Soul Forge

by Richard Stephens

  Breakfast was eaten by candlelight the next morning. Alhena insisted they fulfill their agreement to chop cordwood, but Janus wouldn’t allow it. He was adamant that no one would ever say Janus Farrier had made the Silurian Mintaka chop wood.

  Asa and Janus bid Bregens a tearful good-bye as their son left with them to take his place in the local militia. Before the sun broke across the eastern fields, four horses trotted northward along Redfire Path

  Loquax and Bregens rode side by side, a few horse lengths ahead of Alhena and Silurian.

  Silurian gazed off into the mist shrouded hills to his right, thinking absently of the small charcoal sketch Phellus made for him the night before. Phellus’ rendition of the moment Silurian had impaled Helleden with his magical sword was amateurish, but Silurian had been touched. He had placed the parchment in his rucksack, secretly wishing it was a bottle of the Farrier’s wine.

  Shortly after high noon they crested the edge of a small dale and Gritian came into view. Redfire Path opened up as they approached a lone sentry hut. The road dipped into a wide basin, its banks rising to form a trench of exposed rock that bisected the bowl-shaped glen. Heavy wooden doors, spaced sporadically along the trench-like walls, marked several entrances to the underground town of Gritian. The path rose again on the far side of the basin, lifting out of the trench and disappearing northward, beyond the only visible buildings—a barn, a large stable, and three outbuildings, half a league distant.

  Two sentries left the southern guard hut and stepped onto the path. Seeing Alhena, they lowered their pikes, and waved them on.

  Pulling up on his reins, Alhena spoke directly to the older guard, “Kindly locate the high bishop and have him attend us at once.”

  The guard looked at him, aghast. “Nobody demands the high bishop’s attendance. Especially not a lowly messenger, and most certainly, not at once.”

  Unperturbed, Alhena said, “Tell him Silurian Mintaka has been found.”

  Shock replaced the man’s scowl.

  Alhena smiled. “We shall wait here.”

  The guard mumbled a few incoherent words under his breath. He started to order his subordinate to fetch the high bishop, but must have thought better of it, and hurried down the path himself, leaving the younger guard gaping in Silurian’s presence.

  By the time they ate the picnic lunch Asa had sent along, a group of soldiers and robed dignitaries exited the only entranceway that boasted a hut in front of it and made their way up the path.

  Alhena shook out the cloth that Asa had packed for them and handed it back to Loquax. “Thank your mother for us, son.”

  Loquax shook their hands. “The pleasure was ours, I assure you, Master Alhena. Sir Silurian.” Seeing the approaching horde, he added, “I think I should go now.” With that, he hugged his brother good-bye, mounted his horse and led the borrowed horses back over the bowl’s lip and out of sight.

  Bregens led his own horse toward the approaching group, standing respectfully aside as they passed. No one so much as glanced his way.

  Silurian muttered under his breath, “So much for an easy life.”

  Alhena lifted his brow and they walked side by side into the gathering conglomeration.

  The assembled group consisted of eleven chambermen, several foot soldiers, and fifteen mounted knights who had charged down from the stables; horses and riders resplendent in deep forest green surcoats emblazoned with a brilliant yellow picture of twelve high backed chairs surrounding a golden eye—the coat-of-arms of Gritian.

  The leader strode confidently ahead of the throng, his long, red robe cinched tightly around his thin waist by a simple, black rope.

  Chambermaster High Bishop Abraham Uzziah sported a well-groomed white beard that ended in a subtle point where it touched his chest. His weathered face, complete with deep wrinkles upon a prominent forehead, framed faded blue eyes. Tight, flesh coloured lips, barely visible beneath his facial hair, became more distinct as he opened his arms to embrace Silurian. “Silurian Mintaka. Well met, my friend. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to know you are safe. More importantly, you are back amongst us.”

  Abraham turned to address Alhena. “When you hadn’t returned by the appointed time, we feared for you.” He gave the messenger a thin smile. “As usual, we needn’t have worried.”

  Alhena bowed his head and fell back. “Your Grace.”

