The Nemesis Blade (34 page)

“Or is it you
will not openly admit the New closely mirrors the Old?”

Insightful,
and not stupid. Alexei pondered and then, “There are among us those
who trust to auguries and the like.”

“As I thought.
I would like one of those to read the stones for me.”

Alexei drew
breath and took the risk. “I could do so.”

“You flirt
with death, Alexei,” Challis murmured. “I like it.” She threw the
coverings aside, giving him a glimpse of smooth thighs, and rose.
“It shall be between us, of course.”

Ah. A risk
with reward. “As you will, my Lady.”

She walked
over to her armoire, opened it, and brought forth a small velvet
pouch. She hefted it. “Gabriel’s son Belehest was an accomplished
oracle, did you know?”

“I have heard
tell.”

“Belehest was
also an accomplished sculptor and sorcerer. He fashioned five oval
stones from the singing rock where Khunrath had his visions of
Grinwallin and imbued these stones with magic.”

Alexei was
watchful, his heart erratic. He had heard the tale, but discounted
it as fantasy. Devils’ breath, it was true?

Challis
approached with the velvet pouch. “My father handed these to me on
his deathbed.” Actually, she stole them before her brothers could
lay claim. “Use these to read the augurs, Alexei.”

He was
mesmerized by the swinging blue pouch.

She reached
out and tipped his chin up with one smooth finger. “Alexei, I shall
not reveal your secret if you do not reveal mine, hmm?”

He stared into
her violet eyes and saw danger there. He had underestimated this
woman; she could have him killed with one word. He nodded. What
else could he do?

She smiled
into his eyes. “I like you, priest. Together we could do
extraordinary things.”

He returned
the sultry smile. “I am at my lady’s command.”

“Good,” she
said and pressed the pouch into his hands. “Read them now.”

Alexei shook
and fought back to control. “Forgive me, but this chamber is not
conducive to reading.”

“How so?” She
watched as his fingers sought through the velvet to feel what was
within.

“Too
distracting. Too feminine, forgive me.”

She nodded. “I
see your point. Very well, come with me.” She found a dressing
gown, put it on, and headed across her huge bedchamber to a door
opposite the one he was shown through earlier. There she paused.
“Come!”

He followed
her.

After, he
could not tell where they went and he would not find it alone. All
he knew with certainty, later, was that Grinwallin held more
secrets than anyone imagined.

Challis took
him to a small chamber like to a shrine or sanctum hidden in the
giant maze that was the inner city, and candles threw ghostly
shadows onto rough walls. It was eerie, particularly as he saw dust
over everything. Their footprints were the only marks in the dust -
nobody came and yet candles burned. A small altar held a statue
surrounded by ever-burning candles and it scared the life out of
him. The statue was of Challis.

She turned
unreadable eyes on him. “Another secret, Alexei, but do not for a
moment believe you have power over me. I could snuff you out
without conscience, know that. I have the power here.”

He shook his
head.

“Good.” She
waved a hand over the dusty floor and it miraculously cleared. She
laughed at his astonishment. “How foolish the Brotherhood is! The
royal blood has more magic than all your priests and magicians
together. We hear the stones when we need to and we are conversant
in the secret remedies.”

She kneeled on
the cool floor and motioned him down.

When he
kneeled before her she said, “The next step is reincarnation,
Alexei. Imagine, living forever through rebirth! Imagine the power,
the knowledge!” She bent her gaze to him and he saw she was insane.
“Think what you will, priest, but I could give this power to you
also.”

Insane, yes,
but what was insanity? Reincarnation? Devil’s breath, it came
direct from Diluvan times. Were the royals conversant in that
strange talent? If they were, he desired it.

“I am you
slave from this day, my lady,” he murmured and meant it.

She smiled and
leaned forward to kiss him long. When she drew back she said, “We
shall play interesting games. Now. Read.”

With shaking
hands he drew the pouch open and then closed his eyes as he tipped
it over. He heard the gentle thud of five stones and waited a time
in blindness until he settled his mind, and looked down.

