Taverous sighed, “No, sorry to say, there is no pleasure in this visit, my old friend.” He placed his hand on the fellow’s shoulder. “I trusted that you would be able to foresee my arrival. Quickly, take me to the Council. There is much we need to discuss.” Without a question, the man led him away. Taverous shook his head as he scanned the room one last time. Oh, how time changes everything.
* * *
Master Orin inhaled sharply as the projection dome shattered around them.
“What is the matter? Are you okay?” Valen reached for his teacher’s shoulder.
“I am sorry for the abrupt halt in our journey, but you must understand a few things before we go any further.” He patted a newly selected pile of tightly rolled scrolls next to him. There is much you will bear witness to before this is over.”
Valen shrugged. “So far everything has been explained at some point. I expected the same with this Taverous figure.”
Orin smiled. “You are a smart boy. No wonder your fate is heroic.”
Valen threw him a questioning glance. “Heroic?”
“Yes, one day, soon enough. You will show everyone what you are truly capable of.”
“Alright, no pressure, then…”
Orin unfurled one of his pieces of parchment, dropping the line of conversation before it could get any further. “Taverous was one of three powerful ancients. Three brothers born thousands of years ago. Each possessing their own distinct energy characteristics and abilities. Well, the three that were still alive at the point this document was written. I’ll tell you more of the Twelve some other time.”
The elder seemed to fall into an old memory, his gaze looking past the young man, yet focusing on nothing.
Valen cleared his throat.
“Yes, sorry. No time. People referred to Taverous as The Great Protector. Though, that was before he retreated from society, following his youngest brother’s death.”
“Did he practice the type of magic you so masterfully display today?”
Orin laughed. “I am but a conduit for my powers. He is power, along with his brothers and sisters.” He stretched out another map and pointed to a small island in the deepest parts of the ocean. “This is the place that Taverous teleported to after his vision. A place called Lumindoril. The island had grown up around a volcano that was constantly surrounded by furious ice storms and snowfalls.”
The boy’s eyes narrowed and a slight upturn of his lips suggested his suspicion of an exaggeration. “That seems a little embellished, possibly an adaptation for a storyteller’s fantasy?” His eyes twinkled in the enjoyment of his badgering comment.
Big words for a cocky boy warrior.
“No, no, my boy. These acts of nature were part of what Taverous had done to keep the outside world away. It was the home of the Tearanei, a humanoid race of long-lived people; Taverous’ people. They were the brothers’ greatest feat—the creation of a people group. This miracle was a one-time thing. It has never been done since and was only achieved with the combined powers of all three brothers. It was vital to keep them protected.
“They were slightly different in appearance from humans.” He drew a line down his brow with his finger. “They had a narrow ridge here, which ran down the middle of the forehead to their nose. They didn’t grow hair and their eyes were a soft golden color, which intensified when weaving their magic.”
Valen scratched his chin. “This is all very interesting, but why the sudden change in characters? What was it that Taverous sensed in his cabin? Was it the raising of the dead?”
Orin snapped his fingers. “Yes, my boy! You are right and very perceptive. All will make sense in time, including why you are the one I have chosen to share this with.”
Valen nodded in response, having seen too much not to trust the man had some sort of exceptional knowledge.
“Now, before I recall our portal, a brief history of the brothers and their people, so you can get a sense of what we are dealing with. Taverous brought the Tearanei to Lumindoril after a catastrophic war destroyed their homeland. The eldest of the three, Balar, betrayed him and his younger brother, Rykin. He grew twisted with evil and slowly gained followers called the Searanei. They emerged as a fallen sect of the Tearanei race.
“The dark magic that Balar taught among them warped their minds and bodies. A brutal and savage army formed and, soon, civil war broke out among the created—Taverous, Rykin, and the Tearanei on one side, and Balar with his Searanei on the other. Balar’s newfound powers were strong and, in the end, it took Rykin sacrificing himself to destroy their brother.
