The massacre at the Forest of Varna wasn’t simply the early Calenite Emperor, Hanno, hunting down deserters, but rather, was an accidental breach of overlapping worlds, releasing night wanders into the forest. The disappearances at the Stamm Caves of Roewold weren’t caused by some feudal spat of Gwhelt tribes, but instead was the work of dalaketnon, a powerful demon from the underworld. Even the great Death Celebrations at the edge of the Chasm of Dimutia were a tribute to the harpies of the jungle, not some strange religious practice.
As interesting as Sigerica Meidl had proven to be, she couldn’t compete with the most obvious distraction of all. Underlying the tension of classes was the changing of seasons, and it had grasped hold of the students with a fervor. It beckoned to them like a whispering lover. It called to them like a siren song.
Sumor was drawing to a close, giving way to Hearvest.
That meant two things, the Hearvest Eve Festival would be coming to Andir, filling the streets with celebrations, performers, and food. Second, and most importantly, it marked the end of the school’s travel ban.
Andir would no longer be a prison for the students of the arkein, it would become a stepping off point. The Fold would finally open its wonders to the newcomers from Galdor, and it would begin with the strangeness of Hearvest Eve.
Chapter 34
“Anticipation often exceeds expectation, except for within the Fold.” Valik the Philosopher – Bryn Yawr
The morning of Hearvest Eve came early for Aeden. He awoke before the sun tore free of its nightly cradle. He lay in bed, staring out the window at the lilac of gloaming. A few clouds lingered, their edges softened by the hue of the night sky. The gentle note of a morning bird’s song played quietly against the vast expanse of silence.
Aeden rubbed at his eyes and glanced about the relative darkness. The other beds were but hidden shapes under the wane, purple light. Aeden contemplated waking Adel for a moment. He smiled as memory claimed him.
He was back in the Red City, the capital of Bodig within the safe embrace of the monastery. Aeden had awoken Adel with questions, in defiance of the monastery’s rule of silence. They had sat in the courtyard by the blood orange trees, discussing the Inquisition and Aeden’s folly. Adel had convinced him to stay within the safety of the Holy Order of Sancire.
Aeden often looked back at that time as inconsequential. He’d remembered the monastery simply as a place to heal on his way to greater things. Yet, that wouldn’t do justice to that period of his life. The picture of that time was filled with hidden details that had slipped his mind.
The monastery was where Aeden had found the red door. It was where he’d first encountered the Inquisition. It was where he’d glimpsed the archduchess. It was where he’d learned Heortian and began to read in earnest. It was where he’d made a lasting friend in Adel.
How young and naive they had been, yet sometimes Aeden wondered what would have happened had he never left on the pilgrimage. What would have happened if he had taken the vows to become a full-fledged monk within the Holy Order of Sancire, devoting himself to Salvare? Would he have uncovered the secret of the crypt-bound doorway?
What was behind the red door?
Aeden rubbed at his eyes before he slipped out of bed, stretching out the knots of a fitful sleep. He made his way to a wash basin and splashed some water on his face. The water felt cool and refreshing, however, it failed to wake him.
He moved quietly to the trunk beside his bed and grabbed a fresh shirt and his Templas sword. Aeden changed and strapped the weapon to his back. He glanced at the sleeping forms before slipping down the winding stairs, through a short corridor, and out into the fresh Mystes Mountain air.
Aeden cut across a small courtyard and to the Gardens of Andir.
He ambled through the conservatory of plants. They were quiet in the faint, purple light. The kalon flowers attempted to track the moon through the slow drifting clouds. The vines, leaves, and shrubs remained still as a Vintas landscape.
Aeden found the area he frequented. It was the sacred space where he practiced the gevecht. After a few warm-up exercises, he slipped into the movements of the martial forms.
As he moved, his mind wandered and he failed to find the peace of atori. Aeden struggled to relax and he eventually gave up. He stopped in the middle of his routine and walked to the stairs leading to the city walls. He climbed the stone steps, feeling the strange weight of the Fold’s unique history, as the deepening purple sky spoke of an early morning.
