by Ijaz, Usman
"Where did you go to?"
" I was playing marbles."
"Well, we must hurry back. Alexis returned with the horses and we are ready to depart."
Connor followed her back to the inn. He looked back once, thinking to perhaps see Iris somewhere down there, but he didn’t see her. At the inn, the horses stood saddled and waiting.
They put Lacon to their backs that morning and headed north-east once more.
Chapter 29
Iris
1
Amon kept his quiet as he trudged up the narrow stairs, the girl following him with her head down. He kept his quiet as they entered their room, and then as he closed the door. The girl stood before him, knowing full well she was about to be rebuked. She stared at the floor with her hands clasped behind her back. Amon studied her: a girl nearing fourteen, her true beauty well in the stages of blossoming, her assassin’s skills not apparent outwardly but rather a child’s wistful longing. Did I raise her wrong by keeping her from indulging in her childish whims? he wondered. Will she forever now possess the heart of a child, yearning for what she was denied?
She reminded him too much of the whore who had given birth to her. Looking at her, Amon reflected on the strange twist of fate that had brought the girl and him together. After years of traveling and growing his skills as an assassin, he had returned to the slum where he had grown up and learned all of life’s harsh truths. In his first night back in Mahdenpoor he had gone to a brothel, hoping to find the whore who had once loved him out of pity. That it had been out of pity, he was certain, for he had had no coin then to pay her with. But she had been the only one who had not regarded him as though he were a vile snake. She gave some sense of love to him freely, where once he’d had to force it upon some unfortunate soul. But it had been as far as their relationship went. Even then he had been incapable of truly loving anyone. She satisfied his basic urges, and that had been all that he needed.
She still lived and worked at the brothel, he found. She had been surprised to see him, but not as much as he was at the sight of the little girl that clung to her leg. The girl that she claimed was his daughter. He left the whore then, telling her if she so much as mentioned it to him again, he would kill both her and the child. He never went back to her.
He found the girl in the cold two months past, shivering in the torn rags she wore. Amon stood and watched as her frightened gaze shifted from face to face, her wide-eyed innocence begging for help. No help for you, he thought. Not in this world. He judged the girl to be of five years of age. He admitted that the lines of her face were similar to his. Nonetheless, he had been ready to turn his back on her - after all, what was she but a bastard spawned by a bastard - until he saw the ridicule she suffered from children who were clearly her betters. No street urchins were they, but the sons and daughters of nobles, wrapped in furs and silk. He watched as they threw pieces of bread at her, always out of her reach, and laughed as she darted from one to another. For a long time he stood and watched her be the butt of their japes. Perhaps it reminded him too much of his own time spent on the streets, or perhaps it was the look on her face, as though wondering if this misery was all the world was composed of, but his feet were carrying him across the street before he’d made up his mind. The other children had left, and the girl sat alone as Amon approached her. Her wide, haunted eyes looked up at him, as though wondering what new misery was about to befall her. There was no recognition in those eyes. She had forgotten him if she’d ever marked him in the first place. Amon hunched down before her and met her gaze levelly.
“I can teach you so that you never have to fear any other, but have them fear your shadow.”
For a long time she had simply stared into him. Then she stood up, wiping mucus from her nose, and took hold of his hand. Eventually he learned that her mother had died of sickness and the owner of the brothel had turned her out.
Amon stared at the girl as she stood before him now, and wondered how odd it was that at times she could be as cold as him, and at other times walk about open to the world. She was nearly a woman now, far from the child he had found and raised. He wondered why she hadn’t inherited his indifferent cruelty as well as his physical attributes.
“Did you enjoy your game?” he asked her coldly.
“Amon, I--”
“Would you have noticed them if they had walked right past you while you were playing your idiotic game?”
A fierce light came in her eyes then. “We do not even know what they look like, Amon. This whole mission seems a waste.”
The statement startled him for a moment. His hand flicked out and caught her hard on her left cheek. The sound seemed loud in the small room. The back-handed blow sent her back a step. She met his gaze with one that was full of hurt and surprise. He had struck her plenty of times before this, often for a smaller offense, so he didn’t know why she should look surprised.
“The damn mission does not matter,” Amon told her. “What matters is that we uphold our reputation. Now be quick and pack your belongings. I want to be out of this god forgotten place within the hour.” The girl obeyed him silently. He hoped she harbored some resentment towards him, a loathing that he could turn against others in time.
Within half an hour, with the sun still short of its midday perch, the two priests were on the road. Amon looked back towards Lacon once, then settled in his saddle and stared ahead. Soon they were riding at a canter, leaving dust in their wake, black robes flying in the wind like banners. He knew their prey was close, he could almost feel it, and this strange and powerful certainty had him looking all around them, expecting to see the Legionnaire and the boy. He had hoped to find them in Lacon, judging it to be a likely spot if they were traveling north from Mareth. The Legionnaire and the Ascillian could have taken ship, he knew, but he didn’t think they would have snared themselves like that. A ship offered little chance of escape. It would have been easy for them to escape Sune by ship and perhaps make berth somewhere along the coast of Kumai, or perhaps into the outskirts of the Ruins, which would take them closer to Teihr, but Amon didn’t think they would have risked it. The people in Arcadia might dismiss the rumors from the south as fabrications, but he knew that many were the truth. For a time the boy and the Legionnaire had been held in the town of Sune. Not once though had he considered changing their path toward the south and trying to intercept their prey; he knew full well where they were heading.
