Spiral of Silence (The Unearthed Series Book 3)

by Marc Mulero

  Kentin shook his head. “He was going to kill me, right here in this mansion. If Sabin wasn’t there, I- I wouldn’t be here talking to you right now… how can you forgive that? How can you trust that?”

  “He’s trying to make things right. He has no reason to lie.”

  Kentin huffed in frustration. “It doesn’t matter if he has no reason. Some people don’t deserve another chance,” he refuted, looking over to the disturbed man swaying his head in an odd rhythm. “He’s one of them.”

  “The Hiezers took my mother, Ken. They took your father. They even took Oosnie. There’s only one way for this to stop.” Milos pulled out his knife from the side of his pants. “If we don’t start taking risks, then who will? And after how many more deaths?”

  Kentin’s cheeks turned a flustered red as his friend suddenly tossed the knife into the cell, offering his neck in between the bars. Before Kentin or any of the other Sins could react, Dendrid was already a blur, returning into focus with the boy forcefully turned to face the crowd and a knife grazing his neck.

  “This man is crazy,” Milos said, holding his hands up for everyone to back off. “But he’s on our side now. If he wasn’t, I would already be dead!”

  Dendrid taunted everyone in the room by pulling Milos and pressing him harder against the bars. After a few seconds of horror, he released his grip and dropped the knife back into the boy’s hand. He then stared ahead at the mourners.

  “There was no other way the past could have played out,” Dendrid stated. “Destiny was against you. But now comes an opportunity to change your fate. What will you do? Be stubborn for the memory of the dead, or mindful to help the living?”

  Kentin grabbed Milos by the back of his neck and backed him away protectively, shocked by his friend’s careless actions.

  A man in the crowd took a brave step forward and said, “You speak as if you’re not the cause of our suffering.”

  “We don’t have to forgive him. Just set him loose,” Milos revealed.

  Words of fear and anger followed amongst the crowd of Sins.

  “They want justice, Milos,” Kentin said in a soft tone. “I want it too.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Milos said while pushing away his friend’s embrace. “When Lesh put down the soldier that killed my mom, I felt empty. If Blague kills him,” he nodded toward Dendrid, “they won’t feel good about it either.”

  Kentin disagreed. “If we let him free to kill others, won’t we be just like the Hiezers?”

  Milos looked to the floor before responding. “I don’t know. But we’ve been training to do something that he can already do. I know what the best answer is. You just have to get over your feelings to see it.”

  Kentin’s expression changed after those words. He looked more sorrowful than annoyed. “You’re starting to sound too much like her.”

  A frail, petite woman pushed her way through to the prisoner’s cage. With a tissue in hand, she spoke up, “My husband was a great protector of his home. And this psycho single-handedly made it through him and all of the others we’re grieving over. We were almost foolish enough to let him kill again, now, right in front of our eyes. But yet, this time, he didn’t do it. I wonder, though. Is it because he just wants to be let out? Or does he truly want to help us? I honestly don’t know what to believe, but is it possible that our decision to execute him would also be foolish?”

  With a head held high, the Mentis Shade stood there at the front of his cell, hands clasped behind his back. “Listen to the woman. I did not willingly travel across torn continents to be chastised by locals. I’ve come to show allegiance for the first time in my twisted life.”

  Chapter 9

  Orin bowed his head to greet his old master. But why, in such a respectful notion, was the air so tense, the silence so unnerving? Meditation being practiced by each Neraphis was suddenly foiled, the perimeter no longer serene. Only the waters spoke, and they rumbled with contempt, making it feel as though the Citadel itself rejected these unwanted guests.

  But if that was Halewyn’s, the Eldest’s, feelings, he surely didn’t show it. His eyes were radiant with mystery, pace slow and thoughtful, until finally, he spoke.

  “We must verify the woman’s right to join us. Her spirit is… dark.”

  Lesh tightened from jaw to leg muscles, readying to prove him right, but Orin diffused the tension quickly with a wave of his hand.

