Revelation (2 page)

Therion’s emissary stood and moved to stand beside the emperor. He picked up the extra cup that waited for him and held it aloft. “This, gentlemen, is a pledge of loyalty to Lord Therion. Let me encourage you to drink to your master’s continued rule.” The words fell from his lips like venom, and the governors watched, many trembling with apprehension.

The blue-cloaked governor again spoke up. “You stand there to cast fear into us? Without us, Therion has no power!” He looked around at the other governors, anticipation in his eyes.

“And do the rest of you hold to the same position?” the emissary asked. His eyes moved back and forth, gazing upon the gathered men. “Therion has ruled for a thousand years. Do not think that your limited life has any impact on him. So, I ask you again, will you pledge your loyalty to the emperor of Celedon?” One by one, around the table, the governors stood and hoisted their cups to Therion.

The governor from the coast, blue cloak draped across his shoulders, stood and slammed his cup upon the table. “I will not!” he declared. He faced Therion who sat motionless upon the throne. “You sit there and expect us to pledge our loyalty to you? What have you done to benefit Celedon? What have you done to win the hearts of men, and how have you been more than a leech upon the hard lives of the people?”

Before Therion responded, a clamor outside the meeting hall took his attention. With large, hollow reverberations, someone beyond the door pounded on the chamber’s entryway. The emissary moved away from the throne and opened the door. Just beyond, a guardsman waited, shaking and clearly agitated. The emissary motioned for him to step away from the door into the hallway beyond, and then closed it behind them.

Several minutes later the emissary re-entered the meeting hall. He quietly walked to the throne and whispered into Therion’s ear.

“What!” the emperor demanded. “Betrayed!” Therion looked toward the coastal governor and regained his cool disposition. “You asked what I have done for Celedon,” his voice seethed with anger. “I have not killed all those who would betray me!” Therion stood and moved toward the blue-clad man. “But I will make that correction with you.”

The governor scrambled from his seat and made his way toward the entrance. As he reached it, the door closed in front of him, barring his way. He turned; his eyes widened with panic as he began to shake uncontrollably. He clutched his chest and screamed then collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Therion turned to face the remaining leaders around the table. “The rest of you take notice,” he said. “Return to your regions and be advised that rebellion is not tolerated.” The door opened and the governors made a hasty exit from the chamber.

“Master,” the emissary said, “what is your command?”

“I want that man listed as the most dangerous man in Celedon. Put a bounty on his head so high that even the most loyal will think twice about helping him.”

“You don’t think that he might be the one?”

Therion lifted his eyes to look at the emissary. “No, we destroyed that family years ago.” He returned to his throne and sat in contemplation. “Tell me about the source of this information. I need to know if it is reliable.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. But I can do better than that. By your leave, the source is waiting in the hall beyond.” The emissary moved toward the door.

“Very well,” Therion said. “Show him in and then I want you to prepare to do away with those who have set their plans against me. I will not be overthrown.” He paused as he thought. “I also want you to put a trusted advisor in each of the governor’s regions so that I might keep closer watch on them. If one is willing to defy me…” He let the thought trail off as his eyes fixated on the door. “I will not allow any others to do the same.”

“As you will,” the emissary said. He opened the door. “Guard,” he commanded, “bring in your charge.”Then he left the room as two others entered.

Therion looked up; a sly grin crossed his face when he gazed at the man who walked through the door.

1

A New Direction

Rayn was gone. Aaron sat with his companions in the bitter chill of the day, shivering in the cold, biting air, grieving the loss of the young soldier. High overhead the sun kept its relentless march to the west, providing little comfort or warmth to the four who remained. When their little watercraft shattered in the torrent, most of their supplies were lost down the raging river. Only a soggy bag of rations and two flasks of the dwarf’s restorative draught remained from the wreck. They had their weapons, but the cold steel offered little comfort in the bitter chill of winter.

All around them the forest glistened in the frost and snow, reflecting the light of the passing sun like the sparkle of a million cast-off diamonds. Evergreen trees, heavy with snow, provided some protection beneath their canopy. Under the trees the ground was dry and crisp, littered with pine needles and branches. Aaron’s muscles ached with the cold, and he was sure the others suffered the same as each one shivered uncontrollably from their plunge in the river.

