In Hyval's Wake: Keepers' Garden Trilogy, Book Two

IN HYVAL’S WAKE

KEEPERS’ GARDEN TRILOGY, BOOK TWO

Eric A. Gnospelius

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

In Hyval’s Wake

Keepers’ Garden Trilogy, Book Two

Copyright © 2012 by Eric A. Gnospelius

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4697-9629-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4697-9630-7 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 3/26/2012

CONTENTS

WHAT HAS COME BEFORE

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

EPILOGUE

IN HYVAL’S WAKE

First, the Archon, his bright red eyes presenting the malice in his soul.

Then his companion, the woman whose machinations would melt iron.

The Shiryan was the most dependable and logical being I have ever met. Yet what it wants is at odds with the entire human race.

To the left sat the Mauruten. The rock, the honor of the group.

And then the strongest of us; that indomitable, incoercible man who would rend all of existence in the name of perfection.

Finally, you. Star-crossed for all the ages. I fear I will never be able to truly express my sense of loss.

- Passage uncovered during the excavation of Old Hivnem

WHAT HAS COME BEFORE

Iyennya turned to Darvin. When exactly did this all begin?

To what do you refer, my love?

Aralon’s…episodes. How did they develop?

Ah. Those. Darvin took a sip of his tea. They started while we were in the South, at the beginning of the civil war. Aralon and I were ordered to rendezvous with a unit whose Spirit Knight had gone missing. Tynault Atanvara was the man’s name.

I never knew him.

Darvin shook his head. That detail is of no real matter. Aralon, his…anger…was beginning even then. I have known him for so long, and I have tried to understand why he chose not to share his situation with me. Still, I fail.

He did not want to chain you to his burdens.

Regardless, we moved forward. We joined with the abandoned command, and were set upon by an Imperial force soon after. There was a battle. Aralon ended it by accepting the enemy request for An’ach Tur. He won the duel, but his anger took him for a moment after its conclusion. I had thought it simply to be a consequence of the battle.

You could not have known.

But I should have. I should have sensed something was wrong, even then. From there, we brought our unit to Yas Amin. We met Kiyana there, still fresh on her journey from the Mists. And we also interacted with the late Desaru Garennon. He took Aralon’s men, and sent us alone on a mission to infiltrate Almach Tur.

The ash walker you encountered. When was that? Iyennya asked.

A few days after we left Yas Amin, Darvin replied. Along the road to Almach Tur. That insect thing would have taken us if it had not stumbled into our camp already half-crippled. It was during this time Aralon began having his strange dreams of that Andrin woman. I believe her communications still confound him.

They confound us all.

Darvin nodded. Then we reached Almach Tur. The Imperials were still testing entrants to the city, but we passed through without issue, and set to learning about the course of events. Aralon and I separated that first evening, which spurred a chain of events. Kiyana drew too much attention in the inn’s common room, forcing Aralon to wander the city with her. And I came to the prison, to your rescue.

Iyennya smiled. Which I am sure you will remind me of regularly for the rest of our days.

Perhaps, Darvin answered with a grin. I met Jinn at the entrance there. Our group and Aralon were both attracted to the King’s Gate when it was activated. And it was there that we had the confrontation with Salinar Gederin, the face of the Imperials.

When Aralon bathed the entire square in fire, Iyennya said quietly.

Darvin nodded. Aye. That was the first time his anger took him fully. The rest of the events you saw with your own eyes. We retook the palace, learned about the Dregus Antonesius entity that had been influencing Aralon’s mind, and then we were married.

Iyennya shook her head. Still so many questions. Why did the Imperials put up so little resistance when we retook Almach Tur? When will Aralon fulfill his pledge and leave with Kiyana to the Mists? And above it all, how will we maintain some semblance of order within the Garden?

It is hard to know what the future will bring.

Yet we walk forward, and turn the page on the future, Iyennya replied.

PROLOGUE

ONE AMONG MANY

And so it was, daughters. The elderly Great Mother removed her hand from the lip of the podium and closed her book. She looked out at the class of girls who would be All-Mothers. Her attention was drawn to a smoldering torch along the left wall and she gestured towards it.

