As the Earthen Stag Walks (The Simulacrum Book 1)

by David Chesney

  “I’m Seelios.”

  The disciples stared at him. Raphael raised an eyebrow in expectation and leaned his head forward, beckoning for more.

  “I meant, Seelios Strongheart of Fembleton, son of Ricker Strongheart.”

  Mirabelle considered the words for a moment, nodding. “You’re very lucky we found you,” she said. “Besides the few survivors in the town, are there any others?”

  “There were,” Seelios said as he looked down. “But they didn’t make it.”

  “Where?” Raphael asked as he twisted his head, looking about. “I see no bodies.”

  Seelios raised a finger and pointed to the forest. Raphael turned to Mirabelle with an expectant look, one single eyebrow raised.

  Mirabelle raised her open palms upward, cupped next to each other, and a soft glow began to emanate from them. A gentle wisp of light gathered into a ball that floated above her hands, no brighter than a coal ember. The wisp hovered over their heads for a moment, then drifted off, illuminating the trunks and leaves of the forest as it swept across the tree line. The light vanished when it disappeared into the caravan tunnel created by the earthen stag.

  Seelios watched Mirabelle, who closed her eyes and looked as if she was in deep focus. Several moments passed, then her face grimaced with pain and sorrow. “Such unwonted destruction. There is a pit that sinks a great distance. What Seelios says is true. Many people died here, including Gregory.”

  She opened her eyes and took several deep breaths, as if regaining her composure.

  “The God of Earth has turned, then?” Raphael asked.

  Mirabelle shook her head. “It’s unclear. We need to return to Paloise right away.”

  Raphael turned to the soldiers and raised his pike, waggling it in the air. Three knights rode over, trailing an unmanned horse with them.

  “Can you ride?” Raphael asked Seelios.

  Seelios nodded. “In my childhood I often rode a donkey and—”

  Raphael scoffed at him with disbelief and disgust. “Donkey?” He looked to the horse, then to Seelios. “Does that look like a donkey to you?”

  “No, I was just saying—”

  Raphael waved a dismissive hand and turned to Mirabelle. “Are we really bothering with him? His intelligence is questionable.”

  Mirabelle frowned at Raphael. “Don’t be harsh.” She turned to Seelios. “It’s fine if you aren’t familiar with horses, it’ll be a short trip.”

  Seelios decided not to push the issue further and went to the empty horse, hooked his leg in the stirrups, and swung onto the saddle. He knew the distance from Alnerwick to Paloise was several days of riding. Maybe the concept of a short trip was different to a Disciple of Light.

  Two soldiers helped Raphael into his saddle. The look on his face seemed as if he didn’t enjoy the prospect of hugging another man to stay secure. In fairness, being a powerful disciple seemed to command a certain level of stature that didn’t quite match the visual of his feebleness.

  Mirabelle motioned for Seelios to come beside her. They started riding together toward the main guard and the others fell behind them. The larger group of knights split and let Seelios and the disciples through. They rolled around and fell in line behind.

  Seelios leaned back in his saddle as his horse charged down the slope of a hill. At the bottom, he saw a sea of torchlights so vast it could’ve been a projection of the night sky. Another army lay waiting, much larger than the cohort that found Seelios.

  “I didn’t know Paloise had so many soldiers,” Seelios said to Mirabelle.

  “There had been word of the destruction of Fembleton and Alnerwick,” she said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “We came as soon as we could, but the message took several days to reach us.”

  “We’re close, then?” Seelios asked, surprised.

  “No, but we have the means to travel great distances if need be, as you are aware.”

  The army of knights at the bottom of the hill also bore pikes and other weapons such as crossbows, battle-axes, and war hammers. Scattered throughout their massive formation were several large supply wagons.

  Mirabelle took the lead in front of Seelios and the knights parted for them as they galloped toward a large carriage covered in thick metal armor. The thing must have weighed a ton, which explained the four enormous horses that were hitched to its front.