He looked to his companions. “If we are going to survive this night, we will need a fire. Garam, Braden, I want the two of you to gather as many fallen branches and dry tinder as you can find. Lorik and I will try to make a shelter.”

The two dwarves stood, bodies shaking, and went in search of firewood. Aaron and Lorik quickly attacked some nearby trees, hacking at the branches with their swords in order to use the limbs to frame the shelter. It wasn’t long before they had erected a sizable lean-to that could house the four companions. By the time Lorik and Aaron were done, Braden and Garam had gathered a considerable amount of dried branches, piling them in the center of their little clearing.

The activity helped stave off the sense of cold, but now it returned and bit Aaron’s limbs with renewed strength. He suffered a violent headache and could barely keep his attention on his tasks. Waves of pain seared Aaron’s already tired muscles. All of his companions shivered, and he watched Lorik’s hands tremble as the sergeant tried to weave the branches tighter.

Braden surveyed the pile of sticks and branches in the center of their camp. “Well, now,” he said through chattering teeth, “we’ve built quite a monument.” Rubbing his arms, he continued, “Anyone know how we’re going to set this pile on fire?” Glances went from one to the other, each man looking rather despondent, almost comical in their soaked garments as they stared again at the large mound of wood.

Without a word, Garam shook his head at the others and then stepped up to the pile of firewood. Rubbing his hands together he knelt down and touched the base of the mound, palms outward. Then, in a whisper, the dwarf spoke some unintelligible words in a language that Aaron had never heard. Immediately he felt something like a warm breath of air cross his cheek as the words Garam spoke conveyed a sensation of heat. Then, with a flash of blue flame from the palms of his hands, the pile of fuel rushed into a blazing fire.

“For the love of the King!” exclaimed Braden. “How did you do that?”

Both Aaron and Lorik were speechless. The two soldiers stood staring first at the fire then back at Garam, wondering what powers he possessed to allow him to call fire from thin air. Aaron cautiously reached his hand toward the burning pile, and the warmth it radiated felt wonderful. He quickly stepped nearer to the flames, eager to beat back the chill, and dry his freezing clothes. Lorik moved in closer to the fire, no reluctance at all. Rounding the fire, Braden also came near, standing a step more distant from Garam, gazing at his counterpart with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

The heat of the fire collected under the protection of their makeshift shelter, keeping the four companions warm and drying off their river-soaked garments. Aaron sat next to Lorik, scratching his beard and glad to have the wooly covering on his face as a slight breeze wafted through the grove. He turned to his sergeant. “Lorik,” he began, “you said that you know this region. Where do you think we’ve ended up? Certainly we are in the north province. How far north do you suppose?”

“Captain,” returned Lorik, “I suspect that we are about fifteen leagues above North Village. We are near the uppermost border of the Shattered Hills. The river that we fell into must be the Hoppe. I’m actually amazed that any of us survived the fall; the Hoppe River is one of the most treacherous in all Celedon.” He paused and stared at the fire. “I only hope that Rayn finds some shelter and is able to escape these frozen reaches.”

Aaron’s heart felt like a lead weight in his chest as he thought about his young private. He understood Rayn’s anger and, years ago, might have acted just like the private. But his time as captain had left him with a sense that his only purpose was to be the attack dog of the emperor. He looked over at Lorik who sat beside him. “We’re all that’s left of our regiment now. We need to plan our journey and we must not give up on finding this artifact.”

Lorik shook his head. “No, Captain,” he said. “If he survives, I think that Rayn is actually all that’s left. I doubt that you and I will ever be able to go back into the service of the emperor again.”

Aaron reluctantly nodded. “But I think that we are, maybe, finally serving our nation.” Lorik gave a quick smile and both men sat quietly and enjoyed the radiant warmth of the fire.

Aaron’s thoughts drifted far away, back to the capital and the city he called home. He wondered if he would ever wander through the markets again and hear the welcoming voices of the many vendors calling out to the passers-by. He could almost feel the ocean breeze on his face as the gentle wind continued through the trees. He closed his eyes and could picture the harbor filled with the boisterous activities of the many ships along with the myriad of sailors jostling along the wharf. His heart longed for the strong wind and powerful roar of the ocean.

