“Huh. I wondered whose stupid idea that was. Now it all makes sense.”
“Be nice.” Sounds of distant struggle brought Aruto’s attention back to the temple doors. He drew away from the heretic for the time being and found Regina outside the temple doors, floundering in mid-air with her wrists tied to a staff impaled into the outer wall. “Ah, a friend of yours, heretic?”
“Quite so.”
Aruto flashed him a wide grin, faced the heretic with slow and graceful self-importance that sent his cape aflutter in the Zephyr wind. He patted a furred knee with Nimbus brandished once again. “Come, get up you fool. I’ve wanted to cross claws with you for ages, now. What a rare delight this is.”
“Come on,” the heretic urged him.
Aruto leapt at him, ready with gracious sword strokes. But the heretic, small and nimble, found his footing and managed to fend off stunning slashes and lethal thrusts with the deft knowledge and cunning agility of an experienced weaponslord. Even with just a meagre dagger, he was able to keep up against the threat of Nimbus.
Outside, Regina busied herself with an attempt to escape. Using the leverage of her own dangling body weight against the strong wind, she tried to swing up to catch her heels around the end of Dwain’s staff.
Each successive swing granted greater momentum until she finally hooked her little skunk heels around the staff. Regina pulled herself up closer to her wrists and began to chew through the gore-stained angora that kept her paws tied in place. The taste and stench of spilt Life Energy was suffocating, nauseating, but she gnawed furiously onward through the bondage with tear-brimming eyes clenched shut.
Sudden weightlessness swung her backwards like a clock pendulum. Her spectacles slipped off her nose and hung round her neck centimetres from the ground, where strands of angora fluttered to a rest. Blood rushed to her brain. Regina grabbed onto the staff and dropped safely to a stand.
I have to get away from this place, she thought. I have to warn Master Astral of Dwain’s plight!
She took hold of the staff and wrenched it free with a dusty pop that sent her hopping backwards. Shaky paws swept her spectacles back up upon her nose, and without a moment’s hesitation, Regina made a break for the steep staircase back down into the valley of the Stone Zephyr.
…Regina…
She froze before she could reach the top step. “…That voice again!”
…Regina Lepue…
A numb daze enveloped Regina. She turned back around to face the open temple entrance on heels that refused to acknowledge the innate urge to flee. She saw past the heretic and the Alliance hare duelling. She saw past robed mammals that lay lifeless all around them. None of these mattered, except for what she saw past a distant marble altar, where a dull luminescence spoke to her.
…Regina Lepue … it is time…
Time for what, she wondered.
…Time … for the moon star’s descent … for Light to bear … from within…
Her eyes settled upon the shadows of dead mammals, young and old, all clad in scarlet robes – temple-keepers, who devoted their lives to the worship of Mother Azna. Beyond, the heretic and Aruto launched at each other before the altar steps. They crossed blades in an uneven clash that brought them both in a deep sway that threw off each other’s balance.
“You’re losing steam, heretic,” said Aruto. “How long can you keep this up? You’re dehydrated, clearly. My, when was the last time you’ve even eaten? At this rate, I won’t even need to tie you up when time comes to drag you back to Keeto Town.”
“I have a name,” snarled the heretic.
“Yes, they’ve stripped you of that, also.”
With a fierce snarl, the heretic lunged at Aruto. But the Alliance hare was more than ready, and shot forward, sweeping Nimbus in a great upwards arc. The heretic threw his knife-wielding arm up to deflect the attack. A searing agony scorched across his forearm and didn’t fade.
The knife clattered to the floor. The heretic clutched his arm, backed away from Aruto, who only took steps closer. Blood seeped between the heretic’s paw digits, pattered all about his field boots.
“So, the rumours are true, then.” Aruto’s lips peeled back into a victorious sneer. He stopped to examine the blade with subdued reverence. “I believed Nimbus’s power just a legend until today.” Then kicking away the hunting knife, he continued forward with Nimbus ready to dole out a final slash.