“Taverous grew reserved and became less and less accessible to his people. He stayed among them just long enough to lead the hunt for the last members of the Searanei, before isolating himself as a hermit. After the war, the surviving group of Tearanei numbered close to seventy. However, with no living females, it was only a matter of centuries until their people’s extinction. Taverous would not stand around and watch the slow death of his people and, without the combined power of his brothers, he was helpless at breathing life back into them. At this point in our story, he had been gone for over a century.”
“Now that I have probably thoroughly confused you let’s jump back into where we left off, with Taverous and the Tearanei Council.” Orin cracked his neck. “This will be our last temporal shift of the night. We will need our rest for tomorrow.”
Valen stretched and resettled on the floor. “Understood.”
Orin dropped his head and, once more, his forearms charged the stones before them. The light in the room disappeared, and the magic bubble expanded.
They now found themselves amongst the Council of Tearanei.
* * *
“Do you know what, or who this evil is?” questioned Taniden, the man who had greeted Taverous in the banquet hall.
“No, but I need to find out. I haven’t felt this kind of power in a very long time,” Taverous’ brow pinched with tension. “I am going to the island I saw in my vision and I came here to see if the Council would assist me. With Rykin dead, I need individuals that can battle any dark magic that I may encounter. I can protect myself, but I fear there will be a need for action that I am ill-equipped to provide. I was never the fighter among my brothers.”
He met with the Council in a narrow, dimly lit room—a private assembly area of the island that, in these days, was rarely visited.
The five positions that made up the Council were the Elder, Warrior, Priest, Seer, and Lorekeeper, each sitting in their appropriate spot around a stone table. To Taverous’ right sat Vorem, the Elder, a position given to the oldest male. The Tearanei looked to him for advice and guidance from his life experiences. To Taverous’ left sat Ritak, he was the Warrior. Only the best fighter, the most skilled military leader, who devoted oneself entirely to the defense of the Tearanei people, could gain that title.
Across the table sat Piamer, the Priest on the council. The position granted to the man who showed the most natural ability in the ancient Tearanei priesthood of Dar’jaal, the great healer. Dar’jaal had been the first of the brothers’ creations, essentially the father of the Tearanei race. Priests weaken in their powers, as they grow older, thus, the position falls to a younger follower of Dar’jaal every decade. Since there has not been a newborn Tearanei in well over a century, there would never be another, younger priest to take Paimer’s spot. That fact has left him to hold the title longer than any other man in their people’s history.
Next to Piamer sat Arkon, the Lorekeeper, and Taniden, the Seer. Arkon was in charge of cataloging and archiving the Tearanei people’s history, traditions, and knowledge. Taniden came from a long line of gifted seers—a trait that grants magical farsight and the powers of prophecy. He was the one who foretold of Taverous’ arrival even before he entered the volcano.
Ritak cleared his throat, flexed his arms across his chest, and slowly looked around the room, “If the Council permits, I would like to go with Taverous. If this evil
is as powerful as he thinks, then it is only a matter of time before it comes to us. And as our protector, it is my duty to go with him.” He finished his words with a nod to the Ancient and a dramatic pat against his scabbard. “My blade will prove valuable.”
“Well, as much as I would love to have you alongside me in a fight, you are needed here. If I fail, the Council must unite to face whatever this is. I would prefer it if you could pick a small group of men, two or three of your best, and I will take them with me to the island and sort this entire thing out.”
Vorem nodded, his elder status clearly showing in the wrinkles that he bore with pride. “We will seriously consider your warning and will now discuss how to proceed,” he motioned for Taverous to exit the room.
Taverous bowed to the council and then left them to themselves. Being away from his people for so long had changed their relationship. They ceased to show him the trust and reverence they once had. He was an outsider of sorts, no longer privileged to their inner discussions.
* * *
The door closed, and Vorem turned to Piamer and Arkon, “You two didn’t say much. What are your feelings on this?”
