by Dan O'Brien
“You are troubled. I sense that there are those speaking ill of me, that they fill your head with lies and deceit,” spoke Fe’rein. His voice was ever like a professor or a historian, each word in rhythm.
“That’s not fair. Takes the fun out of saying anything,” mused E’Malkai, throwing a mock punch at his uncle. To which Fe’rein parried, even though he pretended it had come much faster than he could have anticipated.
He knew that in the House of Di’letirich there was no need for him to play the part of mion. “Indeed, but you are troubled,” he replied, reinforcing his initial words.
E’Malkai hesitated, averting his gaze for a moment. Fe’rein cocked an eyebrow. “There is much going on: with the trials of Tal’marath and the Resistance.”
Fe’rein let his apprehension slide and flashed a tight, grim smile. “There will always be battles to fight, E’Malkai, though hopefully not for you. May you live your whole life without ever having to take a life.”
“But I am training to be a ward––your ward. There will be a need for me to fight at your side.” Strangely, the talk made E’Malkai giddy despite the warnings that whispered in the back of his mind.
Fe’rein smiled. “I had forgotten that you were to undertake them. You will make a great warrior, E’Malkai, your father would be proud.” His words tapered off and he lowered his head, growing silent.
The youth and Fe’rein were the same height. E’Malkai bent in closer upon seeing the pained look on Fe’rein’s face. “I will do my father proud,” he whispered.
Fe’rein’s head snapped back into place. The power he possessed crawled over his eyes. Red and black lines intermingled like horrific dead vines through his eyes before they dissipated as he met the youth’s gaze.
“I imagine you will at that.”
E’Malkai jogged forward, staying alongside Fe’rein. The youth admired the wealth of power that his uncle walked with. E’Malkai thought that the others were mistaken, that his uncle was none of those terrible things. “Do you want to see my mother and Elcites? I am sure they would like to see you.”
The line of Fe’rein’s grimace slackened at E’Malkai’s exuberance. He nodded and allowed himself to be led into the common room of the House of Di’letirich. The room had been tinted over for the day and the shades drawn all the way around it. Only an illuminated globe on the center table cast any light over the room.
Leane and Elcites sat opposite each other. Silence had descended, but it appeared that they had been amidst a heated discussion only moments before. Elcites was the first to stand, bowing quickly and moving away from the comfortable seat across from Leane.
“My mion,” he spoke as he bowed gracefully, more so than any other Umordoc was capable of. Even Fe’rein took note of that. His distaste for Umordoc was strong.
“Guardian Elcites, I take care in knowing that you watch over my nephew with your life,” returned Fe’rein with a bow. He did not look directly at the Umordoc. Sitting down across from Leane, he crossed one leg over the other. He fixed her with a complacent glance as E’Malkai moved alongside Elcites.
“He just got here, mom. Found me out on the balcony.”
His tone belied his maturity.
“I see that. How are you, Fe’rein?” She refrained from using his formal title. Had there been another there, it could easily have been a rather tense and uncomfortable display.
“Quite well. I see that the House of Di’letirich has served you well,” began Fe’rein, looking around the room with a twinge of a smile. “Appears that you are well taken care of, pampered even?” His eyebrow arched with noticeable mockery.
Leane sniffed angrily, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not nearly as well as a Creator whom a city bows before,” returned Leane with equal rancor. Her face was a thin line of dissatisfaction. The silence between them was nearly a tangible one.
E’Malkai shirked away from the battle of furrowed brows.
“I will not have this argument with you again, Leane. This will not bring back Seth, nor will it change what has happened,” snapped Fe’rein.
“Nor will I sit here and pretend that your presence does not affect me. Or that you sitting there serves as a reminder that the only man that I have ever loved is gone forever and what stands in his place is his brother, a man who should revel in his memory, but instead hides and shrouds it from others so they may not know.”
Leane stood suddenly. Flashing another angry glare at Fe’rein, she stormed from the room. Fe’rein sighed, sitting deeper into the plush cushioning of the chair and lacing his fingers together on his knee.
“Your mother and I have a past, one of which we should not speak,” remarked Fe’rein without looking at E’Malkai. His hard stare was set forward as he spoke. “Your father, Seth, was a great man by any standard, and a selfless one at that. She misses him very much. I am a reminder of that.”
E’Malkai moved around Fe’rein’s seat, taking up the one that Leane had just sat in. Bending forward, his hands on his knees, he had a curious glean in his eyes. “Will you tell me about my father?”
Fe’rein smiled despite himself.
He bowed his head.
Memories washed over him, fading the smile quickly. It was replaced by the same tight lip that he presented always, bitterness or otherwise. “What would you like to know about him?”
“Anything. My mother never speaks of him. It is as if the mere thought of him is too much to bear, and she cannot bring herself to say another word,” replied E’Malkai as Elcites looked over with his even gaze, without sound.
“He was not a tall man by any means, though strong. His muscles were long and taut. When he flexed, they bulged like this.” Fe’rein tightened his arm, showing the ball that formed there as an explanation and then continued. “He was brave in a way that I cannot explain. His flawless logic led countless missions into the upper regions of the tundra where no man had gone. Well, we had thought at the time that no one had journeyed that far. He was entrusted with the location of the Fallen amidst the snow drifts that covered the land, each looking like the others. Many a Culouth traveler has tried to find it. Entire legions have been lost out there in the cold.”
