"Your daughter is no longer alive is she?"
The farmer shook his head.
"I am so sorry for your loss. I can’t accept this," said Lucian. He started to push the parcel back but the old man but he resisted.
"You take this and give it to that woman,” he said. “My daughter died of a sickness that came over her quickly. When she first became ill, I wanted to make her happy and I went into town and spent my savings on this outfit for her, for when she recovered. We did not know, could not have known, that she would soon die."
Lucian put a comforting hand on Hounu's shoulder. "I’m so sorry Hounu. Please forgive me for dredging up such a memory."
"It’s quite alright. I have come to terms with the memory of my daughter. She saw the dress before she died and was so happy. She told me that she would dream of going into town wearing her dress and it was as though she was really out there, wearing it. I was very pleased to give my daughter such happiness before she died. And now I wish it to go to that woman. It would honor me greatly to see her wearing it. Say nothing more on the matter. I will hear no argument."
Lucian gave the man a low bow. "I cannot begin to express my gratitude to you Hounu. You have been a light in the darkness this day." He turned and started toward the door but Hounu stopped him before he could leave. He handed Lucian another small leather bag, opening it so Lucian could see inside. It was full of linen bandages and a small jar of ointment.
Lucian shook his head in amazement. "Further still you bless us. Your kindness will not be forgotten."
"It is you who are kind. It takes a great man to care so much for a stranger," said Hounu.
Lucian started to bow and thank him again but Hounu put his finger to his lips and shook his head.
"My wife," he whispered with a smile as he ushered Lucian out of the door and shooed him toward the barn.
Lucian made sure he woke no one as he entered the barn and quietly stepped over to where Kyrianna lay. He set the parcel and the small leather bag down near her feet and moved back over to his own cot. Her back was turned so he couldn't see that she was indeed awake and silently wondering what he had been up to.
Lucian was startled awake by someone’s finger brushing a stray hair away from his face. When he opened his eyes he was even more surprised to see Kyrianna kneeling down next to him. She had the ointment over her lips and the bruises on her face. She stood up and took several steps back showing him the outfit that Hounu had given her. It was stunning. It was typical Kaheendran cut. The fabric looked to be spun of silk and was the color of pure snow with a soft blue lining that showed at the collar and sleeves. It was a long dress with slits running up both sides, exposing her sleek muscular legs when she moved a certain way, down to her elegant blue and white slippers. The top was cut so that it hung over the sides of her shoulders and the sleeves hung past her hands. Seeing her bare neck and shoulders made Lucian have to concentrate to swallow. It was quite a remarkable dress.
Everyone was eyeing her, even Tarriel, but Kyrianna paid no attention to them. Her eyes stayed locked on Lucian's. "I thank you for this Lucian. You couldn’t know what this means to me."
"Don't thank me, thank Hounu. It was very special to him and he wished you to have it. Evidently he thought such a dress would belong on you, as though you were meant to wear such things." Lucian paused to see what reaction he would get from that remark but she only shrugged her shoulders. "It appears he was correct. You look extraordinary."
Despite the fact that it was of a Kaheendran cut, Kyrianna did find it to be quite beautiful. "So his name is Hounu? I will remember that, as well as yours, Lucian of Yavasura."
Lucian gave her a nod and a smile. "I just hope it doesn't make you stand out to your pursuers."
She responded with a dark smile that sent shivers up his spine. "Oh I hope it does."
Lucian saw the glimmer of rage in her eyes and wondered what horrors she had suffered at the hands of her captors. He knew without a doubt that she meant to repay those who had caused her such pain. If all went well then the plan that Lucian now explained to the others would give Kyrianna her chance to face them, on more even terms.
The farmer had come to the barn early in the morning and brought with him some biscuits and honey with more milk. He wished them luck and returned to his house, obviously waiting for Lucian and the others to leave so that he could start his chores. The small band wasted no time, but they would not head directly to the city. Not all of them at least. Lucian rode off alone as a disturbed Tarriel and Eliath watched. Kyrianna and the others were to wait for some time before they went about their task.
