by A. R. Wilson
Though covered in flames, Jurren did not feel any heat as it drew close. The massive griffin stood barely taller than he. Those fiery pupil-less eyes stared intently at him. When it opened its mouth to speak, the depth of its throat illuminated. Even the darkness within this being is light.
“Jurren, son of Raynen.” The griffin sounded like a thousand deep voices speaking in unison.
For a brief instant, it reminded Jurren of the Mistress of Knowledge’s voice, but that comparison failed to uphold what he now experienced. Power radiated like a physical force. As though he stood before the living embodiment of truth itself. The reality of Jurren’s own strength and wisdom felt like an offensive shadow in the presence of this being. How could something so magnificent and pure lower itself to speak to him? He dropped to his knees and lowered his head.
“Lift up your eyes Jurren, son of Raynen.”
He struggled a moment. Knowing he would insult this entity if he refused was the only way Jurren found the strength to look at the griffin.
“Why do you resist?” The griffin lowered itself until its belly rested on the ground.
Jurren warred between feeling awed the creature wanted to be at eye level with him, and embarrassed that it needed to sit like a dog in order to do so. But churning beneath that struggle rang the question ‘why do you resist?’ Resist what?
The moment the thought entered his mind, the onslaught of a sensory tornado engulfed him. Every doubt, every word of anger, every instance motivated by disgust or fear slammed forward. He had distrusted so many people who never betrayed him. He lived a lie to his wife and daughter as to the truth of his origins. So many times he had invested more of himself into his work rather than those he claimed to love. Had he left Heluska behind to protect her or to make the journey easier for himself? Had he taught his daughter she could talk to him about anything? That he would love her even if her words broke his heart?
I failed them. I failed them all.
He lowered his head.
“Why do you resist?” The griffin softened its tone, but the power within that voice only increased.
In all the chaos of emotions, Jurren emerged in an oasis of understanding. He had been born with a desire to seek truth. To covet truth above all else, even when he himself found it impossible to be honest. That core desire led him towards the choices which banished him from Orison. And later, helped him to make sense of the vision from Ellesha Shan Shair. Now the ultimate source of truth stood before him, and he had no desire to yield his life to it.
“I’m afraid.” Jurren finally managed to form the words.
“What do you fear?”
“That my life will not be my own.”
“Your life has never been your own.”
He looked up at the griffin.
That bright, fiery head shifted with concern. “Each is a slave to their own passions, whether noble or heinous, generous or wicked. Even the idle are captive to their desire for comfort and ease.”
Looking into his empty hands, Jurren felt as though he finally grasped what he had been running from all these years. Living for himself, following his own heart, had only brought the nightmares of his life full circle. The time had come to break the cycle. Not only to be rid of his consequences, but the chains of selfishness trailing his family line for generations. His earliest ancestor fled to Orison all those millennia ago to preserve the hope that magic would be kept in check. Whatever that long-forgotten name, he believed in the responsibility of preserving the pureness of their family legacy. Neywan, Threnody, and the other Highlanders had betrayed that path. But hope had fulfilled its promise to return truth to this world.
“I’m ready.” Jurren shrugged off his pack. “I will serve the Ever One.”
He folded his legs under so that he sat on his heels. Spreading out his hands, palms up, he bowed his head.
The voice of the griffin wrapped around him like a tangible force. “Are you willing to do what is right, regardless of the price you must pay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you willing to surrender your life?”
“My life is not my own.”
“Are you prepared to face the hatred of others for the sake of truth?”
“Yes.” As if that question even needed to be asked.
“Will you commit yourself to the Ever One, and His people, choosing unity above all else?”
“I will.”
“Then enter the fire, and prove your heart.”
Jurren looked up to see the griffin had taken a step back and to the side. One wing of eye-covered feathers pointed to the pillars of light. Flames now licked along the ground between the columns, spilling from the shallow bowls, creating a hedge of fire.
“Know this Jurren, son of Raynen.” The griffin continued holding out its wing. “Entering into Rebirth is not a choice, it is a covenant. Should you betray this covenant, and turn from your oath to serve the Ever One, you will suffer consequences far greater than those you’ve seen. The second condition will be worse than the first.”
“I understand.”
“Do not walk the fire unless you are wholly ready to die to yourself.”
Jurren blinked. Was he ready for such a commitment? “What will happen to me when I enter? Where will this covenant take me?”
“If you take the narrow path of the Ever One, He will lead you into all Truth.”
Shaking his head, he lowered his arms, a swirl of questions forming. “Why is this the first I’ve seen of the Ever One? Why did it take so many years for me to hear of you?”
The griffin tucked its wing into its side. “I am a mere servant. One of many who attend to the elect of this world. Do not confuse me with the power flowing through me.”
In that moment, Jurren felt clarity washing through him. The Seven Pillars of Light were a place of manifestation, not the source of the Ever One (or Eternal, or whatever His original name was). This place of Rebirth existed for individuals, but space and time did not confine the Ever One. His presence could be all places at once while still instructing this creature of pure light and keeping the fires of purity blazing.
