by Thomas Adams
She smiled demurely and then quickly stood up on her tippy toes and kissed him on the lips. His lips were warm, soft and inviting but a bit tentative. She leaned into him and it felt right. Her body molded perfectly to his and he slowly raised his hands and rested them on her hips. He gently tugged her closer into his embrace and kissed her back. Her hands went to his chest and then slid up behind his neck; gently pulling is head down, closer. Her fingers twined into the long soft curly hair at the back of his neck.
It was a very sweet kiss but it transitioned fast, became scorching and hungry and in an instant, a blinding flash of desire and passion leapt between them. Her archania flared and she felt the blood course through their bodies. Their minds seemed to merge and blur and a swift jolt swept through her mind, an orange flower, a dark haired girl and a golden haired boy in a shadowed garden and a vow. A vow was made, a vow accepted, and a promise made. She knew he had seen her memories.
She pulled back with a gasp of incredulity, as did he. She was flustered. “That was too much. I, I had no idea. I am sorry.” she said. “I should have known better.”
He groaned, still holding her close. He gently pushed her back a step. Kissing him was so right but dangerous. It could lead to more and they were not ready for that yet. “That was,” he paused, “very nice.” His voice was still tick with desire. “What happened at the end though?”
She chuckled, “Very nice? An understatement if I ever heard one, it was beyond amazing and so intense. I do not think that was a normal kiss. I am not sure what that was. Don’t tell anyone of this though, at least not for now. While we were at Talfur, Ridynar trained you how to control and mask your projections. As you can imagine it is very hard on a predictionist to be constantly bombarded by an untrained projectionist.
“I do know that I can’t read your mind. With some effort, certain intense emotions, feelings and thoughts I can pick up from some people. However, with you, it is very easy. You have a very strong affinity with projection archania. It has always been this way between us ever since we were little. Apparently, our bond, it is so strong that it can sometimes open up channels and paths for our feelings and even memories and expand them. Anyway, we should ask Aravin about it. We’d better get moving.”
“Where are we headed?”
“Patience, you will see soon.”
They followed much the same path that Fridya and he had followed on their previous trek into the tunnels. After a few minutes they ended up in the chamber with the wall covered in metal images and writing. She increased the light from the wand and flooded the chamber with dazzling white light. She turned to him and said, “Do you know what this is?”
He nodded and replied, “Aye. I have been here afore and read some of this.”
She looked surprised, “You have? When were you here?”
He thought and said, “Not really sure, about a year or so I guess. Fridya and I snuck down here once. It is something many students try and do. Sneak into the tunnels and explore.”
Yfiria looked peeved and said, “I know she is your friend Brandt and I cannot ask you to not be friends. She helped you when no one else was around. But, something is not right with her relationship with you.”
“I know, she told me just a while ago that the chancellor wants her to marry me.”
Yfiria exclaimed, “She just came out and told you this?”
Brandt nodded. She said, “How extraordinary. What did you say?”
“Well, what could I say? I told her I am not ready to marry anyone until my memory is more reliable and I can sort out my head. And, I need to finish the training here at the Hall.”
Yfiria said, “Good. Be careful around her is all I ask. Now,” and she turned and held out a slender graceful arm and swept it across the images on the wall, “This is the Gallery of the Dead. It is a catalog of Dokköndi, evil spirits if you will. And, Arvin will confirm, they are real and they are coming to Ellorhim. Some may already be here. They are breaking free from the Void. The barrier between our world and the Void is failing. All of these things on this wall will be free in Ellorhim and there will be thousands of them, maybe tens of thousands. It will be a nightmare. People will be slaughtered in droves.”
Brandt just stared at her. She could see the confusion and doubt in his eyes. “I know little about the Void and Dokköndi. Everyone thinks they were just a myth. What are you saying? How can this be true?”
“Brandt, do you know what this means?”
