by Dilland Doe
The Keys to Ascension
Dr. Dilland Doe
Copyright © 2020 Dilland Doe
All Rights Reserved
Cover © 2020 Dilland Doe
(Cover created by Nina Pancheva)
A special thanks to H2O: Just Add Water.
“I'm no ordinary girl
I'm from the deep blue underworld
Land or sea, the world's my oyster
I'm the pearl, no ordinary girl”
Ch. 1
Hibberro rode toward the jagged spires of the count’s black fortress. It loomed over visitors, resembling an army of giants wielding obsidian blades while the count’s brutal reputation swirled in peoples’ minds like a violent, spiraling storm hovering just above, ready to strike with torturous lightning. Every peasant and baron trembled at the thought of defying Count Rylo Pinsta.
The guards wore armor the color of starless midnight with chest and stomach muscles shaped in the plates’ metal. The jagged lines of their helms came to sharp points, mirroring the wall they defended. Their long spears pointed toward the sky while the spears’ ends rested on the ground.
Hibberro halted his horse ten yards in front of a gateway. He scratched the line on the side of his head where hair started to grow after the baldness on top. “Hibberro Arrassio, younger brother of Viscount Themeno Arrassio, here on official business with Count Rylo.”
In that area, any mention of ‘the count’ shot fear and anxiety through the populous, but while Hibberro understood that, he also thought of the man as Rylo—his older brother’s best friend. Growing up, he wasn’t even a particularly mean friend as far as older brother friends went. From afar, his black cape and boots might have looked threatening, but close up, one saw the count’s chubby face and extra girth in the tummy. Hibberro hoped he had nothing to fear, though his business with the count could endanger both of them…as well as the entire empire.
From an inner pocket, Hibberro pulled out the medallion bearing his family’s seal and faced it toward the guards. He’d seen these guards many times before; the showing of the seal was just precautionary. They motioned him inside the walls where he dropped his horse off at the stable, then made his way into the keep.
Guards escorted him to a lounging room with cushioned chairs and couches. In a shadowed corner sat a man in all black. His cap covered his hair and he wore loose robes from head to toe. His shiny black cape was draped over the back of his chair. Hibberro had met the man several times before in similar meetings, but still wasn’t sure who he was. Hibberro sensed the man’s connections to high beings—this person was a wizard.
Wearing his usual black suit and carrying his dark cane, the count strolled in followed by two servants. They offered the guests sweetened water. While Rylo sat, Hibberro sipped on the refreshment, then patted his bulging gut and said, “This water soothes my tongue, but it’s been over two hours since I ate.”
Rylo shook his head and dismissed the comment with his hand as the servants dragged the heavy wooden doors shut, leaving the men alone.
Rylo glanced at his two conspirators, then lifted his glass. “To a better world.”
“To a better world.” The other two lifted their drinks.
Everyone took a swig of water.
Drinking filled the room. To a better world where I actually have some money!
The mysterious man spoke in a deep voice that sounded like a loud whisper, “I still feel we haven’t properly vetted Themeno. He may practice magic illegally, but by both of your admissions, he hasn’t shown the propensity to support our more radical goals.”
Hibberro gestured at the wizard with his drink. “Hey, my brother wants a better world just like you do. All he ever talks about is how to improve The Authority.”
With an edge to his voice, the man said, “We want to replace The Authority.”
Before Hibberro could speak again, the count tapped the ground with his cane. “Themeno can be brought to reason. He has no love for The Authority, look what they did to his wife. If he rejects us initially, he’ll be little threat. He won’t expose his best friend and brother.”
The shadowed man shook his head. “I’ve seen how irrationally loyal people are in this system. The Authority brainwashes them with religion, national-pride, and fear of enemies. Even if this Themeno has the intelligence to see through the façade of the one true divinity, he still may love his precious Hyzantria for other reasons. If he doesn’t join us, we should remove him.”
