However, all other requests for help or information are completely ignored. Kael, let us say you were set upon and nearly beaten to death. Left on the side of the road to rot. A scribe that came upon you might record the event but he certainly wouldn’t assist you. That would take time. It might interfere with his mission. Don’t fool yourselves into believing this group has your best interests in mind. From the outside they look like a scholarly group of intellectuals, following a divine calling. There is nothing divine concerning their actions.”
Ader turned from the group and faced the hooded scribe standing frozen in the middle of the dusty road. The Seraph approached.
“All scribes attempt to memorize every passage of the text.” called Ader over his shoulder. “But one scribe is required to know it all. Every word written over a thousand years is contained within his head. The Prelate of the Delvin Scribes, the head of their order, knows all verses.”
Granu’s eyes flashed recognition and he inched forward in front of Kael.
“Nostr.” said Ader addressing the scribe before them. “Recite the seventh book of Josi, verses seven through seventeen.”
“Nostr!” rumbled Granu.
The figure removed his hands from the folds of his gray robe and grabbed the cowl hiding his face. Shock and fear pulsed through Kael’s entire body. The huge gray hands were encrusted with chips of rock. Slowly the scribe pulled the hood from around its head and Kael stared at the rough face and thick neck of a giant Ulrog. Cefiz gasped and if not for the presence of Granu, Kael would have bolted up the road.
“And in the South shall he rise, in sight of the ancient wood.” began the deep, grating voice of the scribe. “A child like no other. He shall trace his line to man but also the eternal. Two Fathers will he have. The man of arms shall raise him but the King shall give him life. When...”
“That is enough.” said Ader coldly.
The Ulrog halted and stood staring at the Seraph.
“Was he talking about me?!” exclaimed Kael.
“Now you see what I mean.” said Ader. “Information like this is contained throughout the Book of Scribes. Information that seems cloudy and vague when first presented, but as you dig and uncover, it helps fill in the gaps.”
“But I still don’t see the danger?” said Kael.
“Kael! How do you think those Malveel were led to the South!?” snarled Ader. “What made Izgra decide to send some of his most valuable servants to the edge of the Nagur? It wasn’t random. I’m not saying this particular verse was the culprit, but there are others. Don’t think for a moment that the Book of the Scribes is simply a text meant to preserve history. The Scribes and their text have their own agenda. I don’t know what it is yet, but I don’t think I’ll like it.”
A wall of emotion slammed into Kael. He hadn’t thought about Aemmon in over a week. Guilt, sadness and anger filled the boy’s mind. Images of his brother’s body being dragged so irreverently in the maw of the Malveel flashed into his head. Kael winced at the memory. His face reddened and his heart pounded. As he tried to avoid eye contact with those in his group he turned and found himself looking into the steady unflinching gaze of Nostr, Prelate of the Delvin Scribes.
“Why?” asked Kael. “Why would you leave clues to lead them to me?”
“Don’t waste your time, Kael. “ broke in Ader. ”He will not answer any quest....”
“The verses were not meant to lead anyone to you, Kael Brelgson.” crumbled the voice of Nostr.
Ader’s head jerked back and he stared at the Ulrog.
“Then what was the purpose of the verses?” demanded Kael.
“Their purpose cannot be unveiled.” stated Nostr.
Kael clenched his teeth in anger and turned to Ader. The boy was stunned to see the Seraph dumbfounded. Ader blinked then glanced between Kael and the Ulrog. The Seraph cleared his throat then addressed the Scribe.
“Have the servants of Amird accessed the material concerning Kael?” asked Ader.
The stony face of the Ulrog remained unchanged.
“Does Amird know of Kael?!” demanded Ader.
Once again Nostr remained still. Ader’s lip curled in anger and he motioned Kael to ask. Kael blinked and turned to the Ulrog filled with uncertainty.
“Does Amird know of me?” Kael asked the Ulrog.
“Yes.” came the quick reply.
Kael glanced to Ader then back to the Ulrog.
“Have the servants of Amird accessed material concerning me?” questioned Kael more confidently.
