The deathless ones, p.3
The Deathless Ones, page 3
Amrose bowed and left. Semil sat down on a chair, trying to shake off the feelings Amrose’s innocent words had aroused in him. No one knows what happened in Mirrel at the start of the war.
No one knew, except him. He knew. Four decades had passed, but Semil still remembered that day. He closed his eyes and it all came rushing back- the fire, the heat, the stench of burning flesh. And the screams; screams of men and of horses. Above all other sounds, the whisper of a boy. "I'll not be buried here alive! I'll not! They'll pay! I'll make them pay!"
He opened his eyes. The cool breeze from the gardens caressed him, laden with the fragrance of flowers. He drew a deep breath and clenched his fists. He would make them pay. No matter how long it took, they would pay for what they did. Elementals they might be, but they wouldn’t be allowed to toy with people thus.
The earth shook. Twice. Semil’s face took on a grim aspect. He might have acted rashly. He had certainly never intended to plunge the Empire into a Civil War, but what was done was done. He needed to forge ahead and make the Elementals bow before him, if it was the last thing he did.
AGIN STARED AT THE coals, causing the flames to leap up. He stole a sideways glance at Jala, who stood by the stream. Her posture suggested impatience. He sighed, turning his attention back to the fire. His twin had always been more impatient than him.
They were not dissimilar to look at, he and his twin. They always chose this form, for that very reason. In this form, they looked human, yet they weren’t. Only in the Valley of Serenity could they be like this; themselves and yet not; human in appearance, and yet not human. Out in the world of mortals, they had to assume human forms, not for the sake of hiding, but because the mortal world wasn’t meant to handle the visage of an Elemental in his full power.
Agin knew that their present form was pleasing to human eyes. They both had hair that was curly and thick. They both had oval shaped faces with almond shaped eyes and thick brows; their lips and their jaws were similar in appearance. Yet, their eyes and hair were different. His short hair was fiery red and his eyes were black, while she had stormy grey eyes, and long, silvery hair that shimmered in the light, as it was doing now.
"Come and talk to me," he said. "We’re safe here from eavesdroppers."
She turned to him. "I know."
She sighed as she came near the fire and sat down on a log next to it, but not too close, so as not to frighten it.
"The shadow of Nadais protects his children. I know the tales."
"Well, he's not our father," Agin said moodily. "So, maybe we're not safe at all."
"We're descended from him," she said, her fingers twisting a strand of her hair, and the fire danced away from it, leaving her shrouded in shadow. "I'm really tired of waiting here, waiting for the others. Some should at least be here by now!"
"It is still three weeks until the Solstice," he said gently. "And while I do share your impatience, we both know why we have to be here."
"Because Uncle Jiv thought it best," Jala muttered.
"That's not fair," Agin protested. "We’re not able to disguise ourselves as effectively as the others. Our natures are too volatile. We cannot maintain these forms out there. That’s why Uncle Jiv told us to practice them, so we can learn to hold them where it’s safe. You know it’s dangerous out there. Any magician seeking to find us would be able to."
"Let them," she said grimly. "I'm not afraid of a bunch of mortal magicians."
Agin sighed; Jala had always been as careless as she was fearless. Compared to her, he always felt sober. "While I agree that none of them would be able to harm us, it still won’t do if our powers go out of control and Semil starts noticing." he explained.
"I don't see why we have to hide from him! If Uncle Jiv hadn't-" she clamped her mouth shut, as if aware she had gone too far.
"We've all been there," Agin said. "While I agree that Uncle Jiv shouldn't have done it, the fact remains that blaming him won’t solve the problem. Semil is an adversary to be feared, and he is determined to find a way to enslave us."
"Can he do that?"
"Uncle Jiv thinks he can, if he gets those humans. Those twins."
"The twins," she repeated. "What’s so special about them?"
Agin shrugged. "That’s something he promised to tell us after the Solstice.”
