by K R Schultz
“Very well, mm…Eideron.” Simea struggled to omit the honorific title.
Aibhera placed her hand on Simea’s forearm. This is hard for Sim. He’s loyal, and he looks angry. He served Eideron for two years and then watched, helpless, as the Synod turned against Eideron despite decades of faithful service.
After he and Aibby had read Eideron’s note, he had told her how Herron and his cohorts engineered Eideron’s humiliation. He explained that Heysel had cornered him before the meeting and said, “After today, Master Herron will control the Synod Council and drive all the old codgers out. My master will control Abalon from now on, so you’d better treat me with more respect because I will make life very unpleasant for people who don’t.”
Simea scowled, his lips a thin line, voice tight, and eyes flashing. “No matter what the Synod says, I will always honor you,” he said. He bowed low before Eideron.
Eideron shrugged and shook his head. “Let’s not waste time arguing. What’s done is done. We cannot change the past. We can only move forward, and we have more important matters to discuss. I must learn how committed you are to act on your visions since I have a plan that involves both of you. It poses grave risks and requires tremendous sacrifices.”
“What is your plan?” Aibhera sat rigid in her seat, fingers toying with the fringe on the tablecloth. “Since we are meeting like this, I assume you want to keep it secret, and I imagine we are part of your strategy.”
“You are a perceptive young lady. It’s easy to understand why they should have tested you.” Eideron’s tone carried a bitter edge to it. “Our conversation may take some time. I will ask you some questions, and you must deliberate before you answer. If I receive the answers I expect and want, I will tell you my plan. If you answer otherwise, I will forget the whole idea, and this meeting never happened. Your lives will continue unchanged, and I will find ways to endure the changes in mine.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Aelfric’s Quandary
Aelfric no longer knew how many days he had paced the Sea Witch’s heaving deck or how many nights he slept fitfully in the cramped quarters below deck. He awoke, queasy from the motion of the boat, and thanked the gods he had avoided full-blown seasickness.
Aelfric’s fellow traveler, Kett, the Abrhaani businessman, slept on while Aelfric eased out of the hammock and avoided bashing his head on the low ceiling and lintel. Nothing the Abrhaani built suited Eniila bodies, but the ship’s tiny cabin heightened the problem. The Eniila, people of open spaces, often suffered from claustrophobia. Although edgy and unsettled, he avoided the frenzied terror other members of his race experienced.
Dreams of vengeance had awakened him early. Another tenday remained before they reached Baradon. That gave him enough time to ponder his options. Once out of the swaying hammock, Aelfric climbed the rungs of the small ladder, squeezed through the narrow hatch, and clambered to his feet on the wooden deck. Vertebrae snapped and popped as he stretched and straightened. Except for the sailors near the end of their night watch, he was alone on deck.
The endless skyline of the empty ocean would have relieved his claustrophobia, but the sky and sea appeared the color of lead. They blended, making the horizon impossible to distinguish. The heaving deck negated the benefits of the view and open air. Without a visual cue to anchor himself to the world, the rolling motion of the ship atop the swells caused a reciprocal movement in Aelfric’s gut. He gripped the rail and bent over the side, expecting to vomit. After a moment, the feeling passed, but the cold sweat lingered.
He mopped his brow and sighed inwardly. I’ll never get used to this, but I’ll survive. Sixteen years ago, Shelhera and I spent the whole voyage puking over the rail or into a bucket. What a nausea, vomit-filled nightmare! The smell of barf still makes me feel seasick. I had planned a pleasant life on Khel Braah, a way to make amends to a few of the Abrhaani, but when Shelhera died, my dreams died with her, and now Laakea is lost to me. My heart aches from my losses, but my new plan will ease it.
Although he faced an uncertain welcome in Baradon, excitement built inside him. Aelfric squinted and hoped to make out a jagged blue line of mountains along the eastern horizon. No matter how he strained his eyes, the familiar peaks that formed the rocky spine of Baradon, his homeland refused to appear above the gray water. The gods have favored this mission and blessed us with a storm-free journey, but until I stand on solid earth…best to think of other things.
