This is what I remember.
“Sakhira?” Adel called out, “You still there?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Do you mind if I pick at your thoughts?” Adel asked, a hint of desperation in his voice, “The silence and the blindfold are making me uncomfortable.”
I smiled inwardly. Adel was often so forward. At times, his thoughts echoed mine. He said what I feared to admit. He asked the questions I wondered quietly about.
“What are the Thirteen Wonders?” Adel questioned.
Sakhira didn’t answer immediately. In fact, as the seconds passed, I wonder if he had heard at all. I too wanted to know about the Fold. It was still very much a place of secrecy, a place of hidden profundity.
“It’s been a while,” Sakhira finally responded, “since I’ve read Mysteries of the Fold.”
Garit interjected his own question, “From the Great Library at the Tower of the Arkein? How come I never saw it? I’ve read through most of the ledgers…” his voice trailed off.
“That’s because it’s not listed in the ledgers.”
This seemed to quell Garit.
“And?” Adel prompted Sakhira.
“And, what?” there was no malice in Sakhira’s voice, only curiosity.
“And I want to know whatever you do.” Adel said carefully, “We’ve got the time,” he continued, pleading his case.
Sakhira laughed. It momentarily drowned out the discussion between Janto and Caine. It masked the whispers between Oria and Kallon.
“I must warn you, I don’t think I remember them all. Some things stood out more than others,” he replied. “Sadon had specifically assorted them an order, although I cannot remember why, or what that order was.”
Sakhira paused for a moment.
I imagined him gathering his thoughts as I continued to move forward, one hand stretched out blindly before me, the other griping the gold chain tightly. My eyes were focused on the stretch of emerald-green stones directly below me. My eyelashes were blinking annoyingly against the fabric of my makeshift blindfold.
“There’s Bryn Yawr…” Sakhira began.
“We’ve all heard of Bryn Yawr,” Garit interjected, “It’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful cities ever created.”
Adel chimed in, “I also heard Sawol is supposed to be beautiful.”
Janto and Caine momentarily stopped their discussion as Janto jumped in.
“Sawol is one of the most beautiful cities ever built,” he exclaimed, “It’s a beacon of white upon three rolling hills, overlooking the bluest waters you’ve ever seen. Canals split the city into sections, with hundreds of marble bridges divinely carved…”
“Divinely carved?”
It was Caine’s voice. It was easy to recognize. It carried a condescending weight, regardless of his implied intent. Everything he said had one of two goals, to subtly insult or a non-too subtle brag to inflate his sense of self.
“The Sculptured Gardens of Sorrow are literally, divinely carved.”
There was no talking for a moment. I’m sure Sakhira and Adel were waiting to see if Caine was finished. Garit likely had nothing to add, or no obvious connection to the Inquisition to share.
A half dozen stumbling steps later, Janto and Caine fell back to their discussion. I ignored them.
“What else beside Bryn Yawr?” Adel asked.
“There’s the rainbow mountains,” Sakhira said, “I think they’re either on the way to Bryn Yawr or they encircle the city. I can’t remember which.”
“Rainbow mountains?” Garit inquired.
I pictured Garit’s brow furrowing, as it often does when he didn’t fully understand something. He was like a puppy trying to unpuzzle some strange sound.
“The mountains are made of differing stone that have folded together.”
Garit grunted. Sakhira continued.
“Let’s see, there’s also the ten thousand steps of Mystes Mountain. We all know that well enough, and I remember the Tower of the Arkein was on the list, for obvious reasons.”
“The stairs,” Adel uttered.
I smiled and remembered how terrified Adel had been climbing the atrium stairs. It had been the first day within Andir. It was the night the grandmaster had warned us of Skadoian Valley, of the south, which ironically, we have now sought out.
I remember that night, for in the deepest hours of darkness, I had followed Aeden to the bathhouse behind Bellas Tower. It was there that we’d made love within the hot spring waters. It was within my embrace that Aeden had told me of his home, his loss, and his burden.
