"Harbinger’s End: Herald" Free Preview (chapter twenty-one)

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The Kahanne
Part 4

It had already been a long and exhausting trip but it was far from over. More than a week had passed since the Kahanne’s visit to Hansehaven and her conversation with Chancellor Yarena Hanser and her husband, Lawrence. As her carriage bumped lightly on the road, Arlye smiled at the memory of their discussion of politics and religion, and at Lawrence’s indignation when she told them about Ghault’s spies and informants in her retinue. Following that, Arlyne quickly discovered that the mild annoyance she felt over the presence of the relatively small number of Khadashite pilgrims in the capital of the Hanse was a mere prelude to what awaited her in the Dominion of Khadash.
The population of Khadash was scattered throughout the country in small farming villages and hamlets. Large towns were found only at the intersection of major trade routes. The capital, Irbirah, was the only real city. Thus, Arlyne was constantly passing through one tiny settlement after another, and with every new village came new pilgrims.
She had never experienced anything quite like it. Usually, when she came to a town, people from all over the region would come to see her. After sitting through one or two Communion services, they would go home. Instead, these Khadashites followed her everywhere, starting with the ones she met in Hansehaven. They formed one gigantic caravan, stretching beyond eyesight along the road. They brought along their own pack animals, tents and supplies, and they seemed to leave only when their food ran out. At night, they camped en masse on vacant land or even in the woods. Entire families would gather around one of the hundreds of campfires and sing songs to the Forum accompanied by instruments of every sort. Some of the tunes were traditional, but many more were unfamiliar even to the Khadashite members of the Kahanne’s entourage. Looking back on the trip, Arlyne admitted to herself that in spite of their peculiarities, no one derived more joy from worshipping the Forum than the people of Khadash.
Yet they had liabilities, too. Chief among them was the absence of an organized militia. This left border patrols and defusing international disputes up to the Praetorship, a fact that the other countries resented since, indirectly, they were paying for Khadash’s defense. Arlyne knew that this view was somewhat limited. Since Khadash had no natural enemies like grimals, antigovernment militants or criminal guilds, and since it had no history of factionalism, there was no need for a national defense force to keep everything together. If her reports were accurate, there were fewer Praetorians stationed here than in any other country. Of course, this disparity tended to make meetings with the Commonwealth Council arduous even at the best of times, though no one denied that Khadashites made up a significant chunk of the Praetorship’s ranks.
Arlyne rested her forehead in her hand as she reflected on all this. There were times during her visit when she struggled to contain herself. When she felt herself about to burst, she was never sure if she was going to laugh or weep. To say that Khadashites were strange was an understatement. Arlyne preferred to see them as unique. Non-Khadashite colleagues who visited this country with the previous Kahanne spoke as if it was an ordeal. Hers began at Hansehaven when the mass of Khadashite pilgrims met her at the entrance to the city. They followed her along the River Odra and through the Central Highlands. They never seemed to tire of singing and dancing and it was only with the greatest difficulty that Arlyne kept her composure when she asked them to stop so that she and the clerics in her company could meditate in peace.
The foothills along the boundary between the Hanse and Khadash constituted the only unguarded border in Halcyon. At the time, Arlyne wasn’t even aware that she had entered Khadash until she noticed that the foothills were receding and that the line of pilgrims behind her was growing. By the second week after her departure from Hansehaven, she was sure that there were more people trailing her entourage than she had seen in the entire city of Hansehaven that day she had led the service. The presence of such a multitude would have been invigorating had it occurred anywhere else. Here, with thousands of people shouting, singing and dancing to their own tunes and rhythms, she felt like leaving her post and running home. Five days ago, she was ready to concoct an excuse to head back to the shelter of the high walls surrounding Ghault when an acolyte presented her with a pair of earplugs that she knew she would cherish forever. Yet, despite her irritation, Arlyne was proud that the people of Khadash served the Forum. They needed their Kahanne.
