The big booming laugh of Saven’s filled the room. “Done is done, brother. Done is done!” And with that, he left.
Larith turned to Arderi. “Hurry and collect your things and meet me at the front of the Citadel.” When Arderi opened his mouth, Larith just shook his head and pointed deeper into the Citadel. “Saven is right. There is no time. Now go!” Following his own command, Master Rine walked out the side door and back into the courtyard where they had practiced earlier.
Glancing into the forgotten cup he still held, Arderi’s shoulders sagged.
There is so much I still need to learn.
The tea was still warm against his palms. Lifting it to his lips, he drained what was left and set it down next to Master Rine’s before turning and running deeper into the Citadel.
As much as I would love to stay, if this Mah’Sukai is half the monster Master Rine says, no one is safe.
His mind drifted to Master Rillion and the words he spoke before he passed into the Aftermore. He had never grasped the finality of the statement until now.
If for nothing else than to protect my family, I will pay what needs be paid!
Glancing over his shoulder, Alant Cor looked across the tall, wild grass that covered the field he was crossing. The grass had turned brown and gone to seed in the late autumn chill. He could just make out the wide outline of the gravel roadway that led to Mocley by the last rays of the setting sun. For near a tenday he had walked that road, keeping a good watch out for anyone heading his way from ahead or behind. So far, other than a few farmers on carts and two merchant trains—one heading north, back the way he had come, and one heading in the direction he traveled—the trip had been uneventful. Still, even with the lone farmer, Alant had vacated the roadway and hid until the traveler passed well out of sight.
The late eves and nights had grown colder with each passing day. Feeling the chill of this eve already gripping the land, he pulled his worn brown cloak tighter around himself as he continued to cross the open grassland toward a large wooded area well away from the road. Pushing into the thick underbrush at the edge of the forest, he grumbled to himself about thorns and vines—and a hot bath.
I was never meant to travel cross-country on foot!
Looking up, he was glad to see the vast expanse of stars twinkling in a cloudless sky.
At least I will be dry this eve.
That had not always been the case. Two days into this journey, for three nights in a row, he had sat huddled against the trunk of a large tree as rain drenched him to the bone. In his haste to leave, blankets had been beyond his thinking. Even without the rain, the nights were becoming bitter cold, especially the early morn aurns just before the sun rose, and this eve promised to be no different.
As he penetrated deeper into the wooded area, his progress quickened once the underbrush thinned. He soon found a small clearing he could use for a campsite.
Setting down his packs, he wandered between the trunks of the trees, gathering sticks and small logs, which he set in the center of the clearing. Once he gathered enough to last the night, he knelt down next to the small pile of wood and let the Sight of the Essence fall upon him. Swirls of Strands danced around him, and inside everything he saw Spectals interacting with each other. “You were wrong, Sier Sarlimac. This is the way it is done.” Focusing on the Spectals inside the wood, he willed them to change blue, then froze a few of them in place. Instantly, a large fire roared, bathing the clearing in soft reds and yellows. A welcome heat wrapped him in its warm embrace.
Smiling, he let the Sight drop, and threw a few more logs on the fire. The first time he had done this, he had frozen all the Spectals inside the wood at once. This had caused a flash of fire and heat to burst out, nearly knocking him from his feet. The wood he had hoped would become his fire sat as a pile of ash on the ground. He was forced to seek new wood for that eve’s fire. He laughed at his past ignorance as he retrieved the sack of food his Ma had prepared. The best food he had eaten days ago—soft breads, fresh fruits and vegetables, and even a few sweet pastries—all gone now. However, dried meat and hardrolls still filled the pack in abundance. These did well to sedate his hunger, even if they did nothing for his tongue. A large exposed tree root near the fire provided a place to sit, and he began gnawing on a piece of dried meat.
A hot cooked meal will be the first thing I get when I arrive in Mocley. Well, mayhaps the second. A bath shall be the first. A hot bath!
“A hot bath would be wonderful. It has been so long.”
Alant had not realized he had spoken aloud, and nearly came out of his skin at the woman’s words. Scrambling back against a tree trunk, he tried in vain to peer into the darkness past the firelight. “Who is there?”
“A traveler. Hoping to share the warmth of your fire on such a cold eve.” The voice sounded young and strong, so it shocked Alant to see an older woman step from the shadows. Long black hair flowed over her shoulders and cascaded down either side of her neck to lay on the front of her dark blue blouse. Brown cloth pants tucked into her calf-high boots completed her outfit, and Alant found it odd that she carried no pack or pouch. Though, the warm motherly smile that graced her lips as she glided across the small clearing did set him at ease.
Still shaking from the fright she had given him, Alant jumped to his feet and brushed himself off. “Well met, Mis’am.” He tried again to pierce the darkness of the forest. “Are you alone?”
The woman continued to smile while she rubbed her hands together over the flames. “Yes, I am. As alone as you.”
“Begging pardon, Mis’am, how is it you came to such a remote place all alone?” He did not feel threatened by the old woman. Still, as far as he knew, there was not a stead or village for many leagues in any direction.
