Cailin took a deep breath and let his eyes slide closed. He sat with his legs folded on a soft rug in Kal’s study, the elder himself seated across from him in a large, comfortable chair. Kal’s voice drifted across the intervening space like motes of dust caught in a shaft of sunlight as he instructed Cailin in the use of magic.
“Be silent, in the depths of your mind, and feel the bond, Cailin. Only in the quiet peace of a still mind can you touch your magic, caress it, seize it, control it. Let the magic come to you, as bidden, but control it. Let it flow along the bond… Let it show you what your companion sees…”, Kal’s voice soothed, floating and instructing, quiet but forceful.
It has been 6 weeks since the attempt on Kal’s life, but no one spoke to Cailin about it. He pushed the resentment aside with difficulty. He had risked his life to try and capture the creature that had attacked his mentor, and no one would speak to him about it. Everyone either changed the subject or ignored his questions, and it made him feel like he was a child, listening and trying to cut into the adults’ conversation.
He let his breath out slowly, letting his mind melt into the bond with the giant cat. For a moment his mind's eye wavered, then resolved to an incredibly sharp image of tall grass parting before his nose. He shivered involuntarily as the grass brushed over his fur, the thrill of the hunt surging in his blood as he tracked his prey. The anticipation was driving him to kill.
Cailins mind shied away from the alien thoughts, from the bloodlust. Since forming the bond, each had discovered much of the other that was not liked but accepted. The bloodlust when Kuro was hunting was one of these things that Cailin found distasteful but accepted as part of his friend. So when they shared sight, like now, Cailin was careful to shield his mind from the instincts Kuro involuntarily sent across the bond.
Kuro, for his part, struggled to understand Cailin’s reliance on weaponry and his reluctance to use his magic. As the cat saw it, magic was Cailin’s most powerful inherent weapon, and refusing to use it was tantamount to Kuro refusing to use his claws. Cailin had tried to explain the situation to the giant cat but could not get the idea across, largely because he did barely understood it himself.
Kuro was closing in on his prey, with Cailin watching through the bond. Kal’s voice was a distant whisper, barely worth noticing, as the bonded pair focused of the prey, a young buck that had found its way down into the valley. The cat sniffed and the man could smell the buck on the grass before them. Cailin broke the connection before Kuro could take down his prey. He was less than fond of the taste of warm blood in his mouth.
When Cailin opened his eyes, Kal was silently watching him, a knowing look on his face. Cailin rose smoothly to his feet, brushing himself off as Kal also stood. Kal walked over and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You don't like being linked when he kills, do you?”, the elder asked. Cailin nodded, vividly remembering the first time Kuro had killed while Cailin had ridden in his mind. The powerful jaws closing around a young deer’s throat, the coppery taste of warm blood in his throat.
He shuddered and pushed the thoughts and memories away, nodding at Kal. The older man squeezed Cailins shoulder in sympathy, murmuring his understanding. They walked over to the large window, recently repaired, and stood looking out over the forest and the cliffs that formed the valley he had come to call home, curving away on either side of him into the far distance before coming together again in front of him. Valley was incorrect, he mused to himself. Crater, would be closer to the truth….
“Call him back, Cailin. I need to speak with both of you.” Kal turned and sat at his heavy table, pulling open a drawer and taking a thick, leatherbound book and a small golden dagger and laying it before him. Cailin put his hand to the thick glass, and closed his eyes again, reaching out through the bond to call to the giant cat. Kal would like to see us. Will you come back, please?
Kuro’s answer came back slowly. Probably from the eating. Since recovering from the fight with the assassin-thing, Kuro and Cailin had both been ravenous almost every moment of the day. Hazel said it might be lingering poison. Cailin was not worried, Hazel looked after the populace in the valley and they looked after each other.
I will come in a short while. Cailin had the impression that the cats mouth was full, and shied away from the image that popped into his head. He had no qualms about eating meat, but he did demand at least a measure of civility, such as cooking and removing the entrails and skin. Kuro had no such limitations on what went into his mouth. If it was meat, and if it was raw, he ate it.
Cailin wrinkled his nose in distaste. Please wash the blood off this time. We don't want a repeat of you being threatened with a broom again. Before Cailin broke off the contact, he felt Kuro laughing then choking on a mouthful. The previous practice they had with Kuro hunting had ended with him sauntering into the fortress dripping blood everywhere and Jana trying unsuccessfully to herd him outside with a broom.
The residents of the fortress had no idea what to make of the two giant cats that had taken up residence in the fortress, to say nothing of the animals in the fortress, with the exception of the feral and domesticated cats that made the fortress their home. Lia, Kuro’s mother, in particular, seemed to have found a new pride to join, even though she could accidentally kill three of the cats at a time just by accidentally stepping on them.
Kuro and Cailin, on the other hand, spent days away from the fortress, learning from each other, exploring their bond, getting to know each other and their separate cultures and moral standings. They were remarkably similar in some aspects, and differed like night and day in others. But one thing was clear. They were devastatingly effective when they worked together.
They fed off of each others strengths and compensated for each other’s weaknesses. In the weeks after the attack and their bonding, they had naturally developed a system of fighting that had never been seen before. The man and the cat were seldom far from each other, and took comfort in each others presence. They formed their own pride. That is not to say that there have not been accidents and misunderstandings. Far from it.
