by Dan O'Brien
“That is actually the nature of my visit,” replied E’Malkai, nodding. “I have come to learn more about my father. Recent events have made it painfully obvious that I need to know much more.”
“I am not sure how much I can tell you that you do not already know.”
“I doubt that. Until a few months ago, I was not aware of much at all. Even now I have been told many versions; one more cannot hurt,” returned E’Malkai with a stern nod. He noticed that he was much taller than Dean. The man hunched slightly despite the rigidity of his appearance.
Some of the citizens had been bold enough to stop now. Some youthful men with fire in their eyes and some couples holding one another in fear chanced a look at Elcites. Dean noticed the growing crowd and turned away from E’Malkai, motioning for them to disperse.
“You must pardon my people. They have not seen an Umordoc as complacent as your guardian. The old tales are still very powerful here. To see such a warrior in our midst is a portent of death and violence to them,” explained Dean.
“Elcites anticipated as much. He is not upset by their gawking, nor am I,” responded E’Malkai with a simple shrug. Then he turned as if he planned to move past Dean and go deeper into the city.
Dean turned to match his approach. “Duirin is a guarded place. We depend very much on those from Culouth knowing very little of our operations. We take in many refugees and those who can no longer walk in Culouth,” conceded Dean as they made their way across the courtyard. A line of trees was cut symmetrically in front of the first line of buildings, leaving a thick patch of ground that served as a small street for pedestrians.
“Why it is so dangerous to know the true nature of this place?”
Dean seemed abashed by the youth’s words. “For you to be in the care of Lady T’elen, it was a reasonable intuitive leap to think that you were no longer welcome within the walls of the Upper Plane. Am I wrong in this assumption?”
E’Malkai smiled. He liked this man, and he supposed that his father had liked him as well. “That was clever, but true. I am an outcast from those up above, as is my guardian.”
The aged man sighed and continued to move through the copse of trees and into the rows of buildings. Each looked so identical that after a few moments, E’Malkai realized that he could not have found the building that they now stood before.
The man gestured with a sweep of his hand.
“My personal residence.”
E’Malkai nodded as Dean pushed the door aside and allowed him to enter first, followed by Dean. Elcites stepped through, pulling the door closed behind him. The interior was dark enough to conceal much of the room.
“Would you care to sit down?” questioned Dean.
E’Malkai nodded and sat down on one of the chairs with a sigh. Dean turned to Elcites. He offered him the same comfort, and the guardian merely shook his head and stood before the entrance.
“Can I offer you some refreshment?”
E’Malkai shook his head.
The business of information was his focus.
“Would it be too terribly rude if I partook of some in your presence?” queried Dean as he produced a vase of sweet-smelling liquid and began to pour it into a thin clear glass.
“No, by all means. It is I who is the guest in your home,” replied E’Malkai with a gentle wave of his hand.
“Indeed,” he echoed and sat opposite E’Malkai, sipping from the glass and then setting it down on the table in front of them. “I suppose before you begin to ask questions, I should tell you a particular piece of information that is necessary.”
E’Malkai rolled his eyes. T’elen had begun their conversation in a similar way, and the youth was already growing tired of the emerging pattern. “Please do.”
“I am your father’s uncle, your great uncle.”
E’Malkai nodded.
Nothing seemed to surprise the youth anymore. “Continue.”
“That was simple enough. You took it much better than Seth and Ryan did almost two decades ago. They wrestled with it for many weeks before accepting.”
“You will find that I am different,” replied E’Malkai.
“Very well. What would you like to know?”
Dean sat back.
Glass in his hand, a comfortable posture fell over him.
“Tell me how my father came to be here, in Duirin.”
“Seth and the others stumbled upon a scout of mine, a man by the name of Tiken, when they emerged from the tundra to the north into the warmer climates here in the south. They agreed to come here, for they had no alternative. Their rations had become dangerously low and Leane, your mother, had fallen ill. It was the pregnancy that had begun to sap her of strength.”
