The Legend of the Seven Sages: The Kin of Caladen

by B. A. Scott

Table of Contents

  Chapter 15: Chakuda

  Treäbu led Dareic to a part of the forest far from the feast tables. Drums pounded in their ears, and Dareic could not help but match his stride with their beat. Countless bonfires reached toward the night sky, and around them sat Skael’atere and Skael’adar alike. Dareic also saw a great number of blankets and tables with food and barrels laid upon them.

  “Is all this for me?” he asked.

  “You’re not that special,” Treäbu responded as he, Dareic and Ralian filled the three remaining seats around one of the enormous bonfires. They were once again joined by the Skael’akron, Kilo and Raia, who had already found their places in the circle. Additionally, Dareic noticed an icy blue woman, seated with them.

  “Is that a Borean?” Dareic asked.

  “One of their ambassadors—like you,” Treäbu answered. “You’ll find one in every major city.”

  Everywhere Dareic looked, Skaelar met his eyes. They sat around other bonfires, clung to trees and hung from vines above. As soon as Dareic was handed a cup of vinewater, and had found himself comfortably situated, the drums stopped.

  All was quiet in Skaelwood Forest.

  A single low drum pounded a steady beat in the cool night air. Two lines of Skaelar, side by side, approached the bonfire, then separated and formed a circle around the flames.

  Dareic looked around him to the other bonfires in the forest. The same ritual was being performed at each of them. And all had their own group of Skaelar with drums and instruments. At once, Dareic’s attention returned to his own encircling by the addition of loud percussion to the single drum’s beat. The Skaelar around him called out in yells of approval as the circle of green erupted in dance. The movements were quick, yet fluid. Primal, yet graceful.

  Treäbu tapped him on the shoulder, then raised his own cup of vinewater.

  “Chakuda,” the Skaelar said earnestly.

  “What?” Dareic asked.

  “Chakuda,” Treäbu repeated himself, then tapped his cup to Dareic’s.

  “Oh,” Dareic said. “What does ‘chakuda’ mean?”

  “In Skalen, ‘chakuda’ is a toasting, or salutation. Similar to our hand-heartings.”

  “Hand-heartings?”

  “Hand...” Treäbu held his right fist for Dareic to see, then placed it over his heart. “...hearting. Hand-hearting.”

  As the music’s tempo quickened, the dancing Skaelar teased more than Dareic’s eyes with their sensual movements. He believed by the way the Skaelar women moved that they could not possibly have spines in their fit, tantalizing bodies. Among them, one young female caught Dareic’s eye. He could not look away from her. It wasn’t until she had made her way around the fire to where he sat that he realized it was Treäla dancing before him.

  A wooden flute joined the percussion, and as it did, the Skaelar danced where they stood. Cheers and howls echoed in the forest, praising the dancers for their spectacle, and the band for its music. Then, other Skaelar from the circle that Dareic and Treäbu were sitting in rose to their feet, and leapt to the inner circle. They found partners, and stood back-to-back with them.

  “Ah!” Treäbu said. “I’m going in.” He put his cup down and found a place behind a young Skaelar female.

  What Dareic saw next was some of the most lively and exhilarating entertainment he had ever witnessed. The dance clearly consisted of specific steps, but the degree of difficulty to execute such choreography seemed too high for any Human to attempt.

  All of a sudden, two mighty drums sounded, and all the dancers back flipped through the air, landing the acrobatic feat simultaneously.

  “I’d break my neck if I tried to do that!” Dareic thought out loud. He watched the Skaelar switch partners, then repeat the dance. He felt like he was beginning to get a grasp of the steps, and even found himself moving to the beat where he sat, turning his shoulders, and hopping on his rump, mimicking the Skaelar.

  Suddenly, a drop of what felt like warm rain fell upon Dareic’s skin. He wiped the splattered drop from his arm away with his thumb, and rubbed it between his fingers. It was slicker than water, he thought, and thicker as well. It was—he brought his fingers to his nose—scented.

