"Time´s End (chapter 3-new)" by Nicoline Badenhorst

They had explored the castle and the city at its foot on their own, with a servant as guide. Lanouri had, of course, attended to them, but she was rather cool, withdrawn. She answered questions readily, and even made light conversation, but somehow, Iand found, her mind was on other things.

The Marin culture and philosophy was fascinating, and so they spent every second in the city. The houses were laid out in neat circles, each circle containing both residential and industrial buildings. Neat was the word to describe everything else about the city as well. The streets were clean- cleaner than anyone would have thought possible, with neat, well cared for pavement- not a single weed was growing. In fact, Rydenhall had observed children pulling out a weed and then continuing with their game.

Their guide, a cheery man in his late forties with a pleasant baritone, laughed. “Yes, we encourage pride in our city from an early age on. You will find that we are unrivalled in the whole world for our sense of social responsibility. For example, the literacy rate in our small but fair country lies at a magnificent 89%. You will find that you can lead a philosophical discussion with almost any passer-by. And, before you ask, yes, it is a job requirement of servants to be well informed and educated. We are an important factor in any household and, unlike the slaves of the Confederate States lying to the north of our territory, we have the same rights as any other citizen, including the right to question any order given by the governess or council.”

“This is fascinating, tell us more,” Nirna Langde begged.

“Well, what else is there to say?” He suddenly seemed a bit at loss for information.

“Well, you say that every citizen has the right to question the ruling party, but how can you have a functioning state, then?”

“Oh, easy. Most citizens have received enough education to be able to follow a political reasoning. We acknowledge that every human is fallible, so, in order to eliminate fault in any rulings, law or judgement, we encourage people to think along and come up with alternative solutions. That is an integral part of how Marin works- there are just too many people for anyone to control, so we instead take a different route and raise our children to be conscious of their responsibility and their privilege, thereby giving them the understanding that they must take responsibility for themselves, their actions, and the actions of their peers as well. You will find that, should there be a transgression, effort will be made to resolve it privately before taking the last consequence of a council judgement.”

“But what of social failures?” Jennes inquired.

“Well, I must say that I do not know the exact figures, but I’d wager that there are few such persons here, for different reasons. Firstly, we allow everyone the opportunity to choose a craft that suits him or her perfectly, even if that means these people move from one craft to the next- since we encourage practical experience in different trades from a very early age onwards, we can afford people doing their ‘soul-searching’. Secondly, we have a rather strict philosophy that, although making provision for everyone’s particular needs, prohibits failure to radical extent. We don’t want failures here, we don’t have space for them, and we shall exercise no mercy at the face of failure.” He said these last words with a frightening forcefulness.

Rydenhall had only half listened to the explanations; instead, he was busy making mental notes for his report. There was much missionary work to be done here, before these barbaric people could be integrated into the empire. Obviously, they only had a comparative educational advantage- how could anyone be happy living in these... shacks, living without the nurturing love of Umanatan? No, they must be converted as soon as possible, if necessary with force. I must make recommendations on that as soon as possible to the imperial council, for who knows what damage these heathens could inflect on the pure Sictem with their erroneous, corroding beliefs. He caressed the pendant fashioned in the likeness of a sabre, crossed by a whip that served to remind of the punishment that awaited any who turned away from the one true belief. Already I see how these heretics corrupt us with their light... Darkness of Umanatan, deliver us!

* * *

“I’d like to know more about your country, its history, its politics...” Iand pestered Lanouri for more information, for the umpteenth time. He’d let the other go with their guide, preferring to remain in the castle, since it rained rather heavily. In the past three weeks of their sojourn, they had increasingly become used to the heat, alternated by spells of rain that lasted three or four days to make way for the sun and heat just as suddenly as it had come. Iand only fully realized how much this place and its inhabitants had transformed them when he found that everyone had acquired a tan and was somehow reflecting the constant cheeriness that every Marin displayed. No doubt, this was also because they had become proficient enough in the language to understand the frequent jokes and allusions well, no longer requiring the time-consuming translations.

Lanouri sighed, unconvincingly. Actually, she enjoyed Iand’s company- he was intelligent, laid-back but excitable and interested in everything her country had to offer- an interest that filled her with a pride she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Oh, all right. I don’t know what else to tell you. But I have a better idea. How would you like seeing our library? It is by far the greatest collection of historical documents on this continent. There are a few libraries that harbour more documents, especially in the south, and then there is the Temples’ library of magical documents in the Confederate States, but all in all, I find this the most interesting of them all. I could start teaching you our written language- it is quite dissimilar to our spoken language; you might find it is easier to learn.”

