The Zi'veyn: The Devoted Trilogy, Book One

by Kim Wedlock

Their luck continued along such lines for hours. They left the first room and entered another that had remained magically sealed despite the centuries, then another after that, and another after that. Rathen had searched them all for magic, but any time he'd discovered anything and Kienza had unlocked them in his place, there was nothing inside but more disappointing trivialities. Aria similarly pulled on candelabras, tilted pictures, pushed walls and pulled cabinets, but her search for hidden rooms and compartments came up just as empty.

  Rathen had hoped that Kienza might encourage them to stay a little longer despite this, having perhaps found something herself but preferring them to find it on their own - she often only helped him as far as getting him started before leaving him to make it the rest of his way by himself. But she hadn't once spoken up and her absent, childlike interest in the contents of every room hadn't wavered. She read scrolls, studied pictures, opened drawers and peered behind cabinets as if she was merely window-shopping.

  It wasn't until the top and final room of the tower, where everyone shared a distinct sense of hopelessness, that Anthis decided to divulge that he'd actually found something after all. But that restraint was only testament to how feeble the discoveries were if the excitable young man couldn't muster even a premature gasp of hope when he'd found them - three floors ago.

  "It's not much," he admitted mildly as he continued to pore over the dusty journal he'd brought up with him, though his eyes seemed to be under some kind of magnetic influence as he fought to keep them from wandering onto a number of the irrelevant parchments he'd found in that same room, "but it's the only mention I've found in here."

  His dismissive attitude wasn't shared by the others. That honour fell to Rathen's incredulous stare. "They wanted to use it against the gods?!"

  "Well, they certainly thought about it. Lots of 'what if's and 'if we could just's and so on." He grunted thoughtfully. "It was the pinnacle of their arrogance, really..."

  "It doesn't sound like it's of any use to us."

  Anthis nodded in agreement with the inquisitor, though he still didn't look up. In fact, his eyes finally gave in to the pull of the papers. "It's nothing more than symbolism really, albeit from a pivotal point in the collapse of their culture. If they'd succeeded in creating something capable of removing or blocking the magic of a god, be it an artefact or just the spell itself, it would have secured their superiority over Vastal and Zikhon, the bestowers of their own magic. Theorising may not be the same as doing, but, in this case, it's enough. They were bold enough to think about it, and think thoroughly. With just these words they completely cut their ties from the gods and made their magic their own..."

  "Really?" Rathen frowned sceptically. "It was that easy? Just some words on paper?"

  "When you're dealing with things as intangible as gods and beliefs, words become extremely powerful. With 'just some words on paper' they had forsaken their ancestors and their history. But Garon is right: it's of no use to us. This line of thought was probably a divergence from the creation of the artefact we're after, but it won't help us find it.

  "Otherwise," he continued, dragging his eyes back to the parchment he held in the same hand as the journal, "all I've found are repeats of what I've found before, most notably that the artefact against the elves and the suppressant against humans were separate items, but there's still no confirmation on anything else. The only thing we know for sure is where the weapon was made, and, now, both of their names."

  "So we can stop calling it 'the artefact' now?" Petra sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. It sounds pretentious. And cumbersome."

  "I doubt you'll like this any better. Itakh which means 'Balancer', and Zikrahlehveyn, which means 'Preserver of Eternity'. But, fortunately for us, even the elves who named it found it too foreboding and shortened it to Zi'veyn instead, which means 'Eternal Magic'. Which sort of makes the weapon seem less imposing, to my mind, but then again I don't possess magic, so..."

  Everyone stared back at him, blinking absently as they tried to process the jumble of syllables he'd spoken so easily despite the riddle of exotic nuances, while Kienza simply smiled and shook her head, her forest-brown curls bouncing. "Oh, Anthis." Her voice was tinged with a note of genuine pity. "No."

  He looked towards her quizzically.

  "'Preserve' in this case doesn't refer to the item," she explained quite simply, "but its intention, and even then it's a...matter of perspective. And as for 'eternity', that doesn't refer to time."

