Crown of Silence

by Constantine, Storm

  Tayven said nothing. His shoulders shook. Sighing, Shan leaned down to pull Tayven to his feet.

  Tayven wrenched himself away and turned savagely on his defender. ‘You stay out of this. I don’t need your pity. The truth is, you wanted Khaster to fuck you too, or maybe he already has.’

  ‘What?’ Shan was too shocked to remonstrate further.

  ‘You’re pathetic,’ Tayven snarled. ‘You’re living in a fantasy. Son of a nobleman, are you? I think not. I know what you are, Shan. Taropat told me how he found you.’

  Shan stared at Tayven in horror.

  ‘Yes, it’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re just a peasant boy. Still, he trained you well. It doesn’t surprise me. Khaster wouldn’t want some rough little serf in his bed.’

  ‘How can you say these things?’ Shan said. ‘What kind of creature are you?’

  ‘I never lie about myself though, do I?’ Tayven said, sneering. ‘My blood is noble, and I warm the beds of princes. You can never have what’s mine.’

  ‘I don’t want it,’ Shan said.

  ‘You want noble blood, though, don’t you?’

  ‘For Madragore’s sake, stop it,’ said Merlan wearily. ‘Do you want to destroy this quest?’

  Tayven got to his feet. ‘Like I destroyed your brother? Is that what you mean?’

  Merlan rubbed his faced and rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, for the love of the flame! You’re so selfish and vain. You are not the centre of this, and it’s certainly not about sex. Is that all you think about? If so, why are you here? Just grow up.’

  Before Shan could do anything to prevent it, Tayven flew at Merlan, who reeled backwards to the ground. Tayven fell upon him, his clawed hands gripping Merlan’s throat. He slammed Merlan’s head against the unyielding earth. Shan leapt forwards and hit Tayven in the face, so hard he had to let go of Merlan. Merlan scrabbled away, holding his throat, coughing. Tayven’s body went limp. He lay down, curled up, in the crushed grass. The only sound was that of panting breath. Shan felt dazed, as if this wasn’t really happening. ‘What are we doing?’ he cried. ‘This quest is not about any of us and what we want.’

  He heard Taropat say softly, ‘ Oh, but it is, Shan, it is.’

  Shan turned to question this, but there was no sign of Taropat. He’d vanished.

  They waited in numb silence for hours for Taropat to return, but as dusk drew in Shan knew he would have to take control and suggested they make camp. Tayven and Merlan were both in a bad state. Merlan shivered uncontrollably, while Tayven continued to lie listlessly on the ground. Shan went off in search of food, despite Taropat’s directive they should not eat, and found some small, hard apples in a wild lakeside orchard. As he gathered them, he realised the others would never regard him in the same way again. He’d been revealed for what he was: a peasant. Shame stung his heart. Still, despite his humble origins, he at least was in control of himself. That should count for something.

  Returning to his companions, he ordered them to eat, and perhaps the steel of the warrior was in his voice, for both Tayven and Merlan obeyed him. The scant nourishment seemed to revive them somewhat, and presently Merlan co-operated with Shan to build a fire at a campsite Shan had chosen in the shelter of an oak grove nearby. Shan found himself being short and defensive with Merlan, which eventually prompted the other to speak.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what Tayven said about your origins. You are who you are, Shan. Look at you now. Without you, we’d be helpless. I can understand why you enacted that little deception in Akahana. How else could you have retained credibility at court? It must have been terrifying. Anyway, noble blood counts for nothing. Tayven has it, and he’s half the man you are.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Shan said.

  Merlan smiled sadly. ‘It needed to be said.’

  As they huddled around the chuckling flames, the energy for words expelled, an atmosphere of reproach, embarrassment and regret poisoned the air between them. Shan’s mind was reeling so strongly with fear and uncertainty, he was sure the fruits of his training had abandoned him. He had never seen Taropat that angry before. He had seen a man he had never suspected existed. Perhaps the old personality of Khaster had been evoked too heavily by the presence of his former lover. And yet both Merlan and Tayven had led Shan to believe that Khaster had been a mild and passive character. Shan regretted not having voiced his doubts and suspicions earlier. They might have avoided that sickening and needless confrontation. Still, Tayven had clearly been harbouring similar doubts, which perhaps meant Shan’s worries had some firm foundation. Was it possible that, through some secret liaison, Maycarpe and Taropat had set this whole quest up? But what was their shared agenda? Who did they want to be king? The same person? Shan’s head ached with these questions, but he no longer wanted to discuss them with the others. He had to believe that they would accomplish their aim, despite their differences. One thing was sure in Shan’s mind: it was not a good omen that they had lost a day. Perhaps that was not all they had lost.

