Aethir

by DeWayne Kunkel

  At the ships prow stood Marcos with Suni at his side. They were looking eastward, watching as the rising sun was painting the sky with broad swatches of gold and orange.

  Casius joined them and nodded in greeting just as the sun broke the horizon in a glorious burst of radiant light. He was taken by surprise when a giant back burst up from the depths. The whale exhaled a geyser of mist before disappearing into the depths.

  Before he could comment four more whales broached the surface. One of the behemoths nearly leapt clear of the waters embrace. With a graceful roll onto its side, it plunged back into the depths in a spray of snow-white foam.

  From aft Casius could hear Captain Shane shouting, but the meaning of his words was lost on the wind.

  “They know you.” Suni commented to Marcos.

  “The leviathans of the deep have long memories.” Marcos responded with a smile.

  “They’re fish,” Casius interjected.

  “They are most certainly not.” Marcos said, shocked at Casius’s statement. “Whales are not unlike ourselves in some respects, they feel anger and sorrow. The songs of mourning they sing when one of their ilk passes can be heard throughout all the oceans of the world.” Marcos leaned on the rail and clasped his hands together.

  “Then they are thinking beings?”

  “Aye,” Marcos answered. “After a fashion, their minds are slow, almost glacial in their ways. Yet within them lay secrets that we can only imagine.”

  “They have come, knowing by some sense of theirs, that I am aboard this ship. They can feel the wrongness in the world, the taint of Sur’kar touches even their realm.”

  “The weather?” Casius ventured.

  “Yes,” Marcos straightened. “Even with your limited senses you have felt it, and have guessed correctly. It is as if spring has never come and the days grow colder with the approach of summer.”

  “Can one man have such power?” Casius asked astonished by the implications.

  “It would appear so,” Marcos said softly. “I would have never thought it possible, but I can sense his touch upon the wind.”

  “How then are we to face him?”

  “How can we not?” Marcos answered. Turning his bizarre eyes on Casius. A fire burned in those shifting depths, born of desperation and anger. “Who will stand for the world if not us?”

  “Even if it means certain death?” Casius argued giving voice to his fears.

  Marcos’s gaze softened. “Few things are certain in this life Casius. Death comes for us all however; it is the end of one journey and the beginning of another. Are we to await it hiding in caves? Or do we stand up and challenge it? This is the choice all brave men face.” Marcos returned his gaze to the now departing whales. “There are many paths before us, not all lead to our destruction.”

  “Why did you not lay claim to the blade long before the need had become so desperate?”

  “I cannot take it as my own.” Marcos reminded him. “Should I have found one worthy of the blade, the sword would have become his bane to carry. A weapon of such power would have eventually fallen into the hands of a weak man. It would have been abused, the blade was safer left where it lay.”

  Casius knew Marcos was right, “The souls of men are dark places, best left unexplored.” He said, quoting a verse from one of the many books he had read.

  “There is light as well,” Marcos corrected. “Where else would compassion, charity, and love arise from?” Marcos leaned on the rail once more. “I do not believe that all men are evil”

  “Not all,” Casius agreed.

  “The dark that Sur’kar serves lives in all men. Even in the hearts of my own people.”

  “The dark overcame my kind,” Marcos continued. “It grew in strength and suddenly lashed outward. We were ill prepared for it, a civil war broke out on Gal’adori.

  “Brother slew brother, children turned on their parents. We knew nothing of warfare; our kind had never killed one another. Millions died in the fires of destruction we unleashed upon ourselves.

  “A few, those who followed the paths of enlightenment, constructed the great ships. They fled before the dark when all hope was lost. For all our power and science we were helpless before its malevolence.”

  “Just three ships?”

  “No,” Marcos answered. “More than two hundred set sail in those days. Breaking up into small groups the Tal’shear spread across the vast cosmos.”

  “And your kind brought it here with you?” It was a question, not an accusation and Casius hoped Marcos would see that.

  “It has always been here, our arrival only awakened it.” Marcos responded. “When the creator fashioned the cosmos, he created it from the remnants of the chaos he had conquered. It was a dark place, filled with ancient powers of great strength. A small part of that evil remained, and it marred his work. Becoming a stain on the fabric of the universe.

  “He cannot undo what has been done, not without destroying the lives of every thing in creation. He stays his hand for this very reason.

  “To cure the sickness he must kill the patient.” Casius said. “Then we are truly alone.”

  “Are we?” Marcos asked. “It is within everyone of us to deny the evil that would consume us all. Free will is the greatest strength we have, a last gift from the creator.”

  “Then why is evil almost always stronger?”

  “It only seems that way,” Marcos answered. “It takes more strength to hold back your hand than it does to strike out in anger. Mercy and forgiveness are powerful in their own right.”

  “Those strengths will not stop Sur’kar.” Casius argued.

  “No, they will not.” Marcos replied. “But they define who we are.” Marcos stood taller and pointed to the northeast. “It seems we have reached our destination.”

  It took Casius a moment to realize that what he had taken for dark clouds was in fact a line of distant hilltops breaking the horizon.

