Silent Requiem (Tales of Ashkar Book 3) Page 3

  “Oh, that’s original,” scoffed Mellin. “You haven’t stopped to think that something is amiss?”

  Will dealing out justice calm my heart? Will it temper my soul?

  “There is no justice in revenge,” quaked Bantham so loudly within her mind that Mellin nearly jumped.

  “Is that what’s still going through your head?” he asked her.

  “Are you listening in?” Sanjin returned.

  Mellin gave her a look. “By the Exalted One’s grace, Sanjin, the whole ship heard that. He’s right, though. Vengeance won’t quell what engulfs your heart. It only darkens it further.”

  Sanjin looked away, once more gazing down into the roaring waters below.

  _ _ _

  Incindir trudged ahead to the north, albeit slower than he had when they first walked southward with nary a thought as to what waited for them.

  When they had been five.

  Where’d you run off to, Ciace? And why did you leave your weapon behind?

  “How’s your leg?” asked Doriel.

  “Perfectly fine, thanks to both of you,” answered Incindir, and he patted Halcyon—who rode atop his shoulders—gently on his leg. “Without your healing, it definitely wouldn’t have worked the same, even if it did eventually heal. Can you imagine? A slight limp, mistaken for a swagger. I’d have every bruiser, crook, and wench lining up.”

  If his comment was a brash attempt at garnering the slightest of chuckles, it hadn’t even worked that much. Halcyon was still in no mood, and Incindir presumed that Doriel was much too perturbed by the events that had transpired to even remember what laughter was.

  “Where do you think she went?” Doriel continued.

  Incindir shrugged. “Who knows, but wherever it is, I can’t blame her. Not after everything.”

  It’s better this way. This way I won’t have to see you die, too. This way you won’t have to die because of me.

  “At such a young age, too,” lamented Doriel.

  “No,” Incindir said as he shook his head. “I was even younger than her when my brothers and I were orphaned to the world. At the very least, she still has her mother. I could not say the same.”

  Both Doriel and Halcyon grew quiet at his words, and the three of them continued toward Kolaine Pass. Even Telaren had opted not to share much words inside Incindir’s head since the battle.

  Quiet it is.

  They had tirelessly searched for any sign of Ciace, not finding so much as a whisper in the wind. It was only recently that they had decided to stop the search, for they could not spare much longer with their quest for the other orbs.

  And so it was time to return to Arcadia. Doriel had assured Incindir that the orbs would be safe within the walls of the kingdom—especially in the hands of Graeme. Of course, Incindir had been apprehensive to that notion. The Grand Arcanist seemed a trustworthy man, given that he not only knew of the prophecy but had also allowed Incindir to leave the city in the first place.

  That fact alone made it difficult for Incindir to disagree, yet he still did so. It was the kind of fear that one had when a cherished item left their grasp, even if that item would be secured in a lockbox and buried in a spot that no one else was privy to. There was still that fear that it was no longer in possession, and thus the sentiment that somehow—despite all odds—it would be lost forever.

  It was unreasonable, Incindir knew that. He still could not shake it. His whole life, the culmination of the prophecy, was all that mattered at this point. To entertain the thought of leaving even one orb in another’s possession was difficult.

  Halcyon would not have any of it, and Incindir understood why. Their travels were bound to take them to much more dangerous places, and the walls of Arcadia would serve as a better bastion than Incindir’s vulnerable flesh. There was also the threat of another run in with the Skyward Hands, and Incindir could not allow them to get their hands on the orbs.

  Incindir looked up, noticing the setting sun that allowed darkness its temporary hold over the world. It wouldn’t be too long until they would retire for the night, and considering that they were in no position to jump into another battle, Incindir hoped that there was not someone else lying in wait.

  To the north where they trudged loomed the high peaks of Kolaine. The first time through they were required to traverse through the long and winding subterranean route underneath the mountains. This time, however, they would be able to scale it instead; without Rhondo and Ciace—regretfully—the three remaining travelers would not be inhibited by the difference in altitude. Despite the shortcomings of the younger elementalists, Incindir had found their company welcoming.

