by Lloyd Baron
“What a Wind Holder can do is walk on the air, Gye. This power can only be used in a place called a Folded Rift. You have been told about the Mana Fold?”
Derry’n nods.
“Good. Well the Mana Fold is the world between us and the void. It is everywhere, and it is from here that the Mages’ power comes from, but not if you use wind. Oh no, that comes from the Folded Rift. A Rift is a place where the Mana Fold has torn and no Mana can come through. Because they are empty of Mana you can use the wind inside you to change the world. For instance you can run on the air, make walls out of wind and, best of all, you can do a Gye-wave.”
He jumps to his feet and in a swift motion from his left hand sends a green flash across the room. It hits the wall the other side and vanishes without leaving a mark.
Finhill turns back to Derry’n and grins. “Want to learn how to do that?”
Derry’n nods and gets to his feet but as Finhill begins to explain he casts his mind back to running away from the dragon in Doeia. He had jumped and soared into the sky, pulling Canace with him so high the dragon had flown below him. What he had done was not the same as here, he knew; but if you could not use Gye out in the world then what he has is not Gye. He watches Finhill as the man starts to explain how to create the bright green fiery light, but his heart has sunk. Will he ever know what he is?
Tak’arshi stands in front of the High Darkest and waits for his verdict. He has asked if he can take the girl, Canace, to the Angels in the city of Gossa-Mesa so that they can open up whatever power she has inside. Being Dark Clan means he cannot tell a lie but there is no harm in withholding information.
The truth is he does want her powers to be opened and used and for the reasons he has stated to the High Darkest. But there is also the other truth, the one which involves the Prophecy of Ages, and his belief that these individuals will play a big part in it. That is what he must now keep to himself. If he is asked outright what he intends to do once he has arrived at the Tree City he will be forced to tell all. Even Dark Clan keep secrets and are capable of being corrupt and evil. Just because they do not have emotions does not mean they are uncaring of what happens to the world. They just look at things with logic and science and not with their hearts, something that can be used either for good or for bad; and without the ability to feel upset by their acts, or bad for what they do, they can do anything they want.
Liandri’naltiv of Clan Darkest, ruling voice of the Dark Clan reads the last line of Tak’arshi’s letter and folds it back into its envelope. He stares at it for a moment while thinking of his questions no doubt and then looks up with his large black eyes.
“So you want to take her yourself?”
“Yes, High Darkest.”
“Why you? You have been gone from here for such a long time already. Do you tire of these walls?”
Tak’arshi shakes his head firmly. He could never tire of his city. There are still so many parts of it he has not seen. His thirst for knowledge of the world, a logical passion, has taken him away but not due to his lack of interest in his home.
“I was the one to find the girl. I am interested to discover what power she holds so that I can document it and add it to my research on hidden powers.”
Liandri’naltiv nods slowly as he thinks of what to ask. Tak’arshi knows that he will ask a very direct question to force any hidden truths from him. He muses that if he could feel nerves he would most likely be shaking all over. He keeps his eyes firmly on those of the High Darkest and tries to think of possible answers that could make his lies seem less severe.
The large man stands and strolls around his desk. He comes to rest beside Tak’arshi and his eyes roll black with power. He is using a mind wave, Tak’arshi realizes, and he steps back, knowing that the pain from such a spell can be harsh and sharp.
The question comes.
“Why else do you wish to go?”
Tak’arshi would have smiled if he could feel the emotions that cause such a thing to happen. The question is so wide that he can answer it with truth and still hide his main reason. He lowers his eyes, a sign of respect after being found to have deceived.
“There is another reason. The girl and the Common merchant, Brychan wish to be bonded at the shrine to the north. I have always wanted to study such an event to record the needed emotions and factors which take place during a bonding. I felt that it was not important, but I was wrong. I did not want you to think I was wasting time on such a minor interest.”
“Nonsense. You have studied the bonding and marriage rites of almost every race and country. Why not take an extra day to see this event and document it? You must learn, young Tak’arshi, that keeping things hidden is not the answer. You have my full permission to attend this bonding, and I will read your report when you return for I too am intrigued by this event. As far as I am aware there have been no bonding ceremonies in the shrine from two outsiders of Hillsbough.”
He had forgotten that to the High Darkest they are not from Hillsbough and he had almost given away their identities. Tak’arshi’s mind spins in his head as his thoughts collide with each other. In a normal man this would have lead to panic, but not in a Dark Clan. The thoughts stack up one by one until the most logical is left. It is a process which takes less than a second. He nods his head.
“It is true. No outsiders have been bonded in this way.”
“Let the Darkness fall and the light enter us,” Liandri’naltiv says as he returns to his desk and sits.
Tak’arshi nods his head once more before sweeping out of the room. He will gather the others and they will leave at first light. The Angels are waiting and the world needs them.
32
The PRINCESS FALLS
Walt Grendel struggles to the top of the sweeping staircase in the Palace of Atlant. He slumps into a chair to catch his breath and takes the time to watch the events around him.