Upon the walls he looked out across the dark expanse of Skadoian Valley. There were no village lights or signs of human habitation. Instead, the trees formed a somber blanket of mystery, whispering quietly at the hidden secrets of the Fold. In the far distance, he could just make out the mountain peaks that cradled this strange land.
He leaned against the railing and daydreamed. His thoughts took him from the fanciful to the recent. They turned sour when he remembered Thea. She had leaned against his chest at that very spot. She had told him about her nightmare, about her father. The father he had helped kill.
Aeden left the memory-laden space and walked toward the center of town. He passed through a garden exit and under the looming shadows of the twin towers. He followed the path of a stone wall and found himself within the town square at the foot of the Tower of the Arkein.
Tents had been erected in the plaza, eating at the space like a ravenous basilisk. They temporarily robbed the area of its heart, creating an ominous weight of laconism that pooled about the corners of the town square.
If one were to look up, they would see that the entire scene sat under the mass of a plum sky filled with foreign constellations, burning like a thousand dying embers. However, Aeden hadn’t been looking up. He had been consumed with the changes made to the plaza.
He circled about the tents, passing a series of sealed boxes and a straw mockup of a god-like man. He passed a carving of Ansuz and took a left. From there Aeden headed to the first alley, where he hiked up a short set of stairs to a narrow street that ran parallel to the main thoroughfare.
The pedestrian roadway was cramped, pressed upon by stone buildings on either side. A few homes had candles burning within, but otherwise, things were dark and they were quiet. It was strangely peaceful.
Aeden took his next left, up another set of stairs, running by homes and stopped short at a different section of the town wall. A metal gate masked a set of steps. He opened it, the old hinges creaking in the silence. He rapidly climbed the steps.
It was upon the wall, overlooking the town of Andir, that Aeden finally quieted his mind and found a moment of solitude. Questions about the arkein, about the Sages of Umbra, about his unspoken promise to the Thane Sagan, fell away in a haze of introspection.
The final hours of gloaming passed before a watchful eye. The deep purpling of the night gave way to the soft hues of orange and yellow as the sun rose to greet the day. Golden rays of light stretched deep across the sky, outlining the few clouds in sharp auric halos.
The sounds of people rustling awake found their way to Aeden. He could hear the children playing on the street, their excited voices ready for the celebrations of Hearvest Eve. They discussed in eager tones the costumes they would wear and the competitions they would play.
With one final glance at the descending rooftops of the small, mountaintop village, Aeden descended the stairs to find his friends.
He worked his way through the narrow alley, bumping into a few people and glancing into a few windows. He passed the bustling square and skirted the monolithic tower as he made his way to breakfast within the smaller Bellas Tower.
The familiar mosaic of colorful tilework blended with the excited tones of a dozen students. Rising above the din like the spume of an ocean tide, were the voices of Dan and Laurent. Aeden searched until he found them in a familiar corner of the dining space. He grabbed some food and made his way to the group.
Adel was seated, facing him, and smiling. It was an infe
ctious smile of chastity that forced Aeden to smile back.
“Hey,” Laurent called out to Aeden, “How’s class with the asshole?”
Aeden sat down, glancing about to see who else had heard.
“Caine?”
“Is there any other?” Dan added for Laurent.
It appeared that the nearby students were so consumed in the weight of their own conversations that they paid Laurent little mind.
“So far it hasn’t been as bad as I thought,” Aeden replied, “Almost strangely so. It almost feels out of character.”
Adel was watching with interest, “Perhaps he’s changed.”
Dan was shaking his head. Laurent put down the piece of bread he was holding and replied.
“People don’t change.”
At that moment, Aeden glanced back. He wasn’t sure why, it was a reflex, yet there she was. Thea. She looked beautiful.
Aeden smiled, hoping she’d see him. She didn’t. Behind her stepped in Rafe. Aeden’s smile fell away like a broken dream.
“Are you finished yet?” Laurent asked, stuffing the last of his bread into his mouth.
