Part 3 (1/2)
”Of course I do. I need to learn much more as a wizard if I am to reach my potential. Yet even that has suffered since I became king.”
”I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I do not mean to scold you. But you have a great destiny with the One G.o.d.”
He bristled at the idea that he had a destiny proclaimed by a G.o.d-any G.o.d. ”Zaephos gave me no commands like those he gave to your father. He did not ask me to create a religion, or help your father with his. I have learned much of dalar-aelom, and practice it in my own way.”
”Yet you keep your involvement secret, Your Majesty. Were you to declare openly that you follow my father's faith-”
He held up his hand. ”I would more than likely spark an open revolt among the n.o.bles and priests already uneasy with the ill-omened start to my reign. They've known of my wizardry for some time. Even those who despise me for it can do nothing since I routed the Havalqa army and broke their sea blockade with my powers.
”But if I said I am also a follower of this new religion they see as little more than a pa.s.sing fancy to amuse and distract commoners-and I mean no insult by that, but it is what many of the n.o.bles believe-they would think me mad. My rule is tenuous and tumultuous enough as it is, Elaysen. I cannot jeopardize it further.”
”I do understand, Your Majesty. The n.o.bles would not approve. But you would have the support of the commoners, who already adore you for driving off the Havalqa. Do you think the n.o.bles would dare to move against you?”
”Perhaps not openly, but there are many things they could do to thwart my will and make my rule more difficult than it already is.”
They lapsed into an awkward silence. Elaysen herself complicated his life in innumerable ways. He had feelings for her, strong ones, and he knew she had them for him. But they both knew that his abrupt ascension to the throne destroyed any chance they had of being together. There had never been much of a chance to begin with; Gerin's father certainly would have never sanctioned it. But before King Abran's death, and his own life was cemented into such an inflexible role, there had been at least a glimmer of hope.
That hope was now gone. He needed to solidify his position with the n.o.bility any way he could, and that meant a marriage to the daughter of a strategically helpful house. Therain had already married Laysa Oldann, an arrangement their father had been working on before his death, and which Gerin was quick to finalize soon after his own coronation.
Which posed the question of when he would be married, and to whom. He did not yet know; all he knew for certain is that it would not be Elaysen.
”Aidrel Entraly has been cast out from my father's Inner Circle,” she announced. ”He believes my father is weak and has lost his way, and that we should convert followers forcefully rather than persuading them of the rightness of our ways.”
”I'm sorry to hear that. I know your father feared the day when his religion would splinter. It seems it's come even sooner than he thought.”
”It was my father's hope that if you declared you are a follower of dalar-aelom, it would do much to defuse Aidrel's influence with the people. His violent teachings have unfortunately taken hold with many-he already has a substantial following of his own, as well as warriors he calls Helion Spears.”
”Why doesn't your father denounce him as a heretic?”
”He has already done so, and excommunicated him from the practice of dalar-aelom. But Aidrel's bodyguards keep him well protected, and my father fears if he were to execute him for his heresies, he would make a martyr of him, a symbol for his misguided followers to rally around. He would prefer to discredit Aidrel and lure his followers back to the fold. My father had hoped you would help with this.”
”I'm sorry, Elaysen, but I cannot. At least not in the way you mean. If Aidrel or his followers break any of the kingdom's laws, the repercussions will be swift and severe. That I can promise you. But no more.”
She nodded, a look of deep sadness on her face. She stood, but would not look at him. ”I will not trouble you further, Your Majesty. Should you decide to resume your teachings, you know where to find me.”
”Elaysen, please. Regardless of what you believe, I am still a follower of dalar-aelom. I have long disliked the idea of being a tool of a G.o.d, but I am certain enough of the rise of the Adversary that I will do what I must to fight him. My ways may not please you or your father, but for now it is all I can do.”
2.
