Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  Chapter 32

  Next to the Nhyme crystal mound, The Administrator crouched naked, glistening with clear ooze that was steaming off his body and coughing up black viscous fluid. At his side, in a makeshift net made of rope, were scrolls, books, and on top over a dozen oval objects, their surfaces a leathery white and covered in tiny crystals. Cumo and his men stood slack-jawed for a moment, as they came upon the scene, having heard a loud crash. The Head Warrior sent a messenger back to the village of the Ancient One’s arrival and for something to clothe their visitor. The remaining warriors circled the Administrator and his net in a defensive outward facing position, while Cumo landed in front of the human and attempted to make out what the Ancient One was trying to say through coughs.

  “I can try and help,” Cumo said and inclined his head to his hands, making a gesture as he would if healing.

  The Administrator shook his boyish sandy locks back and forth, as he still hacked away, until the rest of the fluid was out of his lungs and he took a long deep breath. Cumo patiently stood at his side looking up at the trees around the crystal mound that were splintered or knocked down, as if something larger had arrived instead of just the Ancient One and his net.

  “Head Warrior?” The Administrator asked in a scratchy voice.

  “Yes, Ancient One. I was made Head Warrior well after your last visit. Well actually, I wasn’t yet born I guess. My name is Cumo.” He looked up at the Administrator, who had managed a sitting position. The Nhyme’s usual proud stance looked a little wilted and small. “That makes you like a bazillion years old!” Cumo exclaimed.

  The Administrator laughed lightly. “It is good to know my Nhyme friends are just the same. I am guessing that messenger you sent will return with the Elder? I can walk, of course, and I will need to discuss some things with Razorik, but I will not leave my burden here.” The Administrator cocked his head in the direction of his net and the objects inside. Cumo looked a little taken aback.

  “We would do no harm to your possessions. You have my word, Ancient One.” Cumo protested.

  The Administrator smiled, “That I know with all that I am, Head Warrior.” Cumo stood a little taller, his pride returned. “However, this burden I carry is very, very dear to me. Like my own flesh and blood.” The young-looking man squared his purple eyes at Cumo.

  “Ancient One!” Razorik the Elder cried, as he quickly flew into the clearing with Lady Amara at his side. Cumo saluted the Elder, who acknowledged and returned the gesture, then flew to his men. “To what do we owe this honor that you have come to visit us?”

  “Razorik! My old friend! You look well!” The Administrator said, holding out a hand in front of him so that Razorik could land. The Elder shook the Administrator’s thumb a little spastically. The older Nhyme’s little heart beat like mad with excitement.

  “I am sorry that my daughter is not here. I so wanted you to meet Chyla, but she is off saving the world.”

  “Saving the world you say? I feel safer already,” The Administrator smiled jovially, turned to Razorik’s wife, and inclined his head. “Lady Amara, you look as beautiful as ever. I apologize for my lack of dress. I am on the run, you see, and my home is the Ice Queen’s at the moment. I escaped only by luck while she was... preoccupied.”

  Lady Amara stifled a giggle and just smiled. “You are most welcome, Ancient One. I did send some girls to make you something to wear.”

  “You are most kind, milady. The corruption of the crystal in Snowhaven seems to have eaten away my robes. Odd indeed, given that the cloth had been enchanted to resist all manner of wear and tear.” The Administrator nodded his head graciously and lowered the Elder on a crystal near him. His face grew serious. “I do apologize for inconveniencing you, but I knew I’d be safe here. I am in great need of your help.”

  The Elder laid his staff next to his feet and his leaf cloak out, so Lady Amara could sit beside him. She landed next to him and took the covered seat with a warm smile. Razorik then regarded The Administrator with interest. “Well, you know we are a simple people. If it is war you have in mind...”

  The Administrator waved his hand in front of him. “Do not fear, my old friend. What I ask is simple and does not call for your people to engage in the war of this land. I simply ask for safe haven for myself and my...” he inclined his head to the oval objects.

