Aeden had come to realize that Thea was being unreasonable.
Initially, Aeden had tried to apologize, but instead Thea had introduced Rafe. Aeden had won the final event at the Trials of Ansuz, only to end up in the medical room, with Dan and Laurent, and Adel. Thea had never come.
When she’d cut her hand with her reckless attempt to cross the Aria Plains, it had been Aeden who’d caught her and carried her to safety. It had been Aeden who’d ensured shelters were built to shield her from the elements. It was Aeden who’d found the dogbane and jack flower and bezoar. It was Aeden who’d nursed her back to health.
Not once did Thea acknowledge his effort. Not once did she utter a word of thanks.
Upon that horrid night, within the Quietus Pillars, it had been Aeden who’d saved her. She’d fallen from the bridge. The rope bound to her was unraveling. He’d almost lost her to the stone teeth of the Southern Fold.
His anger faded, and try as he might, he couldn’t muster another bout of it.
What if he’d lost her?
He didn’t want to think on it. He couldn’t. Instead, his mind lingered on the bitter flavor of failure.
Yet again he’d failed to protect those around him. Kallon had been ripped from their very midst and pulled into the mist, like a piece of meat. Janto had been torn open and had fallen to his death upon the hidden pillars of sharp rock below.
Aeden remembered Thea’s expression as he pulled her up. There was surprise on her face and gratitude, and fear. It was the closest she had come to forgiving him. The closest she’d come to thanking him.
It was a small consolation, for she’d hardly spoken to him since.
The thoughts fell away. Aeden had nearly a month to think on his failure and the shape of events. He’d employed the lessons he’d learned under Master Xuban, centering his awareness, first on his body, then his surroundings.
Aeden failed miserably. Thoughts of the sages bubbled to the surface.
The Sages of Umbra had helped treat their wounded. They had fed, sheltered, and clothed them, ensuring they had something warm for the trek up Mystes Mountain.
More than this, the sages had burdened them with heavy truths.
Each person held the sages’ words close to their heart, locked away, deep within. None uttered a word of what they’d been told. They’d been warned not to.
Aeden hardly noticed as Thea knocked on the tall metal door, below the winged sword wreathed in foreign script. His gaze fell out of focus as he remembered the sages’ words. ‘It is humanity’s time. The Syrinx are all but lost, aged beyond utility, fragile, and broken…you must uncover the secrets of the Syrinx.’
Oria gripped Aeden’s arm harder, as if for balance. Her proximity pulled Aeden from his thoughts and grounded him in the moment. Aeden glanced at Oria. She had her head leaning against his arm. She’d recovered significantly, but not totally. She continued to cling to Aeden as if her life had depended on it.
“Time to go home,” Sakhira uttered, passing Aeden, Oria, and Adel.
Aeden nodded as he watched Sakhira struggle over a piece of frozen ground. Caine followed shortly behind.
Caine’s shoulders were hunched and his chin was no longer thrust forward with self-importance. He’d been strangely quiet. He had lost a friend, Janto. More importantly, Caine had come close to death himself. It was the selfish idea of his own mortality that had allowed him a momentary glimpse into the struggle of the human condition.
Caine looked defeated. It was a welcome reprieve. Aeden wasn’t sure how long it’d last.
Just then one of the doors swung open, creaking as it swept inward.
“We’re home,” Adel stated with a sense of relief.
Adel clapped Aeden on the shoulder gently. Adel’s bandages were now removed, although there was still much healing to be done. Aeden smiled, as he glimpsed the dark red and brown scabbing that covered the cut in Adel’s hand.
“Ready,” Aeden said, looking down to Oria.
Oria smiled weakly and nodded. Aeden marched forward, cognizant of Oria’s weight and tight grip upon his arm. Strangely, he didn’t mind. It was a small piece of comfort in an uncaring world.
The village looked much the same, save for the white powder that covered the rooftops and swelled upon the corners of the buildings. Windows were shuttered and covered for Vintas. It all looked rather bleak.
They trudged up the main street, huddled against the cold, heading back to the Tower of the Arkein.
