Chapter Forty: Kalador’s First Tenet

“He who hath sinned shall fall to the blade.”

—Kalador’s First Tenet

The Druid’s arrival evoked an array of responses from those in the Halls of Judgement. Aeos and the Silent Council broke into uncertain whispers. The King’s brow furrowed and he looked at Illia, who had locked her jaw and was seething in rage. Hope illuminated Alend’s face like the sun emerging from behind a cloud. Even Rhinne eased a little, though she quickly hid her relief behind a scowl.

“Talberon.”

The name echoed around the room as several different voices spoke it. It was uttered like a prayer by some, a curse by others. The Druid stood in the centre of the Hall, facing the High King with a gaze that melted steel. “Your Majesty.”

“I was told that you were killed.”

“And who told you that? The Deserter Alend?” He flashed Illia a look of contempt. The Queen kept her head high, maintaining her composure. The fury in her eyes was palpable.

“No,” Aedon said, turning to his wife. “Illia did.”

“It seems I was mistaken,” she said crisply. “Do accept my apologies, Alend.”

“Tell me, then,” the King continued. “What really happened, Druid?”

Talberon eyed each of the twelve council members in turn. Now that the excitement had died down, Ein realized the Druid was in terrible health. His cloak was dull and shredded in places, the skin beneath dark with clotted blood, his eyes jaded and weary. The battle with the Faceless had not been an easy one.

“I fought an Apocalypse Knight in Caerlon to allow Alend and his companions to escape.”

A moment of silence hung over the hall, heavy like a suffocating blanket.

“That’s ridiculous,” someone said. He was a young man sitting beside the bald, irritable member, and his voice had a high-pitched whine to it. “Everyone knows the Apocalypse Knights were sealed along with Al’Ashar during the Age of Gods. Do you take us for idiots?”

As if the floodgates had opened, the other members began to speak.

“This is a waste of time.”

“You’re kind isn’t welcome here!”

“Where’s your proof?”

“You never told me the last of the Thorens was Alend. Did you always know he was still alive?” The last voice was Aedon’s, and it silenced the others. Talberon slowly looked up.

“Would it matter if I’d told you?” he asked quietly.

Rage crept across Aedon’s face. “You—”

“You are a fool,” Talberon cut in. “You are all fools. You sit here behind your walls every day, fighting over trivialities while the world steadily ticks towards its doom. Are you blind? Can you not see the Blight creeping across the land, the hordes of relicts roaming the countryside and amassing outside the city? Every day more people turn to the Oathbreaker and walk down the path of the Faceless. At what point will you finally acknowledge that action must be taken? At what point will you stop looking into the past and start looking towards the future?”

“Talberon,” Aedon warned. “As much as I appreciate your advice, I will not have you insult me or my men. You have always been of great aid to me, but I fear that you yourself are growing blind in your old age. Aedrasil is not the only means we have to put the relicts in their place. If you’d stopped focusing on tradition and the tales of old world, you would have realized that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The new Celesite Technology we’ve been developing has turned in a solution to the current predicament,” Illia smirked. “Dominus, would you care to tell Druid Talberon about your latest inventions? I feel that you may as well, seeing as we have an audience and all.”

The bald man with the drooping moustache gave a haughty grin. “I’m glad you asked, Your Majesty.” He stood up from his seat and took a few steps toward the centre of the hall before turning around to face the rest of the council. “It just so happens I have a small piece of technology on me that I can use as a demonstration. Watch closely, Druid. This is the future of Faengard.”

He withdrew what looked like a lantern from his robes, a small cylinder of wood-framed glass with a handle on top. However, where Ein would have expected to see a wax candle or even a torchstone inside, he instead saw a large crystal. It was dull and colourless, like the stained window of a rundown shop.

“I present to you the Celesite Lamp.”

Dominus flicked a switch and the crystal burst to light, a deep silver like the stars in the sky.

“What the blazes is this?” the man with the high-pitched voice said. “We’re in the middle of a hearing and you’re giving us a light show?”

“Watch your tongue, Kenet,” Illia snapped. “Go on, Dominus.”