They were ten days away from Irbirah when they stopped in the town of Gavvul which lay in the foothills of the county of Middest. Arlyne looked about curiously. There was no uniform architectural style. Some buildings appeared to have been constructed in the most haphazard manner possible while others were exquisitely designed. The Kahanne’s caravan reached the local Temple to the Forum. A crowd of thousands waited outside as she and the high clerics in her company entered the temple to pay homage to the Forum. This moment of fervent prayer, which comprised the core of the worship service, always inspired the Khadashites to quiet down. Arlyne still didn’t understand why. They were loud and boisterous for everything else. Nevertheless, when the Kahanne and her clerics entered the temple, all became silent.
It was a simple building that comfortably seated about two hundred people. The vaulted ceiling was low and narrow and the dome, which was situated above the altar at the far end, was puny in comparison to the others they had seen in this country. The outer layer of plaster that weatherproofed the walls was cracked and flaking. This was obviously a relatively poor town, one in which the common folk had sacrificed a great deal to have a temple. Arlyne was suddenly ashamed of her disapproval of these people. True, they were different and sometimes offensive, but they were also dedicated. Arlyne felt as if she had suddenly been humbled, and she could tell as she glanced at her companions that they felt the same way.
The Kahanne approached the altar followed by the twelve representatives of the Spirits. She sprinkled a fine white powder over the elements of the braziers that rested on top of the altars and lit them. They gave off a mixture of aromas that would have made any other person sick, but these religious leaders were quite used to the smell.
“Extol the Spirits who dwell up on high, sing songs of praise to the Forum. We offer a sacrifice of fire and fragrance so that You, in Your eternal dwelling place, may find favor within us, Your most humble servants. We appeal to the Spirits so that their Games bestow Fortune upon the good people of Gavvul, that they may live in health and peace.”
“Amen.” The high clerics’ chorus echoed through the small temple and it was heard clearly by the throng outside. The people used it as a cue to restart their singing and chanting. The high clerics hung their heads and looked at one another with exasperation. The incense was wasted here. There could be no Communion with all that noise.
There was a raucous cheer when Arlyne and the high clerics exited. Gavvul’s elected town priest approached them and the crowd quieted down. He remained standing several paces away from Arlyne. His head was bowed and his hands were clasped within the long sleeves of his robe. Arlyne was impressed. This was a rare Khadashite priest who was aware of the proper protocols.
“You may approach.”
As the local priest complied, he lifted his gaze to meet the Kahanne’s eyes. He struggled with his Ghaultic as he said, “As the duly elected religious leader of Gavvul, I want to thank you for addressing the Forum on our behalf.”
Arlyne smiled slightly and nodded. He knew that she spoke Hansic but he tried to address her in her native language instead. She was impressed again. The high clerics behind her exhaled thankfully. He didn’t address her as “Holy One” but that was okay. He hadn’t made any serious blunders. Yet.
The priest grinned widely back at her and extended his hand.
Arlyne heard some of the high clerics gasp. This was but another in a long line of ritual missteps from the Khadashites, though it was the first time that someone offered to touch the Holy Person. Everyone waited for a few tense moments to see what the Kahanne would do. She blinked several times as she stared at the extended hand. There were whispers from the crowd. It was time for her to do what she did best. It was time for her to be who they needed her to be.
She grasped the offered hand and shook it vigorously. “The pleasure was mine,” she replied in Hansic, “though it is I who should be thanking you for your hospitality.”
The crowd cheered more loudly than ever before. The priest held his hand up and gazed at it as if admiring a blessed icon. He stepped back into the crowd and was swarmed by people who wanted to experience the Holy Person by touching his hand. The high clerics and the entourage from Assize were unable to hide their shock. Some of them swooned. Arlyne stepped forward and waved, an action that brought even more cheers her way. She smiled warmly at them, though her mind raced to find a way to explain her behavior to her colleagues.
