Awakenings

by C. D. Espeseth

  “You already did help,” Wayran said. “You gave me the strength to stand back there. I think I was close to fainting when I first saw Mr Euchre. I know it was just a dream but ...”

  Adel smiled, but her eyes narrowed as she looked at Thannis once more. “It wasn’t just a dream, and his name is Thannis, and I don’t trust him.”

  “Nor do I,” Wayran said as he too looked over to where Thannis was pointing to an image Jachem had pulled up above one of the Jendar relics.

  “I think I’ll just fail to mention that to our new patron.” Chronicler Talbot smiled nervously.

  “Yes, probably best.” Fellow Callahan chuckled and then gave a shallow bow of respect. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. We have taken up enough of your time and must get back to classes.”

  “But the journal–” Wayran started.

  “Will have to wait until tonight,” Fellow Callahan finished. “Lest I remind you, the threat you have foreseen in your visions is not the only one we face, and may not be the most immediate.”

  And with that lovely thought, the three of them saw themselves out of the dramatically changed Artificium and back into the world of martial training and exhausting exercise, on which Wayran and Adel had rather different opinions.

  23 - Family Ambitions

  Nothavre can attribute much of its prosperity to the vast stores of mineral wealth within its borders along with a stable, if at times ruthless, monarchy.

  Wealth and political alliances have been carefully managed by the Beau’ Chant dynasty for hundreds of years, and their island nation has benefitted greatly from their rule.

  Many of the wars which afflicted other nations were never able to make landfall in Nothavre due to its impressive fleet of warships and naval defences.

  - Chronicler Simon Rathelson in A Common History: 1851– 2850 ATC, 45th Edition, 2850

  Thannis

  Nothavran District, New Toeron, Bauffin

  Thannis entered the Palais de Frontenac in the Nothavre sector of the city with little excitement. He had stayed away from his role as Prince of Nothavre for as long as he could, but his father no doubt had tasks for him to perform yet again. However, now that Thannis knew Esmerak had been hiding in the shadows to keep him in line, he did not feel as compliant as he normally did. Had Esmerak been making him go along with his father’s wishes as well? Of course, she was. The answer seemed obvious now that he thought of it. The Vinda witch was truly gifted. How long had he been dancing to the subtle strings she had woven around his mind? And why had the touch of the charged mixture of his santsi and the gelatinous liquid inside the vat suddenly freed him of her miasma?

  Thannis was still going over what to make of it all when Raoul stepped in front of him and bowed.

  “Thank you, Raoul, but I do not need an escort. I imagine he is in his study, as usual?”

  “He is, sir,” Raoul’s deep voice intoned as the steward motioned him to continue and then left without another word.

  A servant standing by the set of doors which lead to the next room hesitated as Thannis strode towards them.

  “I’m not sure your father is ready as of yet, my prince, I–” the servant said, but Thannis held a hand up to the servant’s face and pushed open the doors.

  His father, Remus Beau’Chant, sat behind an enormous rosewood desk in the centre of the room. It was a desk far too familiar to Thannis, and he hated it. The ridiculous size, the elaborate carving of the royal crest glaring at you as you approached it. All of it was designed to impose.

  “Ah, Thannis. Finished playing with your new toys, have you? How nice of you to drop by.” Remus smiled at him, yet no warmth touched his eyes, and they remained calculatingly cold as always.

  “Where is she?” Thannis asked squinting at the shadows beside one of the curtains. On a whim, he pulled a knife from his sheath and threw it at the curtains.

  Esmerak materialised and hissed as she dodged out of the way.

  Thannis laughed, “Found you.”

  “You shouldn’t be able to do that,” Esmerak snarled and took a step towards him.

  “Stay where you are.” Remus Beau’Chant’s hand lifted ever so slightly towards Esmerak, and she froze in her steps, her jaw clenched and the white skull painted on her dark face contorted with anger.

