“Hello, my boy!” He hugged me tightly. There were cheers all around us from the others. “You’ve grown so much, changed,” my father said. He looked me over, noticing the color of my skin and my wings. “You’ve become a man.”
“And you've become an old man," I joked, touching his nearly full head of grey hair. "Who are all these men?” I asked, looking around.
“This is your army,” he said.
“Hello,” I said with a smile, waving to them. They responded with a stern, short grunt-like chant, loudly, in unison, as if mandated to do so by orders. My skin jumped, startled. “How did you get out of Sanji?” I asked my father.
“I escaped, with the help of some men I knew at the jail,” he said.
“What about mother?” I asked. “Where is she? I had a terrible dream…”
“Come with me, son,” he said somberly. He took my arm and walked with me away from the others. He shot a quick nod to his men and they stood at ease.
“What is it?” I asked, but I already knew. My dreams had told me.
“She is gone, son.” His head fell with sorrow.
“No… No!” I began to cry, refusing to believe it. My father held me like a child, like he did when I was young. I tried to brush away the tears, thinking of the lessons he taught me before he was captured, but I couldn’t. “I’m sorry, father. I should have come for you.”
“No!” he said sternly. “They would have spotted you and arrested you instantly. Scievah’s men are well versed in our prophecy, and know who and what they are looking for. The only way was with the help of my spies and those I convinced to rebel in the jail. Besides, I too received a message from the king to come here. That is partly what caused my escape attempt. So it either would have been too dangerous, or you would have come for me and I wouldn’t have been there.”
“How did it happen?” I asked, wiping the tears away. “How did she die?”
“She was tortured endlessly. Her will was strong and she never gave in, never told them as much as a whisper about the resistance. On the day I escaped, I broke into her cell to take her with me. She was so badly beaten that I hardly recognized her. Her wings were stripped of their feathers, ripped and torn. Her body was bruised and her spirit was broken. She was gaunt and weak, cowering in the corner of the cell, trying to shield herself from whatever horrors occurred upon each opening of her cell door. I ran to her and held her. She felt that it was me. With all her strength she cracked open her eyes and pushed out a smile. She told me she loved me, and then she died in my arms. She held onto life as long as she could to see me one last time.” My father became choked up, holding back his tears. “I carried her with me during the escape, fighting off the guards with her body slung over my shoulder. When I was out, I went home to our farm and gave her a proper burial beside her favorite tree. You know the one?” I nodded yes. He gathered himself for a moment. “Then I received a king’s message to come here, to the Sepulcre. I took as many men as I could who were sympathetic to our cause.”
“Patreus received the message while we were in Alapis, fleeing from an attack by the impure at the festival of Di’Veridae,” I said.
“Patreus has taught you much?” he asked.
“Yes. But he is no substitute for you. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me too, son. Me too.”
“Father, am I going to die?” I asked.
“The prophecy is troubling you,” he said.
“I’ve come to terms with the idea that I might die after all is done in the war against the impure.” I hid my fear from him. “What troubles me is Lunaris. We wanted to be together but I didn’t want her to be upset if I died soon after. I told her not to wait for me. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“Your mother and I had the same fears. I was always a wanted man, a criminal, ever since I turned my back on my old life, on my father. And your mother was an easy target; a winged woman among the groundsmen. Either or both of us could have been taken away at any time if the impure spies found us, and they eventually did. Now that she is gone, I can tell you I’m glad that we spent what little time there was for us together. Love is the greatest gift in all of Haaret; the most bountiful of the Bountiful Gifts, it is said. My grief now is worth the memories we made. The memories will always be there to comfort me, but the grief and sorrow will pass. Sure I will always be saddened, but I am also overjoyed by the love she brought into my life, the son she gave me.” He tenderly put his hand on my shoulder. “Even if you die, son, the love you give to those around you carries on in them for the rest of their lives. If you see Lunaris again, after all of this Scievah business, don’t ever let her out of your sight.
“Prophecies are fickle things,” he reasoned. “We can never predict when they might come to fruition, or even what they fully mean. We cannot let them dictate our lives and decisions so harshly, especially when all we can remember is the rhyme and not Ver'Deiro's actual words. It is often spoken: ‘Rhyme and song; sometimes right, sometimes wrong.’” He quoted an old proverb. “Sometimes prophecies simply serve as warnings, guides, or for preparation. They must not be taken so literally; especially now, for you. We need you. All of Haaret needs you.”
Although I didn’t show it, my thoughts often fixated on the prophecy, on what would happen, and coping with the foreknowledge of my death. I acted tough in front of my father, like a man should, without fear or sadness, but I was most certainly fearful of my end. My mind soon wandered from the prophecy back to Lunaris, however. I thought about how my father must have had the same concerns when he fell in love with my mother. I still had so many questions about them after reading the genealogies in Patreus’ cabin. I pressed my father.
“How did you meet? You and mother?” I asked.