Arlyne stood alone in front of the throng absorbing the adulation. The high clerics and the local priest looked on from the stairs leading to the temple. Suddenly, and without warning, the Kahanne’s body convulsed and she fell to her knees. The cheering was quickly replaced by an uneasy silence as her attendants rushed to her side.
Arlyne looked around but everything faded from view. A vicious cackle filled her head and her mind was invaded by horrible images. She saw creatures of unthinkable size ravaging the Temple of Assize. They swarmed around it and tore down its walls, causing the roof to tumble to the floor. Hundreds of people were crushed to death. The survivors were hauled out of the wreckage by the creatures and devoured alive. There were screams all around her and her body grew cold. She doubled over and vomited from the overwhelming stench of burning flesh and decay. She witnessed the destruction of everything she cherished: the priesthood, friends and family, her colleagues.
Everything lay in ruins.
The silence was broken by several cries for help from the crowd. A handful of people in the audience had also collapsed.
As suddenly as they had come, the intrusions in Arlyne’s mind were swept aside. When she opened her eyes she saw attendants standing around her. Glancing between their legs, she saw the shocked and concerned faces of worshippers. She looked up and noticed that the high cleric of Samlah was supporting her head.
Arlyne sat up. “How long was I incapacitated?”
“About ten seconds, Holy One.”
The Kahanne looked about and saw a woman near the front of the crowd slowly get to her feet who apparently experienced the same phenomenon. Arlyne tried to pick others out of the audience who saw the vision, but it was difficult to see from her vantage point. Even though she was deeply shaken, her mind was already analyzing what just happened. 
I must contact the Circle immediately, she decided.
Arlyne waved off her attendants. “Prepare the transports and inform Irbirah that we must regretfully cancel our visit,” she ordered groggily. Her companions were stunned. First, she was shaking hands with commoners, and now she was canceling engagements! Perhaps she had taken ill from whatever had caused her to faint.
The Kahanne sensed their apprehension but decided that there would be time to explain her actions later. “Obey my commands,” she barked. The attendants and servants scurried off to prepare the carriages.
Arlyne beckoned to the high clerics while the Khadashites looked on with dismay. “We must return to Assize immediately,” she instructed.
“Why?” asked one.
Arlyne inhaled deeply and looked at the high clerics of Rasqu’il and L’Xar. They made no visible movements, but she read the approval in their eyes.
“It’s finally here. We knew it was coming — the Harbinger predicted it a thousand years ago. I cannot be sure until I investigate further, but I believe I have just been contacted by the Champion of Chaos.”


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.


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

Buy the full book at www.halcyonchronicles.com

The Kahanne
Part 3

Several hours passed. Arlyne, Chancellor Yarena Hanser, her husband Lawrence, the district governors and their spouses, and the High Clerics were lounging in a private sitting room in Hansehaven Castle. The place was comfortable and was furnished to suit the needs of visiting dignitaries. Finely woven tapestries depicting images of the sea and the central highlands covered the cold stone walls, testaments to a mercantile tradition that predated the formation of the Hanse. A soft red carpet was laid over the floor. The aristocrats and religious leaders stood about in small clumps conversing amicably. The informal atmosphere was a welcome break from the morning’s arduous service.
Chancellor Hanser, her husband Lawrence, and Arlyne were seated around a short table.
“Holy One,” began Chancellor Hanser, “if I may be so bold, I must commend you on your grasp of our dialect. I didn’t expect it.”
Arlyne acknowledged the compliment with a slight nod. “If I am to function as the spiritual leader for all Halcyon, I must communicate in a manner that the masses understand. How else am I to guide them in their efforts to achieve Communion? I am aware that Ghaultic is taught in your schools, but I doubt that it sees everyday use so far from the Ghaultian frontier.”
Lawrence mumbled softly into his beard. “I bet the Ghaultians don’t extend the same courtesy to us.”
The Kahanne cocked her head at him. “You bet correctly.”
