Farmers & Mercenaries (27 page)

“What I am about to tell you can never be repeated. Not to your friends or family—especially not to your brother, the Shaper. And, especially not to the Shaper down in our camp. Do you understand?” He waited for Arderi to nod his head before he continued.

“I also grieve for what I am about to tell you. You should not be given this information at your age nor in this manner. What I am about to tell you may cost you your life before you are even given the chance to embrace what it means. Yet, I feel I have no options left to me.”

“I will, at least, give you this. I have the answers you seek. I will tell them to you if you wish. I need you to understand that once I tell you, there is no going back. Your path will be set and only death will release you from it. I will ask you only once. Do you wish me to give you answers?” He raised a hand to forestall any response. “Do not answer this question lightly, son, for it is more important than you can possibly know.”

The sincerity with which the Commander spoke frightened Arderi. The memory of last eve during the fight, the man’s ghostly eyes peering into his very core. The only answer he knew beyond doubt was that this man could kill him. He felt that in his very bones. Gazing out over the horizon, the words of the old priestess he had met in the chapel of Saphanthia the eve before he ran away came back to him.

We could choose a path and be led to ruin, or be thrust into something that may lead us to greatness.

Master Rillion looked at him with a puzzled look. “What?”

Arderi had not realized he had said the words aloud. Yet, in saying the words, an odd sense of tranquility fell over him, and he nodded slowly. “Something an old priestess once told me. It did not make sense to me then, and I am not so sure it does now.” He reached up and wiped the last tear from his eye.

If
I am to be the Plane’s fool, so be it. I must know.

“Aye.” He was happy to hear that his voice sounded strong.

Master Rillion stared into his eyes. When Arderi did not avert from his gaze, he nodded once. “Aye, I think you may be stronger than I gave you credit.” Getting to his feet, Clytus drew his sword. It was a slim gleaming piece of steel about a pace in length, with a slight curve to it. Arderi saw no adornment on the blade nor its worn leather-wrapped hilt. “The name of this blade is Dorochi. I have carried it for over thirty winters. It was a gift, as all Tur’ganas must be.”

Motioning for Arderi to stand, Clytus unwrapped the leather from the sword’s hilt. A gleam of red spilled from the handle as its covering was removed. Nestled in the center of the hilt, imbedded in the steel that continued unbroken from pommel to tip, sat a red Crystal. Sharp jagged angles of red light slashed out to gleam upon the surrounding terrain. Instantly, Arderi recognized the similarity the Crystal had to the Ka’ilyth that the Grand Master Shaper had used during the Test, and took a step away.

It is exactly like the lights from the Test! Only red instead of blue.

“You failed the Test for the same reason a Shaper can feel power within you.” Clytus’ tone remained level. “Because you do have the power within you to manipulate the Essence. It is simply different from that the Shapers possess.”

A chill passed over Arderi. “Aye, yet what kind of power. Sier Deln said that the Essence was in things, yet I saw you freeze everything! You stopped time itself!”

“Nix, lad.” A smile crossed Clytus’ lips. “What you saw was me slowing down the reality of the Essence.” He held the sword between them, horizontal to the ground. “There will be time for your questions. First, we cannot continue until you have been bound.”

The Crystal embedded in the hilt pulsed. The violent flashes of red light dazzled Arderi. The brightness of the beams stabbed through his eyes, forcing him to raise a hand to block some of its intensity. His heart pounded in time with the pulsing. He felt it pumping in his chest. The throbbing seeped through him, saturating every fiber until he could feel himself oscillating in rhythm to the Crystal. Reality dissolved around him. Sky, mountains—the very ground he stood on—all washed away by the red glow that enveloped him. He floated in it’s void. Mesmerized by it’s life, it’s being, it’s…

It is pure Essence!

A voice spoke. Far off in a distant realm. A disembodied being attempting to pull his attention from the only thing that existed—the only thing that mattered. Arderi ignored it. He lost himself in the warm red glow of reality. Nothing else could compare to this.