She never took her eyes from the fire, though her smile grew larger. “Everyone finds themselves alone in a remote place eventually. It is a way to cleanse the mind and spirit for the challenges to come.” Turning, she motioned to the ground. “Come, sit. I have been on my feet longer than these legs are accustomed to.”
Her words bit deep into Alant, and he heard his mother’s voice once more. ‘That is not the manners I taught my boys.’ “My apologies, Mis’am. Here…” Feeling the cad, he slid one of his packs out of the way to make room for her on the root. He reached over and picked up a bundle of hardrolls. “…sit. I have rolls and meat if you are hungry.”
The woman sat with a grace that any king would envy. Although she never lost her smile, she shook her head and declined his offered food. “You seem to be a man who is seeking something. Something I may be able to help you find.”
The bluntness of her statement took Alant by surprise, and he shifted under her penetrating gaze. “My thanks, Mis’am. Yet, I think—”
“That is your problem, Alant. You think too much.”
Stunned to silence, it took several moments before he said anything. “How do you…How do you know my name?”
Her smile turned mischievous. “I know many things, Alant. Things that will be of great value to you.” Alant started to rise, then stopped when she placed a hand over his. “Please, I do not have much time and I have a message for you.” When he made no further move, she continued. “There is a place, and in this place is the person who holds the answers you seek.” Her smile vanished and a stern look filled her face. “You must seek this person out. It is your only chance for survival!”
“What are you talking about?” Even though this woman made him nervous, mayhaps even frightened him now, he felt comforted by her presence at the same time—like being with his aunt. A strange feeling, indeed, since his only aunt had passed into the Aftermore when he was little more than a babe in swaddling. Glancing around, he licked lips that had suddenly gone dry. “How do you know these things?”
“You have received a gift, Alant.” Her smile returned. “A gift that you are only now beginni
ng to understand.”
He glanced to the fire. “I am not sure I would call it a gift. Though, aye, I am starting to understand how it works.” Alant shifted his leg into a more comfortable position on the tree root. “Do you know what has happened to me?”
Her smile slipped and she shook her head. “I am not here to answer your questions.”
Jerking his hand out from under the old woman’s, he jumped to his feet. “Then why are you here?” His anger flared, as it did when the Shaper in Hild’alan had placed a hand upon his shoulder. “You know my name! You found me in the middle of nowhere and you know something has happened to me! Yet, you tell me you will not answer my questions?” Reaching down, he grabbed his food pack and started stuffing his supplies away. “Anyway, I do not need you to answer my questions. I am on my way to get all the answers I need.”
The woman laughed. A deep, rich laugh filled with scorn. “From where? Your old teacher?” She shook her head and once more her motherly smile returned. “I am afraid that none of who you refer to as Shapers will know anything that will assist you, Alant. You are beyond them now.”
Watching her, her motherly look started to irritate him, and her entire attitude toward him began to stoke his anger. “It is none of your concern what I do. Or where I go! I neither need nor want your help. It is obvious you know things about me. I am not sure how, yet you do. You have made it clear that you will not answer my questions, so…” He snatched up the bundle of hardrolls that had been left next to her. “…if you will excuse me, after I have gathered my things, I will find another place to sleep. You are welcome to my fire.”
During his rant, the woman did not react. She sat on the root, letting the slight breeze ruffle her long black hair.
She has not even looked in my direction to see how angry I am!
Finally, she stood and turned to face him. “I do not have the time here to answer your questions.”
“Have the time. Have the time!” He continued gathering his things from the campsite and stuffing them into his pack. When he glanced back to her, she was no longer looking at him. Instead, she gazed off over his shoulder with a look of pain in her eyes. Whipping his head around, he expected to see someone sneaking up on him. There was no one there.
“Time. I have had so much time.” The woman’s voice sounded distant. “And yet, now I have so little.” Her eyes locked on his. “You must not dawdle! You must go to Sar’Xanthia. It is there that you will find a person with the answers you seek.”
Pausing in his packing, Alant cocked his head to the side. He knew little of Sar’Xanthia. He remembered learning something of it during his training, though he could not put his finger on it. “I am not sure I understand. If memory serves, Sar’Xanthia is nothing more than ruins. Who would be waiting there?”
The woman smiled, and a glow of joy seemed to radiate around her. “Saphanthia is waiting there for you, Alant.”
Alant flinched. “The Goddess of Wisdom?” He laughed, though it held no mirth. “I am sorry, Mis’am. If you are here to preach to me, I do not follow the Twelve.”
The old woman’s smile grew mischievous once more. “A man does not have to follow the gods for them to be real. Saphanthia waits for you. She will answer all your questions and explain what has happened to you. You need only go to her.”
Alant could not believe his ears. Even as a child he had never understood the attraction to the gods. They always seemed so…mystical. Fake. Now this lady was telling him that one of the gods waited for him.
In the ruins of a long dead city, no less!
Shaking his head, he laughed once more before looking around to ensure he had not left something on the ground.
Here I am, running from…well I am not sure what I am running from. Still, I am leagues from anything and I run into a zealot who wants to convert me to the ways of the Twelve!
