’t to believe it was him, but he knew it was.
Losing one of the orchards caused his father to beat him terribly the next day. Joile had said nothing when he arrived home, nothing when the orchard was discovered and nothing while he was being beaten. Within a week the summons had arrived, and still Joile said nothing as his father handed it to him in silence and his mother began to cry.
Let them morn and let them suffer, Joile thought as he gathered his things. They had wanted to be rid of him, he had felt it, and now they would be. He would past Tabath to Val Dorin, to the High Court and answer the summons of the High Priest. Everyone knew it was a death sentence; and he now welcomed it. No one ever returned from a summons and there was little doubt he would either. There was no point in running, the Ministry always found those that did and hung them or gutted them in public. No it was an old law to not disobey the Ministry under such penalties. But again he welcomed death to end the burning pit in his heart he felt since that moment outside his home. Joile knew it was that pit that destroyed the orchard. It was the reasons and many more he couldn’t voice that he didn’t hum or sing on his journey. It was the reason he would not run.
When he arrived, he simply showed his summons and was escorted quietly and quickly to an inn. But unlike regular inn’s like the ones they stayed in at Tabath, this was made or solid stone buffed smooth. The rooms were larger, yet devoid of comfort completely. Even the bed was of solid stone. Two meals were delivered, without conversation or eye contact. There was no light for him as evening approached. It was then he realized, he was in a cell. It was the way all the stones were placed together. He could hear no sounds beyond the room and highly doubted they could hear him.
They came for him the next day, three guards he still spoke nothing. Joile found he really had nothing to say anyway and was still appreciative of the silence. Across the walkway the massive front doors of the high court was decorated in intricate symbols and styles. He could feel something radiating from it and it almost felt familiar. As the doors opened, the wash of sound caused him to stagger backwards. The heavy hands of the guards gripped him tightly and continued their escort. The disposed of him in a stone chair, like the bed at the inn, and simply told him to remain until called. Joile didn’t care. After taking a few moments looking around him, he simply dropped his head and tried to listen to all that was happening. His mother had been correct. The hundreds of sounds meshing in chaos were best described in that simple word; tumultuous.
“Joile summoned from the village of Noj outside Tabath!” A woman’s voice called out. It pierced through the clammering and discussions like an arrow. Immediately his eyes found hers and he stood.
As Joile walked to her, the crowd did not move and did not even seem to notice him. He was suddenly comfortable and he was bumped to and fro amongst the crowd, ignorant of everything else around him, except the woman who called his name. Once he had cleared the main crowd, he saw the long table that held the Ministry Priests. Now Joile felt the discomfort of scrutiny as each of their eyes locked to his. Each step became heavier and almost a struggle. He wanted to release his voice as the fear inside him continued to well. A part of him screamed, another cried and then another gave way to anger. It was the anger that pushed Joile through and gave strength to his steps. It was the anger that made him focus in on the eyes of the High Priest.
“Joile you are charged with the use of magic not authorized by the Ministry. Of this action you are guilty.” The woman announced partially facing Joile and the panel of priests. “Do you deny any of this?”
Joile simply shook his head no, yet kept his eyes on the High Priest who returned the stare.
“We know you have a voice boy, is there a reason you do not use it?” The High Priest questioned. “You will find we are quite safe from your voice.” The man almost had a chuckle as he spoke.
Joile tried to answer only to find his voice didn’t come. Almost in a panic, he cleared his throat. Hearing only a squeak of his voice, he addressed the High Priest. “I do not deny what I have done. I am prepared to accept death for it.” He stated quickly.
“Death is something that comes to all of us, there is no need to rush it.” The High Priest began, “Today you will learn the lesson you should have already been taught. Not everything you hear is fact, listen more to what they don’t say. If death finds you, it will not be upon our shoulders of responsibility. As you have proven, you cannot be left to your own. You must be trained. Training however requires commitment. That is the question that is put to you. Are you willing to be tested and trained?”
“Will you let me be stronger?” Joile questioned.
“You will be as strong as you allow yourself to be and how much power your magic has.” The reply was curt.
“But magic isn’t allowed?” Joile answered, but he already knew what he wanted. To learn more of his magic and become more powerful so they would never be set aside again. He could be important and he would never have to be alone and ashamed.
“Yes, magic that has not been trained or used in the service of the Ministry is indeed illegal. But what you are allowed to do in our halls and in our service is a completely different matter.” The High Priest explained. “You will be taken into our Ministry. But you must abide by our laws. Can you this Joile? Can you make this commitment?”
“I can!” Joile smiled broadly.
“You are dismissed.” The High Priest announced and then rose to leave. With a simple guesture, he commanded the others to follow. Many would not notice it, but Joile did and he knew it was about him. He saw it in the eyes of the High Priest as well as he saw a bit of shock in the eyes of the others. This was were he belonged, Joile felt with all of him as he realized his anger was gone.
***
“Did you all not see it? That child is a Kunelli. Could you not see the fire in his eyes!” The High Priest exclaimed. “To see one after all this time.”
