“Time to wake, Lord Ronigan.”
A soft voice and a gentle pressure on his chest roused Ipid from the deepest, most relaxing sleep he could remember having had in the past two weeks. His eyes opened slowly, and the pressure on his chest moved to his forehead where he felt a cold, but soft, hand pressed against his brow.
“I hope you are feeling better,” a woman’s voice said from near his side. “You do not appear to have any lingering effects, but the first time you experience the sie-eium taloru, it can be quite disorienting. I am sorry that I was not better able to prepare you.”
The hand left his brow, allowing his eyes to open and focus on its owner. Standing next to his bed – he was lying in a luxurious feather bed – was a small woman in a black robe. The woman was bent so that her face was just above his, but she was not much higher than the tall bed and thin like a small bird. The hood of her robe was thrown back to reveal delicate features. She had ruddy, full cheeks that surrounded a pert nose and round, red lips. Her face was framed by a wild mass of frizzy almost white-blond curls that complemented her snow-white, porcelain-smooth skin, but starkly contrasted with her large, liquid, deep-brown, almost black, eyes. Small wrinkles radiated from the corners of her eyes, and there was a slight sag in the rounded cheeks that suggested that she was somewhat older than she initially appeared – perhaps nearing forty. Yet, she showed all the slimness of youth with a long neck that led down to what appeared to be a slight frame off of which her robes literally hung.
Seeing that he was awake, the woman took a step back and returned to her full height, which, though proud, was not much over five feet. Her hand, having abandoned Ipid's head, found his and took it in an ice-cold embrace. That icy grip was enough to trigger Ipid’s memories, and they rushed back in a wave.
Overcome by the horror of those memories, Ipid retracted. He lunged away so hard that he did not have time to gather his bearings and did not realize how small his bed was. Rather than retreating to the other side of the bed or against a protective wall, he found himself teetering on the edge of the mattress with momentum against him. The cold hand held him suspended for a split second, but its tiny owner had no chance of supporting his more substantial weight. Ipid tumbled to the wooden floor, narrowly missing a small nightstand with his head. The floor was unforgiving, but his rump and shoulder caught most of the blow without serious damage, and it was only a second before he was on his feet with his hand out to defend himself from the small woman, who was rounding the bed and closing on him with her hands outstretched.
“Are you alright?” she asked with concern. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“Stay back!” Ipid pushed himself into a nearby corner without noticing that he was wearing nothing more than his underclothes.
The woman stopped and took a step back but did not appear offended by his posture. She smiled knowingly and looked him up and down. “Am I so horrific a creature to cause such fright? A powerful lord like you so easily frightened by someone so small as me.”
Ipid’s guard began to relax – if she had wanted to hurt him, it was doubtful that she would have gently roused him first. He also realized how he must look, cowering nearly naked in a corner. To solve one of those problems, he snatched the patterned quilt off of the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders. The barrier was not enough to keep him from assuming a bright shade of scarlet.
The woman’s smile grew at his embarrassment. “Do not be so modest. How do you think you got that way?”
Ipid added another layer of red at the connotation. “I don’t care about that,” he lied and gave it away by pulling the quilt even tighter around his body. “I want to know what you did last night to bring me here. That . . . that . . . portal, or whatever it was, was out of a nightmare. Why should I believe that you are not from that same nightmare?”
“Such accusations,” the woman mocked offense. “Just because I am capable of doing things that you cannot explain does not make me or the things I do evil. I have, after all, transported you to your destination. I have given you a chance to save your people. Should it not be the end rather than the means that you use to judge me?”
She turned her back and walked to a small chair at the opposite end of the room. From there, she lifted a set of clothing and carried them to the bed. “Here.” She looked like she was trying to keep her eyes diverted, but Ipid saw her furtive glance dart toward him as she sat the clothing down. “You can dress if you are so embarrassed. Among my people we do not have such shame of our bodies, but if it makes you more comfortable, I will turn around. I will also answer any questions you have while you are dressing and while you break your fast.” She gestured toward a plate sitting on a small table at the other side of the bed. It held two fried eggs several fat sausages and a large piece of toasted bread that had been generously slathered with butter. Ipid almost dropped his blanket at seeing the feast. “But when you are finished eating, our conversation must end. You need to be on your way. Already the morning is fading, and you have much to accomplish this day.” The small woman smiled and looked him up and down one more time before turning and walking to the other side of the room where she stared out a small window.
