“It’s not that I don’t want to believe, because I do. With all my heart, I do.” Echinni chewed her lip, trying to find the words to convey her confusion, but she couldn’t. Echinni felt she had to justify this opinion now to show she wasn’t just a silly girl who believed every fanciful story she heard. “I just want something more concrete than faith and gospel.”
“Meskaiwa Raven, Anna Cartwright, Mikhail Noseworthy, and the rest of the original Elohim found Halom after the apocalyptic events which damned the Jendar. They had faith, a strong faith in Halom’s guidance and it saved us, whereas godlessness is what caused the Ciwix, the Jendar’s lack of faith in anything but their power doomed them and nearly destroyed the world. It was Meskaiwa Raven and Halom’s Will which guided us out of the evil and desperation which had been inflicted upon the world from the Jendar’s hubris. Halom’s Will, which led the original tribes of Kenz out of the endless wastes to a land to where humanity could start anew.”
The history of the Singers was being used as a gavel to pound Maestra Lascotti’s point home. Echinni took a breath and chastised herself again for letting the question slip.
“You know these histories as well as I do, Echinni. You’ve been to the archives and have seen Anna Cartwright’s original copy of the Tenets of the Elohim for yourself. What more proof can you ask for?”
“Yes, you are right, of course, Maestra.” Echinni looked down at the floor, the mention of the Tenets brought a particular section back to her. ‘Meskaiwa is purer than the rest of us, for he connects to Halom’s song with such intensity that the very world sings with him.’ Echinni had thought that passage insignificant, just a poetic interpretation of how Meskaiwa could inspire faith in others, but what if it was literal. Had that been what had happened last night at the brothers battle?
“Good, I’m glad you have seen reason, child.” The Maestra sighed with relief. “Now I think we had better save any further lessons for-”
“Maestra–” Echinni interrupted. Her thoughts had brought her attention back to the initiation ceremony yesterday and the two brothers. She had heard they were taken into custody and were being investigated, but just then she remembered she had been humming something. A song, but she couldn’t quite remember what it was. The thought sparked a faint buzzing of the Will in the back of her mind, and she knew she had to speak. “Maestra ... have you spoken to the two brothers yet? About the events at the initiation ceremony?”
“Two brothers?” It took the Maestra a moment to realise whom Echinni was speaking of. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Oh, them? Not yet. Their hearing is scheduled very soon, however. I am heading there after this lesson. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t think what happened was their fault.” Echinni was trying to remember back. The brothers’ fight had felt dreamlike, but the feeling when the tuning fork shattered had reminded her immediately of that fight. …the very world sings with him.
“Yuna, yesterday at the initiation ceremony, when the brothers were fighting, did you hear music?” Echinni asked.
“I heard no music,” Yuna stated. She looked concerned.
“Strange.” Echinni tried to piece together the events of the brothers’ fight. Jachem had said he had heard something, but he too had seen the energy, whereas Kai and herself had both seemed in a bit of a daze. “You’ve told me before that there is a rhythm to battle, though, yes?”
Yuna nodded but quirked an eyebrow.
Could she have been using her Presence somehow to enhance the brothers’ fight? The Will buzzed within her, the first time since yesterday and Echinni knew she was right, but how was it possible?
“What is it, child?” Maestra Lascotti looked inquisitive now.
“The investigation against the two brothers …” Echinni tried to organise her thoughts. “They weren’t the cause of those bursts of energy. Somehow I think I was using my Presence and amplifying what was happening. There was a song, a song I still can’t quite remember. And just now, when the tuning fork shattered, I felt the same tingling as I did last night. I’m sure of it. I was using my Presence.”
Maestra Lascotti’s eyes widened, but then she frowned in thought. “I admit, upon hindsight, it did feel somewhat like what the Hafaza can do. Yet all Hafaza who were in attendance have sworn upon Halom’s name they were not involved, and the brothers both confess to ignorance of the entire event.”