  The renowned young historian lowered his hand and poured his attention onto her, his eyes both sceptical and intrigued.

  "Zikrahlehveyn," she declared, speaking the word as easily and presumably as flawlessly as Anthis had. "'Zi' of zii, not zin. 'Eternal', not 'forever'. Unstoppable, inescapable, unending. Zii carries the full weight of the word; it is academic, while zin is more suited to a child's exaggeration. And it's 'leh' of lehiin, not lehzan. 'Preserve', not 'protect'. To disallow change or diversity."

  Anthis's brow had gradually become tightly furrowed and, when she'd finished, his eyes dropped quickly back to the parchment. He seemed to read the word over and over and over again, mumbling to himself and bobbing his head from side to side in consideration. When he looked back up, his eyebrows had risen surprisingly high. "It is. 'Eternal Preservation' - their superiority... You're right."

  "What does that change?" Rathen frowned in confusion as he struggled to keep up.

  "Nothing for your task," Kienza assured them as Anthis's gaze dropped back down again.

  "Right." He squeezed his eyes shut tight and tried to shake the new yet useless information away. "And zik--zika--"

  "Zikrahlehveyn," Anthis supplied. "Zi'veyn."

  "Yes. That one. That's the one we're after?"

  "Yes."

  "And this is all you've discovered?"

  "It is." He looked up again as he felt their expectation bearing down on him, and he finally lowered the ancient texts and squared himself towards them. "This place has been scoured and picked clean over seven hundred years," he reminded them. "In fact, elven anarchists could have taken everything themselves and scattered it across the continent. What we have right here is the best we're going to get."

  "What about hidden passages?" Petra asked.

  "None," Kienza replied.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "Because Aria has been unable to find any," she said, glancing down at the young girl who looked both disappointed in her lack of success, as well as to blame for it. "And I can't either. Anthis is right: there's nothing else here. You were lucky to have found this much."

  "And I didn't say this place would yield anything," Anthis quickly added.

  A careful menace filled Rathen's eyes, and the young man inched back as he took a step towards him. "It was at the top of your list."

  "Which means we have two more places to try."

  "You're still not counting where it was made."

  "I don't think we're that desperate yet..."

  "I am inclined to differ..."

  "Enough."

  The two stopped, their attention snatched away from one another by Garon's official tone. "Magically frozen or not, we're risking our lives by staying here unnecessarily. We need to leave. Anthis, what is your next best guess?"

  He smiled doubtfully. "...You're not going to like it."

  Garon stared at him patiently.

  "The elves' cultural capital - Enhala."

  "That's in Kasire!" Petra protested. "A desert stands between there and here!"

  "And that desert is tribal territory," Rathen added just as hotly.

  "We can edge around it--"

  "No," Garon shook his head. "We shouldn't." All eyes fell on him in disbelief. "Ivaea and Kasire are brokering a treaty so the fighting over there is at a stand-still, and with Skilan's campaign against us having only just begun, we're safer cutting through tribal territory. We can avoid Skilan's military movements - they won't want to pass through that terrain, nor encounter the tri
bes."

  "For very good reason!"

  Garon sighed. "The wind and earth tribes in that region haven't yet gone to war with one another, and while the situation is still tense, neither side will attack travellers in case they are somehow affiliated with the other. And we are too few to be considered a threat to either."

  "You give them far more credit than they deserve," Rathen growled warily.

  "That may be, but my point still stands."

  All eyes remained in doubt upon the inquisitor, but as Kienza silently nodded her agreement from beside him, Rathen's shoulders sagged in defeat. He found that small gesture immensely more convincing than Garon's misplaced confidence. He grunted and folded his arms. "I never thought I'd have to cut through tribal territory as a means of safe travel..."

  "Fortunately," Anthis chirped, "assuming we travel as the crow flies, there's a ruin along the way that could be of use to us, if it's one of these magnetic places. It's where the elves used to praise Feira, but given its location, only the most devoted could participate in the ceremonies."

