Mortal gods, p.50
Mortal Gods, page 50
“What about this staff and amulet?” Kyler said again quickly. Vaseyl looked around at the group, blinking as though it would all fade to dust before him and he would wake back on the right side of the Mountain.
“The staff is how the Arc opened.” Vasely answered. “Freya brought it with her. I don’t know where she got it, or how. The amulet was hers as well. But she never used it, I don’t know what it does.” He could feel the shift in the room. The glares were flashed at Roderick and before long the voices had raised to a blare.
“Why does Wyrm want the staff?!” Kyler shouted. Roderick looked his age. He was frozen in the face of the aggression that poured his way, and Vaseyl seen his chance.
“That’s why you’re here isn’t it?” The old Dwarf asked.Roderick’s eyes shifted around the group, wearily.
“What you talkin’ about” Bartley piped up.
“Roderick?” Vaseyl beckoned him forward.
Roderick obliged, stepping forth past Igor and Sybald who tightly gripped their weapon hilts. “The last time the Arc was opened, Freya made great mistakes. She opened a breach to the Void. I believe I can open one to the Heavens!” Roderick said.
“My arse!” Kirza scoffed.
“Vaseyl you have seen this Arc itself. Is there not two separate scriptures, each divided by a line of white and black? Freya read the scripture from the dark side, which means if we read the scripture from the light, it would not be the Void that opens on the other side, it would be the Heavens.”
“You’ve truly lost your mind! You and that father of yours!” Kyler scolded. The rest of the group echoed a similar sentiment, but Vaseyl half understood. Had he not laid eyes on the Arc itself, he would surely have shared in the outrage of the others, but he had seen it. The whites and the black clashed so vividly it was as though they waged their own war on the stone.
“You forget that nobody here can read the scripture.” Vaseyl reminded him.
“Now you know why my father insisted I come.” Roderick replied. “My real remit here is to find the staff and read aloud the scripture from the light.”
“What possible good could come from that?!” Vaseyl yelled.
“Aye, what the hell ye playin at?” Bartley scolded.
“I hate my father more than any of you ever will! It would give me nothing but pleasure to defy his order and leave!” Roderick answered. “But this is it. The resources that could be gained for the mountain, could set our generation and those to come on a path we never dreamed of! You may have buried your heads when Man’s war raged on in the south, but I didn’t. I’ve heard the tales of the divine. We can advance from this mountain if we have the backing of Gods! No longer will Men keep us confined like animals.”
“Roderick…” Vaseyl said almost flabbergasted.
“You know I’m right, Vaseyl. We can take back the lands Men stole from us. The north will be ours again!”
“And if it kills us all?” Vaseyl asked.
“It won’t.” Roderick replied toughly.
“Funny…” Vaseyl said, leaning back against the wall.
“What is?” Roderick asked.
“That’s what they said the last time.”
Chapter 24
The Letter, the Stranger and the Secret
Arianna
It’s said that the beating heart of any thriving city, is the market place. It’s the place that epitomises the very facets of men that are both loved and loathed. The bartering of a tight fisted traveller, the stubbornness of a wily merchant, or the thieves who acquire anything to their taste – it’s the place where lines of life are etched ever deeper into a person.
Qalm was no different. In all its glory, under the feverish burn of an unquestioning sun, the market place was that beating heart, and it thumped every day without falter. A far cry from Oraan, that was for sure, but there was something about the familiarity that soothed Arianna’s woes. Despite everything that had happened, she still held some residual hope.
Qalm was everything it was supposed to be. The wealth of its locals dripped from their skin. The majority wore togas of the finest silks and sandal’s, light and breezy for the heat. The women were the worst of all. Every second one, was draped head to toe in the finest jewels seen in the land, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts and more. Their appearance only served to underline their demeanours as well, their noses turned so high, a vague memory of their feet was all that they could muster. It was plain for all to see and nobody seemed keen to hide it, least of all the Lord of Qalm, Bryce Cawder. The Lord often frequented through the market place accepting gifts from the vendors in the hopes of favour later. It never to came to fruition, of course, with Lord Cawder being a deeply selfish man, born from the bosom of a woman who took her own life out of spite, as though it was a gift to be discarded with such distain. He was taller than most, but his most distinguishing feature was not his bald head or his beady eyes, it was the rotund nature of his gut.
