“Clearly not here,” I answered him, my throat hoarse. I sighed, my enervation took a whole new shape which as a result, inspired memory to recede, taking me back to the Middle Islands where I had not experienced such exhaustion in all my life while fighting those Sun Elves - those damn Highborns.
“I can see that. And so, I would ask again… Where is he?”
When I failed to offer the elf a reply, Tadian came to stand between me and the desk and when I looked up into his grey eyes, I recognised his own weariness. But what I didn’t see was an acceptance of the fact that where the Elder was and why he was not abed inside this chamber, was none of his concern.
“But for the first day of the Karnaea, Blademaster, the Golden Elder has been absent the entire event. You had us all believe that he was suffering from some infection earned while on campaign amidst the jungles of the Middle Islands. That he was to be kept in this chamber until he recovered. None but yourself have been allowed to enter. Why then do I see that this bed,” he pointed at its colourful spread, “seems as if none have made use of it for days?” he gestured towards the entrance of the chamber. “What was the point of those sentinels being posted there? And at this hour!”
When the straps of my hauberk were released, I wiggled out of the metal links until it fell with a loud thump to my feet. Gingerly, I stepped out from it and aimed for the bed, my head sinking into the feathered pillow. I gave off a pent-up sigh and closed my eyes.
I heard the Whitesong father step towards the bed, his tone becoming less accusing and more curious.
“The Elder isn’t sick, nor is he suffering? Is that the way of it, Blademaster?”
I kept quiet.
“So, while you and I saw to our schemes with the Old Way, you and the Elder had schemes of your own? Yet I suspect those schemes had nothing to do with that Dead God cult?”
His son stepped forward. “Blademaster, what happened? How did it go? Did you save ----”
“Young Tegerian,” I said. “Your friend, that one you thought was in league with the Old Way.”
“Jay, yes.”
“He is dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes.”
I opened my eyes for a moment when the youngster didn’t respond. Just now, his head was cast down towards his feet, his expression incomprehensible as he tried to fathom what it was I was saying.
“He was there,” I told him.“He was there in her room. I arrived --” I closed my eyes; the sorrow of this evening filling my heart. “I arrived too late.”
“And the elvess?” came Tegerian’s father. “What of her? It was she who we sent you after. She was the one who needed saving.” Tadian’s son however, was still mulling over the news of his now dead friend.
“Why was Jay there?” I heard him whisper.
I opened an eye, not sure if the youngster had been talking to himself or to me. My gaze drifted towards the desk where I had placed the letter and the rose. Suddenly, I was on my feet again, striding towards it, the Whitesong’s question fuelling me with the desire to also know why the young Jay was in that room. While I stood before the desk, head brought down to look at the letter, I could feel the stares of the Whitesongsburning into my back.
“Tell me of this elf - Jay.”
The young Whitesong took in a deep breath. “He turned out to be a good elf,” he begun. “At first, I was careful not to trust him, for he seemed taken in by Lardian’s friendship and so, as you already know, I assumed he was of the Old Way.”
“Was that all that made you suspicious?” I asked, tracing my finger over the letter.
“No. It was because of how regularly he expressed anti-Throne sentiments.”
I frowned and looked at the youngster over my shoulder. “And why did he do that?” What had the Throne done to him?
The elf hesitated. “His greatfather was… He was a crescent. A crescent who served during the reign of the Betrayed.”
I looked forward again, discerning already where this was going. Crescents were warriors who served in the Alepion army. And to have served during the reign of the Betrayed, meant either you were dead from fighting for him, or you were dead because you were among those who had deserted him.
The young Whitesong continued, “Jay’s greatfather was among those who followed the Betrayer.”
“And let me guess,” I said, not surprised, “He died soon after Dayane succeeded?”
“At the Battle of the Shadows of Tannis Ban, yes.”
