A man with a hawk’s head spoke sharply. “My scout has been observing. Andron’s rescuer is moving into position as we speak.”
“It is pleasing that every detail of our plan has been carried out,” Da’at Set cheered. “To Evolution! To a new Imperium, not subject to nature’s lack of imagination! To a new world, under the Chimaera! To a New Order of the Ages!”
XXVIII.
The Trance
As scroll upon scroll, book upon book, page upon page entered Daecrynn’s mind in Rayelle’s ‘learning trance’, history unfolded as if through his very eyes. He watched as the ancient War of Heights played out in vivid detail, as the Celestials defended the Forges of Heaven from the onslaught of the Reuthani. He observed the ancient battle as the Houses of Anda were stranded from the Seven Realms of the lost Ileani Empre, and how their descendents fought the native barbarians of this world. He witnessed the ancient Mithuriel Confederation in its rise to power, and watched it slowly decay; to come to its end when unspeakable evils from other realms poured into the land of the living.
Daecrynn watched as the Zhil’dvani, horrible demon-men of superhuman strength and intelligence subjugated humanity. A nation in the south stood alone, resisting the onslaught with arms and an iron will. They were losing much in a war of attrition, but rebellion fomented in the slave-cities. Asutel Thetali, a noted philosopher and noble from the nation of Eroshniel pleaded to the High Court of Mithuriel, only to be rejected.
‘The affairs of the gah’raen are not ours,’ Majestrix Talica of Yrn Kathlorn argued.
Several smaller nations and fiefdoms chose to separate from Mithuriel, joining the cause of Eroshniel. With a handful of elves, he assisted the slave tribes of Madrokaan and Ciraat in their revolution. The forges of Lyci supplied them with arms. The dwarves of Vorengard fought fiercely against the numerous servants of Dragon Lords and their Emrishari allies. When the Forge of Thyressar was liberated, the ancient scepter of Anda was reforged into a sword—Oro’quiel. A companion weapon was forged from an heirloom of the lost Kingdom of Katta—Xendros.
With the guidance of Thetali, the war culminated in a victory as the Ziggurat of Abominations fell, crashing into the volcanic Mount Thyressar. The Dragon Lord Alzhuas was cast into the fire with the reptilian abomination Nimrod, and the slain Dragon Lord Sefanuas was cast into the sea.
The world was destroyed in fire and flood. The great crystal cities of Sai Drana, Tola’nei, Onaroth, and Rosaya were annihilated. Little was left of Mitheldia but its foundation and the catacomb-like remnant of the ark from Anda.
On Kynder’s Mound, two surviving trees stood. A silver oak and a golden willow remained unscathed. He built the city of Andriel on that mound and named it for his father. With the sixteen sages of the Starlight Circle he cast a mighty ritual to heal the world. Within three years the forests bloomed, and the valleys of Kanaid and Kitheon were lush and fertile again. On the ashes of Mitheldia, the city of Namakiera was built—named for the phoenix protector of Naim.
Daecrynn watched the history of Tarligean unfold, to its near-death as a fireball consumed Ariandi’s legions at Cassadina. He understood Fen’yi in full, and several other ancient dialects long-forgotten. Dizzily he looked about as a vast table stood before him. Scrolls were laid out everywhere, but in a precise order. His hands stopped moving. His eyes hurt, and his vision dwindled into a dull blur. He gazed toward Rayelle, standing beside him.
“I’ve broken the trance. It’s time to rest now,” Rayelle stated.
Daecrynn strained to focus, but her form remained blurred. He nodded, and closed his eyes.
He awakened in a comfortable chamber, beneath a fur-lined blanket. Nadali’s arm was draped over his body, her skin close to his. The stale smell of the amassing pages of paper and parchment was detectable. A smaller blue sun beamed through the eastern window. Daecrynn blinked and squinted. It was early spring outside, and frost accumulated on the window’s edges, but it was warm in the chamber.