He reeled
back.

“What is it?”
Challis demanded.

He placed his
hand over the stones and felt how warm they were and how perfect.
Each oval was different in colour.

“An army will
indeed come to Grinwallin. They have over them the symbol of fire,
they were forged from fire, and they are strong, yet patient.”

Challis
shuddered. “Who are they?”

“I cannot
say.”

“Then give me
a date, a time, anything.”

Alexei shook
his head and moved the stones. The image converted to nothing. He
looked up.

“My Lady, I
doubted you earlier, but cannot feel that way now. There is danger
coming to Grinwallin, to all Luvans, but the timing is obscure. We
must read every sign and portent from this day forward, listen to
every premonition, decipher every dream, or we shall die.”

Challis stared
at him. “Then let us begin.” She rose and held her hand out to him.
“Together.”

Alexei
retrieved the stones and took her hand. He had found his power. “My
Lady, one issue comes to mind.”

She watched
him like a raptor.

“In losing,
the Luvans could yet win.”

“Reincarnation?”

“Yes, my
Lady.”

She smiled.
“Then let us begin that also.”

It is said
when Queen Challis died she bequeathed a state of insecurity to
Luvanor.

For twenty
years she harked to every telling, every sign, every dream, and
thus renewed by example the ancient and traditional ways, and yet
she did so without explaining her apparent madness.

Luvans were
not stupid. Something was coming and thus every man, woman and
child began to study the heavens, the bones and stones, and every
night-time visitation held great meaning.

It was good to
be alert, but Luvanor caught itself in a trap. In spending so much
time with omens they neglected those things that were real. In
neglecting reality they undermined their culture. And when
reincarnation became religion they undermined themselves.

The stage was
set for downfall and when, thirty years later, the son of Challis
and Alexei took to the throne, collapse was imminent.

The Old
Brotherhood waited with bated breath.

Year 2002

Alexis was
twenty-eight when Challis died and he had never been as
relieved.

His father
Alexei ruled as regent for one year before he passed on, although
it was rumoured his death was a form of suicide. Alexei became
enamoured of reincarnation and could no longer await the natural
progression of time. Whether or not he returned remained
unknown.

Alexis was
thirty when he faced his first great challenge and it came in the
form of Dante, his cousin, the same nephew sent away in ignorance,
until the Old Brotherhood took matters into their hands.

Dante was
thirty-six and Dante was angry. The Brotherhood used that and
promised to restore him to the royal inheritance if he decreed the
Brotherhood as one Order. He agreed. He brought an army to
Grinwallin’s gates, an army of fighting priests, and bloody war was
enacted upon the great plain. It was not the army foreseen by
Challis, but it was close, given the blood spilled.

Alexis was
eventually defeated in single combat and Dante declared King. His
first act was to decree the schism in the Order of Brothers a thing
of the past.

This time the
Brotherhood chose the path of least resistance. They opted to
adhere to the lineage, choosing instead to work from the wings,
spreading their influence with subtle ways. The schism, however,
was still in place; it went into the shadows of a man’s psyche, and
thus Dante, and every ruler after him, was misled and misinformed
by contrary words.

Grinwallin
held her secrets and added a fair few to the list and the five oval
stones were lost. It was another secret Grinwallin would keep for a
long time.

The secret
remedies grew ever more obscured and rebirth became the new
fashion.

The
Brotherhood held onto the reins of power.

Chapter 24

Scrying
; technique, of which there
are many, to produce images of the future

Omens
; a happening that precedes the
vent by way of symbolism

~ Titania
Dictionary

W
ith hindsight, year 4218 was the
year the dreaming began in earnest.

It transpired
that words were cheap. Only images would suffice. It matters not
who began the process of transferring dream landscapes and features
onto canvas, but once begun it was unstoppable.

First was the
painting of an abyss, a deep void in which an enemy awaited in the
dark. Some said it meant happiness to the dreamer; others were less
certain.

