“Years went by, children were born, raised, and begat more children. Soon the faux-autonomous group had grown quite large, and the military in turn had become lax. Carintael’s grandson, a man named Birola, led an attack on the small military group keeping watch over them, and then made the journey back to Maeon. He intended to wrest the Shar’lasil away from the crown. They were a fierce and ragged lot, and the city authorities were ill-prepared for them. It was an intense battle, heated and swift. However, the royal army won out, and His Majesty Arolot King brought down punishment. He was not as merciful as his grandfather before him, and in essence, by the power of his own enacted law, made Birola and his followers, and essentially also all of their descendents, eternal slaves to the crown. He argued they had been given a second chance by his grandfather, and had returned the favor by a second act of rebellion.
“Birola and his people were forced to dwell in barracks in a prison camp set up just outside of Maeon. By day they were slave labor on projects in and around Maeon; by night they were locked up again, watched by the careful eye of the royal army.
“Meanwhile, the Shar’lasil sat neglected in its hiding place, waiting for someone to come along to claim its power. It would be several hundred years before anyone outside of the crown would make another claim on it. But that is a story for another time, for I will not tell it here tonight.”
Then Faltir fell silent and looked long at the drink in his mug.
***
It was quiet in The Bell And Candle for quite awhile as each man was deep in his own thoughts. Finally Harokaed stirred and broke the silence.
“Well, my lads,” he said, “I gather it is very late, and this old bag of bones is ready for his bed. Rylek and Tresten, I forgive you your debt of telling us a tale tonight: your drinks are on me. The happiest of birthdays to you both!”
He ushered everyone out, refusing their offers to help him clean. “That would never do,” is all he would say. Each of the men said goodnight and told Rylek and Tresten “Happy birthday” again, then were off into the night. Soon the lakefront was quiet once more, with only Rylek, Tresten and Faltir standing there. As if from an unspoken but understood signal, they eventually turned aside and made their way back to their side of the village. The streets were utterly empty; Rylek guessed it was after midnight. After Tresten was inside his front door, Rylek and Faltir began walking away. But as Rylek started to make the turn to their house, Faltir stopped him.
“There is something we must still do tonight,” he said. “Elder Caenar is expecting us.”
Rylek looked confusedly at his father. “Really?” he asked. “I don’t remember him asking me to meet him tonight; though it has been a long day…”
“He did not ask you,” Faltir said. “But he did ask me to take you to him. He is awaiting us in the Hall of Knowledge.”
They started walking back the way they had come towards the lakeshore. Rylek felt exhausted and was not sure how he felt about such a late appointment that he had no way of avoiding. “What could he possibly want that can’t wait till morning?” he asked.
His father did not respond immediately. A sudden feeling of dread that he could not explain began to sink into Rylek’s stomach as they walked along. Finally Faltir spoke. “There are some things you need to be aware of before you head out on your Finding. They are certain things that no one else here in this village has any business knowing.”
Rylek’s head began to swim as his heart pounded. “Did you find out something about Celek?” he asked.
Faltir’s face grew grim. “You will soon have more answers than you will probably wish to have,” he said.
They finished their walk in silence and climbed the steps up the Hall of Knowledge. It was completely dark inside, save for some night light coming through the windows, and a couple of candles burning in the back where Caenar was waiting for them.
“Come in, come in,” he said as he smiled at Rylek. “Please forgive me for summoning you so late, but it cannot be helped. There is much I need to tell you in light of our previous meeting three days ago. But before we go into that, I should very much enjoy presenting you with a very small gift for your birthday; small indeed, but hopefully you will find it to be useful in times of need.”
He stretched out his hand towards Rylek, and in his palm was a small cylindrical rod, about the size of a finger. Rylek took it from his hand and observed it; its color in the candlelight was a light gray, and it felt smooth and lightweight, hard to the touch. He could not guess what it was.