  Turning back to Silurian, the chambermaster stated, “Of course, the Chamber has many questions for you, but I’m sure they can wait until you’ve had a chance to wash up and rest, hmm?”

  Lifting his robed arms, Abraham raised his voice, “Come, my people. Let us afford our esteemed guest the best hospitality in the kingdom!” He placed a hand to the small of Silurian’s back, and ushered him into the throng.

  The people closed around them as they passed, following the wisemen down the path toward the Chamber residence doorway. Two enormous guardsmen stood at attention on either side of the entrance shed doors. They moved aside to allow Abraham and Silurian entry into the bowels of the Chamber complex. At a nod from the high bishop, the guards closed in behind them, barring access to everyone else.

  Silurian had been in this complex many times before. The tunnel they walked in, hewn out of the bedrock, was wide enough for four men to walk abreast. Acrid, black smoke billowed from evenly spaced sconces along the passageway.

  A short walk brought them to an intersection. Abraham led Silurian down the left fork. They were soon confronted by another split in the tunnels.

  Abraham nodded down the left corridor. “Hungry?”

  “No.”

  The chambermaster nodded and continued down the right tunnel. “We had given up hope. When Alhena failed to return by the full moon, the Chamber turned to other measures to assist the king’s efforts.”

  Silurian didn’t respond.

  “You know, many believe that our good queen gave her life unnecessarily. That, uh, other means, or people, should have been there for her.” The accusation hung in the air as they passed several wooden doors standing open on either side of the passageway.

  Passing the last open door, Silurian stopped to glare at the high bishop. “What are you trying to say?”

  Abraham threw his hands up. “I’m just preparing you for the inevitable. Come, let’s get you to your room.”

  The corridor passed through a closed door. On the other side, they found themselves in a short tunnel with six doors facing each other. Abraham ushered Silurian toward the last door on the left.

  The room contained a screened, four-post bed, two cushioned, wingback chairs, and an oak desk littered with blank parchment. Candles of varying lengths, and a prie-dieu adorned with a red cushioned kneeler beneath a beautifully woven tapestry of a winged angel prostrated before a mystical glowing presence, completed the room. These rooms were reserved for royalty or high-ranking clergy.

  “I trust the room is adequate.”

  Silurian dropped his pack beside the prie-dieu. “It’ll do.”

  “Good, good.” Abraham’s smile fell as Silurian dropped into a chair. He opened a cabinet atop the desk and pulled out a flagon of wine and filled two goblets. Handing one to Silurian, he held out his goblet. “To better days.”

  Silurian ignored the toast and drank deeply.

  “Silurian, my good friend, what troubles you? It saddens me deeply to see you like this.”

  Silurian dropped his gaze to the floor.

  Abraham put his goblet down and clasped Silurian’s free hand in both of his. “Perhaps we are amiss summoning you to a battle you no longer desire to fight. If you wish to walk away, I assure you the Chamber won’t stand in your way. Say the word and I’ll appoint an armed escort to take you wherever you want to go.”

  Silurian bit his lower lip. Like the one you sent with Alhena to bring me here? He finished the contents of his goblet and gazed into the high bishop’s eyes. “That won’t be necessary, Your Eminence.”

  Abraham frowned, clasping Silurian�
��s hands harder. “Come now, we share a friendship deeper than the bonds of duty. Call me Abraham.”

  Silurian looked away.

  “Sil. Look at me.”

  Silurian did.

  “My friend, whatever has happened, I want you to know I’m here for you. Time cannot tarnish our friendship.” He squeezed Silurian’s hand and released it so he could refill Silurian’s goblet.

  Silurian offered him a weak smile. “I’m sorry.” He searched for the right words. “Not for my absence. That was necessary. I apologize for the way I treated your messenger, Alhena. A pleasant fellow.”

  “No apologies are necessary.”

  “Alhena has been nothing but kind to me. You have a true gem in that man. Even if he does look like a wizard.”

  Abraham smiled.

  “Sharing his food, his fires, his patience. He saved my life up in the mountains. In return, I ignored him, yelled at him, and despised his company.”

  “I’m sure—”

  Silurian held up his free hand. “For years I have hidden within my cabin, afraid of life. Afraid of people. Afraid of what I might do. After the Battle of Lugubrius, I went in search of my sister. I never found her.”

