XIX. Children of Rhode

After crossing the tepid waters of the River Rhode, the barren wastes of the Fire Plains stretched on as far as the eye could see. Aichlan wondered how the elves could tolerate walking barefoot across the jagged stones but was too occupied with his own misery to ask. His lips were cracked, and the dry air hurt to breath. His mind had gone blank. Inertia drove each step. By midday, the only relief was found in Alice’s ice and water spells, but given her weakened state, these only came every hour or so. Even the elves, native to this land, glistened with sweat, their pace slowed, heads hung low against the glare.

Sheets of glass formed from melted sand dunes, obsidian monoliths, and pools of lava dotted the harsh terrain. Pumice stones lay strewn about the ground and the air was oppressive with unrelenting heat. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the terrain was equally bright, painted in luscious reds and oranges.

Aichlan regretted his decision to follow them to such an inhospitable place, there was absolutely no way a wasteland like this had the population to raise an army. He adjusted his ruck and dug deep for another staggering step. It was of course Garrick’s fault. If his father truly wished for him to accomplish a task, he should have given clearer objectives.

According to Séverin, who was annoyingly composed under the oppressive sun, Osric sought to destroy the monarchies, to liberate the people from oppressive, tyrannical, or inadequate kings and queens. He envisioned a society much like the Rhodarcium Republic, but one not driven by the whims of the wealthy. He had a vision of a worldwide community free of injustice and inequality. A world where each was given according to his or her need and no one was seen more or less worthy in the eyes of the state. Utopian bullshit in other words.

It was a world where everyone was given in kind for what was produced, be it labor, skillset or another commodity. Aichlan rolled his eyes and did his best to bide his tongue. It did not matter what kind of utopia the villain claimed to pursue, what mattered was the hell that he had unleashed and the lives he had shattered along the way. The fiend deserved to pay for his crimes, and Aichlan aimed to see that justice served. If he made it alive out of this Dawn blasted desert.

“He saw the gravest injustices manifested in The Order of Dawn.” Séverin mopped the sweat from his brow with a soiled handkerchief. “He saw them as persecutors and even repressors of humanities progress with doctrines and taboos, planting false hopes in the minds of the masses.”

“Sounds like blasphemy to me.” Aichlan said with disdain.

“He spoke of a paradise,” Séverin continued, unperturbed. “And even I thought he was mad at first. The same kind of talk got our father killed. However, he spoke with such passion, and conviction. I so desperately wanted to believe as he did. If you knew the Osric I knew, the one I helped to raise, you would feel as I did.”

“So, he destroys Zee Order? Zis is justice to you?”

Séverin growled under his breath. “Do you even know what The Order does?”

“Dzey heal the sick of course.” She shot back tetchily.

“And healing the sick requires a standing Army? A non-profit entity requires massive temples in every major city? With wealth to rival kingdoms?”

Clarissa knitted her brow as she chewed on her knuckle, clearly stumped by his reply, and Aichlan was relieved that she chose to remain silent. Everyone knew The Order was corrupt as shit, that had just become a part everyone was expected to ignore. While founded on the principle of healing the sick, its mission statement had changed significantly in the past couple thousand years. After all, nothing lasts forever, everything either changes or dies.

Still, he was surprised she did not mention the spiritual aspects, as those temples were gathering places for people to receive their monthly dose of hope. Many social movements also originated in temples, and the unifying power of the temples have halted the march of tyrants and afforded rights to the downtrodden. The Order was an integral part of many communities; they had missions to feed the poor and provided a home for the disenfranchised members of society. Perhaps he should have made that argument in her stead. As he pondered it, the moment gratefully passed, he did not have the moisture to spare for words.

Aichlan had lived amongst the ruling council of The Order, he knew it was made up of mostly old men with poverty vows living in mansions. Greed and waste had become synonymous with The Order. He also knew that the vast wealth accrued by The Order that came from kings and lords was given to paupers and peasants who struggled to put bread on the table. Not all of it of course, but a not insignificant portion.

“Yes, I believed that toppling that institution of lies and corruption was justice.” Séverin spat.

“You don’t anymore though, what changed?” Fiora asked sympathetically.

Aichlan and Clarissa exchanged a look of dismay. Though neither could be called the star child of The Order, they were indoctrinated enough to frown upon such blasphemy. He was baiting them, trying to play on their sympathies and Fiora should have known better than to bite.

