Overture

by K R Schultz

  He raised his voice as he regained control of his emotions. “You shortsighted fools! You cling to a false hope! The annihilation of the Abrhaani and the Eniila spells our eventual destruction. Even if the Eniila and Abrhaani are not working in concert again, their mere existence diverts the Nethera’s attention from us. If the Eniila and the Abrhaani perish, the Nethera will find Abalon. It is inevitable. When that happens, we stand alone and unaided. The Sokai cannot defend Abalon and its people without the help of the Eniila warriors and Abrhaani healers. There are no more rocks for us to crawl under, nowhere else to hide.”

  Herron leaped to his feet and countered Eideron’s assertions. He repeated the refrain, “There is no evidence of a threat, and without conclusive evidence, we need not act. Eideron’s proposed mission is lunacy. If Aarda remains unaware of our presence, we face no threat to Abalon’s security. Any expedition outside Abalon exposes us and our location. It puts our entire species at needless risk and creates a problem where none exists…outside of Eideron’s imagination.”

  Eideron slumped as people turned away from him, and a few waved their hands dismissively. I have done my best to turn them aside from their foolishness, but they won’t listen.

  Himish leaned toward Eideron. “The Lion of the Synod roared loud and long, but no one heeds your warning.”

  Amoreya stood following Herron’s rebuttal. “It has grown late, and there is no point in further discussion. I dismiss the council for the day.” She thumped the podium with her staff and councilors rose and left the great hall in pairs and small groups. Himish and Eideron stood watching the chamber empty until they stood alone in the Hall of Justice.

  Eideron surveyed the empty amphitheater, with its ornate wall tapestries, basalt benches, and carved wooden doors. He ran his hand over the seat he and Himish had shared for decades. “Have we lived too long?” His voice bounced off the walls creating the illusion of a crowd as he spoke. “We are the only ones left since all our contemporaries are dead and gone. Do you remember how we used to come here as young councilors? We had such high hopes, so many brilliant ideas, and such magnificent dreams for our people. Have all our efforts been in vain?”

  Himish pressed his lips together and clasped Eideron’s shoulder. “Shall we head out?”

  Eideron sighed, eyes downcast, and walked toward the enormous doors into the portico where a few stragglers lingered. Together the two old friends shuffled to the elevator across the Plaza of Justice.

  Once they reached Eideron’s quarters following the council’s adjournment, he and Himish sat together and commiserated in the parlor.

  “Well, that is that,” Himish said, content to lick his figurative wounds.

  “That is most definitely not that!” said Eideron.

  “What do you mean? There’s nothing else to do! If you try again, Herron will move to dismiss you again, and next time he and his cronies may win!”

  “If a dismissal is the worst they can do, I can live with it. My position on the council is worthless anyway. We can no longer work with those ninnies.”

  “They think we are senile…” Himish paused to pick the correct words. “They have a point.”

  “Don’t tell me you think we are senile too!”

  “No, I want you to acknowledge they are right.” Himish held up his hand to prevent Eideron from exploding in rage again. “Hear me out, damn you! They are right when they say that if anyone leaves the valley, we risk exposure to the Nethera.”

  “Do you think I am stupid as well as old? I know the risks, but if we do nothing and this joint effort of the Eniila and Abrhaani fails, the Dark Ones will swallow us too.

  “The wasteland was expansive, and we depended on its protection for centuries. Things may have changed; it may not be as broad as it was. Aarda may have reclaimed it, so it does not guarantee our safety any longer. We have not scouted outside the caldera walls to gather information. Instead of keeping watch, we ignore everything outside Abalon.

  “Although the wasteland is a barrier to the Eniila and Abrhaani, it is unlikely to deter spiritual beings like the Nethera. This valley is not immune to attack or discovery. Even if we obey the Synod’s ruling and do nothing, Abalon is vulnerable. After the Nethera dispatch the Eniila and Abrhaani to work unhindered, how long can we survive on our own? The truth no one wants to face is that we don’t know Aarda anymore. That is aside from the other problems looming on the horizon.”

