Book of Kayal: Houses of Light

by S. Nileson

  Ganis’ eyes widened in response to Archer’s words and her face cracked a faint smile. “Archer, I believe you are ready to walk the path of a Disciple just as Thalg and Shola are,” the Countess declared, earning her a cheer and applause by the audience.

  And with those words Archer regained his freedom and that of his comrades and the right to continue towards Servak’s path of deliverance.

  7

  Archer stood in Ganis’ hall. The light was stronger that day, Ganis made sure they would be by having some new recruits bring her additional candles and oil lamps from the cellar. She had not yet gotten a chance to change her outfit and continued to wear the same armor in which she watched the trials. Her throne looked smaller in the extended space that her armored body now required. At last, the time was nigh for Archer’s short stay to conclude.

  When Ascilla and Balta arrived, still dressed in their common disciple clothes, Ganis pointed at three packages placed on a wooden table to her right. The table, Archer noticed, was a new addition to her hall. “It’s time for you to move on,” the Countess said, with a voice absent emotion. She masked it well, Archer though.

  In a state of absolute bliss, Archer withdrew his consciousness away from the moment and saw the hall with extreme clarity. It was a brief moment of transcendence which he had never achieved before; a product of his training no doubt.

  Ascilla’s wings had fully healed and the whiteness of them was worthy of regal appreciation. She still held contempt for Ganis, but many things had happened since her arrival and contempt was no longer the sole emotion she felt. The change was profound and she was no longer the same sure Walkyrien she once was. The matter of the dragon eggs remained unresolved but not forgotten.

  Balta smiled. He stood erect and relaxed, returning to his usual self before the misfortune with Keshish. A small hint of curiosity escaped him as he childishly eyed the packages neatly stacked on the table.

  His time in Katabasis had come to an end. His next destination, a mystery. If Ascilla had her way, Archer knew, it would be Fort Pax, but what about Keshish? “I’m confused,” Archer said. “I was so clearly beaten by Thalg and Shola yet you claim that I passed the trials.” His words earned him an unappreciative, nearly hateful, glance from his companions; more so from Ascilla than Balta.

  “Would you rather extend your stay?” Ganis asked.

  “I’d rather have someone else, someone more knowledgeable than I, make the decision for me.”

  “Then to Fort Pax we go,” Ascilla eagerly said, reflexively raising her clenched fist.

  “There you go,” Ganis said. She crossed one leg over the other, the metal of her armor clinging as she did the feat which impressed Archer so. Such heavy armor usually came at a cost of a maneuverability disadvantage, and there was no such disadvantage in the one she wore. It was truly special. “You are to head to Fort Pax to satisfy both Keshish’s will and Ascilla’s orders. What I am left wondering about is your true desires.”

  Archer remained still for a moment, revisiting a troubling thought. “Why were the Silver Stags after me? Why was Keshish murdered?”

  “I do not know. The Silver Stags these days have been acting strangely, seeking and capturing many mysterious figures, some seemingly inconsequential.”

  “Inconsequential to who?”

  “To anyone,” Ganis said. She started to tap with her right hand’s fingers on the arm of her throne. “I have been getting reports from nearby towns that many farmers and craftsmen have been arrested by the Silver Stags under no specific pretense. Perhaps it is the start of an inquisition, or maybe someone is trying to stir the people against the Emperor. In truth all I know about their intentions is nothing more than speculation.”

  Archer hummed. He looked at Ascilla and Balta and asked, “When are you ready to travel?”

  “Whenever you are,” Balta said.

  “Right this instant,” Ascilla replied, gently elbowing Balta in the side.

  “Then we go now,” Archer said. He looked at the table and asked of the Countess, “Are those ours?”

  Ganis nodded. “You will find hardened leather armor, cloaks, weapons of your preference and some other general supplies you might need on your journey. It is a standard gift given to any disciple ready to proceed on his own journey. In the case of your companions I am making an exception.”