“I can see you are unsure what to make of it,” Caenar said. “It is an ancient tool, made with a technology that has been lost long ago. In form and purpose it is simply a miniature torch – a starpod torch, for it uses a concentrated form of that fruit’s juice as a catalyst. However, no water is needed to make it light. You merely squeeze it between your fingers. Go on, give it a try.”
Rylek held it between two fingers and squeezed hard. The torch instantly lit up with a warm yellow glow, engulfing the room with its light. He looked in wonder at the thing, in awe that he was holding an ancient relic from history’s long tale.
“This is amazing,” he said. “It must be priceless.”
“Very good, my son,” Caenar said, smiling. “I am pleased that you enjoy it. Though the mysteries of its workings are unknowable to us, we may still benefit from its use. May it serve you well in your endeavors.”
“Thank you, Elder Caenar,” Rylek said. He squeezed the torch again, and the light died.
“You are most welcome,” Caenar said. “And now that we have seen to the first gift, we now move on to your next gift. But this gift is far more perilous, for we shall be confiding and conspiring here in the dark. But first, Rylek, you must understand that what transpires here between the three of us must not leave our confidence.”
There were only two candles lit in the room, giving it a much different feel from anything Rylek had ever experienced before in the Hall of Knowledge. Given his own inexplicable fears of what was about to happen, he felt the dread return in his stomach, and the hairs on his neck stood.
“Okay,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Caenar smiled again. “My dear son, usually I would simply take you at your word, for I know you to be an honest person. But you are not yet aware of the severity of the things we will be discussing. Our subjects tonight require a certain type of…legally-bound oath-making.”
Rylek swallowed hard as Caenar led him and Faltir to his desk where the two candles were burning. Lying on the desk between the candles was a small wooden box with an engraving of a circle flanked by four identical shapes that followed the circle’s circumference: one above, below, to the left, and to the right. The symbol reminded him simultaneously of a round table with four chairs and of a sunburst.
Caenar unlocked the box and removed its contents. Among the objects were a few small glass jars that looked to each contain two small beads. One of the jars was labeled RETESSA TORAEN; he could not read the other labels. There was also on the table a flat triangular shape not much larger than both of his hands together. It had a curious shiny bulbous center that looked to be the darkest of black. He found it difficult in the weak light to make much more of it.
The village elder picked up the triangular object and showed it to Rylek. “This is an Oathbinder,” he said. “It is another example of a piece of technology we possess but have no notion of how it works. When you hold it and make an oath, the things that you care for most in all of Mira appear as images inside the crystal.” He pointed at the bulbous center, and Rylek could now see how it refracted the candlelight. “Not only will we all see what we swear our secrecy on, the Oathbinder will also bind the subjects of our oaths into the oaths themselves. It would therefore be very unwise to allow our forthcoming conversation to leave the present company. Do you understand?”
Rylek swallowed hard and it hit his stomach like lead. “Yes sir,” he said.
“Good,” Caenar s
aid, smiling again. “You have nothing to fear, my son. I will show you how it is done.”
He held on to two corners of the Oathbinder. “I swear that I shall not break the confidence of these two men with what we are about to discuss.”
As Rylek watched, an image of buildings and a lake began to materialize within the crystal. With a start he realized it was Calm, being looked down upon from a bird’s perspective. Then suddenly the image vanished and a new one appeared: Rylek recognized himself along with his sister, Selenor, and Tresten; he was left utterly dumbfounded. But soon the image faded away and the crystal remained clear.
Caenar handed the Oathbinder to Faltir. Faltir held it in the same way as Caenar had and made his oath: “I swear that the words that pass between us here in this room tonight shall not be repeated to any other person.” Rylek saw his mom appear in the crystal, and then he and his sister. When they were gone, Faltir handed it to Rylek.
