The meeting progressed very well after Captain Brodst apologized for his rashness. After all resolutions were made, they parted for the evening, having come to decisions on many topics. The decree went forth that same night. An assemblage of the High Council, the Council of Keepers, and the leaders from all members of the alliance was being called. All nobles would be welcome. They would also seek the advice of the Priests of the Father, the Priestesses of the Mother, and the Priests of the Dark Flame. The decree also said that anyone not in attendance by the declared time would be held in contempt of the alliance and face persecution accordingly, an insurance policy against the Minor Kingdom's probable ban.
Lord Edwar Serant and Captain Ansh Brodst departed for the detainment area where the assassin lord was being held. Lord Serant admired the captain's strength of mind, but he scoffed at his foolish arrogance. It was one thing to be arrogant if you could justify that arrogance, clearly another to claim it when the right to proclaim it had not been earned. He could see a promise of great things to come in Brodst; with a nurturing of his talents, then perhaps he could proclaim arrogance.
They entered the detention chamber and directed the guards to wait outside. Lord Konstantin was shackled by his hands and feet to the wall, still blindfolded and gagged. Once the blindfold and gag were removed, Lord Konstantin went wild with rage. He thrashed violently, causing the chains to gouge into his wrists and ankles. He did not care. His curses and thrashing only increased with the pain. He enjoyed it.
Lord Serant was the first to begin the interrogation. "Who sent you?" he demanded of the prisoner. He quickly received the answer: spittle in his face. Captain Brodst removed a whip from the wall and lashed it harshly against the assassin lord's face. Lord Konstantin's response was a deep howling cackle. Blood trickled down his face profusely, which he licked with his tongue. He smiled hideously.
Lord Serant repeated his question, "Who sent you?" When they received no answer, Captain Brodst struck the assassin with the whip repeatedly. Lord Konstantin didn't give them the satisfaction of hearing his pain-filled screams; with each blow his laughter increased, until it reached the threshold of insanity.
Captain Brodst looked quizzically to Lord Serant, wondering if he should continue. Serant shrugged his shoulders and said quietly, "No." He then motioned to the captain to grasp the assassin's hands. The chains were just long enough; Lord Konstantin might be able to try something. Serant did not want to risk the chance. Captain Brodst firmly held the prisoner's hands, while Serant grasped the prisoner by the throat.
"We will get the information we seek out of you one way or another. Death will come. But one way is quicker than the other. I do not mind waiting, and since you seem to be enjoying it, we will continue this just as long as need be. So, I will ask you one more time. Who sent you?"
"He that did."
Lord Serant drew his sword and held it before the assassin's eyes, so he could look at its coldness. "I'm sure that you would enjoy it if I were to kill you now, but I will not. I am a very patient man. Why did you come?"
"I think that is quite obvious." His tone was one of steel. His eyes seemed to stare through Lord Serant as if he did not exist.
Serant decided to let the captain try to persuade the man to talk. Captain Brodst ordered the guards to retrieve some hot logs from the kitchen's fire. When they returned, he heated a dagger until it was crimson. "Strip him!" Brodst ran the blade lightly along the assassin's bare legs, just enough so Lord Konstantin could feel the intensity of the heat.
"Who sent you? I will ask only one more time in case you were distracted by my blade. Who sent you?"
The prisoner offered no retort. Captain Brodst pressed the flat side of the dagger full against the other's leg. He held it there while he repeated his question. Repeatedly he recapitulated his words and his actions with no reply.
"Guards, get in here!" yelled Serant, as his patience thinned. He saw that the prisoner was tended to and then he and Captain Brodst departed the room, neither very pleased. Lord Serant did have an idea that he hoped might work. After a brief discussion while they walked towards the conference room, the two decided it would be a good idea to consult Father Francis and Keeper Q'yer.
They found the two in Father Jacob's old study, engaged in a heated conversation. "Ah, Father Francis and Keeper Q'yer, just the two we were looking for. Sorry to interrupt you," spoke Lord Serant as he entered the room.
"How may we help you, my lord?"
"It is about the assassin, Lord Konstantin. He will not talk. He does not fear death or pain. In fact, I think he rather enjoys it. Can you use the power of the Father to enter his mind and learn his secrets?"
"I am afraid I know not of such things. Keeper?"
"I have seen nothing of it in our histories, but in the ancient books I have read of such a thing. It is something Brother Seth could have done."
"Seth?" Lord Serant asked, before he could recall the name. He had never met Seth, but he had heard the stories about him. "Is there then no other way?"
"I think I have an idea. I'll give him a taste of the death that he so dearly seeks. The Father does not welcome those who do not earn their place with him. They are sent to the darkness of the pit, a cold, unforgiving place."
The four then returned to the dungeon, which was an area of the castle that had been mostly unused for a very long time. The musty smell of mildew and dank waters assaulted their nostrils as they descended the stairs. All in all, the section was very small, including only six adjacent cells, but it had always been plenty spacious for Imtal. It was rare that any of the cells had an occupant.
Father Francis began his deep concentration. His head began to sway back and forth as a trance overtook him. He faced the assassin lord and asked, "Do you wish death? It is what I offer. Take it." His voice was compelling. "Take it," he enticed. "Take it--take it."
"Yes!" screamed the prisoner, "Yes!"
Father Francis had been waiting for his total acceptance. "Then take it!" he bellowed.
