Date: Wed, 5 Sep 2012 02:26:10 -0400
From: Alek Wise <alekwise84 (at) gmail (dot) com>
Subject: Of Bones and Blood Chapter 3

Of Bones and Blood

An original work of fiction by Alek Wise. Any characters resembling real
people in this work are pure coincidence, as are any events or situations
relating to real life. Please feel free to comment (constructive, positive
comments only please. Negative comments will be disregarded) at your
leisure by emailing me directly at alekwise84 (at) gmail (dot) com. Enjoy!


Chapter Three
The Game of Faces


	Fatigue had beset the young Lord. Lanse struggled to hold tight to
Misha's hide as the violent winds and incisive flakes of ice threatened to
loosen his grip. He feared he would fall and be left to freeze in the
darkness. The thought of being alone in the frozen jungle with only the
sickly, ravenous wolves to warm his blood sent a shiver up his spine. The
quiver was enough to free him from weariness, if only for a brief
moment. He tightened his hold on the beast below him and buried his face
into its silky fur.
	Adoran had sensed some time ago that the long journey northward
along the trade road was wearing on the lad. Truthfully, it had been
wearing on them all--even the twins' impressive endurance had begun to
fade. Adoran had ignored it at first and set his sights on fighting his own
exhaustion. He had hoped to ride through the night and make camp somewhere
far from the trade road the following morning, surmising that it would be
far safer to sleep during the day. Fissure wolves, and all other manner of
Darklings, were notoriously nocturnal and preferred a blanket of darkness
to conceal their movements and intentions.
	Despite attempts to maintain his faculties however, Adoran felt his
senses growing distant and his eyes growing heavy.
	"We must rest, friends," Adoran managed after linking with the
twins. Their gallop, which had remained impressive for hours, began to slow
until at long last they segued into a graceful canter. Adoran guided his
party from the trade road into the draping foliage. The frozen limbs,
leaves, and tall blades of grass reflected the silver light of the moon,
and transformed the winter jungle into an eerie crystal palace.
	Adoran had lost feeling from his cheeks, nose, and ears long
ago. He reveled in a brief opportunity to rub warmth from his palms to the
sensitive, frost-burned flesh on his face. Then he began to survey the area
where they stood, looking about his surroundings in search of potential
shelter and assurances that the small, low area had not been visited by
other large, potentially threatening, forms of life.
	Adoran dismounted carefully, much to Ashera's relief. His knees and
thighs ached from his riding posture, and he was certain that Ashera's back
had no doubt been feeling the burden of his adult form.
	"We will be safe here this night," he announced softly.
	Adoran turned to look at Lanse, who struggled to maintain his
balance as he climbed from upon Misha. Lanse's attempt to dismount
gracefully resulted in his toppling from Misha's back instead. His frozen
joints and exhausted muscles had lost their endurance, so Lanse settled for
a sitting position in the deepening snow.
	Tremors that started at Misha's nose worked their way violently to
his tail and hind feet. The cat's apparent relief at being free from his
rider was obvious. Likewise, Ashera had been stretching and arching her
tender back.
	Adoran approached Lanse and offered an extended hand. Lanse
hesitantly obliged him before Adoran pulled him to his feet. The perpetual
motion of Misha's gallop had worked his stomach into a savage twist, and
his relentless grip on the beast had since sent sharp pains through his
joints when he attempted move. The exhausted lad threatened to fall face
first into Adoran's chest if he had not been righted but he found a steady
hand on his shoulder and it gave him comfort and assurance that he would
not plunge into the freezing snow a second time.
	"Walk for a bit," Adoran instructed. "Your body will reward you
with cruel pains in the morning if you do not."
	"If the morning pain will be cruel," Lanse responded as he
hesitantly began to step away from Adoran, "then I dare not ask what I'm
feeling now."
	Lanse began to walk cautiously around the area while Adoran, who
kept a concerned eye on Lanse, took to constructing shelter. He fully
expected the young Lord to collapse, either from fatigue or sickness,
before he managed to close the distance he had opened. Adoran therefore
found himself genuinely surprised when Lanse did manage to return.
