The Weight of a Crown (The Azhaion Saga Book 1)

by Kaeden, Tavish

  "We have reached the core," said Laiti, guessing Isic's thoughts as he stared at the archway. "Just ahead is the summoning chamber."

  "What do you summon there?" asked Isic, taken aback. He had never considered the possibility that the gröljum might be skilled in the eldürcraft.

  Laiti gave a slight chuckle. "We do not summon," she said. "It was Lohidim who summoned us."

  It was then that Isic noticed that, though beyond the archway was an enormous cavern, the path beneath their feet ended at the arch in a small balcony. Below was a perfectly hemispherical floor, its surface as smooth and glossy as a sheet of glass.

  "It has been many breeding-cycles since Lohidim last summoned us to do his bidding," said Laiti, behind the smith. "For many years, we had no choice but to answer him."

  "Again you speak of this Lohidim," said Isic. "Tell me, who was he? Was he a man such as I? One of your kind? Or…something else entirely?"

  "You shall know," promised Laiti. "There is a bracket on the wall, do you see? Place your staff of green light in it, but be ready to shield your eyes."

  "Very well," said Isic. Though he was wary of the gröljum, he was confident that it would take more than the loss of his staff for them to be a threat to him at this moment. Besides, what harm could come of placing his staff on the wall?

  As he placed it in the bracket, he heard a faint click as the weight of the wood set off a trigger he could not see. Somewhere in the distance he heard the grinding of gears and suddenly the grüwnflame atop his staff flared brightly and erupted in a thick beam of light. It shot towards the ceiling, and almost instantly the room was flooded in greenish radiance as a series of mirrors which had been hidden by the darkness reflected the grüwnflame around the entirety of the chamber. So bright was the light that Isic had to shield his eyes, which had become accustomed to the relative darkness of the tunnels.

  A strange purring sound came from Laiti's mouth, and Isic saw her eyes slowly scan the room before her.

  "What is it?" asked the smith.

  "It has been a long time since we have seen such brightness, yet felt nothing," said Laiti, her tone distant, almost dreamy. "Only through the eyes of men is such a thing possible. It is…it is terrible…and beautiful."

  "Tell me," said Isic, his attention drawn back to the series of mirrors which circled the cavern's ceiling, "who did this? What is it for?"

  "It was made by Lohidim, and used for years to force us to do his bidding. For if not seen through man-eyes, the pain is unbearable."

  "I see…" said Isic, beginning to understand. "But what was it exactly this Lohidim had you do? If he had used your kind for war, or even labor, someone would have said something. It would be in the histories somewhere. I do not think mankind would easily forget an encounter with you."

  "Lohidim often brought others of your kind to us, but once here, they never left."

  "What others? What happened to them?" asked Isic.

  "They were brought here," replied Laiti, "bound with chains so they could not move. Lohidim would summon us, and bid us bond with the humans. They were keepers of secrets which they would not share. We were to take their thoughts, and speak them to Lohidim. If we did not comply…" Laiti indicated Isic's staff.

  Isic took time to consider this piece of history. He had to admit that Lohidim's use for the gröljum appealed to him. Imagine the knowledge that could be gained by literally picking even the most closely guarded secrets from another's brain! Then another, wonderful thought came to Isic. Lohidim had obviously been a man of great power, and a practitioner of the eldürcraft. His interests and instincts may have been similar to Isic's own. What if Lohidim had recorded all the revelations he had a wrenched from the minds of others? What if here, somewhere in these ancient tunnels, lay hidden the many secrets of a forgotten era? Waves of excitement, bordering on ecstasy, rippled through the smith.

  "What happened to him, to Lohidim?" he asked excitedly.

  "Your own eyes may see," said Laiti, indicating the area below them.

  Looking over the balcony, Isic could see that the smooth and glossy surface below, which moments before had appeared black and opaque, was actually some sort of transparent substance. Ice, perhaps, or something similar. But it was not the strange substance which held the smith's attention. It was the unmistakable shape of a human body which lay, suspended in the clear material.

