Silver cathedral saga, p.10
Silver Cathedral Saga, page 10
The Master told Eleanor that when basic training was complete that they go with their Master on missions to understand their own powers better in the field of duty. Where it’s more important to find out what an individual can do when it matters.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” replied Christian. There was a three second pause before he put his fork down and spoke:
“I thought being here would make me the happiest person alive. But I can’t help but wonder about my father now. I thought I could finally settle down and put him at the side of my mind. I mean, if he cared he would have come looking for me, right?” He looked to Eleanor, hoping for her reply to be a ‘yes’.
“I honestly don’t know. The truth is we don’t know where he is. He could be living it up, but at the same time he could be trapped somewhere too.”
“I doubt it. From what my mother told me he wasn’t the kind of person who stuck around for anyone.”
“I… I don’t know what to say again. We’ve both lost our fathers in different ways, at least—before everything else was taken from us. I know how hard it is to not have known a father. I can hardly remember my own.”
Christian’s head hung over his bowl of porridge, then his hands slid over his face, masking himself. Eleanor stroked his back.
“Are you okay,” she said, sympathetically. He didn’t reply. Instead, she saw a single tear drop in his porridge bowl. She knew how rare a sight this was; for Christian to allow himself to look vulnerable.
“I’m sorry, Christian, but I better go. I have a lesson.” She felt awful right then.
“Oh, hold on,” said Christian, “I have one too. I’ll come with you.” Eleanor immediately didn’t feel so bad after hearing this.
Christian used his robe’s left sleeve to dry his tears without her friend noticing. She could see he had been crying. There was still reminiscence of water in his eyes, and his face was redder than usual.
She tried not to draw attention to it, and thought it would be better if they both tried to focus on their next lesson.
Clash
This time, both Hiva Aura children were in the training room.
Eleanor was on the right side, Christian on the left.
Each one was doing something different, of course.
“Now that you know how to repel someone’s touch, you have a strong foundation to start for a single offensive ability,” said the Xenne Master. “But today we are not doing much of a practical lesson. Words are your aim today. To be able to recall them when it matters.
“This lesson will focus on weapon combat. When you have a weapon—your power can be enhanced by it. Like for example, take the quarterstaff.” The Master chucked a quarterstaff at him as he said the last sentence; he was hiding it behind him all this time by standing it up behind his body. It appeared the tallness of the man hid it well.
“Though a lot of our primary abilities you see us use focus on kinetic force, we are still Masters of mind magick. Anything that can give us the upper hand is useful. If you havn’t experienced it already, then there will be a passive ability that will come in most handy to you soon enough.”
“I can’t say that I’ve experience what you are talking about. At least I don’t think so,” said Christian.
“Oh, trust me. You wouldn’t have just said ‘I don’t think so’ if you knew what it was.” The boy’s mentor chuckled a little, which made Christian all the more curious about what he was really going on about.
“Anyway, Battle-casters absorb kinetic energy. Much like your friend absorbs the light and heat from the sun. This is another thing you must remember, because it is an important part of you now and you must be made aware that although you absorb physical force, dampening it, your resistance to blows will still have an impact and hurt at the same time; though not as much as any other Spell-caster. Like Fire-casters.”
“Okay,” replied Christian, quite fascinated. He looked over to his friend’s side, seeing her trying to generate something around herself, which then popped around her like it was always there, in reality; it formed a cagelike mesh of fire around Eleanor that resembled more of a prison than anything else from the outside. It glowed fiercely, making it hard for him to focus right now on his own task.
“Christian, you must listen. What I am about to tell you could save a person’s life someday, or maybe even more than one.”
“Sorry,” he said, before looking to the floor and staring back up at his Master to carry on.
“I’m going to hit your staff now. However, I want you to let me, and make sure you don’t move either.” The man hit the quarterstaff and it resulted in being flung across the floor effortlessly. “It is important for you to understand that kinetic energy can be stored for roughly up to three days. Then it will steadily decline. As with all Spell-caster energy being redirected.”
Christian heard the mentor on Eleanor’s side congratulate her on her efforts before his own continued. “You must know that our magickal power is a two way system. It is granted to those who believe in the god they follow. So—the more you believe—the stronger your magick.”
“Ah, I see,” replied the boy. His magickal foot in the door seemed to crank it open, understanding a bit more about this new tangled life he began to lead with his friend. He looked back to Eleanor, slyly, making sure his own Master didn’t notice.
Christian started to feel restless. All the talk and learning of words might be important, but there was no physical learning at the minute, which made him a little sour; because he could see his friend had already outdone him here and now.
“Okay, Christian. You know the defensive ability, and the basics of how it all works now. Now remember, the stronger your belief, the stronger the magick. Before we move on I want you to try the defensive ability again.
“But you are really far away from it, even farther than yesterday,” replied the Master.