When he was certain that she could not see him, Ipid took the blanket from around his shoulders and grabbed the woolen pants and shirt that he had worn the night before. As he pulled the pants on, he tried to decide where to start his questions. “So where are we? You said that you had taken me to Thoren. Are we actually in the city?”
“We are in a town near the city known as Wilmont. This is where the Darthur camp is located. It is only a short ride to the city.”
“So we traveled two hundred miles in one instant last night?”
“Yes.”
“How is that possible?” Ipid was lacing the leather thong that held the top of his rough shirt closed. “I was certain that we would be riding one of the stoche, but then you created that thing . . . that portal.” The thought sent a shiver up his spine and restored his trepidation.
“I do not think you would have liked riding a tal’ ladorim.” The woman giggled. “I don’t know if anyone has ever tried that before, but I can’t imagine any of them being very receptive to the idea. No, I created a ‘portal’ as you called it. That is probably the best term for it. It brought us to a field close to the city. From there, some of my fellows carried you here.”
Ipid sat on the bed to pull on his socks. “What was that portal? How were you able to create it?”
“That is a question that I could never answer in the time we have. Even if I explained it to you, it would only add to your confusion. Suffice it to say that we, the te-am’ eiruh as the Darthur call us, have a great variety of powers that have long been forgotten in your world. They are an ancient art, a gift to humans from one of our creators, Hilaal we call him. Our people have long maintained the study of those powers, protecting them and Hilaal’s creatures from the persecution of those who could not understand.”
Persecution by the Church, Ipid thought. Hilaal was the brother of Hileil, the creator of the Order. Hileil was a god of order and understanding. Hilaal was a god of destruction and chaos. He was the devil. It was Hilaal, in his jealousy over what his brother had created, that introduced chaos to the world and brought about the rise of the Lawbreakers that were exiled by Xionious Valatarian.
Legendary scriptures said that Hilaal gave his followers the ability to break the laws of the Holy Order. The result was a terrible time of war between those who followed the Order and those who could break it. That war raged until Valatarian formed the Church and established the laws that aligned his followers to the Order. He was thereby able to turn the Order against the Lawbreakers and cast them from the world. Most people did not believe those scriptures any longer. Hilaal and his followers were little more than boogiemen that were used to frighten children. Even the Church had disavowed the scriptures as metaphor. Bu
t after last night, Ipid was not so sure. He wondered if the Darthur were somehow descendants of the evildoers from those stories, if those stories were real. The thought nearly overran him until he could only stammer.
“I know what you are thinking.” The woman’s voice brought him back from the brink. She turned from the window. Ipid gawked at her before he realized what he was doing and turned to his shoes. “Yes, we are the ones that were cast out by your great hero, Xionious Valatarian.” The name was said with obvious distaste. “Yes, we worship Hilaal and what you would call the power of chaos. Yes, we are the Lawbreakers, the Exiles of your legends. Yes, wars were fought.” Her voice sounded cold and bitter as if she had been wronged, as if it were Ipid’s fault.
He was put back by the tone, but when the woman saw his expression, her face softened and so did her words. “I should not be so brusque. These are old wounds, which were long ago forgiven. Our people forgave yours for their prejudices and learned to live in peace. More than your church can say, I might add.”
Ipid watched the woman warily as she approached and took a seat on the opposite side of the small table where the breakfast sat. She motioned for him to sit, but he was frozen by her words. All his life, the Church had taught him to fear the temptations of chaos that the Exiles embodied. The thought of those temptations taking physical form was striking enough; the idea of sitting to breakfast with one of them was too much.
“Again, Lord Ronigan, I ask you to judge me by my actions not a thousand years of one-sided stories. My people do study the powers of chaos as your church would call them, but that power, like any power, is not inherently evil. It was a gift to this world just as your Order was. We believe that Hilaal and Hileil were not in conflict when the created the world, they were in harmony. They wanted order and chaos to exist in balance. It is our belief that humans can only achieve their full potential by using those powers together. The chaos is a part of what we are. It is our freewill. To deny it is to be enslaved. That is not what our creators intended. They were not building a clock. They were creating a world with creatures that could make their own decisions. That could surprise even them.”