  The hours passed and the shoreline drew closer. The land was sparsely wooded. Shaped by low rolling hills, Painted amber and ochre by withered vegetation.

  A large edifice pierced the haze, it was a sculpted head carved from a single block of stone that dwarfed the ship. Its blank staring eyes regarded their passage with indifference. The stone was cracked and weathered; the remains of a crown could be seen across its stern brow. Waves crashed into its chin eating away at the stone forming a shallow hollow where the mouth had once been.

  Shane joined them on at the bow, “It is known as the wave biter, or storm head.” He offered. “Legend has it that the tempest of these parts are spewed from its mouth.”

  “It is the likeness of King Jerud of fair Thral’duras.” Marcos said with a shake of his head. “A wise king who ruled a nation of artisans who had mastered the art of stone carving. They created this statue when he passed on to the next life. It stood two hundred feet tall and portrayed him seated upon his throne, with the hammer of his father upon his lap. About his feet lay the broken body of the cursed drake Gor Farail.

  “It is said that he slew the dragon when he was but sixteen years of age.” Marcos looked sad as a thousand fragmented memories flashed through his mind. “So long ago, and this is all that remains, a broken monument on a desolate shore. His name long forgotten by his descendants.”

  Shane looked at Marcos with skepticism. “That’s a new tale.” He said with a smile. “One worth telling when I return home.”

  “Tell it then,” Marcos said sharply. “It is a small tribute to a great man who dared to change the world.”

  “It is hard to believe men could work such wonders.” Casius said trying to imagine the full size of the statue.

  “It was a golden age,” Marcos said. “A time of peace and many wonders. The world may see such times again if we succeed. For if we fail all will be forgotten and what is left will be a dark land ruled by fear and death.”

  “Then we must not fail.” Casius said with a touch of wavering determination.

&nb
sp; More pieces of stonework lined the shore, remnants of the statues body. Half buried in the sand they stretched back away from the waters edge before disappearing beneath the dunes.

  Shane returned to the tiller and his sons lowered the sail. The ship slowly glided in towards the beach riding the waves in gentle bounds.

  The ship slowed to a grinding halt a short distance from the shore as the keel bit into the sandy bottom. Large planks were levered over the side forming a ramp for the horses.

  Suni led his horse down the ramp and waded to shore, the water barely over his knees. D’Yana and Marcos followed. Casius remained behind to aid Connell. But none was needed; Tantalus could smell the grass and left the vessel willingly. Thankful to be free of holds confines he tossed his head and snorted loudly.

  Casius followed and slipped at the ramps bottom, completely submerging himself. He staggered upright and spat the brine from his mouth. Despite his discomfort he laughed with his friends.

  “Good luck!” Shane shouted from the deck. “See to it that Connell keeps out of trouble.”

  “I am in your debt Shane,” Connell shouted back.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Shane answered helping his son’s pull the planks back on board. The tide was coming in and the ship would soon be lifted off the bottom freed to return to the deep water.

  With a final wave farewell they rode up into the hills away from the coast. The sun shone brightly, but its warmth was lost in the chill air. Despite the unseasonable cold they were in good spirits, happy to be on dry land once more.

  They rode for three days across a fertile but desolate landscape. Making camps in thick stands of birch trees, shelter enough from the frigid wind that blew every night.

  They passed no farmsteads; the land appeared to have been untouched for generations. Connell explained one night that the people avoided the area about the fallen statue. It was rumored that powerful spirits roamed these lands.

  On the fourth day they came to the edge of a thick forest. Unlike the Nallen wood there was no forbidding presence to this wood. It was filled with young trees struggling to rise above one another in their quest for sunlight. They turned to the west and followed the tree line throughout the remainder of the day.

  Near sunset they came upon the first homestead they had seen since coming ashore. It was a small farm, with wooden buildings covered in thatch, guarded by three fierce dogs that began to bark as soon as they rode near.

  A Farmer and his son armed with hayforks greeted them nervously well away from the buildings. Marcos purchased salted pork and dried fruit from the man. He paid a high price but did not haggle with the farmer.

  They spent the night in a small stand of trees alongside a worn track cutting through the countryside. It was the beginnings of a road leading westward.

  With a little urging Connell had Casius practicing. It had once again become a nightly ritual with them and Casius was continuing to improve. Although he was nowhere near as proficient as Connell, he would at times surprise the warrior. Forcing Connell to defend himself with all the skill he possessed.

  Suni would often watch their sessions until the contestants would tire and had resorted to merely hacking at one another.

  D’Yana would cheer one or the other on and even Marcos would clap his hands in encouragement. They found the training to be a form of entertainment that helped the hours pass.

  With a lightning fast move, Connell slid his blade down Casius’s until the tip slipped under the guard. With a flick of his wrist he tore the weapon from Casius’s hand. The blade arced high in the air, flashing silver as the moonlight reflected from its polished length. Three times it turned end over end until it crashed in the underbrush.

  Casius stared at his open palm in disbelief at what had just happened.

  Connell laughed, “I’ll teach you that tomorrow.”

  Casius bowed, “Once again I am at your mercy.” He said jokingly.

