Chapter 12

Maeryn stood at the prow of the ship and pulled her thick cloak tight against her chin. The driving wind was bringing a large storm cloud from the east that tried to block the rising sun. It was ominous and should have worried her, but the return trip was almost concluded and they would soon arrive at the island. She hoped that her friends had fared well in her absence and was excited to be bringing food and winter supplies.

Gradually, the rocky coast on their port side passed into their wake and Tur’cen came into view. Maeryn was surprised at the amount of elation she felt. But she quickly realized that, though she was cared for while in the Empire’s capital city, she dearly missed her daughter and had come to think of the slaves as her family.

Former slaves, she corrected herself.

Swinging around to the southern tip of the island, the man who had taken the role of her husband piloted the ship into a partially hidden cove. With the island now blocking the wind, all became silent. Maeryn scanned the shoreline for signs of movement, but no one could be seen. It seemed an eternity before the boat slid to a stop in the soft shore.

Without waiting for help, Maeryn jumped down to land with a splash into water reaching to her knees. The three men aboard, quickly attended to the sails and dropped anchor. Maeryn waded to the dry sand and walked inland, glancing around.

Maybe they’re hiding. But after several minutes, she started to feel a sickness in her stomach. She wouldn’t even dare to think or utter the fear in her heart, instead pushing her emotions aside. Her two traveling companions and mock husband now joined her on the beach.

“So where is everyone?” he called, his arms wide.

“Mother!” came a yell from the trees.

Maeryn spun around to see Aelia running out from the protection of the forest. Her swift feet left gentle impressions in the sand as she ran for her mother. Maeryn threw off her cloak and met Aelia, the two embracing with tears in their eyes.

“Are you alright?” she said, pulling back from her daughter and taking the girl’s face in her hands.

“I’m fine, Mother; I missed you.”

“And the others…are they well?”

“Everyone is fine!”

Maeryn pulled her close again, holding tight.

“Mother!” exclaimed Aelia, pulling away embarrassed as she noticed the handsome stranger only a few paces away.

“Oh,” Maeryn mumbled as she noticed the source of her daughter’s concern. “Don’t worry about him; he’s here to help us.” She knew that Aelia wasn’t concerned about a stranger in their midst, but she wasn’t ready to acknowledge her daughter’s budding interest in men. She knew it would come eventually, but she wasn’t about to encourage it.

Slowly, other familiar faces began to materialize on the beach. And it wasn’t long before they all had the boat unloaded, the supplies moved to the camp and the ship stowed out of sight. The hours passed quickly as Maeryn settled back into island life. Everyone was eager to hear of her trip, and it was all she could do to put them off until the evening meal, when she could recount her story for all to hear.

Later that evening, after assessing the food storage, it was decided that they could easily spare enough food for a celebration feast. Maeryn thought it completely appropriate, given the trials they had endured. Immediately, word spread through the camp and was met with smiles and tears of joy. Fires were built and the smell of food enveloped the camp. Roast lamb, fish, and all manner of fruits were prepared so that all could eat their fill. And as the activity of dinner slowed all of the island residents gathered around their respective fires and stared at Maeryn, anxious to hear her story. Maeryn wiped the tears from her eyes and stood before her friends.

She recounted their entire journey, from the time they left the island. And even though she couldn’t adequately express it as she wanted, it didn’t seem to matter. Her friends listened with rapt attention to every word. They shared in her struggles and envisioned themselves at her side as she traveled to secure their freedom. And though it should have occurred earlier, Maeryn didn’t fully realize the weight of her responsibility until halfway through her tale. It dawned on her suddenly and she had to concentrate to keep from trailing off and ruining the moment. She knew, even as she continued, that she would have to ponder that thought at a later time and give it her full attention. But this moment wasn’t that time. So she moved on to the climax of her story.

“…and that’s when he told me that we would be given a larger ship to carry all the supplies we would need for winter. And in the springtime, he would send a ship large enough to carry us all to Orud.”

Cheering went up from the crowd at the mention of their rescue. Maeryn waited until their applause died down.

“He will send a slave ship and we will travel in broad daylight under that disguise. Once we reach Orud, he will stage a pretend market where powerful men of the Resistance will purchase you and take you away to your respective posts throughout the Empire. Now I know that this sounds suspicious, but it’s actually quite brilliant. There will be no cause for any citizens to suspect what is happening, because it is a common occurrence. The difference is that you will not be owned by anyone, but will be spreading throughout the Empire to help free your own people from bondage. The Resistance has made great progress recently, but they can use all the help they can get.”