To combat his tension, Aelfric weighed Kett’s promise of aid against his other options. Although I dread entanglement with the little Abrhaani schemer; if I expect to regain my rightful place before old age or calamity claim me, I might need the little chiseler’s help.
Few Eniila men survived to old age. Combat, accidents, or duels ended the lives of the aged or even unskilled younger men. Eniila warriors preferred death on a sword point to the gradual descent into frailty. Oldsters often took on impossible duels to avoid decrepitude and senility. Shrewd tactics might extend one’s life expectancy. An old campaigner once said, “Age and treachery will defeat youth and enthusiasm every time.” However, time weakened the strongest arm and dulled the sharpest wit.
Aelfric was reluctant to test the veracity of that axiom. The vigor he retained, combined with stealth and treachery learned through experience, would have to carry him through the months of intrigue and struggle ahead.
Aelfric held few illusions about his Abrhaani’s shipmate’s nature. If only I could trust Kett…that is the heart of my problem. Kett is a slippery snake who masks deceit with feigned friendliness and has his own interests at heart. Kett’s allegiance might turn deadly. Vigilance is the best protection from a dagger between the shoulder blades, but am I prepared for betrayal when it comes?
Aelfric continued to ponder his options. Kett had hinted that Aelfric’s twin brother Aelrin was still the War-Leader of the Eniila. A questionable third choice briefly held his attention. The Gray Brotherhood was a significant factor in Eniila politics, but they remained an unknown quantity. The Brotherhood followed its own mysterious purposes, so whose side they chose in a civil war was guesswork. Aelfric often wondered what they concealed in their Cities of Refuge.
I must win the people’s affection. I need trustworthy and committed followers, not money-grubbing mercenaries. If the people put my brother’s head on a pike, it vindicates me as war-leader and proves Aelrin is merely a pretender. That would solve my difficulties and prove that I am still worthy.
Despite Aelfric’s mistrust of the Abrhaani merchant, Kett’s financial and political influence, his ability to recruit manpower, provided a way for Aelfric to square his account with Aelrin. A coup supported by the Abrhaani businessman dealt decisively with the men who had exiled him, leaving Aelfric in a position to strengthen his hold on power.
The longer Aelfric pondered the issues, the more he became convinced that Kett’s help to unseat Aelrin and his co-conspirators presented the best solution.
Kett’s network of contacts and fat moneybag guarantees a large army in the shortest time. Without Kett’s aid, recruiting a large force risks Aelrin’s notice too soon. The conclusion is inescapable. I need Kett. It’s humiliating to beg an Abrhaani for help, but it’s still the best way.
As the old warriors say, “Watch your back and prepare for the worst. Stay alert, and the Nethera take the hindmost.”
He leaned over the rail and watched foam and bits of seaweed slide past the hull. The ship’s prow slices the gray-green water of the Syn Gersuul like a well-forged blade cleaves flesh and bone. “I wish I had other options, but I don’t.” Aelfric felt suddenly hungry. He sighed and turned toward the galley. An uncertain future awaits me, but this tiny sliver of wood must carry me home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Eideron’s Plan
Silence hung in the room like the mist outside, as the two youngsters waited for Eideron’s questions. Eideron was no longer a threatening and forbidding presence, just a wise old man with more fire in
his spirit than his frail body could contain. Out of respect, Aibhera and Simea waited for Eideron to speak.
Earlier that day, Simea had shared the debate details with Kyonna and Aibhera after the Synod meeting. He explained to Aibby and Kyonna how hard Eideron fought for Aibhera during the session, and that deepened her respect for Eideron. Kyonna wept when she heard the Synod’s decision and blamed herself for Aibhera’s difficulties. Simea assured her that Herron concocted the issue to divert attention from his own guilt, but Ky was inconsolable.
The Synod had ostracized Eideron and pushed him aside, but he remained unbroken. He was still vital in spirit, heart, and mind. Aibhera imagined that he was the grandfather she never knew. Her grandfathers, both councilors, had died together in an accident before her birth.
