Tower of the Arkein: Kan Savasci Cycle Book 2, page 39
Now, where to start.
Aeden saw the headmaster looking at him. There was no judgement in his eyes. And although Aeden couldn’t help but feel that he was being evaluated, he didn’t feel like it was a test. It was different than in Sha’ril. The Jal had questioned with expectation, with the power of Adel and Neri over him, for amusement, and to carefully assess the man before him.
The headmaster seemed to be different. There was a tranquility about the man that permeated the room. It put Aeden at ease, penetrated his mind, calming him the way the undulating rhythm of a crashing wave did.
Maybe talking about everything would make him feel better.
He had such a burning desire to open up, to talk. Yet, he didn’t feel comfortable telling his friends. Laurent had such a big mouth the whole school would eventually find out. Daniel, was more reserved, polite, yet enjoyed provoking Laurent into conversation, and once again, that would lead to everyone knowing. There was Thea. For some reason, he felt like he could tell her, but he held back. Maybe he didn’t want to get too close. Or he didn’t want to betray his love for Alina. That left Adel. Why hadn’t he told Adel?
Was he afraid of driving his friend away? Was he scared of somehow betraying the trust of the one person who cared for him?
He circled back to his need to talk. To talk about what he had uncovered. Maybe the headmaster had answers. Maybe he could help Aeden understand.
“I believe,” Aeden began, “that one of them had been my mother.”
Why had he started with that? He looked up, but the headmaster’s expression remained the same, interested and nonjudgmental. So, Aeden continued.
“She died during childbirth, and I never had the opportunity to meet her, to know her,” suddenly Aeden remembered the stone statue his father had so caringly carved in her memory. “It was after my home was destroyed that I traveled east, through the Shrouded Mountains. And it was there, that I happened upon the Witches of Agathon.”
Headmaster Sund leaned forward, interest clearly written upon his face.
“They asked me some questions. I answered them, and then they finally let me go.”
Aeden fell silent, not comfortable talking on the subject. The release he had been hoping to feel wasn’t there. Instead, he felt shame at opening up. He felt shame at talking on one who had passed so long ago. Aeden could imagine his father shaking his head, as he looked down and judged him from the immediate beyond.
“You know that few live who encounter the Witches of Agathon, or if they do, they do not return home.”
“Then how did my father live?” Aeden wondered aloud.
Headmaster Sund was quiet for a moment as he contemplated Aeden’s question. He nodded to himself. Sund let his eyes fall upon Aeden before he spoke.
“It is my belief that the witches need to take husbands, to mother children, and carry on their lineage,” there was emotion at the edges of his voice, “It is also my belief that on rare occasion, one will leave the group in search of a different life. A better life. Your mother may have been such a one as this,” Sund said, “And perhaps, your head of white was enough to save you from them, when you passed through the Shrouded Mountains, or perhaps they sought you ought.”
It made sense. But Aeden had so many more questions. Why had his mother left? Why did so few encounter them and even fewer survive? He had questions that he knew the headmaster could never answer. Deeper, hidden questions.
Who was his mother? How had she met his father?
“Now,” Sund said, “I’ve promised you one question.”
Aeden looked up, pulled from his thoughts. He already knew what he wanted to ask.
“I want to know about the arkein,” Aeden blurted out.
The headmaster sat back in his chair and evaluated Aeden carefully.
“I have been watching you,” the headmaster stated slowly, “ever since you swept in here, passed the test of the yeren, and presented papers from the Archduchess of Bodig.”
“It was a test,” Aeden whispered almost silently, as if confirming his suspicion, and the theory Laurent had postulated.
“Yes,” the headmaster replied, somehow hearing Aeden’s words, “Furthermore you have excelled in classes, specifically mine. You have the gift of clarity of thought. An ability to decipher meaning from chaos. Which brings you to your question. Most do not believe in the arkein, or they think it no more than superstition,” the headmaster looked thoughtful as he gazed intently at Aeden, “Belief in a thing at times is as important as the thing itself.”