The heretic hissed back pain. “A trail of Alliance corpses lays all behind me, and yet you remain a sceptic ‘til the end. I remember now why I dislike you so much.”
“Magical nonsense should be prone to healthy scepticism.”
“Even the Zuut’s very dogma?”
Aruto’s grin widened. “Oh, especially so.”
The heretic reached behind him, searching for something, a standing candelabra – anything – to defend himself with. “Perhaps if you’d leant your platoon to more worldly ventures than just those of drunken pub brawls, your ignorance wouldn’t have led you to such delusions.”
“My, heretic, such harsh words. And yet, today’s events seem to suggest otherwise!”
As the heretic backed away, something whispered past his tail. Both he and Aruto turned to watch a small mammal garbed in a pale hooded poncho climb the altar steps directly behind them.
Aruto blinked. “That’s your skunk.”
The heretic furrowed his brow. “That’s my skunk. Oi, skunk! What are you doing?”
But Regina didn’t respond. She rounded the altar, drawn to a temple-filling illumination that neither adversary had noticed until now.
Aruto cried out with sudden realization. “The Crystal!” He shouldered past the heretic and bounded up the steps after her.
The heretic realized what was happening and threw himself at Aruto, grabbing his fluff-ball tail with both paws. He yanked the Alliance sergeant backwards with all his might, dragging him face-first into the steps. Nimbus bounced free down each stone riser until it clattered to a sliding stop mid-way down the centre aisle of the pews.
The heretic was upon the fallen sword in an instant. Aruto reached for a pouch at his hip. Nimbus appeared at his throat before he could withdraw its contents.
“You knew I’d return with the Crystal,” said the heretic. “How?”
Aruto grinned darkly. His whiskers shivered with happy malice. “You have a dear friend to thank for that.”
“What are you talking about? Answer!”
“You’re going to kill me, regardless what I tell you. Let’s just keep it between comrades for now, shall we?”
The heretic growled. “You’re lying. He would never – Fine. There is nothing more between you and I. The rest of your fleet will be glad to drink into the afterlife with their beloved sergeant. Do me a favour – send Caius Artois and his troops my regards.”
“Stop!” shouted a small voice overhead. “This madness shall cease!!”
Aruto and the heretic exchanged puzzled stares, then looked up the altar steps. There at the top, the Crystal of the Wind shone from between Regina’s little arms, illuminating great light that throbbed with every word she uttered: “No more blood will spill today.”
The heretic pushed the tip of his sword firm against Aruto’s jugular. “Not interested in lectures on Aznain ethics, skunk.”
“I am no skunk,” she said in a voice that quaked the very temple walls. “I am the Crystal of the Wind, and I command you lay aside your blade.”
34. The Crystal of the Wind
Regina awoke beneath a frigid veil. Her sheep-sheer duvet was nowhere to be found, and it felt as though her mattress were filled with rocks. Unreliable eyes searched the darkness around her under the crackling rich scent of the fireplace out in Astral’s study.
“Master Astral, why is it so cold? Would you please put more wood on…” She found her spectacles hanging around her neck, and was puzzled as to why the lenses were dusted with light dirt.
She sat up, noting dull warmth that be
at across her backside, despite a chill that enveloped her. Regina looked over her shoulder. High flames licked at frigid winds that howled with discontent. Smokey canine eyes glowered at her from beyond an active fire pit.
Regina blinked and bolted upright.
“You’re awake.” The heretic noted this with indifference.
Regina turned her body around to fully face him. Her hazy eyes searched for the stolen blade he’d used to threaten her before. It lay sheathed at his side, leaning against the stolen saddlebag.
Jagged teeth flashed beneath a tattered hood. A presumed snarl became a wince of pain. It was then Regina realized the heretic nursed a wounded arm, wrapped without elegance with a red ragged cloth of some kind that wasn’t her angora belt.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
The heretic noted her attention, shifted his injury into the shadows of his cloak’s folds. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s something. I saw you take an arrow to the shoulder and react like it a were mere nuisance. Here, let me have a look.”
