Cillian nodded. “I see. Who’s your friend? I don’t believe I know her acquaintance,” he said, smiling.
Ravenmane felt Liesl straighten anxiously, but she remained calm and answered the question for the maid. “My name is Daisy. I’m new to the staff, and Liesl has been teaching me so much about Gilead Palace. It really is a beautiful castle,” she said in a folksy accent.
The guard smiled and nodded. “I’ve been working here for the last year since I graduated the academy. It is a lovely place. Though the tragedy of the king’s death has hit us hard. He will be sorely missed,” he said, his expression darkening.
Ravenmane swallowed hard and nodded. Her eyes averted his gaze as she reminded herself of the crime she had committed. Until now, she had never felt remorse or regret about killing someone, but the possibility that she may have killed her real father cut her to the core. Though Brandewulf had administered the last dose of poison that killed Alfryd, she was still culpable in his death. She didn’t know the man and, by her own doing, she would never know him.
The sound of hooves clopping far off behind them snapped Ravenmane back to her current predicament. She instinctively turned to look and saw three horses descending at a full gallop toward the gate. The unkempt appearance of the lead rider was immediately recognizable. It was Weifar. They had learned of her escape.
“Well, we really should get to the market now. Excuse us, Sir Cillian,” Ravenmane said, prompting Liesl to move through the portcullis.
Cillian bowed slightly, then turned his attention to the horses galloping behind them.
Ravenmane steered Liesl out onto the lane adjacent to the castle wall that led into the wealthy district of Aldron. She heard the yelling voice of Weifar far behind her. The words “stop those maids” were quite audible. Increasing her pace, she saw a bustling market up ahead and an idea formed in her mind.
“Listen to me, Liesl. As soon as we reach the crowd, I want you to run to the right and through those people,” Ravenmane ordered, gesturing toward a group of patrons lined up at a grocer’s stand.
Liesl looked at her skeptically, and Ravenmane reminded her that she could easily throw a dagger at her head even if they weren’t locked arm in arm. The young woman nodded, and as soon as they joined the crowd, she took off running. From the corner of her eye, Ravenmane saw the horses barreling toward the market. To her right, Liesl ran through the crowd, bumping into people and causing a commotion among the vendors and shoppers. The plan had the intended effect: Weifar chased after Liesl, thinking her desperate attempt to escape marked her as the assassin. But she also noticed another rider dismounting his horse and following her.
Ravenmane weaved through the crowd, sprinting and rounding corners to lose the soldier.
She suddenly remembered that the Spindle likely operated in this market. Swinging around a vendor stand, she looked for the eponymous symbol that served as a brand for members of the illicit guild.
At a nearby vendor stand where rugs were sold, she saw it. A slender rounded rod with tapered ends sat on the vendor’s table. The spindle held black thread: the chosen color of the underground organization. Behind the table stood a thin man with a thick beard and leather cap, who watched her approach curiously. He glanced behind her and likely saw the commotion caused by Liesl and the soldier pursuing Ravenmane.
“Please, help me hide,” Ravenmane said to the man, trying to catch her breath.
“I do not know who you are; now please leave my stand,” the man said harshly.
Ravenmane composed herself. “A spider sewed at night without a light,” she recited.
The man straightened, then said, “Upon a kingdom of white.” It was one of the secret codes known only among Spindle members. “Come behind the stand, quickly!” he said.
Ravenmane rushed behind the table and ducked beneath it. The man threw a series of thick throw rugs over her body and pushed a barrel close to obscure the area.
Ravenmane held her breath as she heard the soldier’s metal boots clanging on the cobblestone near the stand.
“Have you seen a kitchen maid run past here?” he asked impatiently.
There was a brief pause before the vendor replied and said, “She ran through the alleyway, my lord. She was carrying a dagger and threatened some of us.”
The soldier thanked the vendor and ran off in the direction he had pointed toward.
“Okay, he has gone. You’re safe now,” the vendor said after a few seconds had passed.