A nearby student stood and used their link to rekindle the flame.

Good, child, the Great Mother coached. Her eyes oscillated with exhaustion. Now then. My lecture is concluded. I await your questions.

The audience was silent. Some of the students looked thoughtful, while others leaned back in their chairs. They had differing priorities. Those only a few months from Attainment were the most attentive, learning all they could before being sent out to shepherd their own temples. Those with a few years remaining did not exhibit the same sense of urgency.

A hand rose from the back row – one of the oldest girls. She was sixteen years of age and very near her Attainment.

The Great Mother gestured for her to speak.

Great Mother, I intend the utmost respect. The girl looked to the floor and dragged her toe against the stone. But these words you have read…they cannot possibly be truth. No other text echoes their sentiments. In fact, this reading puts forth several glaring contradictions.

The Great Mother’s lips twisted into her version of a frown, and she tapped her foot on the leg of her stool. I told you before we began that the Word of the Keepers was contained within this text – the Word of Aialiss, no less. And what does that mean, daughters?

The Word is truth, echoed from the class.

The Great Mother nodded.

The girl furrowed her brow. But this account speaks against several of the other texts we have studied, Great Mother. It even contradicts the other fragments of Aialiss’ own writings. How can they both be truth?

A murmur came from the class. The Great Mother let it linger for a few moments before gesturing for the group to quiet. Then she smiled. Daughters, our lesson for today is over. Kyla and I must speak alone.

The other girls exchanged nervous glances and rose from their seats. Many held pity for Kyla, but not quite enough to make themselves part of the proceedings. They shuffled out from the temple basement and back up the stairs with only quiet whispers and stolen glances.

I could simply answer your questions, Kyla, but that would make me an ineffective teacher. So instead, I ask you to reason this problem on your own. How can this text be contradictory to other pieces of his word and yet still be truth?

Kyla thought for a moment. Truth is subjective, based on perception. That manages to explain the differences between the various Keepers’ texts…but in this instance, Aialiss self-contradicts! Either I have misjudged the meaning of his words, or one of his writings is a falsehood.

Logic becomes you, daughter. Where do you find these contradictions?

In the Book of Helvenia, it is said the Garden is free of all true evils – that the Keepers paid their price for such a reward. Sufficient detail is present to make me believe Helvenia wrote the truth.

But you said Aialiss contradicts himself?

Kyla nodded. The Sacred Text of Aialiss disagrees with his Book. In his Book, he describes how the Keepers will protect the Garden for all time, but in the excerpt you read from his Sacred Text, he claims their works are limited…that eventually, someone will need to step forward and remake their legacy. Kyla huffed with exasperation. He presents a floral view for the public and another, darker version of events to be passed on by his servants in the temples. How can we possibly discern the truth when our Gods have spoken against themselves? She slumped in her chair. I feel lost.

So you disagree with the Sacred Text of Aialiss, then?

Kyla shook her head. I cannot say, Great Mother, but I do feel that the Sacred Text disagrees with the Holy Book in a way that logic cannot reconcile. I must be missing some detail that links the two. Hundreds of women have reviewed these writings over the centuries, and it would be foolish to think I would be the first to discover the inconsistency.

Humility shows strength, daughter. But you are logical, and are capable of working through this conundrum. For what reasons could these texts disagree?

Kyla tapped her fingernails against the arm of her chair. Her eyes danced about as she thought. Another author could have penned one of the books, imitating Aialiss’ writing. She paused. Or…well…it is difficult to say. What is your opinion, Great Mother? You must certainly have wrestled with these questions before.

I have. But I do not wish to taint your thoughts with mine. I would like to hear you make your own conclusions.

I…I do not know what to think. This is why I ask.

The Great Mother took a deep breath. Then let us assume, as you suggest, that an impostor wrote Aialiss’ Sacred Text. Who would it have been? When, and for what purpose?

