Huddled against the city wall was a round dome. Steam wafted from one of its metal chimneys. The steam formed small clouds above the building, looking like a miniature rainstorm had descended upon it.
Aeden tugged the door open and was greeted by the sweet scents of lavender, cypress, and rose petals. The fragrance clung to the air as the moisture clung to the walls. The Mystes Mountain air followed him like a desperate child. It stirred at the humid atmosphere of the Bellas Bathhouse like an uncoiling snake.
Aeden rubbed at his tired eyes. He had hardly slept the night of Grandmaster Kaldi’s speech. His mind had churned the hours away, culling over thoughts and parsing emotion into threads of understanding.
Aeden shut the door and peered about the dividing wall, through the mist. He was alone. He unclasped his sword and shrugged off his travel-worn clothing. He placed it all in a neat pile upon a stone bench and slipped into one of the warm pools of water.
Closing his eyes, Aeden felt the warmth penetrate his skin as the fragrances lulled him into requiescence. They danced about his nose and seeped into his mind. The aromas entered his lungs like a warm wine on a Vintas night.
He felt himself sink into relaxation as he thought on Kaldi’s final words.
“The Fold is shaped by its own set of rules. Understand them, and you’ll take a step toward understanding the nature of existence and the arkein itself.”
Humidity gathered about him in a mask of obscurity. It lulled Aeden to the space just before sleep. His muscles twitched and loosened. His thoughts slowed. His breathing grew calm.
As silence gathered about him, a voice as gentle as a caress, touched his ears.
“This is a surprise.”
It was a woman’s voice, soft like the morning dew.
Aeden peeled his eyes open and glimpsed Thea through a bout of steam as she slipped into the water. The soft curves of her body etched their way into his mind. The light tone of her skin demanded his attention. The shape of her breasts and the exposed nape of her neck, caused his mouth to go dry.
Aeden struggled to look anywhere but her. Thea smiled as she found his eyes and uncovered his discomfort.
“How’d you sleep?” she asked, her voice soothing as a seductress.
Aeden shrugged into the darkness, “Not well.”
Thea studied Aeden as if pulling together the pieces of a broken toy. She didn’t respond at first. Instead, she let his words filter into the misty depths of the domed bathhouse.
“This place is so strange,” Thea said, breaking the temporary silence with her tender intonation.
Aeden nodded slowly in agreement. His mind, however, was focused on the nakedness of her body, barely concealed by the darkness of the water. He risked a glance and caught sight of the swell of her breasts.
Aeden fought for control as he felt himself stir. He took in a breath and studied the stonework of the ceiling.
“I can’t believe we made it,” Aeden whispered in an effort to regain control.
Thea cupped some water and brought it to her neck. She closed her eyes for a moment. Aeden watched the water trace thin lines down her long neck and fall upon the lip of her clavicle.
“It was because of you,” Thea responded so lightly that Aeden hardly heard.
Her voice was like the touch of a feather. Her hand was still upon her neck. She slowly opened her eyes and looked down at the water.
“What had happened after we ran to the glade?” Thea prodded ever so gently.
The bouquet of smells combined with the lure of Thea as memories of the final night in Galdor threatened to topple Aeden’s mind.
He closed his eyes in an effort to forget. Yet, the dark images were there, clear as day, tall as mountains. Three Inquisitors stood along the path in their midnight armor. They were cast in an oily shadow made from the seeds of gloom and despair.
“Inquisitors blocked the path,” Aeden finally spoke, his voice faltering.
Thea leaned forward but remained silent. Aeden looked up at the swirling steam. He watched as it played with the stonework and disturbed the droplets gathering upon the ceiling. He watched the drops amass into thick beads before falling back into the pools of water.
Aeden rubbed at his head. He glanced at Thea, feeling her eyes upon him. They were heavy with curiosity and something more. Aeden swallowed the growing lump in his throat and spoke to dispel his unease.
