Sera looked up. There was someone on the parapet.
"Who approaches?" the watchman called out.
"Jerad of the Third Corridor, son of Shegarth, descendant of Antheia."
The guard moved along the platform and leaned through the crenel for a definitive look. He hailed Jerad with the same formal greeting used by the previous two guards. "Noble Jerad! It is due time you graced the First Corridor again. We wagered that you might not return."
The guard’s gaze wandered to Sera.
Jerad’s arm extended backwards. He wrapped it in a protective embrace around her back. "It is foolish to underestimate the power of allegiance. Advance your courier to my Corridor to announce my return."
The watchman returned his gaze to Jerad and nodded. He gave a shout to the area behind him, and then waved two red flags in purposeful movements to signal his message. Within moments a courser in full gallop sprang past, carrying the flag of the First Corridor. He held it high as he rode by, welcoming them.
Sera and Jerad pressed on, Dex at a slow, easy pace. The dirt road gave way to a tightly packed, cobblestone lane. The rhythmic sound of Dex’s hooves returned as they moved along. By three quarter set they reached an arcade and the tower of the Second Corridor. They were received once again with a formal salutation from a guard in a turret, who informed them that they had been notified by the First Corridor and sent yet another courier ahead.
Full set was almost upon them. Jerad coaxed Dex to a fixed trot, determine to reach the Third Corridor before the luna.
Sera heard the sound of rumbling water. A high vertical waterfall came into view. It was preceded by the crashing rapids rushing toward the brink. A heavy mist drifted through the air, created by the plummeting torrents where it hit the rocks below. Sera turned her face toward the moist coolness of the spray, drawing in the damp, thick aroma of abundantly flowing water.
Here, a great system of channels constructed on high stone arches caught her attention. It was a facsimile of an ancient aqueduct construction that stretched from the waters and extended across the terrain. Sera recognized the structure. Her previous thoughts were confirmed. They had running water.
Jerad and Sera passed the final tower. Sera knew their journey was near to ending by the blue flag angled with the yellow bar and garnished with the lavender bloom. Jerad led Dex around the column, after being hailed by yet another guard, to a path which descended to a great stone fortress. The entire structure was mighty and so immovably reinforced, it must have taken years to build. The walls were over thirty feet high. It encompassed what seemed to be a vast amount of territory. The lateral wall extended far back, meeting a tapestry of craggy mountains that scaled the horizon. The forewall traversed setway, ending at a stout turret. A gatehouse was located midway along this wall. At the juncture of both walls and closer to them, there was yet another turret.
Three men appeared at the top of the first watchtower, two of them blasting a series of tones through cornets. The gatehouse doors swung open, and the arriving travelers passed through to the inner core of the stronghold. The couriers of the First and Second Corridors stood by. Villagers were excitedly gathering. With salutations and cheers, Jerad was welcomed home.
They entered onto a roadway, a stone path of flat, irregularly shaped, tan and gray pavers. It led to a tidy main square where the agora, or marketplace, was still bustling. There were non-collapsible, open air stalls intermixed with larger, more spatial infrastructures, some of wood, some of stone, but of humble design. It was the central hub of commerce, where citizens were busy buying, selling and trading a range of basic needs and luxuries. After spending days in the solitude of deserted terrain, the sights, smells and sounds penetrating the air stimulated Sera’s senses anew.
There were baskets replete with scented flowers, and clothiers displaying fine cloth and finished garments. The aroma of apples and maple wafted through the air along with the smell of fresh baked bread and roasting meats. One section appeared dedicated to specialty shops where craftsmen were producing an amazing range of arts and crafts, including tapestries, paintings and sculptures, hand painted pottery and tablewares, and an array of exquisitely fashioned jewelry. The smell of heated metal drew Sera’s attention to the blacksmiths pounding out horseshoes, as well as shields, swords and daggers being forged by master weaponeers.