Chapter 73
“Arrogance gives shape to ignorance.” Caliph Rajah of Sha’ril
Aeden stood before the heavy door to Grandmaster Kaldi’s chamber. A sliver of golden light spilled into the antechamber and gave it a sense of warmth, despite the chill in the air. It fell upon the stonework and highlighted the patterns upon the floor and a lone tapestry upon the wall.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the dirt of the road, wishing he’d had time for a bath. The gesture reminded him of his friend Devon, the Razzia. His other hand wavered before the wooden door as memory claimed him.
It had been a long while since Aeden had remembered the betrayal he’d cast upon his friend. The look of hurt Devon held before Aeden’s final act in Sha’ril burned within. He dropped his hand in a moment of silence.
With a slow breath, Aeden looked out the window, seeing the clouds gathered at the base of the tower and glimpsing hints of the crisp blue sky of Vintas. The sunlight was threadbare and wary, as if it feared the cold of the sky. As if it remembered the thousand hurtful things he’d done.
“Come,” the grandmaster called out, beckoning to Aeden.
Aeden’s thoughts broke before the grandmaster’s voice like an overburdened donkey from the Fire Mines of Janam. He tore his gaze from the window and pushed open the wooden door, entering the grandmaster’s chamber.
The room looked much the same as Aeden had remembered it. Bookshelves twice as tall as a man, lined one wall. A long table hugged a corner, this time devoid of the usual scrolls and books. A single box resided under a silken sheet. The box called to Aeden. It whispered his name and spoke of fate’s own binding.
The grandmaster followed his gaze, a faint smile temporarily claimed him. Kaldi studied Aeden for another moment with shrewd eyes before gesturing to a nearby seat.
“Please sit.”
There was a less formal air this time around. Rather than stand at the tall window looking out upon Skadoian Valley, the grandmaster was seated. Instead of a serious tone of inquiry, there was curiosity.
Aeden glanced briefly at the divider separating the room. His eyes wandered and were inextricably drawn back to the table.
“I’m sorry for the difficulty of your journey,” Kaldi said, still watching Aeden.
Aeden felt Kaldi’s words pull him back to the present. They guided him like the fire-beacons along the Sawol Coast guided ships at sea.
“I’d hoped grouping you together, would’ve saved you from unnecessary hardship.”
Aeden glanced up and felt his long-burning anger flare to life. Why had Kaldi let them go at all? Why the riddles? Why hadn’t the sages come to Andir?
They had lost Kallon and Janto. Aeden had nearly lost Thea and Oria.
How many more needed to die?
Aeden swallowed back a rising lump in his throat. It was a lump of unprocessed emotion.
Aeden hadn’t had a chance to stop since they’d left. He hadn’t had a respite from the need for vigilance. The need to watch over the others and shepherd them from their own folly. He hadn’t had a respite from his desire to make amends with Thea. To see her smile. To see her laugh. To receive her forgiveness.
Kaldi continued, “The sages had requested you follow the riddles, they had requested the newest students travel south. It isn’t wise to refuse the sages’ request.”
Once again, Kaldi’s words settled their weight upon Aeden’s already burdened mind.
“Why?” Aeden asked without pause or consideration for tit
le.
“Why they chose you? Why those particular riddles?” the grandmaster said softly, “I can only venture a guess.”
The grandmaster fell silent and stared at a beam of light that fell through the tall window.
“Perhaps I could better answer your question if I knew what they’d told you,” the grandmaster responded.
Aeden looked up. He caught the grandmaster studying him briefly. What did the sages’ words have to do with the riddles? With death?
He stifled his temper, feeling anger coarse through his veins. At times, Aeden wondered if his anger led to ignorance, an ignorance that restricted him from seeing the obvious.
Aeden took in a slow and calming breath before responding.
“They told me of the Syrinx.”
The grandmaster nodded and waited for more.
Aeden wasn’t sure what to say. The Sages of Umbra had implied their words were for him alone. They had hinted at deception and challenge and death.
“What do you think the Syrinx is?” the grandmaster asked.