	Palome leaves, which were rarely seen whole on the floor of the
jungles, had been scattered about the entire area. They had no doubt been
torn from their homes in the canopy by the caking snows. Adoran began
draping several of the enormous leaves over the branches of a toppled tree
whose naked limbs and skeletal trunk lay parallel to the earth, and more
still underneath the branches where he intended the group to sleep. The
leaves and supporting tree carcass would provide some shelter from the
elements, at least.
	Minutes later the party of four had settled under the
shelter. Adoran and Lanse were tucked between the twins for warmth and each
were attempting to secure their cloaks over their freezing bodies.
	"Sleep easy," Adoran said as he pulled the lad's cloak taught
around his shivering form.
	"I'd sleep easier by a fire," came the exhausted reply.
	Though he had been mostly silent while riding, the young Lord's
frequency in speaking had increased as the distance between their party and
Sounthand grew. Adoran was relieved; for a time he had been certain that he
had scarred the lad when they channeled at Southland's walls.
	"No fire."
	The twins' massive forms provided some heat, enough to keep the
frost from burning their flesh, yet even Adoran secretly desired the
additional, inviting warmth a fire could bestow.
	The leaves of the Palome tree were as wide as a horse and as long
as two men laid toe-to-toe. Adoran's shelter provided relief from the
falling snow even if it did not insulate them from the chilling air. Two
days more and they would be free of their winter prison. Until such time
their journey seemed an excellent reminder to reflect on the finer things
civilized life had to offer.
	Though, even through his apparent weariness, Adoran sensed an
uneasiness in Lanse. He looked at Lanse and watched him shiver in the cold
night and pull his cloak tighter around his torso.
	"Man-friend," came a soft, gentle call from Misha. The word
resonated tenderly in the recesses of Adoran's mind. Adoran looked from
Lanse to the giant cat next to him.
	"The boy is consumed by stormy thoughts," Misha advised.
	Adoran could feel the hurt radiating from Lanse. He did not need
empathic abilities to ascertain Lanse's state of mind.
	"Yes," Adoran replied telepathically. "He has been ripped from
those he loves. He is plagued by doubts and self-accusations--the shadow
cowardice, even."
	Ashera raised her head and placed her chin tenderly on Adoran's
chest to look upon the young Lord. She gazed thoughtfully at Lanse for a
moment before diverting her cobalt eyes to regard Misha.
	"We must take great care, but not of the boy."
	Misha did not flinch, but Adoran furrowed his brow and trained his
mind to listen carefully. Ashera sighed and Adoran felt her low rumble
resonate through his torso like an aftershock. She had clearly been
preoccupied with whatever thoughts she was preparing to share.
	"We are being followed," she offered at last. Her statement was
filled with questioning tones and she placed a mild emphasis on her last
word. "The winds have changed. I can smell them and they have no doubt
caught our scent as well."
	Misha remained still. His unwavering stare confimed that he, also,
had picked up the scent of the dark wolves.
	"I had hoped to escape the jungle without an encounter," Adoran
admitted. "We should remain windward if at all possible. Perhaps we may
elude them."
	"You have lost the elemental box," Ashera reminded him. "You are
strong, man-friend, but without it we can not hope to defend ourselves
against great numbers."
	"Brandyshire may offer proper shelter and cover from prying eyes,"
Misha interjected. "If we survive the trials of this jungle--"
	Lanse jerked awkwardly and shivered under his cloak before sighing
in frustration. His attempt to rest his weary eyes seemed only to succeed
in stirring his emotions, which forced his exhausted mind to remain ever
conscious.
	"We should resume this conversation when our minds are more apt to
present solutions. We all require rest, and the wolves will not find us
this night," Adoran said.
	"Let us hope," Misha offered.

	Lanse's mind reeled with a disturbing collage of images whenever he
closed his eyes. He saw life in Southland as it had been before the winter
storm and the chaos of that dreadful night. His mother and father walked
hand in hand through the court square lined with day lilies--his mother's
favorite flower. There, in his vision of life, of sunlight and contentment,
a dark beast lurked. Its form remained hidden behind the vibrant petals of
the lilies where it did not move. Rather, it peered through the flowers as
a convict might prison bars, watching the people of Southland as they moved
casually about their day.
