Jepaul

by Katy Winter

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  At the fifth gate the Doms and Companions were sprawled on the top landing. The gate, just beyond them, was open. They each felt profound anxiety for Jepaul. Not one of them, especially the Companions, would forget watching as Jepaul’s staff entered Sh’Bane: he was the symbol of pure Spirit and was supported by ancient Doms with Islasahn. The support included the Companions. Finally drained, the Anti-Spirit lord reached the point of such weakness he could no longer sustain form and began to fragment. As part of their union with Jepaul, the Doms and Companions saw Sh’Bane become a pulsating, writhing raw red mass silhouetted against blackness, before the mass became a shadow of fading colour.

  The Doms and Companions saw light stream through the faint red shadow as what was the entity known as Sh’Bane became lit up in white fire. The sound from him was unspeakable. His howls were such they continued to shake the aethyr until his form became an increasingly fainter burning white incandescence. Then there was silence. It was broken by the explosion of a shower of white sparks that littered the aethyr like stars. They lit up the Shalah sky too, frightening those who looked up. The Doms and Companions witnessed this last instant. They weren’t with Jepaul. He didn’t see it. He’d gone for the Nedru.

  All the Doms could now do, debilitated and shaking, was make a last concerted effort for Jepaul. They began, very weakly, to chant and call to him, their voices suddenly amplified by a faint chorus from the Companions that grew louder until their combined voices powerfully swelled and touched Jepaul. Now he was back. He lay huddled at the top of the stairs, his chest heaving and his hands burned from holding the staff so near the Nedru. The staff was quiescent and lay beside him. Knellen and Belika managed to get to him, their knees trembling and threatening to give way as they went down beside him, Belika with her hands under his head to lift it into her lap. Her hands shook as badly as his. Knellen and Cadran held Jepaul’s hands in theirs.

  The Doms were clustered close together for mutual support. Eying them, Javen and Saracen saw they were beyond exhaustion. They appeared so frail they were almost transparent and when they looked from them to Jepaul they realised he was suddenly less of substance, as if what he’d experienced had also taken away a part of him.

  Knellen gestured to Javen and Saracen who, also deeply shaken and unsteady, crossed to the Varen so they could all help Jepaul to the Doms who rested against each other. The Companions helped Jepaul down beside Quon so the younger man could cradle the older, Jepaul’s hold firming and the Dom’s hand clasped in his. And they stayed that way for a very long time, no one speaking into a companionable silence. They all only looked up when they became aware of a very faint pillar of light beyond the gate. In front of it was a form that made a coldness grip about Jepaul’s heart.

  “Don’t leave me, Quon, I beg you. Don’t!” he implored, his hand tightening on Quon’s.

  “Ah, Jepaul, child that you still are,” murmured Quon, his smile up at Jepaul deeply affectionate. “You know who awaits us. Salaphon calls me home and I’m ready to go. Jepaul, I’m so tired, so immeasurably weary and it’s time for rest.” Quon saw tears trickle down white cheeks. “And it’s time for you, too, child. Can’t you sense it?”

  He put up his free hand to caress a cheek and scoop away a tear. Jepaul shook his head.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “Think, my beloved, Jepaul, think. I sense your time comes in concert with ours, something I’ve known for syns now. Such a future for you, child – such richness.”

  Quon sighed deeply.

  “Quon!”

  “Jepaul, my love for you is as profound as yours is for me. It bonds us through eternity. It can never die. Carry that thought with you, child, and let it give you strength and much comfort. Remember that, because when you do you’ll know I’m within you as I’ll always be.”

  “I will,” came the anguished words, barely audible.

  “You’re not of Shalah, Jepaul. You never were, child. You belong elsewhere.”

  “Quon! Quon!”

  The deep voice was suffused with tears.

  “It’s time for you to go home, lad. Go home. They’re waiting for you too. You’ll be so welcome, Jepaul, and so happy, as you are with me.”

  “Quon, you’re my life, my heart, my soul.”

  “I know, child. I know.” There was a long pause. “Can’t you see Loriel?”

  Jepaul raised his head and saw, in front of Salaphon, the form of Loriel.

  “Yes.”

  “He waits to show you the way home, child.” Quon gave another sigh, but it was a sigh of relief and fulfilment. He lifted his head, his eyes clear and acutely aware. “Jepaul, may we have a last joy of union?”