  “Thank you, Ganis, for all that which you have taught me. I am truly indebted and hope that one day I might be able to repay the favor. If only I was so wise when I first came here.”

  “I will drink to that,” Ganis said, gesturing to one of the recruits by the entrance. He quickly rushed outside at her command. “I would suggest you follow this route.” Remaining in her seat, she produced a folded map and offered it to Archer. He took it and returned to his companions, opening the map and sharing its contents with them.

  After examining the parchment intently, Ascilla looked at Ganis and said, “Seems to be a rarely used path. Are you certain it’s safe?”

  “From Gallecian patrols, yes I am. From wildlife, perhaps not so much. I trust that you will fare well should you encounter the latter.”

  Ascilla hummed and gave Archer her consent. It was a surprising moment to Archer as he felt the dynamics of leadership change. He expected Ascilla to impose her command rather than grant her permission, or suggestion. The realization made Archer tremble under his new responsibility, but he soon regained mastery on his thoughts and a small portion of his transcendent clarity returned.

  “Is there anything we should know before we depart?” Archer asked of Ganis.

  “One more thing. You will find black cloth strands in your packs. Tie those on your boots and make sure they drag behind you, just a small bit enough to leave a scent. It will keep you safe.” She shifted her attention to Ascilla and added, “Tell Sigurd of me, Ascilla, and remind him that he has not yet visited.”

  Archer and Balta looked at Ascilla only to see a shocked version of the Walkyrien. She was left speechless by the remark and responded by nothing more than a nod.

  “Man of your dreams?” Balta asked, elbowing her in jest and winking at her.

  “Rather of my nightmares.”

  “Now we’re just wasting time,” Archer said as he walked towards the three packages. He lifted one of them, intending to pile the other two on it, but felt how heavy it was and instead handed it over to the others. They were packed in a practical way which allowed them to be easily carried on the back. “Either of you left anything behind?”

  “No,” Balta said. “You sure you don’t want to shower before you leave? You’re not exactly squeaky clean, you know.”

  “I’ll shower on the road.” Archer looked at Ganis one last time, offered her an appreciative nod which earned him one in response, and left.

  Thus the three adventurers continued onwards to Fort Pax, the stronghold of the outlawed Peacekeepers.

  Chapter 4: Through Dragon’s Nest

  ‘Fighting brings honor. Forgiveness brings transcendence,’ words from the Book of Pax.

  1

  The path was treacherous yet Archer and his companions were well prepared with their gifts from Katabasis. A rope proved especially useful as Ascilla often flew ahead and secured it for Archer and Balta to use it to climb. Ganis’ word remained true and the path had no signs of ever being used by men, especially those clad in the heavy Gallecian armor which left tracks easy to spot.

  After many days of walking through forest and rocky steppes they finally reached the mountains, the laborious part of their journey to Fort Pax. With a difficult trek and many sleepless nights, owed to wild animals engaging in their nightfall chatter, the three travelers grew exhausted. The mountain, they hoped, would have a cave or two in which they could find a safe shelter and indulge in much-needed sleep.

  Their prayers were met when, at night, Balta stumbled across a cave hidden well behind a large rock firmly secured in the muddy ground by the root of the mountain. It was only by luck tha
t they found this shelter, and Balta’s clumsiness making him fall just the right way to spot the crevice. A stream of fresh water passed near the entrance and nourished the surrounding shrubs which bore many different kinds of berries and small fruit. At first Ascilla advised against resting in the cave, claiming that being so close to running water could attract unwanted travelers, a quality generally avoided in their journey so far, but an exhausted mind and body made it easy for Balta to convince her otherwise.

  Looking into the cave from its entrance, cautiously entering after a brief moment of consideration, Balta said, “Let me give it a quick scout.” The echo of his voice resonated within the cave.

  Ascilla shushed and gestured him to be careful, grinning at Balta as she rose her finger across her lips, her other hand gripping her blade.

