The Trials Of Ashbarn ( Book 5)

by Jeff Gunzel

  “Jacob,” said Nima. “If she doesn’t want to be found, no one’s going to find her. But if all that concerns you is her picking up your scent...” Nima gestured for each of them to sit. “Well, that will be easy enough to remedy.” Amoshi and Jacob each sat down. “I do this for our hunters all the time. A simple trick, really.” She held a hand over each of their heads. The green dy-chita strapped to her forehead began to glow faintly. Its dim light pulsed two or three times before fading out. White flakes similar to snow fell from her fingers and sprinkled across their heads and shoulders. The flakes disappeared the moment they made contact.

  Jacob shivered reflexively, expecting them to feel cold. In truth, he couldn’t feel them at all. “What was that? What did you do?”

  “As I stated before, this is just a simple trick we Palins do for the hunters before they go out in search of game. It masks their scent, making them far less noticeable to wildlife.”

  “How long will it last?” Jacob asked, brushing at his shoulders even though the dust had long since dissipated.

  “I’m not really sure,” Nima answered honestly. “The hunters always return in a day or two, so at least that long.”

  “Well, let’s hope it lasts longer than that,” said Amoshi, standing up impatiently. “I’ll go pack.”

  “Good,” said Nima. “And hurry; the two of you will leave within the hour.”

  * * *

  Shantis sat on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest. Wearing nothing but a dingy loincloth, she shivered from the cool, damp air. Her white hair frayed out wildly, and her skin was dry and gritty. When was the last time she had a bath? She couldn’t remember. Shantis had considered using some of her limited drinking water for washing, but decided against it. They gave her so little. Who knew when they would fill her bowl again? Better to stay filthy and not die of thirst.

  How long had she been in here? There was no real way to tell. It was always dark in here, and there were no windows to look outside. She couldn’t even be sure if it was day or night. But that wasn’t the worst part. The silence was enough to drive one mad. There always seemed to be a distant ringing in her ear, and not even the slightest sound to detract from it.

  Shantis leaned back, huddling into the dark corner. As she did, the wooden planks creaked loudly. She relished the blissful sound, no matter how short-lived it was. Anything to break the silence. How could my own people have betrayed me? she thought. I loved them like my own children. She shook away the dark thought, logic overriding her emotion. It’s not their fault. They are frightened, that’s all. And those who are frightened can easily be deceived. Sooner or later, they will come to see reason. Won’t they?

  But Filista was not frightened. What excuse could she possibly offer for her betrayal? This time Shantis embraced the rage building back up, let it fill her until it seemed she might burst. “Why, Filista?” she said out loud. “Why did you do it? What gain could be had by deceiving your own people, then allowing them to die like sheep at the hands of evil?” She slammed her fists down on the floor, forcing the dust to rise up around her. “What’s to be gained?!” she shrieked.

  Even in the dark, her keen eyes could see the stirred dust floating around. It settled back down to the floor, her arms, her face... Shantis began to draw shapes and symbols in the dust with her finger, one of the few ways she had found to distract herself. A triangle, then a square with lines slashed diagonally across it. Each time she finished, a swipe of her hand sent the dust scattering about, then settling back down to form a fresh new canvas for her to create.

  She continued to draw thoughtlessly, zigzagging lines with no shape or pattern. “Brinkton,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek, leaving a dark trail down her dust-covered face. “Not you too.” Brinkton, her mighty champion and most trusted friend. Countless times they had fought side by side, only to snatch victory from the jaws of death. He was a true warrior who had saved her life more times than she could count. The man proved to be loyal to a fault. If he had a weakness, that was it...

  The door creaked open a crack. With her eyes so adjusted to the dark, the tiny bit of light came through in a blast of brightness. She shielded her eyes, trying to see who this most recent intruder was. “I’ll leave this here,” came the unmistakable voice through the light.

  “Brinkton?” she said hesitantly. “Is that you?” She knew it was. The door began to close. “Wait. Brinkton, wait!” She crawled across the room desperately, kicking up dust as she went.

