The Temple of Arrival

by Matthew Olney

  “There are those who resist,” Tiberio snapped back. He could feel his anger growing.

  “You look big and tough and yet you choose to remain a slave. Why have you not used your strength to break those chains? You say there are those who resist, but their numbers are few. Why has not every city and slave risen up and joined their cause? Face it, friend, your people are weak. They prefer to be slaves.”

  “How can a people free themselves when it’s all they’ve known?” Tiberio replied. “You speak of things that you could not possibly understand. The peoples of the Imperium have no history to call upon, no sense of their strength. The Supreme and Venerable Chamber have seen to that. You Arikar fight tooth and nail because you know freedom. And because of that, you will never surrender it. If all a people have known is enslavement for generations then freedom is a concept impossible to comprehend.”

  Artubai took a deep drag of his cigar and considered those words. Finally, he smiled and clapped Tiberio on the arm.

  “I understand you, my friend. Freedom is like drinking from a pure spring after traversing a vast desert. Once you have tasted it you will never want to let it go. You must fight to attain it and you must fight to keep it. Perhaps we Arikar can help show you what freedom is, no?”

  Tiberio nodded.

  “Perhaps.”

  *

  On the fourth morning of their stay, Visp and Tiberio were summoned to the fort’s main gatehouse. To Tiberio’s surprise, his master looked perfectly fine despite the copious amounts of wine she had consumed the night before. After his conversation with Artubai that first night he had returned to the feasting and had spent the rest of their stay keeping an eye on Visp. She had revelled in the company of her countrymen, often drinking them under the table in the process. Now she stood in the bright morning sunshine looking fresh and as switched as she always was.

  “Ah, my new friends there you are,” said Artubai in greeting. The man looked different from their first meeting. Today he wore the garb of an actual military officer. A sharp white uniform trimmed with red and gold. Arikar troops rarely wore uniforms, even in battle preferring to wear garb that allowed them to blend into the terrain of their homeland. Tiberio recalled a conversation he’d overheard in a tavern in Asta between a slaver and an Imperium officer. The officer had scorned the slavers notion that the brown and yellow clothing worn by the Arikar gave them a definite advantage over the Imperium. The officer, on the other hand, had argued that the mish mash of clothing only added to their lack of discipline and adding to his opinion that they were nothing more than savages.

  “I thought I’d best look the part seeing as who we will be meeting with,” Artubai said with a wink.

  Visp raised an eyebrow.

  “And who exactly are we meeting?” she asked.

  As if to answer her question, a loud whistle sounded from high above them. Tiberio looked up, using a hand to shield his eyes against the merciless sun. An airship floated into view, its huge oval shape casting a shadow over the fort as it did so. Skilfully, the pilot manoeuvred the vessel into position just outside the fort. A dozen weighted ropes were dropped from the ship’s main deck to land with heavy thuds into the sand. Slowly the airship descended to settle with a gentle bump onto the ground. Visp and the others were forced to shield their eyes as a great cloud of sand was sent skyward from the impact. Once it had cleared, Artubai gestured for them to follow him aboard.

  “Come, it will take two days for us to cross the Great Desert and reach the capital. It seems the Masters and Mentors both wish to speak with you in person. This is a great honour and one not granted to an outsider in centuries.”

  Visp and Tiberio exchanged a surprised glance at the news.

  “I guess my mentioning of Elian and Vavius caught someone’s attention,” Visp muttered.

  Tiberio leaned close.

  “What if Vavius is known as an enemy to the Mentors? Us claiming to be associated with the bastard may not do us any favours,” he replied.

  “I guess there’s only one way to find out. Keep close and be ready for anything,” Visp said.

  Together they followed Artubai to the now landed airship. The machines were marvels of engineering and judging by the hastily painted markings of the one they were about to enter it had once belonged to the Imperium. As they boarded the vessel, Artubai proudly boasted that the bulk of Arikar’s fleet of airships had been captured and repurposed.

