Two hundred paces behind Keegan walked Archibald, Tara, and Luthriel, who were taking in the plentiful scenery as they traversed the well-trampled grass in front of them. Archibald disliked Tara and Luthriel making the journey to Kalseadur. Within himself, he was terrified at the thought of losing Tara, although he knew she was equally worried about him being on the front line. Archibald’s love continued to beat through his chest, but if he was to see the other side of violent warfare, he would strongly reconsider his future. He longed for tranquil peace alongside Tara, with whom he wanted to raise a family. The fear he had about not starting a family crippled him, while his love for her sustained him. Without it, he had nothing. But deep within each of them, they understood the duties they had not only to themselves but to others. Their unification was a service to others, not self-regarding.

  ‘Everything alright, my love?’ Tara asked.

  Archibald gave a gentle smile. ‘Anxious, like we all are.’

  Tara and Luthriel gave smiles back, speaking to the unwanted situation each of them found themselves in. Better to smile and face the day than to allow anxiousness to take over what they could not control. Luthriel looked back before stopping as she appeared to wait for someone, as Tara and Archibald continued to move. ‘In some ways, it doesn’t feel like we’re marching to battle. It’s a beautiful day. In the tales, war is told from a murky perspective filled with clouds, rain, and mud,’ Archibald said.

  ‘It’s an odd setting, but reality will set in once we lay eyes on the plains between Naldenveer and us.’

  Archibald wrapped his arm around her as they walked.

  ‘I worry about you,’ Tara said.

  Archibald glanced at her with rays of emotion in his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be alright. We’re well prepared, Keegan, and I will advance our groups through the middle of the field.’

  ‘That’s exactly what concerns me. You’ll be in the thick of it.’

  ‘Truthfully, I would choose to be grouped with Keegan over anyone else on the field. He has his father’s fire and has grown into a leader within the Brotherhood.’

  ‘As have you.’

  ‘Well, I can’t talk myself up. Wouldn’t be very humble, would it?’

  Tara’s alluring face smiled. ‘True.’

  ‘What tricks will you manifest on the battlefield?’

  ‘Oh, there are more than a few.’

  ‘I am eager to see the fruits of your endeavour.’

  ‘Luthriel and I have worked hard to embed defensive and offensive tools.’

  ‘Does anyone else know?’

  ‘No. We’ve kept our masteries hidden until now.’

  ‘Even Selina?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Archibald eyed Tara with admiration, causing her to blush slightly as he said, ‘I’m more excited to see you in action than anyone else. Hopefully, I'll get a good view.’

  She smiled. ‘I’ll need to make sure you do, then.’

  ‘As long as you're careful.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’m in immense hands with Alchemist Luthriel at my side.’

  ‘That I won’t argue against. Luthriel is exceptional.'

  ‘Oh, she is.’

  Teigue, Baku, and Peadar sauntered occasionally, quickening their pace before returning to a slow pace. With a thick patch of sweat hanging on Peadar’s forehead, the sun’s immense heat had drained him as he inhaled and then exhaled the pollen-filled air. He wiped his head with the palm of his hand before rubbing the sweat on his indigo-blue-tinted armour.

  ‘That’s one way of ruining perfect armour. With a greasy sweat wipe,’ Teigue said.

  ‘It’s not like I have a choice; it’s sweltering in this armour,’ Peadar complained.

  ‘It's going to be even hotter when we’re in combat on the plains of Kalseadur,’ Baku said. ‘Not a square inch of shade on that field.’

  ‘That’s reassuring,’ Peadar chimed.

  ‘How’s it feel heading back to Naldenveer, Baku?’ Teigue enquired.

  ‘Strange. We are on the precipice of war, yet I feel relaxed upon my return to Naldenveer.’

  ‘You need to liven yourself up,’ Peadar interjected as he grinned at him.

  ‘I welcome the calm.’

  ‘Wish I could stay calm; my nerves have been shot for days,’ Teigue honestly said.

  ‘You’ll be fine. Everyone handles pressure differently,’ Peadar asserted.

