The One Way Forward by Wil Clayton - HTML preview

Chapter 6

 

The mirror reflected his naked form, familiar but broken. His chest small, his arms skinny, his legs twisted and useless.

Maids without faces brought him his cloths. The plumed shirt of excessive cheer was on him now, he raised his arms and they pulled upon the blue vest that constrained him. They laid the trousers in front, he stepped forward and the maidens pulled the them up, they had done the world a service and hidden his grotesque form from the world.

He looked at himself and felt the handle of the knife, it felt as cold and wicked as it always did. The doors opened, the mirror was empty, he entered the frozen court where the colours danced.

The nobles still sightless, still silent, still unmoved. The king called Calum forward. He could stop, he could stay himself, but he could not. The king beckoned him on and he chose to obey the call he could not refuse.

Calum reached the rise and knew, in that moment, as he looked at the squat, grey man, he must have that form. The form of strength and certainty and power that he had never been or known or desired before. With it he could escape this place, escape the king and his dead court.

The king eyes moved, coming a live for the first time, the eyes became focused and hard on Calum. They were known. Brother, they would have called each other, if they had not gotten lost along the way.

The knife was in his hand and Calum stabbed into the gut. His hand gripping the knife hard and fast. The king seized Calum’s hands within his own. The king’s grip was cold and strong, he then pushed blade across his own gut. Blood flowed from the wound like a fountain.

The king laughed as the room filled, lapping at the knees of the nobles soaking their robes. The blood rose, drowning the children crushed by the gowns of their guardians.

Calum awoke. The usual pleasure and disgust was absent, his heart did not race and his breath was not quick. He looked at his pants, they were clean and dry.

The dark room was lit by a single lantern, Roland sat across the room looking at the wall.

“What…”

The words caught in Calum’s dry, rough throat. His mouth was thick with mucus, his lips were dried and cracked. Calum coughed and snatched the pitcher on the table.

“It’s night, you’ve slept all day,” said Roland quietly.

Calum looked into the pitcher, it was clean enough. He gulped down the water as fast as he could.

“Did you enjoy the festival?” asked Roland.

Calum pulled the pitcher away from his face.

“Yes,” replied Calum, bluntly.

“I heard from Yin that you disappeared with Dias.”

Calum eyes moved to Roland, for the first time Calum was the one who did not want to talk.

“Yes, I met her in the forest,” said Calum reluctantly, “she wanted an audience with me as a prince of The First Kingdom”

“And what did speak of?” asked Roland.

“Politics,” said Calum wanting to end the conservation, “the only thing nobles ever want to speak of. You wouldn’t understand.”

Roland tossed Calum a pouch of gold, it hit his chest and fell into the fabric of the cot.

“What’s this?”

“Your payment from Yin and Cystine,” Roland said, “if I knew you were going to entertain the Sisters I would have reminded you to collect your dues.”

Calum picked up the pouch and looked inside there seemed to be twenty or so wings.

“Well, lad, I’m glad you finally got it out of you. The farm girls from here to the White Spire, can now rest easy in their beds,” said Roland with a smile, “come, you’re going to need some food.”

Roland pulled himself up from bed and led the way back into the common room. It was now empty except for a few tradesmen huddled in a corner, all the visitors seemed to have moved on since the celebration. A simple stew bubbled over fire. Calum took a bowl.

“How did you react when the magic wear off?” asked Roland with a strange amusement in his voice.

“You seemed to have found a sense of humour at the festival,” grumbled Calum his mind still dull.

Roland laughed.

“It was… confronting,” smirked Calum trying to join in the laughter but the energy was not in him.

Calum thought back on the events of the previous night and found the humour as he always did.

“Is your rare joy from entertaining the Sisters, as well?” asked Calum

“That and the company of good friends,” replied Roland with a sigh.

“Do you know much about magic, Roland?”

“A bit,” said Roland and then add quickly, “but nothing I will discuss.”

“This is not about you, Roland,” said Calum annoyed, “I want to know about the Kaborn.”

