Once inside, she noticed her son was already dressed in red swaddling. She was no longer allowed to touch him. As Angela and the baby headed for the door, an audible voice that couldn’t hide its aching spoke. “Stop!” They all turned to look at Archena. She asked if they could wait for a minute and ran into her room. A second later, she came out with a necklace that held an emerald ring. She placed it on the babe, careful not to let any part of her touch him.
“This is his,” she said, placing on him her most precious possession, a family heirloom. Angela looked at Hilda, making sure it was okay. She nodded slightly to give her approval, and they left.
As the Council journeyed into the forest, they had two other babies with them, a boy and girl from two other villages. It was a half-day’s walk to the Shrine of Olinar buried inside a cave. As they journeyed into the forest, Angela could not help but wonder about the baby she was holding. When he was crying and she touched his hand, a tingling feeling ran though her body and his eyes flashed from brown to silver, but she said nothing about it.
The sun was setting when they arrived at the entrance of Olinar’s cave. Two Council guards stood at the entrance with a spear in one hand and a raised shield on the other, so it was over their chest. Others hid behind trees that served as camouflage. As Hilda led the group into the cave, a male voice spoke from behind them. It was loud and clear.
“Stop!”
Everyone that heard it, did, and they turned in the direction of the command. Hilda, who was now behind the group, made her way to the front. And while her face held no expression, she was going to show the person who dared stop them the sharp side of her tongue.
Once in front, she could see six armed men in circular formation, weapons in hand. They were covered in cloaks made of animal hide and tree leaves that allowed them to blend into their surroundings.
They were the priestess guard, the highest-ranking member of their Council. The guards were tall men with faces hidden behind brass masks, their bodies wrapped by their cloaks. They watched their surroundings like hawks, with eyes searching for anything out of the ordinary.
The guards in front parted, revealing a woman in her older years. Her hair was pure silver gray, which was a contrast to her smooth skin. She wore a white-laced dress that was illuminated by the green and gray around her. Hilda and her company bowed their heads as she walked past them.
“Rise, child,” she said to Angela, whose head was bowed. She rose with the babe that had the emerald necklace around his neck. The priestess gently loosed the cloth wrapped around the child and her eyes widened. She stared at his hands and then began to speak almost prophetically.
“He cannot enter Olinar. He is of the lineage of Lamtin and shall bring freedom to us all, but blood and destruction will set his path. Soon people will have to choose, and many will follow him to their end. Two stand with him, and our fates are tied to theirs, but only he has access to all the keys…”
*************
Iseac could not believe what he’d found, an account of one of the three. Reviewing the document again, it prophesied of some great battle to come. It said nothing about where the child was taken, other than the fact that he was never returned to his family. He rolled the scroll and placed it back on the shelf. His biggest concern had been where to start, and this document had just made it clear. He would begin his search heading west toward the island now called Rehaj.
Chapter 5
Bound by the Oath
The sun was still behind the horizon, even though signs of dawn marked the heavens, when three men stepped out of the Rod Stone temple, their distinct light-blue robes catching the firelight as they made their way toward the courtyard where men known as Ackalans, or Kalans of the Scroll, were gathered.
The Ashra, or commander, of this group of Ackalans was a man named Tremay. He had his eyes fixed on the temple doors, watching as the men known as Patrons approached. When they were in a close enough proximity to hear him speak, he announced in a loud voice so those in his company could hear. “We have come to heed the call and fulfill our oath. Ta-respir a’new mania,” he chanted, meaning, “For our honor and duty to the oath.”
The Ackalans gathered in the courtyard joined Tremay, repeating in unison “a’new mania,” “to the oath.”
The chief Patron, Thorlak, walked over to the podium, which was a small wooden stand. He raised his hands in the air to acknowledge their salute, which was ritualistic.
“So are we, to the truth that binds us all,” he said before putting his hands down, and it was once again quiet.
Thorlak looked out into the group of men gathered and began to speak. His voice rose and fell with the strength of an old man who was wise as all eyes were fixed on him.
Two men stood on opposite sides of Thorlak as he spoke. Like him, they were dressed in their silk Patron’s robes, which were light blue. Torches were posted on columns around the yard, and the firelight seemed to reflect off the Patrons’ robes, giving them a glow. The chief Patron’s hair, mustache, and beard were white, and his eyes were brown.
Thorlak had a gold ring with a round blue stone on top, which pulsated with flashes of light, while the men that stood next to him had green stones. Their rings were the only item of distinction in their clothing.
"A war is coming, the likes of which mankind has never before seen,” Thorlak said. “It will ravage the land and push mankind to its brink. The signs of its beginning are appearing around the four Kingdoms, but we shall overcome this force that threatens to rip apart the fabric of our society; for in the darkness, a new dawn will arise as we hold onto the flames of freedom.
“The Anamerian has returned with the amulet of the Messenger, which has once again been revealed,” he said as he gestured toward Iseac, who, taking his cue, stepped out into the open. “Follow, protect, and fulfill your oaths,” Thorlak said as the men turned to look at Iseac.