Because Kuro had a habit of sourcing his own food, he frequently roamed the fortress with a bloody muzzle, which drove Jana mad as she couldn't stand the sight of blood. The spatters on the floor didn’t help Kuro’s case either. Cailin tried to intervene on several occasions but that only earned him a tongue lashing or being chased out with a broom. He had also been banned from the livestock area outside the keep as well as the stables. Both took these events in their stride.
Kuro’s brutal efficiency in taking down targets intrigued Cailin, and he had started incorporating some of his friends tactics and techniques into his own fighting style, replacing claws and jaws with blades. The changes made them both more deadly. Neither of them knew why they were pushing each other to improve, but it seemed natural to them, so they kept on going.
Cailin smiled as he turned back to Kal, who was seated in the largest ring of chairs. The same place he sat when the assassination attempt took place. He was idly stroking his beard as he stared off into space. Cailin walked over and sat down in one of the chairs across from Kal and waited. Àlmost an hour had passed with neither man saying a word before Kuro sauntered in. Cailin noted with a smile that his muzzle was wet but clean when the giant cat rubbed his huge head on Cailin’s shoulder in greeting.
Kuro curled up on the floor in the center of the circle of chairs, facing Kal, and started bathing himself as Kal seemed to steel himself. “Cailin, I know you have many questions since the attempt on our lives, and that no-one has spoken to you about it. They have done so on my instruction. And I know you well enough to know that you will want to know why, more than anything else. I will give you the answer, but it will require a small measure of patience on your side.” Kal’s voice was the only sound to break in the silence.
Cailin leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest and one foot stretched out to scratch Kuro behind one ear with a boot. Kuro didn’t mind in the least, and after a moment he resumed bathing. Kal smiled as he looked from one pair of eyes to the other. He doubted that they knew that their eyes had begun to change, Cailins blue eyes developing a golden ring around the iris as well as around the pupil and Kuro’s becoming streaked with blue. The Bond was strong with this unlikely pair.
Kal sat back, idly stroking his beard. “You see, Cailin”; he continued, “We are not here by chance, nor do we do what we do only for the sake of doing it. I believe you are ready to understand and accept that, your limits towards magic notwithstanding.” Kal paused for a moment, then rose and started pacing up and down in the circle of chairs, being careful to avoid the tip of Kuro’s tail which twitched across the floor. Stepping on his tail was one thing the giant cat minded very much.
“There are forces at work in the world, my friend. Forces that we serve and forces that oppose them. You came to us, here, at a time when those forces were beginning to stir. We here at this fortress, along with others in other places in the world, keep watch and oppose these forces if and when they threaten the peace and freedom of the people.” Kal stopped pacing, looking directly at Cailin.
“You have worked hard, in the time you have spent among us, Cailin. I know you have a good heart. Please, serve with us.”, Kal held out a hand to Cailin on the back of the simple but heartfelt request. Cailin looked at the hand for a moment before rising to his feet and taking it. “I will, Kal. But I need to know everything.”
Kal nodded, and motioned for Cailin to follow him. He led the way across the room to a blank part of the wall of his study, placed his hand in the centre of the wall and let a wisp of magic flow into the solid stone. The study shuddered, and a doorway appeared in the stone, outlined by tendrils of light. As the light faded, Cailin could see steps spiralling down into the darkness.
Kal held out his hand to Cailin, motioning him to go first, but Kuro flowed around them both and slipped down the steps, as quiet as a soft wind at midnight. In three steps the darkness had swallowed him and Cailin followed, with Kal on his heels, holding aloft a globe of light. Flashes of Kuro’s tail could be seen ahead in the shadows as the three spiraled further and further down.
Cailins legs had begun to burn when they came to a landing. Kuro had already gotten the door open and had slipped through, and Cailin could hear him sniffing around in the dark. Kal followed behind Kuro, montioning to Cailin to come through the door. Cailin hesitated for a moment before ducking through the doorway. What he found beyond took his breath away.
Dark figures climbed the steep hill, their destination seeming to rise out of the ground as the sun fell towards the ocean in the far distance. A strong wind blew into their faces, but they held the hoods of their dark cloaks closed and marched on. Occasional curses and the clink of weapons, armor and the items a few of them carried were torn away from the party to be thrown down the hillside by the wind.
The leader, a gaunt man in his late forties, with wavy black hair that was beginning to be mostly grey, came to the summit first, and viewed the ruins scattered there. Houses, smashed and strewn across the ground, their windows empty as empty of life as they were of glass, stared back at him. In the distance, taller structures rose up and watched over the ruin, like broken sentinels watching over graves.
He waited while his companions, a woman and a man, she of slight build and breathtakingly beautiful, and he heavily muscled with a face that looked like its been scrapped on a rough stone, scarred and pitted, caught up with him. They were accompanied by a squad of Capital soldiers, armed and armored, masks rendered bronze by the ruddy light of sunset.
They slowly made their way through the shattered town, heading for the center of the ruins. A building remained there, the center of the destruction and the lives lost there. The leader barely noted his surroundings, eyes fixed on the building coming into view. He cared nothing for its exterior, focussed on what was buried beneath it.
A door was ripped off its last hinge by the brutish warrior, and he flung it away indifferently. The leader stepped inside and lowered his hood. Dark eyes scanned the room, barely lit by the last rays of the sun before it fell below the horizon. The inside of the house looked as if a tornado had raged inside it. Furniture lay shattered and torn to shreds, the wallpaper ripped apart by the debris.
