The Book of One: A New Age

by Jordan Baker

  Aaron inquired about Ashford and the fate of Lord Kaleb. Carlis told him that Kaleb had briefly been captured by Baron Manfred but some of his men had effected a daring rescue and Kaleb had escaped with them to the northern forests. Beyond that, Carlis could find out very little about the tiny community called Ashford. Aaron hoped his friend Brian and his family were all right.

  Even though sometimes, on a sleepless night, he would wonder about the events that had led him to Maramyr, his days kept him so busy that he soon grew used to his new life. He especially enjoyed reading the old volumes of history. He had become known to the librarians at the Academy library and, after a while, they let him wander the mazes of shelves on his own.

  One particular night, late in the library, he caught a glimpse of a cowled figure in a black robe hunched over a candle at a small desk at the end of one of the corridors. He felt a strange tingling at the back of his neck and caught a whiff of a strange incense. He idly flipped open a book he had just taken from a shelf and pretended to read it as he wandered in the direction of the figure. The man was scrawling with an old quill in a book and had stacks of books piled around him. He seemed to be writing with an almost angry intensity. Aaron stopped as the scratching of the quill abruptly stopped. Without looking up, the hooded figure flipped the quill over in its hand and a dry voice whispered among the book-laden stacks.

  “It’s a late evening is it not, young man?” Aaron felt a quiver behind his ear. The mysterious figure spoke again and Aaron noticed that his lips did not move. “Forgive me but I must write while the mood has me in its grip. We will speak again.” Aaron had not said a word but felt a powerful urge to leave the strange man to his work. He shook his head and the tingling fell away and he retreated back through the rows of shelves to where he had originally been looking. The figure at the desk scrawled with his quill.

  Aaron waited in the shadows while the mysterious figure wrote in the large volume. When the scratching of the quill stopped, Aaron carefully peeked out from behind the rows of books. The table where the man had sat was now empty, his candle and the many volumes gone, except for one. Aaron looked around and could see no sign of anyone. He walked over to the table and opened the book. He felt a strange twinge in his head but it was not painful like it usually was. He opened the first few pages and Aaron was surprised to find them blank. He flipped through it to the end and found only a few sentences on the final page. He saw that mysteriously the letters were fading quickly. Quickly, he read what remained on the final page as the black letters faded into blank parchment.

  …while petty battles distract the Northern Range and the Land of the Lake, an Easterly wind brings disorder and death. The age of chaos is upon us and while this by its nature brings opportunity, those that are good may be matched by much trouble. A King will rise, a King will fall, and a false King will raise a new banner of death. The death of the father, the life of the son, the pain of the mother, the vein of the brother, the blood of the stars, and the daughter of the moon bring the Beginning and the End together as One.

  These are the histories of our time. ~ Anonymous.

  By the time he had finished reading, that page too had gone completely blank as if it had always been empty. Quickly, Aaron pulled out his own pen and a sheaf of parchment and scrawled the passage from memory. He closed the book and puzzled what had been written. Who was this Anonymous character and why was he so named? Aaron wondered about the war from the East. There had been nothing but peace in the Kingdom since the Great War. He wondered if the mysterious figure had been writing about Maramyr at all. Perhaps he meant the neighboring Empire of Xalla. They were at war with everyone, it seemed. Aaron stuck the parchment in with his other notes and replaced the wordless book on the table. He decided that he had seen enough mystery for the night and that he had better study the battle of Minavia for the strategy exam in the morning.

  As he left, the cowled figure emerged from behind the shelves of books. He had watched the young man for some time now. This one was interesting, Aaron was his name. The man in the shadows found him interesting for two reasons. He could not see into the boy like he could peer into other souls and somehow the boy had also been able to see him, which should have been impossible. No one could see him, or know him. That was precisely his curse, the law under which he had been permitted to live, to observe, to learn. No one would see him and no one would hear him, even though he had much to say. All of his vast knowledge was trapped within him, within his curse, for precisely that reason. There had been a time when he had shared too many secrets.

  Ages ago, the cloaked figure remembered, he had been a young man, proud and strong. Wise before his years, people had said. He had a name then but they had taken that too. Now he lived as he penned his name, the name that had been forced upon him, Anonymous, and even that name was unreadable to all but this one young man.

  All he had wanted was to learn, to learn everything that could be learned. That was what he wanted and that was what he had set out to do, except he had learned things that perhaps he should not have. Anonymous silently mused over his past. He had indeed learned too much and that knowledge had made him powerful, but not powerful enough. His power had drawn their attention and, upon discovering how expansive was his knowledge, they had taken nearly everything from him, cursed him as much as he cursed them to this day. Yes, they had taken his identity from him but they had left him with the torture of his knowledge, free to roam, free to learn, to discover, but never to speak or be seen by anyone, to share that knowledge, to use it, until now.

  He looked at the table where Aaron had placed his parchment and the faint outlines of his quill were evident on the wood. Anonymous gestured and the outlines darkened to show the passage Aaron had copied from the fading text. Good, Anonymous thought and hoped they would overlook what Aaron had learned. If he could teach him a few things without attracting their attention, perhaps this boy would be his salvation.