  “Ah yes, Melody,” Abraham said. “Is she still alive?”

  Silurian frowned. What a strange thing to ask. He had just said he had never found her. He got to his feet and paced around the room, ignoring the question. Bitterness filled his voice. “I returned home, to discover that while I was off protecting the realm, someone had murdered my family.”

  Abraham nodded knowingly.

  Tears trickled down Silurian’s cheek. He pointed a finger at the high bishop. “Who protected them? The Group of Five risked everything to save the kingdom. Three of us laid down our lives so the people of Zephyr could go on living in peace with their loved ones, but who looked after mine? I find myself loathing the people I saved. I’m angry my family was killed while I risked everything to protect theirs.”

  He shook his head to curtail Abraham. “I know it’s wrong. It isn’t the people’s fault, and yet, that’s how I feel. I’m sorry, but that’s what I’ve been reduced to.”

  He returned to his chair and said softly, “I was wrong.” He took another big swallow, a silent rage evident in his eyes. “Alhena helped me realize the error of my thinking. He’s proof that the world still has good people left in it. It’s taken me over twenty years to realize that the people of Zephyr aren’t to blame for my misery.”

  He wiped the tears from his face and got to his feet to stand before a painting on the wall of a white stallion leaping over a brook. He stared at it blankly, attempting to calm his breathing.

  Abraham joined him and placed his hands on Silurian’s shoulders. “Indeed, Alhena is a blessing.”

  Silurian spun about, breaking the bishop’s hold. “You don’t understand. Alhena is the only friend I’ve had in years, and I wanted to kill him.”

  Abraham offered a warm smile. “Trust me, my friend, I know Alhena better than most. He knows your grief and has already forgiven you.”

  Silurian walked to his chair and slumped down heavily, almost spilling his wine. “Well I haven’t. Please, leave me now.”

  Outside the Chamber entrance shed, Alhena conversed with the remaining chambermen as the villagers dispersed and the mounted units trotted up the road toward the stables.

  Eleven chambermen, eight men and three women, listened to Alhena recount his search for Silurian, amazed that he had succeeded when so many others had failed. By the time he finished, the guardsmen allowed them to enter the Chamber complex.

  Alhena kept pace with the last chamberman, Vice Chambermaster Solomon Io. “What happened at the scheduled Chamber meeting?”

  “We didn’t accomplish much,” Solomon informed him.

  The Vice Chambermaster was one of the few people on the council he felt comfortable confiding in.

  “Master Uzziah adjourned the meeting to an unspecified date. With Mintaka turning up, I imagine it will reconvene as early as tonight.” Solomon became quiet as they passed a tunnel on their right leading to the dungeons and the militia’s living quarters.

  “You should be commended for your accomplishment, Sirrus. You were right to object to sending a younger group of messengers. You knew the situation needed a delicate touch. By the looks of Silurian, I quite agree.”

  Passing by the eating halls on their left, they approached an intersection. The vice chambermaster put a hand on Alhena’s shoulder, bringing him to a halt. He waited until the rest of the group was several paces ahead before whispering, “Beware, good messenger. These are strange times.”

  “How so?”

  Together they watched the receding backs of the Chamber. Solomon spoke quickly, “It’s hard to explain. Odd things are happening within the council. Bizarre even. Their thinking and actions of late. I can’t put a finger on it, but I thought you should know. Make sure Mintaka knows this.

  Alhena mulled over Solomon’s words. He had had his own suspicions recently. It was troubling that someone else had been having the same misgivings.

  “Tread softly, my friend,” Solomon said, leaving Alhena at a fork in the tunnel that led to the servant’s quarters.

  After a much-needed nap, Silurian made his way to the Chamber’s private dining hall. He grabbed a tray full of steaming food and sat across from High Bishop Abraham Uzziah.

  Silurian was halfway through his meal when Alhena strolled into the room.

  Abraham glanced up. “Welcome Alhena. Please, have a seat.”

  Silurian greeted Alhena with a faint smile.

