“From the remains, a cait must have swiped that damn hog I were tracking.” The hunter Logan had been following was explaining, as he set his bow down next to a seat beside the fire, which was nothing more than a tree stump, to rest his behind.
“Hell… wish you bumped into the cait, now that would have been some good grub!” the men laughed together.
“Yeah, can you picture me trying to carry one of them back here by myself?” he threw another log into the fire, poking it in place with the end of a long metal rod, then rubbed his hands together over the flames to warm them.
The third man set a rotisserie of something that looked like a skinned rat, tail intact, and plump mushrooms over the blaze. Logan knew he was disgusted by the thought of eating rats, but his stomach had a different opinion altogether when he smelled the roasting meat. He was both shocked and equally disgusted to find his mouth watering and belly growling.
“Well from the sounds of it you brought something large enough back with you anyhow.” The cook remarked sitting down and turning his head in Logan’s direction. “You can come on out now, stranger.” He commanded. The other two men jumped to their feet, weapons in hand at his statement. They were just as surprised as Logan by the man’s cunning observation.
Standing up straight, he announced his arrival, coughing loudly to clear his throat. He smiled as genuinely as one could with arrows and axes pointed toward themself. Arms raised, palms facing the men, he gave a shrug. “So I guess there is no need to announce myself?” he asked sarcastically.
“Aye, and who in bloody blazes are you then, eh?” the man he had followed to the camp demanded, poking his axe forward. He looked angry indeed to have been unwittingly followed.
“Just another victim of the system, friend.” Logan tried to alleviate the tension by relating to the men. The hunter shared a dark look with the others. This was not going to turn out well if he could not somehow convince these men he meant no harm.
“Look, I wasn’t trying to be sneaky, just wanted to check you out before I revealed myself. You hear a lot of weird stories about the wild lands, can’t know which are true or not, and never thought I would need to anyhow.” He tried to explain his motives, feeling guilty, like a bandit for sneaking up on these men, which seemed like a good idea at the time. He gave the cook a weak smile.
“Settle down boys, no need to get all hostile with our guest.” The man casually called off his men. “Bruno, fetch the lad a chair, will ye?” he ordered the large man, waving Logan to have a seat by the fire. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked.
“Logan Walker, good meet...” he replied evenly, as annoying as it was to be called a kid, there was no reason to let himself get worked up.
“Name’s Maxwell and this here be me house. That there is Bruno and our jumpy friend, who you so easily followed to me house, is Wart.” He introduced the men. While Wart shot Logan a dark look for making him look bad in front of his boss, Bruno plopped down another stump wearing the grin of a dimwit.
“I apologize for the cloak and dagger, after what I’ve been through in Fal, and all the stories of dangers out here, you can imagine my trepidation.” Logan tried to apologize again for his entrance, hoping the men could relate.
“What’s a trepidasie Max?” Bruno asked. Up close around the fire light, Logan could see them better. Maxwell was built like a small ox but his teeth, like those of his companions were rotting or gone entirely. Wart was appropriately named, having three yellow boils on his face, one growing a long black hair, and Bruno was large and pudgy, smelling like old cheese left out to rot.
“Right then, Logan Walker, and I’m sure you will appreciate me companions here being a little quick to overreact, having a stranger traipse unannounced into our home?” he forgave Logan, in a way, telling him no harm no foul, to which he smiled back at the man and gave a nod of acknowledgement.
“Do us a bit o’ damage with that fancy rifle you got there, if ye had wanted, anyhow. Where did a young lad like yourself come across such a fine weapon?” Maxwell asked, stoking the fire with a rusty poker.
“If I’m not mistaken, we didn’t get sent out here by following rules, right Max?” Logan gave him a cocky grin and the men joined in for a laugh.
“What did ye do then to be sent over?” Maxwell probed.
“Me, oh I’m no different than you.” He cryptically offered, immediately sensing it may not have been the best recourse, as Maxwell bristled a bit.
“What’s that supposed to mean then?” Wart asked for his boss.
