Stars' Light, page 28
A beat passed, and then Jorian turned toward the door. “I have to go, old friend. I’ll see you tonight at the library.” Jorian strode from the main room with purpose. His mind was reeling.
Masamiria stood for a moment and just blinked. He looked over at Maarika, but she shrugged and went back to cleaning and getting ready for the evening.
He watched her for a moment. He would make sure that she was clear of all this when it was time to leave. She would be going to Marpesia. She just might not know it yet.
Jorian sat alone in the lower levels of the library. Three books were on the table before him. He sat back and rubbed his eyes. Azarai had known there was an Eighth Essence, but he had claimed to never have found it. But how was that possible? Azarai was the first immortal.
He looked over to a book written by Zorian. He shook his head, noting that it was written in a journal that he had given her. It was archived with the collection on Azarai that had been written by Ludek Tatara, Azarai’s grandson. Zorian quoted Ludek in her comments about the Eighth Essence, and how one would be able to manipulate and have actual creation at one’s fingertips. This was the Essence that would separate the Immortals from the One. Zorian wrote:
In my long life, I have traveled from one end of Baral to the other. I have come across a host of people and varied cultures. It always fascinates me to know which Immortal started this culture, and to see where that culture and people have ended up. In my mastership of the Essences and life, I have always wanted more. I have wanted to reach a higher level, but I could not figure out what that higher level was. In a conversation with my Mirogen, he told me that only the One could see all the possibilities and outcomes as they were happening. Only the One could negotiate that much information. It would take a supreme mind and focus to not get lost in that amount of information.
There is an Eighth Essence, and I have experienced being able to see what I am calling life strands. It looks like a web that branches out from the individual and mingles with all the strands of life and the environment, in relation to that individual at that time in that place. I must agree that my Mirogen was correct. It was too much, and I could only see my own life strand, but I know there is a way to see those of others. There seems to be a block that would allow one to process this. I do not know if this is something that exists within the body, but I believe the spirit is infinite, much like the One who made us. So, with an infinite spirit, I should be able to become an infinite being. Ludek writes about this in his recollections of his grandfather, Azarai, the Great King. Azarai said we already possess the Eighth Essence, but if this is true, why can I not see everyone’s life stands, rather than just my own?
What bothered Jorian the most was what Azarai had told his grandson near the time he was to leave. It was a chilling paragraph. His old friend did not hide the answer in riddles or proverbs. He just said it:
I have been here long enough, but one of us will not be able to leave. Someday, he shall come to a great understanding, and his circle shall close. The Eighth Essence as you are calling it, is what all the other Essences come from. In fact, everyone of us already has the Eighth Essence. They just do not know it, and are incapable of controlling themselves long enough to see it. Self-control is wrapped up in self love. You must love yourself to be able to control yourself. There are many who believe the opposite of this. I am telling you how it actually works, but I know that you will not listen. It will take many embodiments before you come to a realization and a victory over the ego and the conscious mind. Going through many embodiments is important, as it gives the soul chances at perfecting itself, filling in holes and gaps of misunderstanding and ignorance.
Jorian sat back, thinking back to the many conversations and times he and Azarai had spoken about the Essences, and this had never come up. He did not know quite what to do with this. It was obvious that Zorian was correct in being able to see life strands, as he was seeing life strands. What was a bit disconcerting was that he was also seeing how they related to everything else. By these accounts, he was experiencing the Eighth Essence.
He got up from the table and began looking through the archives about embodiments and re-embodying, and what might have been written about it throughout time. Things that his contemporaries may have written, but never really talked about. He shook his head, heading back to his table with several different books and journals. No matter how long you live, and no matter how you learn, there is always still so much you need to learn, because you will never be able to know but a fraction of what is out there, he thought.
Zorian’s words came back to him as he sat down. “I believe the spirit is infinite, much like the One who made us. So, with an infinite spirit, I should be able to become an infinite being.” Jorian also believed that, so he should be able to know everything there was to know. He was missing something. He could almost place it, but it was eluding him. He focused on his other reading, trying to figure out what Sarannya would have meant by what she told Kiril. What did she mean when she said “I have come back to you. We have to finish what we started and not get lost?” He sighed, and begun to read.
Asenath moved with a grace that Sarannya was envious of. The Fallen looked natural, relaxed, and completely at ease with what she was doing, and she looked amazing while doing it! Sarannya noticed that Kiril was scowling again.
“When you move, you want to move in a manner that the enemy notices you, especially if you are a woman. Men can become distracted.” She turned with one of her eyebrows raised, noticing Kiril’s scowl. “Let me demonstrate. Kiril, I shall use you.”
His face became neutral as he squared up against Lady Seffora. He did not even know why he was here. He should be on the walls, fortifying the city and working with the General, not learning how to use the sword in a manner that he already knew.
Asenath’s sword came up, her point focusing on Kiril’s eyes. He blinked with a bit of surprise, so he matched her posture, as he was familiar with it. She smiled at him. It was an alluring smile. She moved to the side, his sword lashing out at her. She made it look like he had almost got her.
