Exhumation: An Epic of Existentia (Acts of the Sojourner Book 1) Read online

  During the almost total darkness and colourless light of Tenebrae, the Evergreen shone like a beacon of hope, its dull green light illuminating the fog.

  Unlike in other parts of the forest, no mushrooms, toadstools, or other forms of fungus were present, due to the fungicidal qualities of the copper acetate needles that were strewn about beneath the tree.

  The tree stood atop a mound that emerged from a pond, which in turn utilised a majority of the space available in the Glade. The Glade’s waters had a majestic shimmer, due in part to the various minute crystal needles suspended in its waters.

  From the base of the tree bubbled forth a brook which maintained the level of the surrounding pond. The excess runoff fed two streams, one travelling south towards Sanctuary, and one travelling north towards the Shaydean capital of Attamerus.

  Pious refocused his attention on his task and carefully made his way across the path of stones that emerged from the pond's waters. The path led to the base of the tree, where a large crack opened in its trunk, looking very much like a fissure in a rock face. The entrance appeared like rough stone, with various crystals growing from its surface.

  Pious started his descent into the mound below the tree, walking past two piles of armour, with spears still grasped in fallen gauntlets. The tunnel was large enough for four people to walk comfortably side by side and was almost equally as high. The path was a long and sweeping curve, illuminated by a dim white light from deeper below.

  As Pious descended, the light levels increased, and a strange yet delicate music called from deeper within the bowels of the earth. The tunnel continued to get wider and deeper until he walked into a vast open expanse.

  The Evergreen Grotto

  “The Seed,

  The Root,

  The Shoot,

  The Tree.

  In the beginning,

  We were you.

  In death,

  You will be me.”

  “Arboreal Mantra”,

  Arboreal Clerics.

  Banned in the 242nd Cycle of Truth.

  Pious stood at the entrance of the Evergreen Grotto, once held by the Arboreal Clerics to be the second most sacred location in the entirety of Aurania after the Sanctum – some would even dare to consider it the first.

  The Evergreen Grotto, sentimentally titled the Heart of the World by the Arboreal Clerics, was considered to be the most beautiful and splendid location in all of Aurania.

  An innumerable quantity of fluorescent crystal structures and minerals covered its walls, bathing Pious and the grotto with phosphorescing light in a multitude of colours, which encompassed the full spectrum of light and illuminated the room with a majestic light show.

  The sparkling star–like light was reflected off the shimmering waters of the pool in the centre of the grotto, mesmerising Pious with a dazzling display.

  The grotto was filled with an angelic choir of music, generated by the vibrations of the crystals. The scale and volume of the notes were determined by the colour and size of the crystals – the red crystals hummed with bass notes, and each coloured crystal increased in musical pitch, through to the indigo crystals, which chirped with high-pitched notes like the most minuscule of birds.

  In the centre of the room, a mound of rock protruded from the pond. Atop the rock sat yet another pool of water, with a small translucent crystalline bush growing from it, like a scaled–down version of the Evergreen itself. At the base of the rock lay a full suite of the same ancient armour that littered the grove, with a sword and shield by its side, as if the relics had defended their position to the last.

  A slowly sweeping violet–indigo flame covered the crystal, which was providing the unseen energy to the phosphorescent objects in the grotto. From the base of this crystal bush bubbled forth a liquid which trickled down the rock and over the armour, feeding the pond at its base.

  Pious carefully crossed the pond via a series of flattened stones that protruded from deep within the grotto’s waters, forming a path to the central rock. As Pious approached the mound, the flame began to dance and to draw slightly towards him. The flame generated a subtle warmth and seemed to increase in luminosity the closer he came to it. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but haste and pragmatism prevented this.

  He raised his head to look upwards and saw a massive hollow expanse above him – the hollow insides of the Evergreen. The hollows of the Evergreen and the grotto were a large geode – as taught by the Arboreal Clerics, who studied geology to greater understand the structure of the Evergreen.