“What is he wearing?!” Arianna gasped in exacerbation. Avari shook his head and lowered his eyes, sat upon on a solid stone wall at the entrance to a grand cathedral. It was the tallest and most vast building in all of Qalm, belonging to the Knights of the Kalutha faith. It was as though the structure had been ripped directly from a master piece of the famous artist Gerald Warlhurst. The stone was woven with intricate shapes and décor and a twenty foot oval window above the solid double wooden doors. Structures like this escaped the likes of Avari and Arianna back in Oraan. The most they could hope for was a crusted lick of paint and upright walls.
“Every day…” Avari said shaking his head. The pair focused on the Lord of Qalm who made his daily round of the marketplace, while the inhabitants scurried around him like he was royalty. In truth, he was nothing more than a butcher’s son who was fortunate enough to be King Septimus Khalan’s, wives, cousin. When all the Lords and Knights of Hyule were raised to battle in the Demon Wars, Bryce was left behind on the account of being fat and cumbersome. Not mentioning his futility with a blade, Lord Cawder was raised to be the castellan of Qalm and safeguarded with its defence until the end of the war.
However, when the fighting finished and the Lords returned to reclaim their lands, there was none forth coming for Qalm. Lord Grelish, the former Lord of Qalm, and his heirs fell in the battle of Perulda, while his two year old son and wet nurse mysteriously disappeared in the following days. In any case, it was decreed by the then Steward of Hyule, General Kauto, that Bryce would remain in his lofty place. Contrary to what the fat Lord would tell his subjects at the numerous and lavish feasts he threw for the upper classes – the people of Qalm hated him. His fat pug face was the kind that a man would never tire punching. The Lord wandered around the raw meats, his mouth visibly salivating. He wore a brightly coloured, red toga of silks and encrusted rubies that could only be lauded after by the blind.
“Watch, Mandel…” Arianna said pointing across the marketplace square, through a ruckus of people. Mandel was an over eager stall hand who dreamed of being granted permission to move his stall to a more lucrative area of the city, but he often ended his days at an inconceivable loss as a punishment for the free goods he hands to those he considers above him.
“How many pieces this time?” Avari sniggered.
“At least four!” Arianna said gallantly. “That’s one...”
“Ok there’s number two!” Avari pounced in quickly.
“Wait was that the third or fourth piece?”
“That was five!” Avari replied stifling a laugh as the pair fidgeted around the wall to see.
“Six… Seven? Oh come on Mandy!” Arianna said, almost in pity.
“He gives away more fish to that man in a week than he catches in a month.” Arianna said shaking her head.
“You two, inside! Now!” The voice barked from the cathedral’s solid wooden doors.
“Sorry Preacher, We were just –”
“How many pieces today?”
“Seven.” Arianna and Avari replied in tandem, both harbouring a chuckle.
“Bloody Mandel!” Preacher Warren exclaimed in exasperation before turning to enter the cathedral again. Arianna and Avari followed him inside, immediately being varnished by the mixtures of light that streaked through the stain glass windows above on each side of the grand hall. The windows were mightily impressive, each depicting a valiant hero slaying an unthinkable beast, flanked by a small note of how the victory was achieved. Arianna let her eyes wander high above, to the heavily illuminated glass on the right hand side wall and gazed at the artwork. One was a mighty knight in a black armour with a small sigil of the Eternal Tree of Kalutha on his chest, battling a blonde haired devil woman, straddling a tree menacingly, with venom in her eyes and fire in her breath. Others were the same variation of brave knights and harrowing beasts to be slain. However, a plain window at the forefront of the cathedral was perhaps the most interesting of all. The sight of it made Avari remember the First Preachers words the first night they arrived in this place.