  “You’ve got to be quick,” Fergus told Brian who, frustrated, pushed himself up from the ground.

  “I don’t get it,” Brian said. “How can you move so fast when you’re so…”

  “Fat?” Fergus offered. Worried that he might have insulted the big man, but angry because of the seeming impossibility of how fast he could move, Brian gave up and agreed.

  “Yes!” he exclaimed. The men gathered round to watch the demonstration laughed. Fergus smiled at the young man as he offered him back his sword. Brian’s younger brother Diller watched from nearby where he cheerily crunched on an apple, still not speaking, but getting along with Kaleb’s men nonetheless.

  “I am fat. That is true,” Fergus said, smiling. “But I’m knowing how to move when I need to.” He considered for a second. “Think of yourself as water. It flows smooth, yes? It has no arms, yes?” Brian nodded, imagining water pouring from a trough or running down a stream. “It flows,” Fergus said. “Be like water.”

  Brian took a deep breath. This would be a long afternoon but he was determined to learn from the fat man. He thought about what Fergus had said, that water did not have any arms. What did that mean? He thought about his own arms and how they were connected to his shoulders and that his shoulders were connected to his body and then wondered whether he should try again. He shifted his feet and raised his sword to Fergus again.

  Fergus watched as Brian changed his balance and settled into a much better stance. He smiled and swung his own blade at the lad. Brian was very good and he was learning quickly the art of balance that had been in Fergus’ family for generations, an art that was nearly lost to the world. Some of the best fighters had once come from this part of the world but most of them had gone off to seek fame and fortune and had taken the art with them. Fergus and his ancestors had stayed and he was glad to be able to teach what he knew to the men he was with. Brian showed the most promise so far. Perhaps he too would become a Vashain warrior. Perhaps, Fergus thought, as he again stole Brian’s sword and sent him crashing to the ground
. Perhaps, but it would take some work.

  Fergus was pleased. It had taken nearly twice as long to take Brian’s sword and he told him as much. Brian, however, was still less than pleased since it had still only been a matter of seconds before he was disarmed. This time, Fat Fergus, as he was affectionately called by the men who hid in the forest with their lord Kaleb, reached his meaty paw down and helped Brian back to his feet.

  “You get better each time boy,” Fergus told him.

  “Thanks,” he replied.

  “Someone has taught you some things, yes?” he asked. Brian shrugged.

  “My friend’s uncle was a soldier. I learned from him for a while.”

  Brian frowned as he thought of his friend Aaron. He had learned from the men that everyone had believed that Brian had killed the soldiers Manfred had sent in pursuit of him and his friends when they escaped from Ashford. For some reason, no one mentioned Tarnath or Aaron though some of them had heard of a big Aghlar man and his daughter having been involved. Brian hoped Aaron had been the one who had really killed the soldiers and confided to Kaleb that he thought as much.

  Kaleb, a sensible man, had suspected that though Brian’s name was repeated as the outlaw responsible, there was more to the story. Brian was good with a sword, but he was just starting to grow into a man and likely did not have the endurance to have fought so many and won. Kaleb had agreed that it was strange that no one talked of Brian’s friends, the mysterious old man and his nephew who had lived in the woods near Brian’s home. He had even asked a few of the people who bucked Manfred’s rule and secretly supported Kaleb at Ashford. They vaguely remembered something about an old man and his nephew but could neither name nor describe either of them. With weightier issues to contend with, Kaleb let the matter drop and welcomed Brian and his brother among his men. Word had arrived that day that Manfred was planning a raid into the forest to try to root out Kaleb and his men. They would need every hand they could get.

  *****

  It was several days before Aaron had a chance to venture back into the Academy Library. Orders had come down from the Palace that the Regent-King himself would conduct an inspection of the Academy’s ranks. The entire Academy flew into action readying the grounds for the Royal procession that would accompany the visit by Cerric and his entourage.

  Aaron had been disappointed. The procession and accompanying ceremony been short and circumspect. With little comment from the Regent, the procession had retreated to the palace leaving the Academy dressed in all its splendour to retire. The Captains had hoped Cerric would take a proper tour and they had all looked forward to being properly introduced to the Regent’s neice, the Princess Ariana, who would someday become their Queen.

  Aaron had managed to get a good look at the Princess because the First Division had been arranged at the front of the formation. Dressed in a fine robe of wine-colored satin and white lace the young Royal’s beauty had entirely captivated Aaron. She looked to be near Aaron’s age and though his eyes were locked forward as he stood at attention, he thought he saw her smile at him when she passed. Aaron thought to himself that he was lucky for a boy from the country to have actually been smiled at by the future Queen of Maramyr.

  From the corner of his eye Aaron had noticed that she had said something to one of the others in his formation. He was right when he guessed it had been Borrican. Over that night’s dinner, Aaron had asked him what she had said but Borrican merely smiled mischievously and refused to tell although he did admit to having met the princess before.