Quietly, almost whispering, Lorik spoke up. “Captain,” he interrupted, “I wonder if I could get your thoughts about something?”

Snapped out of his daydream, Aaron looked at his sergeant. “Certainly,” he replied. “What is it?”

“It’s about this book that we’re after,” Lorik continued. “What is the true nature of this item?”

“What do you mean?” the captain’s tone was filled with curiosity.

“Sir,” Lorik continued in hushed tones, “I’ve been talking with Braden, and he spoke of this book as more than just some ancient tome. To these dwarves, this book contains power beyond imagination.”

“Yes, I know,” Aaron’s anxiety resonated in his voice. “I am sure there is more to it than we suspect. Rayn and I had the opportunity to learn more from a seer named Kaylan. These dwarves are waiting for a time called the restoration. Somehow the Book of Aleth is a key factor. Without it, that time will not come. It is meant to bring harmony and peace to the nation. Don’t ask me how a book can do all that, but these dwarves have placed all their hopes on it.”

Lorik looked thoughtful as he stared into the fire. “Well, sir,” he continued, “if you ask me, our nation could use a little peace. With all the uprisings and border wars between the provinces, I sometimes wonder if the entire country is not sitting on the edge of rebellion.”

“It certainly seems that way.” Aaron looked at his sergeant with tired eyes. “I know that I’ve grown weary of the continual anarchy that floats just below the surface in every region. I’ve met the assembly of governors and to the emperor’s face they are loyal, but behind his back there is the hint of revolt.”

Lorik nodded. “Could it be, Captain, that the only reason the emperor maintains control is because of the Royal Guard?”

“Perhaps,” Aaron responded, then drew away from the subject and turned his attention, instead, to the situation at hand. The fire still burned with great energy, crackling and sizzling with the fuel being thrown on it. White smoke rose up in a great column, drifting through the tree branches into the dimming sky.

Garam retrieved the satchel and found what useful food was left in the pack. He distributed a handful of what used to be
dried
fruit and meat. Now, everything was soaked. “We are going to need supplies for this journey,” he said. “I don’t think we will survive in these extremes with what we have.”

Aaron nodded and turned to Lorik. “You say you know this region. How would you suggest we proceed?”

“Sir,” Lorik replied. “There is not much along the path that we’ve chosen. Our surest hope would be to follow the river back toward North Village and receive aid from the local guard.”

Aaron thought about this but quickly dismissed the idea, “No. We must not risk discovery or the possibility of having our mission waylaid. Besides, I don’t think we want to risk exposing Garam and Braden.”

Lorik agreed. “But for us to follow the northern perimeter of the Shattered Hills, then make our way south toward Mount Sonna will require a journey of several weeks on foot. We will need to regain some supplies for we will find nothing on those bleak, barren plains. Perhaps you and I can enter into North Village and then return here with supplies. It would only be a few days that our journey is delayed.”

Aaron thought about his decision. “No,” he said. “We won’t venture into any communities where questions would have to be answered. We can forage in these woods and try to gather the supplies we need from the wild.”

“Then,” responded Braden, “let Lorik and I explore these woods while you and Garam go to the river to refill our water bags and, perhaps, find any gear that might have made it to the water’s edge. I am, or at least used to be, quite able to find edible foliage even in the deepest of winters. I won’t promise that it will satisfy your taste, but it will sustain your strength.”

Aaron sized up the matter, thinking quickly, and replied, “Very well. Do not stray far from our camp, however. We are nearing sunset and have no more than an hour before nightfall. Keep your wits about you; we don’t know what might be prowling these woods.”

****

The four companions paired off, disappearing through the foliage. Braden and Lorik scouted north, looking through the undergrowth for any sign of edible plant life. It was cold, and the sun had fallen beneath the peaks of the Shadow Mountains, leaving the world in the dim twilight just before evening. To Lorik’s amazement Braden would dig through the snow with both hands, eagerly scavenging after some hidden treasure like a puppy digging for a rabbit hidden in a hole. Then he would rise from off his knees, brushing the dirt and snow from his trousers with an exceptionally pleased look on his face as he held aloft a passel of mushrooms or a bundle of some potato-like root cluster.