Silence followed the comment; then the light supping of water.
My brother is no threat.
Someone rang a bell from outside the door. Rylo bent forward, grabbing another bell from a table and ringing it.
The doors grinded open, dragged by two servants exerting their legs and backs. With two of the count’s guards behind him, Themeno stood smiling and holding sweetened water. “Brother! I didn’t know you’d be here.”
He walked in, then turned to and approached the man in the corner. “Hi, I’m Themeno.” Leaning toward the man, Themeno extended his hand. The man, wearing black gloves, returned a delicate handshake.
Themeno stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to reply, but he didn’t.
Motioning toward a chair between him and Hibberro, the count said, “Sit.”
The massive doors grinded shut.
Rylo leaned back. “Friend, I agree with what you have told me in confidence many times. The Sovereign is too harsh of a ruler. The Authority is too rigid a system. And The Divinity doesn’t exist. The only high beings that can help us are those you wizards talk to. Those who use the power of high beings shouldn’t be persecuted; they should be praised. You could help this country in so many ways. Your children could have grown up with their mother.”
Themeno loudly sucked in his water. He glanced at the shadowed man. “Well, it isn’t in confidence anymore. And who do you seek to replace The Sovereign? You? Friend, I love you, but I’ve criticized your harsh rule just as much as The Sovereign’s.”
The wizard in the corner crossed his arms.
Hibberro leaned forward, resting his chin in his hands and his elbows on his knees. “Brotherrrr, Rylo doesn’t seek power this time. This really is about a new future. We can be free. Free to choose a high being that we like and work with it to produce great magic.”
Themeno narrowed his eyes and stared away for a moment. Then he focused on Rylo. “What’s the plan?”
Rylo grinned. “So you’re in?”
“No. I need to know the plan.”
The man in the corner watched motionlessly. Hibberro glanced between his brother and the count.
Examining the giant ring on his left hand, the count said, “I’m not such a fool to tell someone our plans unless they are committed to the cause.”
“What’s the estimated death toll of this revolution?” asked Themeno.
Rylo chuckled, moving his ring finger around so he could see his expensive jewelry from different angles. “Revolution, Themeno?” He looked up at his friend. “You know I’m not a man of the people. No. We’ll decapitate the leaders of each bureaucracy, replace them with our own, and then slowly reform. There will be some battles with those loyal in the military, but with the powers our research is discovering, we’ll have a swift victory.”
Themeno shook his head. “War is unpredictable. Hyzantria is a religious land. They will die before you remove their theocracy and sacred leaders.”
Rylo started to speak, then closed his mouth.
Smirking at Rylo, Themeno blew air out his nose, then said, “I knew it. You don’t care how many people die.” He turned toward his brother. “Hibberro, you bring shame upon your family. How did he convince you to support this? How much money did h
e give you?”
Hibberro felt his eyes grow wide as he pulled his head back. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Themeno stood. “I’ll take my leave. Don’t worry, I won’t divulge your secret.”
He strode toward the door and pounded on it. Silence fell over the room as nothing happened. Themeno stood motionless, waiting. Rylo grabbed his bell and rang it.
Themeno left.
After the doors shut, the three remaining men took a few more tastes of their dwindling water.
The man in the shadows spoke. “We have to eliminate him.”
Hibberro gasped.
Staring into his now empty cup, the count sighed. “I forget how self-righteous my friend is. He may not intend on telling anyone now, but he could have a crisis of conscious later. He’s a viscount; he won’t have trouble getting an ear in the bureaucracy, priesthood, or military. We must silence him…for the greater good.”
Hibberro jumped to his feet. “Never! I won’t let you kill my brother.”
Rylo changed positions in his chair. “I’ve only delivered a tenth of the gold I promised you. Why don’t we double or nothing on the last ninety percent?” He lifted his eyes toward Hibberro.
Hibberro squeezed his hands together. He really needed the gold. His mind steeled. “No. Not my brother.”
