Caves of glass, p.1
Caves of Glass, page 1
Copyright and Disclaimers
Caves of Glass
By C.A. Gray
Copyright 2023, C.A. Gray
All Rights Reserved
No Portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including, but not limited to, audio recordings, facsimiles, photocopying, or information storage and retrieval systems without explicit written permission from the author or publisher.
Published By:
Wanderlust Publishing Tucson, AZ
Also by C.A. Gray:
Piercing the Veil Trilogy: Intangible, Invincible, Impossible
The Liberty Box Trilogy: The Liberty Box, The Eden Conspiracy, The Phoenix Project
The Uncanny Valley Trilogy: Uncanny Valley, The Silver Six, Jaguar
Dreamscape Adventures, Inc.
The Atlantis Bloodline
The Kairos Makers: Christmas Night 1776, Jamestown’s Deliverance, The Tunguska Asteroid
Biblical Retellings: Messiah, Daughters of Zion, Blood Covenant Origins, Blood Covenant Fulfilled, All Things Are Possible
“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face:
now I know in part; but then shall I know
even as also I am known.”
- 1 Corinthians 13:12
Prologue: The Rejected King
“Retreat! Retreat!” shouted Borno, Commander of the Tryferian army.
His knights, those who were still able, obeyed at once. Many of their brothers lay still on Mageian soil, never to rise again.
King Hector waited in the forest for reports of the battle’s outcome, resplendent in his ermine violet robe and heavy gold crown. He didn’t always dress in such finery outside the palace, but this was no ordinary battle. This one would double the size of his borders.
His eyes narrowed when Borno came into view, a barrel-chested warrior with a thick beard and windswept brown hair. His tunic bore the red and gold smock characteristic of the Tryferian military, with a gold cross denoting his rank. The thunder of hooves behind him told the king that this was a full retreat.
Borno shook his head as he gave his report to the king.
“It was an ill-advised massacre, Your Majesty,” Borno panted, “just as Enmai warned us it would be—”
“‘Ill-advised?’” Hector repeated. “‘Ill-advised?’ I was the one to give the order, was I not? Be very careful of your next words, Commander.”
Borno had little patience for this at the moment. He met the king’s gaze evenly.
“Many of our best knights are dead,” he said, barely controlling the accusation in his tone. “Men loyal to you. Enmai told you that Aleph would not give Mageia into your hand, Your Majesty, and that has proven to be true—”
“They are a heathen, evil nation!” cried King Hector, “they worship Mage! How could Aleph not support my conquest? We would teach them the true worship of Aleph—”
A third voice spoke. “It is not for you to question Aleph’s commands.” Both men looked up, to see the prophet Enmai himself standing on a boulder above and behind them. He wore his characteristic brown burlap robe tied with twine around the waist, his long gray-white beard glinting in a shaft of sunlight filtering through the trees. “Do you think Aleph takes pleasure in the slaughter of innocents?” Enmai thundered. “You did not wish to glorify Him, you only wanted to aggrandize yourself and expand your own borders! Instead, for your greed and disobedience, Aleph has rejected you as king over Tryferos.”
The moment Enmai pronounced these words, a storm cloud came out of nowhere, shielding the light of the sun.
“He will instead anoint a man in your place to rule Tryferos, a man who will obey His commands.”
At that exact moment, Hector felt nothing but shock. He continued to stare up at Enmai, who then—vanished. Not into thin air exactly, but Hector could not see where he had gone. He was there one moment, and then, not.
Behind him, Borno cleared his throat. It was then that Hector remembered that he had witnesses. Many of them.
His entire remaining army had just witnessed his rejection as their king.
Chapter 1: The Shepherd Boy
Rion settled on top of a grassy hill where he had a good vantage point for his sheep grazing in the valley down below. He was eighteen years old, and still a little thin for his age, though in the last year or so his muscles had finally begun to catch up with the rest of him. He had been delighted when he first noticed the Tryferian village girls turning their heads when he passed by, which was what made him realize that his tunics no longer hung on him like sacks. His chin was still rather pointed, though he’d grown a bit of stubble to hide it, and make his boyish face look older.
