"Harbinger’s End: Herald" Free Preview (chapter nineteen)

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The Kahanne

Part 2

The Kahanne’s party stopped at the foot of the steps leading up to the central cathedral, which was the primary shrine for all the Spiritual sects. The entrance consisted of two huge wooden doors that towered over the dignitaries assembled before it. The rest of the building was grandiose and architecturally complex, at least by Hansic standards. To anyone else it would have simply been an outdated, albeit respectable, temple. Its massive brass dome was colored lime green in many places from exposure to the elements. The dome towered over the square, casting much of it in shadow. Like the rest of the buildings in this city, not to mention much of the Hanse, it was designed less for aesthetic pleasure and more for functionality. The only major renovations consisted of repairs to the existing structure. It was never expanded to support the burgeoning population nor updated to suit changing tastes.

Forty-eight steps led up to the entrance, four for each Spirit. From her vantage point on top of the chariot, Arlyne saw that they sported carvings of images that were commonly associated with the divinities. She made out a closed fist for Samlah, wildlife for Rasqu’il, and others. They were designed so that each step comprised one piece of an image. Thus, a viewer looking down at the steps from high up would see twelve large, complete icons leading into the cathedral. A stage with a podium and twelve lit braziers had been erected midway to the top so that Arlyne could easily be viewed by anyone standing within the small square that spread out from the temple. The square was filled with more than fifteen thousand pilgrims with the rest still crammed into the main street. To ensure that everyone would hear the Kahanne’s homily, stands were erected intermittently throughout the square and along the winding length of the road. As Arlyne ascended the stairs with the High Clerics in tow, acolytes climbed on top of each stand to act as speakers for the Kahanne. It was their duty to hear what was spoken from the podium and shout it to the next speaker along the line so that the people in between would hear. Due to the city’s cramped design, this was the only way to convey these messages to such a large audience since no one wanted to tear down buildings to open up the square.

Chancellor Yarena Hanser, her husband, Lawrence, and the five district governors and their spouses waited patiently on top of the stage. They were decked out in their full dress uniforms — black tunics and breeches with gold baldrics strapped from left shoulder to right hip. In addition, the governors bore their district crests over their hearts while the chancellor displayed emblems with the national standard imprinted upon them. They all sported medals from their militia service, though Governor Lessander had the most impressive collection. They waited stiffly at attention.

When Arlyne reached their level, Chancellor Yarena Hanser approached her. The chancellor was pale and plain looking, though her expression conveyed the requisite sternness of a Commonwealth leader. The tight outfit betrayed her wiry frame. Since no-one was permitted to approach the Holy Person without consent, she stopped two paces from the Kahanne. Arlyne nodded slightly and beckoned. The chancellor stepped forward, clasped her hands together and bowed her head. When this happened, silence quickly rippled to the back of the crowd so that those who were honored to be standing at the front could actually hear what was being said in hushed tones a dozen meters above them.

“Greetings, Holy One,” stated Chancellor Hanser. Her tone, which was normally cool and sharp, expressed a more somber note. She had spent the last few months brushing up on her Ghaultic, which she hadn’t spoken since her university days. Although it came back to her quickly during the practice sessions with her tutor, she now felt herself stumbling over the words.

“You may face me,” answered Arlyne. Her voice was light and commanding, and her tone reflected Chancellor Hanser’s.

The head of state lifted her face to look directly at Arlyne. The chancellor swallowed hard in a dry mouth before speaking. “Holy One, I am Chancellor Yarena Hanser, most humble servant of the Forum.” The chancellor gestured to the bureaucrats behind her, who bowed their heads as their names were called out. “May I introduce my husband, Lawrence. Next to him are William Lessander, governor of the Great Sea District; Reginald Clayburgh, governor of the Alpas District; Irene Hanasser, governor of the Khadashite District; Henry Marchand, governor of the Central Highlands District; and Mina Barranov, governor of the Great Lakes District. On behalf of our people, we welcome the Forum’s representative on Halcyon.”

The Kahanne smiled slightly. “Your words honor me. I will address the masses now.”

Chancellor Hanser stood aside, and with a regal air, Arlyne strode past her and up to the podium. She scanned the crowd. So many people, and not a whisper heard from them! She visited this country all too rarely. Staying mired in the past had its advantages — for one, they never forgot how to treat dignitaries. Arlyne closed her eyes and muttered a silent prayer to the Forum before starting. Every ounce of concentration she had was being devoted to her next words. When she spoke, her voice was clear and resounding. She began with the recitation of the Harbinger, a code which was uttered by the Spirits themselves at the beginning of the Golden Age and which laid out the future history of Halcyon.

