The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Kin of Caladen

by B. A. Scott

  Ralian’s eyes returned to normal when the scroll reached his hands. Dareic stepped back to where he stood before, and observed the Skael’akron around him. The others awaited the Sage’s words with equal anticipation as his own.

  “This begs our immediate attention,” Ralian told the others, “and immediate action. Mercer requests we send our army to Caleton.”

  Roars of disapproval upheaved from the thousands of Skaelar in the arena.

  “Our entire army?” bellowed Evissian, the elderly female Skael’akron.

  “Let the Humans burn,” added Raia, another one of the females.

  “Peace now,” Ralian tried to calm them, and the crowd as well, but they would not be subdued.

  “Mercer is a nuisance!” said Kilo. “A disgrace of a King!”

  “And a coward!” added Shahc’du.

  “Peace now!” yelled the Sage once more, his voice shaking the arena.

  After a moment of hushed silence, Evissian spoke. “Bold be your request, ambassador. But give us one reason why we should risk our lives to help your kind. As it is, the world could do with a few less Humans.”

  Dareic’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s clear you don’t hold Titus Mercer in the highest regard,” he said. “But by whatever grudge you hold against my King, I ask that you do not judge his people. You asked for a reason to fight? If Caleton should fall, how long do you think it will take before Daro’s forces march on Skaelwood?”

  The Skael’akron eyed him silently. Dareic was sure that his words were ineffective. He spun slowly, taking in the sea of green around him, brushing his hair back, searching every corner of his mind for anything else he could say.

  At last, he let out a defeated exhale, and spoke softly. “Please. Fight with us, because it is what you would hope we would do, were our places exchanged. Because it’s the way things should be done—brother aiding brother, despite our grievances. And if appealing to your honor still doesn’t convince you—when I ask where the honor is in just standing by and watching while thousands of people are slaughtered—then consider this simple fact: Hate the Humans all you want. But if Daro succeeds at Caleton, he’ll drink from the Fountain of Evindar. Is that something you’re willing to accept, knowing you could’ve done something to stop him?”

  The Skael’akron considered Dareic, then Treäbu, who gave them a subtle nod. They looked to one another and spoke to each other with their eyes. Not a word was uttered, though Dareic could tell that they were coming to some sort of agreement.

  “Dúmeru,” Ralian addressed the Skael’adar who had announced Dareic. The thousands of onlookers were as silent and still as grass on a breezeless day, and hung on the Sage’s every word. “Ei’chen ves aumolúri,” Ralian spoke boldly.

  The crowd gasped. Then, its disbelief evolved into a clamor that Dareic could not distinguish as approving or not.

  “What did he say?” Dareic asked Treäbu.

  “He said,” Treäbu lifted his head, “Ready the army.”

  Both shock and joy filled Dareic’s heart. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” he said with a bow as he turned to address each of the Skael’akron individually.

  “Treäbu,” said the Sage. Both Dareic and Treäbu wondered what more the Skael’akron could possibly have to tell them. But then, Ralian spoke words that filled Dareic’s heart with even more abounding delight. “Prepare him for the feast.”

  After Dareic and Treäbu left the arena, they made their way out of the Temple Fortress. Stars cast their glow through the great canopy above. Treäbu led Dareic through the crowds that lined their path like curious spectators at a grand parade. Beyond them, Dareic saw long, wooden tables. The smell of cooked meat was on the air, and he breathed it in.

  “Suppertime,” he exclaimed as Treäbu escorted him to a dwelling that rested high in one of the trees. The building itself wrapped entirely around the massive trunk. Its slowly sloping roof was thatched, and tall torches rose around the perimeter of the wood-planked flooring.

  Treäbu reached for the door, but before he could push it open, a green figure nearly knocked him off his feet. The Skaelar female collided with Treäbu in a violent, yet amorous embrace. She was thin, and slightly shorter than Treäbu. Her tendrils were thicker than his as well, and hung to her lower back. Scant garments of dark cloth were all that she wore, and they only covered her where they absolutely needed to. Multiple golden rings ornamented her pointed ears, and thin leather straps crossed her torso, holding pouches at her hip. Treäbu whirled her in the air, returning the loving embrace.