Chancellor Hanser’s eyes flared at her husband, who spluttered, “Forgive me, Holy One, I — I meant no offense. I just —”
A smile played on Arlyne’s lips. “No offense was taken. It has been some time since I considered myself Ghaultian.” Lawrence breathed easier, though his wife was still angry. The Kahanne continued, pretending not to notice. “As I indicated, I believe that to connect with the… what is the term… ah, common folk, one must speak in a voice they can hear. It is a sharp departure in policy from my predecessor, who maintained that Ghaultic should be universally spoken. Granted, the text of Ahenak’s Codices is Old Ghaultic, but its modern derivative should not be considered holy.”
The leaders of the Hanse shuddered at the thought of being forced to speak the language of their historic enemy. Nearly six hundred years had passed the first separatists left Ghault, and the use of Ghaultic as a spoken language had been suppressed ever since.
Lawrence was about to mutter another comment but a glance from his wife held him in check. The chancellor decided to change the topic of conversation. “I can’t imagine the emotional drain involved in leading a ceremony like we had this morning,” she commented.
“One adapts,” replied Arlyne.
They were interrupted by a high cleric. He had wispy, thinning brown hair and was clad in the red robes of Rukh. “Holy One, forgive the intrusion,” he started in broken Hansic, “but I want to bid you a good night.” He turned to his hosts as if he had just noticed them for the first time. “And to you, as well, Chancellor and… uh…” he searched in vain for the right word “... Chancellor’s husband.”
Lawrence raised a meaty hand to cover his smirk. The chancellor responded in Ghaultic, “Thank you, High Cleric.”
The Kahanne nodded slightly and added, “May Rukh lull you to a peaceful rest this night.”
“Thank you, Holy One.” He bowed his head in the manner that was expected of someone who received the blessing of a Spirit.
The high cleric left and Arlyne returned to their discussion. “When I was an acolyte I found it difficult to envision myself as little more than a minor cleric in the service of the temple at Castle Ghault.”
“Speaking of Castle Ghault, how is your father?” inquired Lawrence. “Our last direct correspondence with him had to have been at least two years ago.”
Arlyne’s tone became slightly cold when she answered. “He is… well, thanks to Teyull.” The three of them bowed their heads once in deference to the Spirit she invoked. “We rarely communicate. I try to distance myself from him.”
“He is your father,” Lawrence pointed out.
Arlyne was pensive for a moment. This was hardly the time to discuss the chilly relationship she had with her father, though she knew it was the subject of numerous rumors. Instead, she replied, “True, but he is also the Padishah of the Republic of Ghault, and as the Kahanne of Assize I must take care not to show any favoritism to him whatsoever. Such a task is already compounded by the fact that Assize is located so deep within the Republic. Often I feel that my administration, far more than previous ones, has taken greater care to ensure the equal treatment of all the countries.”
A smile peeked out from under Lawrence’s beard. “One adapts.”
Arlyne snuck a quick sip from her drink. “Indeed.”
“You made some interesting comments about tradition,” mentioned the chancellor. “It would seem that our two peoples have more in common than we thought.”
Arlyne shrugged. “Perhaps, but you should not dwell on it. My views reflect those of the religious establishment, not Ghaultian politics. Believe me, much goes on in that country to create a sizable gulf between it and everyone else.”
“Our Commonwealth ambassador at Valor’s Keep has been trying to get his counterpart to open up, but so far he’s been unsuccessful.” The chancellor frowned. “I would give up my title and land to know what goes on behind that wall.”
Arlyne allowed herself a mild chuckle. “The Republic sealed itself behind that barrier decades ago. Since then, no one has been able to export any substantial information, and those of us who have passes to travel abroad are sworn to speak nothing of what we know. Imagine that! I, the representative of the Forum, must yield to their earthly authority!”
“Is there nothing you can do?”
“My fa— that is, the Padishah does it to put me in my place, but he knows he cannot win should I choose to challenge him. Frankly, I have not the time for such political games. For others, though, the consequences of noncompliance can be deadly.”
The chancellor appeared unfazed by this statement. Lawrence gaped. “Surely they can’t threaten the Holy Person,” he whispered. “You are a citizen of every nation!”
