The company endured yet another grueling climb out of the blackness of the ancient tombs, grimy, drenched in sweat and grit, and the mining refuse from days long before their birth. Twice they rested, but Aurien seemed to them to be frightened. Whatever reason he had, the companions did not care to ask what it was. They, too, were afraid of the gloomy land. Yet they arrived at the entrance of the tomb, at last. Fog was still shooting out of the terrible fissure in the earth. The cabin was still in its horrid state. The illusions reflecting the grandeur of the town's past would never again deceive them. Aurien was silent when he arose from the catacombs. He finally understood their purpose, but still, there were graves deep below, innumerable crypts full of unnamed men and women. Aurien recalled no names on the plates he examined before their resting places, he only wanted to escape the burden of wrongful deaths weighing on his mind.
Their trackers were waiting. Unfortunately, so were a number of other men. When Aurien's company emerged from the house's foundations, they saw an encampment in the yard below the hill. There were about twenty men there, sitting beside fires. Several of the other members of the Blue Company had been caught, the ones who had not entered the mine. But these were not being treated as prisoners, they were at the fireside freely speaking with the makers of the camp. At the center of the encampment, there was a vast tent, with a banner on either side of the wide entrance. The entrance was rather short – about one-and-a-half meters at most, not high enough for Aurien to enter without stooping low. He did not need to, for as his part of the company approached the camp, the chatter ceased and a single whistle called out as a signal. Two men came out of the tent, followed by a third, but the two carried long, thin-bladed knives; Aurien recognized them as farming tools. They seemed to be protecting the third. Aurien saw their odd clothing – they were not armored, but their garments were of burlap, maybe; their breeches and tunics seemed dirtied by ash, and the men themselves had dark markings of ink in their bare, scarred arms and faces.
Aurien seemed to his company to be rather dumbfounded. He was.
'The natives have been mingling with the denizens of King's Sanctuary! Gone are the days in which they would shoot or cut others down on sight. Perhaps not all the western countries have fallen.'
The third man approached and bowed before the captain. He was rather short and large around the middle, and had a graying beard. When he bowed, the man removed his wide-brimmed hat, revealing his thinning auburn hair. “Well-met, Captain! No, you do not know me, but your companions have spoken of you. I will ask you to come with us. My sons have been shadowing your company since you arrived.”
“Why,” asked Aurien. “Come where? And who are you?”
“Ah, but you ask me about such a long tale. I know of you, Captain, and of the spellcaster following close behind you. But there is another in these woods, a specter – he was following you also. He is known to us, a masked wanderer in blue, and though we fear and hate him, this man teaches us many things. Always he is seeking our relics and our knowledge, and our experiences in these lands. But do not worry. The king, Hahnir, knows of him. Hahnir is, of course, me, young one.”
“Captain – he knows more than our names, probably. Be careful what you say.”
Hahnir bowed again, though not as deeply, and grinned. He even chuckled. “Indeed, Master. . . Master Muiras, I mean. Had to catch myself. Sorry. You do not know about his story, yet. . .or, do you? Hm.
“I am also not supposed to know your weary captain is harboring a secret that might cause you affront, or that your knights are worried about dying in a fierce battle before the gates of another beleaguered town, or you. . .your tale is. . .dark, also. No. You will come to know of it later. I think you even know my kinswoman. Hm. I understand the lovely custom your people chose to continue. The ring on your hand gave it away!”
Shiden blushed, and gazed steadily at the side of the canvas tent, not acknowledging the strange man – the king, if he was not only jesting with them. Hahnir chortled and re-entered his tent. His hoarse voice called out, and the leaders of the Blue Company went in to join him, bent double as they passed the threshold, unnerved, greatly bemused, and oddly enough – curious.
Their respite and mirth lasted long into the night, for Hahnir was indeed not an enemy. It had been long since the captain had drank anything so strong – he favored the kinds of ale he was given, a strange brew the so-called 'king' provided from his own barrel. Still, he did not let it go to his head, nor did he forget the words Hahnir had spoken.
'A secret which would cause you affront'. . .the company could not have told him about my past. Then, is he a Seer, perhaps?'
Aurien kept watch during the night, and kept looking to his shivering companion, curled up on a cot in the corner of the tent, wrapped in a thin blanket. Shiden had refused the draught offered to him, even at the risk of offending Hahnir. Aurien knew why. He also knew it would indeed cause a tremendous rift between them, if Aurien spoke the words on his mind; his greatest mistake began to torment him again while the company searched the tomb.