  “What other problems?” Himish asked.

  Eideron shook his head in dismay. “You must realize we are nearly out of room and resources here.”

  Himish scowled and said, “There will be plenty of housing. The caldera walls echo each time they blast more apartments into the cliff faces, and work proceeds well according to recent reports.” As if to punctuate Himish’s words, another explosion echoed across the Plaza of Justice.

  Eideron flinched at the noise but refused to concede the argument. “And what will we feed them? Our land is nearly at capacity now. Each generation, our population grows larger, while our ability to produce food shrinks because of the need to expand our living quarters. I estimate that in two generations, we must look for more land outside this valley or face severe famine, even sooner if the crops fail.” Eideron let the idea sink deep into Himish’s mind.

  “Even if we leave water supply out of the equation,” he continued, “we cannot go on as we have for centuries. Our growing population, coupled with our limited resources, will force us to leave here soon and expose our position. If the Nethera eliminate the Eniila and Abrhaani, we will face the threat alone, and our species has produced damn few warriors, none who could dispatch a Dark One. We cannot avoid discovery and allow our population to grow. We can postpone our exodus from Abalon, but we cannot avoid it.”

  “What do you mean to do?”

  “It is best if I say nothing further, my friend. Then you will not share my disgrace.”

  “No. Tell me what you plan. I can help.”

  “I cannot plan until I question Aibhera and Simea again. If you want to aid me after I meet with them, I will give you more details. Since they barred me from further contact with Simea, I need a favor from you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Herron’s Secret

  Herron smirked as he marched down the broad hallway to his office with his apprentice Heysel beside him. He removed the key from his tunic and unlocked the wood-paneled door to his luxurious private workplace. Once inside his sanctuary, he turned toward his apprentice. “You know I rarely indulge, but it’s time to celebrate our victory over those two pompous old twits, Himish and Eideron. You may join me if you wish.” He waited for Heysel’s response.

  “Master Herron, I consider it an honor to share your celebration. They say vapor makes the darkness bright.” Heysel’s eyes glimmered and betrayed his eagerness to experience the rapture that vapor induced.

  Herron unlocked a drawer in his desk and withdrew a small bottle and a vapor infuser. He set the stained ceramic bowl on its stand, lit the burner beneath it, poured the thick brown liquid into the container, and waited for the flame to boil the fluid. “You may have the honor of the first draft, young man.” Herron beckoned Heysel to approach his desk and smiled when Heysel’s haste betrayed his eagerness to experience the euphoria the vapor induced. Herron controlled his own desire for the ecstatic high, but Heysel had no control over his cravings. Vapor addiction provided Herron another level of power over his apprentice and allowed him to accept the young man into his inner circle.

  Heysel drew a deep breath and flopped into a nearby chair, his eyes became glazed and unfocused. Herron leaned over the bowl and pulled the pungent steam into his lungs. It took only moments before the relaxation and euphoria took hold, and once it did, Herron staggered to a brocade couch beside his apprentice. He sprawled onto its cushioned seat. “It truly does make the darkness bright.”

  “Could I ask a question, Master?” Heysel drawled.

  “Certainly. Ask me whatev
er you wish.”

  “Why are you so determined to destroy Himish and Eideron?”

  “Let me tell you a story. Years ago, three brothers became orphaned by a foolish decision of the Synod Council. As orphans, they should have become wards of the council, but no one came to the older boys’ aid as they struggled to care for their baby brother. Often their care caused them to do unsavory things to survive. For several years these boys lived in squalor on the verge of starvation. Then they attracted the Synod Council’s attention when a young woman disappeared from the central park. The guardsmen spent many days looking for the little tease who had the same loose morals as all females.

