Noticing the distance between him and Shaith, he launched into a jog to catch her up. Falling in step next to her, he slowed to match her pace and catch his breath before speaking. “That still does not answer my question. Why do I see nothing except Humans here?”
She continued her brisk pace without looking over at him. “The Dasha’alan be populated exclusively by Humans. It be the only part of the island where they be allowed, except us few Initiates, of course. The Elmorr’Antiens come here only if there be a need. Even then, they do send a Gralet’nar when they can.”
Gralet’nars! The henchmen of the Elmorians. No! Not Elmorians. Elmorr’Antiens.
“I have heard of these Gralet’nars. Where do they come from?”
“They did always be, as far as I do know. I think they be distant cousins to the Elmorr’Antiens. Gralet’nar be Old Tongue for Warrior Servant. They do serve their name and purpose well, for they be big and strong and fiercely loyal. I do find them no the brightest of races, yet we Initiates have very little contact with them on the whole.” His heart skipped when she reached out, and in a gentle grasp, took him by the hand. “Come, we must hurry. Tardiness no be a trait the Elmorr’Antiens do tolerate.” She quickened her pace to a fast walk, dragging him along after her.
They leave me all day sitting on the dock and now I must hurry!
They soon left the maze of low warehouses, with its streets and alleyways of stacked crates and barrels, to race along a smooth, white-stoned pathway some four paces wide. It snaked along next to the massive wall that separated the dock area from the city proper. Towering over their heads by some two hundred paces or more, looking up at it from its base gave Alant a sickening feeling in his gut. Now that he was next to the white wall he noticed that it was indeed smooth as glass. Even this close, he saw no cracks or fissures upon its surface. Dragging his free hand down it as they ran alongside, it felt like frozen water—only not cold—slipping under his fingers.
No mason could produce a stone this smooth! It is as flawless as if it was carved from one single piece!
Movement ahead caught his eye and he realized they were approaching a small gate. Shaith slowed their frantic dash to a walk. When he saw what guarded the gate, Alant swallowed hard, despite himself. On either side of the opening stood two enormous creatures, each close to three paces tall. They dwarfed any living being he had ever seen. They had the same gray skin and long wispy white hair as the Elmorian Guide Master from the harbor, yet all similarity between the two ended there. Legs as thick as a young hardwood tree supported their muscular frame. Arms that made the Mistbreeze Trader’s Captain’s look dainty were capped by hands easily the size of a man’s head. The guards wore a strange leathery looking armor that served as pants and sleeveless shirt. Their clothing appeared to be made from something resembling the skin of some giant reptile. By the look of their shoulders, each could rip a horse in half with their bare hands.
I cannot imagine what need they have for the sickle-like blades hanging from their belts!
Yet, of all the things about these creatures, it was their eyes—or rather, what should have been their eyes—that sent a wave of terror cascading over Alant. Hollow sockets, lost in deep shadows, sat high on their forehead. They gazed out—seeming to take in everything and nothing all at once—moving their heads back and forth, scanning the area in front of the gate without pause.
Shaith continued, and lost her hold on Alant’s hand when he stopped, rooted in place, several paces from the entrance. Turning, she flashed him a mischievous smile. “Do no be frightened, Alant. They will no harm you. You be expected.” She let out a giggle at the horrified look he knew plastered his face.
“Aye, mayhaps. Yet… What are they?” The last words he said in a hushed whisper.
“They be Gralet’nars. Warrior Servants of the Elmorr’Antiens.” She reached back and took his hand in both of hers. Despite the presence of the Gralet’nars, he could not keep his mind from how smooth and flawless her dark skin was. “Come! They will no trouble us.” She tugged gently on his arm until his feet reluctantly moved forward. Without taking his eyes from the towering sentries, he let her pull him into the city of Hath’oolan. Just prior to crossing the gate, one of them turned its haunting blind gaze upon him causing him to almost lose his nerve and run back for the safety of the docks. Yet, a moment later, the Gralet’nars lay behind him, and he was on the other side of the massive white wall.
Into the city proper!