A 'pure child'? Indeed she is. How he loves our daughter. And how I miss you both when I wander these lands. I can only imagine what he is thinking. The caster could not possibly know his own mother is dead, or even why, but he might hate me forever if I tell him. What were the whispers. . .why did I hear whispers coming from the locked door, as I turned back? I could not even understand them, but still they brought memories to the forefront of my mind! How I wish you were here, my beloved. . . .
The captain eventually dozed off despite his trepidation. He arose early, and found out he'd been deposited onto the grassy yard in his sleep. The cots were gone; when Aurien woke up, he was on the bare ground on his blanket; Shiden was far away, examining the house again with others, but the tent was being packed into a wagon Aurien was sure had not been in the camp on the previous night. What was more, he noticed there were three others, and the company was helping to prepare them for travel. The fires had been put out with care. Touchingly, Hahnir's men had set to the side all the scattered toys and equipment in the yard – most of them they put in two chests. Each looked newly made, and two of their new companions were burying the chests near the house.
Aurien wondered if they had made them in the night. The two chests had been constructed with local material. There was wood with chipped, light yellow paint used in their making, remnants seemingly of the cabin. Aurien watched Shiden prepare for their journey. He was beside Hahnir at the lead wagon. The spellcaster bowed as he took something from one of Hahnir's guardians. It was long, wrapped in silk and iron-cord. Aurien guessed it might have been a sword; there was a shield to go with it, for another guardian came up to Shiden with one, and the spellcaster put the shield on his back with a leather belt that was attached to it.
Aurien sighed, finally realizing what was happening. It had probably been found in the forge on the side of the house, or hidden somewhere. No looter would leave a valuable weapon behind. Shiden said nothing when his captain strode up to the company. Aurien watched him put the sword into its place, and get atop Toldar's back. The captain got on his own horse and his company followed after the wagons along the road.
The following journey lasted many weeks, as they journeyed through wild lands, and through town after town. At last, this remnant of the Blue Company escaped the wasted lands of Baron's Respite. The trees gave way to a hilly country full of villages and homesteads occupied by Hahnir's people. They called themselves the subjects of the King Etir, those who had given up and fled the eastern lands with him in his exile long ago. Hahnir was, apparently, a descendant of the King by one of four children, the king's daughter. Thus, he was a legitimate heir to the Lord Etir who'd perished in anguish after the death of his queen. Hahnir grew quiet during the telling of this, only muttering of a terrible man who came after, an evil tyrant called Cerras.
The caravan, and Aurien's company, passed a ruin twice, moving westward along the shores of an inland sea called Asairuun, the 'Blessed Sea', to get away from it. Even so, the ruin was not like those in the waste places of Niriu. It had only been abandoned for safer lands, and nothing but time and lack of care were the cause of its decay. Later, some tried to occupy it, the wandering Heroes who came to be after the King's men failed. The ruin was not the King's ancient house, of course. That remnant was in the eastlands Aurien knew very well, in the place his family was currently traveling to. The captain heard Hahnir refer to the ruin as Cerras-elna. He shuddered even as he said its name, as though he were cursing his very family by mentioning it.
The travelers stopped at the sea's western shoreline to trade wares in a fair town. Shiden spent whatever currency he had to barter, for something Aurien saw him slip into his rucksack. The object was small, whatever he bought, and it had a pearlescent glow. The spellcaster caught Aurien looking, and turned his gaze aside. But he knew something. Aurien wondered if he'd guessed the captain's secret. Yet, he couldn't have. No one knew, but Rivelas and the captain and one other, a bandit Aurien eventually slew years after their first meeting. Aurien gazed out over the water when the road dipped and let him down closer to it.
Across the beautiful inland sea was the monastery of the Order of Haven, and it could be seen even from their position. The blue, pointed tops of its lofty, white-washed towers shone with a glimmering reflection of the sun's rays. Aurien rode along the town streets with his head held high. He was not feeling as restless as he had for months. Many children played in the grass along the near shore. The captain turned his gaze away towards the west as the company slowly moved through the town after Hahnir. He was being greeted by his subjects as they went, and stopped many times. There was a great waterfall on their right. The company could not cross the raging river except by a large bridge of white stone spanning over it, made in the days of the King Etir's self-imposed exile. Aurien did not need Hahnir's recounting of the story to recall it himself. He knew of the first fall of Etirran into the hands of another enemy, who won it by cunning rather than warfare – and his mood darkened. Aurien rode quickly up to the head of the wagon train and conversed with Hahnir in the western tongue, briefly.
“We are not far, Captain. Not far at all. Do not worry – there it is, look out there!”