  “Many times, the Imperium thought they could simply fly over the desert to strike at our cities. Fools that they are they underestimated our skills with musket and cannon. One of my own gunnery teams downed one attempting to cross the Ari Badlands. It was a perfect shot, straight into the flight deck. Down it went like some great beast to crash into the dunes. A glorious day that was.”

  The captain led them to the second deck where rows of chairs were built into the wooden floor.

  “You’d best strap yourselves in. These things aren’t exactly designed for luxury I’m afraid. We will take off very soon. Once we’re up in the air I will take you to your cabin.” Artubai said before disappearing up a ladder to the flight deck.

  Visp and Tiberio did as they were told and sat down, Visp took a window seat. A few minutes past and then a loud whoomph noise sounded. Whoomph, whoomph, whoomph as the two huge rotors located on either side of the ship burst into life. The noise grew in volume and speed until with a splutter it became a constant low-pitched drone. With a violent shudder, the airship rose from the ground to send vast plumes of sand and dirt in all directions. Huge clouds of steam and black smoke billowed out of the ship’s rear vents as the engines powering the rotors were powered into life by a team of stokers. Visp reached over and gripped Tiberio’s hand in a white knuckled grip. Much to his surprise and amusement, her always calm exterior had given way to one of sheer terror. He smiled and squeezed her hand in reassurance. Within a few short minutes, the shuddering ceased and the whoomphing of the propellers became a steady hum. The airship was now being kept in the sky by helium gas alone. Tiberio looked out of the viewport next to him to see the imposing fort below was now the size of a child’s toy. Everything on the ground looked tiny and far less imposing. He looked up as Artubai descended the ladder from the pilot’s deck.

  “A smooth take-off I am pleased to say. We will begin crossing the desert within the hour and then on we go to the capital. I will show you to your cabin.”

  Visp and Tiberio followed Artubai towards the rear of the deck and through a doorway that led into a narrow corridor with two cabins located on either side. Artubai pointed to the furthest one on the right-hand side.

  “This is yours,’ he said as he opened the metal door. Inside was a bunk bed and a small trunk nailed into the deck. ‘I must add that I have been ordered to keep you confined in here until we arrive.”

  Visp glared at the man.

  “Confined in here? You can barely swing a cat!”

  “I am sorry but those are my orders. If you defy them then I am authorised to, well- throw you overboard,” Artubai said with a shrug. Before Visp could argue further, a pistol was in the Arikar’s hand and aimed menacingly at Tiberio.

  Seeing that they wouldn’t resist further Artubai smiled and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

  Visp sighed in frustration.

  “I knew things were going too well,” she muttered.

  Tiberio climbed onto one of the bunk beds and lay back. He looked at her with an amused smile.

  “As there’s nothing we can do until we arrive, I suggest we get some rest,” he said before closing his eyes.

  Chapter 17.

  Caspia

  The small force of Liberators marched through the Imperium countryside their banners flying and their drums beating. At first, Marcian had ordered caution as they’d set out from the North, but it had soon become apparent that there was no sign of the Imperium army close by. They’d marched for four days and had picked up new volunteers at several of the set
tlements they’d gone through. The Venerable Chamber’s propaganda had done its work, however, and several times they had been forced to retreat in the face of a hostile populace. No injuries had resulted, but the damage had been done in the minds of many. Marcian hadn’t the time to make them see the truth and had reluctantly continued the march.

  When those who had joined their ranks asked whether they’d seen any Imperium forces the tale was always the same, the Imperium army had packed up and moved southwards. They were now far to the south of Asta and openly marching down the main road heading toward the port city of Caspia.

  “I don’t like this one little bit,” complained Jip for the hundredth time. The old man rode at Marcian’s side and the scowl on his weathered face hadn’t changed in days. He’d been expecting resistance all the way.