“His delusions are a recent occurrence; the weight of his ideology must have been too great for him, coupled with grief of his losses. My brother is not evil, just sick, he has so desperately tried to right every wrong of the world that I fear the strain may have caused him to have a breakdown of some sort.”

“Such talk falls upon deaf ears.” Aichlan scoffed as he adjusted the ruck on his back. “All here have suffered by your brother’s actions, indirectly, or directly.”

Clarissa fanned herself with an ornate Lyresian folding fan, bearing the image of a stylized crane under the moons, she had purchased in Eefrit. It did little to remedy her discomfort in the heat, serving only to waft hot air into her face. She brushed a curl from her brow slick with sweat, cursing in Elysian, as it had already begun to return to its former pinkness.

“Can we not talk politics and religion at zee moment? It is too fucking ‘ot.” Clarissa gasped and covered her mouth, realizing her slip too late.

“An’ ya tell me not to swear. Yer a bloody nun!”

Clarissa smacked Eth on the shoulder with her fan. “Dzere’s a time and a place, and in present company, zee occasional obscenity is permissible.”

“Face it, you can’t win with her.” Ransom had wrapped his damp cloak around his head like a turban, wiping the sweat from his brow with the excess material he had covering his neck.

Aichlan wanted to continue the conversation, to set Séverin in his place, but admitted it was too hot for any heated conversation. Séverin claimed he wanted his brother stopped before any more life was lost unnecessarily, but he sincerely doubted the man was willing to enforce his decision should it come down to life or death. He only hoped Séverin would not try to interfere when he exacted his vengeance upon Osric. Two very important lives had been lost at that man’s hand, his own included. His vengeance would most certainly fit the crime when the time came. He stewed in his vows for vengeance as the group continued in mostly silence.

* * *

The peak of Rhode smoked as it loomed upon the horizon, much of its bulk hidden until they reached the lip of the massive basin that housed its base. As the sun set before them, the travelers were finally able to take in the enormity of the Colby-Nau capitol city. The clouds of smoke and ash blotted out the blue sky overhead. While such an occurrence only happened maybe twice a year, Aichlan was dumbstruck by how foreboding and simultaneously beautiful the scene was and could not picture it any other way.

He was embarrassed and guilty for having thought so little of them, though their land was still a hellish wasteland, but the ingenuity and skill to turn such a land into a veritable paradise was impressive. In many ways, their capitol surpassed many of the shining cities of Runandia and Briternica.

The mountain itself, he was told, stood six miles high, with most of it in the deep basin, itself well below sea level. The Rhode peninsula sat upon sheer cliffs overlooking the ocean to the west, jagged mountains to the north and south with the treacherous Death Marsh to the east. The city itself was built upon the mountainside, the architecture resembling Elysia’s open-air grandeur, with the Colby-Nau tribal flair and artistry. Various canals were cut into the mountainside, meant to channel lava flow. Elaborate tile and mosaics decorated the edges of the channels, spanned by great stone bridges. Aichlan felt like a bumpkin making his first ever visit to the city, his mouth agape as he took in the sights.

There was another city that wrapped around the mountains base, ringed in a moat of lava, which it channeled further south, away from the mountain. The basin was dotted with farmlands and hamlets. The entire mountain and surrounding basin were teeming with life and civilization as nine million of Rhodes nearly ten million children resided at the capitol.

Several structures on the mountainside rivaled the temples of Nassica in sheer size and majesty, a near impossible feat given their location on the side of an active volcano. Statuary topped the pediments, and gold capitols sat atop the marble columns. Triumphal arches with graded reliefs lined the roads. The homes were thin and tall with flat roofs and oversized cornices, or squat with steeply pitched tile roofs. It was obvious the architects of Rhode and Elysia worked together at some point in history, though as usual the tribal flair presented itself in the color palettes and design motifs. From his vantage, Aichlan saw a maze of streets and stairways, even several fountains. Ashe beamed proudly at Aichlan’s flabbergasted expression.

“Well, what d’ya think?”

“It’s… magnificent!” No words could describe the beauty and majesty of the view before him. “It’s beyond anything I ever expected!”

