by R. M Garino
“It would be bad for my image,” he said, shaking his head. “The last thing I want is a reputation for respectability.”
A horn sounded within the mess, and the echoes rang out through the hallway in undulating waves to warn everyone that the historians were about to begin. This was everyone’s favorite part of the Conclave celebrations, aside from the music and dancing to follow.
Arielle jumped down from the sill, pulling Angus along with her.
“Come on,” she said. “We’ll miss it.”
Without comment he allowed her to usher him along, dragging his feet to make her work harder.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The Apostate’s War
“We are the Lethen’al, the fallen, the Elder Race,” the speaker’s voice thundered in the now quiet mess hall.
All historians used the same invocation, a reminder of who and what they all were, for in the mind of the Lethen’al everything came back to the beginning. The audience could have spoken the introduction in unison, but out of respect for the august historian, they held their peace and lent him their full attention.
“Once, we walked the Halls of Heaven, basking in the glory of the Creator and doing His bidding. We were the Aesari, the angels of Heaven. Some of us, when we beheld the Quain, the fullness of creation, we wanted to do more than watch it from afar; we wished to actively protect it and guide it along. To this end, we defied the Edict of Heaven, and we tore the veil that held the Quain separate and aside. But there are consequences for all actions, and as we spurred the will of Heaven in favor of our own, we were destroyed, our true selves split into millions of insignificant fragments the moment we stepped through the tear.”
Angus and Arielle had found their seats among the listeners just as the first chords of the harp that accompanied the historian rang through the hall. They had procured a drink and dessert on their way to the table. Now, with Angus seated against a supporting pillar, Arielle snuggled against him to listen.
“Ages passed,” the historian said, his words painting pictures in the minds of the listeners. “The world changed. In our infancy we befriended the first band of humans raised, and we called them friends. These we named the Extipana, the favored ones. As the Extipana grew to sapience before the other tribes of humankind, they became our stewards, our proxy in all future acts of ascension. Our friends.
“Humans are dual beings, creatures of both matter and spirit. We helped them develop their spirit, their conscious self, which vied for control of the physical animal. Some learned to commune with the Creator, and the first of the human Mages, the Sharakeen, were formed.
“Tarek and the Lo’ademn, however, discovered that these spirits could be corrupted and twisted from their allegiance. Once he turned them against us, he taught them how to destroy our physical forms. By destroying our bodies, Tarek sought to reclaim our si’ru, and bind us in the Sur.
“Tarek perverted Rohm De’Veldrin, youngest son of the Human King Therebus. With Tarek’s guidance, Rohm killed his father, and set his siblings against each other over the succession. The human empire was torn asunder. As the humans battled among their own kind, we stood to the side and did not intervene. Rohm was victorious, and won battle after battle. And so it came to pass that the grandson of Therebus De’Veldrin, the rightful heir, Melan, sought sanctuary in the fabled city of Sa’Doran. This we granted, for we honored the friendship of his line and knew not of Tarek’s involvement. We did not learn of the true nature of the threat until the eldest son of Therebus, Raen, long thought to have perished, revealed himself on the field of battle at Ompass, and drove off the usurper to the throne.
“By this time, Tarek learned that humans could be drawn into the Sur, their essence purged, and replaced by a Lo’ademn. In time, Tarek and his brethren perfected the art of hiding within the folds of matter and fortifying it with their nefarious will. Thus, were they able to set foot upon the Quain without being rent asunder. At each instance, we stood firm against them, and with the aid of the Extipana, we bound their spirit and imprisoned their flesh.
“To save his servant, Tarek drew Rohm to the Sur and purged his flesh. Rohm De’Veldrin was no more. Wearing his flesh, Tarek the Apostate walked the world.”
This is where your family comes in, Angus sent to Arielle. He kissed her temple.
Hush, she sent, but snuggled closer.
“On the Quain, Tarek freed the Lo’ademn. The human armies could not stand against their might, and were crushed. Soon there was no opposition, and Tarek shifted his attention south toward his true aim: the Lethen’al. He opened the Sur, and brought forth the dark denizens of his twisted realm. The creatures swarmed into the Northern Kingdom, and we fell before them. All who stood died by talon and fang.
