Araa smiled in the enveloping darkness around her. She loved the dark, more so, she loved the night, but this was good enough for now. She loved how she could disappear into it, lose herself in a hundred different places —nooks, walls, rocks— watching, listening and feeling the world around her. As close to peace as she thought she’d ever get. But, this was only a tunnel, a short empty and breezy tube with the morning daylight illuminating the other side, reminding her of how far away the night really was.
Roe hurried along. Empty as the tunnel was, she didn’t want to get caught because of her dawdling. That would be embarrassing; she was an agent of the Coming Shadows, not one of the Night Lady’s crew. She wasn’t Mend. Besides, she only her Islander “ignorant” persona to help her out. But that would be a onetime use. And if caught, she’d never be able to come back like this. Just in case that happened, she made mental notes of the tunnel lay out, the length. She’d probably have to climb over if she had to come back here again. Within minutes, she arrived at the other end and pressed her back up against the wall. Peering out, she could see a dirt path dug into the ground like a wide trough that followed up another steep incline yards away, the starting climb of the first ridge of the Three Ridged Mountains. But again, she saw no one, and that worried her.
She squinted, trying to peer as far ahead as she could, but she saw nothing but the path disappearing up the mountainside. Pines blanketed both sides, but they looked pretty tightly bunched before sparsening out at higher elevations where the snow started to cap the mountains. Would the Major hide some of his guards there? ‘Everyone’s in the auditorium,’ she remembered that one soldier saying earlier, but that didn’t put her at ease.
Being small and quick, she’d have an easier time sneaking by one or two at a time —and end one of them if she had to. But if they were all in one place, one mistake and she’d stick out like the sun. There’d be no way she could sneak from a crowd. She wasn’t that good —yet. Look on the bright-side, she said to herself. Maybe what I’m looking for is nowhere near the auditorium.
So, steeling her will and remembering her training from Josie, she crept out of tunnel and quickly climbed up the grassy edges of the trough. She’d be safer on top, she reasoned, and not visible from the path. But there were fewer pines here, fewer places to hide. You won’t need to run, Roe told herself. Just see what they’re up to.
Crouching low to the ground, she followed the trough path up as the ground grew steeper and rockier. From her vantage point, she could see why the troughed path seemed to disappear in the mountain. It entered another cave where the impossibly steep sides inclined up to the snow-capped peaks of the first of the Three Ridge Mountains. No choice. She had to go through another cave, and this time, there was no way around if she had to run. Remember your training, Araa.
She jumped down into path and, putting on her Islander act, walked with that strong and sure stride inside the second cave. Once inside, she heard a loud voice carried over a cold wind, echoing softly against the walls. Even with her hearing, she couldn’t make it out, but it sounded too controlled and monotone to be some kind of alarm. No, someone was making a speech —a boring speech, too.
Roe smiled, the exit of the tunnel was a few mere yards before her. Thank you, Veiled Goddess. Like a lighthouse alerting her of danger, as long as she kept her distance from that voice, she’d be free to sneak around. And if it stops, she’d have plenty of time to…what? Climb up the mountains and freeze to death? Stealth behind a pine for a whole day? And for what? What in Eventide’s name was she ever looking for? Rocks? Runic? Gold?
She frowned to herself. Everything so far looked normal, loose rocks scattered everywhere, deep mountain passes and tunnels wide enough for ore-laden carts. Sure, all the carts she’d ever seen coming out of the mines had tarps over them with more armed guards than the city exchange, but that’s expected too, especially if it’s expensive runic. Not worth the effort. Seven months and all that training and lore-learning about Islanders just to confirm Prince Landrie still loved digging holes. Siga had better still give them those suits! “Ugh, I swear,” she whispered to herself. “If after all this all I find is a stupid mine—"
Roe’s jaw hung open, her eyes widened taking in the whole sight at once. “Unbelievable,” she mouthed. The trough path had cut through the first ridge and on the other side sat, like a square monolith, a massive building of red bricks lined with sun-bathed crisscrossing runic. She’d seen a building very similar on the Golden Isle where the Empire was dismantling the Sea Roar Shard. There could be only one reason why they would have so much runic protection on a building that size.
