The Children of Calm (32 page)

“Okay,” Rylek said as he stood. “So should I call you Balthantos now? Or do you prefer Altan?”

Altan stood with him. “There are few beside Caenar and his circle who insist on calling me Balthantos. I have, for all intents and purposes, shunned that name for personal reasons. It would greatly please me if you would simply refer to me as Altan.”

“I can do that,” Rylek said with a smile.

Altan placed a hand on Rylek’s shoulder. “I feel as though I may sleep tonight for the first time in several weeks,” he said as they began to walk back to the cottage.

“Aedaar don’t need sleep either?” Rylek asked.

“Not like the Aenosh do. The occasional long nap usually suffices.”

“So I’m dying to know: why don’t you look like Fornrihgula? When you brought Selenor back to life, you looked different to me, more like him but so bright and radiant. The others said they didn’t see it. Was I just seeing things?”

Altan laughed. “And now you’re suddenly talkative and the questions erupt from you?” he asked. “We shall spend much time together in the future. There will be ample opportunity for me to answer all of your questions.”

As they neared the door, Rylek stopped. “Thank you,” he said. “For saving Selenor, I mean. I wish you could know what that means to me.”

“Believe me, son, I do know,” Altan said with a kind smile.

***

The remainder of the evening was spent in leisurely conversation and comfort in friends. Rylek remained quiet but generally felt a little lighter in spirit than he previously had. The unspoken general consensus was that everyone was too physically and emotionally spent to pry any deeper into the events of the day. They had earned what Tresten called “an occasion of repose.” Altan had lit the fire and a couple of lamps burned on the table around which they were gathered.

The hours slid away until they found themselves listening to Selenor as she sang and played on her lyre. Rylek occasionally willed himself to look at her and each time found she had been watching him with concern aching her eyes. Her melody was slow and melancholic, but the lyric spoke of golden sunsets on faraway shores. The music ran its soothing fingers down Rylek’s spine, gently unwinding the knots in his shoulders and back.

Now, this is my kind of vocamancy,
he blissfully thought to himself. His eyelids grew heavy and his head gradually sank into his chest.

The next thing he was aware of was lying on his sleeping mat in the darkened cottage. The fire was now very low and only gave a dim red light. Everyone else was apparently asleep. With a start he realized he did not remember going to bed. But then his eyes caught the sleeping form of Selenor lying not far from him, and he looked longingly upon her peaceful face. Her arm was outstretched towards him, as though in her sleep she were reaching for him. He began to move his hand to meet hers, but then the ache returned to his heart as guilt welled up inside of him.

I don’t deserve her; I could never deserve her after what I did.

He brought his arm back under his head, and did his best to fall back asleep. But he found it rather difficult to shake the image in his mind of her dying in his arms.

***

Sleep did eventually work its way back into his body, though once again he was subjected to a series of riddling dreams. The first found him standing alone in a pitch-black chamber. Faldrahil was drawn in front of him, its blade glowing an ever-so-slight red. The air was moist and stuffy, and seemed to crowd in on him. Suddenly he was aware of a growing sensation of fear and hatred, though it was not coming from him. It pressed on his mind and his heart, like a chilling fog slowly blanketing the ground. The back of his neck broke out in a cold sweat, and claustrophobia swelled up inside of him. The presence grew and trapped him there, pouring itself into his body.

Death to all
, came voiceless words into his mind.
All must suffer likewise.

Then from around his neck something began to glow white, until its warm light grew to such a point that a flash blinded his eyes. When he opened them again, he was standing in the cemetery in Calm on an overcast afternoon. What appeared to be fine gray snowflakes filled the air and covered everything, softly muffling every sound. It was surprisingly warm, and the homey scent of wood-burning fire filled his nose. He looked down at the grave he was standing in front of and was surprised by what he read on the tombstone:

RETESSA TORAEN

“Memories mistaken prove fatally false.”

That’s odd
, Rylek thought to himself.
I don’t remember it saying that.

Suddenly he was aware of two other people standing immediately to his left. As he turned to see who they were, they turned their backs on him and walked away. Something covered each of their heads and they both wore long thick black coats. Then his eyes fell back to where the two had previously been standing, and he saw a stray piece of paper lying on the ground. In a thin, spidery stroke were written these words:

Forgive me, my daughter.

Then underneath was written in a thick short stroke:

Forgive me, my beloved.

Rylek looked back and saw the two figures were now a good distance from him. Quite abruptly, one of them took off at a sprint, leaving the other behind. A moment later, the other one let out a cry of pain and collapsed on the ground. Rylek ran to the fallen body and knelt down beside it. It was lying on its side facing away from him. He reached down and gently turned the body towards him to examine the face.

But the body dissolved into cold white snow. He quickly stood and found he was alone again. The snowflakes that were falling now were thick, heavy and white. In the night sky one of the moons was trying to break through the heavy winter clouds. But everywhere around him were oddly shaped buildings with brightly colored signs lighting up the streets. It felt eerily deserted, alive and yet dead.

He decided to walk into the nearest building, and inside found a large room with many tables and chairs, and a long counter on the far side. A small light was blinking on the counter, so instinctively he went to examine it. But as soon as he reached the counter, the light disappeared, and instead he found himself looking at the countertop. The words
ORLEINGTEN
and
ORLEINGUAE
were carved into it. Puzzled by this, he traced his fingers along the letters until a bottle fell off the wall. After it shattered its glass all over the floor, sand poured out and began to fill the room.