  "Vastal's face of...nature?" Aria looked at him hopefully, and she beamed as she received a nod of surprise and approval from the young man.

  But Rathen's incredulity had returned tenfold. "I'm not so sure that's 'fortunate'!" He blustered. "You're suggesting we enter tribal territory, and you, Anthis, are suggesting we linger there! Both of you seem to have forgotten what the tribes are like - shall I remind you?" No one answered, though Aria turned eyes of fascination up towards him. "Barbarians, at the best of times, but the majority of them are made to look civilised compared to the isolated groups! The ones high in the mountains, on the edge of volcanoes, in the very desert you want us to trek through! And they have no idea what 'civilised' means! They've been cut off from most of their own people for centuries. At least the tribes along the east are close enough to us to have grown to the point of understanding trade, but the rest have had no such example! And they are cannibals!"

  "You sound afraid."

  "Of course I'm afraid!"

  "As am I," Petra admitted with considerably more control, and she turned grave eyes between the historian and inquisitor. "What makes either of you think they won't attack us?"

  "Nothing more than wishful thinking," Rathen replied tartly.

  "They will help you," Kienza began calmly, "because the site Anthis has mentioned is in fact sorely affected, and it's sacred to them. If you tell them what you're doing, they may be more inclined to listen. And either way, you won't be able to get near it without their consent anyway. If you try, you'll be putting yourselves in even greater danger."

  Rathen scrutinised her for a long moment, his eyes deep and calculating. "Is this your way of telling us that it's the right course of action?"

  "Why ever would I be telling you that?"

  His gaze didn't break. "Is it?"

  "Well I think it could certainly help you, so we'll go with 'yes'."

  Rathen squeezed his eyes shut tightly as a thousand thoughts - mostly doubts - hurtled through his mind, but he knew despite them, though he wished otherwise, that Kienza was quite often right. About everything.

  And if Garon wished to go that way, he had no choice but to follow.

  Again his shoulders dropped in defeat, and he opened his eyes. The inquisitor didn't appear troubled - his thoughts were hidden, as usual - and the unreasonable brightness in Anthis's eyes only increased his cynicism. It was likely that the historian was thinking only about furthering his personal research than any of their safety. Only Petra seemed to share in his trepidation, but even she looked as if she could push it aside if she really had to.

  Rathen sighed in his greatest resignation. "Vastal, save us all." He turned to Kienza. "This--"

  "Shh..."

  He frowned at her sharp interruption, but he knew better than to ask. Her dark, piercing eyes had become troubled, and though her gaze was intense, it wasn't focused upon anything nearby.

  They glanced warily at one another, straining their ears for whatever had grasped her attention so completely. But they didn't have to wait long to find out. A shrill avian screech pierced the air, so loud and so close it would surely bring the tower down itself, and it turned their blood to ice.

  "I thought we lost them!" Anthis yelled, alarm tightening his grip about the parchments, but as he and the others covered their ears, Garon braced himself, drew his sword and prepared for the impending attack, turning to face the largest hole in the wall as plaster crumbled around it.

  Petra quickly freed her own blade, but as Rathen followed, raising his hands to ready a spell, Kienza whispered an apology and his world suddenly went dark.

  She caught him as he slumped on the spot, lowering his limp body carefully to the ground even as huge, feathered forms began diving in through the shattered wall. Garon swung his blade in the tight space with undeniable skill, but he may as well have been swatting at flies. The harpies avoided his every attack as if he wasn't even there, and Petra's just the same, and yet still they had the opportunity to snatch their sharp and gleaming black talons out towards them with every sweeping pass.

  "Against the walls!" Garon shouted while their assailants darted back outside for another sudden strike, and as Kienza turned her attention to the harpies' point of entrance, the rest of the group was quick to obey - except for Aria.

