“Fear?” the old man cried, raising his voice. “Even the High Lord Asura fears that one!” The old man looked up, his dead eyes penetrating through Aleksi. “For even the High Arkai themselves fear the Howler!” The old man fumbled his way to his feet as he continued. “And so should you, Lord, for it was he who broke the world! It was he who—” The man stopped speaking suddenly and, frantically tracing his hands along the sides of the wall, ran away down the alley, falling over himself in his haste.
Aleksi slowly stood. His green eyes were unfocused and his mind was elsewhere. Let the wounded blindly run away from his fears . . .
After several long moments, Aleksi walked back up the alleyway. His bandaged and white-knuckled fist gripped the broken pendant. As he continued through the darkness, the sound of his boot heels rang in the cavern of his heart.
CHAPTER V
Pulling his hooded cloak farther over his face, Beck allowed himself to meld into the flowing crowds of Guardians’ Plaza. Each year, the general was amazed at the sheer number of people that flooded the main boulevard for the festival night. Passing locals and foreigners alike, he saw citizens from every walk of life enjoying the festivities and splendors of the evening.
Weaving his way around the masses, Beck passed a group of bare-chested Western sailors. With icy-blue eyes, thick arms, large tanned chests, and long Zenith-bleached hair, the men were truly an impressive sight. A few paces behind and trying to seem inconspicuous, three local girls followed them. No doubt the girls would shadow the men to a bar or inn and try to find their way onto their laps and into their purse strings.
Continuing on past a rugged group of soldiers from Pa’laer, Beck felt grateful to be free of Arva Vatana. Arva, and the negotiations which were currently under way, had the possibility of bringing a newfound peace and military alliance between Adhira and its neighboring Eastern nations. However, if Devdan’s age-old prejudices could not be healed, the negotiations would end in a deepening of the land’s feudal discord—a circumstance that now left the entire continent weak to the great shadow of Asura’s growing empire in the North.
After the Vai’kel Unification War, tensions emanating from the occupation of the Northern Empire’s so-called Peacekeeping Forces had escalated. And over the course of the ten-year encampment, those tensions had spread across the map. With Asura’s aspirations now broadening, the entire world was polarized: those who followed Asura, binding their will to his empire, and those who struggled to maintain their nation’s Guardian-given independence. For despite conquering Vai’kel by force, Asura had used the political maneuvering of trade, treaty, and contract to bind Iksir and Kaymahn, the neighboring countries of Simn, to his mighty cause, thereby forming the largest empire Terra had ever known. And, having forged an alliance with several of the controlling factions of the Western Thalassocracy during the Unification War, Asura was steadily gaining control of Terra’s major shipping lanes, too. It was now only a matter of time before Asura would use the naval might of the Western admirals to complete his growing monopoly over all international commerce in Terra.
Beck knew that once that was accomplished, Asura would undoubtedly impose greater tariffs and transport taxes with the aim to destabilize, and then eventually bankrupt Mindra’s Haven. If Mehail, Arva, and Jaiden allowed that to happen, Asura could easily divide and overpower the bickering factions of the East, thereby claiming rulership over all of Devdan for himself. And if the East fell in line to Asura’s drum, none would be able to withstand his mighty call. Even the High Lords of Neberu in their secluded cities to the South had to know that their strange lands, hidden by mountain, stone, and endless night, would not be far behind.
Beck spat in the street. Shaking his head of these troubling thoughts, the general continued on through the throng of people. Everyone around him seemed to be utterly unaware of the threat of destruction that hovered over their nation. Much to Beck’s chagrin, the crowds were actually quite enjoying themselves. Men and women, both young and old, were eating, drinking, and dancing. Hawkers were showing their wares, and bards were singing tunes both classic and modern.
As Beck passed a large gathering, he heard a line from the ancient poem Kalki Vanga float over the din of the crowd.
“The incarnate darkness consumed all with its might;
Yet, bound not by fear, the Kalki sat upon the throne of flame and cast forth the Zeniths’ collective numinous light;
Purging from Terra that dark and evil blight . . .”