  There was a scintillating light display above, with the twinkling of light reflecting off a multitude of coloured stones, generated by the unseen radiant energy of the burning crystal structure.

  Pious turned back and made his way across the path of stones to the bank of the pond. The Grotto's walls amplified every single sound so that each footstep and breath reverberated and echoed around the vaulted ceiling. Pious tried to walk as quietly and gently as possible, feeling as though every sound he made was destructive to the serenity of the Grotto.

  He knelt on one knee by the edge of the waters and placed the satchel on the ground next to him. Then he released the fastening straps and opened the small bag.

  The surface of the pond, when surveyed from afar, looked almost entirely still, save for the occasional small ripples breaking on the banks of the pond. When closely inspected, however, the water was vibrating at an incredibly high frequency caused by the energy waves emitted by the reverberating crystals on the wall.

  Pious opened the bag and plunged it into the pool. The sound of displaced water filled the Grotto. He withdrew the bag from the water and poured out the excess into the pool. The satchel had doubled in weight when the spongy material of its lining was saturated by the pond's waters, and a small amount of excess water now lay at the bottom of the bag.

  Pious closed the flap securely and made his way towards the path out of the grotto.

  As he made his way along the slightly inclined and spiralling path towards the Evergreen Glade, the gentle music from below, as well as the fluorescent light, began to wane. Outside, the dim light of Tenebrae heralded only further darkness.

  Once he had reached the surface and re-emerged from below, he started crossing to the other side of the pond. During Pious's descent below the tree, his Qulin had returned from downstream and was sleeping by the stream on the southern side of the glade.

  Pious raised his head and looked towards Lux. Nox was beginning to partially obscure Lux, with Lux being slightly robbed of its golden hue. Lux had begun its transmutation from its usual golden radiance to a dull golden disc, and the bending of Lux’s rays was visible in the heavens above. While he had been below the tree, the Evergreen Glade had been transformed from a bright and joyful scene filled with all the various colours of the spectrum to a landscape of dull, washed–out colour.

  Pious started walking toward the northernmost side of the glade, observing as he did so the dull reflection of Lux on the face of the water.

  Along the banks of the stream, lying in the permanent shade of the Evergreen was a thick carpet of Evershade Moss. The moss was almost entirely black in colour, due to its absorption of a full spectrum of elements from the Glade’s soils.

  Pious stood at the edge of the moss and looked for a large, healthy-looking clump, eventually spotting a particularly even–shaped and large cluster.

  He knelt alongside it and placed the satchel to his side, with its opening upright. He felt around the outside of the cluster, separating it from the rest of the moss, and proceeded to push his fingers deep into the heavy sand, searching for the base of the roots. When he found the base of the roots, he drew his hands up, pulling the moss cleanly out of the ground, with the excess sand falling from its roots. Almost immediately, the upper mass of the clump of moss started to become limp and lighter in colour. He placed the clump of moss into the bag, roots first, according to the clear instructions of Zosim.

  As soon as i
ts roots touched the water at the base of the bag, the moss returned to its dark colour and regained its structural integrity. Finally, Pious closed the flap of the bag and secured both straps tightly.

  He picked up the bag and looked over to the Qulin, which was still sleeping by the stream, its tail splashing in the water. Pious placed his thumb and index finger to his mouth and let out a loud whistle. The Qulin sprang awake and surveyed the scene, looking for Pious. When it spotted him walking towards its location, it jumped to its feet and ran towards him. As it got close to Pious, it kicked out its front legs and came to a halt.

  Pious’s expression changed to a look of concern, as did the Qulin’s, as they both looked to the north. A multitude of long and frightening howls bellowed forth from the Jagged Ranges above, and from deeper within the darkness of the forest that lay further north – in the realms of Shayde.

  “Rapax,” Pious muttered to himself uneasily.

  The ‘Howling of the Rapax’ was the Harshlander’s way of judging the beginning of Tenebrae, as it was at this point that the light levels had waned enough that the Rapax and other Shadefiends could cross into Elysia.