“I know. I am curious. You can do it. Just do it like you did yesterday, only believe…” he stopped his sentence short, as he figured his new student would know what he was going to say now off by heart.
So, he done as he was taught, believed, imagined all that was asked of him, and then felt something press upon him quickly this time without any warning. As he opened his eyes he saw his Master hurled across the room to the other side near Eleanor, an easy twenty feet. As the disciple of Xenne flew through the air, with his cloak fluttering around him, Eleanor noticed the man and stepped to the side quickly. She responded there after with an impressed expression upon her face.
“Well, I never,” said the Xenne follower getting up. “Never in all my life have I seen such power in a mere two days of learning. I knew it. I really did. You are one of those very rare people who are at their best in the field, reacting naturally to others actions without warning.”
Eleanor looked at the man who just interrupted her and her Master talking. She moved her head to look at her friend again on the other side of the room until a single word came out of her mouth, if you could call it that: “Huh,” she blurted, not believing what she just saw.
Christian looked across the room before holding his hands together, miming the words ‘thank you’ to his goddess who just gave him the power to do exactly what he needed.
Under
There was still some of daylight left; being a few hours before four in the afternoon.
Prince Etch was looking up to the floating land outside the cathedral on his balcony in his little outside compartment attached to one of his rooms. He looked at the earth and mud beneath the rock that held it all together, and gave a long sigh, as if to vent and signal an internal problem that had been building up.
“How will I ever live up to my father’s expectations. He might as well be the greatest king that has ever lived. Everyone loves him. You of all people know what I am talking about.” The prince looked at an empty space again. Yet he talked as if somebody he knew was right there—with him.
Prince Etch’s doors swung open, then the king and someone at his side stood in the doorway. “I don’t understand why it is taking this long for a few measly readers. Or rather, a response. That would at least be nice, and appreciated. Simple manners should exist between worlds for gods sake.”
The man beside the king gave a very shocked luck after his leader blasphemed. The king looked to the man, before correcting himself:
“Sorry, I apologise. I may be king, but having manners is a basic principle of leadership when you can use it; no matter who you are.” The king looked around frantically. His actions clearly stated he was stressed with everything that was going on. “Etch. Etch, where are you?” He went looking around the room. Although Etch mostly spent his time in his two rooms they were still both mightily big in size; as royalty must have royal sized rooms. The father walked around for nearly two minutes before spotting his son on a bench on the balcony. “Son, why didn’t you answer me?” he asked, politely, trying to snap the stress out of himself. King Almare noticed there was something peculiar going on straight away.
“No, I think he loved you more than me. You were his favourite,” said Etch. “You were always together, you, father and mother. The royal trio. Then I came along to ruin it all.”
“Son, who are you talking to?”
But he could see there was nobody there for Prince Etch to talk to; where his body language faced and kept gazing to and from the floor.
“You’re worrying me,” said the king, his father. He snapped his fingers in front of him, yet… there was still nothing. For a time the king didn’t doubt his son, but himself. Am I dreaming, or worse, dead? Can I not be seen? Is this still reality? If so, there was something tremendously wrong now and he knew he had to find out what it was. “Come on, we’ll get you to bed.” The king himself guided the prince back to his king size, four poster bed. He folded the sheets back to keep him warm, as the seasons were changing, growing nearer the cold. “You can leave us,” said the king to the man who followed his every move. He then left.
Prince Etch’s father stood over his son by himself now; his son’s black, curly, pristinely clean hair was medium length. His father stroked his thick curls before looking out to the balcony door which had simple glass, so a view could be seen from inside.
The king started to move, but then his son mumbled something. Out some more words came:
“Thank you, Ruby.”
His father, king Almare of Astora, gave a sudden worrying look to his son; the prince’s eyes were now closed. His father’s look changed in mere seconds into a gaze that was not so much shock, but more in line with disbelief.
“No, that is not possible,” said the king. He walked away repeating “not possible” countless times, until the words lost its meaning and he didn’t even know he was whispering it.
Part Of
The two children made their way to their rooms from the training room.
As they passed a room hidden from sight, as the entrance was on the other side, they heard a single voice talk about Ematay from behind a wall.
“Ematay was just sent to Swansie with another three Spell-casters yesterday. He should be there by now, locating the Stone Swan.” Eleanor and Christian only listened out of curiosity at first.
“Drat, that means they will find it…”
“No they won’t,” said another voice inside the room that was female. “The Dark Queen has put it some place nobody would ever want to go.”
Eleanor mouthed a ‘wow’ as she put her hand out to stop Christian moving away, to stop any noise that could come from themselves; there was nobody else around at this time.
She and her friend ran away to her room as quick as these voices stopped, and moved as quiet as they could.
“Can you believe this. We have to tell the king?”
“How can we,” replied Christian. “We can’t go pointing fingers. We didn’t even see what they looked like.”
“You’re right,” said Eleanor, baffled at what to do now.
Christian scratched his cheek until it turned a deep, dark red.