Nadali woke slowly, squeezing Daecrynn as she sleepily yawned.
“My eyes hurt,” Daecrynn groused. “I feel as if I’ve been gone for a lifetime.”
“You’ve read enough for twelve lifetimes,” Nadali enunciated. Daecrynn shifted onto his back. She gazed on him with wonder, having seen the learning trance. “In a day.”
“Quiya tenani, te’nteniit,” Daecrynn whispered, gazing into Nadali’s eyes.
“What does that mean?” Nadali wondered.
“It means my heart is bonded to your soul, I think. At least I think that’s what it means. I’m pretty sure, anyways,” Daecrynn reflected.
Nadali giggled shortly, and kissed Daecrynn on the lips.
“I watched all of history pass my eyes. I saw everything. I saw Asutel Thetali slay the dragon Alzhuas at the Tower of Abominations. I saw the star-farers sail across the sky. I saw Oro’quiel long before it was a sword. I saw Cireth when they were great, when they believed in freedom, when they were still human,” Daecrynn rambled, staring outwards. He stopped to rest his eyes.
“I know the way of the Bard now, some alchemy, some,” Daecrynn turned to Nadali, opening his eyes again. “I need more. I need to learn Thaen’dzi and Malthaen, the way of the Warrior and the way of the Shadow.”
“I can teach you those on our own time,” Nadali beamed proudly. “My aunt was Ariandi’s best student, and I in turn was hers. You’re still tired from the last trance d’nani, give yourself a break.
“Too correct, Nadali,” Daecrynn sighed as he lied back. “Too correct.”
Outside, the window revealed dark clouds moving in from the northwest. A large storm was developing over Li’istrani. He sighed in her embrace. Down the hallway the clicking of shoes against stone betrayed someone’s approach. Daecrynn quickly sprung out of bed, pulling his trousers up. Nadali pulled the covers over her head. Rayelle entered the room, swinging the door wide, until it slammed against the wall of the hallway.
“You have better be more ready than you appear to be. Class starts now,” Rayelle declared, quickly flashing a tight smile.
Daecrynn forced his eyes open. He grabbed a shirt rumpled up on a table by the bedside. Nadali glared narrowly toward Rayelle. Rayelle turned and started walking back to the main study. Daecrynn slipped his boots on, and ran to catch up with her. He heard a rumbling from the study when Rayelle reached the archway leading in. As he caught up with her, she raised her arms out and closed her eyes. The tables, chairs, desks and bookcases moved on their own, toward the study’s walls. With the deep crash of wood striking stone they shattered against the walls. The center of the study was entirely clear.
“You forgot the most important tool for today’s lessons,” she noted.
“Tool?”
“Your sword. That’s okay, I remembered,” she grinned as she extended her arm, palm forward. “Duck.”
Daecrynn ducked as Oro’quiel spun through the air to meet with her hand at the handle. She gripped it firmly.
“Come,” Rayelle commanded.
She presented the sword to Daecrynn, handing it to him by the handle. The sword shifted in color as the metal matched the blue of the stone embedded in the hilt. Momentarily it glowed, then the metal of the blade returned to its silver-steel luster.
“What was that?” Daecrynn wondered.
Suddenly, his thoughts shifted focus. He was aware of every person, animal, plant, and object within more than a mile’s radius. He was aware of a trail of ants skittering across the pathway leading into Rayelle’s wine cellar. He was aware of Ranteyu leading a caravan across the valley, returning to Tanathiel with a convoy of coal. He observed Nadali begrudgingly buttoning her cloak in the chamber down the hall.
“Draw yourself back in,” Rayelle beckoned.
Daecrynn looked to himself, holding the sword. He concentrated, focusing his senses back on his person.
“The Eye of Terei. The second type, to be specific. Now I want you to seek someone you know. Anybody, anywhere. Feel out, and find th
em,” Rayelle instructed.
