The Coming Dawn: Epic of Haven Trilogy Book 3

by R. G. Triplett

  As they passed the ornately carved archways and jeweled streets, they did not see another living soul.

  It took them a long time of walking before they reached the white wall, and when they came upon one of its many entryways, a strange thought occurred to Cal.

  “That is quite odd now, isn’t it?” he said to his friends.

  “What specifically do you mean, groomsman? This whole place is quite peculiar and odd, if you ask me,” Astyræ told him with laughter in her eyes.

  “My whole life, I lived behind the walls of a city,” he told them as his hand reached out to touch the massive, carved stonework before him. “And never have I seen a walled city whose gates had no doors, not even a portcullis? This makes no sense. Why a walled city with no way to secure its walls?”

  “I can see the sense in it, groomsman,” Deryn said as he flitted up to examine the empty archway.

  “I don’t understand,” Cal asked his friend.

  “Perhaps these openings in the wall were not designed to keep people out, but rather, to welcome them inside,” the Sprite said.

  Cal shook his head, still confused. He took Astyræ’s hand in his own and they walked through the shadow of the great entrance together. “Come on, then. I am sure this place will still be here when we are ready to come back. Our friends are still out there somewhere, and—"

  “Halt!” interrupted the voice of one who did not sound like he would suffer foolishness long. His call was followed by the sound of fifty bows being drawn, and the clang of blades being unsheathed.

  “Careful, now!” the man barked. “Show yourselves, or we will have no choice but to fell you where you stand.”

  Cal swallowed back his uncertainty. He raised his hands, and Astyræ followed suit.

  “We are unarmed … and we are looking for our friends,” he told the man on the other side of the wall as he stepped through the great archway.

  A gasp sounded from the waiting guards, and quickly the creaks and yawns of the slackening bowstrings stole the silence away from the shock.

  “Cal?” came a familiar voice. “Is that you? I don’t … how could it be?”

  “Sendoa?” Cal said. At first there was caution in his words, and then with great celebration he cried out to his friend. “Sendoa! Sendoa, it is you!” He took the warrior by the arm and then grabbed him in a delighted embrace. “Are you alright? What about the battle?” He looked up and over his shoulder, peering out onto the field of war. His voice was awash in confused curiosity. “What happened? Is it over?”

  “We are alright, Cal,” he answered, surprised at such an unlooked for embrace, here at the entrance of this unlooked for city.

  “And yes,” came a voice from behind the archers. “The battle is over.”

  The warriors parted, and a clearing opened up before the Lady Johanna, Queen of the Amaian people. Bandaged and rather war-torn, she strode out to meet them.

  “Johanna!” Cal said. “What happened?”

  She looked up, her eyes drinking in the bright and beautiful city that rose up before her. “What happened, you ask, Son of Haven?” she said with an incredulous shake of her bandaged head. “We all should be the ones asking you the very same question. When the dragon sent you reeling towards the face of the mountain in a heap of blood and fury…” Her eyes teared up at both the former fear and the newly found relief of the moment. “I had thought the tide of battle had surely turned against us. And yet, here we stand, dear groomsman of Haven.”

  Cal smiled, and an exhausted laugh escaped him. But as he surveyed the remnant of the Shaimiran army, his brow furrowed at how few remained. “Is this everyone? Are there any more survivors?”

  “The Ramsguard is still searching for wounded, though there are not many of them left to do the searching,” Sendoa said, with saddened words.

  Cal looked to Johanna, his face still searching her own for the answer he truly sought.

  “It is true. Navid and his guard rode and fought bravely,” she recounted for him. “And though they cut down many of our foes, the barbs of the Raven army were too numerous to overcome.”

  Sendoa’s men bowed their heads in reverence at the mention of the fallen captain.

  “I am sorry; truly,” Cal said. “And the others? Did they…?”

  “Did they what?” came a loud and brashly familiar voice.

  Cal’s whole countenance raised at the sound of this friendly voice.

