by Jeremy Dwyer
Emerond considered this for a moment, and then began to form his own plan. He described it to her, saying: “Actually, I have my own thoughts on this, Admiral. You will need a number of crystal benders – drinkers of the waters of the Kazofen Ocean – so that we can turn Octavian’s castles against him. His most probable strategy will be to repeat his proven tactics, and use the castle building machine both in its primary mode of construction, and in its secondary mode as a direct weapon against any troops that confront him. We can bend the crystal of which the castle is made and then transform the castle around him. It may also be possible to deflect the power of these crystal-tipped pillars using a division of our light benders – all of them drinkers of the waters of the Lujladia Ocean. We shall assemble of our forces at once. Octavian will be bold after this victory against us. He will soon strike at our homeland, seeking much greater wealth. We must be ready for the assault, wherever and whenever, and respond with intelligence first – an intelligence which guides our strength.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty. I apologize for my haste,” Admiral Cassandra said.
“In time, you will need to apologize to the families of the troops we have lost. Yet, neither apology nor anger will meet our present needs. Many more lives are in danger if this Imperial Prince Octavian has at his disposal a machine that constructs large castles at a rapid pace. Protecting the living is our priority. Gather our forces, Admiral. Make no decisions without consulting me first,” Emerond said.
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” Admiral Cassandra said and then she left the Imperial Prince’s office.
~~~
Admiral Cassandra then called to the generals under her command, instructing them on the resources that would be needed. Imperial scouts were given their instructions, and traveled to the edges of the continent of Revod. There, some of them drank the waters of the Ikkith Tar Ocean from their vials, turning from light to darkness, hiding and waiting for Octavian’s assault.
Other scouts drank the waters of the Lujladia Ocean from their own vials, curving the light with their energized eyes, so as to see around the mountains in the sea, and over the horizon past where telescopes can, waiting for the arrival of their new enemy. The light benders were summoned. They, too, drank the waters of the Lujladia Ocean, but its powers manifested differently in them: they could take the powerful beams of light of even the suns, and instead of seeing afar, they could bend the light back with a striking force, burning an enemy and its holdings.
The crystal benders were also summoned. They drank the waters of the Kazofen Ocean, and could transform crystals, by melting and reshaping them, and could even join them into larger forms. They were at the ready, to defend the Jenaldej Empire from what was to come.
~~~
From their unseen hiding places, in unknown lands, The Hidden Paladins began to gather their own resources, storing up the waters of the Ikkith Tar Ocean in their vials to be energized in combat. They sharpened their multi-bladed swords, a set of crossed steel blades: each blade was coated in ice, which was the frozen waters of the Ikkith Tar Ocean, which made them into the Vague Blades, the bane of other warriors.
Even the light scouts, who drank the purest potions of the waters of the Lujladia Ocean waters, could never see these Vague Blades, or how many there were, or how quickly they moved. One Hidden Paladin wielding a Vague Blade could strike through nearly any armor, or even through a wall of stone. Had they been drinkers of the waters of the Kazofen Ocean, that would have given them powers to manipulate crystal or stone, including the power to alter it and weaken it enough to be cut, which would have explained their effectiveness. However, it was unknown how they cut these things with their Vague Blades, since not one of them drank of the waters of the Kazofen Ocean: each and every one of the Hidden Paladins was waterbound to Ikkith Tar.
~~~
While on the sands of the Citrine Desert in the continent of Volaraden, standing outside of the castle of glass, Octavian marveled at the sight of the Jenaldej Empire’s fallen troops. He did this while continuing to gaze into the diamond at the tip of the scepter he held.
Nearby, Cassius quietly gloated at outwitting the world’s supposedly mightiest empire.