The determination to save his people glimmered in Eideron’s eyes. “Do you still have the same dreams each night?”
They hesitated, glanced at each other, and then nodded.
“Things have changed,” Aibhera said. “The dreams have become more vivid. We now hear their muffled conversations, and sometimes we can even smell what they are cooking. We stand beside them in our dreams, although they can’t see us, and we should stand beside them before—”
Eideron interrupted her. “Are you convinced that we should do that despite the danger to Abalon and our people?”
“More now than ever, Master Eideron,” said Simea.
Aibhera gave a curt nod. “Why do you ask?”
“I ask because, as I said before, I must gauge the depth of your commitment to your visions. I must ask you this too. Will you do whatever is necessary to help those who oppose the Nethera, no matter the personal cost?”
“Yes, Master Eideron,” Aibhera looked at Simea.
He nodded and squeezed her hand. “I believe we are ready.”
“Will you become outcasts, abandon your families, and cross the wasteland to find the ones you seek?”
So that is why he asks these questions. Eideron wants to send us to scout Aarda outside Abalon. Once Aibhera understood the full cost of the task ahead, it tore a gaping hole in her heart, and tears filled her eyes.
Sokai children grew up with stories of monsters and dangers outside the caldera. Stories of their ancestors’ hardships and perils during the long trek across the wasteland, before they arrived in Abalon, filled volumes in the library. Aibhera brushed her cheek with her fingers to wipe away the tears, then put her doubts into words. “We have no experience outside this valley, and we know nothing of the outside world. Do you intend to send us out there?”
“You are not alone in your ignorance of what lies outside Abalon. Since I too lack knowledge of the world outside Abalon, I cannot help you with that.” Eideron nodded, his voice became lower, and his tone soothing. “But I can help you in other ways. Think hard before you answer. Many lives may depend on your choices. You may discuss the issues now, or you may do so in private later. When we meet again, you may give me your answer.”
Aibhera said, “With each meeting, we increase our risk of discovery. We will discuss this now and make our decision tonight. Do you agree, Sim?” The visions are too compelling to ignore. I could not live free of shame if I do nothing to help the people who appear in our dreams.
Simea began, “Aibby, since we have no experience outside Abalon, the council is right, we risk exposing our people to danger if we fail or if they capture us.”
“Yes, the responsibility frightens me too, but consider this. Mother and the other planters say we must either stop having children or find new territory for crops outside Abalon. That will risk our exposure too. It may not happen next year, but at some point, we must leave Abalon. If the Nethera defeat the Eniila and the Abrhaani, we will face the Nethera alone when we leave.”
“This decision is too big for young people,” Simea protested.
“But Simea, the Creator has given us these visions. No one else has the information we do. Since the Synod has refused to act, what else can we do? I am terrified of leaving everything behind, but I am just as terrified of doing nothing. My heart tells me to stay, but my mind tells me that staying and doing nothing is an act of cowardice—or worse.”
“You are right. I sense it too,” Simea conceded. “We need the Eniila and Abrhaani as much as they need us. If we refuse to help them and they perish, no one will come to our aid later. Have we decided?”
“Yes, I have. Have you?” Aibhera asked.
“I don’t see another choice.” Simea shrugged and turned his palms upward above the table. “The Sokai must send someone to help the Abrhaani and the Eniila, who now fight alone against the darkness. We are afraid, but if you send us, we will go.”
“The Synod will curse us and never allow us to return, even if we save the entire world,” Aibhera joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Assuming we survive, if you’ll pardon my gallows humor.” Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down at her hands. My departure will kill Kyonna. She has no one to confide in once I’m gone.
After a lengthy silence, Eideron said, “I have heard your discussion. You covered issues the Synod ignored and reached a better conclusion. You both proved wise beyond your years, and although you fear the consequences, you will not flinch from your duty. No Synod councilor could do more, but I will not send you.”
Both young people looked puzzled when he paused and sighed.
“No, I shall not send you,” he repeated. “We shall go together.”