  “They found her and the boys in the volcanic vent caves below Abalon. Let us simply say she was no longer attractive or marriageable since she had suffered hard usage at the older brothers’ hands. The brothers, now in their late teens, bore the blame for the girl’s condition. The council, most of whom have died since that time, convicted, and sentenced them to life imprisonment in the dungeon below us. Their younger brother, a mere child, was placed with caretakers who treated him as a servant, or on foul days, a target for abuse. The lad swore he would avenge his brothers and put women in their proper place, once he grew to manhood.” Herron lurched to his feet and paced around the room.

  “Despite the unfortunate circumstances of his life, the child grew into a talented youth, underwent the Synod exams, and achieved a score high enough to earn a Synod apprenticeship. By the time he became a councilor, only two members of the council that had imprisoned his brothers remained alive. All the others died of various misfortunes. I shall let you draw your own conclusions about the identity of the boy, but the only councilors left from that time are Eideron and Himish. Take another tug of the vapor if you wish.” Herron gestured toward the bowl filling the room with fog that swirled around him. The mist gave Herron, the wooden furniture, and the wall-hung tapestries a ghostly aspect.

  Heysel swayed as though the floor moved beneath him. He staggered over to the infuser, placed his hands on the table to steady himself, and inhaled another lungful of the white smoke. “I have noticed your eyes always rest on the Speaker’s staff. Why do you covet it, and why is it significant to you?” Smoke swirled out of his mouth as he spoke.

  “Two reasons: first—” Herron raised a forefinger. “I want the authority the rod confers upon its holder. Second—” He held up another finger. “It is more than a symbol of authority. The staff is a weapon if you know its secrets. The metal is unique, and there is an apparatus inside that draws power from the Aether, which a user can discharge in the form of lightning. It has other uses, but I haven’t discovered them yet.” Herron clapped Heysel on the shoulder and flashed a sly grin. “Since I have told you this much, tomorrow you will search the archives and look for references on the Staff of Escalus for me. Bring me any written material on the weapon and tell no one what you found.”

  Herron debated whether to take another breath of vapor from the bowl, since the room, already thick with fumes, made his head spin. Another hit to celebrate my coming triumph couldn’t hurt. He struggled to his feet from the couch and tottered to the infuser. “May the darkness become bright,” he murmured after he inhaled the mist rising from the vessel.

  Although he had locked the door to prevent the discovery of his secret vice, he sensed another presence in the room when he lifted his head.

  “You called?” A sibilant voice cut through the vapor fog in the room.

  Herron turned toward Heysel, but the young man in the chair, incapable of speech or coherent thought, had passed out. To his left, a shimmering figure materialized. “Who are you?” Herron’s mental fog lifted, the room’s temperature plummeted, and Herron shivered from both fear and the frigid air.

  “You asked for the darkness to become light after you inhaled. Your prayer allowed me to contact you. Surely you know that the vapor expands your mind and allows you to touch the Aetherial realm.”

  The being shimmered, pulling color from the room, and absorbing it as Herron watched. Herron hesitantly nodded, His voice quavered when he spoke.” What is your name?”

  “I have many names, some say I am the darkness, but I stood with the Creator when He formed Aarda, and I have come in answer to your call. We noted the prejudice you have endured. We will help you seek justice and achieve your vengeance.”

  Herron’s teeth chattered from the cold. “You are an Aethera then.”

  “You have said it, and I will not deny it. No one must know of our meeting. Will you accept our aid to become the most powerful Sokai in all Aarda? You must affirm your statement with a blood oath. Be warned, you will forfeit your life and the lives of those you love if you do not obey us.”

  “Yes, I will do anything you ask,” Herron said, excitement building. “If you help avenge my family, I shall willingly obey your every command, and if you guarantee my supremacy over my people, my life is yours.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Secret Meeting

  Himish handed a folded sheet of paper to Aibhera. “This note is from Eideron. I read it, and I don’t think he overreacted. Herron is devious and deceitful, and he expects the same from others. He’s no fool. He expects Eideron to disobey the Synod, and in this case, he is correct. My old friend has lost faith in our authorities and will scruple at nothing any longer. Eideron insists on the extreme precautions in this note so that no spies sent by that malicious upstart can report him to the council and stymie his plan.”