The leader kicked some of the mess aside, leaning down to study the floor intently. He kept walking deeper into the house, until he spotted a bronze ring set into the floor. At a gesture, the brute stomped over, grabbed the ring and lifted up a heavy slab of stone. He dropped it next to the newly revealed hole in the floor before bending down and plunging his arm into the hole. He grunted as he searched, eventually pulling back with a small, intricately carved box in his hand.
He handed the box to the leader, who gazed at it in triumph. He turned and walked outside, the brute going with him. One outside, the man held it up to the very last rays of the sun, watching the box intently. For a moment nothing happened. Then golden light began to spread along the carvings, filling the leaves depicted on the lid. As the sun disappeared, the man held the box in both hands, and pressed his palms to the sides in unison.
The lid popped open to reveal a small metal disc, engraved with runes. A feeling of dread emanated from it in waves, and the dark eyed man smiled in satisfaction. He held up his hand with the disc in his fingers, sending a surge of his own dark magic into the disc. For a moment nothing happened, but then, faint pillars of light began to appear in the horizon in various places.
One of the pillars flashed red, then disappeared. The man turned to the woman, and issued instructions in a voice that sounded like stone being ground against stone. “Go,” he ordered, “and find out what happened with the stones!”. The woman gave a short bow and set off towards where the red pillar has shone briefly, taking two of the soldiers with her. The dark eyed man watched her go until the dusk had swallowed her before starting the trek down the hill.
The man mused as he made his way down the hill to where the horses were tethered. He needed to get back to the capital, as soon as possible. The puppet king could not be trusted on his own for too long, and the time was not yet right to do away with him for good. His own influence was growing faster and faster as more “converts” joined him, some willingly, and some less so. And while the king had initially balked at the construction of the new cathedral just outside the city walls, he had eventually crumbled and given his approval, which wasn’t needed to begin with.
The dark eyed man and his group reached the horses and mounted up, and rode off into the night, towards the capital. It was n long ride, and the man frequently checked that the box was safe in his pocket. When they eventually reached the capital just as dawn was making its presence known in the east, the soldiers peeled off and rode to their barracks. The leader and the brute rode for the cathedral.
They entered the property via the rear gate, the large building hiding them from the newly rising sun as they dismounted in the stableyard. The stableman, an empty-eyed boy of no more than twelve, came out to collect the horses, disappearing into the stables with a slow bow to the dark eyed man. As the two quickly walked to the rear entrance of the cathedral, the door burst open and two guards accompanying a frail looking man with a crown on his head marched out to meet them.
The man sighed and waved the brute away. He will have to deal with the king on his own this day. As the king came forward, the man noticed that one of the guards was supporting the king with a hand under the kings arm. Though not old, the king was becoming more and more frail by the day. Healers claimed that it some mysterious illness that was eating him away, and that they could not treat him as they had no idea what was wrong with him. The dark haired man knew, as he was the one slowly poisoning the puppet king.
The king tottered to a stop before the man, eyeing his dusty clothes with watery eyes. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper, cracking and dull. “I see you have seen the use of a saddle recently, High Priest Geros. Have you travelled far?” the king wheezed. Before Geros could reply, the king nudged the guard holding his arm, and the pair turned back to the cathedral. The king sniffed, “I need to pray, Geros. Come, and lead me as is your duty.”
Geros ground his teeth quietly, reminding himself that the king will soon be out of the way and the charade will come to an end for good. He followed the king back the way they came, into the large anteroom at the rear of the chapel where the king had been waiting. Geros slipped past the frail man and his two guards, leading them along a passage that ran all down one side of the cathedral to the nave.
Geros took his time unlocking the nave’s main door, and when it was open, led the way into the heart of the building. The roof soared above them, covered in fresco’s and scenes extolling the virtues of the church and the gods it served. Winged pews lined the central walkway, which was carpeted in a deep red edged with gold. The polished pews glowed in the early morning sun, streaming in through the high windows lining either side of the nave.
Geros slipped into his private chambers, hurriedly dressing in the robes of his office, a deep purple hue with a blindingly white stole draped across his shoulders. He dragged a brush through his thick hair, dark brown and flecked with white, like the heavy beard he wore. When his preparations were completed, he stepped out into the short corridor, and took a deep breath to calm himself as he tied a black sash around his middle. The sash also bore a heavy bladed ceremonial knife.
The high priest of the cathedral spent the next hour preaching to an audience of three, of life and death and how all must strive to serve others in this life in order to be rewarded in the next. He caught himself smirking during the service, seeing the faith in the lies he was telling the men. Soon they would worship something much more terrifying than death. And they would worship well.
When the service concluded, Geros escorted the king and his guards outside, making all the appropriate responsive noises to the kings garbled questions and statements. Geros secretly hated this small man who lived still only because Geros willed it so. He wished for the day he could drop this accursed facade he had built up in order to attain a measure of power, hated standing at the podium week after week, spewing out sweet lies for the moronic masses to devour and live by.
He smiled to himself as he considered the turn his life had taken. He was born and raised as a street urchin, surviving in the capital by theft and the occasional murder in order to buy food to feed himself. Then, when he had been but twelve summers, he had been taken in by one of the local priests, a drunkard named Ross. Ross had taught him about the gods, after a fashion, and Geros had seen an opportunity to live in comfort for the rest of his days. So when Ross suddenly died in his sleep, Geros had stepped in to fill the void. He had always been very fond of poisons.
