Primeval Origins: Light of Honor (Book 2 in the Primeval Origins Epic Saga)

by Brett Vonsik

  In the uneasy silence of the cells, the offending odors of their own sweat and waste wafting from chamber pots made worse Rogaan’s mood. He hated using the things in front of others. He preferred privacy, especially where the females were concerned. The wafting pots got emptied at what Rogaan guessed was the start of each day by an older fellow . . . a Baraan as unpleasing to the eye as could be. Rogaan nicknamed him “Ugly” to amuse himself, but then he felt badly for it. Farthing Rogaan’s dislike for himself, the old Baraan was harmlessly friendly . . . except to the Evendiir. The Baraan just did not like Aren for some reason. His exchanges with the Evendiir made for greater tensions, such that it almost felt a relief to be taken from the cells for questioning by the Sakes. Their clothes smelled too, despite having been washed every other day with buckets of cold water thrown on them. The Sakes seemed to be pleased by it all. I’ve decided I do not like Sakes. Once, I regarded them as people of honor doing what must be done to keep the streets safe. Now, I know many of them as small folk with little honor and a propensity for self-amusement at the expense of others. Rogaan reflected how his idealized world had changed for the worse . . . as he experienced it. It continued to bare ugly truths. Honor is fleeting in these folks, and civilization, and maybe no more in them . . . or in me.

  A door to the larger room opened, allowing in a barefoot, dark-haired youngling wearing dirty rags for clothes. He struggled with a water-filled bucket almost too heavy for him to carry. It must be nearing the nightly quiet time for the arena’s underworld, Rogaan guessed at the time of day as he felt completely lost down in this place. The youngling did as he did every night, just before the Sakes retreated from guarding and abusing the jailed. The youngling checked with each dismissive Sake, then the thankful folks in each cell to see who wanted water. The two darkly uniformed Sakes, as usual, refused drink from the same source the jailed drank from. Pax and his parents eagerly drank as the youngling poured water into their cups with a ladle. As the youngling poured water for Rogaan’s father, he spoke a few hushed words in his ear. His father reciprocated speaking hushed words only the youngling could hear. Aren rose to take water in his cup after checking to see if Rogaan moved to take a drink. When Rogaan just kept his place, Aren encouraged the youngling to fill, then refill his cup several more times. Then the Evendiir quietly sat back down against the stone wall. Rogaan’s father picked up his cup and had it filled again before offering it to Rogaan. Rogaan slowly drank two full cups so the youngling had more time to whisper into his father’s ear. They quietly chatted. The skinny youngling was a go-between, and a poised one at that. The guards either did not realize the youngling’s role or did not care as neither made to stop this daily ritual. Rogaan wondered who his father was communicating to through this go-between. When no one asked for more water, the youngling disappeared from the room without ceremony as quickly as he appeared.

  Aren went back to keeping to himself and sleeping with his half-filled cup near. He wrapped himself in one of the thin blankets given to them. Rogaan’s father stood and stretched, then sat down near him with his back on the bars so the guards could not see his face. He stared into his full cup for a time contemplating something. Pax and his parents went back to wrapping themselves in their own blankets. Pax looked unsettled and fitful, but his light snoring told Rogaan he found some peace in sleep. A little time passed with them sitting in total silence, except for some rude noises escaping from the bored guards. To keep from nodding off earlier, they resorted to tossing stones before the youngling disturbed them. Now, after a short while with no talking and little other noise, even the guards struggled to keep awake with their heads nodding and bodies unsteady. Rogaan too felt tired, but something about the way his father looked into that cup told him to stay awake.

  “The path ahead will be very difficult for both of us, my son.” His father’s words were spoken in low tone and volume, and slowly. The guards seemed unaware that he spoke with their continued unsteadiness while leaning against the walls. “Your preparations are not complete. In truth, I was just getting started with you when . . . all of this took us.”

  Rogaan felt confused . . . What did “preparations” mean? “I do not understand.”

  “Expected,” Mithraam replied as he reflected on something for a short time. “You have been thrust into a struggle as old as humanity’s place on this world. I cannot reveal much in this place—too many ears, but I need you to keep strong your trust in me and what I am to tell you. Can you do this, my son?”

  Rogaan had a sudden chill ripple through him. “Yes, Father.”

  “You will be tested and harm will likely find you . . . You will need to endure.” Mithraam’s eyes saddened as a frown filled his face. “Because of what I cannot give them.”