Aeden shook his head. He knew almost nothing about them. In fact, he’d been thinking about them ever since his visit to the temple of the Sages of Umbra. He had wanted to visit the library. He had wanted to talk to Master Glass, but he hadn’t time. A runner had fetched Aeden as soon as he’d entered Andir.
Grandmaster inclined his head ever so slightly, prompting Aeden to answer.
“An ancient and secret order?” Aeden guessed.
A hint of a smile graced Kaldi’s lips.
“Why ancient? Why secret?”
Aeden looked to the ground for a moment. His eyes felt heavy. His body ached with exhaustion.
“Because,” he said, “almost every story speaks of some old, powerful, secret order.”
Kaldi nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Stories often mirror aspects of reality,” Kaldi smoothed out his robes, “The Order of Sancire began as a secret order, predating the Calenite Empire. Which, by my estimation, makes it an ancient order. A god co-opted the message, and gave it legitimacy, gave it power,” the grandmaster looked up, studying Aeden carefully, “but the Syrinx are not part of the Order of Sancire. It’s a false analogy. Try again.”
Aeden felt his cheeks flush with frustration. He wanted nothing more than a bath and to sleep. Why had the grandmaster chosen this moment for questions and riddles?
A rising ire thumped against Aeden’s ears. It blocked his ability to think. It flushed against his awareness and stole his attention.
Using the techniques Master Xuban had tried to impart, Aeden took in a slow and calming breath. He failed to find peace. He was reminded of his last meal with his father.
“Because you’re a member of the Syrinx.”
The faint smile that once graced the grandmaster slipped away as he crossed his arms and leaned back. Kaldi’s intelligent eyes took in Aeden carefully. A subtle frown now creased the grandmaster’s lips.
“Have you heard of the Sight?” he asked.
Aeden only nodded an acknowledgement.
“Good,” Kaldi said more sternly, “then you’d know that partial knowledge only leads to false presumptions and profound ignorance.”
Grandmaster Kaldi let his words fade into silence, their weight stitched themselves into the fabric that hung about the room in amber shades of quiescence
Aeden glanced away, feeling a hint of shame return to his features. His eyes wandered about the room until they fell upon the dark box upon the table, masked by a thin sheet of silk.
“It whispers to you, doesn’t it,” Kaldi whispered rhetorically.
Aeden’s mind felt numb with fatigue. His body felt dirty. His emotions were heavy. His ears rang with the resounding silence that had befallen the grandmaster’s chambers, as the last whispered words echoed into his skull.
The words hung in the air like the vast humidity before a Sumor Storm. The words rankled at Aeden’s mind and ensnared his thoughts, wrangling emotion from a heart bereft of feeling.
“Seek Master Xuban,” Kaldi said, “Tomorrow, you will resume your lessons in earnest.” The grandmaster’s eyes were now firmly fixed on Aeden, “Master Meidl saw something in you, as did the Sages of Umbra…as do I.”
Grandmaster Kaldi nodded to himself as if he’d said all he’d wanted to say. It was a non-too subtle dismissal of Aeden.
With one final glance about the room, Aeden stood, his mind reeling. He worked his way out of Grandmaster Kaldi’s chamber in a stupor of thought. His clothes clung awkwardly about his body. His mind felt heavy. His hair felt sticky.
Chapter 74
“Loyalty, enthusiasm, and pleasure aren’t just for dogs.” Canton of Sawol
Steam swirled about in an undulating dance of hidden desire and wanton aggression. It caressed the moisture laden ceiling and it hung above the cleansing waters of innocence. It breathed enticements to the listening ear. It hung thickly like a veil for those obscured to the Sight.
Aeden inhaled the hot, sultry air of the bathhouse. Memories flooded him. They washed over him in a wave of tempestuous desire. It was a desire for power, for peace, and for revenge.
His mind was consumed with thoughts of the Syrinx and the Dup Shimati. It was filled with thoughts of his expectant promise to all those who’d fallen. Broken images cut at his awareness, blinding him to his surroundings.