“Lord Seom, please forgive me, but can you be so sure?” One of the other priests asked him almost timidly.
“This is why I am the High Priest. I am of the direct blood. I know my kin of every sect. The brown hair, the silvery blue eyes, the attractive nose and slender features all of them scream his heritage. And he was born of magic. Not just any magic, but the art of song, the art of Jolo! When was the last one recorded? Two hundred years ago? Wisked away by the Timewalker for training.”
“My lord forgive me, but he should be destroyed.” Another priest added. This child Joile was not born within one of the great houses, but rather an outside of a house long gone from our ways. The Goddess would not approve.”
“To the shadows with you! Rhiya herself is who granted such magic to my families, what would you know of it beyond your books? This is a gift to us. The ability to restore a great line of our Goddesses children. By training him, we could re-establish the Kunelli and broaden Rhiya’s great realm.” High Priest Seom began to look off.
“As only you would now Lord Seom.” The priest retreated his previous statement. “Shall I send summons of the families?”
“Tread not on a thin ice priest. You attempt to remind me of duties you are only partially aware of and shall never obtain.” Seom looked to the priest with a calm yet sinister gaze that could melt any man. “Shall I ever find you attempt to usurp my authority, I will destroy you and all your kin myself. You will watch me destroy them and then beg me to destroy you.”
The priest grimaced and then stood tall. “You would doubt my loyalty?”
Fire seemed to flex in the eyes of Seom as the air in the room compressed. As a lightning strike he reached out and grabbed the priest by the neck, Seom’s hand glowing an eerie blue. The smell of burning flesh began to ooze throughout the room. The priest struggled in his grasp, his eyes bugging forward in obvious pain. While his mouth opened, nothing escaped but a gurgle.
“I don’t count on and thus don’t worry about your loyalty. It is your ambition I give you a final warning on. Act such again and it is not only your neck you shall feel anguish. I will make good my promise and your sister will be the first to die in agony.” He released the priest with horrid disregard, watching as the priest fell to the floor in a heap, weaping lightly. None of the other priests moved to help him, all keeping their eyes on the High Priest.
“Have my page prepare my things, I will be leaving with this child the morrows first light. Whatever he has, destroy it. See to it he is bathed and then dress him in Kunelli colors yet say nothing to him.” Seom ordered.
“My lord, do you wish him to remain in the wizards cell?” Another priest inquired.
High Priest Seom looked thoughtful. “No. Have him stay in one of my rooms for the evening. Assign him a page.”
“Shall I have him announced?” The priest questioned again.
“By the Goddess no!” Seom glared to the man. “He is to be known as my guest only. He does not have free reign to wonder. Simply let him be comfortable. We do not wish for him to let lose his power, so see to his comfort.”
“Yes m’lord.” The priest bowed his head. “What of the others?”
“We have no use of them, the broke the law. Kill them all and post they have been sent for training. We cannot have magic running wild. The Goddess does not wish it so. You are all dismissed, leave me.”
As they scurried out of the room, Seom smiled from ear to ear. The other families would see the value of this child. A restoration of the Kunelli would bolster their family and cause some of the lesser houses to end petty squabbles and rejoin the brood. For this Rhiya would reward him and he would be as great as the first Seom.
***
“I am going with the High Priest?” Joile questioned excitedly.
“Yes child. This is your page Grevin. He will get you what you require. For now, you must come with me to the High Priests house bath and wear the proper clothing. Nothing you have will you need to bring, just yourself. You are not a farmers child. You are a student of the High Priest and to be an anointed student of Rhiya.”
“The Goddess is real?” His eyes widened with wonderment. “I thought it was just a story?”
“Goddess Rhiya is the mother of all of us. If she did not exist neither would we. But unlike her brother Xhuri, she is an active part of our lives and we commune with her daily.” Come now, you must be prepared for your evening meal and there is much about you to wash.”
“I can wash myself!” Joile cried out.
“As your current smell would sugguest.” The priest laughed. “You must keep yourself clean and allow those that will never know the grace of your power to at least touch you. That is as close as they will ever be. No more questions child, do as I say, we do not have much time. After your meal, you must immediately retire for you leave on tomorrows first light.”
“My schooling will begin that quickly?” The boy questioned.
“Joile, your training has already begun.” The priest stated with a smile and hurried the boy out of the door. “Not in hundreds of years have we had a student like you. May the Goddess grant you peace.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Joile questioned.
“Because all those with power, very few are chosen. Those that aren’t chosen die as they are consumed by their magic.”
“Death will find no fear in me.”
“You have yet to see the power of magic, tho it has been all around you. His grace the High Priest contained your gift the entire time you were in that building, yet you did not know. There were no people beyond we priests and you in that room. And yet your saw dozens upon dozens of people and the noise must have been deafening.”
The priest laughed again as Joile turned to look at him, his eyes huge in their sockets. “Yes Joile that was magic. You were being tested the moment you entered the room. Already the High Priest knows what you want, what you love and what you fear. If could not, he could not be the High Priest Seom.”