But even still, he had to ask one more thing. “Why does the Ever One not reveal Himself to the whole of this world? Why does He allow such suffering and oppression?”
“People don’t want truth. They want to hear that their own heart’s desires will be fulfilled. Justification of selfish needs is the cornerstone of every soul. To serve the Ever One, the Eternal, the Great Abider, is to have such a cornerstone shattered. For perfect communion with the Source of All Truth, the soul must be transformed from the inside out.”
Though Jurren had bound himself by oath to submit to the Ever One, this added layer of covenant stretched beyond what he even wanted to wrap his mind around. Is this what the griffin meant when he asked if Jurren would die to himself? What of his wife and daughter? He could not bear the thought of entering into an agreement which might have the authority to one day demand he walk away from them.
He glanced back at his companions.
Arkose strode towards him. “I’m ready.”
Who are you and what have you done with my friend?
“I am ready.” Arkose took a knee before the griffin and placed a fist on his chest. “I want the peace that comes with understanding truth. I want to enter.”
The griffin’s lion mouth curved into what could be considered a grin. “You have heard the covenant. You know the promises of joining and the consequences of retreat. If you are willing to enter, I will not hinder you.”
Jurren watched Arkose slowly approach the inferno building under the glowing columns. The pool of fire now raged higher than the man’s head, growing as he drew near. Something like a mix of guilt and jealousy surged through Jurren. Why was he letting Arkose enter first? Because Jurren wasn’t exactly certain what might become of his life when he walked into the flames? Or because deep down, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to commit his mind, body, and soul to something
that made him feel so small? It wasn’t as if feeling small was the same thing as being insignificant. If anything, he felt the exact opposite. His life had meaning greater than any of the fears he previously believed so important. Yet here he sat, hesitating to embrace the very destiny that would allow him to shatter the plans of people like the Highlanders and Einiko.
Breaking into a sprint, Jurren beat Arkose into the flames by seconds. Searing heat shattered along his bones. Like the burning of water on his cracked and dried lips, he flung the might of his soul into it. The pain didn’t matter. As when gold burned in a furnace to draw out the impurities, he welcomed the release of his inner dross. The filth of weakness needed to leave.
“Jurren.” A singular voice more powerful than the griffin’s echoed in his mind. Every sinew in his body vibrated under the concentrated passion. “Stretch out your hands.”
He did as he was told, shaking against the waves of agony. The pain radiated outward from his chest. Pooling out of his torso, the burning swelled into his arms then released through his palms.
That beautifully terrifying voice spoke again. “Your hands have been made clean. Whatever you put them to, with a pure heart, will never fail.”
Light shone from the tips of his fingers. Then he saw lines glowing out of the ground. Like a map of the labyrinth glimmering beneath his feet. So many more pockets and groves of pain and torment than the few he trekked through. He could see the original earth groaning beneath the maze of horror created by Einiko, polluted by oppression. Yet purity had survived below the surface. Though marred by darkness, it had lost none of its splendor. The lines spread, traveling all the way to Hess-Bren and into the Jestine Mountains. Though the tainted landscape repulsed him, he could see purity extending beneath. War was coming, and had already spread, but would not be the end.
Further on, the glowing lines traced outward until they covered the whole world. Einiko would never stop in his thirst for power. But the Ever One would never stop giving Jurren the wisdom to put a stop to it.
“It is time Jurren.” The voice of the Ever One reverberated through him. “It is time for you to partake of the fruit of My labor.”
“I am ready.”
An orb of light formed in Jurren’s hand. The warmth drawing in the fullness of his gaze.
“Take this piece of Myself into you.”
Putting it to his lips, he noticed it smelled incredibly sweet. When he placed it in his mouth, the sensation of a dissolving flake of pastry spread over his tongue. The airy feeling coated through him until an awareness of the presence of the Ever One filled him, communing with Jurren’s soul. That inner knowing swelling to a far greater wisdom.
“In Me you will find rest.” The images of purity coursing beneath the ground faded as the voice of the Ever One withdrew. “Remember to seek rest for your soul.”
“I will.”
“Your task is ever before you.”
“I will go where you send me.” Jurren put both fists to his chest.
The weight of the scabbard on his back increased. A hint of what was to come?
Flames danced all around him. This time, no pain accompanied the blaze. Only comfort. The Seven Pillars of Light shone to the right and the left. He became aware of fragrant incense smoldering in the bowls. The scent of goodness and truth. Was it possibly to smell such a thing? But he had no other way to describe it. The odor wasn’t something he recognized at the physical level, but at something much deeper. In that place where his inner knowing nudged him towards the things he rarely wanted to accept. His spirit?
“Oh good, you’re alive!” Kidelar rushed up to him.
Jurren pulled out of his thoughts due to the look of intense concern on the scholar’s face. “Of course I’m alive.”
“You remained engulfed in the fire so long, I feared it had taken you.”
“Where would it take me?”
