Evrouin’s expression darkened. He wasn’t wearing a sword or any other weapons that Gavin could see, but the man didn’t back down. Evrouin’s grit and determination was one thing Gavin admired about the man, even if it often caused him more headache than it was probably worth. Indeed, Evrouin straightened and took a step closer to Gavin, jaw hardening into a firm line. He stood almost a head taller than Gavin, but Gavin remained where he was, schooling his expression. Gavin knew coming into this that the confrontation between the two of them would happen sooner or later. It was not something he could afford to lose.
“I won’t lie to children.”
Gavin ignored the irony of that remark. “This is not the place for this conversation. You said I was the leader of the Rahuli people. Act like it. You can lose this charade of being tough and hard to the core. I saw you with the boys just now. You care about our people almost as much as I do, even if the way you express it doesn’t always agree with how I’d do it. I need to address Brisson within the hour and when I talk to him, I need your support and allegiance.”
Evrouin’s breathing quickened and Gavin heard the rush of air through the man’s flaring nostrils with each breath.
“Come with me,” Evrouin said, turning and walking down a side street without waiting for Gavin to reply.
Gavin followed him for a few long strides and then caught up with the man so they were walking side by side—a feat just barely possible due to the width of the side street they followed. After a few long moments of silent walking, the buildings fell away and the street ended at the edge of a cliff not far away from the spot where Samsin’s sentence was carried out. Gavin could just make out the black stone marking the memorial to Nikanor in the distance.
Evrouin turned after they’d walked a dozen paces from the nearest building, but Gavin held up a hand to stop him before he could speak.
“Evrouin,” Gavin said. “We’re basically prisoners here. Brisson’s people are either afraid or suspicious of us. The only way we can avoid this is by becoming so valuable to them that they can’t do without us. For that, I need your help.”
The scowl on Evrouin’s lips slipped a little at the edges. “What with? If it’s scaring young boys with your devilish mystic powers, you can forget about my help.”
Gavin kept his expression calm, knowing that Evrouin was baiting him. He didn’t take it. He’d learned a lot from both Khari and his grandmother about leadership—at least on a small scale—and knew which route he should take in this conversation.
“With a plan that will get us to the point where they rely on us,” Gavin said. “One where people need to see our power and our strength. And you’re one of the strongest men I know.” The scowl slipped even further, and a wrinkle of curiosity appeared on Evrouin’s brow.
“I’m listening.” Evrouin said.
Gavin smiled on the inside, recognizing that he had Evrouin hooked. Sometimes a well-placed compliment—if given sincerely, at least—was enough to turn the course of a conversation. The smile slipped a little when he thought of having to then convince Brisson of his intended plan, but he still had some time to figure that out.
Chapter 9: Purple Tears
“Knowledge is a rather straightforward choice. It speaks to the gathering of information and facts and a general erudition. While it may seem innocuous, it is a simple fact of life that knowledge offers power and insight into that which one knows most about.”
—From the Discourses on Knowledge, Volume 17, Year 1171
Elyana looked down at her wrinkled hands. Lhaurel knew she was dreaming, but like her other dreams about Elyana, it was as if they weren’t dreams at all, but actual memories.
This one was something even more than that, though. This time, Lhaurel could feel what Elyana felt and even hear some of her thoughts. It was as if she was simultaneously Elyana and herself at once.
How long has it been since Beryl killed my Sister?
Elyana’s thoughts resounded in Lhaurel’s mind like the haunting echo from down a long, dark tunnel.
The lush greenery of the Sharani Arena had started to fade, burned by almost a year of pitched battles between the Rahuli slaves and the Orinai warriors. Her people.
No!
Elyana’s hands clenched into fists on the table before her. She couldn’t think like that. There was simply us and the Enemy. The Orinai were the Enemy. She had chosen a side.
