Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light

by Tracy A. Akers

  “Welcome, our Prince,” she said in a smoky voice as Whyn entered the room.

  All but she bowed to him, their heads almost touching the floor. He strode past them, paying little notice to their respectful display, and kept his gaze fully upon the Priestess. He went before her and bowed. She reached her hand to his chin and tilted his head up toward her, then stroked his cheek lightly with her fingers. Chill bumps rose on his arms, and a shiver crept down his spine. But he showed no sign of discomfort at her touch. He dared not.

  Whyn stepped off the platform and made his way to a row of seats that faced the Priestess. He settled himself onto a velvet-cushioned chair. On either side of him were cross-legged stools and in front of them stood Labhras, Mahon, and Crymm. Four priests, older men with shaved heads and white linen togas, stood with heads bowed behind the stools.

  All waited silently, but the Priestess did not speak for quite some time. It was as though she relished the awkward silence that permeated the room. Finally she rose, and like a master to her dogs, motioned them to sit.

  Slowly, gracefully, she descended the steps and walked as though floating along the row of men before her. As she passed them, her hand brushed along their faces, necks, and shoulders with a feather-like touch against their skin. Her gaze fell upon them each one by one, and she searched their faces with pale, piercing eyes.

  “There is much emotion here,” she said as she walked along. “Hatred . . . jealousy . . . gratitude . . . and ah . . . what is this?” She focused momentarily on Mahon, then stepped back and surveyed the row once more. “I do not believe a fair judgment can be made amidst so much emotion,” she said, shaking her head. “For how could the decision be an unbiased one?” Then she turned her eyes to Whyn alone. “I fear, my dear Prince, that it may be up to the gods to decide the fate of the Unnamed One.”

  Whyn’s eyes widened. “Great Priestess . . . the Unnamed One? To whom do you refer? Do you speak of the prince ¬unnamed, or the Unnamed One of the Prophecy?” His voice trembled slightly as the words left his lips, and all eyes other than hers turned to him in mute, but obvious surprise.

  “Perhaps they are one in the same,” she said, her features suddenly hard. “If the one the Prophecy speaks of is indeed real, Tearia is at risk.” Then she smiled and relaxed her expression. “Of course, who is to say whether the Prophecy is fact or fiction. It was given in the age of the Purge by an impure one, a dark witch, no one of consequence. Regardless, caution must be paid. Things such as prophecies cannot be taken lightly. Belief in them can be powerful.”

  The Priestess walked back to the platform and returned to her great chair, where she eased herself down and rested her arms upon the golden scrolls beneath them.

  Her voice grew loud, the sound of it resonating against the walls. “It would not do for us to ignore such things, just as it would not do for us to displease the gods. History well proves their wrath can be terrible. As you know, Aredyrah was once a larger place, but it grew lazy in its pride. Its people fraternized with the lesser creatures of the land and impurities were allowed to infiltrate. The gods were not pleased. And for that sin, the ancient fires were sent up and the great Purge began.” She sighed and rolled her crystal eyes, shaking her head. “Alas, Mercy intervened, but we have done well to keep the impure ones apart, and will continue to do so. As for the Prophecy, the danger is in those who believe in it. For that reason alone we must take care not to stir the pot of superstition.”

  Whyn rose and bowed, then said, “Great Priestess, if it is believed the Unnamed One of the Prophecy walks among us, what would our duty be toward him?”

  “That is difficult to say. Acknowledgement of him would only serve to give him power.”

  “You said one of the prisoners could be he. You know of whom I speak, but I will not utter either of his names in this sacred place. There is talk in Tearia of his treatment, and much unrest has come about because of it. Now he is accused of thievery, and there is evidence of it. The other two prisoners trespassed and may have stolen as well. They appear to be friends of the first. Examples should be made, of course, but considering the circumstances—”

  The Priestess interrupted him briskly. “I know the circumstances and were it my decision alone, I would execute the one and maim the others.” She smiled cruelly. “Alas, I fear the Goddess will need to be consulted. We can risk no error in this.”

  She leaned her head back, and her eyes fluttered closed as her body began to glow with an ethereal light. Whyn sat quickly and clenched the arms of his chair.

  A moan, low and deep like that of an approaching gale, rose from the marble Goddess. The torches along the walls hissed and sputtered, the flickering of the flames accentuating the expressions of apprehension plastered across the faces of those in the room. The Priestess jerked her head and her eyes shot open. They were no longer pale, but black as the darkest night, and she stared out as though unseeing. She spoke from the hole that was her mouth, and her body writhed in the chair like a snake coiled to strike. Then she said in a voice not her own:

  The Unnamed One is among us. He has been renamed. He is weak, yet he is strong. The truth could give him power, though he would deny the existence of it. Allowed to survive, others would show him the way; yet, were he to die, the reach of his power would be greater still. He must not be allowed to live, yet he must not be made to die. He must simply fade away . . . fade away . . . fade away . . .

  Then the ground rumbled, and all went black.

  * * * *

  Dayn fell to the floor on all fours and retched noisily into the straw.

