by Pedro Urvi
“We stay hidden from the powerful,” Sormacus said, “from the royal families, the nobility… but we watch them, we move among them, always alert, listening, learning. We have agents in all the Houses, at different levels: healers, priests, soldiers, even some merchants and nobles. They are the eyes and ears of the Ancient, and they tell us what is really happening.”
“The Ancient… you mean Aruma…”
“Her, and the other wise men and women who lead us.”
“How many are there of those Ancient who lead you?”
“The less you know the better, the less risk you take.”
Adamis was not convinced by the reply, although he understood the reasons for it. He might be captured and forced to betray them.
“Very well,” he said in acceptance.
They reached the Third Ring, the kingdom of the House of Aurez, the House of Air. The ship carrying the entourage emerged rapidly from the harbor as soon as they passed in front of it. It appeared to fly over the water, with its sail billowing even though there was barely any wind. It was then that Adamis saw something that left him dismayed. A gigantic statue in the shape of a windmill was being set up on the sea itself in front of the main dock. The body of the structure was narrow and pointed, like a great pole that rose almost two hundred feet above the sea. On its tip a colossal propeller with three giant blades turned under the steady lash of the wind. But it was not that which caused his dismay but the Oppressors, who were whipping the slaves in a constant, merciless punishment as they worked to prop up the base of the structure. The enormous construction was being finished to the rhythm of the suffering of more than a thousand slaves who were trying hard not to die that day.
“They are raising statues and buildings, greater and greater, ever more and more excessive all the time,” Adamis said incredulously as he witnessed the suffering of all those men. “What is the need? Why all this squandering? Why do we need more statues and colossal monuments? Why so much death?”
“For the greater glory of the Golden,” Sormacus replied.
“Alantres is growing perverted, excessive, following its Lords’ ideals of vanity,” Ariadne said. “It is madness, and it keeps growing and growing unstoppably. The price, after all, is low as far as the Golden are concerned. What does it matter, the slavery of thousands of people, their suffering, their death? The answer is simple: nothing at all. Yes, nothing.”
Adamis sighed. “To some of us, it does matter,” he said, although he was fully aware Ariadne was right.
“To very few. We pretend to be Gods, which we are not, and live as such. Nothing else matters to us. We want to reach immortality and become divinities. And that justifies everything. The suffering we cause does not matter.”
“Without slaves we would not be Gods,” Sormacus said.
“The path of living together with the other races, with Men, is not the path marked by the Golden Dogma,” said Ariadne. “It is not the path by which the Five High Kings lead us. We raise great monuments in a corrupt city instead of respecting Mother Nature, whom we do not protect. We live ignoring her wise teachings, because our leaders believe themselves to be cleverer and more powerful than she is. We must abandon that path, which is full of pain and death. We must abolish slavery. Free the Men. We must stop the vain search for immortality for the greater glory of the powerful.”
“They will never allow it,” said Sormacus.
“Whether they allow it or not, we will fight to achieve it,” Adamis assured him.
The ship continued on its course, sailing the waters lightly. The breeze brought a smell of burning and sulfur. Adamis did not even have to turn his head. He knew perfectly well which ring they had reached: the second, the House of Aureb, the House of Fire, that of his sworn enemy: Asu’s kingdom. Thinking about the Prince of Fire, he remembered the death of his Champion and friend, and a pain, not physical but deeper and more searing, came upon him. He breathed deeply, trying not to let himself be dominated by the hatred that was rising in him. An enormous burst of flame made most of the retinue turn back to watch the spectacle. He turned his head slightly and saw the huge construction in the form of a volcano beside the main harbor. That monstrosity in the shape of a mountain which rose to the sky and spewed fire and lava was something new which had been built during his exile.
There came another explosion of fire and lava, and they heard moans of terror.
“The perversity and madness of the leaders of the Houses know no limits,” said Ariadne. “They will end up killing thousands.”
“Or provoking a war, which would be even worse,” said Sormacus.
“I am not so sure that a war between the Houses would be such a bad thing,” said Ariadne. “Maybe that way they would finally learn. Death is a stern teacher, but an effective one.”
“A war would be disastrous,” Adamis said. “Many of the Golden would die, and with them thousands and thousands of slaves. They would drag Men down both here and on the great continent. The bloodshed would be too great. We must avoid it.”
Sormacus nodded, but Ariadne did not seem entirely convinced.
“Fire cleans the undergrowth and creates fertility for the soil,” she said.
“Or destroys the forest,” said Sormacus.
“Consuming all life,” added Adamis.
“There might not be a choice,” said Ariadne.
“The Five High Kings will not allow it,” Adamis said. “They have kept the peace for a long time.”
“Sometimes,” Sormacus said thoughtfully, “even Kings have no choice in the face of extreme situations,”
“Sometimes even Kings fall,” added Ariadne.
Adamis was thinking of his Father. “Let us hope it is not so.”