Yet he heard and understood. Knew what the voice said even as he disregarded it. Its meaning burned in his mind. He heard a monotone voice speak and recognized it as his own. Knew what he said, for he had said it for all the eons the Plane of Talic’Nauth had existed. Knew that he would say the words forevermore. He listened to his words. “I shall never utter an untrue word. I shall protect the secrets of the Tat’Sujen Order. I shall be faithful to my duties and never waver. A vow which passes my lips shall be broken only by death. To these, I allow my Essence to be bound by the Melding of my very being to that of Ka’gana.”

Existence snapped back, and he slumped to the ground at Clytus’ feet. Arderi, covered in sweat, gulped in air as if he had run a league. Raising his arm to wipe his brow, he found he did not have enough strength to complete the task.

“It is done.” Clytus knelt down. “I have never heard of any of our Order being bound without understanding the full meaning of what they did. My heart grieves to know that I may have condemned you to death by my actions.” Reaching out, he helped Arderi sit enough to be propped against the nearby boulder.

The weakness that filled Arderi soon fled, and after a quarter aurn, he felt merely tired.

I could sleep for a full tenday, I think.

The cool breeze wafting over the land helped him regain some of his vigor. Raising a hand, Arderi brushed his hair from his face and looked up at Clytus. “What just happened?”

A look of pain cascaded over Clytus’ face. Taking a deep breath, the man turned his face up to the sky. “I am sure at some fair or festival you heard tales spun by some bard of the Tat’Sujen?” He smiled at the boy’s reaction. “Not all of them are tales, son, for the Order does exist. Having told you this, I should now have to kill you.” At the startled look from Arderi, Clytus raised a hand. “Settle. I will explain.”

“Your brother and the Shaper are both correct. You do have a power within you. We call it the Sujen. It is much like what the Shapers use, yet in the manner that men are like women. Two sides of the same coin, as it were. Except, where the gift to Meld the Essence is rare, the gift of Sujen is down right unheard of. Mayhaps four or five in a generation will have it.”

“So I am a Tat’Sujen?” Arderi’s head spun.

Clytus let out a small laugh. “Nix, boy. You have the power of Sujen, this is true. Alas, that does not make you a Tat’Sujen. Call it a prerequisite, if you must.”

“Normally, when one is found with the gift of Sujen, they are taken away to be trained in secret. If, during their training, they are found to be unworthy to join our Order, well… knowledge of the Sujen is not allowed to get out.”

“Unworthy?” Arderi did not like the sound of that. “Then why do you tell me this, sir?”

“You have pushed me into a corner, lad! I had hoped to leave you washing pans until I could find some way to spirit you off to be apprenticed by our Order. Alas, the Shaper puts a kink in that plan. I could kill you, yet that would weaken our Order by your loss.” Again, it seemed as if Clytus smiled at the discomfort his words caused Arderi. “And how would I be able to explain killing a farmer boy to my troop?” He laughed. “Nix, my only real option is to start your training myself.” Clytus grinned. “Besides, I can always kill you later if the need arises.”

Arderi shuffled his feet on the rocky ground. His mind raced as this new information seeped into him.

This is what Alant felt! The odd feelings I have had my whole life, the Test
—
it all makes sense!

“Do I now need to hide from Sier Deln?”

The red streaks of light vanished as Clytus wrapped the hilt of his sword, Dorochi, once more in its leather housing. “Nix, lad. That is one of the benefits of being bound to Ka’gana. A Shaper will no longer be able to sense anything from you.”

Still too weak to stand, Arderi rested his head on the boulder. “Ka’gana. I have heard that from somewhere. Yet, I do not recall where.”

For some reason this seemed to amuse Clytus. “Ka’gana is the true name of the Essence. The Essence is much greater than the Shapers of this Plane believe it to be. They see it more as a science. A way to Meld with physical items and change them. Yet Ka’gana is so much more. You have much to master prior to learning of such things, however.”

“So what happens now, sir?”

“Now?” Standing, Clytus reached out a hand and helped Arderi to his feet. “Now you go help Master Grith prepare lastmeal for the men. Then, I would suspect that you will have more dishes to wash.”