“Well, I want to know why we didn’t tell him about Taniden’s dream?” Arkon pushed away from the table, disgust flaring in his golden eyes.
Piamer pulled back his hood and shook his head, tapping his finger on the table. “No…no…we are not even sure of what Taniden saw. His seeings are sometimes skewed and placing that kind of doubt in Taverous’ mind will only cloud his judgment. I think we should give him the best men we can offer and wait to see what he uncovers.”
“I still don’t like hiding anything from our Ancient. What if the evil on that island is, in fact, the Dark One? What if he wants Taverous to come straight to him?”
“We cannot fret over the possibilities of what this may or may not be. Additionally, if this turns out to be the nightmare you think it to be...” Piamer folded his hands in front of him. “They have unfinished business.”
The five continued talking through the night and came out shortly after dawn. Ritak, Vorem, and Taniden agreed with Piamer, and Arkon begrudgingly settled with them after many hours of arguing the situation.
Taverous was leaning back in a soft chair, asleep, but quickly rose when hearing the Council. “Well? What have you decided?”
Vorem stood forward, “We will pick you a group of our very best, and you may leave with them as soon as you wish.”
Taverous gave a short bow, “I thank you for your help.”
Chapter 25: On the Road
The wagon creaked and rattled down the backcountry road. They were away from Hillsford for not even a full day now, and Rurik already wished this horrid mission had been given to someone else. Saris wanted his fiancé and baby safe in the capital, but Rurik was better qualified for the war he would miss, than this prolonged, babysitting job.
The woman, whom he thought was going to be such a delight, had not spoken a word or even looked in his direction. She rode up front with him the whole time so far and managed to keep to herself—the boredom. Occasionally, the little baby would whine about something and she would chirp sweet things in his ear and feed or change him. He was actually quite a calm baby, not like Rurik had many experiences with children to make a comparison, but he seemed to be on the good side.
Rurik said the first words of the trip, “The sun is starting to set. We will stop here for the night.” They pulled off the road into a large clearing. “If I’m correct, there is a nice watering hole over that hill.” He pointed, and she nodded.
He reined in the horses and growled some orders to the men, putting them into action. They started setting up Amira’s tent first, and she quickly resigned for the night, without waiting for supper. Rurik could finally get Klaric out of his hiding spot. He would be cramped and bitchy as hell, and Rurik knew he would have to talk the situation over with the woman in the morning. He did not plan to have Klaric spend the next day in hiding again.
Galro started a fire and helped Gleb serve dinner, a meaty stew, that was casting off smells to make a man’s mouth water and stomach growl. Rurik really liked the way the two worked together. Galro was a good enough man to put aside the fact that Gleb was officially a Harmite slave and treat him like a friend.
Galro was only the young slave’s senior by five summers—they could be brothers. Gleb was nineteen, Aamin’s age. Damn, Rurik missed him. Gleb actually had a striking resemblance to his deceased brother and could maybe pass as him, if not for his slave brandings.
“Did you really have to hit every hole in the road?” complained Klaric, stretching his limbs.
“Would you lower your voice?” Rurik whispered, harshly. “I haven’t talked to her about you yet.”
“Hell! It doesn’t matter, not like you are going to take me back if she objects to me staying. She needs to be told and get over it.” Klaric ripped a piece of bread from the loaf and sopped up the last of his stew. “Damn, slave boy, that was good.”
Galro gave him a disapproving look.
“What? Now we are all lovey-dovey with the slaves? What did I miss while I was in jail?” Klaric looked to Rurik.
“Cool it,” Rurik said, walking over to the water bucket to clean out his bowl. “You are just pissy from the day’s ride. Get some sleep.” He ducked into his tent.
Gleb glared at Klaric from his seat on the other side of the fire. Galro doused out the flames and motioned for Gleb to follow him to the tent they were sharing, leaving Klaric alone in the dark.