  Of course, he would have rather had Rhondo alive and Ciace unbroken if that meant that they never joined in his quest. But, if not for them then the Orb of Life—or even worse, Halcyon himself—would surely have fallen into Serraemas’s hands. At least, that’s what Incindir kept telling himself. If not, then he would lose himself in regret, doubt, and self-loathing. He thought he already had, but after what happened to the two young elementalists, he had realized that there was still deeper his heart could go.

  I could do this all myself. No one else has to die. Right, Brother?

  “Incindir?” Halcyon asked, bringing the seasoned elementalist out of his thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, what?” returned Incindir.

  “You have slowed down considerably,” said the young child. “Are you well? Do you require rest?”

  Incindir laughed to himself. “No, I’m fine. I suppose I just lost myself in thought.” He then turned to Doriel, who appeared troubled and was staring at the ground in front of them as they walked. “So, tell me about this Grand Arcanist Warren.”

  Doriel looked up absentmindedly, as if it was an automated reaction to the sound of his voice. It was a few seconds before she snapped out of whatever she was absorbed in and regarded him with her full attention. “Well, he leads the Magia sector, and is regarded as the most knowledgeable elementalist in all of Arcadia.”

  “Is something the matter?” Incindir asked the veri.

  “No, it’s nothing,” replied Doriel, undoubtedly realizing that she may have worn her thoughts too clearly.

  “So, most knowledgeable, huh?” Incindir continued. “What about his prowess as an elementalist?”

  “I’ve never seen him fight,” admitted Doriel. “Actually, I’ve never even seen him use an ounce of elementalism. What I do know, however, is that he has the ability to use all elements save for light and dark.”

  Incindir raised a brow. “Oh, really? Then what does he do all day if not for using elementalism? Does he teach students like you do?”

  Doriel shook her head. “He is far too busy with his duties, I’m afraid. Other than being responsible for leading his sector, I do believe that he enjoys gazing the stars from his observatory.”

  A man who looks to the stars is a man with vision.

  “Not many people know of the prophecy,” Incindir said. “Even a well-versed scholar surrounded by tomes would be hard-pressed to come by it. Any chance that you would know how he did?”

  The veri shrugged. “The Grand Arcanist is twice my age. At least, I think that he is. I’m sure whatever we know he would at least have heard of it.”

  “I see,” replied Incindir. “I would have thought it buried long ago, like the hopes and dreams of the forgotten.”

  “How did you come by it, then?” asked Doriel. “You sound like an old man on his deathbed.”

  Incindir looked up at the sky. “Maybe that’s exactly what I am.”

  _ _ _

  If God lamented what was to come, he did not show it. No, to Samantha it was beginning to seem like war—and the suffering that trailed in its wake—was as cyclical as the sun and moon. It was just another occurrence that came and went, and the world moved on without so much as a second thought. That, or God simply watched the events unfold like a mother would watch her own child kill another, only the other child was also hers. />
  Dragged through the streets of Arcadia, Raxxil had taken Samantha up and down whatever structure he fancied, as if rules didn’t matter and the only thing that did was his will. They were back in the Delenar Promenade, but this time the night had settled in. Most groups of crowds had dispersed to their homes, and ranks of soldiers were already being mobilized outside the city gates.

  “Will you snap out of it?” urged Raxxil. He had been attempting to inspire her for the entire day, but had yet to reach her. She was beginning to feel that no one could.

  Samantha sighed. She gazed at the tranquil waters of the lake. Opposite her stood Raxxil, fiery and passionate as ever. Of course, Arwynn was next to the hammer-wielder. Samantha was sure that it would be long, if ever, if she were to be accepted by the younger girl. Why exactly that was the case, she was still not certain yet.

  “What shall I do, Kavem?” asked Samantha, retreating within her mind and ignoring Raxxil’s plea.

  “I’m afraid that I don’t have the right answer for you,” responded the elemental. “What does your heart tell you?”

  My heart…

  Samantha turned her attention back to the hammer-wielder, back to the man’s intense glare. It felt different. It felt as though he could not bear to see her in such a whirlwind. Or maybe it was something else.