Joile said nothing. He was frightened now. The High Priest would know he wanted to strike out against him. That he thought of destroying the room as he did the orchard. But still he was going with the High Priest for training, that had to be something. Joile once again desided to say nothing. Not even when it was time to leave with the High Priest, he would remain silent until such time as he was at his school. Quickly Joile was learning your thoughts could betray you and it was not something he was happy about.
His trip had taken the better part of a month, yet a summons could not be ignored. It was never a matter of time, simply a matter of drop everything and come. When the Ministry’s High Priest issues a summons, it is against the law for anyone to impede your journey. It struck him odd that even thieves honored this, when no other law even gave them pause. How his mother cried when she saw it, even before it was opened. His father dropped his head as it was opened. They had all known it was only a matter of time before such a summons would arrive.
When Joile had passed his eighth year, he set fire to a tree by merely touching it. No one else was around to see it as it happened, but everyone saw the charred tree. Mother had made father cut it down, but the word was already out. Family friends, neighbors and even members of their family quickly distanced themselves. What few friends he had no longer met him in the orchards to play and tease the workers. When they walked through the market, a clear path was always before him, causing Joile only to wish he could be invisible. Each time his magic manifested itself beyond control, he would curl up and cry until he was asleep.
After the first few months of it, Joile began to grow tired of himself and his retreating. He spent hours at the lakes edge trying to focus and understand what was happening. It was then, at the peace of sunset, he first raised his head to the sky and began to sing. Joile’s voice boomed and began to intertwine with the very air, then the water and finally everything around him.
Clarity filled his mind and for several moments he felt peace. It was the faint heartbeat that drew his attention across the water where a fox, hidden by the overgrowth dipped its snout into the water and began to drink Joile felt the fox’s refreshment and alertness as the water spilled over its tongue into its throat. The fox had been leary of several other creatures it sniffed in the air. In shock, Joile stopped his song with his eyes wide and surprised. The air around him condensed and thunderstruck him to the ground. Joile had not been sure just how long he was left along the lake, but when he awakened the moon was high above him.
In panic he ran all the way home, humming to himself. As he approached the house, he could feel his mother and his father. They were both sad, but yet releaved, he could sense it about them. Joile did not announce his arrival, but rather stayed outside their home and hummed louder as he focused on their thoughts. They had thought he was dead or taken. Even though this saddened them terribly, they were relieved. Relieved his curse would no longer alter their lives. Tears poured down his face as the impact of the thoughts began to wear him down. Everything immediately felt heavy and foreign. Joile wanted to run, to be free of all of what he felt. But deeper there was a want to know more, to see more and explore what he could do. He realized now it was his humming or singing that opened up and gave life to his magic. Joile knew he was humming loud enough they should have heard him, but yet they never responded.
The orchard. He could find peace there as the lake didn’t offer him enough cover for the night. Entering the grove, he plucked a pear from the first tree, which was his favorite. Biting in deeply, he felt some of the juice dribble onto his chin. The fruit had the taste of sweetness that only caused his stomach to gumble lightly. Walking further in, the emotions of his parents began to swim through his mind. While the hurt was still there, anger began to well. He did not ask for this. He did not do it to anyone. Joile was content with his life to be an orchard keeper like his father and family had always been. He loved the open spaces that felt so inviting to him over the bustling of city. Each time they visited the market in Tabath he only wanted to return to the grove and be among the trees. So why would his parents feel this way about him. Was it not their fault, did he not somehow get this from them? How dare they wish for his death!
His anger continued to swell and began to cloud his vision. Standing in the center of the grove, his hands outstretched and clenched, eyes wide and blind in fury, Joile screamed. His humming stopped abruptly. The compression in the air lifted him from the ground only a inch or so, but he felt the world drop beneath him. He saw once again, but it was from above his own body, looking down onto himself and the orchard. The pain and anger rushed through him as he suddenly screamed into the night. As he did, he felt his feet back on the ground and realized the earth was trembling. In horror he looked around him and saw the blackness of the grass and the trees. The entire orchard was charred and destroyed. Joile didn’t wan’t to believe it was him, but he knew it was.
Losing one of the orchards caused his father to beat him terribly the next day. Joile had said nothing when he arrived home, nothing when the orchard was discovered and nothing while he was being beaten. Within a week the summons had arrived, and still Joile said nothing as his father handed it to him in silence and his mother began to cry.
Let them morn and let them suffer, Joile thought as he gathered his things. They had wanted to be rid of him, he had felt it, and now they would be. He would past Tabath to Val Dorin, to the High Court and answer the summons of the High Priest. Everyone knew it was a death sentence; and he now welcomed it. No one ever returned from a summons and there was little doubt he would either. There was no point in running, the Ministry always found those that did and hung them or gutted them in public. No it was an old law to not disobey the Ministry under such penalties. But again he welcomed death to end the burning pit in his heart he felt since that moment outside his home. Joile knew it was that pit that destroyed the orchard. It was the reasons and many more he couldn’t voice that he didn’t hum or sing on his journey. It was the reason he would not run.
