Book of Kayal: Houses of Light

by S. Nileson

  Monolos watched the two travelers intently, lost in drunken contemplation and returned to reality when Ninazu nudged him as he took a seat beside him, on the very same log of tree specifically cut to serve such purpose. The hounds and hawk also threw curious looks at the two travelers, staying still and in complete silence.

  “About the cloth,” Monolos said, pointing with his finger at Archer’s right boot, “I believe I owe you some explanation.”

  Archer looked at him curiously, taking a moment to grasp Monolos’ line of thought and what he referred to.

  “These hounds are being trained and prepared to join the Silver Stags to serve as trackers and animal companions. They are our allies and friends from Utyirth. We call them Watcher Hounds and they, like you, are capable of runebearing.”

  “Wait,” Archer said curiously, his voice stern with an unspoken request for Monolos to hold his tongue just long enough for him to get his mental bearings. “I don’t see why you’re telling me this.”

  “It’s simple enough,” Monolos said, “It’s because they’re directly responsible for you evading the Silver Stags for so long. Well, not these ones in particular, but the Watcher Hounds in general. The cloth, you see, bears my scent. And my scent is sacred to them, no matter how much I try to convince them otherwise.”

  “Why are you trying to convince them otherwise?” Archer asked, still at a loss.

  “Because, my friend, they’re just as sentient as you and I. They are our equals in different form. Some say they are reincarnated people long gone, others say they are just a more primitive form of sentients than we are. Whatever the reason is, they are sentient and deserve to be treated with respect and not simply used as lesser creatures are.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “These cloth laths around your boots. Do not take them off lest you be found by the Stags faster than you can blink.” In a gesture of intense frustration Monolos stood up and waved his hands about, forcing the hawk to fly off to safety. “I am trying to teach these children and they simply will not open their minds.” He shouted at no one in particular.

  Ninazu remained calm and lit his leaf by mixing two powders with one another on its tip. He drew a deep breath from it and released a thick cloud of smoke smelling much like burnt earth and lavender. The true mixture remained a mystery to Archer and Ascilla.

  “You there,” Ninazu said, nodding his head at Archer. “He just wanted to apologize.”

  Archer looked at Monolos, who seemed angered for no particular reason, and softly said, “It’s I who owes you thanks and an apology, Monolos.” He was greatly puzzled at how someone as austere and leveled as Ganis had come to be personally known by the likes of Monolos and Ninazu. Perhaps, he thought, it was so long ago that they were still sane.

  Monolos, having heard Archer’s plea, suddenly calmed down and returned to his log, looking at the hounds and starting to speak to them in a language foreign to both Archer and Ascilla, its sounds completely unrecognizable.

  “Whatever it is, I trust you two must be famished,” Ninazu said, producing two mushrooms from his pocket. “Try these as I go and prepare you a proper breakfast.” He lazily got up and walked towards Archer and Ascilla, handing them the treat before disappearing into the jungle.

  With no particular though given to it, Archer and Ascilla ate their mushrooms, grimacing at its initially bitter taste which quickly subsided, before even they had the chance to spit, and turned so sweet that it left them parched. The last waking thought of Archer was where to get some fresh water from.

  Archer dreamt of total darkness. He stood there, with no body or clothing or anything. He was just awareness amidst a dark void. A drum was hit once, sending a wave of resonating deep sound into the dark void, making it shrink, a light consuming its outermost edges.

  At first there was a beacon of strong light shining from a distance and its light spread strangely like oil on water and not like light was supposed to spread, stretching into darkness. Then another beacon was lit next to it but far enough not to touch. Its light was different, a shade other than the pure silvery white of the first beacon and slightly yellowed. Then another appeared, also yellow but with a different hue. And so the lights rose from the darkness, red, green, blue and finally purple.

