Mortals & Deities Read online

  Setting his spoon in the bowl, Arderi leaned toward his host. “And what is to become of me?” The sudden realization of the full depth of his question struck, and he was not sure he wanted an answer.

  Clytus said that I might be killed even if I took his oath—that he may be condemning me to death, no matter my choice. What if they decide it is easier to kill me instead of training me?

  His heart raced and he pulled away from the table. The man sitting before him, jet-black hair pulled into a tight braid dropping over one shoulder, piercing gray-blue eyes seeming able to drag out every hidden secret from anyone they looked at, had not changed his expression. Although, an air of sudden violence now shrouded the man. “Do not fear, Brother. You will have your answers. Even in your untrained state, you hold great potential. Of that, I am certain. This is the time when that potential will be needed. My brother should return soon. When he does, he and I shall discuss what will become of you.”

  “What will become of me?” Arderi did not like the sound of that.

  Master Rine returned to his stew. “We no longer have a Brother of the Order in Mocley. Ragnor De’haln is a good man, as are the other few agents we have in that city. However, we cannot risk letting the Mah’Sukai slip between our fingers should he pass through there. If you can endure it, I would like for you to be trained in the basics, then return to Mocley with all haste. Though Ragnor does not hold the power of the Sujen, he has been with Clytus—” He paused, a look of grief passing over him. “Was with Clytus for a long time. He cannot teach you of Sujen. Still, he knows much of what you need to learn about the Order, and will be able to instruct you how to use Dorochi without hurting yourself. Once the issue of the Mah’Sukai has been handled, you may return here to complete your training.”

  Glancing at the sword that leaned against the bench next to him, Arderi thought of the man who gave it to him, and his short time with Clytus’ large black servant, Ragnor. The conversational tone that Master Rine took set Arderi’s mind at ease—at least a bit. Releasing the tension that gripped his shoulders, he too resumed eating. “Sir, what is this Mah’Sukai? I have never heard of such a beast.”

  A forced laugh came from Master Rine. “A Mah’Sukai is no beast. He is a man—or a woman, though I am certain this one is a man. He wields more power than anyone should possess.” He set his spoon into his empty bowl. “How much do you know of the Essence?”

  Scraping the last remnants of stew from the bottom of his bowl, Arderi cast his gaze at the kitchen door—his stomach still felt hollow—before looking back at Larith. “As much as anyone, I guess.” When Master Rine did not respond, Arderi continued. “The Essence is in all things. Shapers have the ability to manipulate it somehow, to change the state of an object.”

  The door to the kitchen swung open and Rinear came out holding another bowl of stew and a platter of bread. Arderi took a small roll from the plate and broke it in half before Rinear had a chance to set it on the table. Steam rose from the still warm bread, and he smelled a hint of honey. When his stomach rumbled, Rinear giggled. Biting into the bread, he attempted to hide his embarrassment. As she took his empty bowl, he looked up. Gazing into his eyes, her grin still on her lips, she winked. When he blushed, she turned and headed back to the kitchen, leaving Arderi shifting under the piercing eyes of Larith. The man nodded as if he had decided something, and Arderi struggled to swallow the bite of bread in his mouth.

  Reaching out, Master Rine took a roll for himself, though he did not eat it. “Tell me of your time with Brother Rillion.”

  As much as Arderi did not want to bring up those memories, he felt Master Rine deserved to know the story. So he told it, much like he did when he had told his parents and the others of his home stead. Though, this time he left nothing out. For some reason, once the story was done, he felt better.

  During the tale, Larith ate the first roll, followed by a second. He had not interrupted; simply nodded now and again. When Arderi finished both his story and his meal, the older man pushed all the dishes to the far side of the table and leaned on his elbows, holding Arderi in his gaze. “I agree with Brother Rillion—he should not have bound you to Ka’gana until you had proven yourself. Caution is the one reason our Order has survived all these many turns of the seasons.”