E’Malkai looked at Elcites tucked into the corner. His massive frame was a wall against the light that peeked through the door.
“She was quite lucky that she did not lose you. I treated her, as I am a doctor, and then the waiting began. We talked often and one day out in the courtyard the sweepers came through, harassed the man who came with your father and his brother.”
“Fredrick.”
“Yes, that was his name. Your father, the ever-valiant warrior that he was, stepped in and fought the sweepers. This earned him a sentence in the Citadel. Despite what Ryan has become, when he was here his only thoughts were of Summer and then the incarceration of his brother and how he would free him. To my shame I tried to dissuade him, citing the dangers to Duirin such an excursion would bring.”
“Sweepers are nasty business,” obliged E’Malkai with a nod.
“That they are and wouldn’t you know, no more than a week later Fredrick found himself in another rather precarious position. He fought back against a group of sweepers and joined your father in the Citadel. Couldn’t tell you what happened in there, but Ryan, Summer, and my tracker set out toward the Citadel in an effort to rescue your father. Once again, I can’t be certain of the events that transpired once they left the city, but when they returned it was without Summer, as she was taken during an attack. They came back with a Culouth soldier named Chren and an older gentleman by the name of Hugo who had been incarcerated with Seth. Chren fell in with T’elen’s bunch several years later and found a quick death out in the wastelands. But Hugo, the old man, still lives here in the city. He lives alone in the residences tucked in the far west corner of the city.”
“Why did my father leave here after returning from the Citadel?” There was sadness in E’Malkai’s voice. He knew now that his mother had remained in Duirin alone when he was no more than an infant.
“He did not desert your mother. They journeyed to find the Shaman and restore the power of the Believer. They set out alone, two brothers journeying into the unknown. Seth did not return. And in reality neither did Ryan, but something else did; rather something that walked in Ryan’s body. He took Leane and you to Culouth, where he had been summoned. I have not seen either of you for more than seventeen years.” He took the last drink of the glass, draining the liquid. A residue remained on the bottom, a bluish stain on the thick crystal.
E’Malkai fought back the sorrow that gripped him and regarded his great-uncle before speaking. “Would it be possible to speak to this man? I wish to know more about him, about my father.”
Dean nodded, rising from the seat and moving behind the counter. Pulling free the vase, he refilled his glass. He drained it completely and then filled it once more. “Of course. Seth was an extraordinary man. He had purpose and that was robbed of him.”
*
The shack that Hugo resided in was worthy of the term. It hung together completely from the force of will of the occupant. The roof sagged in the center, the walls were in desperate need of being remodeled, and the door hung halfway off its hinges. Dean leaned forward and knocked hard. He knocked several times more before footsteps could be heard within. The door swung inward. A disheveled man stood staring at Dean with wide eyes before he moved out and embraced the other man.
He pushed away just as quickly. “Reverent Y’re, how good of you to come and see me,” he wailed and then turned to E’Malkai. He cast a sour glance toward Elcites. “Have you brought friends?”
E’Malkai suppressed the laugh that threatened to surface. The man was a walking disaster. His white hair was long, but thinned in such a way that it looked more like string than hair. Wild eyes possessed no color. His crooked grin was not because he lacked teeth, but instead because it was set on a slant as if his jaw were unhinged.
“I have brought a ghost from your past, Hugo,” began Dean, gesturing to E’Malkai. “This is Seth Armen’s son.”
Hugo’s eyes went wide and catatonic. He darted back within his shack, slamming the door so hard that it sagged more than it had originally. From within his muttered voice spoke in rapid, unintelligible tones much to the chagrin of those outside.
“Was this perhaps a bad idea?”
E’Malkai shot Dean a bemused glance.
Dean sighed and wrapped his outer layer of fabrics around himself tighter. “No, Hugo is just strange. He has been that way since he arrived here, though more so each day since Seth left.”