E’Malkai was captured by the story now.
Fe’rein continued. This uncharacteristic storytelling was driven only by the youth’s zeal for the past. “He left you when he was very young to take me south into the deserts to find a man. Anyways, he was a very solitary man. Although he rarely spoke of it, his mind was constantly on the horizon watching for another time to come, another age of men.”
E’Malkai’s eyes sparkled. “I wish I could have known him, could have talked to him just once.”
“Sometimes I wish he were here as well,” whispered Fe’rein.
“What was that, uncle?”
The mion continued. “I was not much older than you when I accompanied your father on the treks north. I was but a headstrong boy and knew not how to mind my words yet.” Fe’rein shook his head and then added, “I was foolish.”
“Someday I wish to see the tundra, to walk where my father had.”
Fe’rein’s eyes leapt with fire at E’Malkai’s words, standing suddenly. He manipulated the shadow, making his lank figure seem much larger than it was.
“There is nothing to see in the north, young E’Malkai. All that would greet you there would be the icy grip of death.” Fe’rein’s words were beset with an annoyance that crackled as he spoke.
“Pardon my words, uncle. I meant no harm,” spoke E’Malkai softly. He was unsure exactly what it was that he had done wrong. Seeing the wrath of Fe’rein unfurled, he shrank back from the mion, his head bowed.
“I take my leave of you both.”
By the time that E’Malkai had lifted his head, the words had been spoken. Fe’rein disappeared from the room, and the boy sat there contemplating his words. His guardian stood in the shadows behind him as he looked out the tinted windows into the city, wondering about the uncertain future and the distant tund
ra.
ⱷ
Fe’rein
Fe’rein, bringer of death, flew over the skies of Culouth. His body disappeared into the daylight as he maneuvered past PTVs and other vehicles that navigated the sky lanes of the upper echelons of the city. Their honking horns diminished as flame and shadow erupted from his hand. His hands stretched out in front of him as he passed through the air as others walked across the ground. As the voices came, he almost dipped into an express lane.
Bringer.
Creator.
Mion of Culouth, we summon thee.
He catapulted up out of the way of the oncoming vehicles and righted himself. Closing his eyes, they moved rapidly, searching the darkness to locate the voices. He separated the sounds of the real world and those of his mind as his brother had taught him in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Breathing deep the synthetic air of Culouth, he let it fill his lungs as he exhaled again.
We three of the Intelligence summon you here, Fe’rein, shadow of the man called Ryan, son of Evan Armen.
Fe’rein stopped.
There was no doubting the words.
There was none other within the walls of Culouth that could have talked to him as this voice had. It was a childish voice, like a small girl. He felt the vibration in the air. In the darkness of his mind, he could see the clear tunnel of its energy drawing him toward the epicenter of Culouth.
Fe’rein’s eyes snapped open.
He allowed gravity to take hold. His body spun, his head facing the ground as he plummeted. Rolling from side to side to dodge the oncoming traffic, he righted himself as he fell in between the Life Crack, as it was commonly referred to by the citizens of Culouth, where the Avenue split in two.
This was the staging point from which the scientists and engineers of old built the city. The core had not been breached by another living being in some time, yet this was where the supreme power of Culouth originated.
Fe’rein corrected his descent and slowed as he fell into the darkness. The energy crawled out over his skin, slowly at first. As the shadow embraced him, specks of his crimson life-force radiated out, singeing the shadow. He fell for some time, his eyes searching for some sign, but nothing was revealed.
After a time, he felt the ground impact him from below. His boots clicked on something solid and he allowed himself a sigh. Craning his neck, a light opened far from him, a brilliant white beacon that drew him forward. As he reached it, he saw the silhouette of an open archway. Walking through it, the warm air was replaced by the cool breeze of a fall day.
The room was painted white.
Pillars ran the length of the hall, beyond where Fe’rein could see. In the distance the corridor curved to the right. There was silence within the walls, yet there was noise in Fe’rein’s mind, subtle, shifting voices that whispered to him. He had heard them before, outside the space station and once many years ago.
As he walked farther along, the walls were adorned with tapestries. They were not the feathery antiquities that some in Culouth collected, but instead pixilated, shining renditions of war and famine, great cataclysmic events cast as art.
As he continued forward the walls darkened, fading from a vibrant white to a silvery metallic sheen and finally to shadow. The farther he wandered down the path, the more it corroded; the more real it looked.
He had spoken to the Intelligence on several occasions within the confines of High Marshal Kyien’s residence. Never, as far as he knew, had anyone been summoned to personally stand before the Intelligence.
The smell of machinery was caustic. The stench from the churning components soon assaulted Fe’rein’s senses. Even though the air smelled foul, it did not affect him as it would a normal being; rather, it only altered his facial expression from his perpetual scowl to a grimace.
There were three voices for three faces.
