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And thank you again to all those who have already reviewed!
Chapter 4: Trial by Ice
Talen slowly became aware of a strong hand on his shoulder gently shaking him awake, and a painfully familiar voice calling his name. He looked up, but could not understand what he was seeing.
"Father?"
"Come on lad," Kurik said, gruffly pulling the young man to his feet. "He wants to see you."
Talen immediately obeyed. A voice inside him screamed that everything here was wrong; but a strange, calm platitude had come over him as he followed his long- dead father. They walked briskly down the massive stone hall. It was cold and dim as grey pre-morning light streamed through the narrow windows that lined each side of the hallway.
"I'm sorry, father." Talen said quietly to the man leading him.
"What for?" Kurik asked. He looked back at the young man, but didn't slow his pace.
"For dying like this," Talen began, "I'm sure you expected better of me, but I just couldn't be what you wanted me to be. I guess sinners never change."
Kurik gave him an odd look. "Why do you think you're dead Talen?"
A mocking smirk tugged at Talen's mouth. "Well, let's review. I was stabbed in the side, and when I woke up I was here with my dead father. Now I am walking down a long, ominous hallway to see 'him'. I'm going to final judgment, aren't I?"
Kurik laughed, causing Talen to frown. "No Talen," his father answered. "Actually, you're between life and death, and trust me, you're only visiting."
A thousand questions sprang to Talen's mind, but he was at a loss to articulate them with the blanket of calm that rested over his emotions. Instead, he continued to follow his father down the long hallway. As they walked, it gradually grew brighter and where before there were grey quarry stones, the walls and floor shifted into pale quartz. The light itself did not change, but the quartz caught and refracted it from the multicolored veins that ran through the opal colored walls.
After several more minutes of walking they finally reached two large, ornate doors engraved with familiar-looking symbols. Talen was sure he had seen the symbols before, but he couldn't remember where.
"You have to continue on your own now," Kurik said. "This door leads to your trials, so be careful."
"Trials?" Talen asked apprehensively.
"Yes. There are four of them, and each are important."
Kurik reached forward and opened the door and nodded for Talen to enter. Light blue illumination spilled into the glistening hallway, filling it with azure light. Reluctantly, Talen stepped through the door and found himself in a cavern of sorts, except it was completely comprised of ice. Looking back, both Kurik and the door had disappeared, leaving Talen alone in the strange cave. It was an awesome site to behold, an entire world of translucent blue, with massive ice crystals hanging from the ceiling and rising up majestically from the ground. The space was filled with a silence as profound as the grave.
Stepping forward, a wave of frosty air hit Talen causing him to shiver and wrap his arms around himself. This must be the first of the four trials his father had mentioned. Talen moved forward reluctantly to meet the challenge. As he walked forward the room slowly narrowed into a single path.
The corridor led on and on with no end in sight. The cold, which had merely been an irritation before, began to bite. Talen could feel his fingers and toes going numb when at last he came to a fork. The path to his left went straight forward, while the right corridor curved to the side. The Pandion thief was at a loss. His instinct was to go straight, it was the most practical thing to do; however, the straight path darkened considerably several feet away. On the other hand, the curving corridor glistened with light.
Drawing his dagger and moving slowly and carefully, Talen took the straight path. He crossed the packed ice as the corridor became darker and darker. In the stillness, something came to Talen's ears. At first he could barely make it out, like the memory of a dream upon waking. Gradually though, Talen could discern echoes around him. They were murmuring sounds, sourceless voices in the ice fortress. The murmuring put Talen on edge as the sounds became more and more distinct.
In addition to the voices, the corridor that Talen chose to follow was becoming more and more constricted. Talen, however, continued forward. There were people ahead and perhaps they would be able to explain this place or help him. The young Pandion continued forward on the contracting path. Finally, Talen had to turn sideways to continue through. He couldn't stop, the voices were becoming clearer and clearer. Talen pulled his chest in as the opposite wall scraped painfully against his ribs. He could barely draw breath for the proximity of the ice.