  The lights took the shapes of houses, each in a different form. The silver light was pointy at the top, the yellow was sharp like a cube. Each a house in its own fashion and with its own light. The darkness shrank and disappeared. The lights fought against one another, each trying to expand its reach over that of its neighbor. The struggle continued and then all motion stopped. There was no darkness. There was only light. There was perfect balance and harmony. Seven colors prevailed.

  Archer now stood far removed from the scene, back into a colorless void. He looked from a distance and saw seven houses of light. Each radiant and beautiful. He did not know the meaning of it but it made him feel serene. It felt right, like it was how things ought to be.

  5

  The Lucky Strider was fixed in a little more than a week, just as Monolos had predicted. Archer and Ascilla had grown to know Monolos and Ninazu well, even to learn much from them in the ways of nature and alchemy. The two men who once were Ganis’ companions did indeed prove themselves, to Archer and Ascilla, as great men with great knowledge.

  It was a much-needed rest and change. The purpose of the diversion, be it decreed by Fate or just a mere stroke of bad luck, was not revealed to Archer yet. He was not displeased and welcomed the time away from time.

  News reached the two travelers about the Lucky Strider’s intended departure and they quickly said their farewells and packed the few belongings they had in impressive haste, arriving at the ship in a most timely manner.

  At the sight of the familiar strangers the captain asked, “And who might you be?”

  “Archer and Ascilla,” Ascilla said. “We were aboard the Lucky Strider when it was caught by the storm.

  “Aye, nasty business that of the sea.” The captain looked at the ship proudly, basking in the lively noise of its crew. “It be a beauty, that one. Now, lass, tell me which of my crew brought you to this undeserved fate and to the mighty mistress’ cruel temper?”

  Ascilla blushed. “To be honest, captain, it was only by a stroke of bad luck and a great deal of rom that we boarded the Lucky Strider. We were intent for Estgard and, being no sailors ourselves even when clear of mind, we boarded the wrong ship.”

  The captain laughed loudly, roaring at Fate’s twisted sense of humor and said, “You may be no sailor, lass, but you live your life as sailors do. I can name you a few men on my ship, this beauty of the sea, who are not supposed to be serving on the Strider. Come, lass and lad. Come and tell me more of your stories as we sail to Estgard and pray that we’ve earned the temptress’ good grace.”

  Chapter 14: To World’s End

  ‘No wild beast deserves hatred or torture just as no man deserves unprovoked violence. Unless there is a clear and meaningful reason behind an offence, you are better off without it.’ Alvian Proverb.

  1

  “Aye, it was a pleasant journey,” the Lucky Strider’s captain said to Archer and Ascilla.

  They were on Estgardian land, the ship docked at the only port on Estgard and the crew were busy transferring large wooden crates from aboard the ship. Some Estgardians waited with sheets of crumpled papers and inked quills to document the contents received. They were a practical people almost obsessed about keeping clean records of all that took place in their lands.

  Archer shook the captain’s hand right after Ascilla had said her goodbyes and headed inland, towards a large stone gate greeting whoever arrived to Estgard by sea. “Now where do we find Commodore Habitus?” he asked of Ascilla, getting used to walking on solid ground once more.

  “One moment,” Ascilla said. She waved at an Estgardian whom she had caught his eye and had him walk to intercept her path, a minor deviation from his original route. When they w
ere close enough for conversation not to feel awkward, she greeted, “Hail!”

  “Hail, traveler,” the Estgardian responded. He was of short stature, as most Estgardians were, and widely built. His hands were coarse and a thick crust formed on his palms as a result of many decades of hard labor mining and quarrying.

  “We seek Commodore Habitus. Have you any idea where he may be?”

  The Estgardian paused for a moment and scratched his stubby chin. “I suppose he’s overlooking the work on the Stymphalian.” He lowered his hand and looked north, pointing at a distant entrance carved into a mountain. “Go yonder and ask once more for him.” The man said nothing else. He simply nodded and moved on, resuming his original journey.