Looking at Clytus with a puzzled expression, Arderi could not tell if the man made a jest. “I do not understand. How is that training, sir?”

Clapping a hand upon Arderi’s shoulder, Clytus looked into his eyes. “Every action we make in life has consequences. You are a stowaway, lad, and you will be treated as such until the time comes when you earn a place among us. I have come here for a purpose, and that purpose is my top priority. Training you will happen when it happens.” Turning, Clytus strode back toward camp, leaving Arderi standing alone on the hillside.

Why is it I feel the only one who received any satisfaction from our talk was him?

A
lant Cor awoke to a gentle shaking on his shoulder. For a moment he was unsure where he was. Looking up, he stared into what, in his groggy state, seemed to be the face of a goddess. Brilliant, jade-green eyes, like the clearest emeralds ever shaped by a master jeweler, held him in their embrace. A smile, formed from lips as lush and dark as the finest chocolate, bathed him in their warm caress. Dark black hair, seeming softer than the finest silk, tumbled around the edges of her dark-skinned face, framing it in a radiance of shimmering light. He did not move for fear of breaking the spell.

Gracefully, she stretched out her thin, supple hand. It floated across his field of vision like a gentle breeze. Pain shot through his chest as she poked him hard with a finger. “Do you be ill?”

Startled into action, Alant rose hastily, only to stumble backwards over the bag on which he had been sleeping. Embarrassment flooded through him as the fog of sleep lifted from his mind.

“Aie!” The girl hurried forward to help him up off the deck of the
Mistbreeze Trader
. “I do be sorry if I did frighten you.”

“Frighten!? Um… N-no, I just…” Alant glanced around the boat trying to give his brain time to catch up to what was happening. Giving her a weak smile, he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head sheepishly. Reaching up, he pushed at a lock of brown hair that fell across his eye. “You did kind of sneak up on me, I guess.”

The girl put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. Her green eyes sparkled at him, and Alant experienced an odd tingling sensation deep in his chest. She stood tall for a girl, only a hand or so shorter than himself. A plain, yet elegant white robe covered her slim frame, accentuated only by the golden rope tied about her waist. Soft gold-colored slippers covered her feet. “I be looking for someone who traveled on this ship. A Shaper Initiate from Ro’Arith by the name Alant Cor?”

Her accent was strange, and she spoke so fast he had trouble understanding her fully, yet he felt he grasped the majority of what she said. Looking down at his dingy woolen shirt and pants, he realized he looked more a part of the crew than a passenger. Swallowing hard, he tried to answer, yet found his heart stuck in his throat. He stood in silence gaping at the girl, feeling his face grow hot and red.

Smiling knowingly at him, she giggled once more. “That be all right. Someone else can help me.”

She turned, as if to search for another crew member, and he reached out to touch her arm. “Nix! I… I am Alant Cor.”

“Oh! Well…” Her knowing smile turned into one of amusement as she looked him over.

She looks at me like I was a mouse, and her the fastest cat in the stead!

“If that be the case, I be Shaith Ku’rin, Initiate at the Chandril’elian here in Hath’oolan. I came to escort you.” Shaith pointed to the bag he had tripped over. “Do those be your belongings?”

“Aye, well…” His stammering caused his face to grow even hotter. Mentally he kicked himself, then bent down and plucked the bag from the deck, staggering slightly under its weight. When he stood, he gave the girl another weak smile and motioned for her to lead the way.

Not a good start to my great adventure!

Even though it was just past midday when the
Mistbreeze Trader
arrived at the docks of Hath’oolan, dusk now settled over the island, casting deep shadows over everything. The two wound their way through the congestion of the dock area, and Alant still marveled that he saw nothing except Humans. “Why do I not see any Elmorians?”

Shaith spun around to face Alant so fast he almost ran into her. “Do no let the Elmorr’Antiens hear you refer to them by that name! They do find it degrading.”

“Degrading? Why?”