Lucian prayed silently as he rode on, for strength, courage and any other help the Father could offer. Despite the feeling that he was walking into a lion’s den, he was able to remain calm, speaking softly to Thunder as he rode on toward Kaheendra.
Misplaced Faith
Eolic watched from the corner of the council room with a deep frown as the Sanjeeran messenger spoke with Orland and the other councilors. He could barely keep up with the conversation out of boredom until the messenger spoke his brother’s name. He pushed off the wall and rushed up to the messenger. “Lucian you say? He is alive?”
The Sanjeeran looked at Eolic curiously. “Yes, alive and well. He and his brother Eliath head to Kaheendra as we speak, in hopes of bringing them into the war against the north.”
Eolic felt a sting at hearing the messenger refer to Eliath as Lucian’s brother. He had thought Lucian dead along with their parents and that Eliath might have had something to do with it. Now he fumed in anger hearing that they were both alive and well, heading for Kaheendra because of some foolish war. Had they not been home? Did Lucian not know that their parents had been murdered? Surely he knows, the cowards must have ran when the attackers showed up, leaving their parents to be helplessly slaughtered, and now they were out running around with other tribes, fighting their battles.
He was furious now and pointed a finger at the messenger. “You tell Lucian and his friend that Yavasura will have no part in this war and tell them both that they are not to return here for they are now traitors and enemies of this tribe.”
Orland looked almost as shocked as the Sanjeeran messenger but before he could find words, Eolic had the guards escort the man out of the chamber. Once he was gone, Eolic looked to Orland and the other councilors. “Lucian has gone mad, manipulated by that fool, Eliath. I will not have him drag our people into a war that has nothing to do with us.”
Orland thought for a moment that maybe Eolic was wrong. He had always liked Lucian but some small voice told him to listen to Eolic and to stay out of the affairs of others. He nodded in thought. Yes, it would be foolish to waste such expenses and supplies in moving their army out only to help some other tribe that would most likely try and stab them in the back once the battle was over. Yavasura was a small tribe and could not afford much loss. Eolic was right. They must keep to themselves and make safe their own people. The others were of no concern.
Leramy chopped away at the small boar in disgust. Ever since Lucian had died, there hadn’t been much of anything coming in from the other hunters. A small boar or spindly deer was all that he had been able to get his hands on and those goat herders always wanted too much coin for their measly kills. He whispered a silent prayer for the boy and his parents, shaking his head at the memory of the day he had heard the news.
He looked up from his task for a moment and noticed a foreign man being escorted from the city. The man was Sanjeeran based on his dress and Leramy wondered if it was a tradesman. He had sent for some supplies from there and was expecting them any day now. He quickly cleaned his bloody hands off in a wash basin and ran over to the group, ignoring a nasty glare from one of the guards who thought himself more important than he really was. “Well met stranger, you come from Sanjeera yes?”
The messenger nodded but his look was grave. “I came seeking aid from this miserable tribe but it seems that you people care o
nly for yourselves. Now I will have to report back to Lucian that his own people have denied him.”
Leramy stopped so abruptly that one of the guards nearly bumped into him and cursed in annoyance. The Sanjeeran started to move around him but Leramy caught him by the arm. “You said that you are to report to a man named Lucian, Lucian of Yavasura?”
The aggravated messenger nodded, “Yes, Lucian of Yavasura.”
Leramy nearly jumped out of his boots. “He is alive? That’s wonderful!” He stopped and looked curiously at the messenger. “What do you mean they will not send aid, aid for what?”
Leramy’s face slackened and turned a pale white by the time the messenger finished telling him of all that was happening. At first the guards had tried to stop the conversation and move on, but after the glare Leramy gave them, they stepped down, neither of them wanting a quarrel with the large butcher. Leramy thanked the Sanjeeran and rushed back to his stand, gathering his things. He didn’t even bother fully closing up his stand before charging off toward his home, such things mattered little to him now.
