Shadaya: Out of Darkness (Gemstone Royals) Read online

  Chapter 10

  Markus held out the prince’s invitation twirled it between his fingers. Despite his feigned nonchalance about it, he shared Cad’s concerns. He did expect the prince to reach out, but he was not sure he was ready for what he had to do. There was no way Haddin would share the same sentiments as his father. He sighed and placed the invitation back onto his desk and reached out for his cup of tea. Again, he tried to return his attention to the book he was studying but could not stop wondering about the prince’s motives. It was unlike him to worry so much, yet here he was, so troubled that he was struggling to do the one thing he always enjoyed.

  His Ilk blood stirred up in him an unquenchable passion for knowledge, sometimes it threatened to consume him, so that nothing else mattered. But he would not let it win for he longed to preserve the part of him inherited from his mother, the desire to connect with others. His community family had warned him that his pursuit of knowledge and love for science such as he had developed from his father, often quenched a desire for the light of El. It was why many thought the Ilks were so indifferent to gods of any kind. But somehow, he had managed to maintain his faith and use his Ilksvardian training for the benefit of the community. It was how he was able to track the element to Dravia and know so much of its history.

  Though he was trained as an Ilksvard scholar and possessed their unique gifts, he was quite unlike them in a pivotal way. The Ilks believed nothing and everything at the same time. Believing that everything should be submitted to reason and empiricism, and that everything was explainable by the laws they had discovered about the world around them, through their senses. It was why for years they stood out, as kingdom’s vied for their strategic location and superior intellect, however the Ilks never chose a side. Never fully submitted to one alliance over the other. They allowed both the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness to use their roads and ports and would open their libraries and schools to anyone they deemed worthy and capable of rigorous scholastic pursuits. Many of his own had thought him to be inferior because of his Riboni blood, but he had found favor among them when he proved himself to be a formidable mind. Even after moving into the nearby woods, he would often return to Ilksvard until he completed his training. By his sixteenth year he had discovered writings on the dark element, and it had been his obsession ever since.

  He thoughtfully toyed with the key pendant he always wore beneath his tunic, it was the mark of the scholars. A symbol that was earned and brought with it, great respect. He had worked hard among the intellectually superior Ilks and had earned his key. He only prayed now that all his years of training would help please El, save Saharia and restore the Cort pillar.

  “Markus?”

  He looked up sharply at the figure standing in the doorway of his well-lit study.

  “That Stiller guy is here, he says he’s ready.”

  Markus nodded and jumped to his feet, “so am I. Can you get word to the stable hands to prepare my horse?”

  “Where are you going Markus?”

  “Somewhere with Stiller apparently.”

  Cad sighed, “it will take me a minute to get ready…”

  “That’s quite alright brother, no need to disturb your evening on my account.”

  “Why aren’t you taking me with you?”

  Markus was pulling on his coat, “because your presence might be a little too much for where we are going.”

  “I don’t know if I should be offended.”

  Markus chuckled, “don’t be brother, just let me play my part in this as well as you have been playing yours.”

  Stiller’s wife was as warm as he was cold. She wrapped soft plump hands around Markus’ extended hand and smiled up into his eyes.

  “So good to finally meet you, I hope my husband has not been too difficult.”

  Markus smiled, “oh very much so,” he said.

  Stacia chuckled, “You can always trust an Ilk to tell the truth.”

  “Ahh but do not trust too much, I also have Riboni in me.”

  Stacia smiled sweetly, “Oh my dear, Ilk, Dravian, Riboni, Aldorian…regardless of what blood flows through you, El’s light connects us all to his truth.”

  Markus nodded, “yes indeed, how grateful are we for the new way. So, we can choose which side we should stand upon in the great war, instead of it being determined by our bloodlines.”

  Stacia’s smile faltered then, just as her husband stepped into the room. The small living room of their dwelling seemed to shrink with his large frame filling it. By the look on his wife’s face, Stiller may not have told her everything. Markus frowned at Stiller.

  “Do you not discuss the great war with your community?”

  Stiller grunted, “the people here are more preoccupied with staying alive without me adding to their worry about a war that may never come in their lifetime.”

  “But I have told you Stiller, with the release of the Element we must prepare ourselves for the fulfillment of prophecy, or a great falling away will ensue among the followers of light.”

  “I understand what you are saying Markus, I do. But you must give me time to ease them into it. As loyal as many of them are, many are still searching, many are still uncertain, the last thing I want is to stir up panic or show our hand too freely before we have a chance to confirm that the element is indeed a threat.”

  Markus sighed and nodded, “fair enough.”

  “I have prepared the community elders to meet you. They do not take very kindly to strangers but are eager to see an Ilk who serves our God, or any god for that matter.”

  Markus leaned his head to the side, he wondered if Stiller was attempting to be humorous. Despite his developed ability to understand emotion, there were some more subtle displays that evaded his Ilk mind. Deciding that it was not that important he straightened his head and nodded.