Talen reached a dead end.
Sighing, he leaned his head forward and rested it on the cold ice. He was freezing and exhausted, and could no longer feel his hands and feet. Perhaps he should give up. "No!" his mind rebelled, as he felt a fury begin to build up within him. Talen may be many things, but weak-willed was not one of them. Straightening, he made a vow -- he would get out of here, and no longer play by anyone's rules.
At that point, Talen had an epiphany, but spent several moments berating himself for not having thought of it earlier. Cupping his right hand, he began incanting the spell for fire, controlling it with his finger movements. Talen smiled as the ice began to crack along the dead end of the corridor. The Pandion slowly increased the heat as the solid ice walls started to melt.
Talen wedged his dagger into the initial fissure in the ice and began forcing the wall apart as he mantained the fire in his other hand. Growing more and more impatient by the moment, Talen continued to relentlessly pry the ice apart as the freezing water spilled down his arm. Finally Talen saw light through the hole he made and felt a wave of cool air blast him. The voices were now comprehensible, though they spoke in a language unfamiliar to Talen.
Talen decided to do something rather rash at that moment. He focused the fire through the wall, and increased its output exponentially.
The resulting explosion was rather spectacular. Ice sprayed everywhere sending reverberating shocks throughout the entire cave. Tiny flecks of the blown-apart ice filled the cavern, drifting down like fresh snow. Lovely, Talen thought as he gingerly lifted his bruised body from the ground. He was now in a very large chamber filled with light and voices, but to Talen's dismay, the voices did not belong to anyone. Instead the echoes just bounced back and forth from the walls.
The young Pandion felt a deep rumbling go through the ground followed closely by the sound of a sharp cracking. Suddenly, no less then a few feet from where he was standing, one of the large ice crystals attached to the ceiling broke apart and came crashing to the ground. Talen looked up in shock and fear. The ceiling was cracking again; this time directly over him.
Talen made a run for it, slipping and sliding over the slick surface as pillar after pillar of ice came down directly behind him. He ran as fast as his feet could carry him to avoid the resulting avalanche with no clear direction in mind. Suddenly, looming ahead of the young knight was the same door that had led him into the ice chamber. Re-doubling his efforts, Talen raced to the door as the falling ice quickly closed the distance.
Reaching for the door, he wrenched it open plunging himself headfirst into what he thought was his next trial...
Talen came careening over the threshold and nearly laughed in relief. The inside was simply the office of a preceptor. The preceptor offices of the militant orders where virtually indistinguishable from one another, Talen had been to all four at one time or another. This particular one was done in the same vein, however, Talen immediately noticed that all four sets of the militant order's coat of arms was represented somewhere in the room.
"Sit, my son." A deep, baritone voice entreated Talen. Talen turned to the right and faced an ascetic-looking man. He had long white hair that was bound behind his back. His face was smooth and untouched by age. The man's eyes where another matter completely.
They were very pale, almost colorless, but in their depths was great wisdom and conviction. Talen stood rooted to the spot, feeling oddly exposed to the strange man.
"Who are you?" Talen asked, incredibly curious.
The man did not answer but instead indicated a nearby chair. Taking the hint, Talen walked to the chair and nearly collapsed into it.
"My name hath no relevance to thee, Talen of Cimmuria." He said quietly in his deep voice.
Talen was about to interject when the strange man gave him a look that silenced him and effectively cut off further interruptions.
"Thou must harken closely my son, for I do lie a great task upon thee. In thy youth thou hath taken unto thee a vow to defendeth thy land and thy god. I have need of thee my son, as doth thy land."
Talen sat speechless as the pale-eyed man continued.
"Truly thy Prince of fair Elenia is like no other. Knowest none, man nor god, of Anahka's destiny. Thus thy world art imperiled, even as thy darkest eve returneth unto day. Thou, Talen of Cimmuria, art one of the chosen, among those marked by the errant path of Anahka. Power doth lie in thy hand to constructeth evil or good. Choose thou now, and knowest thou thy decision affecteth not only thee, but thy people."