  Balta held his place for a moment and proceeded to enter the cave when he heard no sound emanating from within for long enough to judge it safe. With axe in hand he entered and discovered a much smaller hollow, hidden in the shadow from its exterior, than he had expected to find. He tucked his axe into his belt and said, “It’s empty.”

  The two others followed him in and proceeded to make their own checks for signs of recent use. Archer did not know what he was looking for exactly and was satisfied by scanning the small area once, picking a suitable place to rest rather than looking for signs of habitat. Ascilla was more thorough and she knelt to feel the dust and scurry it around in hopes of uncovering something beneath. She too was satisfied by her findings; rather lack of.

  The travelers unpacked and prepared their beds for the night. Ascilla produced three candles from her pack and used them to provide some source of lighting as they labored, each in their own personal way.

  In the cramped cave Balta chose to set his sleeping space by the very end of the hollow and rested his back on the wall as he looked at the reflection of the moon on the large rock hiding the entrance. He breathed deeply, surprised by how strongly he felt his heart beat and his chest move, and then held his breath for a moment to feel just how strong his heart was beating. His chest, he noticed, still moved. It confused him.

  “What is it?” Archer asked of Balta, noticing how oddly he behaved. “Have you forgotten something?”

  “No.” Balta’s eyes stared into nothingness as he focused solely on the unnatural movement he felt. “I think there’s an earthquake.”

  “I feel none,” Ascilla said, laying down on her bed and filing her nails, a usual habit she engaged in once every other day. “You’re just tired.”

  “Strange.” Balta got up and placed his hand carefully on the wall behind him. It felt scaly and different to what rock should have felt like, perhaps more even and humid than usual. Balta took one of the candles and raised it to the wall only to see an unusual pattern for a natural cave. “Is this surprising to any of you?”

  Ascilla dismissed him entirely and Archer got up to get a closer look. He took the candle from Balta and moved it further away, seeing more of the wall from a distant view. “That’s certainly not what I’d expect,” Archer said. He approached the wall and felt it, agreeing with Balta that it felt unusual. Leaning against the wall, Archer placed his ear onto it to hear if anything came from the other side. And then he grimaced in confusion. “I must be hearing things.”

  “What is it?” Balta asked.

  “It sounds like a heartbeat.”

  At Archer’s comment Ascilla ceased her grooming and joined the other two as they investigated the curious wall. “Maybe we ought to take a sample back to Fort Pax. I know a few who would be interested in studying this place, if it’s any special.” Her comment stemmed from boredom rather than curiosity, for she only wanted the others to rest and stop their chatter and thought that by delegating the investigation to an expert later her desires would be fulfilled.

  And the wall moved, quickly sliding to the right and revealing its true identity when a tail flickered at the end, knocking Balta down. The adventurers found themselves staring into darkness and steeled themselves once the shock dissipated.

  “Who dares disturb my slumber?” a deep voice, cracking with tremendous age, said.

  “Whatever you are,” Ascilla said, “we mean no disrespect. We will go now and disturb you no longer.” It had not dawned on her that what spoke to her now was what she was promised to slay, and only fear and a deep desire for survival commanded her tongue.

  The travelers heard the sound of a deep breath being drawn followed by a heavy, erratic cough.

  Balta stood up and dusted himself. The cough made him tilt his head and ask, “Are you well?” It was an awkward question, he thought right after its utterance. He paused for a moment thinking of how to call his addressor and said, “Oh voice of the deep?”

  “Yes, yes,” the voice said, “I’m very well indeed. It is very polite of you to ask, young one.”

  Fear subsided from the three travelers at the friendly demeanor of the creature, but they were still alert and readied themselves for violence.

  “I think we should lower our weapons,” Archer whispered.

  “If I go out,” Ascilla said, “I’d rather do it fighting.”

