The Forgotten Stone, page 5
“In that case, stand up to her yourself.”
“I’m not strong! She could kill me with one arm, blindfolded. I’m no match for her. And yet, what would I do if I stayed?”
“Hmm. I am surprised Kilith suggested you had an option. It seems you are making your decision based on fear, and you are not good enough to take on Chayan. Chayan was handpicked for this mission, and integral in the planning process, because this sort of journey requires skill and a tough skin. You think you’re safer taking Chayan’s place on the mission than you are facing Chayan herself? We are not on holiday. It isn’t a choice of what best suits us, but of what best suits our people, for better or for worse.”
Enouim felt her face flush with shame. It was true. She was afraid, and she was focused on herself. She had no larger purpose. But then, how could she? What did she have to offer? She’d run from Chayan, terrified and incapable of defending herself, because she had little to offer. Even now the idea of going back to Gorgenbrild was repugnant to her. By the same token, however, Pakel was right. If she wasn’t ready to face Chayan, how could she ever hope to be ready to face the hazards Chayan had signed up for? This quest was not for the faint of heart, and there was no room for stowaways.
“I didn’t mean…” Enouim trailed off. That’s precisely what she had meant, wasn’t it? All she wanted was a way out of her current predicament. Still, when she thought of returning to Gorgenbrild, the weight on her heart was undeniable. Perhaps there was more to her reluctance than fear of physical pain.
“I don’t believe I belong anywhere,” she said gloomily. “I dreamed of traveling with my father ever since I was small, to see the distant lands he saw. I’ve soaked up stories and traditions from many realms but never had a reason to go. And here I am, finally traveling, and I only got here by mistake. I know I don’t deserve to be here.”
Pakel allowed silence to engulf them, and Enouim’s admission hung in the air. Finally, he spoke again. “Well, I suppose you are left with several possibilities. Either you do deserve to be here for some reason—and you need to find and fight for that purpose—or you need to prepare to face the tumult awaiting you in Gorgenbrild.”
6
The rest of the day proceeded relatively uneventfully. They rode into the night until Canukke was satisfied they had enough distance between them and the tribes to go to sleep, and they made camp. The dawn brought with it fresh hope and a brisk wind, and Enouim hoped it would calm her mind as she continued to think long and hard about her dilemma. She rode with Oloren and asked for her perspective.
“Well, what do you want?” Oloren asked her.
“That’s just it. I’m struggling to sort out what I want. Or even whether or not what I want matters. I was talking to Pakel yesterday and he seemed to be saying that it didn’t make sense for me to continue on the mission because I hadn’t intended to be here, and people were handpicked for this. If I’m not as good as Chayan, there’s no reason for me to think I’m good enough to stay on the quest she was selected for. I either need to find out how I deserve to be here, and have a reason to stay, or go home.”
“It sounds like going home is a hard decision for you.”
“It is. I just … there’s nothing for me there. Chayan is waiting to hurt me, or worse, so I would have that to look forward to. I don’t seem to fit at home. I don’t seem to fit anywhere. I’ve always wanted to travel, to see the world I’ve read so much about, but I am not a warrior.”
“You are not a warrior yet,” Oloren corrected softly. “No one is born a warrior.”
“Not even Canukke and Chayan?”
Oloren laughed. “I admit, it seems some have an edge over others—but even then, a predisposition or hardened exterior does not make a warrior. It takes time to develop the skill and the mindset required. But this is not my decision to make.”
“First instinct though, if you had to pick, what do you think would be the best option?”
“I would say that if there is nothing for you at home, stay on the mission with me. If there were something for you worth returning to, I would tell you to go back. As it is, if you are capable of learning as we go, I believe there is value in going forward with us. The tribes are closing in, so no option is without its dangers. But with us, you could have a part in helping Gorgenbrild. I know you a little and have watched you enough to be confident you will do whatever you have to when the time comes. You’re a good student. Don’t sell yourself short.”
