Rise of the Seer

by Brandon Barr

  Fear twisted Aven’s stomach. How did the Baron know about that? And, more frightening, how much had his spies heard? “We…we…” he said in a faltering voice.

  “What did you speak of?” The Baron’s gaze was hard.

  “Only little things,” Aven replied quickly. “They know I go there to…sit sometimes.”

  “Good friends then, to come and console you like that. Are you sure you didn’t talk about anything else?”

  “That…that’s it,” Aven said, knowing it was futile. He could tell from the Baron’s expression that he was only toying with him.

  The Baron looked past Aven, to the door they had come through. “Tell us what you saw and heard, Captain.”

  Aven and Winter turned. Leaning against the door frame was Rose. Her eyes were on Aven, and she had a wicked smile on her face. She’d helped Rozmin smoke Harvest’s hovel. Somehow, she’d been promoted to Captain while Rozmin rotted in the graveyard.

  Rose smirked. “Gray Bear’s mate is called Rabbit. A fitting name. She kept poking her head up out of the hovel, like a rodent watching for predators. But I’m invisible when I want to be. And always closer than one thinks. And this morning, I was close enough to hear talk of rebellion. A familiar tune of late.”

  The Baron looked at Aven, one eyebrow rising. “It seems there was more than consoling going on.”

  “It was nothing,” Aven said desperately. “Gray Bear was only complaining. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Rhaudius said, leaning back in his chair. “He’s been doing a lot of talking, and he seems very upset. Not only that, but he has a number of the other farmers upset, too.”

  Aven sagged weakly. He wasn’t going to get out of this alive. None of them were.

  “You look worried, Aven. Why is that?” the Baron asked. “Surely you don’t fear for your safety? Didn’t I promise to leave you be so long as you were good?”

  Aven nodded, sweat forming on his brow.

  “And the Captain tells me you tried to persuade Gray Bear against the rebellion, but without success.”

  Aven grasped at his words like a drowning man. “I did.”

  The Baron’s gaze shifted to Winter. “Unfortunately, your sister doesn’t share your views, so I’m told. Rose informed me she was quite adamant about fighting. Apparently, she was even planning on refusing my invitation for this evening.” The Baron’s fingers drummed on the table. “What changed your mind, Winter? Did Pike’s visit help put things in perspective?”

  “I’m here,” said Winter. “Does it matter the reason?”

  The Baron’s face darkened. “Do you remember this, Aven?”

  From under the table, the Baron drew a crossbow and set it on the table.

  “We’re here to obey,” said Aven, his eyes fixed on the weapon. “Only tell us what you want from us, and we will do it. I swear.”

  “I judged you rightly the first time we met,” the Baron said to Aven. “If only the other farmers had your compliant spirit. Think how peaceful our land would be.”

  “That’s all I want,” Aven blurted out. “It’s all either of us wants: peace.”

  “As do I,” the Baron replied. “I don’t like killing. I’d rather not have more of it.”

  Aven heard his sister suck in a breath, and he tensed, fearful she would say something foolish.

  But the Baron continued before she could say anything. “As you know, I’ve summoned the farmers to gather in the morning. Many are ready to go to war against me. I’ve been patient. I’ve tried to be understanding. But if they persist, tomorrow will be a day of bloodshed.”

  “No,” Aven croaked, already seeing the bodies piling up.

  The Baron’s mouth formed a lifeless smile. “Then I need you both to cooperate with me, so we can avoid this.”

  “You don’t care about us farmers,” Winter spat suddenly. “You see us as nothing more than animals to do your bidding. That’s all we are to you, isn’t it? Animals.”

  The Baron’s face hardened. “You are whatever I want you to be.”

  To Aven’s horror, Winter stood. “Were my mother and father animals to you?”

  “Sit down,” growled the Baron.

  “Answer me.”

  The Baron lips pulled away from his teeth, and he raised the crossbow and pointed it at Winter. “Sit, like a good little dog.”

  Aven stood and moved in front of Winter. “Please, Baron. She’ll do what you want her to.”

  “Then make her sit!”

