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Epic fantasy! Completed book looking for reviews and advice! Please check it out |
| CHAPTER THREE Articus tried to enjoy the countryside, but he was tormented by unanswered questions and found it difficult to admire the scenery. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned to Celia. “If mages created us and we can’t have children…” he asked worriedly, leaving the obvious question hanging in the air. “Don’t worry,” Celia said, giving him a rueful smile. “A man didn’t sneak into your room and ‘make’ you. In the beginning we could reproduce and our powers were transferred to our offspring. There were thousands of us, once,” she said, a sadness entering her voice. “But then, something happened. The older texts talk of it, but they’re all written in the Old Tongue and are difficult to translate. From what we could gather, some type of plague attacked us. Many died and the few who survived couldn’t reproduce.” “There was one exception, however. The families who had been ‘mixed,’ meaning Reapers who had married into families that weren’t like us, who weren‘t Reapers themselves, could somehow skip generations. Because of this, they were still passed on. At first, every other child came to be a Reaper, as strong as her parent had been. But, over time, our blood thinned and fewer of those born were potential Reapers. Now it skips many generations at a time before one could be found. At the moment, everyone fears that soon our blood will thin out too far and...” She let her hands drop to either side, her voice carrying a heartfelt sadness. Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Articus tried to change the subject. “How did you find me?” Celia pulled her eyes away from where she had been staring at the road and started to rub her neck. “We have a much larger and more sensitive version of the Talent Stone, called the Finder’s Stone. Very creative on the name, I know,” she said with a small smile. “It hangs over a giant map of all four lands. When a Novice starts to mature in their powers, the stone lights up and points to the general location of the individual. It took longer to track you down, since you were moving about so much these past two moons. After a time though, we reasoned out that you were in the Legion.” Articus shuddered at the idea of a giant stone blaring to life one day and pointing at him on a map, hundreds of leagues away. As if just remembering something, Celia clicked her tongue and turned to dig through her saddle bags, finally removing something and handing him an object wrapped in red silk. He lifted the silk folds and uncovered a long beautiful dagger, the scabbard exquisitely carved. Articus noted that it was an exact replica of the dagger that hung from Celia’s right thigh. He grasped the hilt and pulled, baring the steel and finding a double-edged blade. On a closer examination of the weapon, Articus was surprised to find that it was crafted by a true master of weaponry. Silver accents dotted the hilt, accentuating the design but in a tasteful manner. The balance of the weapon was superb, the steel of the finest grade. Removing the blade entirely from its sheath, Articus found an inscription in an odd text etched into the blade and running its length. As he studied the piece, Celia said, “It is called a da’kka. Forged by mages, the steel is unbreakable and it won’t ever need sharpening. All Novices are given one on the day they begin their journey to Tekal and you will find that every Reaper and Devoted still carries theirs. It is not only a badge of honor, but a tool for magnifying your spirit. But you’ll learn more about that later. One thing you should know, though, is this,” she pointed at the base of the hilt were three triangles were etched into the pommel. Backed up against each other, the triangles made an odd-looking star. “It’s the sign of the Reaper; mind, body and spirit,” She said, pointing to each glyph in turn. Nodding absently, he sheathed the dagger and tried to strap the weapon to his waist. To his annoyance, two leather cords had been attached to the sides of the small scabbard and hung free. With a small chuckle, Celia directed him to wear the blade as she did. Loosening the leather bindings that held the dagger to his belt, Articus dropped it further down his left thigh before tightening it once again. He then tied the two extra leather thongs around his thigh. It held the blade firmly against his leg and the hilt brushed his fingertips when his hands were at his sides. Oddly more comfortable, he silently agreed, but he’d die before admitting it to the woman. After another span of silence, he asked, “What can I expect? I mean, how do things work in Tekal?” “Ah, I keep forgetting,” Celia murmured. He arched an eyebrow and she said, “Normally once a new Reaper has been found, they go into a year or so of training with the sword by their mentor; plenty of time to prepare the student for what is to come.” Taking a breath, Celia continued, “Occasionally, however, we find a soldier, like yourself, who doesn’t need the training. I’ve found that soldiers tend to have an advantage over the other students, so count yourself lucky. Our goal in Tekal is to train you to track down and defeat a Darkling that looks and acts like everyone else.” Celia turned to look down the road once again. “We have another room that’s similar to the Finder’s Stone but it’s calibrated to look for Darklingic powers,” she continued, “Once a Darkling makes the mistake of focusing its spirit, we can pinpoint their exact location and send a team of Reapers to kill it. Darklings are very similar to us, in more