Ravenmane exhaled in relief and pulled off the heavy rugs, thanking the man earnestly. The other vendors watched her curiously, but did not voice any objection to the rug vendor’s unscrupulous behavior. No one loved a snitch, but a snitch who reported a Spindle member to the authorities was often dead before sunset.
“Is there anything else you need, miss?” the vendor asked.
“Yes. I need a horse…and a way out of this infernal city.”
CHAPTER 26
YESU’S KINGDOM
Lucius opened his eyes and found he could not focus on anything in front of him. A brilliant white light shone all around him, obscuring everything from his sight. He heard a slight ringing in his ears which would not trouble most people, but it was a source of shock for him. The ringing was not only coming from his left ear, but also his deaf right ear. He hadn’t heard a single sound from that ear in months. As he thought about it, his vision began to clear and a sea of crystal blue appeared in front of him. It was the sky, but it was far more brilliant than he’d ever remembered. A numbness paralyzed his entire body, and as he tried to move his hands and feet, it slowly subsided. He felt tufts of grass between his fingertips, and the scent of hundreds of lilies and roses was pungent in the air.
Sitting up, he found himself on a steep hillside where knee-length grass covered the landscape for miles around him. For a moment, he thought he might be back in Verdania, the land of the elves of Evingrad. But the absence of thick tree cover quickly dispelled that thought. Standing up, he heard the birds singing all around him—more confirmation that his hearing had been restored. From the corner of his eye, he spotted something gleaming in the bright sunlight. About a mile from him, he saw a large white castle. The gleaming white stone of the place caught the sunlight and seemed to radiate it for miles around. It was as though the structure was the source of light in the land.
Lucius glanced around for any sign of Siegfried and the others, but he only saw the occasional flitting of birds in the sky. He was alone, but not afraid. There was an indescribable peace that permeated his being, and he felt compelled to walk to the gleaming castle.
When he reached the gate of the impressive structure, the large oak doors opened to allow him entry. He waited anxiously for a seneschal or guards to allow him inside, but no one came. Stepping inside, he spied a golden fountain where a statue of a bearded man—a noble of some kind—had his hands outstretched in a welcoming gesture just above the trickling pool of water.
Beyond the fountain was a set of stairs leading up to a rampart where a doorway stood. He ascended the steps and heard something very faint coming from the doorway. A voice. It was soft and inviting, but he could not make out the words. Beyond the open doorway a light was illuminating the room inside. The room was actually a long hallway that curved inside the main keep of the castle. Despite being inside a stone building, the white of the walls retained its brilliant gleam and almost overwhelmed the series of torches lighting the interior.
At the end of the hall, he reached a stairwell leading up to what he guessed was one of the towers of the castle.
Lucius…you have finally arrived, the faint voice whispered.
A pang of anxiety gave him pause as questions about this place swirled around his mind. The faint image of Kraegyn and the ruins of Arkadeus in his nightmares returned to haunt him. He could be dreaming again, and at the top of these stairs the Black Dragon would be waiting to consume him in flames. Every night he suffered the same fate, but now he felt that he
could resist it. He could turn back and run from this seemingly friendly place to avoid the horror that would surely come.
Do not be afraid, the voice soothed.
The words did calm him, but the trepidation persisted.
He arrived at a decision and slowly ascended the spiraling stairs. He climbed for what seemed like miles, but time did not exist here. Though it felt like hours had passed, and indeed they might have, he felt no less tired from the effort than when he began the ascent.
At the summit of the stairwell, he saw a door made of pure gold. An eagle with outstretched wings was molded into the door. The sight of the eagle’s carefully sculpted wings and fierce eyes mesmerized him.
The door opened of its own accord.
He peered inside and saw a circular room with large open windows. Through the windows the landscape stretched around the palace for miles and miles. Curiously, it wasn’t the grassland he had seen previously. Walking close to one of the windows, he saw a forest canopy and massive mountain ranges. Waterfalls poured crystal blue water into a wild river that also served as the moat of the castle. He saw exotic animals amid the woodlands: tigers, bears, and lions with their cubs roaming the wilderness below. But more importantly, he saw people. Hundreds of thousands of people were walking in the courtyard below and the wilderness surrounding the castle. Many were gathered beside the fountain he had just past a few minutes—or hours—ago. Where had they come from?