  “Warm oil,” Ralian told him, having noticed Dareic’s obvious interest in the showering liquid, “from the coco vine.” He nodded to the treetops, where Dareic saw what appeared to be a series of aqueducts criss-crossing over each of the bonfires. Each was punctured with holes, allowing the oil within to shower down upon those below, making their bodies glisten.

  Dareic gulped down the last of his vinewater, and removed his boots and socks. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said politely to Ralian and the other Skael’akron. Then, he laid his pouches upon the ground, and pulled off his tunic. He jumped in next to a partnerless female, and performed the steps that he had memorized.

  At once, the music stopped and everyone around him froze. They stared at him, shocked, offended and all but disgusted that he’d joined in. Dareic stopped dancing and turned in a circle, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze upon him.

  “Never mind. I’ll just—” he said nervously, slowly stepping away from the dancers. But before he could leave, Treäbu spoke.

  “Not so fast,” said the Skaelar. Then, he whistled to the band members and clapped his hands to provoke their playing. Hesitantly, they proceeded, and soon after, the dancers joined in.

  Dareic started dancing again as well. To his surprise, the Skaelar woman he was with created confusing movements, though he responded to them as best he could with actions that complemented her gestures.

  Then, it became clear to him. She was challenging him. She was purposely making the dance more difficult so that he would fumble and fail. But the realization only fueled his determination, and he decided to bring a challenge to her as well. Just as she introduced new elements into the dance, so did he, and it was her duty to respond to them—which she did with ease. But when she realized what Dareic was doing, it was as if she had decided to wage an epic battle through dance. Her war was being brought to the Humans with every new nuance she could think of, trying to disgrace and out-maneuver Dareic. She bent low, and curved her seemingly spineless torso in ways that normally would have aroused other feelings from Dareic besides those of contest. Still, he matched her, step for step, until he knew that he would have to perform the dreaded back flip.

  When the two drums sounded, Dareic simply hopped in place—to the great displeasure of his groaning spectators. After his female partner landed the flip perfectly, she looked angry and dissatisfied at Dareic, who shrugged and smiled.

  By that time, Dareic couldn’t tell whether or not he was more moist from the warm oil raining down on him, or from his own sweat. He ran his fingers through his long hair, slicking it back.

  When he leapt to his next partner, Dareic was pleasantly surprised to see that it was Treäla. She wore no smile, but her eyes—dark green irises, each like a forest island in a sea of gold—were filled with tenacity. She danced differently than the female before her. Instead of trying to make Dareic fail, it seemed as though she was either trying to out-perform him, or make him extremely uncomfortable. When their bodies came together, she clung to him in a passionate embrace, which garnered many uneasy glances from their audience. If Dareic did not think the dance was a normal custom of the Skaelar, he might have thought Treäla fancied him.

  Then, the two mighty drums sounded.

  I’m going to try it this time, Dareic thought as his heart pounded with anticipation. Without further contemplation, he crouched, then sprung from the ground. He leaned backwards, and the world spun around him. Only, it spun too slowly, and Dareic landed flat on his stomach with a painful thud.

  All the Skaelar around him roared with laughter. Some could hardly contain themselves, as Dareic had brought tears to their eyes. Even the other dancers could not continue, nor could several members of the band manage their instruments. Treäbu rushed to Dareic’s side,
laughing just as much as those around him.

  “What happened?!” he cried.

  Dareic winced. The wind was not fully knocked out of him, though his pride was equally as wounded as his chest. “Ouch,” he grunted.

  “Better luck next time,” Treäbu said, walking Dareic over to where he sat before. As he passed the other Skaelar, he got several sympathetic “chakuda’s.” Dareic looked to Treäla, who appeared just as embarrassed as he was. Before the laughter could die down, the music started back up, and the dance began once more.

  Raia leaned toward Dareic. “That was impressive,” she told him.

  “Glad you think so. It really hurt.”

  “No,” she said, “before your overzealousness. Your dancing was impressive.”

  “Oh,” said Dareic, “Was it?”

  “Not bad. But not as good as your father’s.”

  “You must be thinking of someone else,” Dareic told her. “Doniel Caladen doesn’t dance.”