  “Caution!” A booming voice echoed through the dining hall, causing Arderi to jump. A tall, broad shouldered, yellow-haired man strolled through the main doors of the dining hall. “This Order of yours has survived by hiding, you mean!” The hawk-nosed man wore a strange outfit, like a many-layered robe slit into strips from just below his shoulders to the bottom of the garment. If it had not been so finely decorated with embroidery down the strips of cloth, Arderi would have thought the man wore rags sewn together. A snow-white backpack sat on his shoulders, peeking out just over his head. “Hiding since the last War of Power!” The tall man’s laugh filled the hall as he looked down at Larith. Now that he stood closer, Arderi saw that whatever rested on his shoulders was no pack. Covered with white feathers, it looked like he wore some sort of ceremonial item strapped to his back.

  Larith closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. “Arderi Cor, meet an overly flamboyant Saven.”

  Arderi brushed off the front of his tunic, stood, and held out his hand. He jumped back when the feathers on the man’s back twitched!

  “Well met, young Cor.” Saven, seeming unaware of Arderi’s shock, took his offered hand, nearly pulling him across the wooden table. He gave Arderi a mischievous wink. “Or are you one of Larith’s…Brothers?” When Arderi glanced at Master Rine out of the corner of his eye, Saven let out his big boom of a laugh and released Arderi’s hand. “Say no more! Your silent tongue screams Tat’Sujen.” Still laughing, he slid onto the bench next to Larith and snatched up the last roll from the platter. “I am famished.” Turning his head, he cupped a hand beside his mouth. “Rinear! Bring out some of that food I smell, girl!”

  Standing over Saven, Arderi could now see more of the man’s back. He let out a gasp of surprise. “You have wings!”

  Looking Arderi square in the eyes, Saven smiled and flexed his back. Two massive white wings unfurled from the strips of cloth that formed his robe. They stretched out to his sides, reaching twice as wide as the man was tall, fluttered, then disappeared once more under his robe. “Aye, lad. It seems that I do, at that.” Again, his big booming laugh filled the hall.

  The door to the kitchen slammed open and Rinear came out carrying yet another tray of rolls and bowl of stew. “This is no common tavern and I no serving wench!” Though her words sounded harsh as she crossed to the table, she gave Saven a warm smile. Plopping her burdens of food in front of him, she collected the dirty dishes and headed back to the kitchen.

  Saven dug into his meal with the same zeal as had Arderi. Pointing his spoon at Arderi between mouthfuls, the big blond man grinned. “Came by way of the Sending Stone, I presume?”

  “Aye, sir. I—” Feeling foolish still standing—Larith seemed unconcerned that a man with wings had joined them—Arderi returned to his seat.

  “I, myself, will not use the damnable things. At least not until they work properly once more!” The large winged man shoveled another spoonful of stew into his mouth.

  A tremor ran through Arderi that had nothing to do with the shock of what he had just seen. “Working properly?” He glanced at Larith. “What does he mean?”

  Before Larith could answer, Saven laughed. “I assume the experience was a bit…painful?”

  The memory of having each of his bones snap while he lay writhing on the floor still prowled the back of Arderi’s mind. “Aye, it was at that.” Without realizing it, he rubbed his hands over his arms.

  “Do not fret, Brother.” Larith held Arderi’s eyes as he stood. “Painful, the Sending Stones may be, at least until the Essence attains more power, yet they are safe enough. Come.” He motioned for Arderi to f
ollow. “Walk with me. Let me show you to your room.” Cutting his eyes to Saven, Larith now held a look of dissatisfaction. “Besides, I find that the company has dampened my appetite.”

  Rising to his feet once more, Arderi retrieved Clytus’ old sword, Dorochi, and strapped it around his waist. Hesitating for a moment, he held out a hand. “Well met, Mir’am Saven.”

  The blond-haired man did not look up from his stew, though he wore a look of disdain upon his features since Larith’s last comment. “It is just Saven, boy. Just Saven.” When the man said no more nor made a move to take his hand, Arderi lowered his arm. Rounding the table, he followed Larith out of the dining hall.

  For being such a large Citadel, Arderi noticed that Bin’Satsu held little in the way of decorations. Though wide, the halls sat bare of carpets and wall hangings. The occasional vase or bust could be seen, yet they were few and far between. No people walked the halls either and the silence of his companion also added to Arderi’s unease. “For such a large place, not many people live here.”