Although they truly did not possess a corporeal form, they chose to present themselves as severed heads with cords attached to the back of their skulls. Similar cables held their heads upright. Hollow black eyes stared out, blinking occasionally and resettling the pixels.
The volume of their voices was immense. Fe’rein shuddered as they began. “Mion to the people,” began the first, its voice like a young girl’s.
“Fe’rein, bringer of darkness and despair to those who follow the old ways,” called the second. The masculine, grandfatherly tone was not as grating as the child’s.
“Ryan Armen, son of Evan, descendant of Malkai, taker of the essence of the Believer,” finished the darkest voice of them all. Low and oppressive, it attacked Fe’rein’s mind.
Fe’rein bowed.
The thin line of his grimace grew at the use of his old name. “Gracious Tribunal, true lords of Culouth and divine Intelligence, what may I, your humble servant, do for you?” There was silence long enough for Fe’rein to stand again.
“Your charge, the one which you betrayed your kind for…” began the child-like voice. Fe’rein shuddered at the use of your kind and the inflection the entity chose to place upon it. “…is almost at an end.”
“But is also at an impasse,” interjected the second voice. The voice reminded Fe’rein of Mihen, wintry historian of the Fallen. He would never speak such a name aloud, especially within the chambers of the Intelligence.
“Another powerful being walks this world, one that, in time, will possess the essence of all that is life. This being will be your undoing,” finished the dark voice. In Fe’rein’s mind, he saw a vision of death.
“I will seek out this being now, no matter where it chooses to hide,” roared Fe’rein in confidence.
“Not it, but who?” mocked the child.
They always spoke in turn.
“Who?”
“Yes, the being that will rise against you is human,” conceded the second voice.
“The Desert of the Forgotten is teeming with life again. The very winds seem to carry the name of the Shaman as if it were a mantra.”
Fe’rein restrained himself.
His cheek muscles twitched.
“He came for you.”
The words of the child were in awe, reverence.
There was a pause.
If it had been human, Fe’rein would have assumed that the Intelligence was thinking, weighing options. Instead it merely cycled through databases, feeling the rhythms of the entire city. “The Ti’ere’yuernen spoke through another,” spoke the second voice.
“But he is no longer called that. While his form has always been pure energy, it has now taken a corporeal shape.”
“Who is this man who will seek my destruction?” queried Fe’rein irritably.
“Your anger is understandable, Fe’rein, bringer of death, but his coming will be the undoing of Culouth as well. Surely you have felt the shift in the energies that he has caused?” questioned the child with more wisdom than a true human child would have been capable.
“I wish to quell this insurrection before it becomes more than can be contained,” challenged Fe’rein.
“The aberration will reveal itself in time, son of shadow, but until then be vigilant and wipe all the human vermin you can from this world. That is all you can do,” answered the second voice.
“Go now, we have talked as much as we wish to,” concluded the final voice. His voice resonated as the tunnel faded to complete darkness. Fe’rein felt the grip of anger guide him out and back into the free air of Culouth. His seething hatred created a beacon in the artificial twilight.
ⱷ
E’Malkai
Three days would pass before E’Malkai allowed Elcites to lead him into another training session for the trials of Tal’marath. Even then, it was done with reluctance. He did not wish to indulge in such endeavors because of his birthright. Elcites walked ahead of the youth; his body filled the narrow corridor of the stairwell.
The metallic stairs rung with each step they took.
“I enjoy the exertion, really I do, but why exactly are we climbing up
? Isn’t the training room on the lower floor?” queried E’Malkai. He had to run in order to keep pace with his guardian.
The grunt was part laughter, at least as much as Elcites could manage. “This session does not require the training room, my sien. Now that you mention it, that room is not going to be useable for some time after the last session.”
They rounded another flight of stairs. On one of the landing walls a small plaque indicated that they had reached the forty-fourth floor, leaving only a few more to go. They made the rest of them in silence. As they reached the apex of the stairwell, Elcites ran his hand over the archaic panel situated just to the left of the doorway. It uttered the mechanical equivalent of the word “clear” and opened into the overcast glare of the midmorning.
“The roof, Elcites? What could we possibly do here?” E’Malkai moved past his friend, the door sliding closed behind the both of them.
“Learn to fly of course, E’Malkai sien.”
The youth turned to look at the guardian and saw the glimmer of the half-smile the Umordoc honor guard flashed. E’Malkai smiled, playfully punching Elcites. “Seriously though, what are we doing here?”
“A homing technique, one used by both the mion and his ward to center one’s energies and feel every heartbeat, every molecule of himself and all those around him. This can be used to separate enemies from allies, discern lies from truths,” explained Elcites as he pulled a gray cloth from a pack along his side and smoothed it over the ground. Turning back to E’Malkai, he gestured for him to sit. “Please make yourself comfortable, my sien.”
E’Malkai hesitated.
Watching his guardian, he shrugged. He sat cross-legged on the gray fabric and laid his hands down, one on each knee. A great sigh echoed from his lips. “What now, oh mighty sage?”
The humor, as usual, was lost on the giant guardian.
Elcites merely nodded, his voice carried on the winds atop the House of Di’letirich. “Very simple. Close your eyes; slow your breathing and listen to my voice, focus on my voice.”