  Teigue gave a courteous nod, drawing into himself as he preferred to do. Observing the ascending and descending nature of the landscape. Focusing on the luscious green grass, which sprang down to his right, he knew he should focus on readying himself for combat. Yet Teigue refused to allow the violence to eviscerate his mind, keeping his thoughts high in form, thinking ahead to when he would be free to finish what Aodh and Ailpein had begun. He was destined for education, building, and forging connections, not war. His vision came from the higher mind, in the solemn silence of inner deliberation. He would sacrifice on the battlefield for his brothers, but at the culmination of war, he set his sights on becoming who he was, and he was certain the Brotherhood would support his path. For change was coming to the Isle of Ophlen and indeed the Tyrora Archipelago. Teigue’s incorruptible soul knew it so.

  ‘Baku, what do you know about the Council of Naldenveer’s hierarchy?’ Peadar asked.

  He hesitated for a moment before responding, ‘Death Lord Karvaan rules the council of thirteen. They stay within Dejero-Obitus, but unless they bring you to the tower. You will not know of their existence unless they have shown themselves to you.’

  ‘Shown themselves?’

  ‘They operate with higher knowledge and move through the unseen layers of existence, which remain within the space that surrounds us all.’

  ‘Then aren’t we helpless against their attacks?’

  ‘No. You underestimate the power of your own Brotherhood. Tasgall, Torcall, and Manach are well aware of these other layers,’ Baku paused. ‘I sense Luthriel, Tara, Selina, and Elyna are competent too.’

  ‘And what about you?’ Peadar asked.

  ‘I know enough. It’s like anything; it takes an egregious amount of time to make any headway with. These aren’t simplistic things we stumble into; rather, we work to unpick the complexity that exists.’

  ‘Dedication to the principles of the Brotherhood,’ Teigue asserted.

  ‘Exactly. One thing I’ve learnt since joining the Brotherhood is that they give us the keys to knowledge, and it is our individual ability to seek, which decides our level of knowing.’

  ‘Do you ever feel in the dark?’ Peadar asked.

  ‘How so?’ Baku responded.

  ‘Well, in life, we are told how to behave, what to do, and what we should believe. Are the conditions not set to keep the majority blind to the truth?’

  ‘Yes, but probe deeper. Are the conditions not created so that people forget?’

  ‘Forget what?’

  ‘What came before. Has our spirit not seen and heard within its infinite consciousness? Yet outside of certain factions, they teach nothing of the spirit. In fact, they neglect the spirit to serve the flesh,’ Baku asserted.

  ‘Then, when we take to the battlefield, are we serving the flesh?’ Teigue questioned.

  Baku gave a thin-lipped smile, impressed with his perceptive question. ‘On one level, I think you are correct, but I believe this to be a spiritual war. We’re fighting for the sovereignty of the Isle, Benevolent versus Malevolent.’

  Teigue looked at him, intrigued by how he had navigated the question posed to him.

  ‘The mysteries of the spirit are fascinating. I hope I one day achieve clarity,’ Peadar said.

  Baku and Teigue nodded, considering the conversation they had had. The sun continued to shine gloriously as the marching feet of the soldiers traversed the challenging nature of the terrain. Baku stopped as Teigue and Peadar continued, watching the long lines of soldiers climb the steep hill before streaming past him.

  In the distance, Osela stood magnificently as the mysterious Brae Tower loomed, and as Baku focused upon the tower, he sensed an oddness from within. An oddness that felt like a great strain upon his life force, lingering in the pit of his stomach, losing himself within his own thoughts before coming to. Soldiers tilted their heads and stared at him with curiosity; he gave them a nod as he marched onwards. Uncertain of what he had felt when he stared at Brae Tower, but as he expanded his thoughts, he realised he had seen danger. A threat loomed, but he dared not trouble anyone with such a feeling. The uncanny synchronicity of what he had witnessed disturbed him. Baku turned once more, eager to get a last glance at Brae Tower before it disappeared from his sight. He stared hard at the tower, closing his eyes, seeking an image to support his feeling. He waited, reopening his eyes as an ancient-looking black gate appeared in his mind’s eye. A malevolence stood beyond it, surging with vile and unbridled intent.

  What had he perceived?

  The bars were thick and rigid, oozing with horrifying breath. He turned from Brae Tower, his feeling affirmed by dreadful darkness.