Arkose came alongside Kidelar. “You were in there long enough for me to exit and Kidelar to take a turn in the flames. We’ve been waiting a long time.”
How was that possible? He looked around to see the burning griffin had retreated into the light. A ghostly, faded image intertwined in the glow above them.
“Well I’m here now. And it’s time to take back that sword.”
“Indeed.” Azredan handed Jurren his pack. “We go where you go.”
Life coursed through Jurren beyond anything the kros spell provided back on Orison. His breath pulled into the depths of his stomach. Like he possessed the strength and courage of a hundred men. No, a thousand!
He marched to the archway. “We go up.”
CHAPTER 26
Jurren sprang up the steps. Urgency consumed him. He now possessed the wisdom and the strength to fight that warlock. This would be the day he took his daughter back.
At the top of the stairs, he scanned the area. A pile of stones embedded into the dirt wall. He went to it and started prying them out. Soon the others joined in. As the stones piled off to the sides, another tunnel opened in the space beyond. Passing through, he sensed a presence resisting him. Almost as if a spell had sealed the entrance. He pressed forward, digging his feet into the ground. Pushing into the resistance, he heard rumbling build in the stone ceiling above him. An earthquake?
Bring it halfling. I’m not afraid of you.
With another heave, he broke through. The tremor exploded into a great thunderclap. Dirt crumbled from the ceiling and the rumbling ceased. He ran down the hall and up a set of stairs. Hall after hall of stone corridors spread out in all directions. That inner knowing nudged him this way and that as he navigated into the heart of the castle. He pulled out his sword and tossed his pack aside. An instant later he heard other packs thumping into the walls. They would all be ready.
The echo of distant laughter rang in the depths of the castle. Jurren quickened his pace. At the end of the next hall, a man stood with long blond hair dressed all in black, his clothing a dense network of leather and chains. The stranger arched out his arms. Lightning released from his hands. Jurren kept going, passing right through the dazzling array without so much as a hint of discomfort. The laughter stopped.
Jurren pulled his sword up as he advanced. The other man drew his own blade. Putting out his arm, Jurren signaled the other men to pull to a halt with him.
“Give me my sword.” Jurren heaved between words, panting for breath, the need to slice open the man before him building with each passing second.
Einiko sneered a laugh. “Let me guess. You are the girl’s father.”
“It’s over.”
“The likeness between you is uncanny. Though I assume the hair comes from her mother.”
His cheeks burned. “You have no power in my presence. Surrender the sword and I might let you live.”
“You think because you passed through the fire of the Eternal’s Flame you have the power to stop me? Who do you think contained that weak force?”
Azredan came forward, staying a half step behind Jurren. “The Ever One was never contained. He chose to withdraw to reveal the full nature of your heart and those of your kin. And now it is time to right the violations you have imposed on this land.”
The smug grin on Einiko’s face didn’t waver. “Show me, pureblood. Let’s see whose hand is stronger.”
“This is between us.” Jurren angled the tip of his sword and narrowed his gaze.
“Oh, I think you’ll want his help.”
The halfling stepped forward with a slash. Jurren pivoted his wrist to parry the attack. The sudden easing in his hand startled him. How had Einiko’s blade cut his own sword in half?
“Like I said, I think you’ll want the other’s guy help. Though it might cause your loss to be that much more insulting for you and your men.”
Einiko swiped hard and Jurren ducked. Cutting at him again and again, Jurren maneuvered away from each strike. On the fourth attempt, he managed to get an opening and punched the halfling in the gut.
Bellowing
his rage, Einiko pulled back and struck his sword into the ground. Foreign words spilled from his mouth as the ground shook with a strange glow. Cracks popped outward, accompanied by the sound of distant screeching. A clawed hand slapped out of the floor.
“No!” Jurren extended his arm towards the widening hole. “I forbid it.”
For an instant Einiko, peeled into laughter. Then the glow before him began to fade. That sneering chortle quickly pulled into a twist of frustration. The ground closed as the clawed hand thinned into a vapor.
An inhuman growl hissed through Einiko’s snarl. “Impossible.”
“Not for the rightful heir to the Lineage of Adjh.”
The halfling blinked. “Lesoeth only ever had one male child in his line. Me.”
“But Adjh never knew his firstborn was a set of twin sons.” He relished the widening of that arrogant warlock’s gaze. “My line was preserved for such a time as this, to bring an end to the legacy of Adjh.”
“Impossible.” He swiped his sword outward.
Light emanated from the tip. A wisp swirled forth, taking the form of scales and the tip of a wing.
Jurren thrust out his reach again. “No! I forbid it.”
The coalescing smoke dissipated. Screaming, Einiko stepped back and shot up his free hand. The ground rumbled under their feet. Cracks sprang along the walls, breaking up chunks of stone. Several pieces dropped from the ceiling. The debris forced Jurren to take a few steps back. When the shaking stopped, a wall of crumbled stone blocked his path.
Einiko’s voice called to him from the other side. “You’ll never claim your daughter! She and the child are mine!”