  “Rules, rules,” he said. “How many centuries will you go abiding by the same mundane rigidness? Bring in Valor to stare at her, take my key, do whatever you must so we can move past the trivial.”

  Halewyn only clasped his hands behind his back with balled fists in response, likely internalizing the gall of his former student. He inspected his three guests on his watch, forcing them to wait in silence.

  “We have survived and thrived through the sands of time because of our establishments. Surely you understand that by now.”

  “Interesting choice of words, Eldest. I always found living to be a more meaningful existence,” Orin continued to challenge.

  “Still sore that we did not follow you on your explorations… that we could not join you on your journey?”

  Dumbfounded, Blague, Aslock, and Lesh listened to the bickering of the Eldest and the Redeemer.

  I wasn’t expecting my father to come here and pick a fight. What is he trying to accomplish?

  “My path was my own. Nothing about it inspired regret or ‘soreness.’ I return here to share information, vital to our world’s future. Information that can only be found living, not hiding in a cave. Your great grandfather, the renowned explorer, must be turning in his grave.”

  Halewyn halted his step a few feet away from his old pupil, facing one of the only other beings that could rival his depth of experience. “I have always enjoyed your vigor, Orin. I always knew you were worth saving that day,” he reminded with a grin.

  Orin couldn’t help but smile back.

  Back in Senation, he made a comment about me being able to get through to the Society. They know my father as a rebel to their way of life. But me, even though I have his will, I subscribe to the way of the Neraphis. Perhaps he wants me to convince them…

  Orin retreated from the conversation. He filled his sleeves with interlocked arms, feigning surrender and setting the stage for his son to give it a go.

  “Eldest,” Blague called. “The Society has shared its wisdom with us. Its experiences have taken us to new heights. You’ve lent me your strength,” he motioned to Aslock, “and returned me from despair. For those reasons I will always be in your debt. But we come again to request your resources. A new threat has reared its ugly head, and we can’t attack it blindly, or alone.”

  Halewyn raised his chin, judging Blague’s request before he spoke it, eyes becoming brighter in reaction to such a call to action… then dimming to consider it.

  Blague continued, “Inhabitants of the island of Vicissitude have ingested the geyser’s substance, and now attack our people. They’ve amassed incredible strength and are growing in numbers. They call themselves the Aura. And as of now, we’re powerless to stop them.

  “You see, we are ignorant to the island. We don’t understand the substance’s properties and do not have the means or experience to uncover its secrets. So with all of that, you should resume your study that was abandoned long ago. We need you to master the smoke.”

  Lined up from wall to wall, Neraphis opened their eyes from their meditative stance and turned to face the Citadel’s guests; even the multiple Elders sitting atop cathedras were notably disturbed by this plea.

  Orin scoffed before turning away. He was familiar with Halewyn’s persona, and already knew that the request was denied.

  The Eldest paused in deliberation with his ancestors, nodding to himself. “I have lost valuable minds to that island. Its toxic essence consumes the sanity of trespassers. Some never recovered.”

  “You wouldn’t have to take those risks. We would,” Bla
gue retorted.

  “The study is forbidden. The substance is too unstable. I deny your r-” Halewyn almost finished.

  The Cryos stains running through Orin’s forearms blazed bright as he cut off the Neraphis by saying, “We did not travel into this tundra to be denied, Eldest. Let us settle this how we used to. I challenge everything that you stand for, and more.” He turned back to face Halewyn. “Let us settle this in combat.”

  The rows of Neraphis shifted their stares to the Eldest, the space now bolting with curiosity. Even Aslock’s eyes widened at the thought.

  Orin didn’t allow for a response. “If I defeat you, then you will venture with me in a journey to understand this crimson ichor. And if you win, hmph, well…” he scoffed, “then I surrender my will to the Neraphis, and I vow never to deviate. I will remain in this Citadel if you choose, and will work to advance your study for the rest of my days.”