  The morning dawned with what seemed like inappropriately jubilant bird song and a moist breeze that promised rain. Shan, already awake and stiff with cold, watched Merlan and Tayven rouse from sleep. Merlan sat up and rubbed his face. He smiled tentatively at Tayven, who was probing his tender scalp with careful fingers. Tayven did not smile back, but neither did he react with anger. Shan thought they looked like kidnapped children, bewildered, empty of tears and resigned to their fate, hardly daring to hope that their parents would find and save them. During the night, Shan had slept fitfully, plagued by unsettling fragments of dreams. At one point, he had awoken to feel the strong presence of a bright and benevolent figure standing over him. He remembered being overwhelmed with warmth and certainty. A faint and distant sound, like the song of a beautiful siren, had pierced his senses. He had called out Sinaclara’s name, but the sensation had vanished. Shan tried to recall the sound. He was sure it had been a voice calling. Now, breathing in the fresh sharp air, he felt calmer somehow, as if the ghost of this experience still lingered around him, instilling a sense of renewed vigour and comfort.

  ‘He never respected me,’ Tayven muttered.

  ‘What did you say?’ Merlan asked.

  ‘I wanted Khaster to respect me. He just used me as pretty comfort.’

  ‘Perhaps it would have been different if you’d respected yourself first,’ Merlan said gently.

  Tayven shook his head, sighed, then looked up at Shan. ‘I’m sorry for what I said. It was unforgivable.’

  Shan shrugged. He had to agree and was not yet capable of uttering forgiveness.

  Tayven laughed tentatively and rubbed his jaw. ‘You must have enjoyed throwing that punch. I don’t blame you. I deserved it.’

  ‘You did,’ Shan said, ‘but let’s forget it. We were all in a strange mood.’

  ‘You weren’t,’ Merlan said. ‘Of all of us you were the most sensible, for which we should be thankful.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have attacked you like that,’ Tayven said to Merlan.

  ‘It wasn’t pleasant,’ Merlan agreed, ‘but I’m prepared to forget it.’

  But what about Taropat? Shan wondered. He was the cause of Tayven’s frustrated anger, as much, perhaps, as Tayven was the cause of his.

  After a meagre breakfast of more hard apples, they struck camp and walked towards the lake. They found Taropat sitting crossed legged on the grass, gazing out at the divine landscape of Ninatala. He greeted them brightly as if nothing had happened. ‘Ah, there you are! I trust high spirits are out of the way and you are ready for some work.’

  ‘High spirits?’ said Shan, aghast.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Merlan snapped. ‘I was worried sick.’

  ‘There’s no need to worry about me,’ Taropat said. ‘This landscape is food for my soul.’ He inhaled deeply.

  Shan glanced covertly at Tayven, who was gazing at Taropat with tired eyes full of longing.

  ‘We’ve slept and eaten,’ Shan said.

  Taro
pat did not seem to object. ‘Probably for the best, under the circumstances,’ he said coolly. ‘We should expect some strange manifestations of emotion. It is part of a cleansing process.’

  It hadn’t felt like cleansing, but perhaps Taropat knew best. Shan wasn’t sure what he thought any more.

  ‘We should affirm that we are in accord now,’ Taropat said. ‘We must forget our differences, see the harsh words for what they are.’

  ‘What are they?’ Merlan asked.

  ‘Expressions of negative energy,’ Taropat replied. ‘It’s like letting poison out of wound. So are we in accord? Are you all right about that, Tayven?’

  Tayven nodded, hugging himself, as if he was very cold.

  ‘Good,’ said Taropat. ‘We should put petty human drives behind us. Look at this place. It thrums with power.’

