Chapter 1
Prologue
The newcomers filled the stone hall, sitting in large wooden chairs that were arranged in a half-circle. Everyone was waiting for Maegy to enter. Lucius sat there, in the magnificent Cadaredia hall. The grandeur of the city of monasteries was so breathtaking he could not make a sound. A scarlet fire burned on the pillars of the walls and with the light coming in from the high windows, the statuesque hall glowed goldenly. The hall belonged to Al-Dalyon, one of the fortresses in the city of white castles. The shadows of the temples surrounding the fort laid down on the conch shells of its walls like titans coming from the west.
White and golden was Cadaredia this evening, - the color of light and fire. Crimson beams of setting sun, glinting on the domes of the temple, were entwined as a golden crown around the city of white stone. The city itself looked like more of a relic creation, molded in an era of legends, then built by the mere mortals. Looking at this marvelous view of the town, Lucius with other recruits can’t help himself be amazed. The violet smokes of the dawn enveloped the fires burning on the sacrificial altars and, meandering high above the roofs like the steam off the huge cauldrons, reflected the vague contours of the streets beyond the horizon, looking like the mirage, slashing Cadaredia like the chest of an old warrior.
“I think he is coming” - whispered the girl sitting next to him and it was when Lucius first realized that, Maegy, who had been awaited by so many youngsters would soon enter the hall. However, it was not only the girl’s words that made him realize that, but some strange feeling that gradually grew and consistently made him aware of something majestic and other-worldly.
The door, looking like a gate of the fortress, started to split into two and when it finally stopped, a man clad in a red cloak entered the dimly lit hall. While walking he didn’t even look at the newcomers, walked lightly contemplating, a red cloak fluttering over his shoulders.
His steps, echoing mysteriously in the hall, kept the newcomers silent. He was shrouded in the smoke and the flames dazzling on the pillar tops danced together with his footsteps.
The red cloak looked as if it was braided around his thin body. The calmness blended into the firmness of his voice made him sound strangely sharp.
“Welcome”- he announced- “This Temple of Belial is the place where you first start perceiving the world of magic”.
Lai Zhu
Lai looked up, dusk was approaching, soon the sun would be set beyond the horizon. She wanted to reach the peak before sunset, wanted to see the city today... Spent several months strolling on the red cliffs for this. She missed the ocean, longing to see her. What would she not give to be there. Riding waves on the dolphin’s back, watching the slow-motion of the wave peeling along the reef, before pitching forward to explode in a foaming mass of white happiness. Sense of exhausted excitement, feeling of pushing limits further than ever before and experiencing something that only a few people ever will. This was what Lai loved the summer islands for.
- “The world is the chest of splendor, never forget this Lai!” - Naji’s words were helping her to gain strength even after so long.
Did not know her real name, nor could she remember her face, just knew she was picturesque, looked like light itself, warm and bright.
Lai almost climbed to the top, put her hand on the reddish stone, felt its firmness with ellryne. She jumped short and started climbing. The rock was high and difficult to climb, but she has overcome more difficulties on the way to here. The sun was half-set when Lai reached the top of a rock. Canyons and clouds were seen all around, and in front was the silhouette of a city where mages live.
The world was reddish from here, probably because of the canyon. The color of the distant Cadaredia also seemed to merge with the redness of the rocks. She put down the bow and traveler bag. Pulled out flasks of oil and dyes made from plants. The paint had faded on the bow, restoring the color of the charcoal to the ancient wood. It could be used as a cudgel in a melee fight, Lai practiced fighting with it for several years. She mixed the oil with the plant extracts and start dyeing. The color of the bow should not be seen by anyone. When Lai finished, the bow had a color of brownish honey, it would last at least a month.
She placed the bow on the cloth and began to pray. The night had descended for a good while when it was over. Now only body paint was remaining. She was not going to take a break before reaching Cadaredia and so should have been painted now. Lai wanted to reach the Temple of the Sun on the next night, there was no time to lose. Who knows where the thing was now.
The ancestral wigwam was emptied of the chiefs. Of the siblings, only Lai remained here, Lai and the old maid. They never thought of her as a full-fledged member of the family, it seemed in everything ...
