Leiyatel's Embrace (Dica Series Book 1)

by Clive S. Johnson

  So, he tried hard to return to those depths but felt, at the very edge of his awareness, that old demon lurking, that ogre of the old, a familiar imp he knew couldn’t be ignored. Lost libido had long since left him entirely at the mercy of that one sluice gate age was wont to weaken, its shutting against the pressing volume now imperfect and fickle. He knew he couldn’t hold out long and so was pushed, bleary eyed and stiff limbed, to stumble to his toilet.

  His absence left only the hum-filled room, for Pettar and Nephril’s beds were already cold, their blankets neatly folded. Only the occasional buzz and quiet whir broke the flat monotony.

  Down the metal staircase, in the vestibule below, a soft and singular click echoed up to the room, followed by the draining of its dead volume, out into the new day as a door there opened wide. There was a scraping sound and then, with the slam of it, the room’s dead silence returned.

  The metallic ring of footfall on tread and the slightly wheezing breath of Nephril, as he pulled himself up by the rail, soon followed on. His head then appeared through the hole in the floor and with it the rest of his stooped body, whilst he brushed raindrops from his robe. At the top, he stopped for a moment and wiped his wet face with a hand and shook drops from his sparse hair. He was just breathing in deeply when Falmeard returned, refreshed, to the room.

  He was now awake enough to call a half breezy salutation. “Good morning, Nephril. Been out?” He then noticed his old friend’s damp state. “Ah, ‘tis raining I take it?” Nephril stared at him, from beneath hooded eyes, and grunted.

  As Falmeard roughly bundled his blanket into an approximation of a neat pile, Nephril replied, “Aye, ‘tis but a meagre shower, naught to cause tillers to click their heels in joy, though.” Falmeard detected a more level and pragmatic approach in his old friend that morning, as though his mind were somewhere else and more than occupied. Occupied or not, he was thoughtful enough to draw Falmeard’s attention to the fresh array of food, as yet unnoticed, enticingly laid out on the table.

  Then bright eyed, Falmeard’s mouth began to lose its usual morning dryness. He was spoilt for choice so took a broad selection onto his platter before sitting down. Whilst he ate, he stole covert glances at Nephril, noting how he seemed so much more agile of limb and definitely glossy-eyed.

  Eventually, Falmeard leant back, feeling full. It was so unfamiliar that a belch escaped before he’d wit to stem it, leaving him somewhat embarrassed. Nephril didn’t notice, lost as he was in his own thoughts. He sat before the fire’s dead embers with his legs stretched out before him. The only movement he made was a very slow drumming with his fingers on the arm of the chair.

  Falmeard breezily asked, “So, where’ve you been to, in braving the elements?”

  Nephril angled his head towards him and smiled, an odd and knowing one, before returning his eyes to the cold fireplace. “I have been searching, mine old friend, searching out some byways that I know to be here yet have forgotten where they be.”

  Falmeard began to regret ever having asked. On this occasion, happily, he’d no need to ask further for Nephril continued unprompted. “I was searching out Memory Lane and Remembrance Road but, so far, have only found Amnesia Avenue and Forgotten Fold.” He chuckled, greatly alarming Falmeard for it was quite unlike him.

  Before he could satisfy his curiosity, the room filled with the clamour of Pettar and Penolith’s return. Their voices were loud and breezy, easy and familiar, and it was clear they’d been up and about for some time.

  They were deep in conversation, with much touching; a hand on shoulder, offer of an arm in assistance, a careless replacement of an errant strand of hair, any excuse in fact to cement their newfound bond. Noisily, they joined him at the breakfast table, selecting their food and bidding him good morning. They were soon back to their own sibling dialogue, though.

  Falmeard couldn’t follow them, despite his keen attention. He’d obviously come midway through and they were using words largely foreign or familial. Feeling at a loss, he thought he’d venture out, out into the wet morning, and take a proper look at Galgaverre, first-hand and in the full light of day.

  He was just getting up when Pettar and Penolith both fell silent, each staring at the other, each with questioning eyes. Pettar stayed him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Pray, old friend, be seated awhile longer for Penolith and I have something to say.” Falmeard sat back down as Pettar lamented, “It’s a shame Nephril’s not here.”