  The door gradually swung back open, bathing the whole room in blinding light. Shantis stopped moving, shielding her eyes with both hands. Odd, how something as simple as light could cause such astonishing discomfort.

  “I brought you some food. What more do you want from me?” the warrior grunted.

  She could smell the porridge in the bowl. She hobbled over to the side wall like a wounded animal, and leaned into it. Still covering her eyes, she moaned, “What did she say to you, Brinkton? How did she so easily mislead my champion—my friend?” Her eyes adjusting somewhat, she was only now beginning to make out his enormous frame. His face was shrouded in darkness, but she knew he was looking at her.

  “You’re so eager to believe I have no voice of my own,” he grunted. “Convinced I must have been tricked into blindly following another. Well, I assure you, Priestess, my eyes are wide open. I see the wisdom in Filista’s words. Never again will I be your pet, a dog to send after anyone who dares oppose you. No longer will I be accomplice to your bizarre infatuation with that...that...human. And make no mistake, Priestess: A mere human is all he is. Even the most simpleminded of beings can see that. “

  “Oh, Brinkton,” she said softly, rolling her head away from him. “Your words burn, like hot iron pressed to my heart. I never once tried to deceive you. My every decision, my every choice, was made was for the good of our people. Please, don’t do something we’ll both regret for the rest of our days. Days that are numbered unless we act soon. Please, Brinkton, search your heart. You know I speak the truth. If you’ve ever trusted me before, trust me this once!”

  He disappeared from the room without another word. Shantis had just been able to make out his face before he left. He looked sad. Sadder than she had ever seen the warrior, as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. “Brinkton,” she whispered, even though she was alone. “I loved you. You were never my pet.”

  * * *

  Shantis stirred in her sleep. The distant sounds of conversation invaded her dreams, a far-off buzz of chatter. She rubbed her eyes, blinking away the sleep before sitting up. As always, the dark room remained encased in shadow, so dark she briefly questioned if her eyes were even open. The worlds of sleep and consciousness seemed to blend together into a single state of being—a living trance of sorts. Yet she could still hear the voices, clearer now. She crawled over to the wall and carefully pressed her ear against the rough, splintered wood. What’s going on out there? A gathering?

  * * *

  Crytons lingered all about the cleared area. Some lounged about, leaning against the surrounding black stone huts. Others gathered in tight groups of four or five, chattering away uneasily. Most were covered from head to toe with glittery rings and chains, a customary fashion amongst the crytons. The whole village was buzzing with rumors, and the chosen location for this village meeting did nothing to calm those rumors.

  There they stood before the High Priestess’s temple. The pearl-white steps leading up to the black stone structure had been swept and scrubbed as usual. There was nothing out of the ordinary here, except the temple was now...empty.

  The crowd continued to grow as more and more families came, mothers holding their children, men with their arms wrapped around their wives. Even more came as the morning dragged on, most avoiding looking directly at the temple. Something big was going on here, and everyone could feel it. The High Priestess had disappeared and the temple certainly looked empty, but this was not entirely true...

 
; Filista Umyon walked through the temple, eyeing its lavish surroundings: the fine handcrafted chairs and tables assembled with white polished bone; ornate oil paintings of odd rituals and beasts that were long extinct, each one embedded in a frame made of the same polished bone. She ran her hand down a red silk tapestry, bordered in white lace with gold highlights. You’ve lived too well for too long, old friend. I’m afraid it’s time to pass the torch.

  Filista reached upward in an exaggerated groan-filled stretch, then fell backward into one of the chairs. Leaning back with her fingers locked behind her head, she threw her feet up on the table, one followed heavily by the other. Yes, too well for too long indeed. She reached up, running her fingers through her marvelously thick white hair, making the tiny red ribbons bounce around. Her gold and silver bracelets fell down the length of her arm, collecting near her shoulder.

