by Pedro Urvi
Notaplo passed his hand across his bushy eyebrows. “A secret temple of the Children of Arutan… I have lived almost a thousand years and very little surprises me, but this has. Their Power is so rooted in Nature, it is so strong, that it transmits much more than we are able to with our powers based on the five elements.”
“I find it difficult to believe that during all this time we never knew anything about them, that they should have been able to hide themselves so well.”
“When you are pursued, and your pursuers want to put an end to you and all your people, you do the impossible in order to stay hidden. As has been the case here. The Five High Kings would kill them all if they came to know of their existence. They would never allow anybody to oppose the established order they guard so zealously.”
“I do not believe the Children of Arutan pose any real threat to the Houses.”
“Ah, my young Prince, that is where you are wrong. They represent the greatest of threats. Not because of their number, which is small, nor because of their Power, which although great is not comparable to that of the Five High Kings…”
“What then?”
“They represent an idea that goes against the established order, an idea which seeks to overthrow that order. And there is nothing more dangerous in this world than an idea in the hands of brave spirits, since because of an idea the Houses and the Five High Kings were born, and because of an idea they could disappear.”
Adamis gave him a friendly smile. “You are a true philosopher, Notaplo. And I think I understand what you are trying to make me see.”
The old erudite smiled with pleasure. But a moment later his face clouded again.
“That sense of worry is still reaching me, and now I can see it in your face, old friend.”
“I am not good at hiding things. One of those things I do not seem to be able to learn, no matter how long I live.”
“What is the matter? Tell me.”
Notaplo sighed heavily.
“I have a feeling, stronger and closer at hand all the time, that something truly horrible is going to happen.”
“The Houses?”
“Yes.” The old man nodded heavily. “The tension between the five houses is becoming untenable. The High Kings maintain control for the moment, but I do not know how much longer they will be able to avoid confrontation.”
“War? You really think there will be war?”
“I do not know whether things will go as far as that, but I fear there will be bloodshed.”
“Why do you think so? The High Kings have held control for a millennium.”
“The situation … you see, the House of the Fifth Ring, the House of Water, has fallen into disgrace with the loss of their Boundary, that of the Senoca People. Not only have their status and power been tremendously affected, so has something much more down-to-earth: their economy. They no longer have slaves, and without slaves there are no riches, there is no well-being. They have had to ask their allied house for help.”
“My father’s.”
“Exactly.”
“And has he granted it?”
“Yes, the House of Ether has come forward to help.”
Adamis was thoughtful. This news surprised him. Even though they were allied houses, his father weighed up every movement with precision, and this one left him at a disadvantage against the other houses. Even more so taking into account that he was already in a weakened position because of his own son’s betrayal.
“This weakens my father and his house even more.”
“And the rival Houses are taking advantage of it.”
“The House of Fire?”
“Yes, with the support of its ally, the House of Earth. And they are pressing hard; they know they have the advantage. And that worries me profoundly. If the tensions continue ‒ and I believe they will, since there is already a clear advantage they are not going to let slip ‒ they will try to bring the two Houses to their knees. And if they do not yield, all this could end in conflict, even in bloodshed.”
“Or even in a war…” muttered Adamis, pondering the implications. A war would be devastating for his people. He did not wish it, he did not wish to see his family, friends, his own people, suffer the horrors of war. On the other hand, deep within him he knew that a Golden war would give the slaves a chance. Perhaps the chance they needed.
“That is what I am afraid of.”
“And what do you know about the House of Air? They are the ones who hold the key. If they support one side or the other, they will be the ones who set things in motion.”
“Luckily the High King of Air is prudent, and for the moment he is declining to take sides. He has always kept himself in the middle, neutral, and for the moment he is keeping that position.”
“But he might change…”
“Yes, Your Highness, and there is something more. There are rumors that the slaves are rising, and in more than one Boundary. The Houses deny it to save face, but the rumors grow with each passing day.”
“Kyra…”
“And the others.”
“Yes. There are still four Boundaries, four missions. That is how we planned it.”
“If any of them is successful, it will destabilize the situation even further.”
“We need them to be successful, otherwise Men will not survive.”
“True, Your Highness, but depending which Boundary it is and when it happens, it might provoke war between the Houses. That is what worries me.”
“Kyra will succeed, I am sure.”
“Perhaps Ikai will too. We must be optimistic. The truth is that the four of them are very brave.”
Adamis nodded. “More than that, they are heroes.”
“They will accomplish it. I want to believe they will accomplish it.”
“As do I. And when they do, they will create more conflict between the houses, and that will be in our favor. There might be bloodshed, but I do not think it will come to war. The Five High Kings will not allow it. They know perfectly well that it would be going too far. They will stop it, they will stop that madness.”
Notaplo sighed. “It is true that they have done so up till now. The most reasonable thing is to think that they will avoid it. But it seems to me something else is going on, something I know nothing about and which I cannot see, even though my old bones warn me it is about to happen. Something terrible…”
Adamis threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling of the chamber, trying to make sense of the situation. The tension between the Houses was something that benefited the slaves; it was not necessarily a bad thing. But a war between the Golden might be devastating for all, themselves included. In wars the innocent are always the first to suffer. He needed more information.