Kiril moved with a suddenness that took Sarannya’s breath away. His sword lashed out and Lady Seffora was almost hit. Sarannya frowned. Kiril was going much faster and harder than he should have. Her frown turned into irritation. He was trying to prove a point.
Asenath smiled to herself. She was about to get him. She moved with calmness and poise as his sword stabbed towards her, and then changed as a cut came back at her. She moved with deliberate effort, making it look like her position and posture were breaking down. The second cut just missed her, and she used the Essences to open her top.
Kiril narrowed his eyes, his thrust missing. He saw the opening and cut to his right, knowing he would score the hit. He recovered quickly when his cut missed, but he he was stunned when her top came open just a bit, and he caught sight of her breasts. She fumbled, and he moved forward to claim victory, when he suddenly completely stopped in midstep. Her blade was lightly resting just shy of his eye.
“You can charge forward, Lord Noah, if you wish.” Her patent alluring smile graced her face again. “It is not so positive to have a pointy thing staring you in the face, now is it?” Her smirk vanished to be replaced by a cold seriousness. “Never underestimate the enemy. I used a weakness against you that you have been trying to ignore. You must learn what your weaknesses are and eliminate them. My kind is designed to prey upon them, and I am not just talking about the Sucubbi, but all of the Fallen.” She turned, so she could see both of them. “Repressing a fault does not make it go away or disappear.”
Asenath sheathed her sword in a single flourish. Her tone lightened, but it was still very serious. She focused her gaze on Kiril. “You have a lot of control for one so young. I now know why the General chose you, but you must face your desires at some point, colonel.”
Kiril nodded. He was paying particular attention to her now. She was far more than she appeared, and he felt stupid for having ever thought that he could not have learned from her. In real combat, he would have been killed. He did notice that her top was closed; she had used the Earth Essence to move her clothes, and she had done it so subtly that he had never detected it. She had also used the Fire Essence to hide her sword and place it perfectly in time with his movement. He smiled at her and bowed low in respect.
“Thank you. I shall remember the lesson well.”
“I know you will. Normally I charge for showing some skin, but for you, I will show it for free.” Her eyes had a soft glow to them, but it vanished as soon as it appeared. “You did destroy two hunting packs. Now, lets talk about the demon hive.” She gained control of herself and chided herself for a moment where she could have lost control. She brushed her foot across the ground and knelt down, motioning them to kneel with her as she began to draw in the dirt.
Jorian felt them enter. Then he heard talking, joking, and laughing. Even Kiril looked like he was having a good time, and that boy was entirely too serious most of the time. Jorian saw the life strands of all three. He could see the potentials of giving them the Rimerians or not, of having them train with Asenath or not, and having them partake in the battle, or to flee to Marpesia into the arms of another battle. He knew this was risky, but he felt that this was the best course. He could not quite see all of the connections, but it felt clear to him, this was the correct path to follow. He must be careful to not interject himself into the heavenly wind, but to follow the divine wind.
Remember, I leave all the decisions up to you. I will support you in any choice you make, but you will also face the consequences of those decisions.
“I understand.”
Not quite yet, but you are getting closer.
Jorian’s eyes squinted, and Kiril saw it from a distance.
“General, something wrong?” Kiril asked, as they got closer.
“No. Everything is good. Come, I have something for you and Sarannya.” He gestured to the table behind him, and then he turned and walked towards it, taking his place at the head of the table.
Jorian waited for them to walk up. He recognized Asenath, nodding at her. She was giddy with excitement just being in the library. Her face became radiant as she saw the table covered with a black piece of silk. It was clear there were three swords underneath.
Kiril took in a deep breath, steadying himself. He looked over at Sarannya, but she seemed oblivious to what was happening. He could feel the power emanating from the table. It’s finally happening! Those are Rimerians. My Rimerian is under that cloth. He could feel that there were three of them, and confusion set in. Was the General going to give Sarannya Rimerians? A stab of jealousy set in, and some frustration and anger flashed across his face.
He looked up at the General and could see that Jorian was watching him closely and noticing his mood. Kiril glanced at Asenath, who was too amazed by the library to notice anything, and Sarannya was starting to notice that something was not quite right. He had to admit, she was learning fast, and she was learning well.
“Masamiria would have liked to be here tonight, but his projects must be completed before the invasion, so we shall not be waiting for him,” Jorian announced. He pulled the cloth off of the swords and exposed them lying on the table.
They looked almost plain. The handles looked like they were wrapped in black Niparian silk, but there was something different about it. The leather on the sheaths was also black and had a slight sheen to it, but they were also plain. They looked, overall, unimpressive.
“Wrath.” Jorian picked up the longer of the two longswords and held it out to Kiril. He nodded for Kiril to take it when he hesitated.
Kiril reached out, and when his hand touched the sheath, his pupils dilated. Immense amounts of light came flooding into him. He flinched.
“Don’t fight it. Just let it happen. Go with the light, for you shall be Light’s Wrath upon Baral.” Jorian let go of the sword.
