The Xenoworld Saga Box Set

by Kyle West

  I tried to force myself to calm, but the images of my dream refused to go away, painting themselves in my mind. I lay in bed a few minutes longer, but I felt pressed by the need to go outside and get some fresh air to clear my head. I knew I could get into trouble, but getting out of this room was imperative.

  So, I sat up, finding my boots and cloak, taking care not to make any noise. Isa slept peacefully, so much so that it was hard not to be envious of her.

  The passageway was lit with blazing torches, and at the end of the corridor, wide bay windows overlooked the southeastern corner of the Grove, which met the sheer face of the mountain.

  I went to the window, stepping softly and drawing my green cloak tightly. I looked down the corridor, seeing that it was empty, before I looked out the window to see the moon halfway above the western horizon. Dawn was perhaps three hours away.

  To my left was an open archway and a few descending stairs that would lead me to the outer ramparts. I followed those stairs, finding a heavy wooden door which swung open easily, letting in a cold gust of wind.

  I walked outside, shut the door, and walked along the rampart. From my height, I had a good view of the surrounding landscape: the tree-filled inner Grove along with the rising slope of Nava Mountain beyond the wall. To the south, I could see wide fields of xen spreading until they hit the horizon, broken only by large rocks and mesas.

  I stopped walking when I was about halfway to the square tower that formed the Sanctum’s southwestern point, placing my hands on a crenellation in front of me. I couldn’t tell if the tower was manned or not, but it was hard to imagine anyone attacking the Sanctum. I doubted the Covenant even knew where it was.

  I had only been standing there a couple of minutes when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a figure walking slowly along the south wall. He seemed to be looking out at the night, as I was, and it would be few minutes before he crossed paths with me. I knew I should head back inside, but something told me to stay.

  A couple of minutes later, the figure appeared from outside the nearest tower, stopping for a moment upon seeing me. I looked at him, seeing that his hood was down, the moonlight lighting his silvery hair and beard. It was Elder Isandru.

  He held up a hand in greeting, and slowly made his way over, still watching the landscape outside the walls. He came to a stop about ten feet away, continuing to look outward.

  I decided feigning ignorance was my best bet. “It’s not against the rules to be out here at night, is it?”

  “It is. But then again, you’d have to turn me in, too.”

  “But you’re an Elder.”

  “So I am, but the same rules should apply to me, unless I have a particularly good reason to be out here.” He chuckled. “Which I don’t, really. Rules are not just to be followed by initiates and apprentices. It’s important to remember that the higher one is placed, the more humbly he must walk.”

  I smiled. “If that’s true, does that mean I get to run this place?”

  Isandru chuckled. “Not quite.”

  “What is your reason for being out here, then?” I asked. “I mean...if I might ask, Elder.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “Troubled dreams and being an old man, I suppose. That, and it can be a bit hard to find a little quiet around here.” He turned to look back at the courtyard, pointing to the tower across the way on the opposite side of the Sanctum. “In mere hours, the Grove will be filled with the clacking of practice swords, but before that, the birds will be singing. Doors opening and slamming. Silence is hard to come by in a place like this.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  Isandru hesitated a moment before speaking again. “Stillness, one of the Four Disciplines, is the most important, for it is upon Stillness that we build everything else. After all, can a building stand without a solid foundation, or can a tree grow without xen or soil? Sadly, Stillness is often the most neglected Discipline. That is why I make it a point to have our Seekers teach it first.”

  I remembered what Deanna and Aela had said about the Prophets...that many thought their role in the Order was irrelevant. I did not dare bring that up with Isandru, though I was sure he was aware of the sentiment. Yet merely thinking of the Prophets reminded me of my dream, the very reason I had come out here in the first place.

  “Do you have prophecies, Elder Isandru?”

  His eyes widened slightly. “Yes. Faded things, but I dream almost every night. I’m beginning to believe that prophesying is a young person’s game.” He paused a moment, as if thinking. “Did you know the greatest Prophets – and Prophetesses – of our Order were young? Fiona is the strongest Prophetess we’ve had in decades.”

