With all of these complications, Galian’s prognosis was not good.
However, no doctor’s tool can measure will. When all expected surrender, Galian persevered.
After weeks of struggle – after weeks of Galian’s body betraying him and depriving him of air – there was a sudden and inexplicable improvement. Suddenly, with no explanation but the miraculous, Galian was able to breathe normally. There were no indications of how it happened, only the proof that it had.
Diligently, Haren performed a few more tests, but the results were the same. Somehow, Galian had escaped from the condition that had threatened his life. It was as if Destiny had quarreled with Death and the maiden had worked a miracle.
As Galian began to breathe more easily, every monk in the Throne’s Eye did so as well – every monk except Igallik. After he had been assured of Galian’s health, the head monk began work on a grand stratagem. The Lyran House and the Dark Pool had warred with each other for ages. The two foes had been trading moves on a chessboard where one false move could mean complete destruction. And even though the Dark Pool had won the latest exchange, Igallik believed that he had two new pieces that promised a checkmate. To the Lyran name, Igallik swore that he would make Galian and Odin throne-worthy. Any lesser goal was an insult to Serich. The head monk’s goal was daunting, but it was also unflinching. There would be no compromise or surrender – especially with Galian. Igallik would acknowledge Galian’s disability, but he would not yield to it. Regardless of either boy’s condition, they would be trained – they would be initiated into the sacred arts of the Throne’s Eye brotherhood.
Igallik’s plan was understood by every monk in the monastery. Fittingly, nearly every monk wanted to help the twins achieve their destiny. Odin and Galian would never be sheltered from their origin, and, similarly, they would never be sheltered from where they were destined to be. The undeniable truth was that Odin and Galian were the heirs to the throne of Animus Letum. As a collective, the High Order acknowledged that the only option for the Throne’s Eye was to help Odin and Galian take back their birthright. They also acknowledged that such a task would require many hands. Accordingly, only one month after the birth of the sons of Animus Letum, the Order called every monk who was older than fifteen to a meeting in the Spine.
The sun was sinking when the one hundred and twenty three monks moved into the library. The glow of the setting sun was pouring through the Spine’s windows, and as the monks settled themselves, Igallik stood stoically before the room’s giant fireplace. The Order was seated next to him, and at the back of the room, Haren sat with the infant twins.
Before long, Igallik raised his right hand, and after the monks had quieted, he explained the reason for their attendance.
“Brothers,” he began, “I have decided to be forthright with this assembly. I am telling you now that for each one of us, a critical decision is only minutes away. In moments, brothers, I will be asking for your life.” The head monk paused a moment and allowed his words to resound. The words most definitely registered, and after watching the monks shift and murmur, Igallik proceeded. “I hope we are all in agreement that we have entered into an age of unprecedented circumstance,” he said. “Hell has begun in the second realm. This is an undeniable truth. The serpent Forneus has established his rule over Animus Letum, and, now, beyond the curtain of death, a great wickedness awaits. Our deaths have become his domain. That being said, there is an even more important detail concerning Forneus’s rule: in our realm, more specifically, at the back of this room, we harbour hell’s greatest threat – we harbour the last of the Lyran legacy.”
The monks nodded their consensus. Igallik had given them indisputable facts.
“Upon these truths,” Igallik continued, “I wish to give you one more: the Lyran and Forneus are destined to clash once more. A war is waiting for our adopted sons, and it is a war in which we must play a part.”
A young and eager monk named Gieler, who was somewhat swept away by the head monk’s third truth, attempted to rally his brothers.
“We will play our part!” he shouted while beating his chest. “We will train them! Hell will crumble before the Lyran!”
As a chorus of shouts and cheers moved throughout the Spine’s younger audience, Igallik and the Order remained patient. The rally eventually faded, and after Igallik regained the room’s attention, he looked directly at Gieler.
“We will train them,” the head monk assured, “there is no doubt. But in that spirit, I have another question for you and every other monk in attendance: are you prepared to die with them?”
Gieler’s neck flexed back. “Die with them?” he repeated.
As the question registered, more whispers and murmurs spread throughout the Spine. Igallik quickly raised his hand and restored the quiet.
“I did say die with them,” he restated. “Brothers, in the last month, myself and the Order have considered absolutely every factor regarding the twins. The most obvious truth – one that has been hinted at but not stated explicitly – is that one day Galian and Odin will have to return to the afterlife. They will have to reclaim the throne. I believe we are the key-holders of this destiny. I don’t believe Serich sent his sons so that we could help them in only this realm – I believe we are intended to help them in the second realm as well.”
Nile, the Logic totem, chose to clarify what the head monk was saying.
“We intend to build the twins an army,” he said. “One that will cross with them into the afterlife. For further reference, this army will be known as the Forge.”
Aeroh, the monk who had helped find Haren and the queen, seemed to sense the implication.
“You intend a mass suicide?” he said.
Igallik nodded. “We do. When the twins are ready, I am proposing that they, and the monks of the Forge, die and bring war to Forneus’s throne. The curtain of death has become our ally,” the head monk said. “Our great advantage is that we can start this war the moment we are best prepared.”