Kiril sucked in a deep breath, seeing vast amounts of light for the first time. Instead of a slight haze or a diffusion in front of the light, he could see it clearly. He breathed in, and light streamed into him. It was amazing, exhilarating. His heart sped up, and he stopped for a moment, seeing bands of light wrap themselves around Sarannya, linking her to the two swords that still lay on the table.
Sarannya smiled, seeing Kiril’s face light up when he took the sword. She felt the burst of light that entered him. She could feel warmth coming off him as his well was filled to capacity. It felt like the light that was entering him was pure and concentrated. She could sense there was a communion between him and the sword. She looked over at the General to ask him a question and paused. He was holding out two swords in his right hand.
“When I told you there was only one who had two War Blades, I lied. There are now two. You and I. Light Bringer and Shadow have been my constant companions. May War Bringer and Retribution serve you well, but remember that you shall also serve them.
Sarannya hesitated. “I’m not ready for a Rimerian. I have only just begun to learn how to use a sword. I can’t…take those.” Sarannya took a step back.
Jorian remained standing, holding the swords out. His eyes took on a luminous silver.
Sarannya bumped into Kiril, who had moved behind her. She started and turned to see that his eyes were also a luminous silver. She glanced at Asenath, whose eyes had illuminated a startling aqua blue. Sarannya could see the hints of silver peeking through. Her eyes went wide, noticing that Asenath was growing horns; horns that were gold sheened. There were small charms that were wrapped around them with small golden chains. Her body was lush and curvy to the point of distraction, and she was not really interested in girls, but this was something entirely different. Then a feeling of revulsion came over her as she recognized the darkness that lived within Asenath.
“The swords were meant for you. You are meant to be one of us, Lady Tatara. Take up the swords, live in the light, and become a beacon for those that shall eventually follow you,” Kiril’s voice stirred the air around her.
Sarannya turned back to Kiril. Visions came to her. She saw pain, suffering, death, and carnage. She saw ash falling in the air like rain with herself in the middle of it all.
A deep sadness struck her, and she turned to Asenath. A sense of hope returned. If Asenath could seek the light, leading her people to a new beginning, then all could seek it; although, it would take a great change to move people into a different way of thinking, into a different way of being. It would take a great amount of suffering, a great amount of pain, a war unlike the world had ever seen before to move them to change.
“I can’t do this! I don’t want to do this!” Sarannya sobbed, turning to her teacher, tears streaming down her face. “There has to be someone else?”
Jorian felt a single tear slide down his cheek. He would have normally felt ashamed of showing emotion, but facing Sarannya’s pain, which was really his own pain, the tears flowed more freely. “I didn’t want this for you. I have feared this from the beginning. I have feared this from the start with my own children and Zorian, Breia, Eria, and Aeneas.” Aeneas. The boy he had refused to train, so Zorian had defied him and trained the boy anyway. The boy who had saved Ilenka.
At that moment, Jorian saw it all. He saw every potential, every moment of every decision that could be made. He took a deep breath and pulled Sarannya into a protective hug. Her body shuddered against him, and his tears dampened her shoulder.
Sarannya melted into her teacher’s embrace. “Embrace him like you would your own father. Trust him. He will protect you with his life.” Zorian’s words came back to her, whispering into her ear. She completely relaxed and embraced him back. Then she heard him speak.
“I will not leave until you are ready; until you have matured in your understanding and are able to walk on your own. I shall stay to be your shelter from the storm. In these arms and in my presence, you shall always find peace.” Jorian’s heart finally melted as the tears fell, and he gave Sarannya his vow. A vow he had given his own children and Zorian. It was time for the General to return. It was time for him to be what he was created to be.
He pulled back, and without wiping his eyes, he held out Sarannya’s War Blades.
Sarannya took a deep breath. “You promise,” she whispered, not looking at him, but the swords. Light was misting off of them and wafting into her.
Jorian stood taller, light began to stream off of him, basking Sarannya, Kiril, and Asenath, who flinched and wanted to shy away, but stood her ground.
Jorian’s voice intoned. “I shall steady you when you stumble; I shall pick you up when you fall; I shall carry you when you can no longer walk; I shall burn away the darkness that threatens to engulf you, for I am the Light Bringer.”
Sarannya took her War Blades.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
General Markos Penvel stood light side. The army had settled down for the day. They had been marching by night to keep up their strength as the day sapped at them. He wanted to make sure that his army was in the best possible shape it could be. It was taking a supreme will to keep his Fallen and demons in order, so they would not spread to the four infernal directions, seeking physical pleasure, and to sate hungers that had been unfed for a long time.
He sighed to himself, resting his arms on the hilts of his swords. Cigar smoke wafted around him, and he took another draw, blowing the smoke out. It coiled around him in the cool morning air, just as the sun was peeking over the mountains. Even though he had turned against the light, it was always a pleasure to see the sun rise. It brought back memories of an earlier time; a simpler time; a time without fighting. He would be happy to see an end to the war. Originally, he had been a body masseuse. He had been drawn into the war by the lure of glory and everlasting fame. Aviel’s speeches had been rousing and inspired others to follow him, but in the end, it had led to joining the Darkness. Falling from the light. He had made his choice.
