Ancient World: Chapter One revised

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Chapter One

The morning dawned clear and bright, with a gentle wind just cool enough to balance the otherwise-sweltering heat of the sun. The sky overhead was a deep azure, broken here and there by fluffy wisps of clean white. It should have been raining, the skies a flurry of black, storm-tossed clouds allowing no light, no heat, to penetrate through to the land below. This was no weather for such a day; the clear sky, the gently warming sun, the fluffy clouds, all seemed somehow disrespectful to the memory of those lying upon the funeral pyres. And yet, the calmness was at the same time strangely appropriate, as if the elements themselves offered a final, brilliant salute of honour. Rarely had the courtyard of the Salonrian Academy experienced such quiet, though filled beyond its capacity. Council members, Mages, Apprentices, students and civilians alike stood clad all in black. Many touched handkerchiefs to moist cheeks or streaming eyes, some stared numbly towards the towering pyres at the head of the courtyard. Still others gazed about them in disbelief.

Disbelief, even after the requisite ten days during which a body lay in state, while loved ones came to pay their last respects, and look once more upon the beloved face. The fire spreading through the East wing of the Academy eleven days earlier had denied the people of the Ancient World even that small comfort. Along with nine others, half of them Council members, Adriella Kalesh d’Aradia, most beloved High Seat of the High Council, had been pulled from the blaze scarred and burnt almost beyond recognition. Her body lay wrapped tenderly within a crisp white shroud, with a mask wrought of Eldormagen to match perfectly her delicate, beautiful features set upon her shrouded face. And that, of course, was partly the problem: many still simply refused to accept. It was a mistake, a cruel trick, perhaps a bad dream. Whatever the explanation, some maintained their certainty, beyond all sense and against all proof, that the body lying beneath that mask was not C’hal Adriella’s.

Darian te Varenak stood silently in rank with his Academy classmates, all trying and most failing to maintain the dignity expected of them at official events. There had been no training for such an event as this, and many of the faces were crumpled with grief. Shoulders slumped and friends clung to one another for support. Darian shivered despite the warmth, and ran his hands through his hair for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, pushing the long strands away from his eyes. His gaze shifted between the central pyre holding the shrouded form, and the stands to the left where his elder, Nerissa, sister stood in rank with the Red Mages of Salonria. His twin, Shayla, would have been standing with him, but she had been asked to sing at the service, a great honour; she was instead sitting to the right of the pyres with the others who would be involved in the service.

At a time like this, families should be together, and Darian felt painfully alone despite the reassurance of Corenna’s presence at his side. His friend was unusually restless, her head turning often from side-to-side, large brown eyes searching.

“Can you see them?” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, not alone in breaking the obligatory silence. When the ceremony began in earnest, not a soul would dream of making a sound, but for now the courtyard was alive with the breathy sounds of multitudinous muted conversation, and weeping.

Darian tried not to bounce on his toes in his attempt to sweep his gaze across the surrounding masses, searching for a glimpse of Corenna’s parents. Finally, he shook his head, and his friend shifted edgily. She flicked her long, dark braid back over her shoulder and pushed a few vagrant curls back off her face.

“They are here,” she murmured, and sighed deeply, “everyone is here.”

“You don’t need to think about that for now, ‘Renna,” he whispered back, “they will not consider making a scene on such a day. Will they?” he added that last with a small frown. It had been over two years since he had last seen Corenna’s parents, but the memory was deeply ingrained in his memory. Corenna only shrugged. Before Darian could say any more, a reverential silence spread across the courtyard, and he felt a shiver run unbidden down his spine. This was it. After today, the events of the past weeks would be undeniable. He shuddered again, colder now despite the morning sun beating warm rays upon his black-clad shoulders.