ways than one. But there are key differences,“ she said, glancing at Articus to make sure he was paying attention. “They not only have all our powers, but have them to a greater degree than us. Physically, however, only a trained eye can tell the difference between a Reaper and a Darkling.” “Anyways,” she said, letting out a deep breath. “I will be your mentor for the next few moons and I will help guide you to becoming one of the Devoted. You will also have two classes during the day, once we reach Tekal, with a few other students who are Novices, like you. Every seventh day you get a free day. Depending on how fast you learn, you can graduate to Devoted in as little as a few moons. After which, you can ask to be taken under another Reaper’s wing for more extensive training in hunting Darklings. Once the Reaper that you are apprenticed to believes you are ready, you may try to attain the rank of a full Reaper; provided you pass the test, of course. I believe, with your potential, you may be in a position to try for the rank of Reaper within moons and not years, like most.” “And after becoming a Reaper, I am free to do as I wish?” Articus asked guardedly. “Of course. Once you aren’t a danger to the people around you, you are free to do as you like. I can promise you, though, after a moon or two in Tekal, you will find it difficult to leave. It is truly a wonderful place.” They continued on in silence after that, with Articus trying to digest the new information. Back to being a nugget, again, Articus thought dryly. A few hours later, Seq’l’s walls came into view, just as the sun was setting. The city was one of the many port cities that dotted the Empire’s coast and it was also one of the ugliest cities in the Empire. The outer walls that encompassed the pcity by land had once been a gleaming white. Now, however, they were a dirty yellow with creepers growing up along the walls. Some parts of the wall had large chunks of stone missing and the debris on the ground had been there long enough to be imprisoned by nature. Smells of weeks old fish and stale wine assaulted his nose before they were even within shouting distance of the gates. Articus snorted in a vain attempt to rid his nostrils of the stench. He had heard of Seq’l and had stayed clear of it. It was well known to be a safe haven to the smugglers and criminals of the Empire and a place where shady dealings often ended on the point of a blade. He had often wondered why the Legion had never been ordered in to clean up the city and relieve it of its undesirable elements. They passed two rickety wooden planks--that weren’t worthy of the title ‘gate’--without so much as a glance from the guards. Articus would have sent the slouching soldiers running in full armor around the city - twice- had they been in his Cohort. They were pitiful and not even the sight of his uniform did anything to their posture, though he seriously doubted they had even seen it. Celia led him down the main road for a few blocks before turning right and heading toward the docks. Articus noticed that the buildings noticeably degraded the closer they rode toward the waterfront. Three blocks later, she finally stopped in front of a dilapidated building and Articus blinked at the sign hanging above the door. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said without thinking. The sign read “The Fishy Entrance” and Articus heard lewd comments from inside that would have made a Squad Leader blush. It was a whorehouse. Celia rolled her eyes at him before dismounting and leading her horse down the narrow alley between the whorehouse and the abandoned building next to it. Sighing, he followed her lead and soon found himself behind the Fishy Entrance where he came across a structure that resembled a stable. With no lamps nearby, the light was poor but Articus could just make out a corpse lying in a pile of rotten hay nearby, the stench more than making up for the lack of light. “My, you take me to the nicest of places,” he muttered as Celia confidently walked her horse into the darkened stable. I can barely see in this, he thought as he stumbled over something that Celia had stepped around. Articus heard the squeal of metal scarping on metal before he noticed Celia’s shadowy form pull open two large doors set in the floor. Peering over her shoulder, he looked down into what appeared to be a cellar. The doorway, however, was much larger than a typical basement‘s. In fact, it was just large enough for a mid-sized cart to squeeze through. Without hesitation, Celia descended into the abyss, leading her horse behind her and Articus was given a clear view of the ramp leading down. It was well worn, but far newer than the rest of the building. Definitely not the typical cellar, Articus thought. Following Celia down, he guided Ronin ahead of him before pulling the two massive doors shut with a grunt. Articus was surprised at how heavy the doors were and couldn’t believe that Celia was able to open the doors without so much as a hint of effort. As the doors shut, darkness consumed everything. Walking blindly down the ramp, he patted Ronin’s head comfortingly. When they reached the bottom, Articus caught the red glint of a firestone and, moments later, a lantern that had hung from a support beam flickered to life. As his eyes adjusted to the new light, he spotted a large door-like slab of stone that stood upright against the far wall. Pausing only briefly to settle her horse, Celia waved her hands out in front of her in precise, yet fluid movements and Articus saw something shimmer between her hands and the stone door. He stifled an oath as the stone seemed to suddenly