The Maestra looked at Echinni with an almost worried expression. “You are too young,” she said sadly, “but I cannot deny what I just saw. You must begin training with the Hafaza. A person as strong at singing as you needs to be able to control her Presence and, if what you say is true, then for your safety and ours, you will need to learn control. You need to tell us if you feel anything like this again. I will take what you have said to the inquisition board.”
A sudden chime sounded from one of the wonderful new clockworks which sat on Maestra Lascotti’s side table. Echinni noted that not every new invention was counted as wicked by the Singers. Not when the inventor, Tegan Buchanon, worked in the Oratorio. Ms Buchanon’s parallel work on music boxes must grant her immunity somehow.
Yet the chime from the wondrous time keeping seemed to spark a new worry in her.
“Thank you, Maestra, I have kept you long enough this morning,” Echinni said, standing with more urgency than she would have liked.
Kai had felt dazed too. Jachem had heard the music. Did that mean they could both sing?
The time on the clockwork reminded her that she had scheduled a practice session for Jachem and Kai with Maestro Percival. What if Kai could also use his Presence?
“Yes, yes. I suppose I should gather myself and get to that Inquisition. But no practising with your Presence until we can arrange lessons with the Hafaza, understand?”
“Yes, Maestra.” Echinni curtsied and left the room in a hurry.
Yuna was hot on her heels. The two rounded a corner and were safely out of earshot. “I thought we would never get out of there. Sorry about that Yuna” Echinni began to trot down the hall, but then stopped only now just noticing that Yuna had stopped walking for a moment.
Too late Echinni realised what was happening.
“As you bleed, so do I,” Yuna’s hollow voice sounded behind her.
“No! Yuna, don’t ...” Echinni cried.
But her giant guardian had already drawn one of her daggers. It was too late. Yuna began cutting.
Blood surrounded the long sharp blade as Yuna drew it slowly down across her left forearm. Echinni could do nothing but stand and watch.
Yuna showed no emotion, no grimace of pain, no acknowledgement of the fact her arm now had a horrific gash in it. She finished the slow cut, calmly lifting the dagger while reaching into a small pouch on her side.
“I failed in protecting you.” Yuna stared down at Echinni. A length of linen was revealed. Yuna cleaned the dagger thoroughly before replacing it in its sheath. Yuna then calmly wrapped the linen around her forearm to staunch the flow of blood and secured it in place.
The wound would scar, Echinni knew that for a fact, as it was the point of this display. The young princess stared at her bodyguard’s left arm, looking at the set of raised scars upon Yuna’s skin. Every one of the ugly scars symbolised a time Echinni had been hurt.
Yuna looked up to Echinni as if nothing had happened; the pain was already a distant memory for the tall woman as if the pain never even registered in the first place.
Echinni gently touched the large woman’s arm with tears in her eyes. “You were not at fault.” She looked into Yuna’s pale grey eyes, her constant companion, her lifelong friend. “I caused that. It was an accident. You could have done nothing.”
The grey pools just stared back at her. No feeling, almost dead. There were old nightmares in those depths. Whatever horrible restraint kept them from flaying, the huge woman’s mind made Echinni’s very core whimper.
Echinni hated herself for the silly scrape on her arm; for causing more suf
fering to the tortured soul standing in front of her.
The young princess cradled Yuna’s arm gently, trying to offer the large woman some measure of comfort and kindness. She loved Yuna dearly, but there were parts of the warrior she could not dream to understand; dark parts, parts that frightened her.
The pair walked on in silence.
Echinni put her hand into Yuna’s and held it, trying to offer some comfort. “Come on.” Echinni tried to smile through her tears. “We need to find Kai and Jachem, they’ve been left to themselves for most of a morning already. Halom knows what trouble they’ve gotten into.”
They had just set off when one of the Red Tower’s guards rounded a corner and dropped to one knee.
Yuna effortlessly put herself between Echinni and the guard, her hand gently shifted so it could grab one of her knives.