"What do you want me to do?" asked Talen.
"I ask of thee only what cometh most naturally. I beseech thee to obtain an object of great value and import."
"You want me to steal something?" Talen asked, flabbergasted.
"Thou speaketh truly, the object thou seeketh is known as the Concordia writ."
"What is it?" Talen asked bemused.
"The Concordia writ doth hold the lore and knowledge of antiquity; it is the basis of what thou knowest as the Secrets of Styricum."
"With all due respect, I can not..."
"Why doth thou refuse? Doth thou believe thou art lacking in ability? I assure thee, thou art well-suited to thine task."
Talen shook his head, "No sir, that's not it, I could probably steal the blue from the sky, but I absolutely will not betray my friends."
The pale-eyed man frowned thoughtfully. "Thou art noble in thine own way, Talen of Cimmuria. Knowest thou I have no ill intention toward any of thine allies. Doth thou requireth the aquiesance of the Styric goddess Aphrael?"
"Do you know her?" Talen asked failing to hide his confusion.
"Indeed, the lady doth owe me many favors."
Talen felt his stomach sink as several things fell into place.
"Aphrael shall assist thee, and she shall assure thee mine intentions are pure. Thou must straightaway seeketh out sir Bevier of Arcium. Thy comrade holdeth the first key to the Concordia writ. Thou shalt receiveth further instruction anon."
With that, the strange man nodded dismissing Talen. The throughly confused knight went back to the door, fervently praying that it did not open back into the ice fortress. When he opened it, the opal hallway came into view. Stepping over the threshold Talen found his father leaning against the wall with a faintly amused expression on his face.
"Do you mind?" asked Talen tartly. Kurik just raised an eyebrow.
"Would you please tell me what that was all about?" Talen asked his father.
"I'm really not supposed to tell you anything." Kurik said.
Talen sighed. "Am I going home now? Or to hell?"
"You're going home, I was just waiting for you to finish whining." Kurik said, pulling off the wall and leading Talen back down the hall.
"I wasn't whining," Talen grumbled. Just then something occured to him. "Didn't you say that there were four trials? I only finished one."
A pained look crossed Kurik's face. "After that little stunt you pulled, he decided to take you out early, he was concerned you would destroy everything in sight."
"I hit a dead end, father! What was I supposed to do?" asked Talen defensively.
"You could have doubled back when you realized you chose the wrong path."
"I chose the wrong path?" Talen asked sheepishly.
Kurik rolled his eyes, "Yes Talen, you chose the wrong path. You were supposed to follow the light."
--
Several columns of flying pinions, gaily dressed courtiers and bright decorative banners stained the verdant grasslands of eastern Elenia. Timbrels, drums, lutes and harps blended with light harmonies and sweet melodies. Laughter, singing, and idle banter filled the air with good humor and joy as the procession moved inexorably east.
In the midst of all the fun and goodwill one man clad impeccably in gleaming black armor and an incandescent white surcoat rode astride an ill-tempered roan horse. The angry knight wore a menacing scowl and his expression was one of profound disapproval. No one ventured to go near him, let alone speak to the furious-looking Pandion.
The Queen of Elenia and her Champion had an argument several days prior. Sparhawk had been shifting through the last three year's district shipping reports with Ensen when Ehlana had come sweeping into the archives issuing announcements and ultimatums. Sparhawk had remained calm and collected as the queen proclaimed she would 'simply die' if she spent another hour imprisoned in the palace. The Prince Consort had even been reasonable enough to suggest an outdoor picnic.
Unfortunately, he and Ehlana had vastly different definitions of a picnic. The royal couple argued and, as usual, the colorful scene this morning indicated a clear winner. The Queen of Elenia, along with her retinue were on their way to Cheryllos amid much celebration and fanfare. The one concession Ehlana had given her husband was the protection provided by two contingents of Pandions flanking either side of the procession.