Kyla thought for a moment. As to when, it would be sometime after the Ascension. The forger would have required Aialiss’ writings as a source. But who would have reason to do such a thing? Perhaps someone wrote the darker version for use as political leverage within the temple, or it may have been drafted to market as fiction and earn a good bit of coin. Really, it is impossible to determine, unless another writer could be identified as stylistically similar.

I have traveled that path of research, daughter, and it has led to nothing. We have too few texts from the past.

So it is unlikely that the document is forged, Kyla said.

The Great Mother nodded. So it would seem. Or, if it is forged, we will never be able to prove it.

Kyla frowned.

What other explanations can you see?

Kyla did not respond.

Let us begin again and reexamine the facts. You first identified that the Sacred Text of Aialiss disagreed with the Book of Helvenia, and then added that the Sacred Text is contrary to the Book of Aialiss regarding the issue of fallibility. Where else does the Sacred Text contradict the Keepers’ works?

The most notable occurrence is in the accounts following the last battle. The Book of Aialiss states the Keepers’ Barrier will protect the Garden from all true evil. But the Sacred Text argues the evils have been spread throughout us all…implying that they infect the Garden at this very moment. Kyla shook her head. I find it difficult to believe such a dark claim when every other teaching we have disagrees.

The Great Mother was quiet for a moment. Difficult to believe does not mean impossible. Your tone tells me you find some credence in the words, daughter?

Kyla nodded. They…have their own logic. The events contained explain some of the nature of humanity, why we have both murderers and decent folk, corrupt politicians with the honest ones. It all depends on how much of this Shiryan Lord, this Dregus Antonesius, they carry within. Kyla shook her head violently and shuddered. But how can that be? The Keepers would never have cursed us like this!

You near a conclusion, daughter. Do not let fear or repulsion halt you.

But I cannot believe such an idea! When all of the other works speak otherwise, the words you just read must somehow be false.

The Great Mother sighed. Then you may return to your room. If you have further questions or thoughts on the matter, please find me and I will do the best I can to help you reach answers.

Kyla’s eyes sunk to the floor. She waited for a moment, hoping the Great Mother would change her mind or offer some additional guidance. When only silence followed, Kyla rose and trudged out of the room.

The Great Mother returned to the podium to tidy up from class. She closed the Sacred Text of Aialiss and returned it to its wooden case, then pulled down the lid. She lingered, fingering the rune carved into the teak.

Footsteps echoed from the outer corridor and the Great Mother jerked her attention upward. Kyla stood in the doorway.

I…I cannot… Kyla took a moment to regain herself. What if all else is the lie, Great Mother? What if this Sacred Text is the only truth we have, a truth Aialiss wanted hidden because of its danger?

What if, daughter?

It would mean…that he knew things the other Keepers did not. And it would mean that we, the temples…we must bear a greater burden than I once thought.

The Great Mother smiled more broadly than Kyla had ever seen before. Daughter, I believe you are ready for Attainment. And someday, should you desire and work for it, I could see you making an excellent Great Mother.

Kyla beamed, but shook it off quickly. But if the Sacred Text of Aialiss is the only full truth we have, then war will eventually return, war on a scale we cannot begin to imagine.

The Great Mother sighed and stroked Kyla’s cheek with her fingertips. That it will, daughter. And the Keepers’ faithful must be ready when it arrives.

CHAPTER 1

CUTTING BLOOD

A wide circle of six-foot boulders marked the edges of the camp’s gating grounds. The surrounding land was sucked so dry of the Foundation that most of the rock had long ago turned to dust, and dust to ash – scorched by the relentless sun until nothing of substance remained. Juxtaposed against the flat, lifeless plains were towering clusters of cavern-riddled mesas. It was a stark place. Peaceful. Such were the wastes.

Even with the ash, remnants of civilization lingered nearby. Ruined buildings were visible in the distance, and several trails of footsteps traced to and from the gating grounds.

Screams of air broke the silence. A pulsing black tear formed in the center of the circle of stones, growing in violent pulses until it was as large as a man. It receded as quickly as it had formed, leaving Hyval Mittel in its place. Hyval was not a particularly large man, only of middling height and medium build, but his eyes could pierce stone. Raven-dark hair hung in thin strands down to his shoulders.