  “What prophecies has she had?”

  Isandru grunted. “None, yet. Not a proper one, anyway. But her potential is great. For some reason, I believe she’ll be hearing something on Nava Mountain soon, if she hasn’t already.” Isandru paused. “I’m well aware of what many think of the Prophets...all six of us. Only Fiona and I are here...the rest are in the Red Wild, seeking visions and prophecies. More often than not, we learn nothing new, or what we do learn is of no consequence. And there have been...embarrassments...in the past. False prophecies. And they seem to be happening more often of late, which certainly doesn’t help matters.”

  Elder Isandru became quiet and thoughtful, and I knew that this was my moment to ask him about my dream. For some reason, though, I was hesitant. I didn’t want him to think I was foolish. I had only been here for one day, and already I thought I was prophesying?

  In the end, I decided no harm would come of asking him.

  “I’m sure you probably hear this quite a bit, but...I actually came out here because I woke from a dream. A...prophecy, maybe. It’s probably not, but it’s possible, right?”

  Isandru was now listening more intently than before. “Of course it’s possible. I might be able to help you discern it. Even if it’s not a prophecy, dreams themselves can often have meanings.”

  And like that, I was telling him my dream. Part of me railed against it; after all, I’d only spoken to Elder Isandru a few times. But another, bigger part of me was just glad to tell someone. If the Elder Prophet couldn’t tell me what it meant, no one could.

  When I got to the part where I went through the Arch, Isandru didn’t seem as upset as I expected him to be. At the most, he was mildly surprised.

  But he seemed more surprised when I told him about the voice speaking to me. He stopped me immediately.

  “A voice?” Isandru asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. It seemed to come from inside my head, and it showed me a wasteland. It said to remember the world from before, and that it would be the world in the future. There was a dragon, too. A Radaska, one that was far larger than Jorla. I think that’s where the voice came from.”

  Isandru was quiet for a long while, appearing troubled. “What else?”

  “The dragon said that Hyperborea set the scar that can never be healed.” I swallowed. “It said an ancient poison worked in the xen. That memory failed. That the Xenofold would fade until all went dark...”

  Isandru cleared his throat. “Dark things, indeed.”

  “Does it mean anything?”

  “I must ask...where did you hear all of this?”

  “In my dream.”

  “No,” Isandru said. “Where did you hear it before?”

  “I’ve heard Hyperborea mentioned a few times,” I said. “It was the city of the Samalites.” I frowned. “That other stuff, though...I’ve never heard of it before. What could it mean?”

  “Hyperborea...is a strange subject. Some one hundred and fifty years have passed since its fall, and at one time, it was the height of our power. But much more, it was the height of our folly.”

  “There was another thing the dragon said, about a Sea being emptied.”

  Isandru paused, seeming to collect himself. For some reason, this subject seemed to be highly personal to him.

  “And you’ve never hear
d of what this dragon spoke?”

  “No,” I said.

  “The Sea of Creation,” Isandru said. “It can be nothing else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It existed, once, but it was emptied. Very few know that for truth, but it did happen. What’s more...it was emptied by Hyperborea, with a machine called the Xenofont.”

  “The Xenofont?”

  “It was the very first thing the fledgling city built when it was founded by the Samalites long ago when led to Ragnarok Crater by the Elder Dragon, Tiamat, an Askaleen and the firstborn son of Askal and Quietus, King and Queen of the Dragons.” Isandru paused before continuing. “For three miles, the Xenofont delved through the xen and the Earth itself, into a cavern holding the Sea of Creation. The Sea, however, was no typical sea. It was composed of a rare substance called ichor, a shimmering pink liquid that is beautiful to behold. It can be found in pools deep in the Red Wild, but most of it exists underground. As the name of the Sea might suggest, ichor has highly creative properties, and when refined in the correct manner, it is capable of wondrous things. Today, it is even more rare, and no material possession is prized more than ichor or things made from it.