  They walked towards the mountain, past the elevated grounds of the Estgardians’ houses. The Estgardians were once an earth-dwelling folk. They hid underground, far from the troubles of the surface, and dug their mighty cities deep into the earth. It was only after the Ancients’ War that their cities were destroyed by earthquakes and their way of life no longer possible. Like all survivors, they made do with what they had, the land above. For many decades they rebuild their civilization on the surface, still maintaining their distance from the political brutality of the other cities while making the most of their old ways. They dug their homes into the earth, not as deep as they were used to, and from the land they carved their city. Thousands of molds protruded from the ground where they lived and from a distance it seemed nothing more than a large group of small hills, but they were, in fact, Estgardian homes and stores and buildings of many sorts. The sight was a marvel to Archer. It’s history unknown to him.

  They finally reached the mountain, walking in silence, and entered the mighty stone gates, many times taller than any man, which were left perpetually ajar, or so it seemed to Archer and Ascilla.

  Archer saw a native sitting lazily on a stone slab carved from the mountain specifically to serve as a chair and said, “You there, Estgardian, hail!”

  The Estgardian seemed to ignore him at first, focusing intently on shaping a piece of wood delicately with a sharp knife. When satisfied with his progress, a few scratches after he was hailed, he raised his head lazily, just enough to be able to catch Archer’s eyes with his own, and said, “Hail to you too, foreigner.” A tone of annoyance in his voice was noted by Archer. He was offended.

  “Forgive our interruption,” Archer said politely, earning him some forgiveness indeed from the Estgardian and a little more respect in the form of a slight raising in his head. “We be searching for a particular Commodore Habitus. Know you where he be?”

  “Over yonder.” The Estgardian gestured with his head, his hands never leaving their tools, and continued to his business as if no interruption had happened.

  “Yonder here, yonder there,” Archer whispered to Ascilla.

  She giggled. “I think you can return to your normal way of speaking now.”

  2

  “Not like that you stinking fools,” Archer heard a voice shout from deep within the mountain. Ascilla and he shared some looks and hurried their gait towards the end of the stone corridor carved out of the earthly mound’s flesh. They were still walking.

  At the end of the corridor was a large opening where a mighty, and oddly-shaped, ship was well under construction, hull bare and its innards showing the many beams of wood and chunks of steal carefully organized within. A large leathery curtain hung above it, sown with thick threads holding the many hides and skins together tightly, and dangled from ropes which kept them from hindering the Estgardian heavy in labor.

  “You drunken man, you yonder, come do it yourself,” an Estgardian shouted back. His voice was muffled and far, but served one purpose, if any, to identify the riled up Commodore Habitus standing beneath the lifted construct.

  “Commodore Habitus,” Ascilla cried, interrupting the man’s line of thought and coming response to the Estgardian’s rude comment.

  “Aye,” he said, turning around, having his large brown Sennan hat mimicking the combined motion of his body and head. A red plume hung comically above it. “And who be you, lassy?”

  “I’m Ascilla of the Ichneumon Order, Lord Commodore. I bring you a message from Duke Constantine.” She continued walking towards the man with the sealed parchment held in hand visibly so that Habitus could see it.

  “That blind fool!” he said, unaware of the emotions his words stirred in Ascilla. “What headache does he intend to cause me this time?” He moved towards his visitors and an iron hammer fell where he was but a few moments before. It caused him no concern or distraction.

  “If I may be so bold, Lord Commodore, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call the Duke any insulting names.” She handed over the letter which was well received with a gentle nod.

  “Aye. I forget how perplexed you folk get at me when I swear at your superiors. Take no heed of my words, lass, for I mean no ill intent or insult. Tis but the way I speak.” He broke the seal and read the letter. It only took him a moment before he stowed it away in his hat. “Very well,” he said. “And now these brave folk and I are setting up to go on a sort of hunt. You will join us, lass.” He looked at Archer and added, “And you too, lad. You look like the handy type for bait.”