The moon was no longer visible in the shadow of the cliffs. The painted body attracted dust and purple color was added to the plant juice. Lai followed the winding paths along with the giant stones, occasionally overlooking the cliffs. Black pits looked like a bottomless abyss, only the screeching of night owl disturbed the tranquility of the canyon.
Lai had strong knees, but everyone would get tired after such a long journey. She had already covered so much distance that would arrive at Cadaredia on the first night, but she could not stop. The city of mages was alluring for her as if magic was throbbing and summoning Lai: - “Come, approach me, come ...”
The tree growing from the middle fire of the black wigwam was like that too, as if it was throbbing with magic – ash-colored magic...
Something went over Lai’s head and she recognized a goat jumping from rock to rock. The goat was harmless, but if it escaped the predator, that would be dangerous.
Lai removed the bow and clasped the rock. Her left hand touched the barrel of the weapon, while her right hand felt the surface of the stone and sank into ellryne. Somewhere, near, was a beast. Apparently, it nuzzled human scent and refused to go to the goat because of the appearance of easy prey.
Lai dashed over the rock and plunged into the abyss. Reached for the edge of the pre-selected stone, hung on it, and began to climb. She wanted an open place to wait for a predator there. Holding bow with her teeth, Lai climbed on top of a rock and looked around. The boulders looked from above, the silver-plated stones in the moonlight and the mystery of the canyon ...
Silvery mane silhouetted from the darkness, the beast’s eyes illuminated yellow. It was the king of this place, the locals called it the king of twilight. The lion roared and headed for the prey. Lai touched the tree with the left hand and sensed ashen while breathing ... She felt how her hand was slashed and the bow was revived with the blood.
The world was no longer the same, life changed colors and exploded into the yellowish ocean, beats of Cadaredia ...
The arrow born in the drawn bow flew to the beast jumping from the cliff... The weapon looked again dark grey, with red splashes, traces of blood were still visible... One arrow - all it took to kill the predator, and this one-shot took most of the remaining energy from her.
Lai was lying in front of the dead lion, looking at the sky, she could do nothing more. A piece wrapped cloth around his hand was drenched in blood. She felt the hungry vibration from the weapon and could not dare to touch it again. This bow was a cursed thing, she knew it from the beginning, but...
Slowly she gathered her strength and stood up, took the bow with the right hand, could not touch the bloodied one.
Lai looked at Cadaredia and at that time felt how the color of ash took over him as if it was squirming, rolling around, reaching into the depths of her soul and ... -“ No! “- she gritted her teeth and somehow stopped the fateful feeling. Trembling she looked at the bow, there were no traces of blood on the surface, fully absorbed by the wood. Lai followed the path like a drunk. She would still have managed to arrive in Cadaredia in time if he had enough strength to move.
The sun looked on to the city of mages and so did Lai.
Smoke rising from the stone walls and noon canyon, fire on the roofs and gleaming temples ... Lai felt the color of the sun...
Leaning on the bow, she could barely restrain himself. It was a bit late, though she would still manage to reach the temple on the very first night. Now the main thing was to paint the ash wood. She took out the remaining dyes from the bag and carefully start painting. Lai could feel the menacing wood with her fingers...
Two Years Earlier
Chapter I
It was raining. The chill had consumed his entire body so deeply and painfully that it seemed to be impossible to feel any other pain; he was less troubled with sore muscles and with the pebbles stabbing painfully through his old, torn and worn shoe soles, reminding about themselves at every step he made. The hardest and most real pain was the yet unfamiliar one that had settled in him, so muffled and massive that he was unable to move; Being fragmented and fractioned, the pain reached every organ, every cell of his body from inside to set all of them on fire. It had not only reached every cell in his body but every little part of that mysterious thing that Rahail’s priest in Lucius’ village referred to as the soul.
The ashen sky was hiding the Sun as it had never done before. It seemed to Lucious that the world was doubtful in the dawn. The thicket forest trail followed the murky horizon through the hills and looked like a mirage of endlessness. For Lucius, something was relaxing and calming about this endlessness - to stop meant thinking, whereas to think meant…
The commander was wearing crimson armor. One could see his chestnut eyes below the lifted face - the shield of the helmet. He was sitting in the armchair, sipping wine from a red gilded chalice. Perhaps his eyes were colored chestnut because of the fire and so it remained in his memory.