“But when will we know the twins are ready?” Aeroh asked. “How much time do we have?”
“At this point,” Igallik replied, “we have decided that we have twenty-five years to complete the proper training. When the boys are twenty-five, we intend for them to die.”
The plan was met with silence.
As the monks shifted in their seats, Palis, the small Mercy totem, broke the quiet.
“I know this sounds drastic,” he said, “but we are also being very honest about the situation. Hell grows every day, brothers. We have delved very far into this fact, and we have deduced that twenty-five years is our window – a milestone that ensures that the twins are ready and that Hell has not grown too strong.”
As a few more murmurs came from the mass of monks, Wylak, the herbalist, was still struggling with the idea of the Forge.
“So everything is already set?” he asked. “We are all in the Forge?”
“No,” Palis replied. “With regard to the Forge, we are offering you a choice. The army will be voluntary, and only monks older than fifteen will be able to volunteer. Furthermore, there will be an annual meeting where monks can reconsider their position in the Forge – they can sign up or resign.”
“Starting when?” Wylak asked.
“This is our first meeting,” Palis replied.
Aeroh felt the need to point out the obvious. “But the twins are infants,” he said. “They are not ready to be kings.”
“What if death finds them before they are ready?” Igallik challenged. “Should we let them fall into the afterlife and hope for the best?”
The point was well taken.
After brushing his hand through his long beard, Igallik pointed towards the Ichor.
“You are all familiar with our burial rite,” he said. “In death, we pay the boatman two coins for his service. There are one hundred and twenty three monks in this room, and in the Ichor, there are two hundred and forty six silver coins. I am asking each one of y
ou to be a coin-bearer. I am asking you to claim two coins and carry them always as a gesture of your rank in the Forge.”
“And what if we don’t?” Aeroh asked. “Will there be any backlash?”
“No backlash,” Igallik confirmed. “But before you choose, let me make one thing clear: never has a greater purpose been so close. This is an opportunity, brothers. We call this army the Forge because it is our chance to forge heaven.”
With a small thunder in his voice, the head monk pointed back to Gieler. “Gieler was right,” he said, “we will train them and make them throne-worthy. But is that enough? Shouldn’t we, ourselves, force the hands of fate? Brothers, the coin-bearers can alter eternity. Think of this – imagine building heaven – as you consider your choice.”
The words were a call. Even so, the monks in the Spine were very still. The idea of signing away their lives had turned one hundred and twenty three monks into statues. The gravity of the situation was felt by all, and it seemed no one wanted to make the first move. That was, until a violet-eyed girl at the back stood up.
With the twins still in her arms, Haren projected her voice throughout the Spine.
“This is not a moment to fear,” she said to her brothers. “This a moment to be brave. Don’t fear this moment because it is bigger than all of us: embrace it because we can hold on to it together. Many of you haven’t met Hell,” Haren said. “I have. I met it the day I killed my best friend…”
Although many of the monks were listening intently, Aeroh rolled his eyes.
“Are you making a point?” he asked, “or are you telling a story?”
“Both,” Haren replied. “The short form of my story is that hell took everything from me, and my point is that we can’t let it do the same to these twins. I believe, even in my short attendance here at the Throne’s Eye, that each of you can help take back the throne of Animus Letum. That is not all these boys lost, but it is something. Hell struck these twins hard, there is no doubt. But for them, we can strike mightily back. On the grandest scale, we can swing our fists into Hell.”
Haren looked to Raine, and then carried her gaze throughout the Spine. “Many of us have lost someone we love,” she said. “On their behalf, we can honour what is right. On their behalf, we can give our best to these twins.”
“No one has ever disputed that,” Aeroh argued. “All of us plan to give the twins our best.”
Haren nodded calmly back. “And now we prove it,” she said.
With a poised stride, Haren moved through the monks and became the first person to collect her coins. As the studying eyes of the Spine watched her, there were a few whispers. But then, with a clap, Raine rose to his feet and began to follow. There was more silence and then four more rose. Then twenty. And soon, there was a lineup to the Ichor.
As Haren exited the Ichor with her coins, Igallik watched her every stride.
“Follow the Haren,” he whispered to himself.
After all was said and done, there were ninety-six coin-bearers.
Suddenly, the sons of Animus Letum had an army.
Suddenly, the Forge had formed.
8
After the Forge was formed, the ninety-six coin-bearers showed an even stronger interest in the sons of Animus Letum. In shifts, the monks would watch over the boys, and when the shifts changed, the departing monks would share their observations about what they perceived to be the best care. Even without a throne, Galian and Odin were treated like royalty – they were the Sanctus Donum. However, for as much attention as they received, it was clear that Odin and Galian favoured the company of three: Haren, Raine, and Raine’s nine year old apprentice Usis.