With a last shake of his head, he turned and started back into the woods. He did not know why he was leaving this clearing. And well after dark, at that! He had already setup camp, built a fire, and started to eat. Besides, this small forest had been the only collection of trees large enough to hide his campfire for several aurns walk. Still, he knew he no longer wished to stay anywhere near this woman. Rude or not, he would find another campsite. She could have his fire so long as she did not bother him anymore. She…
I do not even know her name!
Pausing at the edge of the clearing, he looked back to where she stood. Surprise and fear gripped him.
She is gone! Where did she go?
A quick glance around the open area assured him that the woman was no longer near, though he had not heard her leave. Crossing to the fire, he set his packs on the ground and picked up a log burning on one end. Heading into the forest, he made ever-widening circles around his camp, yet found no trace of the woman. Returning to the fire, he looked around at the darkness pressing in on him. His hand rose to an itch on his chest. As he scratched, he felt the Tarsith resting there. He had not thought of the necklace in tendays. Slipping his fingers inside his shirt, he pulled out the pendant and let it dangle from its silver chain in front of him. The gold medallion, masterfully crafted to look like a fiery sun with a large red crystal in its center, spun in the slight breeze. The crystal caught the reflection of the fire’s flames and added them to its own glowing inside it. The two images of the flames danced and swirled around each other, mesmerizing Alant for several moments.
That is what I forgot. Sarlimac said Sar’Xanthia is where this Tarsith came from.
Looking around the clearing, he sighed and sat down on the root.
Yet, how am I to find a long forgotten city?
When the knock came, Sarshia’Mion Mocley steeled herself for the conversation ahead. Once the Mu’shadar princess had left her apartments, Sarshia found she could not shake the bad feelings from the girl’s accusations.
Could my little brother be the catalyst for something so horrifying?
She had started investigating—or more appropriately, had sent Theriana to ask some questions to the people working in and around the Chandril’elian. The answers her handmaiden had returned with were not promising. The fact that three Human Initiates had either been sent home or expired from training in just over a turn of the seasons was more than suspicious. Two Initiates were sent home after being broken by the training. The third disturbed her more than she wished to admit. Still, that was all she had learned.
And there was the incident before I left, when that Human Initiate had attacked Aritian.
She shuddered at the thought of violence within the walls of the White City. She had no proof that the incident was connected. Still, added with the others…
Several conflicting answers surrounded the Initiate, Alant Cor. One Gray said he had expired—passed into the Aftermore as the primitive Human religion believed. One, that he had been sent home. Another said he ran away and was thought to have stowed away on a ship that took him back to Ro’Arith. Still another said he had vanished into thin air.
Preposterous! How could someone—a Human no less!—become lost in the most secure city on all of Talic’Nauth? A city that barred most Humans from even entering!
Still, I shall have my answers now.
She turned and looked at the door. “Come.”
The door opened and the diminutive Gray, Delmith Bathooll, entered her sitting room. He wore a pale blue serota that almost all her people wore. It came down to just above his knees—a bit short for his stature. She had known him since they were younglings, having attended the Chandril’elian together near two hundred winters gone. Delmith had followed her and her twin all the time. He idolized Aritian, and though it was most improper, she knew he had wished for more than friendship between him and herself.
As if a Blue would ever mate with a Gray!
Standing, she held out a hand for him. “Delmith, thank you f
or coming.”
Crossing the marble floor, he took her hand and bowed his head. “How could I not respond to the summons of my Princess?”
Guiding him to a chair, she waited for him to sit before she took a seat on the couch opposite him. As she settled into the cushions, Theriana entered carrying a tray with two tiny cups and a cold pitcher of raz. Sarshia busied herself with studying her guest while waiting for her handmaiden to pour them both a cup and withdraw from the room.
Though he seemed well composed, and it had been some time since they had been together, he fidgeted more than she remembered. His smile appeared forced, and he held a haunted look in his eyes. She longed to perform a Chi’tar upon him, though she would never be that rude. Even if she suspected he was involved in something with her brother that she would not approve of. “How is your mate?”
“Melisian is well. Thank you for asking. She has been busy with her research.”
Not wanting to be drawn into a lengthy discussion about the wondrous properties of Ratave, she forged ahead, catching him off guard. “And how is your research for Aritian going?”
The shocked look that encompassed the Gray’s face gave her all the confirmation she needed. “I—How did you know…”
Smiling, she took a sip of her raz. Its bitter coldness engulfed her tongue with just the perfect amount of spice. So wonderful. “I did not. However, those questioned were forthcoming with information that my brother has spent quite a bit of time with you at the Chandril’elian.”
Frowning into his own cup, Delmith let out a long breath. “Yes. He has me…I am looking into—”
She did not let him finish. “Do not lie to me, Delmith. You were never good at it.” Finishing off her raz, she leaned forward. She did not know the extent of what went on within the walls of the school. Still, she knew something was not right. “I want to know what Aritian is doing, Delmith. I know that several Human Initiates have been sent home without explanation and that one is nowhere to be found. I know that Aritian has taken an interest in the Chandril’elian that is most unlike him. I also know that you are in no position to deny me these answers. Or, would you prefer to answer these questions in a more public location, say like my father’s audience chamber?”
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