  No reaction drew from Halewyn’s face. He was made of stone, maintaining complete control even when challenged in front of all of his followers. The guests, the pensive Neraphis, everyone was on their toes awaiting his response, and he was in no rush to give it.

  Did he swell with pride? No. He remained the testament of his Society’s vision – contemplative – considering that Orin had been out of reach for decades. Why would that be? Why would he return? Surely, he wouldn’t have come this far if it wasn’t crucial.

  Did he swell with pride? Even the oldest linage couldn’t sway away entirely. He was human still, right? How would rejecting this challenge affect his people? All of the Neraphis, disciplined and aged as they were, were still human. And being that meant a rejection would resonate deep for their collective confidence.

  Did he swell with pride? Yes. In the end, all knew it to be true - Orin played his hand flawlessly.

  Halewyn finally broke the silence. “Come, Orin. My sword will decide your fate.” He then nodded to an observant adept, and watched as his pupil walked up the steps to reach behind the throne.

  “What’s happening?” Blague whispered to his father.

  “Watch.”

  The young Neraphis bowed his head at the top of the steps as if performing a séance, respecting the throne or at least that was their best guess, before he grasped at what looked to be a swirling design converging at a peak. Then, with a loud reverberating shink, a broad slab of blackened steel was revealed. Its etchings were deep, strange, resembling the esoteric symbols on the Citadel’s doors.

  The Eldest’s blade was so heavy that the man was hunched and slowed while delivering it, resting the flat of it on his palm and gripping the ornate hilt with the other.

  Halewyn about-faced, showing his back to his guests and proceeding to the next door of the stone temple. He turned his head to the side, his white tribal marking accentuating his tanned skin. “I will not hold back,” he warned.

  Orin remained silent.

  “Is this wise?” Blague whispered to him.

  “It wanes, but I suspect it will never truly leave me,” Orin responded cryptically.

  The words sounded familiar in Blague’s mind, but he couldn’t pinpoint where he’d heard that before, and when the thick door began to open on its own accord, all of his thoughts washed away for a face was waiting on the other side. Another friend.

  Valor.

  His pointed nose and angled face were unmistakable, and when his eyes stopped on the most curious sight in the Citadel – Lesh – he couldn’t help but smirk.

  The Eldest pulled Valor with his glowing gaze, awaiting verification of the foreign woman. Valor leaned in, whispering some words of acceptance into his ear to be done with it. And it was so.

  “Well then, let us begin.”

  Chapter 10

  Halewyn made his way into a rounded room where windows stretched from floor to high ceiling, and the ocean was on display in the backdrop – blissful and dizzying all at once. Not a peep from him as he led his audience. No witty banter of where Orin may have been all this time, or sincere conversation upon seeing an old friend. It was all silent deliberation with his ancestors, leaving the others to stir in watchful suspense.

  “How could they duel in here?” Lesh asked whoever was listening. “This room is the size of an oversized tent. They’ll tear it down in seconds.”

  Valor’s shoulders shook as he chuckled.

  If the Eldest heard, then he clearly paid it no mind, not to Lesh nor the rest of them. It was the unlikely return of Orin Grenich that held his attention. He only peered forward to the blue depths where a flood equally as great plagued his mind.

  “A man of need and necessity showing up here? Now? Unannounced? Concerning. Very concerning.” Halewyn mumbled to himself. “No grandfather, I will not oblige… father has it right. We can’t go hightailing in every direction like the olden days. We’ve been punished for that. Yes. We will read him through combat, through sword, to see if he is paranoid or true.

  “No grandfather, the Neraphis will not be unfastened on a whim. Our practice is larger than any of us now. I exist to uphold such an ideal.”

  Where nothing but soft whispers left everyone curious and waiting, he finally broke the suspense by reaching out an opened hand – armored knuckles glimmering in the clouded light. “Adept,” his voice rose. “To me.”

  The crowd watched as the Neraphis stepped over to him hauling the primeval broadsword like it was a bag of bricks. And once Halewyn grasped the massive hilt, relieving the young man’s burden with such ease, it all became clear - the strength in the archaic man’s bones was unmatched. Cryos seeped between his wrapped fingers before he flipped the sword, spinning it as if it were weightless, and dropping the bulk of its mass on his shoulder.