melt before him, flowing until it shone like liquid steel. There was no heat, however, and whatever it was shortly solidified into a shimmering veil. Beyond the shimmering window, he could just make out another room. Despite the glow and flicker of the portal, the room around Articus remained strangely dark. Very odd. he thought, more than a little hesitant at what he was seeing but strangely fascinated. Celia told him to go ahead, motioning towards the shimmering portal. Eyeing her suspiciously, he mentally kicked himself, knowing he couldn’t possibly insist she go through first without showing his nervousness. Biting the inside of his cheek, he cautiously walked towards the portal. Reaching out with his hand, he felt some kind of resistence. As he pushed forward, his arm was consumed by the portal and he suddenly felt a coolness--like when he jumped into a lake on a hot day. Articus closed his eyes as his face went through and then it was as if he was slowly being pushed through a thick sheet of cool water. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as his head passed through and he heard Ronin give a shuddering breath behind him but the sound hung in the air, not ending. He caught himself from falling on the other side, as if he’d just been sprinting at full speed and had come to a sudden stop. The whole process ranked a twelve on his one to ten creepy scale. Looking around the ‘room’ he found that it wasn’t a room at all, but an enormous stable. Looking from right to left he found that unlike the one he had just left, this stable was brightly lit and much cleaner. Stalls lined the long corridor to either side of him, for as far as he could see, and in front of him was a hallway that slowly changed from the plain wood that the stable was made out of to a gleaming white stone. He had taken all this in within seconds when Celia came through the portal. Ronin danced away from her but Articus wasn’t as talented. Stumbling away from her, he turned to glare at his new mentor. What he was about to say, however, evaporated from his lips when he watched the portal close. Like a stone curtain falling from all sides of the door, the glistening veil shrank from the sides of the door until the last of the mysterious shimmering substance solidified at its center. Amazing, he thought as he walked forward and brushed his hand along the stone’s surface. Seconds after the portal had closed, two men dressed in white livery rounded the corner. Without a word they began unloading Articus and Celia’s bags and, moments later, two more men appeared to cart their saddle bags away. Articus made a calming sound as Ronin reared and tried to kick one of the men. “Easy boy. Let them take you,” he said soothingly, stroking the animal’s nose gently. The horse eyed him before settling down and the man who had almost been killed by the stallion made a low whistle. “Isn’t that something Master Charlie?” he said over his shoulder. His comment had been directed to a fifth man Articus had not seen appear. He was also dressed in white livery, but his tunic had a black stripe across the shoulders. Articus guessed him to be the Horse Master. “Aye, he’s been well trained,” Charlie said approvingly. To Articus he said, “We’ll take good care of him, sir.” Articus nodded his thanks to the man and hurriedly picked his sword from his saddle before the white clad men could take it. Celia gave him an amused smile as he strapped on the sword. “Perhaps I can get you your sa’dka early, since you insist on wearing that sword everywhere you go.” It was said almost playfully and Articus suddenly felt as if he were one of those poor animals nobles often dressed up in funny hats and dresses. He didn’t know what a sa’dka was and he didn’t particularly care. He was not going to be anyone’s plaything. Articus shot her a frosty glare as he finished buckling the sword belt at his waist. Celia gave a throaty laugh and said “Please,” her hands raised in mock defense. “I did not mean to offend.” Her laughter caught him off guard and, for the first time since they had left Deshar, he noticed how beautiful she was. Shaking his head sourly, he tried to ignore her piercing blue eyes. “We are in Tekal?” He asked a bit too harshly. Articus stubbornly refused to think of her in any way other than an annoyance in his life. “Yes,” she said, a small laugh still audible in her voice. “We are in the south wing. The palace is shaped similarly to a cross.” The liveried men finished removing the last of the bags and the horses were led away. Ronin eyed his master briefly before prancing away proudly, as if he was letting the men take him away. Celia gestured to Articus and he followed her out of the stable and into the long hallway he had noticed upon his arrival. As they walked, she began to tell him of the palace, occasionally pointing out objects of interest. “Down the east wing you will find the Court where you can have a meal made for you there, at any hour. I had them bring some food up to your room, so you won’t have to bother stopping by there tonight,” she said over her shoulder. “In the future, you will only have to ask your slave if you want your food to be brought up to your room. She has already been instructed in our ways.” Articus, who had been admiring the stonework of the surrounding hallway, stumbled and cursed. “My slave?” he said after regaining his footing. Celia stopped and turned to face him, looking confused. “Well, yes,” she said, a frown creasing her brow. “You are not allowed to bring your own slaves here, so it is tradition for a mentor to buy her student one. It isn’t fair for some students to have an army of them while