That morning had been the execution of the kidnappers. Their names had been withheld, but he had paid a high amount of coin to find out two of them. He cannot believe that the Queen has been so stupid. If he is right then those six young men and woman are the ones in the Prophecy. She has done his work for him.
He pushes himself from the chair with the help of his cane and hobbles towards the stairs to the tower. His second job is to remove the Princess from becoming any problem to him, and the other five. His old body aches and protests with each step and he curses the Sorceress for the plague of age she has inflicted upon him.
Almost a thousand suns ago he had tried to stop her. He had been a young man then, the youngest of the six and a Gye-Shin champion. He put himself in her path so that the others could catch up and restrain or destroy her. However, she easily dealt with him. As he lay, crumpled and broken she fused his bones together and forced him to use most of his magic to heal what she had done. This sped up his aging and he became instantly old and decrepit.
The door before him opens and a girl in a flowing white gown and veil strides out. She flicks her long dark hair as she passes him. Lifting her skirts she hastens towards the top of the staircase.
He cannot believe his luck today. Firstly the Prophecy ones are executed and now the Princess has fallen into his lap. He chuckles to himself.
He spins, his cane falling unneeded, clasps his hands together and in a swift motion sends a bolt of green light into her back. She teeters for a moment on the top step before her balance slips away and she tumbles forwards.
Narmada sighs as she travels the service corridor leading to the main hall, Elmo scurries besides her trying to keep step. He has brought to her attention a letter from the Kingdom of Common which seems to herald dire tidings.
She asks him to read it again as they enter the press of bodies outside the laundry rooms. Staff drop bows and curtseys but nothing formal as she has always requested a sign of respect. In these halls she is the guest and they are the masters. Elmo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of parchment. The first thing str
ange about it is that it has no seal upon it and is hand written in blue ink. Blue ink is never used to address a person in a letter and is only ever used to make lists or memos. So whoever used it must have been desperate.
He opens it and begins to read. “Dear Fia Sharphorn, I am writing to you as I fear my other requests have been intercepted. The country is cut off and the children are not here. We need your help. Please pass this message onto the Queen as I know you have her ear. I do not know what has happened, but the whole country is covered in a mist that is not lifting. Keeper of the Library of Ages.”
The Queen stops in her tracks and looks at Elmo. “This is even worse than I first thought. I received a letter some time ago from the King informing me of a woman asking questions about the Prophecy. He thought she was going to cause trouble.”
“You don’t think she could be one of the six you were talking about? The ones who will burn the world?” He says this in a hushed tone.
She shakes her head and begins to walk again. “There really is no telling. Fia Sharphorn is on his way to the country now so he will soon find out.” They turn onto a spiral staircase and have to keep to the side as maids rush past on errands. “I need to find where Narinda has gone walkabout to. She is meant to be in her room. She is far too upset to be wandering around.”
“Is she still behind the veil, my Queen?”
Narmada slows and gives him a sidelong glance. “She is indeed. I do not expect her to remove the veil for a few more weeks. A princess has to follow the laws as much as any other, Elmo. She has been in court and six people were executed under her word. She must wear the veil a week for each of those who have died.”
Reaching the top of the stairs she allows Elmo to scurry in front of her and open the door. She steps out into the grand entrance hall and looks up to the first floor landing. The Princess appears at the top step and stumbles.
For a moment she seems to hang in the air before her piecing scream echoes into existence.
Her scream floods into the large round entrance hall and bounces from the walls, echoing again and again. Walt Grendel watches the Princess fall. Her face smashes into the stairs as she tumbles. Her limbs snap as they bend under her body against the marble and as she plummets to the floor below her neck twists into an unnatural angle.
The lifeless Princess comes to a stop on the bottom step.
Walt Grendel picks up his cane and begins his hobble away from the stairs. His work is most certainly done here.
Narmada had let out a single high-pitched scream as her daughter began to fall before running to met her at the bottom of the stairs. She grabs the girl’s twisted form and holds it close to her, blood soaking into her white gown.
Elmo is there in an instant, calling for help but knowing that it is already too late. The Queen holds her lifeless child in her arms and begins to wail her grief.
“What is all this noise?” a gruff voice yells. Zelosanther strides into the entrance hall and stops at the sight of his Queen and Princess at the foot of the marvelous sweeping staircase. He rushes to her aid, but as he bends towards her the Queen speaks in a hushed tone.
“She is dead, gone.” Tears spill down her cheeks and she trembles with her grief. “Please. I beg you to find something to cover her with. People cannot see her like this. Not their beautiful Narinda.”
He nods stupidly in his shock and gets to his feet.
Narmada lifts the veil on the Princess’s face and strokes her matted hair out of her eyes. “I said you would be protected. Why did you not stay in your room?” She lowers the veil again before pulling the dead child into her bosom, rocking her backwards and forwards like she had when she was a baby.
33
WHAT is on the INSIDE?