  Garon cursed as the child hesitated between running to her father's side or joining the others at the nearest wall, and that brief, single moment had left her exposed. A deep-beige harpy suddenly burst in through another crack on the far side of the room, and its sights were set keenly upon her. She spun around immediately, and though she scrambled to her feet rather than freezing in fright, she was still too late. It would catch her all too easily. But no sooner had she chosen the direction furthest from the beast than Garon barrelled in beside her, shoving her unceremoniously out of the harpy's path and grasping it by its scaled foot.

  With a quick, backwards shift of his weight he sought to drag it off-track, but its wings were too powerful. With little more than an irritated squawk, it turned abruptly, wrenching his arm in the process, and made for a hole any would have guessed too narrow even for this creature's lean form. It was not, but fortunately Garon was much too broad to follow.

  Before he could even release his grip, the beast was gone, and he grunted in pain as he slammed into the wall after it, his shoulder twisting in its socket as his catch freed itself with another rough jerk.

  More harpies dove in from all around them - one even ripped more of the decaying wall away as easily as meat from a carcass - and they continued to sweep through the air and snatch at them before diving out to try again from another direction. Petra continued her attempts to slice and stab at them as they passed, but as always, they remained just out of reach of her blade.

  It seemed to each of them that they were finally at the mercy of their relentless pursuers. And so the room fell into a brief, stunned silence as one of them flew directly into a wall.

  It could have simply been poor judgement in the chaos of the moment, but another shortly did the same, and then a displaced gale suddenly pummelled them all, snatching their questions away.

  Kienza had given up trying to block the holes. Her gale couldn't have been walked through, let alone flown against, and she easily blew them back outside, emptying the room of harpies without causing them injury - for the most part - as Petra and Garon had sought to do.

  But no sooner had the final tail feathers vanished from sight than the door burst open, and they jointly assumed that they'd taken to using the stairs instead - but what stormed in on joyful war cries were not avian giants, but small, pale-skinned, big-eyed children, their slender bodies caked in mud and leaves with slingshots and sharpened sticks in their hands.

  The harpies darted back in after circling around outside, but their attention was now fixed exclusively upon the ditchlings. Their yellow eyes glinted with hatred as they rushed upon them, reaching with
their talons to rip rather than snatch, but the small and wily ditchlings were able to confuse their attackers by wending and weaving around one another, avoid their reach by scrambling over and under the wreckages, and yet still manage to successfully strike them with their crude weapons in the process.

  It took a moment for their surprise at these new arrivals to pass as they darted around them like armed mice, bellowing and piping nonsensical noises while waving about their spears, but Kienza appeared to have adjusted almost immediately.

  The ditchlings quickly fell victim to the force of her gale, knocking them all away from the harpies and sending some tumbling back down a small mountain of plaster and ceiling. But they weren't troubled, if they even noticed, and with childlike determination, they got back up and charged in again. So she knocked them back a second time while equally holding the harpies at bay. But with her attention being pulled in so many directions, and Petra and Garon's attempts to take advantage of the distraction only contributing to the confusion, she simply couldn't keep track of everything. Two harpies managed to free themselves from the spiralling wind to dive upon the wild children, ripping cries of pain from their victims as their talons pierced their painted shoulders. The others roared in anger as their comrades were lifted into the air and dragged towards the holes, though they kicked, screamed and jabbed with their spears as they went, refusing to be carried off without a fight.

  Kienza growled in frustration as the matter began moving out of her control. With a far less elegant spell, she tore the three captive ditchlings back from their grasp, doing their shoulders a little more damage in the process, then turned her piercing emerald eyes onto the harpies and shrieked as if she was one of them.

  The room was stunned to stillness. Garon, Petra, Anthis and Aria stared at her in shock; the seven ditchlings covered their ears and grinned wickedly towards the harpies; the harpies themselves stalled mid-flight and peered down at her in both astonishment and some kind of comprehension before wheeling about and fleeing through the countless breaches.

  Garon spun around and peered through the nearest gap, watching them fly away in their confusion. Not one of them cast even a momentary glance behind them.