Rylek grasped the corners tightly and suddenly wondered what would show in the crystal. “I swear that nothing we discuss here tonight will leave the confidence of the three of us,” he said. He felt a tingling sensation run up his spine and the back of his head. Then he watched as Selenor appeared in the crystal. Faltir made a little noise in his throat and Rylek felt embarrassed. But as his face was reddening, Selenor was gone and the crystal returned to being clear. He handed the Oathbinder to Caenar, glad to be rid of its touch.
Caenar looked at him earnestly. “My son,” he said, “Selenor’s life depends on your discretion.”
Faltir placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “There is nothing to fear, Rylek,” he said. “I know you will not break your oath. So of course you should know Selenor will be completely safe.”
“Yes, yes, of course she will be,” Caenar said as he walked around to the back of the desk. “Now, both of you pull up the chairs to the desk. We have much to discuss, and the night is already quickly slipping away.
“Rylek, do you remember the other day when I told you there are certain things only you are privileged to know?”
“Yes sir, of course I remember,” Rylek said, doing his best to silence the growing buzzing in his mind.
Caenar nodded. “What your father and I have to discuss with you is most certainly for privileged ears only. And as you will soon see, the fate of all Calabranda, and possibly Mira, is hanging most delicately on what we are about to tell you, and how you choose to act upon it. I expect you shall not at all be happy with what you hear. But such is Truth at times.
“Your father and I are apparently all who remain as protectors of this Truth here in our beloved Calm. Those who had previously joined us in our ambitious pursuit have either passed on into eternity or have inexplicably left us.” He glanced quickly at Faltir before he continued. “These days are dire; not much time remains before the wheels of prophecy carry us into our appointed fates. And so, my son, I welcome you as the newest and final member of our order: The Whispered Wheel.” He then opened the little jar labeled with Retessa’s name and dropped the two beads in his hand. “This will not hurt,” Caenar said. “But it may feel a little unusual.”
Involuntarily the dread in Rylek’s stomach turned into an unexplainable tumultuous horror. He listened and watched as Caenar and his father began to re-spin history, and a mixed burden of confusion, anger, sorrow, and shame settled crushingly on his shoulders.
The Finding
Chapter Seven:
The Sea and All It Contains
The room was ominously dark. Two torches burned pathetically by what appeared to be an open doorway. In the dim light the walls looked to be roughly carved out of rock, a dull charcoal black that somehow swallowed what little light the torches shone. Above the doorway there glowed in a sickly green-yellow a figure consisting of several long and thin triangles. Nine shadowy figures stood in the room: four against a wall, four by the doorway, and one in the middle of the floor.
Rylek looked behind his back and could see nothing. It was as though what light existed were being sucked directly from his eyes and absorbed into a pit of devouring blackness. Rather than see it, he could sense by the feel and sound of the air that it was a large chasm. From its unknowable depths came a great thunderous whistle, and he was surprised to find he had to fight the temptation to throw himself into it.
Turning back around, he became aware of the sour smells of sulfur, dampness, and moldy rock. Two of the shadowy figures against the wall began hissing, and a pale yellow vapor rose out of them; the third and fourth stood silently, seemingly stooping. Two of the figures by the doorway swayed separately in the torch light, and from within Rylek thought he could faintly see ghastly feminine faces beckoning to him with hollow black eyes. The other two by the door were tall and stood behind the swaying figures. The ninth figure approached him slowly and menacingly; suddenly a blue firebrand appeared by its side, momentarily blinding him. By the time his eyes had adjusted, the shadow was upon him, firebrand lifted high into the air. He cowered, covering his head with his arms.
“How could I have possibly told you?” he found himself pleading with the shadow. “What words could I have found?”
The firebrand responded by leaping higher into the air, laying parallel to the ground, and emitting a piercing cry that drove him to cover his ears in pain. Blue electrical currents pulsated from the blade, illuminating the room with an evil light that did not brighten things but somehow made them darker; yet it still managed to burn his eyes. He naturally found himself stepping backwards towards the chasm of nothing, where a voice seemed to be calling to him:
Return! Return to the womb!