In truth, he would have been impressed with stone huts or cave dwellings. He wondered why so few people knew of this place. Granted, the terrain was difficult, there was simply too much to take in for it to remain a secret.

“How is it so cool ‘ere? Were right next to a volcano.” Clarissa asked, folding her fan. “Certainly, is welcome, whatever zee cause.”

“There are several caverns beneath the basin that are filled with seawater, constantly replenished by the ocean. It serves to radiate heat away from the city and farmlands. All the cold air from the glaciers up north and to the west gets trapped here. Hot air rises an’ cold air disnae. At least, that’s what I’m told.” These were the first words Kielan spoke since the sulfur plains, and everyone was too awestruck to question his explanation.

“They got freshwater rivers flowin’ too. They criss cross each other without touchin’, sorta like an aqueduct.” Eth said as he pointed out several irrigation channels that looked like small rivers.

How Eth was so knowledgeable was a mystery, perhaps it was common knowledge for the city’s residents. One question remained however, was this a natural occurrence, or something engineered by the Rhodeans? Ashe leapt up and down excitedly, like a child at carnival, as she pointed and grabbed Aichlan’s shoulder.

“There! There’s my smithy! Can ye see it?”

Aichlan could not be sure, but thought she pointed in the direction of a clock tower.

“Yes, yes! I see it!” Aichlan laughed and returned her embrace. “Please! Calm down!”

“Where’s your ‘ouse Eth?” Clarissa squealed with equal excitement. “I can’t wait to meet Io! You described ‘er so lovingly!”

“I thought I told ye nae ta talk about that!” Eth said, a bit panicked.

“Eth and Kielan are part o’ the miner clan, they live inside the mountain. Only warriors, smithing clan, and masons live on the mountainside, with labor and farm clans in the basin.” Ashe explained as she pointed out the terrain.

Aichlan was shocked that the heavily tatted, bloodthirsty elves he had been traveling with were not warriors.

“So, what, there like less than the others or something?”

Ashe blanched as Eth looked about ready to kill Ransom for his comment.

“Miner clan holds the majority, were nobodies lesser an’ daen’t nae one say else wise.” Eth grumbled, jabbing his finger in Ransom’s face.

Ransom raised his hands in surrender and took a step back. “Hey man, sorry! I was just tryin’ to figure your social system out is all.”

“Daen’t worry; I’ll explain the rest on the way.” Ashe said hastily, stepping between Eth and Ransom. “Till then, perhaps ye should stay quiet.”

She got no complaints from anyone.

* * *

Districts divided the city of Rhode, and each district contained several wards. Unlike the segregation that occurred in human cities, the elves were voluntary for convenience, not prejudice or malevolence. Those tribes primarily of the warrior clan set up on the eastern face, towards the marsh. The merchant, smith and mason clans set up districts across the rest of the mountain, with wards in several warrior districts for protection and general peacekeeping tasks. Laborers and farmers occupied the basin, working the fields, with mason, merchant and smithing tribes setting up wards there as well.

Inside the mountain was another city entirely, devoted solely to the miner clan with several merchant and smithing wards. The buildings were inlaid with gems and the streets paved in precious metals. Most homes were built in old mines that had run dry, passing down family lines for generations. The mining district was known for its recreational attractions. From hot springs to massive ballrooms and concert halls built in the caverns, one quickly forgot Rhode was built upon a volcano. They had somehow found a way (possibly their control over the elements) to channel the eruptions straight up and out of the city via a network of channels, which were ostensibly lava proof. The logistics and logic of how this actually occurred was a mystery, and just thinking about it made Aichlan’s head spin. Regardless, there was no time for them to see it all.

As they walked through the lanes, past farms and fields of grain, they broke into a run. The wind and water glyphs designed to water the crops misting them as they ran through. It seemed the end of a long and trying journey as Aichlan laughed while Ashe skipped and twirled ahead of him, always a few steps out of his reach. Even surly Eth managed to crack a smile as Clarissa and Fiora led him through a wheat field. Kielan was momentarily able to forget his grief as he lifted Alice atop his massive shoulders and carried her screaming in joy past startled (and amused) citizens of the farming ward. They raced on towards the mountainside utopia, steadily growing closer as it loomed farther above their heads, oblivious to the stares and whispers around them.