The lengthy jumps no longer disoriented Hyval to the degree they used to, but his mood was sour just the same. Andrin’s blood had spattered the first two fingers on his right hand, exuding smells of iron and spite, and his back still ached from having been slammed against the ashstone wall within the Spire of Balance. He brushed a few locks of hair away from his eyes and surveyed the area, deepening his frown when he spied the short man waiting for him, leaning against one of the boulders.

I assume your meeting went well, the short man began, grinning as if smiles were daggers.

Hyval mumbled an unintelligible reply and began a walk towards the only intact building in sight, a massive flat-roofed structure stuffed between two of the many nearby mesas.

The short man straightened his posture and quickly followed, like a lapdog with his master. You returned quickly, the man said. I came to the grounds as soon as I learned of your departure, and you reappeared within minutes. I assume the Council agreed to pursue our second –

It was not discussed, Tynault.

Tynault furrowed his brow. Why not?

Hyval did not turn to face him, nor was there additional conversation until the pair was well into the shadows of the mesas. The entry doors to the adjoining structure were nearly two stories tall, iron monstrosities much too large even for a kingdom’s show of supremacy. Their hinges groaned with several thousand years of pain as they swung into the cavernous hallway beyond.

Hyval directed his palm at the ground and his eyes began to glow. A swirling breeze kicked up in the entry. He cupped his other hand and a small red flame encased within a translucent barrier formed in his grip. He released it. The ball ignored gravity, floating a few feet above the ground, and began a slithering journey down the hall. Hyval followed.

Tynault Atanvara, the short man, remained at the doorway. There is blood on your hands. I can smell it. You have somehow managed to anger our Lord.

Hyval whirled, flaring the dark cloak he used as protection against the frequent dust storms of the wastes. One would have expected an incident given the tension, but Hyval’s stare was sufficient to send his counterpart curling away in disgust.

I will not apologize. I was merely making an observation, Tynault defended.

My mood is not primed for your observations. After a pause for added weight, Hyval resumed his walk along the hulking corridor and threw his voice to the ceiling. I swear to whoever hears me, your mind twists that need for acceptance of yours into a desire that defies all comprehension. I imagine it will one day prove to be your end.

Tynault formed a crooked smile that showcased his wide set of teeth. An odd choice of words. If anyone twists words and meanings, it is you. Tynault’s smile faded as he realized his barb had gone ignored. His eyes darkened. Being at odds with yourself seems to be the very definition of twisted. So your time is also limited, as our Lord does not tolerate insubordination.

Hyval turned on his heels, taking two deliberate steps to bring himself nose to forehead with Tynault. Neither do I.

Tynault’s smile returned. Nor should you, yet insubordination comes all the same.

Hyval thrust his palms forward and pushed Tynault so hard that the small man flew into the far wall. Hyval pursued, grabbing the chest of Tynault’s armor before the smaller man was able to emerge from his daze.

Hyval opened his mouth to speak, but was overwhelmed by the wave of anger that burned inside his thoughts. The antithesis lurking inside his mind took the opportunity presented by strong emotion and flooded into control. In the past, Hyval had been able to choose when and where to let Dregus Antonesius speak, but he now slipped in and out at will.

Eyes of steam and ice opened to Tynault, forcing the small man’s smirk into retreat. It only took a fraction of Hyval’s new strength to scoop Tynault a few inches off the ground and allow their conversation to finally take place eye-to-eye.

The vermin who is permitted to scavenge first should exceed my expectations in exchange for the privilege of service, Hyval boomed in a voice slightly deeper than his norm. That should be your one and only guidance for behavior. He ground his teeth audibly during the pause, unconcerned with damaging the toothy smile of a temporary body.

Lord Antonesius, Tynault said, bowing his head as far as he was able with Hyval’s fists pressed against his neck. I wished to speak with you. The vessel is sometimes unwilling to pass you through, so I am forced to take extra measures of antagonism. I only require a few words.

Hyval’s tight, iron frown loosened and he released his grip on Tynault, returning the small man to the ground. You may have your words in a moment. For now, let us speak of the ways in which you can demonstrate your continued and unwavering commitment to me.