others can’t even afford one,” she said by way of explanation, obviously misreading the look on Articus’s face. “In Tekal all Novices have equal status, as do all Devoted and Reapers. She will be yours until you wish to sell her, but I hope you keep her. I personally went down and got the best one that I could find before any of the other mentors started looking. I think you will like her. She has been trained very well... Are you ill?” Celia asked, concern lining her face. Articus, who actually did feel mildly ill, had forgotten that it was only in the Empire that slavery had been banned. In the rest of the known world, however, it was entirely legal to own a person. “No,” Articus said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. We... we just don’t allow slavery in the Empire.” Celia nodded after a moment‘s silence, a look of understanding passing over her smooth features. “Ah yes. I keep forgetting you Southerners have strange customs.” Articus didn’t bother to argue with her. Celia once again took the lead and Articus followed her. After a short walk further along the hall, Celia paused where it and another passage intersected. The second passageway was circular in design, Articus noted, traveling east and west and eventually curving northwards. Looking down one of the halls, Articus saw an opening set in the north wall that lead out into a large grassy area. “This hallway is called the Ring,” Celia said, indicating the intersecting hall. “It encompasses the entire training grounds. The grounds themselves are located in the very center of the palace and you will have all your classes there. The air above is laced with Energy and holds back the elements, so you don’t have to fear rain falling on you during class. The balcony in your room is similarly warded,” she added as an afterthought. Balcony? Articus thought, looking back to Celia. She, however, didn’t notice as she turned right and began to follow the curve of the hall, continuing his tour as she walked. “This direction leads to the Court and to your quarters. You can reach your quarters by going either way, of course. Novices and Devotees have rooms in the north wing. My room, along with all the other Reapers, is in the west wing. I can show you that tomorrow, if you’d like.” They didn’t travel far before they started seeing other people. Many of the people they passed were in grey uniforms with two red stripes running across their shoulders. As they passed the grey clad men and women, they bowed to Celia before going on about their duties. When he inquired about the uniforms, she said, “The grey indicates they are a student. One stripe means a Novice, two means a Devotee. Reapers are allowed to wear whatever they choose.” They continued walking down the hall and Articus saw several people dressed in fine silks and cloth and a number of others dressed in more modest garments. Oddly, a few were garbed in plain woolens. As the last person vanished around a corner, several paces back and well out of even a Reaper‘s hearing, Celia leaned close to him and whispered, “Some Reapers like to wear more wealth then they should, while others wear what they use to, in remembrance of their past lives.” She shook her head, obviously finding the whole situation absurd, and continued at a normal volume. “We are also a recognized Guild and, as such, have many ambassadors from all the lands. Their quarters are located within the southwest wing.” Translation? They hire out their services to the lands, ridding them of Darklings for a fee. That would explain the wealth. While they walked along the hall, Articus noticed how everyone they passed stared at him in curiosity, but done so from lowered eyes. It was peculiar and confused him to no end. Just as they came to another intersection, this one pointed out as the Court by Celia, Articus asked her about the stares. “I think I know what I will be teaching you during our lunches,” Celia mused with a small smile. “Northern customs must be very different from yours. It was my first time visiting your land when I was assigned to you, so please, forgive my ignorance.” She waited until they had past the intersection before speaking again. “Northerners - my customs that is - have very strict protocols that one must follow in public. If your status is lower than another’s, then you are forbidden from looking them in the eyes. The higher they are above you, the lower you must look. They,” Celia said, indicating the people that had been staring at Articus. “Are uncertain of you and don’t know if you are their equal or not. You stride about like a King and with your uniform…” She trailed off, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. Before he could demand what she was blabbering about, however, she said, “I noticed that you have a last name. Do you not have similar customs?” Articus frowned. “What do you mean ‘last name‘? We all have last names in Ce’l.” This time it was her turn to stumble and Articus couldn’t stop himself from letting out a laugh. He was surprised when she blushed and he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was. Without thinking, his gaze started to wonder south. What the hell are you doing, Articus? he chastised himself. That isn’t where her mouth is, man. Keep your eyes up! Remember, she is the enemy until I can get out of this bloody place. Since leaving the grounds of the Vanguard, his thoughts had become a maelstrom, his attention lax. It was a state he was not use to. “I... I see. I thought -” Celia stammered hesitantly, glancing at Articus as they continued walking. At last she gained control of herself and spoke in a more steady voice. “Here, only