“Oh my,” gasped Brodst as he sank to one knee, “what have they done to you?” The boy, Jacob, had not misled him after all; his face was full of emotion as he looked upon the figure he knew to be Lord Serant. Serant seemed to be suffering from the same potion that Calyin was. Brodst knew he would have to find the others first, and since he had gone to the left and the right already, he went to the farthest reaches of the detention area, which turned both right and left. He opted for the left, and moved forward in that direction.
The path ended in darkness and Captain Brodst stopped cold. He hesitantly retraced his steps the other way. He almost thought he could hear voices and perhaps he did. He kept walking, crossing the place where one hall merged with another, veered left, and then stopped. “It is about time, you old fool!” yelled a vaguely familiar voice as Brodst approached a closed door. He craned his neck, facing his ear towards the barred viewing area in the door while he was also attempting to peer into the partially shadowed cell.
“I could smell you coming down the hall. Pig snouts again?”
“Move from the shadows so that I may see your face,” retorted Brodst. A long pause followed, and then almost at once two faces turned towards the light of the entrance. “In the name of the Father,” sighed one of the occupants. The two would have moved closer to the door except that they were shackled about the hands and feet.
Brodst sorted through keys, searching until he found one that worked. His jaw dropped as he entered the room and took a closer look at the two faces. “Lord Geoffrey, who is this man?” From down the hall another voice cried out. “Keeper, is that you?” Brodst asked almost in a whisper.
“Questions, questions, get us out of these cuffs first. My hands ache, my feet hurt—”
“It is you, isn’t it, but how? How and why?” questioned Brodst, his voice rising and then faltering. He tried all the keys on his ring, gasping as each did not fit, coming at last to the final one, which also failed. “The guard, the guard—” spoke a little voice in his mind. He had never searched the guard. He ran out of the cell without explaining anything, running until he came to the fallen figure. He quickly stripped the boots and pants off the guard, finding in the process a short dagger and a leather pouch. A search of the shirt and outer robe revealed a tiny black bottle and, thankfully, a set of keys.
On his way back, just before he turned left, a voice came to him, full and beautiful, causing him to lurch to a halt in mid-gait, and it drew him towards it. The darkness would not stop him this time. He turned back to retrieve a lamp only to find that it was fixed to the wall. A quick investigation of it showed that it burned oil, quite cleanly overall. He ripped the pants he had just acquired into two large pieces, wrapping one piece around the top of a short knife and then dousing it in the oil as best he could, using the flame to light it.
“Hello?” he called out as he wandered through the empty corridor, “Hello?” He came to a door similar to the one he had stood by earlier. As he stared beyond the path of his makeshift light, he caught the reflection of two eyes looking at him. He moved closer and saw the outline of a face in the pale, orange-red light. He saw traces of dark, flowing hair and high, pale cheekbones.
Again he couldn’t open the cell quickly enough to satisfy himself, and he cursed under his breath until he found the right key. He was half way to the one with eyes with a soft glitter in them, arms spread wide for an embrace, when he realized there was another present.
“You may proceed. We are old friends, she and I,” spoke a soft, raspy voice. In the odd light of the torch, the speaker appeared to be bathed in luminescent gold. Brodst looked on in bewilderment. “I will not harm you. You needn’t think that—”
And then Brodst recalled the others who were still awaiting his return. He bade the two to follow him quickly. The keys to the manacles were among the set he had found on the guard. They did not waste words or time now, moving first to retrieve Lord Serant and Calyin. The captain wasn’t the only one taking notice of their two new companions. Geoffrey’s face turned ashen and Midori’s went wide with wonder.
Serant was still groggy, shifting in and out of consciousness, yet he was still faring better than Calyin. Before they could discuss a plan of action, everyone began talking at once. It was obvious they would not be able to proceed without clearing the air. The loud noise was having a deep effect on the two unconscious ones as well. In their heads, the clamor sounded like the roar of immense beasts. It was all they could do to keep the noises out.
“I think we should first discuss our escape,” spoke the Keeper, being of more precise mind than his fellows. “We will have plenty of time later, I hope. My good captain, can you lead us out of this wretched place?”
“I believe I can, Keeper, but I, too, am curious now. The more I dwell on your face and that of, of—”
“I am, Ayrian, Lord of the Gray Clan.”
“You need say no more, my friend,” interrupted Midori, “he is a friend and that is all you need to know. He is an old and very dear friend.”
“Thank you, but as long as we shall proceed with a telling, then it is time that I spoke the thoughts and deeds of my heart. Once there was a powerful clan. We dwelled among the hills and dales, gliding over pleasant valleys, drinking of golden waters in the high places among the mountains. I could soar and circle the skies in that place lazily for the remainder of my years. But alas, it is gone, and I, I alone am the last of my race, once proud and true of heart.” Ayrian spoke so eloquently that they were able to envision the place and the people that he spoke of. In a softer light, his feathers, talons and beak, though still odd, did not appear so out of place. And the more he spoke, the further the listeners were drawn into his plight, a plight that had carried through times ancient and distant, but they now understood. He continued to speak richly in a flowing, exuberant manner. Much later, those present would reflect that perhaps it was a song that Ayrian sang to them, rather than speaking. Time seemed to flow on the edge of his words. In reality, when he finished only a few precious minutes had slipped by. “Alas, I am the last. I am Ayrian, Eagle Lord of the Gray Clan, when once there were tens of such clans. But our reign was supreme and revered. It is all gone now, faded from the most distant memories.”