Aurien did look, in wonder, and his companions caught up on their steeds when he stopped to see, all seventeen of them, including Saga and the second unit of soldiers who had joined them. Aurien knew they were glad to escape the confines of the woodlands south of the mountains. He was also; the captain stopped moving upon seeing the breathtaking sight ahead. There was a rift in the side of a partially eroded caldera – he was sure it had been a caldera at one point – but the area was lush and green and full of many houses built even up the side of it, and they could see many lifts with cables and chains and large platforms carrying both workers and civilians to their highest points. Still others took to the trails and roads carved into the sides, which went to and fro up to the rim of the dead volcano. Aurien went up one of the many house-lined roads with Shiden and two scouts, and left Saga to take the lifts with the men of Hahnir's house. The rest of the company left to their own devices went through the rift, one by one, and passed into Viera Etirranen, the 'hill-land of the seers'. That was its name for over a century, and the Watchers did not come into the place, but a fanciful tale was told in the eastlands: the Watchers trained up many in their ancient rite of foresight, before their departure into the far north during a Cataclysm.
Shiden Muiras followed behind his captain while they rode on towards the house at the half-way point up the side of the mountain. The road took them towards the west, but then wound about back towards the eastern part of the mount and went up again, then westward once more across a high bridge covered in tracks of steel for the traversal of ancient carriages. Shiden did not speak to his companion. He was thinking on his own path. There were many secrets on his mind, and of course, his beloved wife and his two remaining friends were also in his thoughts. The spellcaster looked out into the open lands below, slightly worried about falling over the rusting rails of the bridge, and steering clear of them to remain in the center of the structure. The stone bricks were not all in fair condition.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Almost there, lad! Keep up.”
Aurien spurred his horse and went on, Shiden close behind. The two scouts went racing on, one in front and the other behind the spellcaster, each with enchanted helms allowing them see farther than others could normally. Shiden lit his scepter as the light of the day ended, and at last, they reached Hahnir's house, a golden-capped structure made with polished stone from some quarry or other. Shiden suspected the locals must have been farmers and hunters. All their men-folk seemed large and burly, and gruff, and much like his friend Hiro in their sun-darkened skin and their familiar attire. Yet some of them might have been miners or descendants of miners who still tried to continue finding material, for more than a few were placing ore into many mining cars for a journey down south. Aurien stopped at the doors, and two men came up, two servants, marked by their black breeches and thin tunics of gray fabric. They took the reins of the company men, and bowed, and led the beasts downhill to a stable. Shiden and the captain entered into the house, and shut the door behind them.
A steaming bath was made ready for Shiden, in his own chamber, set aside for him; Aurien was billeted in another wing of the house, but Shiden knew which of them was the captain's room without being told, as though his mind already held the memory of learning it – strangely, each was marked with an enchanted nameplate. Shiden's own showed, at first, his family name and not the chosen one he took upon himself, Muiras, which was storm cloud, after the northern 'storm country' – the country being named formally Muirasannad, or else Muirasann to commoners – whence he came. His worry and embarrassment overtook him for a moment, and he almost panicked and was repulsed by the name scratched into it at first, but as though the nameplate somehow understood his trepidation, new lines appeared at once.
The front of the copper plate warped, and it gleamed until it was etched with his current name, and smoothened again. As Shiden closed the door to the lounge area, the plate went blank. He went into the bedchamber following his bath, and rested a full night for once, refreshed and clean, and cleanshaven. When he left the bedchamber the next morning, Shiden found his usual attire had been cleaned as well, and repaired as though the clothing had been crafted by a seamstress that very day. The thought of the discovery made him curious.
On a table in the lounge, he found a set of tomes, full of pages with dry text written by hand in foreign languages. Shiden began studying the books; he knew two of the languages within them, especially the northern tongue of the Watchers, and studied into the afternoon for something he'd heard about in the north: an alleged 'fourth rank' of spells, long rumored to be fatal if one used them. He took out a notebook full of his own notes from his rucksack, written in his handwriting but marked with another's in the margin, in florid text which had been heavily edited at some point in the past.
Some of the text was crossed out, even. Most of it was in green ink, but there were also several unrelated marginal notes to him in blue, and several made by his own hand that were a response to those messages. He wept, silently, as he looked upon words he composed himself. This he'd done on the evening of the day he last spoke to Saiya Aurien in private.
'She wrote them down in here then,' he realized.
That had only been three weeks after what Shiden considered to be the happiest event in his life. He fiddled with his silver ring as he read the transcription of his words to her, again.
~~ A, Valiya Isarien, valiya valiyeta, valiiesen otano aila. Iyaasen valiya, Saiya. . .
annarasen ifayreta, Asair Iyaa, valiiesen ailarienda, iriinan kienda dayae.