I wished to talk about –

We will speak of the slowing of my reconstruction. Where are the other vessels?

We will find them. Soon.

Hyval’s eyes began to roll back in their sockets, but a firm blink saw them returned. His cheeks tightened into Dregus’ version of a smile. This vessel can be difficult, but also most helpful the seldom in which he stands in agreement.

Tynault shook his head. Master, I have –

My priorities are not yours. Explain the failure of Salinar Gederin. Why was the Gate never brought into operation?

Our Imperials lost control of Almach Tur before the gate could be activated. I wished to speak about the repercussions.

It is good you did not lie to me. I have eyes that saw events transpire firsthand.

Tynault paused for only a moment. We must retake the city, and the gate, he replied. It would only take a handful of these students to recruit a new army of fodder from Maythiene, or Litheria. From there, we can march on Almach Tur.

Hyval sighed. Your plan sounds loose, and the gaps reek of folly.

You discredit too hastily.

What would you prefer? Hyval leaned forward so his face was only inches from Tynault’s. Allow you to waste additional time with ideas that fail to bring results? Again Hyval’s eyes rolled back, though this time his jaw gaped and his throat uttered a sound as if he was being choked.

My Lord?

Hyval tightened his cheeks. The vessel pounds at his own gates. He will eventually make breach, but not yet.

Still, my Lord, so much work has been put into the gate. It would be a waste to restart elsewhere. Using Maythiene or Litheria as a base of operations would allow us two benefits. First, additional vessels can be harvested while we raise our army. And second, since we will still retake Almach Tur after a siege, we will not have to restart construction on the gate.

Hyval was silent.

You have another idea, Lord?

How many soldiers will it take to assault Almach Tur?

As opposed to a siege? Tynault asked. Incredulity leaked through his tone.

Hyval nodded.

Not more than a few thousand. The Liberation may have retaken Almach Tur for the royals, but the civil war has weakened their military. And their Spirit Knights are no match for our students.

I would assume not. These Spirit Knights are limited by the very people they claim as saviors.

The Keepers, Tynault scoffed. I cannot believe that I once –

Do not waste my precious time with your regalements of the past. Explain your plan further.

Yes, Lord. I mentioned Litheria and Maythiene as potential bases. Litheria would be the preferred location. The city is still rife with Imperial supporters, and I intend to corral these people and put them to better use.

But my essence is not strong in Litheria. You will go to Maythiene.

Maythiene?

Hyval’s face darkened. You question my judgment?

No, my lord. It is just…Maythiene is not as large of a city as…I…my Lord, I apologize, I will go to Maythiene. While there, I will gather what supporters I can for the coming assault on Almach Tur.

Hyval paused. Indeed. No matter how I choose to move forward, we will still need followers gathered. Proceed as discussed until we are able to speak again.

Of course, my lord. But I would like to speak to you of another plan. One I have researched, I –

Hyval’s eyes rolled back in his head and returned, cooler, calmer, yet showing great concern. He and Tynault stared at each other in silence.

Of what did you speak? Hyval asked.

Tynault shook his head with pity and resumed his walk down the corridor, towards the large opening of sunlight at its end.

Hyval followed.

The hall opened to the main of the camp. Partially reconstructed ruins dotted the landscape. The city looked half-broken, augmented with warts of stone. Temples with new roofs and attached wooden stalls now served as stables, while a former home churned with the machinery of magic, pumping sewage far enough away from the camp to remove the acrid smell. These were only a few of the many structures within the mesa-encircled enclosure. There was sufficient infrastructure to house several hundred people, if not bordering on a thousand.

But the camp was by no means full. Only a handful of people were visible, moving about in small, close-knit packs. Those who conversed nearly always had matching colored bands of cloth tied around their arms. Most wore green and the remainder wore gold.

A lecture was taking place in a clearing between the buildings. A large woman with a golden armband spoke to a group of about a dozen others who also had gold cloth tied to their arms.