“We need more information. We need to understand what we are up against. We must find out what it is that you fear.”
“I will try and obtain more information.”
“Do not run too many risks. I need you. I would be lost without you.”
“You flatter me, my Prince.”
“Now I am no longer your prince, and that is the truth, my dear Erudite.”
A feeling of urgency struck Adamis like a blow.
“What is it?”
“They are looking for me. Your father has sent Champion Teslo to find me. I must leave.”
“Go, quickly, and be very careful.”
At the mention of Teslo, Adamis felt a cold pain in his stomach where the Champion had stabbed him. Yet he felt no rancor. He did not hate Teslo. He had carried out his father’s royal order. He had carried out the death sentence which had been decreed. He shivered, and a new wave of pain assailed his back, as though he had been lashed with a whip of fire. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth and held on. While the pain tormented him the face of his father, the High King, came into his mind. I do not hate you, father, I understand why you did it. I know it was for the House. But your sentence hurts infinitely more than this torture, and so it will always be
, until the day when this poison finally kills me.
He opened his eyes and watched Notaplo’s image vanishing. The pond became utterly calm, and a sad silence filled the chamber. He turned slowly and headed to the exit. As he thought about everything Notaplo had told him, he began to walk very slowly. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not even feel the pain that coursed through his body with every step.
I must go to the Eternal City, The moment has come to face my ghosts and help Men.
Chapter 11
Albana crawled along the bridge of wood and rope with all the stealth she could manage. The moon was full, which did not help; it might even create a problem for the mission. I’ll have to be careful and make use of my skills as a Shadow. She hid behind one of the village huts, where a family was peacefully asleep, and scanned the huge round platform that opened out before her: like the main square in a traditional village. With the slight difference that this one was built in a giant tree, a hundred and twenty feet up.
She crouched down and watched the guards and the Shaman’s hut at the other end. She counted six guards standing in the square, armed with spears and wearing armor. Three others perched on the upper branches above the wooden building, these carrying short bows. Archers. That’s a problem. In the center of the platform she saw three totem poles representing gigantic birds. The huge yellow beaks and the plumage had been carved in great detail. But this was not what caught her attention; she already knew what they were: Flyers. What made her reach for her daggers were the three dead men tied to the totems. The Shaman had executed them in front of the whole village. He had left them there so that everyone would know what awaited them if they dared to oppose him. Damn lunatic, sadistic as well as skilled and dangerous. He had the whole village terrified. The worst thing of all was that those three poor souls had done nothing wrong. The Shaman was simply showing off his power and terrorizing the population.
She swept the area with an expert glance. She was looking for more guards, or any other risk she had not anticipated. But there was nothing else to be seen. To the left of the Shaman’s hut, in a building of wood and iron, was the prison where Ilia’s father was being held. I hope he’s still alive. It was more than six months since anybody had seen him. A little beyond was the Proxy’s hut, and beside it the barracks where the Guard were asleep. Time for action! She set off. Using her Power, she disappeared into the shadows which the lush foliage afforded.
Ilia appeared at the entrance to the square. The guards beside the totems tensed as they saw her.
“Who’s there?” said the one in charge, a thin man with an unpleasant face.
At the same time Albana appeared all of a sudden behind the first guard on the branches above.
“You know who I am,” Ilia said.
And as her friend spoke, Albana’s daggers ended the guard’s life.
“You can’t be here at night. It’s forbidden.”
Albana appeared behind the second archer.
“I’m the Chief’s daughter, I want to see my father.”
The guard above them died without making a sound.
“You know that’s not possible. The Shaman forbids it.”
A shadow appeared beside the third guard.
“Today things are going to change. Forever,” Ilia said. There was no shadow of doubt in her voice.
“You’re crazy.”
The third archer died with a muffled sigh.
“No, today we rise up.”
“Who, you? What are you going to do?”
“No, not me, the people.”
At a sign from Ilia, her brother Pilap and Lial appeared beside her. They were armed with knives and short axes. At once the six guards formed in front of them.
“Withdraw and you won’t die,” the guard said threateningly. “I’ll let you leave because you’re the Chief’s family. But take one more step and we’ll kill you.”
Ilia, Pilap and Lial stepped forward defiantly.
“You’ve asked for it. Archers, kill them!”
But the arrows that should have finished them off never came. The guards looked up towards the archers on the upper branches. They found only silence and foliage.
“Archers!” the guard called, his voice a mixture of anger and surprise.
“They won’t answer,” Ilia said.
“What have you done?”
“What we should have done long ago.”
“You’ve gone mad!” He turned to the other guards. “Kill her!”
Ilia raised her arm. At her signal a hundred men and women appeared behind her, armed with knives, axes and short bows. The green faces showed the determination of an enslaved people whose freedom will not be denied to them any longer.