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” A familiar voice spoke behind him.
He whirled around, eyes widened to see a large man standing by the golden door. The man had a muscular frame and wore a long tunic arrayed in lavish colors. His curly brown hair was tied in a knot behind his head, and his beard was exquisitely trimmed, like a foreigner from Sangre or some exotic land. But Lucius found himself spellbound by the man’s eyes. They were hazel, or perhaps a light shade of green. Or were they blue? He couldn’t quite determine their color, but they were both fierce and friendly at the same time. The man approached him, smiling broadly.
“Welcome to Caelum, Lucius,” he said warmly. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Who are you?” Lucius asked nervously.
“Don’t you know by now?” the man said with a smile. “Think back to those scrolls you read. The ones that Alistair gave you in the Grey Swamps. There was some mention of a place far away where people come to rest. Not all people, mind you, but some.”
Lucius racked his mind over the meaning in the man’s words, and suddenly it hit him. Caelum Palace. The otherworldly kingdom of Yesu. His heart fluttered at the thought of it. And the grim realization of his fate dawned on him. He had died and gone to the heavenly realm of Yéwa.
But he wasn’t sad about the fact. He found himself comforted actually. The last memory of his life was of a particularly ugly Draknoir stabbing him in the heart. He remembered the pain of that stabbing, but it quickly subsided as his life ebbed away from his body. Death had stung for a moment and then the pain was gone. Now he felt peace, serenity, and no worry over his past life.
But before he got ahead of himself, he decided to ask the obvious question: “So I’m dead then?”
Yesu smiled again. “In a sense, yes. But I am not done with you yet, Lucius Nostra of Evingrad. Remember, you are the Ellyllei after all.”
“Yes, but what does that matter anymore? I’m dead now and I feel…magnificent. The weight of everything has come off my shoulders,” he said.
“Indeed it has. Do you like what you see out there beyond the windows?” Yesu asked, steering the conversation in a different direction.
“Yes, it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“My father and I built this place. We built many things, Lucius. We love to build and create. There is a joy in creation that most men and beings of the world cannot grasp. Trees, animals, mountains, the sky, and more. Many things of the world contain untold beauty beyond our sight or smell or touch,” Yesu explained. He inhaled deeply and gestured outside. “But all of this, it’s not our crowning achievement, Lucius.”
Lucius frowned, glancing outside. “It’s not?”
“No. People…people are what I’m most proud of,” he replied. “You see, I had this hope that people would love and be kind to each other as an extension of the relationship I have with my father, Yéwa. At first, this was how they acted. But they rebelled. They sought malice over goodness and compassion.” A sadness filled Yesu’s eyes, and they seemed to change color again, to a muted brown or green.
“You speak of the Terrin?” Lucius asked.
Yesu nodded. “Yes, but it wasn’t just them. All peoples have rebelled, Lucius. In some form, they follow their own way and care not for the affairs of others. Self-seeking gain has often been the downfall of many good men.”
“Is that why you died? I read in the Ultimum that you died to save people from themselves. From their own demons,” Lucius said. He recalled studying the passages during his convalescence in Alistair’s cottage. They didn’t make much sense to him then, but now that he was here in Caelum, understanding dawned on him.
“I died to reunite men with Yéwa. Truly I tell you, Lucius, the further men stray from my father’s words, the more evil they become. You’ve already met an evil of that magnitude,” Yesu said grimly.
“You mean Sêrhalon,” Lucius replied. The demon lord’s cold, silver eyes filled his mind now, but interestingly the image lacked the fearful punch it did when he was alive. In Yesu’s presence he felt safe, and fear did not penetrate this realm.
“Yes, the Wretched One as they call him now. He was a very good friend. A loyal administrator to my father, but he forsook all that for power. Sêrhalon desired to rule Caelum and upend the order of this realm. He turned my followers against me and assembled an army to fight me. But he was foolish to do so. For his rebellion, Yéwa cast him out of Caelum, stripped of him of his title, and forced him to a mortal existence in Dwyfoltír,” Yesu said, staring out the window.