Tynault smiled as a young, dark-haired, buxom woman approached, bear hugging several pieces of leather armor and two swords wrapped in a long robe. Her eyebrows were thin, and her skin dry from the environment of the wastes. Deep green eyes provided the sparkle that the rest of her outward appearance did not.

You are late, she said, laying her load atop a nearby ashstone. Gharina has extended her Foundation work to compensate.

I was indisposed, Tynault replied. My apologies, Shareve.

The woman smiled slyly and pulled the pauldrons from her pile of equipment, pausing to untangle one of the straps from the tie of the robe. She stepped behind Tynault and wrapped her arms around him, strapped the armor onto his shoulder, and then dragged her hand suggestively across his neck as she moved to his other side. She whispered something in his ear that Hyval could not hear. Whatever it was, it made Tynault chuckle.

She went back to the pile to grab two identical sheathed blades, and then handed the weapons to Tynault by their hilts. He hung them from the loops in his belt. Once they were snugly fastened, Shareve draped the crimson robe over Tynault’s shoulders and gave him a sensitive kiss on the cheek.

All seemed within norms for such an exchange, yet Hyval burned. What are you doing with those? he asked, pointing at the two swords hanging from Tynault’s hip. They matched the blade Hyval carried. Why do you have two First Swords? Hyval only allowed a second for response before he surged forward and grabbed Tynault by the neck of his robe. He shot a glance over the short man’s shoulder at Shareve. Where did you get the second blade? From the memorial?

Shareve took two steps back and directed her eyes towards the ash. Lord, both First Swords are his. Do not force me to disagree.

If not her, then you, Hyval said. Those blades were meant to stay in stasis, in memory of our former brothers who never learned the truth. They are neither yours nor mine to disturb. Whose did you take? Tynault was silent, so Hyval shook him. Whose did you take?

These are both mine. One by Attainment, and one by the right of battle, Tynault replied.

The one from battle must be added to the memorial, Hyval said.

Tynault grabbed Hyval by the wrists, and slowly pulled the hands away from the lapels of his robe. Not if they were given the opportunity to join us, yet refused. We established that before we stored the first blade.

Who refused?

Someone no longer worth our time, trouble, or even our words, Tynault snapped. Not everyone who earned a First Sword during training is worthy of the respect you so freely give. He let a pause drive home his point. But I must apologize. I am late for my class, Lord. Tynault walked towards the clearing between the buildings.

Hyval turned to Shareve. Whose was it?

Shareve shrugged. He did not say, Lord. Though I am sure if the Seventh Keeper truly wishes for you to know, he will inform you. Yet I doubt he concerns himself with such trivialities. She paused, and when Hyval did not respond she nodded and returned to her tent, leaving him alone amongst the ash and stone.

They ought to tread lighter, Hyval thought.

Inconsequential, Dregus replied from inside Hyval’s mind. When these planes are bathed in fire and life, petty squabbles such as these will become lost in the maelstrom.

Hyval did not articulate another thought. Instead, he walked towards the clearing, where Tynault’s class was about to commence.

Gharina, the stout woman who was instructing from the rocky pedestal, bowed to Tynault as he approached. She glanced over to Hyval, giving him a respectful nod before returning her attention to the gathered students. And I believe that concludes your Foundation work for the day. Remember to practice your pulling in the most difficult locations. That way, you will find it flows like water in areas of normal strength.

Mutters of thanks came from the group as she stepped down from the stone.

How are they? Tynault asked. Exhausted yet?

No, they have stamina, Gharina replied. But they learn slower than our initial groups.

They are weaker, so the drudgery is expected.

It is, yes. I must be off. Our brothers and sisters at the source of the Jaiden need their relief. I wish you simplicity and clarity in your lessons. Gharina bowed again.

Tynault returned the bow, albeit a shallower one, and stepped atop the rock. Class, today we shall teach you a most powerful lesson in your new gifts; a lesson in seizing.

Hyval crept into the audience, taking a seat at the back of the group.

Tynault looked to the two guardsmen standing sentry near the stables. Gentlemen, if you please.

The guards nodded and stepped inside the building.

Tynault surveyed the class. "You have shown greater