Slowly, the looks of concern changed into smiles as they considered the plan. After a few minutes, nods of approval could be seen all around.

“Now, let us all get some rest and we can talk more in the morning.”

As the crowd began to disperse, several came to Maeryn and offered their thanks. The women embraced her, while the men simply put a hand on her shoulder. Maeryn felt awkward, knowing that it wasn’t her provision that would save these people. That honor would go to the leader of the Resistance. Still, she felt blessed that what she did have to offer was put to good use for their cause.

* * * *

The thick, humid air made breathing difficult. Coupled with the constant buzzing of insects, it made Saba feel as though everything around him was alive. Indeed, the rich and moisture laden earth beneath his feet seemed capable of growing anything. He was stripped to the waist and following a dark-skinned man through a dense jungle of vines and broad-leafed trees. After nearly three days of walking on a more or less flat grade, they began to descend steeply into a valley. The trees seemed to close in on him and the light grew dimmer as the sun was choked from view. They moved quickly despite the lack of a defined walking path. The man ahead of him was weaving and darting through the foliage, relying upon memory to guide him. And from the increasing noise in the air, Saba suspected that the man’s memory was good.

Steadily, the faint sound of water grew to a deafening roar. And just when it seemed as though the sound couldn’t get louder, the trees opened to show a magnificent view. They were standing on a precipice with a narrow gap separating the cliff on which they stood from a wall of vegetation only thirty feet away. Craning his neck, Saba estimated that the opposite cliff face reached a hundred feet above them. The most amazing sight, however, was the frothing white water cutting through the vegetation to plummet hundreds of feet below them.

Saba’s guide moved along the cliff to the right, not showing any hint of the amazement that Saba felt. It was to be expected, he thought, considering that these sights would be commonplace to the man. Saba followed and after several minutes they came upon a strange sight—a thick rope, tied to the branch of a tree, extending across the gap between the cliffs to disappear into the middle of the waterfall. Though it was woven from vines, it was thick and appeared sturdy. The guide stopped and looked to Saba with a questioning expression.

Saba held out his hands indicating that he didn’t understand.

The man responded by shaking the rope and pointing to the waterfall across the chasm.

“Behind the water is what you seek,” said the man in his native tongue, a hint of anger in his voice.

“I don’t understand. Can you show me?”

“NO! I am not permitted to walk the holy ground. ‘Only holy man’ say the elders.”

Saba looked back to the waterfall and the realization of what he was about to do began to set in. The sacred burial ground for the holy men of this tribe was located in a cave behind the waterfall. He would have to use the rope to swing across the chasm and through the water to get to it. It was all starting to feel familiar.

“How do I get back?” he asked.

The man pondered the question for several seconds before answering. “Keep rope. I will pull you up.”

The man’s answer lacked confidence, which caused Saba’s stomach to sink. But something compelled him to walk forward nonetheless. He grabbed the rope, untied it from the tree branch and stepped to the edge of the cliff. He knew that if he hesitated, it would only give him the chance to consider how dangerous this was. So he didn’t hesitate. Instead, he grasped the rope firmly with both hands, took a deep breath, and launched himself away from the cliff.

Saba’s heart immediately leaped into his throat as he caught a glimpse of the bottom of the chasm. Before he had time to ponder the pain of falling from this height, his breath was stolen by the sudden temperature change and immense downward force exerted on his body upon entering the water. The shock was short-lived as he passed through the falls. Instinctively, he loosened his grip on the rope and began to drop, longer than expected. When he hit the hard ground on the other side, the impact knocked the wind from his lungs. He stumbled, off balance, and fell to the ground, losing his grip on the rope. In a moment of panic at the thought of being trapped, he lunged for the rope as the downward force of the water whipped it across the dirt floor toward the waterfall. Just before the edge of the cliff, Saba’s finger made contact with the rope and he quickly grabbed it with full force. Momentarily relieved, Saba rolled over onto his back and struggled to regain his breath.

It took several minutes, but finally he rose to his feet and stared at the rushing water, keenly aware that he had almost just lost his way out. And yet, something inside him drove out the fear. He knew that he was walking down the path of his hidden memories, and that gave him confidence. Despite his desperate circumstances, there was no place he would rather be.

The deafening water at the mouth of the cave gave a shimmering glow to the surroundings, providing much more light than he would have expected. But as the cave narrowed toward the back, into the mountain, the glittering light was quickly lost. The natives had long ago dealt with this problem by keeping a torch and flint along the wall to the right. After fumbling with the crude instruments for a moment, Saba had a light source that chased away the darkness. Without hesitating, he began to follow the path and his eyes slowly adjusted to the orange glow of the torch. The cave continued to narrow until he found himself on his hands and knees, struggling to squeeze between the rocks and dust. Then, the passage suddenly widened into another cave and Saba could hear its size before he could see it. The sound of his feet on the uneven path was lost to the nothingness of this new space, no longer echoing as it did a few minutes before.

