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

by K Schultz

  S’ek’zekaar grew angry with mankind, because the songs of men restored harmony in creation. He changed his song again. S’ek’zekaar’s anger made his song darker, more ominous and strident, filled with hunger for power, and unbridled selfishness. It was a song of decay and destruction to destroy mankind. Men became enamored with the song of S’ek’zekaar, and its promise of freedom. They desired power for themselves as he did. Men strove against each other to gain power and in their striving, they turned against each other and they learned to make war.

  ***

  “That is all it says,” Simea said as he re-rolled the scroll and re-tied the thong. “What good is this to us?’

  “I don’t know. When I tried to rescue you, I was so worried that I had trouble focusing, until I sang. The song calmed me and anchored me.”

  “It’s like—” Kyonna interrupted, “Never mind,”

  “It’s like what, Ky?” Simea asked.

  “It’s not important, go on Aibby.”

  “What if songs help us focus? The song reminded me of home, so it anchored me and allowed me to return and wake Eideron. If you did something similar, you might not have become stranded.”

  “I suppose it’s possible,” Simea said, thinking hard to remember the procedure he used.

  “What else did Eideron tell you?” Kyonna quizzed. “What other magic can we do?”

  “Not magic Ky. We present ourselves to The Creator and allow His power to flow through us. I have learned, to my shame and regret, that when we reach the Aetherial plane, we become susceptible to the Nethera’s influence since they exist there. That is why the Synod trained apprentices in moral and ethical development before they instructed them to use Quickenings. We must reach beyond the Aetherial plane to The Creator of all, since He is the source of all power. Even the Aethera receive their strength from Him.”

  “Ah, I see,” Kyonna said.

  “Eideron mentioned prophecy, discernment, travel, and protection, but he said that the possibilities were limitless,” Aibhera answered.

  “What was the song you used Aibby?”

  “The one Pa sang to us when we were little, Ky you know it, Aamori’s House.”

  “Oh! I know that one,” Simea added.

  “That might be the song’s purpose? Think of the words. It’s about the things Aamori misses in her house, It lists them, until she realizes that she misses her family more than everything combined. It reminds you of familiar things, and focuses you on home and family.”

  “Hey! What if Dragan’s Wall was the same?” Simea interrupted. “Building a wall to protect people.”

  “Yes, an invisible wall, remember the line, ‘to keep the beasts at bay’. If we focus building an invisible barrier—it might work that way. Let’s try it now. We might need it soon. We should test it before we need it. Help us Ky.”

  They sang the song, reached for The Creator, and focused their thoughts on building a wall of protection around their position. Within seconds a wall of light surrounded them, and intensified as they continued. Once it was in place, Ky stopped singing. The wall held.

  “Stop Aibby, but Sim keep singing.”

  Aibby stopped singing and Simea held the wall alone. The sisters shared a triumphant look.

  “Remember the chorus about the gate in the wall, Aibby? We always sang it as a round with the song.”

  “Let’s.”

  The sisters began the second song; the wall shimmered and faded in one place just before the whole wall winked out.

  “Forgive me,” Simea said. “I’m too tired.”

  “It’s ok Sim, besides, it’s getting late. We should stay here tonight,” Aibhera said.

  Night fell like an ax, cutting off all light, at the canyon bottom. There was no moon, and only a tiny strip of stars overhead. They prepared their meal by firelight, and discussed the potential and value of other ancient songs before they drifted into a deep sleep.

  Chapter 42

  Rehaak awoke and saw nothing, for it was blacker than midnight where he lay and he did not remember how he arrived here. Abrhaani avoided the darkness. If deprived of sunlight for too long, they weakened and become ill. Light was more important to Rehaak than other Abrhaani because he feared the dark.

  Rehaak smelled the musty scent of soil beneath him, as he lay on his side. His arms were in an awkward position, his wrists, his ankles, and head ached. When he tried to move, he discovered that someone had bound him, hand and foot. Bound and helpless, Rehaak relived his childhood fear of the darkness.

