The Ageless Giant

by B K Suitter

They said that the room had the power to show future events, beautiful depictions of places and characters were magically drawn out across the Vision Wall while a blind monk painted the image to exact detail. The vision scroll was then looked over and interpreted by the High Monks on the council and then the parchment was recorded and stored away in a huge library.

  Gideon viewed many of the drawings, taking them out of their air-tight sealers and carefully opening the scrolls across the long viewing tables. Many of the ancient drawings were thousands of years old and Gideon was unable to view them. For the most part, the scrolls he did see were predictions of how well crops would grow or predictions on global weather.

  One scroll was of particular interest to Gideon, however. It was the painted vision given to Ezeria. Gideon had learned that his mentor had stood before the Vision Wall just before he returned to Lamourne, his brother’s castle in the South. The monks had told Gideon that Carami had given Ezeria the vision and he chose to act upon it. When Gideon saw the scroll, he was saddened. The intricate detail was precise, he knew because he had been there. The picture showed two healers standing atop a tall hill watching the battle between Kadomi and men unfold. Ezeria was holding a glowing necklace and summoning snow dragons from the dark clouds in the sky. His old form was depicted as withered and skeletal.

  Ezeria had been summoned before the Vision Wall to seek the future only because the other monks were receiving nothing but visions of war and anarchy. Ezeria had been shown a different vision because he had the ability to change the outcome, even at the cost of his own life, which he proudly gave. Now the monks were asking Gideon to do the same thing. For months the visions had become simply chaotic and war and death were spreading at what seemed an unstoppable rate. It was always hard to predict the time frame of the visions, but the elder monks were receiving nothing but horrid depictions.

  Gideon first had to empty his mind and cleanse his body. He fasted for days and avoided sleep as he read the ancient transcripts faithfully. He prayed devoutly and asked Carami for the strength to endure.

  When the time came, he descended a long staircase that burrowed deep beneath an ancient domed structure and ended at a set of large wooden doors. They creaked open and Gideon walked into an underground room with tall sandstone walls and a ceiling lost in darkness.

  He stood before the Vision Wall. It was a smooth-white and the sheer height of it made Gideon feel queasy. He was incredibly weak after depriving himself of both food and water, and his lack of sleep had put him near to delirium. The healer concentrated on the wall and began the Prayer for Sight, asking Carami to gift him with knowledge.

  Suddenly, Gideon was full of life and an indomitable strength poured through him as he felt the spirit enter the room and wash across the wall like a painter’s canvas. The torches that brightened the room seemed to dim slightly and the wall flared to life. Lines bright with color pushed across the wall like waves on The Rainbow Sea. Slowly, the wash of color began to bleed back into the wall and an intricate drawing showing incredible detail was left behind.

  The blind monk that had quietly stood at the back of the room slowly picked up his small brush and began to paint. Gideon stared at the wall and saw the four lands consumed by blood and war. He had seen it before, and he turned away because he did not wish to see it again. He left the room discouraged as he expected to receive a vision that could change the future such as Ezeria had.

  Weeks went by before Gideon was able to go back into the chamber. The senior monks argued against it, but the healer was insistent, and after two days of fasting and praying, Gideon again stood before the wall saying the ancient prayers. This time, however, he wore the magic amulet.

  Again, the sensation of life came over the healer as he watched the magic take root across the wall. The old blind monk slowly picked up his brush, dipped it in oil paint, and proceeded to paint a picture of war and savagery. Gideon stared at the wall and witnessed Asaria bleeding as the Kadomi were thick in hordes across the continent. It showed the Temple of Carami overrun and destroyed. It foretold the death and destruction of all mankind.

  The healer took the silver chain from around his neck and stared intently into the crystal. A spark of light came from the center of the clear gem and it slowly began to turn. The blind monk looked up for a moment, sensing something in the air. After pausing momentarily, he went back to his painting, but he seemed troubled somehow.

