by Brad Clark
"I am Rardus," the man said as they walked. "I am a resident scholar here at the library."
"Goshin."
"Well met, Goshin," Rardus said.
Rardus led him out of the hall and into a dark corridor in the far corner of the library. This part of the library was so rarely used, the wall torches were not burning. Rardus took a burning torch with them, lighting the unlit torches as they passed by. When they reached their destination, the man had to push his way into the room, stirring up inches of dust.
“I am afraid that this room has not seen the light of day in many years. No one cares about the time before the empire.”
“There is much to learn about our history," Goshin countered as politely as he could.
Rardus gave Goshin a friendly smile. “Even the days of our uncultured ancestors provide some teaching moments for us.”
Goshin did not like the man. Like most scholars Goshin had met in his travels, this man was at the same time arrogant and ignorant. He was very intelligent, which was one reason why he was a scholar and not a soldier. And with that intelligence came a sense of superiority over everyone else. He knew things that no one else would ever know. And from that knowledge would come his haughtiness. Rather than using his knowledge to better himself and the world around him, he would hoard it and protect it, keeping himself above everyone else. For the briefest of moments, Goshin considered a retort. A long time ago, when he was much younger, he would have. He would have put Rardus in his place and it would have made himself feel better. But it certainly would have made the scholar angry and he would no longer be of any help. Goshin still might have need of the scholar’s assistance in finding the documents that he was looking for. So he kept his mouth shut and simply nodded his head.
“Do you need any assistance?” the Rardus asked.
Goshin did not want the scholar around anymore than necessary, but he would need some help. He might be arrogant, but he wasn’t a scholar by lacking intelligence. "Yes," Goshin replied, forcing himself to be polite. "I could use some help with these scrolls."
Goshin spread one of his scrolls across a table. Rardus was intrigued and approached to look at it more closely.
“It is J’kartin,” Rardus said emphatically.
“Hurai,” Goshin corrected.
The scholar looked closer and let his hands traverse the fading ink that marked up the scroll. “The parchment is old. Crispy old. The J’kartin were one of the first to write on parchment. Their histories were recorded with exacting detail. I do not know much of the language, but I do know some words. There are others in the library that could verify it.”
“It is Hurai,” Goshin repeated.
The scholar looked closer and the scroll, and then up at Goshin. It was as if Rardus had seen Goshin for the first time. Up until this moment, he had seen a lesser man, one whose details were not worthy of his time. But now, as the scholar opened his eyes, and his mind, he finally saw Goshin for who he was.
“You are from the western provinces. You are Hurai, are you not?”
A smile crept across Goshin’s face. Take the arrogance out of the man and he might be tolerable. “I am.”
“You can read this?” the scholar asked softly, as if his words might hurt the document spread out in front of him.
“Of course," Goshin replied with a nod.
“How old is it?” Rardus asked.
“The scroll itself is about three hundred years old.”
“Oh…” The scholar’s word trailed off into a silent disappointment.
But then Goshin added, “But it is copied from text that is five thousand years old.”
Rardus lightly touched the lettering and asked, “What does it say?”
“It is actually poem. A beautiful poem in Hurai. But not in Taran. Some Hurai words have no meaning in Taran.” Goshin adjusted the scroll so that he could read it. “The poem was written by a young king who conquered a civilization called Mizerites. They are people that no longer exist. Do not think they have descendants. The poem says each last Mizerite was killed. God told them to do this. The Creator God. One who gives life.”
“Each culture has their own god or set of gods," the scholar said in an almost practiced way. "Taran herself has many gods that people pray to. But I do not believe they exist. There is no evidence of them. They do not walk among us. They do not perform magical miracles. If there were gods, we would see them.”
“The Hurai have but one god. The God. He walked among us thousands of years ago. He chose us to be his people.”
“And where is he now?" Rardus asked. "Why would a god abandon his people?”
“He did not abandon us. We abandoned him. It is why he left. But he did not abandon us. He's still around, for he is Creator.”
Rardus shook his head. “Well, he chose his people poorly, I am afraid. The Hurai have no land of their own. No country. Their land is now in the western provinces of the empire. Maybe you should ask him to come back.”
“The Hurai are not a land. Or an island. We are a people. We do not need a king or a castle, for we have our God.” Goshin suddenly realized that his voice had risen to almost a shout. He quickly lowered his head and continued in a softer voice. “We have asked for thousands of years for him to come back to us. Some say he has already answered us and that this poem holds his answer. It foretells four events. Three of which have already come to pass. The fall of the Hurai nation is the first. Taran invaded our island about two thousand years after the original poem was written.”
Rardus chuckled. “That could have been coincidence. Your island might have been small, but its people were a military threat to Taran. They had to be conquered. Any reasonable man would have figured that one out.”
“Even so, it was still foretold," Goshin countered. "The second event was the rise of a man he named Sh’dan. He was to destroy the earth, unless one worthy man would step forward.”