C’hal Seodynn moved in slow, measured steps, head bowed until he reached the podium set before the pyre. With his back to the gathered crowds, the Black Mage and seventh-level Fandian’Eldormageni placed his left hand reverently upon the forehead of the mask rendered in the likeness of C’hal Adriella. The silence was broken on all sides by escaping sobs, and gasps of disbelief, of denial, quickly muffled. C’hal Seodynn stood silently for a moment as the crowd gradually regained some of its composure. Then he turned, slowly, deep sadness etched across his pale face. When he spoke, his voice was clearly audible to every man, woman and child gathered in the huge courtyard, though his voice was reverently soft.

“My dear friends. Citizens, Students, Apprentices, Mages: my welcome on this saddest of days. No-one is prepared for a moment like this.” There was some shuffling of surprise. This was not the traditional funeral speech. But then, this was no ordinary funeral. “There can be no sermons to express what we feel, no words to describe what has been lost, no adequate message of comfort I can impart on such a day. I have been asked by no small number of you why we chose not to honour Adriella with a separate service. I give you all my reply: Adriella never set herself up as any more or less than you, or I, or these men and women lying here with her.

"She would have perceived it as diminishing their worth to be separated from them now, and honoured above them. She would not have wished us to besmirch their lives by acting as though their deaths were somehow less tragic than her own. Adriella valued every life, every individual, as did Gameald, and as should we all.
“We gather here today, however, not to speak of the dreadful accident that cut short the lives of such excellent and esteemed members of our community. We are gathered to honour their lives, to offer consolation for their friends and family, to share in the celebration of their accomplishments, and to invoke the spirit of Gameald to embrace them in the Fields of Eldor.

“Every one of the individuals lying behind me worked, and lived, for the good of the Ancient World. They gave their time, their passion, their love, to everyone living within the great barrier. I invite family and friends to come forth and speak; share with us your memories, and let us share in turn you grief, your burden, and let us beseech the spirit of Gameald to guide our beloved friends along their final journey.”
The speeches following were thoughtful and moving; some spoke eloquently of deeds done, others shared more intimate memories. Some mentioned family and friends left behind, others the hope of joy and peace to be found ahead in the fields of Eldor. The sun was high overhead by the time C’hal Kynaris made his way to the head of the pyres to make one final address, his personal tribute to C’hal Adriella herself.

The Black Mage was drawn and pale, dressed from head to toe in black, with black ribbon even to hold his dark hair at the nape of his neck. He held himself proudly, however, and his voice, though touched deeply with emotion, was strong and clear.
“Friends, you knew C’hal Adriella; the High Seat of the High Council, the first 8th level Fandian’Eldormageni in many centuries, the hope of the Ancient World for a guardian to satisfy King Gameald’s prescriptions of old. You all loved her deeply, valued her opinion, trusted her decisions, followed her recommendations. She was the best of all of us, yet she gave herself no airs because of it, and you loved her for it. I knew Adriella first as a woman. I loved her first as a wife. I will miss her for all that she was, and all that she might have been.”

He looked around the silent courtyard, and a wan smile touched his lips. “She would have hated this, you know. The ceremony, the sombreness…the tears. ‘Do not mourn me,’ she would have said, ‘do not cry because you can no longer see me, for I am still with you. I am always with you, as Gameald is always with you, and I will never be truly gone as long as just one remains who remembers and loves me.’ She would have wanted you to eat, drink, and make merry. To smile. To kiss your wives, and play with your children. To love one another, and rejoice in the gift of life. Adriella’s life was cut short, her potential never reached, her journey not yet finished. Yet now she follows a different path, and our journey goes on. Life cannot stop though our hearts are heavy and seem filled only with darkness. Adriella would not have wanted that. Lift your eyes and look to the skies, for that is where she will be, hand in hand with Gameald, treasured and sheltered. Look to the skies and smile, and know that Adriella Kalesh d’Aradia is where she truly belongs.”