“We have received and we shall fulfill. We ride with the Messenger,” Tremay said as Iseac came to stand next to the Patron. Thorlak gestured for Iseac to go as his horse was brought to him. The Ackalans waited for Iseac to mount his horse, then the men all got on their horses. Led by Tremay, they trotted out the temple gate, heading north, which led to the city called Bremah.
It was still midmorning when Iseac and the Ackalans made their way in a trot down the mountainside. Rod Stone temple’s entrance rested on the northeast corner of Mount Va’lenna, with the front landing built in on a semi-circle, supported by four pillars that looked like a crown. Each pillar was inscribed with a symbol of the sun, wind, water, and earth. These massive pillars looked like they grew out of the mountainside, each balanced at the base by what was called the hand of time. The ledge from the top spiraled around the mountain.
As Iseac rode to the head of the group, he counted sixty-five men riding in his company. The men were all uniformed with their dark brown cloaks and black boots. The hilts of all their weapons were engraved with the symbol of an Ackalan, and outside of that, they had no visible armor.
The Ackalans were masters of most weapons, which included the double-edged ax, sword, and spear. They had the ability to hear and see beyond normal sight. Their senses were heightened from mastering their body and surviving the po’ra, or fountain fruit, only found in Mevi-tra. This freezing tundra was said to be the area where the first seed of creation was planted.
The po’ra fruit had the ability to cleanse or kill those who ate it. For the Ackalans, it served as a reminder of their call and duty. The perilous fruit remained in their system, trying to kill them, while they mastered its flow, moving it to their subconscious. The cleansing power of the fruit caused a silver ring to appear around their pupil, which was more pronounced at night. This awareness allowed them to be alert, even in their sleep.
The nearest town, Bremah, was a day’s ride.
“Ashra…my goal is to make it to Bremah before nightfall,” Iseac said as he rode next to Tremay. “Please inform your men, then join me.”
Tremay turned his horse around and trotted back to his men; when he returned, they picked up their pace, intent upon reaching Bremah as soon as possible.
They galloped and trotted across creeks, miles of meadows, and long spans of forested areas with narrow and wide trails. The sun rose and was beginning to fall when the Red City came into view just over the horizon. Tremay raised his hand to the square, slowing everyone behind him to a canter.
Bremah was called the Red City because the streets were made of red cobblestone, and even some of the homes were built with the same reddish stone. The wall around the city was about five stories high and extended as far as the eye could see. The area around the city wall was an open meadow, making it hard for intruding forces to come upon the city without being spotted from miles. It was ruled by Queen Viasen.
The land, though, had changed since the last time Iseac remembered being in Bremah. He wondered for a second if it was his own memories or those of his predecessors, both slowly becoming indistinguishable.
The smaller villages and farm towns farther away from the city were now abandoned. He could remember not that long ago when the villages were growing, and he couldn’t help but wonder why they were now abandoned. The people they rode past seemed more cautious.
Farmers herded their animals alongside the packed earth that made up the road to the city. There were people on mule carts, or pulling handcarts, and less than a handful were on wagons heading along the long stretch of road into the city. Guards could be seen on towers around the city wall and at the eastern gate where they were heading. A light flickered in the distance, and Tremay knew they were being watched.
People moved out of their way as they approached the entrance into the city.
Two armed men, dressed in scaled sheets of iron breastplate with the insignia of the crown on their left breast, stepped out in front of them, bringing everyone to a halt. They knew who the Ackalans were, but this was protocol. The man to the right of Tremay spoke.
“Welcome to Bremah, Ashra,” he said in his Ma’hian accent. “It is required that a party greater than eight, as decreed by the Queen, be entered in the books. You must also declare your exit gate and return to it on your departure. How many are in your company?”
“Sixty-six,” Tremay replied, “and we’ll be leaving at the western gate.”
“Will any portion of your company be staying when you leave?”
“No.”
“Please wait here,” the guard ordered.
As they stood waiting, the guard walked over to a man sitting in a booth at the corner of the gate. They spoke briefly, and the man in the booth started writing something down.
When the guard returned, he raised his hand in the air, signaling to the tower guards who were all watching with their bows drawn and waiting that all was well.
Everyone knew the tower guards were renowned marksmen that some said were Golans.
“You may enter,” he said, moving out of the way. The guard returned to his post to resume his watch.
The sun was almost below the horizon as they trotted along the main street inside the city wall, passing merchant shops that were beginning to close for the day. Peddlers and hawkers alike were clearing the streets, as most people began preparing for the night.
They took their first left by the Wine-Hoppers Inn, heading west of the city. The part of the street they were on was noticeably older, just like the buildings themselves. They passed several other streets with shops already closed.
It wasn’t long before the setting sun, that was grayish—orange, turned into complete darkness. Lights soon appeared in windows above some of the shops and they could see the silhouettes of people moving about in their homes. They followed an alleyway to a gate just wide enough to admit two mounted riders. Tremay stepped off his horse and tapped the gate three times. Someone slid open a peep hole to see who it was. He looked at them for a second and then slid it shut without saying a word.