  “Are you all right?” Alicine cried as she rushed to his side.

  Dayn spat the foul taste from his mouth. “Did you feel that?” he asked.

  “Feel what?” Alicine asked.

  Reiv walked over and stared down at Dayn. “Well, I hope I do not feel it, whatever it is,” he said, a mixture of humor and sympathy in his voice.

  Dayn scowled at him, then pushed up from the floor. But he immediately found himself falling into Reiv’s arms as his legs went out from under him. He landed on one knee, Reiv still holding him by an arm, and clutched his queasy stomach.

  “Gods, Dayn, what is wrong with you?” Reiv said. He released Dayn from his grip and allowed him to sink to the floor.

  “Don’t you feel it?” Dayn asked, annoyed. “Like the ground is shifting or something?”

  “I do not feel anything,” Reiv said. He glanced at Alicine who returned his look of concern, then knelt beside Dayn who was clutching the straw for support. Reiv placed a comforting hand on his back.

  “Is this the same feeling you had the other day?” Alicine asked. “You know, when we were going to Summer Fires. Your face is definitely the same color.”

  “Yes. The same. But it’s been happening more and more.”

  “You didn’t tell me it had happened since,” Alicine said.

  Dayn waved his hand to disregard her concerns. “Just a couple of times. You weren’t around. Besides, I didn’t want you to worry. It never lasts long anyway.”

  “This has happened before?” Reiv asked. “You mean you have been ill?” He stood and took a step back.

  “No, not ill. Something else; I don’t know. But if it’s like before, it’ll leave quickly.”

  A long moment of silence passed. As Dayn predicted, the queasy feeling left him almost as suddenly as it had occurred. He took a deep cleansing breath and pushed himself up, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “I’m fine now. Really,” he said.

  * * * *

  In the darkness of the temple, all that could be heard was the labored breathing of men. Whyn shivered; the air felt like ice against the sweat now coating his skin. The torches on either side of the room suddenly relit, and the room became instantly warm again. The Priestess sat on her chair, as pale-eyed and beautiful as before.

  “You have heard the words of the Goddess,” she said. “The Unnamed One is to fade away. And that he
will do in Pobu, where all people are nameless and faceless to Tearia. As for the other two, an example of their execution will serve our purpose well enough.”

  Mahon sprang from his stool. “No!” he shouted. He glanced at the others, then bowed his head. “Priestess, please,” he said. “I mean no insolence. But if there is a friendship between the three, such harsh punishment might serve as a catalyst for the Unnamed One.”

  The Priestess stared at him, but did not say a word.

  Mahon continued hesitantly. “And . . . and the Jecta boy looks much like our Lord Prince. If he were put to death, it could be seen as a bad omen. I do not think any citizen of Tearia knows the reason for their arrest, and I could see that the Guard make no mention of it.”

  The Priestess studied him in silence, then spoke. “There is much emotion in you, Mahon, yet there is some wisdom in your words.” She directed her gaze to Whyn. “What does our Prince say?”

  Mahon sat as Whyn rose. Whyn eyed the row of men. “Labhras,” he said, “the two Jecta trespassed against you, and it is from your fields that the thievery took place. What do you say as to their punishment?”

  Labhras squirmed in his seat for a moment, his expression that of contemplation under pressure. “Let them fade,” he said.

  Whyn then turned to Crymm. “Crymm, I commend you for your loyalty to Tearia and your prompt handling of the matter of the thieves. Do you feel you would lose face were the punishment of the two Jecta less than maximum?”

  “My Lord Prince,” Crymm replied, “there could be some question from the Guard under my command as to whether my decision was a rash one. Might that lessen their respect for me? I do not know, but it is certainly not a risk I would wish to take. Not for myself or for Tearia.”

  Whyn nodded. “Well, Crymm, I do not wish you to lose any respect from your men. You know, you are long overdue a reward for your years of faithful service. Perhaps a promotion would stay any doubt from the minds of the guards under your command. Of course, you understand that one of your first responsibilities would be to quash any talk. Nothing more could be said of the three, or of the circumstances surrounding their arrest and disposal. I am sure word of it has already spread somewhat amongst the guards, but with your skills and new position of authority, I have no doubt such talk could be silenced. Do you agree?”

  Crymm grinned. “Yes, my Lord, of course. I will see to it.”

  “Very well,” Whyn said. He turned to face the Priestess and nodded. “They will fade.”

  “So be it,” she said. Then she rose and left the room, followed by the priests who had not moved or said a single word during the entire proceeding.

  * * * *

  “Crymm,” Mahon barked when they reached Headquarters, “you will see the prisoners escorted to Pobu tonight, after it is dark and there is no one in the streets. Take only enough guards to ensure security, no more, and see to it they say nothing of this to anyone. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And no more grandiose displays.”

  “Of course not, sir.”