There were weapons everywhere, highly visible, prominently displayed for purchase or sheathed in belts worn by citizens.
As they negotiated the path, all activity ceased. The citizens pushed toward the street to catch a glimpse of their returning Noble. It was clear that Jerad indeed held a position of leadership in his Corridor, evident by the number of fisted hands and bows of respect he received from the throng that gathered. There was no doubt that all rejoiced in Jerad’s return.
Sera was keenly aware that she was an oddity to them. Curious stares repeatedly fell upon her, followed by much whispering. Her clothing was peculiar and surely like nothing they had seen before. It was dirty and torn, and she herself most certainly looked a wreck with her bruised and brush burned skin. If her hands had been bound, the onlookers would likely assume she was his prisoner. She was sure they were questioning her association with their Noble.
Sera’s body lurched into an involuntary tremble. Jerad, aware of her discomfort, reached back, pried one of her hands from the cantle she was holding with a death grip, and pulled her arm around to his chest. He placed his arm over hers, fisted his palm over the back of her hand and placed it over his heart, holding it steady there. She was both amazed and touched at his willingness to display such public affection, even though it also served to increase the crowd’s mutterings.
Sera scanned the crowd. The men were mostly clad in khaki or black trousers, tucked into various styled ankle or calf length boots. Some of the footwear had buckles and were fashioned with stiff looking leather. Others wore boots that laced and appeared to be made of a more pliable suede material. On top, the men donned plain tunic style vestments or white pleated gauze shirts with ballooning sleeves, many with drab colored doublets or hip-length vests over them. Some wore the vests alone, leaving their arms bare. To Sera’s surprise, a good number of women dressed in trousers. Many also carried swords. Their fashions however, were somewhat more decorative--lace or beaded bodices with or without under blouses worn with pants or long skirts. Some wore plain chemise coverings with straight line or kerchief hems. Sera assumed that these people were the commoners of the Corridor. Her assumption was validated by their frequent parting to allow more colorfully clad, elaborately trimmed and crested Nobles to push their way to the front of the crowd.
The eclectic fashions worn by these people were a mix of contemporary dress with a more antiquated style and surprisingly more liberal than Sera had expected. None of the styles nearly resembled what Sera wore, however.
Sera noticed something else unusual. The streets were lined with lampposts, topped with lantern enclosures. A warm glow was emerging from them as the rise was beginning to settle. The light being emitted was not of flames, but from small cone shaped orbs, rounded at the top instead of pointed. They sat in the base of the lanterns, and appeared to be electrically powered.
"You have electricity here?" She peered around to look up at Jerad.
He gave her a confused expression.
"The lamps," Sera rephrased. "How are they powered?"
"Ah," Jerad responded with understanding. "They begin to glow as the air cools, usually when the sky grows dark."
When she looked at him inquisitively, he explained that the glimmer orbs, made by artisans skilled in glass blowing, contained the fluid from the bulb of the crukis flower. The flower, which grows along the mountainsides, survives by adapting its own temperature. During the luna, when the skies grow dark and the air becomes cooler, the liquid in the bulb thickens and turns opaque. It then emits a light that warms the flower. During the rise, the liquid thins and becomes clear, and the glow diminishes. There were two va
rieties of these plants, the white crukis, which cast a bright light and the blue crukis, which had a dimmer illumination.
"The fluid is like acid on the skin. It should never be touched except with a metal scoop." Jerad warned her. "Some have unfortunately found this out the wrong way."
"How long do they last?"
"A good orb will last about one rise cycle."--one month.
As they continued to pass through the main thoroughfare, Sera studied the orbs, watching the white lights brighten as the sky deepened. The noises of the busy marketplace were beginning to fade as they left the agora behind.
Sera relaxed against Jerad’s back as she absorbed the beauty and peacefulness of the countryside. Various arteries extended from the primary road to taper into narrow paths. Some stretched far into the hillside where small, one story stone dwellings, were cradled within a mountainous backdrop. White or blue lights were glowing from the windows of many homes.
