by Eston, S. C.
“Where is the Sy’Iss?” he asked one day. “What is happening out there?”
“I do not know,” I said. “The masters are still debating, I think. They have locked themselves in the Grand Hall and haven’t come out in a while.”
“And the roads?”
“Still nothing. Ta’Énia is closed, and no one can come in or out.”
Vìr paced. The news seemed to bother him severely.
“What is it?” I asked. “What is bothering you?”
Vìr looked at me, a serious air about him. His eyes gleamed with such intensity that I took a step back. I suddenly felt incredibly young and naive. Vìr, on the other hand, seemed a veteran, someone who had battled the world and survived. It was one of the rare occasions when he looked down on me.
“What do you think will happen to me?” he questioned.
“I…hadn’t thought about it.”
“Do so, now,” pressed Vìr.
I took a few moments.
“Exile,” I said.
“Exile…” He pondered it. “And where do you think those who are exiled go? What do they tell you?”
“I do not know,” I admitted. “Nothing is told, but one has to assume they go beyond Jarum. Dalathras maybe, Toria…the Yil Isles in the south. The choice is theirs to make, the path theirs to choose.”
“You make it sound like it is almost a liberation,” Vìr said, pressing each word. But the implied meaning escaped me and I stood there, not saying a word. “One day, you will have to stop deluding yourself.”
Vìr paused, maybe wanting me to ask him what he meant. I did not.
“If not for you, I would already be dead,” he said next. “You are taking grave risks by coming here day after day. For this, I thank you.”
There was genuine worry in Vìr’s voice. I suddenly realized that Vìr wanted to get out and not necessarily for his own safety, but probably for mine.
“What do you think the Sy’Iss will do?” I asked, not really wanting to know.
“It is a good question, isn’t it?” said Vìr. “The Sy’Iss deliberately decided to forget about me. After all this while, I doubt they will simply come for me, take me out and let me walk free. No, the Sy’Iss fears me, fears what I am.”
His words had not a hint of arrogance. It was the simple truth as Vìr saw it.
“More importantly,” he said, “the Sy’Iss fears the Borders and Ul Darak. I see it now. Should have seen it sooner. They do not want to know what Maéva and I discovered. That is why they didn’t come ask me about it, why they never will. Their fear is greater than their curiosity. It might even be worse than that. What if…”
Vìr stopped, turned my way.
“You realize, Dàr, that the Sy’Iss is also not interested in what you have seen. Not in the slightest. It is a good thing you never went to them. A very good thing indeed.”
As Vìr said these words, I was both trembling from terror and strangely incredulous. I was not able to completely believe his assertions. To a certain extent, I might concede that the Sy’Iss might harm Vìr, but me, a devoted knight protector? They wouldn’t. Or would they?
I looked at Vìr and could see that he had made his decision. A plan was forming in his mind. A wave of rebellion went through me, a sharp sensation, definitive. I wanted to help. It didn’t matter what the judgement of the Sy’Iss would be. At that moment, I wanted to help Vìr, a friend.
Eriéla would have disapproved. As would have my whole family. It was an important decision, but the decision had been made when I had come down with food and water that first time.
“What do you need me to do?” I said. “I will help. I will help you to get out.”
Vìr looked down for a brief moment, calm returning to him.
“I apologize,” he said. “This place, this whole situation…”
“Do not fret,” I said. “Just tell me.”
Even after what I had done, it seemed Vìr still saw hope in me. Bending down, he took out a rolled piece of parchment from under a loose rock.
“I accept your offer,” he said.
I nodded.
“Here, take this and guard it well. As usual, pass it to Sia. Then offer her what help you can. Instructions will follow.”
I nodded again, vigorously.
Marks in the Wood
In the middle of the night, a letter was patiently carved with unrelenting determination and the used-up end of a spoon.
“D.”
A few days later, when the sun was at its apogee at the crown of the sky, another letter was added. The following dusk, almost as an afterthought, a brief line was carved from left to right at a weak angle.
“à.”
And this morning, a certain number of days later, a final letter was put into the wood and completed the name.
“r.”
Lying on his belly on the floor, the lone man looked at the letters engraved in a plank of the house wall, in that section hidden under the bed.
It was a weak attempt to be remembered.
6. Affliction and Deception
Shading 25, year 3001, Dàr is 60.
As I lay in my bed last night, I came to the most terrifying of revelations. It took me several days to even entertain its possibility. I still doubt its veracity, but it is such a formidable idea, so horrid in its implications, that I must put it down. If there is but a tiny chance that it might be true, then someone must know. Someone must stop the abomination that it represents.
It started as I was reminiscing about Vìr, of a time when our friendship was young and growing, before the discovery in the forest. He had asked a question, which at the time was innocent to him and irrelevant to me.
Not so now.