The road they followed curved around a large building and dumped them onto a wide grand street—a boulevard larger than any he had seen in Mocley. The beauty of the sight that sprang up in front of Alant caused him to pause so he could take it all in.
The great boulevard they now stood upon was immeasurably wide—hundreds of paces across. Two pristine cobblestone lanes flanked a row of lush trees, colorful flowers, and leafy shrubbery that ran the breadth between them. Intermixed at intervals, fountains bubbled and shot streams of water high into the air. Ornate statues and large pieces of art carved into intricate designs stood scattered about, filling every empty area large enough to hold them. Many of these pieces sat between the enormous buildings that rose in elegance from the sides of the street. So high were these structures, the tops were lost against the now dark sky. Thin archways, their graceful lines accentuating the architecture, laced their way from building to building, forming bridges and walkways, some so high it made Alant queasy just looking at them. A myriad of lights spackled the scene, casting dancing spots of color like the countless stars in the very heavens.
Everything he saw—the buildings, arches, fountains and artworks, planters housing the fauna, even the cobblestones making up the street, everything—was formed from the same flawless white stone the outer wall had been made of. Even with darkness full upon the land, the brightness of the area gave the appearance of early dusk. The contrast of the brilliant stone set against the vibrant greens, reds, browns, and yellows of the many plants placed at strategic locations, made them stand out in vivid splendor.
“It is so beautiful!”
“Aye. It do take your breath away, at that.” The boulevard stretched off both left and right far into the distance. “Come.” Shaith, pulling Alant into motion once more, headed away from the outer wall and deeper into the city of Hath’oolan.
As they made their way, Alant could not help except to stare at the inhabitants. All around them he saw Elmorians. Elmorr’Antiens, he reminded himself. Hundreds of them meandered about, busy with whatever tasks had them out at this late aurn. Some accompanied by one of the horrible Gralet’nars, most of those burdened with large bundles or bags. A few gave the two Humans in their midst a casual glance, yet most ignored them entirely.
Once the two reached their destination, Alant felt close to collapse.
We must have walked for near a league!
The moon-long voyage, not to mention being unable to keep food down for the first half of the trip, had done nothing for his stamina, and he found it difficult to keep up with the energetic young lady.
The last part of the boulevard ended in a circle that connected one side of the paved street to the other, forming a large loop. On the far side of the loop stood a massive three-story building. A grand stairway lined with columns led up to a set of intricately carved doors. Large stained glass windows lined the walls on either side of the doors. He did not know how, yet he felt certain this building was the Chandril’elian.
Still, the building was not what held Alant’s attention. In the center of the circle created by the looping boulevard, directly across from the stairs leading to the entrance of the Chandril’elian, stood a huge tree unlike any Alant had ever seen. Blood-red leaves, broad and flat, dressed branches cloaked in a bark so black they made Shaith’s skin look pale. The bark itself looked more like burnt flesh than wood. It did not stand proud and straight like a normal tree. Instead, it was reaching into the sky as
if in great agony and begging the Gods to release it from its turmoil. At the base of the tree, a fine red sand covered the ground filling in the circumference of the circle. Designs and patterns traced their way through the sand as if put there by some half-crazed deity. The entire area gave off an ominous, unholy vibe that sent a shiver running through Alant.
Shaith seemed to be gazing at the tree as well. “That be called the Chandril’chi tree. They be extremely rare. This be the only one I do know exists—and it be said they do feed directly from the stream of the Essence itself. It do give me chills.”
The stream of the Essence?
Before he could pose another question to Shaith about it, she darted into a side alley that ran next to the Chandril’elian, pulling him along in her wake.
Halfway down the alley, Shaith slipped into a side door, and Alant found them inside a small anti-chamber. “Wait here for a moment while I do fetch you some proper attire. You can no meet the Hon’Vanria dressed like a common ship’s rat.”
Once Shaith left, Alant dropped his bag and sat down hard on one of the padded benches that lined the walls.
Events are threatening to overwhelm me. Everything is happening too quickly.
