The Legacy of Lethe, page 1
To Sandrina, Lila and Adelyn
Special thanks to Adam, Cordell and everyone who helped make this book possible
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Copyright © 2022 by Eric P. Caillibot
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Contents
Map 1040 A.F.
Map 4000 B.F.
Timeline
Prologue
1. Wenloq
2. Swift
3. Haven
4. Friloq
5. The Drifts
6. Lament
7. River Acheron
8. Swift
9. Haven
10. Friloq
11. Frozen Keep
12. Buccaneer's Bay
13. Greloq
14. Amity
15. Spire
16. River Acheron
17. Silver Sands
18. Soloq
19. Swift
20. Silver Sands
21. Huloq
22. Buccaneer’s Bay
23. Maloq
24. Anuk
25. Fayl
26. Frozen Keep
27. Cold Sea
28. Greloq
29. Daybreak
30. Wenloq
31. Lament
32. Silent Sea
33. Swift
34. Haven
35. Friloq
36. August Point
37. Swift
38. Lethe
39. Anuk
40. Shattered Islands
41. Shattered Islands
42. Starkeeper’s Tears
43. Skyclaw Mountains
44. Blood Rush
45. Haven
46. Swift
Afterword
Houses of Ornland
Parkel
Haven
Skywall
Parkel
Prologue
Red are the furious, boundless and bold,
Strong and relentless, a blaze uncontrolled.
Blue are the oracles and lords of the mind,
Able to glimpse fate’s whims and designs.
Amber are envy, and passionate lust,
With mirages and flames they burn as they must.
Black are the shadows of hatred and frost,
Spiteful and loathing, and fueled by disgust.
White rely on awe, reverence and pride,
Blasting winds, behind barriers they hide.
Green are the joyful who wield nature’s might,
Hopeful and kindly, they thrive in the light.
Grey are the grieving, those lost to despair,
Who commune with the after, and those that rest there.
Magic is great danger, power in form,
A force of destruction, reader be warned.
-- The Magician’s Codex, c. 0 After Founding of the Houses (A.F.), in Ornish reckoning
Chapter 1
Wenloq
c. 4000 B.F. (Height of the Lethean Empire)
High Priest Comanth stood atop the Pentad Temple. From the elevated vantage point, he could see in all directions, almost to the edges of Wenloq, the sprawling capital city of the Lethean Empire. Spring was upon them and the morning was beautiful. The air was warm and the sun shone brightly, illuminating the High Priest’s long, lean visage. Like all Letheans, his face was a smooth grey slab except for a single eye, a wide slit stretching across the centre of his face. Unblinking, it stared northward.
In the distance, a dozen of Comanth’s soldiers approached in a circular formation that stood out against the otherwise chaotic bustle of the city streets. Although they were expected, and he was eager for them to arrive, Comanth watched their approach with apprehension. The prize they escorted, bound and shackled at the centre of the circle, was the most dangerous Lethean that had ever lived.
As he watched them draw nearer, Comanth’s eye emitted a faint orange glow, revealing his state of restless anxiety. Turning his face toward the sun, the warm light soothed his restless thoughts and his eye color faded to a soft, calm blue.
The Earthwatcher is paying close attention to us today, Comanth thought to himself, contemplating the sun.
Looking back toward the convoy, he saw that they were approaching the end of the artery that ran in a perfectly straight line from the edge of the city to the gates of the Pentad Temple, from where the Pentate Priesthood ruled over their people. They would be arriving in minutes.
Turning his back to the scene, Comanth headed toward a broad staircase that led from the roof into the temple itself. He pulled up the loose, white robe he wore, freeing his feet to avoid tripping on the hem. As he descended the steps, Comanth drew himself up and calmed his mind. As he did so, his eye’s blue glow intensified.
Part way down the stairs, Comanth was met by Jaden, clothed in a light grey robe marking him as the most prominent of his subordinate priests. As soon as Jaden spotted Comanth making his way down, he stopped his ascent and waited. A faint flicker of orange passed across Jaden’s eye before it returned to its usual, uniform blue. While Comanth would ordinarily have reproached any disciple who allowed control over their emotions to lapse, he said nothing. Only a fool would be completely free of concern moments before the sentencing of Verletzt, the leader of the Iconoclast movement that threatened the very fabric of Lethean society.
“High Father,” the younger priest greeted Comanth soundlessly, inclining his head as his eye flashed the familiar pattern.
“Father Jaden,” Comanth’s eye blinked in response.
Jaden turned and fell into step alongside Comanth. Side by side, the priests proceeded down the stairs, their heads turned to ensure they could simultaneously see each other’s faces and the path ahead.
“Everything is ready for the proceedings,” Jaden continued. “Everyone has gathered. They await you in the Sanctum.”