  Connell sheathed his blade. “Keep improving as you are, it wont be long until I am at yours.”

  Casius waded into the thick brush. “I hope for your sake there’s no fire thorn in here.”

  Connell wiped the sweat from his brow and set down next to D’Yana by the fire.

  “That was a mean thing to do Connell.” D’Yana admonished him.

  “He’s learning hard lessons quickly D’Yana.” Connell said warming his fingers by the fire. “I don’t have the luxury of a lifetime to teach him what he needs to know. He learns fast, and will even surpass me one day.”

  D’Yana flashed him a smile. “He has a good teacher.”

  “I hope so, for his sake.” Connell replied.

  Pushing through the brambles Casius found his blade and wrenched it free of the entangling vines. Backing out the way he had come in he turned around and was startled to find Suni standing nearby.

  “I didn’t hear you come up.” He said sliding his sword back into its scabbard.

  “Why did you end your attack?” The Anghor Shok asked impassively.

  “I lost the only weapon I had.” Casius said with a slight touch of embarrassment.

  “If that is what you believe then it must be so.” Suni replied turning away.

  “Wait,” Casius called after him. “What would you have done in my place?”

  Suni turned to face him. “I would have struck while the sword was yet in the air.” The enigmatic warrior touched Casius’s chest with one finger. “Here is your weapon,” He said. “What you hold in your hand is nothing more than an extension of your heart and mind. I was taught at an early age that the whole body is a weapon, not just the hand and what it may hold.”

  “Then I should have punched him?” Casius asked laughing at the suggestion.

  Suni inclined his head affirming Casius’s suggestion. “The steel of your sword is only as strong as the hand that holds it. Remove the blade and the hand remains. That is your weapon, not cold iron, rather hot flesh forged in discipline and honed by training.”

  “I do not have a lifetime to master them as you have done.” Casius reminded him.

  “I can teach you much in a short time,” Suni responded. “True mastery is seldom achieved by any. It is the result of a lifetime of devotion and sacrifice.”

  “Will you teach me?”

  Suni arched an eyebrow at the suggestion. “Why do you wish to learn?” He asked in reply.

  Suni’s question took him by surprise. “To better protect myself,” Casius asked after a moments thought. “My people were slaughtered by evil men. Those that survived are now slaves under their yoke.”

  “Then you would learn in order to avenge yourself upon these men?”

  “One of those men has pursued me for years now,” Casius said in his defense. “I learn from Connell so that I would never wear the chains they seek to put about me. Killing them will not bring my father back or restore a village consumed by fire.”

  “It would prevent others from sharing your peoples fate.” Suni suggested.

  “Would it?” Casius asked. “The death of a handful of raiders would change nothing. For every one of them that fall, ten will rise in their place. As long as Cythera remains, there will always be raiders.”

  “Then this Cythera must fall.” Suni stated.

  Casius laughed, “Lets fight one war at a time Suni. No nation will attack the raiders stronghold. There is but one harbor and it lies in the shadow of the great fortress Torinth. Men would die by the thousands and still that bastion would remain.”

  “Seldom do great deeds carry little risk. Many men have died proving that. To remain convinced that something is impossible is to be enslaved. A man must arise, and break the fetters of doubt. Defeat is only certain if one does not try.”

  “Perhaps a man will do such a thing one day and take those devils down.”

  Suni looked into his eyes, Casius felt as if the man was judging his soul.

  “I will teach you some of what I know.” Suni stated breaking the hold his eyes had
on Casius.

  Casius smiled. “For a moment I thought you were going to refuse.”

  “For a moment I was,” Suni replied walking away. “We will begin in the morning.”

  In the distance thunder rumbled, Casius looked up into the dark sky. He hoped that the inclement weather would pass them by, but he knew the way his luck worked and he steeled himself for the coming rain.

  Chapter Three

  Burcott shifted in his saddle attempting to alleviate the nagging pain in his lower back. His movements only increased the discomfort. “Getting to old for this,” He muttered under his breath shifting about once more.

  To his left the captain of his guard, Sirel Tellius stood in his stirrups. He held a long brass tube to his eye surveying the dark valley that stretched out before the low rise they had rode up on.

  “I count fifty two horses and perhaps four times that number in men.” He paused standing straighter in his stirrups. “I’ll be damned,” He muttered. “The peacock himself is among them.” His cheeks suddenly flushed red as he remembered to whom he was speaking. “I mean lord Padwen sir,” he stammered.

  Burcott chuckled, he had heard many of the names used to describe Vernal’s vain brother but this was a new one. “I have often compared him to a pompous ass myself.” He said to ease the guard’s discomfort. “The way he struts about court, I think the use of peacock is more fitting. An insult to a noble bird however.”

  Tellius’s face relaxed and he returned to his seat and offered the tube to Burcott. “Would you care for another look sir?”

  Burcott waved the tube away. It would be a long time before he would ever look through another. He nearly fell from his saddle the first time he looked through the damned device. Despite Tellius’s assurances that the viewer was safe he could see no reason why two pieces of ground crystal should enable a man to see such great distances. Call it science or witchcraft, either way he wanted no part of it.