C’hal Kynaris stood silently before the crowd for a moment, and it seemed as though he was looking directly into the eyes of every person present. Many were openly weeping now, and nodding fervently in agreement with C’hal Kynaris’ words. He bent down slowly and pressed his lips against the cheek of the mask of C’hal Adriella before walking away shoulders slumped in exhaustion and grief. C’hal Seodynn took the position once more at the head of the pyres. He softly pronounced the traditional funeral prayer as men moved behind to stand ready with torches beside each pyre except C’hal Adriella’s.

“May you find peace and eternal shelter in the warm and gentle fields of Eldor,”
C’hal Seodynn intoned the final line of the prayer.

“Peace and eternal shelter await you in the fields of Eldor,” the gathered citizens replied sorrowfully. And at those words, the torches were lowered towards the pyres, and flames leapt up to engulf the shrouded figures lying in the centre of the courtyard. Shayla’s voice rose clearly then above the roaring conflagration, the beautiful yet mournful notes rending the heart of the most remote individual and the words of the ancient hymn reducing even the unresponsive to tears.

Darian peered through his own tear-blurred eyes at the burning mounds before him, squeezing Corenna’s hand more for his own comfort than to sooth his friend. He had watched and listened as though through a near-opaque shroud of mist, fragmented and pale, some moments passing as years, others with impossible speed. Finally, time seemed to slow almost to the point of stillness as C’hal Seodynn raised his hand, in which he held a ball of crackling white flame. Watching the Counsellor hold the flame aloft above C’hal Adriella’s shrouded form, Darian felt as thought time had paused altogether in sympathy, prolonging the moment of finality, of confirmation. Prolonging the undeniable moment of inescapable farewell.

Then, in a flash of blinding light, it was over, as though time had raced forward to catch up; the pyres smouldered dully, and the last vestiges of purple smoke rose into the clear blue sky.

Darian blinked rapidly to clear an impossible image that had filled his mind as the central pyre ignited. It seemed that the world around him darkened perceptibly, as though some great black cloud had passed over the sun. And there before his eyes was C’hal Adriella, alive and unmarred, yet flickering and insubstantial. She walked slowly amidst the flames, which seemed pale and muted now as though viewed through a murky fog. Her gaze darted amongst the onlookers as though searching for something. Almost as soon as Darian’s mind fully registered what he was seeing, the image faded altogether into the still rising smoke.

Darian shook his head quickly, and cursed his mind for playing such frightening tricks on him. But moments later, the vision returned, closer this time, passing directly through the crowd as though they were not there. She still flickered, like a guttering candle, sometimes disappearing altogether only to appear less than a second later some twenty or so paces nearer. Darian would have stumbled backwards away from the terrifying advancing image, but his feet were rooted to the spot. Suddenly the image formed itself directly before him, its hand outstretched and lips moving silently whilst its expression remained utterly blank.

The outstretched hand floated towards Darian’s face, and he was unable even to turn his head away as it came to rest upon his forehead. Instead of the expected chill of contact, however, Darian felt a sudden gentle warmth, like someone’s lips brushing a soft kiss upon his brow. He closed his eyes, trembling, willing the apparition to be gone. When he opened them, he was staring wide-eyed at the backs of those standing in front of him in the bright midday sunlight, nothing more.

Gasping for breath and trembling violently, Darian’s gaze snapped quickly over the surrounding faces, seeking first a sign of the vision, or some hint that others had seen what he had seen. The regimented lines, however, were rapidly breaking, with numerous clustered groups forming throughout the courtyard now the official ceremony was over. The odd individual here and there remained still, staring towards the pyres, but their expressions were for the most part impossible to read.

“Her ghost! I saw beloved Adriella’s ghost!” Darian’s head snapped towards the sudden voice rising above the general, muted chatter. A woman somewhere in front was pointing a trembling finger towards the pyre and grasping indiscriminately with the other hand at those standing within reach. There was a stunned silence that lasted only a moment or two before the woman was led away, weeping. “I saw her,” she repeated, “I saw her ghost. She came to me, she spoke to me. She touched me. I saw her!” Muttering followed her through the crowd, some voices lowered in sympathy, others raised in distaste and disapproval. A few, however, gazed speculatively after her; some had raised one hand to their forehead as though feeling for a fever or rubbing away a sore spot. It was only when the man moved out of his line of sight that Darian realised he was unconsciously mirroring that gesture. He lowered his arm and stared at his palm for a moment, though what he expected to see he did not know.