  Uneasy chills swept through Rogaan. Fathers protect . . . It is the Tellen way, and the way of my mother’s family. Alarmed at his father putting something before him, Rogaan’s confusion piqued. And I will be tested and . . . harmed? He opened his mouth to protest and ask a question to understand why, but was cut off by his father.

  “The Shuruppak civil war came to an end . . .” Mithraam spoke with his teaching tone while glancing about, taking notice of the guards, Pax and his family, and Aren to be sure they were not paying him any attention. “The Houses made one last attempt to assert their authority over the people and lands of Shuruppak. We stopped them . . . the Ebon Circle with my aid . . . to answer your question who ‘we’ were. In the void of sovereign rule, the Ebon Circle battled the Houses to keep the people of Shuruppak from subjugation. Helped by a show of force by the Tellen Nation from Turil, the Shuruppak people and the Ebon Circle fought the self-proclaimed masters of these lands. We put together an alliance with some of the small Houses who broke ranks from those greater. These small Houses chose to see the people free from tyrannical hands. The cabal of remaining great Houses fell apart as they could not work together . . . Their ambitions for control, power, and authority over each other led to distrust and subterfuge. Their sought-after iron grip on the people and lands collapsed as much from their own failings as from our alliance. The once-great Houses withdrew back to their patchwork of lands and holdings within Shuruppak and were forced to become more focused on protecting what they had instead of expanding their influence. A negotiated peace was achieved . . . Houses great and small, the Ebon Circle, the Tellen Nation, and the representatives of the commoners of Shuruppak all signed. A compact was established where all would be ruled by laws . . . not by another’s hand. All would have say in the laws through the lawmakers of Shuruppak; the Ksatra’Za in Ur and the Anubda’Zas in the regional cities were to have seats filled from the chosen of the people . . . the Bartam’Eadda, the noble Houses both great and small . . . the Niral’Eadda, and Guilds . . . the Dagas. It was a difficult beginning, but it held together . . . now for almost thirty years. A Shuruppak ruled by laws, just as Turil has been since the dawn of the Tellen Nation. Yes, the compact was fashioned after the Tellen Nation with allowances for the nature of the Houses instead of clans. The councils of each city, town, and village chose those to represent them in the lawmaking . . . the Zas. The original Zas established new laws forming what is known as Shuruppak’s Servants of the People . . . the Kiuri’Ner, Tusaa’Ner, and Sakes. Their duties defined in the laws. They were to be limited in number, so they would serve and protect the people . . . no more. Lawmakers and Servants of the Law, the courts, were to be independent to thwart any attempt at consolidating power. They were beholden to the people and received their coin from the people. Their small numbers loyally served the laws and people of the nation. Until recently, the last few Roden’ars, their numbers remained small, then suddenly rapidly grew. With their expansion, a corruption crept in, tainting the Servants of the People and the lawmakers. Our safeguard . . . the courts, our Servants of the Law, with their mandatory review of new laws to stand against tyranny trying to oppose the freedom of the people, appears to be failing. It is no
t known why the courts are failing. Those elected into positions of trust are now disregarding our laws. The Zas, our lawmakers, are growing their own authority. In seeking truth and with intent to correct what has gone wrong, we discovered the corrupting influence is in these lands with a weakening influence as one travels eastward. That does not mean Padusan and Ur are not without troubles. They too feel it, but not yet so gravely as we do here. This corruption must be uncovered and defeated before it completes its plan and asserts itself everywhere. If we fail . . . all our freedoms can be lost. The people will be subjugated again, some willingly . . . the rest at the point of a blade.”

  Rogaan sat with a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Matters are far worse than I ever thought them to be. He understood his father’s words, but had difficulty thinking of him as more than a sought-after metalsmith. Rogaan had not an inkling of his father’s secret doings . . . working with the Dark Temple . . . the Ebon Circle . . . and that Im’Kas, the Dark Ax. Rogaan felt himself in stories told to younglings to teach them of principles, of good and virtues . . . and that which fills the void when absent. He shuddered at the meaning, the implications, and the consequences of it all.

  “How will I come to harm?” Rogaan asked with a calmness that surprised himself. He felt the fear of the unknown and the answer to his question. He wanted to know how he would be punished for the old Baraan, and for letting Suhd be taken, and for not rescuing his father, and getting Pax and his parents involved, and . . . so much more.