“They be very sensitive to the Human tongue. They do know, in our tongue, we have a tendency to call a person by the land of their birth. You be Ro’Arithian. And I, Silawaian.”

Her retort puzzled Alant. “Aye, yet in the Old tongue, Elmorr’Antiens translates to the ancient people of Elmorr’eth. Is not that the same thing?”

“I did hear the Chandril’elian of Mocley be lax in its teachings, yet I was no aware how bad it truly be!” She gave him a sad look and shook her head. “Nay, no to the Elmorr’Antiens. Calling them the ancient people of a land be more respectful than calling them by a variation of the name of the land.” The raven-haired girl turned and hurried on. Alant stood for a moment staring after her.

She may be arrogant. Still, she is correct on one point, I am ill prepared if
I do not even know what to call my new teachers.

Noticing the distance between him and Shaith, he launched into a jog to catch her up. Falling in step next to her, he slowed to match her pace and catch his breath before speaking. “That still does not answer my question. Why do I see nothing except Humans here?”

She continued her brisk pace without looking over at him. “The Dasha’alan be populated exclusively by Humans. It be the only part of the island where they be allowed, except us few Initiates, of course. The Elmorr’Antiens come here only if there be a need. Even then, they do send a Gralet’nar when they can.”

Gralet’nars! The henchmen of the Elmorians. No! Not Elmorians. Elmorr’Antiens.

“I have heard of these Gralet’nars. Where do they come from?”

“They did always be, as far as I do know. I think they be distant cousins to the Elmorr’Antiens. Gralet’nar be Old Tongue for Warrior Servant. They do serve their name and purpose well, for they be big and strong and fiercely loyal. I do find them no the brightest of races, yet we Initiates have very little contact with them on the whole.” His heart skipped when she reached out, and in a gentle grasp, took him by the hand. “Come, we must hurry. Tardiness no be a trait the Elmorr’Antiens do tolerate.” She quickened her pace to a fast walk, dragging him along after her.

They leave me all day sitting on the dock and now
I
must hurry!

They soon left the maze of low warehouses, with its streets and alleyways of stacked crates and barrels, to race along a smooth, white-stoned pathway some four paces wide. It snaked along next to the massive wall that separated the dock area from the city proper. Towering over their heads by some two hundred paces or more, looking up at it from its base gave Alant a sickening feeling in his gut. Now that he was next to the white wall he noticed that it was indeed smooth as glass. Even this close, he saw no cracks or fissures upon its surface. Dragging his free hand down it as they ran alongside, it felt like frozen water—only not cold—slipping under his fingers.

No mason could produce a stone this smooth! It is as flawless as if
it was carved from one single piece!

Movement ahead caught his eye and he realized they were approaching a small gate. Shaith slowed their frantic dash to a walk. When he saw what guarded the gate, Alant swallowed hard, despite himself. On either side of the opening stood two enormous creatures, each close to three paces tall. They dwarfed any living being he had ever seen. They had the same gray skin and long wispy white hair as the Elmorian Guide Master from the harbor, yet all similarity between the two ended there. Legs as thick as a young hardwood tree supported their muscular frame. Arms that made the
Mistbreeze Trader’s
Captain’s look dainty were capped by hands easily the size of a man’s head. The guards wore a strange leathery looking armor that served as pants and sleeveless shirt. Their clothing appeared to be made from something resembling the skin of some giant reptile. By the look of their shoulders, each could rip a horse in half with their bare hands.

I cannot imagine what need they have for the sickle-like blades hanging from their belts!

Yet, of all the things about these creatures, it was their eyes—or rather, what should have been their eyes—that sent a wave of terror cascading over Alant. Hollow sockets, lost in deep shadows, sat high on their forehead. They gazed out—seeming to take in everything and nothing all at once—moving their heads back and forth, scanning the area in front of the gate without pause.

Shaith continued, and lost her hold on Alant’s hand when he stopped, rooted in place, several paces from the entrance. Turning, she flashed him a mischievous smile. “Do no be frightened, Alant. They will no harm you. You be expected.” She let out a giggle at the horrified look he knew plastered his face.