“Guess I’ll go to sleep!” He yelled, sarcastically. Kicking his boots off, he lied down under the stars and slowly fell asleep.
* * *
Amira yawned awake and rolled over on her side, looking at baby Archaos, fast asleep in a nest of blankets beside her. She reached out and played with the few wispy, black hairs on his head, then ran her finger down along his soft cheek. Such a beautiful baby boy, she thought, as he wiggled, semiconscious.
“Let’s go check out that watering hole the Corporal was talking about,” She said, talking to herself more than the baby.
She slipped on a light robe from her luggage and swaddled the baby so he would be able to rest comfortably if she decided to put him down for a moment and get in the water. She poked her head out of the tent. It was a foggy morning. The sun had come up slightly, but the dense clouds dulled its effect. She didn’t hear any of the men, and if that crabby stowaway were awake, she would surely hear him.
Amira had purposefully stayed in her tent, quietly awake for a time, before falling asleep. She didn’t really care that he was with them, who could blame someone for wanting to get as far away as possible from a coming fight. The Corporal must be friends with him, for doing something behind Saris’ back like that, but they sure didn’t seem very friendly to each other last night.
She started off in the direction that he had pointed. Archaos was now awake, and quietly looking at her. Such dark eyes, like his father. Amira moved through the trees, toward a faint sound of trickling water. Should be close, she thought. Soon she reached the water, and the man had utterly misrepresented the place by calling it a watering hole—it was a lake!
She found a nice spot to put the baby down, so he was visible from the water. After checking once again if she could hear anyone around, she slipped off her robe to get in. It was cold, but soon her body acclimated to the temperature. The baby looked relaxed, so she swam a little way out, still keeping him in sight.
She floated on her back, using her hand to gently twirl her body in the water. How long will I feel free, like in this very moment? A forced marriage to a man like Saris was definitely not how she envisioned her youthful, dreamt up life. But, she was so attached to the baby now, that maybe she could go through with this for his sake, feeling that she was protecting him from a cruel fate.
She heard the sounds of a waterfall nearby and waded through a tall patch of reeds. It opened into a pool under some trickling falls. A rock had
been worn into a small basin, before flowing over into the main body of water. She carefully climbed out, wanting to get into the natural tub and, right when she was completely exposed, the Corporal, unclothed, rounded the corner of a large boulder. Both, caught off guard, quickly covered themselves and turned their backs to each other.
“I…I…I’m sorry, m’lady,” Rurik said, stuttering in embarrassment.
She could feel her cheeks going red.
She didn’t hear anyone coming. Unconsciously, and surprising herself, she did a quick second glance at the man over her shoulder, before scampering off toward the baby and, more importantly, her robe.
* * *
Rurik cursed and hit his fist against the rock. He waited longer than necessary for her to move away, before turning around. Embarrassed, he didn’t feel like swimming anymore. He grabbed his clothes and started back to camp. The long way.
He heard voices coming from camp. That has to be Galro and Gleb starting to tear down camp, too early for Klaric to get up on his own. He hoped Amira made it back to camp safely without being disturbed any further.
“Would you two stop making so much damn noise?”
That was Klaric.
Rurik reached the camp. Klaric was turning and twisting on the ground by the burnt out fire, clearly trying not to get up, while the other men were packing up everything around him. Rurik glanced over at Amira’s tent and thought he heard noise from inside. Good, she made it back before him and hopefully before the others were awake.
“Sir, we are close to being ready.” Galro jog over to Rurik, handing him a biscuit and a piece of dried ham for breakfast.
Rurik swallowed down a bite and nodded. “Very good. I want to try and reach Barrow’s crossing by sundown. We have a long way to go. The goal is to reach Dartholme by the time the Merkadian Army reaches Hillsford, that gives us six days. We will be close enough to the capital by then, to not worry about any stray enemies from the north.”
Fate of an Empire (Talurian Empire Trilogy Book 1) Page 12