Farmers & Mercenaries (46 page)

Raising both hands before him, Satner took a few steps back. “Nix, that is not my intention.”

“Regardless of how he got there, you were not willing to let harm come to the boy. You took the full brunt of the painstick, allowing me a moment more to free myself. Had you not, Charver would be dead. That is payment enough for me.” Stretching to his full height, Klain glared down at the man. “However, should you be foolish enough to repeat this incident, I will not be so kind.” At the look on Satner’s face, Klain grunted once, then continued toward his room. He noted that Satner did not move from their meeting spot.

As Klain reached for the handle to his door, Satner whistled to catch his attention. “I can think of no better protection for the boy than you, Kithian. You will have no more issues from me, nor any of mine.”

Without looking back at the Human, Klain entered his room. Closing the door, he caught the whiff of Charver. “I know you are here, Young Master.”

The boy slunk out from behind the large curtain that hid the only window in the room. “Master Klain, why did you let Master Timms get away with doing what he did?”

Crossing the room, Klain sat on the bed in front of Charver. “I do not know much of Humans. Truth be told, I do not know much of any race. I know only what is in here.” He touched his chest. “In here, I feel that Timms was punished for his deed. That is enough for me.”

A
warm breeze blew gently over his face, carrying with it the fresh scent of maple. How he missed the scent of the maple trees that surrounded his home stead in the summer. The scent of maple, the smell of fresh tilled earth, the warm smile of his Ma, the firm clasp of his Papa on his shoulder—so reassuring. He missed them all. They had protected him, guided him, loved him.

Floating inside nothingness, he felt weightless. He let his mind reach out toward the rest of his body, yet he did not have the energy to open his eyes. The warm breeze softly tickled his face once more. He was at peace.

Over time, sensations crept back into his awareness. He felt the gentle caress of grass on the back of his neck, the weight of his body pressed onto the ground, a pebble resting uncomfortably under his right elbow, and the gentle waft of the breeze ruffling the hem of his collar, its thin material grazing against one cheek.

Opening his eyes, he looked up into a bright blue sky. He followed the lazy gait of a cloud crossing overhead. His eyes closed and he bound his mind to that cloud. Joining it. They drifted together through the heavens. He reveled in the feeling of gliding away, and slipped off into a dream of flight.

Alant Cor awoke with a shiver. A thin sheen of dew covered him, soaking through his robes. The dampness gave the slight wind a colder feel than it deserved. A hoot from a small copse of trees in the distance announced to all that an owl had recently acquired its supper. Sitting up, he gazed out over a field of half-grown wheat stalks. A full moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over everything.

Wheat? There are no wheat fields on Elmorr’eth.

Scanning his surroundings, Alant recognized the low grassy hills that spread out into the distance. The stars overhead twinkled down upon a scene he thought he would never again see. Turning around, a smile crept over his face and a joy filled him to the brim. The tears that welled in his eyes blurred the distant glow emanating over the walls of the Hild’alan stead.

I am home! How?

Threading his way between the short rows of wheat, he stepped out onto the gravel road he knew all too well. Standing in the middle of the road, he spun in a circle, unable to accept what he saw. The place looked as if nothing had changed. The gravel road, rutted with wagon tracks, snaked off into the distance, plowed fields lining it on both sides. Closer to the stead walls, the low fences of the stock pastures were visible in the dim light of the moon. It was as if he had never left.

“Oiy!”

Alant jumped, catching the hem of his robe under the heel of his slipper. He fell hard, gravel skinning his palms as he reached out to catch himself.

“Begging pardon, Sier. I did not expect to see anyone out and on the road this late in the eve.”

Looking up, Alant saw a large man dressed in the boiled leather of a guarder standing in the road a few paces from him. The guarder held a torch high over his head.

The man rushed over and held out a hand. “Here, Sier. Let me—By all Twelve Gods!” Horror filled the man’s face and he backed away. Dropping his torch to the road, he pawed at the hilt of the shortsword hanging from his side. Steel rasped over leather, and the guarder held the sword out in front of him with hands that shook like a tree in a windstorm. “Mercy! Have mercy on me!” Spinning, the man flung his sword onto the road and sped back toward the main gate of Hild’alan.

