The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Kin of Caladen

by B. A. Scott

  “One of the what?” Kaven asked.

  “Hidden chambers,” said the Sage, “built to house and hold the terrible relics. Their locations are only known to a handful of men and women across the land, for the furenti they guard are things of anguish, of death and devastation.”

  “And do you know where any of these junakothari are?” Kaven asked.

  “I’m a Sage,” Athiux said, as though the answer should be obvious. Then, he spoke wryly, “Of course not.”

  “Why are you so interested?” Kade asked.

  “Caleton needs all the help it can get,” Kaven answered.

  Ahead of the group, a series of stone steps led up to a grand, circular summit. Along its perimeter, thick columns supported tall archways, donned with massive statues that guarded the enclosed area.

  Upon reaching the top step of the summit, Gabrel and Kaven saw five figures—three men and two women—whose decorative garb set them apart from the Erygian civilians.

  “Are these the Enchanters?” Gabrel asked the Sage, who responded with a nod.

  The Enchanters were surrounded by civilians, who cleared a path. Among them, Gabrel noticed a female Borean, taking great interest in him.

  Kaven reached into his pouch, and pulled out the King’s scroll, ready to hand it to the Erygians when the opportunity presented itself.

  “Welcome to our city, ambassadors,” said the eldest of the Enchanters—a man, even older than Athiux, with long, flowing robes. “I am Paradus Spar.” Athiux and Kade left the brothers, and stood with their fellow Enchanters. Then, one by one, in the descending order of their ages, as Gabrel and Kaven gathered, each spoke his or her name.

  “And I am Eudenia Paxus,” said an elderly female with long, white hair.

  “Vintus Klespen,” a male said as he bowed.

  “Nuria Lux,” remarked a female with stunning, almond-shaped eyes.

  “Kade Amirraden,” said the Enchantress whom the brothers had already met. And finally, the youngest of the Enchanters introduced himself.

  “Ruvo Spirian,” he said.

  “I’m Gabrel Caladen,” Gabrel told them. “And this is my brother, Kaven.”

  “So it is,” said Paradus. “The line of Caladen has returned once more to Allestron. And to what do we owe the honor of your presence here today?”

  Gabrel and Kaven looked to one another.

  “First thing’s first,” Kaven told his brother. “Adelyne.”

  “We left Caleton with one purpose,” Gabrel said. “My wife needs the Tears of Life. Please, I’ll pay any cost I’m able for them.”

  “Direct,” Paradus observed. “A bit like his father, this one.”

  “So I’ve heard,” said Gabrel.

  “And how much do you require?” Paradus asked. “Enough for your wife alone?”

  “As much as you can give, actually,” said Gabrel. “Caleton’s stores are depleted. I’ve additional payment from King Mercer himself.”

  “This is all you came for?” asked Ruvo. “To ask us for medicine?”

  “Well no,” Kaven said. “My brother said we left Caleton for one purpose. But along the way, we got landed with another. Torren Spark—I’m sure you knew him well—died in an attack on the outskirts of Trendell. We assumed his mission and speak to you in his stead.”

  “In what regard?” asked Kade.

  “Lord Daro has invaded Adoran from the north,” Kaven continued, handing his scroll to the Sage. “We know he’s already taken the Woods of Warruntyne. King Mercer believes he will attack Caleton in the days to come. We are here to ask for your help—for your armies.”

  The Enchanters looked to one another, though Gabrel could not decipher the meaning in their eyes. Worry mixed with reluctance. Yet pity and despair were in them as well.

  “Mercer calls for the full weight of our forces—immediately,” Athiux said, reading the scroll. The Sage studied the brothers for a moment, then spoke. “You have made two requests of us,” he said. “Gabrel, to save your wife. And Kaven, to save your city. If you had to choose between the two—if we could only fulfill one of your requests—which one would you have it be?”

  This is some sort of test, Gabrel thought to himself. Weighing our character, like Torren said they would. He knew that Adelyne would have chosen to save the lives of everyone in Caleton, rather than her own. But her life was the one Gabrel knew and loved more than any in the world. And so he answered, “The Tears of Life. A thousand times over.” If the Enchanters were affected by the decision, they didn’t show it.