"Milord Sparhawk?"
Sparhawk turned to the man who had ridden up beside him. With his father's dark hair and competent bearing, Dirkeim had taken over as Sparhawk's squire last year. Dirkeim's older brother Khalad had been promoted to Pandion preceptor after many years serving as Sparhawk's squire; taking the heavy burden of leadership from the Prince Consort's shoulders.
Sparhawk momentarily lost his ill humor as he slowed to let his squire catch up with him. Dirkeim shared his brother's sense of duty and loyalty, but that was the end of their similarities. Dirkeim was quiet, respectful, and devout to a fault. In fact, he reminded Sparhawk strongly of his friend and comrade, sir Bevier.
"What's the matter, Dirkeim?" Sparhawk asked, noting the young man's concerned look.
"Sire, there's a column of Genidian knights further back. The leader said he was looking for sir Tynian."
Sparhawk nodded, feeling a rebellious smile tug at his mouth "Why don't you take me to them?" he asked Dirkeim. The young man nodded, and wheeled his horse around, heading to the back of the procession. Sparhawk followed suit and the two Pandions galloped toward the Genidian column. Sparhawk grinned as he easily picked out sir Ulath, the Genidian Champion, who towered a head and shoulders above his fellow knights.
The tall Thalesian knight was riding beside Komier, the preceptor of the Genidian order. As usual, instead of armor, the Genidian church knights wore mail shirts and conical-shaped helmets. The lack of armor, however did nothing to diminish the ovrewhelming presence of the column riding forward. Sparhawk took the lead as he rode forward toward where Komier and Ulath were riding.
"Hail Prince Sparhawk," Komier boomed, his face cracking into a wide grin.
"Komier, Ulath! What finds you so far from home?" Sparhawk asked returning the grin.
Komier answered. "We've been trying to track down that blasted Alcione knight. I didn't think I would have to chase him half- way across the continent, though." Komier grimaced. Sparhawk looked at Ulath in askance.
"Apparently, some idiot gave Tynian the wrong dates for the upcoming tournament. So Darellon sent us after him to give him the right information before he passes word to the other preceptors." Ulath explained.
Sparhawk looked down the ranks of the fearsome Genidian knights. "Seems like you have a lot of men here to pass on a simple message." Sparhawk said, slightly perplexed.
"Ah well... it was getting a bit cramped at the Alcione chapterhouse." Komier answered.
"Not to mention Darellon and Komier were at each other's throats." Ulath muttered under his breath.
"I heard that Ulath!"
Ulath shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm sure all those in leadership clash once in awhile, as do cats in heat," Ulath said calmly as he addressed his preceptor. Komier flushed, his face turning red and his eyes bulging. "Why Komier, you don't look too well. Perhaps you should take a break, you are getting older, you know." Ulath observed, his expression completely serious.
Komier sputtered several barely comprehensible phrases before an evil-looking grin crossed his face. "Ulath, you haven't introduced your niece and nephew to Prince Sparhawk yet!" Komier then proceeded to wheel his horse around.
"Coraine!" he called back to a brunette woman further down the column. "Would you be so kind as to bring Lady Natil and young Agher up here?"
Sparhawk watched as Ulath visibly shuddered. The confident, powerful knight seemed to actually shrink into the saddle as a pained look crossed his face. The woman Komier had called to made her way up to where Sparhawk and Komier rode, followed by a young woman around Danae's age. In her lap she carried a little boy no older than six.
The young woman smiled brightly as she reached the men. Sparhawk noted Dirkeim's sharp intake of breath at the sight of Ulath's niece. Ulath also noticed and eyed Sparhawk's squire with a mix of hostility and irritation as he idly fingered his ax.
"Well, uncle aren't you going to introduce us to your friends?" the young woman asked, with a artfully contrived look of innocence that was frighteningly similar to Ehlana's.