The Heretic's Song (The Song's Of Aarda Book 1)

by K Schultz

Laakea yawned and stretched. He headed for his bedroom leaving Isil and Rehaak staring into the embers of the fire in the stone hearth. He was tired, but elated.

  Laakea did not tell his friends how he felt in case this turned out to be a dead end, like his earlier efforts. The misshapen metal still lay on the smithy floor insulting his skill as a sword-smith. He was the first in many generations to have Ehlbringa, available to him. The first in many generations to hold it in his hands, and, he hoped, the first to rediscover the secret of its working.

  “I wonder if the ‘Maker’ mentioned in the song is the Eniila name for The Creator?” Rehaak said to Isil, as Laakea headed off to bed.

  Chapter 27

  Aelfric ignored the hatred and suspicion in the Abrhaani seamen’s eyes as he climbed the gangway. He had sixteen years’ experience alone among men who loathed him. Their hostility was as familiar as the lines on his hands. Aelfric strode up the narrow gangplank and stopped at the top long enough for Hermad to direct him to his berth. Once Hermad completed that errand, he left the ship again.

  When Aelfric found his place below, he stowed his gear beneath his hammock, lashing it in place, as Hermad had instructed him. The other passenger the captain had booked was not in the cabin, but he had stowed his gear below the other hammock. The “fine gentleman” as the captain called him, had brought a significant pile of luggage with him and the size of that pile was strong evidence of his fellow passenger’s high status.

  Aelfric stretched out in the hammock, waiting for sleep to overtake him, but his mind was too busy with plans to allow him to sleep.

  The small window of the cabin dimly lit the cramped quarters. It was now just past noon. Slivers of sunlight, reflected from the water outside, played across the beams and planks of the deck above his head. Aelfric ignored the noises of the deck hands and stevedores at work, as he considered his options. Once he arrived in Baradon, he could pursue two possible courses.

  Aelfric had two alternatives in mind, but other possibilities might appear. The first and most direct option was to march to the front gate of the capital city, announce his identity, and challenge his brother to single combat. It was not an elegant choice, but it was direct, effective in dispatching his brother, but short sighted in the long term. No matter what pleasure he derived from killing Aelrin himself, he must rid himself of all of Aelrin’s fellow conspirators afterward.

  Unless he eliminated them at the beginning, Aelfric faced having them push him out of power later, either by force or by subterfuge. The process of removing them singly would prove time consuming and arduous. It was not an optimal solution.

  Another thing troubled him. Although he had practiced daily with his son, he had spent the last sixteen years far from combat. He had spent the intervening years as a father and husband, not a warrior. Aelrin had likely fought many battles in the intervening years, trying to hold on to the kingdom he had stolen. Aelrin would be a difficult opponent to kill in single combat. It never entered Aelfric’s mind that Aelrin might have died, either in a trivial duel, or by an assassin’s hand. Aelrin was still alive; Aelfric sensed it.

  Aelfric had a month or more of sailing time to practice while aboard the Sea Witch. Practice on board presented difficulties because of the limited space on deck. He had not practiced, since the night that Laakea had fled his anger. He had three ten-days to toughen up and hone his skills. If at the end of the voyage, he still felt unprepared, he could spend his silver on lodgings and wait until he felt ready, or opt for plan number two.

  Plan two would take longer. Aelfric had to find enough people sympathetic to his cause, raise a force, and begin a civil war. Mercenaries could not get the job done, for two reasons. He didn’t have enough silver to hire warriors for a large army, and he never trusted mercenaries. Mercenaries had a nasty habit of switching sides, if one’s opponents offered them a richer purse. Aelfric must win the people’s affection. The people were loyal to the death, if they followed someone they loved and respected. That was the army he needed, not a pack of money-grubbing mercenaries.

  Plan two reached farther, resolved more problems and proved to everyone, including Aelfric that he still had the charisma to lead. It appealed to him more, if the people put his brother’s head on a pike for him. It was the ultimate vindication that he was the true King and proved Aelrin was a pretender to the throne.