The heretic stared at her with stone eyes.
“At least – take me back to my home, where I can apply the proper elixirs,” said Regina. “I – I – I can mix some herbs for it, and—”
“You’re an alchemist, then. Dare I let you smear berries and mushrooms on me that will invoke drowsiness ... I’m not an idiot.”
“But your wound will become infected—”
“So too will your lips, if I’m forced to sew them shut.”
The thought of this shuddered Regina into silence. But after a while she dared asked, “Is the hare dead, too?”
“Aruto? No. But I imagine he’s quite hungry.”
Regina tilted her head at him, confused. “Pardon?”
The heretic grunted in mid-reach for his sword – Regina went rigid, but his paw placed the weapon aside and went for the saddlebag. “That’s what I said when you instructed me not to end his miserable waste of existence.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” said Regina.
“Nor do I.” The heretic dragged the bag into his lap and wrestled open the flap with just a single able-working paw. An eerie glow from within transfixed Regina, and she watched the heretic struggle to withdraw the Crystal. It shone so bright that as soon as the heretic wrestled it all the way out of the bag, a dome of illumination encapsulated their little camp, beating out the glow of the fire pit.
Regina shielded her weak eyes until they adjusted proper.
“You know what this is?” The heretic tossed aside the empty saddlebag and pored over the crystalline relic.
“No, except for the power it claimed over me,” said Regina.
“Yes, you seemed quite smitten with it earlier. Don’t know what that was back there, pretending to speak as the Crystal and then fainting like a simpering pup. Nearly broke the thing in half.” He turned the radiant gemstone to reveal a deep cleft in its side. “Either way, your stunt worked, because Aruto’s still alive.”
“What … what is that…?” Regina dared to ask as she gazed upon the relic.
The heretic was surprised by this. “A shoddy alchemist you are, then. They say our world was created by the raw essence of the natural elements.”
“Yes – elemancy. But that still doesn’t answer—”
The heretic growled her into silence. “Don’t interrupt me. As your scripture reads, Mother Azna sealed such elements into four powerful stones.”
“The World Stones,” Regina said. “Scripture states before Vida, there was nothing. There was only Chaos. And Mother Azna breathed into the Chaos to create the power of the Elements. However … the frigid touch of chaos froze her breath into four separate stones. Each stone held the total essence of Mother Azna’s breath: Wind. Earth. Water. Fire. Mother Azna used these stones to bring forth Light that melted away the Chaos, and created the world of Vida…”
Regina gasped.
“That’s a World Stone?” she asked.
The heretic nodded. “So you do know of the Crystals.”
“Master Astral taught me about them, ages ago. Made sure I never forgot – he was adamant!”
“If your master is an alchemist also, it’s no wonder he was adamant,” said the heretic.” Any case, the stories are true – obviously.”
Regina shuddered as she took in the full sight of the Crystal of the Wind. “Together, the World Stones bring balance to Vida’s existence, to our existence. … When mammals were given life, scripture reads we built secret temples to keep the World Stones hidden and safe from the influence of evil forces. But – I thought the stories of the World Stones were simply legend. Easily-digestible explanations for how the world came to be, when the world has always been here. Aznain scripture, passed down through the generations!”
“The scriptures were true,” said the heretic. “The Crystals are housed in the very temples you described, hidden across four provinces, somewhere beyond the Gabriel Sea. Back during the earlier days of the War, the first Retainers built settlements close to where the Crystals’ temples stood, for religious pilgrimages and worship.”
Regina gazed upon to Crystal resting cradled in the heretic’s lap. The cleft in the side of it sparkled against the firelight. “Was that my doing? The crack in it, I mean. You said I fainted?”
“The Crystal was like that when I stole it back from Twigleaf Company. Someone carved a piece out of it, looks like. Bastards. Goddess knows why.”
