by Dan Gillis
“Well … I trust the leader. He seems … or rather feels trustworthy. I think we should take their offer.”
Tohm would have loved to contribute many things. It frustrated his rational mind that he was reduced to a passive observer. He sensed his body relaxing somewhat, but the beast was still on guard. He looked to Firah and Shien. They were both standing firm in their opinions. The horses were shifting restlessly around them, reflecting their riders’ mood.
“And on what sense are you basing your judgments?” Shien retorted.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Firah replied hotly. Tohm groaned within himself. Not now.
“You don’t exactly have an outstanding record in judgment calls!” Shien fired back.
“Obviously, since I am talking to you, an ignorant meat-head!” Firah scowled and put her hands on her hips in defiance.
“Oh, what’s this? A nice repayment for … fine … you know what? You started this, you can finish it!” Shien was glowering in anger. Clearly, there was much more the young man yearned to say, but he was fighting the impulse with all his resolve. He turned himself from the girl again, which she reciprocated with equal disdain.
Firah signaled the commander who walked back to conversing distance.
“We have agreed to accept your request.” She said confidently.
The Sapling had shown the true colours of its blossoms. Peace around the small glade was thrown into disarray. The buds had not grown splendid and bright as anticipated, rather they wreaked a foul odor and cast uncomfortable shadows over the surrounding foliage. The Sapling was changing and all near the corrupted young tree grew apart, desperately trying to avoid mingling with its wretched pollens.
Threads of the Past
THE WINDS from the north countries stirred the remnants of a memory. The strands of thought were shifted about by the subtle breeze, which entered through the nostrils of the resting and tranquil healer. The sensation coursed through every limb, organ and fiber. Somehow, there was something familiar about the land and the wind which plucked at the strings of hidden memory. Slowly, gates long shut, swung open upon the gentle breeze. The secrets of the past began to flow outward, drowning the monk’s mind in terrible, frightening truths. Pieces of memory now fell into place for the first time.
***
“Both of you stay put. You caused enough delays.” Tey’ur growled in frustration, his breath steaming through the air. Crouched low in a small snowy ditch, the three paused for a moment. The morning was coming fast and still they had only partially infiltrated the mountain fortress called Racur, or cursed in lesser tongues. Zyr’s face tightened. ‘What? Does he think we are Initiates?’ he thought to himself. Tey’ur’s hard eyes flashed to the Convert. He grabbed a handful of the young man’s Chota and hauled him up to his weathered face. Zyr knew better than to resist the veteran. Tey’ur had been on the Council of Masters longer than any other, even surpassing the Servant’s time. All respected the wisdom and battle ferocity of Tey’ur, and Zyr knew he was clearly outmatched in every technique. That one fact served to anger the young monk more than anything else. He hated being inferior to others. Zyr’s eyes burned with all the fury of his heart. “I can’t stand reckless upstarts like you,” the white clad warrior spat. “As a matter of fact, I’ve always despised you …”
“At least the feeling is mutual, Tey’ur.” Zyr replied through gritted teeth. A long notched blade slid up the side of Zyr’s face, which felt cool against his skin. Tehsa gasped and made a movement to her Gé. The larger man’s eyes darted to her, piercing through the near darkness. Tehsa’s hand hesitated and then remained still. When the grizzled master returned to Zyr, a small smile had crossed the Convert’s face. Tey’ur pressed the blade edge against the young man’s face harshly. Zyr chuckled low. “You just can’t stand the fact that I have been promoted, even though you voted against me every time.” Zyr’s face was full of smug self-righteousness. A trickle of blood slid gradually down the blade edge. Tey’ur’s teeth clenched together visibly in silent wrath.