New Visions Bring Shadows
When Lucian came to the main gate leading into the city of Kaheendra, he was met by a single guard who signaled for a stable boy to come take Thunder. Once he stated his name, the guard, to his surprise and suspicion, became excited and started ushering him into the city as if he was an esteemed guest. He was starting to think that maybe he had been wrong about Kaheendra all this time until he noticed more guards gathering around, surrounding him it seemed. Even though they all acted as if he was a welcome guest, welcome was not how he felt. He winced at the sudden torrent of emotions that were coursing through him. The sensations he was getting from this place were unlike anything he had ever experienced, something that Ijon had done to him, or given him. He shifted his vision in the direction of where he felt the danger and his eyes went wide at what he saw.
Walking next to one of the guards was a man draped in black cloth. He was whispering into the guard’s ear but the guard seemed to be ignoring him. Lucian didn't quite understand how that could be until dark form looked his way and he nearly fell back in horror. The man’s face, now visible from under the deep cowl, was a pale grey. His raven black hair was strung across his face and hung down his chest from under the cowl. But what horrified Lucian most, were his eyes, or lack thereof. All he could see were black voids within the sockets of the creature’s skull. The darkness of those voids seemed to pull the surrounding light into them and devour it. Those eyes held no pupils, but Lucian had no doubt that they stopped and locked on him. When they did, the dark figure pointed at him and screamed. It was a wretched sound and Lucian almost covered his ears in shock.
The guard that the creature was walking with seemed to vaguely hear the scream and turned to look at Lucian. His eyes narrowed and he walked closer but seemed only to be curious as to why this stranger was being escorted into the city. Lucian couldn’t believe that nobody else seemed to hear the scream. Suddenly he heard a whisper in the back of his mind. It was the voice of Ijon.
"Your eyes are now open to your true enemies. Beware of them, for they are undeniably dangerous, but fear them not."
Lucian looked pointedly into the dark voids of the ghastly figure that was now approaching him with the soldier and suddenly it stopped. Lucian felt empowered by the voice of Ijon and stared harder at the creature. The evil thing cocked its head, not knowing what to think, as if it wondered if Lucian could really see him. It stepped back a few paces and squatted down, still staring at him. Lucian dropped his hand down and touched the magnificent pommel of the sword at his hip and he could see the black voids following his movement. When his fingers came to the sword the creature jumped up and screeched before vanishing into a swirling cloud of smoke.
Lucian just stared, wondering if what he just saw truly happened or if he was going mad. Looking around he noticed that nobody else had seen it either. The voice of the warrior echoed in his mind and it all started to come clear to him. He looked around the crowd and started to see other dark figures moving among the people of the city, spinning their web of lies into the ears of those who would listen, quietly seeking out ways to wreak havoc on the lives of innocents. Lucian felt his anger boiling. He gripped the pummel of his mighty sword, Drovenalor, feeling every detail of the lion’s head that held the large gem.
They all looked similar, wearing the same dark robes and with raven black hair and black voids for eyes but they were not identical in appearance. Lucian could make out subtle differences in some of their faces. Suddenly he noticed two standing together, they were both looking at him and one was pointing a long, gnarled finger his way. It was the same one that had vanished into a black cloud moments ago. When they saw Lucian look their way they both lowered their heads, hiding their faces within the deep hoods and backed away, disappearing into the crowd. Lucian relaxed his grip, he wasn't sure what type of threat these dark figures presented, but for now they seemed to want nothing to do with him. He had to concentrate on the task at hand; freeing the Ojori, the High Priest.
He was happy to see that a lot of soldiers and citizens had gathered around him as he was lead deeper into the city, the less resistance that his friends would meet the better. Finally he was stopped and told to wait. Close to forty soldiers stood around him now, some smiled at him, others looked around nervously. Citizens of Kaheendra milled around, some stopping and looking at him to see what the commotion was. More and more people were gathering in the city square, curiously pushing closer to the center of attention.