  Footsteps approached. A faint glow brightened enough for Rehaak to see rock walls. He was in a cavern. Hands seized him and forced him to sit upright.

  “Get up — on your feet, the Master wishes to see you now,” one of his captors growled, as he untied Rehaak’s feet and hands.

  Rehaak stood with difficulty because his feet were numb and refused to obey him. They prickled, as the blood and feeling flowed into them. His captors forced him forward, dragging him, until he walked without their aid. The floor of the cave was uneven so he stumbled several times, as the two men pushed him ahead.

  The passage ended in a large gallery lit by torches. Many men knelt, stripped to the waist, facing forward. Each man bore similar tattoos across their bodies. Rehaak did not count them. There were many. He looked to see what held their attention. Dreyenar Asanudain, the young nobleman he met on his way to Dun Dale, stood over an altar fashioned of rough stone. Drey wore a ceremonial cloak and in his hands, he held one of the long knives, with which Rehaak had gained an unwelcome familiarity.

  Isil was right, they used the knives to offer sacrifices to their gods. On the altar, he saw a lamb with its legs bound. Rehaak stumbled again and fell to his knees. Neither the irregular footing, nor the sight of the imminent sacrifice caused his fall.

  What sapped his strength was the sight of the entity behind the altar. A nightmare creature from his childhood lurked there, while the tattooed men worshiped it. Rehaak wanted to rise and run, but fear paralyzed him as it had in his nightmares.

  The Dark One loomed over the altar. Its form was total darkness that flowed and shifted, so his eyes could not focus on it. It was not black in the way normal things are black, its darkness had a deeper origin. It was the antithesis of light. Rehaak sensed its hunger and hatred, as it awaited the knife stroke ending the innocent creature’s life.

  The men’s chant, built into a frenzied crescendo of hatred and madness, as they rose anticipating the sacrifice. The knife descended in Dreyenar’s hands. Blood spurted from the lamb’s severed throat. Drey caught the flow in a chalice, and then held it high, while the lamb twitched and grew still. The men shouted as though they accomplished a great victory, instead of killing an innocent creature. The Dark One moaned in ecstasy at the offering. Rehaak sensed that it received as much sustenance from the debauchery and the madness of the chanting men, than from the offering on the altar.

  It drew strength from them, growing powerful because it demeaned and twisted them into the opposite of what The Creator intended. The men did not realize the creature drew its strength from them, nor did they realize that their participation in this sacrifice weakened them while strengthening the Nethera. They believed it fed on the lamb’s blood, but their corruption strengthened it more.

  They jostled each other to be first to drink the lamb’s blood, as if it were an honor rather than a disgrace. Dreyenar passed the cup to them, after he had wet his own lips. He turned, lips bloodstained, eyes unfocussed, and approached Rehaak where he knelt on the gallery’s floor.

  The Nethera followed him, rending the air, and leaving a void in its wake. Rehaak grew faint from the overpowering stench of rotting flesh emanating from it. He did not know how any man tolerated its company without becoming ill. Although the Nethera was still halfway across the underground chamber, Rehaak’s gorge rose and his vision blurred.

  “We meet again Rehaak, scholar, troublemaker, and heretic,” Dreyenar sneered. “It would have been e
asier on both of us, if you accepted my offer and came with me, instead of forcing me to send our disciples to bring you here.”

  Dreyenar’s words refreshed Rehaak’s memory. He hid in the Dancing Dog’s woodshed until Breisha brought him the leather straps for Laakea’s breastplate. When he exited the shed, someone put a sack over his head, and grabbed his arms from behind. Rehaak remembered nothing more until he awoke on the cavern floor. An ache in his temple confirmed they clubbed him unconscious.

  He could not look away from the Dark One, who loomed a few feet behind the young nobleman.

  “What do you want with me, Dreyenar?” Rehaak asked, though he couldn’t look at him.

  “We wish to convince you of the error of your beliefs. My Master’s Master, he nodded toward the evil presence behind him, thought you might benefit from a display of his presence. Ashd’eravaak hoped that, by demonstrating his power, to convince you to serve him. Ashd’eravaak is our rightful Master and god.”