Alant regained his footing and stood staring after the man. Reaching up a hand, he felt across his features expecting to find some horrid deformity.

It feels normal.

Striding up to the man’s discarded sword, Alant bent and retrieved the blade. Using the flat side like a mirror, Alant gasped. Staring back at him was his own reflection, one he had seen his entire life.

Yet, those eyes! They are not mine!

The eyes that looked back at him were horrifying to behold. His pupils had stretched, like those of a reptile. Around his new pupils, in a sea of liquid velvet, a deep shade of red covered everything.

They glow! My eyes glow red!

A
chill wind racked over his skin causing goose pimples to rise, yet he did not feel the cold. He felt nothing. Opening his eyes, the piercing blue vastness stretching off in every direction dazzled him. His attention lingered upon a stray cloud that sped across the sky.

“Ahh!” A voice, soft and airy like the expanse that dominated his vision, floated into his ears. “How do you feel?”

How
do
I feel? I feel nothing. I should feel. I have felt before. I felt—

Bolting upright, Arderi Cor looked down at his hands.

I felt my bones breaking!

Yet his hands seemed fine now. Rolling them over, he looked at each side. Reaching down, he rubbed his legs—kneading their muscles. The bones underneath felt intact.

I really do feel fine!

Arderi sat on a soft cot. Its cream-colored canvas easily supported his weight. Glancing around, he saw that he was in an opening between several white pillars, the tops of which were covered by a large, dome-shaped marble ceiling. Covering the ground below him were cut flagstone tiles that ended at the pillars. Beyond the tiles, vibrant green grass, neatly trimmed, covered the rest of the small hill. The grassy area stretched only a few paces wide then dropped out of sight. Majestic mountains surrounded him as far as he could see—their snow-capped peaks stabbed against the clear-blue sky.

None are above me. I am on the highest peak!

A hand gently rested on his arm. “Are you well, sir?”

Following the arm, Arderi gazed into a pair of liquid blue eyes. The eyes adorned a face so perfect that all breath left his lungs. Golden blond hair covered the girls head and framed skin so white, so smooth, he thought for a moment that she must be made from porcelain. A gentle smile lay on her ruby-red lips. She raised a hand to cover a giggle, and Arderi realized that his mouth hung open.

Curse you for a country lout!

“Sir, are you well?” Breaking eye contact, she looked him over. “You do not seem to bear any wounds.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Arderi nodded his head.

Smiling again, the girl bowed her head. “Good, then. I am called Rinear.”

She looked expectantly at Arderi for many moments before he realized that she was waiting on him to speak. “I… I am Arderi, Arderi Cor.” Glancing around once more at the mountains surrounding them, he motioned to them. “Have I returned to the Nektine?”

“The Nektine?” The girl looked puzzled. “I have not heard of such a city.”

Shaking his head, Arderi cupped both his hands to the sides of his temples. “It is not a city, it is a mountain range.”

“I am sorry, I still have not heard of it.”

Taken aback, Arderi cut his eyes at her. “How could you not have heard of the Nektine? They are the largest mountains in all of Ro’Arith!”

The girl looked somber, almost repentant, and Arderi felt bad for raising his voice. “I apologize. I have not heard of them, and I have never been to the lands of Ro’Arith.”

Never been to Ro’Arith! This girl is either mad, or—

He scanned the surrounding area once more. Then, Arderi realized he saw nothing except the tops of mountains. The plateau he sat upon seemed alone amongst the clouds. His throat constricted with fear. “Where am I?” His words came out as a croaked whisper.

“Please, come.” Gripping his elbow, she helped him stand.

As Arderi stood, the surrounding area came into view. The patio he stood on was like a stone gazebo, set high on a small plateau, only a score of paces across. On one side of the plateau, a flagstone walkway led away from the area, winding down a steep hill, its destination lost to his sight from this vantage point. On all of the other sides, a sheer drop over jagged rocks disappeared into the clouds below. As he peered over the nearest side, his stomach gave a queasy jerk, and a feeling of vertigo swept over him.