“Emergency!” cried the guard and withdrew behind the totems. “Emergency!” he yelled at the top of his voice.
Armed guards began to emerge from the barracks and assemble in formation beside their comrades in the square. The Shaman and his personal guard came out in haste. A moment later the Proxy came out with his retinue. The Shaman wore his feathered robe, and when he saw what was happening he donned the mask with the huge beak and made his way through to the front of the guard.
“Ilia!” he cried with a voice filled with hatred and loathing.
“Shaman,” she replied icily.
“Have you gone mad? How dare you defy me? How dare you defy the Golden Gods?”
“Your time has come, Shaman. This is where your reign of terror and death ends.”
“If you dare oppose me, you’ll be opposing the Gods. You’ll die. You’ll all die.”
“No. The spirits of the forest say it’s time for us to rise up for our freedom. Their message is clear, I hear it in the wind, the leaves whisper it, the brooks babble of it. We all hear it. Today we rise up. Today we fight for freedom.”
He pointed to the three men tied to the totems. “If you try anything, you’ll end up like those three.”
“It’s because of them that we’re here. So that it never happens again.”
The Shaman reached for the huge Flyer claw he wore at his neck like a trophy and showed it to the rebels.
“I am the law in this forest, I lead this village. Go back to your homes and sleep, and I’ll forget this insult. If not, then I’ll cut your throats one by one, with my own hands, all of you. I swear it by the Gods!”
Ilia looked back at her people. Not one of them flinched, the eyes of those men and women were burning. They demanded the end of terror, they wanted freedom.
“The people are with me. Your days of giving orders are over,”
“Let me remind you that I have your father and your uncle captive. One more step and I shall order their hearts to be torn out.”
Pilap and Lial tensed.
“Don’t move...” Ilia said. Then she stared defiantly at the Shaman. “And I have the Foreigner.”
“Who?” he said blankly.
“The one who comes from another world, one like this, where the men and women have already risen up against the Gods and gained their freedom. The one who walks with shadows. The one who kills with the same ease as death herself. The one who cannot be seen. The one who has lived among the Gods and come back to tell the tale. The one who has Power, like the Gods.”
“Nonsense! That person doesn’t exist! You won’t scare me! They’re no more than lies and stories for children. Don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been spreading those rumors among the people. Lies! They’re all lies! Don’t believe her! You’ll die for those lies!”
“It’s all true. And they believe me.”
“Proxy, take your retinue and bring me her father and uncle. I myself will cut their throats before everyone.”
The Proxy gave a nod and went to the prison, followed by his most trusted men.
“Now you’re going to learn a very valuable lesson!” the Shaman added.
Ilia gave him a crooked smile. “We’ll see.”
The Proxy and his men went into the
prison. There was a moment of silence. Everyone turned expectantly towards the building, but in the darkness it was impossible to see anything inside. They heard muffled cries and several dull blows. And then silence fell once again.
“What’s going on?” the Shaman said furiously. “Go and see!”
Several guards went into the prison. They came out looking frightened.
“The Proxy … is dead … they’re all dead … and the prisoners … have escaped,” stammered one of the guards.
“What? That’s impossible!”
Ilia smiled. “The rumors seem more likely now, don’t they?”
“I’ll put you all to the knife!”
“No. Today you die, and the rebellion begins.”
The Shaman turned to give his men the order to attack. From a liana, without a sound, a figure descended, almost invisible to the human eye until it was two hand-spans above the Shaman’s head.
“Kill them all!” he ordered.
A hand seized the necklace with the Flyer’s claw and lifted him two feet off the floor. He looked up in bafflement, kicking the air. A dagger took off his mask with a single slash. His face and neck were exposed to sight.
“I want you to see me. I am the lie you refused to hear about.”
The Shaman stared at Albana, his eyes wide with fear.
“The Foreigner!”
Albana smiled from ear to ear. “That’s what they know me as here. And this is where your luck runs out.” With a lightning stroke she cut his throat. The Shaman died with disbelief in his eyes.
Ilia turned to her people.
“The Shaman is dead! Take the rest prisoner!”
And the whole village fell on the guard.
At that same moment, in all the main villages of the six Counties of the Boundary of the People of the Trees, simultaneously and with the full moon as witness, the people rose against the Shamans, using subterfuge and night as their allies. With the arrival of dawn, Shamans and Proxies would cease to exist and the people would have taken the decisive step towards freedom.
Two weeks later, at dawn, Albana gazed down at the capital of the Boundary from high up in one of the gigantic trees. A deep sadness came over her. The city had been built by clearing an enormous circular area in the heart of the forest. The swine had felled and stripped thousands of trees and acres upon acres of forest. In their place they had built a city of stone and wood, protected by a ring-shaped wall eighty feet high. Columns of black smoke rose to the sky. Smithies and saw mills. The bloody swine. And what was even worse: the existence of six other cities like this one, the capitals of the six counties. Luckily they’re not as big, so there’s not quite so much damage to the forests.