Yes! Now that made sense. The Major’s illness, the disappearance of the 43. They must have been exposed to… . Another Fragment of the Almighty all the way out here, she thought to herself. Wonder which god it is? She knew of only four from her studies: the Zandagor awake inside Golden Lady, the Veiled Goddess, Lairgor awake inside Sea Roar God and Lairgor awake inside the King-Maker. She let a grin stretch ear to ear. Mission Accomplished. Bye, bye. And best of all, no one had to die this time. Flawless. Now, that was worth the effort.
With a smile that wouldn’t leave her face, she turned around and sighed. Back to the Golden Island. She looked over her shoulder one last time as if doubting what she saw. And what harm would a few minutes of gawking do? The building was enormous! Maybe twenty or thirty stories, a square in shape and gleaming the sun’s light off its intersecting runic gave it an otherworldly look, like a mystical fence guarding a sacred treasure. But it was still too small to contain an entire Shard. Eventide, said to be the smallest, dwarfed that building and the Sea Roar on Sig’s island dwarfed Eventide. Maybe the Shard remained underground? Curiosity, a dangerous feeling in her line of work, often resulted in more setbacks then opportunities —and deaths too. One had to focus on the job requirements like threading a needle’s eye and get the job done no matter what.
“Mend would fall for this,” she whispered with soft laugh. But she was better that that. “It’s over. Mission accomplished,” she whispered, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself. Right! She swung around but didn’t move. What would she say to Siga’s man, Cyne Munda, when she returned to the Golden Island? ‘I found out what Prince Landrie’s doing there. He’s building massive runic buildings.’ ‘Well, Miss Twilight, what for,’ he would ask. But what else could be in there? And no matter how dumb an Islander was, they wouldn’t be dumb enough to confuse a road with a building. Her excuse would end at that door —a double runic laced door at the base of the building.
Still, wouldn’t the Coming Shadows want to know too? If it was a piece of the Almighty rested here, which one was it? It’s awake, after all; the god returned to it; the runic proves that. What were the Major’s soldiers doing to it? Would it hold any hints on how to awaken the Veiled Goddess. Opportunity or stupidity? Would she end up like that idiot, Mend?
I can leave this dump anytime so why not take a peek? Rolling her shoulders back, she descended the troughed path which opened and leveled out to a large grassy area around the building, crowded with stunted, dying pines on either side. Her eyes constantly scanned, and ears strained for anyone that might be lurking, but she neither saw nor heard anything —not even wildlife— but that muffled boring voice growing louder.
Walking cautiously, with her papers still rolled up in her hand, she slunk up to the double doors, that loud stifled voice echoing from inside. Of course, the auditorium had be in here too. Maybe, that’s all there was in here. A training ground for mages? Would explain the runic, wouldn’t it? But she knew that didn’t make sense. Only the Temple in the Holy City trained mages, a blessing from the Golden Lady there. Rogue mages? They could learn on their own, but that’s dangerous— Stop making excuses!
She grabbed the handle and pulled it open gently, peaking inside: a dark room with a few dimly lit single-flame lanterns resting on a table by an opposite door. She slipped in as her stomach growled suddenly, the f
irst symptoms of her fish breakfast. Now? Next would be stomach cramps, then the fish burping breath, and nausea settling in. She thanked the Goddess she wouldn’t have to deal with that disgusting food again.
She crouched, moving like a cat across the floor, all the while ignoring her complaining stomach. It would pass, she told herself. Pressing her back against the opposite door, she could make out what the speaker was saying now. Some words about months, dates, some figures about distances and sizes. She caught ‘spring’ and ‘new year’ sounding more urgent in the otherwise tired-sounding speech. Was the Prince’s plan to make this into another Holy City like Zanf'r? That made sense with the city planning back there, probably hoping for this god’s blessing. She wondered which it could be? Couldn’t be stealth, nor magic. The King-Maker bestowed the blessing of charisma. That one was scary, and Cyne knew how to use it well. Who cares which it was. The Veiled Goddess already had the best blessings of the Almighty and she bestowed it on her devotees generously.