“They have informants,” Arlyne replied simply. She flicked her eyes in the direction of her chief steward, who waited patiently in case anyone required his services. Chancellor Hanser and her husband sucked in their breath, wondering if there was anything they could do but knowing that the steward’s superiors would learn quickly if anything untoward happened to him. Arlyne, though, didn’t appear bothered. “Do not be disturbed by this revelation. Remember that this is a way of life in the Republic. Those who are born into it seldom give it a second thought. I am the first Ghaultian in a hundred years to attain this office. My predecessors from the Dominion of Khadash and the Hansic Alliance dealt with it accordingly, so why not me?”
Chancellor Hanser decided to change the subject before someone overheard them. “Holy One, your entourage leaves tomorrow morning. Are you sure you can’t extend your stay? Visits from the Kahanne of Assize are so rare.”
“Regrettably, I cannot. Rukh has made this journey long and arduous — his Elements have not granted us speedy passage. The annual tribute must be made to the Forum in five months and I have yet to visit Irbirah.”
“That should be an experience,” muttered Lawrence.
“Khadashites have a unique world view,” replied Arlyne. “I look forward to the visit. Unfortunately, Qedem ensures that a convoy such as mine does not move as quickly as I would like — slower now, without Rukh’s approval — and the travel time takes its toll.”
Chancellor Hanser nodded in understanding. “I presume, then, that you won’t be stopping by the Federate.”
Arlyne shook her head. “Many of my predecessors have tried and failed to make inroads into that country. The one remaining temple to the Forum lies in Kennedor, but that has more to do with its status as a former duchy of Ghault than any national policy emanating from Gath. We cannot force them into accepting the Spirits. For now, it is enough that they recognize the One True Deity. The truth will win out on its own. It just takes time.
“For similar reasons I have decided to skirt Valor’s Keep. My presence there would merely complicate the diplomatic schism between the Republic and the rest of the Commonwealth. In any event, the Grand-General would certainly oppose any visit.”
“The Praetorship is godless,” cursed Lawrence. The chancellor looked at him sharply.
Arlyne took the comment in stride. “Perhaps, but that is a burden they alone must bear. It is for the Unknown to judge.”
There was a moment of silence between them during which they overheard snippets of other conversations. Finally, the chancellor spoke up. Her expression was troubled.
“Holy One, I must admit that I feel somewhat disturbed by your warning about the coming of the Time of Meeting. Is it really upon us?”
Arlyne answered carefully. “There have been no overt signs, but my instinct tells me that Samlah cannot force the Champion of Chaos to remain idle for long. The Circle’s representative to the Commonwealth Council agrees that the Dark Champion is stirring.”
At the mention of the Circle they shifted uncomfortably, recalling  Governor Lessander’s report about his encounter with Quinn and the Circle’s inexplicable interest in the Explorer
Sensing their feelings, the Kahanne spoke carefully. “Granted, the Circle has yet to earn the trust of the people of Halcyon, but should the Time of Meeting truly be upon us, we will look to them for aid. Perhaps it is merely ill fortune that my feelings coincide with the departure of your Explorer ship from Rugen, but a part of me dreads what Yarmah may reveal in the vastness of the Great Sea. No one has ever ventured out there. Let us pray that we can contain whatever they bring back.”
This led to a disquieting moment when no one spoke. After a short while, the Kahanne rose. The chancellor and her husband followed.
“Chancellor, I must take my leave of you. I am weary from the day’s events. With your permission, I will retreat to my quarters.”
Yarena and Lawrence Hanser bowed their heads and Arlyne acknowledged the ritual with a slight nod. As she strode regally to the door, the others in the room bowed their heads as well. She turned back to them and uttered a blessing, calling upon the Spirit of Souls to guard them in their sleep: “May Shakar watch over you.”
Once she was gone, the conversations resumed. The leaders of the Hanse sat back down and eyed each other worriedly.


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.