Chapter IV
With Cedric secure in Kandrakar, Caleb could focus on the immediate pressing matters within Meridian.
Firstly he and the Army of the Light of Meridian needed to contend against the defiance of Phobos's still-free allies.
Secondly, groups who had owed neither Phobos nor the rebellion allegiance stirred sedition; and while Phobos had exercised brutal authority to keep them in line, these people grew truculent under the inexperienced queen.
Finally, Caleb had to deal with drawing up and enforcing agreements with suspicious foes-turned-(tentative)-allies. This was the part after any conflict that some parties found disagreeable but necessary to move forward. Some of the agreements left a foul taste in the mouths of some former rebels, including Caleb, but in exchange for immunity from prosecution, these old foes would cooperate with and aid the army.
But for damned sure, immunity did not mean an erasure of their crimes.
Briefly put, action had not jarred to a halt after Phobos was deposed. Caleb and his soldiers remained thoroughly active, more so since the Guardians could no longer help.
"I don't understand," complained a former rebel one day, "why Kandrakar doesn't make it so the Guardians can travel more easily between worlds."
"I hear what you're saying," Caleb replied, "but the Guardians have completed their mission. They're not obligated to do any more than that, and besides, they have their own lives to live on Earth.
"As for us, we can't depend on the Guardians for everything. We have to take our destiny back into our own hands."
"If only they'd chosen to live here," remarked another soldier.
"Indeed!" quipped a third. "As far as I'm concerned, they've earned the right to call themselves, just like the glorious Five Saviours did."
"And if not that," said the previous soldier, "they really ought to be able to visit whenever they'd like."
Caleb smiled and suggested, "Perhaps one day Kandrakar shall let it be so."
Then his friend Aldarn grinned and said, "Yes, and let our general see his beloved dryad again."
Of course. Cornelia.
Not that prior to being introduced to her, Caleb hadn't tried to court the young women of Meridian. Between leading carefully-coordinated raids, dodging capture, and nearly having his skull split with an axe, Caleb had seized the few moments of respite to flirt with maidens and court a few whom spared an afternoon to be with him. Cornelia, though—Cornelia had been a different lass altogether.
That earthling girl could be shallow, dreadfully shallow, easily off-put by that which she deemed unstylish or untrendy. Her confidence could morph into biting arrogance and stubbornness, and one would at first impression wonder how she came to have the type of friends that she had.
However, Cornelia was loyal, and she could be loving. She was fiercely protective of her friends and nearly had strangled Caleb for not telling Princes Elyon the truth sooner. In matters of romance, she had continued to flirt with other lads but meant nothing more by it, for she teased like a nymph but returned always to Caleb.
Furthermore, the strong love that they'd felt for one another had never interfered with the rebellion or threatened to jeopardise it.
Humph! Not like with Cedric, thought Caleb.
Random memories of Cornelia could stray into memories of him, each with their golden hair and beautiful skin.
Gods! How lucky Caleb was that they were gone—not that they annoyed him. Sometimes, though, they had pleased him too much to the point of distraction.
Cedric had been much worse. One could always refocus to the task at hand with Cornelia because she shared the desire to finish it, but Cedric? By the Gods! That man... The shape-shifter had such an otherworldly, Fae-like aura when he walked around in his Escanor body. He enchanted everyone whom gazed upon him. The man was a danger to one's soul!
But is that really his fault? wondered Caleb. Had it really been Cedric's fault when herds of earthling girls had clamoured near and inside his book shop, sneaking peeks at him? Had Cedric been at fault when Phobos's guards had undressed him with their eyes and imagined him on hands and knees? Had Cedric intended to trigger Caleb's bouts of uncomfortable introspection?
Caleb could never blame his hypnosis on Cedric. Caleb had placed the enchantment on himself, for though Cedric was a handsome specimen, he was not responsible for how people treated him after they simply gazed upon him.
