THE WINDS OF MOIRA TRILOGY
A Novel
Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark
Copyright © Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark 2011
All rights reserved
The right of Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
First published in the United States electronically 2011 by Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark
Books By: Lawrence Sylou-Creutz Ojermark
FANTASY
The Winds of Moira Trilogy
Book 1: A Journey Begins
Book 2: Fate’s Needle
Book 3: Moira
POETRY
Fallen Letters
FITNESS
Plenary Fitness: A Guide for Health, Fitness, & Happiness
COMING SOON
Plenary Fitness: Simple Cures for Common Ailments
Plenary Fitness Cookbook: Diet & Nutrition
SCI-FI SERIES:
Empire’s End
Empire’s Return
Empire Lore
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank my family, friends, and all those who’ve helped and inspired me over the years. It is you have all made this book possible. Without you there would be nothing but a blank page. I’d like to thank those who helped with editing. The book would likely be riddled with grammar and spelling mistakes if it wasn’t for your patience and efforts.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS FOR VERSION II
I’d like to thank everyone that was involved with improving the book. The criticisms, the ideas, input, and overall support I received were fundamental in improving a series of novels I have worked on for a number of years.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
BOOK 1 - A JOURNEY BEGINS
Prologue - Lemuria, Death’s Head
Chapter 1 - The Nether Reaches
Chapter 2 - Fate revisited
Chapter 3 - North of the Barren Lands
Chapter 4 - Celebrations; Nether Reaches
Chapter 5 - Foot Hills
Chapter 6 - Binn Mountains
Chapter 7 - West of the Barren Lands
Chapter 8 - Xhosa
Chapter 9 - Scheme
Chapter 10 - Descent
Chapter 11 - Faux God
Chapter 12 - Into the Depths
Chapter 13 - Analecta
Chapter 14 - First chance
Chapter 15 - Path
Chapter 16 - Allodial
Chapter 17 - Ziapetes
Chapter 18 - Penates
Chapter 19 - Mutatis mutandis
Chapter 20 - Horesac province
Chapter 21 - Nestor
Chapter 22 - Chance encounter
Chapter 23 - Second chances
BOOK 2 - FATE’S NEEDLE
Chapter 24 - Precarious days
Chapter 25 - Captive
Chapter 26 - Desinence
Chapter 27 - Dream
Chapter 28 - A moment of clarity
Chapter 29 - A lesson in pain
Chapter 30 - Freedom
Chapter 31 - Considerations
Chapter 32 - Lamia
Chapter 33 - Recollection
Chapter 34 - Sleepless night
Chapter 35 - Strange thoughts
Chapter 36 - Two weeks later
Chapter 37 - Neken
Chapter 38 - The King’s Service
Chapter 39 - A king’s celebration
Chapter 40 - Fate’s weaving hands
Chapter 41 - An honest lesson
Chapter 42 - A stately reception
Chapter 43 - Whispering skies, and trickling meadows
Chapter 44 - Dinner Celebrations and Revelations
Chapter 45 - A tournament of tournaments
Chapter 46 - Transgression
Chapter 47 - Night Visitations
Chapter 48 - Living struggle
BOOK 3 - MOIRA
Chapter 49 - Meetings
Chapter 50 - The King’s Seer
Chapter 51 - Distractions and Responsibilities
Chapter 52 - Library of the Ages
Chapter 53 - Training begins
Chapter 54 - Training days and sleepless nights
Chapter 55 - A night out
Chapter 56 - A new man
Chapter 57 - The moment of departure
Chapter 58 - A web of layered deception
Chapter 59 - Passage
Chapter 60 - The altered path
Chapter 61 - Treachery revealed
Chapter 62 - A growing web of deception
Chapter 63 - Regroup
Chapter 64 - Mantasos
Chapter 65 - It begins
Chapter 66 - Insubordinate
Chapter 67 - Death’s hand strikes
Chapter 68 - Intelligence revealed
Chapter 69 - Remembering the King’s service
Chapter 70 - Death and Glory
Chapter 71 - Reunited
Chapter 72 - The next morning
Chapter 73 - Lagacial
Chapter 74 - The following days
Chapter 75 - Untold secrets
Chapter 76 - Seer revisited
Chapter 77 - Requiem
Chapter 78 - At sea
Chapter 79 - Land
Chapter 80 - Land fall
Epilogue - A journal’s journey
BOOK 1 - A JOURNEY BEGINS
11,042 BC Lemuria, Death’s Head
A slight man made his way along the southern coastline. The wind smelled foul, filled with the scents of dead fish and birds wasting away on the rocky shoreline. The sky was a deep gray, threatening heavy rain and lightning at any moment.
Desinence didn’t notice any of this as he picked his way over the barren terrain. As he walked, his eye caught movement on the ground. Directly in front of him was a small bird struggling to walk, its right wing dragging low to the ground, injured. Desinence walked over to it and stared at the fragile animal before him. The bird looked up pathetically as it struggled to fly with its good wing. He enjoyed its pain for a moment before he stepped down heavily with his boot. There was a swift crunch as the body of the helpless bird was crushed. A grin made its way onto his thin face.
The crack of thunder brought him out of his momentary satisfaction. He started once more for the small town he lived in. The fetid wind picked up, assaulting his wasted body with thick droplets of water. Soon he was drenched through, but he paid it no mind. More clouds enshrouded and blackened the already dark sky, forcing more rain upon the dead lands. He hurried his pace as the town came into view, thick wet sheets of falling water distorting the scene.