  His mood and enthusiasm were infectious. Shan dared to think that perhaps Taropat had been right about the fight. He went to sit beside his mentor and Taropat smiled at him. The lake was a long, sickle-shaped body of water, which to Shan suggested a lunar aspect. He voiced this thought aloud.

  ‘No,’ Taropat said, ‘the sickle represents the weapon used to cut the throat of the sun king at harvest-time.’ He pointed at a wide, flat rock at the edge of the water. ‘We should conduct our meditation there.’

  Obediently, the group went to rock and sat down. At Taropat’s suggestion, they drank from their water bottles. Taropat took one of Merlan’s hands and one of Tayven’s in his own and gently squeezed them. He was trying to put the previous night’s events behind them. Shan wondered whether a supernatural force had been at work. He suspected that Taropat found the emotional displays extremely inconvenient. He couldn’t be bothered with dealing with their cause.

  Ninatala was surrounded by shivering birch trees, whose branches drooped towards the water, heavy with swags of delicate leaves. As the sun rose higher, the light seemed golden, conjuring a rich array of green hues from the lawnlike sward of the plain and the foliage of the trees.

  Taropat bid them close their eyes to summon the spiritual landscape as before. ‘Everything you look upon shines with its own radiance, as if made of light,’ he said. ‘But it does not hurt your eyes to gaze upon it.’

  Shan felt a great sense of tranquillity drift over him. He was bathed in the etheric light of the landscape and it restored his strength. The air was so quiet, not even the twitter of a bird disturbed the sacred silence. A low rumbling sound began to purr in his mind, growing louder and louder. He pictured the lion guardian walking towards them. It was a mountain lion with a golden pelt and blazing yellow eyes. Shan could perceive the details of the beast with startling clarity; the black rim to its eyes and mouth, the soft white fur on its chin, the dark pink of its nose leather. The creature stood beside them, right by Tayven, who was sitting erect, cross-legged with his head thrown back. Shan’s visualisation was so vivid, it was as if his eyes were open. The lion opened its mouth wide and emitted a loud roar.

  Shan jumped and opened his eyes. The roar had not been part of the meditation. The first thing he saw was an immense, incontrovertibly real mountain lion standing beside Tayven. Everyone else had opened their eyes as well. Merlan’s mouth hung open in shock. Tayven flinched in fear, but Taropat reached out calmly and took hold of his arm.

  ‘Remain still,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t be afraid.’

  Shan could not tear his eyes away from the lion’s gaze. It looked at each of them in turn and moments seemed to stretch into an eternity. He had never seen such a beautiful, perfect creature, full of the potential for destruction, yet standing there beside them with easy grace, staring into their eyes as if judging their souls.

  Then, the moment was broken. A high yodelling song echoed out across the plain. At once, the lion sprang away, loped to the edge of the hill behind them and disappeared over the crest.

  For a few moments, no one moved. Shan was stunned and disorientated by the experience and sensed the others felt the same.

  ‘That was clearly the spirit guardian,’ Tayven said, and raised his arm to point. ‘So is this the physical aspect?’

  Shan was uneasy about Tayven’s restored humour. Had Taropat’s simple hand-squeezing gesture prompted it? If so, he felt Tayven was deluding himself.

  A young, clean-shaven man was walking towards them, dressed in the garb of a monk. His hood was thrown back and long dark hair curled over his shoulders. He carried a shepherd’s crook and was accompanied by a small flock of sheep. He must have uttered the cry that scared the lion away.

  It took some minutes for the shepherd to reach them and when he did so, he bowed. The sheep began immediately to graze.

  ‘Who are you, lords?’ said the shepherd. ‘Has the Golden One brought you to me?’

  ‘We are travellers,’ Taropat replied, ‘on the spiritual quest of the lakes.’

  The shepherd nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, yes. I see. You are blessed. He came to you.’

  ‘The lion, then, is certainly the spiritual guardian of this site,’ Taropat said. He smiled. ‘Our meditation here seems rather cock-eyed. I had thought we would meet the physical guardian first.’

  The shepherd laughed. ‘The Golden One can be a trickster. I am Ereven, the guardian of this site, as my father was before me and his father before him. My family has been here for many generations. Come with me. I will take you to the shrine where you may refresh yourselves with the holy waters.’