  There was a burst of light, all in a fusion of extraordinary power. Colours entwined before they dissipated and as the union dissolved the Companions watched each Dom approach. The Doms spoke to each of them, kindly and gently, before they went to Jepaul. Each Dom lingered with him, their voices low, their expressions and touches ones of much tenderness mixed with respect before they stood about him in a circle, quietly and silent. After a while the Doms faded. Jepaul cried out when he saw Quon was the last to become indistinct.

 

  Jepaul stood alone. He was a motionless figure with power that swirled about him. The younger Doms, rendered momentarily speechless, watched him, aware they should neither touch nor speak to him. No one moved. Then the Companions looked to the gate. Near the pillar of energy the five Maquat Doms stood, shining coronas of their colours about them. They stood erect and smiling contentedly. It was only Jepaul, looking across to the gate with a grief-stricken expression, who clearly saw Salaphon. He was incapable of any action and couldn’t respond through his grief. He heard Quon’s voice.

  “We’ll meet again, young one. That’s a promise I can make you with utter certainty. So, believe, child. Believe me. Let us go, young one.”

  Jepaul held out his hands beseechingly. When he saw the gentle beckon he stumbled to the gate, where, on his knees, he wept deeply as he clung, as he did as a child, to his mentor and father. Quon, his form fainter, stroked the sweat-soaked curls.

  “Go now. Know how loved you are, child. I promise you happiness, Jepaul, and, like you, I believe.”

  It was Sapphire who pushed a pipe into Jepaul’s hands, the blue eyes smiling down at him.

  “Can’t you hear the music, young one? We can.”

  Jepaul looked up, his face white and tear-stained. As he did he saw Loriel, a pipe to his mouth. He smiled a warm welcome that touched Jepaul and was a balm to a troubled spirit. The Doms, as one, passed through the gate and with the pillar of light were gone as they dissolved into forms of irridescent light. Their staffs clattered on the last step behind them.

  Loriel paused in his playing and nodded at the staffs. Jepaul looked at him and then at the staffs and got another encouraging nod before the music resumed. The Companions went to him, their hands out. They surrounded him, offering reassurance and comfort, Belika most of all as she put her arms about him. She held him close and he embraced her. Knellen had a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and the others touched him gently in turn. The music stopped.

  Jepaul and the Companions stayed together for a long time. Now a shadowy form at the gate, Loriel quietly waited. Jepaul, his head lifting but bitter tears on his cheeks, had them tenderly wiped away by Belika. The Companions waited until he felt able to speak. He did. To each Companion he spoke in a low, deep voice that was weary but almost indistinguishable and that moment confirmed for them what they’d always known: they knew of his love and respect from long syns of trials, and they sensed what their laughter, companionship and deep lasting friendship meant to him - and they knew it from him.

  They had a last truly joyous and fulfilling fusion, too, that none would ever forget. It was poignant and extraordinarily powerful, Jepaul’s fusion with Cadran breaking last. His last moments were for Belika. She stood beside him, her words for him alone as his were for her, her
face a mask except for eyes alight with grief and desolation. Their embrace was long and remarkably loving, his hand to her face, hers to his lips.

  Then Jepaul went to the gate and stooped. He tossed the staffs, one at a time, to the Companions who caught them, then he threw his own to Cadran who picked it up hesitatingly. As he did the small elemental spirits of Shalah clustered about the young man. The Elementals, the new Maquat Doms of Shalah, stood around Cadran, their staffs lit with gleaming runes. They watched Loriel come forward, the very tall figure so like Jepaul shrouded in a blue haze.

  “No, no, child,” came a voice, immeasurably warm and comforting. Jepaul lifted a weary head, to see Loriel held out his hand. “The Doms are at rest. Quon told you the truth, young one. You’re coming home at last to where you’ll know such happiness.” Tentatively, Jepaul took the hand. “Ah, Jepaul, young one. Remember? Believe.”

  The clasp firmed. In a blinding flash of light Jepaul and Loriel were through the gate and the Companions, the new Doms, heard the gate slam shut. The key turned in the lock. They didn’t see the key fuse in the lock and melt solid. The gates to Shalah and the stairs were gone. The Doms returned to Shalah and they were alone.

 

  Jepaul found himself where he knew, how he didn’t know, he truly belonged. The setting was tranquil and beautiful. It filled his senses in a way Shalah never could, the very heart of what he was touched by and responding to it. He took a deep, quavering breath. His troubled soul felt a degree of comfort and the dullness to the amber eyes began to fade. Loriel, beside and sustaining him, spoke quietly.