  Chapter Twelve

  Do you fail to recognise

  the crossroads we stared into

  fear dressed as hope

  change not forthcoming

  we turned our backs

  on humanity

  High Councillor Karvaan

  A Dark Manifesto

  Tasgall approached the mass gathering of soldiers that spanned the entire ridge; various voices erupted as he nudged his way through the crowd. He got to the front overlooking the plains of Kalseadur, which were packed with thousands of tents and mercenaries just outside of Naldenveer as smoke billowed from the mines, which continued to burn against the backdrop of that spiritually foul abode. He instinctively gripped both his swords, staring across the entire field, trying to get a sense of how the battle might unfold.

  Keegan arrived beside him as he scoped in all directions. His eyes narrowed. Farther out beyond Naldenveer, sitting to the left, were three ships. Keegan, without hesitation, whipped out an ornate spyglass he had attached to his belt. Peering with his left eye as he directed the spyglass towards them, his eyes flashed, his jaw tightened as he saw the glint of the metallic armour across the three ships, indicating their affiliation to the Heztawzee. He began scanning from ship to ship, trying to identify any crew on board. Suddenly, a figure arose at the bow of the ship. A slender figure wearing a purple robe appeared, staring ominously towards him. He recognised the figure as Rez, the man he and Lachlann had spoken to and who had tried to have them assassinated. ‘Manach!’ Keegan shouted.

  Tasgall looked at him with concern. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Heztawzee, it’s that Rez again. Here, look.’

  Tasgall took the spyglass as he saw Rez standing with his hands behind his back, staring towards where the brothers stood. A smug smile spread across his pale face.

  ‘What is it?’ Manach asked.

  ‘The slithering character I told you about.’

  Tasgall passed the spyglass to Manach, who stared eagerly towards the ships, and as he got Rez in his sight, his stomach began churning with discontent. There was an unsettling, wriggling aura to this man as he took the spyglass from his eye, looking at Keegan as he said, ‘He’s an odd one. There’s something slimy about him.’

  The assassins approached.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Selina asked.

  ‘Elyna’s old pals on the ship,’ Keegan sardonically said.

  Elyna rolled her eyes, taking the spyglass to see for herself. Her stomach dropped for a moment before she regained composure. ‘What are the Heztawzee doing here?’

  ‘Monitoring things,’ Keegan said. ‘My guess is they have a one-sided interest in this battle.’

  ‘Their openness is alarming. They’re more secretive than Seltookra.’

  ‘That’s assuming Rez has a connection to the Heztawzee hierarchy at all. If he isn’t, it’s business as usual. These ships sail throughout the Tyrora Archipelago, more on time than the Chlutimora Clock Tower.’

  ‘The Heztawzee is not our fight; remain focused on what lies in front of us,’ Tasgall commanded. ‘We set up camp here. I don’t want to get any closer than necessary.’

  Brothers and soldiers began moving back and forth as canvas tents were unfolded, pitched along the ridge and below, while others moved closer to the clusters of oak trees to station their camps. The sun set behind them in the west. The air still held a humid stickiness, making for unpleasant camping conditions, particularly if the light breeze dropped. Midges would descend en masse to agitate and feast on everyone’s skin.

  Tasgall had stood on the ridge unmoving, scanning the various clusters of enemy encampments over and over, as if looking for something. Selina broke his focus. ‘What’s on your mind?’

  An intense Tasgall turned his head as he spoke. ‘Just taking in the landscape, trying to determine how the enemy will attempt to defeat us once we reach the plains of Kalseadur. It appears they are manning the ruins already. Be careful making your way round.’

  ‘Careful is what Elyna and I do best,’ Selina chimed.

  Tasgall gave a wry smile, trying to conceal his concern for her. ‘When will you be setting off?’

  ‘At nightfall. It will give us the best chance of moving to the outskirts of Naldenveer without being spotted.’

  Tasgall turned to face her, holding both her hands, staring with intensity into her eyes as he said, ‘Then let us make the most of the time we have left before we go our separate ways, the last peace we will feel for a while, I fear.’