The mirth that had been showing on Rardus’ face faded. “Emperor Shardan rose to power fifteen hundred years ago. He was a barbaric, evil man. He caused a civil war and nearly broke Taran apart. Almost half of our people died of a plague that swept through the cities. Barbarians from the north even marched all the way to the gates of our city. He refused to close them because he thought our empire was infallible.”
“Yes,” Goshin said. “I know the story. Well, I have studied your history carefully. Emperor Shardan was killed by one of his servants who rallied soldiers to defeat the barbarians.”
“It is a story our children are told," Rardus said proudly. "It was our greatest moment. Our empire rose to even greater heights after that. What is the third event?”
“A star will appear in the heavens and it will light day and night without moving.”
“The star to the north,” Rardus said quickly.
“You have seen it?” Goshin asked.
“Of course. We have all seen it, though there are many reasonable explanations.”
Goshin lifted an eyebrow. “And those are?”
“It was always there. We just never saw it before.” The answer caused a chuckle to escape from Goshin’s lips. Rardus quickly asked, “What does the scroll say about the star?”
“Only that is precursor to a fourth event.”
“And that is?”
“I do not know, but I have my suspicions," Goshin replied.
“The poem does not say?” Rardus asked.
“No," Goshin replied. "It does not. It makes reference to other works. Scrolls written by other Hurai. Scrolls long since lost. But it does not say what the fourth event is, only that there is one and that it comes after the third event.”
“And that is why you are here?" Rardus asked. "To find those scrolls?”
“Yes,” Goshin said. “But, but there is more. The poem not only refers to a fourth event, but also foretells of two paths that the world could follow. One of darkness and one of light. I fear we are at crossroads. We must solve the riddle of the poem to save the worl
d.”
The scholar let a smile escape his lips. "Although I have no doubt about the validity of your poem, I think it is hard for a man of intellect such as myself to believe that they truly foretell the future."
"You may believe as you wish," Goshin replied. "I too, have my doubts. But it is my duty as a Hurai to search the truth. So I shall."
The scholar gave a slight nod and said, "Then I shall leave you to your search." He turned to leave, but at the last moment, asked, "What do you think that the fourth event is?”
Goshin looked down at the poem and took a moment to give his answer. “I think God intends to return to reclaim this world as his kingdom."
Rardus froze, wanting to race through the door as fast as he could. But his heart was beating so hard, he thought he was going to die. The rumors were true, then. He had tried not to believe them, had hoped they were not true. He looked at the door, and then back at the old Hurai. He felt a kinship to the strange man from the west. They were both scholars in pursuit of knowledge. But Goshin was not Taran. First and foremost he owed his loyalty to the empire.
"Good day, my friend," Rardus said as calmly as he could. His voice shook and he hoped it was not noticed.
Goshin had already turned back to his research, looking over an ancient scroll that needed more translation. He did not notice the cracked voice, or the white ashen face. "And good day to you," Goshin said.
***
Rardus wiped his forehead. His heart raced and his clothes were soaked from sweat. It certainly wasn’t because he was hot. The chamber that he stood in was almost cold, even though it was the middle of summer. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was, but he knew that he was led deep underground. That would explain why it was so cool. But the cool temperature of the chamber didn’t help his sweating problem.
Two centurions dressed in their leather armor and red surcoats had escorted him through long corridors. Neither had said a word to him other than the occasional one word command. They were as imposing figures as any soldier would be. They were tall and muscular and carried sharp swords. But it was not them that caused fear to fill the scholar’s every being. It was the man who now stood in front of him.
He had come from a dark, unlit corner of the chamber. He had not heard a door open. He just appeared from the shadows. He was taller than the centurions. The top of the Rardus’ head just reached the man’s chin. He was dressed in a long black robe that was cinched around his waist by a jewel encrusted belt. Atop his head was a thin gold crown. It was not the ornate crown that the emperor wore. It was just a simple circlet of gold. There was not a weapon on him, but Rardus knew he was the most dangerous man in the empire.
"Your highness," Rardus said, dropping to a knee and bowing his head.
Prince Tarcious, brother of the emperor of Taran, did not have any patience for this man. But the old scholar had the information that he needed, so he had to be tolerant. At least long enough to get the information.
"A Hurai came to your library," the prince said.
"Yes," Rardus responded. "The curator of the library had said that you were to be informed immediately."
"And yet," the Prince said with a sneer. "It has taken you several hours to contact me. Immediately means immediately."
A look of horror spread across the scholar’s face. "I...I wanted to be sure and to know what he was researching. I didn’t want to come to you without knowing that he really was Hurai. I needed to ask questions. To be sure."
Prince Tarcious closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. His lips moved, reciting words from ancient language. The moment the first sound left his lips, an electricity filled the chamber. The centurions had felt it before and had witnessed what was about to come next. They each leaned away from the poor scholar. The prince lifted his right hand and thrust it out directly at Rardus. A small ball of fire exploded from his palm and struck the scholar in the chest, sending him flat on his back.
The prince stepped forward and looked down at the old man, who was gasping for breath. His eyes were wide in fear and sobs came from his lips.