As the days rolled by, with Cedric locked far from Caleb, the young man had some time to realise that what had begun as business, then lust had morphed into something more tender but also more solemn, something that roused the passion in his young heart but also fear, if some one discovered his secret.
Forty days had passed since Cedric's departure. On morning of this fortieth day, Caleb awoke when Gideon, his father's prized Gohmor gaogao, managed to hop atop the roof again and commence his bleating and warbling.
"Ohhh, my Go-o-odsss," groaned Caleb, burying his face in the pillow.
Caleb had just finished a taxing night of negotiations with one of the leaders of the Silver-Blooded Elves, a people whom had had a relatively good relationship with Phobos. Though willing to submit to Queen Elyon's rule, the Elves were daemonically uppity and nit-picky. If Caleb hadn't adjourned and scheduled future talks, the bastards would have kept him until sunrise. And how the devil was he to visit Kandrakar, looking a dishevelled dog?
Gritting his teeth and throwing off his blankets, Caleb marched to the window, threw open the shudders, and cried, "Shut up! Shut up! Gideon!"
The Gohmor gaogao ceased his bleating, and he warbled innocently at the furious young general.
Inhaling a steady breath and exhaling just as steady, a slightly calmer Caleb asked: "Gideon, where's maa'mers?"
The creature hopped from the roof and gazed at Caleb, all four of its ears perked as it tipped its head.
The young man smirked and asked again, "Where is your maa'mers?" Then he bleated to the stud, "Maa-aa-aa'me-e-ers!"
Gideon trotted in circles and dashed around the property, searching for Julian. With a triumphant chuckle, the weary young general returned to his cozy bed...
... only to have that blasted gaogao bleat and warble much louder at his window!
"Son of a devil and a bitch!" he cursed as he threw off his blankets again. With a huff, Caleb marched to his father's room to wake him.
Tapping on the jamb to his father's bedroom, Caleb slipped inside and shook the older man gently.
"Father? Father, the alarm to wake us up keeps going off near my room."
Julian stretched beneath his blankets and yawned. He smiled and replied, "Gideon likes to sing to you at sunrise."
Caleb sighed. "After the long night I had last night? It's less charming and more... puts me in the mood for a broth rich in gaogao meat."
His father chuckled and finally sat tall, stretching to the ceiling.
Honestly, Caleb couldn't castigate his father for going back to gaogao-herding. Before the rebellion, when Julian had not been training with the Queen's army, gaogao-herding had provided a stable source of income. During the rebellion, Julian had used it to play like a simple farmer, for Phobos hadn't acquired the names of all the Queen's soldiers from before he had taken the city. Nowadays his father used gaogao-herding as a way of managing his war- and slavery-induced distress; for though Queen Elyon's power had healed him tremendously, it had been 'tremendously,' not 'wholly.'
"Caleb, Gideon is fond of you. He's usually the first one to greet you when you come home."
"Hoho! Yes, it's a wonderful greeting," chuckled Caleb, "having him try to butt me in the gut."
Julian patted Caleb on the shoulder as he slid out of bed.
"I hope you keep that good humour," continued the young general, "when I tell you I won't be joining you this morning. I'm still exhausted after all those hours of going back and forth with Earl What's-His-Face."
"You mean Enyus, Lord Athelstane is a complete bastard when it comes to hammering out agreements?"
"I thought it was 'Anus, Lord Arsehole-stain.'"
The men chuckled heartily before parting ways, with Julian bidding his son sleep well for a few more hours. Caleb needed to look his best for the saints of Kandrakar rather than fatigued and covered in muck and gaogao hairs.
As Caleb slipped back into his sheets, he didn't dwell on his future meeting with ancient ascetics, whom had long since forsaken passion for a higher purpose. His mind turned to him for whom this visit was designated.
I'm glad I won't be by myself, thought Caleb, not that Kandrakar's security would let him out of sight.
Nevertheless, with other members of Queen Elyon's court visiting Lord Cedric to check on his rehabilitation, Caleb was less inclined to behave foolishly.