  “And you?” the Sage asked Kaven.

  “The… the city,” Kaven said softly with his head hung low.

  Gabrel’s head whipped toward him, shocked that his brother hadn’t taken his side. But Kaven would not look him in the eye.

  “Are you serious?” Gabrel asked. “After everything you’ve been through, Kaven? After everything you’ve lost, you’d rather it happen to me too?”

  “It’s hypothetical, Gabe,” Kaven defended himself. “And one life—”

  “Two lives,” Gabrel reminded him. “You forget Adelyne’s with child.”

  “Two lives, weighed against thousands,” Kaven continued. “I love you, Gabe. And I’d never want anything to happen to Adelyne, but—if it wasn’t your wife. Your child. If it was just some woman already dying in a healing house, would you make the same decision to save her over thousands of others?”

  “Is that how you see Adelyne?” Gabrel asked. “Is that what you think she is? Just some—”

  “Of course not,” Kaven said. “But it’s the truth, Gabrel, however much I care for her. And you know it’s what she would want as well.”

  “I just can’t believe you’d say the same thing if it was a choice between saving Kiara or the city,” Gabrel said.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Kaven admitted. “But she’s beyond saving now, isn’t she?”

  “Understand, Gabrel,” said Athiux. “Your brother has removed himself from the equation. It is the harder choice to make. The stronger choice.”

  “So that was the answer you wanted?” Gabrel asked.

  “There was no wrong answer,” said the Sage. “You’ve shown your love is so great as to sacrifice the world for one person. This, however, is also astoundingly selfish. You’d let the world burn to keep from losing someone you hold dear.”

  “I just can’t stand the thought of her suffering,” said Gabrel. “Please. I’m desperate. Will you help me?”

  After a moment of thought, Athiux spoke. “We shall consider your request. As for our armies, your people will have to fight alone.” He rolled up the King’s call for aid, and handed it back to Kaven. “We need what warriors we have in Allestron to protect our own city. And the rest of our army is dispersed throughout the land.”

  “Dispersed?” Gabrel asked.

  “There are other Erygian cities, towns and villages that need protecting, ambassador,” said Eudenia. “Not to mention the roads to each. We’re spread thin as it is.”

  “Can you spare none?” Kaven asked desperately. “None at all?”

  “We can provide you with an escort back to Caleton,” Athiux told him. “Understand, Allestron is already vulnerable.”

  “Well that’s that,” Gabrel uttered. “I’m glad Torren died for nothing.”

  “We must be able to give them something,” Kade quietly urged the Enchanters.

  The Erygians appeared to have a brief, unspoken conversation amongst themselves. Then, Eudenia placed a hand upon Kade’s shoulder and spoke, “Then it will be you.”

  Kade froze and looked on the verge of tears and protest.

  “Ambassadors,” Eudenia addressed the brothers. “Among your escort will be our own Kade Amirraden. You may not be leaving with our armies. But you will leave with her.”

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 11: The Tears of Life

  An Erygian guard escorted Gabrel and Kaven to the ambassador’s chambers in the Enchanters’ Palace. The guard ope
ned a large door and ushered them inside.

  “How long are the Enchanters going to take?” Gabrel asked.

  The guard looked Gabrel up and down. “For you, it shouldn’t be long,” he said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gabrel asked. But instead of answering, the guard shut the door in his face. “I really don’t like this place,” Gabrel said.

  “Look,” said Kaven, “I know taking Torren’s place wasn’t your idea, but could you try to act a little more diplomatic? The lives of our people are at stake.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Kaven, our role as ambassadors is over. We failed our people. And that Kade woman—I’m grateful for her coming back with us, but how much help could she possibly be?”

  A knock sounded on the chamber door. Kaven opened it to find Athiux and Kade.

  “We have your answer,” said the Sage.

  “That was fast,” Gabrel said as Athiux and Kade entered the chamber. “What’ve you decided?”

  The Sage and his granddaughter exchanged a quick glance before Athiux spoke.

