“Seth?” asked Valam as they walked through the great halls leaving the conference room. “Could you tell me more about the Brown Order? How does it survive if it only exists in time of war?”
“It has.”
“But how?”
“Remember when I told you how one was chosen at birth to enter the Brotherhood?”
“I don’t,” said Evgej, who had been listening quietly. “Sorry, but I would like to better understand,” he quickly explained, noting Valam’s glare.
“It is okay. It is easier if I digress and describe the entire method. Besides, I think you are both better prepared to understand it. Before, I only outlined it. Let us sit here for a moment.”
Seth brought them to a small balcony overlooking the courtyard of the palace. “The choosing takes place at birth. It was Ontyv, himself, who chose me. Very few are chosen, and even fewer pass the final tests of servitude. The tests determine which order you will belong to. If you fail one portion of the test, you fail the entire test.”
“What happens if you fail?”
“You journey to the Great-Father. Not only how well you perform the tests comprises the final outcome, but how you reach those decisions as well as how quickly you act on those decisions. To understand the choosing you must also fully understand the purpose of each order. The orders of the Gray and White are forbidden to apprentices. They are comprised only of elders, for only through time can you gain sufficient wisdom to justify the honor. And only one who was once a member of the White may become a member of the Gray. I know of only two exceptions to that rule in the entirety of the Brotherhood’s existence, one very long ago and one recently. The order of Gray consists of only ten members. A new one is chosen only when an existing one has passed. The White consists of a number equal to ten times the number of the Gray, which is not always 100.”
“But how can it be otherwise?”
“That is how it is written.”
“Why?”
“I think I can answer that question,” Brother Liyan said walking onto the balcony.
“Good,” said Seth, welcoming Liyan, “I could use your knowledge of the histories.”
“Each member of the Gray is delegated eight consorts to study and work with him. The others stay here in the capital for training new initiates and keeping records and many other tasks. The true number is always more than 100. But there have been times when the council consisted of less than ten members and there have been times when more than ten were needed. They use their wisdom to enlighten and teach our people. They keep records of our histories, and they give council. The order of the Red also is very small; new members are added infrequently. To fully understand the honor of being chosen to this order you must understand that its place is equal to that of the order of the Gray, for there is no greater office than to serve in the protection of the Queen-Mother.
“In matters pertaining to the Queen, the order of the Red has supreme authority even over that of the Gray. The Red is comprised of those who were destined to wear the white and eventually the gray. The orders of the Yellow and Black were the largest orders until the Brown was restored. The Yellow preserve the peace and harmony among our people by showing us our past and present errors and teaching us to love the Great-Father and Mother-Earth. The Black bring us into the world and carry us from it. They keep us pure and whole.
“The Brown order differs from all the others in that it did not always exist. It was born from war, and as it was born another order died, something our kind had never experienced. We had always stayed out of the affairs of others. Leaders of this order are chosen from birth and preserve the ways of war by passing it down through the generations. A true warrior and leader is also a rarity. They are born for no other purpose than to practice the art of death. In times of peace the Brown order is a private sect. In our eyes they cease to exist. In war, they return and cry out for our people to join them. It is also an honor to be allowed to serve thus. The Brown differs from the others again, in that those not of the Brotherhood are allowed to join. They serve until they are no longer needed.”
“Was Tsandra then born into it?”
“The truth in your heart shows through, Valam,” said Seth. “Yes, she was.”
“How can you tell the difference?”
It was then that Seth realized something he and Liyan had taken for granted. “By the robes—”
“The belts!” exclaimed Evgej.
“Yes, in all orders the first wears a belt of silver and the others don those of the color of their order except in the brown order. The white belt signifies those of the original order.”
“What of the Blue order? I have only seen one of that order—Samyuehl.”
“There are currently only two of this order, as it has always been. It is near Samyuehl’s time; then Ry’al will take his place, and there will be only one until it is again time for another.”
“But how do you know when it is time?”
“It is not our choice. It is the choice of the Mother-Earth.”
“But what—”
“Come, it is time to join the others for supper.”
The four were just in time to join the other leaders for the evening meal. For Valam and Evgej it was similar to eating in the great hall of the Kingdom, except for the immense proportions of this hall. It was composed of three tiers with an open center. In the center stood an oval-shaped stone table where those of high office dined.
The Queen-Mother was seated at the head of the table. Before they began to eat, her words of praise to the Father and Mother drifted pleasantly through the minds of all present. Evgej mused that the hall held the population of the entire city. “Almost—” whispered Brother Liyan to Evgej’s mind.
“Sorry, I’ll try not to think aloud any more,” spoke Evgej cheerfully. Liyan smiled and answered, “No it was my fault. I have to learn how to deal with an open mind.”
“But I thought there were some who talked aloud and purposely opened their thoughts.”
“That is different. They contain their thoughts within the arena of their own center, but the center is always open if one wishes to access it. Seth taught you how to block your thoughts also, yes?”
“Well, as a child does, yes, but not a complete mind block.”