Eventually, the young delegate pried himself from his bed for a final time that morning. He washed himself thoroughly and dressed in an ensemble worthy of attendance at the Altar of Saint-King Escanor. Then he fetched his horse from the field, bid his father adieu, and rode to the castle.
Vathek had arrived in the Great Hall before the other delegates, followed by a fellow defector named Bercilak. One of the queen's rescuers, a motherly Galhot woman named Galgheita, would also attend. Alborn would lead the delegation to the Tower of Mists on this visit (and most others). Lastly would join a Galtroh defector named Tynar, a soldier whom had replaced Vathek when Vathek had escaped.
Of this Tynar, Caleb had learned that he was one of the few soldiers and servants in the castle that Cedric had trusted with the truth: that all Phobos had fought for was stolen. Phobos had not fought to abolish an oppressive matriarchy. He had exploited any wrongdoings, small and large committed by Escanors and their Galhot allies, to justify a violent usurpation. Tynar and his people had been carefully-played pawns.
Tynar had heeded Cedric, and he had managed to convince other men and servants to heed.
So, during this visit, he desired to know how Cedric fared.
"... especially after I failed to protect him."
Vathek rubbed the back of one of his shoulders and said, "It wasn't your fault. Phobos had what he wanted and so... found no more use for him."
"But... But everything that happened in the dungeons..." mourned the veteran before he looked this way and that for the queen. Queen Elyon knew that Cedric had been tortured, but no one had told her how and to what extent. Lowering his voice, Tynar continued:
"If only I had moved him or put him in the oubliette—"
"Without Phobos' permission? You'd've been gaoled in a heartbeat," marked Caleb. "Cedric understood what he was risking. He did what was right regardless."
Tynar nodded, but his head hung low.
Caleb couldn't view such guilt as a fault; for he, too, had wondered many nights what he could have done differently to save Elyon without sacrificing Cedric to a dire fate. His wondering would sometimes wander into: What if the Gods desired that he receive his fate? For all the ills he did commit against Meridian? Then Caleb would snarl and curse at himself, his gorge rising.
Perhaps I'm naïve. Maybe not enough of a man. But I don't think even Phobos deserves torment for all that he's done. What the hell would it even accomplish?
"I still feel as though I'm to blame," continued Tynar. "I was the General of the Wardens. I could have done something."
"No," said Vathek, shaking his head. "You are not to blame. You did what was in your power to do at the time, and sadly, that did not include freeing Cedric.
"Phobos is to blame for everything, for all the misery that we've suffered. And those who actually laid their hands on Cedric? They'll talk, if they haven't already. They'll brag about what they've done to someone with half a conscience, and when their boast and their names finally reach us, I'll be the first to make them fear for the skin around their stones."
Poor Tynar. Neither Caleb nor Vathek could comfort him further.
He needs to work on his guilt his way, thought Caleb as he glanced the clock.
As the minutes became an hour, Her Majesty arrived with her entourage, which almost always included Alborn and Miriadel. As the hour crept to two hours, Galgheita arrived, changing from an Escanor to a Galhot, fretting over the wrinkles in the robe she had chosen for Kandrakar.
Suddenly, an otherworldly breeze swirled in the middle of the Great Hall. A small ball of mallow-coloured energy hovered in the middle, and the assemblage gave it a wide berth as it developed into a portal.
Out of the portal stepped a tiny fellow, only one head taller than Blunk. He was decked in a white robe with a faint blue-green hue. The structure of his face reminded Caleb of Yan Lin crossed with a feline, thanks largely to his tall ears and long whiskers.
"Is Little Brother Alborn here?" asked the saint with a falsetto voice.
Alborn stepped forth and bowed. "I am he, Your Holiness."
The saint smiled. "Now, now! I appreciate the deference, but Hiboshé is my name. Simply my name shall do."
"Of course, Your Holiness," replied Alborn. "I mean, Hiboshé!"
The saint laughed jollily, his mirth indeed giving off an aura like Yan Lin. He bade the delegation queue up and follow him through the portal, and after each delegate bade Queen Elyon farewell, they one-by-one entered Kandrakar.