  “Welcome home, young one.”

  “Where am I?”

  “Where you’ve always belonged, Jepaul,” answered Loriel. “You’re finally at home, on Yarilo.”

  “Yarilo,” repeated Jepaul blankly. He saw the smile in Loriel’s eyes deepen and it drew an answering one in response. “Your music gave me strength. I wish to thank you.”

  “That’s so, young one.”

  “It replaced the energy and spirit drained by Sh’Bane.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is such a beautiful place, Loriel. Do you live here?”

  “Mostly,” responded Loriel. “As you’ll do, Jepaul. There’s so much for you to learn, young one, especially about your origins and why Yarilo is your home.”

  Jepaul looked long at him.

  “And why I so closely resemble you?”

  “That too, Jepaul, but for now, you need rest, healing and peace.” He glanced at Jepaul. “Can you sense Quon within, child, yet?”

  Jepaul was silent, then he replied quietly, a sudden glow touching the amber eyes.

  “Yes, Loriel, now I can. I can sense all the Doms but mostly I know Quon is with me.”

  Loriel eyed him calmly, aware that Jepaul was, indeed, a rarity.

  “Then, Jepaul, come with me. Your trials are over.”

 

  The Doms sat thoughtfully, words not needed, their quiet that of companionship. It was into this that a luminous entity, indistinct, appeared and seemed to survey them one by one. They were abruptly alert.

  “You know me from the Island,” spoke a profoundly deep bass. “I am Salaphon.” Heads nodded silently in fascinated concert. “You’ll return there as there’s still much for you to learn.” The Doms looked curiously at him. “Maquats, how do things stand on Shalah?”

  “Shalah is a dislocated wreck,” answered Knellen.

  “Indeed, Dom Air. There will be considerable reconstruction needed in every sense of the word, but you know what your roles should be and what is necessary to be done?”

  “We do,” came the unified response.

  The Doms waited expectantly, unsure what followed.

  “You should know the line of Merilyn through the Progenitor is no more on Shalah. Jepaul, who is the last of the line, is with his own kind.”

  “Where?” asked Javen, his mouth dry. “May we know? We have among us one who most grieves his loss.”

  “Dom Fire, yes. I understand your loss, young one, but you’ll find comfort in the most unexpected way.” The voice had gentled. “I want you to know, all of you, that Jepaul is with the one Quon spoke of, the one named Loriel. He is nearly related to Jepaul. They are distant kindred. Loriel comes and goes on a world called Yarilo. Jepaul will do so in time when he’s ready and I can promise you he’ll be happy and fulfilled in such a beautiful place that will feed what his soul craves. And know the Doms are with us. They deserved rest.”

  The entity hovered, faded a little, then strengthened and the voice was deeply reassuring.

  “As the need arises I’ll be with you on the Island, but for now, let me explain a little. Shalah is young among other more ancient worlds. I am one who is sometimes referred to as an Unseen One who comes and goes on worlds as do all my kind; we do so in various forms as suits us at the time. There are many of us. The Progenitor was partly of us, but he won’t trouble this world again. We thought his early life was confined on one world but we were wrong. That was aeons ago. He actually, unbeknown to us, left that world called Ambros. He shouldn’t have been able to do that let alone touch another world in his singularly destructive way as he did Shalah.

  We learned about it, but thought he was contained and any problems resolved. Again, we were wrong. It was Loriel, also known as Bethloriel from Yarilo, who heard Jepaul cry as a child. Startled, he alerted and warned us.”

  “May we ask how Loriel heard from so far away?”

  “Jepaul has a unique ability to teleth. It is, as yet, an ability unknown to you. It means he can call from plane to plane through time and across the aethyr. It is a rare gift and for a child to be able to use it is truly remarkable.”

  “And Jepaul did this?”

  “Yes, he did. His distress call as a child was heard by Loriel who was drawn here by it. He wondered if what he heard could be possible. It was. Loriel told us. The rest you now know. It brought me back to Shalah after aeons of being away from this world. We came, through me, to again counter what had been set so destructively in train. This time we have.” There was a long pause, then Salaphon spoke again. “The name of the troublesome and malevolent Progenitor is Malekim.”

  “And Jepaul is related to Loriel?”

  “Jepaul is from the same line as Loriel, yes. Loriel is a descendant of Malekim’s half-brother. Jepaul’s uncanny resemblance to him other than his eye colour is quite unexpected after so long.”