Lightning flashed, shortly followed by the low rumble of thunder. The flash of light briefly illuminated the small town, made up of roughly twenty weather beaten houses. Desinence stopped before the third house and shielded his eyes against the wind and the rain, looking at the black sky above. The dark clouds seemed to form into the shape of words, but he could not read. He averted his gaze and ducked into the wooden house before him. He walked to the back of the small edifice and huddled in the corner, his ass sinking into the mud. Desinence looked at the bare walls of his house, watching them move with the wind and the rain. Hatred for this place and hatred for his life filled him, oddly comforting him. He drifted into a disturbed sleep.
"Desinence,” said a thick awful voice. Desinence looked up but could see nothing. His entire house was flooded with an oppressive darkness. Fear found its way into his heart, stirring hidden memories of his childhood. Desinence struggled to cast the images from his feeble mind, but the harder he tried the sharper the images became. He could see his disfigured mother coming at him with her dull-blade knife. Her stained teeth were always visible behind her tainted smile. She would raise the blade and he would just catch the flash of reflected light before it plunged into him. Helplessly he’d raise his arms, hoping his mother would stop. Eventually she would, leaving him to heal from the horrible wounds. Sometimes she would be gone for days or weeks and the fear that she would never come back surpassed the fear of her anger. He shook those thoughts out of his head, soothing himself, remembering that she was dead, and he had killed her. He blinked back the memories, but his house was still devoid of light. Anxiety continued to grip him in a tight embrace. He squirmed farther into the corner as the voice repeated itself.
"Desinence.”
The thick darkness hanging before him began to take shape. Whirling fingers manipulated the darkness, until the shadows and dust transformed before him. The image of a tall, beautiful figure danced in the still air. Her movements were graceful, her hair was long. His mind calmed as he watched her move, recalling the secret stories of the fabled Quang Ji. The image faded.
"Desinence, do you know what I am?”
Fear swept in, silently pushing aside the momentary calm and once again worked to consume him. He tried to form words in his head, and then tried to move his mouth, but he was frozen. He wiggled even farther back into the corner.
"Desinence, do you know what I want you to do?”
The blackness before him started to move and take shape once more. The image of the Quang Ji filled his vision and his brain. His fear was pushed to a distant second as he watched her in front of him. The blackness twisted and moved once again, forming another image. His imagination ran wild, as the dust danced and the rain continued to pummel the small dwelling. In his vision he saw a city on fire. The flames circled his vision, yet gave him no warmth. They leapt across the void consuming everything in their path. Dancing at the center of this growing mass was that beautiful woman, her laugh echoing into silence. Her piercing eyes glowed fiercely. She turned her fiery gaze to him, her eyes tunneling directly into his heart. There was nowhere for him to hide. Fear manifested, screeching for him to respond. Desinence ran to every hidden crevice he could find, but to no avail.
His mind began to swirl in anger and hatred toward the figure of the woman, for making him weak. The emotion swelled within.
"Desinence, I have a gift for you,” said the malicious voice.
Desinence sat huddled in the corner, his fear dissipating slightly. He could feel a strange power trickle into his system. His nerves stretched and contracted. His muscles felt like they were on fire. It was worse than any pain he had ever felt before. The pain increased and alongside the pain was an odd sort of pleasure. A high-pitched scream came forth and soon filled the dark house. His body contracted in spasms. His eyes fluttered to the back of his head. The fingernails of his clenched fists bit into the meek flesh of his hands. Blood dripped from his palms. The pain pulsated through his body. As quick as the trickle had started, it stopped. Desinence lay sprawled out on the floor panting.
The darkness receded.
Desinence opened his eyes at the first sign of the dim sunlight leaking through the cracks of the thatched roof. He moved to a sitting position, his entire body stiff as though with rigor-mortis. An image of a tall dark haired being flew unbidden into his head. A deep hatred flared to life. A power he was not aware he held welled up inside of him, yearning to come out. His mind grew large with the energy; uncontrolled, and undisciplined his newfound power consumed him like a wildfire. His eyes screwed shut as he brought up the image of his father, strong and proud before he had been caught and tortured, reduced to a crippled man who died of malice and disease. The image faded, replaced by anger. He was no longer the weak figure he had been. He looked down at his hands, but they were not his own. They were bloodied and covered in dirt.
He looked to the far corner of his dwelling, and there in shadow laid a weapon half covered in dirt. A faint recognition dawned on him. Taking in a breath of musky air he moved to pick it up. Its handle was cool to the touch, yet oddly comforting. He glanced down at the long, thin black blade, and a smile peeled over his teeth.
Turning, he left the small edifice and paused before a small pool of water left by the night’s storm. He peered into the water seeing a dull reflection of another’s face, the face of his father. He was beginning to understand the gift and the curse of the power he now held within his fragile mind. He began his trek north. He knew what he had to do.
CHAPTER 1
The Nether Reaches
Analecta sat on a large outcropping, her legs dangling over the side of a short cliff. The crashing of the ocean waves filled her ears, and the smell of salt water carried by the cool breeze cleansed her. Smooth granite stretched to either side of her for as far as the eye could see. Her mind drifted as she watched the water tumble into the rocky wall below. The water sprayed upward in a white cloud, the salty mist reaching just high enough to tickle the soles of her bare feet. Her tanned skin soaked up the soft afternoon light. A gentle breeze played with the stray hair that slipped from a simple knot she had carefully created, more concerned with function than form.
Her mind pondered her dreams from the previous night. Analecta turned the images over in her head, trying to make sense of what she had seen. Yet they played their own game, elusive and faint, slipping through her mind’s eye like water through open fingers. She was once told that her dreams were the gateway to another world.
The slight tapping of footfalls on the granite rock brought her out of her revere.
“May I join you,” said a firm, but delicate voice.