  “He was not always as you might know him,” said Raia. “You remind me of him a good deal.”

  Dareic reached for his empty cup, and found that it was filled to the brim with more vinewater.

  “I had it refilled,” Raia told him.

  Dareic smiled. “Thank you,” he told her.

  The song came to an end with a final pounding of drums, and everyone cheered for the dancers.

  “So, Ralian,” Dareic addressed the Sage. “How soon before the army’s ready?”

  “Well, we’re not giving you our entire army, ambassador,” Athiux said. “Just a third of it. And to answer your question, we’ll be ready to depart for Caleton in the morning.”

  “Well that doesn’t leave me much time then,” Dareic told him.

  “What do you mean?” the Sage asked.

  “I forgot to tell you,” said Dareic. “There’s one last thing I need to do in Skaelwood before I leave.”

  “And what is that?” asked the Sage.

  “Drink from the Fountain of Skael’demále.”

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 16: The Fountain of Skael’demále

  The Sage led Dareic away from the bonfire, into a small hut at the base of a large tree. Dareic entered after him, and the door closed behind him on its own.

  “What are you, ambassador?!” the Sage barked, yet he spoke almost fearfully.

  “I-I don’t underst—” Dareic tried to say.

  “Was there a Transference?” Ralian asked. “Was there?! Are you the next Human Sage?”

  “No, no, I’m not the Sage,” Dareic said with a chuckle.

  “Then how did this happen?” Ralian asked.

  Dareic hesitated before answering. “You’re not going to believe me.”

  “My ears are open,” Ralian said, sternly awaiting an answer.

  “Alright,” Dareic began, “something I didn’t tell everyone at the feast—on our way here, Treäbu and I just happened to stumble upon the Goddess of Fortune.”

  “Arey’n?!” the Sage couldn’t believe his ears. “I’ve heard some of my own kind tell such tales after a few too many rounds of the vinewater.”

  “Well, I won’t lie to you. I’ve had my fair share tonight. But if you need convincing, ask Treäbu.”

  Ralian stroked his chin, and eyed Dareic with a thoughtful stare. “She gave you this gift?”

  “And afterward, she told me to drink from your fountain.”

  “Every nation guards its fountain as a precious jewel, Caladen,” said Ralian. “You must understand this. And the Skaelar have only just met you.”

  “Are you saying you won’t let me?”

  The Sage seemed to be working something out inside his head. “If Arey’n wished it to be so, then you shall have your chance to prove yourself worthy,” he said.

  “Worthy?” Dareic asked.

  “Yes,” said Ralian. “Wait here until my return.” The Sage walked toward the door, but Dareic’s words stopped him.

  “Wait, where are you going?” he asked.

  “To prepare the Fountain.”

  “Prepare?”

  “Yes,” said the Sage. “The Fountain lies hidden in the deep of the forest, but it is guarded by more than just the cover of trees. I go to lift the spell that protects it.”

  “What kind of spell?” Dareic asked.

  “A veil spell,” the Sage told him cautiously at first, then added, “A big one.”

  “What’s a veil spell?” Dareic asked. Ralian paused for a moment, then decided to postpone his departure, feeling it important that Dareic understand what he was about to do. He grabbed a knife that hung on the wall near him, and placed a hover charm upon it. It floated effortlessly between he and Dareic.

  “Like a curtain pulled over the eyes of the world,” the Sage said as he made fluid motions with his hands around the knife, until Dareic saw with disbelieving eyes, the blade vanish from the air before him. “To blind it from what is concealed within its magic.”

  Dareic was astounded at what he had just seen. “Tell me that was a trick! It’s up your sleeve, isn’t it?”

  “No,” said Ralian. “The blade remains there still.” Dareic reached to where he remembered the knife floating, yet his fingers found nothing.

  “And this is what protects the Fountain?” Dareic asked. The Sage nodded. “How are you going to take it down?”

  “Veil spells are not unlike...” the Sage searched his mind for a simple explanation, “a wall of stones. Remove the right stone, and the wall will tumble to the ground. Or pull a thread from a ball of yarn, and watch it unravel before your very eyes.”