“Means I’m innocent, must have been a misunderstanding with the law.” Logan chuckled, not backing off.
Silence washed over the group, and the area grew uncomfortable for a moment that stretched on too long, then a low rumbling laugh grew in Maxwell’s floppy belly, rising until he was slapping his knees and howling. The other pair joined in the merriment, though Bruno had no idea why they were laughing.
“I like this kid!” Maxwell proclaimed, settling himself down. He passed out chunks of the cooked rat, which the men eagerly tore into, grease dripping from their lips. Logan tentatively pulled a small piece and sampled it, careful not to show his disgust. The last thing he wanted was to offend his new friends’ hospitality. He found rat meat was tough and greasy at the same time, yet surprisingly satisfying to the hunger pangs wracking his gut. The cook gave a knowing, toothless grin, seeing this was the first time Logan had tried it.
“Ah, you’ll get used to it, kid. I know the feelin’, we all went through it, ‘cept Bruno, he’ll eat anything. Think back to a time when I was repulsed at the idea of eating whatever was available…can’t really say I picture it no more.” Maxwell reflected, staring into the fire, his thoughts drifting to a past Logan could only guess at.
“How long have you been out here?” he asked.
“Long enough.” Wart answered, his companions nodding in agreement.
The four of them sat around the fire sharing stories late into the night. Maxwell was upset by the news of Mr. Beauford’s death; seemed that the stories he had told Logan were true and that when wild landers found Acadian artifacts, the gnome would trade them for rations or supplies. He broke out a tiny glass bottle of clear liquor after dinner to give a toast in the gnome’s memory. They got to know each other by telling their tales, sharing jokes, and even singing a couple fireside odes, until Bruno was passed out in the dirt and Wart had drifted away to his tent to sleep.
“Well, it’s been a good night, it has, but the time has passed for these old bones to get some rest. Ye go ahead now and take Duck’s tent over yonder. He hasn’t needed it for weeks since a grappler got ‘em.” Maxwell said, pointing over to an unoccupied abode and groaning as he rose.
“I sure do appreciate it!” Logan thanked the man.
“Lot’s a dangers out here, kid, get some rest and we can talk more in the mornin’. Start getting you educated right proper to the way of things.” He promised, heading into the largest tent.
As Logan headed to his shelter, he could not help thanking Baetylus for his good fortune, something rare for him to do. Drifting to sleep he wondered what Corbin was thinking about at that moment and wished he could somehow let his brother know he was safe.
“Hold still, country boy.” Jayne teased, as she adjusted the strap around his rounded bicep and pricked a small needle into a vein. The small room they had brought Corbin into was filled with strange devices, unlike anything he had ever known. Small blips played each time a line on one of the glass screens moved. The ceiling was a perfectly rounded white dome that matched the empty walls. It was quite different from the rest of the house they had traipsed him through. Nothing hung on the walls, no lavish carpets or rugs decorated the floor, and light came from a small fire burning in the center of the round room, the flickering flames warming his naked chest.
“There that is the last one,” she said, fixing another of the strange little suction cups to his skin. The thing
s were attached to his temples, arms, chest and back.
“What is all this for again?” Corbin asked, still unsure what he had gotten himself into.
“For the third time, Corbin, these are not part of the ritual. This machine is to monitor your body throughout the process. We wouldn’t want you dying on us now would we?” the girl teased, making Lady Cassandra giggle. He felt completely at ease with this woman, whom he only met this evening, but these little jokes that amused her, scared him to death.
“Where did you get all of these artifacts?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation going so he could ignore the fact that he was nervous.
“I had them designed shortly before building the medical center. These were some of the first units used there. Of course, that was back when the place was still open to everyone in New Fal. When I retired most of this came with me.” Lady Cassandra answered, lamenting the time when all members of their society could freely find medical support when needed.
Corbin scrunched his eyebrows together wondering how old this woman was. Lady Cassandra looked old enough to be his grandmother, but she moved with the strut of a woman half her age. Yet, was not the medical center built ages ago?