Analecta nodded and turned her head moving some of her dark hair to the side. She watched as her guardian came to take a seat beside her. A smile of respect flashed between them. Her almond-shaped eyes rapidly took in every detail, before returning to the expansive ocean below.
“Surd wanted me to come and finish your lesson.”
Analecta merely nodded, seemingly entranced by the water’s rhythmic churning below.
“You’re worried about the trip,” Sagacious pressed on.
Analecta remained silent, as was her custom. She wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Rather, she much preferred the silence of solitude. She found it better when no one intruded on her thoughts.
Sagacious sat leaning back on her hands, the warm surface of the granite feeling pleasant against the cold texture of her skin. She shook her head as she watched Analecta. They were so much alike. Sometimes it felt like Analecta was her own daughter, but she knew that wasn’t true. She was going to miss her.
“Close your eyes,” said Sagacious.
Analecta considered refusing; her stubbornness was known to get her into and out of trouble. Instead she glanced briefly at her scarred knuckles before closing her eyes and letting herself relax.
"Push all thoughts from your head, clearing your mind. Picture an expanse of white spreading outward, to the farthest reaches of your imagination. Feel the power grow inside of you.”
Analecta sat there her eyes closed, feeling the hum of energy beneath her skin. She could call upon it at anytime and much faster than her guardian believed. She enjoyed training for the most part and on her free time when she wasn’t reading she was practicing.
“Picture a small flame in your hand.”
The feeling of power continued to grow, pounding through her body. A flame leapt to life in her outstretched palm. Sagacious looked over and her eyes widened as she saw the flame grow larger and larger. Shock registered briefly on her lined face, displaying the first hints of greater age.
“A small flame,” Sagacious said more firmly.
The flame was now a ball of fire, the surface ever changing as if unsure of how to present itself. The ball of fire leapt forward leaving Analecta’s hand and hovered a few feet in front of her. She poured more magik into the flame, ignoring her guardian’s words. She wanted to leave. It was time, she could feel it deep within her heart and this was the only way she knew how to show it. Sagacious stood up and looked at Analecta. She backed up, staring at the crackling mass. Her hand straightened her graying hair. A shrewd smile spread across Sagacious’ lips.
"I knew you were ready, I was just wondering how long it would take before you were willing to prove it.”
The flame died leaving no trace of its existence, except for what she knew in her mind. Analecta got up, standing before her guardian. An odd mix of affection and irritation flashed across Analecta’s eyes. Sagacious always knew how to phrase her words as to sound wise beyond her years.
"We should go tell Surd,” Analecta said.
She turned away from the ocean and headed toward the path back to town. They soon left behind the smooth granite and were on a dirt trail leading to the marbled city. Trees encompassed them, casting them in shade as they walked in silence. Ruined buildings, long overgrown, lingered from a forgotten war. Their crumbling walls a reminder of more prosperous times. Plants now enshrouded them in their protective grasp and tall conifers obscured them from view.
“There you are,” said Surd in a deep voice, casting a glance over both Analecta and Sagacious, as he stood in the doorway, almost as though he had sensed them coming. His tall, strong frame filled the entryway for the briefest of moments before he stepped through. The afternoon sun highlighted his aging features.
Sagacious found his eye and nodded, saying much without speaking. Analecta noticed but said nothing. They left the quaint home and followed the simple cobbled road to the main street of their small city.
Rows of tall marble buildings lay stretched out in front of the group as they ambled along the street, paved in crushed stone. Each building seemed to reach for the sky with their tall arches and pointed roofs, but the group didn’t give any of the buildings a second look. They simply continued to weave their way through the half-busy streets. The group stopped before a white marble structure, its wide steps almost glowing in the waning sun.
Surd climbed up the steps, favoring his right leg, he had injured his left years ago. Sagacious and Analecta followed. Thin pillars lined the front of the building. Faded green marble carvings rested on either side of the high entranceway. Their echoing footsteps muffled the voices from the chamber within, the chamber of the High Council.
They slipped inside, careful to draw the appropriate amount of attention. Whispers of Analecta and her training already filled the hidden corners of town. Imagination, ignorance, and time worked to create tall tales of unbelievable ability. Ramblings of heroic deeds, secret foretelling, and impossible hope were whispered in the city’s gathering spots. Late at night within the taverns after too much ale, townsfolk would forget their reserved ways. Many laid claim to knowing the Select personally. The few and the brave claimed to have fought with her and lived. They were of course nothing more than the drunken words of a concerned populace.
One of the council members seated behind the heavy table spotted the two Guardians and the Select and nodded an acknowledgment. The member leaned over and spoke to the man next to him. The head of the council looked up.
"Surd, Sagacious, and Analecta,” stated the head of the council flatly, waiting for their response.
“We are here to petition the High Council in regards to the departure of the Select,” Surd said in a rumbling baritone.
Sagacious jumped in. “She is ready and I,” Sagacious stopped and looked at her husband before starting again, "we propose that she leave as soon as possible.”
The council members started to talk amongst themselves oblivious to the presence of the others. The constant bickering of the government irritated Analecta. She was too well trained and too disciplined to show it, but purposeful stupidity was worse than ignorance in her books. Analecta felt there were too many members, they seemed to consistently argue allowing for little accomplishment, but that was the price of the freedom they had earned so many years past. A council member broke her train of thought.
“So close to the end of the Bleak Solstice?”
Surd looked mad, as Analecta knew he would be. He disliked it when people went against his and Sagacious’ better judgment.
“We understand that, but she is ready. She will leave.”
The council members broke into their quiet mumblings again. As the discussion died down, the head council member spoke.