“And then, from the depths of the great forest of Aklediem, came a small troop of Blades, led by Sui Rhen’val.”
Here, the historian had to pause, for a cheer filled the mess, and the thunder of mugs clashing against tabletops echoed in the chamber. It raged through the room, taking its time to reach its crescendo, before it started to lessen and fade.
“He had long been troubled by the privations of the human tribes, and their penchant for violence. So, he cloistered himself away in the remote mountain valleys and forests to perfect the arts of war. Over time, others joined him to learn his ways. They called themselves the Areth’kon, the Gathering of the Blades. Although their numbers were small, they held against the Apostate’s hordes and redirected them from the walls of Sa’Doran. Sui Rhen’val and his Areth’kon were welcomed as heroes by the King of the Lethen’al, Kilbaine Tu’renthien, and given leave to defend the city. Among Sui Rhen’val’s followers was the king’s son El’Cain, who had defied his father’s wishes to study with the Master Rhen’val. Seeing the worth of El’Cain’s decision, the rift between father and son was healed, and he was welcomed back to his rightful place.”
Seems like stubbornness is a family trait, Arielle sent to Angus.
He chuckled and gave her a squeeze in response.
“Tarek threw his forces against the walls of Sa’Doran for years, but with the presence of the Areth’kon, he never penetrated them. Sui Rhen’val’s followers grew. El’Cain married and fathered a daughter, our Matriarch Thenaria Tu’renthien.
“As the decades of war passed, the E’ine gathered, for they had come to understand the nature of their foe. They could not hold him off, and they could expect no aid. The Occanium, the Council of Magi offered to guide the refugees south in search of the mythical Patresilen and the City of Raqui.
“They had not gone far when the city of Sa’Doran fell to treachery. The gates were rent open. The hordes of the Sur poured forth, and the great northern city fell.
“The Areth’kon would save those they could, and make the Apostate pay a dear price for their lives. And so it was that King Kilbaine and Sui Rhen’val set forth to assail the foe who had fouled their own halls, while El’Cain secreted away the women and children along the tunnels beneath the city. Thenaria was a gifted Magi, and then a new mother herself. With her daughter Li’Lian, she accompanied the refugees.
“Many died, but many more fled, desperate to reach the protections of the fabled Patresilen. Thus began our Trial of Tears, for many of our people were killed by Tarek’s creatures. Many more were lost to starvation and exposure. With the help of the Extipana and the guidance of Thenaria, we attained the great forest of Aklediem, and made for Golan’s Pass with the Apostate close behind.
“At the mouth of the pass, El’Cain and his personal guard halted. The pass was narrow, and they knew they could hold it, thereby buying time for their people to continue in safety. Their families begged them not to stay, but they held firm. Here they would remain, and here they would make their final stand against the nightmarish horde. For two days they fought, with neither food nor rest, nor thought of surrender. The bodies of the enemy choked the pass, and the beasts grew hesitant to enter. El’Cain and his guards died one and all in defen
se of their people.”
Another even louder wave of deafening noise roared through the room. Angus and Arielle beat their tankards on the tabletop with the same wild abandon as everyone else.
If the Elc’atar are named after El’Cain and his guard, Arielle sent to Angus as the cacophony eased, who are the Mala’kar named after?
His name was Malachite, Angus sent, pulling her close. He was the first to combine the Areth’kon’s teachings with the Magi’s.
What happened to him? Why is he never in the histories?
Angus shrugged. No one knows. He disappeared during the fall of Sa’Doran.
“El’Cain’s stratagem worked,” the historian said as the noise ceased. “The main assemblage of Lethen’al had passed through the Gates of Golorath.