  Rehaak shuddered at the idea of serving the abomination before him, but said nothing.

  “Now that we have your attention, we would like to reason with you, and lead you to the true path. We wish to free the last remnants of mankind from its bondage to the Nameless One. We will achieve that aim by reuniting mankind, under the benevolent leadership of Ashd’eravaak and his brethren. Ashd’eravaak and his fellows have fought tirelessly for our freedom for countless millennia.”

  “We seek to bring the Eniila and the Abrhaani together, so we might enjoy harmony and fruitfulness, as we did in ancient times. Surely, that is a noble goal and one you would support. Isn’t that, your wish for mankind?” Dreyenar stopped, waiting for Rehaak’s answer.

  “How will you carry out such an ambitious goal friend Dreyenar?” Rehaak asked, hoping he kept his sarcasm veiled. “Who was this Nameless One that Drey mentioned?”

  “We will send our brothers gathered here, to inform our people of our god’s return,” he said, as he pointed to the men behind him.

  The men knelt, chanting again, after they finished drinking the blood from the chalice.

  Dreyenar began again. “Our apostle has made inroads in Baradon. As I told you, my Master has gone ahead of us to complete the arrangements for the word to be spread further still.”

  “And if the Eniila will not listen to reason?” Rehaak asked.

  “Then we shall compel them by every means at our disposal, friend Rehaak. This mission is far too important to allow a few stubborn, misguided men to frustrate.”

  “You said ‘every means’ — what means do you plan to use?”

  “What does that matter, once we are united and free from The Nameless One’s oppression?”

  “You mean The Creator?” Rehaak asked. “Where does He fit into your plans?”

  The Nethera hissed and spat, like water dropped onto hot iron. It menaced Rehaak, taking issue with his use of The Creator’s name.

  “The Nameless One deserted us, leaving Ashd’eravaak, and his kind in charge of Aarda. They are few and their strength has ebbed, because the task is far too large for them alone. That is why they have enlisted our aid to help them reunite the species. We of The Fellowship assist them to become strong again, so we might profit from their benevolent aid and leadership.”

  “Do you not wish for mankind to rediscover the knowledge it lost in the Sundering? Do you, a scholar, not value — even long for such knowledge? Is knowledge not the reason you seek the Aetheriad?” Dreyenar continued.

  “Yes I value knowledge a great deal,” Rehaak replied, astonished at how much they knew of his desires and his quest.

  “Then join with us, and Ashd’eravaak will give you all the knowledge you seek and much more.”

  “And friend Dreyenar, what will such great knowledge cost?”

  “It costs you nothing, but allegiance to our true god, the only god with the power, and determination to act on our behalf. Ashd’eravaak and his kind require that all men serve them, so their strength is sufficient for the task. The followers of The Nameless One, who remain, hinder their efforts on our behalf.”

  “A true god does not need power from its creations; it supplies power to them instead. What true god would need our pathetic help, Dreyenar? You must see — and smell — that this vile thing you worship is no god,” Rehaak spat.

  “Tell me Drey, how the few remaining followers of The Creator can be so detrimental to your cause. It would seem that you have far greater numbers. If your god is so powerful, he should easily triumph over so few.”

  Drey, incensed by Rehaak’s comments responded, “The Nameless One’s followers were given Aarda by decree. As long as one follower remains that decree is in effect and our gods cannot exercise complete and proper control over the world. As a result, chaos continues to reign among us. Now I have answered your question, join us and rule Aarda with us.”

  “And if I decline this beneficent offer?” Rehaak asked.

  He thought, “Aha. At last we come to the meat of their problem. The Creator ceded control to us by divine fiat. It has stymied their efforts and explains why they try to eradicate The Creator’s followers. He omitted mentioning who issued that decree. Maybe Ashd’eravaak has not seen fit to share this information with them.”

  Only The Creator could issue such a declaration. He kept the information to himself. Rehaak had nothing to gain by pointing out Ashd’eravaak’s fundamental weakness to Drey.

