Vault Of Heaven 01 - The Unremembered (28 page)

Riven pointed north and the remaining Sedagin disappeared into the trees, heading toward the High Plains. Retrieving a horse hidden north of the clearing, Riven took the lead. Less than a thousand horse-lengths farther, their path began to ascend the great bluff of the Sedagin. They followed a serpentine route that gave Tahn a clear view out over the meadows and plains beneath them. The land stretched on forever, divided by small rivers and showing itself in patches of cultivated earth and untouched wilderness. Distant smoke issued from a farmhouse, and the path of the road could be seen snaking west and northeast. Upward they rode, save Vendanj, who lay on the litter.

Tahn understood now that the Sheason’s every use of the Will exacted a great price. And when he looked at Vendanj, it seemed the lines in his face were that much deeper.

When they reached the plateau, Tahn noted that the High Plains were perfectly described, as though the earth had risen straight up, rather than most mountains’ gradual slopes and juts. Sutter grabbed Tahn and drew him to the edge, which dropped away a sheer five hundred strides.

“Look at it,” Sutter exclaimed with awe. “Have you ever seen such a thing? If I look hard enough, I can convince myself that I’m seeing the Soren Sea.”

A haze spread across the land far below. At the horizon one could imagine the vague, hazy blue to be the great sea, though Tahn knew better. But as they stood there, the wind began to howl up the face of the great cliff like an ocean gale.

“The winds that rise off the lowlands are strong, my friend,” Riven said. “We call them the voice of the Sedagin.”

Behind them, Braethen retrieved the wooden case from Vendanj’s inner pocket and placed a sprig on the Sheason’s tongue. A moment later, the Sheason sat up, thanked the sodalist, and took to his horse. They followed the path north through patches of needle trees and conifers, low scrub and quaking aspen. Most of the plains, though, were long, empty fields of knee-high grass. Gentle breezes blew across them, causing them to undulate like slow, green waves.

Toward midday they paused to drink at a small river that wended its way across a great open field. “It is clean,” Riven exclaimed. “Fill your skins and drink deeply.”

“It’s like a separate world up here,” Sutter said. He then lay on the river bank and put his lips into the cool, clear water.

It was too good an opportunity to pass up. Tahn pushed the root-digger’s face under the current. Sutter kicked and pushed back against Tahn’s hand, thrashing his face in the water. Penit laughed, Wendra and Braethen joining the boy as Tahn held his friend’s head down.

“Any roots down there?” Tahn joked, then jumped back, ready for Sutter’s counterattack.

Nails gasped as river mud shot from his nose and dripped from his chin.

“Woodchuck, you are going to see the soil side of my boot,” Sutter challenged and jumped up, splashing in the shallow water of the river’s edge.

Tahn laughed. “Is the world up here different in the river mud, too, Nails?”

Sutter smiled, mud running into his mouth and coating his teeth.

“You’re going to see that up close yourself.”

They began to circle in the grass, Penit cheering each of them when either feigned an attack.

“Actually, it is a part of our world, an old part,” Braethen said.

Tahn stood, losing interest in the game. “An old part?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

Sutter seized the diversion, and tackled Tahn to the ground. Tahn let Nails pin him, distracted as the sodalist continued.

“This land was part of the rest of the plains around it, not rising into the high ground we see today.

“In the Age of Discord, the Sedagin longblades were the only ones who still kept the covenant of the First Promise. Holivagh i’Malichael presided over the Table of Blades. The table was known as the Right Arm of the Promise, and he took his banner into any kingdom or nation the Quietgiven marched upon.

“Holivagh never built a city of his own, though. He taught that the Promise was a constant call, and that his people must be always ready to defend it. Holivagh’s people lived here, tended their fields and livestock here. But when the Table was called in to war, only a few were left behind to occupy and preserve their home.”