“Headmaster Sund shouted at them, unlike anything I’d ever heard,” Aeden slowly shook his head as memory threatened to submerge him, “It tore at the leaves like a Sumor gale and nearly knocked me off my feet. Yet, the Inquisitors remained standing, like nothing more than a gentle breeze had been stirred awake.”
He fell silent as his throat constricted.
Thea glided through the water to sit beside him. The steam gathered about her as the water splashed upon the stone lip of the bath.
“You saved us,” she said quietly, leaning toward his ear.
Aeden’s brow wrinkled as dark thoughts swam through his brain.
“I couldn’t save him,” he responded.
Sorrow strangled his chest and choked his throat. It cast the two in a net of solitude.
“We’re not your responsibility,” Thea said, casting the silence aside.
Aeden nodded but said nothing. He couldn’t. The hands of memory were firmly clasped upon his throat. The deaths of those students stood upon his chest. They awaited action. They begged for revenge.
Thea leaned closer and placed a hand on his chin. Her breast brushed against his arm as she turned his head to face her. Her eyes looked through him as she studied his very soul.
“We’ve lost more than most,” she said softly, “You and I. We’re different.”
Aeden chocked back his thoughts, struggling with the bittersweet flavors of anguish and desire.
“We’re stronger together,” her words were so softly spoken that Aeden wasn’t sure if he’d imagined them.
“Talk to me,” Thea whispered, “Open your heart to me. Stop trying to control every thought that enters your head.”
Her voice was like a seamstress, weaving its way through his heart, tugging at the thread that bound him together.
“What shaped you so?” Thea’s eyes were watery as she gathered him in.
Aeden felt her fingers run delicately through his hair. He felt himself succumbing to Thea’s touch. He felt his control slipping through his own fingers. It felt like he was gripping nothing more than the oiled tail of an escaping basilisk.
Images of his home surged against his mind. They threatened to drown him in the sentiments of calamity and perdition. They clamored for his attention, clawing at him like a caged harpy.
“Tell me,” Thea’s voice cooed upon his ear, tickling him with her breath, intoxicating him with her proximity.
It was too much. Aeden felt like an egg under the pressure of a hammer.
And so, he broke under the weight of Thea’s touch. He collapsed under the proximity of her stare. He crumbled under the harrowing ardor of the past and from pure and simple exhaustion. He opened up to her in the naked wake of raw emotion.
Aeden remembered the vivid details of his burning village. He recalled the melted state of S’Vothe and the charred remains of those he’d known and loved.
Tears stained his face as he recollected the pain of isolation. The agony of solitude. He pressed against Thea as she moved against him. He gripped her desperately as he struggled against the bleak tide of thought. She clawed at his back in response. He swelled inside of her.
He became one with her and her with him.
Soon all emotion throbbed painfully for a singular moment of perfection. It exploded in a release of pent up aggression, of barely controlled fear, of hidden angst.
He’d finished his story. He’d released his burden.
Aeden sagged against Thea, feeling the warmth of her as the water masked them. She cradled his head to her bosom as he closed his eyes. She played with his hair an
d he felt the pain diminish. She whispered into his ear as all thoughts floated away.
For a moment, Aeden felt home.
Chapter 17
“The bonds of friendship are the threads that bind society together.” Valik the Philosopher – Bryn Yawr
Three weeks had passed since the Galdor group had arrived at the Tower of the Arkein. In that time, Aeden had yet to get used to the lack of night, the strange foods, the peculiar Andir accents, strange superstitions, or the subtle texture of the air.
Although, it was clear he was no longer in Verold; it wasn’t the obvious contrasts that were most intriguing, but the subtle features that most captivated Aeden.
To the discerning eye, the stonework was almost too perfect, arranged into incredible patterns with no tolerance for error. It was odd the way the morning mist rolled up the mountain to enshroud the town of Andir. The way it encircled the lower half of the Tower of the Arkein, obscuring its shorter, slender companion, Bellas Tower, as if attempting to hide it from view. It was the gentle hum of vibrating stones, cooling under a lilac sky that sang a different tune.
