The Road to Light (The Path of Zaan Book 1)

by C. K. Rieke

  “The title of Crusader is actually quite a rare one, Zaan. It only happens about every thirty years or so,” Astor told him.

  “Do you have a title, then?” Gar asked Astor.

  “Yes, if you are a part of the order. We all do,” he replied.

  “Astor Delasius the Dragon,” Tilda said.

  “And Tilda Hildenbred the Tangier,” Astor added.

  “Excellent,” Gar said.

  “And Gar, after your training is complete, you will be given a title as well,” Astor said, and Gar struggled to contain a smirk. “But not until then.”

  “Zaan, how are you feeling?” Astor asked Zaan.

  “Fine. A little overwhelmed. I wasn’t expecting to walk into that today. How is Gogenanth?” he asked Astor.

  “Better. You will be able to see him shortly. He is resting right now. I’m sure he will be upset he missed your initiation ceremony. I will take you to him later, but first you have been invited by the headmaster for a private audience. I will show you the way, and you can visit with Tilda and Gar afterward,” Astor said, and Zaan said his short goodbyes to his friends. Astor took him out the rear exit of the tower room, which led to a circular set of black stone stairs.

  As they approached the top of the tower from the circular stairwell, a bright light shone down through the cracks in the stairway, flickering like a windmill in the sun. The light once they reached the top was blinding after being in the torchlit room below. After Zaan’s eyes adjusted, he was able to pick out three figures seated in a lush room of soft fabrics with many framed portraits on the walls. Old glass windows made up half of the room. The bright light was coming from above, which Zaan assumed was the beacon light at the top of the tower.

  “Greetings, Zaan, you did well down there,” Palanzal said. “You remember me introducing you to Elindrill, Astor’s relative? She is the assistant headmaster here. “

  “How do you do?” Elindrill asked Zaan. He lowered his head and bowed.

  “There is one more person here I would like you to meet, Zaan. This is Zelestiana Xa the Lion. She will be your instructor.” Palanzal introduced them, but instead of bowing to her, Zaan stared at her, standing in awe of her presence.

  With his eyes adjusted he could see Zelestiana was powerful. She had long, firm arms that glistened in the sunlight and had broad yet feminine shoulders. He had to look slightly up at her, and she had glassy black hair pulled back and a silver ring around her brow. Her dark-lined eyes were elegant, with her eyes themselves the color of rolling wheat fields. She had slender rose-red lips, and he caught a scent of tomato vine on her. She had the completion of an oak in the fall. She nodded subtly to Zaan and did not say a word.

  Palanzal clapped his hands once loudly. “Well, now that you two know each other, we will take our leave. Let us know if there is anything you need while here in Barrier Cliff, Zaan.”

  Elindrill, Astor, and Palanzal left down the circular staircase. Astor gave Zaan a nod and a smirk on the way out, which gave Zaan an uneasy feeling. He turned and looked at Zelestiana. She stared into him and he tried to hold her gaze, but he had to look away twice.

  There they stood, the two of them, for what felt like a day to him, neither saying a word. Zelestiana gave an unimpressed sigh, then turned and looked out the window to the east. Zaan stood there, waiting for her to say something, to end this silence. She stepped away from the window and took large strides toward him, then stopped a few feet from him. She reached out and ran her long, slender fingers down the side of his face, then bent to peer into his eyes.

  “So,” Zelestiana started, and then paused. “Do you think yourself special?” she asked sternly.

  “No, I guess not,” Zaan responded after a moment.

  “Hmm,” she replied. Zaan thought she sounded dissatisfied with his answer.

  “I guess . . . I mean, no . . . I don’t think I am special,” Zaan said, fumbling over his words.

  “Well, you are special. You are special because you have a gift that has been given to you, but do you deserve that gift? That is the question we will find out,” Zelestiana said while walking tight circles around Zaan.

  “Jonji El’Rue was a great warrior, and my friend. I certainly hope she made the right decision to pass her Azulūz onto someone as weak-looking as you,” she said, still encircling Zaan. He did not respond.