I am
above
the clouds!

The girl reached out and stroked his hair. “The dizziness of your sending will soon pass.” Turning, she walked down the path, quickly disappearing over the lip of the steep slope.

Unsure of what to do, Arderi glanced around at the scattered cots and chairs resting on the patio around him. He gazed out over the distant mountain peaks jutting through the clouds, and gawked at the blanket of cloud tops forming a misty-looking lake far below him.

By the Twelve, where am I?

Walking toward the path, Arderi stopped on its summit. Spreading out below him, built on a plateau many times larger than the one the patio sat on, he saw a magnificent, pure-white citadel standing regal against the azure-blue of the distant horizon. Sunlight glinted off its pristine walls, causing the building to glow and forcing Arderi to shield his eyes. From the roof, delicate spires shot up, so thin they looked like shards of glass reaching into the sky. Beautiful arches connected the higher towers, creating a cacophony of passageways high in the air. The flawless walls were marred only by the advent of colorful, stained-glass windows set at regular intervals. On each side of the citadel visible to Arderi, cliffs dropped away into nothingness.

There seems to be no access to this place!

The blond-haired girl walked down the path toward the citadel. Arderi noticed that a tall man in white robes met her as she reached the main arch that led inside. Pausing next to him, she turned and looked back up the hill to where Arderi stood. Patiently the two waited, simply gazing up at Arderi until he felt the fool.

You cannot stand up here all day!

Forcing himself to action, Arderi headed down the flagstone path. Once he reached the archway, the tall man—long jet-black hair pulled into a tight braid behind him—bowed before him. “It is always an honor to welcome a new Brother. From where do you hail?”

“I was in the Undercity, below Mocley. Ragnor took me there. And then…” Arderi glanced around again.

“I recognize that blade!” Pointing to his sword, the man looked shocked. “How did you come by it?”

The harshness in the man’s voice forced Arderi to step back. “It was gifted to me by its former owner, Master Rillion.”

The dark-haired man studied the boy in silence, then relaxed. He bowed once more. “Forgive me, Brother, I meant no disrespect. I knew its former owner. He was a good man.” The sound of loss in the man’s voice reverberated through Arderi.

He knows Master Clytus is dead!

“Yet, the Essence owns its will, and here before me stands one to take Brother Rillion’s place.” A weak smile crossed his lips. “Forgive an old man’s rants. I have forgotten my manners.” He held out a hand. “My name is Larith Rine.”

Taking the offered hand, Arderi tried to mimic the old man’s bow. “Master Rine, my name is Arderi Cor.”

Covering Arderi’s hand with his other, Larith’s face became grave. “Well, Brother Cor, welcome to Bin’Satsu. It seems you have arrived just in time. Your training with our Order must proceed with all haste.”

At Master Rine’s words, questions flooded Arderi, and he was at a loss as to which to ask first. “What training, sir? What is the Tat’Sujen Order? Where am I? How did I get here?”

Each question brought an added look of surprise to Master Rine’s face. “Do you know nothing, Brother Cor? I sense that you have bonded to Ka’gana. You must have some of these answers!”

“Nix, Master Rine. There was no time during the expedition into the Nektine. Master Rillion… he…”

Letting out a sigh, a weariness filled the man’s eyes. “Aye. No time. You are here like a babe in swaddling cloth, and it has already begun.”

“What has begun, sir?”

Master Rine shook his head. “The Tat’Sujen Order has waited diligently for thousands of winters. We have waited, watched, and guided. We are the keepers of history. The only ones who know—well, we suspect the Elmorr’Antiens know, yet they share little with the rest of the races. A time will come when things will change. Power will flow into the hands of men, and the Plane of Talic’Nauth will be ripped apart. The Tat’Sujen Order stands ready to see this does not happen.”

“And you, Arderi Cor, are now a part of us, a brother of the Tat’Sujen. Your tasks will not be easy—your burdens not light. The first Mah’Sukai of this Cycle has been created by the Essence. We, of the Tat’Sujen, must see them dead—or die ourselves in the attempt.”

A grim look settled on the man. “The War of Power has begun.”