  Mahon dismissed him and returned to his office, his eyes searching the room as if expecting to see Brina still there. He gathered up the Jecta trinkets scattered across his desk and shoved them back into the bag. The evidence would need to be destroyed or discarded; there was no longer a need to keep it. Of course, the ornaments could be returned to their rightful owners, but what would be the point in that?

  He paced around his office, pausing at times to stare out the window, then returned to his seat, only to rise and pace once more. He could not seem to settle his nerves or the constant movement of his legs. Lifting a brow, he wondered if Whyn had seen to it that Reiv was told of the sentence. No, not likely. That would be a sign of interest on Whyn’s part, and he had already risked that with his visit to the cell earlier. A groan escaped Mahon’s throat. He would see to it himself. It was, after all, the right thing to do, though he had not always been one to do the right thing.

  He walked down the corridor to the holding cell, determined to keep his emotions in check. Resentment had a way of creeping into his heart when it came to Reiv. The boy had pushed the wedge of contempt deeper between him and Brina this past year.

  He stormed into the cell area and slammed the door against the wall. “Well,” he said in a firm voice, “the sentencing has been made.” He paused to momentarily enjoy the terror on Reiv’s face, then relaxed his stiff shoulders and allowed the pleasure to diminish. “You are to be banished to Pobu. Tonight.”

  Reiv closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, while the other two stared at Mahon with strained, yet openly curious, expressions.

  Mahon caught Dayn’s eye and looked away awkwardly. “That is all,” he said as he turned to leave.

  “Sir,” Dayn called out. “Please. May I ask you something?”

  Mahon stopped in his tracks. “What is it?” he said over his shoulder.

  “Before, you looked at me so strangely. I wondered why.”

  Mahon turned to him. His face went slack, as if every muscle had grown weary from so many years of sternness. “You reminded me of someone.”

  “You mean Whyn?” Dayn asked.

  Mahon bristled at the boy’s casual use of the Prince’s name. “No,” he said harshly.

  “Someone close to you?”

  Reiv grabbed Dayn by the arm. “Do not ask the Commander of the Guard personal questions. It is not allowed.”

  “I—I’m sorry,” Dayn said.

  “No, it is all right,” Mahon said. He walked back to the bars and scanned Dayn’s face for a moment. “Yes, it was someone close to me. Someone I lost.”

  “What happened to him?” Dayn asked.

  “He died.”

  “Are you . . . are you . . . Mahon?” Dayn asked, barely able to complete the simple question.

  “Yes. And you are Dayn.”

  “Yes. I’m Dayn.”

  “Well, Dayn, I will not be seeing you again. You will be escorted from here tonight and will not be allowed back in the city ever again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  Mahon stared at him for a moment more, then turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Dayn walked to the back corner of the cell, where he sank down against the wall and stared across the room. Alicine knelt down and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.

  “That was my father,” Dayn said.

  “I know,” she replied.

  No one in the cell said another word for a very long time.

  Return to Table of Contents

  Chapter 20: As Good As Nowhere

  It was the middle of the night when Reiv, Dayn, and Alicine were dumped into the streets of Pobu. The Tearian Guard that escorted them had made a point of insulting and humiliating them every step of the way. Only Reiv had reacted to the treatment, and he quickly found himself face down at the behest of a Tearian boot. Crymm eventually notified his men that no more grandiose displays were to be made. And so they stopped and simply left the three standing in the dark.

  The sound of the guards’ horses faded into the distance, and the street was left eerily quiet. All that could be heard was the hollow tinkle of a reed chime blowing somewhere in the distance. It was most unsettling. The mud-brick buildings on either side of them were a sandy color by day, but it was dark now, and they were only looming shades of gray.

  “Now what are we going to do?” Reiv said. He turned in a slow circle, surveying their surroundings. “Brina said there was a blacksmith’s shop to the right of the town square, so that is where we should go, I suppose. But I do not know where we are exactly. I have not been here since I was a child.”

  “Well, we came from that direction,” Alicine said, pointing behind them, “so let’s just go to the right from this point and see where it takes us.”

  “I was going to suggest that,” Reiv said.

  “Of course you were,” Alicine replied.
>
  Reiv scowled and turned to lead them in the agreed upon direction. He carried himself with stiff grace, determined to look princely, at least somewhat. But in truth, he knew he was worse than a nobody here, and the thought of it terrified him.

  His entire life he had heard stories about this place, about the filth and crime and people so primitive they prowled the streets like animals. Of course, he had been around Jecta in the past, those who worked for him as well as the merchants invited to show their wares at Market. But those were the exceptional ones, not like the others who were allowed nowhere near the city of Tearia. The others were the diseased and deformed ones, the ones with dark painted faces and even darker thoughts. Panic flooded through him. By the light of day he was going to stand out. Even if the residents of Pobu did not recognize his face, his hair would surely give him away. And then what? He could only imagine what they would do to him for their own twisted pleasure. He quickened his pace, fighting the building knot in his belly.

  “There!” Dayn said excitedly. “I’d know a smithy anywhere. I spent enough time in one.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Reiv snapped.

  Dayn brushed past him and made for the door to the smithy. He rattled the handle.