	The image was a sickening irony and despite Lanse's efforts to
score it from his mind he found himself trapped in its vile humor. The
scene postulated a disturbing question: had the wolves been among them
before the night of the reaping, living in shadow and silence?
	He jerked again upon the cold earth, much to the apparent alarm of
a surprised Misha, who cast an uneasy look in his direction.
	"Dark powers are behind this, aren't they?" Lanse said as he broke
the heavy silence. Lanse was sure Adoran had been speaking, somehow, with
the twins--sure he was still alert. "They're responsible for this storm
and the release of the wolves from the mountain prison." Conviction lined
Lanse's voice. The certainty and absolutism of his tone rang apparent to
Adoran.
	"My father," Lanse continued when Adoran did not immediately
respond, "dispatched doves but no riders came. Our Councilor departed two
weeks before the reaping, dispatched with an urgent message for the next
Council meeting. We expected word of his arrival but it never came. Father
feared the worst for his party, for the roads had been glazed with ice and
snow for days. Trade halted and we feared starvation. Then--"
	Adoran listened intently. Lanse pondered his next question.
	"How will we know if they are following us?"
	Adoran prepared his response carefully in his mind before he spoke
it aloud. He did not wish to alarm the young Lord or further add to his
unnaturally high levels of anxiety.
	"The dark wolves are natural enemies of the Stalker cats," Adoran
explained. "The twins will alert us if they catch a fresh scent. It seems
they find it an unmistakable odor."
	Lanse remained quiet for a moment; Adoran offered to speak to spare
the silence.
	"Stalkers are native to the Arishvale Mountains. That is precisely
why the wolves were imprisoned in that location. Whether they escaped or
were released--" Adoran sighed and adjusted his cloak.
	The twins twitched simultaneously as if something teased the silky
hair upon their backs. Misha looked around for a moment, then flicked his
ears against the cool touch of the winds before resting his heavy chin
delicately on Lanse's shoulder. Lanse, still weary of the giant cats,
suspected they shared in Adoran's discomfort.
	"They will no doubt find us if we do not leave this jungle behind
us soon, but we are safe for the time being," Adoran finished.
	"Where shall we go?" Lanse asked after he was certain Misha was not
going to gnaw on him. Meanwhile, the twins had resigned themselves to
sleep, Lanse assumed. Their eyes were shut tightly against the cold, dry
air.
	"My truthstone, among other items, has fallen from my robes. The
Council must be warned even if by feather. We must ride to Brandyshire."
Adoran swallowed to ease the dryness the cold had set in his throat, and to
further dispell his own disappointment at losing such precious items.
	"This night you must rest," he continued. "You are no doubt
unaccustomed to such harsh travel."
	Lanse sighed in defeat before responding.
	"Images haunt my mind. I doubt I will rest this night."
	Turning his head to look at Lanse for a brief moment, Adoran dared
a bare hand into the chilling air and clasped Lanse by the shoulder. Lanse
regarded Adoran with weary eyes.
	"The mind is powerful, but fatigue will ultimately win the
battle. Sleep easy, young Lord."
	"I'd sleep easier by a fire," Lanse said just as before. The cold
ground forced his arms tight against his chest, and the cloak toward his
face once more. Misha, at least, was providing him some warmth.
	Adoran recoiled his arm and pulled his hand back into the safety of
his cloak and robes.
	"No fires."

	Adoran had woke during the night several times, and each time he
discovered the frantic movements of the handsome young Lord beside him had
been the cause. He suspected, based on the cat's pinched eyes and lowered
ears, that Misha had grown equally irritated at being repeatedly
disturbed. Ashera seemed none-the-wiser and appeared peacefully unconscious
beside Adoran.
	Having been woken one too many times to suit his tolerance, Adoran
shifted slightly and began to stare intently at Lanse. He focused his
thoughts and allowed his mental abilities to surface. Reaching delicately
into the mind of the young Lord, Adoran cautiously weaved through fragments
of dreams, memories, and a haziness he had never before encountered. He
pushed slightly, but only slightly, to break through the fog and there he
found a well of cherished memories from Lanse's youth.