Lord Konstantin yelled for joy. His eyes and mouth were wide as he embraced death. The after life was everything he ever dreamed it would be and the dark lord's promises seemed to ring true. The land abounded with riches and treasures--all there for his taking. An army of faithful servants waited for his beckon call. But as he sought to claim the riches the area around him suddenly became dark and cold. He began to shiver uncontrollably. The army of the faithful became a great host of white specters that danced all around him. Their agony greeted him. They eagerly waited to drink the warmth of his newly passed spirit.
Horror began to fill the assassin's mind. "This is not death!"
"Oh, but it is!" assured Father Francis.
"This is not what my master promised!"
"Oh, but it is. Join us," said a multitude of withered voices. "Join us."
"No! I've changed my mind. I do not want to die. Please, please, please, oh please," begged Lord Konstantin.
Father Francis let the rogue's mind linger for a time in the land of the damned. "Tell us what we want to know. Who sent you? Why have you come?"
"No. Please, I do not--"
"Who sent you? Why have you come?"
"I do not know who hired me."
"Liar!" yelled Father Francis as he plunged the assassin back into the pit.
"No, really. I was hired--paid in advance."
Father Francis left Lord Konstantin dangling above the pit. Slowly he lowered him in, while he repeated the questions.
"They called themselves the coalition. The leader's name was Antare. He told me that for each I killed he would give me a count of gold, save for the girl. He would triple the sum for her, but only if she were alive. If she were dead we would only get the original payment and nothing extra."
"If you lie!" tempted Father Francis, clearly angry.
"It is the truth!"
Father Francis released Lord Konstantin's spirit. He could hold it no more. "Thank you for your help, Father," he whispered as he came out of the trance. Captain Brodst steadied the priest as he gathered his wits. "I am fine. I am fine."
"You are a miracle worker; whatever you did worked magnificently! I am ever grateful," said Lord Serant.
"Do not thank me. Thank the Great-Father."
Lord Konstantin was still trying to sort out what had happened when his tormentors left the room. He had been tricked by the foul priest's treachery. "I will kill you--I will kill you all," he yelled as the gag was returned to his mouth.
"I have never heard of one called Antare," said Lord Serant as they walked down the hall.
"It is not a person, but a place," said Keeper Q'yer, "It is an ancient word. I have seen it mentioned in the great book. If you permit me, I will return to the council and seek their help."
"Of course, Keeper, go."
"I will return when I discover something." Keeper Q'yer struck his staff against the hard stones of the floor and spoke the words of power, "Starod sil, otkry ot zemlya i pozhar, veter i vod!" As the new head of the keepers, he enjoyed the privilege of using the old devices though the process of teleportation eluded him. Keeper Martin was the one who had taught him how to use it. Most of the other keepers feared using the device and wished it destroyed, but Keeper Martin protested, as had others before him. Keeper Martin had actually been the first one to use it in generations.
Keeper Q'yer thought back to the time when Martin had first discovered the device. Keeper Martin had stayed up for days searching the old tomes for clues on its use. He had found them. His pleas to the council Keeper Q'yer vividly recalled. "It has survived even the purging--it was kept here for a purpose! And this is that purpose!" By using it, Keeper Martin's wisdom was clearly shown. It was thus that he gained the respect of the council and eventually became its head.
Keeper Q'yer remembered those days with fondness. From those times he and Martin had also come to know each other, and their friendship had grown. All these thoughts flashed through his mind as he returned to the council.
"But why would they want Adrina?" asked Lord Serant.
"That is a good question--it troubles me."
"Could you try that again?"
"I do not think I could trick his mind again. Only willingly could I take him there."
"Then we shall have to try another way, but for now let him sulk. Maybe just the fear of going there will loosen his tongue again."
"Good. I am famished."
"Me, too. It is long past dinner. Will you join us, Father?"
"I'm sorry, but no. I will join you two later. I cannot eat when my mind is troubled."
The two watched Father Francis leave then left for the kitchen. Lord Serant was also caught up with his thoughts; maybe he had judged Captain Brodst too harshly. He was beginning to enjoy his company. The two feasted well on the food they found in the kitchen. Lord Serant grabbed a large hunk of meat and Captain Brodst a cask of ale. They were engaged in light conversation and drinking when Isador found them.
The old nanny, who had brought up all three of King Andrew's daughters, was fuming. Lord Serant had heard many things about her temperament. He suspected it was where Calyin got her temper.
"Lord Serant, Princess Calyin has sent me to retrieve you. She wishes to speak with you."
Lord Serant looked to Captain Brodst for help. Captain Brodst smiled broadly and said, "I must be going also. I have many things to do yet today. Sorry, Lord Serant."
"Tomorrow morning, then."
Isador led Lord Serant to Calyin's quarters and then dismissed herself. "Oh Edwar, I was so worried," said Calyin as she ran into his arms. His presence calmed her shivers. "Calyin, there is nothing to fear. I--we are safe here. Nothing will harm you or me--nothing." She answered by holding him tighter; feeling his warmth reassured her that he was all right.
Gently he carried her to the bed and tucked her in. He lay there beside her, soothing her until she fell asleep. However, he was still wide-awake. He had doubts that he could not tell her about. He admired her strength too much. They each got their strength from the other. Even at times like this, he could feel it in her.