His uncle, he thought sourly, was not very forthcoming, but he did promise to tell them everything after the Solstice. Whatever his faults, Uncle Jiv had never broken his word. The only thing was after the Solstice could be any time from immediately after to maybe an aeon later. Uncle Jiv was also very good at being vague.
Three weeks, he thought with a despairing sigh. Even if Uncle Jiv was going to tell them everything immediately after the Solstice, it was still three weeks to the Solstice. He did not think he would be able to wait that long. Around them, he could hear the sounds of the night. Crickets chirping, the cry of a lone wolf, leaves rustling in the breeze.
The breeze....
"Vay," he said slowly.
"Vay?" Jala raised her brooding eyes to his.
"He's coming," Agin said.
He felt giddy. Vay was the one amongst all his siblings he was closest to. Vay was just as impatient and volatile as the two of them, but he had the capacity to blend in to any crowd.
Jala cocked her head, as if listening to something. "He'll be here by tomorrow night," she said, smiling. "At last, we'll have some news."
They smiled at each other, joy and relief shining on their faces. They lay down on the sand, next to the fire. The flames danced, curling away from Jala and toward Agin.
Agin smiled as the warmth enveloped him. His eyes went to the sky where the five moons shone bright. The stars dotted the blackness. He could feel the earth underneath him. He stretched out his hand and Jala's fingers curled around his. Her hand was cool. The breeze ruffled his hair. He felt comforted, protected; he no longer felt alone. His siblings were always with him, no matter how far away they went. He was never alone.
Inexplicably, his thoughts turned to his mother. He forcibly turned his mind away at once. She was gone, and he hadn’t forgotten what happened the last time he thought of her.
Jala's fingers tightened around his. "You're thinking of her again," she said softly. Her hand was now cold, almost icy.
"So are you," he said.
"I can't help thinking about why she left," she whispered, her voice so low, it might have been the sound of the river. "Why did she feel the need to leave us?"
"I think about it too," he admitted. "And I can't find any answers."
The earth shook. They both sprang to their feet. Agin looked at his sister and found that her eyes were wide and fearful. His heart was squeezing in fear too. The earth shook again and was still.
They clutched each other's hands.
"Bhu!" Agin whispered.
They screamed in anguish, their voices mingling. "Bhu! My brother!"
Two Cities
The room was large, with white pillars on both sides leading to a raised dais that was empty. The white walls were bare of adornments. There was very little furniture in the room, and the mirror that was behind the dais covered the entire wall, reflecting the room. Together they made the room appear much larger than it was. There was a wide window on one side, to the left of the dais, which opened into a garden. Men and women in ginger coloured robes could be seen working there. Soldiers garbed in mail shirts patrolled the outer perimeter of the garden. The low wall that surrounded the entire compound gave unrestricted view into the busy city of Mirrel.
The room held only one occupant, a man who sat at a large desk near the window. Scrolls and books lay open in front of him on the desk, and he was busy writing. The desk was placed in such a manner as to get maximum light from the windows, and allowed the man who sat at the desk to refresh his eyes on the view outside if he wished. The man who sat there, however, appeared to have no such inclinations, not raising his head even at the sound of loud altercations coming from the next room with its door opposite the window.
He had dark hair, and a slender build. It was difficult to ascertain his height since he sat hunched over what he was writing. He was wearing a cream coloured tunic which was stained with ink.
A boy leaned over the window from outside. He was around twelve or thirteen and he looked curiously at the man.
“What are you doing, Danyal?” he asked softly as he stared nervously at the door opposite.
Danyal lifted his head, looked at the boy, and smiled. He had very clear grey eyes and his smile was crooked due to a deformity in his front teeth.
“Have you no work, Cathon?”
Cathon shrugged. “I’m taking a break. Tell me what you’re doing, please?”
“I’m transcribing the lore of Nadais for my master,” Danyal replied.
“The lore of Nadais?” Cathon frowned.
“It’s the story of how Nadais created Terrin and the Elementals,” Danyal explained. “It’s written in an ancient language that no one now knows, so I’m transcribing it into our common tongue.”
“How do you know it, if no one does?”
“I learned it.”