  “Eggs?” Razorik winked. The Administrator looked taken aback, his brows suddenly knit with concern. “Rest easy, Ancient One, I know well what lies beneath our own crystal mound from a vision long ago. I know that they match what you have brought. Worry not! I have kept them safe, as I will these you have brought if you ask it of me. You, as always, are welcome here.”

  The Administrator relaxed again, his face smoothing. “Thank you.” He was pensive for a short time then said, “The Ice Queen has corrupted the crystal in my tower, turning it black as pitch. Traveling through it was like attempting to swim through a tar pit. I am not sure her army will have much luck getting to the capital without choking to death. Of course, they’re evil, they’d cheat,” he chuckled and Razorik with him. “They’d find a way.”

  “I did get your message, and it is my daughter, Chyla who went to find your Mistress Mala and Master Branden,” The Elder said. “I still can’t believe I let her go, but she and my wife out-voted me.” Razorik looked extremely sad, like his heart was broken.

  “Cheer up, old man,” Tomas said light-heartily. “I was wondering when you mentioned your daughter’s absence, if it was she you had sent to deliver my message. If she is half as smart and able as you, she will save Aeirsga all on her own.” Razorik smiled a little and in that moment a half dozen Nhyme girls flew up, giggling, with a loincloth made of leaves held between them. The Administrator thanked them and tied it around his hips, all the while staying seated so as to not offend or embarrass any of the ladies. Noticing Razorik still gloomy, The Administrator sensed something was not right. “Well I am very satisfied with your Head Warrior, Elder. Would it be alright if I asked him and his men to make a shelter and a nest of sorts here for the eggs?”

  Cumo, hearing his name, popped to attention and flew to the Elder’s side. “Cumo? Could you handle the Ancient One’s request?”

  “Of course, Elder! We’ll get started right away,” the Head Warrior replied.

  The Administrator’s stomach audibly grumbled. Lady Amara smiled and said, “I’ll see to gathering some food for you, but I must warn you our stores are low. We had another human visitor not too long ago.”

  “Really? How strange,” the Administrator replied, very surprised.

  Lady Amara nodded, “Her name was Katya, one of your students from Snowhaven. She appeared here much like you did, actually, on the crystals, although pretty cut up.”

  The Administrator’s purple eyes brightened. “Thank the Mother, she is alive. Yes, she is one of my students. Do you know where she went?”

  “The last we saw of her,” the Elder responded, “was after a scrying moon. She ran like a wild animal into the woods, when we looked upon her sister who was apparently in danger near here. Baku, one of my warriors, followed her. After reporting her location, that she was well and that she was in the company of other humans whom she seemed to know, he told Niko where to find her. Niko had agreed to accompany her back to her home. We never saw Katya after that night, but she was a kind soul. I hope she is well. Have you heard from her?”

  “No, I have not.” The Administrator looked pensive, but his attention was soon drawn back by the heartbroken look in the Elder’s eyes, like he wanted to say something but not in front of his people. “Razorik would you care for a walk with an old friend, while things are taken care of here, so we are not in the way?”

  Razorik smiled and nodded. He kissed his wife and watched her fly back to the village.

  “Oh, Cumo…” The Administrator pinned the nimble Nhyme in place with cool eyes. “We won’t be far. Please treat those eggs as if they were your own children.”

  Th
e Nhyme regarded The Administrator strangely, as if he wanted to ask questions, but then just nodded and saluted. “Yes sir, you can count on me.”

  Cumo and his men started gathering materials for the shelter they had agreed to make. The Administrator stood and offered his shoulder to Razorik with a glance. Razorik flew to his shoulder after retrieving his staff and retying his cloak around his neck. Then, they walked into the woods. They travelled for a time in silence, enjoying the walk under the cool shade of the trees but appreciating the sun beams that managed to find holes in the canopy. They came to the river and sat together, tossing stones and pebbles into the rushing water.

  After a bit, Razorik spoke up, “After Katya ran away, the night was still young, so I did a reading of my own. I knew you would contact me, and that my daughter would insist on going on your mission. I also know that before the end of her adventures Chyla will be killed by a man in black with a skull pommeled dagger. There was only the two fighting in the vision. The place they were was not visible.” Razorik broke into tears. “I haven’t had the heart to tell Amara. It was Chyla that is to succeed me, but Amara will have to lead after I am gone, if Chyla won’t be here.”