Beck frowned. Its translation into the common tongue butchered the verse terribly. It sounded so much better in the original prose, but now with the Guardian Age so long past, nearly none knew that ancient language except for the erudite few who could read Runes.
Suddenly, there was a collective gasp as a burst of flame erupted above the crowd. Instinctively, Beck spun around, drawing his sword in one swift motion. It was followed by an explosion of cheering and laughter, however, as the bard, standing atop a barrel, took a deep bow.
Fire breathing, Beck thought, as he sheathed his sword with a sigh. Good thing Adler didn’t see that. I would have never lived it down. Beck then continued down the street, leaving behind several men and women who eyed him with a smile.
Beck was glad to have slipped away from the temple without his personal five-man guard. It was so rare for him to walk the streets alone. The feeling of melding into the throng of citizens as a civilian, with his rank of general unnoticed, was wonderful. Over the years, it had grown only more difficult for Beck to sneak off without alerting his sentries. And although they were completely loyal, there were times like tonight when Beck needed to act on his own. Adler, however, the most senior of his guard and captain of Beck’s personal legion, constantly reminded Beck that it was his personal duty to protect his general. And this duty, more importantly, superseded any orders that Beck might give him. In the beginning, Adler had even tried posting guards inside Beck’s personal bedchamber, relenting only when Beck said that his wife would surely kill them both if she could not sleep in peace.
Normally, there was just reason for his bodyguard to be present, and tonight even more so. With so many foreign soldiers in the city, no general should walk the streets alone unaccompanied by several swords. But tonight Beck had no choice, for this was no casual walk on a warm festival night. He was off to meet Domadred Steele, captain of the Illusive Diamond and single most notorious pirate in all the waters of Terra. Domadred, however, in addition to being outlawed in the Northern and Western Seas for thievery and smuggling, was also Beck’s single most trusted friend, companion, and brother in arms.
The fact that Domadred was a hunted thief did nothing to affect Beck’s respect for his comrade, for Domadred hadn’t always been a pirate. Before Asura’s maneuverings in the West, Domadred had arguably been the second most powerful admiral of the Western fleet, and many believed he had been next in line to become the prime admiral of the Western Thalassocracy. But, with his honor and pride stripped from him due to lies and deception, Domadred was forced to flee with his loyal crew and live a life of piracy and subterfuge on the high seas.
Snapping back to the present moment, Beck suddenly jumped to the side and dodged a large moving cart. The wagon looked to be laden with amala fruit from Farden, and its driver was obviously drunk on the festivities. Several other people on the street were not so lucky, however, and cursed as they fell to the cobblestones as the cart swept by. Beck shook his head. Festivals were always good for morale, but each year there were countless injuries from negligence or drunken debauchery. All things have their price.
Rounding a corner, Beck saw a group of street performers dressed in costume reenacting Mindra’s historic battle with the Dark Ones. An obvious favorite during the night of the festival, the theatrical battle was enacted every year by numerous stage troupes throughout the city streets. Standing on high stilts and dressed in large multiperson costumes, the performers would be split, half as Guardians and half as Dark Ones. The
Guardians’ costumes were covered in reflective materials, mimicking their numinous light. And in stark contrast, the Dark Ones’ costumes were jet black, painted with kaala coal from the mines of the South—a material that eerily soaked up all light around it. The troupers would mock fight in the streets as spectators cheered them on. As a boy, Beck used to love watching the shows. He always would cheer for High Arkai Mindra, who naturally had the most lavish of the costumes. Mindra was traditionally depicted as taller than the rest of the Guardians and had bright eyes that shone like gold. The Arkai would dance about with skill and grace as he held his mighty blade aloft, cutting a path through the Dark Ones in the street.
If only it were so easy. War between men is a terrifying thing. I can only imagine what it was like during the Guardian Age, fighting those horrible terrors.