From there Geros had used his position to build a power base among the people. He knew more about the happenings in the capital city than the two kings he had survived. The people loved and trusted him. He had his own little chapel where he doled out sanctity and salvation to the citizens. Until one day when a vagrant had died in his chapel, and he stole a small amulet, a dark gem set in a metal disc covered in wavy lines.
Geros had kept the amulet, weaving it into his shoulder length hair and using his hair to keep it hidden. He was a good thief. But the first night his dreams had been plagued by visions of a pair of electric green eyes, weighing and judging him. When he woke, he found that he had written down instructions in his sleep, to go to the blasted city midway between the capital and the mountains far to the north.
And he had gone, compelled beyond reason to obey the voice in his head and his dreams, and found his way to the monument in the center of the city, a tower with a shattered top and in the bowels of the tower he had found the book. Only when he had been safely back in his chambers in the capital, did he dare to open the book. When he opened the front cover, and finished reading the incantation, green lightning had leapt out at him, sending him diving to the floor and scoring and scorching the wooden walls of his small chamber.
He had watched, horrified and cowering in a corner, as a glowing green skeletal spirit rose from the open book. It had the head of a goat, its maw filled with long fangs, and talons on its fingertips and feet, with knees that bent backwards. The apparition had squatted on the table, and whispered to Geros until late into the night, and the more it talked, the more Geros listened. By the end of the night he had agreed to worship and serve the entity, that called itself Ath’Teruk, and hated all forms of joy and freedom.
It existed to subjugate, to spread hate and misery, to bring suffering. And in return for Geros’ service, it would shower Geros with his every desire. The young priest had readily agreed , seeing only wealth and women in his future in exchange for a few changes to his sermons, slowly filtering in commandments to his flock to abuse and hate.
But the apparition was not content with what Geros had planned, and would in time influence the priest to commit acts that defiled his very soul and bound him to Ath’Teruk. Geros discovered that he had a taste for the misery and suffering offered by the apparition, and willingly gave himself over to greater and more monstrous acts of violence, cannibalism and everything else Ath’Teruk commanded.
The apparition taught Geros the acts of defilement, opening the gateways to foul magic, that Geros willingly committed, his lust for power insatiable. In time, Ath’Teruk taught Geros the foulest of magics in order to make Geros a better servant and was well pleased with his service. Geros, it seemed, had been born to serve evil, and took great pleasure in the rape, torture and murder required of him.
He smiled as he closeted himself in his chamber for the remainder of the day, poring over the ancient book. The book was bound in human skin and dealt exclusively with Ath’Teruk, and how to summon him. And with the recovery of the metal disc, he was one step closer to summoning his new master into the physical world.
The dawn found Geros, naked and covered in blood, a fresh sacrifice completed in the chambers below the cathedral and one more step in the rites of defilement completed. He could feel the dark powers rise inside him, consuming his mind and soul, but he cared not. Like the one he now served, he craved only power over others above all things…
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Cailin stood in a massive circular chamber. Great fluted columns marched around the circumference of the walls, which were cut smoothly from the surrounding stone. The chamber was exactly 100m across and perfectly round, from what Cailin could tell. An oculus in the center of the domed roof, cast a beam of light onto the floor, with the five pointed star inlaid in silver.
The edges of the star’s ring touched the foot pieces of the columns, which in turn stood 5 meters from the walls, and the points all ended on a round dias, elevated off the floor by 5 meters. Cailin slowly stepped into the cavernous space, lit only by the light reflected off of the smooth polished floor. Kuro was slinking along the wall, sniffing at everything, as Cailin reached the center of the room and stood in the light.
Kuro slipped up next to Cailin, wrapping his tail around his paws as he sat down. Both marvelled at the chamber, even as most of it was hidden in the gloom. Kal waved his hand and torches on every pillar burst into life, chasing away the shadows. The light from the torches revealed details about the chamber previously cloaked in shadow.
The walls were cut from gold-flecked granite, and the columns from red-flecked granite. In the flickering of the torches, Cailin felt like he stood among red and gold stars, the effect mesmerizing. The dark and unpolished stone seemed to drink the light from the torches and Cailin felt almost as if he were floating in the beam of light coming from above. He turned at the sound of boots on stone behind him.
Kal was standing on the dias at the head of the star, looking down at Cailin with his arms in the opposite sleeves of his dark grey robe. Cailin and Kuro both turned to face Kal, the giant cat sitting back down but still towering over Cailin. Both stared at the elder, who returned the stare in kind. The mood in the chamber had become stiff and formal, and Cailin knew that this was a moment where he must take great care.
Kal was silent for several more minutes, his eyes weighing and judging the pair that stood below him. When he finally spoke, his voice echoed around the chamber, seeming to wrap around the two standing in the light. “Cailin. For a time now, you have questioned me on why we are here, in this fortress, hidden away from the world. It is time for you to know the truth. And to make a choice.”
Kal threw his arms wide, glittering dust exploding outward to form a wall before the pair on the floor of the chamber. Images began to flash over the wall, images of war, fire, death and a broken world. At the centre of all the suffering stood an immense figure, weilding a massive obsidian blade. The figure radiated hatred, that Cailin and Kuro could feel through the images. Faint screams and the dark noise of war could be heard from the images, and overriding it all was the sound of sadistic laughter.