“Apologies, princess, but I have a message from the High King. You are needed at council immediately.” The guard waited on his knee, as still as a statue in his elaborate armour.
“What has happened?” Echinni felt a thrumming of the Will. This was important.
“I was not told, princess.”
Kai and Jachem would have to wait.
“Thank you. You may lead the way,” Echinni bade the guard rise and sighed inwardly. Is this it? My chance at adventure and fun lost so quickly. Yet, the Will was insistent, and she knew she would be drawn to what was happening one way or another. That’s how the Will worked, her choice was simply to be lead or to be pushed.
Echinni did not like being pushed. Not at all.
5 - Inquisition
Some of the molecular machines we have successfully introduced into Test Site B subjects can sense ‘health’ in other tissues, With too many changes though, are they still human? Does it matter?
The Sentinels and I conjecture that some manifestation of these abilities might finally allow humanity to gain the extra senses or empathic abilities needed to change the Kali cycles.
Best keep working.
- Journal of Robert Mannford, Day 245, Year 27
Matoh
The Academy, New Toeron, Bauffin
What is happening to me? Matoh’s thoughts were all the company he had had for the night. First, the strange storm in the desert, now this. Something unnatural was happening to him. He had called the lightning again. Three times now. The first time flying in the sandstorm, the second during his fight with the roc, and now again fighting Wayran.
But how had he done it? Three times now, he had called lightning. Matoh knew Wayran had said the first time was when he had been siphoning in energy to fill the santsi globes on his glider. But when he had fought against the roc, and then last night against Wayran, it had felt more instinctual. He hadn’t been focusing on it like he usually had to with siphoning.
The feeling of it wasn’t right, though. Siphoning kind of hurt, you forced the energy through yourself and the pins and needles feeling told you where that energy was, where to move it and how much you were pulling in. When he had called the lightning, it had felt as if it was outside of him, not inside.
“Which is maybe why I’m not a blackened piece of meat, perhaps?” Matoh asked himself.
That seemed to make a bit of sense. It was more about what was happening in the air around him than what he was doing internally. Yes, that was it. Now that he thought of it, the air had felt different, almost as if it were holding in a breath and a tickling sensation on the surface of his skin. Was that possible?
Wayran might know. All those books he reads might have something about this.
The thought of his brother, however, just agitated him.
Wayran was the reason he was in a cell on his first night rather than celebrating with and meeting all of his new classmates.
“But what actually happened?” Matoh asked the darkness. There had been more than just his lightning last night. Waves of rolling energy had slammed into the crowd during his battle with Wayran and lightning didn’t do that. From the limited amount he had heard before being dragged to his cell, no one described what happened during their fight as lightning. That had been at the end.
“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, kid,” a guard said from beyond the barred door.
Matoh jumped. He hadn’t even heard the guard approaching.
“Come on, on your feet. You’re with me.” A wooden club raked against the bars of his cell, and there was a jangle of keys before the door squealed on iron hinges.
Matoh groaned inwardly. His first day had been a disaster, and he was being marched off to see just how bad things were going to be.
Matoh lifted his head to see the guard’s tabard overtop of tightly linked chainmail. The embroidered red santsi, sword, halberd, and shield of the Syklan Order seemed to scream back at him from upon the guard’s chest. Matoh rolled his eyes up in abject despair. A full member of the Syklan order sent to escort him meant he was in a lot of trouble.
“Yes, sir,” Matoh mumbled with a nod. His mouth felt full of cotton swabs. He shambled after the guard who said nothing else as he led Matoh through the bowels of the Academy. Matoh was, unfortunately, once again alone with his thoughts.
I hate this. Matoh thought. Everything seemed to be spinning further and further away from his control. First the chaos of the wastes, nearly dying, the lightning, and now some crazy display of power last night. What in the nine hells is going on? Matoh looked up to the heavens but only saw the roof of the prison block.