  Aven turned and met his sister’s eyes. “Please,” he whispered, begging. “Sit down.” He squeezed her hand. “I don’t want you to die.”

  Winter’s eyes softened, and slowly she sat.

  “Good dog,” said the Baron. “Now, if you’ll stay put, I’ll tell you why it is to your benefit to help me. There’s a great reward at the end of this for you.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Tomorrow, if all goes well, I will pacify the farmers by amending some of the harsher portions of the contract. It is in truth a very generous offer. That’s where you and your sister can help. Your parents were well-liked. I need your help in getting the farmers to accept my offer. It seems that the tragic accident which claimed your parents’ lives has turned the farmers against me.”

  Winter hissed, “Accident?”

  Aven squeezed her hand tightly, trying to restrain the fury he felt within her.

  “Tragic accident,” the Baron said, holding up one finger. “And I did punish the man responsible, as your brother can attest to. It was their untimely deaths that roused the farmers to rebellion. I fear they may be so worked up by now that they will reject my generous offer, leading to the aforementioned bloodshed that we all wish to avoid. It is my thinking that by honoring you both with a spectacular gift, a gift a Royal’s son or daughter would envy, I can keep that from happening. All I need from you is your very public gratitude. Your example will show the farmers they have nothing to fear.”

  Aven stared at the Baron, hope and suspicion warring inside him. He knew there were lies here. The Baron’s heart was as clear to see as the entrails of a rodent pinched in a trap. Black, festering, filled with greed. Whatever he was doing, it was to keep his profits and his position intact. He cared for nothing else.

  But so what? Good could come of it. Bloodshed could be avoided. The farmers’ lives would improve. He and his sister would receive a reward. All they had to do was follow along with the plan.

  To Aven, the only remaining question was the Baron. Could he be trusted? Or was this all some elaborate ruse?

  “What is the gift?” asked Aven.

  A spark lit in the Baron’s eye. “Tomorrow, a very special visitor will be arriving. Her name is Karience. She is the Empyrean of the Guardian order on Loam.”

  Aven and Winter both stared in shock as the words sank in.

  Karience, Empyrean of the Guardians. The name and title sounded strange and powerful. The Guardians had been on Loam for almost thirty years, but still very little was known about them. Everything Aven knew about the Guardians came through scraps of overheard conversations and gossip in the marketplace, much of it contradictory. He’d heard that they came from other worlds, as incredible as that sounded. A few farmers who’d gained permission to travel to Anantium claimed to have seen the God’s Eye, the ancient portal through which the Guardians arrived. People said that on every planet they touched, peace sprouted, grew, and eventually flourished. Every planet that welcomed the Guardians received protection from dark worlds ruled by Beasts, which were said to haunt many realms outside the Guardians’ reach.

  All of it was overwhelming to Aven. So much mystery out in the vast deep of stars that he had gazed at from boyhood. What was a dark world? What were the Beasts?

  These mysteries had never disturbed him before, for they had always felt far away. But now they seemed very close. The unknown pressed upon him.

  Who was this Karience? Why would she, the head of the Guardian order
on this world, come to the Baron’s lands? Had they made some business arrangement? Were the Guardian’s motives just as tainted by greed and power as the Baron’s?

  Winter tapped into his hand under the table. He’s lying. Don’t trust him.

  Maybe…we have no choice,” tapped Aven.

  Aven asked, “So the gift is that Winter and I will meet the Guardian?”

  The Baron gave a wry smile. “You will meet her, yes. But it’s even better than that. Tomorrow, before the assembled farmers, Karience will welcome you and your sister into the Guardian order.”

  Aven’s tongue stuck in his mouth. Welcomed into the Guardian order? What did that mean? Clearly, the Baron felt he was giving them a great honor. Aven met his sister’s eyes for just a moment. He saw in them the same conflict he felt. Hope checked by a thousand questions.

  “No more farming,” continued the Baron. “No more living in a hole in the ground. All you have to do is stand silently beside me on the platform and remain obedient, and you will get your reward. Before sundown tomorrow, you will be traveling with Karience to the God’s Eye in Anantium.”