  Mirabelle stopped her horse and climbed down. Seelios did the same and the two of them waited for Raphael as knights ran to help him down from his horse. He waved them away and grabbed the knight’s pike again, hobbling over to where Mirabelle and Seelios stood. The three of them walked around to the back of the armored carriage where a guard stood watch. He straightened when Mirabelle came into his view and opened a heavy door that squealed on iron hinges. Mirabelle lifted herself up into the carriage. Raphael followed with the help of the guard.

  Seelios stood outside, looking at the lantern glow that came through the door. He turned and found a row of soldiers surrounding him. The door guard made a terse gesture for Seelios to go inside. It was beginning to feel like he was no longer being rescued, but being captured.

  Seelios pursed his lips and forced a smile, then lifted himself into the carriage doorway. The inside walls were lined with plush velvet cushioning adorned with gold fastenings. The ceiling had small, dangling lanterns that were chained together with strands of crystals.

  Raphael settled onto a thick cushion, wincing in pain as he bent his legs into a cross-legged position. Mirabelle was seated in similar fashion, leaning down toward another man who was lying on a bed, draped in a thick quilt decorated with an intricate patterned weave of gold and silver.

  “Seelios, come here,” Mirabelle said as she patted a cushion next to her.

  Seelios stepped into the carriage and the door slammed shut behind him with a metallic clang, followed by the click of a bolt locking into place. Grasping his hands over his pockets, he felt for the teleportation totem, then realized Mirabelle had it.

  “We know what this might seem like. There must be certain precautions,” Mirabelle said. “Now, please, sit with us.”

  Seelios looked from Mirabelle to Raphael, who looked as if he were growing more impatient by the moment. The man lying in the bed watched Seelios intently. He was a man who looked to be in his thirties with darker skin, short black hair, and a small goatee. His silver eyes blazed at Seelios from across the carriage.

  At least three disciples had ridden from Paloise to investigate something with a whole army at their back. Perhaps a war truly was coming.

  Seelios strode across the wood planks of the carriage floor to the cushion beside Mirabelle. He settled down cross-legged like the others.

  “Come now, let’s get on with it,” Raphael said, his impatience seeming to spill over to anger.

  Mirabelle gave a gentle smile. “For a Disciple of Light you lack a surprising amount of tolerance.”

  Raphael narrowed his eyes. “There is much work to do at the temple.” He turned to the disciple lying in the bed. “On with it, Michael.”

  The dark skinned man sat up from his pillow and looked into Seelios’s eyes. “So this is the boy,” he said, looking him up and down with a furrowed brow. “Such fragility.”

  Seelios looked down and noticed that Michael was missing his left hand, a smooth stump of skin in its place. If the disciples had the power to heal it was a wonder why they didn’t use it on themselves. Seelios felt shame at the insensitivity of the thought and looked up from Michael’s arm.

  “Will we be riding the rest of the way to Paloise in this?” Seelios asked.

  None of them answered. They looked at him with calculating glances.

  Mirabelle turned to Michael. “Can you do it with all four of us? Even after the whole army?”

  Michael scrunched his face slightly, deep in concentration. “Yes,” he said after a moment.

  Mirabelle reached out and grabbed Seelios’s reluctant hand. “Worry not, we mean you no harm,” s
he said. She pulled his hand over and joined with Michael’s. Raphael leaned over from his cushion and placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

  A familiar etching of runes began to glow from the inside Michael’s robes, so bright that they shone through like it was made of a sheer material. He looked up at Seelios with a smile. “You are familiar with teleportation totems?”

  Seelios nodded.

  “Then let us go.”

  Everything disappeared in a flood of light, and Seelios felt the floor beneath him disappear.

  Seelios had used his own teleportation totem several times, some instances to travel long distances and some to travel short. Just when he thought he was getting used to the sensation, he’d been caught by overwhelming vertigo as he tumbled through space in a vacuum of light. The feeling of being a passenger in teleportation was entirely different. The closest sensation he could relate it to was free-falling through the air with no indication when the landing would come. It was no wonder all of the villagers were so disoriented when he took them back to Alnerwick.