Elyana got to her feet and walked over to the dim lamp on the table near her. The wick within was trimmed low, the light only a dim reminder of a solitary flame. It flickered in the slight breeze that blew through the corridors, bringing with it the soft chill of looming winter. Elyana turned the lamp’s little knob and light flooded the small room as the flame swelled.
A small bed rested to one side, the covers strewn in a lumpy pile among some discarded clothes. Next to it lay several small wooden shelves piled high with scrolls and various pieces of parchment, among other odds and ends. A large glass container full of water rested on top of one of the shelves. Something moved within it, but that area was still cast in shadows and Lhaurel was unable to tell what it was. A stack of wood rested along one wall and a fireplace sat in a corner, though the coals were cool in the hearth.
Elyana’s gaze shifted from item to item slowly, as if reluctant to move on, then started over once again when she’d made a complete circuit of the room. After another complete investigation of the room, Elyana let out a long sigh and strode toward the door. She marched into the unlit corridor beyond.
After what seemed like an eternity wandering through the darkness, Lhaurel realized where they were headed. The lake beneath the Roterralar Warren. At some point, Elyana found a lantern and lit it before striding through the large opening into the cavern within. Light glinted off the water and Lhaurel sensed Elyana’s tension ease away.
The cavern looked much the same as Lhaurel remembered, but with one notable exception. There were no cubby holes carved into the rock of the far wall, only a long, thin path of stone through the center of the lake. Elyana walked out to the middle of the path and sat down on the stone, placing the lantern on the floor next to her.
Lhaurel didn’t know how long Elyana sat there, but after a time Lhaurel noticed a small sound back from the entrance just as Elyana’s gaze turned in that direction. Beryl, the young version of him, walked toward her. He looked different now, taller and broader of shoulder, with a bearing that he hadn’t had before. He looked . . . regal. His clothes were neat, clean, and form fitting, though he wore a thick brown cloak over them. A greatsword hung at his belt, a short dagger balancing out the other side.
“Beryl,” Elyana said with a small nod. Her voice echoed faintly inside the chamber.
“They call me Eldriean now.”
“I thought you didn’t like that name.”
“It seemed most appropriate.” Beryl sat down next to Elyana, sword scraping the stone. When Elyana didn’t say anything else, Beryl continued. “I thought I would find you here.”
Elyana spread her hands in a vague gesture that took in the lake and cavern both. “This is the only place I find peace. There is a battle going on inside me as well as without. The Rahuli revile and despise me, the Orinai name me a traitor. There is no place for me but here.”
Beryl snorted. “You don’t give them much reason to do anything but hate you, Elyana. You’re the embodiment of what they’re fighting. You’re a Sister.”
“I think that’s exactly what I just said.”
Beryl shifted and turned to look at Elyana, reaching out and taking one of her hands in his. “You miss my point. I am an Earth Ward. I am every bit a representation of what they hate about the Empire as you are. But they’ve seen me fighting for them. They’ve seen that I’m on their side. There’s still others, like Serthim, who don’t trust me, but the majority accept me for who I am.”
“And who are you?”
“Their leader.”
Elyana laughed, the sound overlapping ov
er itself as the echo returned. “Blacksmith to ruler in a few short months? This conversation is getting far too serious. Where’s the banter and meaningless fluff so common to conversations such as ours?”
“Stranger things have happened,” Beryl said, ignoring Elyana’s attempt at steering the conversation in another direction. “Just look at you. Not using your powers has left you haggard and weak, I can tell. There’s only so much you can do.”
Elyana looked down at her free hand, the other still clasped in Beryl’s much larger, blockier ones. In the dimness of the cavern, the wrinkles looked far deeper and more pronounced than they had in her room.
“What good am I without my magic? The Rahuli keep me from the battles. They’re afraid of what I’ll do around that much blood.”
“For good reason,” Beryl interjected. “That amount of power is perverse. It taints you and turns you into the twisted devil that is Sellia and the others.”
Elyana stiffened. “You shouldn’t say her name.”
