Book of Remembrance: The Forgotten Gods: Book One (58 page)

“You know she admires you and she does not mean any
offense,” I said in a placating tone.

He rolled his eyes and running a hand through his short
blonde hair, said, “I know
,
I mustn’t take it out on
her. I just get so frustrated. Every time I think I have you forced into a
corner, you find the secret door out and instead, I find myself flat on my
back…again.”

 
I could not stop the
bubble of laughter that forced itself out. A moment later, I was relieved when
he joined in.

“You know I will beat you, old man,” he said. “One of these
days, it will be you dusting yourself off!”

I grinned back at him. “I know.” He was getting better all
the time and at thirteen turnings old, he still had a lot of growing to do.
Calling me ‘old man’ was new, but I did not mind it….too much.

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

At times, I had wondered at the
wisdom of teaching my children about the horrors of the past from such a young
age. Being part of the Alliance was a proud heritage. If not for them, and
their Fae counterparts, the Guardians, Rakadamon would most likely have
triumphed at the Battle of Magtisanya.

We had a duty to prepare them so that they could in turn
prepare others as well by passing the Knowledge onto their children one day as
well as people in general. Our objective was never to allow the world to become
vulnerable again. Knowledge was power. So, I knew it was to the good for them
to know, to be prepared, yet I always regretted taking their innocence from
them so early.

In the time since the Battle of Magtisanya, we had lived
such a normal life that in quiet moments, I could have almost forgotten for a
while what had gone before. Of course, that never lasted. I had too many
reminders; my scars, the Book, and of course, my bond with Markai.
Although, the latter was still a blessing even when I did not get
to see her for seasons at a time.

As always, we finished our practice session with the
Shea-Rin. Master Boryka of the
Fae,
had trained me to
be a LemMestari – or sword master – like him. He had taught me this series of
exercises and I took pride in passing this skill down to my son.

I unsheathed Sunder and handed Riaph his sword for it as
well. It was best to practice with a real blade. It helped you get accustomed
to the weight and balance of it.

Riaph took his place next to me and we sinuously moved
through the various forms, our bodies smoothly flowing from one to the next.

When he was a toddler, barely able to walk steadily, he
would take up a toy and while pretending it was his sword, mimic my movements.
Now he looked deadly as his body flexed and curved into the forms of the
Shea-Rin.

He had started learning to focus his Navitas about one
cycle-of-the-seasons
ago. I had nearly been denied this
Talent. As an orphan and an outsider in the Predaki community, I was forbidden
to learn their secret….That was until I furtively observed the lessons and
taught myself.
 

This ability had saved my life and the lives of my
companions many times over. Riaph had shown great aptitude for it. I remembered
my own struggle to learn it all too well. After all, as a boy it is not easy to
clear your mind of all distractions and allow your awareness to drift outwards.
But, once mastered, it heightens all the senses and when adept at the
technique, you are able to sense and manipulate the energy that everything
around you harbours.
  

Riaph had picked it up much quicker than I had. He was
sorely disappointed however, when it turned out that he did not have the Talent
of Charming. I had inherited this from my mother and it had meant that while
using the Navitas, I drew Markai to me.

The first time I saw her, I was captivated. Her powerful
cat-like body and huge canine teeth protruding from her mouth and curling back
to end in sharp points did not exactly scream ‘I am your friend’. I never knew
why, but right from the start I had had a clear sense that she was an ally.
  

She was my bond partner, a fierce warrior, and the reason
why I had lived through the Battle of Magtisanya. I could not imagine life
without her.

Riaph had fully expected his Navitas to call a Qupari to him
as mine had drawn Markai. Our bond had always fascinated him and it took a long
time for him to accept that he was not to have the same.
 

∞ ∞ ∞ ∞

I found Myria sitting at the
kitchen table with the Book of Remembrance open in front of her. After all this
time, I had come to know it cover to cover. I still cringed seeing my little
girl paging through a Book full of Dark Children and Twisted Ones; the
nightmarish creatures wrought from the hand of Rakadamon.

I looked over her shoulder to see what she was studying. The
Book was open to an illustration of a Twisted Ape, one which I had added to it.
She always preferred to read about the ones I had encountered, often asking me
to retell my tales. I was relieved however, that she did not ask again then.

She looked up at me with her grey eyes so like her mother’s.
They looked sulky. I planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Popa,” she said, “you have a picture in here of a Twisted
Ape, but not of an original one…You know, before Rakadamon twisted it. How are
they different?”

I pointed to the sketch of its paw. “You see
this,
the Twisted Ape has retractable claws; that’s
different. I think the biggest difference though, is that normal apes are
tranquil creatures, unlikely to attack you. Twisted Apes on the other hand,
serve evil purposes. The combination of their intelligence and powerful bodies,
make them formidable enemies.”

“You’ve never seen an original ape, have you?” she asked,
her mouth pulling into a thin line.

I laughed. “You could tell, could you?”

She nodded.

“You are too clever sometimes.”

“I know,” she said with a cheeky smile. “So, Rakadamon and
the rest of the gods left their homes amongst men to punish them for starting
the rebellion.”

“Yes?” I wondered where this was leading.

“Were they not very clever then?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Well, it wasn’t really such a bad punishment; not like when
you and Moma make me scrub the pots
and
clean out the stables.”

“It might not seem like a severe reprimand now, but at the
time, it left humans and the Fae in a great deal of trouble. War raged for decades
before they managed to rebuild their lives.”

“And that’s when Rakadamon first came back?”

“That’s right.”