As she had promised, the written language of Marin was surprisingly simple- similar in structure to the code he was used to-, but then, considering the way the language was built, it would have been impossible to create a written counterpart... The Marin language relied not so much on vocabulary as on pronunciation and tonal variation. One word, pronounced slightly differently, or stressed or spoken at a softer tone, would mean a variation of the meaning. Different emotions put into the words, or a different phrasing could mean something of similar nature, but different kind. Written language seemed an entirely different language, or culture, relying on accents and sometimes even differently coloured inks to convey the meaning as accurately as possible. Iand found the books fascinatingly detailed and well made. He could see the effort that must have gone into the creation of one such beauty, let alone the hundreds of books that the castle library contained.

Asked about the connection between written and spoken language, Lanouri nodded distractedly. “Our writing is derived from a people from whom we distanced ourselves about four centuries ago. Spoken language stems from people and cultures with whom we identify much. Can I leave you here for a while? I need to sort out this mess- I thought I had taken out those documents I need, but now they seem to have gone missing...”

Lanouri had not yet found all the documents she required when she was rudely interrupted.

“You are expected in the throne room. Immediately,” the runner commanded.

Lanouri only sighed. “Please take these to my desk. And be careful, they’re valuable. And attend to our guest as long as I am away.” Muttering irritably to herself, she set out to the other corner of the castle.

* * *

Travel with the acolytes was slow and arduous- normally he would have crossed the distance in half a day, but he couldn’t very well travel his usual way when there were inexperienced youngsters to take care of. Especially Tyleen was frail and needed rest often. Well, there were times when weakness was strength, and besides, they were not in any immediate hurry. The longer they took, the more time he had to rehearse his speech, practice his arguments and refine his plans. He knew his task was anything but easy; the governess was as stubborn as his sister was, if not more so. But that was not why his task was on the brink of the impossible. The governess was also dangerously intelligent. And if ever she failed, there was her council. He would have wished for her death, because her daughter, the next in line for the position, was easily subverted. Well, you can’t change the colour of the sun, they said, and it was best to concentrate of facts rather than possibilities.

Arlon called his party to a halt. The servant-warriors hastened to set up camp for the priests and priestesses. After everything was set up and the priests had been served, one of the servant-warriors detached himself from his group and cautiously approached Arlon. He waited a courteous two paces away until Arlon deigned to notice him.

“What is it, scum?” Arlon snarled.

The servant-warrior cringed, but spoke out in spite of his fear. “The masters are weary from this journey. These ones fear for their safety. These ones would ask how long this journey will last...”

“Vermin! You dare to question your liege? The journey will last until its end.” With a gesture as if to strike down the servant, Arlon swept off to his fellow priests. He was the highest ranking; all others were mere acolytes, not worth his time in the Temples, but here at least worthier of his presence than the grovelling slaves were.

He planned to let rest the acolytes for half an hour and then make haste so that they might reach Castle Marin before noon.

What Arlon set his mind to was done to his wishes. The temperature had increased with their progress towards Castle Marin, and the group was secretly glad to have made it into the cooling woods of Marin forest before the glare of noon sun reached them. The discomfort of strangely alive trees was tiny in comparison to the discomfort of heat. Their work required the cool, dark recesses of the Temple and the years of service had paled their skin so that none relished the burning sun... Arlon halted his horse no more than half a pace from the Banning, enjoying the notion the guards might draw in their breath sharply, seeing this.

“Who goes there?” a female voice called from the cover of brush. The Marin were skilled in stealth, no sense in looking for her- or her companions. Arlon looked straight ahead and called: “Arlon of the Temples. I bring news from the Master to the governess of Marin.”

Scorn laced her voice as the guard replied. “I’m sure you needed a score of your defiling kind to make known your message. Give the letter to me and I’ll make sure the governess receives it.”

“I have to speak to her in person. Let me pass. You’re wasting time.”

“Well then.” The woman whistled sharply and a number of guards emerged from their cover, silently escorting the group of intruders up towards Castle Marin and to the throne room.

* * *

It took her only a moment to assess the situation. There was a faint hint of anger, mingled with frustration in her smoky eyes, the emotion darkening her eyes, as she moved behind the governess. Her mother was there, too. She had tears in her eyes, gaze fixed upon the man. Arlon.

“Now that we are complete, you can continue.” The governess gestured for Arlon to speak.

“As you might be aware of, the people of the Confederation are suffering from a mysterious ill. Have been suffering for almost a decade, now. If I may demonstrate...”

He turned and nodded to his acolytes, who concentrated for a moment and conjured up a flickering picture. As the picture steadied itself, one could see a village. It was tiny compared to the vast thriving city around Castle Marin, but none the less, its inhabitants seemed reasonably wealthy and carefree. Then the picture changed. More and more people fell prone to a hitherto unknown sickness. This made itself noticeable first by listlessness and lack of appetite. Next, small injuries turned into festering wounds within a matter of hours. Finally, gruesomely, these half-dead people turned against their own, wilfully injuring those still healthy until every single inhabitant was either dead or dying.