  “Now what do we got here?” asked a voice from the shadows beyond with an accent that Samantha was not familiar with.

  The three of them turned in the direction of the sound, and were welcomed by the presence of a man dressed in a heavy coat, with a wide-brimmed hat, a pair of boots the likes of which was not Arcadian fashion, and a crossbow slung over his back.

  “If it isn’t the bounty hunter…” remarked Raxxil. “How’s the hunting?”

  “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout my huntin’,” answered the strangely dressed man. “Lots o’ blood to spill soon.” He then looked at Samantha. He removed his hat and placed it over his chest as he bowed. “Name’s Darius Van Keele, and the pleasure’s all mine.” Lastly, the bounty hunter took a gander at Arwynn and smiled. “Last I seen ya was when ya were just a little girl, ain’t that right?”

  Arwynn made a noise of disgust. “That sounds creepy…”

  “What kind of bounty hunter are you?!” Raxxil blurted.

  Darius frowned and ran a hand down his scruffy face. “Never mind that. I hear the lot of ya are ‘bout to jump into the jaws o’ death. Is that right?”

  “You bet your ass that’s right,” stated Raxxil firmly.

  The bounty hunter nodded. “Just what I expected from ya. How ‘bout I join y’all?”

  Raxxil crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You always struck me as the guy who lets others do all the dirty work. What’s in it for you?”

  Darius took in a deep breath, then walked past Samantha and closer to the tranquil waters of the lake. He stood for a while in silence, gazing down into the dark depths.

  “It doesn’t matter why I’m doin’ it,” the bounty hunter finally answered. He turned to Raxxil. “Just like it doesn’t matter why yer doin’ it, because we both know ya don’t have any ties in this city.” He gestured at Samantha. “Maybe the troubled missy over here, but the two of you? Nah.”

  Raxxil didn’t immediately answer, instead pondering the answer and ascertaining whether or not he could trust the stranger. At least, that’s what Samantha thought the hammer-wielder was doing. “You have helped us before, and it looks like you’re just as bad of a bounty hunter as before so I guess not much has changed from then. I don’t see why not.”

  “Alright, easy partner,” said Darius. “I reckon ya still got a price on yer head somewhere, so I wouldn’t push it.”

  A hearty chuckle erupted from Raxxil’s open mouth. He then moved over to Darius and wrapped an arm around the bounty hunter’s neck. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

  “Ugh, boys…” muttered Arwynn.

  “I know, right?” Samantha added, for once in agreement with the young girl. And yet, her comment seemed to have been ill-received, for the younger woman added some distance between the two.

  Was I as angsty then, too?

  “Worse, if my memory serves,” said Kavem.

  “Oh, don’t you start,” Samantha warned.

  At the very least, the banter had served to take Samantha’s mind off of the struggles ahead—even if it was just for a little while. Her mind settled once more on the sacrifice that she was about to make. If she fought against the Order of the Faith, then she was essentially forsaking not only the very people who had instilled in her the word of God, but she was also forsaking God himself—a thought that shook her to her core. If she stood idle and watched the events unfold, then she was turning a blind eye to the values that she now possessed—the values that the scripture of which she had studied so devoutly outlined. She was taught to defend the innocent and fight for all that was good.

  Arcadia was a kingdom that opened its arms to just about anyone, and there were many innocents living here. So far, she had not come across any reason to claim that Arcadia was evil, and in fact, she would say that it was one of the more fair and just cities of the human lands. At the same time, the Order of the Faith, its kingdom of Lenas, and the continent of Onturi as a whole was not zealous or bloodthirsty. Misguided maybe, or perhaps something else has turned murderous eyes upon Arcadia. God would not ask for this over the Child of Light. Or would he? Such was Samantha’s plight, and such was her unsteady hand.

  Samantha looked up to find that Raxxil had moved away from Darius, and was once again right in front of her and staring deep within her eye. The other two stood behind the hammer-wielder, looking at her expectantly. They all seemed so certain to jump into the fray. Even Raxxil, who had been a part of the Order of the Faith long ago just as Samantha was now, seemed to have abandoned any sort of dissonance in conviction.