  The crystal glowed brighter and spun faster and Gideon looked deep inside it, asking the magic to show him how to help avert the future events. The room seemed to groan deeply as dust and small rocks fell from the darkness that hid the ceiling. The blind monk at the back of the room puzzled for a moment, and then went back to painting his art of future doom.

  The picture that was on the wall bled back into the stone and a new wave of colors washed across the surface to create another picture. This time, however, the portrait came to life. It was a painting in motion and Gideon watched as a large Northern ship sailed across the Eastern Ocean to Perlosia, the distant continent he had visited eighteen years earlier. Gideon stood unblinking as the ship docked at a port city he thought to be Ferrinbay. He watched as a simple farm girl boarded the ship, which then sailed back to Asaria.

  Gideon watched as a small group of travelers made their way across the North to Castle Coldstorm, and then the portrait changed, and the inside of the Northern King’s throne room was painted across the wall. It showed King Ironheart sitting in a large chair covered in white bear furs, his Shadows all around him, and before him stood a farm girl, a princess, and a queen. There were others in the large chamber, but they were not in detail. They were fuzzy apparitions that could have been anyone.

  The scene changed and the company was on the move again. They rode the Iron Horse and crossed the length of the Northern Kingdom until they reached the Port of Snowflake. There they found a ship and sailed south, and Gideon watched as the tiny ship broke the small blue waves all along the western coast of Asaria.

  Beads of sweat broke out across Gideon’s forehead as he held out the amulet, the magic crystal glowing bright and spinning fast. The blind monk just kept painting the original vision of war, but something was irritating him; a certain indescribable itch.

  As the small ship sailed down around the bottom of Asaria, Gideon could see tiny figures moving about the craft. A farm girl, a princess, and a queen were standing at the rail, almost watching him as he watched them. A cold chill rocked his spine and he lost concentration and the Vision Wall went fuzzy as the once detailed lines of color became scattered and unclear. Gideon fought to regain control of the magic and the nausea that made his head spin slowly subsided and he was able to concentrate again.

  The Vision Wall became lucid once more and the tiny ship docked at a port on the southern end of Asaria. The small company made their way north to the Temple of Carami and again the picture on the wall changed. The portrait now showed the farm girl, the princess, and the queen stepping together to become one person and Gideon watched as Aliha stood before the Vision Wall. Her hands were up high while orchestrating the colors of magic to create a vision that went blank when the last of Gideon’s strength left him and he went down to one knee and vomited.

  The magic crystal in the amulet went dark and the chamber moaned and the wall trembled. Small rocks fell from the ceiling as the colors on the Vision Wall dried up into dust and blew to the floor. The crystal then fell from the amulet and Gideon watched in horror as the stone hit the ground and rolled away. The amulet and polished silver chain became rusted and Gideon fell to all fours and continued to wretch in dry heaves, for he had not eaten in days. The blind monk had stopped painting and he moved his head around and seemed quite puzzled. Then his face became contorted with agony as if for the first time in his life he realized he was blind. He reached up to cover his eyes and he cried out in despair and knelt to the ground and wept.

  Soon after, the monks found Gideon and the blind monk lying on the cold s
tone floor and they assisted them to their rooms for rest. Gideon was exhausted from the ordeal and he lay in a comfortable bed and pondered the events he had witnessed on the Vision Wall. It hardly made any sense, but the vision was quite clear.

  Gideon prepared for his long journey and was gone in two days. He was escorted by a small force of the fighting monks and they traveled north, a simple healer trying to save all of mankind.

  6

  Year of the Frost Horn 2318 A.A.

  High waves crashed hard against the side of the Ironheart, forcing cold water to wash across her deck. A blowing storm was brewing in the north as the mighty ship docked at Icewater – the largest port city on the eastern coast. Merchant vessels cluttered the large harbor and the docks were busy and crowded with people from all parts of Asaria.

  The Beoraki sailors secured the ship as the small party of weary travelers walked down the gangplank and onto the docks. They picked up their stride, anxious to find shelter from the cold winds and stinging rain.