“...the Temple of Gehenna,” Sakhira continued.
“I’ve heard about that,” Garit said. “It’s supposed to mirror the seven levels of hell.”
“That’s the one,” Sakhira confirmed.
I only half heard as my mind remained in the bathhouse on that first night in Andir. Aeden had told me how he’d returned from his final coming-of-age trial. How he’d killed a shroud cat.
“I read each level is guarded by a unique door with a unique lock,” Garit said.
As the steam of the bathhouse enveloped us, I had looked into Aeden’s eyes, and saw his pain as he remembered the burnt bodies of his village. His master, the medicine man, the cook, and the kovor.
“The book didn’t mention much about the temple,” Sakhira replied.
“Is that all?” Adel asked.
I had almost forgotten that Aeden had lost his family too. He had lost his mother at birth. He had lost his father when his village had burned.
“No, I can remember one more.” Sakhira paused.
I stumbled on a loose stone. The watery images of that first night faded. Sakhira’s voice temporarily ensnared me.
“The Quietus Pillars.”
His voice had changed. It had become more serious. Quieter. Almost fearful.
I wish I could say that I’d listened more carefully. That I connected the pieces of the final puzzle in my head that day. But truthfully, my thoughts had pulled me back in. The past had consumed me.
My mind was trapped in a loop of remembered pain and remembered pleasure. I was still in the bathhouse with Aeden. It was a safe memory, of a time before Aeden had admitted to killing my father.
Chapter 63
“Within the mouth of darkness hide the Schism’s forgotten soldiers.” A Verse from the Song of History – The Amevi
The weather had changed. It had grown noticeably colder. The air had become heavier, damp with the weight of remembered history. It was pregnant and it was motherless. It was laden with sorrow and misery. It was dark.
A great shadow had befallen us, casting hues of soggy grey upon the malachite stones. Curling fingers of mist gathered at my feet. It swirled and danced with every step, like a living thing.
Moisture clung with desperation to the fabric of my clothing and dripped melancholically from the golden chain to my left. My hand was wet. It was cold. It had grown numb like some forgotten thing.
I had fallen into a marching cadence of half awareness. The cloth covering my eyes had stopped being a prison and had become a refuge from the greater world. It shielded me from the unknown. It protected me from the vengeful wrath of sharp truths and dangerous lies.
Imagination lay claim to my soul. It lifted me from the quagmire of existence. It elevated me to a beautiful plane, carrying me on wings of flight.
I had become so engrossed with my own cognition that the gentle footfalls of the group had fallen away to silence. Therefore, when a heavy hand fell upon my shoulder. I nearly leapt out of my skin. I stifled a shriek and wrestled my beating heart back into submission.
I recognized the weight of it and the whispering voice that followed. It was Aeden.
“We’re at the end of the path.”
He had murmured so softly I’d barely heard. I was about to speak, but he quickly placed a hand over my mouth. It was warm, firm, calloused, and gentle.
I relented.
“W
e must remain silent from here on out,” he whispered.
So many thoughts gathered that they threatened to spill out in a tirade of pent up emotion. How dare he touch me? Yet the feel of his skin against mine sent a shiver up my spine. The momentary press of his body, caused me to remember happier times.
“I’ve solved the final riddle.”
Why was he telling me this? Why wasn’t he sharing this with the rest of the group? Had he already told everyone, and I was the last to hear of it?
Anger swelled within my chest. I could feel my cheeks flush as I pushed him away. The momentary spell of proximity was broken.
“Remove your blindfold,” he said, “there’s nothing to see but the mists.”
I reached up and slowly inched the blindfold off my face. I’m not proud to admit, but my eyes were pinched closed. I peeled them open one at a time, believing a simple one-eyed glimpse would save me from whatever magic Bellas had cast upon the stone garden.