  “Would you rather we had to fight every step of the way Jip?” asked Lizella from behind them. She was on foot, her musket strapped to her back along with a pack and sabre on her hip. She’d settled into the soldier’s life well a fact that saddened Marcian. When they’d first met, she’d been a frightened girl, now she was a trained and highly talented taker of lives. And it was all because she’d met him.

  “Aye miss I would have. It makes no sense for Rickon and his army to just pull back. He almost had us at Hestra, he knew we’d fled north to the forest and yet, he didn’t pursue us. Something stinks. In war you take every advantage you can get.”

  Marcian nodded at the old man’s words.

  “It is strange. With every day that passes we grow in numbers. Even the ruins of Asta were unguarded,” he said.

  “Which was very good for us. We scavenged plenty of guns and powder from what was left of the armoury, not to mention the three cannons that we still intact on the city walls.”

  He couldn’t help but smile at Lizella’s optimism. Perhaps they had just got lucky.

  “I’ve been a Liberator for many years miss and never before have I seen the Imperium just give up territory like this. Our scouts have ridden out for over a hundred miles in every direction and there is no sign of an army or force at all. Word from our forces in Caspia is that the entire city garrison packed up and abandoned it. When we arrive, the gates will be open to us. It doesn’t make sense. Not one bit I tells ya.”

  Marcian had to agree with Jip’s assessment of the situation. He couldn’t help but think the papers they’d discovered at Fort Desta had something to do with the Imperium’s sudden and unexpected withdrawal. Not all the fort’s garrison had fled into the mountains after their release. To his surprise, half of them had preferred joining the Liberators to exile. Many had loved ones in the Imperium, and they preferred to fight to free them then leave them at the mercy of the Supreme’s tyranny. The force under his command was already larger than he’d expected at this point of their march. The small ragtag army numbered over three thousand fighters and over a dozen cannons. They’d acquired wagons and horses as they went, some from abandoned estates, others willingly given by the populace. The Imperium’s attempts at discrediting the Liberator’s after Hestra had failed. It was foolish of Rickon to think the people didn’t know the evils of the regime he served. They experienced it daily after all. Of course, there were those fanatically loyal to the Supreme, but it seemed they too had mysteriously fled south.

  “It’s a trap is what it is. The Supreme is up to something,” Jip continued.

  Marcian was about to reply when they crested a small hill overlooking the plains leading to Caspia. The scout’s reports had been true, the city had indeed thrown open its gates. Gathered on the plain was the city’s populace. At seeing them on the hill a trumpet blew, and a loud cheer erupted from the crowds. Caspia had been Liberated without a single shot being fired and that worried Marcian more than anything.

  *

  “The garrison and city rulers just packed up and pulled out. I saw it happen with my own two eyes. We hadn’t even started the uprising we were planning and suddenly they left, just like that,” explained Corrin Tomas, the Liberator captain in command of the Caspia cell. At their arrival, he had welcomed Marcian and the others and led them through the jubilant crowds towards city hall. The place was an imposing structure dating back to the days of the old Caspian Sea Kingdom but inside it was adorned with the banners and sigils of the Venerable Chamber.

  “You hadn’t caused any trouble, at all?” Lizella asked. She too was beginning to feel uneasy.

  “Nope, not a sausage. The Imperium navy pulled out too along with a load of black ships. One of my boys said they too were sailing south.”

  “Black Ships?” Marcian asked. “The population of the city, do you know if people are missing?”

  Corrin ran a hand through his long brown hair and paled at the question.

  “Aye. Me and the lads watched them the eve before they left. They rounded up every man, woman and child from the Stone and Marble districts. A good five thousand people in total. We tried to stop them, but they heavily outgunned us and I’m sure there was a Hollowed with them too. Lost fifty men in that scrap,” he replied sadly.

  Marcian paced the room.

  “The strangest thing was that they seemed in a hurry, as though they’d received orders to grab as many people as they could before daybreak. As soon as the sun came up, they pulled out of those districts and then not long after, left the city altogether,” Corrin continued.

  “They must be heading to Aeranyth,” Lizella said, “but why the urgency? What’s happened?”