When he arrived, he simply showed his summons and was escorted quietly and quickly to an inn. But unlike regular inn’s like the ones they stayed in at Tabath, this was made or solid stone buffed smooth. The rooms were larger, yet devoid of comfort completely. Even the bed was of solid stone. Two meals were delivered, without conversation or eye contact. There was no light for him as evening approached. It was then he realized, he was in a cell. It was the way all the stones were placed together. He could hear no sounds beyond the room and highly doubted they could hear him.
They came for him the next day, three guards he still spoke nothing. Joile found he really had nothing to say anyway and was still appreciative of the silence. Across the walkway the massive front doors of the high court was decorated in intricate symbols and styles. He could feel something radiating from it and it almost felt familiar. As the doors opened, the wash of sound caused him to stagger backwards. The heavy hands of the guards gripped him tightly and continued their escort. The disposed of him in a stone chair, like the bed at the inn, and simply told him to remain until called. Joile didn’t care. After taking a few moments looking around him, he simply dropped his head and tried to listen to all that was happening. His mother had been correct. The hundreds of sounds meshing in chaos were best described in that simple word; tumultuous.
“Joile summoned from the village of Noj outside Tabath!” A woman’s voice called out. It pierced through the clammering and discussions like an arrow. Immediately his eyes found hers and he stood.
As Joile walked to her, the crowd did not move and did not even seem to notice him. He was suddenly comfortable and he was bumped to and fro amongst the crowd, ignorant of everything else around him, except the woman who called his name. Once he had cleared the main crowd, he saw the long table that held the Ministry Priests. Now Joile felt the discomfort of scrutiny as each of their eyes locked to his. Each step became heavier and almost a struggle. He wanted to release his voice as the fear inside him continued to well. A part of him screamed, another cried and then another gave way to anger. It was the anger that pushed Joile through and gave strength to his steps. It was the anger that made him focus in on the eyes of the High Priest.
“Joile you are charged with the use of magic not authorized by the Ministry. Of this action you are guilty.” The woman announced partially facing Joile and the panel of priests. “Do you deny any of this?”
Joile simply shook his head no, yet kept his eyes on the High Priest who returned the stare.
“We know you have a voice boy, is there a reason you do not use it?” The High Priest questioned. “You will find we are quite safe from your voice.” The man almost had a chuckle as he spoke.
Joile tried to answer only to find his voice didn’t come. Almost in a panic, he cleared his throat. Hearing only a squeak of his voice, he addressed the High Priest. “I do not deny what I have done. I am prepared to accept death for it.” He stated quickly.
“Death is something that comes to all of us, there is no need to rush it.” The High Priest began, “Today you will learn the lesson you should have already been taught. Not everything you hear is fact, listen more to what they don’t say. If death finds you, it will not be upon our shoulders of responsibility. As you have proven, you cannot be left to your own. You must be trained. Training however requires commitment. That is the question that is put to you. Are you willing to be tested and trained?”
“Will you let me be stronger?” Joile questioned.
“You will be as strong as you allow yourself to be and how much power your magic has.” The reply was curt.
“But magic isn’t allowed?” Joile answered, but he already knew what he wanted. To learn more of his magic and become more powerful so they would never be set aside again. He could be important and he would never have to be alone and ashamed.
“Yes, magic that has not been trained or used in the service of the Ministry is indeed illegal. But what you are allowed to do in our halls and in our service is a completely different matter.” The High Priest explained. “You will be taken into our Ministry. But you must abide by our laws. Can you this Joile? Can you make this commitment?”
“I can!” Joile smiled broadly.
“You are dismissed.” The High Priest announced and then rose to leave. With a simple guesture, he commanded the others to follow. Many would not notice it, but Joile did and he knew it was about him. He saw it in the eyes of the High Priest as well as he saw a bit of shock in the eyes of the others. This was were he belonged, Joile felt with all of him as he realized his anger was gone.
***
“Did you all not see it? That child is a Kunelli. Could you not see the fire in his eyes!” The High Priest exclaimed. “To see one after all this time.”
“Lord Seom, please forgive me, but can you be so sure?” One of the other priests asked him almost timidly.
“This is why I am the High Priest. I am of the direct blood. I know my kin of every sect. The brown hair, the silvery blue eyes, the attractive nose and slender features all of them scream his heritage. And he was born of magic. Not just any magic, but the art of song, the art of Jolo! When was the last one recorded? Two hundred years ago? Wisked away by the Timewalker for training.”
“My lord forgive me, but he should be destroyed.” Another priest added. This child Joile was not born within one of the great houses, but rather an outside of a house long gone from our ways. The Goddess would not approve.”
“To the shadows with you! Rhiya herself is who granted such magic to my families, what would you know of it beyond your books? This is a gift to us. The ability to restore a great line of our Goddesses children. By training him, we could re-establish the Kunelli and broaden Rhiya’s great realm.” High Priest Seom began to look off.
“As only you would now Lord Seom.” The priest retreated his previous statement. “Shall I send summons of the families?”