  “The Sea of Creation was the largest known source of ichor, forgotten until Hyperborea was founded. The Samalites used the Xenofont to pump ichor to the surface, which they refined to grow and power vast, complex, xen-based machinery, machinery that built their city and grew their fabled groves. The ichor could even be refined into a substance called Aether, which enhanced the powers of any Elekai who ingested it. With certain refining methods, even non-Elekai could drink it, and it was believed at the time that Aether might be the means by which all humans could be made Elekai...for those who had a mind for such things.

  “It was through ichor, and the Xenofont, that the Samalites became powerful beyond all reckoning. Under the influence of Aether, great works of art, music, and writing were composed. Unrivaled feats of architecture and engineering, seemingly impossible in execution, were carried out, and Hyperborea grew and thrived. The city’s hundreds of towers were interlaced with bridges and canals, and the Seven Lakes surrounded its entirety, along with groves of carefully maintained xenotrees. Great temples to Elekim, Annara, and the rest of the gods were constructed, and both Elekai and non-Elekai alike would travel and live there, gazing in awe at its splendor.

  “Such was the size of the Sea of Creation that ichor was always there for the taking.” Isandru nodded grimly. “Or so it was believed. In time, though, the greed and hubris of Hyperborea knew no bounds. They set themselves to achieve the impossible, to become as gods themselves. At least, the royal line of Samal believed as much. It was around this time the greatest prophetess in our Order, besides Annara herself, gave a prophecy pronouncing doom on Hyperborea, saying that in no less than twenty years, the city would perish. Her name was Mia Farl, and she was expelled from the Order and the city, never allowed to return.

  “However, time would only prove her right. Hyperborea harvested the Sea faster than it could replenish itself. Their fabled towers, their Great Xenotrees, their groves planted all throughout the Wild and the Eastern Kingdoms, and even across the ocean, began to wither and die. And a slow, painful death it was. With the power of the Sea diminished, vast areas of the Red Wild went dark...the first known reversions. Even as the land died, the city lived on, and it was believed Ragnarok Crater would remain safe, even as the rest of the world entered the terror of the Third Century.”

  “What terror?” I asked.

  “Mindless swarms,” Isandru said. “For a time, Hyperborea could check their power, but the people of Haven and Sylva could barely hold on against the endless tides. Even Hyperborea weakened, as it was forced to use more ichor to power its weapons. In time, it succumbed to the evil that its people had created. What followed was a time of darkness unknown since the Ragnarok War. Indeed, most believed it was the Second Darkness – the wrath of the gods themselves for the arrogance of the Elekai.”

  It was quiet for a while, and all I could think was how unbelievable all that was. “Did all that really happen?”

  “That is the story,” Isandru said. “If nothing else, it is a lesson against the dangers of hubris and excess.”

  “I guess what I mean is...do you believe it happened?”

  Isandru looked away, seeming to stare into the distance. “Perhaps some things are best lost to time and history...”

  It was quiet for a long while. That story unnerved me. I was surprised Isandru had revealed so much. Whether he believed it or not, he spoke of it all as if it had really happened, which made me feel as if it did.

  “What happened to the Samalites?” I asked. “They couldn’t have all died, because they’re still alive today.”

  “What few of them survived spread to the four winds. Many remained in the north, eking out a hard existence from the land they had destroyed. Some of it healed over the long years, but much of it remains desolate, even today. Others came to Haven and Sylva to start new lives. But those lives were far humbler than the ones they had previously enjoyed. They took such work as they could find, and even today, the Annajen and the Makai treat many of the Samalites poorly.”

  I thought of Samal, who had said he was descended from the Samalites. At least on the surface, there seemed to be little difference between them and the Annajen, but maybe that was because I was still an outsider. Isa, too, was a Samalite, but at least among the Seekers it didn’t seem as though anyone treated them less, occasional ribbing from Ret aside.