“Children eventually become adults. You will learn how on your own in time. Practice.”
“What do you think, Valam?” asked Evgej. Liyan and Seth simultaneously pointed to where Valam’s gaze was fixed. Evgej looked and understood Valam’s silence. He half held back a smile and continued eating his food.
“It is impolite to stare,” Tsandra directed into Valam’s mind teasingly. She felt the presence of his watching each time they were near. Valam only shrugged his shoulders and smiled. It was then that Tsandra remembered that Valam could not project his thoughts.
She directed back into his mind, “Sorry.” After a pause for a moment of careful thinking, Tsandra thought of something. It was a game she had learned long ago. She and her mother used to play it. Thoughts of her mother brought sadness.
She pushed the thoughts away and thought to Valam, “This is a game I used to play very long ago. If I say something, to answer just think the thought to yourself.” After she said it, she realized that was the only way Valam could think, to himself.
“How is that a game?” Valam thought to himself, “This is dumb. I’m talking to myself in my own mind!”
“I heard that,” came the answering reply into his mind.
“Well, how is it a game?”
Tsandra considered it for a time. “It is sort of—abstractly, that is—except my mother would block the thoughts and I would have to try to find out what she was thinking. At first she would only concentrate lightly on closing the thoughts and then more and so on.”
“Try this.” Valam used the trick Seth had taught him. He gathered his thoughts in his mind and encircled them with an empty thought, thus closing his mind.
Tsandra’s r
eply came an instant later. It was a feeling of embarrassment. Valam could almost picture her blush in his mind. “You should try harder and never think thoughts you do not want others to know.”
“Sorry.”
“Has he told you yet of the sword?” she asked indicating Liyan.
Valam didn’t understand. “The sword?”
Tsandra felt Liyan’s watchful gaze upon her and said no more. “Next time,” she whispered to his mind. “I must be going—and you really should eat now.” There was laughter in the fading echoes of her voice.
“Amir, she has passed. You must let her go,” urged Noman. Amir reluctantly released his Little One’s hand. “She rests with the Father,” Noman assured him. The giant carefully picked up Adrina and followed Noman out of the tunnel.
“Have you seen anything?” Noman asked Nijal.
“Nothing,” he answered weakly.
“Good!”
Noman watched Ayrian take flight to go retrieve the horses. “Hurry!” Noman whispered after him. Noman then proceeded to tear off his outer robe and rip it into strips, so he could make wraps for the splints for Adrina’s hand and leg. When he finished, he lightly touched her to check on the life within her. He felt it warm within her and was glad.
Amir and Nijal stood watch over her while Noman went back to check on Xith and Vilmos. He praised their good fortune. Once they regained consciousness, they would recover rapidly. For now it was better to conserve his strength. He could not afford to spend his supply striving to reach their minds. He was forced to wait until they reached a safer place.
The night faded; Ayrian had not returned. Noman began to worry. He could sense the foulness in the late night air. Amir took Nijal’s place in guarding the mouth of the tunnel. The others sat silently watching their companions, wishing they would speedily recover.
Darkness began to give way to the early morning twilight. Ayrian still had not returned. Noman was forced to make a very hard decision. They could leave in the light of the day. In the open, either the garrison would find them or the assassins would and on foot they could not flee. The garrison finding them would seem a blessing, but it would not be. Noman had seen the crossing of these two paths. Both would lead to their downfall, one quick and the other slow with even darker consequences. The other choice was to wait out the day, and if Ayrian still had not returned, then leave. They would be sitting in a ready-made trap. The enemy already knew they were here. Nevertheless, Noman decided after careful deliberation that they must wait. At least here they had some cover.
With the daylight came the heat of a summer day although spring was at hand. The stench of bodies became unbearable. Amir could not sit idly any longer. He had to do something. He looked to Nijal for help, but he was sleeping deeply from fatigue. Amir decided to do the dirty work by himself. First he moved Galan’s body out of the way, and then he began piling bodies to the rear of the shaft.
It was a task he did not enjoy doing. It did, however, relieve the tediousness of waiting. He hated waiting. The scent reminded him of the smell of the battlefields of his past. He softly cursed that time. “Is this what I have waited for?” he asked himself.
He reached down to pick up the next body in a long line of them. He noticed something different about it. It was clad in only a robe, different from the others who wore light leathers. He called Noman over to him.
Noman studied the body closely. He could not believe what he saw. Near the body lay a wooden walking stick. Noman picked it up in disgust and examined it. “It is what I feared.” He closed his eyes and wandered back through his mind. He replayed the images of the explosion in his thoughts. He then re-examined the staff.
He had not seen where the negative energy had come from. He had sensed the coming explosion and had responded. Until now, he thought it had been an accident on Vilmos’ part by mixing negative and positive energy. The expression on his face was not a pleasant one. The situation suddenly appeared worse. A magic-user, even one who used devices, was to be feared.