“Ask then?”

“Do you think I will be able to learn anything at the White Spire?”

“It is a bit late to be asking that question now, lad.”

Calum grunted in anger.

“Have you ever heard of a Kaborn who can wield magic?” said Calum swallowing his tempered.

“There are tales of such things but I have never met one.”

“There are tales of you laying Diana,” said Calum disheartened.

“And who is to say those aren’t true?” said Roland.

“Are they?”

“Sadly, no,” replied Roland, “magic is a dangerous thing that can turn men into monsters as you saw. That you will learn that at the White Spire, I am sure. Though whether you will be able to find such power within yourself, that is something only you can know.”

“Maybe, I should just take the first caravan back to The First Kingdom?” said Calum to no one.

“That is something you may want to consider. You have had quite the adventure, but maybe it is time to go back to your mother and father.”

Calum yawned. He needed to sleep again.

“What did you and Dias discuss?” asked Roland again.

“Magic, the forest, nothing of real importance,” said Calum dismissively, “I think I should get some more sleep.”

“As you wish, we should get moving tomorrow though, we still have many miles to travel.”

“I’ll be up at dawn.”

The journey continued west for three more days. On the third, the dense forest began to thin and in the middle of the afternoon the trees vanished without notice. Now, in front Calum stretched the green and blue meadows of Dunway.

The sun shone, gentle and welcoming, across the land. Tall bushes decorated with brilliant flowers grew from the open fields while white and grey dots of cattle and sheep wandered here and there. There were no fences or walls, so the animals were free to roam as they pleased. A small path made of crushed grass snaked away from the forest.

“A nice change from the forest,” declared Calum stretching widely.

Roland did not respond.

“How far to the White Spire?” asked Calum.

“We will cut across the fields to Diana’s Way and find passage there. A week or so we should be at the Spire.”

They continued across the grassland as the sun moved through the sky. Before nightfall the two made camp under a ledge of rocks protruding from a small mound of earth as a rain storm fell across the farmland around them.

The next day, at around midday, the path ended at a hamlet. It was nothing more than a few houses clustered together before a wooden platoon floating in the quiet waters of Diana’s Way. A few barges were moored, burdened with large crates and barrels of goods from the north.

Calum found a Dun sleeping quietly by the riverside under a large sheet of fabric held up by posts. Calum ask if the man knew if any of the barges would take travellers. After a short discussion the Dun agreed to take them with him for a fair price once his customers had arrived and completed their trades.

The Dun was much shorter than the men of The First Kingdom, the man’s skin was a pale pink, his eyes where small and narrow, his body squat and wide.

There was no room for the horse on the barge, so Roland found a buyer amongst the small group of houses who was very eager to take the horse from him. Roland said the awkward, oversized saddle was a gift but the buyer had already removed the saddle and thrown it to the side.

When the two returned to the barge, a wagon was collecting barrels and boxes from it. Roland, unable to watch the men struggle with the heavy goods, lent his strength and soon the trade was done.

As the men took a short rest from the labour, a child ran up and began chattering excitedly to the barge owner about a special feast that was being planned for that evening. The boy’s father had just acquired a fine beast from a traveller and everyone was welcome to join. The barge owner, reluctantly, refused.

The barge owner then ushered Calum and Roland onto his vessel and released it from the dock. The young child cheered and waved goodbye from the river bank.

Calum found a place amongst the crates that block harsh light of the setting sun. He looked back at the hamlet as a large pillar of smoke rose from the centre of the cluster. He was glad he had not named the horse.

Calum was amazed by the squat Dun at the back of boat who single handily steered the barge down the river with a single rudder tucked under his shoulder. The sun made the land golden as the small fishing villages and farmhouses floated past.

Night came and Roland lit the lanterns at the front of the vessel. The moon, large and full, turned the world silver. The Dun did not stop, he needed to sail through the night to meet his next customer at dawn.

The barge sailed for another five days down the river, sometimes moving at night, sometimes during they day, depending on the demands of the traders that slowly took away the stock that surrounded Calum.