  Plan two dealt with all the plotters who had helped Aelrin achieve power. The beginning was the most difficult part of that plan. Aelfric needed to recruit a large force to unseat Aelrin and his co-conspirators. Building an army large enough for a coup, without attracting Aelrin’s attention was problematic, but a coup dealt a deathblow to challengers. A purge of the elite would boost his morale and convince the people of his legitimacy. It provided breathing space to consolidate his hold on power and rebuild his reputation. Aelfric smiled at the notion.

  Aelfric let the problem remain unsolved. He would face the challenges when and if they arose. For now, he needed rest. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  The sound of movement in the cabin woke Aelfric. Sunlight streamed directly through the small window of the room. It must be evening, if the sun was low enough in the sky to shine directly through the small window. His fellow passenger had arrived and was putting the final touches on securing his abundant belongings.

  The newcomer was an average sized Abrhaani, with an aristocratic bearing. His gaudy clothing indicated great wealth and a penchant for flaunting it. When he straightened and turned toward Aelfric the sun highlighted his face. His smooth shaven regular features no doubt made him attractive to Abrhaani women, but his eyes contained a veiled ferocity.

  “I am sorry if I woke you, I meant no harm sir.” He smiled obsequiously. “We are about to cast off, so I wanted to secure my belongings in case we hit rough water.”

  “No harm done,” Aelfric replied. “I wanted to wake up before we got set sail.”

  “I am traveling to Baradon on business,” the man volunteered, trying to make conversation.

  Aelfric slipped out of his hammock without comment and stood hunched over, to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. He found it hard to breathe inside the cramped cabin and craved the open sky on the deck. Aelfric was less claustrophobic than other Eniila, but still hated enclosed spaces.

  “My you are a big one,” the man began. “In my line of work I need someone like you. If you want a job, I would be happy to hire you.”

  Aelfric ignored him and climbed the narrow ladder to the deck. He watched the seamen cast off their lines and push off from the dock. Although he had been to sea once before, the heaving water beneath the hull still made him uncomfortable. The sooner he got solid ground beneath his feet again, the happier he would be.

  When the small boat foundered on the rocks, before he reached Aeron Suul he felt relieved to walk on land again. Although his load was heavy, and the way was hard, he preferred to struggle on land, with forces under his control. The ocean was no place for an Eniila.

  Aelfric watched the seamen, as they trimmed the sails and set the rudder, in a flurry of activity that meant nothing to him, as the Sea Witch got underway. The helmsman bellowed out incomprehensible commands and the sailors appeared to carry out the orders. Aelfric put his fate in their hands and hoped for the best. It was either trust them, or jump overboard and swim to shore, a choice that looked less appealing with each passing moment. As he contemplated his chances, his cabin mate strolled topside and leaned over the rail beside him.

  “Excuse me for not doing so earlier, but I realized that I had neglected to introduce myself. People call me Kett.” He waited for Aelfric to respond.

  Aelfric smiled wryly, while eyeing the man. “Well I can call you Ketty,” he said using the diminutive form of the name, “and Ketty when you call me, you can call me Al.”

  “That’s better, Al,” Kett responded, ignoring the slight. “As I said before, I am traveling to Baradon on business. When I say that, people ask me, what s
ort of business?” Kett paused, waiting long moments for Aelfric to respond.

  Once he understood Aelfric would not ask he continued, “Good, you are a man who keeps information to himself, and his nose out of others affairs. I am impressed.”

  “I am overjoyed that I can make you happy little man,” Aelfric responded in a sarcastic tone. “You will have a very enjoyable voyage, if you are so easily impressed. Now cease your chatter and leave me in peace.”

  “In due time, my large and abrasive shipmate, but first let me tell you what I see in you. I shall tell your fortune, for no charge, of course.”

  “I need no fortune teller.”

  “You will have need of far more than a fortune teller before your journey is over, and you will comprehend the reason once I begin.”

  Aelfric glared at the man. “What is this fop playing at?” he wondered.