“Tread not on a thin ice priest. You attempt to remind me of duties you are only partially aware of and shall never obtain.” Seom looked to the priest with a calm yet sinister gaze that could melt any man. “Shall I ever find you attempt to usurp my authority, I will destroy you and all your kin myself. You will watch me destroy them and then beg me to destroy you.”
The priest grimaced and then stood tall. “You would doubt my loyalty?”
Fire seemed to flex in the eyes of Seom as the air in the room compressed. As a lightning strike he reached out and grabbed the priest by the neck, Seom’s hand glowing an eerie blue. The smell of burning flesh began to ooze throughout the room. The priest struggled in his grasp, his eyes bugging forward in obvious pain. While his mouth opened, nothing escaped but a gurgle.
“I don’t count on and thus don’t worry about your loyalty. It is your ambition I give you a final warning on. Act such again and it is not only your neck you shall feel anguish. I will make good my promise and your sister will be the first to die in agony.” He released the priest with horrid disregard, watching as the priest fell to the floor in a heap, weaping lightly. None of the other priests moved to help him, all keeping their eyes on the High Priest.
“Have my page prepare my things, I will be leaving with this child the morrows first light. Whatever he has, destroy it. See to it he is bathed and then dress him in Kunelli colors yet say nothing to him.” Seom ordered.
“My lord, do you wish him to remain in the wizards cell?” Another priest inquired.
High Priest Seom looked thoughtful. “No. Have him stay in one of my rooms for the evening. Assign him a page.”
“Shall I have him announced?” The priest questioned again.
“By the Goddess no!” Seom glared to the man. “He is to be known as my guest only. He does not have free reign to wonder. Simply let him be comfortable. We do not wish for him to let lose his power, so see to his comfort.”
“Yes m’lord.” The priest bowed his head. “What of the others?”
“We have no use of them, the broke the law. Kill them all and post they have been sent for training. We cannot have magic running wild. The Goddess does not wish it so. You are all dismissed, leave me.”
As they scurried out of the room, Seom smiled from ear to ear. The other families would see the value of this child. A restoration of the Kunelli would bolster their family and cause some of the lesser houses to end petty squabbles and rejoin the brood. For this Rhiya would reward him and he would be as great as the first Seom.
***
“I am going with the High Priest?” Joile questioned excitedly.
“Yes child. This is your page Grevin. He will get you what you require. For now, you must come with me to the High Priests house bath and wear the proper clothing. Nothing you have will you need to bring, just yourself. You are not a farmers child. You are a student of the High Priest and to be an anointed student of Rhiya.”
“The Goddess is real?” His eyes widened with wonderment. “I thought it was just a story?”
“Goddess Rhiya is the mother of all of us. If she did not exist neither would we. But unlike her brother Xhuri, she is an active part of our lives and we commune with her daily.” Come now, you must be prepared for your evening meal and there is much about you to wash.”
“I can wash myself!” Joile cried out.
“As your current smell would sugguest.” The priest laughed. “You must keep yourself clean and allow those that will never know the grace of your power to at least touch you. That is as close as they will ever be. No more questions child, do as I say, we do not have much time. After your meal, you must immediately retire for you leave on tomorrows first light.”
“My schooling will begin that quickly?” The boy questioned.
“Joile, your training has already begun.” The priest stated with a smile and hurried the boy out of the door. “Not in hundreds of years have we had a student like you. May the Goddess grant you peace.”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Joile questioned.
“Because all those with power, very few are chosen. Those that aren’t chosen die as they are consumed by their magic.”
“Death will find no fear in me.”
“You have yet to see the power of magic, tho it has been all around you. His grace the High Priest contained your gift the entire time you were in that building, yet you did not know. There were no people beyond we priests and you in that room. And yet your saw dozens upon dozens of people and the noise must have been deafening.”
The priest laughed again as Joile turned to look at him, his eyes huge in their sockets. “Yes Joile that was magic. You were being tested the moment you entered the room. Already the High Priest knows what you want, what you love and what you fear. If could not, he could not be the High Priest Seom.”
Joile said nothing. He was frightened now. The High Priest would know he wanted to strike out against him. That he thought of destroying the room as he did the orchard. But still he was going with the High Priest for training, that had to be something. Joile once again desided to say nothing. Not even when it was time to leave with the High Priest, he would remain silent until such time as he was at his school. Quickly Joile was learning your thoughts could betray you and it was not something he was happy about.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Terra Saga: Fates Legacy, Prologue
Hammerhold fell as the sun rose high in the sky.
Its thousand man army, content and safe within their stronghold so high in the mountains they believed no enemy would even survive the march to it, fell upon pikes by the dozens. Half of the defenders died still attempting to draw weapons that were stuck tight in scabbards, or scrabbling to secure armor that had grown too small through disuse and sloth. There was no call to arms; not a single warning blast was sounded, not a single volley of arrows rained down upon their foes. There was only arrogant pride upon their breasts as they stood in formation behind the massive three door entrance. Reports from scouts had told that the attacking force was only several hundred strong, had no siege weapons, and offered only pikes and horses - this foolish band could not possibly hope to breach the host's entrance, let alone its walls. Provisions were stockpiled in plenty, as was common for the long winters that the city faced, so siege presented no threat. Indeed, laughter rang out as the attackers came into view, wearing no armor, with only skins and hides covering their flesh. The enemy came to a halt before the doors, tossing up ropes and grapples, that barely touched the tops of the walls, and the soldiers of Hammerhold jeered.