“Oh that is for the place of the Faiths grandest victory. The saviour of the realm will claim that window as his own and be forever revered as the One.” First Preacher Yuri had said.
“Come quickly, inside!” Warren snapped, looking around nervously to the half empty grand hall. Only a few of the benches, which faced the altar at the front, were occupied by people silently praying, but still Warren seemed anxious. Avari and Arianna were ushered quickly into the small side room. It was furnished to lavish extremes bordering on the obscene. The chair that sat behind the desk was embroidered with jewels, and its fine cotton fabric and the wood itself was crafted by the hands of a master. The desk shared its craftsmen with the chair, so it to was a craft of art with a purple velvet sheet draped over it that oozed wealth. The whole room was foreign to Avari and Arianna – it definitely wasn’t home.
“I am afraid we have run out of time, my young friends. I cannot keep you from the Calling any longer.” Warren said heartily as he closed the door tightly behind him. The Second Preacher was a small man of about five foot two and a greasy mop of shoulder length black hair that had submitted all too fully to the grey. He wore brown woollen robes that were much too heavy for the throbbing heat of Orann, but it was the Kalutha’s will. Avari drew a sullen look to Arianna before saying softly, “We’ve already waited too long Ari…”
She was silent, even though the pain poured from her.
“He’s not coming. None of them are.” Avari finished. She wiped the beginnings of a trickle of tears from her cheek, to stubborn to show emotion.
“What happens now?” She asked. Both Avari and Warren drew long looks at one another before the Preacher ventured for an answer.
“There has been no Necuratu reported within the cities limits since before the Kingsway Bridge, which could mean…” The Preacher tailed off from saying the words as though saying them would make it real. “If Adrian truly is gone… then the Cycle is over and The Black King will fade once more until a new Heir is chosen.”
“You say it like picking an Heir is like picking your nose.” Arianna said sourly. “So they’re both just gone? Just like that?” She said.
“One cannot exist without the other.” Warren said simply. That annoyed Arianna. Adrian was dead and there was nobody to seek revenge on. The Black King was gone as well.
“High Chanter Villars has demanded you both progress onto the Callings route. I fear my intervention up till now has drawn too much suspicion. I cannot stall this any longer.” Warren said. “You must flee the city at night fall.”
“Would becoming a Kalutha Knight be that bad?” Avari smirked jokingly but Warren grabbed him closer by the scruff of his shirt and whispered harshly, “Do not jest boy! The horrors I have seen, the horrors I have had to bare have all been in servitude to my King and the greater good.” Avari tapped gently on the Preachers hand and nodded, soothing the building tension until the scruff of his shirt was released. “Knight-Commander Krone is in the city.”
“Who’s he?” Arianna asked.
“The military arm of the Kalutha Faith. He is a bad man, Arianna. Which is why you both must leave, tonight.”
“Where will we go?” Arianna asked.
“The Capital.” Preacher Warren replied swiftly.
“The Kalutha would definitely find us there?” Avari questioned.
“A message must be delivered to the King’s eyes and I trust no bird to see it safely there.” Warren said cautiously. He moved across the room and opened a high built set of drawers that lingered just under his chin, and rummaged through the highest drawer.
“Here, take this.” Warren said handing Avari a crisp sheet of paper folded tightly and freshly pressed with the spread eagle seal in wax.
“What’s the message?” Arianna asked.
“For the King’s eyes!” Warren replied forcefully. “The road to Seroyah will be fraught with the same dangers you faced to arrive here and precautions must be taken,” Warren said reassuringly. “I have bartered two horses from the stables at the cusp of town, they will be tied and waiting for you at the boundary.”
“Won’t two stray horses left at the boundaries of town draw suspicion?” Avari said sceptically.
“The owner would rather not associate directly with the Faith.” Warren said softly. “Not something I would hold against the man. Go make your preparations, you leave for Seroyah at night fall.” He finished, beckoning them to the door.
Arianna stalked from the office without a look back, but as Avari went to do likewise, he felt a sharp tug at his arm.