The room in which his lovely guide had deposited him into looked humble compared to the beauty of the city outside. Opposite the door they had entered stood the small archway Shaith had disappeared through. Including the one on which he sat, four benches lined the walls, this being the total furniture the room had to offer. A wall hanging depicting an aerial view of the city hung on the wall across from him. Standing, he walked over to inspect it closer. The detail of it astounded him.
I do not see any brush strokes in the paint!
“That be a Fessio’tar. It be a fabric that be produced here on the island and works much the same as a Silrith’tar—‘err, that be a Memory Crystal.” Shaith stood outlined by the archway.
Alant turned on her with a look of disgust. “I know what a Silrith’tar is!” He immediately regretted the hostility in his voice. “Sorry, the voyage here has put me on edge.” When she favored him with a small smile, he swallowed hard. “You were saying about this Fessio’tar?”
“Aye. Just like a Silrith’tar, you can imprint a vision from your mind onto it. That be the view looking out from a balcony of the tallest spire here in Hath’oolan.”
Turning back to the hanging, Alant gazed into its perfection.
It does seem as if I am looking out a window instead of at a picture.
“I have a robe for you. It should serve until you are settled in and they provide you with your own.” She held out a folded white robe that looked much like hers. A golden belt sat in a coil on top.
He reached out, took the bundle from her, and busied himself with it. When she made no motion to leave, he felt his face grow hot once more. “Is there a place I may change?”
This seemed to startle her. “Aye! Of course, I…” She glanced down at one of the benches as if she meant to sit, then stared at him, a wicked smirk on her face. Finally, with a laugh that was deep and throaty, she pointed over her shoulder at the archway leading deeper into the building. “I shall wait within.”
He stifled a groan. Once she was gone he quickly stripped and donned the robe. It was a bit baggy on his now thinner frame, yet the belt held it in place enough that he did not think he would trip over the hem. She had not provided him with any footwear so he put his soft-soled shoes back on. They looked dingy and out of place next to the cleanliness of his new robes.
Still, as Papa always said, “It is not the quality of a man’s shoes, yet the quality of the man’s walk that matters most.” I hope my walk is good enough for what lies ahead.
Stepping to the archway that led deeper into the building, he saw that it led to a long hall lined with doors. Shaith was occupying herself by looking at a tapestry hanging on the wall between two doors.
Upon noticing him, she glided over. “That be much better.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, if you no count the shoes.”
Lifting the hem of the robe, Alant wiggled his toes in his plain fielders shoes. The faded brown of the leather looked about as worn as he had ever seen on a pair of shoes. “My Ma would have a fit.”
Giggling, Shaith reached out and took his hand. His heart fluttered. “Come, I need to take you to the Hon’Vanria.” At the blank look on his face, she sniffed and shook her head. “You really do know little of the Old tongue.” She started leading him down the hallway. “What do you call your instructors back home?”
“Their title? We call them Sier.”
“Strange. Sier do mean ‘to Meld.’ Why do they use that honorific? Vanria would be translating to ‘teacher.’ The Hon’Vanria be what you would call the ‘head teacher.’ Or, more accurately, ‘honored teacher.’” She cut her jade-green eyes at him as they walked down the hall. “Alas, this may be the only time you see him. I did be here near two full turns of the seasons, yet this be only my second trip to his office.”
“Does he not teach anyone?”
Shrugging, Shaith rounded a corner and headed up a wide flight of stairs. “As to that, I no be knowing. We Humans do no train with the Elmorr’Antiens.”
Her statement shocked Alant to the core. “I will not be learning from an Elmorr’Antien! Then why have I come all this way?”
“Do no be silly! I said we no train with Elmorr’Antiens. We do have an Elmorr’Antien Vanria. Vanria Delmith be as fine an instructor as I have ever had, and I did have many in my life.”
“Just one? Vanria Delmith is the only Elmorr’Antien who instructs us?”
“Aye. I have no ever seen another Elmorr’Antien look at one of us Human Initiates, much less teach us.”