“Aye, mayhaps. Yet… What are they?” The last words he said in a hushed whisper.

“They be Gralet’nars. Warrior Servants of the Elmorr’Antiens.” She reached back and took his hand in both of hers. Despite the presence of the Gralet’nars, he could not keep his mind from how smooth and flawless her dark skin was. “Come! They will no trouble us.” She tugged gently on his arm until his feet reluctantly moved forward. Without taking his eyes from the towering sentries, he let her pull him into the city of Hath’oolan. Just prior to crossing the gate, one of them turned its haunting blind gaze upon him causing him to almost lose his nerve and run back for the safety of the docks. Yet, a moment later, the Gralet’nars lay behind him, and he was on the other side of the massive white wall.

Into the city proper!

The road they followed curved around a large building and dumped them onto a wide grand street—a boulevard larger than any he had seen in Mocley. The beauty of the sight that sprang up in front of Alant caused him to pause so he could take it all in.

The great boulevard they now stood upon was immeasurably wide—hundreds of paces across. Two pristine cobblestone lanes flanked a row of lush trees, colorful flowers, and leafy shrubbery that ran the breadth between them. Intermixed at intervals, fountains bubbled and shot streams of water high into the air. Ornate statues and large pieces of art carved into intricate designs stood scattered about, filling every empty area large enough to hold them. Many of these pieces sat between the enormous buildings that rose in elegance from the sides of the street. So high were these structures, the tops were lost against the now dark sky. Thin archways, their graceful lines accentuating the architecture, laced their way from building to building, forming bridges and walkways, some so high it made Alant queasy just looking at them. A myriad of lights spackled the scene, casting dancing spots of color like the countless stars in the very heavens.

Everything he saw—the buildings, arches, fountains and artworks, planters housing the fauna, even the cobblestones making up the street, everything—was formed from the same flawless white stone the outer wall had been made of. Even with darkness full upon the land, the brightness of the area gave the appearance of early dusk. The contrast of the brilliant stone set against the vibrant greens, reds, browns, and yellows of the many plants placed at strategic locations, made them stand out in vivid splendor.

“It is so beautiful!”

“Aye. It do take your breath away, at that.” The boulevard stretched off both left and right far into the distance. “Come.” Shaith, pulling Alant into motion once more, headed away from the outer wall and deeper into the city of Hath’oolan.

As they made their way, Alant could not help except to stare at the inhabitants. All around them he saw Elmorians. Elmorr’Antiens, he reminded himself. Hundreds of them meandered about, busy with whatever tasks had them out at this late aurn. Some accompanied by one of the horrible Gralet’nars, most of those burdened with large bundles or bags. A few gave the two Humans in their midst a casual glance, yet most ignored them entirely.

Once the two reached their destination, Alant felt close to collapse.

We must have walked for near a league!

The moon-long voyage, not to mention being unable to keep food down for the first half of the trip, had done nothing for his stamina, and he found it difficult to keep up with the energetic young lady.

The last part of the boulevard ended in a circle that connected one side of the paved street to the other, forming a large loop. On the far side of the loop stood a massive three-story building. A grand stairway lined with columns led up to a set of intricately carved doors. Large stained glass windows lined the walls on either side of the doors. He did not know how, yet he felt certain this building was the Chandril’elian.

Still, the building was not what held Alant’s attention. In the center of the circle created by the looping boulevard, directly across from the stairs leading to the entrance of the Chandril’elian, stood a huge tree unlike any Alant had ever seen. Blood-red leaves, broad and flat, dressed branches cloaked in a bark so black they made Shaith’s skin look pale. The bark itself looked more like burnt flesh than wood. It did not stand proud and straight like a normal tree. Instead, it was reaching into the sky as if in great agony and begging the Gods to release it from its turmoil. At the base of the tree, a fine red sand covered the ground filling in the circumference of the circle. Designs and patterns traced their way through the sand as if put there by some half-crazed deity. The entire area gave off an ominous, unholy vibe that sent a shiver running through Alant.