“But alas, a final tragedy waited here to befall House Tu’renthien. Thenaria and her daughter were near the rear of the assembly as they crested the final set of waterfalls in the pass. Here the horde fell upon them, and little Li’Lian was pulled from Thenaria’s grasp. She was dragged into the nightmare below, and there was nothing anyone could do to save her. Desolate and bereft, Thenaria was brought into the Golden Vale, and the Gates of Golorath were sealed behind her. She was maddened with grief, and even the remaining E’ine could not console her.
“And then a miracle happened which we cannot describe, for the Matriarch has been silent as to its nature to this very day.
“One day, without word or warning, she walked out of the room she had cloistered herself in. She activated the Gates, and charged into the waiting horde. A new power had awoken within her, and the creatures of the Sur fell before her might. She drove them out of the pass, and back to the yoke of their master. Tarek too she attacked, wielding magics as yet unseen. In her fury, she drove him back to the north. Raen, the eldest son of the Great Human King Therebus, aided her in her fight. As with his brother Rohm, Raen was no longer human, for within his flesh resided the Aesari Sim’iel, who had entered the Quain to aid us. Together, they drove the Apostate back to the Pala’dine. In the battle that ensued, the Apostate was driven from the Quain, and the Matriarch gave chase, following him into the Sur. There, within the Apostate’s own halls she defeated him, but at a terrible price. She returned, only to find that the very land itself had died, and what were once the glorious fields of the Pala’dine are now called Sharen Ka Quebalen, the dead lands. Thenaria herself was damaged, her body broken and blinded in her fight for vengeance.
“Yet from the dead lands she emerged, Raen by her side, and in tow, a child. Born of a captive E’ine, and sired by Tarek himself in the Sur, the child was named Rastef Rhom De’Veldrin, the Lost Child. Thenaria took pity on the boy, and forgiving him the sins of his father, took him as her own and returned with him to the Patresilen. It was then she issued her edict that stands to this day; the Gates of Golorath are sealed. The Lethen’al had removed ourselves from the world, and creation was left in humanity’s care.
“Over seven thousand years have passed since the Apostate was vanquished and banished to the Sur. Four generations have died and been born, and still our Matriarch lives on to guide us. Rejoice that she still stands against the oppression of the Sur! Rejoice that the Areth’kon has grown strong to guard against the Apostate’s return!
“We are, and will remain, the Lethen’al!”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Closing Invocation
The closing invocation of the histories brought a round of cheers. The cacophony signaled not just the listeners’ pleasure with the performance, but their pride of who they were, and what their people had endured. The din vibrated the foundations of the mountains, as if to remind the Creator and all the Aesari that they would stand with pride to defend who and what they were. Sui Rhen’val, El’Cain Tu’renthien, Thenaria Tu’renthien; these were their heroes; these were the models they sought to emulate.
The uproar faded. Dancing and music would follow—later, after the heat in their hearts was tempered and quenched with more drink and much discussion over what they’d heard. Already a general buzz filled the room, punctuated by calls for ale or spirits. The graduates who were assigned to wait on the crowd jumped from their seats and rushed to fill the requests.
Angus and Arielle remained in the spot they’d chosen for themselves. Their Prides were scheduled to serve in the morning, so they could enjoy the evening. They were secluded, and well away from either group.
“What happened to Rastef, the Lost Child?” Arielle said. “The historians never mention him more than to say that Thenaria took him as her own.”
“I’m not sure,” Angus said, frowning. “My mother knew him, and my father doesn’t care for him. But that’s as much as I know. We’ve never met, and they don’t talk about him much. Grandmother was supposedly very attached to him. I guess he died.”
“You’re going to introduce me to her tomorrow?” Arielle said. “Aren’t you?”
“It’s only proper,” Angus said. “She is my grandmother, after all. But don’t worry. I’m sure she won’t even hear me speak. Just bow, and wait until she walks past.”
“And if she wants to talk to me?” Arielle said. “What could I possibly say to the Matriarch, especially after all I’ve heard tonight? Aside from a handful of E’ine, she’s the only living person who experienced the Apostate’s war. She’d see me as an infant.”