They waited several minutes before the door cracked again and the wild features of Hugo emerged once more. His entire frame shook not from cold, but from within. “You cannot be the son of Seth Armen. He no longer lives. The line of Armen is dead.”
Dean grimaced in dissatisfaction and moved closer to the door, closer to the bewildered figure. “Can we speak of this inside? It is rather cold out here, Hugo,” queried Dean smoothly. His tone was calm, persuasive.
Hugo looked at each of them and then pointed at Elcites.
“The Umordoc stays outside.”
E’Malkai shook his head and turned to Dean.
“Elcites poses no threat.”
It was the guardian’s voice that stopped him. “It is no problem, E’Malkai sien. I would fear the house would collapse around me anyways. Outside suits me fine.”
E’Malkai stifled his smile. His guardian was making a joke at the expense of the man’s domain, and it was fitting. Dean noted the sarcasm. Hugo had already disappeared within, leaving the door flapping as E’Malkai and Dean ducked in from the weather. Glancing back at the immobile figure of Elcites as he weathered the cold, the youth entered with a thin smile of satisfaction.
The interior of the shack was far more accommodating, despite the litter of papers and other various things strewn about the house. A cast-iron cauldron lay at the center of the one-room home. Blackened pipe rose from its top until it exited through the ceiling. Billows of smoke floated off into the open air above the home.
The little old man wrapped a blanket around himself and sat in front of the cauldron. Placing his hands before it, he did not turn back to Dean and E’Malkai before he spoke. “Winter is almost upon us.”
Dean nodded. The man was deranged, but there was no denying the onset of the cold front that stormed around Duirin. “About Seth…” began Dean, but the little man cut him off.
“You should come closer to the heater here,” he echoed and both men acquiesced.
“Thank you for speaking with me,” spoke E’Malkai, but the man did not look at him.
“Why do you bring one of their kind with you?” he asked, his eyes fixated on the black exterior of the cauldron.
“He is my guardian.”
E’Malkai did not trust the man; it was evident in his tone.
The man laughed to himself. Curling into a tighter ball, he looked at Dean. “Why would a son of Seth Armen need a guardian?”
“He has lived in Culouth for some time. It was needed there,” replied Dean, looking at E’Malkai.
E’Malkai fought back anger. Sighing, he took a deep breath before he spoke. “Dean told me that you were with my father at the Citadel; that you escaped with him?”
The man hesitated. The blanket was drawn so tight and high that only his eyes peeked out. “The Citadel….”
“Yes, the place where my father was held captive.”
“I know what the Citadel is, boy,” he snapped and then continued. His pitch lowered. “I was captive there for longer than you have been alive. When your father––when Seth Armen first came to the Citadel, I had long since given up the hope of escaping.” There was silence before the old man continued, as if he had to regroup his thoughts before he spoke. “He never gave up hope. Spoke as if he had something to go back to…”
“My mother,” finished E’Malkai, eliciting a flash of hatred from Hugo for finishing his sentence.
“And for a child as well. A wife and a child: that is what he always spoke of. He challenged the gods of that place. Stood before Jabo and would still not back down. That man was evil, death incarnate.”
He stopped again.
E’Malkai wished to say that he could be no greater a monster than Fe’rein, but decided against it. The man grew angry when interrupted, and if he wished to hear the whole story, he would have to endure the man’s idiosyncratic behavior for a while.
“Then another foreigner came. Another northerner that he knew and he escaped. He found me in the mines later on and together we rummaged through ducts and forgotten passages, trying to escape. He would not leave the other man behind despite my protests. He would not carry on without him; such a sense of nobility in that man.”
E’Malkai wished that he had known his father as so many others had, who spoke of him with such reverence.