“Just provide evidence to The Authority of his magic,” the dark wizard said. “They’ll do the deed.”
Rylo smiled. “Yes. Hibberro, find some of his research notes and bring them to the inquisition. Do this, and your loyalty will be proven. I will triple the gold I promised you. Don’t, and I’ll report both of you.”
Hibberro’s hand shook as he swiped sweat from his brow. That money would change his life. And it would be better for just his brother to face the inquisition than both of them. Why is it up to me? If it was just the coins or just the threat, I’d say no, but both of them…both! If only I could get some gold somewhere.
Rylo groaned as he stretched to his feet. He rested on his cane, leaning toward Hibberro. “It’s for the greater good. You knew we’d have to make sacrifices when we started this.”
Hibberro glanced at the dark ceiling, then the floor. The boys have been really active lately, even before their big match today…what if they’ve tired themselves out and lose? No one would expect that. A bet against the favorites could be big money. Hibberro slowly raised his focus from the bottom of the count’s cane to the top. I can’t tell him no to his face, but if I do win the wager and then deny him, he’ll be mad at me for much more than a little lie. If the boys lose, I won’t need gold anymore because I’m gonna put all of mine on their opponents! He looked Rylo in the eyes. “Okay, I’ll do it.”…if I lose my sports gamble…
Ch. 2
Lizeto stomped his heavy foot on the evenly cut green grass as the referee twirled the yellow ribbon over his teammate. The teenager hung his head and walked off the field. Boos roared from the bleachers he moved toward. They were filled with fans colored in sparkly red and gold. Fans in blue and black on the other side cheered.
Lizeto still wasn’t acclimated to how boisterously the fans rooted. It was as if they played in a professional game. People really got into local sedeux championships; even the fifteen-year-olds’ league. The winner would represent the county in The Authority-wide tournament.
The ejected kid wasn’t very good, but that was the third player removed due to penalty. It was eleven versus eight, and Lizeto’s team was down three to two.
Asho, a boy Lizeto knew from school, yelled from the stands in his blue and black team colors, “The mirror brothers and their fat stooge can’t win every year! Wankers!”
Lizeto clenched his fists. He wasn’t fat, he was burly. He glanced at the goal on the other side of the field, imagining the ball striking past the defenders and into the net that was three horses wide and as tall as a man’s reach. They were gonna win this game, and then win their age group’s empire-wide tourney for the fourth year in a row!
The ref held the fist-sized ball out, ready to toss it to the other team. Lizeto glanced at the triplets. Their black hair stuck out the bottom of their leather helmets. They nodded toward each other, then at him.
Lizeto burst into a sprint before the ball left the ref’s hand. The player receiving the toss was a dancer, meaning he held a club in each hand used to bounce the ball in the air and shoot. Lizeto’s stocky, short legs pounded through the grass. The dancer’s eyes widened. He tried to bat the ball to another dancer behind him, but hit it at an awkward angle, forcing it to pop out to the side.
Lizeto collided into the opposing player, pushing with both hands. The boy flew to the ground.
The identical triplets went into action. Parto dashed to the ball, then knocked it back with one of his clubs. It rolled and bounced to the long paddle-staff of Finio, who controlled the ball in the grass, reared back, and slapped the ball.
Meanwhile, Lizeto and the third brother, Theto, dashed down the sidelines. The ball soared toward an opposing grounder on the left side of the field who lifted his paddle-staff, prepared to knock the ball down, but Theto could run like lightning. Sprinting down the field, he intercepted the ball with the tip of his club right before it hit the grounder’s staff.
Lizeto barreled toward a player whose eyes were on the action on the other side of the field. Lizeto pulverized the opponent and knocked him to his back. Then, Lizeto grabbed a paddle-staff from the padded rack on the side-line, becoming a grounder.