We were discussing the knight protectors, their role in Ta’Énia, the longevity of the service required, which is about thirty years, if one does not include training and mentoring. A protector starts his or her training at fifteen years of age, for most. Mine started at fourteen. The tutelage can be received in Ta’Énia or in a few of the cities of Jarum, such as Vi’Alana. It lasts for five years. Then the pupil becomes a protector and starts participating in the guarding of the Borders. Younger protectors receive the faraway regions. By the time the age of forty is reached, a protector is given only the closest regions of Ta’Énia to patrol. Mentoring the young protectors starts at fifty.
“And after sixty, a well-deserved retirement,” suggested Vìr.
“You could say that,” I remember replying, shocked, probably pale, due to his ignorance and his disregard. Vìr had then lifted an eyebrow, a habit of his when his curiosity was piqued.
“What after sixty, then?”
At first, I had not understood his question. Such a bizarre moment, when our disparate origins put us worlds apart. I had not answered, believing there was no need and nothing to add.
We returned to the subject but one more time, maybe a few months later, maybe a year. “The final age, then, is sixty?” he had asked, probing. I had nodded and steered the discussion toward an unrelated subject.
As I lay in my bed last night, unable to sleep, having overslept during the day, those discussions and questions returned to me. More important, the surprise on Vìr’s face returned. He had shown distress and some incredulity. I believe he would have liked to address the subject again, but we never had the chance. It had seemed important to him and that got me thinking some more.
My strength has all but left me. Getting out of bed is a chore in itself, although once on my feet, I tend to be able to go on for a few hours. Until now, I had not questioned these sudden weaknesses. Why should I? After all, I am now sixty. It is to be expected, the proper way to pass…
But since starting to put these words on paper, I have tried hard to analyze, to see beyond the veil. That is what Vìr would have wanted me to do. That is the only thing he ever asked for, with the exception of these records.
“Dàr, my friend,” he would say, “do not take my words to be the truth
. Do not take anyone’s words to be the sole truth. Think. Question. Learn. And then, only then, see.”
So I stopped discarding the signs sent to me by my own body. I am sixty, true, but something didn’t feel right. Something still doesn’t. I can feel it in my bones, crawling under my skin…a deep burning and a wrongness. My vigour went away too rapidly or, dare I say, conveniently.
Why sixty?
Why is it that all of us, Taénians, fade away so suddenly, at the very same age, inside a period of a few months? If one takes but a moment to observe any other living creature, be it a dog, a cat, or a horse, or any wild creature, it is striking to see the diversity of the end, how it varies from months to years. It seems that Taénians pass away quite…unnaturally.
I have no proof of this. Just an undeniable and strong instinct that I am correct. Please, read these next words carefully and heed the warning. If there is fact here, do what it takes to stop it.
This weakness that is now affecting me, that has been affecting me for the past weeks, is abnormal.
I believe that I am being poisoned.
That I am being killed.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
In Ta’Énia, we all are, when we reach sixty.
*
It must be something in the food or the water. I do not know. But I am a prisoner here, easy prey.
It is probably too late now. For me.
Still, from now until the end, I will not eat, nor drink, in the hope that some of my strength will return, helping me to complete this recounting.
More than before, I need to finish this manuscript. Somebody needs to know. I need to find someone, anyone, to take it out of Ta’Énia.
But with Sia gone, I have no one.
*
Shading 27, year 3001, Dàr is 60.
I have decided to talk to the one person I have left.
My son, Faron.
*
Darkening 3, year 2966, Dàr is 25.
I was not privy to much information about Vìr and Maéva’s plan. I didn’t see Sia for two days. Then, she gave me directions to a location on the outskirts of Ta’Énia, to the east. It was not far outside the village, but situated in such a place as to be completely hidden, in the deep crevasse of a valley. She instructed me to prepare a stash of provisions and store it there. I brought some dry food, water, and some items required for travel in the wild. A knife, two warm blankets, a flint and steel, torches, bandages, two bowls, a bundle of arrows and a short bow, boots, and a few extra items of clothing All this I arranged in two backpacks.
While making these preparations, I didn’t get to see Vìr. It was too risky, and Eriéla was starting to be suspicious of my movements. It took me three more days before I returned to Vìr.
As I stepped inside the tunnel, I instantly had a bad premonition. Frightened, I hastened my pace until I was running. A poignant smell assailed my senses, a potent stench of vomit, urine, and feces.
I yelled Vìr’s name as I ran but got no reply. When I reached his cell, I found him lying facedown, a hand holding one of the bars of the door. I extended my arm, turned his face toward me. A low grunt escaped from his lips, but he didn’t move. Vomit ran down the side of his mouth, along his chin, down his neck.
“Hold on,” I told him, whispered in his ear. “Hang on, Vìr. My friend. Hold on. I will be back with help.”
I dashed out and tried to find Sia, walking rapidly through the village. I didn’t find her. Vìr’s condition was plaguing my every thought. I knew he wouldn’t last long. In my panic, I went to the only place I knew I would find help. I made my way to Maéva’s house.
The knight soldiers at Maéva’s place tried to stop me, but I evaded them, almost broke through the door.
I don’t remember the words I cried out to Maéva in my hysteria. Maybe that Vìr was sick or that he was dying. That he needed help. That I was sorry. Everything incomprehensible. I was silenced when Maéva slapped me hard. The pain awoke me and I noticed the soldier standing by the door, looking at me suspiciously.