Beryl shrugged, still holding Elyana’s hand. “What is she going to do to me now that she wasn’t going to do already? I killed a Sister. I’m sure her blackened heart would like nothing better than to kill me slowly. So what if it takes an hour or two longer to die as punishment for saying her name.”
“She’ll kill us all one day.” Elyana looked down at the hand Beryl held in his own. Several small blemishes shone there. “Not using my powers is slowly killing me, Beryl. Every day I find a new blemish, a new way my body shows the cost of not using my power. I’m aging. I may die on my own well before Sellia gets the chance.”
“There are other things you can do, Elyana,” Beryl said. “Other ways you can show the Rahuli that you’re on their side.”
“Allowing myself to die by following their whims isn’t enough?”
Beryl was silent for a long moment. Lhaurel found herself wondering if he actually had an answer or if he was merely trying to find something to say.
“You can tell them of the Schema and the true Path. You can explain to them the truth behind the religion which oppressed them.”
“Are you mad?” Elyana hissed, jerking her hand out of his.
“Think about it,” Beryl said quickly. “Most of the Rahuli have been here for centuries. The majority don’t even know what it’s like to live among the Orinai or worship the Sisters at all. They simply fear them. They have no reason to honor you when you do not honor them.”
Elyana stood up and turned away from Beryl, though she didn’t walk away.
“There are dozens of lesser mystics among this people. They all have the potential to become something more, to move up to a higher Iteration, though they don’t even know how or what they may become. None of them do. Your Sisters keep that knowledge from them. They don’t even realize the potential hidden within them.”
“That’s blasphemy, Beryl. Blasphemy.”
“I’m living proof that it isn’t. I dream things. I know who I once was and where I may yet go.”
“You tread dangerous ground. You don’t understand what you’re asking of me. I will not betray the foundation of a religion that has lasted thousands of years. I will not betray the Progressions.”
“The Progressions are pure and true. The Path is sure. The religion the Sisters preach is not. You showed me this, Elyana. Show the Rahuli.”
“I will not.” Elyana looked down at her hands and felt a teardrop slip from her chin and splash onto the splotched skin.
“And that is why they will never trust you.”
* * *
Lhaurel awoke feeling slightly nauseous. Her head throbbed with each thudding beat of her heart. The vividness of the dream left her speechless.
She shuddered, then sucked in a deep, calming breath and sat upright on the bed, disoriented, but forced her body to calm, her racing heart to slow. Dreams weren’t real. Dreams portrayed the fanciful musings of a mind lost to the current reality of the world around them. They weren’t real.
Were they?
The room was dim, lit only by a narrow crack of light filtering in from a rounded window in one of the wooden walls. Lhaurel felt stiff and achy all over. The air felt heavy and smelled of wood, sweat, and salt. She considered getting up and trying to find a lamp, but couldn’t see where one would even be and didn’t want to look like a fool blundering about the darkened room looking for it, even if no one else was around to see. She held her hand up to close to her face for a long moment, studying them for marks like Elyana’s before she really realized what she was doing. She shivered and wrapped trembling hands around her shoulders.
Idiot girl.
Lhaurel forced herself to calm and got to her feet. Disorientation took her for a moment and she felt dizziness threaten to send her to the ground. Then she noticed the whole room was slowly pitching back and forth. Nausea welled up within her, but Lhaurel forced it down with a heavy swallow.
A knock sounded at the door. Lhaurel wondered who it could be, then the handle turned and pale, yellowish light flooded into the room as the door swung open. Talha bustled into the room holding an oddly shaped lantern in one hand, several books clasped beneath the other. Lhaurel squinted against the sudden, blinding light.
“It’s about time you woke up,” Talha said, dropping the books onto a small table bolted to the floor in a corner of the room. “It was hard enough to explain why you missed the Devotional this morning. It would have been inexcusable to miss the evening prayers as well.”
“Devotional?”