  “Did we get cut down, too?” the large woodcutter bellowed as he made his way to the front of the line. “No brother … we did not.” A wide grin grew across his large, bearded face.

  “Besides,” Oren said. “We woodcutters are much better at the felling of things!”

  “Aye!” Alon agreed, then glanced at the queen. “Not that you are not, too! I mean … I didn’t … I wasn’t saying that you weren’t a fine army, a fine army indeed,” he stammered apologetically.

  “Lady Johanna,” another voice from within the throng spoke up, his words noble and kind. “Please forgive my brothers. They have spent too much time alone among the forests, and have forgotten that they are not the only ones who live and die in these lands.”

  “Right … I meant no harm by my words,” Oren said, stumbling over his apology.

  Cal looked about, trying to see who it was that spoke with such eloquence and authority, but he couldn’t quite find the man among so many gathered.

  “I am sure that no ill will was indeed intended,” Johanna said, “though I would have you remember, woodcutter, that the blood of our warriors and your brothers has become indistinguishable out there on the Tristura Eremua.”

  Cal looked to Deryn for the translation of the ancient words.

  “Tristura Eremua. It means, the ‘Fields of Sorrow’,” the Sprite whispered reverently.

  The woodcutters raised and kissed their flints as the Amaians bowed their heads in remembrance.

  The voice Cal had been searching for spoke again. “Never will we forget, though our joy momentarily robs us of our senses,” he continued as he walked closer to the front of the crowd. “We are now kindred, a family born of blood and brilliance.” As he said these last words, he bowed his own head in full view of the queen, and when he raised it to meet her eyes, Cal could not help but to blurt out the man’s name with true elation in his voice.

  “Yasen!” he said as he ran towards his friend. “Yasen, it is you! What in the name of the THREE who is SEVEN? I don’t … I mean, I thought you were gone!” he said, stumbling over his joy as he took his friend by the shoulders and embraced him with great force.

  Yasen’s face went momentarily grave as he remembered the horrendous events of these last days, but that storm soon passed as the light of this victory shone once again in his unpatched eye. “Aye brother, but that is a story for stronger ale, on a less momentous day. Besides,” he said as he looked around, taking in this unexpected miracle, “it would seem that you have indeed found what it was that you went searching for so long ago. And that, Cal, will require celebration, and not sorrowful tales.” Yasen stretched his arms out to clasp Cal’s shoulders.

  Cal smiled, his own clouded eyes misting over with emotion. “Indeed, Yasen. Indeed,” he agreed, his hands gripping the back of Yasen’s neck.

  “What is this?” Yasen said as his gaze caught the violet glow in the familiar face of the beautiful, blonde, Wreather woman. “It would seem to me that you bested the bravery of the governor’s men after all, lady Astyræ.” He looked to Cal with growing approval as he spoke. “And you are not the least bit worse for wear, it would seem.”

  She walked up to this tree man from across the Dark Sea, the man who had hidden her safely from the mob of guardsmen. She smiled a most grateful smile, and rose to the tips of her toes to plant a kiss upon his bearded cheek. “Thank you, woodcutter. I owe my safety to you, as well as to Cal.”

  “Think nothing of it,” he said as he remembered his barmaid half a world away.

  Queen Johanna walked into
the middle of their joyful reunion. Her heart was cautiously hopeful that her people were free of danger, but her mind would not wholly let her guard down until she knew for certain. “Cal?” she asked, interrupting the moment. “You must tell me now … what is this place?”

  He smiled at her and looked back up at the pillar of light that erupted from the high tower at the center of the city. “I do not know, Queen Johanna, but that light right there … that is what we have been looking for all our lives, even when we did not know it. It is the light of the THREE who is SEVEN, the one He promised us.”

  “It would seem so, Cal,” she said still taking in the mystery of this hidden city. “But this place, these walls and these roads … the tower; whose kingdom is this?”

  “That, I cannot say for certain,” he said, reaching out to take her armored hand. “Though it does not trouble me as it does you, it would seem.”