  A smooth, white stone floor faded into view. There was no fall, no harsh landing, just the gentle appearance of ground beneath him. Seelios found himself resting on his hands and knees, trying to still the spinning of his head. He slowly lifted his eyes to take in his surroundings. The room was a small, yet cozy bedroom fit for someone of noble birth. A large canopied bed lay in the center with swirling vines and flowers carved into the wood. Fine mahogany furniture lined the stone wall, including an open wardrobe containing a suite of fine robes, shirts, pants, and other articles of clothing. Iron sconces held lit torches that cast a warm light about the room.

  Seelios continued to admire the decor when his drifting gaze found the disciples watching him with calculating stares. Mirabelle and Raphael stood behind Michael, who was seated in a chair that sat atop a platform of wheels.

  “Where am I?” Seelios asked.

  Mirabelle gestured to a tall, open window. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

  Seelios got to his feet and walked to the wall. The vast moon hung just above the horizon, the largest he’d ever seen. It radiated with a crisp blue aura so beautiful that it pulled at Seelios’s heart, shining over a layer of wispy white clouds. He leaned out the window and the chilly night air whipped over his golden hair. The stone wall stretched out below him until it disappeared into a distant fog. A small gap in the drifting clouds revealed a silver line of water snaking through hills and forest. The Brascella River, one of the great life lines of Inf, reduced to a mere stitching in the cloth of the earth.

  He felt his vertigo coming back and stepped away from the window. He looked at the disciples. “This is Paloise?”

  “Yes,” Mirabelle said. “We are in a room nearly at the top of Ophanim’s Grand Temple, built in honor of the God of Light and home to the disciples.”

  Seelios whispered to himself, “I’m finally here.” He turned to Mirabelle. “I thought I’d imagined this tower. I saw it, glowing in the distance.”

  Raphael chuckled. “Impossible. No one can see this tower.”

  “No one except us,” Mirabelle said with a smile, wagging a finger at Raphael.

  Raphael snorted and looked away, annoyed.

  “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a long day,” Michael said. “I’m sorry to say, but we will be needing your remaining artifacts.” He held out an open palm.

  Seelios was expecting this at some point, surprised they didn’t ask before. Some part of him still hoped that they’d forget, he already felt naked without the teleportation totem. He pulled the inert rejuvenation stone from his pocket and dropped it into Michael’s hand.

  Michael cleared his throat. “I believe you’re forgetting one.”

  Seelios frowned in concentration as he thought. “No, I gave you all—” He looked down at the ring on his hand, then back up to Michael with eyes wide. “You can’t mean this. It was a gift from my father. Please, be reasonable.”

  Michael gave an impatient look and beckoned with the fingers of his still outstretched palm.

  Seelios slid off the ring and gave it a longing look as he gave it to Michael. The disciple retracted his hand and gave a solemn nod to the other disciples by his side. Mirabelle shuffled behind his chair and pushed it to the door. Raphael followed, clicking a gnarled wooden cane as he hobbled.

  “What is tomorrow?” Seelios asked.

  “The beginning of your deliberations,” Michael said over his shoulder, just before the door pulled shut.

  Seelios looked around the room. It might have all the comforts that Paloise had to offer, but it was clear that he was in nothing more than a beautiful prison.

  19

  Despite being imprisoned in a fortified tower, Seelios experienced luxuries he’d never dreamed of. The canopied bed was the more comfortable than anything Fembleton had to offer. A young hand maiden visited his room in the morning, leading him to a room down the hall that had a large tub filled with steaming bath water. Soaking in clean water scented with hints of lilac, he could’ve spent the entire day lounging in that tub. The meals had sweet fruits, savory meats, and the most delectable bread that he’d ever tasted.

  Even with the distraction of such extravagance, thoughts of suffering intruded his mind. The townsfolk of Alnerwick, Garrick, Emeline, Gregory; they were all brought into harm’s way because of Seelios. For the past several days Seelios thought the only thing that mattered was to safely get to Paloise. Now that he was there, he realized there was no satisfaction to be had. There was no sense that he’d done the right thing, only destruction and death seemed to travel in his wake.

