The Great Darkening (Epic of Haven Trilogy) (36 page)

The crowd was ominously silent as they drank in the words of their Priest King. Ispen and Aspen, who were standing alongside Jhames there upon the barbican, nodded in eager agreement, while Chaiphus fixed his gaze upon the men that stood before him in the square.

Not all who were present so easily devoured the words that the Priest King spoke, for his speech dripped with flint-like piety and resounded with man-made resolve. Their Poetic hearts believed that his words might have misrepresented the often inexplicable intentions of the THREE who is SEVEN.

Cal stood alone in the crowd, looking around at the faces of his comrades, and wondered just how many gathered here would dare attempt to search for the true heart of the matter. He wondered if anyone even cared to hope that greater things lay beyond the Dark Sea, things brighter than mere timber.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, over in one of the recessed battlements on the wall east of the Southern Gate, Cal noticed a curious movement. The old Arborist named Engelmann stood there, but unlike the rest of his Arborist brothers, or the rest of the crowd for that matter, he was not reverently listening to the words of the Priest King. In fact, it looked as if he was having a whispered conversation with someone else altogether. His irreverence was a magnetic diversion to Cal’s already distracted mind. While the rest of the people bowed their heads and chanted the Priestly words, Cal’s curiosity kept him glued to the Arborist’s silently moving lips.

Who is he is talking to?
Cal thought to himself.
Doesn’t he know he could be arrested or worse for breaking the decorum of this holy ceremony?

The Priest King called for the people to kneel as he spoke the final blessing. Just as the crowd around him bent and lowered themselves to their knees, Cal saw who it was that the Arborist had been whispering to.

Michael?

It was at that moment that the eyes of the Arborist caught Cal watching him. Cal’s heart leapt inside his chest at the jarring sensation of being spotted. Engelmann held his gaze in a stare that did not completely communicate his intention, and Cal felt a flutter of nervous agitation rising inside of him.

As their silent glances were exchanged, the words of Jhames rang through the square of the village. “May your blades be ever sharp, and may your hearts be ever strong …”

Cal’s eyes flitted back to Michael as the Arborist nodded in unsurprised acknowledgement to whatever words his friend had just whispered to him. Michael’s face was sheer disbelief at Engelmann’s casual response. Quickly Michael turned and looked with a drowning desperation across the sea of faces gathered there, searching for the one face of his soon-departing friend.

When Michael’s eyes finally caught the stare of Cal’s, Cal could sense for the first time what their whispered conversation must have been about. Michael looked in wide-eyed amazement at his friend, and then quickly back to the Arborist, who had not taken his penetrating gaze away from Cal.

“May you pound the night, may your fires burn long,” rang the dynamic voice of the Priest King through the crowd of people.

Engelmann whispered three words to Cal from across the village square. “Seek the light.”

Cal saw his lips mouth the words and knew there could be no mistaking what they had been. He stared for a moment, letting the weight of the realization sink in. He then nodded in deliberate agreement to this Arborist friend of Michael’s. Cal tore his gaze away and scanned the kneeling crowd, hoping that no one had seen this whispered drama take place while the Priest King gave his blessing. Cal’s breath left his lungs when he caught the hardened face of Chaiphus staring darkly in the direction of Engelmann, and he knew at once that they had not gone unnoticed.

“May the darkness flee, and hope return. As you light the way, as you illuminate the earth!” Jhames eloquently concluded.

The gathered crowd all spoke in mumbled agreement. “May it be.”

In long-practiced unison, the women kissed one hand after the other, while the men and boys raised their flints to their lips. All that were present in the square of Abondale sealed the blessing of the Priest King with a superstitious kiss.

“People of Haven, these brave men of the first colony will set sail at amber’s first light. They will cross the black waters of the Dark Sea upon the labors of our great vision and our great work,” Jhames announced to the crowd. “Two ships have we dreamed into reality. They are the very embodiment of the pride and the spirit of our bright people.”

Two hunched scribes walked to the front of the crowd carrying a table suspended in-between two long poles of iron. Upon the table was a large form covered in a green, satin cloth. The scribes made sure that the table was set securely in place for the whole crowd to see.