  It was time.

  Blague folded his arms across his chest and leaned back to address Aslock. “What attributes come with a Ludian merger?” he asked, curious of the Eldest’s power.

  Aslock leaned in closer and whispered, “Strength, Blague. Endless strength.”

  Halewyn pressed his fingertips upon a tall glass pane, and then watched it slide smoothly to the side. There came the brisk air flying in to greet them. A strong breath in with closed eyes accentuated the sounds of all the Neraphis cloaks whipping around in hysteria.

  Wait… where was he going? He took one step out onto a ledge, seeming that his next would lead him straight in to the ocean. More wizardry?

  “My favorite Sin,” Valor smiled, looking over at the famed assassin.

  Lesh ignored the man and faced forward. “What are they going to do? Swim into each other?” she asked with sarcasm, perhaps a little too loudly.

  As if in response, Halewyn flicked his wrist, and in an instant, a plain of Cryos rushed over the rumbling sea, galloping to provide a suitable arena for its wielder.

  The ethereal ground burst into color every time a wave beneath pounded its bottom. The Sins beheld the psychedelic show in awe as the Eldest walked onto what should’ve been water.

  “Okay then,” Lesh stood corrected.

  Valor chuckled.

  All eyes followed Halewyn’s after that, who looked back from the summoned ground to Orin.

  “It seems my old Elder is eager to get on with this challenge, hm?” Orin rested a hand on his son’s shoulder as he went on, a shadow of a grin on his face.

  He then stepped past the crowd, all of whom appeared tense and intimidated by the rare form their Eldest has taken. Not Orin though… he was as unhurried as could be, even in crossing paths with Halewyn, he ignored him. What was he thinking? Did he have a death wish?

  Instead of turning to face him respectfully, he decided to keep on going, far out, until reaching the edge of the platform and admire the view as if it evoked some sort of nostalgia.

  “A lull in the waters. Perfect.” He sat down in cross-legged position, cupping a handful of freezing water to everyone’s dismay.

  “It does bring me back,” Orin said quietly before rising again, looking out to the incoming tide.

  �
��Ah yes… a good beginning. Alright then.” He faced his Elder a distance away.

  “You must be spooked if you would go so far as to challenge me,” Halewyn said, his hair dancing in the wind.

  “Oh Halewyn… this is not about us. Remember those that you deemed unworthy of Neraphis discoveries all those years ago? The public? Ring a bell, old friend? Well… now the smoke is willed by them, possessed by them. Those who are rotten like my oldest son have taken hold of it, or it of them rather. And because of it, I have witnessed feats that even you could not fathom.

  “Threats in this world are growing, Halewyn, out of yours or my control… they are growing. And I can no longer stand idle, as you do.” The metal of Orin’s ancient blade shined as he drew it. And as if a mix of lightning and blue fire was summoned within him, he ignited his Cryos to explode from his forearms through to his blade. “You call yourselves protectors. Well… I think it is time to step up to such a title.”

  Halewyn placed one foot forward, waiting for his challenger to make a move. Silence filled the arena but for whispering winds, water yawning - a classical duel of old: stillness before swiftness.

  “Let nature tell us when the time is right. Hm? Let our Mother decide when two unstoppable forces are to collide.”

  “There is only one. Duality may bless you, but trility forges my might. Never forget.”

  A surf broke through in the distance, opening its mouth to bite down. And when it crashed over the edge of the Cryos arena, the suspense was over, for the battle had begun.

  Orin lowered his blade and broke into a startling sprint. He was freakishly quick, moving like a dragonfly over water, faster than the audience could follow, while his opponent was standing firm like a statue…

  It was because Halewyn saw no point in dizzying himself trying to trace this Ardian’s speed, and there were other ways to track – vibrations that grew stronger at his feet… circling him, taunting him, until suddenly…