The ship of the House of Fire, adorned for the ceremony, was leaving the pier with Asu at the prow, arrogant and vain as an immortal god. Adamis felt a torturing pain and had to hold hard to the gunwale. He was not sure whether the pain was physical or the result of Asu’s presence nearby. It was probably both.
Ariadne noticed his pain. “Hold on, you will make it,” she encouraged him.
Adamis remembered his dead friend Rotec, and the rage helped him to endure the stabbing pain. He straightened, holding himself in check, as if he were the most noble of the Golden. One day I will obtain the justice you were not granted, he promised his dead friend. Asu will pay for what he did to you. I promise you that.
As he remembered his dear friend, they reached the first ring, his home. He gazed with moist eyes at his wonderful city of Ether: the buildings and transparent monuments which gleamed under a thousand lights. He saw the streets of the port, of white marble, and the clear buildings that rose throughout the ring to clothe the huge mountain-city above the sea. He sighed as he gazed at the proud palaces, the monuments, the fountains and exotic gardens, all translucent, as if made of crystal. And he saw his home at the summit, the majestic royal palace.
As he gazed at what had been his home for so long, a great feeling of melancholy came over him. So very many good memories … my happy childhood, my family, my parents. And as he thought about his Father, the nostalgia turned into sadness. How it hurts … oh, how much … the fact that you did not support me … that you sentenced me to death. But that pain, not a physical one, and one which he would always carry in his soul, was something he could not assuage with anything. It burnt as though his heart had been branded with red-hot iron. However hard he had tried, he had not been able to quench it; perhaps he never would. He would have to suffer, to wait and see.
He sighed. And the sigh was rather louder than he had intended. Someone turned in puzzlement and looked at him. Adamis stood straighter, hoping the hood would hide his face from curious eyes. The Golden, one of the group of the Caste of Commons, did not seem to suspect anything and turned back to look ahead of him. The group of the Caste of Nobles, nearer the prow, was applauding Prince Saxti’s words. Adamis tried to relax. The tension was beginning to be too much for him, and he neede
d to be careful or else he would be caught. I do not hate you, Father. I understand your reasons, I accept your actions, but you have broken my heart, because you might have been on my side and you chose to save the House rather than your own son. The sadness this has brought me will live with me forever. Nothing will be able to change that now. And one day, I will die by your hand, for you judged me, condemned me and ordered me to be executed. I die by your hand, father.
While he was being shaken by these painful thoughts, he saw the ship with the retinue of the House of Ether. He wondered who his father had chosen to head the group, since he himself was an only child. One of his cousins, he guessed. He could not make out which one, but he was intrigued, as whoever had risen within his family’s game of power was now a rival ‒ more than that, an enemy ‒ who if he were to discover him would kill him in order to keep his new position. He had no doubt about that, his own family or not.
A shadow suddenly covered the ship, leaving it in twilight and sinking him deeper into his sadness. They were moving down one of the four tunnels which crossed the first ring and opened into the center of the city, where the Great Monolith which sustained the city and the Five High Kings towered. The four ships followed in single file, a short distance apart, in a reverse procession towards the landing at the foot of the monolith. They, the representatives of the fifth ring, were the first to arrive at the pier. Presently the other ships would dock.
Adamis stared up at the huge black monolith. So much power in that object, the axis on which our whole civilization turns, he thought, not without admiration. That object was a remarkable technological achievement. It kept the great city afloat and safe from storms and tsunamis. But it was something more than that: a conductor of Power, an intelligent conductor. It projected its masters’ wishes, and by it all the Enforcers and the entire city were governed. Its value was as great as its colossal presence, or more so.
As he watched the five ships docking, he gazed at the immense base of the monolith, which housed the Chamber of the High Kings. The ceremony would take place there, as was customary for all the important celebrations. He recalled the Ceremony of Vivification, which had taken place in that same hall, and all that had happened afterwards. Who would have thought that one day I would be here like this? The last time I entered the chamber I was the hereditary Prince of the House of Eret. I was powerful, privileged, and had all I could wish for. But I was never happy. Now I am doomed, exiled, with a death sentence I cannot escape. But I have known happiness. And surprisingly it has been through a slave, my beloved Kyra. This happiness with her is so deep and immense that nothing can equal it. When the day comes I will die happy, because Kyra is everything to me and for her I will do whatever is necessary.
The ships finished their docking maneuvers, but nobody disembarked. They had to wait for the order from the Masters of Ceremony. Protocol dictated this. The great ceremony required the delegations of all five houses to enter in groups and in order, to present themselves before the Five High Kings. A bad encounter would be dangerous for all three of us, very dangerous. It would mean our end.
“What are you looking for exactly?” he asked his companions. “Why do you risk so much?”
“I see the Prince of Ether still finds it hard to trust the Children of Arutan,” said Ariadne.
“Do not misunderstand me. I appreciate all the help you have given me, but I find it hard to believe that you are risking your lives to go against the Houses, against the Five High Kings. What do you expect to achieve?”