I sighed heavily, using the table to steady myself. So much sorrow. So much pain. But the rancour of this Jay made sense; for it was because of the Elder that the elf’s greatfather died. He would have been placed in the vanguard of every battle since Dayane continued the war against the Gatheians, for it was no secret that Dayane wanted to get rid of all those who had deserted his father.
Tadian suddenly came to my side. “What is this?” he asked. The Whitesong reached for the letter, but I very casually barred his grasp, not wanting anyone to touch it, or read it -even I contemplated not reading it. I didn’t want to invade on such privacy that I suspected the letter contained.
“Why did you bring these with you?” he asked me.“A letter and a rose ---
“A broken rose,” I corrected, my eyes falling to its broken stem.
What meaning did it hold for you two? I wondered, thinking of Jay and that elvess, my mind tracing back to this evening’s ordeal.
I swirled back around and made once more for the bed, returning to my original position, wanting to be alone; wanting the Whitesongs to go.
“You have done well Tadian,” I conceded, “but the war against the Old Way continues. With your son now acting as one of your informers, you need not seek my help further.”
“Because you leave the city soon,” Tadian replied, sounding resentful. “Now,” he grimaced with clear displeasure,“its back to the shadows. The Order of the White Whisperers would be able to offer the Throne quicker results if we had you with us.”
“I know,” I said, understanding. “But for now, I have completed my service. And as you have just observed, I will be returning to the capital soon and so your organization must carry on without me. Our lands are not yet rid of the Old Way.”
“But one day, Blademaster,” concluded Tadian,“they will be.”
Before the Whitesongs could properly remove themselves from the chamber, I was suddenly reminded of an enquiry.
“Yes, Blademaster?” said Tadian, turning to face me as he stood in the door way.
“That elvess… you told me you had a vision of her. Her and one other. You told me you saw her strapped to a bed. You told me that you looked for her at the city gate to thwart the vision. You told me you denied her entrance into the city. How then was it possible that your vision came to pass?”
I saw him glance at his son. Then he looked back at me. “She had friends to thwart my thwarting,” he said grimly. He bowed his head. “Sleep fair, Blademaster.”
And just like that, I was alone. Irritated at not having my enquiry answered, I felt discomforted. At length I lay there in silence on the bed, trying to coax my mind away from the ordeal of this evening - the death I had dealt and the death I had witnessed.
All because of these wretched Dead God worshippers. Thank Adonai for the White Whisperers. Thank Adonai for the Brave.
Beginning during the age of the First Moon, when the Rareshades still reigned supreme over the land; the Order of the White Whisperers had spawned out from the events known to history as the Treachery of the Right Hand. Old Way infiltrators of the capital’s palace had murdered members of the Elder’s court, abducted members of the Elder’s family; shedding blood and causing incredible grief.
From it all, the Brave would initiate the Order, selecting its members and commissioning them with the task of secretly seeking out leaders and members of the Old Way cult. Those discovered, would be dealt unambiguous deaths.
It was because of the superstitious beliefs of the p
eople, regarding the Blademasters, that White Whisperers in Evennal were able to become bolder in their approaches when seeking to eliminate those who were identified as Old Way activists. Using me in their plans, also served the Throne in increasing the Old Way’s fear of the Blademasters while similtanioulsy allowing the White Whisperers the flexibility they needed to be more thorough, giving the Throne, as Tadian had stated moments ago, quicker results, as opposed to arranging ‘coincidental’ mishaps for the enemy.
“Will it ever end, Adonai?” I prayed.
No.
My eyes opened. I took in a deep breath and closed them again, suddenly whisked away by a memory - one I would never forget, for it involved the Father of the Sun; the Highborn immortal, Asharal Evening.
“Will it ever end?” I had asked him. He had turned towards the tent flaps but at my question, had paused. “No,” the Father had replied. “Not until we have what we want.”
“And what do you want, Sun Elf?” I had asked.
The Father of the Sun looked at me. “Know this Moon Elf. Though the Moon has overcome the Sun, the Highborns are eternal and are therefore, content to wait," his pale eyes piercing my soul. The utter contempt I had perceived in them, I could recall, had been extremly unsettling. “Enjoy these islands whilst you still live, Blademaster. When I hear that death has claimed you, the fight for the Middle Islands will begin again.”