  “Treäbu!” she said, “I heard you’d returned! Why didn’t you come here first?”

  Treäbu gestured toward Dareic. “He’s why,” he said.

  Dareic barely uttered the word “Hi,” before the female Skaelar spoke.

  “Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?” she asked. “Is this the Human that went before the Skael’akron?”

  “Yes,” Treäbu confirmed, “and I didn’t come here first, because I was there with him. If you’d have been there, you’d have known that.”

  “If I’d have been there, I’d have neglected my duties, and gotten more than an earful for it,” she said smartly. “I just don’t like being the last person to learn my dear brother’s come home.”

  Treäbu smiled. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he said. The two Skaelar suddenly realized that Dareic was still standing beside them. “Oh,” Treäbu cleared his throat, “Dareic, this is Treäla—my sister.”

  Treäla eyed Dareic up and down, and gave him a scowl. Still, she put her fist to her heart, and gave Dareic a slight blow of her head. Treäbu’s eyes told Dareic to return the gesture, so he repeated it as best he could.

  “Nice to meet you,” Dareic told her. “Treäla,” he said the Skaelar’s name to himself. “If ‘Treäbu’ means ‘True Heart,’ what does ‘Treäla’ mean?”

  “True Love,” Treäbu answered for his sister. “Treäla is feisty as the sun is hot, though she tames herself when she pleases. I pray she is tame enough tonight. We have an ambassador as our guest.”

  “Well, come inside then,” Treäla told Treäbu.

  “Yes, but only for a moment,” said Treäbu. “The feast will begin soon.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Treäla said as she led Dareic and Treäbu inside.

  The dwelling was quaint, but cozy, with furniture made of branches, baskets full of fruits and grains, and more candles than Dareic could possibly count. Animal skins with intricately painted designs graced the walls, and every so often, Dareic saw a small woodland animal mosey across the floor, or a bird flutter its wings where it perched upon one of the roof supports.

  Treäbu rummaged through Treäla’s shelves, and found a brown leather glove to cover his charred hand. Then, his eyes searched intently for something else among her trinkets.

  “Treäla is Skael’atere,” he told Dareic.

  “Ahhh,” Dareic responded. “And what do you do?” he asked Treäla.

  But it was Treäbu who answered. “She prepares the finest alvabird you’ve ever—”

  “Would you let me answer my own question, thank you?” Treäla interrupted.

  “Speak faster then,” Treäbu told her. “Ah!” he said, finding two lengths of brown leather cord on Treäla’s shelves.

  “I help prepare the feasts,” Treäla said. “Sometimes cooking, sometimes serving. Tell me, ambassador, do Humans enjoy warm apple butter drizzled over roasted alvabird, with fresh banana bread, and a tall mug of hot, frothy ginger spice?”

  “Um, yes? Yes we do,” Dareic said, his stomach aching with delight. He was starving beyond words, hungrier than he had ever remembered being in his entire life.

  “Well then,” Treäla continued, “I’ll try not to let too many people spit in your porridge.”

  “Thanks?” Dareic said awkwardly, not knowing if she was joking.

  “I’m on serving detail tonight,” said Treäla, “which means I’ll be leavi
ng you in just a moment. Treäbu, I imagine the ambassador will want to change out of his armor before he eats.”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” Dareic said. “Besides, I don’t have anything else to wear.”

  “No guest eats in his armor,” Treäla told him. “See that he gets something suitable, brother. There should be a tunic in that chest.”

  “I will,” Treäbu said, then walked over to Dareic, and stretched out his clenched fist. “Your prize,” he spoke. “Wear it proudly.” Dareic could see one of the cords Treäbu had found dangling from his fingers. There was something oddly shaped within his grasp. Dareic opened his hand under Treäbu’s, and felt the weight of an unusual object drop into it. When the Skaelar retracted his hand, Dareic saw that Treäbu had tied one of the Golgril’s teeth to the cord.

  “It looks a lot less threatening when it’s not attached to the rest of him, doesn’t it?” Treäbu asked.

  “Yeah. Thank you,” Dareic said in deep appreciation of Treäbu’s gift, and tied the tooth around his neck. Treäbu donned his own trophy as well, inspecting it with satisfaction.