“Our salvation has been brought forth by a great servant of Haven. Carina the shipwright has taken the vision that the THREE who is SEVEN gave to me and has crafted and created it right into the here and now to serve our holy purpose.” Jhames beamed with pride as the red-haired woman strode up to the covered table.

Carina wore a brown and blue bodice and dark colored pants, for there was no dress in all of Haven that she would submit to wearing. She carried her unbridled fearlessness and her sharp tongue in only the most practical sorts of garments. She was indeed an artisan, unique among all the women of Haven and certainly respected for both her gifts and her tenacity. Her love was for the mysteries held captive by the crashing waves and the cold deep of the Dark Sea. Her days and most of her silver nights were spent hewing keel and prow from whatever timber could be foraged, reclaimed, or spared. So when the time came for the Citadel to request her craftsmanship and her keen eye, she leapt at the opportunity to fashion whole stores and stockpiles of the choicest wood into the masterpieces of the new hope. Her blue eyes were lit with a lust for the deep, and her fair-colored face radiated pride for what her hands had helped to bring forth for her great city.

“Carina!” Jhames commanded her. “Unveil this representation of our people’s great resolve and determination!”

Carina took the green satin cloth in both hands and lifted it carefully away from the scaled replicas, revealing her creations to the gathered world. A collective awe fell over those assembled there in the square of Abondale as the two ships stood proudly before them. They appeared like sisters would, similar in size and in stature, but both uniquely different in personality.

The
Resolve
was a ship of two great masts, with three enormous amber sails that were emblazoned with the sigil of the flint. The rails of the ship’s deck were carved flames of wood, and at her keel was mounted one of the gilded first branches.

The
Determination
, though similar in size as well as capacity, was a ship of three smaller masts. Upon her masts were seven sails, woven in a silver fabric that reflected the light of the great tree in their shimmer. This ship was to be the lead ship, for she was built to be the swifter of the two. The
Determination
was also outfitted to house both the governor and his captains upon her sheltered deck.

Jhames smiled with a fatherly pride as the small replicas of his two great vessels were set on display as something tangible for his people to put their confidence in. The scene was playing out much like he had seen in his mind, so he addressed his people by giving voice to their small hope. “Tonight we feast in honor of these two great vessels. Tonight we drink and dance and hope, for tomorrow we board the very decks of our
Resolve
and
Determination
!” he shouted in charismatic exclamation. “For you have read and have heard it taught that the THREE who is SEVEN gives aid to those who first aid themselves. By the hands of Carina and by the strength of these brave men that you see here before you, we will finally garner his benevolent attention!” Jhames proclaimed with a pounding of his great scepter.

The gathered crowd erupted in cheers and shouts. Tears fell from the cheeks of the desperate, and steeled expressions sank deep into the lined faces of the resolute. The Priest King nodded to the Chancellor, passing the duty of the moment over to his second in command. Chaiphus walked next to Carina and took his place there next to the two replicas, raising his three fingers to quiet the crowd.

“In honor of both of these masterfully crafted devices of hope, and in honor of the great vision that the THREE who is SEVEN has given our bright Priest King … and with thanks to the bounty of the sea that has been sacrificed for our feasting,” he said with a touch of laughter to his words, “I command you, men and women of Haven, TO EAT!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

At the Chancellor’s command, the corks of the bubbly ciders were popped; musicians took up their lyres, lutes and fiddles, and loaf after loaf of fresh caraway bread was passed through the crowd. People began dancing and feasting upon the giant crabs, drinking the bubbly ciders and spiced ales with jubilant abandon. A line of men and little children formed around Carina’s table as they begged her to tell them more of the fashioning of her creation.

Cal scanned the feasting citizens for his old friend, but he could not seem to find him anywhere amidst the merriment and revelry. He was desperate to finish the conversation he had tried to have with him on the road here, for he could not leave his friend blind to the green-eyed evils that waited hungrily in the shadows. Farmers and fishermen, mariners and maidens alike turned their nervous worries into loud bursts of wine-loosened laughter and swirling, twirling dances. Cal weaved in and out of the enlivened crowd still searching for his friend, when suddenly a hand reached out of nowhere and grabbed his shoulder.