“At least I will not be there when it does,” I said now, the echoing voice of the Highborn inside my head, fading.
Tired as I was; exhausted even beyond measure, my mind became plagued by memories of this night and so, I got up, lingered at the edge of the bed. My eyes were drawn to the letter and the rose.
Slowly, I got onto my feet and strode towards the desk. Positioning the chair, I gradually sat down and hunched over the letter. When I began to unravel it, guilt assailed me - for I knew that what I was about to read had not been meant for my eyes but despite myself, I began to read it.
Dear Stace,
I do not know how we have come to this. I have been going over it in my head.
And although I have imagined a particular theory that would explain it, I am still
at a loss, for I ----
The doors leading inside this room burst open and my attention was thrust away from the letter. I, partly jittery from the sudden intrusion, came face to face with the intruder.The letter was forgotten for my elder’s return took prominence over any pre-existing sense of priority.
“It is about time,” I said, unable to supress the pride that filled me when basking in the sight of what a great and strong elf my little Dayane had grown up to become. Just now, Dayane Lowvilla Lightmarsh II, Elder of the Moon Elves, Great Servant of Alepion and Supreme Deacon of the Alepion Temple, flicked back his hood to reveal the full extent of his Lightmarsh beauty; long and thick auburn hair, strongly proportioned face and the sea-blue of his conspiring eyes that pronounced themselves against a fair complexion.
“I take it your little spectacle was a success?” All it took was a smile and I knew my assumption would be justified. I got up onto my feet to embrace my Elder, my weariness forgotten. I held him at arm’s length, still caught up in awe of his profile and I asked him with surging relief; “Shall we head home?”
Turn the page to read an exclusive extract from Jeremy Forsyth’s soon-to-be-released full length novel
Upon the Sands
The Keepers of Knowledge
Darkness possessed the spiralling stairway, opposed only by the few lit torches hung against the walls. The heavy steps of the sentinel echoed, climbing higher towards the top. Behind the sentinel, Absiden Singwaters peered up, considering their progress and shivering from the crispness in the air whilst trying desperately to forget the dream.
It was a horrible dream, he thought despite himself, suddenly caught up in the remembrance of it. No, no. Absiden shook the memory away while the sentinel, coming to a sudden stop, glanced back over his armoured shoulder, the light from the flames of his torch now illuminating Absiden’s face.
“All fair and well, Arch Mindfinder?” asked the sentinel.
“Fair and well, Vandile,” Absiden answered, briskly.
The two elves continued upwards. When finally reaching the top, Absiden emitted a sigh of relief, his eyes keeping to the sentinel as the warrior led him left towards the Arch Chamber. Once inside, he felt the concentrated pressure of the tower leave him at the door. There, he inhaled a satisfied breath; his expression softening as he made for the table further back inside the sumptuous room.
Absiden was dismayed though unsurprised to find that the table was bare. “What time does Ralune get in?” he asked the sentinel.
Ralune was an elvess who served here in the Greathouse of Olden; the seat where both Absiden led the Mindfinders of the Order of Nallara and where the Higheress of Olden governed the city. Ralune was responsible for maintaining the chamber’s cleanliness and arrangement while ensuring it was well stocked with fresh food and drink throughout the day. Just now, Absiden desired the latter, for his mouth was parched.
“Later, Arch Mindfinder,” the sentinel said solemnly. “The house still sleeps; the sun’s reign is still in anticipation.”
Absiden fixed his gaze on the bare table as he considered the sentinel’s words. The house sleeps. The city sleeps. The Realm sleeps - yet I remain restless, fretful and wanton.
“That will be all Vandile,” he told the sentinel, adding, “you may resume your slumber, if you so wish.”
“It will please me to wait outside, Arch Mindfinder.”