The winding stairs let out in a small receiving room. Cushioned benches and plush chairs lined one wall opposite a large, paned-glass window that looked out into darkness. A set of elaborately inscribed double-doors rested in the center of the far wall. Strange runes, reminding Alant of those he saw carved into the blood-red sand that surrounded the Chandril’chi tree out front, were worked into the door in silver and gold. As the pair stepped onto the landing, the doors swung silently open. Alant started to pause, yet Shaith urged him forward.
A large, highly polished wooden desk occupied much of the room they entered. Papers, scrolls and books littered most of its top. A pane-glass window, twin to the one in the waiting area, filled the left side of the room. Bookshelves, each holding an assortment of items, lined the right.
Alant, however, gave the room no more than a cursory glance, as in his nervousness, he could not take his eyes from the white-haired Elmorr’Antien sitting behind the desk writing in a book with a flowing script. His long white hair spilled over his red silk covered shoulders to dangle down almost to the desktop. The two Initiates stood before the desk for long moments, the only sound the scratching of quill upon paper, until finally the Elmorr’Antien placed his quill into an ink jar and looked up, taking the pair in with its liquid eyes. As it had done on the deck of the Mistbreeze Trader, the Tarsith again radiated cold that momentarily shocked Alant. Flinching, he fought the urge to grab for the front of his robes. A puzzled look fell over the Elmorr’Antien, and the Tarsith seemed to slip from cold to freezing. Alant clinched his jaws tight to keep from gasping out in pain, yet the Elmorr’Antien simply stared at him. When Alant knew he could take no more and was about to reach up to snatch the Tarsith from his skin, the cold was gone, and with it all traces of the pain that had been in his chest.
“You are the Initiate sent to us from Mocley, the one named Alant Cor, yes?”
Not being able to stop himself, Alant reached up and rubbed his chest through his robe. “Aye, Sier—Vanria!”
Alant added the honorific instantly upon noticing his mistake, yet a small scowl twisted the Elmorr’Antien’s thin dark-gray lips. “The correct title you will use to address me by i
s Hon’Vanria, yes? I am Hon’Vanria here at the Chandril’elian. If you do not know enough of the Old tongue to know how to address your superiors, I will provide you with books so that you may educate yourself, hmm?” He turned his head and regarded Shaith. “Good eve, Princess, you have my thanks for retrieving our newest Initiate from the Dasha’alan.”
Princess?
Alant cut his eyes to the dark skinned girl standing next to him.
Shaith made a formal curtsy. “It did be my pleasure, Hon’Vanria.”
The Hon’Vanria retrieved his quill from its resting spot. “Please see that Initiate Cor finds his room, yes? I believe it has been prepared for his arrival.” With that, he returned to his writing without so much as a glance at them.
Curtsying once more—Alant adding a hasty and clumsy bow—Shaith took Alant’s hand, pulled him from the room, and headed for the stairwell in silence.
Alant was dimly aware of the doors to the Hon’Vanria’s study closing behind them as they left. “That did not go well.”
With her jade eyes twinkling, Shaith giggled and shook her head. “It did be a bore around here this past turn of the season since Plint did leave. It will be nice to have someone around who will entertain me.”
Despite himself, Alant smiled. “Who is Plint?”
The smile slipped from her lips. “A boy from my homeland who did be an Initiate here. He be gone now.” Dropping her eyes to the floor, she walked on in silence as if she had no interest in talking about it.
At the bottom of the stairway—Alant was not really paying attention to where they were going, yet he thought they were once again on the ground floor—Shaith turned down a hall and led him deeper into the building. The small hallway they were in, filled with closed doors on either side, let out into a larger one. This new hall, twice as high and three times as wide as the one they entered by, had the same white tiled floor, except a plush red carpet with swirls of blue ran its length. Looking off to his right, Alant saw an ornate pair of double-doors almost entirely made from paned-glass. Through the doors he noticed the large boulevard that had brought him here, and could just make out the black tree with the blood-red leaves in the darkness beyond. He gave a shudder. To his relief, Shaith led him to his right, toward the back of the Chandril’elian. The hall continued on, carpet covering its center, past arches and doors, to end at a second set of double-doors much like the ones at the front. Through the windows of these, Alant saw a lush garden muted in the darkness.
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