  Falmeard was about to point him out when he spoke for himself. “Had thee not both been so firmly entwined within thine mutual world then thou wouldst have noticed mine presence afore.” A smile broke along the thin line of his mouth, as he rose to join them at the table.

  He sat down opposite Falmeard and beside Penolith. “Much of what thou art about to impart I suspect I have already gleaned, from thy careless talk, but it be only fair young Falmeard hears.”

  Penolith spoke, her voice measured and seemingly younger. “I’ll take the liberty of quoting from another, if I may, and say, ‘I am truly no longer the person I was yesterday, nor the day before that.’”

  Falmeard was plainly intrigued but Nephril reached across and gently rested his gnarled hand on her forearm. “’Tis only now the vestige of the Certain Power hath weakened enough for its hold on thy blood’s bonds to break, for thy mind to become free and thine eyes see plain what the true world be.”

  Pettar quietly asked, “Why … why has Penolith come so late to her understanding? Why were my eyes made clearer so much earlier?” He looked lost and added, “Clearer, yes, clearer, but not yet transparent … no, still clouded in places.”

  Nephril eased himself against the back of his chair, closed his eyes to think, and after some time, answered. “Where Galgaverre began in contrived bondage, I for mine own part have decayed into it.” He let a wry smile cross his face and felt the cruel jest of his self-mocking. Finally, he said to Pettar, “The bonds within thy blood were weakened more easily, and earlier, for thou hath spent time beyond Galgaverre’s walls. Thy sister, however, hath always remained here, so close to the Certain Power, to Leiyatel, who still tries hard to hold her blood true.”

  Before Pettar could answer, Penolith gasped and asked, in a stunned voice, “But, Pettar? If your awakening was that much earlier because of your absence from Galgaverre then where’s Stor’ been all this time?”

  “Storbanther?” Nephril and Pettar both cried.

  She now looked guilty, her eyes lowering. “I … I … Oh Pettar … I should’ve told you earlier.”

  “Told me what?”

  “It’s just that I was so confused last night that by this morning I’d forgotten all about it.”

  Pettar scowled back. “Forgotten what, Penolith?”

  Her eyes darted this way and that, as she tried to remember exactly what Storbanther had proposed. Eventually, she told at least what she could. “Last night, Stor’ tried to get me to go north, to the Eastern Gate!”

  “What! Why?”

  “I don’t rightly know, Pettar. I was so tired.”

  Pettar looked dumbfounded. “To the Eastern Gate! What is it with you and Storbanther, eh, Penolith? What hold does he have over you?”

  Penolith looked shocked, and then an anger began to rise. “Hold over me!” she almost shouted, resurrecting old fears in Pettar. “What do you mean, hold on me? What about you then, eh? What about …”

  Nephril stood, brought his palms down with a crack on the table top and quickly let his words then flow softly between them. “Withhold thine accusations and thy guilt, the both of thee. Think thee both on’t. Remember thee, Pettar, what first drove thee from these walls, eh? Think carefully afore thee answer, cast back and remember all that lay behind it, not just the pain and hurt but the support and encouragement, eh?”

  Unusually, he left no space for answer. “And thee, Penolith, can thee see any common thread twixt thine and Pettar’s uncommon behaviour, behaviour so at odds with Galgaverre? How many Galgaverrans
have had desire to travel abroad, eh, and how many took so readily to forbidden myth and history, eh, well, how many?”

  He again eased back into his chair, lost his overpowering stance and relaxed, patient to await the fullness of time. Pettar and Penolith remained frozen, each deep in thought. Into that lull, Falmeard leant forward and was about to speak when Nephril’s hand shot out, grasped his firmly and so barred the inevitable question.

  The two siblings remained quiet for a long while, dredging their memories, but it was Pettar who first spoke, somewhat groggily. “In my youth … when I was but a small lad … I remember being taken onto the north section of Galgaverre’s wall … the part that gives scant view over the flat top of Mount Esnadac’s belly. Ha! Oh yes … I’d almost forgotten that, but yes, I remember it now, remember the mountain’s shape being likened to a fat man sitting cross-legged. Ha, now I see it so clearly, being told to look over the top of his belly and into the far distance. It seems like only yesterday.”