A large soldier, obviously a high ranking one judging from the decorations that he had, walked up to Lucian. He was large compared to the other Kaheendrans but still stood only shoulder level to Lucian. Holding out his hand, the soldier said something that Lucian didn't understand. He then pointed at Drovenalor and gestured for him to hand it over. Lucian calmly shook his head and slowly spread his feet further apart, balancing himself. The soldier gestured again more forcefully, and Lucian shook his head and let his hand fall to the hilt. Instantly a dozen swords came out of their sheaths and were pointed toward him.
"Hashtu!" someone yelled, and the soldiers balked but did not drop their swords. The crowd parted for a man that walked toward Lucian, he was adorned in richly made, brightly colored robes. Another soldier, slightly larger than the one who had ordered Lucian to relinquish his sword, and gruff looking, with many more medals dangling from his uniform, flanked the robed man. As they came closer, Lucian took note that the soldiers still did not sheath their weapons.
"Welcome to Kaheendra, I am Councilor Makashin,” said the robed man, in a choppy Sanjeeran accent. "You must be the one they call Lucian of Yavasura?"
Lucian nodded. "I am, and I have come to speak to the Prince." He didn't think that he would be allowed that opportunity but he just needed to stall. He knew he would be taken to the prison, he hoped they would not try and kill him where he stood. He didn't want to have to kill anyone this day, but he had prepared himself mentally in case that was unavoidable.
"If you seek an audience with the Prince, then you shall have your wish."
Lucian stared at Makashin and his broad smile. He didn’t think that would happen. He wasn't supposed to be allowed to talk with the Prince. Something was amiss, this could mean trouble.
"Forgive my Lieutenant for trying to take your weapon, it is only a custom for those that come before me to be unarmed, you may keep your sword."
He motioned for Lucian to follow him and the grim looking soldier at his side. Lucian stayed behind, watching out of the corner of his eyes as the small host of soldiers joined the procession. He blinked as thousands of images flooded his mind, possibilities of attack, ways of escape, thoughts that somehow seemed natural to him now. He had been having such thoughts ever since Ijon touched him.
They came to the largest structure in the city, made of wood and stone. It was not as grand as a castle but quite impressive to say the least. Guards opened two, t
all, thick wooden doors and only Lucian, Makashin, and the high ranking soldier that flanked him passed through. The doors closed behind them and Lucian surveyed the room. It was a grand entranceway, with several pillars supporting the ceiling. The circular room was without windows but many torches burned along the walls, lighting the large room easily. Beautiful thick plush rugs covered most of the stone floor, and where there were no rugs, shiny marble stood out.
Two guards stood on the opposite end of the room, in front of the closed doors. The gruff looking soldier stopped, blocking Lucian from continuing, but Makashin kept heading toward the door. When the War Councilor reached the door, he rapped on it a few times. The door slid open and what walked through made every muscle in Lucian’s body instantly tighten.
†††
Kyrianna rode into Kaheendra pulling a wagon filled with sacs of grain, courtesy of the old farmer. Three of the sacs however, carried something other than grain. At the gate, the guard stopped and punched a long thin spike through some of the sacs and opened a few others, inspecting Kyrianna's claim to be taking her wears to the market. Once satisfied, he let her through. She wore Lucian’s thick brown cloak over her extravagant dress and kept the hood up, covering her head and also hiding the hilts of her twin blades. Without looking closely most would think her a Kaheendran and she had guessed that the guards wouldn't think that a prisoner that had escaped the night before would ever consider re-entering the city. Luckily she was right.
Once she was away from the main city gate, out of site from the soldiers guarding it, she turned down an alley adjacent to the prison compound and stopped her cart. She pulled most of the heavy grain sacs aside, allowing her to cut open the ones holding Solomon, Eliath and Tarriel. She knew from escaping the prison earlier that the only way in was through the front entrance, and in broad daylight they could not hope to slip by the guards. The only way in was by force.
Revelations of Doom Page 34