  At that moment, Dareic heard a low, booming thud, coming from outside the dwelling. It sounded like a great boulder had struck the earth. Then, he heard it again. Drums, he thought. At first, there was only one, but soon, more and more joined in, until the tribal beat was a symphony of percussion.

  “They’re announcing the feast,” Treäbu told him.

  The drums continued as the Skaelar ventured down from their dwellings, and gathered around the long tables that wound themselves through tree trunks. Bonfires and torches illuminated the open area with a warm glow. Treäbu directed Dareic to a seat at one of the tables. They sat next to one another, and Treäbu was instantly greeted with welcomes and smiles from the Skaelar around them.

  An upheaving of the drums signaled the arrival of the food. Dareic, having donned a deep red tunic, watched as a line of Skael’atere emerged from a large dwelling, each carrying a platter in their hands. Other Skael’atere came around to the tables with pitchers, and filled each place setting’s three cups with different liquids—water, frothy ginger spice, and another drink, red-violet in color.

  Dareic felt a nudge at his back just as a grand platter of roasted alvabird was laid on the table before him.

  “Don’t drink from the left cup,” Treäla’s voice whispered in his ear. But by the time Dareic’s head spun to see who had spoken to him, Treäla had already left, and continued on with her duties.

  “She’s just messing with your mind,” Treäbu told him, easing Dareic of his obvious paranoia.

  When Dareic looked back to the table, he saw that three of the Skael’akron had taken seats across from him and Treäbu. Ralian accompanied Kilo and Raia. Upon Ralian’s standing, the drums stopped in perfect unison.

  “My brothers and sisters!” the Sage said in Skalen, his voice echoing throughout the forest. “We are joined this night by one who has traveled many a weary mile to be with us. In his company, let us speak in the common tongue, so that he may understand our words.” Then, in the common tongue, he spoke, “We are honored to have a Caladen ambassador at our table once more.”

  The Sage reached down to the table, and grabbed his goblet, filled with the red-violet liquid. When Ralian lifted his cup to the air, toasting Dareic, every Skaelar at the feast copied his action, though most did so half-heartedly. Dareic raised his goblet as well, and gave a nod to the Skael’akron. He took a sip from his cup, and let the beverage ease down his throat. It tasted like wine, but finer, smoother and richer. After his first sip, he took another, longer, gulping down the magnificent drink.

  “Easy with that,” Treäbu told him. “It’s pretty strong.”

  “What is this?” Dareic asked. “It’s glorious!”

  “Vinewater,” Treäbu said, as he and the other Skaelar began placing food from the trays onto their plates. “Finer than any wine.”

  “Mmmm, vinewater,” moaned Dareic. “My tongue wants to mate with it.” He then followed Treäbu’s example, and dove into the delicious meats, fruits and breads before him.

  “Tell us,” said Raia inquisitively, “how was your passage to Skaelwood from Caleton? Our scouts report that Daro’s forces have taken the main roads.”

  “It was rough,” Dareic told her. Indeed, he had been wanting to tell them about their journey. “My brothers and I left Caleton,” he said, then suddenly remembered sensing a strong dislike for King Mercer among the Skaelar, and decided the unfiltered truth might help gain their favor, “against King Mercer’s advisement.” The Skaelar around him murmured curiously as expected. “We came upon Treäbu not long after. He’d already taken out a swarm of Daro’s demons, and it was really with a good deal of luck that I saved his life. But he swore by his honor to save mine in return.” By downplaying his part in the rescue, and upping Treäbu’s quality, Dareic sought to gain his Skaelar companion several praises. He did, however, overhear various mumbled criticisms and insults, like “A Skaelar life and a Human life cannot be measured as equal,” and “Every rule has an exception.”

  “In Trendell,” Dareic continued, “we were attacked.” Subtle gasps from the Skaelar told Dareic that everyone within earshot was listening. “The Aeroli came to our rescue, and—wait a minute,” he thought for a moment. “Treäbu, the Aeroli saved our lives. Do you have a debt of honor with each of them now as well?”

  Treäbu rolled his eyes as some of the Skaelar around him tried to suppress their amusement.