  The moment the party entered The Cold Wyrm, they were reminded of the comforts of land. There were several fireplaces pushing heat throughout the solid Beoraki structure. The walls were a hard mix of stone, metal, and thick Arani wood from the Timberlands.

  Men and women shared drink and stories around long tables made of solid oak and they ate roasted bear and ocean crab and washed it down with dark ale and fine Arani wine.

  The entertainment consisted of men throwing knives across the room to be buried deep into a thick cut slab of Timberland redwood that was hung high upon the far wall.

  There were men sitting across from each other at sturdy wooden tables. Their strong hands were gripped in a tight clasp, bound together in stretched animal skin. Their elbows sat firm upon the table as the huge pair of arms fought for dominance, forcing the other man’s backhand down to the table and onto a small metal plate filled with burning hot coals

  In the far corner of the tavern, a steel cage held two large men in combat. One was a giant Northman and the other an exceptionally large Dishoni warrior from the West. They were fighting with bare hands and quick feet, each taking hard punches and kicks. Then the tall frost colored Northman grabbed the Dishoni by the back of the head, his large hands entangled in the long black hair that was decorated with red eagle feathers, and with a quick powerful pull, he brought the man’s face down to an upraising knee. The Dishoni’s legs buckled and he went crashing down to the hard floor. The multitudes of men and women exploded into cheers as the Beoraki fighter raised his hand just as men entered the cage to congratulate him and help his unconscious opponent. There were hardy shouts of approval and gold and silver traded hands as bets were won and lost.

  There was dagger fighting, where two men paired off with short steel in each hand. They moved around a tight circle of onlookers, slicing, not stabbing. The winner drew first blood, best out of five draws, and again, coin changed hands.

  These were just a few of the games of the Northmen, and they did it for coin and for sport, and for the right to boast. They did it to prove who was the best, the strongest, and the fiercest. They were the Beoraki, warriors of the North, and Aliha felt like a tiny mouse in a den full of lions.

  She sat at a tall square table with Gideon and Shanks. The others in their group had moved off into the crowds to watch or participate in the games.

  “I do not like this place,” Aliha spoke softly, her blue eyes scanning the room.

  “You are safe here,” Shanks reminded her. “You are under the protection of the Beoraki.”

  “It is the Northman that scares me,” she said back. “I only trust Timber, and she was not allowed in.”

  “Animals are not allowed in The Cold Wyrm,” Gideon replied.

  “I am surrounded by animals!” Aliha’s retort was a bit louder than she intended. The looks she received from the comment were more of amusement than of offense.

  “They are a bit rough for my taste,” Gideon laughed, “but we are only here for as long as it takes to eat and secure passage on the Iron Horse.”

  Aliha was still uneasy. The room was thick with large men yelling and drinking, fighting and throwing sharpened steel. To a simple farm girl, this was madness.

  She thought that being around the Northmen on the long journey across the sea would have prepared her for such mayhem, but the Beoraki sailors were more disciplined than the common soldier looking for a good time. Daphaxian arrived at their table moments later, giving Aliha a touch of comfort with his confidence and amazing smile.

  “King Ironheart has given us our own metal box. He wants you at Coldstorm as soon as possible,” he announced, raising his hand to gesture to a serving girl. “I took the liberty of ordering for us all,” he added, throwing Aliha a charming wink and a smile. “Have you ever eaten bear?”

  “Once, a long time ago,” Aliha answered with a smile of her own. “When I was about eight years old, my father took me hunting for the very first time.” As she spoke a serving girl laid down plates of food and mugs of ale.

  “Can I get water?” Aliha asked, and the Northern wench just laughed and called her a Southern Princess as she moved away to another table.

  “The Northmen don’t drink water,” Daphaxian said with a chuckle. “I ordered you a fine Arani wine,” and he pushed the mug closer to her. Aliha picked it up and took a small drink and made a sour face.

  “It’s either that or a strong dark ale. If you want water there is a trough out back where they stable the horses,” said Daphaxian with a smile.

