“I remember everything now.” She sat up and turned her gaze towards the colossal, gentle man by her side.
“Thank you, Leopold, for everything you’ve done.” He nodded with gratitude, a great wytch now in his presence. In many ways, she was superior but in one way, he was.
“May I ask one last favour?”
“Of course.” The deep baritone replied with care.
“I need the ingredients for a location spell.” She knew how serious her request was, The Merchant’s moustache drooping sadly at hearing this.
“You know the dangers of such a spell, Eve?” She looked at him with determination and desperation in equal measure, Leopold finding the answer he needed in her eyes.
“Give me a few moments.” He said, knowing it wasn’t his place to reason with love. After all, love was what bound The Sunder to his clients.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - DECEPTION
The three researchers became lost to time. Hours seemed like days never-ending, minutes seemed like seconds stretched out by boredom. Time was fast and slow, rushing and drifting. The prospect of the task made it seem insurmountable, the idea of searching like that, and how long it would take, paralysing. Getting started, excitement and despair vibrated through them, changing constantly with each new lead or fact they thought useful, the time slipping by with ease when they were high on finding something, the time unbearably slow when caught in the blackness of no information. More and more however, each of them came to realise that the echoing chambers would rather keep them in the dark, than reveal the light.
Numbness began to work its way through Khar. Numb knees, numb hands, numb limbs, numb heart, numb head. All he could think about was the absence of feeling, hands mindlessly moving pages from one place to another, then back. He was adrift in the numbness, texts blending into one another and confusing him further, to the point where he had to reassess parts of the tattered book remains more than once. He got this way when reading the old histories of their order, finding that his imagination deviated from the words on the page. Reading the same thing more than once, because of his own flaws and mistakes, drove him to madness.
“For Kai’s sake!” He shouted, pushing a few pages away in annoyance, the child in him winning out. Aggravated and filled with nervous energy he got up to shake away the numbness and try to remember how his body worked. Pacing and thinking he couldn’t shed himself of the annoyance.
“There’s nothing here. No binding spells. No magik locations. No Necromancy.” He was alternating between his two companions, trying to get them to feel his anguish and found they’d not noticed him. His shoulders dropped, childish body language sneaking into how he stood. K'Chool stretched her arms towards the ceiling, paying no attention to Khar’s complaints, as she often did. Interlocking her fingers above her head she swayed side to side and then stood up, flexing her legs and bending down to touch the floor, working out the kinks in her muscles from being still for so long. Khar guiltily watched her, taking in her grace and beauty, calming his soul and breathing peace into him. The child within had wandered off for now, distracted by other insignificant things and embarrassed by its behaviour.
“I have also found nothing.” She said passively, whilst finishing off a stretch. “It appears that Surelikai was only willing to grant us small successes this day.”
Khar had always been amazed by how calm and collected she could be when needed. Sometimes it surprised him and sometimes it didn’t. Either way didn’t matter to him, it just made him love her more.
“What did I say about Necromancy earlier?” Xiang said to no one, cross-legged and pensive over some papers.
“The practice of communicating with the dead, in order to predict the future.” Khar repeated, fatigue woven into his words.
“Well, it appears that it can do more than that.” Xiang offered back. He was sitting amongst pages and records with the Necromancy symbol scribbled on them in random places. Khar and K'Chool delicately made their way towards him, careful not to disrupt the carefully constructed collage he’d created.
“I think The Last Word saw more in the magik than you think.” He said, some of the colour draining from his face. Gently handing his work over to his two new friends he explained some of the patterns he was seeing. “I know that we only have a fraction of the library here, but these symbols are not part of the original texts. They were added after the books were completed.” He waited for the two of them to look at the scant few items in their hands before continuing. “I think that The Last Word made these notes.” He pointed at a few examples of the handiwork he was sat in.
“That’s a bit of a stretch Po Po.” Khar said.
“I agree.” He said back, Khar happy for the agreement but apprehensive at where it may be leading.
“Take a look at the bottom left of the cross though.” Obeying, two sets of eyes held up the symbols from different bits of paper. Light from broken windows shone down, creating amber shadows and highlighting dark writings.
“There’s the same slight flick of the ink.” K'Chool said, dropping some papers to her sides and looking down at Xiang.
“Exactly.” Excitement in his voice. “The same person made all of these marks.” He swept his hands towards the rest of the collage on the floor, a strange looking Buddha at floor level with his teachings. “They must be research notes or sign posts to something else.”
“Could be anyone.” Khar interjected.
“I suppose.” Xiang offered back, running a hand through his hair. “But let’s follow this through. You said that The Last Word was evil. These symbols appear next to spells, incantations and histories discussing the morality of Necromancy. An evil magik...” Scrabbling around behind him, he pulled another page up and thrust it towards them, “... that supposedly only helps you to commune with the dead, correct?” Xiang’s calm eyes and expression encouraged the others to follow his thinking a little longer.
“Correct.” Khar said, scanning the new piece of evidence in front of him.
“What if it can bring people back too?” Xiang nodded towards what was in Khar’s hand.
“By Surelikai’s hand.” K'Chool exclaimed, reading what was in front of her.