Regina glanced around their surroundings. Great stone pillars surrounded her on all sides. Overhead, the mother moon hung full and radiant amidst dark clouds above eagle-shaped silhouettes. They were down in the valley of the Stone Zephyr – she recognized the place now. Her gaze saw memories of fierce battle around her. Her ears perked to ghostly whispers of combat, the clash of steel and the yips of those who fought the heretic and fell to his swordsmanship. She shuddered. The memories faded into the darkness around her. “The temples you spoke of – this one of those places, then? It’s so close to the Hollow. Why didn’t Master Astral ever bring us here?”
“It was close to three Retainer branches, as well,” noted the heretic.
Regina itched a scratch on her cheek. “If what you say is true, and what you hold is indeed a holy relic – then why did you steal it?”
“I was trying to return it.”
“What?” Regina blinked.
“It was the Alliance who stole it,” said the heretic, darkly.“I was merely doing Mother Azna a favour, by bringing it back.”
Regina sat upright, more confused now that she ever was before. “But – but why would you return it?”
“Why?” the heretic repeated, dumbfounded. “Because this is where the Crystal belongs, that’s why.”
“But you’re a canine—”
“Excuse me? The guff does that have anything to do with it?”
Regina hesitated. Words Dwain once uttered seasons long ago came to her then: Genocide is what they want. Control is what they desire. To rule again, that’s all any of them ever dreams of. To say otherwise must mean…
She shuddered. “What you said – that it was the Alliance who’d stolen it – is that the truth?”
“Yup.”
“But … but, why would they do such a thing? Are they not under oath to protect these lands? That includes the World Stones, I imagine…”
“Our almighty Zuut wishes great council with the Crystals.” Sarcasm dripped off the heretic’s tongue like perspiration. “Why do you think, alchemist? Corruption, just like you said of the Alliance, before. Power. All the power in the universe. The Zuut wants to be a greater force than our own Goddess Mother could ever achieve.”
Regina chewed on all this information in silence for a time. She levelled her gaze with the heretic. “You were protecting the World Stone from the Alliance?”
The heretic nodded.
“But if the Alliance wants the World Stone enough, were willing to kill me – were willing to kill innocent wheda
if it meant their quest was kept secret – won’t they just come right back for it? I mean – today’s events simply won’t evaporate on the wind. Or do you intend to stand guard over it the rest of your days?”
The heretic didn’t reply.
“Why should I even believe you?” she said. “You’re a canine, after all. Canines slaughtered my family and burned down my village. Canines ruled over the wheda for hundreds of years. You expect me to take anything you say as honesty?”
“And of course race and history are brought into it, once again.” The heretic scoffed. “Fine. Don’t take my word for anything. You’re my hostage, remember? I don’t care whether or not you believe me. Do you trust your eyes, though? Your gut instinct? Those are your only true friends in life, alchemist. Anyway. You’re my ticket out of Galheist, your opinion on this matter means droppings to me. Now that you’re awake, and you’ve wasted my time spouting exposition of the world’s history, we should be off. Your hide owes me an airship.”
“What of – of that hare?” Regina asked.
“Not my concern, not especially yours, either. Stretch your limbs and prepare to ride. Alliance ponies graze near here, and Warminister is a week’s gallop.”
Regina glanced over her shoulder and found the Temple of the Wind illuminated against the gaze of the mother moon. She rose to a stand and started towards it.
“I wouldn’t go that way,” said the heretic.
But Regina ignored him. She shuddered past two grave markers hidden among the pillars and continued towards the edge of the valley, where the great stone steps up to the temple awaited. It towered over her, ominous in the moonlight like a giant feline spying on mousely prey. She waited for the heretic to come after her, to drag her back to the bonfire with his wretched blade to her throat – but he didn’t.
His eyes were upon her, though. She could feel them.
35. Sins of the Father
The climb to the temple entrance was slow and silent. When Regina reached the top, she found the doors shut, with Dwain’s walking staff slid between the handles to keep it firmly bolted. She carefully drew free the staff and leaned her weight against the doors. Their hinges gave way on low, jittery creaks.
The Book of Wind: Page 25