My open eyes revealed a fluid wall of descending fog. It revealed the path before us, and a climbing set of stairs, cut into stone. It swirled as it played with the shape of the Fold. It hinted at impossibly tall pillars of stone. It masked impossible depths of shadow and darkness.
“I’ve told no one of the fifth riddle’s answer,” he said.
The words of the riddle ran again through my mind: Shade your silent trail, for darkness ensnares the veil, until dawning’s light prevails.
I looked at him as he stood there, looking into the mists, as if divining some unseen script.
A dark beard had grown where once smooth skin shone. It contrasted his snowy white hair and highlighted his dark, grey eyes.
“I’m going to check something,” he uttered.
He nodded once, his eyes momentarily locking with mine. I felt a strange sense of excitement, resentment, and bitterness within the depths of our gaze. The final note was the sour flavor of remembered loss. It lingered as Aeden disappeared without a sound into the surrounding haze.
Where had he gone? Why had he left me alone?
My mind swam with thought and emotion, as questions bubbled and frothed within my mind.
Did he want me to lead? Was he trying to be nice? Was he trying to make me look bad?
Perhaps he was being condescending.
The more I thought on it, the angrier I became. Aeden wasn’t trying to help. He was showing off. He was proving that he was better than me. He’d done it at the University of Galdor. He’d done it at the Tower of the Arkein.
Sakhira nearly ran into me. I placed a hand onto his shoulder, and momentarily savored his fleeting discomfort. I whispered into his ear.
“Remain silent. Remove your blindfold. We’ve solved the final riddle. Pass it down the line.”
I watched as Sakhira removed his blindfold. He did it carefully, rubbing at his eyes, as if remembering how to use them. He moved to pass along the message. I hardly noticed, as I thought on the riddle, as I wondered where Aeden had gone.
How had Aeden solved the riddle?
The words floated back to my mind. Shade your silent trail, for darkness ensnares the veil, until dawning’s light prevails.
Was this riddle really that simple? Was it so literal?
There was a remembered piece of information that lurked desperately out of reach.
I quietly gestured for everyone to gather closer.
“You solved the final riddle?” Caine asked aloud.
His voice grated at my ears. It echoed into the mists like a beacon.
I put my finger to my lips. Sakhira was shaking his head. Oria frowned.
“I’m with Caine,” Janto announced, “I don’t get it.”
I could feel my indignation swell, tightening the muscles in my shoulders. Why was Caine part of this group? Why didn’t they listen?
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You’re going to have to speak up,” Caine said, a sly smile cutting across his face.
He was doing it purposefully. I could see it in his eyes. It was evident in the way he squinted, pursed his lips together and leaned his head back. He liked the attention. He liked the sense of control. More than that, he liked the discomfort he caused.
Caine was about to speak again, when the soft note of steel sang out. Aeden had moved through the dense fog like a wraith. One moment he was in shadow, the next the tip of his sword was placed to Caine’s neck.
“Listen,” Aeden whispered, “There’s something out there.”
My thoughts stood still as marble. I strained my eyes as I peered into the grey.
Nothing.
“No more tricks,” Caine spat.
He was livid. He no longer cared for Aeden’s threats. He’d been humiliated one too many times. His sense-of-self demanded a response. It demanded an apology. It demanded Aeden be humiliated for once.
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll be forced to silence you,” Aeden responded coldly.
The group’s attention had become drawn from the surrounding weather to the feud between Caine and Aeden.
Caine’s eyes were filled with a defiant anger. They no longer focused on the sword Aeden had upon his neck. He couldn’t see the icy determination in Aeden’s eyes. Instead, he only saw himself. He only saw what he perceived to be true. It was a flagrant display of ignorance. It was arrogance in its purest form.
Strangely, I feared for Caine’s life. I worried Aeden would simply cut him down like a piece of meat. A sacrifice to the gods.
Yet, Aeden didn’t.
Each moment echoed louder than the last. It throbbed against the weight of the descending mist. It pounded away in each of us. It stole away our thoughts.
“Enough,” Janto shouted.