  Dareic nodded slowly, trying to comprehend what the Sage implied.

  “To lift or bypass a veil spell,” Ralian continued, “one must simply pull the thread, or find the right stone, so to speak. The difficulty in doing so, young Caladen, is knowing where to look. For you could be standing within a veil spell at this very moment, and not even know it.”

  “Sounds problematic,” Dareic said.

  Ralian made an expression that seemed to say “you have no idea” then he spoke, “Every veil spell has what is called a ‘requirement.’ And it is this, which must be executed in order to either lift the spell, or be granted access to that which it conceals—depending on how the spell was cast.”

  “You’re gonna have to talk slower or use smaller words,” Dareic spoke honestly. Ralian smiled.

  “A requirement is like a password,” he said, “though, not necessarily spoken. Some veils require certain words or phrases to be voiced. Others, actions performed. A hand gesture, an artifact placed in a certain location. Even an offering or sacrifice. A veil can act however its conjurer wishes, as can its requirement. Blood veils allow or keep out precisely that—descendants of a particular blood line, or even the blood of a single person. As for the spell that hides the knife,” Ralian said, returning Dareic’s attention to the air between them, “I decided to make its requirement something simple.”

  “What is it?” Dareic asked.

  Ralian produced a small bi-flute from a pouch at his hip. “Can you play?” he asked.

  “I’ve never tried,” Dareic said. Ralian handed him the small musical instrument.

  “Even so,” he said, “the veil will fall at the sound of this bi-flute. Put a finger over the first hole on each side, and give it a go.”

  Dareic eyed the flute and did as instructed. He put it to his lips, blew softly, and as the flute sang a low note, Dareic noticed a small ball of transparent golden light slowly come into clarity before him—enveloping where the knife once rested. It soon became completely opaque, its light filling every corner of the hut. Then, the ball burst into millions of tiny particles, and swirled into the air, until finally dissolving into nothingness, like a dying mist. Dareic stopped playing, and when he looked once more, he saw the knife hovering in place, peacefully undisturbed.

  “Incredible,” Dareic said, handing the flute back to Ralian. “Is it possible to overcome a veil spell wi
thout providing its requirement?”

  “Yes,” the Sage said matter-of-factly, removing the hover charm and snatching the knife. “The veil is only as strong as its conjurer. Some can be cracked like eggshells with a mere force of will. Or they can be burned away by other forms of magic.”

  “So, what’s the requirement for the spell that guards the Fountain?” Dareic asked.

  “Ha!” Ralian dismissed the request with a wave of his hand. “Not a chance. Telling you what kind of spell protects the Fountain is generous enough on my part. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  The Sage exited the dwelling, leaving Dareic alone with his thoughts. He could hear the distant thumping of drums, as well as an occasional cheer from the celebration outside. An excitement was building deep within his stomach that he could not suppress, nor did he even want to. Soon, he would drink from the Fountain of Skael’demále—something only a handful of men and women had ever done in the entire history of the world.

  Suddenly, a silhouetted figure in the open doorway startled Dareic.

  “Ralian has ordered the Horn of Skael’demále blown,” Treäbu said, entering the dwelling.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It will call the Skaelar to the Fountain.”

  “Excellent,” Dareic said. “Then I’ll have an audience.”

  “You’re going to drink from it then? That’s what Ralian talked to you about?”

  “More or less, yeah,” said Dareic.

  “Good,” said Treäbu. “He gave me a scare when he pulled you away from the bonfire like that.”

  At that moment, the sound of a deep, thunderous horn bellowed into the night air. It rattled Dareic’s bones, and possessed an unusual wooden quality to its tenor. Dareic heard three distinguishable notes that rang simultaneously, harmonizing with one another, as if the horn itself was split into three separate bells.

  “There it is,” said Treäbu. When he and Dareic looked out the doorway at the Skaelar in the distance, they saw every head turned to the sound of the horn. Then, at once, the entire congregation made for the Fountain. “And there’s your audience,” Treäbu told Dareic.