On the sixth day, the river widened and emptied itself out into the large lake of Diana’s Rest. On the distant edge of the lake, shooting straight into the air, was a single, pearl-white spire coming to a single point a thousand feet above the ground. Two black, onyx structures spiralled around the central white spire, gripping to its side, just before the peak the two black structures broke away from the tower creating a summit of three points, two black and one white. Above it, in midair was suspended a single crystal which must have been the size of house in its own right, glistening in the midday sun.

The Dun turned the barge, setting it down at a small dock just before the mouth of river. Calum paid him the man due and thanked him. The Dun nodded and wished Calum well.

Roland found a man with a schooner taking passengers across the lake to the city, setting sail the next day. Roland organised the passage and the two found beds in a wayhouse that sat next to the dock.

Calum looked across the wayhouse at the small crowd in the room, a simple meal sat on the plate in front of him. His bronze skin and brown hair stood out from the pale pink and white skin of those that surrounded him and even though he was only fifteen, he was as tall as the tallest man here. Roland struggled next to him, uncomfortable in the seat far too small for him.

“I’m not going home,” said Calum with a certainty, “there will be no place for me there now. Father would have to have told the court I am gone and there would already be new arrangements in place for my younger brothers. Going back, now, would be wrong and a waste.”

“Do you think there is a place for you here?” asked Roland.

“If there isn’t I’ll go east to the Silver Marsh or find work in Sowland's Watch,” shrugged Calum and then added with a smile, “maybe I’ll follow you south.”

Roland smiled back and shook his head.

The next day they boarded the schooner with a handful of others. It skipped fast across the flat water of the lake, propelled by a fast, fresh wind that whipped down from the north.

The White Spire grew large and more impressive as the boat grew closer. The enormous structure dwarfed the city below it even though the city, itself, was quiet large. The dock was a scattering of wooden and stone buildings and piers along the shore line in front of a ring of tall, stone walls.

The schooner settled itself against one of the piers. The smell of dirty chicken cages, rotting vegetables and fresh sewerage caught in Calum’s nose, it smelt like Kabrace. Some men argued loudly, pointing at pieces of papers and shaking fists in the air, some barked orders to boys and girls, as old as Calum, who hurried to organise stock onto moored barges or fill waiting wagons with goods.

Calum and Roland left the boat and made their way to the city. The entrance was a large, open gate with carts and men passing freely beneath.

After passing beneath, themselves, Roland led Calum away from the main throng into the back streets, the masses of bodies moving through the narrow streets made Calum feel welcomed, he had missed being in a large city, the streets full of people and life.

The back streets were just tracks of mud and loose stone, flanked on both sides by hastily constructed houses that look as though they would tumble over, if only there was enough room. A worker hurried past, drenched in the sweat of the humid heat that hung in the air, homeless people lay quietly in shadowed corners, sleeping soundly while they had the safety of the daylight, a child threw waste water from a doorway onto the road ahead of Calum, unaware he existed.

Roland stopped in front a door, that looked liked any other except for a bird in flight painted on it. Roland knocked loudly. After a short while, it opened and there stood a squat man, his face slightly wrinkled.

“Looking for a room for me and the lad. Two nights,” said Roland holding two silver swords in the air.

The Dun nodded and ushered the two through the door.

The hallway was low and tight, Roland had to duck slightly to get through the space, they were led up a tight staircase and into a tiny room with two dirty beds. A window in the back wall looked on to a bare brick wall a foot from it.

“The doors are locked at the second bell, opens again at dawn,” said the Dun and left them to the room.

Roland turn to Calum.

“We are here, then,” said Roland a strange awkwardness in his voice.

“You’re not taking me to the White Spire?” asked Calum.

“You can find it easy enough,” said Roland shaking his head.

“Thank you,” said Calum with a smile not sure what else to say to the man.

“Your thanks isn’t needed,” said Roland quickly, “I’ll have what is mine then.”

“What are you going to do with the land?” asked Calum looking into the bag.