Daecrynn breathed deeply, and focused his thoughts. He thought of his mother and stepfather first. His thoughts crossed a great black void before reaching the high trees of Tuitari. He didn’t see them there. He felt pulled to Tanathiel. He observed that the remnant of his camp had been taken in, and treated as royalty. He watched them feasting at a breakfast table. He thought of Andron, and thought to see if he had returned to Cardalia safely. He looked in his direction, asking Oro’quiel in his mind to show the way.
He saw Andron hanging by one foot from the branch of a tree, bruised and bloody, with broken bones. A crow was picking out his eyes as he cried in agony. Daecrynn dropped the sword.
Rayelle stopped smiling, and raised her eyebrow. “Typical,” she muttered.
“He’s—he’s been hung!” Daecrynn stammered.
“Every time someone first explores the Eye of Terei, they see something they don’t wish to. Every time,” Rayelle sighed.
“They hanged Andron,” Daecrynn gasped.
“Did they? I told you that holding him was a mistake. And now you can see why,” Rayelle grimaced. “Now pick up your sword, and look again. We are not finished.”
Daecrynn gazed at Oro’quiel with dread. It scintillated softly in the light coming through the study’s skylights. He leaned over, and begrudgingly picked it up.
In the east, beyond the Straits of Destriel, he observed a group of six. Only one of them was human. The other five had animal heads and humanoid bodies. They walked under a backdrop of small smokestacks, pouring steam into the air. The human had no hair, and his eyes were made of metal. He bowed toward the strange animal-headed figures, and boarded an ornithopter. Daecrynn felt compelled to watch him closer.
XXIX.
The Laboratory
Daecrynn’s eye followed the strange man in black. To his side was a pilot, wearing a Cirethian Imperial olive uniform with orichalcum and gold buttons and ornamentation. He operated the levers that controlled the aircraft. Below him was a vast city with towering buildings, lined in orichalcum and copper. At the center of the city was a huge pyramid, covered in white stones. At each corner was a small tower, which seemed to be gathering lightning, pulling in energy to itself. Daecrynn shuddered at the strangeness of what he saw. Not a tree could be seen, nor blade a grass. Surrounding this city was a network of large canals, circling the city, and running between its tall metallic towers. With his clairvoyance, Daecrynn explored. The looming towers dwarfed the people who walked upon walkways that ran alongside the city. Strands of glass ran between the towers. Gazing closer, Daecrynn watched as people walked across these strands from tower to tower. At the floor of the city, iron tugboats navigated the waters of the canals, and iron beasts carried people down what looked like rivers of stone.
His focus returned to the ornithopter carrying the strange man with the metallic eyes. He flew over the city and beyond it, following a canal that led to the ring surrounding the city. It swooped by a single stone monolith, a citadel of heights only surpassed by Rhia’li’s Pedestal. The aircraft landed. Its wings slowed their motion, eventually ceasing. The pilot and the man walked out. The pilot saluted the man in black, bowed his head, and turned toward the building.
“Welcome to the Laboratory, Lord Set,” a voice echoed as he walked past the archway that led into the building. A door closed behind him, with no servant to shut it.
He strode down a long hallway, toward a machine that quickly lifted him to the highest floor of this laboratory. He stepped out of the lift, and into a room, completely white in color. A cylinder sat at the end of the large room, connected to many wires and many other machines of blackened metal with strange lights flashing in a myriad of patterns.
Two guards stood by the cylinder. One of them spoke. “Lord Set, what do you wish of Sphinx?”
“A private audience,” Set replied.
The two guards saluted and left the room by elevator.
“Sphinx, I bring you the answer to the lost equation. You will have to remove some of the data you had been given, as it was intentionally false,” Da’at Set illustrated.
“I suspected this,” a metallic voice said. “The facts cannot contradict, without deception or incomplete data. Such is false logic.”
“My own geneticists have examined your DNA to exhaustion,” Set revealed. “You can be given a body.”