“This, it has been given to know: that the realm of Halcyon shall pass through seven ages in its time. Three shall be times of Order, and three shall be times of Chaos, in which land will be laid waste.

“Let it now be known that upon the third coming of Chaos, the bones shall be tossed in a contest of wills to see which shall emerge dominant in the struggle between Order and Chaos and that the victor shall determine the fate of all that is to proceed.

“Everything past, present, and future shall meet at that appointed time to act as witness. Two will enter; one will survive. And the One shall rule them all.”

Arlyne paused until the echo of her speakers’ voices faded. As well as repeating her words, the speakers were translating the Harbinger into Hansic so that everyone could understand. She continued. “Have we not seen Chaos’ visit and revisit? A thousand years ago, our people lived harmoniously, at peace with each other and their environment. That was our Golden Age, a time when science, philosophy and culture flourished.” Another pause, and the faint sound of her speakers’ voices could be heard. Chancellor Hanser raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at her husband, impressed with the new Kahanne. She had spoken in perfect Hansic with only the slightest hint of an accent.

“Then the forces of Chaos came to scatter us across Halcyon, but we survived. We persevered, though the Assault on Technology ensured that the achievements of the Golden Age were forever lost to us. We turned this Age of Ruin into a benefit and established ourselves throughout the continent. Then, during the Age of Disquiet, we expanded our civilization to the farthest reaches of this continent. Although distrust and fear were pervasive, Chaos was not content. As was foretold by the Harbinger, the Great War came upon us. At this time, the forces of Order would have been destroyed had it not been for the sacrifice of the Elders, whose powers not only drove Chaos from our world, but also brought us the Second Harbinger:

“‘When it shall come to pass that the Triad of Chaos becomes complete, let it be known that the Savior shall come unto the midst of the darkness, and this one shall wield the Orb.

“‘Then shall the appointed time come into being, and then shall all creation stand as witness to the final confrontation between the Savior of Order and the Champion of Chaos. Then, the fate of what has been and what will come shall be made clear, and the One shall rule them all.’”

Another pause. “We are now into the two hundred and ninety-fifth year of the Age of Redemption. We must be wary, for Chaos will return a third time, and I fear that the fated Meeting between our Savior and its Champion draws near. A trial lies ahead, a trial of faith and a test of courage. It may not arrive today or tomorrow, perhaps not even in this generation, but it will come. And we will be ready. We have driven off Chaos twice before and we will do so again, for such is our destiny, even if the Harbinger itself will not reveal the final victor. We therefore pray for ourselves, for our children and for their children, that in their Games the Spirits find favor in us, and let us say, ‘Amen.’”

The crowd repeated “Amen”. The word slowly rolled back along the main street as successive speakers finished repeating the Kahanne’s words. A hushed echo continued to recede in volume for several minutes.

Arlyne paused again and decided to change the tempo. She wanted to end the opening homily on a high note rather than leave them with a sense of foreboding. “It is a great honor to be welcomed to the Hansic Alliance. You are Halcyon’s conscience, the instinct that tells us that we cannot know who we are or explore who we might be unless we know who we were. Culture and tradition are unique possessions because present generations are the custodians of a legacy that does not belong to them, but to succeeding generations. We pass on what we have to our descendants trusting not that they will use it and exhaust it, but preserve it for their own children, who will in turn preserve it for theirs. Culture and tradition are antique commodities, for unlike money or titles, they are not meant to be spent, but constantly safeguarded. It is a curious irony that such sentiments are uttered here, in the capital of an economic alliance that values freedom of commerce above all else. Yet, you understand that there are commodities in this world that cannot be traded and with which one cannot negotiate. This is the lesson the Hanse has taught us. This is what you bequeath to your world.”

While the speakers finished repeating her words, Arlyne motioned to several attendants. They held up bowls filled with various kinds of incense for each of the twelve braziers. She stepped from one brazier to the next and sprinkled a pinch of each powder into its corresponding flame. A potpourri of odors wafted through the air from the stage, a noxious mixture of smells and scents that forced the hosts to cough lightly. Arlyne returned to the podium and began singing a lighthearted hymn: Forum’s Praise. It was traditional to begin such festivities with this piece. After a few seconds, the entire mass of people had chimed in.

Hail the Games of the Forum,

Offer the Spirits’ oblation.

Sing to the honor of those who believe

Pray for the favor of Fortune.