"My instructions were clear," the prince said. "It is fortunate for you that my abilities with managing the web of magic is limited right now. In time, though, such a demonstration would leave you a charred chunk of flesh and bone. When I command you to do something, I expect it to be done. Exactly as I have commanded. Am I making myself clear?"
Rardus nodded.
"Get him up," the prince demanded.
Quickly, for fear of their own lives, the two centurions pulled the scholar up to his feet. The old man could barely stand on his own, so the two centurions had to hold him up. The center of the scholar’s chest was charred where the fireball had struck. The skin would eventually heal, but the fear that was put in him would last forever.
"I will give you one chance to tell me what you know. If you leave out any detail, I will know, and then I will kill you. If you lie or try and deceive me, I will know. And then I will kill you. Now speak!"
The faint scent of charred cloth was replaced by the pungent scent of urine.
Rardus’ face went ashen and then he grabbed at his chest. He fell to his knees, gasping for air. The centurions tried to keep him up, but the old scholar slipped through their hands. A moment after he fell to his knees, he collapsed to the floor, his eyes wide with fear, for he knew he was dying. He looked up at the Prince with the last breath of life in his lungs and prayed to a god that he knew would not listen. And then blackness enveloped him.
Between clenched teeth, the prince growled, "Find the Hurai. Bring him to me. I don’t care how. Just make sure he can talk."
The two centurions bowed in unison before hurrying as fast as they could out of the chamber. They had seen enough to scare them into obedience. They did not want to disappoint.
***
The emperor sat in the darkness of his chamber, as he often did. From the height of the tallest tower of his palace, he looked upon his city. Fires and lamps lit roadways and buildings, bringing a nearly never-ending brightness to his city. For hours on end he could just sit and watch his people, enthralled by the greatness of his own making.
He turned his head slightly at the change in air caused by the slight parting of a curtain. The stillness of his chamber was nearly absolute, so it was easy to know when something disturbed it. He could see movement in the shadows and kept his eye on whoever it was that approached.
"My brother." The words shattered the peace as harshly as a hammer breaking glass.
Prince Tarcious had stopped a respectable twenty feet away and dropped to a knee.
"Tarcious," Emperor Hargon said. "Come."
The emperor’s younger brother approached with what had become a daily liquid treat. He handed the tall, bronze goblet to the most powerful man in the world and watched in silence as the emperor gulped the drink down.
"A most intoxicating drink," the emperor said with a smile. He could feel the warmth spread through his limbs and his head was emptied of all worries and cares. "Now, you have news for me."
"Your spies are thorough, brother. Do I really need to repeat what you already know?"
Emperor Hargon turned to his brother and said, "Of course you do. It helps me to figure out who is lying to me, and who is telling the truth."
"Have I ever lied to you?" Prince Tarcious asked.
The emperor let out a burst of laughter. "I do not know if you have ever spoken a word of truth to me! Now lay your lies and deceiving words upon my ears!"
"Of course, my brother. The news is from the east."
"The east? Who cares of the east," the emperor blurted out with a slurring of his words. "The east is of little care to me. To the north, the barbarians are massing again. A quarter of my legions must be committed to keeping the gold flowing from the mountain mines. And the southern provinces have always been salt in my wounds. They keep more than their fair share of taxes and refuse my demands for more fealty. The west is just too big to govern proper
ly. We have expanded too far. I fear that we may lose half the continent if we can’t keep those darn barbarians at bay."
"But brother, the east holds..."
"The east!" the emperor shouted, jumping to his feet. "Enough of the east! Are there mines of gems and jewels to the east?"
"No, but..."
"Are there rivers of gold to the east?" the emperor yelled at his brother. "Are there legions of men ready to declare their loyalty to me? To lay down their lives by marching to the north to slaughter barbarians?"
"No," Prince Tarcious said with as much patience as you could muster. "But there is open land. And forests. We do much trade with them and the resources of the land could be ours for the taking, instead of having to trade for it."
The emperor shook his head. "Trade? We steal from them as it is. Spices from the west. Tapestries and sculptures from our own artisans. And in return we get leather from their livestock. Wagons of grain. Large timbers of wood from their forests. Horses for our chariots. We give them nothing for much in return."
"But it could be ours. Yours, I mean. Rather than trading with them, it could just be all ours."
The emperor sat back down and said with a more subdued tone, "And then we would have to govern them. And garrison their cities. And keep the peace. And they would rebel, and we would have to squash them. No. It is better for us like it is. We steal from them and they can govern themselves. I care not for them. Now, I want to know how we are going to wipe the barbarians off the face of the earth! They are the threat of this empire. They breed like rabbits and they fight like rabid dogs."
Prince Tarcious let out a long sigh. This process was taking too long and the emperor was not cooperating. He glanced at the goblet that the emperor was still holding, wondering if he could increase the dosage without it becoming fatal. He did not want death, he just needed the emperor to cooperate. It would just have to take more time. But time was running out and soon he would have to act out of desperation instead of through thoughtful planning.