“Return there, one day. I do not know when.”

“Can I visit you when you return?” asked Calum nervously.

“If you wish,” said Roland flatly.

Calum smiled and pushed asides the contents and found the secret pouch at the back still sown shut. He sliced it quickly with his hunting knife and looked in.

The writ was gone.

“It’s not here,” stammered Calum, “I put it in before we left, I am sure.”

All the moments he had left the bag unattended, flashed before him. At any of those moment someone could have taken it and sown the opening closed again, he thought. But who? Only one person would have even known to look.

“It was San,” exclaimed Calum, “he must have taken.”

“San is no thief,” said Roland shaking his head his face was fierce with anger.

“I swear to you…”

“I trust you, Calum,” said Roland through gritted teeth and then added quickly, “do not worry yourself.”

“I don’t have anything else to pay you with.”

“Calm yourself,” said Roland simply his voice returning to its normal level state, “you are still a boy you have a lifetime to pay me back.”

“Anything,” said Calum forcefully, “I will make this right.”

Roland smiled and nodded.

“If I find you again and you are man with means, I’ll have a payment of a thousand wings.”

“Ten thousand wings,” challenged Calum, “land is worth much more than one.”

“One will be enough.”

Silence came across the room.

“It is time for me to leave,” said Roland, “you have the room for two nights. After that you must find your own way.”

The words hit hard Calum, after the weeks he had spent with Roland the realisation that their journey was over brought a heaviness, but he knew any expression would be met with a harsh rebuke that Roland always had at hand.

“I will see you another day then,” said Calum holding out his hand.

“Another day,” said Roland with a smile and shook Calum’s hand and then added, “be careful what you find, Calum.”

The words were strange to Calum but before he could respond there was a knock at the door.

“Roland,” called a voice, “come and embrace an old friend.”

Roland looked at the door and released Calum’s hand. Roland turned, slowly, went to the door and opened it.

In the open doorway stood a thin man wrapped in a black and blue robes, he stood only slightly shorter than Roland. He had deep, black eyes, his pale skin was dull, lifeless, clinging tight to the bones of his slender face.

“Why are you here, Doran?” asked Roland with a low voice.

“You haven’t changed at all,” said the man pushing Roland aside and moving into the room, “and you are the young prince. I am sure I’m honoured to meet you.”

The man simply nodded in Calum’s direction.

“I am leaving,” said Roland.

“Always in a hurry, you must slow down, Roland. Running off here, running off there but then focus was something you always struggled with.”

“Goodbye, Calum,” said Roland ignoring the intruder, “good luck.”

“Elerys, wants to see you,” said Doran quickly.

“I will not.”

“Still a coward after all these years,” laughed Doran, “I had heard from people you had changed your ways.”

“You know nothing of it,” scowled Roland.

“Then prove me wrong, boy.”

“I have nothing to prove to a worthless, old man.”

“She’s in her last days, Roland,” sighed Doran, “will you deny her, again?”

Roland was quiet for a moment.

“Be a good man for once, Roland, and let me take you to her,” said Doran and then turned to the Calum, “are you coming to the Spire, my boy?”

Calum looked at Roland, who was still quiet looking at the door.

“Come, if you will,” said Roland suddenly.

Doran, without hesitation, pushed back Roland and led the way out into the city streets.

The White Spire towered over the city making it seem as though it was always just around the next bend, but it wasn’t. The streets came and went and Calum lost his bearings.

“How did you know I was here?” asked Roland.

“I didn’t,” replied Doran, “Elerys, sent me. She would have come herself but she finds it hard to leave her room these days. For some reason she is still interested in your nonsense, Roland.”

“You have lost your’s, Doran?”

“You had potential once, that is true, but, my dear Roland, you’ve became a bit too… common for me.”

“I think the word you are looking for is old.”

Doran smirked.

“I was hoping you would have found a less vulgar humour in your travels.”