For hours he lay there unable to sleep until finally he got up to go for a walk. He slipped out quietly, pulling the covers tight around his beloved Calyin before he went. He strolled the halls of the palace, eventually finding himself at the terrace overlooking the garden. Captain Brodst was also there, staring into the night sky.
"Hello, Lord Serant," spoke the startled captain.
"May I join you?"
"Of course; you needn't ask for permission."
Lord Serant sat down in a chair opposite the captain. They silently enjoyed the night, neither wishing to disturb the other's thoughts. The hours passed and soon they were welcoming the dawn of early morning.
Captain Brodst stood and stretched. Lord Serant followed and stretched his stiff muscles. Brodst looked mischievously to Serant and raised his eyebrows. They both knew what the other was thinking, had been thinking about all during the night. "Come, let's go see if we can stir that wretch's tongue!" said Lord Serant.
They hurried back down the winding stairs toward the cells and had the guard unlock and open the door for them. "Wake up!" they yelled in unison. The assassin did not move. "Wake up!" The assassin did not move. Captain Brodst picked up a bucket of water and threw it into the prisoner's face.
Lord Konstantin hung there limply like one dead. Serant removed the gag from the man's mouth. The prisoner did not respond. He still hung there limply in the chains. Lord Serant then removed the blindfold; still, there was no response. He then slapped Lord Konstantin's face, again and again.
The two watched the prisoner. He offered no signs that he was alive. He seemed not to be breathing. Lord Serant jabbed him with the hilt of his sword several times. The man did not move.
Lord Serant walked towards the door and beckoned for the captain to join him. He whispered quietly to Captain Brodst, while he kept a watch on their prisoner with his peripheral vision, "This could be a trick of some sort. Be careful. Don't get too close to him. I'll send a guard to get Father Francis."
Serant called to one of the guards and sent him after the father. Cautiously Lord Serant approached Konstantin. He looked at the chains; they were secure. He pressed his ear against the man's chest; he could hear no heart beat. The man was indeed dead.
"Guard, get in here!"
"Yes, my lord," said the guard entering the room.
"Have you been watching this man?"
"Yes, as you ordered."
"He is dead!"
"That cannot be. He was alive--believe me. He was cursing and yelling."
"Release him now!"
The guard began to release the prisoner's bonds, hands first. Lord Serant and the captain unsheathed their swords, ready for action. The assassin slumped limply to the floor. The guard unlocked the feet shackles and turned around. He looked at their poised weapons and started to babble out an apology, "I am sorry! It was not my fault. Please, don't kill me!"
"Kill who?" asked Father Francis entering the cell.
"No, there will be no killing," said Lord Serant turning to face the father.
The assassin lunged from the floor, grabbing Lord Serant's sword arm and thrusting it up and backward. Lord Serant had been taken completely by surprise. His arm offered no resistance as the blade cut deep. He slumped to the floor.
The assassin wasted not a moment. He continued his upward motion. In one quick move, he jumped high, kicking out with full force, his foot striking Captain Brodst cleanly. The captain followed Lord Serant to the floor.
The assassin turned mid-air simultaneously timed with the kick and lashed out with his hand. His blow met the other's neck, crushing his wind pipe. Father Francis stumbled, shocked, and fell to the floor.
The entire sequence of events happened in an instant. The assassin had fully made use of the element of surprise. He had encountered absolutely no resistance. A smile touched his lips as he awkwardly landed on the floor, twisting his ankle slightly as he did so. It took him a moment to recover his balance; the last lunge had been a desperate gambit but had been successful. He was, indeed, pleased with himself.
He felt a coldness sweep through him. The air seemed to turn suddenly icy cold. He looked down as a guard, the only other person in the room, pulled a blood-covered sword from within his belly. Lord Konstantin died before the smile left his face.
Several guards burst into the room, weapons drawn and ready. They were shocked when they only saw a lone survivor, kneeling over Captain Brodst's body. "Get help! Now!" bellowed the guard with a lump of sadness in his throat. The guards ran from the room to find help. The other, Pyetr, second son of Captain Brodst, crumpled to the floor again clutching his father's hand. His thoughts began to fill with rage. He had not wanted to become a guard. He hated fighting. Fighting was senseless; killing was senseless. He stood and removed his helmet, breastplate and sword. He let them drop noisily to the floor.
He looked to the men lying on the floor. He could do nothing to save them. He felt so helpless. All his life he had been nothing except a fighter. He had never learned about saving a person's life, only taking it.
He bent down and checked each. He found no signs they were alive and had no idea what to do, so in frustration he turned and fled the room. He ran smack into Chancellor Volnej, who was just turning into the room. "Please save them," Pyetr said staring straight into the chancellor's eyes. He then turned around and ran, as fast as he could, down the corridor.
The chancellor, followed by Princess Calyin, Midori, and Sister Catrin rushed into the room. A single expression of horror on each of their faces. Calyin raced to where Lord Serant lay on the floor. Suddenly, she felt so alone and insecure. Her eyes fell to the sword her lord still clutched, buried deep within his chest. She tried to retain a strong front but could not.
Calyin pleaded desperately for Midori to save him. Midori looked sympathetically to her and said, "If there is one who could save him now it is I, sister. You must let him go."
"But--?" cried Calyin, disbelieving the words she heard.
"It is in the Mother's hands; her will providing, he will survive. Could you please wait outside? I will do everything in my power to save him. I promise."
Reluctantly, Calyin left the room. Chancellor Volnej also followed Calyin out of the room, closing the door after himself.