  Aven bit down on his dry tongue. This seemed beyond comprehension. His sole concern now surrounded his sister. How did she feel about the Baron’s offer?

  Thoughts? tapped Aven quickly, dreading Winter’s response.

  Her orange-flecked eyes were like a raging fire when she looked at him. Truth or lie… I feel my destiny in this.

  Aven breathed a deep sigh of relief. “We’ll do everything you ask, Baron Rhaudius.”

  “Yes, you shall,” said the Baron, fingering the wood stock of the crossbow. “Any deviation to my plan will be to your peril. I suggest you keep your sister on a short leash. I won’t hesitate to kill her. Even if it means the blood of the farmers. My mercy only extends so far.”

  HEARTH

  Throughout eternity, there have been the Makers. They are the architects of all that exist. Would you trust a builder after the stairs he constructed collapse under your own meager weight?

  -Raith, to his human followers,

  Account of a Beast, recorded by Augurus

  Chapter Sixteen

  MELUSCIA

  The pull cart’s metal wheels screeched in Meluscia’s ears as her small party traveled the long, lonely underpassage deep beneath the mountains. These dark and ancient stretches of tunnel had frightened her as a child. Those old fears surfaced only as memories now. The gleaming eyes formed of misshapen rock, the twisted forms made by the clefts and columns of black granite and white marble. Quartz interspersed with snaking veins of pyrite that seemed to slither like golden serpents along the walls.

  These vestiges of past fears had morphed and changed since she had become a woman. Men slinking in shadows holding knives. Assassins and thieves hiding in hollow fissures and crannies. But she knew these fears were unfounded, for this passage was closed at its two ends—at the Hold Peak, and at Heartbur, where Adulyyn ruled under her father as Regent. Both ends had a guard posted day and night. There were thirteen such passageways, each connecting the thirteen minor peaks of the Blue Mountains to the tallest one that comprised the Hold. In the middle of each lay a Gathering Tunnel, a place for urgent meetings where a party from the Hold and a distant peak could travel a straight line to the midpoint.

  Heulan sat beside Meluscia as a team of four miniature horses trotted along, pulling them and three guards on a low cart. Time seemed impossible to keep in the monotony of the tunnel. She guessed they’d been traveling six hours at a decent rate of speed. No hills, no bends in the road, and no danger from man or animal.

  It was a relief when a faint light was seen in the tunnel ahead. As they neared it, Meluscia could see Adulyyn’s slender figure flanked by two large guards from Heartbur. If her meeting went well with Adulyyn…and if the Regent could secure her a majority amongst the council, she felt certain the scales would tip back to even between her and Valcere.

  But to make that scale dip in her favor, she had thought of one more thing she could do. A rather bold and treasonous thing. When she returned from her meeting with Adulyyn, she would write a letter to King Feaor. He, too, could put pressure on her father.

  The cart shook as it came to a halt.

  “I cannot get over your gorgeous red hair!” cried Adulyyn, her voice echoing off the rock walls. “It’s as bold as torchlight.”

  Meluscia hurried to the Regent and took her hand briefly in greeting. “I am in your debt, Regent Adulyyn.”

  “By the stars! You are in no such quagmire as being in my debt.” A sly smile crossed Adulyyn’s lips. She wore a loose purple cloak that slipped over the edges of her shoulders. A white corset showed under her cloak with a large amethyst gem hanging from a necklace. She was a beautiful, stately woman, and her style only accentuated that fact. Meluscia wasn’t sure her age, but she had to be at least fifty, based solely on the fact that the Regent had served as Lord Mayor under her grandfather.

  “I am more than willing to help seat you on your father’s throne,” continued Adulyyn. “How I’d love to see that hair of yours in the glimmering light of that splendid room, with all those refracting gems.”

  Adulyyn turned and gestured to a wooden door cut in the side of the passage. “Let’s have some privacy.” She pushed on the old wood, and a deafening squeal sounded from the hinges.