They heard two short squeaking sounds of something being disengaged just before the gate was pulled open and they rode in.
Inside the gate stood a single three-story building made of stone; it was cylindrical in shape, with an archway that led inside. In front of the structure was a long pole that held the banner of the Silver Scroll on top. The walls inside the gate had fire posts mounted around them. Led by Tremay, they rode in a procession as they made their way through the archway to the heart of the courtyard in the center of this cylindrical-shaped building.
Iseac couldn’t help noticing how well designed their fortress was. As he looked up and around the building complex, he could see doors through the wooden balcony on the second and third floors.
They stopped at the center of the courtyard and their horses were taken to the stable at the back.
Tremay led Iseac to the second floor and stopped at the entrance to one of the rooms.
“I will bring you word on any information I gather tonight,” he said before nodding to excuse himself.
As he turned to leave, Iseac called in a tone just high enough to get his attention. “Ashra!” he said, asTremay turned. “Meet me at dawn in my quarters.”
Tremay nodded his head in acknowledgment of Iseac’s request. Iseac, in turn, nodded his head to excuse himself before walking into his apartment, closing the door behind him.
It was early in the morning with the sun still below the horizon when Tremay walked up to Iseac’s door. “Come in,” a voice audible enough to be heard outside called before Tremay could knock.
He stepped in and saw Iseac looking over what he suspected was a map. He gestured for Tremay to join him, which he did, walking over to stand by his side. He looked at what Iseac was staring at on the table. It was a map, just as he suspected.
“So, what information were you able to gather?” Iseac asked as they studied the map.
“There are rumors that everyone from one of the villages outside Bremah called Utorm disappeared about a week ago, and no one knows what happened to them,” Tremay said.
“Some of the king’s men were sent to the village to find out what happened; they found nothing but empty homes. From what I gather, they found tracks of a large number of people herded into the woods, and then their tracks ended abruptly, as if they all vanished. They questioned neighboring villages, and the only thing they found common amongst the townsfolk was a short period when their animals went wild.”
Tremay paused for a second. “The word of a whole village disappearing has started spreading, and people in the neighboring villages are worried.”
“Was there anything else?” Iseac asked.
Tremay shook his head.
“Hmm…it is beginning to spread,” Iseac said, not explaining what he meant. “We will be heading to Erua…” Iseac said, pointing at a location on the map, “and then continue into Bayshia proper.”
Iseac was already dressed for travel, with his quarterstaff leaning against his bed.
“Let your men know we leave at sunrise,” Iseac said, turning to face Tremay.
“We will be ready,” he replied. With his right hand on his chest, he bowed to excuse himself and walked out of the room.
When Tremay returned to Iseac’s quarters, he was packed and ready to go. So they made their way down the stairs in front of the courtyard, where a stableman stood waiting for them with their horses. Once Iseac mounted Durack, his horse, they rode out of the courtyard toward the main gate that was pulled open as they approached. They turned left and headed for the western gate.
Chapter 6
The Way to Bayshia
In the land south, in a small town called Chartum-Valley, morning dew was still over the farm when Samuel woke up. The aroma of pork and fresh bread filled his nostrils as he rubbed his eyes and sat up by the edge of his bed. Looking around the room, the other two beds were empty.
Samuel hurriedly put on his trousers and wool shirt, pulling both laces to close the top half of his shirt. He found his boots by the s
ide of his bed, slid his feet in, and tightened the laces.
“I can’t believe they didn’t wake me up, today of all days,” he said as he rushed out the door, following the direction of the scent inside the house. He heard the low murmuring of conversation in the same direction he was heading.
"Come!” Harold said, when Samuel was in sight. “Sit down, boy. Your food is getting cold. I was going to send your brother to come get you. We need to get the bales and crops on the wagons before sunrise.” Samuel walked around the table to an empty seat. He could see his father’s bowl was already empty as he continued to listen.
“As you know, we have a long day ahead of us, and we need to get your mother some supplies,” Harold said as if it was just another day, even though he knew the harvest festival was in three days.
The harvest festival was the biggest celebration in the known Kingdoms, and it was being held in the city called Bayshia.
The ride to Bayshia was a three-day journey, and his boys were looking forward to it. They all knew this, and since he was the last one at the table, Samuel ate fast, trying to catch up.
"Slow down, boy, or you might just choke yourself,” Harold said with a smile while shaking his head. “We aren’t planning to leave without you, you know.”
Samuel caught himself; his thoughts had been racing with all the things he was planning to do in the city, and he didn't realize how fast he was eating.
“I will pack some extra food for your journey,” Celina said. Faray, her oldest son, and Elye, the youngest of the family, finished their food and hurriedly headed for the door. Their excitement was just as apparent; they were going to the city!
It wasn’t long before Samuel joined Elye and Faray outside as they enthusiastically loaded the wagon, doing it faster than their normal pace. They each talked about what they were going to be seeing, buying, and doing in the city.
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