  “Let us get something straight here, boy. I am not here to be your friend, or mentor, or guide. I am here because it is my duty to make sure you are strong enough to be worthy of the gift given to you.” She stopped and looked into his eyes again. “Well, are you ready to go down the long road ahead?”

  “Yes’ ma’am, I am,” he said, and straightened his back.

  “Good. You have a journey ahead, and not just with your training. But know this: Your life will never be what it once was. The bearers of the Azulūz not only carry a gift from the Old Gods, but a curse.”

  “You are referring to whatever is hunting me,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes, and until a new age comes, that is the fate of all like you and me.”

  “Are there many who carry the Azulūz?”

  “I believe Mäezer Palanzal would like to answer that question himself,” she said. “Until that time, I will help you discover the essence and triggers of your gift.”

  He nodded, with his shoulders squared and his jaw tight.

  “Meet me at the entrance to the eastern tower at dawn tomorrow, and Zaan . . . do not be late.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  THE infirmary door opened slowly, creaking and screeching, and Zaan saw his friend Gogenanth wrapped in bandages head to toe, motionless on a cot at the back of the musty-smelling room. Tilda sat by his side, and she looked over at Zaan, smiled, and looked back at Gogenanth. Zaan thought Tilda looked like an angel, with her soft blond hair shimmering in the sunlight. It reminded him of dancing fields of sunflowers in the breeze.

  “How is he?” Zaan asked.

  “He is resting. He’s been asleep for a couple of hours now, which is good,” she said.

  “Have you been here long?” he asked her. She nodded to him. He went over to the side of the bed she was on and put his hand on her back. She laid her head into his side and sniffled, then wrapped her arms around him. Zaan felt his stomach in his throat. She stood up and looked into his eyes.

  “Want to take me for a walk?” she asked him. He didn’t respond immediately, with old feelings welling back up in him, so she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room and into the sunlight on one of the main roads of Barrier Cliff. She let go of his hand, and they began to walk side by side. The area around the infirmary had small plants lining the walkways that were all but dead this time of year, and this far north.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Tilda asked him.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “No, it’s not. This has got to be the bleakest castle around,” she said, and they both laughed.

  “I guess it is,” Zaan said. “Auracity had some pretty unkempt parts, though. In my mind when I was back home, looking at the smokestack in the distance, I pictured it differently. When we learned about it while I was in school, it seemed more sophisticated. But it ended up more brutish and rough than I pictured.”

  “You are right about that,” she said as they walked down some stairs, looking out to the Rion.

  “How’s Gildur?” Zaan asked.

  “He’s good. He wanted to come, but he’s got the business, and he thought it best to give it time before he leaves, so as not to raise suspicions. Gogenanth has a higher price on his head than anyone; alive, except maybe . . . you.

  “You seem so different than when I first met you, Zaan. You are still shy, but you have a presence now; it feels good to be around you. You . . . you remind me of happier times.” As she said this, his whole body felt warm. His nervousness was beginning to leave him, but his cravings for her were increasing.

  They wal
ked for a while like this, not talking, and then he spoke. “What are you doing for dinner later?”

  “Nothing, why?” she said with a delicate smile that was more beautiful to Zaan than the warm sun hanging over the outstretched sea behind her.

  “We could eat together, if you want,” he said.

  “I would like that. Around seven?”

  “Sure, seven o’ clock. Where? I don’t know this place well yet,” he said.

  “Come to my place. I will cook something.”

  “Okay, your place then,” he said, trying not to reveal too much of his excitement.

  They started back up the curving obsidian-colored stairs and split ways soon after to turn down different paths. He was heading back to his room, and as he approached the entrance, he saw Gar sitting by the front door, waiting for him.

  “Hey!” Gar yelled out.

  “Hey.” Zaan waved.

  Gar ran up. “Hey, what you doing?”

  “Nothing. I tried to see Gogenanth, but he was resting,” Zaan said, intentionally not bringing up his walk with Tilda.