“I saw her too,” he said quietly.

“What did you say?” Corenna asked a little sharply.

Darian jumped violently at the sudden voice, breaking into his thoughts like a thunderclap resounding directly in his ear. Corenna was staring at him with her arms folded across her chest, eyebrows raised. Darian felt a wave of embarrassment heating his ears as he realised he may have let out just a little squeal of shock at her unexpected question. A manly squeal, he told himself firmly.
There were only one or two people shooting him curious sideways glances, and it had certainly been a manly squeal.

“I…nothing,” he replied, and shook his head roughly. How could he explain something he himself did not understand? It had probably been his imagination, anyway, or a waking dream. With the emotion of the day, his mind was simply playing tricks on him. Or he had momentarily lost all control of his Gift and leapt into a dream whilst fully awake. That must be it, and he would be able to return to the dream tonight and put his mind at rest. He managed a bright smile then. At least, the corners of his mouth curved upwards. “Come on, I want to find Nerissa before she vanishes off with the other Mages.”

Corenna looked at him suspiciously for a moment longer, then shrugged slightly and nodded. “And then we can get some lunch,” she agreed.

“How can you even think about food on a day like this?” Darian’s own stomach churned nauseously at the very mention of the word ‘food’.

“I eat when I’m anxious,” she replied defensively.

“Oh? Only when you’re anxious?” Darian managed a small smile when Corenna turned on her heel and began marching briskly towards the centre of the courtyard, shoulders back and head held high. The crowd parted before her just enough to allow her to pass through with little difficulty. Darian murmured repeated apologies at each shoulder jostled or foot stepped upon as he made his own arduous passage a few steps behind. The courtyard was an enormous expanse of stone and grass with a wing of the Academy standing at each corner, connected by long corridors passing along each edge. In the time it took Corenna and Darian to cover half the distance, the number of people still milling had dwindled to almost normal levels for such a bright, warm day. Were it not for the gloomy atmosphere and unvaried black attire, Darian could almost imagine it was a typical morning, with Mages, Apprentices and students simply going about their daily business. He had lost count of the times he had wished that were so, but wishes could not bring back the dead, nor exchange harsh reality for a beautiful dream.

He sighed deeply and hugged his arms against the goosebumps rising on his flesh. As he did so, he caught sight of two familiar, rapidly approaching figures and let out a soft growl. Corenna must have seen them too, for she halted abruptly before him. A few more steps took him to her side, and he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it lightly away.

“It’s alright,” she murmured, squaring her shoulders as the couple halted a few paces away. The man folded his arms across his chest, the black, slightly threadbare material of his jacket stretched tightly across ropey muscles. Dark hair fell in lank waves to his shoulders, and his boots were scuffed and splattered all over with mud. His wife stood stiffly at his side, the top of her head barely reaching his broad shoulders. She was typically well-groomed, dark, curly hair pulled back into a tight knot at the nape of her neck with not a strand out of place. The neat, clean-pressed black dress she wore clung unappealingly to her bony figure, and her fingers appeared skeletal as they nervously fiddled with her belt buckle.

Darian found his mouth twisting at the contempt Master Mayl’s appearance displayed. Today, of all days, he could have made a little effort to look presentable. He should have made an effort. It was not in Darian’s nature to hate, but he certainly felt such emotion towards Master Mayl. He could still remember that evening, over four years ago now, when Nerissa had been called urgently into the hospital in Rendor to tend to Corenna’s younger brother, Emry. His parents claimed he had slipped and fallen down the stairs, but no such fall could have caused the severe and numerous injuries he displayed. No single fall, anyway. Corenna had slept at the Varenak house that night. Emry had died trying to protect her, and she couldn’t pull herself out of the gnawing pit of guilt. She was distraught, and there was nothing either Nerissa or Darian could do or say to comfort her. In the end, Nerissa had given her tea laced with bezadoliu, and she had finally slept. Darian had not seen her cry since that night. Nerissa had taken her home to collect some belongings the following morning, travelled with her to Salonria, and pleaded her case until the Council agreed to allow her early entry as a recruit, and a home in the Salonrian barracks.