  “We have agreed to give you what you ask for, but on one condition,” he said.

  “Name it,” said Gabrel. “Anything.”

  “We require answers,” said the Sage. “You’ve experienced the spirisortium, Gabrel, which leads us to believe you’re part Erygian. This is beyond unprecedented. Our price is knowing the truth of your origin.”

  “Believe me, I want to know just as much as you do,” Gabrel said. “But I already told you, I don’t know how it happened.”

  “Who would?” Athiux asked eagerly.

  “I don’t know,” said Gabrel. “If anyone knew anything, it’d probably be my father. But why wouldn’t he have told me something like this? Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can give you what you’re asking for.”

  “Then I’m afraid we can’t give you what you’re asking for,” said the Sage.

  “Excuse me?” Kaven fumed. “You’d deprive my brother of the means to save his wife?”

  “The Tears of Life,” Athiux responded, “are too rare to squander short of recompense.”

  “So you dangle it in front of us, demanding something we can’t give?” Kaven asked. “Name any other price.” He moved to Kade, but noticed she would not even look him in the eye. “We have gold and a fire gem,” he pleaded with her. “Surely, they’re enough recompense.”

  “Where is your father?” Athiux spoke.

  “In Caleton,” Gabrel answered. The Sage exchanged another short, meaningful look with his granddaughter, then reached into his sleeve and presented a small wooden case. He handed it to Gabrel, who opened it carefully. Inside laid a large vial, stoppered and filled with a glowing red liquid.

  “Is this—” Gabrel couldn’t formulate the question.

  “The Tears of Life,” Athiux confirmed.

  “But—but I couldn’t give you what you asked for,” Gabrel said.

  “Consider it an advance for your father’s knowledge, Gabrel. That you know nothing tells me this information is guarded, or lost. When my granddaughter accompanies you back to Caleton, she will collect your payment then.”

  “From my father?” Gabrel asked. “But what if he doesn’t know anything either?”

  “Then perhaps we’ll take that fire gem off your hands after all,” Athiux said.

  “Of course,” Gabrel said, his eyes misting. “Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. How much of this do I need to save my wife?”

  “A drop should do it,” said the Sage.

  “A single drop?” Gabrel asked, amazed. “Then this—this could save hundreds of people!”

  “Truth is a priceless thing,” Athiux said, “and yours will shed a much-needed light on secrets past. Now, on your feet. There’s one more thing I’d like to know.”

  “Anything,” Gabrel said.

  “I wish to see if you’re capable of wielding magic,” said the Sage. “If the flames of the spirisortium indeed transformed you.”

  “It hadn’t even crossed my mind,” Gabrel said. “I’ve been so preoccupied.”

  “If you have the gift, we can find out right now,” Athiux told him. “Do you remember what the spirisortium felt like? How it felt to be filled with magic?” Gabrel had tried to forget as much as possible about that night. All he could remember was pain. “Let it course through your veins once more,” said the Sage. “Let it fill every shadowy corner of your mind.”

  Gabrel was reluctant to do anything that might bring about the pain he felt during his magical transformation. Nevertheless, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and concentrated hard on what it felt like when the flame consumed his flesh.

  As he calmed himself and focused intently on what the Sage instructed, he sensed an unusual presence within him—a strange sensation that begged to be unleashed. It pulsed inside of him, yet he felt it emanating all around him as well.

  The moment Gabrel allowed the feeling to overtake him, the sensation surged through every facet of his being. When he opened his eyes, he saw a different world before him. Everything was sharper, clearer and deeper in essence.

  “Unbelievable,” the Sage uttered under his breath.

  “Uh, Gabrel,” Kaven said, “your eyes are glowing.”

  “Are they?” Gabrel asked.

  “See for yourself,” Kade said, gesturing toward a mirror on the wall.

  Gabrel caught his reflection, and walked over to it. At first, he didn’t recognize the face staring back at him, for just as Kaven said, his eyes burned like the sun. It was like seeing his reflection for the very first time.

  “There is magic inside you, Gabrel,” said the Sage. “Bursting at the seams.”