“You have worn my patience thin. I warn you, Reykal, my blood is running hot. Act outside of orders, or cross me in any way again and I’ll rid the Order of your idiocy.” He withdrew the blade and pushed the young Ashori away roughly into the snowy embankment. Both men held a deadly gaze for a brief moment before the larger man broke the silent war. “Now, both of you will remain here. I’ll check the third ring perimeter.” In one quick movement the stalwart warrior leapt from the low trench and was gone. Tehsa moved quickly to Zyr’s side. She had pulled some cloth from her neck which covered the breast gap in her Chota, and applied it to the thin slash across her Mihyl’s cheek. Her brown eyes stirred with concern while she pressed softly upon the wound.
“You always pick the battles you cannot win,” she spoke with a soft chiding. He turned his gaze to her and smiled a wily grin.
“That is an odd thing for you to say. After all, it was you who moved against that guard and I had to bail you out as usual. Too many risks and too little skill. You still fight like an amateur with that thing you know,” he said glancing to the balled weapon at her hip.
A small frown fell across her face. “I should hold you down so Tey’ur can end it quickly.” She jammed the cloth down hard upon the wound.
“Lliankor,” he cursed. “Mind yourself, Jiryl!” He shouted as he smacked her hand away. In an instant the skin sealed itself, leaving no trace of a wound.
“How bold, Mihyl, to slander the Heavenly One.” Her voice rang in a chastising tone but her face was set in a small smile. Zyr ignored her and stared up at the looming mount.
The heights of Racur were enveloped in snow and ice, and while snow presently covered the land, white patches adorned the summit year round. Racur was known for its impassible rings of defence, home to a variety of creatures and beasts. Most of all, its name was spoken in the Halls with the greatest disdain. The mount harboured the most detestable demon spawn, causing all who ventured too near to meet a terrible and unspeakable end. It was said by the locals that any who lived in its shadow would inherit an awful curse. The Hall had always considered Racur a black blemish upon the beautiful veil of Aeredia. It had remained untouched due to its formidable walls which wound upward around the mount in an endless coil of death - until this night.
Tey’ur slid back down into the small trench. He was breathing fast, and quickly regarded the two waiting Order companions. “We must move quickly. There is a troop of blasted axe-wielding spawn coming this way,” the warrior whispered between breaths. “Remember, both of you, we are trying to infiltrate, not conquer, this mountain. We need to find information, not needless death. Now make ready. There is a break in the watch thirty paces to the north-west. Ready … Let’s go!”
Zyr collapsed against the wall, clutching a nasty stitch in his side. The fifteenth ring had proven to be the worst yet. He calmed himself and performed a quick internal check. His energy level was decreasing with every conflict. Around the tenth gate or so, he had come to terms with Tey’ur’s harsh wisdom. There was no way they could beat off the whole mountain, and at times it seemed the only option. The key was eliminating the enemy quickly, before hue and cry could spread to the next gate. That usually required expenditure of energy, and it was taking its toll on his body.
He slammed his fist against the cold stone in frustration; despite all his training he still wasn’t powerful enough. Recently, he felt he had reached a wall in his soul as immovable and unscalable as the heights before him. He had not been able to increase his internal reservoir of holy power. Every attempt to increase in spiritual stature was unsuccessful, and this mission only served to accentuate the failure. To make matters worse, he had become separated from the others.
He looked about quickly, and searched in vain upon the countless drifts. The sun had risen behind murky grey clouds which stretched across the sky, horizon to horizon. The white Chota had proven invaluable in avoiding detection. This had saved his life more
than once. Zyr wondered how he would ever get off this cursed mountain, not to mention ascending to whatever heights were necessary. He looked off to his left toward the sheer cliff face. Through howling wind some strange sound caught in his ears.
Rising into a low crouch, Zyr worked along the cold stone wall toward the mountain climbs. The passage around the mount comprised of endless walls and defense points, which surrounded the jutting crags that drove upward at impossible angles. The only way to ascend safely was to pass through the gates, but safety had little to offer for that route as well. The young monk was pressed against the walls of the gate and the side of the mountain and looked to what had caught his attention. Low thuds echoed off the sheer surfaces from deep within, beyond a small gap in the rocks. Touching his ear to the frigid surface he felt the vibrations.