“I thought you might want to know,” I added with what I hoped was an air of villainy. “Vìr is dead…”
I had my back to the soldier and I was desperately mouthing other words. “Help him”, I was pleading. “You have to help him.”
The distress on her face probably mirrored my own.
To appease the soldier, I knew I had to leave and return home. I could do nothing more.
*
How Maéva did it, I am not certain. That same night, I chanced going to the cave. I found it empty.
*
The next day and those following, I stayed away from the cave and from Maéva’s house. Everything was strangely normal in Ta’Énia, eerily normal. There was no way to know if the Sy’Iss knew about Vìr’s disappearance. The knights, protectors and soldiers, started to participate in regular training sessions, physical programs and friendly bouts.
In a turn of luck, I came across a peculiar object in the knights’ armoury during that period. Vìr’s famous sword. I bided my time and when opportunity arose, I spirited it away. I then decided to make my way to the hidden stash, which I was only able to accomplish at dusk a few days later. Again, I covered my activities with lies to Eriéla.
The stash was gone. This could only mean that Vìr was out and about. It gave me courage and hope. I hid the sword in the same location, hoping he would return and find it. If not, it was as safe a place as any.
The next days had me occupied in regular training sessions. I found some enjoyment in the archery rivalries but struggled with worry for Vìr. I knew he would not go away without Maéva. And she was well guarded and still restrained to her home, as far as I could tell.
Those days were some of the longest of my life. Waiting, not knowing where Vìr was. Yet I felt alive. I was part of something. It was wrong, all wrong, and yet so right. One morning, I stopped by the hidden stash. The sword was gone. I remember not being able to stop smiling.
Then, late one night, I returned home after a training day with Eriéla. We asked to be matched when possible, practicing swordplay and archery, challenging each other. The sun was long gone as I entered my house and made my way toward my bed. There I found a letter. I quickly looked around, inside and out, but could find no one. Knowing I was alone, with trembling fingers I opened the letter and read it under the weak flame of a candle.
My friend,
If you are still of the mind to help, we may yet make use of your assistance. If it is so, when sheets of rain fall in two days’ time, come to the bridge of Saril with the dawn.
If not, I will understand. This letter then becomes my farewell to you. Take care, my friend, and thank you for returning my blade.
Vìr
It was indeed Vìr’s signature. He would always sign the ì and r first, quickly, and finish with the V in a flourish. I imagined his hand putting the ink down and forming these precious words, as I had seen before in his house…
I sat down on my bed and struggled to stop tears from filling my eyes.
My friend, he had written.
*
Darkening 23, year 2966, Dàr is 25.
The rain was falling hard two days later, as predicted by Vìr. I awoke in darkness and made my way to the bridge. Ta’Énia was asleep, and the only sound was the constant clobbering of the rain. When I reached the bridge, no one was there. I made my way to one of the tall stone columns standing beside the bridge and put my back to it, trying to hide from the rain.
A hand grabbed me by the shoulder. It was a short man, an elder with a greyish beard, covered by a thick coat and a cape.
“Follow me,” he instructed over the rain.
We didn’t cross the bridge but went back toward Ta’Énia and made our way north. Far to the east, the sun was fighting the clouds, trying to bring light to the day but incapable of doing so. That day was to stay dark and grey.
The elder was moving surprisingly fast through trees, aroun
d bushes, up and down hills, until we reached a small, isolated habitation. It was dilapidated and almost falling down. The door was non-existent and we entered quickly. At least the roof was solid and kept the rain away.
My heart stopped as I saw a figure in a corner, sitting down. The figure looked my way, and I almost didn’t recognize him.
“He was poisoned,” said the elder beside me. “He cannot talk.”
It took me a moment to understand the implication of his words. I looked at the elder, saw him making signs to Vìr. I looked at Vìr. His face was extremely skinny, almost bony. A raspy noise came from his throat as he returned the signs. Breathing…simple breathing turned into torture every time air went to and from his lungs.
“It wasn’t me…” I murmured. “I…”
“He knows,” said the elder man. “And he is glad you were spared.”
Spared?
It then dawned on me that, indeed, it had been my doing.
The food!
I put a hand on the wall to keep myself from fainting. I suddenly felt sick, terribly sick. The world around me seemed to be crumbling. The Sy’Iss had known I was bringing the food and had used me… Bile and the taste of disgust floated in my throat.
“I left food,” I added quickly. “More food, with the equipment.”
“Do not worry,” said the elder. “We didn’t take it, but we kept the rest of what you left.”
My eyes darted from one to the other, but mostly I looked at Vìr. He made a few signs.
“He thanks you for the risks you took.”
I nodded, and then realized I had no idea who this elder was and where he had come from. He was certainly not a knight.
“Who are you?”
Vìr stood then.
“We have a very limited amount of time,” said the elder. “I am Naéd, a friend of Maéva and Vìr. I am a scholar of the League. One of the rare true scholars left, as it stands.”