She peeked inside the next room, a hallway, so well-lit by plenty of lanterns that there weren’t any shadows to hide in. Damn! She clenched her stomach, burping up a mixture of salty fish smell and something poignantly sweet. Only a little longer.
She sneaked inside the hall, finding two doors on either side with one in front of her. That door had a window and, silently —except for her growling stomach— she saddled up to it and, glancing inside, she saw a staircase. If that speaker stopped, she reasoned everyone would need to come down to the lower levels to leave. So, I go up.
She opened the door and climbed the stairs, quickly and as quietly as she could, which wasn’t a problem. She felt relaxed, muscles loose, and her blessing felt like an extension of her body. And now, climbing stairs, there were plenty of dark corners to hide in. She chided herself for thinking of running away in the first place. How else was she going to get any practice? At her age, Josie was already able to turn parts of her body invisible.
Eventually, the stairs came to an end, about fifteen flights of them —she lost count— with another door and small square window. The speaker boomed loudly now, his voice rattling against the door. He seemed to be answering questions about runic suits, their number, and where they get them. Good question. Siga better pay up!
She pressed up against the door, peeking inside. It was a large room, with a rail platform that ran around the edges with a drop in the middle. Some sort of observation area. Again, no one was there, but she located where the voice was coming from, down below. Perfect. She’d sneak in, see who’s taking and listening on their plans.
She quietly opened the door when her stomach cramped hard, sending her to floor as a wave of nausea ran through her. She dropped her papers, gripping her stomach tightly. Almost there. She rolled herself through. The door closed behind her, but the cramping didn’t stop. Now? Now? By the Goddess, I’ll never have fish again!
But this was worse than she ever experienced. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she clenched her jaw, not wanting to turn back now. The cramping worsened, rising up her arms. No, this…this couldn’t be the fish. Was she poisoned? Had she been poisoned all this time? Her chest and shoulder muscles shivered, a cold sweat broke across her forehead. Just look and go. She burped, feeling bile burn up her throat. Throw up outside!
Fighting off all her discomfort, she pulled herself up by the railing and looked down—
Oh, no!
Starring back at her was a large shinning mass of red and black. Deep crimson red surface seemed to flow like an ocean of molten lava, flaring in places with hotter reds, oranges and yellows. The black, by contrast, glowed impossibly stark in the light of the undulating lava, appearing like a void in a dark dream. There was no doubt in her mind, here, before her, was a Shard of the Almighty, protruding from the rocky ground like a buried treasure. Her eyes burned, begging her turn away, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t look away. It was… “Beautiful,” she said, her lips beginning to quiver. Passionate, strong, resilient, along with something else. She felt…urgency coming from it and, “betrayal?” Eventide? Are you one of hers? Listen to me. I don’t know who survived. I tried, I fought to give the others time. I am blind now, paralyzed, and bond here, but please, find him. My Champion won’t listen to me. …Oh? I am sorry. You’re not prepared, either, are you? I am so sorry. Captivated by those words, she found herself wanting to respond.
Sorry for what, her first thought. Yes! I’ll find him.
A deep pain throbbed inside her head, her stomach knotted, as all her pain and discomfort rushed to her consciousness. She couldn’t hold on any longer and vomited over the railing, down below. She hurled backwards, crashing to the floor with a thud as her papers scattered all around. Looking up, her watery vision clouded white. Her body convulsed, no longer obeying her.
She came face to face with a piece of the Almighty. This is what she deserved for all those horrible things she had done; she just didn’t expect it to be so soon. Good, she thought. I should die. No more nightmares. She only wished it had been the Veiled Goddess who would have taken her.
She heard someone shouting from below. “Someone’s up there! Medics! Runic blankets! Hurry!”