“I cannot say.” replied Nostr.
Kael frowned and furrowed his brow.
“You cannot say because you don’t know, or you cannot say because you are not allowed to?” demanded Kael.
Nostr remained silently staring at the boy.
“Why will you answer only some of my questions?” barked the boy in frustration as he spun to seek help from Ader.
“I have been directed to answer certain questions from, Kael Brelgson.” came the coarse reply.
“What?” said Kael turning back. “Why?”
“Many of your questions were foretold to me, as were my answers.” said Nostr. “You are to be provided with certain information.”
“For what reason?” asked an exasperated Kael.
“That is for you to determine.” stated Nostr.
Kael spun back to Ader.
“What should I do?” asked the boy.
The Seraph looked at the boy then narrowed his eyes at the huge Ulrog in front of him.
“Forget him.” stated Ader. “Act as if he’s not here. We cannot allow his presence to change our plans in any way. Apparently, he’s willing to provide you with tidbits of information, but only those of his choosing. We shouldn’t allow that type of agenda to influence our judgment. We’ll continue our journey North. If he follows, he follows.”
Ader spun from the Ulrog and returned to Tarader. The huge stallion dropped to its knees and the old man swung a leg over the horse’s back. As the horse rose into the air the Seraph addressed the Scribe.
“Nostr of Delvi, I do not know your interest in the boy, but the vows I follow concerning violence to my fellow man do not apply to you. Don’t test me, Ulrog!”
Tarader spun North and the gray robed Scribe stood motionless. The others scrambled to their mounts and the procession continued on its trek.
CHAPTER 12: BLOOD OF THE SERAPH
The party traveled North for the remainder of the day. As the sun dipped beneath the Western horizon, Ader called for a halt. The group moved off the road and found an acceptable clearing to make camp. Cefiz expressed concern regarding the camp’s defenses, but Ader brushed aside his protests.
Kael tied the horses off and collected firewood. As the boy circled the camp with his head down, he nearly walked into the rigid form of Nostr standing in the brush line surrounding the camp. The boy jumped back in surprise.
“Uh ... well ... uh.” mumbled Kael as he navigated around the hooded stone man.
“I believe the words you search for are ‘excuse me’.” raked the voice of Nostr.
His giant hands came forth from the robe and lowered the cowl. Kael stared at the Ulrog in anger. This thing was a creation of Amird. A representation of all evil in the world. A servant just like the Malveel.
“Don’t talk to me!” snapped Kael.
“How can one pass information without talking?” questioned the Ulrog.
“I don’t want information from you.” growled Kael, glaring at the stone man’s eyes.
Kael was struck by something unusual. Nostr’s eyes weren’t like those of the priests who rode with Tepi. The priests’ eyes had been black soulless pools of oil. Nostr’s eyes were like any human’s eyes. They were white with a blue pupil. Kael calmed and flatly addressed the Ulrog.
“Why would I want information from you?”
“How can one learn to trust and release their fear unless they discover another through conversation, an exchange of
ideas?” asked Nostr.
“Kael.” came a deep rumble from across the camp.
Kael turned to see Granu striding toward him.
“Kael. Return to the camp with the wood you’ve gathered.” said Granu. “I’ll gather the rest.”
The Ulrog passively looked at the Keltaran. Granu edged closer and stared hard into the Ulrog’s blue eyes.
“Leave him be.” snarled Granu.
The Ulrog stared expressionless at the giant. The giant grabbed some kindling from near Nostr’s feet, then rose and stalked into the camp behind Kael.
“How did you know his name?” Kael asked the giant as they piled their wood next to the freshly dug fire pit.
Granu frowned and stacked the wood. He struggled with what he wanted to say.
“He is the Delvin Prelate.” said Granu hesitantly. “All know of him.”
“But you know more.” squinted Kael. “What do you know?”
The other members of the party gathered around the fire. Granu nervously scanned their faces then knelt and applied tinder to the kindling.
“It is nothing.” said the Keltaran.
“Then why don’t you share it with me?” asked Kael.