  “Perhaps it’s something to do with what’s happened in Olandis?” Corrin said. Marcian stopped his pacing and glanced at Lizella.

  “What have you heard? Speak man,” he snapped. The worried look in Lizella’s eyes was one he wore too.

  “Not much sir, only that there was some sort of battle and that there might have been Empowered Ones involved.”

  “Elian,” Marcian and Lizella exclaimed.

  “Captain tell your men to gather as many supplies as they can. Food, water and ammunition are the priorities. Oh, and spread the word that we need volunteers to join our cause. There must be a few good fighters amongst this city’s populace. Snap to it, I want us back on the road by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

  Corrin snapped a salute before hurrying out of the rooms and bellowing orders to his men. It was going to be a long and tiring day.

  Marcian sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Lizella wrapped her arms about his waist and held him close.

  “You need to rest General,” she said.

  He nodded. It was true, he was close to the point of exhaustion. He was about to suggest they find somewhere to rest but a newspaper lying on one of the rooms tables caught his eye.

  “There’s a printing press in Caspia if I recall from my last visit. On Canie street,” he said thoughtfully.

  “What are you thinking?” Lizella said as she followed his gaze toward the paper.

  “Come with me. It’s time we fought the Venerable Chamber at their own game.”

  *

  He walked through the empty streets without the need for a map. He’d spent much of his youth in the slums of Caspia with his grandfather and knew its layout like the back of his hand. It was there that he had first learnt of his Aeranyth heritage, it was there that his grandfather had sacrificed his life to save his own and rescued him from the Venerable Chambers clutches. He turned down a narrow street and slowed. It was here that it had happened. Lizella stopped beside him a curious expression on her face.

  “I’ve never told you about my past, have I?” he said softly.

  She shook her head.

  “I always assumed you would when you were ready,” she said taking his hand in hers. She squeezed it gently. She could tell that some memory was now haunting him. There were few in the Liberators who didn’t have a tale of woe and tragedy in their past. She forced thoughts of her abducted parents from her mind and focused on Marcian. He needed her now.

  “I was born here in Caspia. My moth
er died bringing me into the world. It was my grandfather who looked after me. He was a slave just like everyone else, the same save for the fact that he knew of our heritage. He protected me and had spent his entire life hiding who he was. You see, the Supreme knew that the descendants of Aeranyth’s royal bloodline still lived. In her wrath, she made one mistake. A young princess had been away from the kingdom on a diplomatic mission. She wasn’t there when the Supreme did what she; did. The princess, my ancestor hid herself and had a family of her own. As the Supreme embarked on her conquests my ancestors disguised themselves as a noble house of Caspia. They hid themselves well, knowing full well their lineage. It was a closely guarded secret and one that the Venerable Chamber has spent three hundred years trying to uncover. We hid right under their noses.”

  “The secret’s out now,” Lizella said with a smile.

  Marcian chuckled.

  “I guess it is. My grandfather always said that the time would come when a son or daughter of Aeranyth would rise and make a stand. One who would bring the vengeance of our people against the Supreme. He was the one who taught me how to fight and how to be a man.”

  Lizella kissed him on the cheek.

  “So, you were raised a noble. That finally explains how you could slip into the role so easily when we infiltrated Asta.”

  Marcian smiled at her. How had he been so lucky to find her?

  “My grandfather was a crafty man and it was he who laid much of the groundwork for the Liberators. It was his idea, all of it. I used to warn him that he would be found out, but all he would do was raised a bushy eyebrow and say, ‘life is nothing without risk my boy, one day it will be all worth the danger.’

  His eyes grew distant as other memories, one far darker entered his mind. He fell quiet and Lizella let him be with his thoughts. She was just enjoying this rare moment of peace as they walked through Caspia’s streets hand in hand. Finally, they reached a narrow plaza that was lined with brick buildings. Looking through the windows of one of them, Lizella could see that they were filled with tall shelves containing leather bound books.