Faint whispers echoed through the unblemished marmorean halls, which towered around the delegates and dazzled them with their elaborate reliefs. No shadow cut harshly but instead fell more gently than the first-fallen snow. The air smelled purer than a day cleansed by rain showers.
"By the Five Saviours!" gasped Bercilak. "Oh! Forgive me, lordship! I did not mean to profane."
"It's a natural reaction from newcomers, little brother," said Hiboshé. "I merely bid you and everyone, for that matter, contain your excitement until we reach the Tower of Mists. We have many sisters and brothers deep in meditation."
"Of course, sacred one," replied Bercilak with a bow.
Thus far Caleb more-than-liked what he saw. Hiboshé seemed to be a jolly saint, and these halls through which they stepped were pristine and tranquil. Any fire in Caleb's heart, whether passion or animosity, seemed to be quelled in this realm awash with sacred magic, and he felt even more at ease when he peered into doorless chambers, where small gatherings sat in silence or susurrated harmoniously.
The delegation exited the fortress of Kandrakar, where an unseen source of light illuminated the realm, and thick, puffy clouds floated interminably. As they drew closer to the Tower of Mists, Hiboshé advised, "Stick to the path, little sister and brothers. It's wide enough, but it also winds, and there are no rails. If you fall off, you shall tumble through the æther, and if we're not swift to rescue you, it can take a good few centuries before we can get you back."
"Cen... Centuries?" exclaimed Caleb.
The feline little man nodded.
"Oh! You won't age or anything," he continued. "No hunger, no thirst, no illness, no death. Might lose a touch of your sanity, though. But that's partly why we created the Cosmos of Abeyance."
Caleb was certain he wasn't the only one to blanch and feel a little ill, for everyone walked more tightly together, and none looked up at the Tower of Mists until Hiboshé assured them it was safe to do so.
The bottom of building glistened and gleamed like the finest aquamarine, but as Caleb craned his neck, it transitioned into a dismal slate blue. Dark clouds concealed the topmost floors. As for its texture, it reminded Caleb of a Threban dragon's armour, for the artisans had carved fearsome curved spikes along its walls, and they had designed the parapet similarly.
Up the stairs to the entrance Hiboshé led them, and they arrived before a golden hall. The delegates marvelled before Hiboshé explained:
"This hall is called the Gauge of the Heart. There is potent magic in here that will delve into each and every heart; and if anyone intends to assault a guard or any inmate..."
He paused, and his face looked as grave as Yan Lin's when a situation was devoid of all good humour.
"... what shall befall you, I haven't the heart to describe. But if anyone in this party intends to assault Cedric or any other within the Tower of Mists, then it is better that you remain on the steps and wait. And so, I ask: Do any of you intend to assault Cedric or anyone else within the Tower?"
The delegation fell silent, and they gazed at each other.
Caleb knew that for sure Vathek and Tynar were least likely to reach over a table and strangle the old serpent. Bercilak seemed harmless thus far, and Galgheita seemed the type to confront with words, not fists. That left himself (a definite 'No') and Alborn.
"I'll admit," began Elyon's adopted father, "Cedric has done plenty to get under my skin; and even though my daught—my queen loves him like an older brother, I still haven't quite forgiven him."
Galgheita reached for his back and patted and rubbed it. Alborn smiled sadly and glanced at her.
Hiboshé repeated his question: "Little Brother Alborn, do you feel that you might assault Cedric? For if you hold such a sentiment, and if you pass through this hall, the magic within shall act accordingly to drive you out if it does not kill you first."
"Lord Hiboshé," said Galgheita, "you must understand: Alborn and I and our comrade Miriadel worked hard to keep Elyon secret and safe. Then Cedric comes along, and after lying to Caleb about being fully-invested in the rebellion, he kidnaps Elyon and tries to turn her against us."
Caleb bowed his head. She wasn't necessarily wrong, but that wasn't the whole story.