Sing to L’Xar from birth unto death —

Praise for the one who is Life.

Sing to Elren, whose Wisdom prevails

O’er senselessness, folly and strife.

Hail Teyull the Protector,

Who heals the sickly and frail.

Hail the Courage of Samlah,

Betrayer of Chaos’ veil.

Sing to Yarmah, who commands the great Seas,

Who heeds the mariner’s call.

Sing for the cradle of Nature —

Rasqu’il, sustainer of all.

Hail the Earth of Avari,

Riches beyond mortal ken.

Hail the one dubbed Wayfarer:

Qedem, who guides mortal men.

Sing to the tempests of Rukh,

Whose Cycles are history’s pawn.

Sing to Shakar, Guardian of Souls

Lord of the world beyond.

Hail the Creatures of Arya,

They respond to the hunter’s great shout.

Hail the Spirit whose name is Unknown

Judge of all Games throughout.

Bend knee to the Forum! We pray on this day

To Fortune, all give a great cry!

Praise for the One, the One who is King,

Who reigns o’er all from on high.

With this hymn, Arlyne Corbonne began her first Communion in the Hansic Alliance as Kahanne of Assize.

Stay tuned for the next chapter…

Buy Harbinger’s End: Herald in print or ebook for maps, extra material and a preview of Harbinger’s End: The Time of Meeting.

www.halcyonchronicles.com

"Harbinger’s End: Herald" Free Preview (chapter eighteen)

Buy the full book at www.halcyonchronicles.com

The Kahanne

Part 1

The federal parliament in Hansehaven was the oldest and most majestic building in the Hanse. The main keep was three times larger than the district and municipal keeps in the twin cities of Rugen and Lubec, and it was surrounded by its own protective wall. Beyond the wall were administrative and financial offices, the national treasury house, and the high courts, not to mention the residences of the top officials who operated these institutions. All this was surrounded by a second wall that was broken up by bastions along the sides and two-story towers at the corners. Numerous spires poked up at the sky from various parts of the complex, a tribute to the ancient city of Halcyon from the Golden Age.

This whole area was situated on an island in the middle of the River Odra. A single bridge extended from its main entrance to the city of Hansehaven, which sprawled along the northern bank. It was second in size only to the combined population of Rugen and Lubec. Most of the people who lived here were connected in some way to the central government, and thus Hansehaven was a city comprised largely of civil servants.

Unlike most capital cities, which tended to reflect the latest fashions and trends imported by the local aristocracy, Hansehaven, like much of the Hansic Alliance, clung to the past with stubborn determination. It was impossible to tell which buildings were old and which were new because the architectural style hadn’t changed in centuries. Music, art, theater — these cultural elements had remained virtually unaltered since the Great War.

Tradition was at the heart of this day’s festivities. Citizens from every part of the Hansic Alliance, along with a contingent from Khadash, had been arriving in the Hansehaven Region for over a week.  To accommodate this visit, the day was declared a holiday for Hansehaven. Municipal planners had predicted two hundred thousand visitors, and the local garrison had been supplemented by regiments from other regions as well as an entire Praetorian division to keep the peace. They quickly discovered that it was a conservative estimate.

The visitors and the inhabitants of Hansehaven lined the main street leading to the central cathedral. A dozen militia regiments and four Praetorian battalions were stretched well beyond their capacity to keep the citizenry away from the center of the street. The place was supersaturated with well-wishers and onlookers who wanted to catch a rare glimpse of the Kahanne of Assize.

It was well into midmorning and the crowd was growing restless. The sky was clear, the sun was bright and the temperature was cool but not cold — the perfect day for such an event. In spite of the overwhelming number of people, the noise level of the crowd was surprisingly low. The street wound its way through the city and into the outskirts, and the thick mass of anxious believers followed it the whole way, forming a living buffer between the middle of the road — which was empty — and the businesses and homes which lined its curb.

Soon the blast of a horn was heard in the distance, a trumpet that was echoed by several others. Those at the very edge of the throng were the first to see what the Hansic Alliance had been awaiting for a decade. The Kahanne’s entourage slowly crested a hill surrounded by a cloud of Ghaultian militia: the Guardians of Assize. Their polished steel armor gleamed brightly. The ones in front bore twelve standards representing each of the Spirits. They marched slowly and proudly with their eyes trained on the crowd, ready to deal with trouble if it arose. Standing on top of a dozen chariots, over the heads of the surrounding soldiers, were the High Clerics of each Spirit. They were draped in differently colored robes corresponding to their affiliation. These clerics formed a loose circle around a thirteenth chariot, one that was twice the size of each of theirs. It bore a tall platform with an ornate throne. Upon it sat Arlyne Corbonne, representative of the Forum, Kahanne of Assize.