Catrin gently closed Father Francis' eyes. "He has passed," she said in a reverent tone to Midori. Though she had only known the father a short while, she had come to respect him. She knew that Midori also had a great fondness of him though she hid it well. The union of the Mother and Father had also joined Midori and Father Francis. The emotions could not be denied. Midori would miss him as one would miss one very dear to them, as one would miss their love, though the only true love Midori could feel now was the all encompassing love for the Mother.
With a heavy heart, Catrin checked Captain Brodst. She was very thankful to find that he was alive. "He lives. The blow only knocked him out."
"Lord Serant also lives though his heartbeat grows faint. We must hurry!"
Midori examined how the sword had entered Lord Serant's chest. She had to remove it carefully, or he could die. She unclasped his hands from the hilt and gently removed it, being extremely careful to insure that it followed the same path out that it had taken in.
Blood began to flow rapidly from the gaping wound. Quickly Catrin removed Lord Serant's robe and Midori placed the palm of her hands onto his chest. Catrin then touched her index fingers to Lord Serant's temples, gently stimulating them.
Together the two began the solemn prayer of healing. Midori reached out to the Mother for her help in saving Lord Serant's life. The flow of blood began to slow as Midori's mental chanting grew in intensity. Time moved rapidly between the apexes of her fingers. The wound began to close, a light scab formed, the scab disappeared, and the wound was totally closed. Midori's chanting ceased and she removed her hands from Lord Serant's chest. Catrin continued massaging his temples with her fingers until Midori was completely finished. "Rest well," Catrin spoke as she removed her fingers. Midori added in a whisper, "The Mother has plans for you yet."
Midori then went to Captain Brodst and examined his head injury. If the blow had been placed any closer to the pressure point behind his ear, it would have killed him instantly; however, it had only knocked him unconscious. It would take her only a moment to reduce the swelling from the blow. She found the proper pressure points, then applied her right hand to the wound. When she finished, Catrin opened the door and let the others back into the room.
Calyin was the first to enter. She ran to her lord's side and caressed his face, grateful he was alive. "Thank you!" she said to Midori, "Thank you!"
"Have them taken to their rooms. Let them have plenty of rest and they will be fine. If you'll excuse me," said Midori as she hurried from the room. Catrin luckily had followed Midori out, for as she walked into the corridor Midori stumbled and fell. Catrin caught her and walked her back to her quarters.
Midori refused to rest, but Catrin insisted. Midori still had not fully recovered from the ordeal at the square and had spent her reserve strength for the healing. Catrin could see the fatigue written in Midori's eyes. She knew the look well because she was fighting hard to hide it also. After she made sure Midori did indeed rest, which took some very fast-talking and much persuasion, she also took a much-needed rest.
Calyin had the captain and her lord placed in the same room so she could check on them both at the same time. But for now, she would be forced to return to the affairs of state. Chancellor Volnej was very prudent in helping her so she didn't overwork herself. A great many things needed to be prepared and quickly.
The homecoming ceremony was a joyous occasion. The festival lasted long into the evening. Though Valam enjoyed every moment of it, he was glad when he could rest. Each of his companions had been given separate rooms, so he was alone to contemplate his thoughts.
Seth had introduced them to so many of the Brotherhood he could not hope to recall their names. Valam was simply fascinated by the complexity of the workings of Seth's society. Each order was given a specific duty and a set of rules they were to follow. The entire system was based upon honor and personal integrity.
Many times, Valam and Seth had discussed the system back in the kingdom and on the journey, but it became real only when he could see it working. Seth had told him the Brotherhood consisted of seven main orders, the Gray, the Red, the White, the Yellow, the Black, the Blue and the Brown. The hardest thing for him to do was to stop comparing the orders to things in the kingdom.
His thoughts shifted as he began to fade off to sleep. He struggled to stay awake but could not. The day had been tiring, and he was soon fast asleep.
Evgej had sneaked off with Cagan during the banquet. They had both needed to get away from the merriment. They did not feel like having fun; more than anything, they needed to be alone. Evgej found himself aboard a ship, the last place he had thought he would ever willingly return to. It was Cagan's old ship, a small, sleek, beauty.
"I used to come out here late at night, like now, and sail up the river to nowhere in particular, with nothing but a slight breeze and the water for company. It was so tranquil."
"Well, what do we wait for?" said Evgej with a sparkle in his eye. The sea had a captivating effect on him. Instead of getting seasick, now he felt good, revived. The river trip here had only rekindled his desire for the water. He had never thought he would miss it, but he had. Cagan said it was because he had the heart of a sailor, and perhaps he did.
Without a further thought, Cagan untied the boat and raised the sail. The small craft drank in the shallow breeze well. Cagan and Evgej began to glide peacefully across Lake Clarwater and soon the waters of the Gildway were before them.
Evgej watched Cagan handle the tiller and the sail of the boat. He began to understand how Cagan controlled it. "May I try?"
"Sure, go right ahead."
"How is this?"
"Good, just keep the rudder steady. It is used to control the course we take. Turn it slowly, not sharply. Turn it left and the boat will veer to the right and vice versa."
"I understand. The force of the rudder against the water moves the boat in the opposite direction."
"Don't lose the wind. See how the sail sags? Keep it tight, and the boat will move faster. Watch out for the--"
Cagan had given the warning too late. The wind caught the sail from the opposite side, sweeping the sail sharply to the right. It hit the unsuspecting Evgej squarely in the shoulder and propelled him into the water.