  A thousand questions filled Gabrel’s mind. He was dumbfounded—speechless and amazed. Then, confusion and frustration took hold. He wanted answers, just like the Erygians did, but the only person who could possibly give them was half way across the world.

  Father, Gabrel thought. What haven’t you told us?

  “Gabrel,” Kaven prodded. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” Gabrel lied. “But this isn’t just about me, you know? What about you, Kaven? And Dareic? If there’s Erygian in my blood, it’s got to be in yours too, right?”

  “It’s entirely possible,” Athiux said. “There’s no telling how far Erygian blood stretches back through your ancestry.”

  After a moment of contemplation, Kaven spoke, “Athiux, if Gabrel’s Erygian, and he can wield magic, that makes him an Enchanter, doesn’t it? I mean, strictly speaking, he’s one of your circle now—a leader of the Erygian people.”

  The Sage gave Kaven a troubled scowl, as though his revelation was dangerously unwelcomed. “That is convenient logic,” Athiux told him, “and wildly presumptuous. My people are still weighing this development’s ramifications. It has given us much to consider—and resolve.”

  * * * * *

  In the place between dreams and consciousness drifted Dareic’s mind. The world around him swayed peacefully, like he was being rocked against the bosom of some unseen maternal protector, whose touch alone assured him that he was in a safe place.

  “Awaken,” said a female voice that resonated with such fullness, it seemed layered with the most abounding love that had ever reached Dareic’s ears.

  He opened his eyes to discover that he lay upon a circular rock platform. He sat upright to better gather in his surroundings, and as he did, Treäbu rose as well. High above them, a ceiling of rock was barely illuminated by the massive cavern’s strange blue-green light, which came from flames of the same color in torches spaced apart along the rocky walls. All around the platform, filling the cavern, a waist-deep pool of clear spring water radiated with an ephemeral, aqua-colored glow, as if the water itself produced light. Dareic and Treäbu’s eyes moved from the tranquil pool around them to the far end of the cavern, where they distinguished a large, carved-out throne.

  “Where are we?” Dareic asked.

  They rose t
o their feet, noticing that the blood and mud that had once been splattered across their skin was completely gone. Dareic reached to his cheek, expecting to feel the soreness of the gash below his eye, but found only the scar of a healed wound.

  Treäbu examined his own injuries. They, too, were healed. Yet when his eyes rested on his right hand, they filled with much disgust. His skin, all the way up to his elbow, was blackened—forever charred by the killing stroke he delivered to the Golgril beast.

  “It feels fine,” Treäbu said, “but—” he paused, repulsed at the sight that met his eyes, “well, that’s not too pleasant to look at.”

  “Do not resent the scars you bear, Treäbu Skael’adar,” a strange voice resounded from the direction of the throne. Dareic searched the cavern. The throne was empty, but something hovered high above it—past the torch line, silhouetted and half-hidden in the darkness.

  “Who are you?!” Dareic called out to the mysterious figure. Treäbu was stunned, unable to blink.

  “It’s her,” said the Skaelar. Then, he dropped to the ground, and placed his forehead upon the rocky floor. Dareic was bewildered. A heavenly light emanating from the floating figure drew his attention away from the bowing Skaelar.

  The female emerged from the darkness, floating gracefully toward the platform. Dark green hair flowed behind her. She wore a dress of strange fabric that glistened like crystal in the firelight. Her skin was like ivory, and Dareic was certain he had never seen anything like it.

  “Arey’n,” he whispered upon seeing her in full clarity, then dropped to his knees beside Treäbu.

  “Rise, my children,” the Goddess of Fortune told them. Dareic and Treäbu stood, mesmerized by her awesome beauty.

  “My Goddess Arey’n,” Treäbu said, “what is this place?”

  “It is my sanctuary,” Arey’n answered. “My haven, far beneath the surface of Adoran.”

  “You live here?” Dareic asked.

  “When I choose to,” said Arey’n. “To mind this realm. The Corren’dai has always been a place of anguish and shame. And so, I must offer you both my eternal gratitude.” She bowed her head.