“Good,” Comanth nodded. “With Verletzt sentenced and gone, all of this unrest and talk of change will surely die down. This nonsense has gone on long enough.”
To himself, the High Priest added chidingly I was a fool to allow it to continue as long as it did. I should have ordered more beatings, more arrests. As of their first so-called protest, I should have had every one of them rounded up and executed. Publicly.
Nothing more was said as the men continued their long descent.
As they reached the foot of the stairs, they walked into the temple’s southern antechamber. The room was busy with soldiers on patrol, clothed entirely in metal, every part of their bodies hidden under plates of steel or links of mail. Their brightly polished helmets, which covered their entire head and neck, were attached to their shoulders as well, forming a smooth arc. But for a narrow eye slit, their faceplates were a solid veneer with no holes or openings.
Beyond the antechamber, the priests entered the Sanctum, the pentagonal room at the center of the temple. As he walked past one of the room’s five corners, Comanth glanced at the statue it contained, recessed into a niche in the wall. A blue giant, the statue’s entire face was a bright yellow circle. The Earthwatcher. Chief among the Pentate of Gods worshipped by Comanth and all Letheans.
Comanth arrived at last at the raised dais at the southern end of the Sanctum. Climbing its steps he took his seat on the throne at its centre and began to inspect the crowd gathered before him. The rest of the Priesthood were there, as was required of them, along with the highest ranking soldiers in the Lethean military and numerous prominent citizens of the Empire. Comanth did not need the hurriedly concealed orange flickers in their eyes to know how nervous they all were. The tension in the air was palpable.
Though the High Priest knew they had little doubt concerning the sentence he would deliver, he also knew that they were wary of the repercussions that would follow. The Lethean Empire had always stood for order and stability. Comanth valued these things above all else and he was determined that under his rule, these fundamental values of the Lethean people would be maintained. Not since ancient times had the future of the Lethean Empire been clouded with uncertainty. Comanth despised uncertainty.
After a few moments, a soldier hurried forward and spoke discreetly to the High Priest that his troops were waiting outside the doors to the Sanctum. Comanth nodded curtly, and the soldier hurried back to his post.
“Bring in the prisoner!” the High Priest commanded, his eye beaming bright white as he swelled with determination.
As one, all eyes turned toward the northern end of the Sanctum where soldiers were already pulling open thick steel doors to reveal a cadre of soldiers wearing blood-red uniforms. These were the Priesthood’s most elite warriors, to which the most critical missions were entrusted. By unspoken command, they marched in lockstep into the Sanctum, their heavy boots clanging in unison. Every eye in the room followed their progress. Halting directly before the dais, the soldiers saluted the High Priest, turned and marched back the way they had come, leaving the man they had been escorting alone at the foot of the stairs.
Comanth looked down at the prisoner. Verletzt was bound at the wrists and bare-chested. His demeanour was downcast; his eye barely shone and seemed to show defeat. The High Priest felt a certain satisfaction at witnessing his adversary’s humility.
When Comanth had last seen Ve
Now, to put an end to this nonsense, Comanth thought to himself. Once and for all.
As the soldiers took their places around the Sanctum and the echoes of their footsteps faded, an expectant stillness fell over the witnesses. Comanth rose slowly to his feet and raised his arms.
“Citizen Verletzt,” he began solemnly, his eye gleaming white.
Slowly, Verletzt raised his head until he was looking directly into his persecutor’s face.
“You have been found guilty of heresy and treason against the Holy Empire of Lethe. Your crimes are heinous and unforgivable. As everyone gathered here knows well, the punishment,” Comanth paused to survey the room, “is death.”
Everywhere in the Sanctum, the onlookers shuffled their feet uncomfortably and exchanged looks. Some showed agreement, but to Comanth’s distaste, he also saw furtive glances of disapproval.
“Before your sentence is carried out,” Comanth continued. “I give you one last chance to repent. Denounce your crimes and beg the Pentate for forgiveness before the Deliverers come for your wretched soul.”
Verletzt’s expression changed subtly as Comanth finished speaking. Instead of resignation, a subtle look of defiance appeared.
Comanth felt a vague portent of danger. Forcing calmness through his mind, he tried to focus his power of premonition. Scanning the scene before him, he sought anything that might be amiss, but saw nothing unusual. His guards were in position and alert. The bindings which held Verletzt appeared secure. The doors at the back of the room had been closed and barred.
Despite the signs, Comanth’s powers had never misled him before and he suddenly knew that Verletzt had planned something terrible.
“I do not seek forgiveness from the Pentate,” Verletzt’s eye shone red with anger. He turned and addressed the crowd behind him. “I renounce the old Gods!”
The people became agitated. Comanth saw confusion, fear and anger spiraling in their eyes. The High Priest immediately motioned for his soldiers to take the prisoner away. Some of the soldiers began to comply, but others moved into their path. Comanth’s eye blazed red.