It took Evgej a moment to recollect his orientation; by that time, Cagan had already released the sail and fastened a line around himself and had jumped into the water after him. Cagan was just in time. Evgej was going under for the third time when the crafty sailmaster grabbed him and held him above water.
Cagan was about to push Evgej back into the boat when he heard something. He put a hand over Evgej's mouth and pointed to the riverbank. The two remained still, holding tightly to the boat. Neither dared to look towards the shore, afraid of what they might see.
They heard movement from the bank again. A voice yelled, "It is a boat. I don't see anyone aboard."
"Are you sure?" asked another in a deep masculine voice.
"Yes. It is drifting."
"Well, swim out and retrieve it so we can examine it."
"The water is freezing. You swim out to it."
"I am your senior. Go and get it."
Cagan and Evgej could hear the splash of someone entering the water. Evgej groped for his sword, but it was gone. "What a time to lose my sword!" he thought to himself; then he remembered that he had left it in his room when he had bathed for the banquet. He felt stupid. He always wore the sword, no matter where he went.
The water was indeed very cold. Evgej was beginning to feel its chilling effect sweeping through him. "Hold on to the boat and swim," whispered Cagan in Evgej's ear. They heard shouting from the shore. The two guards were arguing back and forth between themselves over whose fault it was that the boat slipped by. As the current carried the boat further downstream, Evgej heard them come to a decision to blame it on the current and not to tell anyone what had happened.
After they were a long distance away, the two climbed back into the boat, waited for a time, and then began the return trip. They were relieved when they docked safely along the pier. Water still dripped from their clothes as they walked back toward the palace. They found a very angry Brother Liyan awaiting their return. "Are you mad? Did you not hear my call?" The two stared questioningly at each other then turned to look innocently at Liyan. "Did you forget we are at war?"
"We stayed near the capital," offered Evgej. Liyan finally noticed their wet clothes and departed without saying anything further. Cagan playfully said to Evgej, "Well, we made it back safely did we not?"
"A little wet, yes, but safely."
Liyan looked back toward them with a disgusted expression on his face. Evgej could not help but laugh, despite his heavy mood. Liyan whispered into Cagan's thoughts, "You are lucky that the guards were ours and not the enemies."
"You knew?" mouthed Cagan back to Liyan.
"Yes," responded Liyan flatly.
Morning found Seth, Valam, Evgej, Cagan, and Liyan seated around an enormous conference table, awaiting the arrival of the council and the Queen-Mother. The council soon arrived, led by Brother Liyan. They were followed by the remainder of the leaders of each of the main orders. Once they were all seated in their proper positions, the Queen-Mother entered. All bowed their heads until she was seated, as was customary in council.
"Brother Liyan of the order of the Gray and the distinguished members of the high council. Welcome! Brother Seth of the order of the Red. Welcome! Your return has brought a smile to my lips. Thank you. Brother Ylad' of the order of the White, Brother Nikol of the order of the Yellow, Brother Tsandra of the order of the Brown, Brother Ontyv of the order of the Black, Brother Samyuehl of the order of the Blue, Sailmaster Cagan. We welcome your wisdom to the council. And lastly, our special visitors, Prince Valam of the Great Kingdom. Captain Evgej of Quashan' in the South Province, it is a great honor to have you join us!
"Only the Great-Father and Mother-Earth can answer the many riddles of the prophecy. The prophecy is the greatest gift they ever gave their children. It was a gift for all the children of the Mother and Father. They risked the very balance of the universe to give us the gift. A gift of future hope. They gave us the clues to interpret and understand the warning of the future. We have spent centuries pondering its many pieces. In the past, we have all misread portions of it. The betrayal of the Blood Wars depicts this quite vividly. The dark forces used the prophecy against us. Brother slew brother. The mistakes of the past will be no more. We will make no such mistakes this time!"
The Queen-Mother spoke with a power and elegance that enticed the listeners. When she spoke, all eyes were fixed on her, catching every gesture and every rise and fall in her voice. The sound of her words still resonated throughout the room, perhaps the reason she chose to speak her words aloud.
Valam's attention, however, had been lost to another. Seth had to elbow Valam sharply before he snapped out of it. Valam followed Evgej's lead and stood and bowed, making his introduction. Only his many years in his father's court had allowed him to recover his grace in full measure.
His eyes were still transfixed to the same point they had occupied as he bowed and then seated himself. Though no one else seemed to notice his awkwardness, Tsandra of the Brown had, for she was the object of Valam's powerful gaze. She could see the emotion in his eyes as he looked upon her and didn't understand why.
The reason for Valam's fixed stare was two-fold. He had expected to see a large, powerfully built male as the leader of the warrior order, not an extremely enchanting, petite female. The other reason was her striking resemblance to the Queen-Mother. When Valam finally regained his wits, he managed to force himself to look away from her; however, occasionally during the remainder of the meeting, he found his gaze wandering back to rest upon her face.
The meeting was meant to initiate Valam and Evgej to the ways and histories of the Brotherhood and to unite all the leaders with the ways of men so they could work together as a whole. For Valam, it was nothing new. He had already given his full trust to Seth, as had Evgej. The real problem was getting the others to accept the presence of Men. Even though the kingdomers came in response to the Queen-Mother's call for help, long ago Men and Elves had been enemies. Time had proven the bitter deception that both societies had succumbed to. Each had repented for its blindness, but until now neither side had ever again communicated with the other.