The staff was a device from the past. Noman had thought all those devices destroyed. He leaned down and loosened the man’s robe. His worst nightmare was confirmed by the small symbol inked above the man’s heart. In disgust, Noman spat into the dead man’s face and walked away without saying a word to Amir.
Amir had also seen the mark, a tiny black-inked torch. He roared his anger, picked up the deceased by the hair and with one clean sweep of his sword beheaded him. The anger released, he sheathed his blade and went back to his tedious task.
Xith opened his eyes and attempted to focus them. “Ooh! My head aches!” he said rubbing his forehead. “Xith!” yelled Noman, elated. “What hit me?” Xith asked, queasily.
“Negative energy.”
“Ouch!” expressed Xith as he tried to sit up. Painstakingly, he completed the chore. His body ached all over. “What of the others?”
“Adrina is injured and unconscious, but is well. Vilmos is also unconscious.”
Xith looked around the cave. “Ayrian?”
“He is missing for the moment.”
“And—”
Noman shook his head no before Xith could finish asking. “She died saving Adrina.”
“I feel so tired.” Xith closed his eyes and feel into a deep slumber.
The remainder of the afternoon passed slowly. Amir, Noman and Nijal eagerly awaited nightfall. They had all given up hope of Ayrian’s returning. They knew if he could have returned he would have long ago. They did not wish ill upon him, but hoped his end had come quickly and without the pain of torture.
Xith awoke again as the darkness of night crept in. He startled Nijal, when he walked up behind him and touched his shoulder. “Xi—” Nijal started to say. “Shh!” said Xith staring out into the night from the tunnel entrance. “Has he returned?”
“No. How did you—?”
Xith walked back into the cave. “It is good you have recovered,” said Noman.
“When do we leave?”
“As soon as the night gathers full.”
“Have you tried to awaken them?”
“No. I have been saving my strength and waiting for you.”
“Yes, we cannot bear the burden of two.”
Noman knelt next to Vilmos and touched his left hand to Vilmos’ forehead and his right to Xith’s. Xith focused inward to his center. He reached outward through Noman to Vilmos’ mind. “Vilmos, look to your center—find it—focus on it—concentrate—feel it flow through you—drink it in—bathe in it.”
“It is so dark. I can’t find my way out.”
“Vilmos?” said Xith looking outward through Vilmos’ center, “It is only a dream. Create a light within your mind and awaken.”
“No, you do not understand. He is with me. He won’t let me escape.”
“He is dead, Vilmos—it is not real.”
“Oh Xith, leave quickly. He comes—I cannot hold him off any longer.”
“Vilmos, no! Fight it! It is only a dream!” Xith surged his will outward into Vilmos. Energy surged back into Xith’s body through Noman. The shock was enormous. Noman was forced to break the link.
Vilmos opened his eyes and stared wildly at Noman. “Noman, restore the link now!” The voice was Xith’s, but the sound issued from Vilmos. Suddenly, for the first time, Noman saw Xith’s limp, pale body slumped beside Vilmos. Without hesitation, Noman restored the link.
The link was restored, but Xith was still entranced. He was connected to Vilmos. He saw what Vilmos saw. The vision was captivating. He had to turn away from it. The longer he watched, the stronger the vision became.
It beckoned for him to stay. Xith could feel the pull on him. The strength to resist it was rapidly disappearing. “No,” cried out a faint voice from somewhere in the distance. “No!” came Xith’s answering call.
Noman faltered as the connection broke suddenly. Xith stumbled backward as he pulled away, wildly staring at Vilmos. Vilmos shook his head slowly from side to side, tryin
g to shake the images of the dream out of his mind. The images, nonetheless, remained distinctly etched into his memory.
“Vilmos you must never allow yourself to have those dreams again. Push the thoughts from your mind!”
“But how?” appealed Vilmos, as he sat up. He had completely forgotten the events of the previous day. Scenes from the nightmare were perpetually repeating in his thoughts. Dreams were frightening for Vilmos, especially because when he dreamed them, they had a bad habit of becoming reality.
“We will discuss it later; for now we must concentrate on getting as far away from here as we can. How do you feel?”
“A little weak and I have a terrible headache, but I’ll make it.”
Vilmos stood and stretched his aching muscles. He felt very unwell; still, he would not say anything about it. His head throbbed as if he had smacked into a wall. He tried to concentrate his thoughts. It was a difficult feat at best, yet with perseverance he shook the disorientation from his mind.
He concentrated his thoughts on one thing: the energy flow that Xith had so painstakingly taught him. He lightly reached out for the energy; what he found was different from usual but returned a sensation that he had forgotten.
It also brought memories from the past. Though he saw them through another’s eyes, they were his own. The wild energy of creation flowed fully through him. He had once felt a shadowing of this power back in the Barrens where Xith said the wild magic danced more freely although he had never felt it pulse so strongly within him, or had he?
His strength quickly returned. He tried to stop the energy flow. He could not. He was caught by it. He wondered if Xith or Noman could sense the power within him. He looked questioningly to them; they offered no response. What could it hurt, Vilmos asked himself.
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