"Perhaps it would be better if you remained on the steps, little brother," said Hiboshé. "Though I cannot force you to remain, if you follow us through the Gauge of the Heart, I cannot guarantee your safety."
Alborn bowed his head and turned to leave.
"Now, hold on," said Caleb as he laid a hand upon his shoulder. He turned to Hiboshé and said, "I know Alborn. He's not violent. Yes, he can get frustrated, and that frustration can turn to anger, but I don't think he's going to lash out at Cedric. Not now, anyway. And if anything, I probably have the longest list of grievances against the old viper out of everyone here. Maybe not by much, but it's enough. And I have zero intention of lifting a finger against him."
"It is not I who judges but the—"
"I know. I know. It's the hall... which by the way, thanks for letting us know now rather than before we got to Kandrakar."
Caleb wasn't sure who in the party looked more flustered: his fellow delegates, drained of the colour in their faces, or Hiboshé, who flushed at his misstep and began to clear his throat.
"Yes! Well..."
Then Caleb gazed at Alborn and asked, "Do you really think you're gonna do him harm? Really? Because if that's the case, I'll turn back with you because I know I haven't got a chance in the Inferno of passing through there alive."
Alborn smiled and chuckled sadly.
"If you shall walk arm-in-arm with me to support me, I shall walk down that hall with you."
They had made their decision, and Hiboshé spoke no more. He led the delegation into the Gauge of the Heart.
The tranquillity that Caleb had felt in the fortress vanished. The air felt thicker, and his chest felt cramped, as though he were being smothered. He walked slowly by Alborn's side and focused on the four guards, which stood at the end of the hall, to keep his attention off his sudden discomfort.
I feel like sitting down, he thought. My eyes... My vision's getting a little blurry.
His comrades also seemed distress, and any time one strayed a little bit to the left or right, they immediately corrected themselves, staying as fixed in the centre as possible.
Oh, Gods! The walls! It's the walls and the ceiling!
Numerous eyes had been embossed upon the golden surface. The artisans, whoever they'd been, had embossed eyes of uncanny realism, some with eyelids, others without, each one unpaired, all spread or cramped, and each one gazing eternally, probing, prying, terrifying.
I'm glad the girls and the queen aren't here, he thought.
Then he glanced at Alborn, whose brow was beaded with sweat, his head nodding with weariness.
"Come on, Alborn," said Caleb, and he moved his arm around Alborn's back and held his hand with his free hand. "Almost at the end."
Many steps more, and they were safely on the other side. Two of the guards tended to Alborn as he slumped against the wall, while Caleb checked on his fellow delegates.
"It was unnerving to say the least," said Vathek, "but I think we're okay."
"How you doing, Alborn?" asked Caleb as he turned back to the commander.
"Well... I feel like... I just about had a heart attack," he said, rubbing his left arm. Then he smiled wryly and added, "Makes me miss Earth, with their technologically-advanced medicine and all."
Recovering some normality, the delegation followed Hiboshé through corridors more akin to those in the fortress. He guided them to a great chamber with smooth walls painted in a colour and pattern reminiscent of verdigris. Numerous colourful cushions littered the bamboo floor, and short tables, such as the tea tables used by the Ba Sho Djí caravans, stood here and there.
As Caleb gazed throughout the chamber, he recognised one of two figures. He saw the gleam of golden hair, and he saw the flash of golden skin, healthful and unmarred by new abuse.
Thank the Gods, they treat him right, he thought with a sigh.
When crystalline violet eyes met with Caleb's, the young man's heart skipped, and he restrained himself from dashing into the chamber to scoop the fair shape-shifter into his arms. Instead, he channelled his youthful energy into an informal, rather earthling, greeting:
"Hey, Cedric! How's it goin'?"
Annotations
the glorious Five Saviours (historical) Escanor the Brave, Hoël, Didier, Grendal, and Brandis.
maa'mers (Galhotian) 1. master. 2. patriarch, leader.