The Priesthood

At last, they had reached the surface, or rather, the far large cave that now gave Kanrel a familiar view—the great lake, the bridge of light that would call any man to its shores—to just be there and bask in the glory of that vista. But that view was ruined; the wall of darkness cut it off, giving only what seemed like half of what should be there.

If he still were a child, Kanrel could imagine himself preparing to take a step on that bridge of light. At the same time, wondering where it might take him, imagining the other world where that bridge could take him. All of this, just because of a sense of wonder.

Sadly, he wasn’t allowed to wonder what he’d do if he were someone else—a past self. Instead, A’Trou’n and her guards were already directing him toward their destination: something that looked like a road and would lead them to the City of Creation and perhaps even the light that produced the bridge over those serene waters.

It took a couple of hours before they could leave the village behind and found themselves on the road away from the great lake that consumed the view on the other side of the village. There was no other means of transportation than just walking, which was surprising. Even the great A’Trou’n found herself on her feet and walking toward a destination she didn’t seem to want to reach.

The newly met Atheian, Vaur'Kou'n, seemed like an unwanted guest among them, even though it led their little group toward the City of Creation, a name that seemed far too important for a simple city; thus, it made Kanrel wonder if there was a deeper meaning behind its name or if its name was as inexplainable in its origin as was Lo’Gran’s or many other cities in the human kingdom that were surely above them.

With them came four guards, four Atheians that mirrored the displeasure of their superior, not only because of their situation but also because of the very existence of Vaur’Kou’n; two of them walked as the last two members of their party, and the other two walked beside A’Trou’n, who wasn’t too far away from Vaur’Kou’n, who walked a few meters before them.

Kanrel walked with the servants and Y’Kraun; each of them carried something, some belongings in large sacks on their backs and stuff even in their hands. Eight servants and Y’Kraun carried everything that they might need. It seemed rather unfair, as it was clear that A’Trou’n was more than capable of carrying everything the whole way through with a simple spell, but she just didn’t seem to care to do such a thing.

The light was truly not distributed equally. In fact, at times it seemed like there were areas that ought to be lit by the light that came from ahead, but they just weren’t for one reason or another. There was a thick shadow, one so unnatural that it brought into question if it were man-made. It would waver ever so slightly. It danced like fog would; he wasn’t close enough to say for certain if the darkness truly moved, if it truly wavered, quivered, or bubbled... and he wanted to be certain; he wanted to see for himself if such movement was truly happening or if it was just his own imagination—his tired nature that had fooled him to see such an illusion.

Ahead, there now seemed to be lamps placed, producing more blue light even though there came a greater light from somewhere ahead.

A’Trou’n suddenly summoned him, and so Kanrel hurried beside her and she soon grabbed him with her long fingers going around his arm as they then came to a halt. “Listen to me carefully, for what I am about to say is a matter of life and death.”

“I know that you would harbor plans of escape; any creature would given a situation like this.”

“I cannot say that the way I’ve treated you is most pleasant or fair, but, again, if you were given the same situation as I, then I believe you would do the same, Kanrel.”

“But I digress. I am sure that you’ve noticed the ever-curious darkness... Do not approach it... Never come in contact with it if you value your life, that is. If you wish an early grave for yourself, then go ahead, but do not pull any of us with you toward that darkness.” Her voice was different throughout. It had become solemn, almost sincere, and there was no hint of her usual disregard for Kanrel’s possible feelings.

“Stay in the lights,” A’Trou’n added, then released his arm.

For that moment all except Vaur’Kou’n had come to a halt, and now that A’Trou’n had let go of his hand and taken another step forward, did finally the rest of their party continue moving along.

Kanrel was for a moment stunned; was she lying? Was she telling the truth about such a thing? Was death so close to him, to them, at all times? Now more than before, he wanted to find it out for himself—to see if the shadows moved, to find out if just a touch would bring someone death...

What was the origin of these shadows? Of course, if they were far beneath the ground and there was no true sun to give them light, then of course it would be dim; there would be shadows. But to give such meaning to such a simple thing as a shadow seemed almost absurd, superstitious, even.

But either way, their journey continued. At first, without many stops, and according to Y’Kraun, it would take at least 12 hours to reach the city from where they started, if you ran, that is. And apparently, it Vaur’Kou’n had run the whole way there; it had received its command at the city in the middle of the night, then left immediately, running without stop, until it had reached the village, and then, after an hour, found itself back on the road, returning to the place where it had left off the previous night.

To a human, it was clearly impossible, and even in Y’Kraun’s eyes, it was clear that what the Atheian had done was not normal at all and that it was by all means impressive.

But they would not walk the whole way today; they would stop a few hours away from the city, rest through the night, and then enter the city on the next day. And it wasn’t because Vaur’Kou’n needed rest; if it were up to it, it would’ve probably run back to the city and made the others run with it.

They only stopped because of A’Trou’n's surprising demand: “My servants need to rest, and so does my human; he is no Atheian, its legs are shorter than ours, and as you can see, his condition is not the greatest.”