“I must say the years have been kind to you. Elerys cannot leave her room and yet you are still full of life and energy?” said Roland, “the company of the virgins has worked wonders for you. If only, Elerys had been so wise.”

“I can tell you’ve missed me,” laughed Doran, “perhaps you should stay longer and show me the errors of my wicked ways.”

Roland shook his head as the city vanished and in front of Calum sat a garden of grass, low benches and shrubs which ran up to the outer wall of the White Spire.

A group of Arn, dressed in all manner of coloured robes stood in the courtyard talking to each other. The walls of tower were smooth and bare, except for the black onyx stonework that twisted around white surface. A huge, set of double doors were the only opening to the tower.

Calum walked between the doors and into the tower’s atrium. A huge pressure collapsed on to his chest. The doubt returned as he looked up at the enormous hollow interior of the Spire, high above a simple, grey roof was barely visible .

Several disjointed staircases wrapped themselves around the inside of the wall of the spire following no particular pattern. At different intervals along the staircases were doors of all different shapes and colours. Beneath Calum, the floor was made of highly polished onyx and white marble, laid together in a spiral of large triangles, that reflected the Magi that stood around, talking to each in soft voices.

Doran led the way through the circles of men and women to an orange door in the wall, he opened it and beyond Calum saw a balcony that overlooked the centre well of tower much higher up the tower. Calum stepped through and the muttering voices of the Magi vanished, he was high above looking down on them.

Doran and Roland were already halfway way up the stairs that rose to the left when Calum had oriented himself. They walked past several doors until Doran stopped in front of one painted with red and green diamonds and led the way into a room.

A few dozen birdcages were hung from the roof, more were held on elaborate stands. Only a few were empty, most of the cages were occupied by birds of different sizes and plumage. Some chirped, some squawked, others sang elaborate song which filling the room with a joyful, cacophony.

Several brightly dressed servants tended to the caged bird, going about the work of changing the water, placing handfuls of grain at the bottoms of the cages and cleaning away the bottom of the cages into pales.

In the middle of room sat an old woman dressed in a voluminous red and green dress, her hair short and grey, her eyes bright but sunken deep into her skull, her skin spotted and wrinkled.

“Elerys, it’s me,” said Roland as he approached.

“I know, Roland,” she chuckle heartily from her chair, “forgive me, I do not stand as easily as I once did.”

“No need to stand for old friends.”

Roland found a wooden chair and lowered himself to her level.

“You’re a little late, Roland?” she said simply.

“I was coming back…”

“You don’t need to lie anymore, did you think I wouldn’t know?”

“It was…”

“I forgive you, Roland. I found happiness with another, you need not fear my scorn.”

Roland was quiet for a moment.

“That is more than I deserve,” replied Roland and then added, “was he a good husband?”

“Better than you would’ve been,” she laughed, “we had eight children together. All of them are leading happy and full lives now,” she paused for a moment, “as is your son.”

Roland was quiet, the birds chirped and flapped in their cages.

“I know what you think of me,” stuttered Roland.

Elerys raised her old hand to his mouth.

“We raised him with the same love as we gave to all our children” she continued, “he was quiet the handful but I expected nothing else.”

Roland kissed her hand and lowered it from his mouth.

“Where is he now?”

“He found a place in the courts of Galla. He is a councillor to a Lord with his own with grandchildren, now. They come to visit when they have the time, but Galla is so far to come and hear an old woman natter,” she laughed and paused, “I wanted you to know this before I went, I wanted the air between us to be clear, I wanted you to know I was well and I was happy without you. I am so glad Calum brought you back to me.”

Calum puzzled at the mention of his name, he had never seen this woman before.

“Does he know I am his father?”

“I have told him but I don’t think he believes me,” laughed Elerys, “you are so illusive these days, Roland, even I wonder if you were ever real.”

“It’s better that way.”

“The worgs were with you, Roland. As you lay upon the barge I saw them stalking you from the riverbank,” Elerys said softly, “they hate you with all their being and they will not be kind when they have you.”

“Do not worry, my love, I am beyond their reach,” he lent in and kissed her softly on the forehead.