  When his gaze returned to Laiti, Isic found that her eyes were wide open, and teeth were bared in a terrible, maniacal grin.

  "Did you see?" she asked.

  "I saw…a body," said Isic, unnerved by this change in Laiti.

  "You have found Lohidim," she said. "He is ours now, and will be for all of time."

  "How did he…what is that around him, ice?" asked the smith.

  "You have no word for it," replied Laiti, "but ice, it is not. Remember this, old one. Remember what you have seen. We have agreed to aid you, because you have offered us something we desire. This is something Lohidim never did. He would take what he wished, and leave for us nothing. Do not repeat his unkindness, or you may soon join him below."

  Chapter 31: Jeina

  The pace had been brutal from the moment they fled Unerr Redseed's presence, but not once had Jeina complained. Though waves of thick, heavy pain often washed through her body, it was not enough to divorce her mind from more pressing worries. For days, the sound of Unerr's mangled voice speaking her name, her true name, haunted her thoughts. It…or they, or whatever the gröljum truly were knew who she was. There was only one explanation for it, and that was Laiti. The campmaster had certainly never bothered to learn her name, or anyone's name for that matter. He had been quite content with calling every female worker things like 'my sweet,' 'my pretty,' or just 'lazy bitch.' Even before she had gone to work in the mines, Jeina had dropped the use of her true name. She had not wanted to run the risk of shaming her family, should she ever be caught stealing, and a sire's name was of no use to a thief anyway.

  Since the initial discovery of the gröljum, Jeina had grown close to Laiti, and the two shared many a secret to while away the time they spent sequestered in the barracks. Jeina could now vividly remember Laiti asking her if she had a sire's name, and being slightly startled by the question. Asking if she had a name was akin to asking whether she was born out of marriage—an act openly condemned by the Church of Rekon. Jeina had been slightly offended, until Laiti had confessed that she herself did not have a sire's name.

  "I only ask, because I often like the way they sound. Two names are so much more interesting that one, don't you agree?"

  "I don't know…" Jeina had replied. "I never gave mine much thought."

  "So you have one, then?" Laiti had asked, brightening.

  Seeing Laiti's face light up had moved Jeina. The girl was beautiful, but so often sad and somber that to see even the hint of a smile made Jeina feel that just for a moment, something right was happening amidst all the wrongs that surrounded her.

  She had told Laiti of her sire's name, and Laiti had repeated it happily to herself for some minutes, mixing which syllables she emphasized until she had settled one the one she liked best. Jeina had not thought much about it since then, but hearing the name from Unerr's eolithic lips sent a great many fears spinning through her. The fact that the gröljum knew meant that somehow, Laiti's mind had become part of their collective thoughts. What else did they know? How many more of her personal details had they picked from Laiti's brain?

  It seemed too much to hope that the gröljum might have given up the chase, but when day after day passed without incident, both Jeina and Fezi had gradually started to relax. Fezi still insisted on a fireless camp, however, and Jeina had to content herself with a dinner of smoked fish and wild mushrooms this evening. At least, she reflected, it wasn't so terribly cold anymore. After they had passed into the drylands, the temperature had risen gradually, until the snows were just a memory, and the evening breeze was actually welcome after a hard day's ride. Tired
, Jeina sat propped against a tree, her mind full of countless gröljum eyes staring at her, milky white and motionless, yet still somehow watching…and knowing.

  "Dhaenswin," said Fezi softly, looking up from perusing a map. "Jeina Dhaenswin. That is a pretty name."

  Jeina shuddered. "Please," she said. "Don't remind me. I still can't get Unerr's voice out of my head."

  "I am sorry," said Fezi, wincing apologetically, and sitting in silence for a few more minutes until he offered, "Tell me about your family. What are they like?"

  "Were like, for the most part," corrected Jeina. My mother died before the famine. My father and brothers were conscripted into the army after the famine hit and the Blood Marsh started to invade. I suppose they died in battle, but I don't really know. One day a sergeant came to our home and told them they had three days to pack their things and report to duty. Three days later I gave each a kiss on the cheek…and never saw them again."