  “I’d rather do it quickly,” Balta noted, tucking his axe into his belt.

  “Suit yourself, Ascilla.”

  “Who are you, little ones?” the voice asked.

  “Three lost travelers,” Archer said. The answer came to him naturally and without a delay that allowed suspicion.

  “Do travelers have names in this day and age?”

  Archer gulped and decided that it would be best to use their real names, as he knew them at least, “I am Archer and with me here are Ascilla and Balta.”

  “Nice to make your acquaintance, Archer, Ascilla and Balta. I have most recently been called Terketeus.”

  “Who do you pledge allegiance to, Terketeus?” Ascilla asked.

  “Allegiance? I pledge it to the innocent lives around us all.”

  “So you’re a druid?” Balta asked, curious and somewhat excited to finally meet one of the infamous druids he seldom heard of.

  “No, no, I am no such thing,” said the voice, chuckling at the remark.

  “What are you then?” Ascilla asked.

  The voice hummed and a gust of warm air smelling like ancient libraries blew against the three travelers. “Just someone who wants to be left alone.”

  “Are you Alvian, Estgardian, Orkstadian, or perhaps from the Four Kingdoms?” Ascilla asked again, knowing that he was from neither. Convinced that her weapon was not needed, she sheathed it and kept holding the sheath in her hand, not going through the effort of wearing it on her belt.

  “I don’t know of those peoples.” The voice hummed for a moment. “Why are you so keen to know what manner of creature I am? Is it not more important to know who I am?”

  “I suppose it is,” Ascilla said. “These times have been difficult and trust has become a rare thing.”

  “Then it’s settled,” the voice said. “I promise not to harm you if you promise to do the same.”

  Archer said, “I promise to…”

  Ascilla quickly interrupted Archer and asked, “How can I trust someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me what he is.”

  “A strong argument, little one.” The voice hummed once more thoughtfully. “I am an outcast from a tyrant people of old and I seek refuge in this world amongst your people, but I cannot do so because of what I am. If I tell you what I really am then I risk your enmity and I have no wish to slay or be slain. I also have no wish to find another hidden place to spend my days in peace.”

  “I know what you are,” Archer said. He looked at Ascilla and placed his hand gently on hers and slid it towards the sheathed weapon. “We won’t need that.”

  Reluctantly, Ascilla let go of her weapon and finally allowed her new-found faith in Archer to influence her. “I too know, Archer, and I hope you are right about them for all our sakes.”

  “There is no need to fear us, dra
gon, for you are not our enemy unless you chose to be so. I hope that we have no need to fear you.”

  From the darkness the travelers heard footsteps, wooden soles tapping on dirt in a rhythm common of old men. A scrawny figure appeared, an old man with long and wild white hair growing from his head and beard. He wore an ancient grey robe which Archer guessed had once been white. When he came into the candlelight a spark reflected from a single tear which slid on his right cheek.

  “Are you well, friend?”

  “I cannot express my joy, little one, to finally be able to speak freely with a soul who seeks not my death. Please remain here for as long as you want. It has been a safe place for many centuries.”

  “Centuries?” Balta asked.

  “Yes, our lives are considerably longer than yours.” He paused for a moment and appeared to Archer to be engaged in deranged thought, speaking to himself in a language none could decipher. He then looked at Balta and oddly extended a hand towards him. “I am Terketeus.”

  Balta took his hand and shook it awkwardly, feeling Terketeus’ frail hand stiffen at his touch then relaxing a little. “And I Balta.” He gestured at Ascilla and Archer and said, “And those are Ascilla and Archer.”

  Terketeus repeated the gesture and shook their hands. He then withdrew away from them and said, “There are fresh berries outside and some dried fruit in the other chamber. You will find them in the large barrels.” He quickly walked into the cave and returned a few steps later, never completed his initial intent, and said, “Please do not urinate in the stream outside. It is considered rude for many cultures and I prefer if you would not.”