The headmaster paused, and leaned back in his chair.
“The arkein is intricate, difficult, and a pathway to great power,” Sund paused, gauging Aeden, weighing his next words, “It is enshrouded in mystery and hidden from the prying eyes of those who are not ready to accept or see the truth.” The headmaster leaned slowly forward, and emphasized his next words, “and it is for those who display forethought and consideration of their actions, not violence of temper, or ready destruction.”
The headmaster locked his gaze onto Aeden, peering through him the way one would an open window. He then sat back.
“Thank you for coming in, and sharing,” the headmaster said, “I know it wasn’t easy.”
The headmaster then pulled a book from his desk and began to read. Aeden knew he had been dismissed.
Aeden left the headmaster’s office, passing the concentric-circles carving. His mind was ablaze with questions, as if someone had doused ether upon a pile of kindling and set it afire. His heart burned with a new desire, as his thoughts turned to revenge.
The arkein was real. The tools to free his people were real. Now he just needed to learn them. To gain the power and knowledge necessary to protect those he loved, to never fear hurt again, and to destroy those that had killed his people.
Chapter 73
“It’s the extraordinary achievements of the ordinary man that defines a hero.” Herlewin’s Letters of Apology
Vintas gave way to Lenton in a glorious transition of longer days and prismatic sunsets. The gentle trade winds resumed, and plumeria bloomed, bringing the florid scent of sweet honey and nectar to the air. Yet, for all the beauty of Galdor, Aeden was miserable.
His nightly visits with Thea had stopped weeks ago, and she had turned cold and distant. Her affections had turned to Adel, who at first blushed, stuttered, and ran. But as time passed, he seemed to flourish under her gaze, like a fire lily under the midday sun.
For all his honor, for all his integrity, Aeden felt alone.
For him, every time he tried to do what he felt was right, he hurt someone. The idea of truth and honor had become the threads he chose to weave into a new set of armor about him like a shield before the pain. It had become a skin he only sluffed off in the hidden, dark corners of his sleeping mind.
Aeden sought escape.
Escape was shaped through the intensity of his studies. His visits to the library had become a compulsive habit of avoidance. They had become perfunctory, instead of inquisitive. Schoolwork had become his diversion as the gevecht had become his serenity.
Part of him hoped that the more he excelled, the more he’d be accepted. He was wrong, yet oblivious to the glaring truth. People did not care for those who excelled. They feared them. Abhorred them as glaring symbols of the mediocrity they prided themselves in through glorious displays of absurdity and uninformed arrogance.
As the term came to a close, a week of exams buried the school in a cloud of frenzied bouts of studying and test taking. It was the end of the week that Aeden grew to dread. The library would shut its doors, and the school would pause as masters rested and prepared for a new term. Celebrations would begin the following day, and many would make the long journey home.
For many, the celebration at the end of term came on the last night of exams. Students flocked to the taverns lining the shores of Imp’s Landing. Therefore, it was no surprise, that Aeden, Adel, Daniel, Laurent, Thea and even John, could be found at a tavern in Imp’s Landing.
The space was packed with students. The sounds of revelry bounced about the walls, off the colored bottles lining the bar, and to the nook by the window that Laurent had secured. They were the sounds of alcohol infused relief.
Aeden looked about the room once more. His heart was heavy. If it hadn’t been for Adel’s insistence, he wouldn’t have come.
“How was your history test?” Daniel asked, cutting through Aeden’s malcontent. “Laurent and I, both took Master Fenn before. He can be challenging.”
Aeden’s attention was drawn back to the table in a slow, unyielding current of social consequence.
“Challenging.” Laurent scoffed, “Try utterly boring, what was your nickname for him again?”
Dan put up his hands in defense, “Drawliver, and that was your nickname for him.”
“Drawliver?” Adel questioned.
“As in drooling Oliver Fenn, or drawling Oliver Fenn…” Laurent shrugged, “I could never decide on which.”