“Let it go, boy.” said Ader . “The issues are cloudy enough.”
Kael scowled, turned to retrieve his cooking pot and once again nearly ran into Nostr. The stone man stared at him.
“What?!” exclaimed the boy balling his hands into fists.
“Excuse me.” stated the Ulrog.
Kael swore he saw the hint of a smile break across the rocky face in the low light of the new fire. The boy felt fear and anger at the slight mockery. In an attempt to show some kind of control over the situation, Kael blurted out the question on his mind.
“What do the Keltaran know of you?” demanded Kael.
“I am the Prelate of the Delvin Scribes.” stated Nostr calmly.
“It’s nothing, Kael.” said Granu looking over his shoulder at the Ulrog.
“And we are kin.” continued Nostr.
Granu sprang to his feet and charged the Ulrog.
“YOU ARE NO KIN OF MINE, STONE MAN!” bellowed Granu.
The giant crossed the camp in two large strides and stood inches from the Ulrog glaring into the stone man’s eyes. The Ulrog stood impassive.
“The blood of Awoi flows through my veins.” stated Nostr.
“Ridiculous!” exclaimed Granu. “The blood of Awoi cannot possibly flow through the veins of a creature branded with this!”
Granu’s hand shot out and tore at the sleeve of the Ulrog’s robe. The scribes forearm was exposed and Kael gasped. Carved in the creatures stony hide were symbols of Chaos and words in the strange Ulrog tongue. Kael didn’t understand what any of it meant, but he recognized one word. Standing out larger than the rest lay one bold carving.
“Amird.” whispered Kael. “You’re branded with the name Amird.”
Ader quickly moved beside to the giant.
“RETURN TO THE FIRESIDE, GRANU SON OF GRANNAK!” commanded the Seraph pulling the giant’s hand from the Ulrog’s sleeve. “We don’t need this distraction.”
“And in that way I hold a kinship to Ader and yourself, Kael Brelgson.” continued Nostr unaffected. “Awoi is the brother of your distant grandfather, Ader Hartstrong. I am a child of Awoi. Thus we are kin.”
“SILENCE!” demanded Ader. “You are NOT connected to Awoi. Your people were the twisted vision of Amird and your blood is not connected to anything human!”
The Ulrog once again stood still and calmly looked at the Seraph.
“What is he talking about?” Kael asked Granu.
“All Ulrog are molded from the stone and mud of the Northern mountains...” began Nostr.
“Kael!” snapped Ader. “Stop asking him questions!”
“...I too was molded in a pit dug by the priests of Amird....”
“I’m not!” replied Kael. “I wasn’t talking to him!”
“....the Malveel channel the power of Chaos and breathe life into us...”
“LIES!” bellowed Granu advancing on the Scribe once more.
“.... Sulgor was unaware that the pit created for me....”
“NOSTR! Silence yourself!”
“...was on the spot where Awoi’s blood drained from his body and the Seraph’s life left him. The earth cradled that blood until my creation. It flows through me now.” concluded Nostr.
Granu roared and charged the Scribe.
The giant awoke under a blanket next to the crackling fire pit. He glanced to his left and saw Cefiz lying opposite him. The remainder of the party sat just inside the firelight in a small circle, speaking in hushed tones.
“...don’t need you stirring things up.” said Ader. “There are many facets to what’s happening here, Kael. I’m trying to juggle an extremely complex situation. There are thousands of years of prejudice and hatred at play.”
“I’m sorry.” whispered the boy dropping his head. “I want to know what’s going on. I want information. Sometimes I can’t help what I say, and Nostr wants to answer.”
“That’s just it, Kael.” said Ader. “Why? Why does he feel so motivated to answer your questions? Why does he comply with your instructions? He easily incapacitates two accomplished warriors, but halts when you demand it. Why you? In the entire history of the Delvin Scribes they’ve neither offered information outside of their text nor obeyed an outside command of any kind. Twenty seasons ago this Ulrog mysteriously becomes their Prelate. Now he appears here and is willing to do as you ask. Only you.”
“I don’t know why?” said Kael. “He claims that I need to know certain things.”