Lucius would never be able to remember that moment. He never tried to remember it; it would just restore itself from the very moment his sister and himself were abandoned in the forest. Before that, he only recalled the noise and frozen, indelible scenes. He remembered another gaze as well. - The one he saw in the mirror, reflecting sun spells in differently colored eyes. - The one he caught a glimpse of before going into the tavern, or even after having been dragged from there…- there was something icy in that look which had become part of those indelible scenes…
Laila’s cry, more precisely, what was left of the cry queerly, rhythmically followed the movements of the baby’s body taken up in hand and sounded like the symbol of not yet ending a life to Lucius- the only thing that could ever bring him joy- but not now.- Now it was almost impossible to think about happiness, especially when one kid was holding and carrying another.
The commander smelled like a meadow violet, if you went closer you could also smell wine- Lucius remembered the overwhelming, intoxicating fragrance of violets and wine from the day the commander visited him, with his hands bandaged, when he was injured. The commander was not wearing his helmet, he had shoved it under his arm and was pacing heavily, with muddy spurs, on the worm-eaten floor…
In the far distance scattered, bracken-type plants could be seen, swaying with every blow of the wind. They reminded Lucius of himself. Like those plants, he also swayed in the wind, but God knows why he did not fall and still managed to continue on his way.
The winter was about to end without a single snowflake. Amongst other things, Lucius thought about this while walking on the stones and wondering why he bothered himself thinking of the snowless winter at that such a hard time…
Together with the noise, he was making, the patter of raindrops had quietened down, whereas the wind’s whistling stood out sharply amongst the other sounds around him. These sounds were like the roar of the dammed-up sea, of the sea he had never seen in his life but that he had imagined on numerous occasions when his father told him stories about his sails…
Two years before the storm had destroyed a three-sail frigate near Mondelay, together with the medical plants that should have been brought to Lucious…
“The Red Widow”- what a peculiar name for the ship which had sunk together with his Dad…
This story seemed weirdly trivial now. The time when he was so worried about it seemed so distant and far away. Like the time when he could be worried about something.
Space hopelessly waned with each blink of his heavy eyelids and then some vehement force brought the world, lost in the twilight, back to him. The hills gradually faded away with the countless steps and the hilly landscape gave way to the flat valley. The place, once a forest, was turned into the graveyard of the cut-down trees. No matter where Lucius looked, he could only see the cut-down trees, logs and destroyed dead plants. He could see people leading the wood-carrying oxcarts loaded with wood. The symbols of daily life, of the rotten routine, that started as if nothing had happened and endlessly repeated itself.
It was too difficult to save the wounded man as the arrow had reached his lungs. The torn silver armor was flickering under the sunlight, escaping through the window. The red-drenched cloth was blood-caked. Lucius still remembered clotted blood odor - sweet and heavy, that he had rarely felt before.
The carters’ shouts could be heard from the distance, which made him realize that the wind had abated. The noise of the world had become more distinguishable: a stronger flow of the river made Lucius feel he was alive.
He stood on the top of the downhill. “do not worry!” he heard his voice. Was he talking to Laili? He was surprised that he was able to speak at all and, having made the first steps up the hill, he rolled down the slope…
The wounded was way too young, he didn’t even have a beard but only soft, tender down was visible on his face. The lost blood had taken away the color from the ashen-grey face. The mother’s frowning face indicated that things were not good. The friends of the wounded young man were scattered all over the room as if grown into the silent oak walls, unable to utter a word themselves. Elongated shadows of the books and parchments lying on the wooden shelves were dancing on the floor, coming back to life seemed to be mysterious figures to Lucius- whenever he would manage to take his eyes off the wounded warrior, lying spread on the wooden bed.
The color of the ceiling and smell of the wool came to Lucius together. He tried to sit on the bed but not finding enough strength, he fell back again.
- “Don’t fidget” said the hoarse voice.
-“Where am I?” -asked him instinctively.
-“In my hut”, answered the unfamiliar voice. “Drink this,” the stranger was holding a glass.