  “Hunt?” Archer asked, face contorted with confusion.

  “Aye, we be hunting bear this fine evening. Tis good sport, they say.”

  “But why now?”

  “Vengeance, lad. This particular bear roamed where he had no right to.” He pointed at a spot nearby and added, “He came by the wharf, our wharf, and mauled two of those idiot folk. He mauled them good and they can bear no hammer or chisel for some time to come now. You see, we need every able man on this project of ours and we must make a point to the bear that we will not be intimidated by his likes.”

  “You do notice we’re speaking of a wild animal?”

  “Aye, tis exactly why we must make our point so swiftly before his little head forgets.”

  “Just close the gates and have them work in safety.”

  “Ah, but you see, lad, these Estgardian are a stubborn folk who will not rest till their brothers’ honors are restored and the bear taught a lesson.”

  “It’s just a bear.”

  “Tis not!” Habitus said conclusively. “Now, ready yourself and wait outside. I’ll gather the men and be there shortly.” He waved at Archer and Ascilla and they, in a confused bout, heeded the command.

  3

  The Estgardians spread out into the nearby forest to where the bear’s tracks led them. They still had a couple of hours of sun and intended to make the most of it. At first Archer and Ascilla followed the trackers with little questioning, seeing how they planned the search and learning as much as they could - from a few words here and a few words there – about the incident with the bear.

  Archer and Ascilla learnt that the attack was recent, sudden and unprovoked. While the Estgardians worked on the Stymphalian last night, in peace save for the ruckus they caused, the bear struck. He snuck in past the sleeping guard, who was later mauled on the bear’s way out, and in an enraged manner struck at all that he saw. Other than the Estgardians he wounded, the bear caused some minor damage to the ship in construction, minor enough to have been fixed by the time Archer and Ascilla had arrived, and shook the workers’ morale.

  Neither Archer nor Ascilla saw the necessity to be so diligent in the hunt. Yet, they both knew well that an enraged bear prone to violence is likely to continue to be a disturbance for as long as he lived, but in lieu of the circumstances and the important project underway, they saw little cause for such haste. The Estgardian culture, simply put, was far too different than their own. They were quick to enrage and equally quick to take action.

  Amidst the search Archer heard a call. “Here,” a man said with a heavy Estgardian accent. With no delay both Archer and Ascilla rushed towards the voice and joined the others encircling the last of the bear’s tracks which disappeared into a stream. />
  It was impossible to track with the running water and the rocky bottom. After carefully scanning both eastern and western shores of the stream, the trackers agreed that the bear continued his travel into the stream. It was the only explanation for the sudden disappearance of his tracks.

  “Tis be a troubling discovery,” Habitus said gingerly and scratched his chin. He looked at one of the Estgardian scouts and said, “You, lad, what say you about this?”

  With great calculation the scout took a knee and grabbed a rock from the stream, licking it once and said, “I really don’t know.”

  “You stinking fool. What you doing licking some wet rock?”

  “I’m trying to pick up any interesting taste that could lead us one way or another.”

  “And how exactly might that be of any help? Aye, I see no way by which these rocks can taste of anything but stream.”

  “Aye,” the scout said. “Anything else would be out of the ordinary. Even being washed so diligently by these sacred waters there is no taste that can escape my tongue so soon after it has been cast.” He was an older Estgardian, with a few strands of white waving through his long hair, but he kept the demeanor of a youngster, always quick and sudden. With his youthful nature, the scout stood up and said, “We split up. One group goes upstream and the other, well…the other way.”

  “By the sea I could have told you that without licking no rock,” Habitus murmured to himself and walked away upstream regardless of how unprepared the remainder of his party was. In a bout of confusion some Estgardians followed Habitus and the remaining few stood perplexed for a few moments before they exchanged looks amongst themselves and headed the opposite direction.

  Archer and Ascilla followed the events keenly, trying to make sense of it and squeezing whatever they understood from the Estgardians’ thick accents.