Enouim allowed herself to entertain the thought. The Ecyah Stone. It was a legend that had entranced her as a child and had a hold on her still. Was it a myth? Enouim wanted to believe it was real, as the others in the group clearly did, but what if it wasn’t? The whole journey would be for nothing. Glintenon was most certainly real, or was in the First Morthed War, and Enouim wondered what had become of him. Had the Malak been recalled from the realms, abandoning them all? Why would the Arksar, the commanders of the Malak, order such a thing? Was Glintenon good, or disloyal as Vadik hinted? No, Enouim thought, he was good. She wasn’t sure why, but she was convinced it was true. Maybe he had simply been defeated by Morales since his victory in the First War. Perhaps if she remained with the company she could find out.
The longer she allowed her mind to feast on it, the more the idea drew her in. Kilith had said she needed to decide where her desire lay. Pakel echoed this when he said that she needed to find and fight for her purpose. Finding a purpose sounded like a serious undertaking to Enouim, one that should take weeks or months rather than mere days. Her stomach twisted and turned sour.
When she thought of returning home, dread washed over her. Chayan was there, of course, ready to break her bones. But it was more than that. Enouim had wanted to be a trader, traveling the lands, but her mother had been dead set against the idea since before her father’s passing. Working at the Mangonel wasn’t what she wanted to do with her life, and her mother’s other suggestions sounded to Enouim more like a dungeon than a purpose. What did she have to lose?
She could lose her life. She might not have a life in Gorgenbrild—that is, she might not feel alive—but her body allowed breath in and breath out. There was no chance of discovering something to live for if she was dead. Enouim sighed and tried to give herself a break from thinking through everything. Her brain never truly switched off, and distracting herself would end in her problem circling back to priority number one in her mind once again. Until then, though, she shoved it to the back of her mind like dirty laundry under a blanket. Stubbornly pretending it wasn’t there, while entirely conscious of the fact that it was, Enouim brought herself to the present moment.
“Quarot will be waiting for us there,” Gabor was saying. “He has selected two men to join us in our mission and we will combine our knowledge as we move forward.”
“Yes, we all know that part of the plan,” Pakel put in, “but I mean after that. Were the Kalka’an men supposed to investigate whether or not the Levavin had the Stone? Or were they just trying to find out if Levav knew anything?”
“Both,” Gabor replied. “Although they had precious little time to do so. Still, if the Levavin were in possession of the stone, we would likely have heard of it by now.”
“Unless there’s some rule they have that keeps them from actually using the Ecyah Stone,” Vadik said. “So many rules! Perhaps they can use it as long as they have good motives. Which they have no way to prove.” His sardonic tone was hard to miss.
“There is a difference between what they think is wrong and what is punishable,” Enouim said. “My understanding is that the Levavin only punish what they can have evidence for, and though they have strict codes even for thought, they primarily judge actions, as an outpouring of the mind. So, if they have the Ecyah Stone and aren’t using it, perhaps they don’t believe it should be used or that no worthy motive has yet arisen to warrant its use. Because using the stone is an action that they could judge. It is observable.”
“Your understanding?” Canukke prodded. Enouim pulled back in surprise. He had largely ignored her since the zegrath. “What is your understanding worth, Stowaway?”
Enouim lifted her chin. “I spent a lot of time reading the old scripts and journals from travelers and traders. I’ve always been interested in other lands and cultures, and have read first-hand accounts from Gorgenbrilders writing of their experiences over the past several hundred years. Though the Levavin moral standards are based on the motives driving a person, someone can do what is wrong inwardly without being punished for it outwardly. The Levavin do not claim to read minds.”
Canukke looked annoyed but didn’t come back at her with an argument. Enouim took pride in her small victory.
“With only motives to rule them, I should imagine less rules, not more,” Vadik said. “Each person would do what they thought was right, and rationalize it how they saw fit. As long as the person was convincing that the motive was pure, they could get away with just about anything. Not so different from our own concepts of general self-rule.”