  “That cannot be allowed. If you are stubborn and resist, it puts Aarda’s reunification at risk. We endeavor to convince you of the nobility and correctness of our path, but if you persist in your rebellion, our relationship will end in an unpleasant fashion. You would be wise to accept our offer.”

  “Look around you Rehaak; this is the best way for us. We know of how many times you have compromised your so-called principles, for far less value. Are you foolish enough to believe that you can resist our methods of persuasion?”

  “I am sure of one thing. I cannot abide the stench of your pathetic false god any longer,” Rehaak shouted. He spat in the dust of the cave floor to emphasize his disgust.

  Rehaak had abandoned The Creator before, but faced with this choice, with evil so clear, he would not capitulate. The consequences of taking this stand would cost him his life. He saw no way to escape death, but death had not claimed him yet.

  Rehaak understood something Laakea once said to him. He quoted it now to his captors, “Better to die fighting than to live on in shame.”

  “Take him, and teach him the error of his choice,” Dreyenar snarled.

  Two men rose and dragged Rehaak into the darkness.

  “You will beg for the end and long for death to embrace you and end your suffering,” Dreyenar shouted, as the men dragged him away.

  ***

  Rehaak’s tormenters took him to new heights and depths of pain. The torturers were masters of their craft. Each time Rehaak lost consciousness; he believed it was the end. Then he awakened again into an ocean of agony so deep he believed that he would never break the surface again. Rehaak prayed for death to release him and proved the truth of Dreyenar’s words.

  The pain did not obliterate his faith, but etched his faith deeper into his soul. With every burn, cut and stroke of the lash, he reached out to the Faithful One. The Creator stood beside him, lifted him out of his body, and infused him with faith and strength. Rehaak watched his tormentors mutilate his helpless flesh, while listening to his own screams.

  Rehaak knew he would die from the abuse, if it continued much longer, but every man died. Isil and Laakea too would die. He could not prevent their demise. Rehaak had always considered death a problem. Death was not a problem; death solved the problem. Life was the problem.

  The life he should have lived, mattered more than his mode of death. He would rather come to death nobly doing things he chose for himself, but few people had that choice. Instead, he faced this humiliating death at the hands of his persecutors. Only death’s merciful hands might resolve his
present predicament.

  Both his friends were ready to give up their lives for him, and his quest. It was their choice, not his to make. In cowardice, he had convinced himself that running away was a noble act of self-sacrifice, but that decision dishonored their choice and their gift of friendship to him. He had been ready to desert them, but came to his senses before Drey’s henchmen captured him. Rehaak wished he could tell Isil and Laakea he had not abandoned them.

  Since childhood, Rehaak had run away from the things he feared. He fled duty to his family, abandoned his obligation to his God, and deserted the only people left who loved him. Rehaak would run no further. He surrendered himself to death and in surrender; he found peace and freedom.

  Every shriek of Rehaak’s agony declared, “I will not give in to evil! Not this time!”

  They stopped.

  Dreyenar came.

  “Bring him to the great hall. We will remove his skin, one piece at a time, as an offering since he refuses to listen to reason.”

  Rehaak passed out again, as they peeled his mutilated body from the rack that held him.

  Chapter 43

  The door to the house burst open in the middle of Isil and Laakea’s meal. Laakea leapt from the chair, whirled and snatched his weapons from the sideboard and in an eye blink, he held them to the neck of a breathless villager.

  “Don’t slay me young sir,” he panted. “I brings yuh word ‘bout yer friend.”

  “What word?” Laakea said.

  “Easy lad,” Isil counseled. “Yuh can see he be frightened outta his wits.”

  “Dat I am an duh whole village is too,” the stranger admitted. “I must tell yuh ‘bout yer friend. He’s bin taken prisoner by dem vile men what has been hangin about of late. Dey calls demselves duh Fellowship.”

  Laakea lowered his weapons and listened.

  “Tell us what yuh knows. We be mighty interested, if yuh can tell us where dey took him.”