Lanouri was the first to regain her voice. “I see your problem, but I cannot see how we are to aid you in this. After all these years you have been striving to undo all our efforts at a stable government, now you turn to us for help? I cannot but believe that you merely seek another means to subvert us.”

Arlon sighed. “I had feared you would react like this. Please understand that, had we not been at the end of our resources –you surely see the damage inflicted on even the most inexperienced of our priests from overstrain-, we would never have dared ask your help. Please... the first ones fear that this sickness is about to spread even into your blessed country...we need help...”

“You’re almost believable. I ask only once more-”

“Lanouri! It is enough,” the governess interrupted harshly. “I, for good measure” –at this, she glared at every doubtful face- “believe in your sincerity. Has the Master found the cause of this malady?”

Lanouri cringed inwardly at his self-satisfied smirk- only too easily mistaken for strained courtesy... Oh, how she wished these people would take him at face value at last!

“Yes. He suspects it might be due to...” –A convulsion almost like a half-suppressed sob shook him- “...due to the failure- the failure of magic.”

 “Well. That can’t be too bad, can it? After all, it would finally make all equal, put an end to your slavery and mistreatment of those less gifted than you, the valued priests of the Master of all treachery,” Lanouri snarled at Arlon.

He looked sincerely hurt when he implored: “Princess, please... you misunderstand... once all magic is gone... the world will never be the same... and... the people would lead wretched half-lives... die... the first to go would be the faerie... you know how they depend on magic...”

Lanouri opened her mouth to retort, but was cut short.

“If you cannot approach this discussion rationally, I shall have you removed from this room at once. Have I made myself clear, Lanouri?”

Lanouri stared into her grandmother’s face with rage, then she lowered her gaze and murmured: “Yes.”

“Fine. Now let’s return to the topic. What does the Master plan to do about this problem?”

“Well...” Arlon squirmed uneasily, “There is something –an amulet of sorts- that is said to have such power as we, that is, the combined force of the Temples, require to revert the current situation.”

The governess waited patiently for Arlon to continue and, after a dramatic pause, he did. “At the end of the great wars, the newly formed Council of Confederation, what would later become the Temples, handed this amulet over to the governess of Marin, as a token of goodwill as well as because they thought better than to let lie around a artefact of such devastating power in a land still restless with civil strife... I’m afraid that governess Ashathorin locked it away with the rest of the relics of the old world.”

Lanouri laughed, relieved. “Thank the wisdom of our first leader. Where that amulet is now, it cannot be retrieved.”

Intrigued, the governess motioned her granddaughter and advisor of histories to continue.

“Ashathorin was wise to see that coming generations would be more than curious about the weapons, magic and power of the old world and its warriors. Thus she rallied the leaders of all faerie, both light and dark, as well as the best of all magical beings to build a trap of unbeknownst grandeur. She set twelve and one impossible tasks, knowing well that whatever was put into that cask of danger would never be returned to the mortal world. It would be insane to attempt a breach of that cask, for not only is it warded with unforeseeable danger, however hard one would try, one could never succeed at solving one impossible riddle, never mind thirteen.” She cast a triumphant smirk at Arlon.

“Then we are doomed,” he whispered, paling, staggering, only saved from falling by one of the priestesses dressed in blood red. Still clutching his arm, she, for the first time, lifted her face so that it could be seen, and whispered in horror: “Is there no way?”

Lanouri, usually hardened to any emotion, paled as she saw the face of the girl. “Tyleen,” she mouthed.

“Is there no way?” Tyleen looked imploringly at Lanouri. She had changed. Once a strident, confident girl, she was now a woman. Her innocent grace had turned into something more threatening, more ominous, but it suited her well none the less. She had always been beautiful, but now she was godly. Her pale features looked as though carved from finest white marble, carved by a god himself. Too beautiful for mortal eyes to behold and not be touched.

Lanouri was maybe more mortal than others. She swallowed a lump in her throat and replied almost tonelessly. “No.” Then she found her voice again. “No. Find yourself some other stupid person to badger.”

“Lanouri!” Aureola disciplined her daughter, “it seems you have forgotten all sense of propriety. Mind your manners, else we shall have to effect castigation.”

Lanouri’s eyes darkened with suppressed fury, but she immediately surrendered- to Robin’s surprise- she never gave in, never stopped fighting. “I’m sorry.”

The governess didn’t give anyone time to pursue this topic further. “So, if you should be able to retrieve this amulet, what would you do with it exactly?”