“Clever,” Thea stated.
Aeden risked a quick glance at Thea. Being seated next to her felt odd. It was a befuddling mixture of discomfort and suppressed desire.
“I think I failed,” Adel admitted, answering Dan’s question. “I couldn’t remember the question about the Honorable Vacarri or Valance or whatever…”
Thea snorted.
“Of course, you knew the answer,” Adel said placatingly, and assumingly.
“I didn’t know,” she started, “I was just laughing at the idea of honor.”
Aeden felt this was a jab at him. He felt a need to defend himself.
“What’s wrong with honor?” Aeden asked.
Laurent now leaned forward, interested. “I’d like to hear this.”
“It’s an idea made up by men for men, to placate their desires, and make them feel good about their stupid decisions,” her words dripped with sarcasm and barely concealed disgust, and her eyes were upon Aeden.
John slowly raised his hand. He was ignored, as Laurent jumped in.
“So, you’re saying honor is the male variant to a woman’s headache, or her being focused on some other aspect of her life, or being too busy.”
Adel looked carefully at his beer to avoid offending Thea. John still had his hand up.
“No,” Thea retorted, “Those are excuses to avoid being with someone altogether. Honor, is the excuse a man gives when he loves more than one woman, and can’t decide.”
The words were like pin pricks into Aeden’s skin. They ate at the carefully threaded armor he wore about him and weighed on the burden of honor that at times felt like an anchor tied about his neck.
“Honor is about doing what’s right, about being true to oneself,” Aeden said thickly, “And is most evident when those actions are difficult, and undergone in secrecy.”
Laurent was now leaning forward, following every word of the conversation. He seemed ready to jump in, but Thea beat him to it.
“What’s difficult about following your heart?” She said, before catching herself, “Men use honor as an excuse to cling to stubborn ideas and impossible ideals.”
John still held up his hand. Aeden glanced at him, looking for anywhere to look but at Thea. She had a point. Why didn’t he just let go of the ridiculous idea that he and the archduchess could ever be together, and simply move on?
“What is it John,” Aeden said hastily, before looking out the window.
John put his hand down.
“I just wanted to clarify Adel’s earlier history question,” he said carefully, “It was Valance the Honorable, and he was famous for giving his life in service to his king,” John paused for only a moment before adding, “There was no woman involved.”
“There’s always a woman involved,” Laurent said.
Thea nodded her head in agreement.
“The scores?” Daniel asked again.
“Right,” Laurent remembered, “We had a bit of a wager going, so if you could let us know how you scored, that’d be helpful.”
“Our hero over here got the highest marks,” Thea said, not bothering to look over to Aeden.
“I knew it,” Laurent said, “Pay up,” he was now looking at Daniel.
“How close was it,” Dan asked, holding up a hand to silence Laurent.
Thea looked from Dan to Aeden, her eyes lingering on him, “we were close, but not anymore.”
“You mean you’re no longer tied or you are almost tied,” Daniel asked, seeking clarification.
Thea shrugged and didn’t say anything.
Aeden took a drink from his beer. The meaning couldn’t have been clearer. He had told her he had loved another. He had done it attempting to rectify his weakness, to cast aside desire for the sake of honor. Thea had responded with jealousy and anger.
The conversation lapsed into silence. The group drank and looked about, as each thought on the next possible topic of discussion. Aeden, mostly focused on what he didn’t want discussed. Namely, anything having to do with his relationship with Thea, or current lack thereof.
What had Ayleth the Widow once told him, “love makes fools of us all?”
She had been right.
“Have any of you ever played, ‘would you rather,’” Adel asked.
John slowly raised his hand.
Laurent shook his head.
“No,” Dan replied.
Thea and Aeden remained silent.
“It goes something like this,” Adel started, “For example: would you rather be famous now and forgotten when you die, or ordinary now and famous after death?”
A smile broke across Laurent’s face.