Ader scowled.
“Rumors.” rumbled Granu as he sat upright.
The giant winced and grabbed the back of his head where he found a small lump. He quickly scanned the camp and noticed the dark form of Nostr standing ten paces outside the firelight.
“We heard rumors of the Prelate.” said Granu as he stood and moved to the group.
“Must we?” sighed Ader.
“The boy wants to know.” said Granu. “Why should it be kept from him? What are your reasons?”
“It will cloud his judgment.” stated Ader.
“Or clarify it.” challenged Granu.
“Being told that an Ulrog priest turned Scribe may possibly have the blood of an ancient Seraph flowing through his veins AND have the ability to predict the future will certainly cloud his judgment concerning the Scribes!” blurted Ader.
“Is it clouded if he concludes the Scribe is a fake and has evil intent?” asked Granu.
“Don’t twist my words, son of Grannak!” demanded Ader.
“What if he concludes the Ulrog is trustworthy and providing guidance?”
“That’s what we certainly don’t need!” snapped Ader.
“I agree!” announced Granu. “But we’ve passed this crossroads with the boy already. He should be provided the facts as they come and determine things on his own. I don’t trust the Scribes or their precious Prelate, but I cannot force the boy to think likewise.”
The giant spun toward Kael.
“You now know his claim.” stated Granu. “It cannot be proved and therefore can only be taken through faith. I hold no faith in a creature of Amird. I do not accept the claim that he carries the blood of Awoi in his veins. You decide on your own.”
Granu retrieved a bucket of water and strode over to Cefiz.
“He’ll be all right.” said Ader. “I attended to both of you after the Ulrog defended himself. Cefiz will be stiff and a bit light headed when he comes around.”
Granu smiled down upon the lieutenant and shook his head.
“Many would be nonplussed at the idea of a Zodrian sacrificing himself for a Keltaran.” mumbled Granu.
“The world changes rapidly my friend.” said Teeg softly.
CHAPTER 13: OFF LIMITS
Manfir rode the Black through the streets of Zodra. A contingent of staff off
icers followed in silence. The streets were quiet and deserted in the early morning. Manfir enjoyed the silence, the first he received since the departure of Ader and Kael two days before.
Since the day Ader had taken the boy North, Manfir began to feel the gaping hole in his life caused by the Seraph’s absence. Too many years he relied upon his wise friend’s guidance. Too many years he deferred to Ader’s judgment on the important decisions. Manfir grew comfortable following orders, and unpracticed at giving them. These past weeks revealed much to the heir of the Zodrian throne. Leadership must be exercised daily to remain fresh. Manfir slowly started to exercise his power and his confidence just as slowly returned.
After Ader’s departure, Manfir found himself bogged down by the immense undertakings of building and supporting an army. Men without weapons needed to be armed. Food supplies needed to be bolstered and constantly restocked. The cavalry commandeered mounts for their units. The General Staff interviewed men with previous leadership experience and assigned them to appropriate locations. Manfir tried to control every aspect of the process, but soon learned to trust the General Staff and their decisions.
The Zodrian prince left the training of the militia in the capable hands of Brelg. The old sergeant responded with sweeping changes in training style. Manfir laughed to himself. How grievously had his father underestimated this man? Brelg was a man of action, a man of intelligence, and most importantly a man of conviction. Manfir was honored to call him brother. The prince only wished that Yanwin were here to see all of the qualities she so loved in her husband rise to the top during this crisis. She would have been proud.
The Hold stood before the prince as his stallion trotted down the cobblestone street. The rising sun baked its rough, stone surface. The sentries posted at the north gate snapped to attention as the riders approached. Manfir halted and dropped from the saddle.
“I shall spend the day reviewing the training and the trainees.” stated Manfir as he handed the reins of his stallion to an attendant. “Please make sure our mounts are properly cared for.”
The sentry bowed and tethered the Black to a nearby post. A runner dashed away to summon stable boys to the gate. Manfir strode past the sentries followed by the staff.
The Pool And The Pedestal (Book 2) Page 17