At that time, Vaur’Kou’n seemed like it wanted to argue against it, but after inspecting the human before they left, it had to accept A’Trou’n’s demand. After all, its master wanted the human alive, not dead. Of course, a body can give much information about a given species, and many scholars would’ve loved to dissect it and cut it into pieces so that they could figure out what was inside and how it would differ from their own species.

But even then, a corpse is unlikely to give you answers about what there is above, in their ancestral homeland, which has slowly turned into a fleeting memory—a mention in books and legends—rather than a vivid landscape that one always has on their mind—a memory of home.

After the first two hours of walking, Kanrel was already done with it. He was sorely out of shape; for times like these, he missed the body of Ignar; it had been strong and could do things with ease. He was sure that Ignar’s body would’ve been able to run for such a long time, and perhaps even more, than Vaur’Kou’n could.

While he had been in the academy, he had disregarded the very concept of athleticism as something that he didn’t truly need, as his magical abilities were able to compensate for the lack of strength, stamina, and agility that he now didn’t seem to have at all. He really needed a break.

Kanrel pushed himself as far as he could, taking a short sprint so that he might be next to A’Trou’n, who seemed surprised when she noticed this. “What is it?”

And while panting, Kanrel asked, “Can we take a break?”

A’Trou’n raised her hand at that moment, and they all came to a halt, except Vaur’Kou’n, who took a few steps, then came to a halt as if intuition had told it that the people behind it had stopped walking; it turned around and observed from afar.

A’Trou’n stared at Kanrel for a moment, then scoffed, “I suppose we will take many more breaks than I had at first anticipated... Tell me... Do humans always have such low stamina?”

Without much thought, Kanrel sat on the ground and looked up, still panting, “No, just me.”

She had a curious look on her face as she made a slight motion with her hands, and Kanrel could feel how his body left the ground and began to float until he and A’Trou’n could be at eye level.

“Much better.” She muttered, then let her eyes scan the human again. “It really is no wonder; you've got no muscles; all you are is skin and bones.” She said and whistled, and in an instant one of the servants came sprinting for her, soon kneeling, even while holding things in its arms.

“Give the human something to eat.” She commanded, and soon enough the servant had scoured through its backpack, bringing out neatly packed containers; it opened one, uncovering what seemed like dried meat, which it then offered to Kanrel, who seemed hesitant about the situation. He wasn’t really hungry, but the look in A’Trou’n’s eyes was enough for him to accept the container and munch on the food that was offered.

And under the scrutiny of her sharp gaze, Kanrel ate every single piece of dried meat that was in the container and even drank a long sip out of the flash on his hip. After he did so, the Atheian finally seemed somewhat pleased; she gently placed him back on solid ground and let him rest for the remainder of their short break. Not long after, they continued their journey.

The cave through which they traveled was a massive open space that spanned all around them for perhaps kilometers, to some directions less so, and one could see the tall walls of the cave; at times they seemed far too rigid, far too symmetrical, making Kanrel wonder if parts of the cave had been manually carved larger, perhaps by the Atheians or by whoever had imprisoned them here.

The direction where they traveled seemed like an endless road that had no curves; instead, the road was a straight line, and from somewhere far away, loomed the bright blue light that lit most of their way, and evenly placed lanterns of the same blue stone lit the rest of their way, keeping the shadows that seemed to flicker and bubble at bay. And at times, it seemed, that those shadows were closer than before; sometimes they were so far away that he could hardly see them. Yet he could not take his eyes away from them.

Throughout the day, they took a few more breaks until they reached what could only be described as a massive mirror. A large construct that was angled toward the direction from which they came, it was placed against a stark wall, and its reflection was one that you could not directly look at for long; thus, even the Atheians kept their eyes away from the mirror. The road continued to the right of them, from where another bright light came from. Another massive mirror somewhere, far away from their field of vision.

Around this area, they placed their camp and would spend the night. Of course, it would be far too bright to sleep in the open, but the servants and Y’Kraun had come prepared, soon erecting three tents, one for the servants, one for the guards, and one for A’Trou’n. Kanrel would sleep with the servants, as it seemed only proper.

They ate a hefty dinner and went to rest. The servants and Kanrel seemed the most tired after the journey; it wasn’t easy to carry so much stuff with you and then walk for hours upon hours. Y'Kraun, on the other hand, seemed like this had been something that he was more than used to. But this made sense, for when he didn’t inspect the chamber from where he found Kanrel, he would work in the mines, working long hours collecting the blue stones that lit their world below. Kanrel could imagine that the Atheian would have to, not only swing a pickaxe or whichever tool was used for extracting said stones and carrying them but also having to carry the excess debris of rock and the different types of stones that they’d dig. It must’ve been more tiring than this journey, even if he had to carry some stuff with him.

Kanrel had had to eat too much today; A’Trou’n and the servants made sure of this. They practically force-fed him at times, and he just couldn’t say no. So as he was given the possibility of sleep, all he had to do was lay down on his bedroll, and he soon found himself asleep.

“We died for nothing…”

A whisper, an accusation, and nothing more. His eyes burst open and met the blackened surface of the tent's roof. The tent was full; the servants and Y’Kraun all shared it with him; they all seemed to be asleep. At least the things they were carrying were outside, so the tent wasn’t too crowded.

