Crown of Vengeance Read online

  Mershad moved a short distance away to be more discreet in his ritual, but when he rose up after finishing he saw the older man and two women watching him with interest. He appreciated their acceptance very much, though he was becoming ever more aware of the deep spirituality of the tribal people, something that was interwoven with everything about their life.

  At the day’s conclusion, the two had absorbed much more about the history of their new world, and the customs observed within it. Though Mershad’s retention was more extensive than Kent’s, he knew that they were both simply glad to unveil some of the mysteries of the world that was now their own.

  By the day’s end, Mershad knew that they had reached a point where they could take in no further lessons. Kent’s attention was beginning to drift as he became more mentally fatigued. For Mershad’s part, he hungered for some time to wind down, and digest the wealth of new information more fully.

  Kent had quipped that he was on the brink of overload, rubbing his head and sighing as they walked through the trees to rejoin their other companions. Mershad had expressed his agreement with Kent, even as he felt an eagerness to learn what had transpired with the others.

  Erika had gone off into the woods with Logan, Derek, and Antonio, while Janus had gone off with Ayenwatha by himself. Mershad could not help but wonder why Janus was singled out, to conduct his training alone. It was a mystery that deepened a short time later, when he saw Janus returning through the skies with Ayenwatha, mounted upon a pair of incredible, winged steeds.

  Seeing Janus gliding in on the creature, Mershad found that he had room for at least one more lesson that day, if Janus or Ayenwatha were willing to accommodate him. The matrons and elder had not discussed anything about the winged creatures as of yet, but the possibilities invoked by the idea of flying steeds stoked the fires of curiosity in Mershad.

  Mershad shook his head and laughed to himself, thinking about how recently he had been huddling away in a dormitory room. Now, he was wondering if he might have an opportunity to fly, saddled upon a winged beast that looked like a living myth.

  THE UNIFIER

  “My Lord,” came a low, deferential voice, from just a few feet behind Him.

  The Unifier had heard the figure emerge out onto the surface of the tower, just moments before.

  If the owner of the voice had been able to see the Unifier’s face at the moment, he would have beheld solid, bright red eyes that gazed out well beyond the outskirts of the city. The burning stare penetrated far beyond even the outer boundaries of Avanor, piercing the horizons themselves, and worlds beyond.

  The Unifier slowly turned His gaze away from the vantage that offered Him such a stunning view of the city, His now-blue eyes attentive upon the lone man standing behind Him.

  Dressed in a long white habit, quite similar to that worn by the Clarvasian monks, was one of the most powerful of the Unifier’s Sorcerers, and one of His few regular personal attendants.

  Baalmon’s eyebrows stretched in nearly invisible, white arches over eyes that were usually icy cold, and rigidly impassive. At the present, they reflected a glint of fear, which resonated in the nervous twitch that pulled at the upper lip of the Sorcerer’s broad mouth.

  Baalmon’s nostrils flared briefly as he took in a quick breath of air, almost having neglected to breathe while in the Unifier’s immediate presence. His hands remained folded tightly before him, his arms framing the single pendant that hung down his chest. The pendant was crafted into the image of a silver star, with its many straight, extending protrusions, representing rays of light.

  “Baalmon, I have been expecting you,” the Unifier addressed the other calmly, watching the steadfast breeze tug at the flowing fabric of His servant’s linen habit. The Unifier spoke in a voice that was at once pleasing to the ear, an immaculately smooth, low tone palatable to any listener. Underneath the surface, the voice carried a subtle undercurrent of authority, an authority that those such as Baalmon never forgot, not even for an instant.

  The Unifier almost smiled in amusement, as He often did at the predicament of His Sorcerers. They were well aware that any errant thoughts or deceits could not be hidden within their minds, which would not hesitate to betray them to the Unifier, despite their best efforts or concentration.