  She was a confident, calculating woman who left nothing to chance. Everything was falling into place, just as planned. Most remain confident and sure in times of war and times of peace. It’s in times of uncertainty where their resolve begins to waver. She grinned, hearing the uneasy chattering outside. The longer they waited, the more anxious they would become. Just a little longer, I think.

  She rose from the chair and moved towards the door, listening. Arguments had begun to break out. Her grin grew even wider, hearing their angry tones. In times of uncertainty, everyone looks to their leaders for guidance. No one wants to make decisions; they want them to be made for them. The choices I make don’t have to be the right ones; they just need to be swift and concise. That alone breeds confidence. And that is what my people need. That is all they want.

  “I fed the prisoner, just as you instructed, Filista.”

  She didn’t bother to turn around. “Good, Brinkton. We can’t have her dying of starvation just yet, now can we?”

  “Of course not. Who would want to further complicate all this disorder? As it is, I’m not even sure what you’re going to tell the villagers.”

  She turned on him curiously, those high cheekbones drawing her mouth upward into a bizarre-looking smile. With her hair flared out and eyes wide, she suddenly looked very unstable. Brinkton took a step back. “I’m going to tell them the truth.” Her voice was shrill and piercing as she spoke. “Remember, Brinkton, many were already aware of our poor High Priestess’s ‘erratic’ state of mind. She had our people so worked up that soon they would be afraid of their own shadows. We only did what needed to be done.” She placed a finger underneath his chin, forcing him to look at her directly. “Remember, we were already given silent blessings from those who hold positions within the village. The few who were not in agreement have already stepped down or fled into the forest. You are now on the winning side, Brinkton. Do not forget that.”

  The warrior lowered his eyes while his shoulders slumped. “Yes, Filista,” he said somberly. “I know most are already in agreement. A final announcement will hopefully bring closer the end to this entire ordeal.”

  The crowd outside was growing even more restless. Heated arguments had begun, and even a few fights were breaking out. “You hear that?” she said gleefully. “Those are the sounds of a lost village, desperately in need of leadership and stability. I am the stability they seek. I will be the one to guide our people into the light.”

  “Yes, Filista,” he repeated as she moved back towards the door.

  With her head raised high, hand on the doorknob, she glanced back over her shoulder. “Brinkton, did I not advise you to address me properly from this day forward?”

  His shoulders slumped a bit more. “Yes...High Priestess.”

  She grinned widely, displaying a full set of white teeth, then threw open the door.

  The murmuring quickly became a series of hushed whispers when Filista appeared from the temple. She took her time, gazing out over the people. There were a few pleading shouts of frustration, fists waving in the air. But in general, most waited for her to speak. They wanted answers and they wanted them now.

  Filista seemed to enjoy the mild chaos while patiently waiting for the crowd to quiet down. She looked to the guards lined up on either side of the mob of villagers. Each one that made eye contact gave her a slight nod. They had been converted some time ago and had been waiting for this day. When building a mighty structure, always begin with the foundation and work your way up, she thought to herself. She had done just that.

  To gain the soldiers’ loyalty, she had been able to appeal to their reason, convincing them that Shantis had been teetering on the brink of madness for some time now. For the few who had shown a bit more resistance, either a bribe or a threat seemed to work wonders. It was a simple play on their inner demons. Every man has his price. A means to an end...nothing more. In the end, their unquestioning loyalty is all that counts.

  Filista threw her hands into the air with vigor. “My brothers. My sisters. I welcome each and every one of you this day.” The buzz of the crowd began to soften, several crytons elbowing the one next to them in a less-than-subtle gesture to be quiet and listen. “I have asked you all here to celebrate with me, to come together as one and rejoice in your newfound freedom.”

  Cheers rose up from the surrounding guards, but the common villagers mostly looked at each other in confusion. A few villagers clapped nervously, not really understanding what they were clapping for. “What do you mean, newfound freedom? We are already free,” came a call from the crowd. A few supporting voices shouted their agreement. Others demanded to see their High Priestess. Where was she in all of this?