  “No,” she said, her eyes glancing through the entryway to the many mansions and glittering gardens all about her. “You are right, Cal, but my responsibility is to guard and protect my people. So before I lead them into an unknown danger, I would like to know for certain.”

  “Know what, for certain?” he asked her.

  “That this place can indeed be trusted,” she said, signaling Sendoa and his men to spread out and begin to secure the perimeter.

  Sendoa ordered his men into formation, surrounding the queen and Cal alike, as a column of soldiers began to march their way into this white city of light. Cal and his friends followed along with the Shaimiran army. The air about them was fragrant with the scent of flowering jasmine and lavender. The gardens teemed with fruit trees and vegetables and row after row of berries. The silent air seemed to somehow buzz with electricity, but not another sound penetrated the weight of the quiet.

  Along the borders of the walls were scores of homes, mansions built in a vibrant array of color, and next to them were storerooms teeming with linens and leathers, sugars and spices, and of every desirable good one could think of. A few of the scouts reported libraries, and great kitchens with majestic hearths. They found innumerable barrels of wine and ale, and great concert halls with unknown instruments of music.

  “Something is odd to me, Cal,” Yasen said as he listened to the reports of the scouts, detailing all of the richness and the beauty of this city.

  “What is it?” he replied.

  “Not one single scout has reported finding an armory, or a barracks. Not a prison hold, not even a locked door … let alone a sentry to guard all of this abundance.” He furrowed his brow in concentration. “Why do you think that is?”

  “Perhaps, dear woodcutter,” Deryn said, his response nearly bursting from his smiling lips, “there is no need for guards or weapons in this new kingdom of light.”

  The column halted as they came upon the grotto of the great tower of light. The space was massive, and at its center stood the spiraling tower, high and bright. At its base, the silver waters of the river found its origin.

  “What say you, Sendoa?” Johanna asked her commander.

  “We have found no hint of an enemy, nor of any danger. No sign of anyone at all,” the commander said with puzzlement to his words. “Though, my Queen, nothing seems spoiled or time worn. It is as if everything were bottled and barreled and bloomed this very day.”

  “Alright, then,” she replied. “See to it that the gates are secured. With so many riches here, we are sure to have another war on our hands over the possession of this place.”

  Sendoa bowed his head and turned to gather his men.

  “No!” Deryn said to Cal, worry now replacing his previous joy. “This is wrong … we can’t—"

  But his protest was interrupted with the sound of mighty hooves upon the glittering, stone street. Everyone turned in a hurry, while bows were drawn and blades unsheathed. Though the land around them was bright and unshadowed, they had to cover their eyes at the sight of the rider before them.

  “Do not dismay, children of Ádhamh. Lay down your instruments of death, for the days of war are over and done with.” The voice in the brightness implored them with great authority. It sounded as trustworthy as an aged grandfather and as virile as the roar of a great lion; its tone demanded both trust and awe with each faintly familiar word spoken.

  Sendoa looked to his queen, but did not hesitate to lower his own sword, and so his men followed suit. They looked in awe at the sight before them, struggling to see with their eyes what their hearts already trusted. Finally, they began to see Him. The brilliance of the rider before them did not fade, so much as the eyes of all who gathered began to accommodate to so great a presence.

  “Who are you?” Johanna asked with a trembling voice as her own eyes beheld a rider robed in white, mounted upon one of the Anahiera, crowned in the majestic, triune horns of the White Stag.

  “I am known by many names, and I have taken many forms throughout the ages,” the white rider proclaimed. “But do not fear, Johanna, Queen of the Amaian people, you may trust that I am indeed good.”

  As He spoke her name, her heart softened in an instant. She looked at Him carefully, searching the bright face of this white rider once more for any sign of malice or un-truth, but her heart had already been satisfied. And so, the knees of the great queen bent in reverence to His brilliance.

  The gathered remnant followed the example of the queen, kneeling before this rider in white.

  “The days of darkness are over, for hope has led you to the halls of Ziohnia, the Kingdom of Light! As foretold, the wounds of this world will be mended.” He turned and found the face of Deryn as He continued. “For in our Great Father’s kingdom, there are many mansions, and room enough for all.”