  The Administrator put a comforting finger around Razorik’s shoulders. “All visions are given to us for a reason,” Tomas said. “Perhaps this one was given to you not as fact, but as a possible future. Nothing is set in stone until it happens. You know this my friend.”

  Razorik sniffed away his tears. “There is more to the vision that I have not yet spoken of. I saw your arrival here, crouched naked and coughing up black muck. The significance of your appearance is the only time marker that I have. Chyla will die exactly one week from this night. I do know that visions are not set in stone, as a couple times past visions have ended differently.” Razorik paused briefly before announcing, “I intend to try and save her. I can only guess she has met up with Mistress Mala and Master Branden and is headed to the capital with them. Knowing nothing of the outside world, I am almost certain she would choose to travel with them. So in one week’s time I will travel to Aeirsga through the crystals and make sure she is safe that night.”

  The Administrator was quiet for a time, thinking over what his smaller friend had disclosed to him. “What you suggest, you realize, while honorable, could endanger you as well. Amara could be without husband and a daughter. Also, are you sure you know the way to Aeirsga through the crystals? The paths are not straight and intersect with other passages many times along the way.”

  The Elder dug a rut in the dirt with a foot, his eyes withdrawn and downcast. “I do believe I can find my way through the crystals to Aeirsga. It is risky, but Amara would understand. She and I would both give our lives for our daughter without a thought, if it came down to it.”

  “You aren’t going to tell her, are you?” the Administrator asked with a scowl.

  “No. She’d just worry and want to go too. One of our family members must remain behind. I’ll make sure we do a lot that day, so that we go to bed early. Then, after she is asleep, I’ll slip out and be back before she awakes with our daughter, either with me or knowing that she is out of danger’s way.”

  “That is, if all goes well,” The Administrator said dryly.

  “Yes, if all goes well,” The Elder said, as he looked up from his digging. “I’ll leave a note just in case she wakes, and I am not there.”

  “I wish you luck, my friend. I would ask how you plan to defeat this Shadow Walker, which is what your vision described, but I know better of a Nhyme. It is not your way to fight. You will try to keep her safe by holing up somewhere, I am sure,” The Administrator chuckled lightly.

  “You know us well,” the Elder smiled with a twinkle in his eye but then grew a little serious. “You could come with me...”

  “I wish I could, but my priority is the eggs,” The Administrator said and let out a long sigh. “I have taught magic, but never have I openly participated in the wars of Aronshae. I don’t think I have ever told you this...” Tomas’ purple eyes looked the small Nhyme over for a moment, as if wondering if he should continue. “I trust you, Razorik. You are the oldest and wisest of this world, and you have seen much in the centuries you have lived. You are also the only one I consider a friend. I wish I could tell you more, but I can only say this… my duties do not allow me to aid you directly.”

  Razorik nodded. “I have known you for centuries, yet you have not aged a day since I met you. I know that you have never been far from the eggs and the crystals. I don’t know what you are, but I will never pressure you as to your origins. If you tell me, you tell me. It does not change that I am your friend. You are honorable, and your heart is good. It is enough.” The Elder laid a small hand over one of The Administrators’ fingers.

  A single tear slid down The Administrator’s cheek. “You don’t know how much that means to me, Razorik. I have been alone for so long. It is good to have a friend.”

  The Elder smiled. “You are always welcome here. So... how about we head back? My wife must have brought you some food. I can smell the cheese from here!”

  The Administrator smiled and stood up. Razorik flew to his shoulder. They returned in silence to the crystal mound, where there was indeed food being laid out for everyone.

  Chapter 33

  Aeirsga was visible for almost half a day before they arrived at the capital. Built at the intersection of two rivers, the huge city proper stood on an island surrounded on all sides by the flowing waters of the Bloodwood River from the northeast and the Lion’s Charge from the west. They joined together and flowed southeast to the Sea of Twilight, a narrow but rough patch of ocean between Illyander and the Eastern Kingdom. The land to the east was a kingless continent and ruled over by a multitude of tribes of nomadic peoples, each with its own tribal chief.