He lay his shepherd’s staff down beside him, and unslung his satchel from his shoulder, pulling out his lyre as the wind ruffled his curly dark hair. Then he looked up at the clouds, backlit by the sun, and waited for inspiration.
“Aleph,” he murmured, looking up to the sky, and smiled. “Hi.” He didn’t really have anything to say today, but he always initiated his companionable watch with a greeting. Then he started to strum on the lyre, humming a song he’d begun to compose the day before. From his position on top of the hill, his voice echoed and carried. He closed his eyes and imagined the host of Aleph’s armies surrounding him, singing in harmony to his melody. When he opened his eyes again, he half expected to see the flaming host all around him.
“I’d love to see into Your realm,” he whispered to Aleph. “Just once… I know they’re here—”
Rion shivered from the wind, but then froze. A sound he couldn’t entirely identify rumbled somewhere in the trees. The sheep began to bleat, running to and fro to nowhere in particular. Rion leapt to his feet, leaving the lyre where it fell, and took hold of the staff as he ran down into the valley.
“Shh, shhh,” he tried to reassure the flock, but it was no use. Then the source of the disturbance emerged from the tree line. Rion caught his breath: it was a bear that bellowed a deep roar as it reared up on its hind legs, standing three times Rion’s own height. He could hear the terrified bleating behind him as the bear fell to all fours again and began to charge.
“Oh—no—you—don’t!” Rion shouted, running straight at the predator, staff in hand. The bear, which had been poised to attack the nearest straggling lamb, now focused its attention on Rion instead.
When he got close enough, Rion felt a powerful surge of strength suddenly flow into his limbs. He swung his staff back like a club, and without stopping in his stride, he delivered a blow to the bear’s nose with all his might. The staff was made of sturdy acacia wood, but even so, Rion heard it splinter. The bear stopped, momentarily stunned, giving Rion a split second to unsheathe his dagger and dart right up to the bear’s throat. He slashed as deeply and swiftly as he could before darting away again, out of reach of the creature’s claws and teeth. For good measure, he swung the staff at the eyes once more, where he knew the bear’s skull was thinnest. He felt it give way with a deep crack, and the bear slumped, still.
Panting, Rion took a step back, wiping his bloody blade on the grass and sheathing it once more. Then he looked up at the sky, chest heaving, and grinned.
“Thank You!” he said to Aleph. He knew that without help, what he’d just done would have been utterly impossible. But he was never without help.
It wasn’t the first time scrawny little Rion had killed a wild animal attacking his flock—it had been impossible then too. He lifted his staff to inspect where it had splintered, but he couldn’t detect any damage. “And, not a scratch on it!” he cried. This was fortunate, because he didn’t have the coin to replace it. His father did, but he wouldn’t have been pleased with the expense. Rion turned back to the flocks, huddled at the edge of the hill and still bleating pitifully. “All right. It’s all right now,” he said in his most soothing voice, “Come on and follow me to the other side of the hill, so you can’t see the big bad bear’s corpse anymore. You’ll be all right. Come on…”
The one little lamb that was very nearly the bear’s dinner seemed rooted to the spot, still trembling and unable to move. Rion stooped to pick it up, slinging it across his shoulders. The rest of the sheep trotted along behind him for the most part, following the sound of Rion’s voice as he hummed a soothing melody. He took the crook of his staff and hooked it around the necks of a few of the more unruly sheep to herd them back with the others. When they reached the other side of the hill, obscuring their view and scent of the bear’s carcass and out of sight of the tree line, the sheep went back to grazing. Rion gently lowered the lamb from around his shoulders to the grass also. But as he tried to leave it, it trotted along beside him, butting its head against his leg and tripping over his foot. Rion smiled down at it tenderly.