“But even we have limits on what can be handled among the people on their own,” Enouim said. “We have Deliberation and Justice Hall to intervene when necessary, you know? For Levav, their leadership decided what right and wrong was, and they believe some means are never justifiable … toward any ends. Thus, they judge the people under these precepts. Following their rules seems exhausting to me, as they cannot lie, cheat, steal, kill, break marriages, or even act out of hate, and if there’s enough evidence to show an action was born out of hate it is punishable. They believe emotions are aids rather than weaknesses, and they don’t believe emotion poisons the mind. I find it intriguing, but I’m not sure if the writer I read had a good grasp of their perspective.”
“That’s true,” Oloren said. “Levav values emotion perhaps more than the mind.”
“It will make our time with them simple enough!” Kilith said. “One of you can cry, and we’ll be on our way with all that they have.”
Gabor shook his head. “Levav is a fortified city. Maybe we can get out once we’re inside, but getting in may be more challenging. Our traders are never permitted entry past the first set of gates.”
That night Oloren checked the slash mark on Enouim’s back from the zegrath and added more ointment to it. It could have been much worse and was healing well. Enouim had been lucky.
As the group continued across the mountains, still at a high altitude, the landscape began to change. The trees got thinner, with more pine, spruce, and aspen trees than the large, thick-trunked trees they had grown accustomed to in the past few days, and the rocks changed from shades of gray to lighter sandy colors. The terrain transitioned from steep slopes to flat ground for long stretches.
Days continued to pass, and Enouim settled into a routine. When it was time to rest, she ate with the others or took the small knife from her boot and threw it at a tree trunk repeatedly while she ruminated over her options. Oloren saw her doing this and praised her technique, as the knife hit the same mark each time. Though she’d always been pretty good at throwing knives, Enouim used the knife more for small game hunting or crude whittling than anything else. Oloren started spending more time with her, and they threw knives together on breaks.
In the late afternoon, sixteen days after their departure, they arrived on a plateau where the trees thinned out. Nothing could be seen in any direction save the sparse trees and increasingly rocky ground. On the far end of the scene, the landscape dropped away before blue sky—another cliff.
Canukke rode forward. “We’re here.”
“Here?” Vadik asked. “There’s nothing here!”
Canukke ignored him and continued on. The rest followed with some confusion—except Kilith, who seemed to enjoy their befuddlement. Scanning the area, Canukke approached a slight dip in the ground difficult to see from a distance. As they neared it, Enouim saw that it was actually a steep ramp to a tunnel large enough for horse and rider to enter single file. Enemies would be unable to see it without close proximity or prior knowledge, and several of them scattered across the plateau. From the cliff side, it probably looked like the field was riddled with giant rabbit holes.
The company descended into the rocky tunnel one after the other. Someone coughed, and the sound echoed down the passage. Why hadn’t they come across anyone yet? The horizontal strata of the rocky walls around them dissolved into black as they continued quietly at a walking pace for several minutes. Soon, light reached them again, revealing three men and a woman standing at the base of the tunnel armed with spears in their hands and bows and arrows at their backs. Their clothing colors reflected their rocky surroundings—mixtures of sand, taupe, or fawn—with leather armor laid over it.
Canukke reached them and dismounted, greeting one of the men with a good-natured punch and embrace. He passed the reins of his horse off to another of the men, who led the animal off to the left. The rest of the group followed his example, dismounting at the base of the tunnel and passing their horses off to be led to food and water.
The base of the tunnel was no more than twenty feet from a sheer drop-off above sparkling ocean that ran from the bottom of the bluff out to the horizon. Mountains gave way to beaches along the shore on one side, and nothing but water stood on the other. On the left another tunnel entrance sat ten feet from the first, and a narrow dirt path wrapped around the cliff face.