“The Pentate are a myth!” Verletzt continued. “A myth perpetrated to empower the Priesthood and to oppress our people! Only by denying them can we be free to control our lives! Free to pursue our true destiny!”
Some people were moving toward Verletzt, their fists raised in support. Arguments and fights were breaking out among the others. Soldiers were drawing their blades and facing off against each other.
Comanth was at a loss. He had hand-picked only his most loyal soldiers and followers to be present, yet even they appeared divided.
How can it have come this far? Comanth thought to himself in disbelief.
A section of the southeastern wall of the chamber suddenly exploded, showering all present with fragments of brick and mortar. The statue of the Waterdweller was thrown from its niche and Comanth watched in horror as it shattered on the floor of the Sanctum. Before the High Priest could react, an armed group had forced the crowd aside and cleared a path to the hole for Verletzt. The prisoner immediately ran toward his supporters, stopping at the gap in the wall. He turned and called out.
“The time of subservience is over! The time has come to fight for what you believe! To fight for our future! Join us now! Our glorious destiny awaits!”
Verletzt ran out, his rebels following him. Many of the soldiers and other spectators followed in his wake, pumping their fists in the air.
The soldiers loyal to the Priesthood attacked. Some of those trying to flee were suddenly blocked by invisible barriers of force and cut down mercilessly. Razor-sharp shards of ice flew through the air and impaled another pair of escaping rebels. Suddenly, a blinding gout of flame gushed into the room through the hole in the wall, scorching a handful of soldiers and forcing the rest to dodge backwards. When the flames faded, the confusion began to die down. Less than half of the room’s original occupants remained. The surviving soldiers hesitated and turned to look for direction from their High Priest.
Comanth stood frozen in shock amid the rubble, staring at the disembodied head of the Waterdweller statue. With an effort, he raised his gaze and eyed the Letheans around him. They looked at each other, grasped their heads in their hands and finally turned to stare at their leader. In their faces, Comanth saw shock, horror and most of all, fear. He knew the same emotions were visible on his own face.
This has only just begun, he realized mutely.
Chapter 2
Swift
c. 1040 A.F. (Present Day)
Edvard Quickeye sat in the boisterous common room of the Swordfish Inn. With a quick flick of his head, he tossed his long brown hair out of his eyes, giving him a clearer view of the playing cards he held in his muscular fist. His handsome face framed the bright green eyes he had inherited from his father and they darted up from his miserable hand to survey the faces of the men at his table.
Two were Edvard’s countrymen, Caimen, both sailors on shore leave. They were struggling to keep their expressions neutral, but Edvard’s long gambling experience had given him the ability to notice even the faintest tells. One obviously had nothing, but the other probably had a strong hand. The olive-skinned Qume trader at the table had already discarded his cards in disgust and was now watching the others with apathy. That left the Gaurvian merchant, who had the largest pile of coins stacked in front of him.
Edvard eyed the man carefully. Of everyone at the table, the Gaurvian had been the hardest to read, which was why Edvard had lost so much gold to him. Or perhaps it had something to do with the man’s beautiful daughter who had been frequently returning to the table to check on his progress, giving Edvard a suggestive smile every time.
With only a few coins left and lousy cards, Edvard knew that his only chance was to make one last, desperate bluff. If it worked, he would be back in the game. If not, well, he could find other ways of entertaining himself. He drew himself up to his full, imposing height and pushed all of his remaining money into the centre of the table. He looked down at his hand again and deliberately let a tiny smile cross his face for the briefest instant.
He looked over at the Caimen sailors. The first hesitated for a moment then shrugged and discarded his hand. Edvard’s hunch had been right about him. The second hesitated longer. He stared at his cards, deep in thought, periodically casting furtive looks at the Gaurvian and at Edvard. Finally, with a sigh full of regret, he too cast aside his hand. He crossed his arms savagely and glared at the Gaurvian. The merchant wore the same placid smile he had shown since he first sat down at the table. He looked into Edvard’s eyes, clearly sizing him up. Edvard returned the look, genuinely full of confidence, although not because of the weak hand he had been dealt. The Gaurvian’s eyes returned to his cards for a moment. With a decisive gesture, the man matched Edvard’s bet.
His heart sinking, Edvard was forced to reveal his hand and expose his bluff. The Gaurvian placed his cards carefully on the table. His hand was also weak, but strong enough to win this time. Seeing the cards laid out, the Caimen sailor uncrossed his arms and threw his hands in the air in exasperation. While the Gaurvian calmly claimed his winnings, Edvard picked up his mug of ale and bade the men a cheerful goodbye, reflecting that the false smile might not have been subtle enough to fool the wily merchant.