Tahn and Sutter forgot to unravel themselves from their game. River mud dried on Sutter’s face in the warmth of the sun. Penit and Wendra listened intently to Braethen. From the boy’s expression, Tahn guessed the sodalist’s story was one the boy had not heard.

“In the Age of Discord, the Shadow of the Hand lengthened. One of the powerful Velle called through the Hand the Maere; the Haelderod, known for its spread of contagion; and other creations not given names by the Great Fathers, creations never intended to descend into the land of men.”

Braethen paused, looking into the clear sky, his face suddenly white and blotchy. “The scola say that out of the Bourne came beings older than these, some as old as the Great Fathers themselves.”

Tahn’s blood ran cold. Sutter fell off of him.

“It was against this movement that the Right Arm of the Promise was summoned,” Braethen continued. “The Convocation of Seats was recalled at Recityv when the Tabernacle of the Sky fell to the Quiet. Representatives from nearly every nation, throne, principality, and sovereign city came to the convocation to ask for help.

“But those nobles and kings who came to Recityv would not commit entire armies to the cause, afraid to leave their homes undefended. Token regiments were offered to the regent as a pledge of good faith. The regent and the convocation met and debated for three days. Threats of secession from the alliance, accusation, threats of war among kingdoms, and personal maneuvers for advancement in the preeminence of the convocation marked the debate.

“The regent of Recityv, Corihehn, disbanded the convocation and issued the order to call upon Holivagh’s Table.

“Corihehn sent word to Holivagh that the First Promise was given new life in a Second Promise, supported by the rulers of every principality represented at the Convocation of Seats. Holivagh was asked to send his legion into the fray against the storm of Quietgiven. The armies of the Second Promise would join them in due haste. The Second Promise was to build on the First by shutting up the Bourne forever, ending the shedding of blood by war and calling into the land civility and charity.”

“Will and War,” Tahn exclaimed in a whisper. “It was a lie.”

“That it was,” the sodalist affirmed. “Holivagh marched north the very hour he received the summons. He left only seven men behind to watch after the children and elderly and those women who did not bear a blade. The rest moved day and night into the breach at Darkling Plain. Forty thousand men and women armed with forty thousand swords, with as many Sheason as could be found, cut a path through the armies of the Velle toward the Shadow of the Hand. It is said that when they reached the mountain of the Hand, only two thousand remained. But this diminished army held the breach against the Bourne for eight days. Each day they expected reinforcements to arrive as Corihehn had guaranteed. The army of the Second Promise never came. And every bladesman who marched with Holivagh perished.”

“But the war was won?” Sutter asked hopefully.

“When the Sheason realized that Corihehn had transgressed against the First Promise by sending its Right Arm to die, Del’Agio the Elder, the Randeur of the Sheason, sent his people into the courts of every known city. They threatened every regent, king, queen, and council with unnatural death if they did not pledge to honor the lie of Corihehn. It was known as the Castigation, both of the convocation and of the Order of the Sheason—since the Sheason were never supposed to invoke the Will as a weapon or means of compulsion upon mankind.”

“Did they do it?” Penit stepped closer.

“They did, lad,” Braethen said, smiling. “The Convocation of Seats reassembled. But one came
without
coercion, Dannan the Elder, King of Kamas, who had not been invited to the previous assembly due to rumors about the tyranny of his grandfather, Dannan the Stout Heart.

“In the Great Hall of Promise, the awful scandal of Corihehn’s deception was recounted, earning him the title ‘the Defamed.’ Likewise, the demise of Holivagh’s army was related. Hearing these things, Dannan stood and while reciting the words recorded on the writ avowing the Second Promise, he scored his own chest with his sword, sealing with his own blood the commitment of his throne. The realms would have gone to war on the threat of the Sheason. But it is said that with that single stroke, Dannan turned the hearts of men to their children, purpose replacing fear.

“A mighty army was raised, and its command was given to Holivagh’s son, Sedagin, a boy just nine years of age. The Sheason went into battle alongside steel and wood, changing the Sheason order forever after—for no longer did they go only to heal—and the threat was put down, the Quiet destroyed or turned back into the Hand.”