“Then we will celebrate. It will take two days to prepare. On the third day celebrations will commence, and then you,” the head council member looked at Analecta, “will leave.” He said this with a tone of finality that didn’t invite further reproach.
The council members nodded heavily, indicating that the decision was made. The small group bowed their heads and left the room. Not a word was uttered as they exited the cool hallways and emerged onto the street. Analecta broke the silence.
“I’d better pack if I’m to leave so soon. Please excuse me.” With a brief smile she was off.
Surd and Sagacious watched her leave.
“It isn’t fair what the council is doing,” said Sagacious. “They shouldn’t use her like that; they don’t understand what kind of person she is. She will be furious when she finds out.”
Surd answered, “I know, but we knew from the start how it was to be, she’ll be fine.”
Sagacious shook her head as they walked down the crowded street in the opposite direction of Analecta. If she had known it was going to be like this she would never have accepted being her guardian.
Analecta squeezed through the masses of people, each looking up at her, before going back to their own business. Many recognized her, yet averted their gaze. It wasn’t polite to stare. Analecta enjoyed the cultural intricacies and obeyed them for the most part without much thought. Therefore, she was quite startled when a man stepped in front of her and shoved a necklace in her face; his eyes staring right through her. Her body momentarily became rigid, and she adjusted her footing.
“Buy a necklace,” the man said more than asked.
Her gaze fell on him for a brief moment. A faint recognition tingled in the back of her brain. His face was lined, with wrinkles about his eyes. His body was lean, but strong, covered in the robes of the Holy Order of Redemption. Normally her curiosity would have begged her to stay. But with her upcoming journey, her mind was awash in other thoughts. She pushed past him, curious but distracted.
She soon cleared the marketplace, leaving the roar of the crowd behind. She headed for her dormitory, a small squat stone structure, much in contrast to the other buildings of the city. It was placed at the edge of the forest, surrounded by tall trees and heavy shrubs.
Why had Surd given up so easily? It wasn’t like him, she thought. In fact, Sagacious seemed more agitated and she was usually the collected one. Analecta could feel that something didn’t add up, but she didn’t have enough information to make sense of it. She decided to pack, allowing those thoughts to float from her mind.
Analecta pushed open a wooden door with no lock and entered her small house. She wasn’t allowed a lock, for she was supposed to be alert at all times. It didn’t matter much anyway since she spent so little time there. That was the primary reason the walls were bare, and few personal effects distinguished the room from that of a simple inn. She stared at the bare walls, before heading to the thick chest that sat in the corner across from her small hard bed. The chest lay right below an arched window that looked out into the forest.
She lifted the heavy lid and searched through the chest pulling out various items and laying them on her bed. After they were all laid out she looked at them. She picked up each item in turn, scrutinizing them for flaws. Only the best equipment would hold up on her journey, she expected nothing less from herself, how could she expect anything less from inanimate objects.
She went back to her chest and rummaged through it, finding a new leather bag lying on the bottom. She also pulled out woolen undergarments, carefully folded and placed them into the leather bag. She looked into the chest once more. On the bottom, hidden in the corner was a simple hair comb. Analecta reached in and carefully pulled it out. Memories washed over her. She remembered receiving the carefully carved wooden comb for her birthday. Sagacious had spent months carving it, making it especially for her. She turned it over in her hand seeing the words painted finely along the ridge. Analecta wrapped it carefully and placed it into the leather bag. The items that had passed inspection were then place into the bag as well. After a final look over her room, she put the bag into the corner by her bed and placed a protective ward at the door before exiting.
A cool wind picked up, blowing fresh sea air across her face and through her hair. She buttoned her thin coat and left the paved street. In two days she would be celebrating with the rest of her people. In two days she would be leaving this place, leaving her guardians, and leaving her home. A small knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. Despite her wish for adventure, now that it was around the corner she found herself hesitant.
She emerged out of the small forest and came to the granite stretch of rock along the coastline. She walked out onto the smooth surface and found herself a seat. The sun was nearing the end of its day’s journey. Its rays traveled through the wispy clouds on the horizon, creating a spectacle of light and color. The granite rock spread warmth through her, comforting her. After a few calming breaths her anxiety faded.
Soon the sun had set, and Analecta was left alone with nothing but her thoughts. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sounds of the crashing ocean waves. She would miss this place. Her breathing slowed as she struggled to clear her mind of thought. This was still hard for her. She could push herself to impossible physical extremes. She was faster and quicker than any of her training partners, but the simple act of stillness posed a challenge.
It was dark and getting cold. Reluctantly Analecta got up and headed back to her little dwelling. She was going to need to rest. It was soon the beginning of a new season and a new turn. It was the end of the bleak solstice and the beginning of her journey.
Fate Revisited
Analecta woke the next day, light pouring through her arched window and spilling into the bare room. She got out of bed, dressed and left. A light mist hung in the air, clinging to the morning like a mother to her child. Analecta shivered as she traveled up the street. Her eyes glanced at the buildings on either side. It was strange to see how many were still crumbling and empty. Many were renovated, whitewashed, plastered, and lived in. She tried to imagine what it must have been like in the Nether Reaches at the height of its power and glory. Now the city felt much like a shell of its former self. Empty husks sat like rotting teeth in an otherwise healthy mouth.
She stopped before a recently constructed breakfast house and entered. Several people were seated in comfortable chairs around large circular tables. Even the people looked slightly worn. Their clothes, although fine, were faded with age. Laughter rarely broke out, and conversations were crafted to carefully avoid the painful topics of lost family and a slow recovery from the war. Underlying these sentiments was a subtle hope and a silent strength. Analecta chose a table in the corner and sat down. She listened to the quiet hubbub of the chatting people around her. Various aromas drifted from the kitchen, heightening everyone’s hunger.