Holding up the torch, Saba let the light stretch across the cavern and was surprised by what he saw—numerous stone sarcophagi covering the floor, arranged in perfect rows. The natives, by what Saba could observe of their culture, didn’t appear to be adept at working with stone. However, the piles of stones around him, some carved with intricate designs, argued with his original observation. Walking along the mounds, from row to row, Saba felt drawn by something, although he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. It should have been unsettling, walking amongst the remains of the dead, but it was anything but unsettling. There was an overwhelming sense of peace that allowed him to search the entire length of the cavern without once feeling nervous.

Suddenly, Saba stopped. There, in front of him at the back of the cavern was a mound of a different sort. It was small, only a few feet square. He bent down to touch the stones, prepared to search through them, but stopped. What if this is the resting place of a child, or the ashes of a holy man that didn’t require a full size coffin? Somehow he knew this wasn’t the case. And so he proceeded to remove one stone at a time until a weathered wooden box was uncovered. He slowly raised the lid and lifted the torch over the top. Inside, bathed in the flickering glow of the fire above his head, Saba could see an object wrapped in an oiled cloth. Carefully, he lowered the torch and propped it against the sarcophagus behind him. Then, using both hands, he gingerly lifted the cylindrical pouch out of the pile of stones and rested it in his lap. His heart began to beat rapidly, for what reason he didn’t know, just that he felt on the verge of discovery.

With a deep breath, he untied the leather thong that bound the pouch and began to peel away the layers of oiled cloth and lay them in a pile on the dirt floor. There were many and it soon became apparent that this object was a prized possession worth protecting. Finally, the last layer came off and Saba held a scroll in his hands. It was plain, without decorations. It was much older than any of the scrolls he found in the libraries of Orud. It was ancient. He inspected it as well as he could in the faint light, holding it close to his eyes. Then he slowly and carefully began to unroll it…

A sudden jolt of fear surged through his body. There, in his shaking hands, was a symbol that caused him to lose his breath. The same symbol, in fact, that was carved into the shaft of an arrow given to him by the Governor of Bastul so many years ago.

He couldn’t understand his own emotions at this moment. He should have felt relief, even excitement at the prospect of discovering a clue to the mystery that had eluded him for so long. But instead, he felt a growing sense of dread. Cautiously, he unrolled the scroll and found the first passage of text. The written language was like nothing he had seen before, and for a few minutes he stared at the graceful strokes, carefully scribed on the crude parchment. And then, the ink strokes on the page began to communicate, and Saba began to read and understand.

THE WORDS OF SARIEL, ENTRUSTED TO HIS FAITHFUL SERVANT EBNISHA

At once the tears began to flow from his eyes as Saba read his true name. He understood immediately what he was holding in his hands and why he had reason to fear. He continued reading and with the discovery of each passage, he wept harder as memories came back to him. Faces, cities, experiences that warmed his heart alongside enemies, sufferings and trials that angered him and left him with a profound sense of loss. He kept reading until his eyes began to blur and the words ran together, all the while, he cried for the memories that he now regretted.

His body shook, waking him. Complete darkness surrounded him.

How long have I been here?

It may have been hours, or even days. Searching around the dirt, his hand closed upon the torch. It was cold, giving no indication of the length of time that had passed. Grasped tightly in the other hand and feeling as though it weighed the equivalent of the sarcophagus against which he leaned, was the scroll that had drawn him to this place. With a great deal of effort, Saba—or Sariel—rose to his feet and began to feel his way through the dark, toward the sound of rushing water. With the return of his memory came an impending sense of doom that quickened his steps and gave him a sense of urgency. Time is running out for everyone! I have to hurry; I have to get back to Orud!

* * * *

Kael strode across the courtyard, his footsteps echoing off the surrounding stone buildings. His thick winter cloak was clasped at his neck by a golden torc, a symbol of high ranking in the Orud military. Although he wasn’t technically an Orud soldier, he had earned his place among them and their respect. Dacien had sent for Kael, though he didn’t say why. But the situation felt quite serious.

Following a wide street north from the courtyard, Kael traced his way to the General’s quarters, a magnificent columned structure that Dacien was uncomfortable with. He wasn’t used to such extravagance and was having a difficult time adjusting to this part of his responsibilities. Kael smiled to himself as he climbed the steps leading to the front entrance. There a pair of guards pulled their spears away from the door and allowed him to pass. The interior was decorated with sculptures and plants growing from large pots around the room. Kael moved quickly through the foyer and into the center of the house where Dacien waited with several of his other officers.