The tranquility surrounding them was interrupted by the sound of approaching horses. Several Nobles on horseback, both male and female appeared on the path. They strode up alongside Dex and slowed their pace.
One of the horsemen nearside to them spoke. "You bring victory to the Zone, Jerad?"
"Hmn," Jerad nodded. "Victory, the First Kingdom and much more, Corde."
Corde’s gaze, as well as that of the others, fell to where Jerad held Sera’s hand against him. Embarrassed, Sera attempted to pull her hand away, but Jerad tightened his fist around it to hold it in place.
"You display a blatant endearment to the woman. She is not a captive?"
"Not a captive."
"What of Sondra?" the women on Dex’s farside questioned as she gave Sera a thorough looking over.
Jerad released an aggravated sound. "Thalia, you and the whole Corridor have known for many term cycles exactly what my intentions toward Sondra are."
He swung his head back in an irritated manner. "In fact, the whole blazon Zone knows of my intentions toward her!"
Thalia harrumphed in response but gave no other clue as to whether it mattered.
Jerad tossed a glance at a young girl riding just behind Thalia and motioned for her to come alongside Dex. She looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen term cycles. As she moved closer, Jerad reached a hand toward her. He stroked her hair and bent to kiss her forehead.
"You fair well, Phoebe?"
His brotherly affections toward her prompted Sera to take note of the honey colored hair and dark eyes that were nearly identical to Jerad’s coloring, and just as strikingly stunning, in her female form. She was truly a beauty even in her youthful presence and showed every indication that she would blossom into a woman of tremendous loveliness.
"Ride ahead little sweet," Jerad instructed her. "Make ready for the Rite of the Cloak and the Vows of Permanence."
The girl glanced back at Sera, smiled shyly, and then nodded to her brother. Without a word she tugged at the reins and her horse galloped away from them. They disappeared down the crukis lit path.
Mekal, a Noble from the bloodline of Daedalus, First Corridor of the Eighth Zone, and a trusted friend of Jerad’s, turned his horse to block the roadway. The charger reared and whinnied. Sera studied the crest at the upper left side of his tunic, a blue feather, pierced with a gold ring.
"You intend then, to create a ruckus, Jerad?"
"Is there any other way for this to be done?"
Mekal directed his horse to the farside of Dex. As they passed, his raised palm met Jerad’s in a strong clasp that yielded to a knuckle to knuckle strike with fists—a cordial greeting between friends.
"She’s a bit beaten already, would you say not?" Mekal flashed a cocky grin as his eyes drifted to Sera. "Are you responsible for that?"
Sera moved her free hand to the scrapes along her face. In her shabby condition she was not making a very grand impression.
Jerad grabbed the front of Mekal’s shirt and bodily pulled him close. "What I am responsible for is none of your concern." Then he whispered in Mekal’s ear, carefully lowering his voice to keep the others from hearing.
"I do not question the Edict of Oneroi. I bring the Ptino asteri."
Mekal pulled back. Once again his gaze fell to Sera. He leaned in closer, tilted his head and studied her quizzically. He furled his brow. His eyes, deep orbs of brown, roamed her person, and then grew distant as he searched his inner thoughts, seeking some buried truth. He fixated on her face again with a prolonged consideration.
Her eyes are golden.
Sera watched the knight examine her. He was a handsome man with wavy auburn hair and a moustache to match. His smile reached clear to his eyes. She liked him immediately, sensing a friendly demeanor. Something hitched in Sera’s brain, a feeling of unconditional trust.
But why was he staring at her like that?
Sera sank against Jerad’s back. She did not fear the warrior Mekal, but being the center of attention was very discomforting.
Mekal watched the woman shrink away from his scrutiny. He had not meant to make her feel ill at ease. The warrior drew back and jerked his head to shake off his reverie. He returned his attention to Jerad.