Riochald wakes with a start and sits up, scanning the trees that surround their little camp. They have been pushing themselves hard and are now only a day’s ride south of the shrine. Fia had stopped them as the sun set and began giving the orders to build a fire and pitch the small tents they had brought.
Tak’arshi had watched at first before moving into action at a speed no-one had seen him move before. He worked with purpose, and even though he had not constructed one of the tents before he was the first to finish.
He watches her now. He has removed his thick, black robes and replaced them with a set of black breaches, shirt and jacket. The clothes are excellently tailored and shimmer with his movements. Black buttons run up the jacket all the way to the collarless neck, which he has fastened all the time. Red embroidery, like fire, edges the cuffs and down the front around the buttons and along the hem. The breaches are much the same. They are tight on his thighs but flare out at the base so that they flap around when he walks. The same red embroidery runs down the side and along the flare. A thick black leather belt in which he has a dagger and long black boots designed for swift movement and stealth, finish his new look.
She studies him and cannot help feeling sadness descend on her. He is a wonderfully beautiful man, a little feminine for her taste, but stunning nonetheless. He has a slender body, which ripples with power under his clothes. Short black hair is swept to the side sits upon his pale face. His eyes are very light in color, and he has a thin mouth set into a chiseled jaw. His bushy black eyebrows look like he has sculpted them into perfect elongated triangles and almost touch above his small nose. The absence of a smile and emotions has left his face smooth of wrinkles and lines. He must only be in his mid twenties, if even that.
He stands and moves towards her. She smiles and he nods his head in his way when anyone shows him a facial expression he cannot reproduce. He pulls out a blanket and folds it in half, using it to sit upon.
“The ground is hard here,” he mutters softly.
“Yes. It is hard to sleep.”
He glances at her and for the first time she can see something in his eyes: uncertainty. He leans forwards and holds a hand out to the fire. It brightens, and the heat produced increases. He settles back and lets out his breath.
“Tak’arshi, what is bothering you?”
The Dark Clan stares directly at her and his dull expression belies what he is thinking. He shrugs his shoulders; a habit he has picked up from Danlynn.
“You cannot just shrug,” she whispers harshly. “That boy is teaching you bad things. It is not an answer.”
“Danlynn says it is best to shrug when you do not have an answer or do not understand the question.”
Riochald laughs and has to cover her mouth to stop the sound waking the others. “Did he now? Well, it is wrong.”
“I will learn not to do it.”
She reaches over and takes his hand. A gesture lost on him, yet she does it anyway to make herself feel better. “You have a look in your eye. You look puzzled.”
“Puzzled? No, that is not it. I am confused about something.”
“Confused? You can feel confused?”
He nods again. “It is not an emotion. It is a state of mind. However, my idea of confusion is not the same as yours. You will most likely feel frustrated and stressed by your confusion. I cannot feel these. So it is just my mind not wanting to give me the right answer.” He settles back on his hands and rests his head against a tree.
Riochald takes a deep breath before turning to face him fully. He really is a beautiful man. As she is thinking this her eyes rove through the darkness to find the sleeping form of Fia. She allows herself a smile before looking back at the Dark Clan.
“When I touched the girl, I felt something strange. There was a hole in her, deep inside. I reached out to it and tried to fill it yet...”
“You lost control of the power. The darkness came.”
She nods, a sick feeling preventing her from speaking for a moment. She swallows and goes on. “When you were teaching me in the Mana Fold I felt it again, in you.”
Tak’arshi cocks his head to the side and a small frown slides between his eyes. “In me? What does this hole look like?”
She shakes h
er head. “I do not know. But I would like to find out. Tak’arshi, this hole could be dangerous to you. I want to try and help.”
“You care for the Dark Clan now? You said before that you did not.”
“What? Oh yes. I am truly sorry for that. I lashed out at you because I was angry. I really need to stop doing that. I drive people away.”
“It is because of your gift. You felt that people did not like you. That they believed you were wrong or not a nice person. You built this façade to hide behind and to give reason to having no-one around you.”
“For someone who does not have emotions you seem to know more about them then the ones who do.”
“I have studied them. Read many books on the subjects. If I had the desire to want then I would want emotions. They would make me a whole person and not this shell. It is my curse, as you have yours.”
Riochald reaches out and touches his face. Pain travels up her arm and into her head. She calls out but that is not what wakes the others from their sleep. Tak’arshi arcs backwards and screams. He and Riochald collapse to the dirt.
Riochald opens her eyes. She is on the floor in the middle of a field. The sun beats down on her, warming and gentle. Getting to her feet she scans the horizon for any sign of life. Surrounding her on every side is field after field of brightly colored flowers. She breathes in the fragrance and lets it out with a happy sigh. She could stay here forever.
She frowns then. Where is here?
Taking a step down the hill in the direction of a small stone wall, she finds that she cannot feel the oil she has grown used to over the many suns of her life. The feeling of sadness and sickness which normally follows her everywhere is gone. She laughs aloud and spins with her arms held out, like she and Canace had done when they were children.