With some trepidation, Ipid took his seat across from the small woman. The conviction of her words somehow reassured him, but he still did not understand them and knew that he would have to ponder all of this before he came to a conclusion of his own. In the meantime, he had to be infinitely cautious. He had very literally just sat to tea with the devil.
“Cannot even your Order be corrupted?” the woman continued. She sounded like she had given this lecture many times and was well practiced at it. “Think of the oppressive, corrupt laws throughout your history, and even now, that keep men in chains without justification. Is not that enslavement far more horrible than the expression of freewill that is inherent in my powers?”
“Can we continue this conversation later?” Ipid’s head was swimming. He was not prepared for a philosophical debate the likes of which he had not pondered since his time at university, and he did need information, even if it came from the very mouth of evil. “By your own admission, I only have until I am finished with my breakfast, and given the rumbling in my stomach, that will not be long.”
The woman laughed, a delicate sound that fit her slight stature, and nodded. “How rude of me. Of course you have more pressing concerns. Please, forgive me. I have become overly protective of my beliefs. What else would you like to know?”
Ipid was caught by the small dimples in her cheeks, and it took him a moment to gather himself. Could what she was saying be true? She certainly did not look like a devil. A thousand years was a long time. Perhaps the Exiles had learned to live in peace, perhaps there was a balance. It was a reasonable thought, but not one to be decided here and now. He cleared his throat to gather himself. “First off, what is your name?”
The woman blushed around a shy smile. “I did not realize that I had not introduced myself. My full name is Eialia Oie Alliera of the house Eieniette. That is a mouthful for one not familiar with my native language, so you can call me Eia.” She stood and leaned toward him with her lips pursed.
Ipid stared at her in surprise.
“It is the custom in my native land," she explained, "that people kiss after receiving each other’s names. You are taking the name off of my lips into you.”
“Oh.” Ipid was taken aback by the strange custom, but after a second to consider, he stood and gave Eia a guarded peck on the lips. It was less of a kiss than his son would have given him, yet it gave him a slight flush.
“You are a strange people.” Eia smiled but did not sit. “Now you should introduce yourself. Include your full name and titles.”
“Ah, yes.” Ipid had been so protective of his titles to this point that he did not want to reveal them, and he hemmed nervously while he decided which persona to assume.
“We already know your titles, Lord Ronigan. We simply asked the young people when they came for the testing. You are quite well known, so it was not a secret for long.”
That did not reassure him, but he responded nonetheless. “I am Lord Ipid Ronigan, Chairman and Director of Ronigan & Galbridge and First Advisor to the Chancellor for Trade and Commerce. Those are the most significant titles, if I go through all of them, my breakfast will get quite cold, and I . . .”
Eia grabbed his shirt pulled him to her and kissed him hard. It was a passionate kiss the likes of which he had not received since the death of his wife. It continued for what seemed a long time before Ipid recovered enough of his senses to realize what was happening and break away. Even then, it took some effort to escape Eia's grasp.
Released, he looked at the small woman wide-eyed and accusing. She laughed, “I told you, you have to kiss after giving your name, otherwise it will be lost and the introduction will never have occurred.” She laughed again – a small birdlike twitter – and returned to her chair as if nothing unusual had happened.
Ipid glared at her accusingly but could not think of what to say. Eia just looked at him innocently until his indignation sputtered and he allowed the incident to drop. He could not decide what was upsetting him in any case – deep down he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again.
“You should eat your breakfast before it grows cold as you fear. But do you have any other questions before you do?”
Ipid stuttered, still somewhat taken by what had just happened. He cut a sizeable chunk off of one of the sausages, but realized that he should ask a question before stuffing his mouth. “You mentioned the testing of the village boys. What is that? Why do some of them not return?”