Vethiq aril Tolsadri, the Voice of the Exalted, surveyed the city of Turen with growing impatience. It was a feeling he had experienced far too often over the past several months. Plans gone horribly wrong, his own death at the hands of the accursed Gerin Atreyano, his stature dangerously reduced in the eyes of those who either despised him or longed for his position as the Exalted's Voice, the opening of the Path of Ashes delayed three times so far-though if Bariq was merciful, that would be ending today. There seemed no end to the calamities occurring upon this continent.
The Harridan holds sway here, he thought, his hands gripping the stone rails with such force his fingers ached. She must. She thwarts the will of the other Powers and laughs at the chaos she creates.
But in the end we will prevail. We always do. It is only a matter of time.
Still, this particular campaign was proving exceptionally trying, all the more frustrating for him because of its importance to the Havalqa. Indeed, their very survival depended on it. They needed the Words of Making to fight the coming Great Enemy-of this the Dreamers were certain. Their visions of possible futures all contained that common thread. Tolsadri had imprisoned the man that the Dreamers said held the Words of Making, or was the key to finding them: Gerin Atreyano, a troublesome prince with extraordinary powers of his own. His escape and subsequent destruction of the Havalqa naval blockade, as well as the routing of the army marching to take the capital city of his kingdom, were grievous blows from which they had not yet fully recovered.
But they would soon. When the Path of Ashes was finally opened, they would overrun these lands with their armies until every man, woman, and child had been converted. He hungered for that day with an almost physical desire.
Far below him a portion of the Havalqa fleet choked the calm waters of the partially walled harbor, a forest of masts draped with canvas sails and slack rigging that dangled from the spars like bits of moss. He watched men move along the waterfront like ants. Some strolled aimlessly. Others loaded and unloaded cargo, while prisoners disembarked from captured s.h.i.+ps under the watchful gaze of armed guards. Insignificant men with insignificant lives, wors.h.i.+pping their false and filthy G.o.ds until they accepted the light of the Powers.
And this city! It was filled with shrines and temples to all manner of infidel deities. He'd learned that Turen was a holy city in this kingdom of Threndellen, a pilgrimage site visited by tens of thousands of ignorant peasants who beseeched their G.o.ds to bring them fortune and good luck. Fools, all of them. G.o.ds who did not exist could bring them nothing. They lived in darkness but somehow believed it was day.
He turned away from the balcony, filled with impatience. Where was that infernal Enbrahel? He should have arrived by now with an update on their progress. They needed to open the Path of Ashes. The delays had been maddening, all the more so because he could do nothing about them. It was all in the hands of the Dreamer.
After they'd sailed from Kalmanyikul, the Dreamers in the Pahjuleh Palace had begun fas.h.i.+oning an arch of their own, an end point to the Path, to be ready if the Dreamer who accompanied the fleet determined there was a need to open the way between worlds. Such power was dangerous, to be used only if circ.u.mstances warranted it. That was why the Dreamers had kept knowledge of the Path from all except the Exalted herself. They did not want the commanders of the fleet to feel complacent, that a connection to the homeland could be easily established should they need it.
But the sheer size of this continent, coupled with the displays of power they had witnessed from Gerin Atreyano and his companion wizard, demonstrated quite clearly the need for even more resources than they had brought with them. The Dreamer decided the Path should indeed be opened.
His patience at an end, Tolsadri had decided to go in search of the wretched Enbrahel when there was an urgent pounding on the door. ”Enter!” he called out.
Enbrahel's pudgy frame burst into the room. His red, puffing face matched the scarlet panels on his flowing silk robes. He was half a head shorter than Tolsadri, his hair thinning at the crown, as if trying to escape down toward his ears.
”Honored Voice, the Dreamer commands your presence. It says the arch is ready to be opened onto the Path.”
”At last,” Tolsadri muttered. ”I thought this day would never come.”
He swept past Enbrahel, out of the room, and down the wide stone stairs that waited at the end of the hall.