"Seth?" asked Valam as they walked through the great halls leaving the conference room. "Could you tell me more about the Brown Order? How does it survive if it only exists in time of war?"
"It has."
"But how?"
"Remember when I told you how one was chosen at birth to enter the Brotherhood?"
"I don't," said Evgej, who had been listening quietly. "Sorry, but I would like to better understand," he quickly explained, noting Valam's glare.
"It is okay. It is easier if I digress and describe the entire method. Besides, I think you are both better prepared to understand it. Before, I only outlined it. Let us sit here for a moment."
Seth brought them to a small balcony overlooking the courtyard of the palace. "The choosing takes place at birth. It was Ontyv, himself, who chose me. Very few are chosen, and even fewer pass the final tests of servitude. The tests determine which order you will belong to. If you fail one portion of the test, you fail the entire test."
"What happens if you fail?"
"You journey to the Great-Father. Not only how well you perform the tests comprises the final outcome, but how you reach those decisions as well as how quickly you act on those decisions. To understand the choosing you must also fully understand the purpose of each order. The orders of the Gray and White are forbidden to apprentices. They are comprised only of elders, for only through time can you gain sufficient wisdom to justify the honor. And only one who was once a member of the White may become a member of the Gray. I know of only two exceptions to that rule in the entirety of the Brotherhood's existence, one very long ago and one recently. The order of Gray consists of only ten members. A new one is chosen only when an existing one has passed. The White consists of a number equal to ten times the number of the Gray, which is not always 100."
"But how can it be otherwise?"
"That is how it is written."
"Why?"
"I think I can answer that question," Brother Liyan said walking onto the balcony.
"Good," said Seth, welcoming Liyan, "I could use your knowledge of the histories."
"Each member of the Gray is delegated eight consorts to study and work with him. The others stay here in the capital for training new initiates and keeping records and many other tasks. The true number is always more than 100. But there have been times when the council consisted of less than ten members and there have been times when more than ten were needed. They use their wisdom to enlighten and teach our people. They keep records of our histories, and they give council. The order of the Red also is very small; new members are added infrequently. To fully understand the honor of being chosen to this order you must understand that its place is equal to that of the order of the Gray, for there is no greater office than to serve in the protection of the Queen-Mother.
"In matters pertaining to the Queen, the order of the Red has supreme authority even over that of the Gray. The Red is comprised of those who were destined to wear the white and eventually the gray. The orders of the Yellow and Black were the largest orders until the Brown was restored. The Yellow preserve the peace and harmony among our people by showing us our past and present errors and teaching us to love the Great-Father and Mother-Earth. The Black bring us into the world and carry us from it. They keep us pure and whole.
"The Brown order differs from all the others in that it did not always exist. It was born from war, and as it was born another order died, something our kind had never experienced. We had always stayed out of the affairs of others. Leaders of this order are chosen from birth and preserve the ways of war by passing it down through the generations. A true warrior and leader is also a rarity. They are born for no other purpose than to practice the art of death. In times of peace the Brown order is a private sect. In our eyes they cease to exist. In war, they return and cry out for our people to join them. It is also an honor to be allowed to serve thus. The Brown differs from the others again, in that those not of the Brotherhood are allowed to join. They serve until they are no longer needed."
"Was Tsandra then born into it?"
"The truth in your heart shows through, Valam," said Seth. "Yes, she was."
"How can you tell the difference?"
It was then that Seth realized something he and Liyan had taken for granted. "By the robes--"
"The belts!" exclaimed Evgej.
"Yes, in all orders the first wears a belt of silver and the others don those of the color of their order except in the brown order. The white belt signifies those of the original order."
"What of the Blue order? I have only seen one of that order--Samyuehl."
"There are currently only two of this order, as it has always been. It is near Samyuehl's time; then Ry'al will take his place, and there will be only one until it is again time for another."
"But how do you know when it is time?"
"It is not our choice. It is the choice of the Mother-Earth."
"But what--"
"Come, it is time to join the others for supper."
The four were just in time to join the other leaders for the evening meal. For Valam and Evgej it was similar to eating in the great hall of the Kingdom, except for the immense proportions of this hall. It was composed of three tiers with an open center. In the center stood an oval-shaped stone table where those of high office dined.
The Queen-Mother was seated at the head of the table. Before they began to eat, her words of praise to the Father and Mother drifted pleasantly through the minds of all present. Evgej mused that the hall held the population of the entire city. "Almost--" whispered Brother Liyan to Evgej's mind.
"Sorry, I'll try not to think aloud any more," spoke Evgej cheerfully. Liyan smiled and answered, "No it was my fault. I have to learn how to deal with an open mind."
"But I thought there were some who talked aloud and purposely opened their thoughts."
"That is different. They contain their thoughts within the arena of their own center, but the center is always open if one wishes to access it. Seth taught you how to block your thoughts also, yes?"
"Well, as a child does, yes, but not a complete mind block."
"Children eventually become adults. You will learn how on your own in time. Practice."
"What do you think, Valam?" asked Evgej. Liyan and Seth simultaneously pointed to where Valam's gaze was fixed. Evgej looked and understood Valam's silence. He half held back a smile and continued eating his food.