  The Unifier drew pleasure whenever He first revealed that aspect of Himself to a person who had no inkling of His deeper natures. He had watched many who had thought that they could obscure their thoughts grovel in sheer terror, at the moment when they had learned of their inner nakedness to the Unifier’s pervading gaze.

  Adding to the disconcertment of a Sorcerer’s private meeting with the Unifier, Baalmon had to endure the conversation without the benefit of the illusory façade that the Unifier displayed with most others. The Unifier did not bother to exhibit the gratuitous smile and eloquent manner that He carried in public situations with His Sorcerers in private. His countenance was implacably stern, void of all masks of compassion, empathy, or selfless concern. His piercing eyes were unforgiving and exacting in their scrutiny, the iciness in them stripped of any mirage of warmth or kindliness. The face that Baalmon looked upon was the most honest expression of the Unifier’s incarnate form.

  “What word do you bring me?” The Unifier asked. “The war now moves to the south, and will take place there for some time. I can wait no longer concerning those matters.”

  “Your group of trained Darroks is ready to go forth, my Lord,” Baalmmon replied, his eyes lowered towards the tower’s surface in front of his feet.

  He could not bring his eyes to look into those of the Unifier, and the Unifier knew that it was all that the Sorcerer could do to keep his voice steady. Such was the regular condition of those that knew the Unifier most intimately.

  In public, where the Unifier put on many charming guises, the Sorcerers had to muster discipline, careful to hide their fear of Him.

  “Ready to be prepared, or truly ready to leave for the east?” the Unifier asked.

  “They are harnessed, and their Trogen crews are assembled,” Baalmon answered resolutely, to the Unifier’s satisfaction.

  “That is good,” the Unifier said after a tense pause. The Unifier could feel the relief seeping into Baalmon at those three words. The currents seemed to churn faster in the Unifier’s swirling eyes as He continued, “The primitive savages of the Five Realms will have a very strong message delivered unto them. Make sure that there is no question about the strength of the message that we send to them. The crews are to hold nothing back.… They are to spare nothing in their path.

  “Perhaps it will bring those primitives some last shreds of wisdom, even as their villages are destroyed. It is also My wish to receive clear word of the Darroks, and how they fare. They are My newest weapon, among several that I intend to introduce in the coming months within Ave. I intend for them to be a weapon that I will use against any last realm foolish enough to try and resist My power. They will be as thunderclouds that will bring My storms to bear. Go now, and see to My bidding, by personally seeing these Darroks into the skies and heading eastward.”

  “Yes, my Lord, at once,” Baalmon nodded, before hastily departing.

  In moments, the Sorcerer was nimbly descending the steps within the thick walls of the high tower. The contrast between how he behaved in executing his tasks away from the Unifier, and how he acted in the presence of the Lord of Avanor, were incredibly amusing.

  The Unifier knew well enough that Baalmon was very stately, intimidating, and even arrogant in his regular dealings with mortals. In truth, among the humans in the citadel Baalmon enjoyed a quite fearsome reputation. He was exceedingly powerful in his own right, steeped in the blackest of arts, and capable of wielding them with titanic fury.

  He owed that entirely to the Unifier, who had opened doors into previously unknown depths of the abyss for the Sorcerers. Dark mysteries had been revealed to them, and dark wonders shown. Baalmon had been shown to be one of the strongest and greatest of aptit
ude, graced in abundance by the Lord of the Abyss, Jebaalos.

  Yet all that was reduced in a moment, when the acolyte was before his Master. Baalmon could boast of nothing before the Unifier, who had brought him all his knowledge and powers, and held the strings of both his life and spirit in His hands.

  Seeing the Sorcerer like a whimpering, shuffling servant was much more to the Unifier’s liking. In time, He would see kings and emperors in modes of even lower obeisance than that shown now by His Sorcerers in private audiences. That glorious day was drawing ever nearer.

  For the present, the Unifier would have to allow some mortal rulers to persist in some light delusions. Little did they know of the truth of the nature of the relationship between the Unifier and those most intimate with Him.