John had his hand up, and spoke, “After I die.”
“Let’s make this interesting,” Laurent said, “Who’s in?”
Dan was already nodding his head. Laurent looked around the table. John raised his hand again. Aeden shrugged.
“Sure,” Thea responded.
“Interesting how?” Adel questioned, still wishing to be in charge of the game.
“We’ll need pen and paper, and more drinks,” Laurent said as he looked about for the barkeep. “Instead of blurting out the answers, we’ll guess what the person next to us will say, and if we’re right, the other person has to drink. And if you’re wrong, you have to take a drink.”
Adel looked around and saw there was interest. “You’re on.”
“We’ll need to partner up,” Laurent said thinking aloud, “How about me and Dan…”
Thea shook her head, “I think we should split you two up.”
“Agreed,” Adel seconded.
“Okay,” Laurent continued, “Then me and Adel, John and Dan, and Thea with Aeden.”
“Sounds fair,” Daniel said.
John looked nervous, but didn’t protest. Aeden looked at Thea, but she didn’t return his gaze. A pit was beginning to form in his stomach, but what could he say? I’d like a different team mate because Thea and I disagree over the nature of our relationship?
“It’s settled,” Laurent said loudly, “I’ll get some writing materials.”
Laurent extricated himself from the tight confines of the table and disappeared into the crowd heading in the direction of the bar.
Aeden watched Laurent work his way through the crowd. He looked at the numerous faces and a different feeling settled upon his heart. It was a dark and cold feeling, like the murky darkness before the dawn.
It was Caine.
Strangely, the sounds of the bar grew quiet, as though someone had cast a blanket over the crowd. Caine’s eyes narrowed and he slowly shook his head. It was the weight of that look, so full of anger and hatred, that stuck with Aeden. It was the malevolent look of one who wished a slow and gruesome death upon another.
Caine lipped the words, “you are dead.”
The moment was broken.
Laurent’s wide frame broke Aeden’s line-of-sight as he moved away from the far side. Aeden shifted in his seat, turning his back partially toward the crowd. He watched Laurent approached their nook with pen and paper in hand and a broad smile plastered across his face.
“Barkeep is coming with beers,” Laurent announced as he squeezed back into his seat. “Let’s play,” Laurent said, gesturing for Adel to begin.
Adel looked about the table, savoring the attention for a span of heartbeats, before beginning. His face was full of the excitement and life of a young boy at the eve of Hearvest Festival.
“Would you rather save the life of a distant unknown person and lose a finger, or keep your finger and let that person die?”
Laurent huffed. Daniel smiled and began writing immediately.
For Aeden it wasn’t as clear. Not only did he have to assess Thea, he had to take into account that she might try to mess with him, simply to get back at him. He wrote the answer he thought she’d say and covered his sheet with a thick hand.
Once everyone had finished scratching out their answers, Adel commanded, “Answers! Let’s begin with Laurent.”
“I wrote Adel would cut off a finger.”
Adel nodded and took a drink. Laurent sat back with a large satisfied smirk on his face.
“Dan?” Adel asked.
“John would keep his fingers,” Dan stated proudly.
“You’ve got me pegged,” John announced before taking a swig of beer.
“I guessed Dan would rather lose a finger and save a life…” John said, looking inquisitively to Dan.
Dan smiled and shook his head. John shrugged and took a sip of beer.
Thea was now staring intently at Aeden. Her face was an interesting mix of stubborn defiance and subtle amusement. Yet, for all her emotion, he couldn’t help but remember what it had been like to kiss her. He had been stupid to tell her the truth.
“I guessed Thea would cut off a finger,” Aeden said.
Thea didn’t show her paper, she merely shook her head. Aeden felt that she would say ‘no,’ whether he had guessed correctly or not.
“I think our honorable hero would cut off a finger,” Thea said, “Especially if it made him appear more noble to some vulnerable maiden.”
Aeden didn’t reply. He simply took a drink from his beer.