“Prayers, child. Guidance along the Progressions proffered by the Sisters to our believers. We have a duty to listen to the prayers of our followers and respond when true Devotion is shown.”
Lhaurel licked her lips and nodded even though she had no idea what Talha had just said. She knew what prayers were and Talha had given her a basic understanding of the Progressions, but she didn’t really understand her part in it yet.
“As you say, Sister.”
“Your Orinai is much improved, child,” Talha said, lips pursed. “Miraculously so, in fact.” There was a note of disbelief in the curiosity.
Lhaurel snapped her mouth shut, only then realizing she’d been speaking the Orinai language. How was she doing that? She tried to speak, but words failed her.
Lhaurel clenched her hands in frustration and confusion, switching to the Rahuli tongue so she could explain.
“This happened before,” Lhaurel said, raising a hand to forestall Talha’s immediate response. “For a few moments I can understand the language perfectly and speak it as if I’d been born to it. Then, all of a sudden, it’s gone.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I don’t know how or why, it just happens.”
Talha narrowed her eyes and fixed Lhaurel with a piercing look. She placed the lamp down on the table next to the books and turned to regard Lhaurel with appraising eyes.
“Have you been having dreams, child?”
Lhaurel licked her lips again and then bit her bottom one before answering. “Dreams?”
“Stop biting your lip,” Talha snapped. “Yes, dreams. Have you been having dreams of Elyana?”
Lhaurel swallowed hard again, but kept her back straight and refused to let herself bite her lower lip again.
Talha took that as a response, nodding once before speaking. “Ah, yes. Good. I did wonder how long it would take for those latent memories to start surfacing. This will speed things up greatly.”
“What are you talking about?” Lhaurel asked. “What do dreams have to do with any of this?”
“Everything, child. Everything,” Talha said. “Perhaps you should sit while I explain.”
Lhaurel allowed herself to fall down on the edge of the bed, suppressing another shiver. Talha went over and shut the door, saying something to someone outside, and then came back to sit on the bed with Lhaurel. Lhaurel shifted uncomfortably at the closeness.
“If you remember, the lives we live now are but a momentary
glimpse in the Progressions our souls follow,” Talha said, her voice soft and clear, speaking in the Rahuli tongue and emphasizing each word as if lecturing a child. “We take bodies and live our short lives in an attempt to uphold the ideals of our chosen Path through existence. The closer we come to those ideals, the further along the Path we are able to walk. When we die, our souls are able to move forward into the next Iteration of itself, a better version, a purer version.”
Lhaurel licked her lips and struggled to comprehend what Talha was saying. Part of her was filled with a deep sense of disbelief. Another part of her recognized the truth in what the Sister was saying as if it had always known it.
“We reincarnate into another body according to the way we acted in this life. We all do. Some stay at the same level of Progression, the same place on the Path, for centuries. Others Progress much more rapidly. Those like us, with the ability to not just walk along the Path, but manipulate it through our magic, enter into true Incarnations.”
Something inside Lhaurel’s mind clicked.
“The Schema,” Lhaurel whispered. “Magnetelorium to Earth Mage to Vulcanist. That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it, this Path?”
Talha turned and gave her a look of such clear surprise—eyes wide, mouth half-open with a slackened jaw, and eyebrows flirting with her hairline—that Lhaurel almost laughed.
“How would you even know those names?” Talha asked.
“There were scrolls hidden in the Sharani Desert, ones that spoke of the Orinai, the Schema, and hinted at the Progressions you mention. I didn’t understand what it meant. Not completely. To be honest, I still don’t fully get it, but that’s what you’re talking about, right?”
“The truth of the Progressions is a closely guarded secret, reserved for those who truly follow the Path.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
Talha’s eyebrows dropped down toward her eyes, matching the corners of her lips as they tugged down into a frown. “Slaves should not know those names or words.”
“I’m not a slave, nor are the Rahuli.” Lhaurel said it a bit more sharply than she’d intended.
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