Darian could sense the mighty effort it took for Corenna not to clutch at her skirts with the fists she held clenched at her side. Showing anger - indeed aggression - was something Corenna was always more than happy to do, displaying any hint of fear or anxiety was quite another matter.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “What do you want?” she asked shortly, her voice calm and clear.

Master Mayl’s heavy brow drew down over pale, narrow eyes as he spoke, his voice a hollow growl. “Is that any way to address your parents?”

Corenna regarded him coolly. “I have no parents. You gave up your right to that title many years ago.” Her voice was calmer than Darian had expected, and he felt a small surge of pride. This was the meeting she had fretted over since it occurred to her, many days ago, that the funeral ceremony would unavoidably place the three of them in the same place at the same time.

“Corenna,” her mother began in a weakly trembling voice, “what happened…your brother…it was an accide -” she broke off abruptly as her husband took hold of her hand and squeezed. Her features crumpled in pain, but she gave to other outward indication of the almost bone-crushing pressure being exerted on her delicate fingers. Darian took one quick step towards them, but was halted by Corenna’s own hand on his arm, pulling him back with a rough shake of her head. Her eyes were narrowed coolly, and she watched impassively as her mother pressed her lips tightly together and turned wide, fearfully apologetic eyes upon her husband. Master Mayl held on a moment longer, then released her hand with a soft grunt.

“I suppose that was also an accident, mother?” Corenna asked quietly, as Mistress Mayl cradled her crushed hand against her stomach. “I do not want to talk about Emry. Neither of you ever was particularly good at talking, after all. I will ask you again: what do you want?” Corenna’s hand, still resting on Darian’s arm, was trembling violently, and he was amazed nothing showed of it in her voice.

“We do not ‘want’ anything, Corenna,” her father replied, too casually. His smile was unsettling. “We are simply waiting to take our daughter home. There’s rumours about that this wasn’t an accident. Rumours it’s not safe here for the likes of you. I think it would be best if you came home with us. So, how about a kiss for your dear father?”

Corenna took two rapid steps backwards as he reached for her, and Darian instinctively moved between them, even as his mind worked rapidly over what had just been said. Corenna’s father must have been lying, a ploy to force Corenna into leaving with him. Darian had heard no such rumours, and surely Nerissa would have mentioned it if there were any truth to the man’s words. Wouldn’t she?

Darian’s thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he was pushed roughly to one side. So much for protecting Corenna; Master Mayl had swatted him aside as easily as if he were a small child. He stumbled awkwardly, and his feet caught on a loose stone so he toppled over. His head rebounded with a painful crack against the hard ground, and bright stars jumped in his vision.

From his fallen position he had a marvellous, if somewhat pain-blurred, view of everyone’s feet, and he was only dimly aware of Corenna letting out a stream of angry curses.

“Let me go. Gameald take you, I am not going anywhere with you! Take your filthy hands off me!” The unmistakable sound of flesh striking flesh brought Darian back to his senses with a jolt. He sprang rather ineffectually to his feet, stumbled sideways at a rising wave of nausea, and straightened in time to see Corenna reeling backwards from Master Mayl’s second backhanded blow to her cheek. ]

“Enough!” The firm word was punctuated by an almost-deafening crack, like lightning breaking directly overhead. Master Mayl flew abruptly backwards. The tightly muscled body was caught in stasis inches before it touched the ground, a good ten paces from where he had stood moments earlier. His head lolled limply just above the boots of a very angry-looking Red Mage.