The Chaos Circles #10

The hall suddenly fell into a silence at the mage’s last word; broken only by sudden gasps, rough whispers and mutters from the crowds. The mage had paused, either waiting for the information to sink into the Heads or simply to catch his own breath. But if any of the Heads showed some emotions, they looked more solemn than ever. Lya felt someone held on to her right hand and saw that it was her mother. Her eyes had grown very wide.

Handred Samuelson nodded for the mage to continue, his wrinkled face looked hard. Chris inhaled deeply.
“The enemies that held its sword against us are the Skylander provinces. The Nobility had confirmed at least 3 regions had gathered and stationed their armies close to the west border of Onus, which is only a kingdom and a sea-strait away from our homeland.”
The scattered voices grew in size and numbers as Mage Chris spoke.

A stray voice from the benches cried, “The Skylanders have no business with us!”
A number of voices echoed the man’s thought. Mutters and whispers continued, each made by harsh faces. Another man voiced his opinion, one that Lya managed to catch the person who said it.
“We have nothing against the Skylanders. Your message is obscure!” said Finnigan Jaymes, speaking for the first time.

Her father knocked the head of his walking stick loudly on the table, silencing the crowd. He eyes never left any of the Mages, but Lya could not really tell which one he was staring at.
“Please continue, Mage,” said Handred.
Mage Chris’s face looked more forlorn in Lya’s eyes, but his stance was ever so erect.
“It is the truth, the Skylanders have nothing against us. It is still the truth, but what they do have against is Inutqland,” said the mage.

The scattered whispers started to rise again. Lya heard a woman behind her gasped as her mother’s grip tightened. The last mage, the one Virdie thought was the strangest, raised his gaze from the table. His face showed more youth than the other three mages, but it might have been the trick of his very short black hair and his striking gold-brown eyes. It was the man’s eyes that amazed Lya the most because for some reason, it struck a sense of familiarity.

“Inutqland is a dead nation,” said a high-pitched voice.
The statement took Lya’s attention to the person standing behind the head villager’s high-backed chair. Channeler Harrietta looked as if she had her broom handy, she would have swept the Mages out with all the strength of the Mailotdottir within her. As Enatuh’s channeler, her position in any important meeting is always behind Lya’s father, no matter the gender.

And Channeler Harrietta was not finished yet. Her face was taut.
“Five hundred years had the dastardly Inutites kept themselves barricaded inside their own barren country. Their land is nothing but broken down to ashes and the barbaric people forever trying to rebuild with those ashes as their Government only cared bathing in honey-milk. Everyone has a history against Inutqland and it had all been done,” she said.

A cheer rose of a corner where many Mailot clansmen had gathered. Lya recalled the history lesson her father had taught in class. Inuqtland was one of the oldest and strongest civilisations in Evinau realm. But a sudden change of power had led to national deterioration, to a civil war and an opportunity to an open war. Since their great fall, little to no diplomatic Inutites had ventured outside their borders and hardly any traders. And all the other kingdoms and nations kept it that way.

The Head Villager rapped his stick on to the table again and the cheering men dropped their merriment to a minimum. But instead of simply nodding for the mage to continue, he asked a question. Impatience rang in his voice.
“Why does this news concern us, Mage Chris?”
His voice was so serious and monotonous that no one muttered a word when he finished. But Lya subconsciously knew the reason for the sudden silence because it was the one question on everybody’s mind tonight.

The mage turned his face straight to Handred. No longer did he look like a tired traveller but a battle knight filled with passion.
“Why does it concern? Why did you think we have journeyed? Are you not the people of Asuqaro? Have you not felt the pain of loss thirteen years ago? Our land in under threat again and all you ask is to be allowed sit in idle? Wake up Suvonians!”
And they certainly did. Even those in deep stupor and on the edge of snoring were suddenly jerked by magic.

Lya wondered if indeed magic were used in the mage’s words. But so far, Channeler Harrietta had not signalled her father that she felt that connection. Even so, the very name Suvon could entice passion fire of either hate or love, depending on how the story had been told. But hardly anyone ever speak of the great land before the Collapse. Hardly anyone even spoke of the lost past at all. And to her the name from the mouth of a mage...

But Handred Samuelson was not ready to back down yet. He stood with all the majesty Lya had ever seen him possessed, his walking stick looked like a sceptre.
“And I say this to you, Mage. Where were you and your fellows thirteen years ago? Where were even the King’s knights? The last of Uvounuq’s barbarians tore across our hamlet while you only concern is the King’s coronation. And you knew!”

Handred shook his walking stick at Mage Chris, his face twisted in temper.
“You knew our plight but did nothing! All that we’ve received was a parchment of apology and allegiance. The rider would not even stay to take my message of aid to your newly crowned leader. People of Asuqaro? No! We are Green Cliffs!”
He slammed his thick stick to the table to emphasize his word. The men rose and cheered, even the women cried in a mix of approval for her father and distaste for the mages.

But Chris Anasteq the Mage’s own fury had not been expunged. The man banged his fist on the table so hard that Lya jumped. And by the diminishing voices, so others were caught by surprise.
“Honest people! Did you think the blood of others were not as red? You whose children were spared from war, did you think it would never come to your door? Did you think the Nobility had spared you because they ignored you? If you would not answer to the Spirit which is Lost, then answer to your own history! Think, good people and answer me. How were you ever Green Cliffs to begin?”

This time, there were no voices that followed. Only silence as dead as the night that had long since fallen on Enatuh. But then a lone statement spoke without fear, but with clarity as if the man who stood and said the words knew in his heart of the truth what the mage had demanded.
“We were the Defenders Guard, by honour of Esaeni Aqens Order. We were all born to become soldiers.”
The man who spoke was Jaque Jaymeson.

To be continued...