Beck’s gaze was then drawn to Mindra’s Temple. Clearly visible above the city skyline, its central spire was truly magnificent. The orange fire in the temple’s citadel still burned bright, pushing back the encroaching darkness.
Mehail, I hope you know what you are doing . . . Reaching under his shirt, Beck fingered the necklace given to him by his lord. Like everyone else, Beck could only wait for the temple’s fire to turn blue, thus signaling that the three leaders had reached a decision and were ready to announce their verdict to the people. Whatever their decision was, it would decide the fate of all living on this curve of the world.
Eventually, Beck found the swinging sign of the Guardian’s Flame hanging above him. According to local lore, this hotel was one of the oldest in Guardians’ Plaza. It was also one of the few privately owned buildings in the East made of Guardian Stone—the seamless mineral that was said to be the Zenith dwellers’ favored building material. Nearly all such buildings made of this secret stone were now owned, managed, and rented out by the state. Only a rare few were privately held, passed down through many generations back when the Dark Ones last treaded Terra with their black specter-like armies. Stranger still, the stone was said to have not been brought with the Guardians—instead, they manifested it into existence as needed. Such were the mysteries of Terra and her divine protectors.
Pushing through the large doors of the hotel, Beck was met with the extraordinary sight of a giant fireplace whose golden flame rose many stories high within the center of the building’s expansive inner hall. This hall was long and cylindrical, hollowing out the center of the tall building, rising all the way to a crystal canopy overhead. Additionally, as the establishment’s namesake, the hall’s massive fireplace did not possess an ordinary flame, for it blazed no matter the season, gave off varying degrees of heat, and did not need standard fuel to burn. Most impressively, though, was the fire’s great size and height—for the golden blaze rose past the hall’s many floors of internal terraces and balconies as it licked its way up to the hall’s lofty, crystal-domed ceiling.
As one of the many great wonders of Mindra’s Haven, the grand circular hall was famous for not only possessing such a miraculous view but also having some of the best food in the city. Tonight, however, the hall’s tables were nearly empty, for most were roaming the streets and enjoying the festival. Even so, Beck was sure that all rooms within the Guardian’s Flame were booked. Drunken foreigners needed a place to rest their heads, especially if they entertained any hope of sharing that bed with someone sweet.
As Beck moved deeper into the hall, he felt the fire’s fresh breath of air press against him. Somehow, it gave off different temperatures depending on the weather. Tonight, sensing the warmth outside, the golden flame gave off a cold breeze despite its ferocious size. Like most of the Guardians’ works, its properties defied all logic and lasted through the ages as if not touched by the decay of time.
We should send an envoy to the Masters. If only we could use this power against Asura. But as soon as the thought arose, Beck dismissed it. The Masters’ covenant, much like the Guardians’, was not to interfere in world politics on any large political, social, or military scale. They believed that their might, so vast and powerful, would tip the tides, destroying the careful balance Terra had maintained for its many ages. Sadly, despite the fact that Asura had already broken that balance, no Master had yet to see reason to join the fight—except for one, Master Rudra.
A cold shiver ran along Beck’s spine as he walked toward the inn’s guest booth. I still think that those who lead the Resistance are fools for trusting him. After what he did, I very much doubt he even trusts himself . . .
Beck shook his head and looked around. Strangely, he saw no one at the entrance’s guest booth to seat him. Scanning the tables, he noticed a young girl dressed in a short skirt and flame-embroidered jacket leaning against a table somewhat removed from the other guests. The girl was speaking with a hooded man who sat in an adjacent seat. She had a smile on her face, but her golden eyes spoke of a predator having found its prey.
“Carli, can’t you see we have a guest?” The girl jumped at a voice that was both high and surprisingly loud even from across the hall. The young girl reluctantly turned to Beck and walked toward the hall’s entrance. As she made her way over, she glanced back at the seated man, flashing him a mischievous grin.
“Welcome to the Guardian’s Flame, sir,” Carli said, now turning that same smile on Beck. “If you’re looking for rooms, we are full tonight with the festival an’ all. But we do have some space in the basement dormitories. They usually fill up on a first come, first served basis as patrons stumble in.”