  When Aelfric looked into the man’s eyes, he saw a hard edge that mirrored his own desire for vengeance. An over-eager smile and attractive face masked a hunger for power and an iron will. This intrigued Aelfric more than any offer of fortune telling. Aelfric decided to listen to this Abrhaani chiseler.

  “Go on then. Tell me what you think you know.”

  “You are a veteran warrior, who has suffered many reversals of fortune. Some setbacks happened long ago but others are more recent. You are a man accustomed to power and authority, yet you are traveling back to your homeland with no possessions. I see a man who burns with passion for a mission that is at best, desperate and at worst, hopeless. I see a proud, noble man, brought low by twists of fate, and the treachery of those he trusted. You have run far to escape your destiny. You have squandered your youth in your flight from fate, but your true destiny still lies ahead of you. How am I doing so far?”

  “Anyone with half a brain, and eyes in his head could discern as much. Someone who had a short talk with captain Harmish might do better. It is a good story, as far as it goes. Tell me charlatan, what destiny lies before me? Impress me with that and I shall hear you out. If you cannot foretell that, then be gone, and trouble me no more. I warn you, I am not as easily impressed as you are.”

  Aelfric tried to stare the man down but Kett never flinched. Kett’s eyes glowed strangely in the setting sun, as he answered Aelfric’s challenge.

  Kett answered so softly Aelfric strained to hear the words above the sounds of the wind, the waves, and the creaking of the ship.

  “The rule of Baradon — in your hands,” Kett said, “Or to be precise, the rule of Baradon returned to your hands — King Aelfric — if you are still strong enough to face the challenge.”

  With that said, Kett turned and went below, leaving Aelfric standing alone at the railing, gazing across the empty ocean as the sun sank below the horizon, and darkness fell.

  Chapter 28

  Laakea pondered Rehaak’s idea that The Maker and The Creator were the same person. Was the Golden Voice the voice of The Creator? Until now he only heard that voice when he felt desperate and hopeless. Did The Creator only speak in hopeless situations, or were desperate people the only ones asking and listening for his voice? Laakea had no answers.

  “Maker, Creator, Golden Voice, whatever you are called, I am willing for you to speak. I need your help. Your people need your help. Please tell me what to do,” he prayed.

  He stripped off his clothing and slid into bed, locked his fingers behind his head, and stared up at the ceiling, waiting. He strained to hear the voice of The Creator but heard only Rehaak snoring in front of the hearth, and the night breeze in the trees outside his window. Minutes became hours of uninterrupted silence and Laakea fell asleep with The Song of the Smith repeating in his head.

  Laakea stood alone on a great plain of fire. Multicolored flames rose like grass around his feet, but did not burn his skin, he drew energy from the tongues of fire licking his body. The plain of flames stretched beyond the limits of his vision in every direction. Laakea strolled through the fire, the flames ruffled the hair on his bare legs like a summer breeze. These flames posed no threat and he had never felt so powerful or alive. Energy suffused his entire body as the flames climbed higher and danced across his skin making a sort of music. He bathed in their intoxicating and invigorating presence.

  Flames with diverse colors and varied heights spread out in random patterns, in every direction. It took a few moments for the patterns to register on his brain. It reminded him of something he had seen long ago.

  This place was a garden of fire. The grass and shrubs and even the flowers of Aarda had their counterparts here in different colors , heights and forms of flame. Unlike any gardens he saw before, this one was not static. Changing designs danced across the surface of the plain. The fire dissolved and reformed as if directed by an intelligent will.

  He walked wherever his eyes led him. He couldn’t see any source of fuel, nothing that supported this endless burning. If it had a source that sustained it, he could not perceive it. This was too far beyond his limited experience to comprehend.

  “Who made this?” he asked aloud. No one answered. “What is this place?”

  “Welcome youngling,” said a deep voice, off to his right. “Welcome to the forge of The Maker. Welcome to the high altar of The Creator.”

  Laakea turned to see who spoke. A human form made of flame smiled at him. The being stood to one side of a shrub made up of blue and gold incandescence and beckoned him to come closer.