	He thumbed through the child-like images as one might an
uninteresting book before finally latching onto one he decided was
particularly unique. He pulled it gently to the surface of Lanse's
unconscious mind and with a spark, so to speak, it began to flourish with a
flash of vivid colors, incredible details, and soaring song. The memory
played in the forefront of Lanse's mind, shrouding the darker images that
had once consumed him. It was a simple memory brought to life in a
fantastic manner by Lanse's dreams.
	A lady in her late twenties, handsome and proud, sang a lullaby to
a very, very young Lanse. She wore a blue dress and a gold necklace. Her
pale skin complimented her jade eyes. She sang in a dark tenor that seemed
amplified by the stone walls of the bedchamber, and there was a tenderness
in her voice that touched even Adoran's heart in a way that he had never
experienced. Adoran could not understand the words of her song, only the
pitches that outlined the melody. He listened for a brief time, forgetting
for a moment the cold that had been washing over his body for far too
long. Then, he gently pulled himself from Lanse's mind and let the warmth
of the woman's song fade from his mind.
	Lanse's breathing calmed and the tensions plaguing his body began
to melt away. As expected, Lanse did not appear to detect Adoran's presence
in his mind. Adoran breathed deeply and allowed his mind the opportunity to
settle. At last, Lanse was still--calm.
	Adoran, however, seemed not so comforted of a sudden. He felt a
unique desire to learn more about what he had seen, to hear the song sung
in full, and to watch a handsome child calmly surrender to the depths of
sleep. It was a tempting opportunity he ultimately declined.
	"Fates be gracious," Misha mumbled half-asleep after establishing a
mental channel. "Had you not acted I certainly would have maimed him."
	Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Adoran heard Ashera's muted
laughter ringing faintly. Perhaps she was not asleep after
all. Nevertheless, the four could rest easier knowing the young Lord's
violent jolts had been subdued.
	Adoran smiled at Misha's dark humor, then he closed his eyes and
replayed what he had seen in Lanse's mind. The sweet, soaring song soon
ushered his tired mind toward a deep, restful sleep.

...

	"Mother, I'll be fine. I will."
	Evoran reassured Londa as he placed the caged dove and a satchel of
clothing into the back of the cart that was to take him to Mystvale. She
seemed less than convinced.
	Evoran did not want to leave. His brother's death had left the
family with a terrible loss and an equal burden. Leaving his mother and
youngest brother behind to serve as a pigeon, regardless of the message's
importance, left a sinking feeling in his stomach. They had once lost their
father, now a son and sibling. Evoran felt a feeling of cowardice creep
upon him.
	Still, he realized what must be done, especially if the contents of
the message brought to A'Menth Tara were indeed true.
	"I want to go!" Danel announced in frustration.
	"The noble cities are no place for you, Danel," Londa reminded her
youngest son. "They are dangerous and filled with deceitful, uncharitable
people."
	"But who will protect Ev?" the young boy cried in dismay. Evoran
smiled widely and Londa crouched to meet Danel eye to eye.
	"We have a lot of responsibility while your brother is away. I need
your help. I can't possibly manage all of this on my own." She motioned to
the direction of their village from the trade square where the three stood
. "We have things to market and a farm that needs tending." Londa put her
hands on Danel's shoulders to emphasize her words.
	"You need me to do chores."
	His bluntness, always in extraordinary supply, earned him a grin
from Londa. Evoran surprised even himself with a laugh at Danel's
comment. Danel frowned and tossed Evoran a warning look.
	"I'll be back before the moon is new, Dan. I Promise," Evoran
offered. He hoped his words would calm the young boy and reassure him that
he would miss nothing by remaining with their mother.
	"You never keep your promises," Danel stated boldly. "Only
Athyus. He's gone."
	The boy looked about at his surroundings as if he hoped to find his
oldest sibling hiding in a tree, or behind the cart which was to carry
Evoran to Mystvale. Then, he returned his gaze to his brother and his
mother.
	Evoran did not speak. Truthfully, he lost any words he might have
been preparing. Despite Danel's young age and lack of reason, his sharp
words still inflicted pain.
	"Ev will not break this promise," Londa, her eyes filling with
moisture, said in a trembling voice. "Will you?" She then turned to look
into Evoran's eyes.
	"No. I will deliver the dove to the Kings riders at Mystvale and
return home at once. You have my word." Evoran was looking at Danel, but
giving his word to both of them.