  Thannis retrieved his knife, sticking out of the plastered wall. He turned to his father, “Do you want to explain why you’ve had your witch making me kill Xins? You could have just asked me instead.” Thannis walked back to the giant rosewood desk and let the point of his knife gently scratch the polished surface.

  His father’s eyes traced the blade’s tip. The fake smile on Remus’s face dropped ever so slightly, which pleased Thannis no end. Destroy Father’s pretty things, and he will give you some attention. Thannis knew it was childish, but that’s why it worked.

  “Did I not play my part well back in the Narrows? Princess Syun’s murder was executed perfectly, just as ordered.” Thannis smiled.

  “Yes. Princess Syun’s demise was handled well, though Esmerak told me you idled too long after the kill and the constabulary almost caught up with you.” Remus flicked a hand at the air in annoyance. “Yes, I could have ordered you to play only within the Xinnish district, but you would have grown bored and then disobeyed. The only reason you carried out the Syun girl’s murder as planned was that it interested you. It was a challenge and dangerous. My plans in New Toeron are too methodical for your eclectic tastes. Eventually, you would have begun to stray outside of your allotted playground and thus jeopardise years of preparation. Esmerak was necessary to ensure compliance.”

  Thannis narrowed his eyes. He hated it, but his father was probably correct. Drudgery was anathema to a mind such as his.

  “Which reminds me,” his father said absently, “I have an assignment for you, another high profile target. You should like this one.”

  “And what is the point, Father?” Thannis growled. He was thinking so clearly now. How long had Esmerak been poisoning his thoughts, diverting his ambitions back to those of his father and making him dance to a will not his own? “All this time plotting, posturing, hiding and manipulating and you still haven’t ended the reign of that trumped-up barbarian who rules the Nine Nations. You still don’t see the futility of it?”

  “If you want to win this game, patience and subterfuge are key. We can’t just walk up and kill him openly, can we? The rest of the Nine Nations would be in an uproar. Or are you still so naïve as to think that the end of your knife can solve any problem?”

  “Spare me, Father. The problem is not how to win the game, it’s playing their game in the first place! If others make the rules, you will always be at a disadvantage. You’ve always lacked imagination, father. Change the game, smash the board and force anyone standing to play by your rules.”

  “And what is the answer then? That heretical nonsense you’re dallying with at the Artificium?”

  “That heretical nonsense is going to burn the board and anyone who stands in our way, Father. Too long have we been held back by our ignorance and fear. The Singers have poisoned our minds against anything Jendar, but that is where true power lies.” Thannis’s mind was alive with the possibilities he saw, a world where people could fly across the sky in wonderful contraptions and travel from one corner of the Salucia to the other in less than a day. But more than any of that, he just knew the secret to what he had felt while he pulled the essence from another person lay within his grasp at last. The technology of the Jendar, combined with his ability, would give him understanding and power over the very essence of life, understanding of the transition between this life and the next. The thought of it stirred a passion in his loins and made his body tingle with excitement.

  His father watched him for a moment, and Thannis wondered just how much Esmerak had been able to glean from his mind. How much did she know about his most private thoughts? Thannis looked to the witch once more, and he knew then he would kill her. She could not be allowed to
exist.

  “I do not trust your motives …” his father began, but then hesitated. Thannis was surprised his father did not dismiss the claim out of hand. “But, what is it that you think you’ve found which bolsters such a bold assertion?”

  Thannis smiled, he had him. The hook was in. “So much of the old history had been locked away until recently. The Chroniclers have made great strides in the past month under my patronage.” One of them in particular, namely Jachem Sanders, he thought but dared not give away the information to his father freely.

  “There were thousands of years of history before the Jendar came to power. Empires rose and fell before them. Many employed new military tactics to devastating effect until they were countered, but the greatest dominance came with a combined technological and economic explosion from the same nation. With increased wealth and vastly superior weapons, transport and production, one nation came to dominate the entire world. And the laughable part of it is, we already have all the pieces needed to replicate such a change,” Thannis explained.

  “And how was it done?” Remus quirked a sceptical eyebrow at him.