"It is impolite to stare," Tsandra directed into Valam's mind teasingly. She felt the presence of his watching each time they were near. Valam only shrugged his shoulders and smiled. It was then that Tsandra remembered that Valam could not project his thoughts.
She directed back into his mind, "Sorry." After a pause for a moment of careful thinking, Tsandra thought of something. It was a game she had learned long ago. She and her mother used to play it. Thoughts of her mother brought sadness.
She pushed the thoughts away and thought to Valam, "This is a game I used to play very long ago. If I say something, to answer just think the thought to yourself." After she said it, she realized that was the only way Valam could think, to himself.
"How is that a game?" Valam thought to himself, "This is dumb. I'm talking to myself in my own mind!"
"I heard that," came the answering reply into his mind.
"Well, how is it a game?"
Tsandra considered it for a time. "It is sort of--abstractly, that is--except my mother would block the thoughts and I would have to try to find out what she was thinking. At first she would only concentrate lightly on closing the thoughts and then more and so on."
"Try this." Valam used the trick Seth had taught him. He gathered his thoughts in his mind and encircled them with an empty thought, thus closing his mind.
Tsandra's reply came an instant later. It was a feeling of embarrassment. Valam could almost picture her blush in his mind. "You should try harder and never think thoughts you do not want others to know."
"Sorry."
"Has he told you yet of the sword?" she asked indicating Liyan.
Valam didn't understand. "The sword?"
Tsandra felt Liyan's watchful gaze upon her and said no more. "Next time," she whispered to his mind. "I must be going--and you really should eat now." There was laughter in the fading echoes of her voice.
"Amir, she has passed. You must let her go," urged Noman. Amir reluctantly released his Little One's hand. "She rests with the Father," Noman assured him. The giant carefully picked up Adrina and followed Noman out of the tunnel.
"Have you seen anything?" Noman asked Nijal.
"Nothing," he answered weakly.
"Good!"
Noman watched Ayrian take flight to go retrieve the horses. "Hurry!" Noman whispered after him. Noman then proceeded to tear off his outer robe and rip it into strips, so he could make wraps for the splints for Adrina's hand and leg. When he finished, he lightly touched her to check on the life within her. He felt it warm within her and was glad.
Amir and Nijal stood watch over her while Noman went back to check on Xith and Vilmos. He praised their good fortune. Once they regained consciousness, they would recover rapidly. For now it was better to conserve his strength. He could not afford to spend his supply striving to reach their minds. He was forced to wait until they reached a safer place.
The night faded; Ayrian had not returned. Noman began to worry. He could sense the foulness in the late night air. Amir took Nijal's place in guarding the mouth of the tunnel. The others sat silently watching their companions, wishing they would speedily recover.
Darkness began to give way to the early morning twilight. Ayrian still had not returned. Noman was forced to make a very hard decision. They could leave in the light of the day. In the open, either the garrison would find them or the assassins would and on foot they could not flee. The garrison finding them would seem a blessing, but it would not be. Noman had seen the crossing of these two paths. Both would lead to their downfall, one quick and the other slow with even darker consequences. The other choice was to wait out the day, and if Ayrian still had not returned, then leave. They would be sitting in a ready-made trap. The enemy already knew they were here. Nevertheless, Noman decided after careful deliberation that they must wait. At least here they had some cover.
With the daylight came the heat of a summer day although spring was at hand. The stench of bodies became unbearable. Amir could not sit idly any longer. He had to do something. He looked to Nijal for help, but he was sleeping deeply from fatigue. Amir decided to do the dirty work by himself. First he moved Galan's body out of the way, and then he began piling bodies to the rear of the shaft.
It was a task he did not enjoy doing. It did, however, relieve the tediousness of waiting. He hated waiting. The scent reminded him of the smell of the battlefields of his past. He softly cursed that time. "Is this what I have waited for?" he asked himself.
He reached down to pick up the next body in a long line of them. He noticed something different about it. It was clad in only a robe, different from the others who wore light leathers. He called Noman over to him.
Noman studied the body closely. He could not believe what he saw. Near the body lay a wooden walking stick. Noman picked it up in disgust and examined it. "It is what I feared." He closed his eyes and wandered back through his mind. He replayed the images of the explosion in his thoughts. He then re-examined the staff.
He had not seen where the negative energy had come from. He had sensed the coming explosion and had responded. Until now, he thought it had been an accident on Vilmos' part by mixing negative and positive energy. The expression on his face was not a pleasant one. The situation suddenly appeared worse. A magic-user, even one who used devices, was to be feared.
The staff was a device from the past. Noman had thought all those devices destroyed. He leaned down and loosened the man's robe. His worst nightmare was confirmed by the small symbol inked above the man's heart. In disgust, Noman spat into the dead man's face and walked away without saying a word to Amir.
Amir had also seen the mark, a tiny black-inked torch. He roared his anger, picked up the deceased by the hair and with one clean sweep of his sword beheaded him. The anger released, he sheathed his blade and went back to his tedious task.
Xith opened his eyes and attempted to focus them. "Ooh! My head aches!" he said rubbing his forehead. "Xith!" yelled Noman, elated. "What hit me?" Xith asked, queasily.
"Negative energy."
"Ouch!" expressed Xith as he tried to sit up. Painstakingly, he completed the chore. His body ached all over. "What of the others?"
"Adrina is injured and unconscious, but is well. Vilmos is also unconscious."