He shook his head and she went on, “It means Ellorhim will be destroyed. All life will be extinguished once the Dokköndi come in force. We will not be able to stop them. The Druids cannot stop them. The gods cannot stop them. But, if we work together, there is a small chance. Aravin knows a way and he has a plan and a big part of that plan is you.”
He said, “Me? I canna imagine how I can stop them.”
“Trust me. I would never lie to you. Aravin will tell you about it. You have a major part to play. Now, we need to go.”
They left the Gallery of the Dead but took a different turn at one point. The air seemed somehow cleaner and warmer and they soon ended up in a massive room that housed a large grey granite tomb in the center. The white and buff marble walls and floor were polished smooth. Hand carved columns and ornate cornices and embellishments decorated the elaborate chamber. At the far end of the room was a statue of a man. He was holding a hand and a half sword in his hands. The sword was immediately familiar to Kyrr. It was his sword, SwordBreaker for sure.
Yfiria whispered, “This is Brandt I’s tomb, your father.”
He stared at her. She watched his face closely, looking for any reaction or emotion. She continued, “This statue is the best likeness of him in existence in Vesfalruk. Aravin told me about it. Aravin actually knew your father and met him on several occasions. And, I have seen him in my visions as well.”
He remained quiet but she could sense the inner struggle. She walked around the room and with a word of command lit several small lamps on the walls. The room filled with light. She then placed her wand on the tomb and pulled a hand held looking glass from the sash around her waist. The glass winked reflections of light and images back at them. She directed him to walk up to the statue and look into its face. He did so and stared at the granite countenance for a full minute. It looked like a strong face but not one overly harsh or condemning. There was a certain set to the features that hinted at a great strain and burden that came with war and kingship. Yfiria came up beside him and held the mirror up before him, side by side with the statue. For the first time that he could ever remember, he clearly saw his own reflection peering back at him from the glass.
He gasped in awe. The face of the statue was almost identical to his. Could it be true? He’d doubted he was a prince and the son of Brandt I. He never believed he was an Erling. There was little doubt now though. The resemblance was too close to deny.
She lowered the mirror and said, “So, you see now what we have been saying all along. Jan Brandt of Clan Rodull, you are the Rising Sun. You will restore your father’s line to the Blackwood Throne. It is foretold in the Prophecy and it will come to pass. I have seen it so. You are the future of Vesfal. I know you fear making the wrong decisions, making mistakes. I understand your aversion to ordering people to war, a war that will cost people their lives. I understand your desire to just be left alone, to remain a simple man. But, there is none better suited to be king than a simple man who does not lust for power, glory or a throne.”
He was in shock but his eyes remained locked on hers as she spoke.
“And, you will eventually come to an understanding with yourself and make peace with this. You must accept your destiny, for your people and mine. We are all depending on you Brandt. You are our only chance at victory over the Erhand and the evil residing in the Void.”
He glanced back to the statue. She saw the struggle in his face. She went on, “Would you condemn all of the people of Vesfalruk and Radnja to the Void simply be
cause you cannot accept your destiny and your obligations? All of those women, children and men will be lost.
“If you still have trouble grasping this, then there is one other reason, accept your fate for my sake. My fate is bound to the people and the land and to yours. If the Dokköndi succeed then I will also be lost. Would you cast me to the Void in order to remain just Kyrr?”
***
Tears slid down his cheeks and he pulled her into a fierce embrace. He was torn by this duty but he also now understood the implications of his resistance to accepting what she, Ridynar and Aravin had been telling him for years. But, his selfishness, fear and doubt were obstacles he’d struggled to overcome. Accepting that his entire purpose was to fight some grand mistake of the gods was overwhelming and an unjust travesty.
His mind began to clear a little and small pieces of his memory began to flit through his mind. Much was still hazy but some part of his mind relented and the memory loss faded a little. It was not totally gone and it would be a long path back to full remembrance. He now realized his memory loss was partially self-induced. It was his reaction, no his refusal to accept what the gods had laid down afore him, his destiny.