  He stopped, as more flooded back, and they all waited, watching his eyes watching those early events. “In that far off distance, I could make out a glimpse of a line of giants, all white haired, all sitting cross-legged, like the fat man of the castle. They faced me square on, not in profile, and looked me straight in the eye. They called out to me, do you know that, called out over that seemingly infinite divide, and they beckoned.”

  Nephril cautiously prompted him a little more. “Dost thou remember who it was who took thee there, there onto the northern wall of Galgaverre, dost thou?”

  It was Penolith who answered. “I remember Pettar talking about that trip, when we were abed one night and I’d asked him where he’d been all day. Of course, being his big sister, he couldn’t lie to me.”

  Pettar confessed, “Penolith knew nothing of the secret doorway, though. Throughout my childhood days, I told no one, even as a youth and then as a young man, I kept it a secret. It’s probably there to this day, unused, rusted, seized shut … but then … maybe not.”

  Penolith prompted him but with a knowing glint in her eye. “Pettar? Do you remember who it was who showed you that doorway, eh, who first took you there?”

  He didn’t hear her but his eyes did now meet hers. “Penolith, oh sister, forgive me for I lied, and for so long … lied … but I couldn’t tell anyone, least of all you.”

  “Don’t fret, dear Pettar, don’t pain yourself. It’s of no matter now. It was all so long ago.”

  But then Nephril coldly persisted, “Pettar? Dost thou remember who it was who showed thee that door?”

  Penolith answered with her own question. “It was Storbanther, wasn’t it, Pettar? Storbanther who planted the seeds, who watered them so assiduously, who nipped out the long growth as it grew in the rich loam he’d laid down, eh, Pettar? It was him, wasn’t it?” Pettar’s eyes filled and his gaze dropped to his lap as he quietly cried.

  She hugged his shoulders and whispered reassurances, as she rested her head against his. Nephril came around the table, turning a chair to face them, sat down and spoke as clearly and as gently as he could. “Thou hath both been unwitting pawns, Galgaverran clay in a scheming potter’s hands. Blame not thine selves, mine friends, mine innocent lambs. Thou art but wheels in the engine. Try lift thine hearts for today, here, within the all-important now, thou hath become much more than that.”

  Pettar’s sobbing eased as Penolith looked questioningly at Nephril, but with growing wonder. He smiled and proclaimed, “Yea, mine hatchlings, yea verily, today thou art reborn as free man and free woman, no longer mere arguments to a physic design. Thou art as whole now as nature intended, or as whole as anyone can be. From this day forth I canst truly call thee both mine friends.” He then smiled even more broadly, with his eyes full of honest joy.

  Although his words and, more importantly, his sentiments went a long way to lenify Pettar’s anguish, he still couldn’t find voice. He was content, though, to let Penolith speak for them both. “My dear and respected Nephril? I think we’re both forever in your debt.” Nephril was somewhat taken aback, embarrassed, but didn’t answer.

  The rest of the morning passed quite uneventfully, with Pettar and Penolith both coming to terms with their new world. It was steadily dawning on Penolith how much vaster it all was, in all respects, from small to large. They were so preoccupied they couldn’t long hold to discourse, eventually leaving Nephril and Falmeard alone. As Nephril had then put it. “We will just have to bide our time, leave them be and let them wear themselves out on the novelty.”

  There now being only the two of them had a distinct advantage, for Nephril wanted to pursue some as yet unprofitable avenues. “Come on, Falmeard, shake a leg. Let us get a breath of fresh air, eh? I do not think thou hast had opportunity of seeing the wonders of Galgaverre yet, not in the daylight, and there be no better time than the present.”

  “Err, will it be alright for us to go wandering around on our own? Shouldn’t we wait for Penolith to accompany us?”

  Nephril quietly chuckled. “Fear not, we have little to concern us here other than the rain, for this is mine own domain after all.” With Falmeard’s face now wrought with confusion, and Nephril’s hand firmly at his back, he was swept along to the staircase and down to an awaiting grey morn.