  Thannis hesitated, he did not want to share his ideas, yet his father still had control of the family fortune. “Steam, Father. Steam, coal, mechanisation of labour, industry, and capitalisation of markets. Spreading wealth and industry to the masses, and giving them the illusion of possible advancement and prosperity. It is already beginning to happen. Take the Spierling family. Their innovations have revolutionised warfare and changed how wars were fought in Salucia. That change helped bring down a nation of giants who had terrorised the Nine Nations for centuries. The template is already there. We must do the same. Don’t you see?”

  His father shook his head, “The Chroniclers have peddled these delusions before, and were hung for it. Do not tell me you actually believe the drivel those street-side beggars spout? I thought you were exploiting them somehow, but here you are, just but a idiotic bloody convert! I suppose I have your new young prodigy to thank for this?”

  Thannis grimaced. His father already knew about the young genius and was no doubt already plotting how to pry Jachem Sanders away from him.

  “I thought so.” His father nodded. “If you want to continue your strange obsession with the Chroniclers, then you will finish the tasks I have assigned you, as will Chronicler Sanders. Has young Mr Sanders told you he also plays in a band?”

  “Yes.” Thannis rolled his eyes. “What possible concern is it of yours what that strange little man does in his spare time?”

  “Because the lead Singer in his band happens to be Princess Echinni Mihane.” His father smiled like a cat playing with a mouse. “They have an appointment to keep. One which will have some very beneficial consequences. So you will ensure your employee has the night off in one week’s time. The same night you will be executing your orders, my son.”

  Thannis ground his teeth together but knew the look on his father’s face. This was not a negotiation. “I will comply as long as the funding for my projects remains in place. They will prove fruitful, that I promise.”

  “Very well, agreed,” Remus finished signing something on the desk and looked up to hold his son’s eyes, “though any interference or non-compliance from you on the night will have dire consequences for your future, my son. Esmerak will be watching and ensuring you do as you are told. Is that understood?”

  Dire consequences? You have no idea … Thannis bowed as he smiled in mock acquiescence. “Yes, Father,” he said subserviently, yet in his mind, he already saw the path he must take. “Understood completely.” He finished his bow and waited.

  His father handed him a piece of paper with written instructions on it.

  “There are only a few more, and this will all be finished. Burn the letter once you’ve memorised the names and details,” his father commanded. Remus flicked a hand at him as he once again returned to the papers on his desk. “You may go.”

  Thannis gave another quick bow and turned sharply on his heel, noticing Esmerak in the corner where she thought no one could see her. He gave no indication he could now see through her psychic camouflage as it was better she not know.

  As he left, he had no regrets. He thought of the game his father was playing and smiled as he left the Palais de Frontenac, and cocked his head. Thannis had warned them what was about to happen, yet his father had ignored him, blind to what was happening around them.

  It was time to up-end the board.

  24 - Festival of Bones

  The Festival of Bones is an annual celebration in Xin Ya where families celebrate the lives of their deceased ancestors. This festival is at the root of many other Xinnish traditions, such as the jewellery worn made from the bones of ancestors.

  The Xinnish believe knowledge and life are passed on from generation to generation within the bones as these endure after all else has decayed. It is also believed, that by wearing the bones of their ancestors, a person can tap into the experiences and life lessons of past lives.

  These customs have led to many cultural altercations between the Xinnish and their neighbours, but most famously with those of Kenz. The Kenzians quite often refer to the Xinnish as cannibalistic sinners and abominations within Halom’s kingdom. It was this tension between the two kingdoms that led to the Border Wars.

  Today, however, The Festival of Bones has been accepted as a major religious holiday in most cities and nations in the new Unified Salucia.

  - Chronicler Simon Rathelson in A Common History: 1851– 2850 ATC, 45th Edition, 2850

  Naira

  Xinnish District, New Toeron, Bauffin

  The night was muggy; clouds had rolled in overhead after a clear sunny day, and it made the air cling to Naira, made her clothes feel damp, sticky and uncomfortable. She flicked her tabard off her chest in a desperate attempt to circulate some air down to her skin, but there was little hope. The tough leather armour she wore beneath was quite snug, yet she would not trade the metal-plated leather this night, not given the tension she could feel in the streets.