  Arderi’s sudden words startled Larith out of his thoughts. “Aye. Bin’Satsu was once a thriving place. Yet, that was long ago. A mere handful live here now.”

  The two turned into a side hallway and exited the building through a large set of arched double-doors. The view took Arderi’s breath away. He saw the tops of mountains poking through the cloud cover that lay well below them. The crisp, clear air ruffled Larith’s robes with a slight breeze. Larith led him on in silence to a stone patio that pressed out over the side of the plateau. Stone planters filled with dirt and the odd dead twig, sat between worn and aged benches that looked as if they would crumble if sat upon. The only life evident here was a few ragged weeds that had taken root in cracks between the paverstones that littered the area.

  Leaning against the marble railing, Larith drew in a deep breath. “Bin’Satsu was once the crown jewel of an empire that covered not only Silaway and Ro’Arith, yet also Latore to the west and Kisu far to the south. Almost the entire Plane of Talic’Nauth bent knee to the Oash’ado.”

  “Oash’ado?” Arderi had never heard that term.

  “It means ‘Father’ in what you people refer to as the Old Tongue. It is a title still used by the King of the Mu’shadar in southron Silaway. Yet, his power pales in comparison to what once was.” Moving to one of the benches, Larith sat. “The might of the Renkujie Empire covered nearly the entire Plane of Talic’Nauth.”

  Something in his tone bothered Arderi. “You speak as if you were there.”

  Breaking eye contact, Larith stood and returned to lean against the rail. “Forgive the rants of an old man. I have spent much of my life here in Bin’Satsu. Its libraries are extensive and I have read much of the past.”

  “There is nothing to forgive.” Arderi walked across the patio, braving a look over its edge. Jagged rocks fell away a hundred paces or more, disappearing into the foggy clouds below. His stomach lurched, and he retreated. Standing just behind Larith, Arderi noted two long protrusions that ran parallel to each other down the man’s back, each over a hand long.

  Does Larith wear something strapped to his shoulders under his robe?

  Opening his mouth to inquire as to what they were, Arderi jumped as they twitched from side to side. The man spun to face him, and Arderi cringed.

  Larith stared at him, a questioning look upon his face, before speaking. “There is much you need to know, and precious little time for you to know it. This Plane that you live upon is only a shell of the Plane that once was. A broken and mutilated shell.” He motioned for Arderi to follow him back into the Citadel. “For several millennia, this Plane has been asleep.” Arderi opened his mouth to comment, then kept silent as Larith held up a hand. “Let me correct that and say the Essence has been asleep.” Again, Arderi made to ask a question, though this time Larith spoke over him. “The Essence that you know now—the slow, methodical force that your Shapers use to perform their wonders—is a shadow of what once was. A shadow that is beginning to brighten. Soon it will burn with an intensity that will radiate out to cover all there is. It will call to a select few. All those who answer this call will have the ability to Meld the Essence as never before. They will wield true power and be able to do unbelievable things.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” Arderi could not keep the awe from his voice.

  “No!” Larith reached out and gripped Arderi’s arm in a vice-like hold. A haunting look filled his eyes, and Arderi no longer wanted to be near this man. “The Essence is corrupt! It twists and torments those who use it. It begs to be used more. Calls out to those who hear its cry!” Placing his free hand on Larith’s wrist, Arderi tried to remove the man’s hand when his grip became painful. The man took no notice. “And they will answer that call. They always do! Once answered, true power will be in their grasp. True corruption unleashed!”

  Arderi pulled at Larith’s fingers, sure that the man would snap his arm any moment. “Master Rine!”

  The shout snapped the man from his rant and he jerked his hand away, taking a step back as he did. “I—I am sorry. Please, forgive me, Brother.” However, his fevered look did not leave his eyes. If anything, he took on a more desperate stare. “Let me show you to your room. Saven should be finished eating by now and I must consult with him as to how we are to move forward.”