It was dusk as they reached the lower city at the base of the mountain. The stars were visible across the horizon by the time they walked through to the main route up the mountain (even the roads were a work of art in Rhode!) paved in brick and stone, roads that turned to stairs as the grade increased.

“So, where to first?” Clarissa asked breathlessly.

Kielan delicately roused Alice and lowered her from his shoulders. Aichlan hated to be the bearer of bad news and bring everyone’s mood down, but he had a mission in Rhode.

“I need to speak with the council. That is after all why we came.”

Clarissa frowned and Fiora tried to stifle her giggles and smile by smoothing her skirt.

“Bollox! There’ll be plenty o’ time fer that mate! We’ve had a hard journey, hell, it’s my firs’ time hame in o’er a year! And ye lot didnae fair nane be’er.”

Clarissa gave an approving nod at Eth’s oddly logical argument.

Alice gave as pleading a look as she could as Ransom lit up and Séverin marveled at the city. Aichlan wanted nothing more than to have a holiday and explore the marvelous city, but he knew that he had a purpose. His distance from the war that consumed the world did not make it nonexistent.

“I can’t. I have to meet with the council.” Aichlan savored the looks of dismay and smiled. “After I bathe, eat, sleep and have a quick tour of course.”

Alice and Clarissa clapped and danced around happily, only Kielan remained distant, as the burden of grief and guilt reasserted itself as he reached his home.

“And if it’s alright with Kielan, I’d like to participate in Cinaéd’s funeral pyre lighting.”

Kielan forced a smile, blinking back a rogue tear. “Of course. We’ve fought together, traveled together. By anyone’s standards you’re as good as kin to me and Cinaéd.”

Alice stepped forward and placed a hand on the big elf’s arm. “If any of us can assist in any way, don’t hesitate to ask. I know it doesn’t seem like much…”

“Nae,” Kielan patted her hand with his. “It means quite a lot. But I am their leader. It is my responsibility to speak with the families. With that, he left the group, making the long, silent journey up the mountain alone.

“Don’t worry about Kielan. He’s just afraid to show emotion. Let him go home an’ cry with his momma, ‘ell be back to ‘is auld self in nae time.”

Ashe took Aichlan’s hand and squeezed when he offered it. If it had not already, the reality of events from the past four months would soon hit, most likely when they lay down in warm beds, finally free of the swamp’s residue.

“Yeah, so where’s the nearest inn?” Ransom tried to light a crushed and gnarled cigarette. “I’m beat.”

“Ain’t nae inn. Ye’ll be stayin’ wit us.”

Aichlan wondered if there truly were not any inns or if Eth was trying to conceal being hospitable.

“Er, with me that is.” He added upon seeing Ashe’s frantic gestures and irritated looks. “Ashe lives in a lil’ smithy. It’ll jus’ be ‘er an Aichlan, cuz, well… ye know…”

Ashe turns red in anger and embarrassment. Eth continued to fluster, finally abandoning any attempts to disguise his meaning. Ashe glared at him and shook her head slightly in rebuke as Eth feigned ignorance to the cause of her ire.

“What? We all know it!”

“Smooth guy.” Ransom said, abandoning his attempts to light up, slapping Eth on the back.

“Whatever, ‘urry up, ‘urry up!” Clarissa cried irritably, oddly full of excitement. “I wanna meet Io and get changed outta zis swamp ridden dress!”

She pulled at Eth as she rallied the others who were more than eager to follow and explore the city. Aichlan pulled Séverin to the side as everyone started their way up the mountain.

“I’d like to continue our little talk in the morning.”

Séverin nodded noncommittally. “Of course,” he said as he followed the others up the street.

Aichlan gestured for Eth to keep an eye on Séverin, he responded with a wicked grin as Clarissa pulled him around the corner.

* * *

Though there were no horses or carriages to add to congestion as in most cities, the streets of Rhode were relatively crowded, even at the late hour. They rivaled those of even the crowded port megatropolis of Briartach. As they made their way through the winding streets of the merchant’s ward, Aichlan tried not to laugh as he took in the absurd dress the elves appropriated to look like their affluent human contemporaries. Women went around in veiled hats and lingerie with garters and knee-high stockings. The men wore slacks and went topless, some wore an open vest or blazer. He did his best to explain to Ashe what was wrong with their appearance, and the purpose of a negligee, but it was lost on her.