	Danel considered the situation carefully with his hands planted
firmly on his hips. Suddenly, the boy's rigid posture seemed to relax. His
shoulders lowered and he adjusted his mouth and eyebrows.
	"When you come back, the fields will need plowing," Danel stated
with certainty.
	"Yes, Dan. I believe you're right."
	Danel hugged Evoran around the waist, and Londa stood to kiss his
cheek. Evoran clung to his family as though he was being called to serve in
the King's army and may never return. Mystvale was not a terrible distance,
but Evoran still wished to remain in A'Menth Tara. There was so much to be
finished before the moon was new, and in his absence that burden would fall
to his mother.
	"...nobles and their trials..." Evoran thought with more than a
hint of disfavor.
	"Do not speak of the things we now know." Londa whispered into
Evoran's ear as she hugged him closely. "Not to rangers or traders, not
even the King's riders. Deliver the dove with the message as you found
it. Then disappear before they come for you." She handed him a small sack
of oats for the dove. "Do this, and only this."
	"Yes, Mother." Evoran smiled despite his want to stay and then
kissed his mother on her forehead.
	An elderly gentlemen, the owner of the cart by which they stood,
had returned from his errands and tossed a rough leather bag in the
back. The bag slammed into the ragged cage that held the dove and the tiny
creature flapped its wings madly and screeched in obvious shock and terror.
	The old man seemed to not notice, or perhaps not care, as that had
been a particular detail of the agreement--simple transportation, no
questions asked. He struggled to climb onto the cart and for a moment it
seemed the man's advanced years would see him tumble to the dirt.
	"All aboard!" the old man shouted much too obnoxiously before
turning to look at Evoran and his family.
	Danel starred at the man in dismay.
	"I'm bound for Mystvale. It's a week's worth of travel so scurry up
here, lad."
	The doubts Evoran had regarding his travel had never seemed so
apparent. Still, he held a calm expression. Londa, however, regarded the
old man and his cart, which was being pulled by a mule that had certainly
seen greener pastures and fairer years, with a look of worry on her face.
	Londa whispered, "Do not pay him until he delivers you to
Mystvale."
	Evoran nodded and smiled to ease her anxiety. He gave them both a
final hug before climbing into the cart and seating himself next to the
strange man.
	The man snapped the reins he held as if his mule was turning the
final corner of the King's Race instead of pulling an near-empty merchant
cart, and the old creature attached at their ends bayed as it struggled to
accelerate toward a steady canter.
	Evoran gave a final wave to his mother and brother before the cart
disappeared onto the trade route beyond the village. He hoped their journey
would be free of trouble and foul weather, and that the Fates would treat
his family kindly until he returned.

...

	Lord Roan Vyce turned a small, lustrous truthstone over and over in
his hands while starring absently at a wall in his chambers. A knock at his
door shook him from his consuming thoughts.
	"Enter."
	Sha Jin entered the chamber and closed the door softly behind her.
	"Lord Vyce," she said with a deep bow.
	"Lady Jin," he responded as he approached with a nod.
	"Please, I do not intend to disturb but I must ask: what news from
your brother in the south?"
	Roan looked to the stone in his hand and then back to Sha.
	"None, I am afraid." Roan began pacing. "I cannot see his location,
or touch his mind."
	Concern lined his response, and Sha's expression darkened with
anxiety.
	"What does this mean?" Sha began to pace along side him; it was an
odd dance for such close quarters.
	"Its meaning is uncertain, my Lady. He may have lost the stone,
which is unlikely, or-- "
	"Your brothers are strong, Roan. He is alive and well."
	Despite her noble attempt to comfort the young Gael N'Aem, she
sensed his continuing uneasiness and shared his fears.
	"I truly hope that he is, Sha. Winter storms in the south and tales
of Darklings roaming the wilderness-- These are stressful times." Roan
sat on the edge of his bed and gazed again at the pale blue stone in his
hand.
	"I am ever loyal to the Temple of the Sun," Sha reminded him. "Say
the word and I will dispatch my escorts to look for your brother."
	Her pacing had come to a halt and she now stood with clasped hands
before the young Councilor--her stiffness a cue to her trustworthiness.