As if that gave him permission, Xiang stood up and continued punctuating his words with hand gestures. “A terrible force has returned to your world. Your vision from earlier showed her walking away with a book that had that, symbol on it.” His pointed finger touched the symbol on the piece of paper Khar was holding. “She must have been looking for the book and researching this particular dark art all those years ago. If so, her hand will have scribbled on many more books in this library.” K’Chool saw where this was going, her mind racing to the conclusions Xiang was drawing and thinking about all the possible outcomes. Khar was a little slower, waiting for the Naïve to lead him to the punchline. “So, to make sure no one could guess at her intent she destroyed them all with fire.” Khar’s thoughts joined K’Chool’s, forecasting the worst.
“Did The Archive say anything to you about her wanting more knowledge or practising The Barren Sun?” Dark looks passed between them, Xiang taking that as confirmation and pacing about the piles of records, the movement freeing the words from his mouth. “A wytch practising a magik no Sojela should, wants to learn more. She visits the library, uncovering Necromancy secrets and marking her progress with these notes. Maybe she can already commune with the dead. Maybe she can’t. Either way, she discovers that people can be brought back.” He stopped suddenly, subconsciously adding drama to his words. “All records of this should have been destroyed but there is a whole book, untouched and filled with darkness that she finally lays her hands on.” Another pause. “I Think she wants to bring back The Barren Sun and she burned the library down to cover her tracks.” Shock rippled through K'Chool as she remembered something.
“Sahld’veba is where The Barren Sun died.” She whispered. Wanting to make sure she was right, she ran to the first book she skimmed through that day,
before Khar’s vision. Flipping through pages and following the words with her finger she landed on the sentence that confirmed it, a chill crashing over her as she spoke. “You’re right Xiang. There must be something about raising the dead from where they died in the book The Last Word stole. Otherwise, why go to where Sophia Reklan died?”
“There’s more here I think.” Khar began pacing himself.
“I think she is responsible for so much more and Rumaliza helped her.” After seeing what he saw, he struggled to see how Obed wasn’t part of the conspiracy.
“That is more of a stretch Khar.” K'Chool cut back, remembering the story Cleric Mo told her.
“Okay, so using Po Po’s words, let’s follow this through. We know, Reaper attacks intensified soon after The Thousand Curses turned.” The two Sojela thought about the stories they’d heard and re-lived their own experiences with the dark creatures. “Those things are sick and powerful, like nothing we’ve seen before, so I don’t think it that far of a stretch to assume they are born of Necromancy.” He waited for them both to acknowledge that The Betrayer may have organised or even created some of The Reapers. Two heads nodded in agreement but K’Chool said the evil beings had been here since before The Last Word turned.
“Yes, and so was the book. Whether she is responsible for their original appearance or not, she’d been researching Necromancy and then when she finally got her hands on the book, The Reaper resurgence began.” K’Chool conceded to his point, half convinced.
“Master Cedar then died in odd circumstances, leaving our order open for new leadership.” They recognised that Obed may have gained power under dark circumstances. “He was one of the few of our order that survived that massacre-”
“He lost his Dyad, Weyaal.” K'Chool cut back again.
“A small price to pay to become our leader, ahead of the other ancients who were more eligible.” Khar waited for her to respond, feeling like she had more to say. He was met with silence and a solemn look like she was struggling with something, so he carried on. “One of which was killed by The Betrayer, who, by the way, said he was rotten. Then, we see him talking to her as if they were old friends, saying, ‘...we started down this path together...’, and ‘...our order is broken, and The Protectorate wants to enslave us’.” He waited for an objection but got nothing again, K’Chool still wearing that look. “Then, The Library which contains key information about what’s going on mysteriously burns down.” He threw up his hands, trying to generate some enthusiasm for him solving the mystery. “By either Obed’s or The Last Word’s hands. She then escapes, without a fight, Necromancy book in hand and heading for where The Barren Sun died.” Xiang was looking at K’Chool and Khar felt like he was losing his audience. “Add to it; that our order is not allowed to recoup any of the histories from this place and The Master banning any investigations into past events and magiks, he must be involved.” K’Chool looked a little more present at hearing this, focusing her attention on him, with Xiang following suit.
Khar felt vindicated and pressed on. “Lastly, he didn’t want us to follow this thread K’Chool, wanting truths to stay buried.” He took a deep breath. “The Master and The Last Word want to bring back The Barren Sun.” He flung those last words out, wanting to be challenged, wanting to be wrong. Wanting the others to find flaws in his thinking, but silence and blank faces greeted him until K'Chool remembered their meeting in the circular room and the look she shared with their Surelikhan.
“The Master knew you wouldn’t leave this alone Khar. He winked at me after ordering us not to investigate.” She was hoping not to have to tell him about The Masters sacrifice in more detail.
“He’s playing us K'Chool. He wanted us out of the Monastery for some reason.” Khar said ice cold. Emotionless and furious at the same time.
“Why?” She pleaded.
“He’s managed to remove the strongest Sojela from the playing board, and his most troublesome.” He looked up at K'Chool then.
“No. I refuse to believe that he is capable of this.” She said defiantly. “Not after what he gave up.”