Simea straightened in his seat and opened his mouth to protest, but Eideron held up his hand. “Hush. I know I am old. If you say one word about it, I shall beat you senseless. I can back that up with action. You must have heard the saying, ‘Age and treachery will defeat youth and enthusiasm every time.’” Eideron smirked and winked at Aibhera, grew solemn again, and said, “I may not survive the journey. None of us may survive it, but you are too young and inexperienced to face this task alone. I still must teach you the Synod’s secret knowledge, which may help you survive and contribute to the fight against the Nethera.
“You cannot learn those skills without my instruction. I must go along, if for no other reason than to complete your training. If I try to teach you in Abalon before we leave, we risk discovery and imprisonment or worse, and that ends any chance to aid the ones we seek. Besides, I would be a pitiful leader if I burdened you with a load I refused to bear.”
Eideron hunched forward. “There is no one else, except Himish. He is younger than I am, and he might be more able to handle the physical rigors of the task, but Himish has family responsibilities. I have no one left here, no one who will miss me when I am gone. The Lion of the Synod will snarl one last time, but not within a cage devised by blind fools.”
Both young people’s eyes widened when he referred to himself by that nickname.
“Yes, they call me that, and I intend to live up to it. A lion is not a house cat. The wilderness is the only proper place for a lion to die. I am the only logical choice, and I will tolerate no argument from either of you. Is that understood?” Eideron said, looking far less stern than he sounded.
“Yes, Master,” Simea and Aibhera replied in unison, contrite because of the reprimand.
“Now, it is past an old man’s bedtime.”
Eideron put out the lamp and guided his young guests through his darkened dwelling to the exit.
“Farewell,” he whispered. “Aibhera, Himish will inform you of our next meeting time. I dare not send him to you, Simea, because I fear Herron will become suspicious if you have any contact with Himish or me. Come prepared to leave. I am sorry I cannot tell you what to pack, but I do not know what we need or what we face any more than you do.
“Creator, please guide us in our preparations,” he prayed aloud. “Try to listen for the Creator’s voice, children, since He alone knows what we need. Do not meet, for any reason, before we leave, and tell no one of our plans. I suspect that Herron may have us watched. Herron would love an excuse to impeach and imprison me.
We must act before he anticipates our departure.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Aibby’s Stalker
Aibhera and Simea shared a silent embrace before they parted. She took a different route home than the one she followed on her way to Eideron’s clandestine meeting. Aibhera’s mind raced as she glided along the deserted ramps and passageways toward her family’s quarters, her heart a leaden lump in her chest. Leaving Abalon is our only choice, but it’s exciting, dangerous, and bold too. The Creator has a sense of humor. I can’t believe He picked me, the cautious one, for a perilous adventure, while my impetuous sister will stay safe at home. I feel taller, and tougher just thinking about it.
As she slipped through the shadows of the dimly lit alleys and passageways of the field hands’ quarters, Aibhera got an eerie feeling of someone’s eyes on her. At first, she dismissed the tingling skin and shortness of breath. All the secrecy and skullduggery has made me skittish. Then the scuffle of a footstep, out of place with normal nighttime sounds, made her flinch and jump. A dislodged pebble clattered down the alley behind her. Her heart raced, and her mouth became dry.
Aibhera wracked her brain for a solution. Eideron was right. Herron's spy is following me. I could run home and outdistance him, or I could try to discover who Herron has tasked with the job. If I run homeward, I draw trouble to our household…a poor choice. My family has enough trouble. I want to see who it is.
Aibhera descended one last ramp that ended on the caldera floor among the field hands’ quarters near her home. I know a place! A spot where I can avoid capture and spy on the spy. She threw caution aside and sprinted forward.
Around the corner, a ladder led to a rooftop. The occupants and their neighbors used racks on the flat roof to dry herbs in the sun.
If I climb fast, I can go up the ladder, and once the stalker walks past, I can descend behind him. From up there, I can glimpse my pursuer as he passes. If he climbs the ladder after me, I can’t escape from the roof, but I will risk it. I wonder if someone is following Simea too?