“Well, the concepts are complex, but accept this as fundamental fact: there is a limited amount of magic in the universe. Part of this magic is used to hold together all matter, and sets the rules for how the universe works. So, when there is a drain of magic, the vital magic streams in to fill the void.

“As well, stored in any magical artefact is a certain amount of latent magic. The Master plans to unleash the magical potential of the amulet in order to replenish the amount of magic in the world, thereby reverting the loosening of the vital magic from its position.”

The council nodded in understanding. Arlon smiled. “Any more questions?”

* * *

Well, that most certainly had gone better than expected. He’d have expected much more resistance from the governess, and most certainly the little vixen Lanouri had been good for a surprise... not that he hadn’t speculated on her hotheadedness to turn the odds in his favour, but her sudden submission was certainly... interesting. Intriguing. He wondered if he’d have to change his plans to accommodate that turn of events...

“Tyleen,” he called softly, in the tone a benefactor would call his favourite.

“Yes, sir?” Oh, he loved this girl, with her soft, pliable smoothness, her rapt attention to every single one of his words.

“You know your duty. You know what it is necessary to preserve our people.”

“Yes, sir. Now?”

“Yes.”

She turned to hurry down the passage, but he called her back. “Tyleen? Be discreet.”

“Yes, sir.”

She could have found her way in her dreams. Some things you just never forget... Tyleen rung the bell.

“Enter.”

For the first time in four years, they stood opposite each other again.

“Lanouri. Sister.” The lilting language of the Marin felt strange, almost uncomfortable on her tongue after all these years.

“Don’t call me that. You don’t deserve it. You went away. You chose to become one of the enemy’s soldiers. Don’t expect me to welcome you back.” Lanouri’s chameleon eyes were the colour of a forest on fire. She’s hiding something from me, the thought shot through Tyleen’s mind. She hasn’t forgiven me yet. She might even hate me. That’s good. I can ply angry people to my will much easier.

She made herself soften, but she didn’t touch Lanouri yet. Too early. Too much was at stake to risk failure. “They’re not the enemy, Lanouri. Don’t you remember how we used to dream about how, one day, we’d make the world a better place? They Temple priests do all that! They do all the things we always wanted to do.”

“No, Tyleen. They don’t do anything we wanted to do. You can’t force the world to heal. They kill the world.”

Her eyes, watch her eyes. Weren’t they becoming darker? Wasn’t that the colour of sorrow she spotted there? Oh, gods, let her remember... let the pain strike her with all its might. Let it purge her, make her ready for the truth.

“I cannot force you to see the truth.” She put in as much sorrow as her cold soul could muster.

“What’re you here for, in any case?” Lanouri’s voice just hinted at the belligerence Tyleen knew she must be feeling.

“You know why. I’m here to save these innocent people from death. Every moment that passes unused, thousands die out there... Do you want the deaths of these people on your conscience? Where is the tender sweet Lanouri that I once knew? She wouldn’t have allowed this to happen...”

“Lies! You’re here to twist that amulet out of our grip! But I’ll tell you something: over my dead body.” Lanouri glared at her, anger now flaring openly, eyes changing to the colour of nightshade’s fruit before she could catch her guard, veil her emotions in smoky grey again.

Now was her time! She quickly reached out to Lanouri and grabbed hold of her arm before she could shake it off. The mental invasion was ridiculously easy.

You shall help us. You shall tell your governess so. You shall do everything in your power to see to it that we receive this amulet before midsummer. You shall help us. You shall tell your governess so. You shall do everything in your power to see to it that we receive this amulet before midsummer.

That ought to be enough. As an afterthought, she led Lanouri to the cushions and forced her rigid frame down on them. She should be coming out of the catatonic shock in some four hours or so. Then Tyleen left in a hurry. Once back in her cosily warm quarters, she could relax again. It had been more draining than she’d have thought –of course, that must have been because of the chilliness in Lanouri’s quarters. Well, now she was out again, it didn’t matter anymore, she wouldn’t enter them again.

* * *

She walked into the hall and straight up to the governess in an almost trancelike fashion. “I promise to go on this search for the amulet. I’ll make ready to leave within the week.”

“How come you changed your mind?” One of the councillors asked. They didn’t question her right to go; after all, the more dangerous the journey was, the worthier she would be of the honour to be considered Marin. 

“I have seen the error of my reason. I am ready to help the Confederate States in their struggle to save their people.” Lanouri shivered. Then she hurried out of the hall without heed to good manners, straight to the stables. Her hands shook as she saddled her horse and cantered out of the courtyard, into the forest at breakneck pace.

What had gotten into her? How did she end up here? For a second, she wasn’t even sure who she was. Who was she? Who was she when she abandoned all her duties, all her values? What have I done? Oh, providence, what have I done!