Silver cathedral saga, p.7
Silver Cathedral Saga, page 7
The room was covered in tall, white candles, all lit with strong flames, even though the windows gave more than enough light for the use of wicks to be lit.
Inside, the silver structure shone from the flicker of the controlled fires. The colour throughout the entire building was something you would see in a dream, glistening at every imaginable turn and tilt of a head. Like a living jewel that would forever be obsessed with getting its attention, luring all the wandering eyes it wanted; for those who would ever see it visible, it would seem an enchantment had fallen upon it.
“They have lost their families, their homes, my king. The only thing I could think of was to bring them to the safety of the cathedral.”
The king moved to the younglings. “I am very sorry to hear that,” said the ruler, crouched to see Eleanor and Christian at the same eye level like the knight once did, all before he was killed. “And yet you both moved forward.” The crowned man paused and rubbed his polished silver crescent ring before continuing. “There was once a man who told me that all beings are as doomed as their failures. But with these failures, gave these exact people moments. Moments what appeared to be simple acts, acts that showed themselves in the most extraordinary ways. When people would surpass all the limitations that were set upon them. The people of Astora believed these special moments came from the very gods that govern the three worlds, because they always felt and appeared that way to the onlookers.” The king looked out of his stain glass window which formed one of the king’s before him in different colours before looking back to them. “But the truth, children—is that it is a sign. One that shows us we truly have no limits—when it matters most! And that they do not always come from gods.
Eleanor and Christian remembered the knight again for his brave actions. Without him, they would have been killed. Dark clouds came over their minds. In these seconds, they began to share the same wonder: If those who helped them would suffer like the valiant man once did.
Would that happen again to those who’d help us? thought the children, thinking on the same wave length. They were still guilt-ridden that their mothers and Christian’s sister had been lost, possibly even killed. Much like Ematay’s brother. Their clouds gradually grew thicker within, remembering all that had happened. It seemed the words the king gave them were not enough for the children to be pleased with themselves.
Another came inside the room as the king rose back to his feet.
This other stood about five feet and ten inches tall.
“What is going on, father?” said the man walking in, nearer. He gave a baffled expression when he saw the children, like his father did when he first saw them.
“By the gods, it’s prince Etch,” said Eleanor trying to whisper, but she became so excited the words burst out louder than she meant them to.
“It seems we have some more Spell-casters in our midst,” said the king.
“I have never seen them here before,” said the prince in his well pronounced, clear tone.
“That is because they have just arrived. They have lost their parents, their home, and it is about time they settled into a new one.” The king turned back to the children, at the left of the room, the door, at the right. “If you are to live with us, then you have to work; just like everybody else. This is where being a Spell-caster in training comes in. You will have to decide upon the right deity to follow soon if you haven’t already.”
The two children nodded eagerly and soon went off with a female Spell-caster the king called for. She took them to their new rooms.
Yet in the royal chamber, the Star-caster, prince, queen and king stayed.
Ematay looked at the king. He could tell there was something worrying him. The queen and prince didn’t talk at these moments, and for some time too.
Yet after a minute, the queen began:
“Well,” she yelled across the room at the king, the room echoing. “Are you going to tell him—or not?”
“Tell me what?” asked Ematay.
“That disappointment comes from many angles,” said the king.
The queen carried the king’s conversation a little further than he intended to do so himself: “And one of those disappointments—is from within these walls.”
“What I am about to tell you is troubling news for us all,” said the ruler of Astora with the might of a gloomy expression casting over his face. “One of the Stone Swans has been stolen.”
Ematay’s face instantly changed to that of an astounded shock. “But that means we are completely…” The Star-caster couldn’t finish, but went in a different direction instead. “Nothing like this has happened in over two hundred years,” and his reaction showed it.
“Vulnerable,” said prince Etch completing the Star-caster’s words. “We are mere target practice in the air.”
“Which is why we are forming a party immediately. Our best, to retrieve the 177th swan, wherever it may be. It has also come to my attention that something is wrong on Amaranth. I had asked for readers to be sent from Amaranth several days ago as well as the Sceptre of Power to create an army of silver soldiers from our cathedral’s walls. So I can figure out who has betrayed us and protect our world at the same time. But nothing has happened, no response whatsoever. No known action has been taken.”
Ematay felt as if cold snow engulfed the air around him. His sight of clarity just diminished so suddenly. It made him shiver. “Something is wrong. We better move things along quickly, my king.”
177th Swan
Part Two
Caught Up
Christian and Eleanor walked slowly down the ever growing stairs that turned in on itself, twisting around like a play slide you would sometimes see at a fair. Parts of the wall were pure silver, then as time went on they changed to that of rock. The colours blending till there was a clarity of earth, telling them they were in the rock part of the floating Silver Cathedral now. It was three floors down where the sheen of the silver walls were taken over by the dark brown, covering the royal colour completely, as if being taken over by nature itself, or rather, working with it.