“We, the four of us, found a way out. He stayed behind even then, saying that he had to sever any ties that would bring them upon us, and he did. He killed Jabo as if he was just a man.” Hugo laughed with the strange pitch of a man lost within in his own mind. “Though, he was just a man. But in my dreams and in the hearts of those who had been trapped there for so long, he was the devil: our keeper in that hell.”
The man fell silent for some time.
Heat within the cauldron crackled as night settled, and the cold grew. After a time, E’Malkai grew impatient again. “What happened then?”
Hugo looked at him with suspicion. “Who are you?”
E’Malkai turned to Dean in annoyance.
“Is this guy for real?” he snapped.
Dean ignored the youth’s comment.
“He is the son of Seth Armen.”
A bright light seemed to form behind the man’s eyes. He reached out a hand and grasped E’Malkai’s hand. Shaking it vigorously, a voracious smile spread across his features. “Such an honor. Your father was a great man.”
E’Malkai looked at the man, horrified. The sudden shift of the man’s temperament caused E’Malkai to throw Hugo’s hand aside and stalk toward the door. Ignoring Dean’s protests, he pushed open the door, letting it slam behind him. He tucked his chin into the folds of his coat and stood beside Elcites, who had not moved since they had gone in.
“Foolish old man,” grumbled E’Malkai.
“Not what you imagined, my sien?”
The cold winds ruffled Elcites’ fur.
E’Malkai bumped him with his shoulder and smiled. He was glad to see that Elcites had returned to his former self, not the brooding monolith he had become as a result of the youth’s coma.
The door slammed behind them.
Dean moved around beside them. His old frame shivered against the cold night. “You have to pardon Hugo. He is prone to flights of strangeness. His mind is not as cohesive as others,” reasoned Dean.
E’Malkai interrupted him, slicing at the wind with his hand. “It matters little. I got what I came for. I have heard another story of my father’s legacy, heard the depth of his nobility.”
“I see.” There was disappointment in Dean’s voice.
“I require more. I wish to walk as my father had. T’elen spoke to me of a great many things, but it is clear that I have purpose. All the things that my father did, and now all the things that have happened to me are part of a larger picture––I must finish what he started. I need to go north. I need to f
ind the Fallen.”
It was Elcites, not Dean, who uttered the objection. “The rigors of the tundra are unfathomable. There are none who have walked that cold death and returned to tell a tale.”
“My mother has said that my father walked that tundra every day of his life as if it were no danger to him at all. She said that he was the only one of the Fallen who did not fear the icy grip of the tundra. His blood flows through my veins.”
“I have to agree with your guardian. I once lived on that tundra and only one Armen a generation could survive that place. Even then, it was from constant interaction with the tundra. You have never seen real cold, much less the relentlessness present in those frozen plains and mountains,” conceded Dean, shaking his head.
“If there is to be a chance for our people, then it is in my journey north. It is that simple.” E’Malkai would have no argument.
“Nothing is that simple.” The voice was Leane’s.
Her lithe figure was enshrouded in the multi-colored layers indicating her as lady of the House of Di’letirich. The three exchanged looks of shock, and it was Dean who spoke first.
“I did not hear of your coming, my lady.”
She laughed. Her voice was a sweet whisper. “Duirin is a large place, Y’re, and T’elen is far stealthier than you give her credit for.”
The brazen figure of T’elen emerged from beside the shack. A hood covered her face. The black bodysuit had returned, but now encased in a light gray cloak. Flecks of snow attached to it as the gray skies above swelled with a winter storm.
“Reverent Y’re, it is good to see that you are taking care of young E’Malkai.” Her voice betrayed her grandeur, her place as Culouth’s greatest warrior, second only to Fe’rein.
Leane walked forward, placing a hand on her son’s face. “Elcites sent word. However, by the time I could steal myself away, you had taken the transport here. T’elen thought it prudent if we arrived unnoticed.”
E’Malkai could not take his eyes off T’elen.
“I wished to know more about my father.”
“And you shall. The journey north will be a difficult one.”