I don’t remember ordering a glass of sand
, he thought to himself.

Soon the walls and ceiling disappeared and the room gave way to a hot, excruciatingly bright area. Heat radiated from the ground like an oven, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the light. Now he stood on a dark metallic walkway that led to a large conical structure with its wide flat end pointing up into the sky. The top third of it was rotating slowly from left to right. There were dozens of people walking by him, all in the direction of the giant cone, with hands tied behind their backs. Armed guards forced them along. Rylek looked over the edge of the walkway and saw swirling sand far below him. The dizzying patterns of the shifting sand hypnotized him, and he jumped over the walkway’s railing. Faster and faster the sand came up to meet him and pull him down into its ever-churning mass.

But the dream shifted and now he was walking on solid sand. Three men and a pale horse were alongside him, and on the horse’s back rode another figure. The conical structure was gone, the horizon was empty.

For what seemed to be hours they walked on, knowing nothing but heat, thirst, and the stench of unwashed flesh. Everyone wore loose white clothing, and no one spoke.

It’s not much further now
, he found himself thinking.

Shortly thereafter the dream shifted and they were in the blessed shadows of trees that he knew to be palms. A small paradise had been prepared for them, complete with a cool spring of fresh water, grass to lie in, and ever-welcome shade. The sun was setting, and the horizon was lit like a furnace in crimsons and orange. Suddenly the figure that had previously been riding the horse was before him, sitting with her back up against a large stone. Her knees were propped up and spread wide of each other. Two of the other men were on either side of her, and she held on tightly to each of their hands. She seemed to be in great distress. Rylek looked upon her face and familiarity struck him: her amber hair was tied up on the top of her head, and resting upon her neck was a white gold pendant holding a large ruby.

“The head is crowning,” he said aloud.

But then the flood of blood came.

One tiny newborn was wrapped up in a cloth, making its shrill little voice known to the world, while her mother went into convulsions. Rylek glanced up at her face again and with a start realized it was now Selenor. Blood was pouring from her body, and he was at a loss. A moment later another child was almost completely out of her birth canal when she suddenly went limp and silent.

“No, no!” he cried. “Not again, not again!”

In a storm of tears, he gently pulled the boy out of her and then handed him to one of the men. Then he fell upon Selenor, cradling her lifeless body as his wails rent the desert air.

Not again! Not again!

He opened his eyes and quiet darkness greeted his vision. Instantly he remembered where he was. Selenor was still asleep next to him, and he could see the others’ sleeping figures in the calm of Altan’s cottage. His hand was under his head and clutching something small in its palm. He was shocked to see it was the crystalline orb he had been carrying from Perdeisolen.

How did that get out of my pocket?
he wondered as he sat up, replacing it in its proper location.
And why can’t I have one proper night of sleep?

After deciding a cold drink from the stream would refresh him, he stood and walked to the door, taking Faldrahil with him. With his hand on the door, he glanced over quickly at Selenor, half expecting to see her covered in blood. Thankfully she was still peacefully asleep, stirring lightly under her blanket. With a soft sigh too deep for words, he silently slipped through the doorway.

***

The air was crisp and energized him as it bit just a little inside his lungs. There were a few clouds concealing the stars, but the light from Nevarra and Pelanna was more than enough to guide his steps. The gentle sound of the rushing waters softly washed away the turmoil of yet another nightmare. He picked a spot to sit by the stream and splashed his face a couple of times before bringing the water to his lips. Though he tried his best to relax and empty his mind of things, he quickly noticed he was sitting across from the space where they had earlier that day discovered the body of the horned mare. At that moment everything rushed back into the forefront of his mind, crowding in on each other to make space: the Aesid, Fornrihgula, Keona, Andulibar, the dark sphere Tresten had picked up and nearly died from (and the others’ apparent amnesia), Tresten’s strange new powers, the moving statue, the crystalline orb in his pocket, Caenar, Celek, his parents, Selenor.

He looked up into the boundless sky and found himself wishing he could go back in time and change everything that had happened since his birthday. Loneliness swept over him.

“Why am I supposed to be responsible for everybody’s welfare?” he asked aloud. “Even if what Caenar and my father said is true, that doesn’t instantly change who I am. I can’t just snap my fingers and do what everyone wants me to do.”

With knowledge comes great responsibility
, reasoned a voice inside his head.
Knowledge is not wisdom; wisdom is gained by applying your knowledge to the great responsibilities it brings.
Only through affecting your world can you hope to bring peace to future generations.

“I obviously lack wisdom; applying my ‘knowledge’ killed Selenor. I can’t risk watching those closest to me die because of my own mistakes.”

Simply do not break your oath again and all will be well.

“Yeah - at least Altan seems to think so.”

Trust him, for what other hope do you have?

Suddenly he was reminded again of his tenth birthday, when he and Tresten had snuck out in the middle of the night to sit atop The Balcony and watch the stars. Everything seemed so pure and beautiful then, but now it was all muddled and dim. The stars certainly did not shine as brightly as they used to.

“Ignorance truly is bliss,” he said aloud to himself.

“What makes you say that?” asked a female voice behind him.

Instinctively he wheeled around to his feet, drawing Faldrahil in the same motion, and was surprised to see Selenor standing in front of him. She gasped and quickly drew back, alarmed at his actions.

His heart raced within him as he dropped the sword. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, eyes falling to the ground. “You caught me off-guard, and I guess I was a little anxious in my thoughts.”