  Sediment was not the only thing the Bloodwood River left behind when it met with its sister river at Aeirsga. The slow moving river, containing all the waters of the Bloodwood and the Lion’s Charge, only bore the name of the later during its path to the sea.

  Starting at the water’s edge, the sprawling buildings of the outlying portions of the city stretched out for almost half a league. From the great bridges that spanned the Bloodwood River and the Lion’s Charge to the wall that marked the boundary of the city itself were the dwellings and businesses of the common folk of Aeirsga.

  Branden and his companions were half-heartedly challenged at the city gate by two guards, bearing pikes and wearing Illyander’s red and blue colors, but were allowed to pass through with little resistance. The smith felt himself bristling at the lackadaisical attitude of the men at the city walls but kept his mouth shut. Aeirsga was no longer his post, and it was not his place to question whomever it was that now ran the city guard.

  They passed through the outer wall of Aeirsga, a towering structure of hewn brown stone and over three times Branden’s height. Familiar sounds and sights greeted the old guardsman, as he traveled towards the palace. Even after all these years, Branden could not help but smile at the city that stretched out before him.

  Born in the trade district over fifty summers ago, he had been the son of a smith, before joining the city guard at the tender young age of seventeen, lying about his age so that he could enlist. Muscles built over years as his father’s apprentice served him well during his first few weeks of training, and he distinguished himself as a strong fighter. Having made many weapons over the years, he understood their strengths and weaknesses, and he put such knowledge to use in the few times he was involved in an altercation as he patrolled the city or stood at its gates.

  Branden had become a skilled fighter and, more importantly, a man of character. He had quickly risen to a watch commander, overseeing other guards about the city. He was often called into the captain’s office to discuss matters of deployment and sometimes the punishment of unruly members of the city guard. The captain of the City Watch made it very clear that his men were not above the law and seemed to value
Branden’s opinion, when it came to matters of ethics.

  What Branden did not realize at the time was that the captain had been testing and grooming him. Branden’s name was soon submitted as a possible candidate to become a member of the Palace Guard, a position of great respect and a significant increase in pay. Branden was soon tested, both verbally and physically before being taken on as a junior member of the Palace Guard.

  Strange to him at the time, Branden actually fared worse during the tests that involved combat. Having relied on strength of limb for so long, the former smith’s apprentice was ill equipped to deal with opponents whose skill far outmatched his own. The opponents he was matched with for sparring were able to use his own strength against him, a strategy he came to know well in his ongoing training.

  Branden learned quickly and soon became a full member of the Palace Guard. The resulting upgrade in pay allowed him to pay off several of his father’s debts, and Branden implored his father to take on another smith to lighten his work load. His father, just as determined and stubborn as Branden, had refused and continued to work as he had always done, right up to the day that he fell over coughing at his anvil. Branden’s father died of illness later that same week, and his mother soon followed, dying of a broken heart. Branden sold the smithy, settling the remainder of his father’s debts and saving the remaining proceeds so that he could buy a home of his own someday. Until then, he had continued to live in the barracks of the Palace Guard.

  Branden’s thoughts were pulled from his past, as he heard the familiar ringing of metal being worked. Their path from the outer wall, through the city to the palace, took Branden and his companions by the trade district. He saw the familiar smoke coming from the smithy that had once been his home and paused.

  Feeling a gentle touch on his arm, he turned to see Katya sitting atop her horse beside him. “I miss home too, Daddy,” she said tenderly. “Don’t worry though. I know we’ll see it again soon.” His felt his dark-haired daughter squeeze his arm tenderly, and then he looked over her shoulder to see his red-headed offspring looking at him with determination in her eyes. Both of his daughters were strong in their own ways. Katya had a gentle yielding strength like her mother, whereas Sasha’s strength was worn on the surface for all to see like armor. Strangely enough it was Sasha that Branden worried about more. People who had tough exteriors were often the tenderest at heart.