“Why does no one else learn it then?” Cathon asked.
“I don’t know,” Danyal replied. “Magicians learn it, but no one else does. Not even the priests of the Elementals.”
“Aster is not a priest, is he?” Cathon asked.
Danyal shook his head. “Aster is a Disciple of Nadais. That is higher than a priest, any priest. He’s the last of the Disciples of Nadais.”
“How does one become a disciple?” Cathon asked. “Can you become a disciple? Can I?”
“I don’t know,” Danyal shrugged. “It is said Nadais himself chooses his Disciples and marks them. He or she can be recognised by the existing Disciple, who then trains the new one, and so it goes.”
“So, Aster hasn’t found anyone yet?”
“Either Nadais hasn’t chosen or Aster hasn’t found the chosen one.”
“Can you teach me this ancient tongue? This lore?” Cathon asked eagerly, and Danyal nodded, smiling.
“Of course. I’m no teacher, but I’d be happy to tell you what I know.”
“Aster is a teacher, isn’t he?” Cathon asked. “That’s why he wears those dark blue robes, isn’t it?”
“Indigo,” Danyal corrected. “And yes, they’re the colour of a teacher. He used to be one. Before the war started, the Academy here at Mirrel was a famous place with students from all over Terrin attending.” There was a wistful note in Danyal’s voice as he spoke.
“Were you here then?” Cathon asked.
Danyal shook his head. “I wasn’t even born,” he said, sighing. “But I’ve heard stories.”
Cathon nodded. “I would have liked to live in those days,” he said.
The sound of a door opening startled them both, and Cathon ducked out of sight while Danyal bent his head, his colour high, as he tried to focus on his work. A young man rushed out of the other room, fuming. He was tall, with long, wavy, dark hair, intense grey eyes, moulded lips, a stubborn chin, and a beaked nose. He had a large scar across his right cheek, but in spite of it, and the scowl that marred his features, he was still a handsome man.
He stopped on seeing Danyal and stared at him intently. “Are you deaf, boy?”
His voice was husky and would have been pleasing to the ear if not for the obvious anger that throbbed in it.
Danyal lifted his eyes, surprised. He was younger than the man who addressed him, but still not young enough to be called a boy. He was confused, and did not know what to say. The man was being deliberately rude, and he had no idea what response was proper. The scowl on the man’s face deepened.
“I would thank you, Aadron, not to frighten my people.”
An old man had entered the room. Though immensely old, Aster of Mirrel still stood tall and unbent and his voice, though soft, could send shivers down the spine of brave men. His hair was white, and he was dressed in his customary indigo robes. His features bore some resemblance to Aadron's, particularly the beaked nose and the obstinate chin. His gaze was quelling and was capable of striking fear even in the heart of seasoned soldiers.
Aadron wasn’t so easily intimidated, however.
“This is my house, grand-uncle! You live here under my sufferance! And my patience is at an end!”
“This house belonged to your father, my nephew, Kaylas. He gave it to the Order of Nadais long before he even married your mother. As the last surviving member of the Order, it belongs to me now. As I have already explained to you.” Aster was unruffled as he spoke.
“Do not think to cheat me as you did my father. I shall not be cheated out of my patrimony. Order of Nadais! My father was never a believer. Why should he have given the order this place?” Fury and contempt were intermingled in Aadron’s voice.
“I don’t wish to wrangle with you over this.” Aster replied sternly. “You have seen the deeds. They are valid.”
“You think you are safe here, don’t you? Safe from the war, especially now, but this peace is only a truce! When the fighting starts again, as it inevitably must, Mirrel’s going to be in the thick of it again!”
Aster lifted his eyebrows. “We shall see,” was all he said.
Aadron stormed out.
“Keep working, Danyal,” Aster said as he went back to the other room, closing the door behind him.
The room he entered was large and cluttered. Rich carpets were on the floor and cushioned armchairs and couches were scattered all over, along with ornamental tables and footstools. There were no windows, but a fireplace was on the far wall. A man was standing near the fire, warming his hands.