“I found her hiding in a temple.” He began to laugh. “She punched me square in the face, nearly breaking my nose.” His smile began to fade as his thoughts came back to the present. He became more serious. “That was how we met. She was hiding from the impure after the execution of Ver’Deiro, when Scievah and my father began to close their grip on the pure. On the eve of his execution, Ver’Deiro told me from his prison cell that he would see me again, after he died. At the time, I was young and corrupt. I did not believe him. I thought his words were the rants and dreams of a lunatic. But the evening after Ver’Deiro was executed, his spirit visited me in my quarters, just as he had predicted. I was almost instantly changed in mind and soul. I knew I could no longer live an impure life. He saw this in me, and told me to go to the temple of Il'Nidim and guide the Haareti hiding there to safety. He told me where to find the temple, as such places were kept secret by the pure. I feared what would happen if I did not go, but I also feared what would happen if I did. The pure would surely have my head, I thought. It was like a test of my resolve, to see if I was serious about turning my back on the corrupt. So I went.
“When I got there, I rolled back the rounded stone that blocked the entrance and was greeted by a stiff punch to the face. Your mother knocked me out cold!” He laughed. “When I came to, my eyes focused from the blur to see the most beautiful woman I had ever set eyes upon. She was like an angel. I immediately felt calm and at peace. But I was surrounded by members of the resistance. I soon realized how dire my situation was. I was sure the king was watching out for me that day, as I should have been dead. At first they didn’t believe me. They pinned me to the ground, demanding answers and information. They showed me mercy and let me explain why I was there. I told them everything I knew, and everything Ver’Deiro told me, including the prophecy.
“Ver’Deiro’s spirit visited them the previous night as well. They knew of the prophecy too, except for the last part of it, about your death. It was then that they trusted me.” He paused in thought. “Soon after that your mother and I fell in love. She gave up her life for me, willingly discarding her gifts in pursuit of our love.” His eyes welled up, but he held back his tears.
“Tell me more about thos
e times,” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“That, my son, is a tale for another day. It seems we have work to do here, to help your new town.”
The timing of my father’s arrival to our camp was nothing short of divine. We would benefit from having more men with us in the Sepulcre as we made our approach upon the cemetery. Patreus told them of our quest, and that it would take an overnight journey into the darkness to reach the place in their messages. He told my father the path was clear and marked for most of the trip to the cemetery. We would strike out again the next day.
In the meantime my father and his men gathered stones for the wall and timber for the homes. They hunted, gathered edible plants, and offered their services to anyone who needed them.
#
During a break from our duties, my father told us of how he escaped Sanji prison with the help of his spies. It was a coup. Many of his men were also prisoners alongside him for the very same crime; worship. Some of the guards at the jail were spies for the pure, and others were convinced and persuaded by my father and the other inmates to turn their back on Scievah and lead a pure life.
The bell rang at noon in the executioner’s square. That meant it was time for someone to be beheaded. A hooded fiend held a rusty axe ready to strike the innocent prisoner whose neck was held under foot at the chopping block. But guards who were in on the plan secretly set free my father and his men, unlocking their cells and providing them with weapons. They rushed the square and struck down the executioner before he could bring his axe down. Then there was uproar. Outnumbered, the prison was soon overrun by the inmates. They piled the bodies of the impure guards into the poisonous moat and climbed over them, using them as a bridge for their escape.
My father stayed behind, searching the cavernous catacombs and dank dungeons below the prison for my mother. She was moved often, the guards told him. She was thought to be too valuable to kill, but too dangerous to live. As such she was kept in a state of constant pain and suffering. The impure didn’t know she was powerless after giving herself to my father, one who was not truly pure. But it was good that they feared her, my father explained. Alone, my father found her cell. He killed the guard in front of her door and tried to rescue her before it was too late.
When he left the prison, he made sure he was the last to leave. He killed every last one of the impure guards. When he told us I could see the look of fear and shock on the faces of those who had never known such violence in their lives. While they had lived through an attack at the feast, and their town was destroyed, it was done by an evil horde of ghouls and beasts, distorted grotesque faces and dark magic. The thought of a man, a man of the king even, a reformed man, taking his sword to every last impure guard in the prison with his dead wife slung over his shoulder, was, to them, a shock that bordered on chaotic overzealous barbarism. I could see in my father's smoky distant eyes the horrors that he had lived through in his time. A violent past, difficult to shut away, reared its ugly head and unleashed its fury with a righteousness that bordered vengeance and wanton murder.
I spent some time catching up with my father, getting to know him all over again. At first we talked about who he was, how he came to be a revolutionary. He told me of his brutal father, Pere, and half brother, Hadlick. He explained how his father was behind his and my mother’s capture. Such treachery. He vowed to get revenge upon his father. I asked him why he couldn’t convince Pere of his wrongdoing, but he said that Pere was long gone. He tried to convince him cycles ago and Pere refused, disowning my father. He thought of my father as a traitor and a betrayer, and put out calls for his arrest on sight. When he learned that my father married my mother, he soon realized that the prophecies could be true; that the Unity would come to destroy Scievah. This angered Pere and made him even more determined to find and imprison my parents, even me as well.
We spoke of my mother, fondly remembering the good times, trying to keep our smiles up as much as we could. At times my mind wandered to her, daydreaming of a goodbye that I never would have. Things unsaid, things taken for granted, lost opportunity to give back to her all that she gave to me, and to care for her and provide for her in her old age.