Eia looked thoughtful but answered without concern. “We test the boys and girls to see if they have the gift to learn our ways. Everyone has the gift of Hilaal to some extent, but some are especially gifted and can learn to use the gift as you saw last night. These young men and women are given the opportunity to join our order. If they so choose, they are transported as you were to a place where they can learn.”
“What happens to those who refuse?”
“You have seen our abilities first hand, Lord Ronigan. When you were a boy, would you have refused such powers?” She paused as if expecting an answer, but Ipid was busy with his eggs and could not have responded if he had wanted to. “At the same time, we have to curb that enthusiasm because it is a powerful gift that must be carefully controlled.”
Eia paused while he washed his mouth with a long drink of milk. “You want to know about one in particular,” she started before he could ask. “He was selected and is learning now. He is unhurt and much more comfortable than he would be if he was still under your care.”
Ipid felt a pang of mixed relief and anxiety. At least Rynn was still alive, at least he had not completely failed the boy. At the same time, he wanted even more desperately to know about Dasen and Tethina but dared not ask – Arin already had too much leverage over him.<
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He drew a deep breath and changed the subject. “So you admit that you are the Exiles from our legends.” Eia nodded. “Are the Darthur Exiles too? Is this whole invasion about recapturing the world you were cast from?” He held his breath half-afraid of the answer, half-afraid of offending his host.
Eia laughed. “You don’t listen very well. Our people forgave yours and pledged ourselves to peace. We became religious leaders on our side of the Devil’s Teeth much like your counselors. It was our wish to never return to this world that holds so many mistakes and hard memories, but the Darthur forced us to break our oaths. I believe the Belab has already told you this story, so I will not waste your time with a retelling.”
Ipid remembered what Belab had told him but appreciated the confirmation. He looked down at his plate. It was dangerously close to being empty. He forced himself to eat slowly. “We had always thought that there was nothing on the other side of the Clouded Range. Why didn’t any of our expeditions ever return? Why are we just now learning of the Darthur and your people?”
“That is a good question, but a simple one. Your church in ancient times had great powers of its own. They used those powers to cast us out of your world and ensure that we would never return. Our side of the mountains is guarded by a desert called the Great Waste. It is the home of a merciless people who kill anyone who sets a foot in their lands. It was only an army the likes of the Darthur that could carve a way through their lands. An expedition would not last a mile.”
Ipid wondered how the Church could have created a desert and populated it with merciless guardians but was pulled from his thoughts by the realization that he had just finished chewing the last bite of his sausages. He had time for one more question. “So, what can you do with your powers other than transport people hundreds of miles in an instant?” He tried to sound nonchalant.
Eia giggled at his tone then grew serious and leaned across the table toward him. “We can tear the walls of your cities to the ground, rend your towers, and decimate your armies. Ours is the power to circumvent the order of the world, to break natural laws. It is the expression of freewill over order. We can do almost anything we want. We can do things that you could not even dream of.”
Ipid gulped.
“Yes, Lord Ronigan, you should be afraid. Your people should be afraid. With our power backing them, the Darthur are unstoppable. Your nation will soon serve him and we will sweep across your world. We swore a great oath to serve and are bound to it. Now, our numbers are growing and our powers are increasing. We do not relish this power. In fact, we are horrified by it. We are horrified by our cowardice, the cowardice that allowed this power to fall into the hands of these monsters, the Darthur. They are your example of order turned evil – structured, disciplined, but maniacal – and we are their unquestioning servants.”
Ipid looked down at the scraps remaining on his plate, but his appetite was gone. He imagined the powers that Eia had just described in the hands of a man like Arin. All his well-crafted plans, all his manipulations of strategy would mean nothing if what she said was true.
Seeing that the meal was done, Eia stood from the table. “I must take you to Kurion now. You have much to do this day.”
Ipid moved to stand as well, but before he could, Eia put a hand on his forehead and whispered strange words. “It is an old blessing of my people,” she explained when she was finished. “I wish you strength and courage in the battles you are preparing to face and hope that my spirit will carry with you to provide you solace. In the land of my people, it is the blessing that wives put upon their husbands before they go to war.”
She paused and looked at him for a long moment. “Come now, but be silent. We will have other opportunities to talk.”
From Across the Clouded Range Page 89