He’d come from nowhere. His shout startled us all. He ran at Aeden from the side. In one quick motion, Aeden had turned. Janto barreled into him. There was a momentary tangling of limbs, and then Janto was on the ground.
He wasn’t moving.
Caine lifted a finger from his neck, where Aeden’s sword had grazed him. There was blood on his fingers.
“You’ll pay for this,” Caine seethed.
That’s when everything seemed to happen at once. Father Time played an age-old game, dilating before my very eyes. My thoughts scattered like a startled flock. My attention expanded to encompass every sight, every smell, every sound.
Caine moved toward Aeden. There was murderous intent in his eyes. He had a knife in his hand. Where had that come from? Aeden’s sword moved to stand sharply between them.
Adel knelt beside Janto. Sakhira was peering into the fog. What was he looking for?
I tore my attention from Aeden and Caine. I stopped looking at Janto and Adel. I ignored Oria and Kallon. Instead, I too stared into the gloom.
The mist stirred and rippled from some unseen thing.
Aeden had been right. There had been movement, and it was getting closer.
I had no time to ponder the implications. Instead, I watched dumbly as Sakhira informed Oria. She shrieked and pointed into the grey. Kallon stepped to her rescue. He looked so confident in that moment. His beautiful, flowing hair, rippled as he moved. His eyes were intent. He was there to save her.
It was the beauty and folly of masculinity. Men fell on their swords to impress women. They built monuments to be loved. They fought for our affection. They built empires to be remembered.
So much death, yet where would we be without them?
The moisture swirled and danced over Kallon’s head. My heart froze. My thoughts, too many thoughts, grew still. Something sharp and dangerous reached down and suddenly Kallon was gone.
I fell to the ground. I gestured for others to do so. Oria ran toward Aeden, seeking another male to defend her. Normally I would have been angry. But the feeling fled before fear. We weren’t safe. No one was.
Adel continued to check on Janto. Caine had taken a step toward Aeden’s outstretched sword.
I wanted to shout. I wanted to warn them, but my voice restric
ted in my throat. I remembered the first two lines of the riddle: shade your silent trail, for darkness ensnares the veil.
We had to remain silent. We had to mask all sound for the final leg of our journey. Whatever had taken Kallon, was the danger Sakhira feared, and it lurked within the Quietus Pillars.
The salient edge of reality cut into my awareness. It seared death into my soul.
Chapter 64
“Unbridled vibrations can become entangled and tear away at the body like sound through water.” Dangers of the Arkein – Master Polyas
Peter stood before the gateway to the Gardens of Sorrow. His mind felt brittle as fresh fallen snow. It still reeled from the Tree of Forgotten Children. It throbbed at the memory of golden leaves and crimson bark. It echoed with the serrated edge of the arkein.
“Let’s take a moment to recuperate,” Thea said.
Her eyes were on Peter. They were studying him carefully. She noted his posture, his expression, his silence.
Thea stepped closer and noticed that his eyes had a faraway look. His skin looked pale. He hadn’t complained. He should have complained. If it had been Oria, Thea would have known long ago something was wrong.
“Sit here,” she said, gesturing to a solitary stone.
Peter complied without thought and without word.
Thea proceeded to check him. She felt his pulse. She touched his forehead. She then looked into his eyes and nodded slowly. Her own eyes lost focus as she looked into him. She attempted to peer into the vast complexity that was Peter.
After a moment Thea pulled back. She had seen what she was looking for.
“Listen to me,” Thea whispered.
Peter nodded.
Thea took in a slow and deliberate breath. She cleared her mind and centered herself. She let the tension bleed out of her face and her muscles and her feet. She auscultated the earth and the air. She then observed Peter and attended to his movement, to the very vibration of his being.
He was suffering from the reflected energy of the arkein.
Thea reached out to calm the uncontrolled vibrations. She attuned to the distortions like a bat in a cave. She dampened what she could and grounded Peter through the malachite stone.
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