  The Rapax would sit eagerly on the borders of light and dark, in the blackness of Shayde, waiting for the moment when they could cross into Elysia and voraciously hunt for the soft, herbivorous and timid prey of the Elysian realms. Pious knew that just outside the reach and protection of the Evergreen’s light, Rapax were lying in wait.

  Pious fixed the bag to the back of his saddle and proceeded to mount the Qulin hastily pushing forward on its antlers. It charged into the forest to the south, as eager as Pious to leave the area.

  The Great Forest

  “Oh, my dear beloved, I sympathise if you at times choose not to remember, or call to mind, the curses hexed upon us. Alas, I demand of you that when time is near, you do not forget! There shall come a time when we shall reclaim what is ours by right, and the followers of my brother shall bear a fate far worse than our own.”

  Speech given from atop the foundation stone of Attamerus,

  Merusul the Unyielding.

  Given on the 45th Cycle of Truth.

  The two had not long ventured past the second aquifer, not too far from the Prevention, when the Qulin suddenly stopped, dropping very low to the ground. The Qulin shallowed its breathing, and its mane dropped entirely, without a trace of movement. Its eyes stared deep into the forest, away from the river.

  Pious knew that something was not right, for the Qulin to be so cautious. He steadied his breath to enhance his perception. Over the sound of the flowing river, faint noises became more obvious from the direction under the Qulin’s observation.

  As the light levels were getting quite low and were further lessened by the density of the forest, it was hard to see what the cause of the noise was.

  However, when a giant mass started moving in a forest clearing, it did not take Pious long to recognise what it was that troubled the Qulin. It was a Tabanidon – a horribly foul flying beast that roamed the open expanses of Shayde.

  The drone of the Tabanidon's sporadically vibrating wings buzzed through the forest. It was not the only foul Shaydean beast nearby. Pious saw three-winged and saddled Vespax close at hand, and heard their mandibles snapping away feverishly.

  As Pious’s eyes adjusted to the light, he could make out the figures of several men moving around near the Tabanidon. He slowly climbed off the back of the Qulin and gestured for it to stay. Then he started moving stealthily forward, carefully watching his footwork, moving from tree to tree and creeping closer to the scene ahead.

  Pious slowly moved closer until he was within earshot. From there he proceeded to crawl belly–first through the low-lying shrubs.

  “He should be here! How much longer are we going to wait?” shouted one of the men, holding a lantern outstretched as he scoured the forest's edge. As he moved, the lantern's light changed the colours in the area it illuminated from dull green–greys to their natural, vibrant greens.

  “He will turn up. He needs us, after all,” replied another one of the men. This one wore the unmistakably thick and luxurious kaftan of a Attaran Vizier.

  “Attarans….” Pious muttered to himself in disbelief. “This Pass keeps getting better.”

  Pious could distinguish the figures as they moved into a slight clearing illuminated by the combination of lamplight and the dull light of Lux above. Two of the men were wearing the kaftans of Attaran Viziers, while the others were garbed in the robes of the Vizieri bodyguards. Their steel lamellar disc–armour looked grey in the dull light of early Tenebrae.

  The aristocrats of Attamerus would travel about their lands on Tabanidons, with the creatures' partially hollowed carapaces modified to mount a transport carriage.

  Pious also saw a fifth figure wearing the padded and heavy leather jacket of a Gunman from the swamp regions of Mudthrone. This greatly increased Pious’s curiosity, as Mudthrone – a province of Serica – was a long way from Aurania.

  One of the bodyguards turned to the Viziers. “He is coming now,” said the bodyguard, pointing with his lance to the edge of the clearing, where a dull red glow slowly weaved through the forest.

  Pious diverted his attention to the direction in which the bodyguard pointed. He could make out a robed figure holding a staff with an illuminated scarlet lodestone approaching the outskirts of the small clearing.

  “You should have not kept us waiting so long,” said one of the Viziers. “The Silent Prince and his forces are stirring on Fulcrum Island and the fools will be on route. If we are detected in these lands, our plan will fail.”