The disparities didn’t stop at the physical, but affected the customs and culture of the people as well. For Aeden, it was the strange tradition of changing plates for every unique dish that caught his attention. The strict rules regarding doorways also confounded him. One wasn’t supposed to linger, greet, or make eye contact with another whilst passing through the threshold of any opening.
He had tried to figure out the roots of these traditions, but came up short, despite spending hours in the library. In fact, each evening, during the purpling twilight of night, Aeden could be found in the library; reading, studying, and searching. His eyes burned with focus. His mind threatened to burst under the deluge of information as his soul burned with an all-consuming fever.
In the mornings, he would awake early and run through the forms of the gevecht. The movements gave him energy and loosened his body. They grounded him and allowed him to refocus.
The days themselves, were filled with classes. These were foundational classes, building on what he had learned at the University of Galdor. Master Hob Towne taught some of them. Masters Cassius and Ashdown taught the others. In many ways, it felt like he had never left the University.
Yet, Aeden felt driven, like a trail of screaming maras were chasing him toward some unknown fate. He knew in his heart, that here in the Fold, he would find his answers. Here, he would learn the power he craved.
Finally, Aeden would become strong enough to avenge his family and prevent further bloodshed.
Today, however, was a day of rest, a day free of classes.
Aeden found he needed a day a week to socialize and to recover. Life still demanded balance, no matter the strength of his inner drive.
Presently, Aeden sat in a cozy tavern. It was situated in an alley, at the foot of a set of stairs. Thea, Adel, Laurent and Dan were seated with him. They sat around two square tables that had been pushed together. The smell of baking bread and sweet pastries intermingled with the subtler scents of lavender and spice. A fire burned in one corner, providing warmth and comfort on an otherwise cold and misty morning.
“I still don’t believe it,” Laurent said, shaking his head.
Laurent’s hands were gripped around a thick mug of ale. Behind him, tall windows looked over the alleyway and allowed one to glimpse around the corner, hinting at a slice of the main street.
Today, however, the view was obscured by the grey shroud of morning mist. The haze lingered about Andir like a discarded lover. It concealed the shapes of buildings, marking them in the watery lines of half-imagined forms.
“It’s not that unusual,” Aeden responded to Laurent’s disbelief.
Aeden tore his gaze from the effluvium, returning his attention to his friends.
“Actually,” Dan interjected, “according to Oria, she’s never seen it happen.”
Oria was the student rector for the novus student group. She was sweet and at times funny. She often smiled whenever she saw Aeden.
“And Oria’s been here how long?” Thea asked a bit sternly.
“A year,” Aeden replied.
Thea glanced at Aeden, a hint of jealousy marked her features. Aeden hardly noticed as he waited for Laurent to respond.
“When do you start?” Laurent continued, still shaking his head in disbelief.
“Tomorrow,” Aeden replied.
“Isn’t that the same day Zabel starts his defensive applications of the arkein classes?” Dan asked seriously.
Aeden nodded. He’d heard that Master Zabal Zabel was to begin teaching basic applications of defense, in light of recent student deaths.
“The same Zabel who seems to have it in for you?” Laurent interjected, looking at Aeden.
Aeden’s face became grim.
“Great,” Laurent continued, “count me in. Should be fun.”
“Is it for everyone?” Adel asked.
“Everyone,” Thea responded, yet she was still looking at Aeden. Her face was a mix of curiosity, jealousy, and a hint of enjoyment.
Dan looked back out the window as Laurent took a sip of his drink.
Adel bit into a pastry as he watched the exchange. A look of amusement was plastered to his lips, along with evidence of his last pastry.
As the group lapsed into a moment of silence, Aeden lapsed into the imaginary world of possibility. He mostly thought on the following day.
What would it bring?
He’d become a part of bijenna, the beginner’s class. As such, he’d fall under a new student rector. No longer would he come to class, greeted by an ever-excited Oria. Instead, she’d be replaced with Muriel’s latest fixation, the tall and handsome Kallon.