“All right, fine.” He picked it up again, slinging it back over his shoulders. The lamb bleated once more, and even though it sounded exactly the same as ever, Rion thought he heard relief this time.
With his back to the bear, Rion settled the lamb at his feet where it curled up against him, and gathered up his lyre. Now, he was inspired. In his mind’s eye, he imagined Aleph’s fiery host shielding him from the bear’s claws and teeth, and adding strength to his swing. He sang a song composed on the spot, praising Aleph for making him a victorious warrior. The wind sang harmony.
When Rion finished, he scooped up the lamb again and climbed back down the hill so that he could set its unstable legs on flat ground, where it joined i ts mother ewe in grazing. Then he climbed back up to the top of the hill, enjoying the quiet peace of the afternoon, every so often humming his tune again.
His eyes drifted north and northeast as he sat there, to the Udicean mountains bordering Mageia. Tryferos was comprised of rolling green hills, but no true mountains except for these, rising sudden and forbidding out of nowhere, so high that they had their own weather system at the peaks. Rion had grown up hearing the rumors that at the highest places, there were caves sculpted entirely from ice, so clear that they had been dubbed the Caves of Glass. These were forbidden to all true worshippers of Aleph, though. Legend had it that the Caves of Glass were a place where the sorcerers of Mageia went to hone their magic, and to worship their god, Mage.
Nevertheless, inexplicably, Rion felt a sudden intense desire to see them. The strength of the feeling scared him almost as much as the desire itself.
“Aleph?” he whispered aloud. “This can’t be You.” He knew his older brothers would say the Caves only fascinated him because they were forbidden, and that in itself was evil.
If this is just my own rebellious nature, it will pass, Rion told himself, and hummed another song of his own composition. This one was about how Aleph had formed the worlds, flinging the stars into the vast canopy above, Himself singing the universe into existence…
It was no use. If possible, as he sang, the desire to visit the Caves of Glass intensified to the point where he could hardly withstand it. Rion blew out a breath between pursed lips. He didn’t understand it, but he knew Aleph well enough to obey the prompting when it came. No matter what anyone else thought, or how they might misjudge him for it.
“But they’re so far away,” he said aloud to Aleph, as if continuing a conversation. “I could never get there without Father wondering where I am. I’d have to pack provisions… and who will watch the sheep while I’m gone?”
Rion then thought of his father’s servant, Mushai, who would sometimes relieve him from duty. Tomorrow, in fact, Mushai would take shepherd duty, and give Rion a day off. Rion could go exploring, and his father likely wouldn’t ask any more details than that. He was an illegitimate child, after all—neither Rion’s father nor his half-brothers seemed to regard Rion with much respect. They thought of him as the dreamer, the songwriter, and the shepherd, while they were warriors, landowners, and heirs to their father’s estate. Rion could never be any of those things.
Not that Rion felt sorry for himself. He loved the freedom of the wide open countryside, and the fact that it meant he got to spend all day, every day composing his songs and enjoying the world that Aleph had made.
The mountains in the distance looked dangerous, so high and forbidding—but if Aleph was with him, what could go wrong?
Chapter 2: The Mageian Princess, Ten Years Earlier
Seven year old Genevieve slipped off her elbow-length white glove, and her ten year old brother Gaolin dropped their father’s signet ring into her palm. The two of them huddled surreptitiously behind one of the marble pillars on the other side of the Mageian palace from the throne room. Ginny, slight for her age, fit neatly into the shadows, her dark hair helping her to blend in. Gaolin, on the other hand, was rather corpulent for his age, so his presence rendered their hiding place useless—but he wouldn’t be there for very long. Ginny had been forbidden to approach any room where their father spent his time from her earliest memories. But Gaolin had no such restrictions, and could come and go at will.
“Okay, so just stay here, and focus on Father with all your might,” Gaolin told her. “Make him think that I should have as much poundcake as I want, anytime I want. Don’t think of anything else until I come back, okay? Don’t get distracted!”