  “Don’t be so childish. If you had made yourself a bit more obvious, it would not have taken me so long,” returned the newcomer. “Besides – the freak and his diseased ones wouldn't dare interfere.”

  He removed a large pack from his back and slumped it onto the ground. The sound of clanging metal against metal rang true as the bag hit the ground. The Vizier walked to the bag and picked up the heavy pack.

  The Vizier, in turn, handed the pack to one of his guards, who opened the pack and began to inspect its insides.

  “I assume everything we need is in order?” asked one of the Viziers sternly.

  “Of course, it is!” replied the newcomer with contempt.

  “They’re here,” replied the guard, rummaging through the pack. He closed the pack and proceeded to the Tabanidon, where he loaded the pack into the carriage.

  “The others are informed and ready – Umbra Orbis. Now let us get out of here,” demanded the newcomer. He started walking to the carriage. A guard looked at the Vizier, who returned his glance with a nod of approval.

  The guard walked over to the newcomer and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Here, let me help you get on board,” said the guard, helping the newcomer remove his coat. As the coat was withdrawn, Pious’s expression turned to one of outright confusion as he recognised a familiar figure.

  The newcomer was Prelate Thuler Vicario, who had been missing from the Sanctum for almost three Passes. Vicario had been the favoured delegate of the High Prelate and Imperator, Draetor Principio, until a falling–out between the two, which rumour had it was caused by the clash between Vicario’s ever-increasing thirst for power and Draetor’s vice-like grip on his own.

  The Prelate looked at the guard stupidly for a moment, waiting for further assistance, before reluctantly climbing the ladder aided, towards the carriage interior.

  As soon as the Prelate started climbing the stairs, the guard drew an elegant barbed dagger from his scabbard, drove it downwards into the man’s calf muscle and twisted the blade. The Prelate let out a horrific cry of agony as the guard grabbed him by the back of his clothes and threw him back down the steps.

  The Prelate hit the ground with a loud thud and began writhing on the ground, screaming with pain. “What’s wrong with you?” he screamed at the guard, as he grabbed the blade firmly lodged in his leg.

  “Quiet,
” said the guard, unnervingly.

  Pious could only look on in horror, well knowing that entering a fray such as this would be his undoing – not to mention the complete failure of his task at hand if he were to fall.

  A Vizier walked over to the man and stood above him, gazing down at him coldly.

  “The only thing worse than an Elysian – is a weak, cowardly, fattened and traitorous Elysian,” stated the Vizier, as he gently kicked some dirt onto the Prelate's face in contempt.

  “You’re dead! You’re all dead, you damned heretics!” shouted the Prelate, holding his calf muscle and rocking back and forth as blood oozed through his fingers. He screamed as he tried in vain to remove the blade.

  The Vizier laughed to himself. “Heretics? You Ecclesiasts, you are so self-righteous amongst the simpletons,” continued the Vizier, circling the Prelate like a taunting and hungry Rapax. “You stand before them, preaching the words of your forerunners. Yet you do not understand the true meaning of the words. You reiterate sounds, you repeat by memory… Yet you do not understand. In all your hypocritical self-righteousness, you still have a worldly price to betray yourselves and your kin.”

  The Vizier knelt next to the man, who was sobbing quietly yet uncontrollably as if he was soon to awake from some horrific nightmare.

  “Yet you claimed the right to call us wicked and evil, to banish us and cast us out into the darkness,” said the Vizier, poking the man with his index finger.

  The Vizier's expression turned from collected self–control to frenzied anger. “You are the wicked ones, not us!” he shouted into the man’s face, spittle flying from his mouth onto the Prelate.

  Enraged, the Vizier grabbed the man by his robes and dragged him along the ground, dumping him in front of the Tabanidon.

  “Let me introduce you to a beast with an appetite equal to yours, Prelate,” instructed the Vizier with a look of stern sadism, bordering on pleasure.

  “Please, no…!” cried the man on the ground, raising his hands to hide his face.