Zyr could not resist investigating the cause of the anomaly. There was barely enough room for one to press through, between rock faces, but it was possible. As he moved to press through the small space, a gauntleted hand caught his arm. He twisted that arm sharply around and stepped in low, knocking the legs out from his attacker. The armoured form crashed to the ground heavily. Pinning his enemy, his hand flashed to deliver the killing blow, but stopped just short of the target.
“I can’t believe I fell for that again!” A female voice cursed. Zyr slowly removed the helm from the head of a familiar face. Tehsa’s fuming visage appeared, and then it slowly shifted to mirth. “You should see yourself, Mihyl.” She laughed softly, her dark brown hair spilling across the snowy ground. She made to move, but Zyr slammed her down to the ground, strengthening the pin. His face was flushed and hot.
“Do you know what I … you could have been killed! What is this?” he demanded, looking at the heavy breastplate he leaned upon. Her face was also flushed but strangely she was not angry at all. Tehsa looked up at her superior in a strange way, a look Zyr had not seen before. She placed gauntleted hands upon his shoulders and pulled him down next to her face. Her voice came in a whisper.
“I call it infiltrating. What exactly do you call this?” Her voice was as soft as her pale skin which radiated heat upon his face. They remained motionless, staring into the others eyes, everything else dissolving around them into white. For Zyr, all that remained was the sea of green - caught up in a pair of eyes that burrowed relentlessly into his soul. He felt her hands on his shoulders tighten, which caused him to suddenly sit up. The young man paused and then slowly moved off of her prone body. Zyr held out a quivering hand to her, which Tehsa took. They rose together, neither speaking a word.
After a time, Zyr turned his face toward the small hole in the rock face. “I … I was heading in here to check something out. Where is Tey’ur?” His voice found a steadiness as he focused on the task he had so easily discarded. ‘What just happened?’ he wondered to himself.
“Tey’ur is down at the thirteenth ring. He’s been tagged by a couple of arrows and suggests it’s futile to go on,” Tehsa reported.
She also sounded calm and resolute, but what was that he detected behind her voice, something new and alarming. “He sent me to get you, and I figured it would be easier to put this junk on than try a man’s way of getting up here …” She was smiling now, which put things more at ease in his heart for the time being. “What do you want to do, Mihyl?” she inquired softly. There it was again, that same feeling from her, the way she addressed him. After countless conversations, he knew something had changed between them forever. He knew because it was planted deep in his heart; a small seed which had finally sprouted. Zyr knew that it had always been there, and despite anything he would do, it would always remain.
“I want to check something out before we leave. You’ll need to rid yourself of that cursed armour if you want to tag along.” He moved to the rock and made to slide his body through. Yet, he hesitated. His peripheral vision was burning, his mind aching. In a silent struggle, his head turned slightly enough for his eyes to catch a fleeting glimpse of the beautiful vision that stood next to him, armour folding away like petals off a rose. She was strikingly alluring, captivating his mind and soul. He marveled how he had never seen her before, like this. Then he considered what his mind was deliberating and reality in its cruelest rebuke came crashing upon him. He belonged to the Order of the Open Hand. The Council of Masters would never condone such thoughts. It was strictly forbidden, to love or lust after another disciple within the Order, particularly where training tetsus were concerned. For a brief instant, Zyr considered life outside the Order, and what it would be like to awake beside the warmth of an angel each morn. His heart was torn, and as the companions slid through the tight rock cavity, a great war had begun within the confines of the young man’s mind, for which both sides struggled for victory.
Zyr stopped and listened intently from between the close rock faces. The split in the rock had continued for a ways and the tapping had slowly turned into a faint pounding. They were moving through the interior of the mountain, through a natural opening in the rock and warm air was caressing their faces as they moved steadily inward. Light was giving way to darkness, but the path remained true without deviating left or right. Tehsa moved up next to him.
“Can you hear …?” She whispered.