  Aibhera looked puzzled and opened her mouth to speak, but Himish held up a hand and said, “Before you ask, no, I don’t know what the plan is. You’ll find out when you meet him again.” He laid a hand on her head. “May the Creator bless you with wisdom, young lady. Both you and your friend will need it in the days ahead.” He started walking away, but after two steps, he turned and waved goodbye with tears in his eyes.

  Aibhera unfolded the paper and read: Meet me at my house after sunset tonight and don't speak of the encounter to anyone. My home will appear dark and deserted. Once you are both present, knock four times, in two sets of two knocks, and wait for me to let you in. Destroy this note once you have read it.

  Although Aibhera didn’t understand the need for such secrecy, the prospect of a clandestine meeting excited them. It added spice and mystery to her otherwise ordinary evening.

  After slinking along back streets and creeping up shadowy cargo ramps, Aibhera arrived at Eideron’s home. I’m pretty sure nobody saw me coming, and I didn’t see anyone following me down any of those nasty back passageways. The garbage stink still clings to my clothes.

  While she waited for Simea, she hid in the shadows of Eideron’s porch, a niche carved into the crater wall. Aibhera shivered in the semidarkness. Is it the cold fog rising from the valley floor or nervous tension causing the shakes? When Simea finally arrived by a separate roundabout route, her shivering decreased. Well, that answers that question, definitely nervousness then.

  As Eideron had promised, the windows of his home were dark unlit holes in the wall of his dwelling. The light from the windows of nearby living quarters filtered through the mist and created bright halos around the openings, giving the street a ghostly atmosphere. Voices and sounds of family life drifted through the air and added to the eerie effect.

  To casual observers, Master Eideron had turned in early after another disastrous defeat at Synod meetings. Simea grabbed Aibhera’s wrist when she raised her hand to knock. He shook his head. “Let me do it.” He knocked twice, paused for a moment, then rapped twice more, as Himish’s note had instructed. It opened at once. Eideron must have been waiting in the foyer for their arrival.

  Eideron held his finger to his lips when Sim tried to speak. “Enter. Hurry, before someone sees you,” Eideron whispered, pulling them inside his darkened home. “Follow me. There are no windows in the pantry, so no one can see us or overhear our conversation.”

  Eideron led them through his darkened foyer and kitchen while he
lit the way into the pantry with a candle shielded by his hand. He had set up cushions in the storage room, along with a low table on which he placed a lighted lamp. He closed the door and blew out the candle. Their shadows loomed large on the walls behind them. “We cannot be too careful,” he said in a low voice. Eideron winced in pain as he lowered himself onto a cushion, looking suddenly older and frailer than Aibhera remembered. “Please seat yourselves so we can begin.

  Simea spoke in a low voice. “Why have you called us together, Master?”

  “Don’t call me master. I am not your master anymore, Simea. Since you are not my apprentice, you no longer need to honor me with the title. Call me Eideron. I escaped disbarment from the Synod Council by a hair’s breadth today. The council passed judgment on me and forbade further contact with you. What we decide tonight may determine the fate of Abalon and Aarda. I can’t overemphasize the importance of this conversation and the danger if they discover us meeting like this.”

  “They are a pack of idiots,” Simea said. Aibhera fidgeted and looked about to agree, but Eideron silenced her with a finger to his lips.

  “The council has served our people for centuries.” Eideron sighed and leaned across the table toward the youngsters. The wrinkles of his face formed grim shadows in the lamplight and made him look more stern than usual. “I will not tolerate contempt for the Synod Council, however much you or I disagree with their methods. They want to keep our people safe and happy. Although I believe they blundered in their recent decisions, they still deserve our respect. They are the custodians of this valley. They are doing their best, and they shall continue their roles long after we go.”

  Aibhera’s face scrunched in puzzlement at Eideron’s choice of words. Long after we go? Is Eideron thinking of leaving Abalon?