  The shrine was hidden amid a thick grove of mature birches at the far end of the lake. As they walked towards it, Shan noticed that Merlan looked pale. Neither would he speak. Tayven too was silent, but his expression was rapt, as if he was contemplating some beatific thoughts. Taropat, as usual, seemed unaffected by what they’d experienced and talked to Ereven without reserve. ‘The guardians of Anterity and Oolarn seem almost unaware of their function, while you are clearly aware of yours,’ he said.

  ‘That is the nature of this site,’ Ereven said. ‘Awareness. The further you progress along your path, you will find the guardians to be more aware of their function. In some ways, Ninatala is the mid-point, the site of reflection and refreshment. Some say that Uspelter has that function, being the fourth of seven, but I don’t agree. The energies of the green lake can be capricious and deluding, whereas here at Ninatala all is clear and pure and holy.’

  ‘Do you get many people coming here on the quest?’ Shan asked.

  Ereven shook his head. ‘Not many. And most who do come here seeking truth don’t know how to look for it. They want easy answers. I see them sprawling around the lakeside, stuffing themselves with food and wine, when any half-baked mystic knows you should fast on the quest. I never approach them, because they don’t even know the sites have physical guardians. They will learn little, if anything at all. It is clear you and your companions are true seekers, because the Golden One chose to appear to you. I have never seen that happen before to strangers.’

  ‘Do you see him often, then?’

  ‘Yes, usually as no more than a flash of gold among the trees. At the turn of each season, he takes a beast from my flock, but no more than that. It is a covenant between him and my family.’

  The shrine was a small, single storey stone building with a flat roof of wooden beams and clumps of grass, too haphazard to be called thatch. Within, was a narrow bench before a plain cube altar, which was draped with an ancient golden cloth, embroidered with gold wire. Yellow candles burned upon the altar, but otherwise the place was unadorned. Even the floor was of packed dirt rather than flag-stones or boards. The group sat squashed together on the bench while Ereven spoke a few prayers. Then he took them outside again, to the back of the shrine where a spring came out of a rock, which had been fashioned into the face of a lion. A metal cup on a chain was attached to the stone. ‘Drink,’ Ereven told them. ‘Refresh yourselves.’

  Taropat gestured for Merlan to drink first.

  ‘How far do you plan to travel today?’ Ereven asked.

  �
�I want to reach the fifth lake by tonight,’ Taropat said.

  ‘A hard schedule, but the best way,’ Ereven replied. ‘The fifth lake should be visited after dark, but many would end their journey here today, soak up the atmosphere.’ Ereven, of course, had no knowledge of the delay they’d already experienced.

  ‘We intend to push ourselves to the limit,’ Taropat said.

  Ereven nodded, glancing at Merlan. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your meditations. Take as much of the waters as you need, and make use of the shrine should you want to. I wish you luck upon your journey and may the blessings of the Golden One go with you.’

  After Ereven had left, Merlan slumped down on the ground beside the spring. His skin looked waxy, slightly damp. Shan knelt beside him. ‘What’s the matter, Merlan? Is it the climb, the air, the lack of food?’

  Merlan wiped sweat from his forehead. ‘I don’t know. I feel odd, that’s all. During the visualisation at the lake side, I felt as if my senses were heightened acutely. I could smell so intensely, it made me nauseous. Every sound hurt my ears. I could hear the grass and the trees growing. The feeling hasn’t left me.’

  Tayven knelt on Merlan’s other side and touched his arm. ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘I am dizzy with it.’ He looked at Taropat. ‘This is the lesson of Ninatala. Heightened awareness. I can sense every person in the world, every creature, however small. I don’t think we need to perform a further meditation. The guardians came to us directly. We’ve got what we came for.’

  ‘I would agree,’ Taropat said. ‘How about you, Shan? What did you pick up?’

  Shan shrugged awkwardly. ‘Well, nothing like that exactly. I just felt refreshed and strengthened. I still feel it.’

  Taropat smiled. ‘But that’s it! The warrior derives strength from the king.’

  ‘Yes,’ Shan said. ‘I feel him here, don’t you? He’s all around. He really exists somewhere.’ Within myself? he wondered silently.