More importantly, Aeden would have a new instructor. He would fall under the guidance of Sam Glass. A master who looked every bit the part of evil wizard.
He’d sign up for Zabel’s practical defense class. Perhaps, Aeden would start to learn something useful. The ways of the arkein would finally be revealed to him. Things were heading in the right direction.
“I still can’t believe it,” Laurent said more softly, “Three weeks. Master Towne said it normally took students at least a year to test into bijenna.”
Adel wiped his mouth and temporarily put down his pastry.
“I believe he said it could take up to a year, but many have done it in far shorter,” Adel looked from Laurent to Dan, “Plus, Aeden isn’t the only one who passed the test.”
Thea glanced up from her mug. She remained silent as she looked at Aeden.
A smile graced her eyes. Aeden tore his gaze away and once again looked out the window. It was a desperate bid for distraction. Recently, every time he looked at her, his heart would beat erratically, as if to the rhythm of a drunken drummer.
“Thea?” Laurent said, looking from Adel to Thea.
Had Laurent figured it out? Aeden’s face drained slightly of color. Thea glanced over again, smiling openly. She looked so lovely.
His nights hadn’t only been filled with reading.
The library at the Tower of the Arkein was large, larger even, than the Library of Galdor. It occupied the circumference of the tower, lined with tall bookshelves. It formed a radiating spoke of book-lined racks, all terminating at an open space within the center.
Hidden amidst the books, beneath the flowering canopies, were a few private study rooms, along with nooks and crannies that were unoccupied in the later hours of night. Unoccupied, that is, until Aeden and Thea filled them with their two desperate bodies.
“Yes,” Thea jumped in, “I couldn’t let this barbarian take the test alone,” she paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she looked at Aeden, “or beat me to the next level, and apparently nor could Sakhira.”
A wave of relief washed over him. Laurent had been referring to the test, not to their newly resumed relationship. He closed his eyes for a second, rubbing his forehead. Flashes of a partially disro
bed Thea stabbed at his mind. Glimpses of her naked body ripped at his awareness and threatened to bog him down in memory.
Aeden forced a smile, noticing Laurent was looking at him, but there was a vacant, faraway look to Laurent’s eye.
Aeden took a sip from his dwindling mug of spiced tea.
“Harmon said the tests were near impossible,” Laurent stated in shock, his voice trailing off.
“Why do you still listen to him?” Dan asked in exasperation, “Plus, I think he was referring to the medius and avauncen tests as being near impossible, with the sages and such.”
Adel put down his pastry, clearly interested in the conversation. He spoke up.
“I thought you and clumsy Harmon hated each other,” it was a statement phrased as a question.
Laurent looked around the table defensively. His usually calm demeanor took on a new hue, one of misplaced anger.
“First, he’s only clumsy because of an occasional eye issue. Second, Harmon was right about the student murders, about Muriel choosing Kallon over Rafe, the pastries at this cafe…” Laurent’s voice trailed off.
“Hold on,” Daniel interjected, “we still don’t know if the students who’d died were murdered.”
“I thought they were animal attacks,” Adel jumped back in, still red in the face from having called Harmon clumsy, “caused by students wandering beyond the walls of Andir.”
Aeden looked up from his spiced tea, thankful for a change of conversation. He had heard murmurs of three students who had died within the last year. He had assumed they were simply warnings to ensure students stayed within the town walls.
“Supposedly,” Laurent jumped back in, “mythological creatures have been turned lose within the Fold and have been killing students.”
“But you don’t buy that hypothesis…” Dan said rhetorically.
“You know damn well I don’t buy it,” Laurent responded.
Aeden knew there was likely another argument underlying this tension between them.
“Why was Master Cassius so concerned for our safety ascending Mystes Mountain?” Thea asked.
“Right into my trap,” Laurent’s eyes gleamed as he tapped his fingertips together, “because,” he said, pausing to draw in their attention, “they weren’t killed by mythical creatures, they were murdered by someone who knew them.”
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