Chapter 60: Vraethos
Location: Aether Kingdom
Inside a dim bunker, eight men were seated in circle.
This were Prince Malachi Followers and they had gone into hiding and operating in secret after Queen Hadassah took her own brother’s life.
They had been meeting like this for weeks, and moving from one secret place to another to avoid being caught.
A man with a hard-faced man sitting at the head of the rough wooden table was the first to speak.
His name was Corvan Dresh. He was not the strongest man in the room. But since the prince’s death, he has been stepping up as the leader of the group.
"If the prince is dead," one of the men said, his voice low, "then what exactly are we still doing here?"
Nobody answered immediately as they shifted their eyes to look at each other.
Then Corvan cleared his throat and spoke first.
"We are doing what we were always going to do." His voice was very calm, which somehow made it worse. "Malachi’s death does not kill the vision. If anything..." He paused and shifted his gaze to the rest of the men in the bunker. "This is the best time. She killed her own brother, and the whole of Aether Kingdom is watching to see if anyone is going to say a word about it." He looked around the table again slowly. "We are going to say more than a word."
Another man across the table leaned forward. "Corvan is right. A woman has no business wearing the crown of Aether Kingdom..." His eyes moved around the room. "That law of women always ruling Aether Kingdom does not need to exist. And it is long past time we change that law."
Most of the men nodded their head in agreement.
Then Corvan added, "If anyone in this room is beginning to have doubts. If anyone here no longer believes in what we started. Then leave now." He looked around the table slowly, meeting each set of eyes. "we will not think less of you.. But leave now, while you still can."
Nobody moved or anything.
Then, from the end of the table, a young man cleared his throat.
He could not have been more than twenty-two years.
"I am sorry," he said.. "I cannot do this anymore."
Nobody spoke.
The men around the table looked at each other.
Corvan looked at the young man for a long moment.
Then he nodded. "You are welcome to leave."
The young man exhaled. He pushed his chair back and stood up as relief moved through his shoulders.
The young man only took two steps before Corvan reached down beside his chair without looking and picked up the iron bar resting against the stone wall.
He swing it right at the man.
The iron landed at the back of the man’s skull.
The young man dropped to the ground immediately.
He hit the floor and made a sound in his throat.
Before anyone could understand what was happening, Corvan stood up and hit the young man again.
And harder this time..
The young was struggling and groaning in pain, then suddenly he stopped as his body went stiff.
Blood began spreading slowly from under the young man’s head.
The other men in the room did not move. Nobody dare made a sound. One of them looked away immediately.
Corvan walked back to his chair and then set the iron bar down beside his chair. He straightened and looked around the table.
"Who else," he said, "wants to follow?"
No one dare to speak.
....
Wyrmwood academy:
Back at the Ironhold. Reynold was inside the small room..
He was sitting on the floor.
He had been sitting there for most like three hours now. His leg was crossed with seven open books spread around him.
Each book was turned to a different page, each page was written in old language.
Reynold pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose and stared at the folded paper in front of him.
It was his father’s handwriting and he was certain of that.
He was trying to decipher the letter.
"Come on."
He reached forward and pulled the another book toward him.
He scanned the column of script on the left-hand page. Some of the characters were close to what his father had written. But it was not the same.
Dammit!
Reynold exhaled hard through his nose.
He relaxed back and looked at the paper again, then he looked at the books, then he looked at the ceiling.
*You are not going to crack it tonight.*
Reynold murmured and then reached out and picked up the letter. He folded back, then stood up from the floor and head straight to where his pack was. He tucked the letter under the flap and made sure it was fully buried.
Then he started closing the books.
He stacked them carefully, then carried them back to the library where he had taken them from.
He slid the last books into place and stepped back.
He was already three steps away from the shelf when something click under his boot
Reynold suddenly stopped as he lifted his foot.
The spot glowed red.
Reynold stared at it.
*That is strange.*
He had passes this exact spot twice today carrying the books, and nothing had happened. But now the stone was lit up.
Reynold looked up at the door and then he crouched down to the spot.
Immediately, the red light dimmed again and then went out.
The spot made a sound like a breath being released, and a section of the stone floor shifted.
It was a square of it or maybe half the size of his palm was pushed upward.
Reynold blinked.
*What?*
He reached out and pressed his fingers against it. Reynold lick his lips before he pulled and then put it aside on the ground.
Under was a book. It was grey in colour. The cover was cracked leather. Reynold lifted it. He turned it in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the surface to clean the dust on the book.
The title was.
"To the Next Storm Caller."
Reynold went very still.
He read it again.
"To the Next Storm Caller."
He tried to open it but it did not open.
The cover did not even flex. The pages did not separate.
He tried to force it opened but nothing happened.
He turned the book over and tried from the back. Still nothing.
He pressed the spine as he held it flat and tried to lift the cover with both thumbs.
But still it did not open.
He hit the book on the floor.
Still did not open.
*Dammit.* Reynold muttered.
He put the book under his arm, and then put the stone section back in place.
Reynold stared as the place glow red and then seal like it did not opened.
He then walked back to the small room.
He locked the bolt behind him. And checked it twice to make sure it was fully closed.
Then he sat on the floor with the book in his lap and tried to open it again.
Nothing happened.
The cover would not even move. There were no visible hinges, no clasp, no lock that he could see.
Reynold let out a breathe and then dropped the book on the floor in front of him.
He turned it over again.
On the back cover were smaller, much smaller, barely visible seven symbols arranged in a line.
Some of them he recognized from the old language books he had gone through.
Reynold stared at them for a long time.
He turned the book back over and picked up the lamp and held it close to it.
He went through the symbols one by one, cross-referencing them against the scraps of old language vocabulary he had managed to learn from the books he had just returned.
And after a while, a single word started to emerged from the sequence like a shape.
Reynold looked at it.
He pause before he said it aloud.
*Vraethos.*
The book opened.
Reynold pulled back instinctively.
He looked down at the first opened page.
The text were written clearly in real English language not old language this time.
Reynold stared at it.
His mouth was suddenly dry.
He did not move for a long time as he just stared at the opened page.