Was it him? Was he somehow causing all of this? It didn’t seem possible to Matoh, yet there was something about that thought which niggled his mind. It felt more like being caught up in a maelstrom pushing him into these situations. Had some god decided to toy with him? To throw him into these situations and dash his dreams?
“I didn’t want any of this,” Matoh mouthed silently.
“What’s that?” his Syklan escort asked from behind him.
“Sorry, nothing, sir.” Matoh hung his head. The man had the hearing of a bat!
“Chin up, son. It’s best to face these things with your head up.” Surprisingly the guard sounded sympathetic.
Not wanting to offend anyone else, Matoh did as he was told and lifted his head and took in his surroundings. They had navigated a few corners, hallways and doorways and entered a very different part of the Academy compared to his earlier gloomy accommodations. This new hallway was elaborately decorated. Intricate carpets lay beneath his feet, brass pots and fine ceramic figurines lined the walls sitting on tables whose only purpose appeared to be to hold up the decorations.
“Pardon me, sir, but might I ask where we are?” Matoh asked with even more dread slipping into his gut.
“The doyenne’s office. She’s called an early morning session to investigate what happened yesterday,” the guard replied matter-of-factly.
Matoh banged his manacled hands against his head, and his heart sank. A moment ago he doubted he could feel any worse, but he did. Matoh was about to be officially thrown out by the head of the entire Academy. He hadn’t even been here a full day!
“Hey, now. None of that,” the guard said with a half-laugh. “Can’t have the doyenne thinking I roughed you up.” He paused to appraise Matoh’s size. “Though from the looks of them shoulders, it would be a right good tussle if I tried, eh son?” The guard winked, and Matoh feigned a grin.
“I don’t think it’s quite as bad as you think, son,” the guard said. “Though I never before saw what you two did yesterday.”
Matoh’s eyebrow rose. “What do you mean?”
The guard’s face was gob smacked. “Why blasting everyone with that crazy magic of yours, of course! Damnedest thing I ever saw.”
It was the same story he had heard other people speaking of before he was hauled down to his cell.
“We didn’t mean to ... I don’t know how it happened. It doesn’t make any sense,” Matoh tried to explain. He couldn’t help but like this Syklan. The man’s position as an esteemed knig
ht of the Syklan Order wasn’t lorded over him at all. This knight felt like someone you could sit down and crack jokes with at the pub.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure the doyenne will fill you in on the details. In you go.” The guard opened the door and gestured Matoh through.
“Here’s the other one then, Doyenne Cunningham.” The guard nodded to the woman sitting in the middle of the huge desk dominating the room.
Wayran was already there, standing in front of the doyenne and the desk, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Matoh shot his brother’s back a contemptuous look. Despite having a laugh at the end of their fight, Matoh couldn’t help but think all of this was Wayran’s fault somehow. If he just had found something else to do than come to the Academy, none of this would have happened.
“Thank you, Garrick, that will be all.” The doyenne dismissed Matoh’s Syklan escort.
Sir Garrick, Matoh logged the name into his memory. If he somehow got out of this, he would try to meet the man under better circumstances. I’ll have to buy him a round at an alehouse perhaps.
Matoh looked at the panel who would judge him. He knew most of them. Doyenne Cunningham of course, and then there was Fellow Callahan, the Head of Siphoning, and whose Presence was hopefully a point in his favour. Chronicler Rutherford sat next to Callahan, then there was Lady Buika, Head of Presence Training with the Hafaza, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the plump woman at the end of the table was Maestra Lascotti.
Then his eyes found the sixth member of the panel and his mouth threatened to drop open.
An eye patch covered the man’s left eye and hid part of the long scar running from his cheek up to his brow. The man’s steely grey hair was styled with the traditional Paleschurian stripe along the top and thin braid on the left, like Matoh’s own. Bright white feathers were tied into his hair with colourful beads. The silver halberd and commander’s chevron of the Shining Marauders was emblazoned on the man’s long jacket.
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