As the outer doors were pulled from its hinges by the ropes secured to the attackers mounts, the laughter died. As work on the second door began, the enemy began to chant in unison, calling out a single word, drowning out the last of the fading laughter. The enemy acted in unison, united by the name of Vrok, and the second door fell even faster than the first. Only then did the soldiers of Hammerhold begin to cry out for oils, fires and archers to top their walls; yet their folly was already complete, since three dozen attackers had already scaled to the top using the remains of the massive hinges to assist their climb. The watchtowers were already empty, their occupants already dead, and the city was firmly grasped in the hands of the enemy.
When the final massive door gave way and was dragged clear, the once-arrogant soldiers of Hammerhold dropped their weapons en masse, begging like frightened children for mercy. They found only swift death as the main force washed over them like a tide of steel, impaling them without a second thought. Seeing their comrades die on their knees, ranks of men behind the initial slaughter grabbed the nearest weapon, only to be struck down from behind by the attackers that had scaled the wall. Mere moments passed before the fighting was over.
The mighty city of Hammerhold was attacked, captured and calmed before the passing of three hours.
***
At the center of the city beyond the market stalls, surrounded by gathering gardens covered in snow, stood a statue of a man with a staff held high. Not a single fire pit was allowed to remain enflamed. It was here, in the gathering gardens, the citizens were corraled and separated by age and gender, guarded by a dozen pike wielding men. No care was given for dress, station or action as they were pulled from their homes as they realized the siege was over and their soldiers were dead and attempted to flee. The statue, once tall and proud, was quickly pulled down and dragged away. Only then did a sudden silence echo through the now deserted walkways and roads. Some kneeled and prayed, others wept silent tears; many dropped to the ground, covered in sweat, blood and piss. Fear settled over Hammerhold like a cloud.
For perhaps another hour, the citizens waited in silence until a line of people were led out of the Royal Keep. Each of the nobles of Hammerhold, used to finery, now wore a crude iron collar linked to one another by heavy chains. No quarter was given for age or gender. Servants, tutors and healers were split into the other groups of citizens. In full view of everyone, the nobles were then marched to the center, and onto the bridge that crossed the icy cold rushing river that cascaded off the mountain in a thundering waterfall. At each end of the line, several large men hammered huge stone slabs into the ending chain links. Without any delay or announcement, the nobles were pushed into the heavily running river, and with nothing more than an eerie splash, they were gone. Those that had not yet known fear now joined the rest and slumped to the ground in dismay.
One of the men that had hammered the chain to the stones moved to the base of the fallen statue, and looked out over the gathered people. He was a young and not an ugly man, yet he was strange in appearance to them; his form was strong and rigid like that of a blacksmith, and the hair on his head matched the fur the wore over his body, almost as if it were part of him. In a speech unfamiliar to them, commands were barked and guards forced the people to their knees. Those that found a last bit of courage to fight were quickly killed and left to lie amongst the crowd. Children cried, women wailed, yet none were allowed to bow their heads, but rather made to keep focus on this man at the center.
The enemy commander turned to another soldier, and gave another series of instructions. Without much delay, carts were brought out from the keep, filled with books and texts from the libraries. As everyone watched, the man carefully perused the books one after another, never moving from his position, never sitting and never breaking his posture. After more than two dozen books, his booming voice filled the air, speaking in their native tongue.
“I am Vrok Mortalis; your Emperor, your Father, your Brother, your Husband, your God and your Future. I have taken from you those that were meant to protect you. Due to their unworthiness, they have fallen into shadow and rule no longer. This is no longer Hammerhold, for Hammerhold is dead. You are now citizens of Tova, and of the Empire.”
Dozens of more men poured into the city center with wagons filled with white metallic bands, moving to each section and standing at their carts, facing the Emperor as he spoke again. “Each of you is required to take a band and affix it to your right arm. Do so now.”
While the guards persuaded those reluctant to do so, others did so quickly and returned to their kneeling as the Emperor continued. “Once this task is complete, you will swear your oath to the Emperor and the Empire. By swearing your oath, I will become your servant, and I will be all those things I have proclaimed to you.”
All tears and crying slowly stopped, the guards stood in a slightly less aggressive posture, and a new calmness overcame the captives. Vrok lowered his head and lifted his hands openly to his shoulders, the citizens dropped their head in prayer, and in unison began to recite;
`By the will of the One, we pledge ourselves to the Emperor and the Empire in which he rules by Divine Grace of the One. What the Empire needs, we will provide and in turn we will be provided for. Upon my death, I will return to the Emperor and guide him through the will of the dead for the dead keep the knowledge of the living. I bind myself to the Emperor, as the Emperor is now bound to me.’