Standing in attendance beside them, Captain Dominic was surrounded by his troops, responsible for guarding Octavian and defending his empire. He surveyed the site, seeing the ashen remains of the dead. He was moved – as a warrior – by what had happened. The significance of the event did not escape him: these fallen soldiers were of upright and honorable blood. Not one of them was a conscript, but rather, was devoted wholly and voluntarily to their cause, which was to defend a purpose they loved more than their own lives, with excellence and focus on the battlefield. The Jenaldej Empire troops did not retreat at the sight of the grand castle, and they stood ready to defend the interests of their own empire by launching the attack.
Dominic was a warrior, but not ignorant of the world, and he understood that the Jenaldej Empire was an economic rival, rather than a true enemy, and that no greater ethical fault could be found among them than among the people of any other nation. Rather, Imperial Prince Octavian, under the influence of his advisors, was more to be feared and even reviled. Tradition, fear, greed, lust and conceit held Octavian’s empire together.
Captain Dominic then turned to Imperial Prince Octavian, saying: “It takes a properly placed heart for anyone to valiantly fight, to hold on to the principles of honor and devotion to their homeland, to the point that they would stand against a powerful adversary and lay down their own lives. This machine of yours, Your Imperial Majesty, can build castles, but an honorable heart can only be built by God. And so, today, we stand here and note, with utmost reverence, even the fallen of our enemy. We must send them home to the Kingdom, with all respect due to such devoted, valiant warriors. They fell defending their cause, and so they will rise to the Kingdom, with their eternal lives defended and preserved.”
“Is this really necessary, Captain Dominic?” Cassius asked. He was bothered by this appeal to emotion and superstitious religious belief at a time when more wealth was waiting to be gathered. The dead enemy troops were to be forgotten, as far as he was concerned. Cassius saw them as obstacles that had been overcome: their lives were no more worthwhile than those of the desert scorpions.
“Yes, it is necessary for us to honor each and every one of them who fell, both seen and unseen. We demanded tribute from them in wealth. But we must pay tribute to them in spirit, in a way that befits those who uphold a cause by giving over their hearts, flesh and blood. A machine can only win a war against flesh, not against spirit. I ask for you, Your Imperial Majesty, in the name of all that is honorable, to call into service a cantor to pay our proper respect to them,” Captain Dominic said.
To Imperial Prince Octavian, respect and honor meant nothing, unless it was respect and honor of his supernatural beauty.
To Cassius, honor was the mark of a fool, but fools could be useful, as long as their foolish hearts could be manipulated. Cassius turned to Octavian and said: “Your Imperial Majesty, our young exalta – Taesa – is the finest cantor, indeed. Please call to her, so as to use her magnificent voice to pay our respects to the fallen troops, and show them our sincerest admiration for their efforts and self-sacrifice.”
“Very well. Call for the young woman, that she may once again perform an enchanting song,” Octavian said, never taking his eyes off of the reflective diamond at the tip of his scepter.
~~~
Having received Imperial Prince Octavian’s approval, Captain Dominic then sent one of the troops into the castle of glass to call to Taesa. She and her mother – Caroline – were waiting in an upper chamber, not knowing what had happened, because the glass walls of that room were not clear enough to see all the details of what was occurring outside the castle.
The soldier appeared in the doorway to their room and said: “Taesa: Your services are needed. A song must be performed. Imperial Prince Octavian orders i
t.”
Taesa and Caroline followed the solider and came forth from the castle of glass, where they stood outside amidst the ashes of the fallen enemy soldiers.
“I can only imagine what happened. And I can only hope they died quickly,” Caroline said, looking on the horror of the fallen, burned bodies.
“There is no good song for this. Only sad songs,” Taesa said.
~~~
Judith was also present, having made her way to the castle’s entrance in time to catch sight of the slaughter that took place on the outside. She saw the bright beams of powerful light when they were emitted from the crystals on top of the pillars, and how those beams of light burned the troops to death. She even heard Captain Dominic’s call for remembrance of the troops and Cassius’ attempt to discourage it. Judith recorded all of these things into her book, including Octavian’s continual gaze into the reflective diamond at the top of his staff.