  “Okay I understand. These elders, can I speak freely to them, about my purpose here.”

  “That is why you are here,” Stiller replied, his expression still unreadable.

  Markus found himself surprisingly bothered by Stiller, he reminded him so much of his stoic father with his unreadable expressions and he would think that being used to such a way, it would not bother him much. But it did, in a place where people allowed themselves to feel, more than they thought, he had not expected to meet someone so much like his people and so unlike them at the same time. He wondered what had happened to Stiller that had made him so protective of his feelings.

  “Alright then,” Markus said, “lead the way.”

  Markus entered a small, dimly lit room towards the back of the bakery, the musky smell of the closed room tickled his newly noble nostrils and he tried to subtly subdue the inklings of a sneeze by brushing his index finger lightly across his nose. Upon his entrance the room became very quiet and for a moment he felt that familiar wave of panic over not being able to read their emotions. Despite his mother’s deliberate efforts and his caretaker’s training, sometimes he would get lost in his head and struggle to focus enough to get an accurate read. His sharpened eyes darted from one face to the other as his mind quickly made its calculations. Drawn brows, stiff upper lips, jutting out chins, arched eyebrows… as he approached them, he quickly pulled his observations together. Anger, indifference, curiosity, annoyance, fear, his interpretations had improved immensely in the past few months before coming to Dravia. From what he read on the faces of the men sitting along the square wooden table awaiting him, most of them were not pleased to be here.

  He smiled widely to ease their discomforts and extended his arms in a gesture of openness as Stiller introduced him.

  “This my brothers, is the man I was telling you about. The Ilksvard noble, Lord of the Cort estate, who is currently residing at the Arduway mansion.”

  The men continued to stare at Markus, suspicion written all over their faces.

  “Is that the fancy dwelling house on the hill overlooking Beskee?” one of them asked.

  Markus dire
cted his attention to the speaker, a habit he had to develop as part of his training. The man he remembered had shown no hostile emotional markers when he had entered, he relaxed a bit as he addressed him.

  “Yes, that is the very one.”

  “How are you Lord of the Cort estate? Cort had no children and you do not quite look like…” the wiry man arched his brows in question.

  Markus felt some warmth towards the man who despite his straightforward questioning still managed to make him feel respected.

  “I am Lady Evie’s nephew, my father is an Ilk and my mother was Riboni,” he wondered if he would soon tire of explaining his origins to people he met, “I am as some would say… two in one.”

  The man chuckled and his apparent acceptance of him seemed to put the others at ease. Markus noticed how they shifted in their seats, moving from straight backs and folded arms to more open postures, leaning forward in interest. This he knew was a good sign.

  “Lord Cort here has some information that is of great value to us as a community and it would do us all well to give him our attention. I ask you to lay down the tensions emitted by our physical differences, as you have for each other, and listen to Lord Cort as you would a brother, for he is of us.”

  Markus appreciated Stiller’s endorsement, he did notice the wide range of people sitting at the same table. Some were clearly of Riboni heritage, others pure blood Dravians, with their light complexions and straighter hair. A variety of eyes looked right at him now. From his studies at Ilksvard he could identify, by even the most subtle features, their origins. From descendants of the first peoples of Saharia, to combinations of different races. It brought him joy to see them together like this because it reminded him of what the new way stood for. In Armen, acceptance like this was only theoretical and idealistic, for Armenians were mostly of the pure blood Dravian race. He had always stood out among them, but they were the best people to hone his emotion reading training, for Dravians were known to be the most emotionally volatile people in Saharia. They felt every emotion with an intensity that made his people quake with discomfort. Dravians always made Ilks uncomfortable. For Ilks, emotional people were too unpredictable, they did not often follow logical rules which meant Ilks would have a hard time understanding them and what the Ilks did not understand were very few in this world.

  “Thank you Waylord Stiller.”

  Stiller waved him off as he pulled up a chair, “we are not so formal here.”

  Markus nodded and grabbed a chair himself, “well in that case, call me Markus. Cort after all is only the name given to the holder of the estate. My own name I prefer.”

  “So, what’s your own family name?” finally another man spoke up.

  Markus smiled, “well it is a bit much, so I will not fault you if you never remember it.”

  Unanimously the men urged him to tell them, their eagerness to learn more about him was slowly giving way to a warmth that may just lead to acceptance.

  “It is Du-quenistiamonius finel.”

  The men’s wide-eyed stares made him chuckle, “told you, it is a bit much.”

  “Leave it to Ilks to make their names into mathematical equations,” a burly man rumbled then guffawed. The others joined him in a good-natured laughter.

  Markus smiled uncertainly, he knew that there were times when laughter was not always friendly, he often had difficulty differentiating those times. He wondered if it was such a time. Until the man next to him slapped him warmly on the shoulder and smiled.

  “Alright good man. What have you to say to us?” he said.