  “A guard died by your hands.” His father sounded sad.

  “He was going to hurt Suhd . . .” Rogaan defended.

  “Your motives were pure . . . noble, my son.” Mithraam quickly settled down their voices. He spoke in that low tone again. “You did what any Tellen would do protecting those he cares for. I have pride in your act, but a guard is dead and those who want what I cannot give them are to use you to make me reveal things they wish to know.”

  “Do you have knowledge of what they seek?” Rogaan asked, then immediately felt regretful and embarrassed for doing so. His father’s gaze on him was even . . . measured. A gaze Rogaan had experienced many times before when someone asked a question of his father that had an obvious answer. An epiphany struck Rogaan like a forge hammer to his chest. All of his father’s teachings, his tests . . . his lessons on honor, virtue, integrity, goodness, and more principles told Rogaan his father was living his convictions, his self-accepted responsibilities that carried with it a great suffering of consequences. Which of Father’s teachings speaks to this . . . yes . . . “Evil prevails when Good does not challenge it”? Rogaan realized he knew the answer to his question. This is what it means to live with honor. I am not certain I like this path.

  “Are you at an understanding, my son?” Mithraam asked solemnly.

  “I think I am, Father,” Rogaan replied in an uncertain tone. He surprised himself at feeling no anger toward his father. Mother knew this of him. That is what she was trying to tell me.

  They sat quietly for a time, father and son possibly understanding each other. A first for Rogaan as he relived and recounted his father’s teachings in his mind. Many made sense to him, now, but a few remained beyond his grasp in understanding.

  “What do I expect at the hands of Farratum?” Rogaan asked in a shaky voice.

  His father did not answer. Instead, he put on that contemplative look without returning his gaze. Rogaan suspected he knew, but did not want to tell him of his fate.

  “I am not certain,” Mithraam started. “Either you will be tried properly, found guilty, and then jailed for a time that is unknown or made a servant to a well-off House until your jailing time is fulfilled. That is . . . if the Za does not get her way. She will use you to force my tongue and hand. She will try. She will rule without the justly concurrence of the Servants of the Laws. She will be involved in some manner in determining your jailing time. It will be . . . lengthy and . . . unpleasant.”

  “What of Suhd?” Rogaan asked, now trying to take his mind off the answer he decided he really did not want to know.

  “I have little insight as to where she is,” Mithraam replied. “She has done nothing that would keep her in bondage according to the laws. I suspect she is in the servitude of someone, if the corruption is as I think it is. She may be kept as a means to harm you, and me through you. Corruption has many forms.”

  “Will they take her innocence from her?” Rogaan felt his throat tighten. He almost did not ask the question fearing his father’s honesty in answer.

  Mithraam was slow to reply which told Rogaan what he hoped would not be. “There are Houses and others in authority that will not abuse servants in that manner. Let us hope they have placed her with one of them.”

  Rogaan was uncertain why Suhd’s plight bothered him as it did. Was it for the pain she felt or his? He held her close in his heart and she held him in hers, it seemed and he hoped. That last thought brought a smile to his face. It felt good knowing she cared for him. Then his smile went sour as his thoughts turned to unknown guards taking her innocence. Rogaan’s blood started to boil. He felt anger.

  “I decided to accept your quest to become Kiuri’Ner.” Mithraam broke into Rogaan’s thoughts and growing foul mood. “I arranged for you to be trained at the Ebon Circle . . . if you managed to pass their tests.”

  Rogaan stared at his father with his mouth agape. It took him some time to shake off his shock. His father had been adamant he not learn or walk the path of the Protectors of the Ways. Instead, he was to become a well-taught smith of metals and a mason of stone. Now, his father was telling him not only had he decided to allow him his aspiration, but that he made arrangements to grant him learning from what rumored whispers say are the most revered Kiuri’Ners in Shuruppak.

  “Why?” Rogaan asked. He knew his father had a reason . . . He always had a well-thought-out reason for every decision he made.

  “Your heart is set to it,” Mithraam replied matter-of-factly. “If you are to follow this path, then you need to learn from the most capable, not some group of wall-watchers from town.”