Annara nan ha'lais sen akareyva nanda ailanir Iluran ata Ilurien, avaiya Iluiiya oA – Adehn Riyrannad kienda otare daro! ~~
Those words he first muttered quietly to her on the morning of their Enemy's resurgence. Shiden attempted to drive the horrible memory of the following events from his mind. On the facing page was a sketch he'd drawn. It was of a woman, sitting upon a boulder in a field on the edge of a lush forest, near his childhood home; her gaze was upon something unseen, but he had shaded the drawing ever so lightly upon the right side, as though what she was looking at was casting a glow upon her form. Shiden admired the face and the lines representing her wavy, light hair. His sketch was, of course, inspired by the fair and bright-eyed girl he'd been friends with since they met ten years earlier. They'd spent many of their days exploring the riverside together in Baron's Respite. The color had faded somewhat from the image over the years, but still the memories of those days shined bright in his mind when he looked upon the drawing he'd made of his beloved spouse.
Shiden lazily flipped between pages, taking notes occasionally and muttering many words asking quietly in prayer for a way to improve his talent in healing abilities. The evening meal, and his expected summons, came quickly. Shiden tried to drink the liquid in a cup brought to him by a servant, but spat it back out. He drank water from a clear glass filled by a spigot in his bath chamber instead. The meal he received from a servant was light: bread, and a locally-made kind of sauce, with thin slices of meat he assumed were venison. The servant did not speak his language, but the local one only. He sneered when Shiden spit out the liquid, for whatever reason. Shiden followed after the servant without another word once he'd eaten. A council had been convened and he was expected there. The servant knew only the one word in Shiden's tongue seemingly: 'council', and spoke it in a slurred way several times, and only walked out of Shiden's quarters with the empty food tray, and the cup Shiden dumped out in a sink basin.
Many long, quiet, and peaceful days came and went before the spellcaster made progress in his learning, and Shiden witnessed the local festivities as the end of the year passed them by during his stay. Shiden went down the mountain many times for several ceremonies with a myriad of figures from all parts of Hahnir's domain. The Blue Company had been in the land of the Hahnir's people for three weeks. Aurien was coming and going also, to the northern side of the encircling mount. He'd told Shiden there was another, wider rift in its northern side, after returning from one of his scouting trips. It was not difficult to tell.
Shiden managed to get to the top several times, and see it from afar, relaxing in a seat at the overlook above Hahnir's manor. The bottom of the 'crater' was full of crop fields and homes, and many roads. Shiden had to admit to himself it looked very like Etirran's countryside where his dearest friends lived once. The spellcaster also had to come to terms with the reality that he didn't want to leave it, except to bring his spouse to see the lovely place also, and maybe stay for the rest of their days.
The spellcaster began walking back to the house belonging to Hahnir and his family, and he passed down the path slowly using the smooth wooden rails to do so. When he reached the house, he went into the yard and passed many trees, but the garden was full with many stacks of supplies like baskets and crates and clay jars of some liquid or other. He waited and bowed as two of Hahnir's household went by to exit the yard, and he went alone into the house again by the rear door to the council chamber.
He had watched silently and respectfully when Hahnir had spoken to the heads of his council, but he became rather tired and was bored quickly by it. So, he gave his thanks, and exited once the council ended. As one of Hahnir's guests of honor, he had full access to the place. The spellcaster explored the rest of the house, but returned to the grand dining hall after only half an hour, wanting to see if Aurien and the others had returned. It was large, a marvel of a structure with many pillars lining either side of an open room with a high ceiling. The long dining table was at its center, and a shaft of light from the sun beamed down every day from a circular skylight, onto the middle of the table where there was a great, green gemstone in a glass case. It may have been enchanted, for Shiden found his arm did not hurt any longer.
The awful cut he'd gotten on his torso in the southlands had been slowly healing ever since the start of the council. Most seats at the table were empty at last when Shiden reached it again, though several were still occupied, with a few others still taking and eating food from the communal dishes. Many were standing or sitting upon plush chairs together, throughout the room. Shiden wandered towards several armored men who were in a hushed conversation. One turned and bowed as Shiden reached them, being Hahnir's son Ariykanan, called Arukan in informal speech. Shiden wondered what it meant, but he recognized the man next to Arukan. The man bowed, and left by a side door after bowing, and shut it quietly behind him.
The captain bowed also as their host's son left, and gestured for Shiden to follow, with a kind, but reserved smile on his face. He looked much younger, when his face was not bearded. He also was of a more kinder disposition when the company was not in the midst of a grim battle or other stressful situation. Shiden and the captain walked together along the walkway lining the room, where there were benches placed all along the outer wall for visitors to use during ceremonies or festival dinners; and those were, apparently, common in Hahnir's country. Shiden sat on one of the outer benches, for across from the wall, among the pillars there were others to sit upon. Aurien sat across from him. He seemed annoyed by something, but also content. He'd eaten some blue stew at dinner, which seemed to glow, and also seemed to be rejuvenating in some way.