But now, he was willing to accept his fate for her sake if for no other reason. She had come to mean so much to him in just a few days. He did not know what the Dokköndi would do or their intentions but he knew it would be bad. Nor, could he condemn all of the people of Vesfalruk and Radnja to such a dark and twisted end. He had never really known ‘his people’ and since his return, they had only treated him with disdain, loathing and dislike. Was that reason enough to condemn them all?
A few at least, had taken pity on him when he was a nameless and lost boy. Bax was worth fighting for, Ivar and Fridya as well. He even remembered the widow, when he’d first shown up in Tanic, she had fed him when he was starving and gave him a penny for carrying bundles for her. There were people worth fighting for, worth saving and most of all there was Yfiria. He now knew he would gladly lay down his life for her. She was worth dying for. He glanced down into her face and saw she was happy. She was also crying. But she was radiant with a beauty and compassion that seemed to him otherworldly.
She whispered softly, “So, my love, things are clearer now? And, are you ready to do your duty and fight? Are you ready be king and fight for me, fight for Vesfalruk and Radnja? I know you have the power inside you. I know you are capable of great things. Can you do this? For us?”
“I was a scared selfish boy. I let doubt and fear become a terrible weapon of the enemy. I see that now. I can remember bits and pieces of my past suddenly, thanks to you! And yes, I will fight for you and my friends.”
She only nodded and hugged him back, harder. The burden of his future had not departed. He still felt it, a crushing overpowering weight relentlessly pushing down on him. The fear of failure and his doubts and inadequacies all remained. But, he now understood and accepted it. It was his burden in this life and his alone. He would never escape it. He would rather die trying than to do anything else. His father was a great man not because he was victorious but because he had tried, over and over, against great odds and eventually succeeded. His last remaining son, Jan Brandt could do no less.
***
The morning dawned windy, wet and chilly. Dark heavy rain clouds scudded around the jagged peaks of the mountains. The rains lifted during the noon meal and shortly afterwards the Chancellor’s party gathered and made ready in the High Fort’s courtyard. The wind was still gusting over the walls and around the towers of the fortress. Cloaks were worn by all. As horses were checked, wagons inspected, weapons and armor donned, Brandt watched with interest from the covered passageway outside his barracks room. It was truly a sad occasion for him. The saddest he could remember from his limited recollections. He did not want Yfiria to go. And, he had even started to take a liking to Aravin, strange and taciturn as the Ancient One was.
But it was inevitable and unstoppable. She was not down from Reave Hall yet but he could see her horse, a young spirited roan mare standing there. The horse was impatiently awaiting her mistress. Woman and horse were much alike he mused to himself, in spirit and temperament. Brandt walked over to the boy holding the mare and offered to hold her for him. The boy was grateful since there were other horses to make ready still. He handed the reins to Brandt and trotted off. Brandt stroked the horse’s neck and talked soothingly to the spirited mare. He saw Fridya staring at him from her father’s side but she did not look angry. Likely she was dealing with his imminent departure and it was preoccupying her. He hoped that attitude persisted.
Yfiria arrived with her ladies in a flurry of lace, perfume and silks. And, while she looked as lovely as ever in her silver and green riding habit, Brandt could tell there was something wrong. And, when he looked into her face he saw an overwhelming sadness. The coming separation weighed on her as well. “It is the same for me Yfiria.” he apprised her. “I feel a terrible weight pressing down on me with your departure. I wish you were staying or I was going with you.”
Her smile was nice but reserved, “That is not our path. I pray to the Gods that one day we may have what many others take for granted.”
He hugged her, kissed her cheek and then helped her to mount. The prince sat his huge stallion a few yards away and watched their interaction closely. His face was expressionless. His gaze was hooded but they missed nothing. There was no outward indication that he saw their interaction or that he approved or disapproved of the public displays of affection.