“Are we ready, my dear?” she asked her apprentice.
“Yes ma’am!” Jayne replied enthusiastically, giving her an emphatic thumb’s up.
“Okay, Corbin…just as we discussed, fall into your regular meditation routine now. Get in good and deep, I will know when you are there, and then we will begin the ritual.” The Lady guided him to a spot on the floor, where he adjusted his seating and relaxed, crossing his legs. Both hands placed palms up on his knees so Lady Cassandra could drop a tiny lotus petal in each, as he was already drifting deep inside himself, using the rhythm of the machinery to lull him into a meditative trance. Corbin had practiced the art of tuning himself to the world for years with his sensei. He was so mastered in the art that he could walk into a village celebration and still find some focus to center himself around.
Lady Cassandra dropped her cloak, revealing tightly wound wrappings across her breasts and down to her groin, leaving arms and legs bare, as the green covering floated softly to the floor. She began swaying back and forth in a graceful dance, across the fire from Corbin. Arms moved like dancing serpents, while her fingers seemed to play through the air, as if plucking invisible strings. Corbin was already far too lost in himself to see the spectacle, less he may have run from the room as her hands began to radiate a soft light, while she slowly chanted. Lady Cassandra’s voice began to rise with each thrust of her arms, both aimed at his body across the fire. A silky substance shimmered in the air around her fingertips, leaving feint trails of purple light behind them. The chanting grew louder and louder as she fell fully into the dance, eyes now completely white, the light was growing brighter, with more substance, as if liquid were floating in the air. Trailing patterns worked their way into an intricate glyph that circled the air in front of the entranced woman, her fingers delicately tracing the astral design repeatedly.
Lady Cassandra could see the boy’s mind now, not just his thoughts but the core of his neural network, as clear as if it were a room floating in front of her non-corporeal form. She reached deep into his psyche and began her work at forming new patterns. Corbin felt his body grow hot, sweat rolling down to the cold stone floor, and he could hear the woman speaking some strange language, like a dull aching in the recesses of his mind. The glyph had widened, now stretching over the fire, where one tip intersected with his forehead and the other her weaving hands, which seemed to be dancing with a life of their own. Unraveling some of his neural patterns, Cassandra was able to find what she needed. The sorceress carefully created a bridge in his mind, opening a long dormant door, like throwing a switch that invited the energy of the universe to course through an opening in his body. Corbin threw his head back and howled, bright light shooting from his eyes.
“Cassandra, his vitals!!” Jayne shouted out over her master’s chanting.
The sorceress could not stop the process, they were too far along now, she had to tie his mind back up before pulling away and there was no way to go any faster, not that this knowledge kept her from stubbornly trying anyhow. Jayne moved to inject Corbin with a needle of adrenaline, and was gently pushed back by Cassandra’s mind.
“Wait my dear; I need only a moment more.” Her voice spoke in the girls head. She did not argue, understanding that there was much Lady Cassandra knew in the world that made little sense to her. Jayne looked down at the man, who lay sprawled across the floor. His eyes were clearly moving behind closed lids.
“What can he be seeing right now?” Jayne wondered.
Splinters of his soul torn apart, Corbin screamed down into the drowning nothingness, as he felt every fiber of his being pulled forward. He could hear his own screams for miles behind as it trailed his form. Then as suddenly as he was moving forward, he stopped. The room was still gone, leaving him floating in an ethereal void alone, weightlessly spinning head over heel. A stabbing pinprick of light flashed into existence, far away in the center of the abyss, which he reached out for, stretching his arm all the way toward it and begging for release. Corbin’s body was suddenly propelled forward, surging like a bullet, closing the distance between him and the light, which grew larger and larger with a speed that terrified the man.
In another brilliant flash, the void was replaced by a light so overwhelmingly powerful, he had to shield his eyes from its magnificence in awe. All around him there was the sound of light dancing through water, not that this made any sense in his mind, nevertheless there it was, clear as day. Corbin could feel a great presence in the majestic light of this world. Body floating, he tried to peek between his fingers and see what was there with him.