  Inside was a low-ceiling hall, large enough for a small army to hide in. The history books were replete with the use of such halls in dire times. The tunnels were secret and allowed the armies of the Blue Mountains to travel wherever they wished within the kingdom without being seen.

  In the light of a single torch, the shadowy hall was entirely empty but for hordes of old furniture and rolls of decaying tapestry strewn along the walls. In one corner, a dozen dusty old chairs were scattered about, and some tattered tapestries hung down the wall. There was a pile of dented armor and broken wood thrown in a large heap, as if it were trash that someone had forgotten to move.

  Adulyyn brushed off two chairs with her hand, placing the torch in a metal framed holder beside her.

  “I am in desperate need of your help,” said Meluscia, remembering Heulan’s words regarding Adulyyn’s penchant for flattery. Meluscia, too, could flatter when she wanted. She sat in the cleaned chair across from the woman. “Of all the Regents, you have my utmost respect. You are an example to me of how a woman can lead and rule. I have enjoyed our talks these past two years, yet I know I still have much to learn from you, from your wisdom and experience.”

  “Landslides! Wisdom and experience…you make me feel so old.” Adulyyn smiled. “I’ll tell you my secrets to ruling, and I’ll hold nothing back…as long as you promise never to use my secrets against me.”

  “I swear it!” said Meluscia quickly.

  “First, let’s talk about gaining you the throne. From what I hear, your father is as smitten with Valcere as he was when we last met. True?”

  Just hearing the man’s name brought a heaviness to Meluscia’s heart. “Yes. I believe my father is attracted to Valcere because the man has ridden with him for twenty years and the two have always had a bond. Valcere shares in my father’s feud with the Verdlands, though this fact, I hope, is what can turn the other Regents to my side.”

  Adulyyn reclined in her chair and tapped the fingers of her left hand against the fair skin beneath her neck. “You are right. Most of the Regents disapprove of the skirmishes with the Verdlands. Only two, Ignomere and Coloran, are of your father’s same mind. The rest are mildly annoyed by the Luminar’s perpetual squabble. The food runs short even in the household of the Regents—and let that be a tip from me to you—the fastest way to turn a man against you is to put an obstacle between them and their meals. Our bellies and our hearts are closely aligned.”

  Meluscia laughed. “I shall try never to forget that nugget of wisdom.” She drew in her breath, focusing on the problem of gaining the majority of the Regents’ support. “So, then, if you and ten other Regents
are opposed to my father’s handling of the Verdlands, why do I not have a majority?”

  “I’ll give you a hint.” Adulyyn’s hands moved below the cups of her white corset and she lightly jostled her breasts up and down. Her right eyebrow shot up. “Is that clear enough?”

  “So they’d rather eat salted fish for three meals a day than have a Luminess on the throne?”

  “Not all. Three of the Regents, Wyon, Jasper, and Rhodochroyx, are in your favor. And with me, that makes four. Four out of thirteen with two opposed and seven floating like stale farts in the air, scared to choose you because of your youth and your lack of a twig and acorns. I joke, but it is true.”

  If the underlying message wasn’t so frustrating, Meluscia would have laughed at the Regent’s words. Having devoted herself to reading both the histories and the scriptures, she understood, to a degree, why the undecided Regents might feel as they did. She was only twenty-two. She admitted her youth was a disadvantage, but not her womanhood. As she saw it, the two sexes complimented each other beautifully in leadership. As to her youth, she felt she only had to train harder and study longer—and overcome any qualities she lacked by sharpening enough other attributes to outweigh those that were deficient.

  She had done just that, applying herself furiously to her training for Luminess. Valcere might have a more powerful presence than she did. And a sharp mind for leading the Hold. But where was he leading? In what direction would he take the Blue Mountain Realm?

  Meluscia was confident the choice was clear.

  “Is there any way I could attend the Regents’ council meeting? I know it would break protocol, but…”

  Adulyyn shook her head. “It is only open to the Luminar and the thirteen Regents. It would be a bold move. Too bold, I’m afraid. But don’t lose heart. I carry a large influence there. And I will speak from my own lips anything you wish me to say—just as if it were my own convictions.”