  “Thank you, Elder Isandru,” I said. “But you never told me if my dream was a prophecy or not.”

  He chuckled. “So, I didn’t. I was going to say before I got carried away...you’ve heard of Hyperborea before. Whatever the case, I wouldn’t worry overmuch. Even one untrained, or one without the Gift, can gain occasional glimpses of the Xenofold, but that doesn’t mean they have the ability to prophesy or envision. All the same...you have potential, that much is clear.” He shifted, seeming to signal an end to the conversation. “Get some rest, Shanti. I imagine you’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”

  With that, we parted ways. I watched him for a moment, and it almost seemed as if he were a ghost floating along, because of the billowing tail of his cloak and silvery hair.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  THE FIRST BELL TOLLED SHORTLY after I lay down. I sat up in bed, blinking, feeling as if no time had passed at all.

  After Isa and I got dressed, we walked down to breakfast together. We ate a simple meal of oatmeal with raisins before going our separate ways. Isaru sat with us, red-eyed and quiet, saying that he had stayed up late studying in the library.

  After breakfast, Isaru and I walked with Samal and Ret to the Seekers’ Dome, where we were to have our first lesson with Judge Kais.

  “You look like you’re about to fall over,” Ret said to Isaru.

  Isaru blinked, taking longer than usual to respond. “I’m fine.”

  “Were you up late?”

  Isaru nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

  When we entered the Dome, it wasn’t empty, as it had been yesterday. Instead, an older and portly gentleman dressed in Seeker’s robes sat in the high seat on the floor, the one that faced the semicircle of six seats.

  “Is that Judge Kais?” I whispered.

  Though I had tried to be quiet, the man looked up and motioned us down. As we approached, I could see that he was a man with graying, wispy hair and a generous gut. We went to stand before him, but he merely sat there with half-lidded eyes, shuffling papers on his podium. I almost asked when we were going to start when more initiates entered the Dome, talking and laughing. I realized then that we four were not the only ones getting lessons today. It seemed a lot more initiates were coming for this one.

  By the time a group of twenty or so initiates was standing at the bottom of the Dome, Judge Kais raised his eyes. At that movement, all voices stilled. It was a moment before echoes dissipated in the caver
nous space.

  “Good morning. Welcome to the Seekers’ Dome; it is here that we Judges have dispensed justice over the decades, hearing the cases of both king and beggar, merchant and prince, soldier and citizen, easterner and westerner...”

  I waited for the list to end, but it never really did. It just went on and on. I shared a look with Isaru; his smile was amused, but he said nothing. I noticed the other initiates were sharing similarly confused looks. Judge Kais, however, seemed to only be aware of the sound of his voice droning on and on, his eyes alight with fervor.

  “In short,” Judge Kais said, after two minutes of rambling, “this Dome is the centerpiece of the Seekers’ Sanctum...where laws are drafted and argued for. Where edicts are voted upon and passed to the Elders for approval. Where treaties are signed, where pacts are honored...and yes... even dishonored.”

  Isaru stifled a snicker, but didn’t do a good job of it. However, Judge Kais seemed to be completely oblivious.

  “We begin the illustrious history of the Judges Sect with the founding of the Seekers themselves, at an indeterminate year following the Ragnarok War, in the First Century...”

  And on and on Judge Kais droned. From time to time I looked to see initiates’ eyelids falling heavy under the monotonous spell of his words. It was not as if what he was talking about was dull. Some people could make the most interesting subject sound as though they were reading from a list, while others could take that list and make it an epic. Judge Kais was definitely one of the former.

  “Annara recognized the need for a Sect concerned with the judging of resolutions passed by the whole body of Seekers. The Judges occupy a special place within the Order. When we are not judging the matters of the Seekers’ Court, we bring to justice the troubling cases of the world at large. There are many, far and wide, who seek our wisdom in such matters, and our knowledge extends not only to our own books, but to lands near and far.”