Yfiria’s spirited mare wanted to run but Brandt held her firmly until Yfiria was settled. He grabbed her free gloved hand and squeezed. She smiled sadly again and leaned down and brushed his long curls out of his eyes. “You need a haircut my prince.” she whispered.
He turned her hand palm up and kissed the palm. “Please call me Brandt. That is my first step Yfiria. After last night, I will go by my real name and try to embrace who I am.” Then he looped his mother’s necklace around her hand and curled her fingers around it. She raised her hand and opened it and her eyes widened when she saw what rested there. She shook her head vigorously in the negative and tried to hand the necklace back to Brandt. He said, “I insist. It will do more good for you than I. Besides, I already have a gift from you. You now have one from me. I made a new chain for it. The wire is good steel and the links I forged are strong. It will not break.”
“Brandt!” she exclaimed, “This is the only thing you have of your mother’s. I could never accept this.” she pleaded.
“I want you to have it. I am sure my mother, if she was here, would agree. It will help you. You will see. I think you need that help more than me right now. After our conversation last night I am ready. I know my duty and path and I will not falter.”
She touched his cheek and looked deep into his eyes. She then sighed deeply and thanked him for his generous gift. She slipped the necklace over her head and let it rest on her bosom. It suited her well he thought. He handed up the reins to her. She smiled at him one more time and turned the mare to walk over to her ladies and Aravin.
Brandt softly said, “Be safe Yfiria. I will see you in my dreams.” She did not hear him though.
Aravin nodded gravely to him. Yfellia smiled forlornly at him. She looked from Brandt to Yfiria and back again with grave concern. Yfellia was an astute woman he realized. She genuinely cared for Yfiria and by extension him. The command to move out was shouted by Forster. Slowly the party shook out into a loose column of three or four riders wide and rode towards the massive tunnel of the gatehouse. Row by row they disappeared into the gaping black maw. Brandt walked over to the stairs and climbed to the battlements. The further she went the more he hurt.
Fridya joined him shortly thereafter. In companionable silence they watched the column descend through the Mid-Forts and then come out the gate of the Low Fort. They lost sight of them as they climbed down the causeway into Tanic. Then, Master Ivar was shouting up at them to stop holding hands and ge
t their butts onto the practice field in ten seconds for sword form reviews.
Chapter 18
A Visit to Fortress Cinder
Shield Breakers Story, Part V
It is my fate but is it right
To bring the end to every fight
In truth I know not the real reason
Why a God would create such a demon
It is my doom but who can say what is just
The end of days will tell I trust
Brotjnar
***
The chancellor’s embassy rode eastward towards Cinder on the East Road. After the first day, they encountered fair weather and were able make good time. As the crow flies, the Eastern White Mountains was almost one hundred skots from Fortress Reave to the lower gate of Fortress Cinder. The East Road was the only way from Reave Hall to Fortress Cinder. As the group rode Chancellor Rumborg explained the terrain and route to Prince Rudolph, “This road runs over a swath of mountains and passes and is called the Pass of Fire. The name ‘Pass of Fire’ is in fact a misnomer, in reality it is many passes and valleys all culminating in the final pass that splits Mount Cinder and Mount Kȋve. The lowest gate of Fortress Cinder marks the boundary between Vesfalruk and the Emorie.”
Prince Rudolph seemed to be in his element and the chancellor and he discussed the terrain and road and fortresses as they made their way into the mountains. Yfiria was captivated by the wild beauty of the land. As the chancellor explained, the road east of Reave Hall was narrow in most places, on purpose, and primarily consisted of gravel or dirt. A few short sections, where it was required, were paved with large flat stones. It was never improved beyond what was necessary to keep the rough track open. Rumborg said, “Everyone knows a wide well maintained road would only be more easily traversed by the Erhand if they breach Cinder and invade Vesfalruk. History has shown us this, so why make it easy for the invaders? In the centuries past, the people of Vesfalruk have learned many hard lessons at the hands of the Erhand. And, many of these lessons have been learned on the very ground we now ride across”