As the recital finished, the Emperor lowered his hands and walked over to a large group of men. “Each of you has a choice. You may join the army for a fixed period of time lasting five years. After this time, you will be free to take residence in one of the cities of the Empire, yet you will never return to this city. Or you may choose a life service and dedicate yourself to the Empire; through this you may rise in stature, wealth and command; but you may never take a bride of this city. These are your choices. Those that choose a fixed service must stand to the left. Those that choose life service must stand to the right."
Less than thirty men chose a life service while over a hundred chose fixed service. If there any surprise was felt by the Emperor, he showed none. Moving to the mass of men on the left, he called out a strange sound, causing several of his own men to take over the group. Immediately, they ran to the fallen Hammerhold soldiers and began stripping them of armor, weapons and any goods. Turning away from them and to the men that selected life service, he nodded to them, and waved over one of his soldiers, an older man whose eyes offered nothing but the deepest cold.
“Men, I give to you Captain Dros. He will oversee your training. Your first reward for life service is that you may choose a servant to suit your needs. When they arrive, you will realize you have many to choose from. Those chosen must be treated with dignity. The penalty for violating this rule is death. It is your duty to excel in order to provide for your servant. In the event of failure, both of you will be put to death. If you succeed past your training, you will receive your next reward. Am I understood?”
Dros spoke, with a voice as cold as his eyes. “The proper answer is: Yes my Emperor. Any other, and you will answer to me.”
“Yes my Emperor!” The men cried in unison.
“You have my leave, Captain.” The Emperor announced. Immediately Dros bowed low, quickly followed by his new men.
Emperor Mortalis moved now to the young group of children. Without a word spoken, the guards from the released group of men surrounded the children. Vrok dropped to one knee to speak to them.
“You are now children of the Empire. The men surrounding you will split you amongst them, and you will be kept safe and cared for until your new hosts arrive. Your needs will be met, but you will never return to your homes here. I promise you, what has happened today to your homes will never happen again, while you are citizens of the Empire. Go now and eat your meals, and these men will take care of you for the rest of today.”
“Thank you, my Emperor.” A guard whispered to the children.
“Thank you, my Emperor!” The children exclaimed excitedly only to have the Emperor turn to them, smile and wink, before walking away.
“Men of the Empire, rank to file!” Vrok announced. Immediately the rest of the guards formed before the women of Hammerhold, each dropping to one knee. “You have shown your value to the service. Now may the woman of Tova find you worthy, and take you as their own. How will you treat them?”
“With honor and safety!” The men shouted in unison.
“Women of Tova, this is your home. The men before you are yours for the choosing and no man must be fought over. For their provision of honor and safety, you will provide them a home and children. For the Empire, they will have you report for your morning duties, befitting your talents. Such duties will begin once the scholars of the Empire arrive to begin your studies. Until then you will educate your men on your house and yourselves.”
“Thank you my Emperor!” The men and woman announced in unison. “But my Emperor,” a man called out, “would you not honor us with choosing a woman for yourself?”
“No. A man does not choose a woman; a woman chooses a man. However, should the women believe there is one among them that should become a member of the Emperor's house, I would not dishonor such an action.” The Emperor stopped and turned to the women and bowed his head.
Amongst the women they whispered and stood one of the young women up. “Please add this one to your house, my Emperor.” An older woman stated, quickly followed by nodding heads and agreeing whispers.
She was a woman of young age, but well beyond her first blood. Shapely and thin at the waist, the blossoming of her breasts had not taken the size of a mothering woman, and her eyes were filled with intellect and a strong presence. She did not shy away, she did not bow her head and she did not quiver.
“You would have this? To become part of my home?” Vrok questioned.
“I do not know, my Emperor. I do not know your house. But you allow a woman to choose, and your men speak of honor and safety. If such words are true, then yes.” Her eyes turned into dark pools as he looked into them.
Excitement filled him, beyond that of his loins. She was a woman of power, untouched, unrefined and could be taught. This one, he must have. If all the women had to perish for it to be so, this one must be his.
A smiled formed upon his lips as he offered her a hand. “It would be a pleasure. I require only your name.”
“Elidra.” She spoke firmly.
“Then Elidra, you are to be one of my house and shall bear the title of Lady. You shall stay with my servants until proper quarters may be fitted for your needs. Will that serve you well to begin?” Vrok asked.
“Yes, my Emperor.”
“Women of Tova, make your choice. There are only a few hours of daylight left, and much is still to be done.”
“Yes, my Emperor!” They proclaimed, and began choosing men.
***
Vrok felt Elidra's hand rest carefully onto his arm. Without turning to look at her or saying another word, he continued to walk. All around them people began moving; immediately the city began to breathe again. There were no cries, no more death and it seemed an exciting buzz began to permeate the city as the two walked around, with Elidra pointing out to him various places and landmarks. As they made their way toward the keep, he felt the slight tug of her stopping.
“You said to the women this was their home. If I am with you, does that mean this is your home?” Elidra asked as he turned to face her. For the first time there was a slight quiver in her fingers.
“Tova is the Capital City of the Empire. What was done today was done out of necessity for my people.” He answered her quickly.