It was cold, he thought, as shivers ran down his whole body and as the hair of his neck stood up. As he thought of those words, of again those sewn-together figures in the forms of shadows that had whispered to him. As silently as he could, he got up from his bedroll, leaving it and the servants behind, pulling to the side the cloth that covered the entrance of their tent, and stepped outside, meeting the grace of the bright blue light; it was almost blinding him as it was far too potent after just waking up. He still felt so tired, and he had no idea if it was late, if it was early, if it were the day or the night. How could he know? How could anyone know here?

But outside, there was no one. Just the two other tents that had their entrances covered by a blackened cloth.

He looked around, keeping his gaze from the mirror, as he did not wish to damage his own eyes. Where they were felt like a corner in a labyrinth; so angular was the cut on the walls of the cave, as well as the ceiling and the ground. It was far too perfect, and it must’ve been shaped in such a way that the Atheians could direct their source of light toward other areas of their lands.

He crouched down and felt the rock floor; its texture was coarse, and it felt somewhat warm to his hand; perhaps the light kept it somewhat warm. But why do I still feel so cold?

He continued looking around, his gaze finding the walls that weren’t too far away. He got up and walked to them, trying to be as silent as he could be. He could feel a wind that caressed his face; where said wind came from was a mystery. What gave these caves the air that they now breathed? He had no idea, and he wondered if even the Atheians knew.

The rock wall loomed in front of him; up close, it was like the walls of a city. He placed his hand against it; its smoothness surprised him. He kept his hand on it as he walked to the right, toward the direction where they would head, perhaps in mere hours or less.

Soon, the light that overwhelmed him at first became more dim, and he could again see one of those lanterns. He could also see the end of this section of the cave—the ending of this corner where the grand mirror was placed. He stopped at the edge. He stopped where the unnatural smooth wall ended and another one began. This one was the wall of a natural cave; its shapes were irregular, and it dominated the view until... It was cut off abruptly; it was veiled behind a darkness, a shadow that wavered, moved, and flickered. It bubbled. It must have. Past the lanterns to his left, held at bay by those brave lights...

One of those lanterns flickered; it was as if it was calling for him to approach, as the shadows that wavered past it had. So he continued, letting his hand fall to his side. He walked to those lanterns, the ground changing as well, becoming a real cave floor, with rock here and there, with boulders on the sides of the road. He walked off the road toward the lights, soon reaching the one that flickered all alone, as the shadows in its light flickered violently, a mass wanting to enter the light, to vanquish it, to let it no more dominate their existence.

Then it shut. The light it produced dwindled, and a violent rush of darkness assaulted him—a wave of shadows that covered all that had been lit moments ago; wavering, quivering, smoldering... It hit him—a physical touch of sorts. It was just dark. It was just cold. Now he could hear them. Their voices loud and quiet. He was forced to his knees; he was forced into that darkness; he was greeted by those voices as he began to suffocate, as he lost his ability to breathe once more; as his eyes were forced more open than before, a new kind of light, through all the pain that struck through him, was formed. He could see. He could see the darkness; he could see what they wanted him to see...

A flash of light, a blue hue that pierced the darkness, that rooted him back into reality; the darkness perished; it screeched into his ears, demanding retribution for the crimes committed, yet, like a wave, it returned where it came from.

Yet he could still hear them, yet he could still feel them; yet he could still see what they wanted him to see... They did not wish to be forgotten, yet they had been...

“Are you a fool, darshi?” A deep voice asked from behind him, “The master wants you alive, not dead or driven into insanity by the voices.” It continued, then he was grabbed and lifted to his feet; the hand that grabbed him was strong, the fingers were gray and long, and at last, Kanrel looked behind to see who had most likely saved him.

Vaur’Kou’n and its light blue eyes stared at him with an annoyed expression, as if it were offended by the very idea that it would fail its mission because of the foolishness of Kanrel. Then it looked past the human, at the lantern that had lost its light, and then it scoffed, “Had I not followed you, your death would’ve been most certain.”

It let go of Kanrel and walked forward, holding in its hands a blue stone that helped it keep the shadows at bay as it soon reached the lantern and placed its other hand on top of it, and Kanrel could witness as the stone of that lantern burst into light anew. The rest of the shadows were violently pushed away, and some of them dwindled and perished on the floor as if wilting flowers dying and then becoming nothing, leaving behind not even ash.

Vaur’Kou’n returned to him and placed its hand on Kanrel's shoulder, its gaze as stern as it said, “You will not mention this to anyone... Understand?” Its voice would’ve been enough of a threat for Kanrel, but as it squeezed its hand around his shoulder, that threat became more apparent.

The Atheian might have saved him now, but if he were to mention that he had come so close to possible death, then the Atheian would itself make sure that Kanrel would never see the light of day...

He swallowed and made a quick nod. The Atheian did not smile; its gaze remained stern, yet it let go of Kanrel’s shoulder and just simply walked past him, leaving him behind, knowing well that the human would follow it. Vaur’Kou’n could smell the stench of his fear; it could see it in his eyes.