“You’ve already told me K’Chool, Obed lost his Dyad. They made a sacrifice that would end up saving countless lives.” He was too offhanded with this comment and K’Chool glared at him to make him understand his flippancy wasn’t welcome.
“He had, to do it, Khar.” She said darkly, Khar’s face wrinkling as he tried to understand. “When a Dyad breaks, it can break worlds.” She continued. “Not many know of this power, but if specific conditions exist, breaking a Dyad can be extremely destructive.” She looked up at Khar, expecting him to interrupt. Nothing. “It happened during The Ravage.”
Xiang nudged Khar for some extra information. Without taking his eyes of K’Chool he obliged. “It was the day we nearly lost our order to The Reapers. The first major encounter we had with them after their appearance.” He said darkly.
“People were dying all around.” K’Chool began repeating Mo’s words.
“All Lucidfolk had come together, the arrogance of our order uniting them in an attempt to stop the plague of creatures. Wytches and wyzards fell. Members of every race, young and old screamed as they died. Even the Dyad’s couldn’t hold them back.” She looked at Khar.
“Did you know that Mo lost his Dyad too?” Khar recoiled at hearing that, trying to understand what it must’ve been like.
“Obed and his Dyad saw that they were losing and ultimately would lose. Them and a few others were nigh-on unstoppable, but their strength would not be able to stem the tide. Before going into battle, they had discussed Breaking, as a last resort, hoping they would never have to make that sacrifice.”
“But they were wrong.” Khar offered, knowing what happened in the battle but not knowing how it ended, the details of which always being kept secret.
“Mo didn’t say how they actually did it. All he said was that he saw Obed drive his sword through his Dyad’s heart, saying an incantation in an alien tongue and then there was a blinding light. There was no sound as it happened, just silence and a barren landscape covered in the dead bodies of our order. The Reapers were gone and so was his Dyad, his arms cradling an imaginary body.”
There was doubt in Khar’s mind and he was torn. This event could have made Obed bitter, twisted and resentful, turning him to darkness. It could’ve made his resolve to keep the light shining even brighter. It could even foster a selfishness and drive to do whatever he could to bring his Dyad back, explaining his behaviour since then and desire to explore Necromancy. For now, he returned to his more cynical viewpoint after consoling K’Chool and explaining that they needed to expect the worst just in case.
“He didn’t want us to speak of this to anyone and we can’t, because we’re not there anymore. Only Cleric Aitch knows about my vision.” Realisation dawned on him. “Who has now sent us hundreds of miles away with no way back.” He ran both his hands through his hair, annoyed at being duped.
“He hates The Master.” K’Chool objected whilst Xiang looked on not knowing who any of these people they were talking about were.
“More games. Rumaliza very publicly makes out that he’s not to be trifled with and has done for years. Then he was all smiles, hugs and rainbows with us in private. One hand showeth, the other carries a knife.” He mechanically voiced, an old proverb repeated to them as Fledglings. It was useless to guess at the Surelikhan’s motives based on his erratic behaviour and his suspicions deepened. “We told The Archive the whole story and how The Master didn’t want us to find out more, he then conveniently tells us what we want to hear and transports us away.” Dejected, he thought about all the faces of his Sojeladhans. “The senior clerics must be in on it too. They wouldn’t let any of this pass unless they had something to gain.”
“Not all of them.” K'Chool said, almost as dejected as Khar.
“We have to speak with Cleric Mo. If what you’re saying is true, we would have no chance of changing anything unless we get help.”
“True.” Khar managed, wanting his spiritual guide to be clean from this filth. “He is our best hope at unravelling this.” He took a moment to think about Mo’s gentle nature and dry wit and how it had kept Khar sane, before thinking about getting home. “Okay. Know how we’re going to get home? We can’t use the normal routes or contact points in case they’re all corrupted.” K'Chool started to talk, no words forming. Feelings of loss wrapped themselves around them both, infecting their souls and threatening to paralyse them.
“I know someone.” Xiang said calmly, hope forming again in all their hearts.
“We served together. She was a pilot who now runs her own private airfield. She’s only a few hours away.” Four eyes were locked on him, willing hope into the space between them and questioning why this stranger would help.
Xiang smiled. “And, she owes me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - TENDING THE GARDEN
Rosalind walked out of The Merchant’s shop very pleased with herself. She’d not expected him to have the seeds in stock, imagining a long and convoluted exchange process which he would’ve delighted in telling her about. She knew the game, the idea being to increase the price of his goods. Rarity and scarcity were the gods of value. No such drama was endured by either party in the end, and perhaps looking like Eve added some credibility to their bargaining. She was after all, the cage that held The Betrayer for two centuries and that kind of fame would of course curry favour. Even so, she was surprised at how the trade had gone. She knew that asking for the seeds wasn’t a simple request. They were hard to come by even when she was free, scattered to the four winds and hidden by Surelikai’s hand. When she asked for them, his reaction was to be expected. A frown. A dark look. Pursed lips. The corners of his exuberant moustache still and expectant. What she hadn’t expected however, was how he spoke. Traces of shame and disappointment shrouded his words and he seemed very sad.
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