“No, thank you,” Beck said. “I only wish a table.”
“Oh my!” Suddenly, an older woman with a silver braid hanging below her waist came up to the booth. She wore a long grey dress with golden flame embroidery that swished around her legs as she walked. Although in her later years, the woman was elegant and possessed an ageless beauty. She gently pushed the young girl out of the way before continuing in a softer tone. “I didn’t see it was you, my Lord. Welcome back to the Guardian’s Flame.”
“Katrina,” Beck said, averting his eyes. “How are you? It seems things are quite busy with all the foreign traffic.”
The hooded man at the table cleared his throat but Carli didn’t seem to notice. She now had eyes only for Beck and the large scar that ran down his right cheek and crossed the corner of his mouth.
“Oh yes, quite busy,” Katrina answered. “But I’m sure it’s nothing compared to your duties, my Lord. What brings you here on such an occasion? Are you expecting company this evening?”
“I am only meeting one other, and he should be here soon.” Beck lowered his voice and pulled his hood farther over his face. “I’m trying to be discreet.”
“Oh, I know much about discretion,” the woman said, eyeing Beck sideways as the general cleared his throat uncomfortably. “So, how are you?” Katrina continued. “It has been quite some time since I’ve seen you last. How are the kids, and Laiya? It must have been over three years since I have seen her. The poor thing was swollen with child, and I told her the name of the best midwife in town . . .”
In moments like this, Beck always wished a fight would break out near him. Anything was easier than trying to speak with Katrina and dodge her numerous references to their shared past. In Beck’s mind, the ultimate goal was to withstand her onslaught long enough so as to be polite and then make a hasty retreat with the hope she would not rally.
After a few moments of trying to interject words edgewise and disengage, Beck noticed that Carli had once again gone back to the man in the corner. Seeing that he had Beck’s attention, the man then lowered his hood, exposing his sharp beard, blue eyes, and Zenith-worn face. Domadred gave Beck a knowing smile and then winked at Carli.
“Katrina . . .” Beck sighed, turning his attention back to the hotel’s owner.
“I remember the first time we met and that was before the scar on your face—”
“Katrina, I must—”
“You were just a young lieutenant, so full of honor and—”
; “I must be going.”
“Oh, and guess who is dining with us tonight? But I’m sure you were expecting him.” Katrina then motioned back to Domadred, who now had Carli on his knee.
Beck sighed. “Oh my, you’re right. Thank you, Katrina.”
“Oh, of course, my dear.” Her smile then faded as she looked over at them at the far table. “I hope he is careful, though. Carli’s hands are as quick as a thieving magpie.”
“Well, I’m sure whatever transpires,” Beck said, “she will be the one surprised for it.” Beck took her hand and Katrina’s smile returned. Leaning in, the general softly gripped her arm and spoke under his breath. “Katrina, thank you for your hospitality, but more importantly, for your discretion.”
“General Al’Beth,” she answered with a slight smile, “all you must do is ask, for the Guardian’s Flame is forever at your service. If you remember, my Lord, during the Red Riots . . .”
“Yes, yes,” Beck said, nodding his head. “And I will forever be in your debt. But now I must go.”
Finally breaking free, Beck made his way over to Domadred. Carli was still sitting on Domadred’s knee and her hand was under his coat’s lapel, idly stroking his chest. Domadred gave Beck a wide smile and squeezed the girl’s bottom. Carli giggled.
Without sitting down, Beck cleared his throat and spoke. “Give it back, whatever you have taken. We have business to discuss.”
Carli opened her mouth to protest. Upon her face was a look of feigned surprise.
Beck shook his head. “No, not you, girl. Him.” Beck then pointed an accusing finger at Domadred, who in turn mimicked Carli’s surprised expression. “He has pickpocketed you of whatever you have and has taken back whatever you tried to steal from him in the first place.” A look of genuine surprise now washed over the girl’s face.
Rune of the Apprentice (The Rune Chronicles) Page 9