  “Loriel is older than Jepaul.”

  “Oh, yes, very much older.” There was the ghost of a laugh in the deep voice.

  “Jepaul could be Loriel’s son.”

  “Indeed – or, through his appearance, Malekim’s.” Again there was a long pause before Salaphon said very quietly. “Make sure the lessons learned on Shalah are never forgotten, Doms.”

  The voice stilled. The Doms sensed a change about them and knew, without speaking, that Salaphon was gone from Shalah.

 

  People wandered round a hall in Baron/Kelt. Some were clearly restless; others waited patiently; yet more had an anxiety about them, especially the venerable Grohol Venes, Ospre among them. They were troubled for Quon and Jepaul. All knew the Companions were safe, but they’d been absent some days and there’d been no news of any kind about the Doms. Shalah was quiet but there was a lingering sense of shock over events that sobered everyone when they contemplated a future that was fraught with uncertainty and would be complicated. Their world had to be rebuilt and a shattered society, forever marked, would need time to recover.

  After what seemed an interminable time, there was a sudden air of anticipation and the low buzz of conversation died. The door opened to admit the Companions, all last seen fully armed. Now they walked quietly, robed, and with staffs hanging from broad belts decorated with runes. The older Venes felt a rush of sadness because they recognised that this attire was only worn by Doms. Their hearts sank. An unusual aura surrounded the group though all but Belika and Cadran smil
ed.

  They surveyed those who welcomed them. They saw affectionate delight and respect from people who clamoured for news of their battle and of the Doms. Lisle was there with elite Varen from all across Shalah: Venes with senior Grohol warriors stood quietly; Saneel, her eyes on Belika, concern in her own, was with her senior Maenades; troopers with their city-state officers stood further back and Gabrel, his eyes awash at the sight of Javen and Cadran, came close to the Companions. There were many others. Knellen quelled the excitement by speaking.

  “Would you all like to be seated?’

  He waited until people sorted themselves and then found eyes fixed to his face in earnest enquiry.

  “You naturally ask about the Doms. We have to tell you they are gone from Shalah.” There was a deeply shocked silence. Knellen resumed, his voice quiet. “As the guardians of Shalah they gave their lives for Shalah. That means for us and for every one of you. We can say little other than speak of their remarkable courage against odds that were overwhelming.”

  “No reward for them?” whispered Saneel. Her heart twisted at the thought of Sapphire, her tall and charming lover. She glanced at Belika and read her suffering.

  “No, Saneel,” Javen hastened to reassure her. “We assure you of that. In fact, quite the reverse.”

  “They are profoundly cherished,” confirmed Knellen, also with a reassuring smile at Saneel, “and they are at rest after so long and after so many heart-breaking trials. They truly were ready to go. If you’d seen them at the fifth gate as we did, you’d know their expressions showed a -,” Knellen paused, “contented fulfilment almost impossible to explain.” Again Knellen paused. “We know they left those behind who felt deeply for them. Know those feelings were reciprocated in full.”

  “Who takes their place?” asked Ospre, his eyes moistening as he thought wistfully of Quon. Sorrow for his loss to Shalah washed over the Venes in a wave. Saracen caught it.

  “They do,” said Gabrel unexpectedly. He turned his head to Cadran. “Are you Dom Spirit, Cadran?”

  Cadran looked down at him and nodded mutely.

  “Jepaul?” asked Ospre urgently in a worried tone. “Where is he?”

  “He’s -.” Again Knellen broke off. “We’ve all so much to be grateful to for the Doms and what they did for us, but without Jepaul with them, believe me, none of us would be here talking now.”

  “Is he sacrificed?” whispered Ospre, a distraught, distressed note in an old voice that now quavered uncontrollably.

  “No, Old One, no, we promise you that. Truly.” Saracen quickly went forward to the old Vene and grasped his hands. “We’d never lie to you. Jepaul is now somewhere where he belongs.”

  Ospre’s trembling hands were firmly held.

  “He speaks the truth, Ospre,” comforted Knellen.

  “Will he be happy?” Ospre’s lips quivered.

  “Yes,” replied Javen unequivocally.

  Knellen glanced down at the elderly Vene and a twisted smile came to his lips before he spoke kindly.