  Senior Prefect Stonebridge had taken all of the initiates out of the Academy to help the constables tonight as it was the Festival of Bones, a Xinnish holiday and celebration of their ancestors. Stonebridge seemed sure something bad was going to happen tonight. Naira kept looking for something out of place, but deep down in her gut, she knew she was looking for Thannis.

  Part of her couldn’t believe that such a charming, handsome, and refined a man as Thannis could possibly be the killer. She wanted to confront him and clear this whole thing up, yet there was another side of her that wondered, what if the senior prefect is right?

  She walked by a stall selling spiced meats, and the smell made her mouth water. If only things were not so tense in the city, this would have been a great night out with Matoh.

  She smiled as she thought of him and then clamped her jaw down for being silly. She didn’t have time for romance. No matter how ruggedly handsome and wonderful Matoh was.

  He had squeezed her hand as they left the Academy, somehow finding a way to get beside her during the march out of the Academy. Senior Prefect Stonebridge wanted their presence in the city to be known and had ordered a public display of the initiates being seen to stream out of the Academy to help police the city. Though the public did not know they were only initiates for they wore the emblem of the Knights of Salucia on a half tabard over their leather armour.

  Matoh, of course, looked amazing in his armour, like some hero from a child’s fairy tale.

  “Be safe,” Matoh had said as he squeezed her hand as they passed under a bridge so their commanding officers couldn’t see the gesture.

  “And you,” Naira said as she squeezed back. She had felt the mixture of fear of something happening to him combined with the glorious warmth of his genuine concern for her wash through her as he let go on the other side of the bridge.

  Constable Holvstad had her intricately carved pipe out and took a few quick puffs on it as sh
e bounced to the beat of the music from up the street.

  Naira couldn’t help but smile at the confident woman. She seemed to be a walking contradiction; young with old mannerisms, silly at times yet sharp and serious at others, proud to be Xinnish while also being extremely worldly and modern, and very good at her job while appearing to be nonchalant about most things in life.

  “Come on, O’Bannon, surely a pretty girl like you knows how to dance to good music like this,” Constable Holvstad teased with a wink.

  Naira grinned despite herself remembering the stern interview Constable Holvstad had led when they first met. “I thought we were meant to be on guard, watching out for suspicious characters, that sort of thing?” Naira asked.

  Constable Holvstad bounced a few more steps beside Naira before leaning in to speak, “Yes, of course, but suspicious characters are likely to be suspicious, aren’t they? Yet they are likely to be less suspicious if we don’t look like we're particularly vigilant. The trick is to be vigilant while looking lazy and incompetent. Makes the suspects take more chances, and thus allows us to catch them out more often.”

  Naira nodded at this, there seemed to be hidden wisdom to the constable’s words.

  “That, and I just like this song.” Constable Holvstad winked and spun on her heel and bobbed her head as she walked to the other side of the street.

  They passed a group of revellers heading in the same direction as them, and the constable’s antics made a small boy dance beside his parents. Constable Holvstad gave them a smile and wave which they returned, but Naira saw the tension return to the group as they moved past. Senior Prefect Stonebridge was not the only one who thought something bad might happen tonight.

  They reached the end of the street which opened onto the main thoroughfare through the Xinnish district.

  The sound of the festival hit them like a tidal wave. Streamers, ribbons and skeletal banners were draped across the street, giving the feel of some macabre tent rather than a busy market street. Giant skeletal puppets walked above the crowd on long poles. Strange depictions of creatures made from odd assortments of bone jangled all around them. Humans, horses, cows, wolves, bears, birds, even the mythical Onai were all there. People sang wailing songs of sorrow, others of celebration about lives well lived. Symbols, bells, triangles and drums filled the air with noise.