“Here is your quarters,” said the Spell-caster to Christian, “I will be along in the morning to get you at seven. She seemed to appear happy considering the world’s situation. Which alarmed both the children, but only in a mild form as they both knew adults were very good at hiding things.
Christian went off into his new room by himself, leaving the other two to move on.
“Your room is just up this corridor to the right of Christian’s,” she said to Eleanor. “Follow me.” Eleanor found it peculiar that this stranger knew the name of her best friend already, and without the need for a proper chat with him, or even her about him.
Once the child was shown to her room the Spell-caster said the same to the girl, and then a little more. “Supper will be ready in three hours. There will be somebody to get you both then. Until then, amuse yourselves.” Those were her last words before she tried shutting the door, which seemed a bigger chore than she thought a door would ever need.
The child simply responded with nodding her head. Her door then shutting, and after being tugged at, hard. The door, stiff to close; at least from Eleanor’s sight of this person struggling on the other side. “A door with a personality. I like it,” whispered Eleanor to herself. Though she didn’t know what she was talking about just yet. It was the excitement of the new kicking in and talking for her. Even with all the mess happening, she was grateful for being here right now.
The time soon enough came for the two of them to go to the mess hall to eat, and somebody did come along to take them there; though was some minutes late, if such a small time was anything to go by, yet it always meant something to Christian. Being on time, that is.
The food in the Silver Cathedral was somewhat nice, but they hadn’t eaten in a good while so anything would have tasted pleasant right now. Both sat at the tables after everyone had left, still eating very slowly.
“Can you believe we’re here?” said Christian sitting at a large wooden table that ran up and down the entire room almost, hearing the crunch of his own carrots he was chewing straight after.
“It is quite surreal, isn’t it,” said Eleanor after swallowing the last of her chicken, looking at her empty bowl after finishing, feeling full. It seemed to be the exact right amount for her and Christian, by some magickal coincidence no doubt they both thought. Only it had no whatsoever ties with magick at all; it seemed their imagination was making up rules for things. Even if they knew better.
Christian pushed his bowl away when he was finished. “No kidding,” he replied.
The same Spell-caster who took them to their rooms rushed them off to bed as quick as they finished, standing in the large room waiting at the back for them. Another thing she probably done often. Her bored face certainly suggested so.
They both made their way back to their quarters. Though Christian followed his friend to her’s this time after the woman left, deciding to chat and calm himself down from the excitement of what would start tomorrow, even though he felt a little distant at the same time too.
Eleanor closed the door, struggling like the Spell-caster once did. Then her face gloated like nothing before as she went and sat on her bed. “It’s like we’re in a dream. I didn’t think these kinds of things happened to people like us.” She gave a thankful sigh. “And we have the pleasure of picking our god tomorrow. It’s strange, because my mother was always funny when I mentioned following. But how exciting.” Eleanor gave an enthusiastic shriek. “I know who I’m going to pick already.”
“Who?” asked Christian, not as fast talking or enthusiastic as his buddy.
“What’s wrong?” said Eleanor, picking up right away from the tone of his voice something was up.
“It’s just why we are here, you know. I can’t stop thinking about my sister. My mum. When we were travelling we were so busy we didn’t have the time to think on what happened. But now that we’ve stopped… I can’t get them out of my head; like they’ve caught up with me and won’t leave me be. I guess nothing has changed in a way there. I still don’t know what has truly happened to my sister.”
“My mother was all I had,” said Eleanor, sounding serious and not so enthusiastic now. “My father died to the first Sickofant attack a while ago in Sunndira. I never really got over it in all honesty. And you should be somewhat grateful there is hope to get Miyah back still.”
“At least you know what happened to your father,” replied Christian with a sudden blank expression. “I can’t remember anything about mine.” He sat on the bed with Eleanor, not facing her, more trying to push the sigh of his body away from his friend. “For all I know… he could be the enemy. All my mum told me is that he’s not dead. At least not yet, and that wasn’t that long ago that she told me.”
“I… I don’t know what to say,” said Eleanor, making her loudness creep so quietly now that by the end of the sentence Christian could hardly hear. “I assumed he died,” picking up her clarity. “But didn’t want to bring it up. All this time I always thought that from the way I heard you and your family talk about him.”
“Don’t worry. That part of my life is way over now—wherever he is,” said Christian, only he still thought of his sister and what he could do at this time.
Sea Life
On the surface of the Shade Sea, the water swayed.
Little, sparse rays of moon light shone down on the blackness of the water, giving it some noticeable colour as the wind whistled its song through the dark. Splashes thrust up and down, up and down. A motion of unsteadiness came into play and had been for most of that very night.
