Part 61

Greza hated these celebration parties. She understood them and in truth, wanted to celebrate herself, but not like this. It was all the loud laughing and constant talking. It hurt her ears.

She appreciated the music but thought the feasting was a waste. No one else seemed to share her opinion so she kept her mouth shut. 

Verin was at the head of the table and she was sitting on a chair behind him and away from the table. Onata was walking around the crowd, talking, eating and laughing with the others. She didn’t drink at least. Like her, she was still on duty.

An endless parade of local dignitaries, businessmen and nobles came to see Verin, the new conqueror of the city. The rumor going around was that that had bee the Impire’s largest army. They had several more but that was the capitol’s elite divisions. If that was true then victory was possible.

Verin was talking to a Minotaur in simple robes. He didn’t look like a noble. Probably a religious figure of some kind. Aside from her own, she had no interest in religious discussion.

“Greza, come here. I think you’ll be interested in this,” Verin called out. Greza approached his impromptu throne. He indicated the robbed Minotaur. “This is Dattano, he’s a monk of the Church of the Exalted Hero. He says there’s an ancient monastery of the Divine Path not far from the city.”

Greza paused and looked to the Minotaur. He nodded a greeting to her.

“What’s in the Monastery? Is anyone still there?” She asked.

“As of last year there was still one monk there. I know there is a relic and a library at least. I’ve only been there once.”

She looked to Verin who smiled and nodded.

“Grez? You want to go there?”

“But, my Duke, you have many enemies here.”

“I do, but I also have lots of friends. Tempest will take your place while you’re gone.”

“Really?”

This was more than she could hope for: one of the ancient Grand Monasteries of the Divine Path. If the monk was still there he could teach her far more than she’d ever learn by herself.

The rest of the night passed with her eyes on the crowd but her head filled with books of heavenly knowledge. And the opportunity to talk to a monk who has devoted his life to learning of the spiritual was even greater.

She barely slept that night and gut up before dawn to head out on her own. It would be safer to travel with someone, but this was for her alone.

Greza rode out of the city gates with a wave to the guards and followed the directions Dattano gave her. She travelled down a narrow dirt road that wound through low hills covered in short but wide trees with some kind of purple fruit on them.

As the sun rose above the distant mountains it revealed a cloudless sky and singing birds. It was a beautiful day and she closed her eyes and let herself feel the sun on her face. The gods were generous at times.

Five miles out of the city she saw the monastery up on the hill, just like Dattano had told her. It had tall and simple gray stone buildings rising up from behind a wall that looked more like a fortress than a holy place. The buildings had tall spires rising up from the middle of the roves. She had never seen architecture quite like it before.

As she came closer she saw the thick wooden gates were closed. Weeds and vines covered the walls almost covering the carvings of men and women in elaborate robes that were spread out evenly near the top of the wall.

How ancient was this place? Was it from before the First Empire and the time of the Falling? If so, how had it survived the massive destruction that tore across the continent?

It was another question she’d have to ask the monk.

She rode up to the door and knocked with her steel cestus. She waited a minute and knocked again, louder this time. If no one answered, she was going in.

On the third knock she heard the sound of the locking mechanism turning with a terrible grinding sound. It was rusted and hadn’t been used or oiled often.

When the door opened an old man, hunched over with age walked out. He had a long white beard that went to his waist and his eyes didn’t see her. They were as grey and lifeless as the stone of the walls.

“Hello?” He called out.

“Hello, I’m Greza, a follower of the Path.”

He faced her and he raised an eyebrow.

“Tell me, follower, what do you expect to find here?”

“Knowledge.”

“Any other library would do then. I hear the palace in the city has an extensive library.”

“I want to learn more about the Divine Lights.”

“There’s books about that too.”

This man didn’t seem to want visitors. That or he wanted something else. The Path was about walking through life being true and honest with ones self and with others. The monk had no time for vagueness and half truths.

“I come seeking knowledge about the Promised Victor and his mission.”

The monk smiled.

“Finally, progress. Why do you want to learn about him? Isn’t he dead?”

“I believe I’ve found him.”

“Believe?”

“Know.”

He nodded his head and ran his hand through his beard.

“So, you found the Victor. What more could you need to know? Let him do his job.”

“I need to know the nature of the great threat and also his companions.”

“Don’t the Teachings tell us who the companions are?”

That they did. She knew who they were. All they lacked was the Princess. But she hadn’t come here to learn about them. If she had to be honest with herself, she came to find out if she had any part in this.

“I sense hesitation, child,” the old monk said.

“I fear that my answer may be selfish.”

“Perhaps, but will it be honest and true?”

“Afraid so. I’ve found the Victor and most of his companions. Many things in the Victor’s life are told in the scriptures, but…”

“Tell me, child.”

“But I came to find out if I had a place in this or if I’m just a bystander with no role.”

He smiled showing a mouth with only half its teeth. He then led her inside the courtyard where she tied her horse and followed him inside. There were no candles or lanterns inside the dark monastery. Only a few slits let in streams of light.

He took her through the chapel that was filled with cobwebs and the statue of the Personification of Light which here was a woman with raised arms. A giant cobweb stretched from her left hand to the nearby pillar.

Greza wondered what the Lights thought of the statue and its condition.

He took her through a side passage that was almost completely dark but he didn’t even pause. He was used to the darkness.