“Take it easy,” said Eleanor. “You’ll end up clawing your face off at this rate.”
“Sorry, bad habit. But we can’t just do nothing.”
“No, you’re right.” Eleanor thought for some time as she and her friend continued to walk back to her room.
The little girl smiled at Christian before opening her door.
He could tell she just thought of something.
“Do you remember the giant swans in the stable below.”
“No—no way am I riding one of them out of here.”
“Then Ematay is as good as dead. Along with the rest of us. We can’t let them win, Christian.”
Eleanor knew from his deep sigh that she was right; this risk had to be taken. “Adults have a history of never taking children seriously. And we can’t let them sit by and ignore this.”
“This is Ematay we are talking about,” said the child with long black hair. The guy who gave us our new home. It goes without saying I should—will—help anyway I can.”
“Then we better get a move on. I heard from one of the guards the Shadows are on their way to the Cathedral as we speak.”
“But won’t the shield protect us from them?” asked Christian.
“Yes, it should. But from the way the guard was talking he was scared out of his mind. So it doesn’t make sense. Unless they use that portal thing they done in Sunndira. I guess there can never be an ultimate protection from anything.”
“There’s always some way around. Also—” Eleanor stopped him there.
“Shhh, enough chit chat, we have to get on to save Ematay and the others.” Only Eleanor went into her room to get something and came straight back out.
They ran to the ready room at the very bottom of the rock compartment, where Ematay flew his War Swan from not two days ago.
“Dammit. There is a guard patrolling,” said Eleanor.
“Leave him to me,” he replied confidently.
“Her.”
“What?”
“It’s a her. What is it with people always assuming gender roles these days. Get over them, because they don’t exist on Astora anymore. They haven’t done since before we were born.”
“Alright, let’s not make a big deal out of it again,” replied Christian. “But I can still handle him,” he shook his head then corrected himself frantically, “I mean her.”
Eleanor replied with scratching her head and gesturing for him to do so. They were both hiding behind the corner corridor that was before the entrance.
The guard just walked by, and the two children pushed themselves back out of sight. The guard stopped and gave a curious ‘hmm’. “Another dull day.” She sighed before continuing on; they now saw her back, walking away.
The entire scale of the stable was round. It only housed five swans on each level. Though it looked as if there was many levels that ran up. If you were to draw your eyes upon them you would get lost and feel small. The two children remember feeling this way when they toured this place the other day.
Christian tried to be quite, tip toeing towards the female guard. Eleanor watched from around the corner, afraid any second the guard would turn and see him.
He suddenly stopped when he was near her, fearing the worst to come.
Eleanor gasped. The guard flung herself around because of the noise and found the boy there, with his eyes closed.
“What are you doing here, Christian?” It was the Spell-caster that led them to their rooms on the first day they arrived. “What makes you think I won’t last a week here?”
“I never even said that,” said the Swan knight also known as a Battle-caster.
The Swan Knight took his arm to drag him out.
However, as she reached for him—a wave of concussive forced darted forth from where she touched him. She flew violently through the air. Her armour clanked—hard, as it shot into the wall behind. Christian nodded, knowing she would have only been knocked out, not hurt.
“I don’t think they’re gonna be happy when they figure out we’ve done this,” said Eleanor, appearing at his side, her friend jumping as his response. “We’ll have to climb the stairs to the next level.”
They both hurried along and were about to just run up the stairs. Then, a noise of moaning erupted in the tall stable. It filled the air. Eleanor kept running up the stairs, but Christian turned to see what it was.
“I should have known better,” said the boy to himself quietly. He started running up the stairs, to his friend. He caught up. “We have a problem.” Only Christian didn’t say it. The sound of it clanked up the steps after them and revealed itself. It was the Swan Knight again.
“That was really uncalled for,” said the Battle-caster. “I know what’s going on, and if you asked me I would have gladly helped. I am a Battle-caster too, Christian. I absorb kinetic energy. Pitting us against each other results in extremely long battles; the force just gets absorbed and thrown back between us.”
“You would really help us?” said Eleanor, walking closer to the tied up swan in the large pen and farther away from this woman. “And how do you know what’s going on?”
“I would. Though we need to tell the king. And I am a magick wielder, remember. Reading minds is as common as star bracelets with us Swan Knights. I picked it up before your friend here,” she gestured her head, “tried to knock me out.”
Eleanor pulled Christian back as he was starting to slowly move towards the guard.
“We can’t tell the king. Adults don’t understand us. We are not like other children, we don’t lie like them. We don’t think like them. He would never believe us.”
“But he would believe me,” said the fully fledged Spell-caster.
“Maybe,” replied Eleanor. “But with every minute we stay Ematay could die.”
Christian managed to catch some strong thoughts surge through his friend next to her. They spoke about not being able to trust anybody. She couldn’t—none of them could. Because she didn’t know who was the traitors among them, and if there was even more in on it.
