Circle of Reign (41 page)

Holden reached out to the nearest inlet and retrieved a single scroll. “So brittle,” he said.

Ryall grabbed the torch and joined him. “What does it say?”

“I don’t know if we dare unroll it. It might not survive judging by how frail it feels.”

“Look.” Ryall pointed at the inlet from where Holden had taken the scroll. “It’s labeled with a glyph.” Engraved into the base of the rock inlet was indeed a symbol of some create. “I don’t know it. Is it Sentharian? Oh, here’s another on this inlet!” Ryall moved from inlet to inlet, noticing the glyph at the base of each one and then moving on enthusiastically. “I can’t make them out. Can you read them?”

“No,” Holden said with ice in his voice. “We have to get out of here.”

“What? Why? We just got here!”

“Now, Ryall! We have to leave!” His voice quavered.

Ryall turned to face Holden. “If you’re scared about getting in trouble, I think it’s a little late for that.”

Holden turned and started heading toward the exit. Ryall grabbed his robe and stopped him. “What is it?” he demanded, flummoxed by his friend’s lack of fascination with their discovery.

“We can’t read the glyphs, Ryall, but I know what they are.”

Ryall had a bemused look on his face. “And?”

Holden turned pale as he said, “Hardacheon.”

They had placed the stones and rocks back into position as best as could be expected in their hurried frenzy. In such a remote portion of the basement, it seemed unlikely anyone would notice the
breach unless a close inspection was undertaken. Someone would have to know exactly what to look for and where. They tried to convince themselves that they were safe, but a feeling of apprehension remained with them.

In the days following, Ryall meandered through the monastery in a type of trance, paying no attention to his studies or duties. Holden seemed much the same. They barely spoke, not even to each other. But they shared several knowing looks that conveyed much about how they were both feeling. Though he could tell Holden was shaken from the experience, Ryall could not stop thinking about the discovery and all that existed in the underground cavern.

“Let it be,” Holden had warned him. “Put it out of your mind.” Perhaps it was the risk that tempted Ryall to return to the cavern, or even just the thought of an adventure—although trolling around in an ancient library of sorts had never crossed his mind as
adventurous
before.

“What harm could there be?” Ryall had replied. “No one ever goes to those parts—”

“You don’t know that.”

“We barely made it a few feet inside before turning into cowards. There’s so much there we could explore!” Ryall pleaded with Holden to return with him during the night, but Holden was firm.

“We can’t go back!” Holden exclaimed. “Those were Hardacheon records, Hardacheon relics! Don’t you get it? Haven’t you paid attention at all? All the writings teach of the Hardacheon Influences, the evil they wrought upon this land. By the Ancient Heavens, it’s one of the main reasons the Changrual were brought here during the invasion. They had to exterminate the Dark Influences that were in this land or victory would have been lost. Every bit of the Hardacheon culture and teaching was destroyed. This is basic history!”

“Oh?” his friend replied. “Then what, pray tell, are all those Hardacheon relics and scrolls doing down there?”

“Listen, Ryall, I know you. I know this is unbelievably tempting to you. But you gotta let it be. We can’t risk being in that room. I don’t just say this because we could be caught, but we don’t know what lurks there, what Influences are there. Has it occurred to you that it was sealed off for a reason?”

“How did you know those glyphs were Hardacheon?” Ryall asked with a hint of accusation. “And don’t tell me I should pay attention more in class. I looked through all our study scrolls. There is no mention, much less examples, of Hardacheon glyphs.”

“I don’t know. It was a guess,” Holden said.

“Liar! You knew right away! I saw it on your face. You forget we had the same nursemaid growing up, Holden. I can read you just as well as you can read me.”

Holden looked away and appeared pensive. Finally he said, “I just knew, okay? I can’t explain it to you.” Looking back up at his friend he continued sternly, “And before you get carried away with your crazy ideas, it’s not because I’m a Hardacheon in disguise or have some secret ability to read ancient languages. It was just a feeling.” Holden looked down and said more softly, “It was actually a rather cold feeling. The same feeling I would get when your dad would tell us those scary legends of Hardacheons from long ago when we were younger.”