Alathaya walked in and smiled at me. Fifteen
cycles-of-the-seasons, and two children later, it was still all she had to do
to make my heart soar. “Riaph says you once more landed him on his back,” she
said, running a hand down her long ash blond braid. Her narrow grin was part
admonishing, but she knew I had to train him as hard as I could. I shrugged.

She had also given him lessons until he started consistently
besting her. Myria was schooled with the sword as well, although she preferred
the bow and throwing knives. She made the very compelling - if flawed -
argument that you should simply kill all the enemies before they could reach
you.

I sighed at the thought that my ten turnings old daughter,
had to think about such disturbing things. At her age, I had been blissfully
unaware of true danger. Of course, it did result in a very rude awakening for
me to the reality of the world.

The Book that lay in front of
Myria,
was the original Book of Remembrance, including the additional pages I had
created, which were loosely put into the right places. Since our victory over
Rakadamon, I had made a dozen or so copies. It was painstaking work, but I knew
the Book like the back of my own hand - in all its horrors. Quiniewa, the Fae
woman who had been my Teacher in all things, had been collecting the Books
periodically. She took them back to others of her kind to put perdurability
spells on them. My copy was about four thousand five hundred
cycles-of-the-seasons old, so obviously their spells were rather potent.
 

I was brought out of my reverie by a breathless Riaph
running in from outside. In his haste he threw the door open, making it slam
back against the wall. I was about to admonish him for such careless behaviour,
when I saw his face.

“Popa,” he said, “it’s Loris. He has an urgent message from
Predaki.”

I nodded and briskly strode out to meet the messenger. He
stood holding the reins of his slender bay in one hand and a small note in the
other. When he saw me he gave a bow, but his eyes did not come up again. He
started picking at the trim on the leather rein.

“Riaph says you have an urgent message, Loris. Out with it.”

He grimaced and shuffled his feet. He looked up at me a
moment before dropping his gaze again. “I am afraid I have some news from your
home, Master Kadin.”

I ignored the title that I would usually decline. It was
something that started up after we returned to Predaki following the Battle of
Magtisanya. I had gone from an outcast and unaccepted outsider to the hero of
the village. After receiving some visitors from Predaki, a few of the locals
had taken to it as well. It had been part of the reason why we had decided not
to settle in Predaki. I certainly did not want it following me here. Settling
on part of the Almeida’s estate had been a way of escaping all that. Alathaya’s
father had been all too happy to have us.

Loris licked his lips and held the note out to me. I took it
from him, trepidation building in my heart. I read the few words. My stomach
pinched as if punched and I had to put a steadying hand to the wall to keep my
legs. Moma had passed away.

“How?”
I knew it was a useless
question to ask the messenger, but it was out before I could think. I gave a
weak nod to his shrug. She had been ill, nonetheless had insisted it was
nothing more than a cough. I should have been there. I should have known it was
more serious. I cursed myself for a fool and gritted my teeth against the
grief…and guilt.

“Send a reply please: We will leave as soon as possible.” He
gave a small nod before scrambling onto the bay’s back and urging him away. I
stood there watching them disappear in the distance for quite some time.
Finally, with a heavy heart, I went inside to break the sad news to my family.

We made haste with our journey,
but it still took us a full seventeen days before the massive Jurpa statues
came into view. The rearing antelopes guarded the main entrance to the village.
Moma used to tell us that they protected the village. With their two heads and
great thrusting horns, they certainly looked fearsome.

Growing up, I had always wondered why such a small
settlement had such a massive wall around it. I had eventually found out that,
millennia ago, Rakadamon and his followers had been a threat to the Tretakai
people in particular, as they harboured the secret Talent of the Navitas.
Despite the people forgetting through the ages the true purpose of the Navitas,
they continued to guard this knowledge fiercely, passing it along the
generations, and finally onto me, even though I was not of the Tretakai.

Alathaya laid a hand on my arm and I realised I had stopped
and was staring at the statues. With a sigh, I led my family through the gates.

My plan was to go straight to Moma’s house. To my dismay
though, I was waylaid soon after stepping into the village. Everyone I ran into
stopped me to offer their condolences. I appreciated their concern and I knew
Moma had been dear to them as well, but I needed to see my little sister.
Breen, now the stable master, was a welcome sight. With a sympathetic nod, he
took our horses from us to lead them to the stables.

I said a brief thank you and marched on quickly past another
woman in the midst of saying how sorry she was for my loss. My abrupt departure
left her looking after me with a perplexed frown on her face. I thought I heard
Thaya murmur an apology to her.

Walking into Moma’s kitchen felt as it always had; like I
had reached a safe sanctuary. For a fraction of a moment, I looked around for
her before my stomach clenched again with the realisation that she was not
there and never again would be. Lilana came out of Moma’s bedroom at the sound
of our arrival. Her dark eyes were red rimmed and puffy, her black hair scraped
back into a messy tail. Alathaya murmured a greeting before ushering the
children into the bedroom.
 

I hugged her tightly and neither one of us said a word. What
could we say? After a long moment, I slowly pulled away. She wiped her eyes
while setting the kettle on the fire for some tea. I sat quietly, knowing that
she would talk when she was ready.

She put a cup down in front of me and sagged into a chair
opposite. Sighing, she said, “When Moma did not show up in the common dining
hall for breakfast, I got worried. I came here.” She glanced over to Moma’s
bedroom. “I found her in there. For a moment I thought she was sleeping, but I
couldn’t wake her.” Her voice broke, fresh tears streamed down her face and she
sat shaking her head.