The next words were a mumble.
“What?”
“He wants to know if you’re ready,” Dan interpreted.
Aeden nodded, suddenly not feeling very hungry.
“Harmon says Hearvest Eve is one of the weirder things they do here in the Fold,” Laurent said, washing down his bread with a swig of goat’s milk.
Aeden glanced once more toward Thea. She now stood in line with Rafe. She was smiling at something he had said. Part of Aeden wanted to cut the line and punch Rafe in the face. The other part of him was happy to see Thea smile again. He couldn’t rob her of a moment’s happiness. He pushed his plate away and stood.
“Let’s go.”
Adel glanced from Thea to Aeden and clapped a shoulder on his friend’s arm. Adel didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Somehow, he had always been there for Aeden. And Aeden secretly hoped that he would always be there. Adel was his secret pillar of strength.
Laurent and Dan were discussing some of the competitions of Hearvest Eve, and who would do better. The conversation had become an anchor to the present. One that Aeden loosely grabbed hold of, following his friends out, into Andir.
The first half of the day moved forward at the languid pace of a three-armed sloth.
The anticipation of Hearvest Eve had come with such fervor that Aeden had forgotten about the pace of Andir. Despite a relative flurry of activity as people prepared for the evening, the overall feel was antithetical to Aeden’s expectations.
He watched as people moved about, still mindful to touch the heads of the small statues hidden in shadow. He watched as people shuffled in and out of the tents lining the avenue. But for the most part, he listened.
The group of friends had retired to a quiet spot at the steps of the Tower of the Arkein. It was from there that they could oversee the square. It was from there they could hear the preparations. It was from these steps that they talked of simple things.
Dan and Laurent speculated on the Sages of Umbra. Adel wondered at the sealed boxes lining the main square. They all speculated on which master would win in a fight. It was the transparent banter of youth.
Before Aeden knew it, the evening had unfurled before him. The sun had begun its slow descent in the sky. People filled the streets and a distant set of drumbeats echoed rhythmically against the backdrop of a darkening sky. The air came alive as people grew quiet in anticipation of the start of Hearvest Eve.
“Do you think this is the grand entrance for the Sages of Umbra?” Adel whispered aloud.
Dan looked at Adel and shrugged.
Yet, for all their wild speculation, none could have guessed at the events to come. Even Harmon’s ambiguous warning, “Hearvest Eve is the damn strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” did little to prepare them.
A horn blasted in the distance and filled the air with the texture of its resonance. A woman yelped, startled by the sound of it. A child dropped a loaf of bread. And the drumming temporarily ceased.
The horn sounded once more before children in costume ran out from their homes. Their faces were painted black. The clothes they wore were ragged. They limped and howled as if disfigured and angry.
People drew back, in mock fright. Somewhere a baby began crying. The ragged children taunted and played. The drums resumed their incessant beat and the crowd began chanting.
Aeden turned as Adel grabbed his sleeve.
“They’re opening the boxes,” he said, trying to peer around the gathering crowd.
“Ten drams it’s either food or candies,” Laurent said.
Dan was staring at the boxes but his face took on a speculative look.
“I’ll take that bet.”
Adel was now on his toes, using Aeden for support.
“I don’t think it’s food,” Adel said.
The drumming grew louder. The goblin-children ran about, touching the head of each small, child-like statue as they ran. And then Adel finally saw what they’d pulled out of the boxes.
“Demons?” Adel whispered, making the sign of the circle to ward off evil.
Aeden watched in fascination as disfigured children in tattered clothing were pulled out of the caskets. His stomach dropped as his mind struggled to accept the strangeness of reality. The lifeless carcasses of deceased children were propped up by the elderly and slowly paraded forward through the town square.
“What in the hells?” Laurent muttered.
As if in response to Laurent’s curse, the doors to the Tower of the Arkein opened. A robed figure stepped into the threshold. His body silhouetted by the blinding magnesium fires from within.
It was Grandmaster Kaldi.