Until it crashed upon a transport that moved upon this salty sea. One that carried a group of people like no other you would have ever seen on Astora.
“Captain Mileena, the Anchor Men are stirring,” said one of the crew men after coming up from jumping onto the boat with such magnificence and inhumane height, plopping her right in front of who she spoke to with ease.
The captain grabbed this female’s blue coat who just spoke. “What do you mean—stirring. More than usual?” she asked Mileena, taken in by the moment at hand.
“Some have been showing symptoms; that our magick is not in full effect. Something is definitely wrong.”
“Hmmm,” replied the captain, looking out to the shaded water from the deck of her boat, seeing her home, the sea she lived upon.
The ocean was in a mighty strop tonight, which worried the folks on the boat because there had been many numerous days where the sea had never stirred. And whenever it did, there was always big problems to follow. “Then it looks like me and you are going fishing. Round up a crew,” said their captain.
It was hard not to notice on a boat as big as theirs, that all fifty-seven were in fact all female.
The ship was a deep and extended Carrack style boat that housed an entire lower deck compartment for storage. It was elongated so much there would still be room for about another forty more people, at least.
The Carrack style boat was the only ship used by this certain group of people on the Shade Sea, or what they usually referred to as their world.
It was more than big enough for them, because they did not and could not sleep, eat or drink. All for very valid reasons, of course.
In less than several minutes there was ten dark haired females gathered and ready to go; their hair exactly like the dark of the sea; including a tiny hint of navy to it, but because there was such little light it resembled black more than anything else.
Each one was about to jump beneath the water without any preparations or help to breathe.
They all stood on the border of the ship that helped contain people on it, keeping them safe from the coldness of the sea. Then each one jumped. One by one they entered with a splash and plunged into the depths of this gloomy exterior.
Though as soon as the women were under the water—something changed. Something remarkable.
As soon as that part of their body submerged, they became one with the ocean.
All became mere wavy lines as they moved in the water, showing the shell of each individual. They all had long hair floating about from their movement in the world beneath, even though these too just looked like murky lines close up.
When they moved through the water it looked more like a flying arrow travelling through the sea. But an even faster one that could go as far as it wanted or wished. Only people somewhat close to these beings would be able to see they even moved or existed beneath. They were a common secret amongst the land dwellers, and they liked it that way.
They all shot through the water, moving towards the same direction and followed in a neat line.
“We’re coming up on the fields,” said captain Mileena. “Be cautious. As much as we can’t be hurt in this form they can still get away and do damage to those outside.” Underneath the water to anybody else these whispers would never have been heard, but to their own kind they could hear each other for miles around.
The time came when the females under the ocean stopped and saw what they came for.
Their eyes adapted naturally to the lighting in the sea, making any light or the lack of it not a problem: Turning their eyes a brighter colour to see what was ahead.
There was thousands upon thousands of people beneath the sea at the very depths in blackness. No living land dweller could make it down here without the help of a spirit, which also looked nearly impossible to do.
An anchor for each was partly buried under sand, weighing down all these people that were trying to look to the surface, or most of them.
“Three are stirring,” said one of their crew. “I can feel them trying to slip away from our hold.”
“I’m going to take a closer look,” said the captain. She darted to one of the prisoner’s whose eyes was closed but straight, not tilted up; as if trying to look to the surface.
Mileena placed her hand on the face of the man and saw what he saw in a quick series of flashes: A young boy. A woman, and what looked like a younger Queen Snowbridge.”
Three seconds later she was brought back to herself, and retracted from touching his washed out skin as fast as she could. A worrying glare came from her eyes and continued to stare at the man. “You didn’t deserve this, did you.” She talked as if he was going to answer Mileena. “If I could give you back your freedom I would. But all magick has rules and consequences we have to abide by. Even for us Water Spirits.”
Snowbridge
“You know what you mean . . . to me,” said a man standing opposite the queen, hesitating to say it.
“I know. I feel the same way, but I am a married woman. And to the king. You know what would happen to us both if the king ever found out that I slipped.”
“I know the consequences, Selina. But the heart is irrational, unlike our humanoid minds. We can’t help what we feel, can we?”
Snowbridge didn’t feel the need to talk back now. She was still taking in all the consequences of what she had done. Internal problems which bring disastrous relics to their name, and stain it.
To wipe a dark colour out of ones life is a task that brings about untold or talked about actions, and drastic ones at that. Yet for every mistake lies an unwilling solution within people. Especially at first. Though to bridge the gap, to get to that willingness of such a thing, many different tasks and actions have to be done. Usually, unique to the individual.
“How will we tell our children about this?” asked Selina.
“Do they really need to know yet? They are far too young to understand what we have went through..”