  Without another word, Larith led Arderi through the halls of Bin’Satsu and up several flights of stairs. They entered a massive room at the end of a long hallway, as large as the entire public house Arderi had been raised in. Twin fireplaces on either side of the room drove the chill from the air. Plush chairs and couches sat before the left fireplace, looking warm and inviting. A large table and chairs sat before the other. A vase of wildflowers decorated the center of the table. Four doors, two in each side wall, led left and right to even more rooms, he assumed. Across from the double doors they entered sat a set of stained-glass doors that opened onto a grand balcony. It was more inviting than any room he had yet seen in the Citadel.

  An elderly man fluffing a cushion on one of the chairs when they entered set the pillow down and approached. “Master Rine.” The old man inclined his head. “The quarters are as ready as we could get them on such short notice.” He turned to Arderi and inclined his head almost as deep as he had done for Larith. “I am Raynan Yhan. It will be my pleasure to take care of your needs during your stay with us.”

  “I—um.” Arderi glanced around the room, an uncomfortable feeling enveloping him. “I am grateful, Mir’am Yhan.” He had never seen quarters so plush. The fact that they were all for him was overwhelming.

  Arderi’s answer brought a smile to the old man’s lips. He shuffled off through one of the doors, calling to someone inside. A few moments later, Raynan returned with an elderly woman in tow. “This is my wife, Terona.” The woman inclined her head. “If you are in need of anything…” He pointed to a rope that dangled just to the left of the entry doors. “…please ring that bell and one of us will attend you.”

  With that, the two left, leaving Arderi alone with Larith who also turned to go. “I hope you find the rooms to your liking. If you decide to wander, please do not go far. The Citadel is a confusing place for those who do not know its layout.”

  When the door shut, Arderi glanced about the room.

  The room is to my liking. I hope whatever is to become of me is to my liking as well.

  “I do not understand!” Klain’s growl filled the sitting room, making the little blond-haired boy jump.

  Charver Vimith gave the hulking Kithian his best ten-winter-old stare. “Just because you are almost three paces of fur, teeth and claws is no reason to go around growling like a lion!” The boy’s smile took away the sting from his words, however.

  Klain did his best impersonation of the expression, though he knew it fell well short of what the Human’s called a smile. He suspected it might be his fangs that put
people off when he did this.

  As if Humans do not show their teeth when they smile!

  The boy-cub’s smile widened. Though Charver barely came up to Klain’s waist, he held no fear of the large Kithian. “The game of Barca is easy. It is the oldest game in all of Talic’Nauth.” The boy waved a hand over the wooden board sitting on the small table that separated them. He looked down on it with its etched lines marking off a ten by ten grid of alternating black and white squares. “Each side, black and white, has six pieces. Two Krugours, two Niyoka, and two Drakons.” He pointed to each in turn.

  Klain scoffed. “Why is the Krugour the same size as the Drakon? I have learned that the Drakon is supposed to be some enormous monster.”

  Frowning up at Klain, Charver shook his head. “It is just a game piece. They are not to scale! Now, pay attention. The Krugour…” He placed a small finger on a coiled snake piece about three fingers tall. “…is afraid of the Niyoka.” He shifted his finger to a similarly sized shaggy-looking cat piece. “The Niyoka is afraid of the Drakon.” Moving his finger to the last piece, this one looked like a sleek winged cat with an elongated neck. Though, in size it matched the other two playing pieces. “And the Drakon is afraid of the Krugour.” Completing his circuit, he indicated the snake once more.

  “That is yet another mystery to me.” Klain reached over and plucked up the black stone Krugour that sat on his side of the board. He held it awkwardly between the digits of his paw. “If the Drakon is supposed to be some monstrous beast, why would it be afraid of a Krugour? I have seen them and they are not much larger than a dog.”

  Picking up one of the white ivory carvings of what the boy-cub called a Drakon—Klain could not believe that a long-necked housecat with wings existed anywhere on the Plane—Charver held it out in his small palm, examining it. “I am not sure why. It is just a part of the game.”

  Klain grunted. “All right. Then why is a Krugour afraid of a little snake?”