“Ansuz protect us,” the crowd roared in feigned fear and barely concealed excitement.
“Where are my children,” Kaldi, playing Ansuz, bellowed.
The elderly now stood at the base of the stairs. They held onto the rotting bodies, presenting them to Grandmaster Kaldi.
Aeden couldn’t tear his eyes away. The skin of the recently exhumed, was pulled tight across their skulls, like thin, brown leather. Their eyes were hollow sockets, glaring maliciously as their disfigured bodies stood still as statues. Their hands were bony with overly long fingers. Their teeth were sharp and exposed in a frozen smile of threatened mania.
“I cannot see them,” Kaldi shouted, before spreading his hands wide.
At that moment, the towering make-shift statue of Ansuz exploded into a ball of flame. It popped and crackled. Golden light spilled across the square and highlighted the silvery strands of the dead’s hair.
“Out!” Kaldi shouted, “Leave my home, leave my Bellas, leave Andir!”
At Grandmaster Kaldi’s command, the costumed children, dressed as goblins, ran down the street. They skirted the erected tents, weaving through the gathered masses. A crowd briefly gathered at the steps to the monolithic tower and helped the elderly ‘walk’ the lifeless bodies down the street. The rest of the town followed in their wake.
“I guess we’re all walking out,” Laurent remarked.
Aeden glanced back and saw Kaldi moving down the steps. The grandmaster caught his eye and a hint of a smile touched his lips, as he waved them along.
“Yup,” Aeden said, “We’re walking out.”
The throng of Andir flowed down the main street with the same weight of a Gemynd tide. The small group of friends were simply swept up by the movement. They passed the newly erected tents, jostling for space upon the once wide street. They walked over the matted straw that concealed the fine tilework below, veiled with the same humility as a virgin bride on her wedding night.
Aeden glanced about, hoping to see Thea in the exiting tide of humanity. Instead, he caught sight of Oria and Kallon. He looked past them, searching the crowd. That’s when he glimpsed her.
Aeden could see Thea’s auburn hair, tied back as she so often did. She gla
nced back as if sensing the weight of his emotion. Thea didn’t see him, but instead gave confirmation it was her, now there could be no doubt. She moved with the crowd, toward the entrance of Andir. Beside her was the tall figure of Rafe.
Aeden’s anger started to eat away at his guilt. The shameful thoughts of fleeing the banks of Gemynd for the relative safety of Petra’s Landing washed over him in a warm undercurrent of agitation.
Jealousy broke through the surface, like a diver coming up for air. It was no longer buried by the weight of the tide. It was free to lay claim to Aeden. It beckoned him to respond.
Aeden hovered between the strange sensation of pain and anger, before the latter won out. It was then that action was demanded of him. He no longer simply flowed with the crowd toward the main gates. He was no longer a witness to the events unraveling before him. He had become an actor amongst them.
He noticed the devil-children dance about. He watched as the village people grabbed compact balls of dung, filled with metal shavings and wrapped in charred cloth. He shoved them aside as he moved toward Thea and Rafe. He pushed past Adel once they exited the city walls, passing two flaming braziers.
Grandmaster Kaldi finally exited through the massive gates and the city roared in response.
“May the Syrinx save you and hamper you, from folly’s misfortune and fate’s own binding,” the townspeople had shouted.
They began to light their cloth-covered dung-balls and threw them at the straw monsters. The carefully constructed monsters were erected along the opening at the summit of the ten thousand steps.
Aeden watched as Rafe lit one for Thea and she threw it at a straw figure in the shape of a manticore. Others threw theirs at the representations of thoons, maras, harpies, chimeras, bluds, dalaketnon, and a draccus fiend. The sky was temporarily alight with orbs of fire and the colorful flames of burning lithium, sodium, and copper.
Soon the light of the flaming beasts surpassed the lingering light of a purple sky and foreign stars. It washed off the tiered walls of Andir and highlighted the excited faces of the village people. It animated the decaying features of long-dead children, propped up by those attending to them.
Into the Fold Page 21