Enouim turned to the right and sucked in a breath of surprise. The community’s dwellings were chiseled into the mesa’s sandy stone, their walls made with bricks of the same substance. Homes had been built into clefts of the cliff, extending along giant lateral fissures for as far as she could see. The massive rock wall fell abruptly from the plateau above them, interrupted only by the deep recesses in which the buildings were hewn before continuing its descent to the sea far below.
The man Canukke was familiar with led them through a series of short tunnels and up ladders and steps to reach the main portion of Kalka’an. Houses, buildings, and passageways were all connected in some way, and a wall was never used just once, except for those on the edge of the cliff. Well hidden inside the mesa’s cleft of the mesa, the entire civilization of Kalka’an was thriving under and in the side of the mountain.
Canukke gestured for them to leave their packs there with the four guards. “Quarot has left strict instructions for our provisions to be well looked after. It’s best that they are not brought into the heart of Kalka’an.”
“If we cannot trust them enough to bring our bags in, how can we trust them at all?” Gabor demanded in a low tone.
“Our nations have an established system,” Kilith answered. “We are free to retaliate as we deem necessary should any of our supplies be missing upon our return. It is an exchange of trust and accountability that we not kill in their land, and they not steal in ours, even if provoked. There have been no major issues for many years.”
Gorgenbrild valued honor, bravery, strength, and truth, and killing was generally acceptable. In contrast, Kalka’an valued wit, and a clever mind won out over strength. Practicality, balance, energy, and necessity ruled the land, with stealing and deception deemed perfectly agreeable. Kalka’an and Gorgenbrild were long-standing allies and often traded together, but Enouim had never thought of how they had dealt with their differences.
A guard led them to a place where no footpath jutted out from the cliff, and only a narrow bridge across a drop-off to nothingness connected them to the next landing and the main entrance. Next to the drop-off on either side of the bridge, three ropes were secured to the cliff at various heights.
“What are those for?” Enouim asked.
“We use them for faster travel across areas with little to no space to go on foot,” the guard replied.
Enouim blinked.
“Not for the faint of heart, coward,” Canukke said, brushing past her. “Don’t worry, we can take the foot path.”
Great. Enouim hoped that wasn’t her new nickname. Oloren and Vadik looked longingly back at the ropes, but the company took the foot bridge in single file.
“Welcome!” said a friendly voice as the group approached the entrance. A slight man with a kind face stood beneath an archway with two carved eagles on either side. “We are pleased to see you again, Canukke Topothain and Kilith Urul. And a special welcome to the five of you who have the pleasure of surveying our great treasure for the first time. The mountain is our home, and the story of our people is written in its many layers.” He swept his hand around him and toward the arch above their heads, beautifully engraved with ornate stonework. “The homeland is the masterpiece, its artwork like its people—strong but patient, clever and bold, and a work that can never be stolen.”
The man showed them under the archway and along the path. “What more beautiful view could you ask for than this? How can you kill a man with this serenity at your doorstep?”
“Yes, serenity like this could turn the most vengeful man into a tranquil thief,” Vadik replied.
“A man who believes he knows the world!” The guide laughed—genuinely, Enouim thought. “I recognize it well. But our peoples have always worked well together. Perhaps it is our shared tenacity and love of strategy that binds us as allies, though the same may cause us to part ways in smaller matters.”
Vadik snorted. “Honor is sacrificed to greed in Kalka’an! Men of distinction do what is necessary to stand up for their beliefs without coloring outside the lines. They take what is owed in a manner befitting the crime, and are brave enough to own up to their actions! It takes true strategy and tenacity to obtain victory honestly.”
“Vadik!” Oloren hissed, rebuking him with a word.
The man laughed again. “All is well, never fear. We are not so easily offended. The good in our community do not operate outside of bounds either, but our bounds are different. Taking the life of another is strictly forbidden outside of combat. Your survival of the fittest applies primarily to physical prowess, leaving the weak defenseless, but ours hones the intellect.”