Usis was a slim and tall boy of Asian descent, with a set of strikingly dark eyes. His irises were a dark gray, and when any monk met his stare, it always appeared that Usis was looking through them. In fact, he always seemed to be looking past the present. He was not aloof, but considerate. However, his long-sight was not a weakness. There was an almost mechanical quality to his thinking, which resulted in a very adept ability to read situations and people. Usis also shared a similar backstory with the sons of Animus Letum. His past, like Galian’s and Odin’s, had made him an orphan. On his fourth birthday, a very dangerous cult had murdered his parents. The Throne’s Eye monks, led by Raine, had arrived too late to save his parents, but after destroying the cult, Raine assumed the responsibility of Usis’s care as a penance for their failure. It became a wise decision. Usis’s methodical mind took so naturally to the martial arts that his skills marked him as a prodigy. As Raine kept Usis under his study, it was clear that Usis had the potential to be the Throne’s Eye’s greatest warrior.
For years, Usis thrived as the promise of the Throne’s Eye soldiers.
That was, until Odin. If Usis’s potential was sunbeams, Odin’s was supernova. Even young, Odin exhibited an almost unnatural combination of physical abilities. He walked at a half year and ran soon after. Having watched over other boys at the same age, Raine and Haren knew how far ahead Odin was. As most children do, Odin mimicked the movements he observed; however, before his second year he had already exhibited an abundance of improvisational skills. The incredibly fast development of his balance and agility were unprecedented – even when measured against Usis. To predict Odin’s future, the mind had to look further than greatness.
Unfortunately, Odin’s physical promise was not his brother’s. Because of Galian’s physical limitations, he could not explore his world as well as his brother. For Haren, Raine, and Usis, the awareness of Galian’s limits was painful – especially with the acknowledgement of Odin’s strengths. There seemed to be no scenario where Galian wasn’t in Odin’s shadow. The boys’ mentors honestly feared that Galian would hold Odin back. Pre-emptively, they devised a plan where the twins’ individual strengths could be fostered and neither of them would be left in the shadow. Raine and Usis began a daily routine where they challenged Odin’s physical abilities, and at the same time Haren spent time with Galian in an effort to create a sign language. Galian proved to be a quick study. The quiet Lyran showed exceptional mental resilience, and soon, by Haren’s persistence and the great willingness of the other monks, the entire monastery was versed in Galian’s quiet lexicon. As Galian’s language continually evolved, no one was more versed in it than Odin. The two young brothers would share conversations in sign that even Haren could not read – although this, as every monk present in the boys’ infancy could attest to, was not new. There was a bond – a born strength – between the twins. As infants, Galian, never able or even motivated to cry, could silence his brother’s wails with a look. The roles of that bond, considering Galian’s handicap, came as a surprise. It was Galian – even though his physical disability drastically limited his movement – who led the two. It was no secret that Odin was an exceptional child with a propensity for adventure. His toddling and unaccompanied steps had twice found the forest outside the monastery’s walls. But as he grew and continued to cut his own paths, he always looked back to the quiet Galian. It was as if somehow, even in his young mind, Odin understood Galian’s limitations, and as only a brother could, he ran for the hearts of two. Only joy was painted on Galian’s face when he watched his brother – it was a love few are worthy to hold.
The early years of the sons of Animus Letum passed as such – with the young adventurer’s steps made for, and adored by, his quiet anchor.
When Serich sent Rhea to your earth realm, he sacrificed more than just his life and throne. When he gave his sons to the Throne’s Eye, he stripped the boys of what you may consider a normal childhood. The Throne’s Eye was often more school than home, and within their walls the monks fostered a very different kind of play. Friendships were made in the training grounds known as the Damns, and instead of playing with toys, the youth sparred with weapons. The Damns held to strict conditions, but they were named for a time-honoured and proven purpose: they bred masters of war, gladiator souls conditioned to damn the rise of hell on eart
h. From youth, the monks were trained to inherit and uphold this colossal weight.
Galian and Odin would be no exception.
At the first sign of readiness, Galian and Odin entered the Damns. The schedule set for the youth of the Throne’s Eye was arduous. From morning to dusk the young monks were instructed in the martial arts and drilled in their application. Strengths were identified and nurtured; weaknesses were discovered and rectified. To fail a task in the Damns was to volunteer another attempt. It was a test of heart, and it was the breeding ground of battle gods. In this arena, Odin thrived. Odin’s exceptional physical ability, as well as his almost unnatural aptitude for learning, had made his skills in the martial arts beyond reasonable expectation. He was a phenom. In his many triumphs in the Damns, Odin’s peers jokingly called him The Mighty Odin. The name would stick. However, the Damns of the Throne’s Eye ultimately revealed strength, and of the twins, Odin was surprisingly the weaker of the two. Galian, born both mute and physically disabled, compensated for both limitations with his mind – twentyfold. Galian looked back on genius. His mind was in fact so powerful that he, like his father, learned to move objects without touching them. To spar with Galian was to invite great challenge. As you might expect, due to Galian’s physical condition, almost every monk was able to push the silent monk over, but to get close enough to impose that advantage was essentially impossible. With his considerable mental power, he could trip, toss, or strike foes down from a distance as far back as four yards. Galian’s power was still young and limited – his mind could not lift more than forty pounds, and he was unable to focus his power on two separate objects. But with the strategic employment of his abilities, Galian had made himself the juggernaut of the Damns.
The Sons of Animus Letum Page 9