  The jail room door opened without warning. Three alert Sake guards, dressed in their dark armor, entered with stolid expressions. They relieved the two guards fighting off sleep, but held them from leaving. One of the guards opened the metal barred door to the cell holding Pax and his parents, waking them. They protested the intrusion which resulted in a backhanded strike to the face of Pax’s father, sending him into the bars. Pax made to step between the guard and his father, but was instead grabbed by another dark-armored Baraan, bound, and hauled out of the cell. His father suffered the same fate. The guards growled words to each other, then barked commands at their two restrained prisoners before telling Pax’s mother to quiet her weeping.

  “He’s ready for them now.” The announcement came from what Rogaan took as the most senior guard. The Baraan wore a sadistic smile. “You Tellens go next . . . when he be done with ‘em.”

  “Where are you taking them?” Rogaan demanded with his anger flaring at the treatment of Pax and father.

  “Soon enough, Tellen . . . soon enough,” the guard taunted as Pax and his father were unkindly shoved from the room.

  “Where are they being taken?” Rogaan was on his feet asking of his father, his voice filled with confusion and anger.

  Mithraam made to speak, but his answer was cut off with the reverberating metallic ringing of a guard’s sword sweeping over the bars. “Keep quiet!”

  Mithraam’s eyes caught Rogaan’s, telling him to let it be. Rogaan did not like “letting it be,” but with his newfound knowledge of things, he decided to comply, keeping silent. He calmed himself well enough to sit. As he did, Rogaan’s heated eyes met Aren’s. The Evendiir looked as if contemplating on what was happening, but then decided all was well enough for him to return to his sleep. In a moment, the Evendiir was again wrapped in his
blanket and oblivious to his surroundings. Wanting answers, Rogaan looked to his father. His father’s eyes continued to caution against rash actions, meaning for Rogaan to not make an issue of things. Frustrated at keeping quiet, Rogaan reluctantly wrapped himself in the musty-smelling blanket. He stewed for a time waiting for Pax and his father to be returned. The weeping of Pax’s mother quieted after a time, though she remained awake with a face filled with painful horror and streaks of tears. Not able to look at her any longer without feeling her pain, Rogaan’s thoughts wandered. He tried to stay awake, but sleep took him sometime before his friend returned.

  Chapter 19

  Assay

  Suhd smiled at him as they walked hand in hand on paved streets close to the water’s edge. She wore one of her yellow dresses, one that showed more leg than he hoped for an outing. A matching yellow sun hat shaded her radiant blue eyes except for the times she looked up into his own eyes. He was happy that she looked up at him often. The high sun made the day warm, though pleasant, with a slight breeze and plenty of “ancient sun rays” streaking through a mat of scattered clouds. The water flowed lazily here with the deep creek almost as wide as a river. It was a good place to fish for hookfins and blue-scaled jumpers. Even the scent on the breeze smelled of pleasant flowers. Rogaan felt content with a happy heart. A happy heart he had given to Suhd.

  A ruckus ahead begrudgingly drew Rogaan’s attention from her. A group of five Baraans, barely older than himself dressed in gray and green tunics, hide pants and boots, approached them with anger and ill will in their eyes. Another group of guardsmen in blue poured onto the street from several stone and brick buildings. Their eyes too were filled with ill will as they made their way straight for him and Suhd. Some gazed upon Suhd with animalistic lust, as if she were a toy they wanted to play with.

  Rogaan stepped between Suhd and most of those closing on them. They would have to go through him to play with their toy. He and Suhd shuffled rearward as the closer of the two groups pressed in on them. Suhd squeaked a warning that they had no more street. Their backs were at the water’s edge. Suhd had to be protected. Rogaan would die for her to keep her from harm. He planted both of his boots firmly on the paving stones readying for the fight of his life. The street rabble and guardsmen closed . . . all wearing serious grins and eyes telling him they thought victory easy and certain. The guardsmen drew swords as the street rabble waved small clubs and knives. They raised their weapons to strike just a handful of strides from his Suhd. They all halted suddenly with expressions of surprise and horror replacing those that they wore a moment ago. Rogaan heard a splash, a big one that signaled the pushing of large amounts of water. He felt sizable drops of water pelt him as he spun toward Suhd. Terror consumed Suhd’s face as massive jaws filled with finger-sized spikes closed around her chest and pelvis in a horrifying crunching snap. The huge snapjaw whipped its head backward, then plunged into the creek with a great upheaval of water soaking Rogaan and everyone near. Suhd’s scream silenced when she hit the water.