The hubbub died down as a few people became aware of Analecta’s presence. She sat alone, which was odd in itself, for everyone knew that breakfast was an important social meal. It wasn’t that, however, which drew the most attention. It was the intrinsic strength and grace that marked her movements, which made her stand apart. Her strong, yet elegant features ensured that she stood out even among her own people.
Slowly whispers filled the room. Whispers of the upcoming celebration and whispers of the orphaned warrior child coalesced and permeated the room. Trays of food were brought out. Servants stopped at each table dishing out plates. Analecta’s table was among the last to be served. The servant lowered the plate before her and set it down onto the hard surface, his eyes lingered on her for a moment. Analecta met his gaze, and he dropped the plate.
“I’m sorry, so sorry, Adonai forgives,” he said in a mumbled haste.
She took in a deep breath, looking around. She realized that the restaurant had gone quiet. It wasn’t often that she ate with a large group of people. Her guardians had always made sure to keep her separated from the general populace. Strange it was only now that she was beginning to understand why.
Analecta grabbed a few items off the plate and stepped outside into the cool morning air. People everywhere were going about their business. The city felt busier than it had in some time. Many were putting up decorations or in the midst of other feast preparations. Most avoided derelict buildings, walking past as though they were nothing more than the shadows of their neighbor. Decorations were attentively placed on newer buildings. Analecta walked among these people, watching them dart here and there all busy with their specific task. She kept her head down, for the most part going unnoticed. That was how she preferred it.
Normally she would have been in training, long sweaty days of grueling practice, with little time for thought and little time for herself. Today was different. The upcoming celebrations marked the end of her training. The lack of structure felt strange, and Analecta wasn’t quite sure what to do with her newfound freedom. With nothing to do, Analecta decided to wander the streets, heading deeper into the busy city.
A tall domed building lay at the end of the street. Its grandeur was a stark reminder of times before a lost war. Analecta immediately recognized it as the library. Access was restricted, but she was one of the few allowed within its chambers. She entered the round structure. The familiar smells of old leather and dust assaulted her nose. She walked in through a short hallway, nodding briefly to a man seated in a simple wooden chair. The man nodded back, slowly moving his tired body out of the chair. He carefully picked his way over to a large wooden door. He withdrew a key from a chain around his neck and unlocked the entryway.
Analecta pushed it open and walked into a large open room. Light poured in through stained-glass windows arranged in a circular pattern at the base of the domed ceiling. Row upon row of large wooden shelves filled the building and filling these shelves were thousands of books.
A smile spread across her face as she stepped farther into the building, her eyes trying to catch all the titles of all the books. This had always been a refuge of sorts, a place to recover quietly from a day of physical training. Half the time she never even opened a book. It was the peaceful quiet of a room full of history that most attracted her. The idea that she could crack a volume and delve into another world was often more enticing than literally reading the entire thing. She was a woman who preferred action to inaction, but had enough patience to temper her nature.
Analecta pushed past some of the shelves toward a series of rectangular tables spread out across the center of the large room. As she walked along the book filled shelves a title caught her eye. She walked toward it, ignoring the other titles surrounding it. She reached out and pulled out the thick leather-bound book, the title reading Fate. She took it to an empty table and cracked open the old unused book and read.
Forever the hands of fate have been busy reaching into the lives of all. Commoner to king, farmer and merchant. These invisible hands giving and taking, changing the paths of the people like some unnamed god…
Analecta paused for a moment, looking up toward the apex of the large dome. Her thoughts were on the celebrations to come and she seemed less focused than normal, yet her curiosity tugged at her like an inquisitive child. She began reading again.
…and at times a single individual exists that defies the notion of fate, and glides through life via will, deciding, not accepting, acting on true thought, not responding to the unnamed force that pushes all. It is this person, this individual that has the sole power and responsibility to unite commoner and king under one flag, so that fate’s true side can be revealed...
Analecta continued to flip through the pages, stopping every now and again to think on the author’s style. If she had written on fate her words wouldn’t have been so dry. She closed the book and replaced it carefully onto the dusty shelf. Searching the titles another book caught her eye, Nether Reaches; A Brief History. Her hand paused briefly on it before pulling it free from its dark corner. She placed it onto the sturdy wooden table and cracked open its weathered pages.
First there was nothing, the world was vast and void. God saw this and decided to shape it to his will. He was patient and waited for thirty full days, planning. Then he knew what he wanted. He sculpted the moon and set its regular cycle. He made the sun from a single spark of fire, looked upon it and smiled. Then God set to work on sculpting the lands, making the oceans from his tears, the earth from his flesh, the trees and the animals, but his plan was not complete. He looked to the skies and painted the stars to give beauty to the night. By the end of the moon’s cycle he looked down upon his creation and paused. Something was missing. The trees, the plants, and the animals were unaware, so then who would know of his greatness and sing his praise?
God then reached to the new world and took two animals. He reshaped them to suit his needs and placed them on the land. He looked upon them and realized they didn’t know the names of the plants, the seas, and the animals. He named the trees and the waters, the animals and the lands. When he was done he named himself, Adonai. Now the people would have a name to praise and a name to worship. Adonai sat back and watched his creation, knowing what he had created was good.
Cities were made and the people grew prosperous and happy, this made Adonai glad. Trade flourished and the population grew. But with trade the cities changed, bringing wickedness and avarice. People created new gods, worshiping goods and merchandise. Old temples faded and new ones grew. Adonai watched with a concerned eye.