It was overwhelming. I often thought of my parents and wondered if I would ever see them again, but in the back of my mind there was always hope. There was always the knowledge that they may be alive somewhere, that someday I may see them again. It comforted me, without me knowing, and I took that ignorance for granted. The grief was heavy, and I could see more clearly why Lunaris said we should all focus on the good memories of Deius when we were in Alapis. It is best to celebrate life than to dwell and mourn for so long in death. Though it would be difficult, I had to move on. So much was expected of me; I did not have time for such low spirits, especially if I was to lead a revolution. I simply made it my vow that I would visit her grave if I was to survive this war, and I would speak to her in my thoughts each day. Perhaps she would be able to hear me from beyond.
My father and I spoke through supper, and into the night. I even gave him the letter I started writing to him in my journal before he was captured. Soon the others were preparing for sleep. My father and I said goodnight, and tried to get some rest for the long trip into the darkness the next morning.
CHAPTER 20
We awoke in the fading night, our breath fogging the air as we exhaled into the cold morning. All was quiet. The remaining settlers rested easy, quietly, knowing there was a small army nearby. Several of my father’s men stayed behind to protect the group.
We gathered our supplies and scaled the wall before the sun broke through the eastern mists. We trudged on in silence for quite some time, still waking from our slumber. The darkness of the early morning soon blended into the still abyssal fog of the Sepulcre.
We strode on confidently, now with sufficient numbers to stave off a horde of Draugr. Our men, skilled with sword and shield, were ready for combat. Patreus warned them of the effects the Draugr had, giving them each wads of bread to muffle their ears. He told them to avert their eyes, and to use their peripherals.
A few of the men were still reeling from their prison escape, noisily chatting, happy and unfettered, healthy and on the mend. They traded stories about what they would do with their new found freedom. I understood their joy, but I also worried that they were not ready for this. Which was a better place to be; Sanji Prison, or the Sepulcre? I supposed freely going into danger was preferable to being held against your will. These men were brave. Brave and unknowing of what was ahead. They seemed not to heed our warnings.
We ventured on, deep into the Sepulcre, further than we had gone before, up high into the ruins of the city, through crumbled homes and places of majesty. Occasionally we heard the agonized moans of the Draugr nearby, but they stayed away due to our torches, afraid of the light.
Soon we came upon what seemed to be a destroyed palace. The domed ceiling lay half buried, tipped on its side, creating a clamshell-like arched roof over a small patch of dead earth. The men began to talk about where we should set up camp. There was a debate about whether to camp out in the open, where we could have full-round views in case we were approached in the night, or in a narrow hideaway, like the dome, where we could control the pace of our attackers due to the physical structures in place nearby.
It was decided that the fallen palace dome would be our shelter, a place where we felt relatively safe and hidden. We built a fire to keep the Draugr at bay, and a few men would keep watch in shifts while the others tried to rest.
We built the fire a few strides from the base of the dome. The grey smoke rose up into the blackness and disappeared as it slithered up into the moonless, still sky that was forever condemned to night. We roasted some fish and drank hot herb water to replenish ourselves. The air smelled of life instead of death and nothingness.
“We shall take the first watch,” one of the men said, nudging his friend with his elbow as he reached into his pack to remove a flask. “We are stil
l restless with excitement from being set free; we will be unable to sleep anyhow!” He cheered and took a swig of his flask before passing it to his cohort.
“Alright, but be vigilant. When you begin to tire, wake two more of us so that we may continue to keep a lookout,” Patreus instructed.
“Sip your spirits lightly tonight men,” my father warned them. “I know there is much cause to celebrate, but I urge you to show restraint.” The men grunted with a formal, soldierly agreement that sounded similar to their salute to me the previous day, only much quieter. “Good then,” my father approved. He addressed the rest of us. “Finish your meals and rest up under the dome. Tomorrow we take the cemetery.”
We slept uneasily, with our ears still muffled. I began to dream of Ahaareta Falls. The water roared down into the Great Divide, making a deafening and constant whoosh sound. A lion stood atop the falls. It let out a roar and then turned from the falls, walking into the distance. The sound of the water changed to become a drone-like deep hum that sounded like a heavy insect buzzing only deeper and much louder. The water turned black, as if barrels of ink were spilled into it. All the trees, bushes and plants growing along the face of the canyon walls wilted and shriveled, also turning black like the water. Then the canyon wall itself blackened, as did the sky above. The hum of the waterfall muffled in my ear and I began to awaken. The sound was real; it was not in my dream. It was the blaring buzz-hum of the Draugr!
I shot up like an arrow off the bow. The others woke as well. It was pitch black. The fire had gone out. Not even a smoldering ember was left glowing to reveal where it once burned. Only the lingering scent of a campfire, roasted fish and herbs hung in the thick still air.
My eyes began to adjust. I saw my father waking the others. He too must have been able to see a bit better than the others, being half Uhaareti. He was helping them get to their weapons. I turned toward where the fire was to see a disembodied Draugr with one of the watchmen frozen in his gaze. The other lay still, stiff on the ground by his side.
The Return of the Fifth Stone Page 27