“You called?”

Dacien nodded. “Please sit.”

Kael moved to where Dacien indicated and sat at a large circular marble table.

“I’ve asked all of you to join me because I’ve received word back from Orud.”

Kael looked around the room and saw eager expressions among the eight other men.

“The Emperor has heard our request for aid and is gravely concerned about the state of the Empire. It seems that the Korgs have broken through the northern border and have taken the city of Orlek. The struggles in the north aren’t nearly as widespread as the Syvaku attacks, but the timing of the two is suspicious.”

“What will the Emperor do?” asked one of the men.

“Well, he hasn’t promised to give aid. In fact, there was no direct answer to our request. Instead, he is calling for all his Generals to assemble in Orud next spring.”

“That’s not a good idea,” voiced Kael.

“I know,” replied Dacien. “To have all the Generals in the same place at the same time—especially while the Empire is under attack from numerous enemies—is concerning, indeed. Nevertheless, we have been ordered to the capital.”

The other men shook their heads, but didn’t look surprised, as if this type of ridiculous mandate was common.

“One other thing…I’ve also been ordered to bring the one responsible for the death of the Syvak warlord.”

Kael’s eyebrows rose.

“The Emperor feels that you would be an inspiration at a time such as this,” he said to Kael. “So, my friend, it seems that we will journey together once again.”

Kael nodded, a little surprised that Dacien had used the word friend. They still weren’t on good terms as far as Kael knew. And in Dacien’s defense, Kael hadn’t put much effort into patching things up between them. He still had a great deal of affection for Dacien, and had come to miss the time they used to spend together. But he just wasn’t prepared to discuss the details of his past and he knew that conversation—which was sure to occur eventually—was necessary to making things right.

Instead, he had been spending his days with Ajani, trying unsuccessfully to reacquaint himself with his old companion. Sadly, it seemed that even that friendship would never be the same. Sometimes, there’s just no going back.

The weeks passed, turning into months that were long and dreary. Kael, fully healed from his injuries, began to train again. Rising early every morning, he rode out of the city to the surrounding forest and found a place of solitude where he could stretch and strengthen his muscles. The motions of his exercise came back quickly, along with the familiar, but unexplainable sensation that had become second nature to him. As he moved his body through his exercises, his awareness broadened to encompass the surrounding leafless trees, and the long blades of golden grasses swaying in the breeze.

And then, out of curiosity, he tried something new. He pushed on the limit of his awareness, trying to force it outward. Just as one might scan the edges of a crowd in search of someone, ignoring those people that were in the immediate vicinity. Kael pushed his awareness outward and was surprised by its obedience. Suddenly, he became aware of more, in a wider area surrounding himself, though the clarity lessened.

Just like sight. The details are more difficult with greater distance.

I wonder…

Allowing the feeling to fade, he focused only in one direction, and felt a path extending away from himself to a range of nearly thirty feet. Grass, earth, trees, even wind currents—everything between himself and the extent of his awareness could be felt as though he was connected to it.

Interesting!

And then, he relaxed his body and pushed his awareness farther away, hoping to find the limit of his ability. Sixty, seventy, eighty feet away, he pushed until the clarity began to decline. And when it did, he narrowed his area of concentration and pushed more. His knees began to wobble and he knew that the strain was taking a toll on his body. But now he was determined to know what he was capable of.

Forcing it to go farther, narrowing his focus, his right hand began to tremor. His head began to ache and a trickle of blood ran down his lip. And just before he lost consciousness, he could feel at the other side of the clearing, a tiny beetle clinging to the bark of a tree. It began to scurry away, emitting a sense of panic as it crawled upward. And then darkness rushed in like a flood…

Staring up at the sky, Kael quickly realized what had happened. He sat up and glanced around, confirming that he had passed out where he stood. He tried climbing to his feet, and could feel the shakiness of his limbs, the same feeling that he experienced after intense labor.

He looked across to the edge of the forest at the other end of the meadow, to where he felt the beetle. It was nearly two hundred yards away. A smile crossed his face as he considered the implications of what he had just learned. In the past, he hadn’t been able to control his awareness to this extent. But when it came upon him, he was able to guide weapons to their mark with deadly accuracy. It seemed to act as a muscle that tired quickly unless trained regularly. But somehow, in the months that he had neglected its training, this muscle, this ability, had become far stronger.

Two hundred yards…this is going to be quite useful!