Finally he led her to an octagonal room with windows around the base of the domed ceiling that were made from thin slices of bone. It was pretty but didn’t let in enough light to read.

“So, you wish to find out if you’re mentioned in the more obscure scriptures.”

“I want to know if I belong here or not. Am I a part of this or is my small mission accomplished?”

“Do you think it’s done?”

She thought about it. Verin himself still didn’t believe.

“No.”

“Then it’s not done yet.”

He walked to a shelf and ran his fingers down the spines, counting the books as he went. Then he pulled out a book that was so ancient the cover was crumbling and the pages were brown.

“I believe you may find this enlightening.” He turned around and extended the book. “I’ll be in the chapel praying. Come find me when you’ve found what you seek.”

He then left through the passage they entered in from. Now she needed a place to read. She went to the far door and had to shoulder it open. It led to a well maintained garden full of vegetables of all kinds. The old blind man was remarkable self sufficient.

She found a stone bench and sat down.

The book had no title on the cover. She opened it and the dried leather cover creaked. The pages were thin and brittle and she treated each one as delicately as she could. She took off her gauntlets and got comfortable.

The inside said the book was copied form the original and was the writings of “The Mad Prophet, Ezzanshial” in the time of the falling, before the first written prophet of this new Age.

She had never heard of this book. There were many lost books of scriptures, some only hinted at, others mentioned by name but lost forever. This one had had no mention from anything she had ever read.

Greza began skimming through the pages looking for anything relevant to the prophecy. He appeared to have several prophecies, many which had already come true. Either this book was a fake or this man had truly seen the future.

An hour later she reached a chapter where he first mentioned the Promised Warrior King. She slowed down and began reading with more attention.

Here this Mad Prophet Ezzanshial told of the Warrior being taken as a baby and hidden away for years. Why hadn’t anyone else written about that? It didn’t make sense. That seemed to be a rather important detail. She continued reading.

78. And in the time of the Confusion where men grow idle and proud, where mothers forget daughters and sons forget family, war will rage across the continent. The Promised Warrior will return to his people that he too had forgotten and conquer the kingdom in the name of peace.

79. But he shall not be alone. Ever with him are his Companions, his lieutenants set for him from the foundation of the world. Long has Zarrandal has spoken of the Bull, the mighty warrior that shall be the Warrior’s strength. Iriasas has told you of the Raven, the sorceress that bends the world to her tortured will.

80. There will also be the Guardian, the dark woman that shall protect his life against all threats not of the Path’s making. The warrior, upon the eve of victory shall find the Consort. This royal princess shall marry him and together they shall start a dynasty that may last two Ages if the Divine Lights will it.

81. And the Dark Prophet Aurian dreamed of the Assassin. The Assassin will strike the Promised Warrior down after the Enemy has been cast down.

She almost dropped the book. Assassin? There was a part of the prophecy that was going to kill Verin? She would never let that happen. Even if it meant breaking the Divine Light’s plan, she would stop this Assassin no matter the cost.

Greza took a deep breath and continued reading. She had to know, no matter how painful the truth was.

82. But the Assassin is only a part of the Divine Light’s path. For he is sent to fulfill the prophecy as instructed. The Promised Warrior will save the Empire from annihilation as he was willed to do. However, he was not created for the throne. He will grow more cruel with time until he becomes the Scourge.

83. The Scourge will lead the Empire down a path devoid of light from which it will not emerge for a thousand years.

84. For that, the Assassin will slay him and maintain the Path of Light.

This time she purposefully threw the book down.

That was wrong. She wasn’t going to listen to some lunatic. He had to be wrong. Otherwise the other prophets would have mentioned him.

None of this made sense. Who was this assassin? There was no possibly way Verin would turn into this Scourge. It was all wrong. Whatever it took, she was going t protect Verin from this Assassin. She didn’t care about anything else.

She stormed into the chapel and found the Monk kneeling in prayer.

“That book is full of lies?” She said and pointed back toward the library.

“It is? Aside from the part you clearly did not appreciate, what was a lie?”

She thought about it. Technically, nothing. Everything the lunatic had said had come true, but that didn’t mean this Scourge business was true.

“Well, nothing, but this business with the Assassin. I can’t believe the Promised Victor turns evil. That’s impossible.”

“You’re angry. You didn’t find what you came for and instead found something that displeases you. I am sorry, I really am, but that is the will of the Divine Lights. Do you have faith?”

“Of course I do.”

“Isn’t faith about believing, even when you don’t wish to?”

“I suppose.”

“So, you are not a part of the Victor’s prophesized companions. Is it fame you seek or justification? Your faith should be justification enough.”

“He can’t turn evil.”

“That’s why the Assassin is there, to prevent that from happening.”

“What do you know of this Assassin?”

“Hardly anything. There is a book out there that speaks of him. He is a great warrior…well, I say ‘he’ but we don’t know which gender or where the person is from. All we know is that he will come after the Victor sires a child and defeats the Enemy.”

Greza sat down on a creaking bench and rubbed her temples.

“Not what you expected, huh?” The monk said.

He stood up with some effort and came over to sit beside her. He patted her knee.

“This can’t be right,” she said.

“It is. That is not the only book that speaks of this.”

“How do you know so much about what I’m seeking?”

“Simple. I was told you’d come here one day and seek to find your place, that you would not find it and that you will have a terrible choice to make.”

“Told? By who?”

He pointed upward and smiled his haggard smile.