Theto twirled around opponents, knocking the ball back and forth between his clubs, nimbly bouncing it around clubs that darted in, attempting to tackle the ball. He maneuvered near the front of the goal. The final guard tensed with his wide stick, ready to block a shot. Two dancers and a grounder also maneuvered between Theto and the goal.
A pusher charged him from the right. Theto easily side stepped him. Two dancers approached Theto from behind. He positioned himself like he was gonna take a hard shot, but with a deceptively quick flick of the wrist, the ball rocketed right by a dancer advancing from behind at an angle, then it bounced into Lizeto’s staff.
He lifted his paddle-staff for a massive shot toward the upper right corner of the net. That area of the white, crisscrossing mesh remained open, but Lizeto was fairly far away, and a good final guard could dive with his blocking stick. He swung his paddle-staff downward. The entire defense lurched toward the corner he aimed for. At the last instant, he slowed down his swing and angled the flat hitting surface of his staff, popping the ball to the left where Parto caught it in stride, bouncing it forward with his clubs.
The defenders’ momentum carried them to the right. Parto knocked the ball above him, and slammed his right club into it with a powerful side swing. The ball screamed toward the upper-left net until, swoosh! Score!
Their crowd exploded in cheers.
There were three minutes left in the game, but from that moment on, Lizeto and his triplet friends were on fire. By the time the whistle blew, they scored four more times, winning seven to three. They could have beat those bruised losers eleven players to four.
The boys in red and gold jumped, hugged, and screamed in victory while their side of the audience rushed the field. After high fiving and hugging the triplets and other teammates, Lizeto glanced toward his father.
In his black suit, with his dark cane hanging between his arms, the heavyset count modestly clapped his hands, glancing a few times at the celebration, but mostly focused on the triplets’ black-haired dad. Count Rylo’s mouth continued moving in casual conversation like his son didn’t just become the local sedeux champ for the fourth year in a row.
The crowd quieted and made way as The Authority sedeux official strolled to the center of the field. The victorious boys and their coach lined up in front of him. The purple robes, gold chain, and giant gold ring that hung on his limp left hand made him stand out from the crowd sporting jerseys and body paint in the color of their teams.
When all were sil
ent, the man spoke. “Boys, repeat after me.”
The team stood straight at attention, ready to do their duty.
He said, “We stand victorious all in thanks to The Divinity. The one true higher being whose will The Sovereign exercises through the institutions of The Authority.”
Lizeto repeated the words alongside his teammates.
The official said, “All our achievements are due to The Divinity. The One Source, rules all.”
The boys reiterated the words as if they believed them passionately. Lizeto didn’t. The Divinity didn’t do crap. Lizeto and his friends won this game through their own hard work and skill.
The official smiled at the team. “Congratulations, boys.”
They barked back, “Thank you, representative of The Sovereign, The Authority, The Divinity.”
Asho, the heckler boy from before, yelled, “Hey Lizeto! You’re still a shorty fatty loser, and so are your mirror boys!”
The triplets pursed their lips and shook their heads. They flashed their heads forward. “Get him!”
The four boys rushed through their fans, then into the opposing audience who still stood on the sideline and sat in the bleachers. The boys punched, kicked, and shoved all who got in the way.
The two sides exploded in an uproar, then charged each other, colliding like two armies.
While throwing a younger kid off the third row of the bleachers, Lizeto muttered, “A good old sedeux riot, just like professional games.”
While the crowds clashed below, the four boys spearheaded their charge up the opposing bleachers. At the top, the heckler waited, nervously glancing around for a way down.
Theto yelled, “Coward!” as he leapt ahead of his friends, twisting and curving through the audience—half of whom were trying to flee, the other half scowled with their fists clenched as they pushed toward the fight.
Lizeto flashed his thick hands in front of a fist flying toward him, catching thin fingers. The man, maybe thirty, threw another punch, but Lizeto caught that fist too. He smirked. “I got you now, skinny man.”