  Cal ignored the tears that fell joyfully down his war-stained face as he listened, his heart drinking in the words that he had always longed to hear.

  “Yours is now the task of ordering the broken things of this world, joining in the mending of its wounds by the grace of the THREE who is SEVEN.” The rider turned to meet the gaze of the kneeling queen. “But temper not the welcome of this city, nor spare the larder of its storehouses. For all are welcome here, though they may have once been seduced or enslaved by the now-defeated darkness. All may call My kingdom … home.”

  The gathered children of light looked upon the rider with the deepest gratitude they had ever experienced, trusting in both His words and His generosity.

  “The old order of this world has passed, for My light is alive, and the dawn has indeed come for us all.” And with those last words, the Anahiera reared up on his hind legs, and the rider in white held high a familiar blade, whose flowering hilt shone and sparkled in the reflection of this new light. “May it be so!”

  The mighty winged horse shot high into the bright, blue sky, leaving the whole of Aiénor with the charge and the adventure of the great restoration of all things.

  Epilogue

  Many bright days had passed since the rider in white had left them there in the brilliant streets of this new kingdom. True to her word, Johanna did not bar the entrances nor turn any away from its shelter.

  Astyræ had first joined with Aysa and the healers of Shaimira to bring aid to all who were wounded and battle-weary. But as they all soon discovered, in the light of this new world, there was no place for infection or festering, and the wounds of war were mended with great haste.

  There was no throne, nor any seat of power in the city of Ziohnia, for it was quite understood that this kingdom was a gift that did not belong to any one person or peoples. The citizens did, however, look to Johanna for guidance and leadership, though she no longer saw herself as a queen. Rather, now, more than any title she had ever held before, steward suited her best.

  Cal walked into the covering of a great tent out in the field of battle where so many men had died. He found the former queen working quite intently over a desk full of maps.

  “Queen—" he caught himself as he spoke. “I mean, Lady Steward,” His cheeks flush
ed. “It is sometimes hard to unlearn the old ways, even in the light of the new ones.”

  She laughed and smiled, her face beautiful and alight with purpose. “Calarmindon!” she exclaimed. “Oh my dear friend, for what reason does the light seeker come to my tent today?”

  “Well,” he said, almost reluctantly, “it is time, Johanna.”

  “Oh?” she asked, puzzled. “Come and sit, Cal, and tell me about what time you speak of.” She motioned for him to sit and as she did she turned to address Sendoa. “When will you be ready to march? I would like to make our way as soon as we are able; there might yet be those imprisoned in the depths of Aerebus that need our help.”

  “Yes, Lady Steward,” the commander said with a salute. “By tomorrow morning, our provisions and our men will be ready for the journey southward.”

  “Very good!” she said, quite pleased. “Will you excuse us, Sendoa?”

  He nodded and smiled as he met Cal’s eyes with his own, then quickly turned and ducked out from the cover of the tent.

  “There is still so much to do, Cal,” she said as she poured a delicious smelling wine into two metal chalices. “And undo, for that matter.” She offered him a glass and then drank deeply of her own. “Even the wine tastes better in the light of this new world!”

  Cal sipped and smiled. “Aye, it does.”

  “Tell me again, what is it that you were saying?” she asked him.

  “I believe that it is time, Johanna,” he told her as he rested his drink upon the table. “Time for me to return home.”

  “But this is your home now, Calarmindon,” she said in confusion. “You spent your life dreaming and hoping for this place, and then … then you found it.” She placed her hand on his. “Why would you ever want to leave this place?”

  “Because,” he said sweetly as he clasped her hand. “Because, it may be that there are survivors, from Haven and the outlying lands, that do not even know this place exists. And there is plenty of room here for them, too.”

  “And your friends?” she asked as she espied the violet-eyed Astyræ, the azure winged Sprite, and the bearded band of woodcutters waiting just beyond the flowing walls of her tent. “Will they be going with you?”