Without thinking, Lucius took the glass and drank the medicine in one gulp, just like his mother had taught him in his childhood. The warmth spread down in his stomach, driving out the cold, the cold that Lucius thought of as an inseparable part of his body. The chill and the pain may have left his body but there was something in the body of the person, lying under the woolen blanket, that would never leave his soul. Something permanent that was immovable and so huge that it almost made Lucius cry. If he could, he would definitely cry, but he had realized in the village that he was not able to. If he had not cried when he was being dragged from the tavern, he would never be able to cry again…
“Where is Laili?”
“In the bed next to you. She is well… You will be too”.
“Well…”, this weird wheezing sound made Lucius realize that he giggled…
“I am sorry,” one could see the tears on the wounded person’s eyes which made him look sincere. “I am sorry that I cannot stop him. You don’t know who he is”.
“It’s not your fault”,- said Lucius wiping off the blood with a white cloth; with the cloth that he had washed for the wounded warrior the night before, but now he was using it for himself…
Waking up, he found the room empty; or rather, the stranger was nowhere to be seen. Laili was still lying on her bed and her calm and peaceful breathing blended perfectly well with the shadowy colors of the room.
Everything was reeking of wood and smoke; the burnt aroma was spreading all over the room through the roaring fireplace. Leather pieces were hanging on the wall, grey and furry. - supposedly of a wolf, Lucius was not able to tell in the dusk.
A table, high chairs and a cupboard made the only room in the hut look furnished and reminded him of his old house; there were no animal furs in his home though. Mum and Dad were not fond of furry things. The old house was filled with books- books and herbs and with the blood and superstitions of the patients who, as soon as they left the premises, spread stories about the mysterious magicians…
The village always remained strange to him; he, on his part, stayed outlander to the villagers.
Suddenly the door opened and the man blowing onto his hands to warm himself up stepped in. As soon as the man started talking, Lucius recognized the hoarse voice.
“You are awake,” said the elderly man walking toward the fireplace. He was tall, a little stooped with age, but one could still call him well-built. Although he was almost bald, there were silver patches of the remaining hair on his head and his long beard was unkempt and tousled.
“ You must be hungry”, the man said, warming his hands on the fire; after several minutes he added:
“ Come on, wash your hands” and with these words, he moved towards the door.
The well water that Lucius washed his hands with was icy cold. The man had brought out a piece of rough cloth to dry his hands.
As they stepped back into the hut, the man seated Lucius at the table, fetched meat and bread from the cupboard for him together with a jug full of wine. The very first bite made Lucius realize how hungry he was and at the same time, he was surprised that life went on as if nothing had happened. Strangely, the world moved on and even forgot everything as if all that had happened was just a child’s dream.
“Have some wine; will make you stronger,” the man filled the glasses. Lucius had never tasted wine before and he found it quite sour. Did the commander feel the same while sitting in the armchair? He looked at the half-empty glass through the light shedding from the window; the wine was white; the commander drank red.
Lucius could hear the sounds of chewing and swallowing the meat. When the man was not talking, he was eating his food. When he was no longer hungry, Lucius stopped eating. The old man was mostly telling stories, sometimes funny ones, probably trying to cheer Lucius up. Lucius was unable to smile, although he tried once; this discouraged the old man from telling funny stories.
Lucius felt tipsy from wine. He had stopped eating, but he kept on drinking wine. The wine had affected the old man as well.
“What has happened to you?”, he asked after finishing one of his stories.
The man had honey-colored eyes; Lucius felt the warmth pouring out of the eyes of his host when he was looking down at him…
“I cannot talk about it now,”, Lucius heard his voice. “Oh, it’s okay,” was the answer. The man’s voice was warm too, it was strange that Lucius had not noticed that before.
“My children found you and your sister at the end of the slope. You must have fallen. We are the woodchoppers and work for Lord Bryan. We are shipping the logs for Mondelay tomorrow and I will tell the guys to take you there, if you don’t mind it, of course.”
Lucius nodded quietly and looked up at the spot on the wall.
“How old are you, kid?” he heard the question. “Twelve”, he answered. The slight slumber brought about by the wine and the dark colors of the room made Lucius doze off.