“How anyone can use a room like this is beyond me,” he remarked. He was middle-aged, dark haired, of medium height and stocky build, with a pair of humorous grey eyes. His voice was deep, and it sounded amused. “Has that fire-breather left? For a moment there, I thought he would physically attack you.”
“Aadron’s a fool,” Aster said as he sat down on a chair wearily. “But not so much of a fool as to attack me in my own house. That too in a city held by an enemy. Why you allowed him to come at all is what I can’t understand.”
“I was curious,” The man replied as he picked his way across the room to where Aster sat. “I wanted to see what he had grown up to become. I’ve heard reports, of course, but it’s the first time I’ve seen him in a long time.” He paused. “He looked really shaky when he came in.”
“Did he?” Aster didn’t sound bothered. “I didn’t notice.” He fixed the man with a piercing stare. “And you will no doubt allow him to get back safely to his city, knowing full well he means to attack you. Had you imprisoned him or killed him, his armies would have joined yours.”
The man lifted his eyebrows. “I thought he was your grand-nephew.”
Aster shrugged. “I serve Nadais. Petty human wars are of no concern to me. Oh, do sit down, Syamin. It makes me uncomfortable to have you loom over me like that!”
Syamin laughed as he sat on a couch. “Petty human wars, eh? I seem to remember saving your life in this very house once. You didn’t think it was petty, then.”
“I was younger then, and life seemed – attractive. While you did save my life, you too would have died that day had I not healed you in time.”
“Well, what did you expect? I was only ten then.” Syamin grinned.
“I remember,” Aster said drily. “You hit my attacker with a vase and he stabbed you. You were the lucky one, I always thought. That knife missed all your vitals, and I could heal you in time.”
Syamin grinned. “Always had a charmed life.” He sobered. “It’s a pity that Semil survived. Why did he attack you anyway? I thought you two were friends.”
“Semil was my student for a while. We were not friends. As to why he attacked me, I have no guesses. Perhaps he was driven insane by the death of his mother. He blamed me for not being able to heal her, that much I know. If that was why he attacked me, I don’t know.”
“His insanity plunged the entire empire into a needless war. I wish I could sympathise with what happened to him, but when I think of what he did...”
“He didn’t intend to start a war. Things just-” Aster shook his head “they snowballed. He was young, only sixteen. He couldn’t have known this would happen.”
“He’s not sixteen any more. He was the one who never agreed to any peace proposal. Even your firebrand of a grand-nephew was prepared for peace at one time. It’s Semil’s obduracy that had kept us us in a state of war for so long. Had it not been for the crushing defeat he suffered at Rhenon, we would all still be fighting each other like a pack of dogs!” He rose. “Which reminds me that I need to see what Aadron’s up to. Can’t have him attacking me while I spend my time in idle chatter.” The last part was spoken lightly.
“What happened to you both? You were very close when he was a child. Why does he dislike you so much all of a sudden?” Aster looked at him curiously.
“He grew up, I left, and...” Syamin shrugged. “He probably learned that life was not what he thought it to be.”
“If the two of you were to join forces, Semil might be forced to retreat,” Aster said.
“I thought petty human wars were beneath you.” Syamin had an amused smile on his face.
“They are, but I like you, and Aadron is all the family I have left.”
Syamin laughed. “You contradict yourself. One minute, you want me to capture or kill Aadron, the next you are concerned for his life?”
Aster smiled. “Old men can change their minds at whim. That is one of the perks of being old.”
Syamin shook his head. “I’ll try to spare the firebrand’s life for your sake, but I make no promises.”
Aster sat still for a few moments after Syamin had left. His ears still rang with Semil’s anguished shriek as he had lifted his knife to slay him.
“Why? Why did you do this? Why did you summon them to do this?”
Aster closed his eyes. He knew he could never tell Syamin the truth about why Semil had tried to kill him that night. Of the terrible choice that he’d had to make. Of the even more terrible choice that he had almost made. In a way, it was he who was responsible for the war, not Semil.