“And just where are you off to in such a hurry on this un-hurried day, my friend?” a voice asked him.

Cal spun around to see Yasen there, flagon in hand and smile on his face. “I am looking for Michael,” Cal shouted out above the noise of the crowd. “I still have much to tell him before we leave at amber’s first light.”

Yasen studied the anxious expression on the face of his friend. “I may have only one good eye at the moment, brother, but even I can see that there is more to this urgency than mere farewells.” He spoke before taking another long draught from his flagon.

Cal looked at the North Wolf, noticing now how the eye patch that Keily had sewn for him was worn like a badge of love and honor. Cal felt a sudden burden of emotions swelling up inside him, there in the midst of a throng of excitement. “I am afraid, Yasen,” Cal told him.

“Afraid, are you?” Yasen asked, a bit puzzled. “Afraid of what? I have seen you drag rotting corpses with your bare hands, I’ve seen you wrestle with a shadow cat, and I have even watched you charge head-first into a bear fight to rescue me from the green-eyed evil … but I have never seen you afraid, lad.”

“I am not afraid of what
we
will find,” Cal strained to make himself heard and understood. “I am afraid of what will happen to those we leave behind. I know that I must seek the light, the true light that the legends and prophecies speak of, but I am afraid of what that seeking might cost those I cannot stay to protect.”

Yasen thought hard about the words that his friend spoke, and his face sobered despite the effects of the ale. He knew well what it was that haunted Cal’s worried mind, for he had seen the green-eyed monsters and the unlit torches that burned and consumed the fragments of life from the dying forest. Yasen had seen the dragon’s teeth with his very own eyes, and had plucked the raven-fletched arrows from the chest of many a friend.

As the North Wolf stood there amidst the laughter and dancing of the people of Abondale, he thought of the brown-haired maiden that waited for him in the North, and the weight of Cal’s worried face encumbered his own face as well.

“Have you told anyone of the true nature of the evils we have seen?” Cal asked him.

“Armas knows. At least as much as anyone could know of such things without seeing them for himself,” Yasen replied. “Hollis told him that day in the tavern, though I suspect he thought Hollis had been too long in the North or in the drink to be taken seriously.”

“That is what I am afraid of, Yasen.” Cal looked away, scanning the crowd again for Michael. “That while we seek the light for Haven, we might return and find that the darkness has claimed her for its own.”

Cal’s eyes finally caught a glimpse of his dark-haired friend, and he ran after him, abandoning Yasen without another thought as he cut a determined swath through the crowd of celebrating people.

Yasen watched Cal as he ran. He held his flagon up to his lips to drink, but then stayed the ale and prayed a whispered prayer instead. “Oh Keily girl,” he murmured. “May the THREE who is SEVEN keep you safe, and may He give me swiftness to return to you before it is too late.”

“Where is he off to in such a hurry?” Armas shouted, approaching Yasen through the merriment around them.

Yasen looked at the newly corded captain, then took a swig of his ale. He breathed a surrendered sigh before he spoke. “He is off to warn those he loves of a great danger that is coming for Haven.”

“Don’t tell me that you believe in these …
dragons
?” Armas whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

“All I know is what I saw,” Yasen said grimly.

“Should I be worried then? We are safe here behind our high walls, not exposed to the evils and the elements like you woodcutters,” Armas reasoned. “Now, it seems to me that your young friend has set off to distress the citizens on a night when they should be celebrating with hope.”

“It is not his intention, nor mine, to distress anyone,” Yasen told the captain. “It is not worry or fear that we wish for you, friend.”

“Well, what is it then?” Armas asked, trying to keep the annoyance from creeping into his voice. “So far, all I have heard is an old man’s ghost stories and a strong man’s cryptic warnings. What would you have me do?”

“Be ready,” Yasen told him.

“Ready … for what?” Armas insisted.