“It is known that the world at large suffered through a titanic war. A war were men, women and even children fought for the survival of future generations.” As Kal spoke the images changed, the words guiding what Cailin saw. “Brothers turned on their fathers. Daughters on their mothers. Families torn apart where only death was the victor.” As Cailin watched, an image of a man flashed onto the wall. The man had slammed an axe into the head of a child, even as the child drove a knife into the man’s belly.
“The myth of magic’s evil arose in this war torn time, Cailin.” An image of a man, throwing fire onto a huddling group of women appeared on the ethereal wall before Cailin. He could feel his old beliefs rising up in the back of his mind, and quelled them. He was not evil, and would never use magic for attack. Kal spoke on, about the terror and suffering wrought at the hands of a group of magicians. And the one they served.
Kal waved his hand, the image changing to a group of magic users, led by an old man, bent and leaning on his staff. Some wore light armour, or carried a form of weapon, and the next image showed the two groups clashing, magic against magic, good versus evil. “I was there, Cailin, at the beginning of this conflict. I was there when those who could wield power for the betterment of all faced those who served the shadow.”
Kal’s voice had become forceful, laden with emotion, as the images changed again. Seven of the magic users stood before the monster with the black blade. “ I was there when the seed of evil that caused all the suffering was defeated, and sealed away into seven artifacts.” Kal flicked a finger, and an image of the stones from the caves flared into life on the wall. Cailin’s eyes widened in shock as he recognized them, a moment before Kuro growled deep in his throat, the fur on his back rising.
As Kal spread his hands, the image of the stones was joined by six more images. Cailin looked on silently, his shock forgotten as he began to realize what he was seeing. An rune-inscribed metal disc, lazily spinning before him but not enough to obscure the lines covering it. The lines on the assassins amulet.
A massive blade, crafted from obsidian, with the same pattern carved into the blade and hilt, twisting onto the pommel of the weapon. The crosspiece was also carved and it was all inlaid with what looked like molten steel. As he looked, Cailin could swear that the inlay was flowing.
A shield, heavy wood that looked rotten, cracked in several places, and as thick as the foundation timbers of a house. An obsidian spire, a hand and a half long, was set in the center of the shield, and it was painted in red and black slashes. Smoke seemed to rise from the shield, and in the smoke, screaming faces could be seen briefly.
A black helmet, dripping blood, floated into Cailin’s view. A large crest rose from the nose guard, spreading out over the brow like an inverted triangle, running over the top of the helmet to flare out like curled horns from the back of the neck to the cheeks. The blood flowed from the brow of the helm, and Cailin could almost see the shape of the face of the one who wore the helm. That face couldn't possibly be human.
A crystal spellbox, edged in fine gold scrollwork, contained what looked like black, oily smoke. As Cailin looked, a hand pressed against the the side of the box, its nails or claws digging into the crystal from the inside. The lid strained against its clasp, which was looking slightly bent, and tendrils of the smoke flowed out from under the lid at irregular intervals.
Finally, the dried and desiccated remains of a huge humanoid creature came into view. It was rolled up into a ball, its arms wrapped around its legs and the head thrown back in a scream. Bits and pieces flaked off of it, to drift away and reform where it broke off from. The sunken eyes seemed to stare at Cailin.
Kal brought his hands together, pulling the images and the wall into a thin line, which then disappeared, the glittering dust falling to the ground and disappearing. Kal looked at Cailin grimly for a few moments before continuing. “It is because of this, that we are here, Cailin. Hidden in the guise of a group of recluses and hermits, we have been waiting, watching, knowing that one day someone will try and bring the artifacts all together. To bring forth once more that which was banished.”
He slipped his hands back into the opposite sleeves, folding them over his chest. “It is our wish, that you join us here, as a guardian of this world, to stand against the darkness that always threatens us all.” Kal frowned down at the pair on the floor before him. “Know this, and understand.” he continued. “Choosing this path is neither easy nor without sacrifice. On this path lies hardship, sacrifice and pain. We bear it, so that the world does not have to.”
When Kal drew his hands out of his sleeves again, he drew a sword in his right hand, and rested it point down on the floor of the dias with his hands folded over the pommel. Cailin started slightly. “And if I refuse, Kal? If I choose a different path, what then? Will you kill me for not following your wishes?” Cailin waved at the sword as he spoke. Kal merely smiled.
“Should you wish to take another path, my friend, then that is a choice we will respect, and let you go in peace. As for this,” Kal glanced at the sword, then looked back at Cailin. “Well, whichever you decide, the sword becomes yours.” Kal lifted the sword by the pommel, leaning forward far enough to let the sword dangle over the edge of the dias, and let it go. Though the fall was short, Cailin could see the sword was heavy, as the point slammed into the granite of the floor with ease, and stayed upright.
Cailin stared at the blade for several long, quiet minutes. His mind replayed the horrible scenes he had witnesses, the screams of the dying, the forlorn moaning of women and children, the clash of weapons. He looked up at Kal, clenching his fists. “War will always be part of our nature, Kal. What makes this ‘war’ any different to any other war ever fought?” He folded his arms over his chest as he waited for Kals answer.
Kal smiled grimly. “This war, Cailin, though in its infant stages, will span forever. Until no man woman or child remains to fight it. You are correct that war is part of our nature. But this war will lead to our extinction.” Kal slipped his arms into his sleeves again. “All here are prepared to lay down our lives to see this through, and to ensure the survival of mankind itself. We would ask you to join with us, stand with us against this rising darkness.”