Aeden hardly noticed the lone female soaking in the water. He had become indifferent to her presence. He was unaware of her need for privacy or her desire for decorum.
“There’s already someone here,” she called out, hyperaware of Aeden’s proximity.
Aeden’s thoughts grew quiet, but not silent. Never silent. They had become but distant whispers begging to be heard. They were wraiths in the night, lurking in the shadows.
He looked through the swirling bits of moisture to the far corner of the bathhouse. The small face of Oria with her large eyes, looked back at him. She looked like a startled owl.
Oria’s expression was one of discomfort and a hint of worry.
Despite all her advancements and flirtations, she was still from The Plains, a part of the Bodigan Kingdom that many called Old Bodig. A place where agriculture was the main source of income. A place that had changed little in a thousand years. Its traditions and its culture had become the glue of an otherwise unwieldy social fabric. A culture that had resisted change when the Calen Empire fell.
“I’m dirty and I’m tired,” Aeden said, acknowledging her discomfort, while expressing his own desire, “and I’m going to take a bath.”
Oria blinked and said nothing. There was a strange look of passive acceptance, hidden desire, and outward fear that lurked in her expressive eyes.
Aeden barely noticed. He was too tired for decorum. His bones felt brittle. His mind stretched thin.
He moved methodically as he unfastened his Templas sword and leaned it against the wall. He turned as he pulled his shirt over his head. He looked away as he pulled at the strings of his pants.
Oria, for her part, turned her gaze aside. Prudence demanded it.
Aeden stepped lightly upon the damp stones as he moved to the water’s edge, naked as the day he was born. He slipped into the silky warmth of the bath and finally exhaled a breath of tension. It had been a layer of stress he’d nurtured for the last several months.
Oria’s eyes turned to Aeden. There was a sense of compassion and a hint of understanding that marked them. Otherwise, she remained silent.
Aeden closed his eyes and took in a few slow breaths. The air smelled of lavender, cypress, and rose petals. He ran through the exercises Master Xuban had taught him. Aeden began with his breathing and then with visualization. He felt the stress bleed away from his head and then his shoulders, his chest and stomach, and finally his legs and feet.
When Aeden opened his eyes, he glanced at the stonework of the Bellas Bathhouse. He watched the drops of moisture gather as the swirling steam agitated and cajoled them to fall upon the w
ater and patter upon his head.
“How do you feel?” Aeden asked, his attention still upon the ceiling.
Oria shrugged into the water.
“Did you see Master Ashdown?”
Oria shook her head.
“Why not?”
Oria didn’t reply at first. She glanced down at the water, her arms crossed over her breasts. They were round and ample and largely masked by the darkness of the water.
“Because the Sages had already done what’s needed,” she replied, “and…” she paused, “…and because you’ve already helped take care of me.”
She looked up as her face flushed red.
Aeden couldn’t help but compare Oria to Thea. Images of the last time he was in the bathhouse with Thea, flared to life. It had been the start of his time in the Tower of the Arkein. The Fold had felt so full of wonder, so full of possibility.
Now it felt colder somehow. Darker.
Images of Thea, so direct, serious, and marked by pain, faded.
Before him was another woman. Softer. Brave in an effeminate sort of way. Beautiful and expressive and simple.
The image of her, wide-eyed, before the Tree of Forgotten Children flashed before his mind’s eye. She had screamed in pain, but had refused to be tempted by the tree’s siren song. It had been Kallon who had succumbed, crawling toward death.
“You’re stronger than you know,” Aeden said.
Oria smiled.
“I don’t think you’re given that credit,” he continued, “I don’t think people see your open feelings as bold, the way I do.”
Aeden fell silent.
Oria’s smile faded as she contemplated his words and studied his features. She watched him as he thought his thoughts, as he remembered the past. As he imagined the future. As he wondered at what could have been and what might be.
“What’re thinking?” Oria asked softly.
Images of S’Vothe, burnt and broken, passed through Aeden’s mind. Memories of death and pain flooded his recollection until he could face them no more.
“About you,” he said, partially in an effort to distract from his own morose perturbations.
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