They finally made their way to the smith on the corner of Hephaestus and Bellows Avenue. The open aired first floor was a blacksmith’s heaven, with every conceivable tool needed and properly stored or on display. Upstairs, however sparse, was not the “shack” Eth had promised. It was a decent sized one room flat with an excellent view of the city and courtyard behind the residence. The clock tower chimed the hour as they dumped their gear and rushed out to the communal bathhouse.

* * *

The water was mineral rich and warm, a relief, as the heat quickly dissipated with the setting sun in the capitol. The impressive bathhouse was covered in beautiful mosaics, tapestries and banners fluttered gently in the breeze. Several orbs illuminated the room as they hovered in place. Aichlan was alone with Ashe and took the opportunity to extinguish the light and made love via candlelight. His guilt and duplicity were gone. Though he could not say he did not love Renata, he knew he could not be without Ashe. Hopefully, that was good enough for now. He still longed to rescue her from Osric’s clutches if she did indeed still live. A prospect which seemed less and less likely. He would not abandon his mission, but he wanted to enjoy his time with Ashe as well. He would not hesitate to mercilessly hunt that man and watch him bleed as his blood drunk soldiers had done in Arlien, the flame of that fire still burned in his chest. Nevertheless, in a way, he had Osric to blame for meeting Ashe to begin with. It was strange how fate worked.

* * *

Having bathed and made love, they returned to Ashe’s flat. While Ashe busied herself in the kitchen, making their first hot meal in, Light knows how long, Aichlan stood out on the wraparound balcony. The volcanic basin full of fields and springs, and city sprawled out before him. The sky was tinted dark red, as ash fell like snow. Across the horizon, darkness and twinkling stars were visible. The sky immediately over Rhode, however, was full of ash clouds and silent, static lightning. Despite the foreboding atmosphere, the city was still awe inspiringly beautiful.

“What an alien world this is.”

Aichlan had changed into a loose fitting, forest green linen shirt, with elven runes running across the cuffs and along the collar, a gift from Clarissa. He sighed as he leaned against the balustrade, gazing absently at the few pedestrians who walked the streets.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Aichlan spun, startled, to meet the angry countenance of Garrick.

“What the fuck do you think this is? Some sort of bloody vacation? Think I sent your sorry arse back to go gallivanting and orgy with the elves?”

Aichlan looked away as he felt his cheeks burning, it seemed that in death, he had lost any and all semblance of privacy regarding his sex life. “No General, I—”

“Shut up!”

“Yes sir.” Aichlan stammered, frustrated that his father still had that effect on him.

“Why the hell are you out of uniform?”

“It’s being mended General.”

“So, you wear this flamboyant-ass shit instead?”

Aichlan grit his teeth, eyes fixed on the ground. He liked the ensemble; it was quite comfortable. He was not sure what it was made of. It felt like silk, but was probably some high thread count cotton…

“I thought I could leave you alone and you’d figure shit out on your own, guess I was bloody well wrong, wasn’t I?”

Aichlan flustered, he hated these half-assed rhetorical questions, especially with Garrick, and there was not a right answer no matter what. And do not dare remain silent.

“No sir.”

“So, you callin' me a bleedin’ liar boy? Are ya boy?”

Aichlan sighed and went to parade rest, his arms folded behind the small of his back, feet shoulder width apart.

“You were on the right track going to Duvachellé, just not this roundabout route through Rhode. What the hell were you thinkin’?”

Aichlan looked to the kitchen, wondering if Ashe were aware of any of this. “Light boy! When I said we wanted you to settle down, I didn’t mean now!”

“Did you come here to give me guidance or just criticize me some more?” Aichlan shot back.

Garrick cleared his throat and stepped through the wall into the main room, looking around absently, watching Ashe as she went about making dinner. “I don’t wish to take part in this vain opera of glory and the like. I’ve had my fair share of it during my life. I’d much rather remain numb to the affairs of the living. I don’t know, go on strolls through the hills or walk the beaches of Portsmouth.”

His father’s presence was all the more troubling with this odd and candid revelation. The gods never got involved with the affairs of mortals, yet they deigned to send the shade of his father to spur him on towards some vague goal. To save a Priestess that may likely be dead already. What were they holding over his father’s head to gain his compliance?