“Then what of these High Plains,” Wendra asked. “How did they ascend into the sky?”

“When the war was over, Del’Agio the Younger gathered the Order of Sheason and journeyed into the fields and meadows of the High Plains. For one full cycle of the moon they linked hands and Willed the earth to move and rise. They built an earthen monument to the courage and honor of Holivagh and his Table. The High Plains are a testimony to the First Promise, and are said to show the distinction of its bearers above the frailties of those who sent them to die. In raising these plains, those Sheason gave the Sedagin a home easy to defend and as beautiful as anything I’ve ever seen.

“These plains are known as Teheale, which is thought to mean ‘earned in blood’ in the Language of the Covenant.”

Tahn’s heart thrummed in his chest, and he could see the excitement on Sutter’s face. They all remained silent in reverence toward the sacrifice made thousands of years past.

Sutter broke the silence. “That is why they are called the Sedagin, isn’t it? Because of the boy-king.” He jumped up and wiped his face.

“Indeed.” Riven nodded his approval. “And our lord bears that name still, in his honor.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Small Victories

Beyond a line of trees, the plain opened onto a cleared flat tract of closely cropped grass and neatly kept homes. Immediately to the left, hundreds of young boys stood in short lines before men who were demonstrating precise moves and attacks with the great swords the Sedagin carried. Their attention never drifted to Tahn and his companions. In turn, each boy executed the move and returned to the end of his line. The swords themselves were taller than their wielders, but the boys carried them and performed their drills without any apparent difficulty.

Farther to the right, a number of farms with penned sheep and cattle were being tended by men and women alike.

As they rode deeper into the plain, homes grew in number, wood-framed and modest in appearance. But it was the absence of street barkers that caught Tahn’s attention. There were no handcarts filled with food or handmade trinkets; no beggars sat in the shadows of the buildings petitioning passersby. No loud, confusing din clouded the air, no smell of refuse rotting behind and between the homes and buildings.

“Not one house of bitter,” Sutter suddenly said, riding beside Tahn.

A group of men standing beside a house was looking at them. Each wore a sword and exuded an air of calm confidence. As they continued down several lanes, they could see more of the Sedagin at their doors and windows and gathered in small groups outside, regarding the Sheason with a quiet respect.

They came to a stop at a particular house, and Tahn stepped off Jole at Riven’s direction. His companions followed suit. No less than fifty Sedagin stood close by.

Sutter nudged him. “Did you notice that none of them looks like fat old Yulop?” He mimed a round belly in front of him.

The door of the house opened and a man emerged. His hair and eyes were the brown of brushed saddle leather. He, too, wore his long sword at his waist, but sported no cloak or cape. The other Sedagin bowed noticeably as he stepped outside, but Tahn could see nothing to distinguish him as their lord or king. The man made a quick survey of his guests, stopping to note their weapons. At a look, all the men dispersed, save a few who relaxed and began to talk quietly.

“Riven, my friend,” the man said. “You always surprise me when you return from the lowlands.” He offered a lopsided smile and stepped down from the short portico to the grass road.

Riven grinned and embraced the other. “I do at that, Sedagin, but this is different.”

“Your advance has told me, but I suspect their report leaves the best of it unspoken.”

Riven laughed. “You’ve a talent for understatement.”

“Bring them in. Let us offer them rest and refreshment.”

Riven motioned to a few of the men, who immediately came and took their guests’ horses. “You are invited inside,” Riven said. “Don’t let the grass grow up under your boots.”

Inside, a large room lay awash in sunlight from windows on every side. A sweet herbal tea steamed over the hearth to the left, giving the place a relaxed, homey feeling. Against the rear wall, sketches in charcoal of several men hung in a perfect line. Beneath each sketch, a sword stood buried in the wood floor. To each side of the door, bookcases reached to the ceiling.