  Am I the broken one here?

  “I cannot see you this way,” Raxxil stated.

  “What are you asking of me?” Samantha inquired.

  “To stop letting their lies scramble your head,” scolded the hammer-wielder.

  Samantha gaped in shock. “Lies?!” She took a step forward, bringing up both arms and grabbing Raxxil’s breastplate. She pulled in the hammer-wielder close, so close that their faces were but inches apart. “Are you without virtue? How can you stomach such callousness? Such indecency?”

  Raxxil glared at her with furious eyes. Just as she did to him, he brought up his arms, knocking away Samantha’s hands and grabbing her by her armor. He then shook her, not violently, but as if to rouse someone from a rut. “You think that you can be in the sky looking down when you’re just as fooled as the rest of them? No, Samantha, only a deceiver stands by and watches the world crash while saying everything is well.”

  “Yeah, what Raxxil said!” barked Arwynn.

  Confused, Samantha looked over Raxxil’s shoulder to where the other two stood, and found Arwynn grabbing ahold of the bounty hunter’s coat and mimicking the same gesture of anger that had just occurred between Samantha and Raxxil.

  “Hey, watch it little lady,” said Darius, knocking away Arwynn’s grip and brushing off his coat. “Ain’t wearin’ somethin’ this nice for ya to touch now. Not unless yer gonna give me somethin’ in return.”

  Raxxil wheeled around and stormed after the bounty hunter. “Hey, now you watch—”

  “Just a joke,” Darius continued, flinging up his hands in the hopes that the hammer-wielder would stop his charge. “Just a joke, partner…”

  Samantha placed a palm on her forehead.

  Am I really going to jump into battle with a bunch of goons?

  _ _ _

  Dole’oelle, the port on the eastern coast of central Arcadia, was a port like any other. Fisherman, crewman, and all manner of seafaring folk milled about their business. The docks were filled to the brim with moving cargo and scrambling bodies. Hundreds of ships and boats of varying sizes were tethered or anchored in place
, bobbing up-and-down from the rolling waves.

  In the inner city stood houses, shops, inns, and the like. While Port Banton was more touristy, with folk from all over eastern Ashkar arriving to visit the kingdom of Arcadia or the surrounding lands, Dole’oelle was strictly business and livelihood. It was also a stark contrast from Banton in that a large chunk of its denizens were kivu.

  Ciace stood at the end of one of the docks, gazing past the vast waters of the Jer Sea and far beyond the horizon. Not too far to the east would be the first of many islands in the chain of Central Isles. Close enough, in fact, that she could probably swim there in a week or two.

  It wasn’t as if she could just take a vessel over there anyway; she had no money, and with her she only wore her taki. She had changed out of the human clothes that she had worn since her trek with Rhondo and the others. She had even left behind her weapon.

  First father and Woam. And now you, Rhondo. Rhondo…

  Ciace trembled at the thoughts of her beloved, trembled at the sight of her weapon, trembled to even think about her powers as an elementalist. Everything that had occurred during her time on land was the culmination of her brazen foolishness—the foolishness to have even a semblance of hope. Before coming to the surface, she was naïve, but at least she was unmarred then.

  Is the price of love to be crippled? Who would ever find such a pursuit worthwhile?

  Ciace continued to look out at the seas, unaware of what happened around her. She felt a presence behind her, but paid it no mind. It didn’t matter what happened anymore. Her life was forfeit. She could be struck down where she stood, and she wouldn’t mind it in the slightest.

  “You ought to be careful,” said a voice from behind.

  Ciace turned around to regard the origin of the voice. It was a kivu, tall and proud just as Rhondo had been, though this one had brown fur instead of orange like Rhondo’s. She did not smile at the kivu, but acknowledged his words with a slight nod.

  “It might not be too safe around these parts to be a lone seamender,” continued the kivu. The way he spoke was unlike Rhondo had, and if she had not turned around she would have thought the feline to be human. “Especially at night, and especially being an unarmed woman.”