royalty are given last names. The last name is the name of one’s House and there is much honor in keeping a good name for your House. Everyone has a last name?” she asked incredulously. Articus laughed again, amused by her question and happy that he at least was not the only one who had a lot to learn. His laughter, however, was cut short as he clamped his mouth closed; a sudden realization dawned on him. Celia Tecard, the Primus’s ghostly voice whispered from a distant memory. “You are Royal?” he asked, coming to a sudden halt. She slowed and turned to him, nodding with that amused smile of hers. Oh bloody hell, he moaned to himself. “I...” he stammered. Oh, give over, you woman. You can’t hate her now, Articus berated himself. “In my lands, a man could be killed for the disrespect I’ve shown you,” he said, pausing only a moment before dropping into the courtliest bow he could muster. “If you wish to punish me…” He forced his eyes to the floor like he had seen the others do and swallowed his pride. Smart-mouthing a Blueblood in the military was one thing. Doing it outside of the grounds or to a civilian was a quick way to find yourself stripped of your hide. “Don’t be absurd,” she said, pushing him to move along. He stumbled and almost muttered an oath. “I rather enjoy your... character. Besides, you are too proud to bend to anyone, aren’t you?” He stiffened at the remark and held her eye as he glared. “Yes,” she beamed at him and he felt a guilty pleasure. “Most people will know you are from the south and we have had only a few Southerners here before. Don’t bend to anyone and they won't be the wiser.” She's turning you around… Like a pretty General in skirts, he thought sourly. He tried to ignore the thought and instead chose to answer her previous question. “We have thirteen royal Houses," he said, forcing his attention on the hall before them. "They are the lords and ladies of the Empire and their names are known by all. Everyone knows those thirteen names from the day they’re old enough for schooling, if not before,” he said with a shrug. “As for everyone who isn’t of the thirteen, our last names tell us whose family we belong to. Some families are wealthy, others are not so lucky.” “And yours is?” She asked curiously. “Lykos? In the Old Tongue, it means ‘without a way’ or ‘without a people.’ I have no family. I was sold into the Guard by a merchant.” She was silent a moment before she gently said, “I thought you said your people didn’t accept slavery.” Articus missed a step. He hadn’t thought of it like that before. “Well... We don’t see it like that. If a child is without a family, and there is no one willing to take the child, the Empire will provide for the child. It is an ancient law from the Bleak Days, when food and other resources were scarce. I believe they would drown the orphans, if they were young enough," he said absently. "Now the Empire pays for the orphans in gold and trains them as either servants or soldiers until their twentieth Name Day. From that point, they may choose to either leave or stay. The merchant who found me gave me the name Lykos. A cruel joke, I think.” Articus didn’t really care about his past. He was who he was and if people didn’t like him for that... well, they could always walk away. Or order me to, Articus thought bitterly as Lucius’s face came to mind. They passed several expensive looking vases and statues along the hall. One in particular caught his eye. Pausing, he peered at a blue plate that appeared to be made of glass but was as thin as a sheet of parchment. “Mage glass," Celia commented from over his shoulder. "Very strong and very rare. Don’t touch it. There is a nasty little ward on it.” She walked on passed him and Articus had to walk briskly to catch up. They rounded another corner and, after only a few spans, they came upon yet another junction. This hallway stretched out into the distance and doors lined the hallway to either side, spaced out every twenty spans. “We use to have hundreds of Novices that came to Tekal. But now it has dwindled down to only a handful of people a year. Thankfully, we still have many Devotees, some of which will never graduate to Reaper.” She stopped at the fourth door on the left and pushed it open. The room on the other side opened up to a great chamber. In front of him was one of the largest set of windows Articus had ever seen before in his life. It covered the entire wall and Articus could just make out a moon lit garden on the other side. On either side of the windows were two staircases that traced their way back toward him and above him. To his right and left stood enormous fireplaces, thick carpets, pillows, and large comfortable couches. It all looked very homey, if not a bit extravagant. He stepped through and looked back to where he had come in. Enormous book shelves covered the side of the wall and were all filled to the brim with books. Above the door was a landing where the stairs met and another hallway led farther back into the palace. “By the nines!” Articus muttered. Celia smiled warmly. “I’m glad you like it. You will be sharing this common room with your classmates. Your room is up the stairs and your things should be there already. Class starts in two days, so you have tomorrow to adjust yourself. But, it is getting late and I should be off. You’ll find your name etched on your door. Lunch tomorrow?” “Sure,” he said absently, the grandeur of the room holding the majority of his attention. “Excellent. I’ll meet you here at noon, then. Good night, Articus.” “G’night, Celia,” he replied with half a mind. I must be dreaming. |
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