“Shhh.” He interjected with a tap from his hand. From within, he detected the direction of pounding which echoed through the crevice. “Let’s go.” He led them between the small enclosures, and gradually the opening widened as did the intensity of the pounding. Metallic ringing filled their ears as they came next to a large opening in the rock, at least twice a man’s height and breadth. The constant pounding echoed from stone to stone. It resembled the sound of a smithy shop, with several anvils being used at once. Now in closer proximity to the source, other sounds were mingled with the hammering. They sounded like the screams of human souls, wracked in torment. Cautiously, Zyr slid his body alongside the rock face and shot a quick glance toward the opening.
He briefly considered their orders. The land had been under attack from fiends from Racur; however, there was no evidence of the usual pillage and massacre. People were being taken without bloodshed or death. It was most unnerving, as the enemy would sweep down upon a village and leave nothing but ghosts to haunt the abandoned houses and shops. Entire counties lay completely unpopulated and deserted. The Order had determined that an investigation of the mount must be undertaken, despite the incredible odds against them. Tey’ur was the most rational choice, with Zyr and Tehsa chosen as the most efficient Tetsu or combat team. Tey’ur had obviously objected; ‘he would have teamed up with a Gnarel before choosing me for his squad’ Zyr considered glumly.
The rock felt smooth and cool despite the warm breeze issuing forth from the opening. Zyr peeked around the edge of the rock he clung to. A vast cavern extended well into the mountain, full of shadows. Stalactites and stalagmites notched the crown and floor of the cavern, jutting out like teeth in a monstrous mouth. Fires were scattered throughout the wide expanse, illuminating certain areas of the massive cave. That was all Zyr could determine from the quick look.
He looked back to his companion. She was watching him expectantly. He nodded his head and hand-signaled his instructions; move quickly through the opening, advance to the left for a few paces, and then hold behind cover. She understood and adjusted her combat dress beneath the wide weapon belt at her hip. The Gé was secured to the belt by a sturdy leather strap which she could remove quickly. Zyr had only teased her concerning her fighting style; truly, she was unmatched with that weapon, and gave him room for pause when sparring. His eyes lingered on her a fraction longer than usual. When he looked to her face, the young man saw that she had been doing the same. He signaled for readiness, which she responded back in the affirmative.
The two lone fighters moved swiftly through the mouth of the cave.
The beast snarled savagely as its great breath washed over the bound fighter. Things had gone from bad to worse in a short period of time. The beast’s r
ider being fully armoured and clenching a long slender thrusting spear, would jab the weapon into Zyr’s back occasionally to move him onward. The chains were wrapped effectively around his torso and limited any degree of movement. This was one of those times where Zyr questioned his judgment, or big ideas.
They had observed long shuffling lines of shabby and pathetic-looking folk, who trailed away through a small opening toward the sounds of hammer blows and screams. Zyr had determined that the only way to get through was to become one of the bound commoners and investigate. It seemed reasonable at the time, seeing as they had fought and stalked their way so far up Racur’s height. There was a mystery that needed solving and there would have to be another group sent later if they failed. Not to mention that the security would be heightened significantly upon a return trip. No, it made sense at first, and yet the fledgling healer debated his sense as he felt the sharp tip of the spear enter his flesh.
The trail of people wound around rock outcroppings and steadily the hammering was getting more severe, to the degree that any conscious thought was scattered with every pound. It was relentless in its cadence. Zyr watched the people cringe and moan for mercy. It was disturbing for the young man to watch, but he needed to see more before he could act. Ever since they began their ascent he had detected potent energies which grew ever more intense with each step. Even now his senses were buzzing with great alarm. He could not determine the source by glancing about, but pondered on what he would do upon its discovery. He would have to keep his intent hidden for the time being.
Tehsa had remained back in a bad temper. She clearly wanted to be next to him, assisting him. Yet when he tried to explain how one more bound fighter would be counter-productive, and at least one of them would need to return to Tey’ur if things went sour, it fell on deaf ears. Her constant badgering and concern necessitated a direct order, something he rarely did. She conceded, but just barely, and when he left her (bound with some chains they had ‘borrowed’) the scowl on her face rivaled any Defiler’s worst sneer.