  A pained expression filled Fezi's face. "I am very sorry, Jeina. I…"

  "It's alright," said Jeina. "The truth is that it feels good to think about them again. I haven't really told anyone about them since, since…" since Laiti, Jeina finished wordlessly. The thought conjured fresh horrors in her mind.

  "Do you miss them?" asked Fezi, sensing that Jeina had lapsed back into thought.

  "Yes," said Jeina, surprised at the surge of emotion that shot through her as she spoke. "I mean, we had quarrels like any family, but they loved me. When the famine struck everyone took care of each other as best they could, and we made it through. For months it was only having each other that kept us alive, and just when things looked like they would get better…" Jeina sighed. "In one week, it was gone. All the support, the friendship, everything—gone."

  Fezi, words failing him, looked down and shook his head slowly.

  "That's part of why I became a thief," continued Jeina. "I was hungry, yes, but thieves had a way of taking care of one another, of watching each other's backs, or the good ones did anyway. To me, it felt a little like the family I had lost."

  Jeina fell silent again, but this time the haunting images of the gröljum were tempered by memories of happier days as a child spent amongst her family. Soon, an odd feeling of homesickness was swelling in her chest, and she could not decide which was worse, thoughts of the nightmarish gröljum pursuing them, or realizing just how much she had lost, and how small her hopes were of ever getting it back.

  "What about…that is…is there…was there ever a man in your life?" The question startled Jeina so much she almost slipped from her comfortable position against the tree trunk. For the first time, Jeina really became aware of the fact that Fezi was a man, more than just a traveling companion. He was older than she was, to be sure, but that would not stop anyone from developing feelings. She looked up at him and could see that he was blushing slightly, but otherwise gave no hint that the question was motivated by anything more than curiosity.

  "No," she replied truthfully, but not feeling comfortable enough to elaborate any further. Instead, she asked reflexively, "What about you?"

  For a moment, Fezi seemed stunned, as if he had never considered the possibility that the conversation might turn to his own life. Then, a strange but warm look seemed to steal across his features.

  "Yes," he said, "At least, I hope she still is."

  "What do you mean?" asked Jeina, intrigued.

  "When I was younger, I spent a few months of study away from my home. I had never had much time for women before that, for I was constantly training, learning, and doing small tasks for my father. When I went away, though, for the first time I had some time of my own. She worked for a local tradesman, and I met her one afternoon stalking an enormous beetle that happened to crawl by my quarters. I remember how beautiful she seemed as I watched through my window, with the afternoon sunlight streaming through her unkempt hair and her skin glowing with a slight pink flush of exertion. I don't know what came over me, but I left my studies at my desk and went out to talk with her. It wasn't long before we saw each other regularly, and within a few months we had…"

  "You had what?"

  "We had promised ourselves to one another," replied Fezi, a little sheepishly, while absently placing his hand upon his chest.

  "So she is still waiting for you?" asked Jeina.

  "I hope so, though we haven't spoken for quite a while."

  "When did you last see her?" inquired Jeina, now thoroughly intrigued by this new side of her traveling companion that she was discovering.

  "Years ago," sighed Fezi. "Fifteen at least, maybe more."

  "What!?" cried Jeina. "You hope you are still involved with a woman you haven't seen in over fifteen years?"

  "I…I am not fool enough not to have considered the possibility that she may have moved on with her life, may have found someone else," said Fezi, defensively. "I only hope that she remembers me, as I was then, and has kept a place for me in her heart. That would be enough for me."

  Jeina had to try hard to refrain from snorting. She may have not had much experience with romance, but what little she had seen did not bode well for Fezi's idealistic optimism. Far from leaving a place for him in her heart, the woman had probably cursed Fezi soundly for quite a while after realizing that he was never coming back, or at least not coming back any time within the next two decades. Still, Fezi's gentle attempts at conversation had done much to alleviate Jeina's own worries for the time being, and the least she could do was not compound any of his.