  “Ospre, you most of all recognised Jepaul as unique and with a strange similarity to one whose image you saw, more than once. Do you remember?” Ospre nodded. “He wasn’t of Shalah, was he?” The white head responded with a shake. “Jepaul never was. He only knew real happiness through the Companions with whom he had a profound friendship, especially with one of us. And he had a unique relationship with the Doms but an especially deep bond with Quon. Quon and he were one. At the last they were together and will, we believe, remain inseparable in a special way though they are now apart.”

  “Will he be happy?’ repeated Ospre.

  “Yes, Old One, we promise you that,” comforted Knellen. “Indeed, he will be happier than he’s ever been. He’s with his own kind for the first time. We can speak more about him later if you wish.”

  Ospre nodded his head slowly, a faint smile coming to troubled eyes.

  “And are the five of you the Elementals of Shalah, the Maquat Doms of the Island of Salaphon?” It was Lisle who spoke, his voice deeply respectful.

  “Yes we are,” came voices in chorus.

 

  A few days later Cadran went to Belika’s quarters. She eyed him wearily, pain deep in her eyes.

  “Cadran,” she said expressionlessly.

  “Belika.”

  “Why do you come?”

  “Jepaul asked me to.”

  Belika turned her head away.

  “He’s gone, Cadran, irrevocably gone.”

  “No, said Cadran tentatively. “No, Belika, he isn’t.”

  Belika glanced back at him.

  “What are you saying?”

  “May I sit beside you, Belika?”

  “Of course.”

  Cadran sat and fidgeted, then he began to speak slowly and thoughtfully.

  “Jepaul’s an immutable part of me. He’s Spirit. I’m Spirit. You can touch and feel him through a union with me because we’re a synthesis, a part of each other that can never die. He told me to tell you this.”

  “We can all sense that with our union, Cadran.”

  “Not this.” Cadran hesitated, something in his voice that showed Belika the young man struggled to find words. Her voice softened.

  “What troubles you, Cadran?”

  “Belika, I’ve needed many days to understand what happened at the gate. What I know, with utter certainty, is that I’m not the Cadran of before. I’m Cadran/Jepaul and I’m also just a little Islahan, just as you’re Ebon.” Belika waited patiently as Cadran turned to face her. “But there’s something else, Belika. Jepaul gave something of himself to me, at the end, more than anyone other than me can comprehend. And he did it so I could give it to you. I offer it, as he asked me to, in the hope it may comfort you.”

  Cadran stared at Belika. She suddenly saw something in his eyes that gave her a shock. It wasn’t just the touch of amber to them either.

  “Cadran?” she whispered.

  “The other Doms say they can clearly see a change in me. I can’t see it but they say it is there. They tell me they see Jepaul.” Belika looked long at the young face. For the first time she actually saw what the other Doms did – it was a faint outline of Jepaul’s face almost super-imposed on Cadran’s. She knew she heard Jepaul’s voice in Cadran’s. “I’m so much more than I was,” whispered Cadran in turn. “It confuses and sometimes frightens me.”

  Belika now knew Jepaul had given her a last gift. It was his final gesture of love, a powerful token through the young man who sat here so tentative and gentle like Jepaul. And this was another young man who needed her now, just as Jepaul needed her for so many syns. She looked hard at the young face and saw clearly that Cadran was indeed altered, his expression and the look in his eyes Jepaul as well as himself. They were somehow blended.

  She’d been so wrapped in grief she’d not noticed it before. Now she did. She knew, without doubt, that Jepaul/Cadran was near her as he always would be. She was immeasurably soothed and even though the ache lingered, the agony was eased. Jepaul, through Cadran, saved her. She held out her hands to Cadran in reassurance because his troubled uncertainty touched her and when she saw his wavering smile in response, she sensed the lessening of anxiety and confusion as he took her hands in his. Her response was what Jepaul hoped it would be.

 

  And the other Doms, well aware, smiled at each other. They knew the ancient Doms and Jepaul were immutably part of them and they were also certainly an integral part of Shalah. That would never change.

  AFTERWORD.

  For those readers who may wish to know more about the following:

 

  The Unseen Ones, such as Salaphon,

  Yarilo, a world where Jepaul goes with Loriel,

  Bethloriel, who also answers to Loriel,

  Malekim, who is known as the Progenitor on Shalah,

 

  they can be found in the saga entitled ‘The Ambrosian Chronicles’ by Katy Winter.

  ACKNOWLEDG
MENT:

  With thanks to Marian and Dennis for the cover inspiration.