The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 347

Chapter 347 A Stroll With Gods

ALDIR

A sea of mist moved in the unconscious rhythm of earth and air, eddying around the base of the mountain and under the many-colored bridge that guarded Castle Indrath. Wide, white rivers streamed past further out, away from the tumultuous currents near the stone cliffs.

It was almost as if one could ride the wild river of clouds away from Castle Indrath and into the far reaches of Epheotus, where the politics and intrigue of war were a distant, meaningless shadow.

I’d carried the knowledge of Arthur Leywin’s survival for several days now, but the understanding of what to do with it eluded me. As a soldier, I owed it to my lord to inform him at once, and yet…

My fingers traced the story carved into the wall where I’d stopped to think. It told the tale of an ancient Indrath prince, and how he challenged Geolus, the living mountain. Hundreds of miles had been torn apart by the ferocity of their battle, but in the end, Arkanus Indrath cleaved Geolus nearly in two, and the mountain fell still.

In ages after, Akranus’s descendants built their home on the mountain’s back. As a sign of respect, they forbid the use of mana when ascending or descending Geolus, a tradition that lived on to the present era.

A wisp of earth mana trickled from the runes and along my outstretched fingers, imparting me with the stolid essence of ancient bedrock. My mind quieted as my spirit settled. This tale was a favorite of mine; it imparted the passiveness of rock and stone, allowing for more rational thought.

“I guessed that I might find you here, old friend,” Windsom's voice came from down the hall. “Is your mind still plagued with doubt?”

“No,” I answered, half turning to watch the dragon approach. He wore his uniform as always, which denoted his position as a servant of Lord Indrath. The midnight blue fabric was embroidered with gold thread at the cuffs, shoulders, and collar, and a rope of woven gold hung from his right shoulder to the middle button of his jacket. I had allowed myself more comfort, wearing a simple gray training robe bound with a silk cord. Visit lightno?velpub.c?om for the best novel reading experience.

His gaze settled on me with the weight of the night sky. “When we last spoke…”

He left the rest unsaid, but we both understood well enough. I had expressed concern that our actions had led to more Dicathian deaths than Agrona’s ever had or likely would, a moment of weakness I now regretted.

“I did not carry the burden of my actions lightly or well, but distance widens one’s perspective,” I answered.

Windsom glanced at the story wall. “Are these the words of Aldir, or of Geolus?”

“I am a warrior,” I answered simply. “My mind is full of tactics and battle, and at times requires calming.” Stepping back from the wall, I gestured down the hallway. “Walk with me? I am enjoying the castle this morning.”

Windsom nodded and fell into step beside me, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes straight ahead. “I’m glad you’ve accepted the necessity of what was done. At least your part is played, for the time being.”

We stepped aside as two armored guards marched past. They stopped to bow deeply before continuing on their patrol. “Is that why you were so quick to volunteer to lead the attack? To end your long-suffered role as guide to the lessers?”

Windsom straightened his uniform. “I will do as Lord Indrath commands, now and always. But the truth is, you had it easy, old friend. The lessers have become more tedious by the day. At least the boy, Arthur, was interesting. The rest are just fireflies.”

I couldn’t be sure if the dragon spoke out of ignorance, or if he was testing me with his suggestion that my task had somehow been “easy.” It was possible he was attempting to push me to anger so that I might reveal some hidden reservation. I let his words go by unanswered.

“Is the situation in Dicathen salvageable?” I asked.

“They have not accepted our version of events as readily as the asuras,” he answered, his tone accusatory. “Lessers are suspicious by nature, and they yearn for hope above all else, even if it means abandoning logic.”

I nodded solemnly as we turned a corner. On our right, a training room was open to the hallway, separated only by a series of columns carved into the shape of serpentine dragons. Four students practiced a coordinated series of movements and strikes, each in near-perfect unison with the others.

I stopped to watch for a moment. I’d witnessed a thousand—maybe even ten thousand—such displays in my life, but now I couldn’t help but see it as much more than the slow perfection of form, speed, and delivery that we taught our youth. With each practiced strike and block, they learned a blow intended to disarm or kill an opponent. If the asuras continued on their current path, these young warriors would have reason to use them soon.

“Taci looks strong,” Windsom remarked, his eyes on a tall young pantheon.

The boy’s head was cleanly shaved, as was the tradition among the fighting class of pantheons. His once nut-brown eyes—of which there were only two, a rarity among the pantheon—had darkened to beetle-black.

Taci, the only pantheon among them, was just into his teen years, but time spent training in the aether realm—a privilege, especially for those not of the Indrath Clan—had left him more intense and mature than his age would suggest.

It was clear watching him train that he was not in pursuit of physical or mental exercise. No, for Taci, this was about mastering the art of death. I could nearly see the image he held in his mind: an enemy breaking under each punch and kick, an army falling before him.

I understood what he felt, because I was very similar once, a long time ago.

The young warriors finished their form and stopped to give Windsom and me a deep bow. While the others began paring up to continue their training, Taci ran up to us and bowed again.

“Master Windsom. Master Aldir. Please accept my gratitude again for allowing me to train within Castle Indrath,” he said in a crisp, serious tone.

“Kordri has seen great promise in you,” Windsom answered. “See that you live up to it, Taci.”

The fierce young Pantheon bowed yet again and ran back to his training partner.

“If he continues as he has been these last several years, he could be the next wielder of the World Eater technique,” Windsom commented.

“I was over two hundred years old before I was chosen,” I pointed out. “If he were chosen, it would not be for many years yet.”

Inside though, I couldn’t help but wonder: When the elders inevitably asked me to pass on the technique to another warrior, would I do it? Could I give this burden to another member of my clan, knowing they may one day be forced to use it?

Leaving Taci and the others behind, we continued on our slow circuit of the castle interior. We walked in comfortable silence for a minute before Windsom spoke again.

“Why do you think he chose to use it this time? Even with the”—Windsom glanced around the hall, making sure we were alone—“djinn, Lord Indrath never considered its use.”

“Your ears are closer to the mouth of our lord than mine,” I pointed out. “But I see no reason we would have needed it. The djinn were pacifists. They had no army and little combat magic. That was a culling, not a war.”

“It was a war,” he countered, watching me from the corner of his eye. “We simply struck preemptively.”

There were few, even among the asuras, who truly understood what had happened to the djinn. Most asuras never looked beyond Epheotus, and cared nothing for the lessers. Those who did were told a very convincing lie. Those who saw through the lie and cared were dealt with.

“Our lord did what he thought needed to be done, both then and now,” I hedged.

Windsom chuckled. “And you say you have no mind for politics. You’re as careful with your words as any courtier.”

“There is no need for caution when words are shared between old friends, is there?” I asked, stopping to ponder a tapestry that hung from floor to ceiling. “Take this image, for example.”

The tapestry portrayed a young Kezzess Indrath at council with his best friend, Mordain, a member of the phoenix race. A golden plaque beneath it was engraved with the title: “Let Rest.”