People turned on each other as cities struggled for control. False gods reigned supreme. Adonai’s patience was at an end. He struck down at the people with lightening and rain, flooding the lands. He cleansed the earth, saving only the animals and the plants, for they were good. As for the people, only those in the north were spared. They hadn’t strayed from the true path; they hadn’t forgotten the one true god, Adonai. For this he cast them in the warmth of his graces. They were the chosen people.
For a thousand, thousand years they prospered, spreading their seed across the cleansed lands of Lemuria. Peace filled their hearts. Grand temples were built and Adonai was pleased. He sat back and rested, closing his eyes to sleep.
When he finally awoke from his slumber he cast his gaze upon the lands he created. Turmoil dominated the world. Trade routes were broken, new kingdoms squandered their wealth, and war cast the lands in shadow. Adonai looked to his chosen people for answers, but they didn’t listen. This angered Adonai. They needed to be punished. He struck down the new temples with his wrath. He destroyed trade routes and segmented the cities. He forced new languages upon the peoples, isolating them in the hopes of lasting peace. Finally he cast the lands to the north in eternal solitude. He spit on the earth, poisoning the fields. He blew upon the forests and killed the animals, so that only the birds would survive, for they were good.
Adonai looked down upon the destruction and paused. He wanted balance. Adonai for one last time reached into himself and created good and evil and cast them upon the world. He placed them on opposite ends and smiled. The world would never forget his mercy. New temples were created and the people worshipped him as before. Satisfied with his work Adonai sat back, watched and waited.
Analecta’s eyes grew watery and tired. Her head slipped in her hands and she knew she had read enough for the night. It was time to get some rest. She closed the book and put it back on the shelf. With her mind still on the story, she walked home.
North of the Barren Lands
Large dark waves crashed into the side of a sturdy ship tossing it from wave to wave as heavy winds buffeted the masts. A rain soaked man tried desperately to keep his footing in the relative safety of the bridge inside. Thunder crackled in the distance as the ship lurched underfoot moaning under the stress that it was not made to handle. It felt as though God’s hand was rocking it back and forth, toying with the small vessel as would a giddy giant. Thirty-foot walls of water smacked into the port side as the captain struggled to turn the ship toward the incoming onslaught. The metal creaked as another wave punched the side competing to be heard among the wind’s roaring howl, which was further blackening the already dark sky of an unnatural scene.
Two more waves crashed into the hull of the ship pushing it over onto its side. There was a loud screech as metal hit rock, the metal complaining against the raw power of nature’s performance. The wind and the waves pushed the ship farther, the screeching turned to screaming as the rock tore through the delicate metal allowing a flood of water to enter its insides. Another heavy wave slammed into its side breaking through the reinforced glass window protecting the man from the outside torrent. Water poured in flushing the man out and forcing him far from his ship and its small crew.
He struggled to stay on top as the waves bounced him around like a rag doll. Lightening flashed before his eyes and the loud crack of thunder was quick to follow. Another wave passed through the water, ducking him under and filling his mouth with the awful taste of salt. He tried to swim toward the surface but was disoriented by the darkness of the world around him. Soon his lungs began to burn, craving oxygen, as the surface continued to evade him. Just as he felt his lungs were to burst he felt thick drops pelt his head. He knew he had broken the surface. He took in a deep breath of air before he hit land.
The wave had carried him high and brought him down hard onto his side, knocking the air from his lungs. The full weight of the rest of the wave was soon to follow, crashing into him, pushing him farther ashore. He rolled and rolled until he felt the endless slaps of thick raindrops upon his uncovered face. He then blacked out.
The sun rose over the uneven line of rocks making up the cliff overhead. Light spilled onto Allodial’s exposed face, filtering through his thin eyelids. He turned over feeling battered and bruised. The sun persisted and rose ever higher, forcing him to acknowledge its presence. Allodial succumbed and pushed himself to a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He looked up into the clear blue sky, wondering where he was. The small gentle crashes of the ocean waves brought his gaze downward, and a rush of memories accosted him. He could see the huge waves tackling his ship. He remembered seeing the black metal hull, its carbon steel body seemed impermeable to the elements, yet something as soft and yielding as water had successfully destroyed it. He put his feet under him and stood. He let the blood flow to his brain before he started to brush the sand off his damp clothing, his hand running over a short round black weapon that somehow survived the previous night’s ordeal.
His head pounded painfully and it was a struggle to think clearly through the thick fog of disorientation. Without thought he patted down his body checking for injuries. Surprisingly he came away with nothing more than some minor scrapes and bruises. His keen eyes then scanned the beach. Kelp, dead fish, and some dead birds littered the yellow sand. No signs of his ship or crew.
He needed to find his crew and see if there was anything left of his ship. He began to trek across the sands, looking out into the ocean for any sign of wreckage. He walked parallel to the falling waves but could see nothing.
He quenched his rising anxiety. Allodial had a mission to accomplish and that had to come first. Through the pulsing headache he squinted against the light of the mid-morning sun. It was already getting warm and the day promised to be hot. He ignored it; his priority was finding the remnants of his crew, his friends, his teammates.
Pausing at the edge of the waterline Allodial scanned the calm waters. It was hard to believe that just the night before a major storm had swept through. Jagged rocks jutted out of the water like the teeth of a hidden giant and somewhere within that gaping maw was his ship and possibly his crew.
His frustration was beginning to turn into anger. He used that to fuel his search. Allodial began to jog the coastline, scanning the beach and waterline for anything. His damp sandy clothes rubbed against his skin irritating him further.
A sharp light reflecting off an object caught his attention. Within a few quick strides he closed on the object. He stopped and looked down at a small piece of carbon black steel. He picked it up, removing some seaweed, its surface already felt warm from the morning’s light. It was the first piece of evidence he had found, the first evidence that he had just survived a shipwreck and a monumental storm. Allodial clutched the fragment tightly as he looked about for any other pieces. There were none. Unsure why, he slipped it into his pocket before wading into the shallow depths of the emerald waters, its sparkling surface hiding the features of the sandy bottom below.