  “You wanna go check out the city? It’s impressive. I still haven’t seen all of it. The east side of town by the sea is supposed to be loaded with secret passageways, and down below that, the market it supposed to be a pretty good one,” Gar said. Gar’s enthusiasm was a warm reminder of their fond times together, and Zaan realized how much he’d missed his friend while he was imprisoned in the cave.

  “Sure, let’s go,” Zaan said.

  They went over to the east wall and walked down it, looking for any switches or secret doors, but they found none. The sky over the ocean looked majestic to Zaan. He had never seen an ocean before the day Gogenanth got hurt, and it hadn’t occurred to him then to admire the landscape. Its beauty left him speechless. With the sharp, fresh air whipping his hair into his face, he had to squint to see where the last waves were, and where they stopped. Occasionally a fin would poke out of the water, and he wondered what kind of fish they belonged to. They must be big fish to live in such a far-reaching sea.

  As they approached the market Zaan asked, “What have things been like at Gildur’s?”

  “Not boring,” Gar replied. “Well, like when you were there, things were fun. Now, guards come in all of the time and search for stuff, and wreck the place, and sometimes steal things. That pisses Gildur off to no end. I hope you never have to see Gildur like that.”

  “I don’t think I would like to see that either,” Zaan said, eyeing some various soft cheeses as they walked through the market. He caught many delightful smells as they perused the array of foods and drinks.

  “Ever since you were captured and Gogenanth was broken out of jail, things have been different for us in Auracity. The king did not like someone escaping from his dungeon, especially someone that was to be executed,” Gar said. “You like that one?” He was referring to the hard, pale yellow cheese in Zaan’s hand.

  “Yeah, it smells good. Like the ones we make in Fur-lol. Nutty and mild—goes great with dried fruits,” said Zaan.

  “Here, I got it.” Gar reached in his wallet. “You know, I think Tilda took it the hardest when you went missing,” he said, looking up at Zaan, waiting for and seeing his smile. “It’s true. She sat quietly running thin string through fabric most days, making dark-colored dresses for the other women at the armory. She wasn’t her normal, warm self.” He paid for the cheese. “We gotta get some fresh bread, though, and we should get some meat and ale for tonight, too.”

  “Actually . . . I have plans,” Zaan said hesitantly.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I’ll see what Tilda’s up to then, no worries,” Gar said, and Zaan chuckled. “What?”

  “Well, I’m actually going to Tilda’s for dinner,” Zaan said, now feeling awkward. Gar stood there, trying to read Zaan’s demeanor.

  “Oh! I understand.” Gar crossed his arms across his chest. “You two want to be alone. I get it.”

  “No, you should come. I’m sure she would have invited you if she’d seen you. It’ll be fun.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s go get some ale.” Gar started off down the stairs into the lower part of the market.

  Zaan stood there scratching his head, wondering if he’d made the right decision.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  TILDA opened the door to see Zaan. “Hi, come on in.” As he came in, Tilda began to close the door, but a heavy boot got in the way.

  “Hey, aren’t you going to let me in?” Gar asked, surprised.

  “Oh, heavens, yes, I didn’t know you were coming, Gar. Yes, come on in.” Tilda played it off perfectly, so much so that Zaan couldn’t tell if she was upset that it was not going to be just the two of them for dinner.

  Zaan looked at Tilda in her home in Barrier Cliff. It felt warmer than most of the dwellings, with its dozens of candles around and a maple-wood archway at the entrance draped with hanging thin curtains of a gold hue. She was wearing a dress he assumed she’d woven, of bright colors like a sunset, with a trim of ocean color. She smelled of oranges, and lavender, and her hair draped casually behind her shoulders, and his heart beat strongly when her sky-colored eyes met his.

  “Well, it’s nothing special for dinner. I just made a mutton stew, with some dried fish to eat first,” Tilda said.

  “It’s okay. We brought some things, and some ale. You want some?” Gar asked Tilda. “It’s supposedly a smooth, lightly malty ale from Dillengrad.”