“I doubt she’ll see you at all,” Angus said. “I’ll be introducing you, remember? If she does talk to you, compliment her on her appearance. I hear she’s quite vain. She doesn’t look much older than us. If not for the damage to her eyes, you’d never know she was over seven thousand years old.”
“That doesn’t help much.”
“Don’t worry. Besides, it’s not her I want you to meet. If it were up to me, I’d ignore the shrew entirely. I want you to meet my grandfather, and my parents. And Melinah, if I can steal her away. Just be yourself with them, and you’ll be fine.”
“Your grandfather is not as old as the Matriarch, is he?”
“Granddad?” Angus said with a chuckle. “Feck no! He’s an age with the Commandant. Not nearly so old as she. No one is.”
“So he was not Li’Lian’s father?”
“Nope,” he said as he took a drink. “I don’t even know the name of Li’Lian’s father. I doubt my mother does either. The entire subject is sort of taboo in the family. Granddad probably knows, but he’s not talking.”
“When did he marry her?”
“He never did. I’ve no idea why, but that’s just the way it’s always been. Apparently, he’s asked her on several occasions, but she won’t even hear of it.”
“After all she’s been through you can hardly blame her.” Arielle lifted her cup.
“Sure I can,” he said. “She’s had millennia to come to terms with everything that happened, and she got her revenge. She has no right to treat him the way she does. He’s a great individual, and a Magi of the highest order. He’s mad about her, and he always excuses her behavior, regardless of how she acts.”
“Love is funny, I guess.”
Angus pulled her into a hug. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess it is.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Royals
The royal procession was a somber affair the following morning. Snow had fallen again in the night, coating the ordinary objects with a fresh novelty. There were none of the cheers, or shouts of favoritism that marked the entrance the day before. The Areth’kon assembled in full dress uniform, lining either side of the processional route. The Mala’kar stood in the front ranks, followed by the Elc’atar. The third group consisted of the pledged Blades, assembled by House. At the furthest end of the route stood the unaffiliated graduates, ranked by their squad number according to the tier they currently held. As a result, Arielle’s Twelfth stood closest to the route, with Angus’ Third facing them across the path. The disgraced Fifth and Ninth stood far back from sight.
They entered the field to the sound of Blades and gradua
tes snapping to attention. Five Magi walked at the forefront, immaculate in their glowing golden robes, followed by three of their apprentices dressed in more somber blues. Behind them came the honor guard. Members from each of the four Areth’kon Great Houses escorted the royal Tu’renthiens: four in front of them, and four more behind. Next came the Areth’kon nobility, House Rhen’val: Thoreau, Arrolyn, Cyril, Shane, and Dugal came after. In their wake walked Angus’ family: Chrysies, his mother, and Melinah, his sister, walked in the very center of the procession. His mother’s long golden hair shone in the early morning sunlight, and she walked with a calm pride of purpose, appearing content within herself and her surroundings. Melinah’s hair was a whiter gold, closer to Angus’ coloring, which proclaimed her lineage from House Kal’Parev as much as Tu’renthien. The joy she radiated was plain for all to see, and coupled with her delicate beauty, all eyes were drawn toward her. It was not often that the Heir Apparent was seen in public, and the Areth’kon stood a little straighter in her presence.
On either side of them walked Angus’ father, Talon, and his grandfather Brocco. Talon walked with a military bearing. Brocco, on the far right, was simple in comparison, despite his rank of Magi. Neither let their focus rest on any one point, as they scanned the assembled ranks with an intensity that bordered on distrust. Angus knew better as he watched them. This was their way: alert and poised to move even when relaxing, an unavoidable aspect of who they were, and what they were trained to be.
Chrysies touched Talon’s arm when they drew abreast of the Third. Much to everyone’s surprise, the procession halted. As one, the graduates saluted in response to the rare honor. Talon appraised their appearance as he walked their ranks. He stopped in front of Angus, and returned the salute. A moment later, he opened his arms and embraced his son. Clapping him on the shoulder, his own sin’del glowing with pride, much to Angus’ satisfaction. He moved aside and directed his attention to his nephew.