  Now that things had returned to normal, Aaron decided to spend some time in the Library and see if he might again find the mysterious cloaked figure, who signed the name Anonymous to the things he wrote. He nodded a silent greeting as he passed the librarians who sorted the many books at the great tables near the entrance. He noticed that several of the dark-cloaked Mage Priests were still overseeing the librarians’ work and wondered what secrets the books on the table might contain. The Priesthood had been scouring the library for months, looking for books of magic and prophecy that they would take to Blue Island, where they were creating their own school. Since even being near magic of any kind threatened to give him a headache, Aaron was glad they were taking the books with them.

  Continuing past, Aaron found himself deep among the long corridors of shelves. He passed several more Mage Priests who walked along focused on the many volumes on the shelves. He felt at twinge at the back of his head when he neared them but they barely noticed him at all. Aaron soon found the place where he had encountered Anonymous and found the spot empty. He waited for a short while and peered along the many shelves surrounding him. He was about to head back to where his study desk was with his books when from the corner of his eye, he saw something moving down one of the aisles. He turned and saw the same figure from several nights before. It was Anonymous and he was moving quickly. For a moment, Aaron feared that the mysterious character might have some sort of ill intention but Anonymous stopped just short of him and uttered one word.

  “Follow,” he said.

  Anonymous immediately turned back the way he had come. He had a tall stack of books balanced in his hand. Aaron stood anchored to the floor for a moment and wondered whether he should follow but as Anonymous quickly faded further among the stacks Aaron’s curiousity won out and he quickly pursued him deep into the library.

  Anonymous led him deeper into the vast building where many books lay shrouded in a thin layer of dust. The great lights that flooded from the lamps on the ceiling faded behind them as they pushed further back into the less-travelled parts of the great hall. Eventually, they encountered a heavy stone wall at the far end and the cloaked figure turned to the left and swiftly made his way along the wall. Aaron watched as Anonymous neared what he figured to be the northeast corner of the building. His gait did not slow as he neared the corner and before Aaron’s eyes, the cloaked figure disappeared, right thorough the seemingly solid stone wall. Confused, Aaron stopped. After a few moments, Anonymous reappeared through the stone and approached him.

  “Do as I do. Walk quickly and deliberately and you will pass through. Walk slowly, with hesitation, and you will feel the stone.” He told him and turned. He quickly passed again through the wall as effortlessly as he had the first time. Aaron wondered for a moment if perhaps he was not following some kind of ghost who could walk through things that the living could not. Aaron thought it over and decided that the only risk was a bruised nose if Anonymous was wrong. He started forward and made sure to walk quickly. As he neared the wall, Aaron squinted his eyes shut, waiting for the impact but he did not slow down. He knew where the wall should be and felt nothing as he passed that point. He realized he was walking with his eyes closed and quickly opened them. He stopped short, his nose nearly buried in a shelf lined with books.

  Aaron turned and saw that he was in another room, not nearly as large as the great hall of the Library but sizeable nonetheless. He saw the cloaked figure sitting at the head of a large table. Anonymous gestured to a nearby chair. Aaron took a seat.

  “Like the wall, many thing are not as they appear.” Anonymous chuckled. “If you can get your mind around that concept, you will understand more about existence than most.” He told Aaron. Aaron nodded, wondering why he had brought him here. Anonymous guessed at Aaron’s question. “It was not appropriate to talk with those Mages about. They would likely wonder what you could be doing in the library talking to yourself.” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “They cannot see me.” Anonymous told him. “But for some reason, you can.”

  “Who are you?” Aaron asked him. It was the first of many questions that flooded into his mind. Anonymous laughed.

  “Who am I? Now that could likely be one of the great mysteries if anyone even knew to ask the question. You copied my words from the page. What name did I write?” he asked.

  “Anonymous,” Aaron answered. Aaron caught the glint of white teeth from the shadows of the man’s hood as he smiled in the di
m light.

  “Anonymous.” said the man, tasting the word. “I have known this and my hand has written this, though my mind has instructed it to write another name, one I do not even know. Anonymous. I suppose that is as good a name as any. And you are Aaron, a student here at this place.” Aaron nodded.

  “The Academy. I’m training here. I’m hoping to get a commission in the Royal Army.” Aaron told him.

  “And that is why you spend so much time studying?” Anonymous asked.

  “Yes. There are rumors that Maramyr is preparing for war. The Xallan Empire looks like it is preparing a push at our borders. I am trying to learn all I can about them before they get here. It might help to know more about them if we’re going to beat them back.” Aaron told him earnestly. Anonymous chucked again, a sound Aaron was beginning to find chilling.

  “And you hope this knowledge might advance you in the ranks of the Royal Maramyrian Army?”

  “I suppose so. I've been told if I work hard, I might even make Captain some day.”

  Since starting at the Academy, Aaron had resolved to make the best of his new life. His reputation as a swordfighter had grown since his first match with Aldos and his hard study and diligence in both the practice field and the library had made him a favourite with all the Captains. Anonymous took a deep breath and sighed.

  “Yes. I am sure you may, at that,” he said. Aaron decided that he wanted to know more about the cloaked figure that sat before him.