Jerad regarded Mekal’s inspection of Sera with suspicion, but disregarded his interest in her as simple curiosity.
"You are certain, Jerad?" Mekal questioned.
"As sure as the oath I vowed to keep at my mother’s death."
Mekal laughed, a throaty deep bellow. He turned his horse about. "So you say the First Kingdom is now yours?"
"Mine whenever I wish to take it, prize of the challenge."
Mekal crooked an eyebrow. "And how did you manage that?"
Jerad waved his hand nonchalantly. "It was not too difficult, I wagered the spectrocorde."
Only Mekal and a few privileged others knew that Jerad, descendant of Antheia, was the Keeper of the Key. A secret he revealed to Zoren while they privately negotiated over the booty of their impending encounter. It was fortunate that the knowledge died with him.
"You are the most toplofty of brood, I swear." Mekal raised a fist. "I do stand with you, Noble Chancellor," he yelled as he sped off in the same direction that Phoebe had gone.
The others followed, leaving Jerad and Sera to travel the path alone.
The sky had grown dusky, giving a murky look to the horizon. Sera observed that the private dwellings were becoming increasingly larger as they moved on. Short, side roads, now opened into cul-de-sacs, containing gardens or fountains centered in the turn-about, where two and three story graystone manors stood. Most had pillared porches that extended the width of the buildings.
"These are the Noble Grandhouses. The clans of lesser Nobles and their bloodline reside within them."
Sera took in the sights with a childlike curiosity. Everywhere she looked, hints of familiarity struck her, but it was as though she was peering into a world of contradictory epochs where culture, fashion and architecture collided.
Then she saw it. They were nearing the most grandeur of structures in the Corridor—the castle. It was massive, with many levels, basking in the glow of hundreds of blue crukis windows set in the roofs of dormered balconies. She was awestruck by its shimmering, transcendental beauty.
The tallest structure was a cylindrical tower with a conical roof that jutted skyward from somewhere in the castle’s recess. There were also several smaller, similar towers at the various corners of the castle walls, all reflecting a near topaz blue from the glint of their windows. At the top, a number of sentries paced along the parados. As Jerad approached, they stopped to hail their greetings to him.
Jerad turned to the path that led directly to the front of the castle. The most prominent feature in the facade was the grand entranceway. It was a fore building with an archivolt of roses in base relief that curved over glistening white, stone steps, longer at the bottom than top. The walls around it were constructed of the same ashlar stone except it cast a slightly grayish hue. It was a magnificent creation, re
flecting its natural colors under the glow of white crukis lamps positioned on its columns.
"How many people live here?"
"Perhaps a thousand live in the Greathouse."
"One thousand?" The castle was as large as a small town.
"You live here, Jerad?"
"We live here, Sera." He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
Sera opened her mouth to protest but snapped it shut. After all, she really had no place else to go. She might enjoy a bit of comfort during her stay here.
Jerad did not halt at the castle’s entrance. He turned left and rounded the corner. The faint sound of a gong reached Sera’s ears and increased in volume as they moved closer. She leaned to one side and saw a large number of people entering a tall, wooden, rectangular building. She and Jerad were heading in the same direction.
"It seems very peaceful here. Your people seem friendly."
"Do not be deceived by their civility. They can be as blood hungry and outraged as any berserk warrior, when it is fitting."
Sera gasped as Jerad reached around and pulled her into his lap in one sweeping motion, her feet dangling to one side of Dex. He paused and drew a deep breath.
He seemed worried.
Jerad lifted her chin and lowered his lips to hers. It was an affectionate and slowly rendered, closed mouth kiss. It spoke volumes of tenderness and caring.
A feeling of anxiety filled Sera. Something in the way he held her was frightening. When he raised his head to the skies, his words intensified her fears.
"By the utterance of the Oneroi, please do not let me have been mistaken."
Jerad was about to place Sera in danger, and it would be the only time he would ever refuse to safeguard her.
The Third Corridor Page 7