She heard the door slam open and two sets of feet walked beside her. She felt hands on her shaking shoulders, and hands on her ankles, lifting her up. No, she thought, feeling darkness taking her. No, leave me or I’ll do it again. …I’ll kill again.
7
Edgar Omen: Ed’s Report
“Did you hear? There was an accident in the mines. Araa, poor girl, was hurt bad.”
“What in Almighty’s name was she doing there?”
“Road Survey. She must have wandered off and followed a road into the mines.”
“Those imbeciles. Don’t they know she’s from the Islands? She should have been chaperoned.”
“Listen, let’s do something for her for when she gets better.”
-Conversation among Ruby City subjects
Edger Omen stood before the Junior Magistrate's bench hiding his tightly clenched fists behind his back. He hoped his face masked his frustration, but Glen Gallegos, the Junior Magistrate, would probably see it anyway, and then precede to make a note of it in his ledger. Bureaucracy. Ed snorted. How could someone love record keeping so much? But Glen did love it and seemed to thrive in it. Ever since his skills manifested when they were little, Glen relished in intellectual pursuits: books, numbers, learning all he could. But at that age and in the back mountains of virgin civilization, the best Glen could do was work at Ed’s parents trading house, hoping to read any book that might come through by chance. The late Queen Zana’s support of her late husband’s expansion into the mountains brought resources that helped Glen catch up in his education —’a truer education’, he would say.
But now, as Ed watched Glen reading his summary investigation with a full cup of his blueberry wine beside him, Ed saw again why it was a mistake Glen ever joined the military with him. Yes, it was his best chance to further the education he craved, but he wasn’t suited for it. Like a fish on land, he wasn’t built for the military life, the strict discipline of command structure, following orders without knowing the larger goal, and being an integral part of a team instead of an outlier. He always had to know the what, where, and why. And if there was a better way of doing something, he’d just do it. Independence, Ed supposed, was what Glen loved most. That and his creativity. Maybe that was why he and Gene fought so much. He saw her unnecessary rituals and beliefs a stifle of his inquisitive creativity —and that she might be right. Ed almost laughed at the irony. He loved both his freedom and bureaucracy? He’d have to save that for later.
Glen lowered his silver framed pince-nez and raised his sullen eyes from the investigation summary. They locked stares.
“Making a lot of noise over there, Ed,” he said, grinning suddenly, his eyes only partially glazed today. Must be a good day.
“How long does it take to read one damn page,” Ed asked, shifting
in place.
“Your hand writing? All day.”
Ed frowned.
Glen chuckled, "I’m almost done." He then took a gulp from his blueberry wine. The sweet fruity scent suffocated Ed's nose from all sides; the man must have had the entire court room furnished with the stuff. Glen rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Clerk...," he turned to the thin spindly man who sat in his own desk to Glen's right. "Arber. Ready?"
Arber reopened a worn book and readied his pen. His hand trembled again as it did during the entire testimony. Poor boy knew nothing of what’s really going on here in the city. Now he did, and he knew he’d never be the same with his friends and families, holding onto a secret so great. Shouldn’t have been a clerk, boy.
"One minute more, Ed," Glen returned to the report, glasses in hand.
"Don’t be an ass," Ed grumbled.
Glen smiled again behind his bushy dark blond-peppered beard. "Honest, I’m doing the best I can."
"Just get on with it. You know how busy I am."
Glen sighed. "Don't we all," he said, reading what Ed hoped were the final words. Then, he placed his glasses down before taking in another gulp from his cup. He gazed upwards toward the ceiling for a moment, bags under his eyes. There was no mystery to what he was thinking, not to Ed. He knew what his friend was going to ask first.
Glen then nodded to the clerk before leaning forward from his high bench with the corners of his lips drawing into a tight frown. The clerk lowed his pen onto the page. “Major,” Glen began with a long-tired breath. "I have to say this report isn't very detailed.”
Ed's eye twitched. "That’s why it's called a summary, Magistrate. I know how slowly you read. I wanted to be out of here before the Almighty returns."
Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms Page 20