  A whole day passed of him sitting in his room, alone except for the occasional visit of the hand maiden. She was no help when he asked questions about why he was being kept or when the disciples would come back. The next morning Seelios watched the sunrise come up over tiny forested hills and a layer of clouds that stretched into the horizon. Unable to sleep the entire night, he had spent countless hours perched at that window, gazing across the stratosphere.

  A jingling noise came from the other side of the wall as someone fumbled for a key before jamming it into the door. A heavy bolt slid to the side and the door creaked open. A large woman wearing the disciple’s white robes filled the entire frame. Her wide face held an intimidating gaze, framed with short brown hair. Her stout figure made her look like she could wrestle a bull. She walked in, followed by two more white robed figures. Seelios immediately recognized the hunched stature and smiling facade of Mirabelle. The other was a man who looked to be no older than his late twenties. He had long black hair that concealed part of a pale face and was younger than any other disciple Seelios had seen. He wondered how many disciples there actually were.

  “I hope you’ve found your quarters comfortable,” Mirabelle said with a wrinkled smile. “This is Anysia.” She gestured to the large woman standing beside her. “And this is Adriel.” Mirabelle pointed to the skinny black haired man, who seemed to be shifting his gaze to look anywhere except Seelios’s eyes.

  “This,” Anysia looked Seelios up and down, “is the boy you spoke of?” She turned to Mirabelle as she inflected the end of her question.

  Mirabelle nodded, continuing to look at Seelios. “It is. He has already proven to have some knowledge of mana and runic artifacts. He also claims to have pierced the illusion.”

  Anysia raised her eyebrow, then looked at Adriel. “In the centuries I’ve been a disciple, never has this tower been revealed. Is this your responsibility or Alodia’s?”

  Adriel gave a deep sigh and whipped his black hair out of his face. “The illusion has remained.”

  “Seelios didn’t see it by chance,” Mirabelle said. “I believe he’s achieved a mastery over his truth ring.”

  Anysia snorted a breath and shook her head. “Such a thing isn’t possible.” She curled her lip. “Taught to him by someone who didn’t even have that kind of mastery himself. Gregory wouldn’t be able to show the boy
this.” She turned to Seelios. “And you say you witnessed his death?”

  Seelios lowered his head. “Yes.”

  “How did he die?”

  Seelios shifted his feet and looked back up at the disciples. “The God of Earth attacked us. Gregory died saving me.”

  Adriel’s head snapped in Seelios’s direction, black hair swirling through the air. Intensity blazed in his silver eyes. “A god would never do such a thing.”

  “I . . . I thought so too, but that wasn’t the first time he attacked. The first was Fembleton, my hometown, then Alnerwick,” Seelios said.

  Anysia narrowed her eyes. “The more you talk, the less makes sense. The God of Earth would never stray so far from his own realm. Your lies are obvious.”

  Seelios felt a pang of annoyance. “I’m telling the truth. Why would I lie about that?”

  Anysia brought her hand up, revealing a silver ring encrusted with gems. Runes lit up across its surface and shone with yellow light.

  “His aura isn’t pure,” Anysia said, staring at Seelios with glowing eyes.

  “He can learn. He’s endured much hardship. His heart needs time to heal,” Mirabelle said.

  “Don’t be so quick to trust him,” Anysia said, lowering her hand. Light faded from her eyes and her cold silver eyes remained on Seelios. “How is it you survived two attacks from the God of Earth?”

  “Three, actually. Gregory protected me. We fled, but he discovered us in Alnerwick,” Seelios said. “We were trying to come to Paloise. Gregory said it was important that I made it, so I could meet all of you.”

  “The god then found you and your caravan in the forest in the middle of the night?” Anysia asked.

  “Not exactly. The god was actually leading us here.” Seelios drifted off to a whisper with his last word, knowing how the story must’ve sounded.

  Anysia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Did I hear you correctly?”

  “W—wait, allow me to explain. Gameus, he said I’m important for something. That there’s a war coming and I—”

  Anysia held up a hand, her face contorted into fury. “Cease your yammering. It has become clear that you spin lies at your convenience.” She turned, shaking her head with a look of disgust, and walked out of the room. Mirabelle looked at Seelios for a moment, studying him with a calculating expression, before following Anysia.