	"Sha, that would leave you unprotected. I'll do no such thing. The
very thought of it is absurd."  Roan looked her solidly in the eyes, and
then stood and walked to a jeweled chest sitting near the head of his
bed. He placed the truthstone inside and closed the lid. A wave of his hand
commanded a concealed mechanism to seal the lid tightly with a "click."
	"What will you do, then?"
	"Wait." It was a simple, direct answer. "I've spoken with the
Temple. Riders from M'Lora departed this morning. They cross the Tussling
Flats as we speak."
	Sha sighed. The news was fortunate, but she disliked the idea of
waiting.
	"If your precious fortress weren't so isolated, your riders could
reach the City of Smiles in three days, Southland in little more than a
week."
	She glanced about the chamber and saw that the taper candles by the
door had all been spent. Opening a nearby cupboard, she procured two fresh
candles to replace them. Roan watched her intently. Her motherly mannerisms
painted the beginnings of a smile upon his face.
	"Indeed. If only we could alter the geography of the Great
Kingdom..."
	"Quite so. Yet, then we would have no need for even your noble
order."
	"Quite," Roan said after a moment.
	Lady Jin tossed the spent candle butts out the window of his
chamber. Roan raised a questioning brow at her as she folded her arms
before the window and gazed distantly into the streets and alleys below.
	"I'm tired of the rumors, Roan." Sha then sat calmly upon his bed
and adjusted her robes. "Tired of hearing 'what if' and 'how many,' and if
I hear the name Terrek Gok one more time, I may very well drink Nectar of
the Vilethorn."
	She sighed and began brushing the wrinkles from her brilliant,
purple dress--a habit Vyce had noticed the first time he met Lady Jin two
years ago. He laughed outright at her comment and took a seat at her side.
	"Nectar of the Vilethorn..."
	She looked at him and laughed a small, short-lived laugh. It was a
pleasant thing to see her smile again.
	"You remind me of myself when I was your age," she confessed.
	"Is that so?" Roan asked with disbelief in his wide eyes.
	"In many ways, yes," Lady Jin said with absolute certainty. "I was
always calm on the outside and a disaster on the inside--like
yourself. Smart and worldly, the first to bite, and always the last to
admit my constant anxiety."
	She looked to the window where the glimmering sunlight danced upon
the stone sill before continuing.
	"I often wonder if I've grown too old to play the game of faces."
	Roan thought for a moment, and caught Sha's attention when he
breathed to speak.
	"A few years after my abilities developed, I befriended another
charge at the Temple who later told me that he believed the true enemy of
humankind lay not in the fabric of our kingdom or beyond the waves of the
three seas. Instead, time is the force with which we must constantly
battle, for it is eternity within eternity, an ocean within an ocean, and
that we exist only as long as time will allow." Sha perked an eyebrow and
continued to listen intently.
	"As we grew older we became closer and I found myself quite
attached to my friend--trusting only him. When I came of age and had
proven I was worthy to travel by the Light of the Temple, he gifted me this
charm."
	Vyce pulled a copper charm from the folds of his robes. It was
round, roughly the size of a spending coin if not smaller, and plain by
every definition of the word. The short chain, from which it dangled
haphazardly, was spun of coarse wire of the same material.
	"He told me the charm would ensure I always found myself in the
proper place at the proper time, so that I may become more than a drop in
the ocean." Lady Jin smiled as she looked at the small, glimmering charm.
	"I was unaware that the Temple of the Sun educated its charges in
the philosophical arts."
	Roan smiled an embarrassed smile and tucked the charm back into the
safety his robes.
	Lady Jin rose to her feet and placed a hand on Vyce's
shoulder. Looking down at him as a concerned parent might, she said, "Let
us hope that we are all in the proper time and place, and that the
startling things we hear and see are not omens of darker times to come."
	Sha offered Roan a comforting smile and calmly exited the chambers
as quietly as she had entered. Roan walked to his jeweled chest to retrieve
the truthstone he had placed inside only minutes earlier, and then he
walked to the window. With an outstretched hand he exposed the stone to the
elements beyond the window and focused on it for several long moments. When
it began to glow he closed his first tight around its tiny form and pressed
it firmly to his forehead.
	"Riders of the north," he spoke with his eyes tightly shut. "Speed
and grace. My fears grow dark and time is racing against us."