The Magister's Palace where he'd set up his residence rose from the center of a wide, flat hill that fell toward the sea in a series of staggered, walled terraces. The hill itself was broad but not exceptionally tall; its slope, however, was quite long, and was truncated near its western edge by a deep river rus.h.i.+ng through a gorge.
Tolsadri left the palace and crossed the plaza, whose sides were bordered by ma.s.sive temples. Enbrahel kept close to his side, remaining mercifully-and uncharacteristically-silent while Tolsadri pondered his words to the Exalted should they finally succeed in reaching the Path.
The arch had been placed within an empty warehouse just outside the walls enclosing the Magister's Palace and temples. Prior to its construction a great deal of discussion took place among the Havalqa leaders and the Dreamer about where to locate it. The purpose of the arch, after all, was to effect the transfer of armies from Aleith'aqtar to conquer these heathen lands. Some of the military commanders argued for placing the arch outside the city in a fortified position that would allow for the quick bivouacking and subsequent deployment of the arriving troops. Others, including Tolsadri, wanted a more secure location within the confines of the city.
He, of course, had won the day. He disliked the idea of having to journey so far to reach the arch each time he needed to travel the Path of Ashes, though he did not state this reason aloud. Let the soldiers walk from the arch to their staging ground outside the city, he thought. He would not be inconvenienced more than necessary.
The warehouse was closely guarded by both Herolen soldiers and Sai'fen-the latter a sure sign that the Dreamer was present within. Tolsadri straightened his shoulders a bit and did not even glance at the hated Sai'fen as he pa.s.sed them and entered the warehouse.
He crossed two more cordons of soldiers before reaching the section where the arch was located. The Dreamer was safely ensconced within its wheeled carriage. Several Drufar stood close. Tolsadri hated the sight of them, Loremasters who had turned their backs to Bariq to become servants. It did not matter that they served a being as powerful as a Dreamer. The ridiculous hurils encasing their heads were a sign of emasculation to the Voice, a willingly worn mark of the depths to which they had fallen. He did not understand what drove men of power to volunteer to serve another, and above all else, Tolsadri hated what he did not understand.
He bowed before the Dreamer's carriage. Unlike their carriages in Aleith'aqtar, this one contained a small window covered with heavy fabric so the Dreamer could speak to others. ”I have come, Great Dreamer. Is what I have heard true? Are we ready at last to open the way to the Path?”
”Yes, Voice of the Exalted.” The deep voice rumbled from the carriage. ”You need no longer attempt to hide your impatience and displeasure. The time has come.”
Tolsadri clenched his jaw at the Dreamer's rebuke. Since Gerin Atreyano's escape, the Dreamer had made its displeasure with him known in ways both subtle and overt. What galled him most was that there was nothing he could do to stop it. The Dreamers were above the games of political intrigue that he so dearly loved to play. He could not engage it or move against it in any way. They were as inviolate as the Exalted herself.
”I am only impatient to return to Aleith'aqtar and beseech the Exalted for the troops we need to carry out our mission, Great Dreamer.” The words wanted to stick in his throat, but he managed to force them out and sound appropriately obsequious.
”The opening of the way to the Path has been fraught with peril,” said the Dreamer. ”It has proven to be even more difficult than I thought, but at last my brethren in Aleith'aqtar and I have succeeded in joining our arches. We need only open them now, a trifling compared to what came before.”
Tolsadri's breath caught for a moment. It was finally about to happen. For a short time, at least, he would leave these accursed lands and return to the home of his fathers.
He had heard rumors of the Path but never believed it anything other than a fanciful story until the Dreamer told him otherwise. He had been shocked at the idea of a doorway that pierced the fabric of reality, leading to another world where distances were far different than they were here. A walk of a few hundred yards there would cover hundreds or thousands of miles in this world. He still did not fully comprehend it.
”Will you need our a.s.sistance?” asked Tolsadri.