Absiden heard Vandile take his leave, eyes still absently fixed on the table. The door of the chamber closed with a soft thump and Absiden thought with a tinge of solitude; The dream has robbed us both from sleep, faithful Vandile.
The sentinel was Absiden’s latest shield; an asset that accompanied the leader of the Order of Nallara. He had been a common warrior until his prowess was discovered during his performance in the most recent Karnaea, which had celebrated Dayane Day - one of the Realm’s utmost triannual holidays. Vandile was referred to the city thereafter and here the loyal warrior had remained.
Absiden looked to his left at the glass doors that led to the outside balcony. He crossed the chamber, passing the elaborate map of Alepion – the Moon Elf Realm - which had been hand-crafted and was protruding from the centre floor of the chamber. The map was surrounded by four brightly coloured cushions, each with its own side table. Here Absiden and his fellow Arch Mindfinders would soon seat themselves for their morning meetings.
When Absiden opened the glass doors, he was immediately met by the alluring smell of jasmine and the pleasant quietness of the night. The air was crisp and Absiden wrapped his burgundy robe tightly around himself. He noticed his breath fog before his face as he exhaled. Glancing up he saw vague dark clouds were forming in the distance. His eyes lowered to survey the city; he made a study of its slate rooftops and winding cobbled streets. Everything down there was quiet and motionless.
How different the city would look come the reign of the sun! It was almost unsettling and sad, for in that moment Absiden felt very much alone; and aloneness was always accompanied by thoughts of his son and eldest child - Rhallor.
Absiden missed him dearly. The memory of Rhallor took his gaze beyond the city and its high walls towards the far west where his son now dwelt. Absiden wondered what Rhallor would do today. He knew that whatever it was, it would be done with excellence and devotion - for Rhallor had always been diligent towards his trade and his gifts.
“One of Alepion’s greatest servants you remain, my son,” Absiden whispered, a sad smile forming.
When the sun finally peered over the horizon, colours of pink and orange smeared across the sky. Beyond the city, light revealed vast plains and soft meadows and then, of course, the Sky Road - a wide bricked highway that led north towards the eternal Sunbare Glades and west toward the Flower Pass which lead to the great city of Higher Heart.
Absiden watched the sun’s light touch the rooftops of the city’s citizenry homes. The cobbled streets turned from pale grey to orange, inspiring a swelling optimism inside Absiden. What his eyes beheld was beautiful and, for a moment Absiden’s mind was at peace, until the door inside opened suddenly. Absiden turned to see who had disrupted the silence and was pleased when he found Ralune.
“An early start today, Arch Mindfinder,” observed Ralune cheerfully.
Absiden turned slightly to face the young elvess. “Indeed. Fair morning, my lady.”
The elvess noted his demeanour. “Nightmares keep you up, Arch Mindfinder?”
Absiden turned back around, his expression more solemn. “Yes.”
“Heart withers, I hate nightmares.”
Absiden’s expression darkened. “Water please, Ralune.”
“On its way, Arch Mindfinder.”
Ralune’s sing-song voice earned Absiden’s envy; unwillingly recalling to his mind the dream he had last night.
He had seen a forest being smothered by a black and moving shadow - seemingly alive and conscious. The shadow had indeed been alive and conscious, Absiden conceded to himself, thinking now of the eyes the shadow had possessed; bright and shining like moonlight. Like the First Sign of Adonai.
Absiden shook his head. “A disturbing thought,” he murmured, shutting his eyes tightly as he silently beseeched Adonai, the God of Whispers and the God of the Moon Elves. “I need peace. I need rest.” Absiden’s eyes remained closed in earnest, his head bowed over the railing. He looked up again when Ralune returned with his water.
“A fair morning,” she noted after handing Absiden the glass. “Just look at that view!”
Far down below, the gate that barred the entrance to the gardens of the Greathouse, opened with shrieks from the protesting hinges.
“Syghters returning,” commented Ralune, stating the obvious.
The Broken Rose Page 9