Ryall did not continue to press his friend, but his mind refused to let go of the possibilities. He could not find much sleep in the nights that followed as his mind toiled with the temptation to revisit the cavern. Finally, he made his decision.

Two days and a half span after discovering the cavern, Ryall snuck out of his chamber past midnight, careful not to wake Holden. He had retired that night in his robe so that he would not have to dress when the time came. One advantage of their five-day-long punishment to clean the monastery was that Ryall knew the place better than even some of the Vicars, he suspected. He wouldn’t need a torch to find his way. He brought one nonetheless, but would not light it until he was in the cavern. He double-checked that his flint and striker were in his pocket.

Ryall made his way slowly down the steps, concentrating on silence. He ran his hand along the wall once in the basement chambers until his fingers detected the change in the surface. He stopped and tested a few rocks. They were loose.

Ever so carefully, he removed the stones and rocks they had broken free from the mortar on his previous visit. He dared not stack them in the dark for fear of accidentally knocking them over and drawing attention, even at this late hour.

Once through the opening, he took the concealed torch from his robe and lit it with his flint and striker. He squinted against the flame’s light until his sight adjusted fully. The magnitude of the cavern once again struck him. The number of honeycomb inlets was dizzying to behold. Ryall had no idea where to even begin, which meant it didn’t matter where he started.

Taking his torch, he inspected dozens of the inlets, mostly studying the glyphs. They were indecipherable to him but this did not stop him from continuing to stare at them, memorizing them as best he could. He cursed himself for not bringing ink and parchment to copy down the ancient symbols. He hoped his brain would cooperate and later recall the few he committed to memory.

He penetrated deeper into the giant space. The sound of dripping water from the prevalent stalactites produced a random cadence that accompanied his wandering. He sampled a few scrolls here and there, opening only the ones that felt durable enough. Materials of all create were used, from parchment to animal hide to copper. He even discovered a vertical stack of large obsidian tablets leaning against a far wall. They would have blended in seamlessly to the blackness, their color a natural camouflage in this grotto, save for the shimmering reflection the torchlight produced against their polished surface.

These appear to be Archiver tablets
, Ryall thought.
Why are they stored here?
Technically the Jarwyn Mountains were part of the Eastern Province where he came from, although the Archivers who lived high near their peaks enjoyed a level of autonomy, having predated the Senthary.

He looked closer and became excited.
The writing is Sentharian!
At the top of each tablet was a symbol. Though he couldn’t decipher them, he knew the style well enough by now to know for sure that they were Hardacheon. Despite the foreign glyphs at the top of each tablet, the body of the text on the great obsidian slabs was most definitely Sentharian. A curious thought occurred to Ryall as he walked past dozens of rows of the slabs, all lined up edge to edge in this far part of the underground chamber.
Perhaps it’s a filing system of sorts
. He looked more closely at the glyphs on each tablet, feeling the chiseled grooves with his fingers. Finally, he came to one he recognized, one of the few he had memorized. Under the glyph at the top he saw written in Sentharian:

The Chronicled Era of Tyre Wellyn

18-27 Years After Unification

He counted seven tablets from front to back in this row, all leaning up against one another. It was no small effort to retrace some of his steps and find the inlet with the matching glyph. He counted the number of scrolls that lay in the inlet. Seven.

He returned to the row of obsidian tablets and pondered for a few moments. He stepped to the right, to the next row of tablets.

The Chronicled Era of Oliver Wellyn, the Second of his Name

27-61 Years After Unification

Fingering the glyph on the top of the first tablet in this row, he brought the torch close enough to distinctly make out the symbol. It looked like two oblong circles, one above the other and slightly to the left. They overlapped diagonally and a horizontal line pierced the intersection of the circles. After memorizing it, he counted the number of tablets in this row. Only four. He searched the inlets around where he’d matched the prior glyph, quickly finding it. In the alcove with the matching glyph lay four rolled scrolls. A chill ran up and down Ryall’s spine.

He returned again to the row of tablets that claimed to be the record of Oliver the Second and stepped left two rows.