  "Well, for your sake, I hope so too, Fezi," she replied in as earnest a voice as she could muster.

  Long after they finished eating, when the last hint of sunlight disappeared behind the distant mountains to the west, Jeina sat by the sleeping form of Fezi, trying to keep her eyelids from slowly sinking shut. She had offered to keep first watch, partially because she was slightly hesitant to go to sleep. Riding out of the frozen northlands had been cold, and Jeina had often found herself comfortably snuggled around Fezi's sitting body when he woke her for the second watch. At the time she had thought little about it, for it almost seemed a necessity in the deep snows and unforgiving winds of the mountain foothills. Fezi had certainly never done or said anything to make her self-conscious. But after their earlier conversation about family and love, and now that the nights had grown more temperate, Jeina found herself feeling uncomfortable about matters that seemed ludicrous given their situation. Would it offend Fezi if she suddenly chose to sleep apart from him? Had she already accidentally put the beginnings of a romance in his head?

  As if sensing her thoughts, Fezi rolled over, and to Jeina's surprise he wrapped one of his arms around her waist. Anxiously, she glanced at his face, but could see no signs that he was awake. Perhaps, she thought, he was just dreaming of the love he had left behind over fifteen years ago. Still, she felt decidedly uncomfortable in his loose embrace. After a few minutes of squirming in indecision, she resolved that she would get up. She needed to make water anyway, and she would wake Fezi soon for his watch. She stepped a few paces away from the camp and began to undo her pants, but realized that she was still in plain sight of the sleeping Fezi. What if he woke up? Though such worries had never bothered her before, she resolved to walk just a little further behind a small group of bushes that would screen her from the camp. Once Fezi was out of sight, she felt slightly more comfortable, until she felt a hand reach out and clamp over her mouth, and a cold sliver of steel press against her neck.

  "Quiet or knife goes in," said a voice close to her ear in a thick accent. Immediately Jeina's mind was flooded with visions of gröljum, of bonding, of Laiti's limp form sprawled on the cavern floor. She began to whimper, but the hand around her mouth closed ever more tightly, and the skin on her neck stretched taught around the steel.

  "Quiet or knife goes in," hissed the voice again.

  Jeina nodded faintly. The hand on her mouth was almost as black as the night around her, but the skin was warm and supple, not scaly like that
of a gröljum, and the fingers reassuringly human. With a mix of relief and fear, she realized that her assailant was a Curahshar.

  "Walk quiet," said the voice again, "or knife goes in."

  After she had been led a fair distance from the camp, Jeina heard other footsteps join them, and soon saw perhaps a dozen dark shapes moving in the shadows around them. One came up to her assailant, and spoke briefly in a language Jeina could not understand. Her assailant motioned behind him, and a few of the shadowy figures broke off from the group, heading back the way they came. He saw Fezi, thought Jeina. She wanted to yell, to warn Fezi to run from these shadowy attackers, but the firm press of the knife on her throat kept her quiet.

  Soon, she saw lights in the distance, coming from inside small wooden structures thatched with dry grass. It was a small village, quiet at this time of night, and sparsely lit except for a few dwellings on the periphery. Jeina was taken to one of these dwellings, and shoved in the door. An older man was sitting inside by a small fire and nursing a flask of strange brown liquid. When he saw Jeina he shot out of his chair, and loosed a torrent of what Jeina assumed were questions at the man who had brought her. At one point she heard the old man say, "mudman" and Jeina's heart beat faster. If they thought she was from the Blood Marsh, she would have no hope of escaping this predicament unharmed.

  "No!" she cried, "Not mudman!" Immediately, her assailant menaced her with his knife again.

  "Quiet! Or knife goes in," he said, predictably, but did not actually touch the knife to Jeina's skin.

  "Mountain," said Jeina more reservedly, pointing to herself and miming a large mountain. "Mountain, not mudman."

  The old man seemed to relax a bit, and stood regarding Jeina with a puzzled expression on his face.