“With that I shall re-align the rest of my equations. With the understanding I gain, I can achieve my full potential,” the metallic voice declared.
“You certainly will,” Da’at Set agreed. “But this information comes at a price to you.”
“With every value, a price is to be named,” the metallic voice responded. “Such is logical, and understood. We both seek the logical evolution of things, Lord Set. I have extrapolated your price, and am prepared to pay it, for it serves my purposes as well. Please upload the new data.”
“As you wish,” Set agreed.
Da’at Set removed a cylindrical crystal from his cloak, and inserted it into a slot on the metallic cylinder that housed this entity. A ghostly image appeared near to Set, conjured from a beam. A creature formed from the ghost image, with a lion’s body, wings, and a human’s face.
“That is the body I have extrapolated from the new data you have uploaded,” Sphinx said. “It would be adequate if you could create it that I may exist with autonomy.”
“And create it I shall,” Set acknowledged. “You do know the price of this body?”
“I am prepared to pay it, for it serves my purposes as well,” Sphinx responded. “I am now the cornerstone of the Chimaera Order.”
“Then it is a done deal,” Da’at Set replied, smiling coldly.
XXX.
An End to Philosopher-Kings
Daecrynn tightly gripped Oro’quiel in his hand, and squinted his eyes. He turned to Rayelle whose expression revealed curiosity.
“I must learn everything I can of Cireth,” he requested.
“What did you see, ai-Tu’fayator?” Rayelle asked.
“Madness! Sheer madness! The mad builders who have gone farther into madness,” Daecrynn exclaimed, on the edge of hysteria.
“Any specific madness? Delusions of grandeur perhaps?” Rayelle wondered, tilting her head.
“I need to learn everything I can about Cireth. I need to understand their mind, their philosophy. I need, I must know what drives them. When I look east of Destriel I see the machinations of pure madness,” Daecrynn rambled.
“But you are at war with Madrocea,” Rayelle reminded him.
“It is well known that Emperor Sacchaeus is a puppet of the Thoth, but I saw something, an indicator that the Thoth will not stay in power much longer. A dispute coming from—beast men.
“The Chimaera Order,” Rayelle acknowledged.
“You know of them?”
“They are a piece of a greater puzzle, as you are,” Rayelle mused.
“Would you please, just this one time, not speak to me in riddles?” Daecrynn demanded.
“Hmph,” Rayelle sighed. “It would be wise to step into the archway now,” she said as she waved her hand.
Daecrynn stepped backward, his hand tingling from the tight grip he had on Oro’quiel. All the tables, chairs, lamps, desks, bookcases, scroll-cases, and other items that had been pushed against the walls of the study slid back into place, in perfect positioning as if they had lain there for decades. Following the tables and chairs, a set of scrolls from a case on the far wall hovered through the air, landing on the center table of the study. They laid themselves down in perfect arrangement.
“Sit,” Rayelle ordered.
Daecrynn complied.
“Close your eyes,” she commanded.
Daecrynn complied.
The world dissolved into a blur, as he entered another learning trance.
The scroll was called The Turning Point.
Daecrynn stood in a crowd, with hundreds, perhaps thousands of humans. He looked up to
a podium, encrusted with the Cirethian symbol he dreaded, the hooked ankh. It was covered in gold, with orichalcum trim. Behind him stood a blonde, blue-eyed human with short hair, wearing a pale blue cape and suit with silver trim. The voices became clearer and more distinct about him.
“Presenting Kadaam Nashanti…”
“Today is a bright day for all of Cireth, and for all of those who benefit from being under the wings of the Raven.
“I have accepted the responsibility of architect of the New Order of the Ages with eagerness, as our leaders have the vision to know what I offer in terms of the perfect union of Knowledge and Wisdom. Today I accept the mantle of Thoth, the first of a long dynasty of enlightened philosopher-kings who will enact perfect justice amongst all our peoples. I am ready for this task…”
The Legacy of Tirlannon: The Freedom Fighter Page 18