  Selina’s twinkling eyes held emotional veracity, an understanding between the two that things would intensify on every level of their being. Neither could encapsulate in words what was occurring. All they had binding their paths were the three words that Selina uttered: ‘Proceed we must.’

  Manach had situated his tent down the ridge away from most of the tents, hidden amongst the oak trees, exhaling a peaceful breath. He sat on the mucky floor peering through the trees, his eyes fixated towards Naldenveer, his vision compromised by the thick trunks, branches, and leaves. However, it was what churned beneath him that caught his attention. Something was energetically bubbling beneath the surface, poised to break free. He refrained from peering too far. The power he felt just from sitting on the ground was enough to keep his curiosity at bay.

  He had a duty to uphold on the battlefield, while the spiritual affairs of the Tyrora Archipelago appeared to be awakening. Manach had to caution his eagerness to know. He had learnt over the decades not to overexert his current position. Better to witness than to force things. All will come to those who wait. Yet few understood the exactness of these words. Words act as cyphers for the conscious mind. Repetition is not the acquisition of knowledge. Thus, Manach remained composed, letting the world reverberate beneath him and, as his eyes closed, a twig snapped from behind as he propelled to his feet.

  ‘I didn’t scare you, did I?’ Baku joked.

  ‘Of course not. My guard is slightly higher than usual,’ Manach mused.

  ‘And for good reason.’

  ‘Come, take a seat, Baku. Your company is always welcome.’

  Baku stood opposite him, leaning with his back against a tree trunk as he spoke, ‘I have something I must tell you.’ Manach leaned forward, waiting for him to continue. ‘As we left Osela, I collected an image from Brae Tower, an ancient black gate smouldering with vile intent.’

  Manach’s brow furrowed as he stared at him. ‘Then my feelings stand correct.’

  ‘What feelings?’

  ‘I felt a trapped power below the surface, destined to break free. What you saw was the Gate of Shaldorahuran. I am certain that what eludes my consciousness is the connection between the tower and the Gate of Shaldorahuran.’

  ‘What is the Gate of Shaldorahuran? And what’s behind it?’

  Manach paused, his green eyes appearing cloudy. ‘I came across a remnant long ago, reading the works of Alfa Neku, a warlock from the 1st Age. His works were rants and ramblings about demonic cubes, gateways, and past lives. If memory serves, Alfa said, “The forces of light pacify the Gate of Shaldorahuran, obscured from the consciousness, the demons still operate within Tyrora, but their power is minimal to what it could be.” I read the remains of his available work, expecting more information on the Gate of Shaldorahuran, but my seeking was for nought. And his quote serves as a perceptive lesson that each individual has within them a moment to realise a nodule of information, a piece of history, or a visual image. One cannot expect to know all things. The service lies in allowing others to express what they know.’

  ‘Then we appear to have mounting problems from all sides.’

  ‘Such is life’s trials and tribulations. We have been prepared for what stands in front of us.’

  ‘It’s not knowing that troubles me.’

  ‘Do not fear the unknown. It comes for us all.’

  Baku nodded. ‘Should I inform Tasgall about the Gate of Shaldorahuran?’

  ‘No, he will find out in due course; things are out of our control. The High Elder does not need the burden. His mind must focus on leading us into battle.’

  ‘Very well. Then, our conversation remains private. I will leave you in peace. I must meet with the brothers regarding strategy soon.’

  ‘You continue to impress Baku. Step into what you are.’

  He gave a wry smile before leaving.

  Manach had appeared nonchalant in front of Baku; his worn face gripped with tension. He got up from where he had been sitting and picked up his oak staff, which had lain beside his canvas tent. Leaning on the staff before beginning to trundle through the trees, ducking and dodging through the branches. As his feet rustled and snapped through the foliage beneath him. Manach came to a clearing, giving him a straight view across the plain. The sinister abode of Dejero-Obitus stared back at him. Even from miles away, the tower had a way of gnawing at the soul. His mind throbbed as he considered the relations between the Council of Naldenveer and the archdemons. Was there a connection? Manach had kept them as separate sparring enemies who would work together to overthrow forms of benevolence, but in the same breath would stab each other for power and control. For dark forces had no loyalty, only gain. Answers would come in due course, Manach believed.