Aeternitas by M Mixson (free ereaders txt) 📖

and to his purification ceremony.

Chapter 8: Vision

It was a room of gold, pure gold. Gold on the walls, on the ceiling, on the beams and on the pillars. Gold everywhere. Wherever the eye looked there was some sort gold. In the space that was not filled with gold there was red, crimson red; a startling contrast to the gold. The sides of the room where this crimson red and they almost looked like velvet. The draperies that framed the windows were of red velvet with gold brocade. The windows themselves were large and held thin panes of glass in them. They faced the south and towards some sort of wild land, hills mostly, and they let in much sun when the curtains were open. In the center of the room hanging from the ceiling was a chandelier also of gold and lit throughout the day. The floor was covered with thick brocaded carpets that matched the curtains but contained a unique design of flowers and shapes. Facing the windows was a dais with four steps. On the two front corners of this dais were two large golden cat sculptures. And on the top tier of this dais were two thrones, chairs really, that looked royal. Both were identical, both metal with gilded gold upon them. The seat and back were of crimson red velvet like the draperies. These chairs were side by side, the same size and in every way identical: showing that the rulers were equals. On either side of this dais there were large gilded mirrors that reflected the windows. The whole room was made to be illusionistic; with the chandelier lit and the light coming from the windows and all that light reflecting back from the mirror the room became surreal, almost mystical in nature. That was the way the original royal family had designed it. They designed it to invoke awe and wonder. And indeed, it still evoked awe and wonder when one walked through the two double doors and into the room. In the center of the room was a handsome young man, fair of skin with curling short hair. He seemed soft, not a feminine soft, but not all sharp angles and muscle, more sinew and thinness. His stance was confident, his head held high and he was gesturing wildly. For a moment he caught a glimpse of a man, older, about forty-five or fifty who looked tired as he sat at an easel. Drawing the gesticulating young man perhaps?

As soon as it had come, it was gone. Zese opened his eyes and looked directly at the altarpiece. After his purification he came down to the chamber once a week to receive a vision or knowledge from the Princess. Lysaes at times however, had nothing to give him and instead talked to him of the old days and of her childhood.

One of the persons she talked of was the Chieftain’s son, her dead husband. “I don’t know if I loved him,” she said, “My people were told by the Empress to have me marry him, that it would bring peace and prosperity.”

“And did it?”

“That is a complicated answer.”

“You say that about all my questions though!”

Her laugh was full of energy and amusement.

“In a way, yes. It did bring peace and prosperity to both our peoples. Of course you must realize this marriage was by force and I was only sixteen years old when I married him.” Her voice became thoughtful, a little sorrowful, “I died a year and four months after I married him. We had one son.”

“You died because of the Prince right?”

“Yes. He killed me. In the aftermath I learned the whole story. When I think back to it now and realize I’d caught his eye…” she paused, “I probably would have run off with him. He was a handsome devil of course, he always got his way. In a way I’m glad I didn’t end up with him – he would have destroyed my very essence.”

Zese paused as he thought about his next question.

“When you really think about it, what in the end caused you to side with the Empress?”

“I felt for her – her betrayal. I was also furious with him – as a god he was supposed to be my protector, and instead he kills me while I sleep. Then he goes and frames my husband having him killed. Now my sweet boy was left without parents. Aunty raised him well, but having your parents, there’s nothing like it.”

Zese furrowed his brow, and placed his hands firmly on the stone floor as his memory of the last time he talked to Lysaes faded.

When he stood his legs were slightly wobbly from having sat so long and when he finally staggered to the chair he placed in the corner for occasions like this pain was moving up and down his leg.

Zese patted his leg and rubbed it, hoping to loosen the tense muscles and when they finally did relax he stood and headed for the exit.

Upon exiting he found his father waiting for him.

“Father?” he queried. His father never waited for him outside the chamber, in fact once he had learned of the fact that his son was now an Oracle to the Princess he had given Zese space, so much space Zese wondered if his father was upset about something.