“Got it,” Ginny nodded, gazing at her older brother with wide-eyed adoration. Gaolin grinned at his sister mischievously, and headed for the throne room where his father was sure to be at this time of the morning.
As Ginny watched his retreat, she inwardly glowed. Gaolin needed her. Everyone else avoided her, but not her mother, and not Gaolin. The thought made her almost float with happiness.
Ginny crouched in a tiny ball, so that no one passing in the corridors might spot her and wonder what she was doing there. She could have gone back to her chambers, but she didn't think of this. All she thought was, Gaolin told her to stay here, so she’d follow orders. She’d do anything for him.
Twenty minutes later, a triumphant Gaolin practically skipped down the corridor back to where his sister waited. Ginny noticed that he had a thick slice of poundcake in both fists.
“Ha! Success!” he cried, holding out one slice for her. When she took it, he reached for the signet ring that she still held, and she deposited it back into his palm.
“He made the vow?” she asked eagerly.
Gaolin bobbed his head in a jubilant nod, and talked with his mouth full. “Yep!” And then he quoted in a deep imitation of their father, “‘I, King Fenrir I, solemnly vow that my son, Prince Gaolin, may eat anything he likes, and as much of it as he likes, anytime he likes, for the rest of his life!’ No loopholes!”
Ginny giggled in her brother’s reflected glee, nibbling at the edges of the poundcake. She didn’t particularly like poundcake, but she’d never told Gaolin that, and it was his favorite.
“Thanks, kid!” he ruffled Ginny’s hair, and raised the signet ring. “I’ll slip this back into his chambers, and he’ll never know the difference…”
Just then, a set of footsteps hurried down the corridor toward them. One of their father’s councilmen came into view, looking this way and that. Ginny and Gaolin tried to shrink back into the shadows, but they wouldn’t both fit. The councilman’s eyes fell upon Gaolin. He’d just remembered to hide the signet ring in his palm, but too late. The man’s eyes narrowed.
“Your Highness,” he said in a warning tone. “What do you have in your hand there?”
“Nothing,” Gaolin said too quickly, swallowing the piece of poundcake that had been in his mouth.
“Show me.”
Gaolin opened the palm that also held the poundcake, and tried to slip the other one behind him to give the ring back to Ginny—but the councilman saw, snatched his wrist, and forced his palm open.
“The king was just looking for his ring to seal an important document. That’s what he sent several of us out to find. You stole it?”
“No, I didn’t steal it!” Gaolin said at once, feigning indignation. “I just—borrowed it for a few minutes, that’s all. I’ll never be king, so I wanted to see what it felt like. It’s heavier than I thought…”
“Give it here, boy,” the councilman said, even as he took it. He turned as if to leave the royal siblings to themselves after that, but then he paused, turning back to look first at the ring, then at Gaolin, and then at Ginny. Suddenly his eyes widened with understanding.
“That’s how you got the king to make that vow!” he cried, pointing at Ginny. “Your sister was controlling your father at a distance,” he held up the ring, “by means of this!”
“That’s not true!” Gaolin said at once.
“I thought it was awfully peculiar that he would agree to such a binding promise, when he’d been adamant earlier that you were getting too chubby to be a proper soldier.” Here he glanced at Gaolin’s expanding middle, and shook his head, eyes narrowed. “I understand that your binding gift is irreversible, Your Highness, but when the king learns what you have done, I can promise you that this little team-up,” he pointed between the prince and princess, “shall never happen again.”
Gaolin shuddered as the councilman made his way back to the throne room, signet ring in hand.
“Oh, Gao, I’m so sorry,” Ginny whispered, clutching his elbow. “What do we do now?”
Gaolin bit his lip and shook his head. “Let’s go back to your room,” he muttered. “Father won’t come looking for me there.”
Ginny winced at this, but of course she knew he was right. Nobody ever came to her chambers, except for Gaolin and their mother. She didn’t even have a ladies’ maid, as all the servants were afraid of her too.