“We do not judge you,” Ariadne assured him. “To enable you to understand it, our wise people say we search for harmony. As simple and as difficult as that. The Children of Arutan seek to restore the natural order of things, that from which we were born, that which means living in harmony and respecting Mother Nature, and which we have abandoned over the last few thousand years because of our people’s foolish wishes for immortality. We seek to live in harmony: all the Golden, no matter which House, Caste, Family or Profession, all united, equal, as one. And we seek to extend that living together in harmony to the other races, to Men. That is what we seek.”
“Is there not something else behind this? Is there not a wish for Power, for reigning in place of the Five High Kings?”
“I can give you my word that it is not so,” she assured him.
“We are not going to change one corrupt system for another, if that is what you think,” Sormacus said.
“Very well, I believe you,” Adamis said, putting an end to the question of his distrust. “Let us not speak of this again,”
“Thank you,” said Ariadne. “We need you to have no doubt about us. Time is running out.”
“Terrible things are happening,” Sormacus said. “The final day is approaching. We see the signs, and they are clear. There is no doubt any more. That is why we must act. That is why we need to show the Prince of Ether the truth. Once you see with your own eyes, you will have no doubt.”
“The end of days is near,” Ariadne assured him.
Adamis considered his companions’ words. They had affected him.
“Well then, show me what I must see.”
She pointed to the temple.
“Now you will see.”
“Let us hope I live to tell the tale,” Adamis said. There was a searing pain in his stomach as they began to disembark.
Chapter 17
On the seventh day of his journey Ikai came to a huge walled city. It was a county capital, and there he would find answers. Or death. Hidden behind a thick oak tree he watched the southern entrance to the city. The great metal gates were wide open. There were no guards there, nor any on the battlements. How strange… The walls were high and regal, with several imposing square turrets. It looked like a more robust and advanced building than that of the Senoca, capable of withstanding a sustained siege: a city that would be very difficult to take. To build something like that must have taken years of hard work and thousands of slaves. If they had built a fortress like that, how could there be no-one watching it? He shook his head, not understanding.
For over half the morning he watched the entrance, alert, trying to get some useful information to help him decide and act. Even so, he barely saw any activity; a few carts pulled by oxen or horses were all there was. The level of activity in that city was unusually low. But there was one thing which had caught his attention: the merchants with the carts were oldish men. He had still not seen anybody young, and that was beginning to concern him.
In the early evening he changed his position and watched the northern entrance. The result was the same: a few heavy carts carrying supplies went in or came out, with older men leading them. He sighed and weighed up his options. Night was falling, and he did not have enough information to know what was going on there. He thought about entering the city as one more traveler, but then remembered the old woman’s reaction and changed his mind. There was no guarantee that the same thing would not happen again. Since it was a city there ought to be Guards, even though he had not seen any so far, and they would capture him. No, it was not a good idea to go in through the gate. And nor were there any people coming or going that he could mingle with and go unnoticed, which was deeply suspicious. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he thought about it. Where were all the people and the Guard?
He ate some of his provisions while he reflected on it and night fell. He had explored the surroundings, and the forest was full of life. He had found good game, wild fruits, even a nearby river with trout. Birds and squirrels went their way above his head and the gentle breeze did not warn of any danger. Whatever was happening, it did not affect the forest. But on the other hand, there was nobody hunting, or fishing, or gathering. Nor were there any farms in the vicinity. Very strange…
He made an impatient noise. He could not stay idle. The great gates were still wide open, as if inviting him to enter the metropolis. He shook his head. No, too easy. They must leave them open for some reason. They don’
t fear a rebellion. They don’t fear anything… The thought worried him even more. If they feared nothing, it must be for some reason. After going over it again and again in his mind, he decided what he was going to do. We’ll do it Albana’s way. It’s the best option.
The moon was shining high above in a clear sky, so he moved stealthily toward the wall by way of the shadows which hid it. At a hundred paces he had to stop behind a boulder, because there was no more cover. He put his head out and surveyed the parapet of the tower. He could not see a soul. But he could not risk it. He grasped Adamis’s disc and used the Power. Dark Spirit, he commanded. The disc gave forth a gleam which he covered with his body, and out of the disc came a black thread which gradually took on the shape of a spirit, dull black in color. To me, he said, and the spirit covered him, clinging to him like a second skin. He had discovered this spirit by accident while he was practicing with the disc to improve his skill with the Power. Generally the spirits he managed to invoke were translucent or whitish. The House of Ether, his own Power, was related to the spiritual world, and could create a variety of spirits with very distinct skills. The more he learnt about the Power the more fascinated he was by it, and the things that might be done with it amazed him. Just as Adamis had asked them to, he practiced every day and was gradually improving, although he was years away from catching up with Kyra, who seemed to have a natural gift for it.
With the spirit clinging to his body, he made his way to the foot of the tower. At night and from afar, all they would see would be a black spot moving, something blurred, barely perceptible, at least as far as most people were concerned. Now he had to climb the live rock wall of the tower to the parapet. There was just one unfortunate difficulty: he had no rope to climb with.