He glanced towards the girl, wondering if the intent focus in her eyes would hold when the time came. It had better, or else her future will be filled with one beating after another.
2
Even as he lay in the comfort of his wife’s arms, Aeiron couldn’t take his mind off what might be happening so far out of his reach. His wife slept next to him, her breathing a steady rhythm against his chest, yet his thoughts were a thousand miles distant. Shadows covered their spacious sleeping chamber, giving every table and chair an air of mystery. Outside the tall glass doors that gave way to a white balcony the wind howled, heralding the storm that was to come. Aeiron watched the shadows as equally dark questions plagued his mind. At last he gently removed Jayne’s arm from his chest and crawled out of bed. Wrapping a thick robe about himself he headed to the glass doors to stare out into the night. There were no stars out, he saw; the skies were a thick mass of murky darkness. The chill that crept in from the cracks of the door made the hair on his body try to rise. Nonetheless, he slid open one of the doors and quietly exited onto the balcony.
The cold hit him at once, snatching away the warmth of the room at his back. The wind flapped his robe around him, as though attempting to snatch that as well. Aeiron moved to the balustrade and peered below. There was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen; guards patrolling the outer walls, a few servants and pages scurrying around through the courtyards on some errand. He tried to take peace in that, in knowing that everything was as it should be, but found that he could not. His gaze lifted to the surrounding city. T
he City of Lights, Grandal was often called, and the view before his eyes told him why. Street lamps were lit on every street, casting small pools of warm light every few feet. Even in the night he could feel the moving beauty of the great city around him. Every street was straight as a sword and broad enough to allow a flood of people to pass without hindering one another, and many of the buildings were painted a white that seemed to withstand the winds of change. Shingles capped most buildings, while others were domed and some roofed in red slate. At high noon those buildings would catch and hold the sun’s glare, making the city glow like a crystal lamp. Aeiron knew this was how the city had looked in the time of his father, and felt a profound pride that he had managed to keep it unchanged when so much around them was changing too quickly. The City of Lights should forever be bright, he thought. Some might prefer the morose beauty of Gale or the nonchalant architecture of the Seven States, but he didn’t think any city could do for him what Grandal did.
And yet it may all come to an end soon.
He sighed. As he breathed in the chill air, he no longer saw the greatness of his city, but rather how it might look if all his plans fell apart. He longed to go to the room where the Krillen was kept, and wait there as he had found himself doing so many of these nights, to perhaps see if it would show him something of Alexis and the Ascillian child. It hadn’t shown him anything before, and he knew it would remain quiet this night as well. His eyes drifted past the city and rested along the dark horizon. Nemar had brought him the rumors pouring out of Sune, rumors of an Ascillian still alive. His seer assured him that many didn’t pay much heed to them, for there were always people quick to accuse another as an Ascillian simply because their eyes were a lighter shade, but Aeiron couldn’t rest knowing the dangers that now faced Alexis and the child. They had already barely escaped certain death, but how would they fare if they were caught again? Three Legionnaires had already paid a high price. If the one that now remained fell, then where would that leave him? Where would that leave them all?
Michael’s remains had come to them just three days gone, and he had been buried with all honors. In his heart Aeiron didn’t think that would be the last name among the fallen for this secret cause. A part of him wondered, But why must it be a secret? If only the other nations were aware of the threat ....
He stared out into the dark, no longer feeling the cold, and wondered how he might proceed if Alexis got the boy safely to Gale. Perhaps it is time to bring the other nations into this plot ... it can’t be done alone. It might prove more problematic than anything else, he knew, but he also knew that those quarrels and struggles for power would be nothing in the face of the darkness that waited in the Ruins.
Aeiron watched the world shrouded in night, and felt at ease knowing that this, at least, was only a passing darkness. He couldn’t imagine it remaining like this for the rest of eternity. The first drops of rain began to fall as he headed back inside.
Chapter 30
The Road to Gale
1
Adrian lay on the hard cold ground with only a thin blanket to keep away the chills of the earth, and another to keep away the wind. Sleep was long coming, and not because he feared the dreams. The dreams had stopped, as his mother had promised, but he found himself wishing for one more glimpse of her, nonetheless. Such was his sorrow. Instead his mind was bent on thoughts of their immediate future. They had crossed into Teihr earlier that day, but Gale was still far and out of sight. It was in these hours, when sleep was a distant yearning, that his thoughts snared and held him. He couldn’t clear his mind and sink into weariness; instead he must lie awake and contemplate what tomorrow might bring, no longer full of the naive certainty that he would be alive by next evening.