“Are they the Host you spoke of?”
“They are part of it.” He answered.
“Is the Empire large?” She questioned eagerly.
“It is larger now.” Vrok answered.
“Is Hammer...”
“Tova.” He corrected with a frown that explained to her to not make the error again.
“Forgive me, my Emperor. Is Tova the first city you have captured?” Her eyes danced as the question came out.
“No, but it is the most important.” He answered as he looked around.
“Why?”
“Because Elidra, from here the Empire will expand so as we may educate the people and bring them out from the shadows they live in. Without guidance, without the Will of the One, we will all be lost.”
“I don’t know this One.” Elidra said as she dropped her head and looked at her armband. “Is this to control us?” She asked as she fingered the metal jewelry.
“Take it off and see.” He stated as he stepped from her.
Carefully she slid it off and held it in her hands. Looking it over carefully, she handed it over to him, as if to test him. With a smile he slid it on his forearm where it barely made it past his wrist. He offered stretched out his hand toward her and continued walking.
“There is no difference.” She said quietly.
“For you, no.” He answered. “For them, it simply extends my thoughts so as they may understand. In time, they will be able to remove the bands if they wish. But for now they remain.”
“You are a man of magic?” Elidra exclaimed quietly, squeezing his hand.
“I am many things, Lady Elidra.”
“I will bear your children.” She stated suddenly and moved quickly in front of him, trying to look in his eyes.
“First you must pass the tests of the Host, and hone the power of your bloodline.” Vrok looked to her sternly and took both of her hands into his. “If you pass, only then will you be my Empress. If you do not pass, you will die.”
“I am now what I am. The rest died earlier today.” She stated suddenly. “If I have a future it is with you and no other. I have seen it.”
“And what else have you seen?” He questioned quickly.
“Nothing.” She answered as her eyes began to pool again.
His voice was quiet, and firm as he kept her gaze. “Try.”
“Nothing at all.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she collapsed in his arms. “Let me sleep.”
***
Servants rushed up to him and took her from him. Stepping back outside, Vrok gathered with his generals as they moved to a tent almost completely set up. Taking up almost a complete gathering garden, maps were placed within view, marked and with symbols drawn over roads, cities and paths. As more servants scurried about and then left the tent, the Emperor and his generals stood over a large map, waiting for him to speak.
“Kerve, ensure the new men from here do not cross with the Host. Instead, send them south scouting as far as Tabath - we need access to Southern Waters. The city must be extended to each cliff to hold our people. I need a child born before we push south. Once the Host is here, send the children to Torus Vo.”
“Vrok, where do you want the training set up? The city simply wont hold all the trainees and children from Torus Vo.” A female general questioned.
“Once the host arrives, Shani, build a new Academy on the side path at the other side of the waterfall. Keep those gifted from the others. Be certain that Vektori is set up first. We will fall behind. You have three months. Temporarily house Vektori and the acolytes in the keep library to start. Use tents to house the rest until the new Academy is done. There is plenty of room here for all our needs.”
“We are growing too fast. I don’t know we if we can keep the supplies lines going.” General Kerve stated as he pointed to several of the cities on the map.
Vrok nodded. “That is why we needed this city. She has stores for at least a full winter of the entire Host and at least half of what Torus Vo and Keybridge need. By winters end, General Ulnor will have the fields of Torus Vo and the cold orchards here under control. This river and waterfall are natural and fed from the mountain, and will provide us with all the water we could need. At the base of the falls we can start supply barges and disperse through Torus Vo. That should make for much easier transport.”
“I can have a system to deliver down the waterfall so our caravans will not need to fight the path back down.” Shani added as she pulled a parchment and began to draw. “A simple lift would give us that. Once it is reinforced, we could send our messengers on it as well to bypass the road.”
“How long until the other southern cities realize this one has fallen, that is a question we must consider.” The eldest general Dushot spoke his words slowly as he tapped his thumbs together. “They are well fed here and seem to be self sufficient, but there will be family outside the city that will come after winter is over.”
“We must consider the Timewalker as well. Surely he has been to this city and has kin here?” Kerve added.
“We cannot guess on this, any of you. Assume he is alive, assume he has family here, assume he still visits.” Vrok looked to each of them. “He moves on his own time; he is not rushed and is not ever in a hurry. So it is not a matter of will he visit, but when he will. That is why you must have the library complete. I don’t worry about the Timewalker himself, but rather the person he names.”
Shani stared at her Emperor in shock. “You can't mean to let him in? He has already named you, what more can there be? He alone walked with the One, and he can bring us no good, only the kiss of death before his work is done.”
Vrok waited patiently as Shani spoke, then replied. “He also said there are always two, never one. We cannot allow ourselves to become paranoid over old tales. Allow him what he asks, and he will move on, as he always does. He will do nothing to us, he simply looks to know, and we have nothing to hide. We are just in our cause, and we will lay waste to all that is necessary. For now, we must focus on what must be done. Get the Host settled, and begin the training. Our assault on the southern cities must be on time, and our mutes must be ready.”
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