“I am so glad you made it back to me, even after all these years. My birds have heard your plans and they are sound quiet exciting. Still full of purpose, Roland, always more to be done, isn’t there? So, south to the Lowland’s to tame your horse. I wish I could be here to learn of your triumph.”

“Then come with me, Elerys, there are ways to keep the worgs from the tent. Let me show you and we will tame The Horse together. We can have the life now that we could not have before.”

Roland gripped the old hands in his, there was an excitement in Roland’s voice.

“My time in this world is done, my love. I know that and am happy with what I leave behind,” she said reassuringly and pulled her hands free of his, “may you find your happiness as well.”

Roland was quiet and stood from the wooden chair.

“I have always thought of you,” said Roland, “and what we should have been.”

Roland turned and walked from the room. The birds chattered as Calum waited awkwardly next to Doran.

“Thank you, for bringing him to me,” smiled Elerys at Calum.

“I didn’t know…”

Elerys cut him off with a simple chuckle.

“Roland will never say it but he has become fond of you. He is a good man by many measures, be sure to be a good friend to him, won’t you?”

Calum smiled at the old woman.

“Of course,” said Calum simply.

“Please, get me the robin,” she called to a servant boy who quickly fetched a small, silver cage and brought it forward.

“This is the bird I used to watch your escapades, young prince,” she said and a smile and handed him cage, “I have no need for him now. So, a gift for all you have done for me. The White Spire can be a cold place. He will keep you company when you are alone.”

Calum nodded, slightly bemused by the situation.

“Thank you, my lady.”

“I will be leaving then,” announced Doran loudly.

“Thank you for fetching him,” said Elerys.

“My pleasure,” said Doran and added, “I will be needing that information within the week.”

“It will be yours once the birds have it.”

Doran nodded and exited room. Calum stood by himself grasping a silver cage suddenly feeling quiet out of place.

“Good day,” he said and bowed.

“Please, visit me anytime you wish,” said Elerys as he left.

Calum hurried out the door cage in hand. Doran was walking down the stairs, Calum hurried after him.

“Where is...”

“Roland is gone.”

“Then...”

“How much coin do you have?”

“A few...”

“Then your going to want to rent a room in eastern corner of city, its cheaper there, nothing over a few copper a night.”

“But I want to study here,” puffed Calum trying to keep up Doran who seemed to be moving quicker than he needed.

“I know, dear boy, but you’re not going to live in the Spire. I know the Kaborn suffer from slow minds but you must overcome that is you want to be anything here.”

Doran opened the door at the end of the stairway and walked through to the atrium, Calum followed hastily.

“The Spire opens at dawn and closes at dusk. The red doors lead to the library.”

“What about lessons?”

“There are no lessons, just knowledge, you should know that, Kaborn. This is not some noble’s keep with tutors suckling you like wet nurses. The knowledge is here, if you want it. Some Magi may tutor you for a fee, but I would be cautious most here are not worth your time or coin.”

“Can you teach me?”

“No, boy,” he snorted, “I have very exact standards for my apprentices and you do not meet a single one of them.”

“Where do I start? This is so...”

“I am afraid I don’t have the time to hear anymore. I suggested you pick a place to start and go from there, no time to waste, you only have one life after all,” said Doran pausing in front of a door, “it may be overwhelming but then, magic is overwhelming, if it weren’t ever peasant from here to the Sparkling Isle would have spirits tilling their field, wouldn’t they? Now, truly, I must be going.”

Doran disappeared into the doorway and closed it in front of Calum as though to make sure he did not follow.

Calum’s mind was a blur as he crossed the atrium and out into the garden. He wanted to find the large, familiar frame of Roland, he would know what to do, who to talk too, where to stay. Then Calum remembered, he had the small room with the bricked in window for another night, but where was it?

The roads curved and bent as he left the garden and returned to the city, the builders of the White Spire seemed to have despised straight lines. The back allies were as tangled as the ones back in Kabrace, but there w