Xith looked around the cave. "Ayrian?"
"He is missing for the moment."
"And--"
Noman shook his head no before Xith could finish asking. "She died saving Adrina."
"I feel so tired." Xith closed his eyes and fell into a deep slumber.
The remainder of the afternoon passed slowly. Amir, Noman and Nijal eagerly awaited nightfall. They had all given up hope of Ayrian's returning. They knew if he could have returned he would have long ago. They did not wish ill upon him, but hoped his end had come quickly and without the pain of torture.
Xith awoke again as the darkness of night crept in. He startled Nijal, when he walked up behind him and touched his shoulder. "Xi--" Nijal started to say. "Shh!" said Xith staring out into the night from the tunnel entrance. "Has he returned?"
"No. How did you--?"
Xith walked back into the cave. "It is good you have recovered," said Noman.
"When do we leave?"
"As soon as the night gathers full."
"Have you tried to awaken them?"
"No. I have been saving my strength and waiting for you."
"Yes, we cannot bear the burden of two."
Noman knelt next to Vilmos and touched his left hand to Vilmos' forehead and his right to Xith's. Xith focused inward to his center. He reached outward through Noman to Vilmos' mind. "Vilmos, look to your center--find it--focus on it--concentrate--feel it flow through you--drink it in--bathe in it."
"It is so dark. I can't find my way out."
"Vilmos?" said Xith looking outward through Vilmos' center, "It is only a dream. Create a light within your mind and awaken."
"No, you do not understand. He is with me. He won't let me escape."
"He is dead, Vilmos--it is not real."
"Oh Xith, leave quickly. He comes--I cannot hold him off any longer."
"Vilmos, no! Fight it! It is only a dream!" Xith surged his will outward into Vilmos. Energy surged back into Xith's body through Noman. The shock was enormous. Noman was forced to break the link.
Vilmos opened his eyes and stared wildly at Noman. "Noman, restore the link now!" The voice was Xith's, but the sound issued from Vilmos. Suddenly, for the first time, Noman saw Xith's limp, pale body slumped beside Vilmos. Without hesitation, Noman restored the link.
The link was restored, but Xith was still entranced. He was connected to Vilmos. He saw what Vilmos saw. The vision was captivating. He had to turn away from it. The longer he watched, the stronger the vision became.
It beckoned for him to stay. Xith could feel the pull on him. The strength to resist it was rapidly disappearing. "No," cried out a faint voice from somewhere in the distance. "No!" came Xith's answering call.
Noman faltered as the connection broke suddenly. Xith stumbled backward as he pulled away, wildly staring at Vilmos. Vilmos shook his head slowly from side to side, trying to shake the images of the dream out of his mind. The images, nonetheless, remained distinctly etched into his memory.
"Vilmos you must never allow yourself to have those dreams again. Push the thoughts from your mind!"
"But how?" appealed Vilmos, as he sat up. He had completely forgotten the events of the previous day. Scenes from the nightmare were perpetually repeating in his thoughts. Dreams were frightening for Vilmos, especially because when he dreamed them, they had a bad habit of becoming reality.
"We will discuss it later; for now we must concentrate on getting as far away from here as we can. How do you feel?"
"A little weak and I have a terrible headache, but I'll make it."
Vilmos stood and stretched his aching muscles. He felt very unwell; still, he would not say anything about it. His head throbbed as if he had smacked into a wall. He tried to concentrate his thoughts. It was a difficult feat at best, yet with perseverance he shook the disorientation from his mind.
He concentrated his thoughts on one thing: the energy flow that Xith had so painstakingly taught him. He lightly reached out for the energy; what he found was different from usual but returned a sensation that he had forgotten.
It also brought memories from the past. Though he saw them through another's eyes, they were his own. The wild energy of creation flowed fully through him. He had once felt a shadowing of this power back in the Barrens where Xith said the wild magic danced more freely although he had never felt it pulse so strongly within him, or had he?
His strength quickly returned. He tried to stop the energy flow. He could not. He was caught by it. He wondered if Xith or Noman could sense the power within him. He looked questioningly to them; they offered no response. What could it hurt, Vilmos asked himself.
Xith turned to Vilmos. "Vilmos, are you truly all right?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine."
"Good, go join Amir and Nijal at the front of the tunnel."
When Vilmos reached the far end, Noman showed Xith the staff Amir found on the assassin. They both understood the reality of the situation that they had uncovered. They hoped they were not too late to stop it.
"We have no choice but to go to Tsitadel'."
"Is there no other way?"
"I am afraid there is no other way, old friend."
"What of the child?"
"It is a risk, granted, but one we must take."
"Have you seen the Paths?"
"Yes, but they are faint in the distance now. I have seen a vision, but you must say nothing about it. It has been set in motion as we have feared."
"Then are we too late?"
"Let us hope we are not. It is time. We must leave."
"What of Adrina?"
"The time is not right. She must sleep peacefully for now."
The two joined the others and prepared to begin the journey. "Do we journey north?" asked Amir.
"You know where we shall go; do not despair," said Noman, softly speaking the last part so only Amir could hear it. Noman then knelt beside Adrina and readied her for the trek. "Sleep, my child," he said quietly as he kissed her forehead.
Noman motioned for Amir to carry Adrina. "Let us walk calmly through this night," Xith said into the light evening breeze. Amir gently picked up Adrina and the group departed into the blackness of the night.