The Chronicled Era of Oliver Wellyn, the First of his Name

The Invasion of the Senthary and Defeat of the Hardacheon People

The Fall of House Kearon and Rise of the Realm

6 Years Before Unification
—
18 Years After Unification

For hours, Ryall read. He continued well past first moon, into the early hours of the new day. He carefully hefted tablet after tablet to the side when he had completed reading one and went excitedly to the next. Finally, the torch diminished beyond useful light. Ryall cursed himself for not bringing a second torch, but realized it was probably best as the sun would surely be rising soon.

I must bring back a stack of parchment to take rubbings
, he thought excitedly. So immersed was he in his discovery that he never saw the dark figure approach him from behind. A hand cloaked in shadow reached out for Ryall.

TWENTY-NINE

Reign

Day 27 of 1
^st
Dimming 412 A.U.

REIGN DID REMEMBER HER FATHER.
Perfectly, in fact. She had found no nepenthe that could put a shroud upon her memory of him, though not for lack of trying. She remembered as a youngling how he had taught her to listen in the forest, to truly listen. To
feel
. She could recall with clarity the first time her ears were opened and the shock of sensing so many things at once, so much life. It was overwhelming, but fascinating and addicting in the way a child is attracted to playing with fire. Thannuel had rocked back with laughter at seeing the innocent surprise upon Reign’s face as she pulled her hand back rapidly from the Triarch tree. She couldn’t have been more than half the age innocence.

“Now, this time,” Thannuel coaxed, gently taking his daughter’s hand, “place your hand flush against the trunk. Try to make your whole palm touch the bark. The palm is the most sensitive part. When the vibrations come don’t pull back. They can’t hurt you. Focus and single something out.”

“Like what?” Reign asked. Thannuel could see she was still a little shaken from the onslaught of vibrations she had just taken in. A wood-dweller first learning to speak with a tree could feel as if ten thousand voices were yelling out at once for attention.

“Something small and simple,” her father answered.

“What’s that?” she asked again.

Thannuel smiled at his daughter. “You’ll see. If Hedron can do it, you can too.”

She looked up at Hedron, who stood a few paces off, for moral support. His arms were folded with a condescending look upon his face. “Not likely,” he mused. “She’s just a girl.”

Hurt, Reign looked back at her father. He glanced disapprovingly at Hedron and then whispered to Reign, “Hedron screamed and turned white as a she-goat when he first tried.” Reign giggled and looked back up at her brother. Seeing her amusement at his expense, Hedron dropped his arms to his side and protested, “Father!”

Thannuel just laughed with Reign. After a moment, he comforted Hedron. “You did fine, son.”

Turning back to Reign, he asked, “Ready?”

“But why a Triarch, father? Why not an elm, or oak?”

“All trees of the West can speak, Reign. We say
speak
, but the trees are more of a conduit to hearing and feeling what’s around us. A Triarch is the most sensitive tree we know. It’s more…” Thannuel paused as he considered the right word. “Fluent,” he finally said.

“What’s a conduit?” Reign persisted.

“Something that allows you to sense other things through it, like feeling movement in the forest through this Triarch.”

“What’s fluent?” Reign asked. Thannuel’s face formed a half-smile as he caught on to his daughter’s delay tactic.

“No more questions. Now, are you ready?”

She shuddered and nodded nervously, letting her father move her hand back to the mighty Triarch, probably a thousand years old. Reign took a breath and held it. She extended her hand, palm out, and laid it against the trunk once more with her father’s hand over hers. The rush was again overwhelming, causing her to grimace from the discomfort. Her father whispered encouragement to her, gently but firmly keeping her hand against the tree.

“Focus,” he whispered. “Open your mind and let the vibrations flow through you. Become a channel, a pathway.”

“A conduit,” she mumbled, her eyes closed tightly. As Reign struggled with the effort, she felt movement in the streets of Calyn. Purchasers at market with the traders; an argument over the price of the day’s catch from the Roniah River; a mother scolding her youngling for wandering too far; hunters several leagues north tracking deer; fowl of some create building a nest above the canopy; soldiers back at the hold in training, Aiden’s voice bellowing out commands as they worked through different kata; a family of squirrels gathering acorns for the winter in an oak tree nearby.