“Thank you,” the minister said. “This, my friends, is no ordinary lamp. It doesn’t run on fuel or charged torchstones. No, this runs on Spirit—the same Spirit that Songweavers use to power their Soulsong.”

“How is that possible?” Talberon asked. “Last I checked, you weren’t a Songweaver.”

“It’s all thanks to this.” Dominus turned off the lamp and unscrewed the top. He pulled out the dull crystal inside and held it up for everyone to see. “Several months ago, we came across a traces of an ancient comet buried deep in the caverns. Around it was a substance we’d never seen before, a crystal that sparkled like the stars, which we named Celesite. It turns out that Celesite can store several hundred times more energy than other gems, making it the best gem to use as a Spirit Well.

“But the real differentiator between Celesite and say, diamond or agate is its ability to discharge its stored energy. A fully charged Celesite crystal can be made to leak Spirit, as you can see now, until it runs out. In a way, it’s like torchstone—whereas torchstone absorbs light during the day and emits it at night, Celesite absorbs and emits Spirit instead. This energy, aside from being a more stable source of light, can be harvested for other things which my team and I are currently looking into.”

“What does this have to do with the relicts?” Talberon growled.

Dominus replaced the crystal in the lamp and tucked the device into his robes. “Aside from the obvious fact that we may be able to create Celesite-powered weapons in the future, there is a way to speed up the process of emission—and that is by breaking the stone. A crystal like the one you’ve just seen, when charged to full capacity inside a Spirit Font can be broken to destroy an area the size of this hall. Imagine how much damage we could do if we broke several of the things at once. We could wipe out the entire relict army.”

Aedon clapped his hands together. “A marvellous discovery. It will save us many lives, being able to eradicate the enemy in such a fell swoop.”

Dominus gave a twirl of his moustache and bowed. “It is only thanks to the funding of Her Majesty the Queen that I was able to conduct the necessary research and experimentation. I have naught but the utmost gratitude.”

Illia smiled. “Thank you, Dominus. You may return to your seat.” The minister sat back down, revelling in the envious stares the others threw his way.

“So you plan to drop a bomb on the relicts,” Talberon said. He was dangerously quiet.

“A far more reliable way to go about fixing our current predicament, is it not?” Illia’s smile grew wider.

“Please accept my apology in advance,” the Druid said to Aedon. “Your Majesty, you have married an idiot.”

Two of the four Kingsblades moved at once, rushing towards Talberon while the guards backed them up. Talberon flung his arm wide and and sang. Seeds flew from inside his sleeves and burst into life, enveloping the two knights in tangled nets of vines. They fell heavily to the floor, cursing as their bonds began to constrict.

“You would think to fight me?” Talberon boomed. His cloak flapped around him even though there was no wind. Ein suddenly felt a great pressure in the room, one that was reminiscent of his encounter with the Oathbreaker in Astreal—like he was being slowly flattened into the ground. The soldiers hesitated, gripping their spears tightly.

“Stand fast,” Aedon commanded, rising to his feet. Illia had moved to a safer position behind Prince Aeos. “Talberon, there is a limit to what I will allow you to do. Explain yourself, or I will make you an enemy of Faengard.”

The two Kingsblades broke free from their bonds and sheathed their blades, not attacking but watching. The pressure in the room eased slightly. Ein felt his eardrums pop.

“Your wife would think to defeat the relicts using sheer firepower,” the Druid said.

“I don’t see anything wrong with my suggestion,” Illia declared. “Aside from the fact that there will be no more reason to keep the traitor alive.”

“What if there are more armies out there?” Talberon asked. “They’re streaming into our world from another realm, Your Majesty.” He said the words spitefully. “There could be more armies in Nephilheim, waiting to march. What would you do then? Drop more bombs?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“I don’t see what the problem is, Talberon,” Aedon said at the same time. “As long as we have the resources to mine more Celesite, why not? We could take the chance to wipe out the relicts once and for all, rather than put our faith in a tree for the next thousand years.”

“The relicts won’t be the only things affected. People, animals, plants and trees will be killed as well. Water will become undrinkable if it doesn’t evaporate first.”