Aichlan stepped through the thin silk curtains after Garrick. “Then why are you here?”

“The dead are now free to walk amongst the living. They are here, though lacking bodies; they are here all the same.”

Aichlan took a seat on the edge of a low sitting glass and sculpted metal table. “Osric’s doing?”

Garrick nodded. “Somewhat. He started the process several years ago with one of those swamp mages you’re always goin’ on about. At first, we were grateful, to once again, see our loved ones. I was able to watch your career with interest, your mother as well.”

Aichlan became slightly uncomfortable, as with most all children, he had done some things in his life he would not want his parents to see.

“Get your mind outta the gutter boy.”

Garrick drew his spear from midair and sat down on the settee to polish it. Aichlan remembered looking upon that weapon with awe as a child, especially the grace and ease with which his father wielded it.

“Where were you before then?” Aichlan leaned forward; intently awaiting an answer as his father absently polished his weapon.

“We were here. We just could not see anyone alive. We saw the changes to the terrain, the rise and fall of cities, but our world was solely inhabited by the dead.”

This was not what Aichlan expected at all. What about the teachings of The Order? Could there truly be no purifying this taint that lay upon humanity?

“But that’s not important.” Garrick said with a wave of the hand. “What’s important is that Osric’s opened the gate.”

“I figured as much.”

Garrick nodded as he continued to polish his spear tip on his cape.

“The Order in Catharone put up a barrier along Aes Sidhe and Thiudoricus to prevent the scourge from crossing into Briternica. It won’t hold.”

Aichlan was confused; he assumed that the whole continent lay in ruin. “The Order still stands?”

“That bastard gave a hell of a punch, but his true objectives lay in Runandia, Elysia to be exact. He left no garrisons, only destruction as he cut his way through on his path west.”

“So, I’ve failed?”

“I don’t know.”

Aichlan bristled, clenching and unclenching his fists. His father was always a stubborn and taciturn man, but never so vague. Garrick was often the antithesis to vague, clearly stating his demands and opinions in a manner many saw as unbecoming of a man of his station.

“Then why the hell am I here? How’d you even bring me back?”

Garrick grinned in his enigmatic way. “It’s not my place to say. You will find out soon enough though.”

Aichlan stood in frustration and slowly paced. “So why are you here now? You said I was on the right track, where do I go from here?”

“If I knew you’d listen I’d say leave tonight, regardless if the others went along or not.”

“Not an option.” Aichlan snapped immediately.

“I didn’t think so son. It means I’ve done something right with you at least. But do remember, you are not immortal. Your body can die like any other.”

Aichlan wondered why he said something like that, but Garrick had vanished as Ashe entered with their dinner and set it down upon the table. She palmed one of the orbs and set it above the table. She looked up smiling, only to catch Aichlan’s perplexed expression.

“Aichlan honey, everythin’ alright?”

“Yes, just fine, I was thinking is all.” He rolled his shoulder absently as she approached.

“How’s the wound?”

Ashe pulled his arm from the sleeve before he could reply.

“I’m fine…” She lifted his shirt and Aichlan pulled it back down in surprise. “Ashe!”

She checked him over thoroughly, aside from massive scarring; his flesh, bone and sinew had mended perfectly. He took her in his arms, tilting her chin up to look into her beautiful green eyes.

“I’m just going over the complexity of my situation is all.”

She smiled in response and kissed him.

“Why the hell would ye do something like that?” She smacked him on the rear and made her way to the table.

It was slightly unnerving to see her in such a domestic role and wearing soft fabrics with lace and embroidery instead of the coarse canvas and leather smock. The color palette was still earthy and subdued, as with most of Rhode, yet the softness showed youth and innocence he had not previously associated with his battle-hardened smith lover.

“Come sit an’ eat then, I’ve made your favorite.”

“My favorite?” Aichlan chuckled. “And how would you know what that is?”

Ashe sat and cut into the raw meat she set on the table. It was well seasoned soaked in marinade, but not cooked, along with a colorful salad and a rice pilaf dish. Aichlan was about to ask why the meat was raw, but Ashe answered when she blew a breath of fire, searing the meat before biting into it. She did the same to another and held it out for him to eat.

“My favorite.” Aichlan said as he sat at the table.