“If you should come to harm, read the letter and burn it, these words must not pass unfriendly eyes!” Warren warned ominously.
“Warren, what’s in this letter?” Avari asked in caution, but the Preacher smiled gently before patting his shoulder roughly.
“Read it, but only as a last resort. I trust you.” He said finally. Avari left the office of the Preacher and heard the solid clink of its mechanism lock behind him. The Preachers words stroked the curiosity that burned deep within him as he wandered through the cathedral’s grand hall, clutching the letter tightly. He eyed the plain envelope, but its secrets were concealed.
“What does it say?” Arianna asked again eagerly, from the steps of the cathedral.
“I don’t know.” He replied quickly.
“Don’t you think we should at least know what we’re carrying?” She asked.
“It’s not for our eyes Arianna.”
“So what? He isn’t your King!” She strenuously argued back. Avari moved around her towards the busy hustle of the market place, but Arianna was not to be out ran. The smell of her hair wafted through Avari’s face as she stopped him square in his tracks once more, glaring at him with forceful promise. The market was the last place Avari wanted to be, but for times sake, he pushed Arianna through it, rather than around it like he always done before.
“Ari just –” Avari felt the wind escape briefly from his lungs as he collided with a rock of a man.
“GUARDS!” The man howled at the top of his voice and immediately Avari and Arianna were surrounded by five angry looking Hyulian guards clad in boiled leather, swords drawn from their scabbards, glinting in the basking sunshine above. The swiftness of their reaction sent almost all of the market patrons scurrying as far as they could get. The smell of fish was rife through the air, even Avari could feel the moisture on his cheek from the slimy hide of a fish that briefly met him. “He attacked me! You all saw!” The fat Lord with the bright red silks screamed.
“Lord Cawder, it was an accident!” Arianna protested but it only served to incense the Lord of Qualm further.
“You dare speak to your Lord out of turn!” He barked, “Arrest them both!”
“Please m’lord, she meant no offence!” Avari protested.
“Lord Cawder.” The familiar voice was a lifeline in the hushed, unusual silence of the market place. It was a glimmer of hope to the fleeting wish to remain unshackled in the dungeons of Qalm. “Perhaps this can be resolved without the need for chains?” Preacher Warren said approaching from behind the young pair. He gently placed a finger on the sharpened blade of one of the Hyulian soldiers who immediately withdrew it to his side, unsure of what to do, uncomfortably looking to Lord Cawder from Preacher Warren.
“Bryce, let them leave.” Warren said calmly after encouraging the rest of the soldiers to lower their weapons.
“No!” The Lord replied stubbornly.
“Bryce –”
“Lord Cawder!” He spat in return.
“Lord Cawder,” Warren said, slightly lingering on the words in irritation, “These two walk the path of the Calling in a mere matter of hours. The Kalutha Faith will not tolerate the incarceration of one of its students for the fabled pride of a vain Lord!” Warren warned stoutly. It was barely the demeanour that either had come to expect from the Preacher. He was playing to the arrogant superiority that the Faith projected throughout the city.
“I care not for the practices of religious myths! This is Qalm, ruled by Hyule, ruled by me,” Cawder turned his eyes around to the cowering market goers, “and you had all best remember that!”
“Ruled by you?” Preacher Warren said sceptically, “To my knowledge, King Aeon Khalan rules over the lands of Hyule, not Lord Bryce Cawder.”
“Enough,” Cawder barked “Take the boy into MY custody!” The guards moved swiftly and grabbed Avari by the arms, but he broke free momentarily and wrapped around Arianna like a vice.
“If anything goes wrong, read it and burn it, don’t let them have it Ari!” Avari whispered into her ear as he fought off the guard’s attempts to unhook them.
“This is a mistake Lord Cawder.” Preacher Warren warned, as the crowd of market goers cheered the sight of Avari being shackled.
“Think lucky I have not taken his head already!” Cawder spat back enraged, before turning to leave.
“Warren, stop them!” Arianna protested in vain but the preacher stood shaking his head as they exited the market square.