I shall grant you sweet repose
Return to that from which you came:
The dark sweet bosom of eternal slumber
Suddenly one of the currents struck Rylek directly in the chest, and he was thrown backwards into the chasm. For a brief moment, mid-flight through the air, he thought it odd that the blue current had caused him no physical pain. As he fell, the whistling sound embraced him like a thin cold blanket; the rushing air was a cushioning pillow. His head felt light and his stomach was sick as the earth pulled him faster and faster to his end. The feeling of sudden inevitability induced in him a wild panic. As if knowing his thoughts, the bodiless voice sounded again most calmly and soothingly, enveloping him from all around as he sped faster and faster:
Close your eyes, my child
Sleep in my arms now and always
Surrendering to his fate, he obeyed the voice and closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax. Serenity was only a moment away…
***
With a start, Rylek sat up. His heart was racing, his breathing was labored, and he found himself layered with a cold sweat. The blood rushed to his head as he looked quickly around to get his bearings. A smoldering campfire smoked directly in front of him. Beside him three people were sleeping covered in blankets. Recognition finally dawned on him as his memory kindled itself in his mind. He was a day’s journey north of Calm, alongside Tresten, Selenor, and Lana. They had set out early that morning, amid much pomp from Elder Caenar and the rest of the village, and camped here in an open field just outside a mountain forest. The light of Nevarra shone brightly above, washing everything into a plethora of grays and blacks. All was quiet and still, save the pounding of his heart in his ears. He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus on breathing, hoping he could calm himself.
After a couple of minutes he stood up and left the circle of camp. Careful not to wake the others, he ventured off a bit and smelled a pleasing floral aroma. Following his nose, he found a bed of moonkisses on the border of the forest. The large white tubular flowers were blooming in their nightly ritual. Their scent seemed to clear and settle his mind, and the remaining fragments of fear and panic from his nightmare were erased. Then his ears heard running water, and a short walk into the forest led him to a small swift-flowing stream. He stooped down and splashed its water on his face, then took severa
l long drinks from his hands. The fragrance of the moonkisses was still upon the air, and Rylek allowed this serenity to settle upon him. The remnants of the horrifying dream had been completely removed from his mind.
As he made himself comfortable by the streambed, his thoughts wandered back to the events of the morning. They seemed to be a bit of a blur – so much had happened in such a short space of time that he found it difficult to piece things together. Caenar had, of course, given a lengthy grandiose speech. Rylek honestly could not remember much of it. He had been too distracted with the excitement of going on this adventure. But a couple of lines in particular stuck in his head: In discovering The Outside, Caenar had said, each shall discover the others and himself. In finding the sea, they shall find themselves wholly committed to each other and to our blessed village. Rylek admitted to himself he could not understand how this ideology fit together with all that his father and Caenar had told him on that life-shattering night. His farewell embrace with his father had been awkward at best. He did not want to believe his mother knew what he now knew, so he embraced her wholeheartedly. Secretly he envied the ignorance of his sister as she was hugged goodbye, and of Selenor and Tresten as Penephoni had squeezed them with tears in her eyes. All he had wanted was to leave Calm as quickly as possible.
Now he was alone with his thoughts. The stream burbled calmly and cheerfully in front of him. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, allowing the fragrance of the moonkisses to wash over his mind. Slowly his muscles relaxed after having tensed again as he was thinking upon these things. Above the canopy of trees the stars shone brightly and crisply. All was peaceful around him, and he allowed it to pervade his being.
Some time later, satisfyingly refreshed and feeling drowsy again, he walked back to the camp and lay down under his blankets. Selenor’s face was turned towards his, her lips slightly parted as she slept. Nevarra’s light shone softly upon her hair, giving it a most luminous quality that teased Rylek. His fingers ached to run through her hair, to tenderly caress the side of her head. His heart warmed and his head felt giddy as he watched her breathe slowly and steadily. All was well and as it should have been.
The Children of Calm Page 11