A field of
dandelions came next, under an ominous sky. It portended the
gathering of shadows.

Then there was
the rendition of Grinwallin’s walls. It suggested exclusiveness and
angered the brotherhood. They immediately questioned the usefulness
of said walls and were almost thrown from the city; they countered
with a painting of another wall, one of blue-grey stone covered in
runes. It, they claimed, heralded a true Priest. They were scoffed
at.

A painting of
Tunian was presented soon after and it cause havoc among the
royals. The eldest son claimed every king was not only descendent
from Tunian, but descended also from the High King of the Diluvans.
True, yes, but the son also claimed each male in rulership had been
and would be reincarnate of the first king of the Diluvans. Another
war nearly erupted, and the son’s father chose to deny the claim,
though he was secretly pleased with his son.

There were
paintings of other races, future claimants to Luvanor, and these
set nerves on edge. The process of rebirth intensified. All loving
and living at that time sought a way to survive the calamity or to
see it come to pass sometime in the future. Survival and curiosity
were not far removed from each other.

A painting of
a golden race heralded the mighty chamber inside Grinwallin, an art
gallery with severe undertones. Both royals and priests realised
they saw far into the future. Not only did the paintings serve as
warnings, but they were a record of what was to come. They needed
to be preserved and chronology would emerge from variety.

A fortress -
sickness and hate.

The Luvan
alphabet. The royals expounded on it being a symbol of a nest of
vipers and pointed fingers at the Brotherhood.

A blacksmith
at work. An anvil struck. It meant trouble.

A painting of
a faceless Emperor brought terrible disquiet.

A lynx, an
animal brought to Luvanor, meant secret hatred.

A volcano was
interpreted to mean someone powerful would oppress Grinwallin.

By degree,
although ostensibly in opposition, priest and royal began to work
together as they had not since settlement. The paintings and their
inherent warnings forged bonds. It was apparent the enemy to bay at
the gates came from elsewhere; they needed work together to find
solutions.

Still the
dreamers painted.

Water flooding
Grinwallin set precautions in place.

A whirlwind
stumped every viewer. Later someone suggested it meant reports of
danger, a danger too swift to counter.

Luvan adders
set teeth on edge.

Animals’ dying
sent shivers down spines.

Crops burning
instituted measures of storage.

A bird in a
house heralded the death of two royal sons.

Birds flying
overhead heralded the timeous birth of an heir.

Both priest
and royal ceased bickering and solicited images from
everywhere.

A painting of
treasure meant betrayal and it was not long in coming. Two
paintings were set a-fire by a jealous priest, one who could not
paint a straight line on a wall, and he could have laid all to
waste had not his treason - for treason it was then to destroy an
image - been discovered. He was put to death and the images were
warded against destruction, even the progress of time.

A rough river
symbolised a powerful person. Again that warning surfaced and it
added impetus to a network of spies. Reports came in frequently,
some clearly meant to cripple a rival, others with depth, and none
were proven true. Spying and the resultant reports continued.

Grinwallin in
ruin. The reigning king succumbed to a heart attack on seeing it
and his son was sworn in as successor.

A city
illuminated. Grinwallin lit as if by fiery heavens. The new king
stood horrified before the painting. It was a certain sign of
war.

A chapel meant
a trap.

A series of
worlds marched onto the walls.

A series of
buildings joined then, none of them native to Luvanor.

A blue sword
crossed a green sword.

A
fire-breathing dragon.

A serpent in
the ocean.

A drawbridge
meant an unexpected journey. Many Brothers muttered it meant the
social degradation of Luvans. Luvanor, they claimed, was fertile
ground for an invading force.

The king
painted himself swimming in a clear pond and was rather proud of
his work, until a priest pointed out it meant peril. The king was
so aghast he raced back to his chambers to assure himself of his
young family’s safety and discovered an assassin bent over his
toddler son. He strangled the man in a rage and thus lost the
opportunity to uncover hidden truths.