  “Sure,” she said, and Gar went to the kitchen to search for glasses. “Zaan, I didn’t ask you, but how was your meeting in the tower earlier?”

  “It was fine, I met my . . . instructor? Her name is Zelestiana. I hope she’s nice. She seems stern,” he replied.

  “I’m sure it will be okay,” she said as Gar gave her a glass of the cool, frothy ale. He also gave one to Zaan, keeping one for himself. “Be nice to her; she’s a friend.”

  “Cheers,” Gar said, holding up his glass. “To being together again, after all this time. How great is this?” Tilda and Zaan looked into each other’s eyes, and her eyes widened slightly. Finally, a clue that she maybe wanted to have the night alone with him, he thought.

  After eating all of the cheese and bread with some salty dried fish, they were already feeling pretty full. They hadn’t even touched the stew, but they polished off the ale just fine.

  “Excuse me,” Tilda said as she got up to go into the other room.

  Once she was out of the main room, Gar said, “Damn, we ran out of ale quick. Maybe I should go get some more.”

  Zaan enjoyed their time catching up with each other. They reminisced about Auracity, and the taverns of the city, and the armory. It really was a great time, and his cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing. Yet at this point, he found himself growing impatient with his desire to be alone with Tilda. It had nothing to do with Gar, except for the fact that he was still there. “Yeah . . . more ale,” he said softly.

  “You know what, maybe I’ll just head out now. I’m feeling pretty beat,” Gar said, as he stood up and adjusted his tan, wrinkled jacket. “Tell Tilda I said goodbye, will ya?”

  “You don’t have to go just yet. You can stay,” Zaan said, feeling guilty of his feelings.

  “It’s all right. Have a good night. See you tomorrow,” Gar said as he crept out the front door just as Tilda was coming back into the room.

  “Where did Gar go?” Tilda asked.

  “He had to leave. Said he was tired. Probably had to use the bathroom, and only likes to use his,” Zaan said with a straight face. The joke wasn’t as funny as he’d thought it would be. Before he could recover or say anything, Tilda walked casually up to him and pressed her soft lips delicately against his. And he felt her, finally. He felt the warmth of her lips, and he could taste her. It was like tasting taffy for the first time: sweet, and left you wanting more.

  She had her hands on his face. He was still sitting but put his hand on her hip. He f
elt the smooth cloth under his fingers as he ran his hand up to her stomach. And they kissed each other wildly as she ran her hands down to the strong sides of his neck.

  His passion was unquenchable. He could not get close enough to her. He finally stood up and she pulled his body toward hers and kissed him. She was like an animal. She grabbed his face and put it into her neck. He could taste what he used to try to catch a whiff of back in the armory. Now it was all his. He wanted this moment to last forever.

  Holding his hands on her lower back, she held him in close. Then his hands began to drift lower, clasping his hands on parts of her he’d dreamed of months ago. He was thinking of nothing but the rush of excitement coursing through his body, and the urge to keep this moment going forever. And then the strangest thing that could happen . . . happened. She pushed him away and wiped off her mouth.

  “What are we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, as if speaking to herself.

  “What? What do you mean?” he asked, feeling as if a tornado had come in the room and destroyed everything around him.

  “We . . . we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not right,” she said. She was looking at the floor, with the back of her hand covering her mouth.

  “It’s okay. It feels right to me. Did I do something?” Zaan asked, taking a step toward her.

  “I think you should go,” Tilda said, holding out a hand, yet refusing to look in his eyes.

  “Tilda,” he began.

  “Just go, please. I can’t do this right now,” she said, and she began to sob softly into her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “I . . .” he hesitated. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”

  She lifted her head up from her hands, and Zaan’s heart sank as he watched the streams rolling down her cheeks. “Just go, please,” she said as she rushed off into her bedroom.

  Zaan, baffled and still trying to run the sequence of events through his head, slowly left the room and shut the door behind him.