“The Di-mai. That is their name. The ones who built this place, I mean. It means 'Serving House'. They aided many of the great Kings of the last age of our people. Then, they served the remnant of the King's Guard – the Raiiya – for a time. After. . .well, we do not know; many countries are empty in these days.”
“Captain. There are. . . other things on your mind, clearly. I ask for your pardon, but I think you seem aggrieved. I, also. For there were many things I did not want to even think about. Something about this place seems to have jarred feelings loose, you might say.”
“Indeed. Yes, young one. There's a lot I have kept secret from people over the years. I think I will keep most of them secret, for the time being. But: I think you believe there's one secret you've managed to keep safe from me?”
Shiden went red in the face. He leaned back in his seat. “There. . . is. So you've guessed, or she has told you, perhaps. Yes, you must know the great blessing which has been bestowed upon us, by the Light of this benighted world, which has been struck with some malady for long ages now, and remains consumed by woe and vain wars against the Shroud peoples.
“Still, there is some brightness in it, wouldn't you say?”
“Very poetic, lad. I would concur, but for the darkness now on my mind. I do not think the mixing between the evil in the prison-tomb and the beauty of this land – and this land's peace – has been good for me. It angers me.
“Anyway – well, I do know. I also know about your affliction. The Lady Aliin told me of it long ago when you first joined the Blue Company. I also know you have beaten it. Yes, indeed. The 'King's Fall', men called it once: a terrible, inheritable disease – a plague sent by the evil spellcasters of the Silurè race, so the lines of kings would end forever. And so they did.”
'The Princes of the Silurè the Darkness bore. Heralds there were: four strong men, and the Darkness laid waste to us in foul forms – five forms it took from us after the first calamity: One Wreathed In Flames, One Cloaked In Ash, One Clad In Stone, One Washed In Storms, and Last – last came their fell prince drenched in accursed Blood. . . .'
Shiden nearly fell as he rose from the bench. “Ah. Damn it. That hurt. . .bad. Why, it was like a voice, Captain!”
Aurien rose, too, without the same reaction, but he was pale when the spellcaster caught a glimpse of his face. He went to Shiden and seized his arm a moment before whispering for him to get to the door. Hahnir watched them go, without a word. The king raised a hand to his hat as the captain looked back and nodded once. Both men went forth out of the hall, and said nothing until they reached the main part of the house, and entered Shiden's quarters shortly after.
“I heard it as well, lad. It sounded – it sounded like a woman's voice, speaking words from ancient lore. To me, it was only like an echo, and dim.”
Shiden sat on a seat in the lounge, and waited for the dizziness to pass. When it did, he went for a drink: there was a wooden bucket of water, and several wooden cups, on a table in the room. He offered one to Aurien and went back to his place on the lounge's sofa.
“For me as well. You know whose voice it was, though, Captain. I know you do.”
Aurien said nothing, at first. “Forget it. I will tell you of something else, first. Do not listen to words from afar – they could be from anyone or anything. I can tell you of the pendant your friend gave you. You see, I know where it came from, and who bore it once. It was your mother's.”
The spellcaster looked upon it, his eyes brimming, but he looked up after checking the object around his neck. “Why did you keep what you know secret until now,” he choked out.
Aurien shook his head. “Not the Lady Aliin. I said your mother. A frail young girl, she was: seventeen, and very sick. Her name was Annarien. Annara, actually, I think. Yes, I remember correctly – I think Annarien is but a diminutive form of the full name.”
“I know. 'Bright eyes'. I – called. . . I have called your daughter that sometimes, in the commoner's tongue. Strange. Come to think of it, dear Saiya and I, we met when I was about to turn seventeen.”
“Strange, indeed. Though, after all my secrecy, I feared. . . a different reaction. Lady Aliin told you, then?” Aurien said bitterly.
“No, but I understand what her name meant. She did not tell me all of it, at any rate; I know that my birth mother died. I also know Master Varas, the Lady's husband, is my paternal uncle, and he is the reason why I was allowed to be raised by them both. Where my father is, I do not know. He vanished, the lore masters said, in a battle during the last war. How I must have annoyed them, by begging to search their record books! – but I say again, as I did in the hill lands: what are you thinking about? What is bothering you, exactly?”
“I will tell you, if you want. It is not a long tale, but it is dark, and full of violence, which I do not want to remind you of.”