“YOU KNOW ME.” The light around him pulsed, as the words shook the very world in their uttering. This was a great and powerful voice, sounding like shattering glass on his spine.
“Are you... am... I?” he stammered, cowering in fear.
“I. AM. BAETYLUS.”
Corbin’s legs trembled like water, dropping him to his knees. He immediately fell prostrate, rocking back and forth in the holy presence of his god.
“YOUR SOUL IS NOT LOST IN THE AFTERLIFE, MY CHILD.” The god informed him, knowing his every thought, and seeing the man believed he had died somehow during the witch’s ritual.
“Oh…. oooh All-Father, I am not worthy to be in your light.” He groaned pitifully, keeping his face firmly pressed to the crystal ground.
“DO NOT THINK SUCH THINGS, MY SON. ALL ARE DESERVING OF BAETYLUS. I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE SO THAT WE MAY SPEAK.”
“I am but the humblest of servants, my Lord.” The concept that Baetylus had wanted to speak with him seemed to only make Corbin grovel that much deeper. His mind simply could not comprehend what was happening.
“I KNOW. THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN TELL ME, ABOUT YOURSELF, THAT I DO NOT ALREADY KNOW, MY CHILD. BAETYLUS SEES ALL. I WATCHED AS YOU WERE A BABE, I WAS THERE WHEN YOU FIRST PICKED UP THE SPEAR. I HEARD YOUR WORDS WHEN YOU WERE IN ANGUISH, WHEN YOU FELL IN LOVE.”
Images flashed around Corbin of himself throughout his life, as a small child, a young boy crying over his mother’s grave, the first time he kissed Elise, filled with elation, all of it thrust upon him, like glass daggers piercing his psyche, by the All-Father’s will.
“BAETYLUS IS ALL.” His god’s voice grew to an unbearable booming crescendo with the proclamation.
“Blessed be thy glory, All-Father.” Corbin chanted instinctively.
“YOU WILL PROVE YOUR FAITH, MY SON.” An image of Logan huddled over Beauford, bloody knife in hand, shouting at the guards to stop, shot at him.
“YOU MUST STOP YOUR BROTHER. YOUR PEOPLE FACE GRAVE DANGER.”
“What kind of danger, oh Holy One?” he begged for understanding.
More images assaulted Corbin, faster and faster like the strikes of coiled vipers stinging h
is mind. Bodies lay all over the capitol, the waters of Riverbell filled with blood, Elise had maggots crawling out of her empty eye sockets. Corbin screamed in horror, his mind reeling on the brink of madness, and Baetylus pulled back, lessening his might over the mortal. He lay there gasping for air, drool running down his chin and the taste of blood filling his mouth from where he had bit into his own lip.
After a few minutes of silence, he was able to stammer out some semblance of speaking again. “Is this our future, oh Mighty Lord from above? Is this what will happen to the people of New Fal?”
“THIS IS BUT ONE PATH. A FUTURE YOU CAN PREVENT FROM COMING TO FRUITION MY SON. BE BRAVE, FOR I WILL ALWAYS BE THERE BESIDE YOU. YOU MUST NOT FAIL IN BRINGING YOUR BROTHER BACK TO FAL.”
“I will not fail Great All-Father.” Corbin replied, deeply determined to see his Lord’s will done.
“GO NOW, READY YOURSELF. THIS JOURNEY IS ONLY BEGINNING. WE WILL SPEAK AGAIN, MY SON.”
Corbin had so many questions for his god, his mind raced to grasp just one. He wanted to weep, to not be in his glory anymore, as the world exploded into glass shards all around him, enveloping his soul in darkness.
A stinging slap to the cheek opened Corbin’s eyes, to see Jayne standing over him holding an empty needle. Behind her, in his fuzzy vision, Lady Cassandra was covering her old, tired body back up under a dark green cloak. In the distance, still echoing through his mind, the ill omen Baetylus gave rang over and over.
Secrets of the Elders Kindle Version Page 17