Without hesitation he dove under the warm surface. He swam until his breath came in short gasps. Allodial only paused long enough to catch his breath before diving under once again, searching. The salt water stung his eyes as he searched the clear water for any sign of his damaged vessel.
The hours passed, and he only became more thirsty and tired with each successive dive. The sun had climbed halfway in its journey across the sky. In all that time he had found nothing but a stupid piece of metal. How could an entire ship disappear? His anger had burnt off, and exhaustion was setting in. His muscles were burning, and his head still throbbed. The cuts and abrasions he had received the night before itched uncomfortably in the salty water. He knew he was reaching a decision point. The men would have wanted him to carry on, to move forward with the mission. With great reluctance and a tinge of sadness he trudged through the water to shore.
It was time to leave the beach and ship behind.
Allodial found what appeared to be an easy route up the cliff. He began to climb, careful not to slip on the small grains of sand that peppered every nook and cranny. At the top he looked out and his heart sank. He scanned the area before him. There was nothing but an endless expanse of yellow. Naked dunes stretched out for as far as the eye could see. He turned and looked back to the ocean longingly. Maybe his teammates had been the lucky ones.
There was nothing for him to do but move forward. As his father had always said, how can there be success without failure. He stared at the ocean a moment longer before turning and heading into the nothingness.
He walked for hours, his face covered in sweat. His damp clothes had dried a while ago, leaving them stiff with sand and salt. He kept his mouth closed to conserve water, breathing the hot stale air through his nose. He focused on walking in a straight line but that was difficult with nothing to reference but the sloping dunes.
Fear seeped into his consciousness like creeping fingers of desperation, struggling to take control. With little to occupy his attention he played the different scenarios of his eventual death in his mind’s eye. The last staggering steps before plunging head first into the sun-baked sands. His dry mouth filled with grit as birds swooped down to pick his carcass clean.
He stopped, knowing that his thoughts were distracting him from the present. Maybe it was dehydration kicking in. What had they taught him; the human body could die of dehydration in as little as a few hours under extreme conditions. He would eventually go insane if he kept thinking like this, but he had nothing else to do.
He looked ahead at the shimmering horizon, distorted by the heat rolling off the hills of sand. The sky was a light blue unlittered by clouds, and the fiery yellow sun beat down on him relentlessly. He wished he was back next to the ocean, the cool breeze chilling his overheated body.
Focus, he needed to focus. There had to be a desert plant nearby. Where there was life, there was water. He checked the trail of footprints behind him, satisfied he was traveling in a reasonably straight line. Licking his parched and blistering lips he scanned the dunes for any signs of life.
It felt like days had passed but he knew that no more than a matter of hours had gone by. The sun was beginning its gradual descent and was no longer bearing down on him with scrutinizing intensity. He stopped and sat down heavily, his legs no longer wanting to support him. He slumped down and stared up into the heavens. He stared at the fading sun and could feel the cool breeze play with the sweat on his skin. Allodial placed the medal fragment into the ground to indicate his direction of travel. He turned onto his side and soon fell asleep.
Allodial awoke suddenly, his body freezing. He looked up and could see the canopy of stars looking down on him. He felt small under their piercing gaze. As a child he used to watch the stars with his parents. They would sit on the rooftop on the few clear days and gaze up at the stars for hours. There were names for all of them, and it seemed like they knew them all. Shaking those memories loose he rolled over onto his back.
The air was deadly still, sending a cold chill along his spine. He suddenly wished it were day and that the sun was there to warm him, yet as soon as that thought emerged its stupid counterpart was quick to follow, for once the sun was up he would wish for it to be night again.
Allodial closed his eyes in one last desperate attempt for sleep, but he could rest no more. He sat up and stared at the sandy hills surrounding him, they looked gray in the starlight. Taking in a deep breath he pushed himself to his feet, listening to the cascade of sand rain down onto the sloping hell below him. Allodial grasped the metal shard, realigning himself, and studied the stars for a moment before setting off.
Soon he fell into a strange cadence, one step falling in front of the other, much like a machine. Time swirled around him in an empty dance of hopeless grace. As Allodial watched his feet trudge along he caught sight of a small dark insect crawling across the desert floor. Life. He paused and crouched to see at least a dozen moving over the loose sand and rock. He moistened his dry lips with his parched tongue and decided to follow them.
He walked through the night and into the morning. The sun was creeping into the sky and already he could feel it burning his skin. He wished it were night. Allodial knew he couldn’t spend an entire day under the intensity of the sun without risking heat trauma and death.
Pausing for a moment and dropping to a knee he could see the small trail of insects, hurrying toward a nearby rock. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the rising sun, he watched the small creatures disappear under the rock. He began to dig with his hands, watching the sand fall away exposing a small tunnel. He dug deeper, uncovering a colony of ants. They were densest around the queen. Somewhere he remembered reading that if you killed the queen you reduced the aggression of the colony. He stomped on the moving mass of insects, managing to kick up plenty of sand. Digging a little deeper he came upon a wet spot. Allodial dropped to all fours, put his face to the ground and sucked at the tiny bits of water. The moisture felt great, almost good enough to ignore the stinging bites of the small bugs. His thirst as quenched as was possible, he buried half his body under some of the sand in the shade of the boulder and closed his eyes. He ignored the few biting insects and simply lay there until night.
Another day had passed with nothing but his thoughts and memories for entertainment. He mostly played the night of the storm over again in his mind. He couldn’t stop trying to imagine scenarios of him saving his crew. It did nothing to improve his dark mood.