“Dwyfoltír?” Lucius asked.
Yesu smiled. “Dwyfoltír is the world you live in, Lucius.”
“Don’t you mean Azuleah?”
“Azuleah is a continent in Dwyfoltír, but the world is much larger than you know, Lucius. There are peoples and creatures you have yet to know in the wide world,” he said thoughtfully. “But let us not get ahead of ourselves. There is something I wish to show you. Come.”
Yesu crossed the tower room and walked out the door. Lucius followed eagerly. They descended the tower stairwell in much quicker time than the hours that Lucius felt on those dizzying steps.
Outside, Lucius saw a much different sight than when he’d first entered Caelum. Masses of people bustled all around him in the courtyard of the white palace. They were all smiling and happy to be there, especially when they saw Yesu. The lord of Caelum greeted them cheerfully as they walked past the throng. Time once again seemed to stretch for hours, but as before, Lucius did not feel tired or particularly mindful of how much time passed among the crowds.
They exited a gate on the southern side of the castle and traversed a dirt road running alongside the river. The river water was pristine and sparkled in the sunlight. Lilies, daffodils, and roses of all colors grew in abundance near the banks of the river, creating a picturesque scene amid the rolling hills of Yesu’s realm. A few people sat on the banks, admiring the water and dipping their bare feet into the river. Everyone looked content and joyful to be outside on the warm, clear day.
Lucius followed Yesu for another mile upstream, where less people were around. They passed a woman sitting on a boulder near the river’s edge. Her back was to them and she seemed to be staring at the water intently. A few feet from the woman, the river widened and its current seemed stronger from the way the waves rippled across the surface.
Yesu stopped and turned to him. “We are here, Lucius.”
Lucius glanced around, a question forming on his face. “Where exactly is ‘here’?”
“The outer edge of Caelum. Here the Eclipsing River eventually meets with Dwyfoltír, and the boundaries of the mortal plane and eternity blur,” Yesu explained.
“You mean if I follow the river further I’ll reach home?” Lucius asked.
Yesu laughed. “It’s not quite that simple. The river is a kind of…gateway between Caelum and Dwyfoltír. No mortal can pass from one realm to the other unless they are permitted by Yéwa. But here, where the current is strongest, we can witness the events occurring from the past, present, and future.”
Lucius peered down at the water. He hadn’t noticed it before, but now he did see moving images in the water. At first he thought it was just his own reflection, but he saw someone familiar in the water. An elf.
Helmer!
His father stood in a dark room with another elf by his side. Lucius recognized the other elf as Quetulya. The two Cyngorell members were discussing something, but the words were inaudible to Lucius. A glowing flame ignited in the room where they stood. Their faces concentrated on the light source: a forge of some kind. Over it stood yet another elf, pounding on a glowing piece of metal with a hammer. It was Avani.
Beads of sweat formed on her determined face as she pounded what Lucius now guessed was the Requiem Sword. He watched for several minutes, transfixed by her work on the sword, pounding the imperfections of the blade and listening to the wordless instructions of Helmer and Quetulya. Then the image began to fade and he saw his face staring back at him, confused by the vision.
“That was Avani. She’s forging the Requiem Sword—your sword!” Lucius said, excited.
“Indeed she is,” Yesu replied softly.
Lucius furrowed his brow as he recalled what he’d just witnessed. A hint of sadness passed over him. “But Helmer was with her…and Quetulya too. They died. Shouldn’t they be here? That is, do elves come to Caelum when they die?”
Yesu pursed his lips. “I’ll address your second question first. Elves are not like men, just as dwarves are not like elves. Men worship Yéwa. Elves worship D’arya. And dwarves worship Ulfr. Long ago, the peoples of Azuleah lost their way. They chose false deities or champions among them to worship rather than Yéwa, their eternal Creator. Over the years, elves and dwarves attributed the blessings of Yéwa upon mere mortals as proof those individuals were divine. D’arya, for example, has always been loyal to me and never professed to be a goddess as the elves now see her.”
Gauntlet of Iniquity (The Azuleah Trilogy Book 2) Page 25