  Once outside, Nephril purposely stopped to allow Falmeard his first proper sight of that new and strange land. Although they were in a flat expanse of paving, with only a few featureless buildings poking up above its boundary walls, the very simplicity and geometric purity brought Falmeard up short. He found it hard to cope with the oppressive blankness, the lack of ornamentation, of feature or interest, nothing more than simple, monotonous expanses.

  Where there’d been need of a wall then there a wall had been built, but only that, nothing more. It was the same with the few roofs they could see, a homogeneity of slate, or tile or bitumen-slaked wood. Nowhere did there appear to be any consideration of interest for the eye, or variety for the soul, no, all there was purely functional, and therefore incredibly tedious.

  When Nephril thought Falmeard settled enough, he began to lead him across the paving, away from the Guardian’s Residence and to a gap in the boring boundary wall. It surprised Falmeard how long it actually took them to get there, for the architecture was large in scale if somewhat small in inspiration.

  The tedium and regular lines all made Falmeard feel a little giddy. What was more unnerving was its peripheral effect, the way it seemed to unsteady his legs and make him want to lean. He was certainly more than happy when they eventually reached a gap in the wall and could look down a plain and simple flight of steps. They dropped steeply onto a roadway below, laid across the very tops of yet lower buildings.

  Nephril didn’t go down, not immediately, but instead halted as the rain abated. He pointed out things of interest within the bizarre and seemingly disjoined terrain below. As he was doing so an orange robed figure walked into sight, along the road below. At first the man failed to see them, high above him, but when he did look up, he jolted, stopped and stared at them for a good few seconds.

  Suddenly galvanised, he smartly bounded up the steps, two at a time, until coming to a halt a couple of steps below them. His head was now at the level of their own, his shoulders twice as broad as both theirs put together and his face seemingly yet broader still.

  The guard - for that’s what he was - confronted them directly, as they’re wont to do. “You aren’t allowed here. This is a restricted area. Where’ve you come from?” He eyed them suspiciously, as he looked down his nose in that studied way all guards have.

  It certainly succeeded in intimidating Falmeard, but Nephril squared up to him. “I am Lord Nephril, Master of Ceremonies to the Kings of Dica, and I have supreme authority over all in Galgaverre. Know thee that thy Guardian be subordinate to mine command and, thereby, art thou also. Thou hast no power to arrest mine movements here.” He allowed a small pause for effect. “Have I made our respective positions perfectly clear?”<
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  The guard froze for a surprisingly long time, only his eyes moving to and fro between them, unsure of what to do next. Nephril began to feel a bit sorry for that poor wheel-in-the-engine. “Perhaps thou wish to confirm the veracity of mine statement, in thine manual of procedures? Thou wilt find there all I have said. I will even await thy return, upon this very spot, if that wilt ease thy mind.”

  It was only when Nephril raised his voice and demanded, “Well? Doth thou hath tongue in thine head still?” that the guard unfroze.

  The lifeline had worked and the guard snapped his heels together. “Sir! Err, my Lord Nephril, I beseech you spare me some indulgence for I wasn’t aware of your visit, although it had come to my ears the Guardian was entertaining, but I must admit, I’m unprepared.”

  “I can understand that for I rarely visit, especially of late, so am inclined to overlook thine unpreparedness … on this one occasion.”

  “I thank you, my Lord, you’re more than fair.”

  Nephril was beginning to warm to the game. “Oh, I can see how mine appearance might provoke unease. ‘Tis a long time since last I walked within thy walls.”

  “It must be many years since, your Lordship, for me not to remember you. After all, I’ve been within the service nigh on fifty now.”

  Nephril pondered awhile. “Well, let me see now, yes, I think the last time was some three hundred years ago, give or take. Well out of thy time, quite obviously.” He studied the guard’s eyes and watched as nervousness once again brought him to a sweat. His eyes began darting about until something snapped, other than his heels, and he took off down the steps as though pursued.

  Falmeard could only breath properly once he’d seen him vanish, back along the roadway below. “Is what you told him the truth, Nephril? Have you really got supreme power over Galgaverre?”

  Nephril smiled, looking considerably younger, and then wrapped his arm around Falmeard’s shoulders. “You know, Falmeard? I do believe it be the truth.” He hugged him briefly before removing his arm and smartly descending the steps, leaving Falmeard to shake his head in disbelief before following him.