  “This will do just fine, sir,” and Aliha smiled back.

  “Try the roasted bear,” Daphaxian said as he pulled a slab of meat off the center platter and slopped it onto her plate. “Here, have some ocean crab, best in the four lands – if you can stomach it. The South keeps all the best food for itself. When we arrive there, I will–”

  “We are not going south,” Gideon interrupted. “I am tired of war and–”

  “But you must introduce Aliha to your king,” Daphaxian said.

  “I will when we get to Coldstorm,” Gideon replied.

  “So, King Ironheart bends your knee, is that the truth of it?” the sergeant asked. “Where are your loyalties, Asarian?”

  “King Ironheart is a friend, while Uriah is a war-hungry murderer,” Gideon spoke the hard words and Daphaxian’s face went blank. The two just stared at each other and Shanks cleared his throat.

  “Aliha, you were telling us a story of hunting with your father,” Shanks spoke as if nothing was wrong.

  Aliha just sat there staring at Daphaxian and Gideon. The tension was thick about them and she wondered what she had just missed. Aliha knew the three men were Asarian, but Captain Shanks had lived in the North for many years. Gideon had spent his time at the Temple of Carami, while Daphaxian stayed in King Uriah’s army. It was a coincidence when they came together and sailed with the Northmen to her homeland just to visit her mother’s grave.

  Then it hit Aliha, hard, and she realized it was all a lie. They had come to get her and bring her to Asaria. She looked at Daphaxian – he wanted to take her south to King Uriah. She looked at Gideon – he wanted to take her to King Ironheart. Aliha looked at Shanks and his look was sympathetic. What did he want? Then they were all looking at her, and she knew she looked afraid, because she suddenly was. She thought it was her decision to come to Asaria, but now she felt like she had been duped into coming.

  “Where’s Timber?” Aliha said quietly to the men.

  “Timber is with the Beoraki,” Gideon replied carefully. “They are taking our things to the Iron Horse. You will see her very soon. Are you ok, Aliha? I’m sorry if we upset you.”

  “I’m ok,” Aliha lied. What could she do? She was trapped, stuck. Her view of the situation had just changed, and she trusted no one. Only Timber and she was gone.

  The three men looked at her as if she was ready to bolt. She took a drink of her wine and calmed herself by sinking into the past, a time when she
felt safe with her father, a time when she didn’t feel so alone.

  “A long time ago, when I was eight,” Aliha started, “my father and I were deep in the woods just south of our farm. He was taking me hunting for the first time,” Aliha was talking slowly, missing the man more than ever. Her father would hunt the large deer with bow and arrow, hiking deep into the forest and staying there for days. He would usually go with Joseph, his friend who had a farm nearby, but the man had become ill, so he had to miss this trip. Aliha went with her father instead, and they set up a small camp in a shaded clearing. Her dad called the campsite his home away from home. Robert loved to stay there and just sit by the small campfire and stare into the flames.

  On this night, he told the young Aliha her favorite story.

  “Once upon a time,” Robert started, “there was a king and a queen that ruled over a large kingdom. They loved the people very much. The king was kind and gentle – like a king should be – not greedy and selfish like most were. The queen was beautiful and caring and together they ruled over a peaceful kingdom. But the king and queen were sad because they could not have children.”

  “Why couldn’t they have a baby, Daddy?” the little girl asked as she always did, her small eyes holding the look of innocence.

  “They tried, but they just couldn’t,” her dad replied.

  “But why?” Aliha asked again.

  Robert just looked at his daughter and smiled. He was so lucky to have her, and the thought brought a tear to his eye. As it leaked out the side, Aliha reached up with a tiny finger and brushed it away.

  “Why are you crying, Daddy?”

  “It is a sad story,” Robert said smiling. “Anyway, the king and queen prayed to God every morning and every night. They set an extra place setting at each meal and asked to be gifted a son or daughter. They did this for over a year and still no children came.”

  “That is so sad,” Aliha said with a look on her face that was equally so. “If I could, I would take them a baby.”