Cailin walked over to the blade stuck in the stone. He wrapped his fingers around the leatherbound hilt, noting the masterful work on the pommel and the crossguard, as well as the engraved runes marching down half the length of the blade. He pulled, the sword coming free from the stone as easily as if it had been in oil. He held the blade up before his face, reading the inscription on the blade. May I be used in service of those who have no justice. Cailin looked up at Kal, the blade upright between them.
Something rose inside Cailin. An anger, and fury slowly boiling at the thought of what could be unleashed on innocent lives, and the decision was made. He had vague recollections of being teased and picked on as a child by the other children in his village, and knew that what he endured as a child would be as nothing when compared to what the world would suffer if he did not do his part to stop it.
He let his arm drop to his side as he walked back to Kuro, still sitting in the shaft of light. The giant cat watched his friend coming, and knew what he was about to ask. He decided to spare Cailin the effort. I can see in your eyes that you have decided, my friend. Then the decision is made for us both. I will go with you. Cailin laid his hand on the massive cats’ chest. You have no obligation to me, my friend. I will not ask you to do this for those who are not even of your species.
The giant cat lowered his face to a level with Cailin’s. You are not of my species. Yet we have Bonded. I know you would fight for me and for mine. I will fight for you and yours. And that is the end of it. The massive head raised to its normal height, followed by what could only be a dismissive snort. Cailin smiled, scratching the cats shoulder in thanks before turning back to Kal.
“Why me, Kal? There are many others here who can serve as well? What makes me so special?”, Cailin asked. Even though his decision had already been made, he needed to know. But before Kal could answer, the chamber was filled with the sounds of bells ringing. Both men covered their ears, Cailin dropping the sword, and Kuro laying his ears flat as he hunkered down on his belly, covering his head with his paws.
When the noise subsided, Cailin slowly opened his eyes and lowered his hands. An incandescent light had flooded the entire chamber, it’s source a human like figure floating just in front of Cailin. The light slowly receded, and the figure became more distinct. It was a woman of unparalleled beauty, golden hair floating around her head like a halo, clad in a robe of silver edged with gold which hugged her hourglass figure as it swirled around her. She smiled at Cailin as he looked into her white, glowing eyes.
“You and Kal spent so much time talking, almost arguing, that I felt compelled to interject, young Cailin…”, the woman’s voice rang like a silver bell, filling the chamber with its soothing sound. She reached out and stroked Cailin’s cheek. “I am here to answer your questions, Cailin. You are ready, and strong enough for the truth, therefore, ask…”, the woman smiled again, a smile that filled Cailin with comfort.
The questions tumbled through his mind, disarrayed and chaotic, so he decided to start with the most obvious. “Who are you?”, he stammered as he reached out and got a firm hold on Kuro’s scruff, more for his own comfort than that of the massive feline. The woman raised her arms, the voluminous sleeves of her robe floating as if they were in water. “I am one of the greater spirits of this world, Cailin. My name is Ryna.”
Cailin was shaken. Meeting and befriending a sprite was one thing, being confronted by a greater spirit was something else entirely. He desperately cast around for a coherent question. “The things Kal showed me, about the war. What is the truth of that?”, he asked, as he started checking on Kuro, still flat on his belly with his paws over his face.
Ryna’s smile melting into a look of sadness. “It is all true, Cailin. The war that raged all those many years ago carried an immense cost in lives, both human and non-human. Everything Kal told you was true.” Ryna turned to look at Kal over her shoulder. “Kal has suffered much because of the conflict. That is why I brought him here. This fortress, as you call it, is where I reside in this reality.”
Cailin finished checking over Kuro, and stood up, picking up his blade as he did. He looked the spirit in the eyes, preparing for his final question. “Did I come here by chance? And why have Kal and the others spent so much time teaching me, and training me?”, he asked, the sword heavy in his hand as he waited for the answer.
Ryna smiled again, her luminescence rising as she again cupped Cailin’s cheek. “You are very special, young Cailin. You carry within your bloodline the power of one of the seven that ended the war, years ago. Your power is unique, even if you do not believe that you have it. We have guided you here, and given you the choice to stay or go. You stayed of your own free will, and accepted the teachings we offered freely. We would ask you to aid us in this conflict, but we will not force you.”
Cailin knew that his choice had been made earlier, and he now had more answers than he had before. He went down to one knee, his sword resting point down on the granite floor with both hands wrapped around the hilt. Kuro rose next to him, then stretched his front paws forward, left leading the right, as he looked at the luminescent being before him. As one, they both bowed their heads to the glowing figure floating before them.
Kal had come down to the floor, and knelt on Cailins other side, also bowing his head. The three looked up as one, and Ryna smiled at them. She held out her hand, bidding them to rise. She turned to Kal first, and said; “My old friend. You have served faithfully for so very long, watching over the world and waiting for the time to come. It has now come. And your work is almost complete.”
She turned next to Kuro, laying a glowing hand on his giant head. “Great feline. Your sacrifices and losses and pain have given you great strength. In time, I hope that you see it was not in vain.” She gently caressed his cheek, cupping his chin in her palm and laid a kiss on his brow. Kuro bowed again in thanks.
“And you, young Cailin…”, her voice echoed like a bell around the chamber. “I hereby charge you to act as my agent in the world beyond our walls, to be a voice to the voiceless and a sword to the helpless. I charge you with the responsibility of using your gifts and training to see this task through, though it may cost you your life.” The glowing eyes rooted him to the spot. “Will you accept this charge of your own free will?”