“What difference does it make? As you said before, the Blight has already begun its conquest.”

“The Blight may be disruptive, but it is not absolute. The land will regrow given enough time.” Talberon’s eyes darkened. “But if you lay more waste to it, there is a chance it may never recover. The Great Winter has weakened it enough as it is. Is it your wish for Faengard to become a barren wasteland?”

“All things come with a cost, Talberon. If it means putting an end to the Oathbringer and his relicts, then I would be willing to pay the price.”

“That price is not yours to pay. Faengard does not belong to you.”

“What would you have me do then?” Aedon gave an exasperated sigh. “You belittle our ideas and insist on fixing things your way. Well, Alend is here. What now? I’ve already lost several good men chasing down the Lachess heir. Edric Thoren was a dear friend of mine, and he will never be by my side again. Your fellow Druid Keldan has also fallen victim to the mountain. Would you have me lose the rest of my Kingsblades as well?”

The look Ein’s father gave the King was murderous.

“I have a proposal,” Talberon said. “Advice granted to me by the shade of Morene herself.”

“Please,” Illia sniffed. “First Apocalypse Knights and now ghosts? Aedon, don’t listen to his rubbish.”

“Quiet, Illia. What did the Prophet say?” the King asked.

“Unfortunately, not much.” Talberon continued before Illia could gloat. “But she did tell me one thing. Your Majesty, do you believe in the Pantheon? In particular, the tenets of the God of War, Kalador?”

“I am aware of them, yes.”

“The first tenet states that—”

“He who hath sinned shall fall to the blade. The belief that all sinners will meet their fate eventually, for none may escape the judgement of the gods,” Aedon stated. “The principle that my original sentencing for Alend was based on. Those who are truly innocent will survive any and all trials thrown their way, no matter the impossibility, for the wind will blow in their favour.”

Talberon nodded. “Good,” he said. “I will now hold you to that tenet. In Kalador’s name, I request an alternate trial. I will take Ein Thoren to Raginrok in a final attempt to defeat the World-Eater and rescue the Lachess heir, for that is the advice the Three-winged Crow provided me.”

“The World-Eater is not real,” Illia said. “Sightings of Faenrir are products of altitude sickness and no more.”

“Be that as it may, Kalador will be our judge.” Talberon looked at Ein. “We will go to Darmouth and brave the mountain, and if we return with the Lachess, you will know we speak the truth. In the meantime, you will keep Alend alive and in good condition.”

“You are in no position to be making demands,” Illia said.

“Illia.” Aedon silenced her with a look. “I will grant you your request, Talberon. But you will take the would-be thieves with you, for they too have sinned.” He gestured towards Garax and Rhinne.

“What about Evaine?” Ein asked. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“She’s a trespasser,” Kenet said. The other ministers glared at him and he went quiet.

“Thank you for bringing that up,” Aedon said curtly. “Yes, I do suppose the girl deserves a lighter punishment. What would you have me do with her, Talberon?”

“I suppose a caution is too much to ask?”

“He who blinds shall be blinded in turn,” recited Aedon. “As I am bound by the tenets of Kalador, I think it is only fitting that I be bound by Lauriel’s teachings also. All crimes must be punished.”

Ein swallowed, taking a protective step before Evaine. “We can take her with us,” he said. He sounded much more confident than he felt. “Right, Talberon? She’ll be safe with us.”

The Druid eyed Evaine. “No. It will be safer in the city.” He turned back to Aedon. “Your Majesty, I request that the young Mistress be taken to the Legion Songweavers for training. She happens to possess a good deal of talent, and with war on the horizon she may prove to be of use to your army. I can vouch for her enthusiasm and dedication.”

Ein stiffened. “You can’t—”

The King nodded. “A simple request. She can pay for her crimes with service for the kingdom. Do I hear any objections?”

The Silent Council remained silent. Ein was beginning to understand why they’d been named so. The High Queen continued to stare daggers at Talberon, while Alend had a mixed expression on his face—one that matched Evaine’s.

“Are you sure about this?” Ein whispered.