  “I don’t wish to interrupt,” Alhena walked over to the kitchen window, and returned with a wooden plate loaded with vegetables and stew. Sitting one chair over from Abraham, he set in.

  “Not at all. We were just talking about you.”

  Alhena grunted. Speaking around a mouthful of food he said, “Nothing too bad, I hope.”

  Abraham returned his gaze to Silurian, “As I was saying, that’s why I ordered another search. I’m glad Alhena found you. We need to start making preparations for you to travel to the king’s court.”

  Silurian glowered, picking at his meal. He had no intention of returning to King Malcolm’s court. “When’s the next Chamber meeting?”

  “Tonight.”

  Silurian nodded, washing his food down with a mug of wine. He feared tonight would be the first stepping stone in a long ordeal dictated by the Chamber. If he returned to Castle Svelte, he would find himself surrounded by the deceased queen’s family and peers. He’d rather be spared that scenario.

  Abraham’s earlier words shouted inside his head, You know, many believe that our good queen gave her life unnecessarily. That, uh, other means, or people, should have been there for her. He didn’t think he would ever be able to look his good friend, King Malcolm, in the eye again.

  Alhena wiped his lips with his cuff. “And who is to accompany Silurian to the castle?”

  Abraham hesitated. “Personally, I’d recommend an armoured escort of mounted knights.”

  Alhena nodded and set into his stew.

  “Silurian has requested your presence.”

  Alhena nodded, raising his eyes in resignation. He swallowed and lifted another spoonful of steaming broth to his lips.

  “You. Alone.”

  Alhena spewed the stew back into his bowl.

  “Oh, don’t worry, it gets better.”

  Alhena dropped the spoon into his bowl, the contents slopping onto the table.

  “Apparently he doesn’t see the need to attend the king’s court at all. In fact, it seems he is intent on travelling to Madrigail Bay—unguarded! And get this, he has been told that he will meet up with the former leader of the defunct vigilante Group of Five, Rook Bowman no less.”

  “Actually,” Silurian said quietly, “I will travel to the lost Shrine of Saint Carmichael first, to retrieve my sword.”

  Abraham’s chair scraped the granite floor a
s he rose to his feet. “We’ve already been through this. The power in that sword is spent. The shrine is destroyed. The Chamber will not permit you travelling anywhere without proper protection. It’s taken this long to finally find you. The king will be incensed if we lose you again.”

  Silurian struggled to keep the frustration from his voice. “I’m no use to the king without the magical properties of that sword. When I find Rook, we will attempt to locate its ancient power source. This cannot be accomplished quickly if I’m accompanied by a contingent of armed men.”

  Abraham’s breathing grew heavier. “Neither the king, nor the Chamber, is going to allow you to go off on some maniacal quest given to you by a fantastical creature claiming to be a demi-god.” Sarcasm dripped with every word. “Helleden is on our doorstep. For God’s sake, Silurian, you must see the lunacy of your plan.” He crossed himself in disgust.

  “Even so, I will travel faster alone. As far as Seafarer goes, he never claimed to be a demi-god, Abraham, and you know it. He is instructed by Saros, the warder of the Innerworld.”

  “Oh great,” Abraham threw his hands in the air. “This crocodile thing gets its commands from the lord of the frogs. Well, isn’t that just swell?”

  “This, lord of the frogs, has dispatched his disciple to meet up with us at Madrigail Bay and provide us guidance.” Silurian glared, his hands visibly trembling. High bishop or not, how dare Abraham stand there so smugly, refuting his well-meant intentions.

  Remembering the promise he made to himself that night at the entrance to the Undying Mountain Pool pass, Silurian bit back an angry response. With a mighty effort, he dropped his gaze, stood, and calmly pushed his chair in before walking out of the dining hall.

  Abraham’s words followed him, “It’s gonna be a hell of a Chamber meeting.”

  The Chamber Be Damned

  Alhena went in search of Silurian, but he wasn’t in his sleeping chambers. Exiting the Chamber complex, he stepped into the twilit evening and approached the southern guard hut to inquire of one of the young sentries on duty. The mail clad watchman pointed Alhena to a tree on the east side of Redfire path, beyond the crest in the road.