“Not entirely so,” replied the Keeper with tears in his eyes. “I am Keeper Martin, head of the council of the Keepers of the Lore. Your tales, though remote, still lie among the histories in the Great Book though in truth they occupy but a few paragraphs of a single page. Perhaps with your help we can build upon it and make the lesson whole.”
“Alas, dear Keeper, the tale is old and spent. The timing is not right.”
“I would still like very much to hear your tales at length at a further date,” Keeper Martin said.
“Yours is the tale we would wish to hear, Keeper Martin. How in the name of the Great-Father did you come to be here? Here, of all the forsaken corners—”
Geoffrey interrupted before Keeper Martin spoke, and the keeper nodded his approval at Geoffrey’s intent. “He and Father Jacob sensed the changes occurring in the kingdom. Our messages had been conveyed to them, but it had been too late to return. The journey had already begun—”
“Yes,” began Martin stepping into the conversation, “we were desperate. We saw the images in the dream messages. We knew King Andrew had passed though we did not want to accept it. Strange storms were upon us, the lands were growing cold and icy, our stocks were almost depleted—I had no choice but to attempt what had seemed a fool’s gambit. Father Jacob did not want to let me go, but as days passed, we had little else we could do. And now I have been here so long that I cannot even recount the days—weeks, days, or months, I am not entirely sure, but I am sure that if those that I left behind did not get food and supplies, they have all perished.”
“Perished? Surely they cannot all have died?” begged Brodst, “What of Prince Valam? You have said nothing of him. With all those ships, could you not return?”
“I do not know. During the journey some ships were lost. I am afraid that Prince Valam’s was one of them.”
A shocked silence came over them, but it was Midori who spoke first. “Are you certain?” she asked quizzically “I feel no sense of loss.” If it had been another that spoke those words, those present would have thought them shallow or ill witted, but Midori was different. She was of the Mother, and the Mother knew all.
Everyone let the conjecture fall away, switching at once to other thoughts. “Keeper, how did you come to be here? You still have not told us,” asked Captain Brodst.
“I attempted to use the device that rests in the council chambers of the keepers. My resolve was fixed, and in my desperation I saw no other solution. If I could have just managed to teleport back, all would have proven to my benefit, but something went wrong. I do not know what; I can only surmise. But to be truthful, I will need to ponder this more fully. The last thing I know completely is that I prepared my thoughts, cleansing my mind for a dream message. Instead of directing them as I normally would, I focused on the council—more specifically, the device.”
Keeper Martin paused hesitantly, surveying the faces around him, “Imagine my elation when it worked. Even in my dreams I could feel the sense of intense cold and sudden darkness around me. I awoke hours later only to find myself here, already in chains, and with the End Man’s whip upon me. I can only offer a calculation as to where here is. Perhaps Geoffrey knows better than I?”
Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders, but he was not alone in not knowing exactly where they had been taken. The memory of their arrival to this place was fogged over. As they all considered it, this seemed strange. Midori turned to check on Calyin and Serant. They still needed more time for their bodies and minds to cleanse themselves.
“You, friend, still have not told us how you came to be here,” asked Captain Brodst pointedly of Ayrian.
“Not unlike Keeper Martin or any of you, I do not fully know how I came upon this place. It seems to draw you, though, doesn’t it? Its power is almost beautiful it is so pure.”
“What do you know? You speak as though this were a great spectacle, while I see nothing of the kind. What do you know? Tell me!”
“Captain, you needn’t speak harshly. We are all friends here; the enemy is out there,” said Midori, pointing her finger. She glared at him until he lowered his eyes and his temperament calmed.
“More often than not, those seeking find and those that don’t learn. Perhaps if you had the mind, you would guess, but then again, maybe not.”
“Why are you being cryptic?” bluntly asked Brodst again.
“Captain—”
“No, it is all right, but if I must do the telling, then it will be away from here and under circumstances fairer than these.” Ayrian spoke slowly and plucked a ring of keys from Captain Brodst’s pocket. He held each up for examination and while he did so, he began mumbling. “Seven could not bind him, though they tried, behind door and key. The last had been consorted and fashioned with powers as old as the winds; still they could not stay time. Its slow gentle creep was upon them. Extra restraints kept his confederates. Even near the end, they leashed his most beloved for at least a short span. The course has run full again, yet it is a different tale, is it not? That he would be she, and she with he, would still be free.”
“Ayrian? Ayrian?” called out Midori at first gently and then harshly, “Ayrian?”
Ayrian continued on for a short time, “—that that of the end should now try to be that of the beginning. The wonder of it, even if it had been wrong.”
Brodst was as slow to turn away from Ayrian’s words as Ayrian had been. Lord Serant was somewhat coherent and could walk with some assistance under his own power although Calyin would still have to be carried. Geoffrey shouldered the burden of Calyin, while Martin and Brodst helped Lord Serant, but it was Ayrian who led the way from the detention area with much confidence.