“Zese, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes Father?”

“We have a guest staying here, a very important guest, a guest who is very impressed with and would like to meet you. He’s seen your art around and about and would like to talk much more extensively with you.”

The boy quietly allowed his father to lead him up the stairs and to the dressing hall where he was undressed and plunged into an ice cold bath.

He gritted his teeth as one of the maids dumped water over his head as the other began to rub soap into his hair, removing grime and other substances from the chamber.

The older of the two tsked and asked, “What do you get up to that gets you so dirty?”

The younger one laughed, “It doesn’t really matter does it? He should enjoy his boyhood, after all it is the shortest walk in life.”

Zese felt a tingling run down his spine as he thought about that. His childhood was almost over, wasn’t it? He’d spent the majority of his childhood painting or riding and doing other manly things. But in the past three years he’d done less of that and taken to doing less manly things. He needed to remedy that. Perhaps he’d take his horse out today and ride through the woods just like he used to. He wondered if the fort he’d built by the river all those years ago still existed.

He stood still once he was out of the bath for the maids to dry him and then cloth him in his new clean clothes. He tugged a bit as the collar was too tight and at the shirt sleeves which were a bit too short.

Ricr came in and gave him a once over, “It seems you’ve grown since the last time that I’ve had you fitted for new clothes. I suppose we can remedy that this week.”

“Why?” Zese asked.

His father turned an eye towards him. “All will be explained once you meet the man in the downstairs drawing room.”

Zese followed behind his father at a dignified pace as thy headed to the drawing room where Zese assumed his future awaited. He wondered what in the world his father had been planning. Or perhaps his mother had said something, it would be like her too, especially if she thought it might help her and their family advance in society.

In the drawing room there was a middle aged man who frowned upon seeing Zese.

“This is him? This is the boy your wife spoke of?”

“Yes,” Ricr said, “This is my son Zese. Zese this is Boisson. He’s come from his estate in the east to employ you.”

“Employ me? In doing what?”

“Ricr, have you told him absolutely nothing?” Irritation tinged the tone of the middle aged man.

“I have not had the time. He has been busy in his pursuits.”

“I was told his pursuits were riding horses, that he was an energetic boy. This one here lacks much of those qualities. If he is weak I have no use for him.”

Ricr snorted. “Only an imbecile would think he is weak. He is sound of mind, brilliant even. He has steady hands, he has worked as a painter for some time. He also has gentle and firm hands for when he works with the horses. I don’t know what you’re seeing but if you don’t want him you don’t have to take him.”

Boisson stroked his chin as he looked out the window. Then he nodded. “Ricr, we’ve got a deal. I’ll take your son with me and I’ll train him in everything he could ever want to know.”

“I’m leaving?” Zese asked his father horrified after his new employer had left.

“Yes, of course. That’s what your mother wished. She said you’d get a better education elsewhere.”

“I can’t leave though – the – the – the secret, the secret is still…”

“Stop! Don’t tell me anything else. I’m sure everything will turn out all right in the end.”

Furious Zese ran to the chamber and poured out the story to the Princess.

“Zese,” she told him. “This is your path, your destiny. What comes next is just an extension of this. While I may not be able to talk to you as clearly, I will watch over you still. Do not worry, for this is heading towards the greatness I see.”

“What if I don’t want to be great? What if I want to be ordinary, to be with you?”

“You don’t really want that, besides the best part of your life is still ahead. Forget what they said about boyhood, when you’re older you’ll see that this change you’re so desperately afraid of was actually the thing you’ll be grateful for.”

Zese sat still on the pillow and stared at the fading altarpiece.

“What do I do now? How will I survive?”

“You will survive because you must, but also because your future depends on this training. Think of it like, mmm, perhaps a ceremony so that when we meet again you’ll be stronger. Promise me that then, when you’re stronger than you are now; mentally, intellectually and physically come to this altar and call me. Only then will I come.”

“I promise.”

Chapter 9: A New World

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