Cailin felt no fear, no hesitation, as his answer rang as clear crystal; “I do, my Mistress.” The title for Ryna came unbidden, and felt right to Cailin. Ryna smiled again, and laid a hand on his brow. “I name you Acolyte, Cailin of Crescent Lake, and welcome you to the fold.” As she spoke, light flowed over Cailin, caressing his skin, seeming to sink into him like a balm, and he could feel its soothing warmth settling into his very soul. He closed his eyes as he felt a sense of peace and purpose flooding him.
When he opened his eyes, his clothing had changed. Gone was the soft leggings and tunic he had been wearing, replaced with black shirt that fitted him snugly, as comfortable as a second skin, covered by a high-collared coat, that fell to just below his knees, cinched around his waist by a broad leather belt, black with silver stitching. His leggings were replaced by loose fitting black pants, and he wore soft and supple black leather boots.
His blade now lay sheathed across his back, the scabbard worked into the fabric of his coat, with the pommel rising over his right shoulder. Cailin stared at the clothes he found himself wearing in awe. The material and the weave was extremely fine, and felt as it was tailored for him and him alone. He reached up to draw his sword and found no resistance to his movements, as if the clothes stretched and contracted with his movements.
Ryna smiled at her acolyte as he admired his new clothes. “This is my uniform, Cailin.”; she said, “I see already that you will honor it. We have chosen well, Kal.” Kal grunted, stroking his beard. “That still remains to be seen, Mistress…”, he grumbled, throwing a wink Cailin’s way. Cailin snorted at Kal, and Kuro bared his teeth, slashing his tail through the air in mock anger.
Ryna leaned forward and cupped Cailin’s chin, turning his eyes up to hers. “Remember, Cailin. You are not alone. You will never be alone.” She released him with a soft caress on his cheek as she straightened up. “I must leave you now. If you have great need, call, and I will come.” With the last words, her luminescence grew until all averted their eyes. The sound of bells filled the chamber, bouncing back from the walls and building up to a point just below being painful.
Then the light died away, and the three were left alone in the chamber, the sounds of bells ringing still circling the space like children at play. Cailin’s awe would not begin to fade for a long time, and he held to that feeling of peace and contentment until long after they had left the chamber and went back to Kal’s study. When they entered through the small door they had used to descend to the chamber, Blake and Hazel were waiting for them, along with Revin.
The party in the study all greeted the newcomers, although Revin’s was slightly subdued. Cailin clasped forearms with the smith, and Hazel kissed his cheek. Revin looked him up and down from the depths of his hood, wearing his customary red robe, with his hands tucked into opposite sleeves. His light voice betrayed a hint of jealousy as he congratulated the newly minted Acolyte.
Revin steered Cailin into a corner as the others quietly spoke amongst themselves, leaning close has he spoke to Cailin in low tones. “Did you see her? Did you see Ryna?”; his tone of voice was wistful with a hint of anger mixed into it. Cailin was unsure what to make of Revin’s behaviour, but he had always been honest with everyone here in the fortress, and he wouldn't change now.
Cailin laid a hand on Revin’s upper arm, leaning close and replying in the same low tones. “Yes, brother. I have seen Ryna.”; he replied softly. Revin gripped Cailin’s forearms as a broad smile split his face. “Wonderful… You must tell me everything! You have been honored beyond measure…”; Revin seemed a little unfocussed, like he was thinking of several things at once.
In the time he had spent in the Fortress, Cailin had gained spect and understanding of Revin, but they were not close. Now, Revin seemed obsessed with gaining as much information about Ryna as he could, and his question became more and more probing and detailed. A vague unease settled over Cailin as he answered the question, and he found himself beginning to omit certain facts from his narrative.
When Revin seemed satisfied with his answers, he left the study, claiming an ongoing experiment required his attention. Cailin looked at the door for several moments after it had closed behind the magician, deep in though, and was brought back to the present by Blake pressing a goblet of wine into his hand. A toast was made by Kal, which Cailin barely heard. As Kal began speaking, Gaia’s voice slipped into his mind. I’m very happy it turned out to be you, big brother. But I’d watch out for Revin is I were you. He will probably be very jealous, he’s been hoping to be chosen for many years now.
Cailin nodded as he lifted his goblet, the same suspicion having blossomed in his mind as Revin’s questions had grown more probing. You don't think he would anything, do you?; he asked. Gaia’s silence spoke volumes, and Cailin resolved to watch his back, even when among friends. Kuro, meanwhile, had sauntered over to the windows, and was lying in a patch of sunlight, watching the room in general.
Cailin looked over at his friend, and the cat nodded to him. Kuro had heard the exchange, and would also be watching for anything strange. He turned to Kal and the others standing by the smaller of the three conversation circles, and joined them, picking up on a discussion concerning the assassin.
“It’s confirmed, Kal.”, Blake was saying as he took a sip of wine, his hand resting on one of his ever present hammers on a loop in his broad belt. “More of the assassins have been cited, several in the capital, a handful in the countryside and five others guarding ruins around the countryside.” Kal was stroking his beard, a frown adorning his face. As Cailin joined them, Blake turned to him with a wide grin on his face.