  Most persons in Avanor, Norengal, and from across the other lands of Ave believed that being closer to the Unifier’s side would bring great privileges of position and access. Many of the more ambitious and ruthless were not above recklessly accepting the destruction of their very own souls to gain a step closer to the Unifier’s confidence, at least in terms of how they perceived the relationship.

  In some ways, they would find out that their initial assessment was correct. Power and privilege of position and access did exist within an individual’s closeness to the Unifier, but few anticipated the risks and costs that came with it.

  The prices of failure for one with preeminent rank such as Baalmon, as the Sorcerer well knew, were not survivable. He also understood very clearly that the threat of punishment not only regarded his mortal life in Ave, but would be inescapable in the afterworld to come.

  No other being than the Unifier could issue such a threat with genuine confidence. The Sorcerer, like all others in the inner circle around the Unifier, was desperate not to suffer even the slightest semblance of failure.

  The palpable fear of those tethered closest to Him was simply exquisite, yet the Unifier knew that there was little room for beguiling diversions. The Unifier had to keep His mind riveted on the principle tasks ahead, just as Baalmon would be doing. Still, it was always enjoyable to savor the sweet taste of the world that was to come, if even for just a moment.

  As the fearful servant hurried down the steps deep in the tower, the Unifier calmly turned back towards the horizon, gazing towards the south and east. He gently rested His hands on the cool stone between two stout merlons, His long fingers wrapping around the rough edge of the crenel.

  His blue eyes shimmered once again, as they transformed into an abyss of deep, blood red.

  His lips parted into a wide, feral smile, giving a rare exhibit of His unnaturally sharp, opalescent teeth. The Unifier was indeed pleased with the general course of things, as He turned His thoughts towards several other matters.

  JANUS

  Out of all the seven exiles, Janus had enjoyed the most adventurous and carefree day.

  Their flight upon the Bregas into the lofty skies of Ave had taken them over a far-reaching swath of rolling lands bathed in radiant sunlight. The latter revealed many silvery rivers, shining lakes, and glittering streams, which shone forth brilliantly from the dense green foliage surrounding them. The docile skies were traversed by gentle breezes and dotted with a few small clusters of puffy white clouds.

  There were several more unique sights that Janus espied below him within the Onan lands. One such vision involved an impressive group of falls, almost like a sequence of broad, low steps, with sparkling water cascading down them. Janus imagined that the incredible falls were exceedingly wondrous to gaze upon from the ground level.

  Over the course of the day, Janus and Ayenwatha had proceeded to visit a few more tribal villages. Some were similar, and others smaller, in size to The Place of Far Seeing. Ayenwatha spoke to Janus about each. A couple of them belonged to tribes different than the Onan, though all of the tribes visited were a part of the Five Realms.

  One of the villages belonged to the Onyota tribe, in whose lands Janus beheld a particularly spectacular lake, of tremendous size, nestled among the sprawling forests.

  The other tribe that he encountered that day was the Kanienke, whose villages were arrayed along a very prominent river. While within their lands, he saw another incredible waterfall, whose waters tumbled down the face of a towering, rocky escarpment.

  At each of the brief village stops, Janus found himself to be quite the object of attention. Highly curious villagers gathered excitedly to view the exotic newcomer traveling with the Onan war sachem.

  There was much talk of prophecy from the bits and pieces that Janus was able to gather, just at the edge of earshot. The references struck him very oddly, and he wanted greatly to find out more about the intriguing remarks.

  He withheld the questions that strained to be voiced on the tip of his tongue. Janus wanted to make sure that he did not inadvertently stumble into some unintended offense of the tribal people due to his lack of knowledge concerning their ways.

  Ayenwatha and Janus did not stay long enough in any one place to cause too much of a disturbance. Yet it was very clear to Janus that Ayenwatha enjoyed a high rank and reputation among the surrounding village areas, in Onan villages as well as in the Onyota and Kanienke communities.