She had dark eyes that absorbed everything around her. Her hair was light, though it was difficult to tell specifically what color it was because it was cut so short that she was almost bald. Arlyne’s visage was accentuated by high cheekbones, a small nose and thin lips — a face that would be considered pretty on any other person. She wore a smoke gray robe over a tall, well-developed frame. The neutral color was designed to emulate the idea that this office bore no allegiance to any one Spirit. Despite this, it was well known that Arlyne’s estranged father — the Padishah of Ghault — favored Rasqu’il, Spirit of Nature and Fertility. In truth, the Kahanne had not visited her old home in many years, and if she bore any special feelings toward Rasqu’il, she never let it show. She had a higher calling now. She represented the entire Forum, whereas each High Cleric only represented a single Spirit.

Arlyne acknowledged the crowd on either side of her with a nod, a smile, sometimes a wave. Her face and body language expressed the perfect mix of composure, affection, wisdom and charisma. She was the ultimate politician. She could gauge a crowd and present herself as whatever they needed her to be.

Trailing the Kahanne’s entourage was a mass of Khadashite pilgrims. They were dressed in frocks of assorted colors that corresponded to the twelve Spiritual orders. They marched in groups according to the orders they supported, and each group was singing a hymn to its own Spirit. What resulted was a cacophony of misbegotten notes and keyless harmonies which completely ruined the atmosphere for the hosting Hansickers, who preferred to view this occasion with due solemnity. It was a testament to the patience of the hosts and the sanctity of the moment that the Khadashites weren’t driven from the city.

The Hansickers on either side of the street formed in behind Arlyne’s entourage and the trailing Khadashites as they passed by, marching with quietude and dignity. Very soon, the Kahanne had an enormous following, one that stretched back as far as she could see. 

Closing her eyes, Arlyne let her senses absorb the smells, sounds, and feel of this city. Every place had a unique character. The foods people ate, the songs they sang, the way they spoke, and how they mourned and celebrated revealed much about how to relate to them. Arlyne always tried to attune herself to the natural rhythms and signals of the places she visited. As Kahanne, she could do nothing less.

Opening her eyes, Arlyne looked around and gazed into the faces of believers. How far will their faith take them? she wondered. There were no apparent signs, yet her instincts told her that the Time of Meeting was nearly upon them. Would their faith be strong enough to support them through the inevitable destruction?

As these thoughts crossed her mind, she heard a soft chant. At first, she dismissed it as another Khadashite song and she winced at the possibility of yet another addition to their tumultuous discord. However, as she scanned the crowd lining the street, she noticed scores of mouths moving in synch. It took her a moment to recognize the gentle melody: Elren’s Madrigal. Elren was the Spirit of Wisdom, and the hymn was written centuries earlier by a devout follower who likened his reverence for the divinity to the love between two people. It had since become a staple of the daily prayer rituals and it was taught in most schools at the elementary level.

The Hansickers continued to sing, repeating the poem over and over again. Arlyne was spellbound by the crowd’s reaction to her (though she realized that it was probably a reaction to the Khadashites as well) and she was held in awe of the emotion of the moment. Few events instilled such an overwhelming response in her. The recitation quickly spread ahead of her entourage so that by the time she rounded a bend or crested a hill, the oncoming bystanders were already chanting. The Khadashites were quickly drowned out, an action that was met by hurt and offended expressions, though most of them abandoned their own singing and chimed in:

My soul is bound to you, my love,

With you, my heart resides.

I sacrifice myself to you —

Emotion overrides.

I therefore pledge my servitude,

My will, you galvanize.

I bear this burden like a shield

‘Til Chaos is excised.

With alacrity, I give myself,

In affection, realize

Your reverence grants me favor,

My fortune coincides.

In you, I find my one true faith,

With devotion I reprise —

My soul is bound to you, my love,

With you, my heart resides.

As Arlyne’s entourage moved on, more people joined the chanting so that when she finally reached the central cathedral after a long trek through the city, Hansehaven thundered with the religious fervor of hundreds of thousands of voices.

Stay tuned for the next chapter…

Buy Harbinger’s End: Herald in print or ebook for maps, extra material and a preview of Harbinger’s End: The Time of Meeting.

www.halcyonchronicles.com