When Taesa arrived, Cassius turned to her and said: “My dear, we called you for your beautiful voice. Our captain of the guards asked for a cantor, to pay respect to the fallen troops of our noble and worthy adversary.”
There was only one song that Taesa knew that would be appropriate for the occasion. It was one which was traditional and expected: Forever Valiant. She drank the waters of the Pirovalen Ocean from the vial hanging on a chain around her neck. Then Taesa was energized, and she began singing it:
Lives that serve, hearts that love,
The cause of justice, written by the kings above.
These young raised with truth and strength,
Fight for their purpose, travel any length.
Standing to uphold their cause,
Giving force to righteous laws.
They unify, they inspire,
By their dedication, through hottest fire.
With confidence they fight, falling not to fear.
Loving last themselves, loving causes great.
Forever valiant they are.
From our hearts, they do not disappear.
Upon the battlefield, their own blood may be shed.
For purpose higher still, they accept this fate.
The Kingdom does await
The soldiers that we’ve lost.
Their hearts no longer beat,
Yet theirs is not defeat.
For righteous principles and truth,
They’ve paid the greatest, truest cost.
Throughout this song, Imperial Prince Octavian just stared into the reflective diamond at the top of his scepter. He knew that the diamond had been taken from the Jenaldej Empire’s mining town, which was previously defended by these fallen troops. Octavian was delighting in his own reflection that he could see in the diamond, which was as clear as ever in the bright lights of the many suns that shone down upon the Citrine Desert. He gave not a single sympathetic thought to the dead around him. He didn’t even care for the song, which was depressing, so its tone did nothing to enchant or honor him.
Hearing this song, and seeing this vanity, Judith fought powerfully to hold back her tears of sympathy for the fallen; yet, she would not let her face betray any emotion. She knew the truth that Octavian was an utter madman obsessed with his own glorification, which he absolutely did not deserve. She also knew that Cassius was a wicked genius that empowered him, standing behind the throne and pretending loyalty, when he only had dedication to his own personal enrichment.
Judith knew not one of these fallen Jenaldej Empire troops personally, but she knew well of their empire and its solemn principles, and so she had every confidence that not a single one of them deserved the fate they suffered today. Their own life stories died with them: stories of immeasurably greater decency in life than either Octavian or Cassius could ever aspire to. Judith realized that these two were, in their very nature, purely evil and selfish, though the vice was differently manifested in each: one in conceit, one in arrogance and both in covetousness for the wealth of the world.
Judith would not betray the Chronicler’s Oath, as it was sacred and served a genuine purpose to carry truths – even those hidden truths, meant to be revealed at the proper time for the fullness of historical knowledge. Yet, after one thousand two hundred thirty-nine (1239) years in this world, with one thousand two hundred five (1205) of them serving as a Chronicler of the Oath across every continent and ocean of the world, the sight of too many horrors had passed before her eyes, and her many verified books through the centuries gave testimony to this. There was another tenet of the Oath, one she could no longer truly keep, but one that she broke, or barely kept, inwardly:
The Eighth Tenet of the Chronicler’s Oath:
Do not be the judge of history’s events, or of those who act in them. Do not hate or love those persons whose events you chronicle; do not shed tears for the death of the righteous or the success of the wicked; do not rejoice in the victory of the good or the death of the evil. Let your eyes observe, your mind remember, and your book record all of these events. Yet, through all of this, do not let your emotions become your master: there are greater powers than you that will judge right from wrong, separate love from hate, and they will do this in their own way, in their own time.
Her own emotions were now too powerful to ignore. It was time for a change: for an ending, and a new beginning.
~~~
After the performance of the Forever Valiant song, Imperial Prince Octavian felt the need to return to the comfort of his throne room inside the castle of glass, where he hoped that the focus would be upon him, and not upon the dead. He sat upon his throne, holding his scepter by his side.
Cassius followed Octavian, and the other advisors – Nikolai and Gregory – were already waiting in the throne room.