Adrian knew, without having to be told, that the most caution must come from him. One clear look into his face could jeopardize his companions and himself. They didn’t deserve that, not for aiding him. He kept his gaze on his pommel as they passed others on the roads, even if the strangers weren’t looking directly at them. He didn’t try to comfort himself with the thought that all their need for caution would disappear if they reached Gale. He didn’t dare fool himself.
Adrian turned over and looked at Connor's sleeping form. His cousin's back was to him, so he couldn’t tell if Connor was asleep or not. The bruises and scars around Connor’s throat were fading, but Adrian worried that his cousin would forever bear a mark to remind him of his brush with death. His own bruises and welts had nearly disappeared, easing the constricting pressure on his throat. He looked towards where Leah lay beyond Connor, her back turned to him as well, and then to where Alexis had lain his blankets. The Legionnaire’s blankets lay empty and crumpled. He could feel the man somewhere in the night, sitting still as a statue.
Adrian lay awake and reflected on the heavy moods of the company. He couldn’t ever remember them being a merry company, submerged in danger as they always were, but he had never seen them all this disheartened either. It seemed to him that of late there was an odd air of trepidation amidst their company, as though they all feared what might be ahead but couldn’t explain why they should feel so. Adrian felt the same mixture of anxiety and fear, and as he thought on it, something in his mind whispered that the end was drawing at hand, and that they were all simply working their way to admitting it. Was that what the others felt? he wondered. As the road carried them closer to Gale, did their apprehension deepen? He veered his mind off that path, realizing that it helped him not at all.
He sat up then and searched the flat plains around their campsite. Only the movement of Alexis’s dark hair stirring in the breeze betrayed his position from several yards away. Adrian watched him for a few moments, realizing that he had at first glance mistaken him for a dark mound. He pushed away the blankets and stood up. The night wasn’t pure darkness, but rather full of a dim brightness induced by the stars out in all their numbers and a sickle moon. One of the horses raised its head and watched him as he walked past the sleeping animals. Alexis turned his head to watch him approach and take a seat beside him. For a few moments neither one broke the placid silence that hung upon the world. They simply sat and watched the dots of lights displayed against the black sky.
“We’re not far from Gale now,” Alexis said at last. “Another day or so should get us there.”
Adrian noted the reluctance that had crept into the Legionnaire’s voice. “Are you worried we’ll meet danger there?”
“There’s danger all around us,” Alexis said. He met Adrian’s gaze, and seemed to understand the run of his thoughts and that he wanted more of an answer. He sighed. “Gale is home to me ... and yet it’s not. It’s an odd place of memories for me. I don’t look forward to encountering all those emotions again so soon.”
Adrian sat quietly, his mind digesting the Legionnaire’s words. He felt Alexis’s reluctance to even speak of it, and decided to let the matter go. “Alexis ... what will we do when we reach Gale?”
“What do you believe we should do?”
Adrian looked out to the night sky. “I think we should try and get others’ help. We can’t do this by ourselves.”
“And whose help do you think we should get?”
“King Aeiron’s ... and perhaps your cousin will be able to do something to aid us.”
“Perhaps,” Alexis said, but he didn’t sound enthused about it. “As for Grandal, every day carries us further away. Help from there will be a long time coming ... but it might be all that is left to us.”
“What of your father?”
Alexis smiled wanly. “It is hard to say anything of certain about my father.”
“But you told Connor and me to go to him if we lost you, and you told the same to Leah. He must be able to help us.”
Alexis’s face darkened and his grim smile faded. “Perhaps, Adrian. But I think we are getting ahead of ourselves. We must first reach Gale.”
Silence settled between them once more. Adrian said, “And then to the Ruins?”
>
“Yes.”
Silence descended once more. “I’m not sure I can touch the Source, Alexis.” The words came out reluctantly from Adrian. He didn’t want to break the Legionnaire’s faith in him. “I’ve seen it in my dreams, always within reach, and yet it always shatters and falls to pieces as I watch.”
Alexis studied him closely. “But you don’t touch it?”
“I -- I don’t think so; it’s hard to remember it all clearly.”
Alexis let out a deep breath. He looked as though he resisted voicing something on the edge of his tongue. At last he said, “A small hope, it may be, but what else do we have to hold on to?”
Adrian nodded glumly. Sitting there with the Legionnaire, speaking aloud the thoughts plaguing their minds, he felt he could tell Alexis anything. “I ... I wish everyone else knew what we’re fighting for. Perhaps then ... they wouldn’t fear the Ascillians as much, and our journey would be made easier.”
Alexis watched the night as he answered. “If everyone knew, how much safer would we be? You must realize that aside from scholars and philosophers most people have never heard of the Source, and those who know of it have only legends and bits of information to go on. But that wouldn’t stop them from wanting it. Especially if it will grant them greater power. It is simply the way the mind of man works; we all crave more power, to change events around us, until the day we die and realize how futile it all really is in the end.”
“And why do you help us?” Adrian asked curiously.