  “Death wasn’t certain yet,” he said in his defense.

  “I see,” Dareic said jovially, testing his audience’s friendliness. “Anyway, the Aeroli told us about the road to Skaelwood being patrolled by Daro’s troops. So, we took the passage through the Corren’dai.” The table fell silent, then laughter bellowed from every mouth. “Really!” Dareic told them. “And you should have seen it! Nemesi beasts attacking us left and right, the Golgril on our heels the entire time!”

  “This Human weaves entertaining lies,” said a male Skael’adar to Treäbu.

  “But we fought it,” Dareic tried to continue his story, “and.—Pshhhhhh!—sent its head exploding from its body.”

  “What really happened?” asked a Skael’atere, seated next to the Skael’akron. Abruptly, the roaring laughter that pounded in Dareic’s ears simmered to a numb silence. To his left, Treäbu slowly pulled up his glove, revealing the pitch-black skin beneath it.

  “This,” Treäbu said sternly, “my brothers and sisters, is but one of the prices we paid for our crossing. A gift from the Golgril beast I’ll bear ‘til the day I die.” After a few moments, he re-gloved his hand. “But such sacrifices of flesh and blood earned us our victory. Show them your prize, Dareic.”

  Dareic had put his tunic on over the Golgril tooth that hung from his neck. He reached down, and pulled it out, holding it for all to see. Treäbu showed his as well.

  “You—you killed a Zelvanyan?” a Skael’atere asked.

  Next, came an onslaught of questions from interested Skaelar regarding the Golgril. But Treäbu silenced them all.

  “Please, please, brothers, let the ambassador eat,” he told them. Nevertheless, with a leg of meat in one hand, and a cup of vinewater in the other, Dareic and Treäbu answered every question, each adding details the other failed to remember.

  By the time he had finished stuffing his belly to its fullest, Dareic felt the many cups of vinewater beginning to take effect. After the feast, Treäbu took him away from the tables, so only the trees could hear them speak.

  “That may’ve been the finest meal I’ve ever had,” Dareic told Treäbu. “But I don’t think I could recount what happened in the Corren’dai even one more time.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Treäbu. “The tale will spread quickly. And it will likely be embellished in our favor.”

  “Well, good then,” Dareic said. “I’m getting pretty tired of every Skaelar I meet hating me.”

  “There is a tension between
our nations that runs very deep,” said Treäbu.

  “Will you please tell me why?” Dareic begged. “I feel like an ambassador should know these sorts of things.”

  Treäbu shook his head. “I’m not sure I’m the right person to tell you,” he said.

  “Nothing’s stopped you from being blunt with me in the past.”

  “Alright,” Treäbu conceded with a sullen tone. “A long time ago, Daro sent a patrol of his demons to one of our villages north of Skaelwood. It is believed he discovered it home to magical relics—which it was.

  Your King was present during the attack. Upon visiting Skaelwood, Ralian offered him a tour of our realm.

  The demons came and Ralian charged toward them. But Mercer mounted his steed and remained behind—guarded by no less than fifty of his own soldiers.

  Raia, the Skael’akron you know, was then Skael’adar. She pleaded with Mercer to aid us, but for the cowardice in his heart, he turned and sped from the fight, leading all his men back to Caleton like a frightened rat.

  We defended our village and triumphed. The remaining Skaelar survived to tell the tale of Mercer’s retreat. Your King, Titus Mercer, has called for the aid of the Skaelar many times since that woeful night. But we would not give it—until now.”

  “I never knew,” Dareic said, his eyes filled with sorrow. “That explains a lot.”

  “Such secrecy!” came a voice from the surrounding trees. Dareic and Treäbu peered through the firelight around them. “People will think you are conspiring.” Ralian stepped out from behind a wide trunk, his face catching the light from a nearby torch.

  “No, not conspiring,” said Treäbu. “Educating.”

  “Well, forgive the interruption, then,” said the Sage, “but you are about to miss the beginning. A shame, really. Especially when you have a guest.”

  “The beginning?” Dareic asked.

  “It’s started?!” Treäbu belted.

  Ralian chuckled. “Haha! Not just yet. They are waiting for you.”