  Filista was quick to single the man out. “Oh, you are already free, you say?” She stared him down, making him feel guilty and uneasy, regardless of the fact he had done nothing wrong. She was indeed a master of manipulation and misdirection. There is always a tiny spark of doubt. Feed it until it is a roaring flame. She slowly shook her head at him. “I pity you, my friend. But at the same time, I excuse your blind ignorance. I suppose you don’t know any better.”

  “Where is Shantis Sondere?” came a female voice from the crowd. “Why is she not here?”

  Filista ignored her and went on, “It is a sad day indeed when I see my people mistake a temporary lack of danger for true freedom. It reminds me of a fish, taken from a lake, then thrown into a barrel of water. It feels plenty safe enough. It can swim around, has no real predators that it’s aware of. And eventually the fish gets pulled out and placed into a frying pan. Up until the very end, was he not free by these lowly standards?”

  Again the soldiers began to cheer, beating their spears against their chests. The soldiers were not caught up in her emotional speech. They were simply following the precise instructions given to them. Filista—a master at mind games. She could make one see smoke, even when there was no fire.

  She went on, a little more passion in her voice now, “That same little creature was too young to remember swimming in a great lake, teeming with life and beauty. Too small to remember what true freedom really was.” Filista could see intrigue forming on the faces in the crowd. She had their attention now. “Is this how all of you feel? Safe and content in our quiet little village, safely hidden away from the rest of the world?” She paused a moment to let the statement sink in. “Because we are exactly where the humans want us! Hidden, and out of the way.”

  The soldiers erupted again, shouting and clanging weapons together. But this time they weren’t alone. Several of the villagers began to get caught up in the artificial energy. Her cautious planning and boundless confidence were beginning to take hold.

  A man can be certain he is right. But if he stands alone in his opinion, he will never dare voice it. “My brothers and sisters!” Filista shrieked. “For centuries, the humans have mocked the spirits of our ancestors. They’ve forced us to hide like wild beasts while they breed like insects, infesting the planet like a black plague. Do you still believe we are free?” Shouts of enraged agreement rose up from the crowd. “They refer to your infant children as ‘the undea
d.’ If any of us were to set foot in one of the human cities, they would skin us, then put our heads on display for all to see. They view us as animals. Do you still believe we are free?”

  Although she seemed to be winning them over, her speech was now moving into dangerous territory. It was time to lay blame. “And as if hiding from the humans for centuries like frightened rodents was not enough, your High Priestess has asked that you follow one of them. This servant of the darkness. This...Gate Keeper. Well, I say enough! This conjurer of tricks has fooled Shantis Sondere, but we are not so blind as she!”

  Fists pumped in the air. Men howled in a near bloodlust. Filista held her own fist in the air and began to pump in rhythm with the others. “A new chapter begins for our people this day. A new beginning. Our ancestors fought in the Undead War. Many died at the hands of these savage humans, but they died free. They battled for a cause. They fought for the independence we squandered away. Never again will we hide like animals! Never again will we cower before these parasites! They think the Undead War is over and that they can take whatever they want.” She could hardly be heard over the deafening noise now. “The war is over...when we say it is over. Honor our ancestors. Honor our children. And I swear to show our people what glory and freedom really are!” All it takes is one or two sheep to start moving. The rest will always follow.

  Chapter 7

  Shantis rolled onto her back and covered her face with both hands. She felt numb—dead inside. “How did I not see this coming?” she muttered. “I’ve known for so long that Filista’s ambition was far too dangerous to be ignored, but I never dreamed she would go this far. I am such a fool.”

  She lay there lifelessly, praying that somehow this was all a nightmare, hoping she would wake up any moment. Filista had proved once again that no price was too steep when it came to increasing her power. And this time, the ultimate price would be paid. Not only was she willing to convince the crytons to turn their backs on the Gate Keeper, but had done so while reviving the Undead War. That soulless monster has no limits. Life itself is completely worthless in her eyes. I just can’t see how anyone could stoop to—