Talberon didn’t respond.

Aedon raised his hand once more. “Then it is done. I, Aedon Uldan, High King of Faengard, hereby pass my judgement upon those before me with the gods as my witness. I would have your names now.” He looked at Ein first.

“Ein Thoren.”

“Evaine Tamelyn,” Evaine said in a small voice.

“Rhinne.” When Aedon continued to stare at her, she added, “Brightflame.”

“Garax…” the storyteller frowned. “I don’t have a family name. Sorry.”

Aedon flashed him a look of annoyance. “Ein, Rhinne and Garax, I sentence you to trial by quest—your mission, to climb to the Summit of the World and bring back the heir to House Lachess. If you set foot in the city again without having completed your mission, you will be killed on sight.”

“What if they decide to flee?” Illia asked.

“Then the Deserter will die,” Aedon replied. “I will have Aeos will go with them; it will be a good learning experience for him if he is to inherit the throne. He will have the Druid Talberon with him as well.”

Illia nodded. Aedon slammed his gauntlet against the throne.

“For the matter of Evaine Tamelyn, you are hereby conscripted to join the Legion Songweavers with the rank of Novice. You are to go to the barracks and seek Grand Songstress Milena, who will oversee your training. A sealed letter will be provided upon the conclusion of this council.”

The gauntlet came down again. At last, Aedon turned to Alend.

“As for you,” he said, “your execution shall be postponed. I will give Talberon and his party up to a month to complete their quest and return. Until then, you will be kept in the dungeons where you will continue to be administered Spirit inhibitors. Any attempts to escape will result in your death. Am I understood?”

Alend swallowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Lazarus, find an alternative for tomorrow’s execution. Pass on my apologies to the arena master.” The minister who’d been addressed nodded. “And finally, Ein, you are to stay behind after this hearing. You will be Bonded to my son as a Kingsblade to ensure his safety.”

At this, Alend suddenly howled. “No! You can’t do this—”

“Father,” said the white-haired Prince. “The Vow is something one should take only if they are worthy of becoming a Kingsblade. With all due respect, I think it inappropriate to hand such a status to one of such low birth.”

“He is a Thoren, if only by name alone. I would think it appropriate to give him a chance to redeem the House of his father.”

“Your Majesty, I must also voice my opinion,” one of the Kingsblades said, lifting his visor. “The Bonding process is a dangerous one—it is not every layman who can emerge from it unscathed. A failed Bonding could result in death.”

“You bastard,” Alend continued to shout, as the guards dragged him away. “Don’t do it! Run away, Ein! Don’t take the Vow; don’t throw away the life I worked so hard to give you!”

“Throw the Deserter back into the dungeons,” Illia said, while Ein stood still in a daze.

Bonding. Vow. The terms swam around his head. He didn’t know what exactly they meant, but he knew they would make him stronger, even superhuman. He also knew there was a steep cost to pay, one his father resented with his entire being. One that would change his life forever.

With a start, he realized his dream of living a quiet life in the Sleeping Twins was fading.

“He will survive.” Talberon’s declaration drew order from the chaos. He looked at Alend as the blacksmith was dragged away, despair in his eyes. “Your son is strong, Alend. He will survive the Bonding.” He glanced at Aeos and the King and murmured to himself, so low that Ein could barely hear: “Somehow, I have a feeling… that she knew this would happen.”

Aedon stood up. “Judgement has been passed. I now declare the council closed. You are all dismissed, save those given prior instruction.”

The Silent Council rose to their feet and began making their way out of the room, followed by the Queen and the guards. Garax and Rhinne were taken away, as was Evaine. She gave Ein a worried look as she was escorted to the doors, a small v forming between her brows.

“Ein… will you be okay?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine.” He offered her a small smile, though he was sure she could see through it.

Only Aeos and his father were left now, along with two of the Kingsblades. Ein shifted on his feet, realizing how still he’d been standing the entire time. The Prince regarded him with a look of disdain.

“Let us go then,” Aedon said. “It is a cool night with a clear sky. You would be hard pressed to find a better time to take the Vow.”