  To Markus’ surprise the men were very receptive towards what he told them, except for one lone man sitting towards the corner of the table. He said nothing and it did not seem like anyone expected him to. Regardless, their response was a pleasant development, for often whenever he launched into his theory on the element and his suspicions regarding the Dravian kingdom’s involvement, most people stared at him in disbelief. Even the Ilks, despite the historical evidence to back up his claims, thought his conclusions foolish. It was as Markus expected for the concept of the great war and the element could not be understood without acknowledging the power of the unseen presence behind their physical world. This had always been a difficult concept for Ilks to grasp, their inability and unwillingness to connect with their emotions have made them unreceptive to faith. Yet here were these men, men who would be considered foolish and unlearned; skilled men, servants and outcasts, all looking at him with a sense of urgency and understanding.

  “What can we do?” the man whom he had come to know as Philos asked.

  He was a big man, with blackened finger nails; possibly a blacksmith by trade.

  “When I came here, I expected one of two things, complete rejection because of what the Cort’s stood for and because of who I am, or an attempt by the crown to recruit me to their service. One Dravian ruler of old have shared the persuasions of the kingdom of Aldor regarding the element and he was instrumental in its concealment, his reign was not very long after that. Fortunately for me, the king shared such persuasions and was willing to put aside his personal issues for the good of Saharia.”

  “Really? So, you were working with him?”

  “I was. His life was cut short before he could inform me of the successful re-concealment of the element.”

  A murmur of concern arose around the table, “and now Haddin is one the throne,” someone said.

  The wiry good-natured man was shaking his head, “even if he wanted to, Drayton is in line for the throne. Haddin has no claim…”

  “As long as Drayton is alive,” another added grimly.

  The thought sent a sobering wave around the table.

  “It will be an even darker day in Dravia if Haddin should ascend to the throne,” another added.

  Stiller, who had been quietly listening, grunted and instantly all eyes were on him. Markus admired the way the man commanded the respect of his council.

  “I sense within you growing fear over matters of the future. But we would all do well to remember that the way of light is to never shrink from darkness, to cower in fear at impending threat. But to continue to shine until the very source of our light is extinguished. And we know without a doubt, that our source cannot be extinguished.”

  “But you know what they say Stiller, the prince is a master of the dark arts.”

  “And? Has that ever stopped us from serving El, from being light while living in a kingdom so dark? The prince is a man, he is no god, none of the rulers of Saharia are. If not for their power relics they would be no different to us.”

  The man acceded solemnly, “yes you are right. Whatever comes we will face.”

  Markus nodded, “until then, we do what we must. The great war will come, for it has been prophesied. But it will not be because we did nothing.”

  The non-talker, sitting in the shadows stood up then. If Markus thought Stiller commanded respect, he was even more impressed by the way mere movement by this stranger brought a reverent silence to the room. The man stepped forward and regarded Markus from the shadow of his hood for a moment.

  “This great war is written in the annals of prophecy. You believe those who stand on the side of El can win?”

  “I know it, for it has been done before.”

  “El has been silent for many years, you think He will speak now. Because that is the only way we win, with El on our side directing us, how can he direct us if he doesn’t speak.”

  Markus glanced at Stiller then back at the man, such a question was odd for a member of the community.

  “El is always speaking,” Markus replied, “he spoke when he directed me to study the Element, he spoke when he directed me to go speak to the king, he spoke when I suddenly knew I needed to leave the castle. Each time I obeyed, and I saw El’s hand in it. The king could have killed me, but I found favor with him, and I was nowhere around the castle when the king mysteriously died. El speaks to those who are willing to listen.”

/>   It was then that the man withdrew his hood, intense grey eyes stared back at him. He had never seen him before, but he resembled Stiller. From his long dark woolly locks, to his brown complexion and that telling facial structure. He was Aldorian. But one who commanded respect and held himself with the regal authority and concern of someone of great significance.

  “Who are you?”

  Stiller stood up then, “Markus, may I introduce you to the crown prince of Aldor, Prince Jasper of Stone.”

  Markus’ eyes widened, then he awkwardly bowed, “your majesty.”

  “That is not necessary,” said the prince.

  “Tell me Lord Cort. What can Aldor do to help this cause?”

  Markus shook his head, “with all due respect your majesty…”

  “Jasper will do,” he interjected, “we don’t want too much attention drawn to me here.”

  “Jasper,” Markus said, “I do not think your father will stand with us. He rejects the way of the community, he rejects the prophecies.”

  “He does not, he is merely cautious and loyal to the old way. But he is not a man against reason.”

  Markus lifted his chin, “I am willing to try then, with your support.”

  “You have my support.”

  The men nodded their agreement resolutely.

  “Whatever you need Lord Markus, we are here ready to do the will of El and stand for light,” Philos said in his rumbling voice, pounding a hammer like fist against the table.

  “Aye!” the other men agreed.

  Markus and Stiller exchanged glances and for once Markus saw that like him, Stiller was pleased.

  Chapter 11