  “Do not be afraid. You may call me Selvyn. It is my role not my name, but the name holds meaning for you.”

  “Selvyn, from The Song of the Smith?”

  “Yes.”

  “What can you tell me of the metal, Ehlbringa? How do I call it by name, like in the song? How can I work it?”

  “Alas, I cannot answer your questions for you; you must find the answers for yourself.”

  “But why not? Why bother bringing me here?”

  “I did not bring you. Your coming is your own doing, and the will of He who made us both. There is a point, and there are answers, but you must discover them yourself, since you came on your own. You have everything you need around you to learn what you must. Open the eyes of your heart and understand the place where The Maker formed the Eniila.”

  “Faugh! You are as bad as Rehaak, with his damned riddles.”

  “Your companion is wise. He has tried to teach you how to learn and think. He has not tried to teach you what to learn and think. Remember, youngster, what you told your companions, only the strongest are fit to live. You must learn the language of the fire. You must prove your strength.”

  “There is a cost to learning, but an even higher cost to remain ignorant. You must learn to control the fire of your anger, and master the tools that The Maker gave you. If you fail, you will perish here.”

  “But if you don’t teach me how will I learn? There is no one else who knows the secrets of working Ehlbringa.”

  “You are here. The knowledge you seek is here. The Maker has heard your request. Surrender yourself to Him. Surrender to His holy fire, and you shall be as no one since Selvyn, who I represent.”

  “Selvyn came here too. He was the only person in his generation who learned the secrets of this place and the last one able to shape Ehlbringa. Selvyn learned here and grew stronger. If you fail, you shall perish. If you succeed, the power you wield shall be unlike anything in the living memory of your kind.”

  “But if I have so much power, and misuse it —”

  “You have spoken truth. There is a risk. To his disgrace, Selvyn also found that true,” said the figure, as if he could say more, but was constrained from speaking of it.

  “I cannot discern good from evil.” Laakea trembled as though he was cold.

  “All men can judge between good and evil. Discernment is not the root of humankind’s problem. The tribulations men face arise from a different origin. If you find a problem’s root, then you find the solution to it. Remember what your companions have taught you. Farewell.”<
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  With those words, the figure turned, and faded, or merged into the forest of flame. Laakea was not sure which was true.

  “Come back!” Laakea shouted after him but there was no response.

  He was alone again. The garden of fire still flickered and flared around him. The flames sang their own songs, as they danced in place. It was as if the flame being that called itself Selvyn had never existed.

  Laakea sat disconsolate, among the flame flowers as they burned around him. He turned everything over in his mind as he stared at one. This was as frustrating as his talks with Rehaak.

  What did the fiery figure mean about the ability to discern between good and evil not being the root of humankind’s problems? Laakea felt frustrated that he had just discovered more questions without corresponding answers.

  Rehaak told him that questions were the beginning of knowledge. Is that what the flame creature had tried to tell him, when it said Rehaak had taught him how to learn, not what to learn? Laakea would be the wisest man in Aarda, if a fraction of his many questions got answered.

  “I cannot judge between right and wrong. That is nonsense,” he said aloud, beginning a dialog with himself.

  “Wait a moment. That is not a question. That is a belief, but is it true?”

  He decided that it was not the truth. He found that speaking aloud helped him articulate his thoughts. Vocalizing his ideas lent form and substance to them, so that he worked them like metal from a forge.

  “Is this why we Eniila have no written language?” he wondered. “Are we verbal people for a purpose?” He realized that he became distracted and forced himself back to his quest for the origin of evil.

  “I can tell the difference between right and wrong. Sometimes I do what is wrong in spite of knowing better.”

  “Why do I do wrong?”

  Memories cascaded across his mind as he recalled the things he did in the past that he knew were wrong.

  “I do wrong because I want something. Aha! Desire makes me — no wait — desire is not always bad. I can desire good things, as easily as evil things. Desire is neither good nor evil. It’s when I want — Wait!”