He spent the night traveling, using the stars for navigation. The terrain was slowly changing, as more stones now littered the ground. He pushed himself one ungainly step at a time, until the next morning, where he watched the sun peak over the horizon. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for his current predicament. Its heavy yellow body shimmered, casting off orange and purple hues.
He continued up and down the hills keeping himself entertained with his thoughts. As he crested a hill he could make out what looked like a water filled canal. He rubbed his eyes to make sure that they weren’t deceiving him. He looked up again. The stream was still there. He headed toward it. Shuffling through the sand as quickly as his tired body would allow.
At that moment his thirst was so overwhelming that images of wars fought over the substance flashed through his mind. Fighting over such a simple resource, it made sense. He stopped before the stream and dropped to his knees. He put his hands to the water and touched the cool liquid to his lips, letting the sweet taste wash away the dryness of his lips. His mouth and body accepted it blissfully almost deliriously.
“What have you be doing there, filthing up my water?” said an angry voice from above.
Allodial immediately stood up; surprised he was caught off guard. Truthfully he hadn’t expected anyone else this far out. He looked up at the man talking to him. He was a short man with deeply tanned skin; his curly hair and broad nose unlike any other he had seen before. Allodial stood up and backed away from the water, unsure of what to make of him.
“You get out of here, and away from my water,” said the man, waving his arms as though Allodial couldn’t understand his words.
He dropped his hand to the weapon at his side, but caught himself. He looked at the man and saw a water pouch dangling at his side. Allodial jumped into the water and waded across the canal toward the man.
“This is not yours!”
“I don’t care about your water, I want that pouch,” he said gesturing to the pouch hanging at his side.
The man looked at him as though he was crazy.
“What do you have?”
Allodial felt his pockets, his finger pricked by the sharp metal relic of his ship’s hull. He pulled it out, its black skin shinning dully in the sun’s intense light. He knew this would never work and began to reach for his weapon.
“What is that?” The man asked with obvious enthusiasm.
Allodial followed his gaze to the metal in his hand, with surprise. “It’s a rare metal.”
“How rare it be?”
“You won’t find it on this island.”
The man seemed hesitant. Allodial acted quickly, “you wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
At this the man reacted, “yes I do, give it to me.”
“For your water pouch and directions out of this desert.”
The man considered it for a moment, staring at the treasure Allodial held carefully in his hands. He slipped the pouch over his head and motioned for Allodial to hand the metal over. Allodial did as he grabbed the water bag.
“How do I leave the desert?”
The man stared at him, “you don’t.”
He turned and walked off metal in hand. Allodial stared at his back for a moment, his hand on his weapon. Thoughts of killing the man flashed through his mind. He wouldn’t of course. He wasn’t that kind of person. He wasn’t here for the man. Instead he filled the water pouch. He turned his head and watched the man disappear in the desert’s shimmering heat, like a phantom in the night. Allodial decided that was the direction he’d travel.
Celebrations; Nether Reaches
Analecta woke late in the morning. She had stayed up late the previous night in the library. Her brain was muddling through all the passages that she had been collecting throughout the past couple of days.
She got up and looked through her window at the beautiful day. Today was the celebration. It was a day in which people washed and dressed in their best clothes. Analecta wasn’t going to be an exception. She enjoyed a good bath, but never much understood the desire to wear fashionable clothing.
She walked to the stream that rested a half-mile from the city. She hardly noticed the chirping birds or the cool air as she walked through the trees. The sun was already fairly high in the sky, and it was only a matter of hours before the celebrations would start. She emerged out of the woods and came upon a small glade with a stream running through it. The sunlight fell through the green canopy and sparkled off the slow moving water. Analecta stepped into the glade and toward the water. She shrugged off her clothing and stood at the side of the stream, the sunlight warming her naked body. She cleared her mind and brought forth her magik. Her heartbeat increased and her body became warm. She waited a moment longer before quietly slipping in.
She sat in the stream thinking about the books of fate, history, and logic she recently read. Analecta took in a deep calming breath and dunked her head under the warm water. She opened her eyes and looked out from underneath. The trees looked distorted and the sky more gentle.
She got out of the water and into the cool air. Her skin tightened as it struggled to keep her body warm. She closed her eyes in a silent meditation, allowing the water to evaporate from her skin. When she was dry she dressed and headed back to the city.
Sagacious walked down the street alongside Surd. The streets were bustling with activity as people applied their last minute touches, carefully placing those final items before the celebrations. The tall buildings lining either side of the street had streamers running from them. Glow ropes swung lightly in the air. The smell of roasting lamb filled the air.
“Where’s Analecta, she should be here by now,” said Surd.
Sagacious looked around and merely shrugged. She had been harboring the hope that Analecta wouldn’t show, it was going to be hard to let her go. Maybe Analecta had already left but she knew that wasn’t true, it wasn’t like her.
People were piling out into the streets. Sagacious could see people closing up their stands. The only stands to remain open during the speaking were those selling food and drinks. Alongside the food stalls were temporary stands. The stands were those of magicians, storytellers, and performers.
People rushed to beat the fading light, for the sun was only a few hours from setting and a cool wind was picking up. Surd and Sagacious forced themselves through the thickening crowd forming at the end of the street. Flowery scents of essential oils hung like a cloud over the growing mass of people. The crowd grew thicker at the base of the council building. Standing on the wide reflective steps were twelve white clad figures. Their thick robes rustled softly in the wind that had picked up from the north. Their faces were set in determined lines, which showed little emotion. Only a slight tapping of feet or drumming of fingers from a few of the members gave away their impatience.