Judith also followed Octavian into the castle and the throne room, because it was her duty as a Chronicler of the Oath to observe and to record the events of history, despite her heavy heart.
“I tire of the focus on the sorrow around me, rather than the greatness that is me. And I tire of this castle, for it gives to me the same glory as before, which is no longer enough,” Imperial Prince Octavian said.
“The old has died so that the new can be born. Newer, greater things await you, Your Imperial Majesty,” Cassius said.
“We shall build for you a new castle, more magnificent than even this,” Nikolai said.
“And it shall be radiant, for all the world to marvel at, and they will come to see its ruler, and admire him without end,” Gregory said.
“Begin construction on my new castle immediately,” Imperial Prince Octavian said.
Judith recorded all of this conversation into her book, as well as the planning and building of Octavian’s next castle.
CHAPTER 20: Ship of Spirits
On board the Burning Bones, which sailed the waters of the Atrejan Ocean, Torin awoke from much needed sleep to find that he was alone in the cabin. His parents were still dead, and he was still angry. But the emotions did him little good now. He felt ready for something – something meaningful – to change his circumstances, but he didn’t know what it would be or how he could affect it. Drinking the waters of the Atrejan Ocean did nothing to help you hide, or fight, or otherwise escape danger. This, he realized, was real downside of his choice of waters: he completely regretted it for having gotten him into this situation and failing to get him out. Torin listened and could hear the movements of the pirates outside. He was hoping – since hope was all that he really had left – that they would step out of the way for a while and give him a chance to escape.
The door to the cabin opened and one of the surly pirates burst in and said to him: “Time to get up, boy! It’s time to be gettin’ some treasure from the deep!”
Torin rose from the bench he had been sleeping on and walked out on deck, only to see several of the pirates moving about, gathering rope and tying it together. He remembered the events from before, and how Captain Keallach was looking for the treasure of the lost city called Droatik – a city that floa
ted on the ocean like a ship, as he described. These pirates appeared intent on recovering the lost treasures of that city, and might just succeed, if the location that Torin had given them was correct. Even he wasn’t sure, because the information was imprecise, and they might have to measure again.
“We’ll try to haul in some treasure today. If we don’t find anything, we’ll measure again and try tomorrow. Sooner or later, the boy will be right. Or he’ll be dead,” Captain Keallach said. He knew that Torin was watching and listening, and wanted the boy to know that he had better give increasingly accurate measurements if the first couple didn’t pay off.
The pirates were busy tying heavy metal weights and hooks to the ends of the ropes, and then began lowering them from several different points around the edge of the ship. They had a hopeful look in their eyes, like men who had only ever dreamed of wonderful treasures and awoke to look for their prize, thinking that today just might be their lucky day.
It wasn’t.
~~~
In the distance was Nivi Tak Island, on which there was a ninety-two (92) foot tall lighthouse. The one who kept the light burning to guide ships on their voyages across the Atrejan Ocean – and who even provided for the needs of those whose supplies ran out – was a sixty-five (65) year old man named Mordecai. His health was fair, and his beard was white. He drank the waters from the Lujladia Ocean, brought to him from time to time by friendly travelers: the various freighter captains of the many seas.
Mordecai carried some waters in a vial hanging on a chain around his neck, and kept plenty more at the ready in the lantern room. He knew many fascinating tales of the sea that the Chroniclers of the Oath would have treasured; yet, none of those Chroniclers had ever visited in his lifetime. He also knew of the dangers of the sea, and that Captain Keallach was one of those dangers.
Mordecai’s eyes could see long distances due to the waters of the Lujladia Ocean he regularly drank, extending his range of vision for hundreds of miles. When he saw Keallach’s ship – the Burning Bones – he knew that this was the moment to send some justice in the pirate’s direction. Mordecai drank anew from the contents of his vial, taking more energy from the potion of waters of the Lujladia Ocean therein. His powers were great and varied, despite his age, and he took the light from the lantern and turned it to curve around a distant mountain, to the other side.