  The sensations of flight through the skies continued to be exhilarating, even more so after Janus had acclimated further to the newer mode of travel. Janus found himself awash in regret when Ayenwatha finally indicated that they were returning back to The Place of Far Seeing. There was one consolation to the return, in that Janus was the one member of the group that was spared the long climb up the hill slope.

  Janus and Ayenwatha landed within the midst of the village without incident, just as the light of the day finally began to fade. For the second time, Janus was astounded at just how smooth of a landing it was, marveling at the grace of the large winged beasts that they rode upon.

  Janus accompanied Ayenwatha as they led Arax and Reazl to the far stable building situated near to the outer palisade. The two tribal warriors that had been attending to the steeds when the day began were still there. As Janus and Ayenwatha reached the front of the enclosure, leading their steeds by their long tethers, he saw that the pair of warriors were once again playing the game involving the bowl and colored seed pits.

  Janus had smiled contentedly as he lightly stroke Reazl’s muzzle, eliciting a soft whine from the amiable creature. He showed no nervousness as he spoke in a low whisper to Reazl, thanking the noble creature for carrying him safely through the skies that day.

  Janus glanced away and saw that Ayenwatha was regarding him with a smile. The sachem had evidently been watching the interaction between the learning rider and veteran steed. Ayenwatha had then given Arax a firm pat on the side of the neck, speaking some words of his own to the bearish winged creature.

  The two warriors, having gotten to their feet at the others’ arrival, were waiting patiently to tend to the steeds. After Janus and Ayenwatha had expressed their gratitude to the creatures, the warriors had then taken the steeds away into the byre. One of them had paused for a moment, promising Ayenwatha that the hardy Bregas would be fed and cared for immediately.

  Janus knew that the comments were not a formality, or even a passionless duty. He could see the genuine reverence that the tribal warriors had for the Brega, echoed in the very way that they handled the large creatures.

  Janus felt a calming sense of satisfaction with the day’s events, as he traipsed back with Ayenwatha, wending their way through the bark-covered longhouses. They soon found the rest of Janus’ group, talking together outside the end of the Firaken-Clan longhouse that they were all lodged within.

  Erika smiled buoyantly as she looked up, her gaze meeting Janus’ eyes directly. The others, in turn, showed that they were also pleased to see him, even the rather somber Logan.

  “The last to return,” Erika had exclaimed brightly, though she had a weary look about her. “We’ll have to hear your story as well.”

  “And spare
d the hike up the hill too! I saw you flying in,” jested Derek, with the mirthful grin that Janus knew better than most. “You’ve got it pretty good, don’t you?”

  Janus chuckled and shrugged.

  “And you couldn’t have come down and turned your steeds over to us at the bottom of the hill?” Logan added with a smirk, though Janus could hear in Logan’s voice that he would not have objected to such a gesture.

  “I’m sure he just didn’t know where we were,” Erika said with a light laugh of her own, winking at Janus.

  “Next time, though, that’s a good idea,” Antonio remarked, glancing upward from where he was hunched over, diligently rubbing his right knee, as if striving to knead the soreness right out of it. “Don’t forget it, Janus!”

  Janus could see that all of the others had the same air of weary satisfaction about them. They were in a relaxed mood, and Janus was soon enjoined with their discussion of the day’s events.

  He was as curious of their exploits as they were of his day-long adventure through the skies. Janus soon got a good feel for the things that they had experienced, and what they had gleaned out of their sessions.

  For all of the others, the day had definitely brought a distinct sense of new achievements. The feelings of accomplishment represented a noticeable change, eliciting a more confident tone in the group that had not been seen since the mists had cleared to reveal the strange new world around them.

  Janus was finding some things about Ave to his liking, even if many things were radically different from the world that he had known and called his own. There was none of the frenetic nature of the world that he had lived in for over thirty-six years, surrounded by ubiquitous technical devices, and the frenzy of importance attributed to even the most minor, insignificant of things.