“Ah, the Acolyte has joined us.”; he grinned as he slapped Cailin good naturedly on the back. “We are very proud to have one among us again. And we are very happy that it is you who was named.” Hazel was nodding along with her husband, and Kal had a smile on his face, though his eyes looked somewhat distant. Blake looked him up and down, then tried to pull up one of Cailin’s sleeves. “Go on, lad. Show us the marks!”
Cailin was confused. “The marks? I don't know what you mean?”, he said as he unbuttoned his coat, shrugging it off and draping it and the sword over a nearby chair. Blake poked in in the arm. “Roll up your sleeve! We want to see!”, he seemed very excited about it. Hazel sniffed before reaching out to help him uncuff his shirt and roll it up to above his elbow. And that's when Cailin saw what blake was talking about.
His arm was covered up to the elbow with strange, moving tattoos. The designs looked like bits of flame, shifting and merging under his skin, with the star in the circle sitting square in the middle of his forearm. The other marks all seemed to radiate from it, to disappear just before the wrist, to be constantly replaced by new ones making their way down from the star.
Half of the marks ran upwards, toward his shoulders, but they couldn't see what became of them as the rolled up sleeve was in the way. Cailin stared at his arm in amazement, and Blake laughed at his consternation. He pointed to Cailin’s arm and told Kal; “They move, Kal! Look, they move!” The smith seemed very excited by the fact that Cailin’s arm had moving marks on them.
Kal spotted the look on Cailin’s face, and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. “The moving marks are just confirmation of your bloodline, Cailin. Don’t let it bother you. All here are marked, one way or another…” Kal turned around, pulling his long grey hair out of the way and showing him the symbol marking the back of his neck. It was a circle with two lines crossing it at right angles. Blake opened his shirt at the throat and pulled it aside for Cailin to see an upright hammer in circle, and Hazel lifted her hair to show two snakes swirling around each other on the side of her neck.
Cailin had never seen the marks on any of them, and listened as Kal explained the presence of the marks on their bodies. Hazel left them shortly after to tend to her business, and the three men sat in chairs in the smaller conversation circle, where Kal finally revealed the truth of the assassin to him.
“You see, Cailin.”; Kal spoke, leaning back in his chair and idly stroking his beard. “The assassin was a protector of the stones. As well as its avenger. Should be stones be destroyed, he who destroyed them immediately becomes the next target for the assassin. In this case, I became the target.” He leaned forward and continued; “I was told what you did to try and capture the assassin, and I thank you for it and commend you for it, but by all that is good please don't do something like that again….”
Blake was chuckling as he sat carving. Cailin as studying the marks on his arm as he listened to Kal explain the abilities and creation of the assassins. The splitting in two, and the immense speed, power and near immortality of the creatures all made more sense, as well as why one was there in the first place. An odd fact struck Cailin then, and he looked Kal in the eyes, not bothering to couch his questions in polite language.
“You speak as if you were present for most of history, Kal. I’m assuming you had an excellent teacher.” Cailin said. Kal merely smiled and went back to stroking his beard. “Oh no, Cailin. I didn’t need a teacher. I was there, for all of it. I was but a boy when the seven sealed the monster you saw in the chamber away into the seven artifacts…” Cailin had not been expecting that, so when he did the calculations in his head quickly, his jaw dropped.
Kal laughed at Cailin’s expression. “I see you understand how old I am now.” Cailin could only nod at the nine thousand year old man sitting before him, idly sipping his wine. “But how…” Cailin breathed. Kal set down his cup and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together. “Ryna, and Gaia, Cailin. They decided they needed me around to keep an eye on things, so they keep me around…”.
Cailin said nothing. There was nothing to say. The three men spoke until late into the night, about the events that led up to this point in their lives, about what Liran had told them, about plans they may have to enact, and where they go from here. When they eventually left the study, the moon had already passed overhead and was hidden by the cliffs edge. When Cailin finally stripped off his new clothes before a quick bath, his mind was still spinning. But his determination had grown. It was with thoughts of the spirits he now served that he finally fell asleep.
The cave had been left as it was after the battle that destroyed the stones, and the beautiful woman picked through it carefully, wisps of magic dribbling from her fingertips. The dust in the chamber stirred at her direction, briefly bringing the events of the battle to life. Kal destroying the stones, with Cailin facing Petram. Cailin being thrown across the room, and Petram getting half of his face shredded, and the ending of the confrontation with Petram dead on the floor.
She followed the dusty apparitions as they led the way outside. When she stood on the slope of the cliff, where the map had been inlaid in stone, she could see the fortress in the far distance. She turned back to the cavern, hissing into the darkness for her companions to join her. Two brutish soldiers came shuffling out of the darkness, armed with swords and axes, each wore segmented armour and a burnished steel mask.
She stared off towards the fortress, weighing her options. Finally she turned back to the two soldiers, and issued instructions in hushed tones before slipping back into the darkness of the cave. As she made her way back through the tunnels to the entrance on the other side of the cliff, she was planning furiously. Geros, her master, would not be pleased. He rarely was when things weren’t going his way. Also, the loss of the stones was a blow to his plans that he could not afford right now, but she was powerless to change it.
When she stepped out of the cave, it took her only a moment to locate her horse, a sleek black mare, in the shadows of the trees. She stepped into the saddle, and started the long ride to the capital. She briefly thought about riding somewhere else, anywhere else, ut she knew that Geros would find her. Him or one of his playthings. She couldn’t decide which would be worse. So onwards she rode, as fast as she dared in the dark, towards the capital and the nightmare waiting for her there.