The Motive for Massacre (The Kinless Trilogy Book 2) Page 3

  Harold pointed at the massive double doors that were kept open. "Inside. There will be someone inside who can help us."

  "You mean help me," Umaryn corrected.

  "Yes, help you. I'm sorry Umaryn, this has been so remarkable I've forgotten my place."

  "It's no bother Harold. Lead the way, I've never been inside."

  The Guildhall was an edifice of modern Elmoryn architecture. Unlike the overbearing Palace of the Purple Queen in high city of Graben, the Guildhall of Daris seemed progressive, and industrial. A million red bricks were said to be placed atop one another in a precise, interlocking geometric pattern that gave the structure additional strength and resistance to the Way. A hundred tall glass windows almost as tall as she was marked each of the six floors. Among all numbers, the number six was sacred to the Guild. The roof was made of slanted timber, preserved by black pitch, and it gave the entire structure a feeling of sturdiness. The building felt important.

  Inside the large double doors of the Guild's headquarters lay a long hall. To each side were ticket counters for travelers who wanted to purchase passage on one of the many Guild trains, as well as counters where builders could purchase Guild supplies, or where crafters could pay their dues, obtain permits, or rent tools. There were many of these windows, all designed to help further the arts of the people of Daris.

  The end of the hall opened into a majestically wide room with a ceiling that reached to the very top of the building. An entire train could fit in the space if need be. Sunlight streamed in from a series of rooftop glass windows that weren't visible from the street level. The glorious room was filled from side to side with row after row of pews for the many that had come for spiritual guidance. On the fringe of the pews were dozens of tables where experts taught novices, and geniuses shared insights with their fellows. Umaryn wondered how many world changing ideas would be exchanged in this room that very day.

  Hanging from the rafters of the massive room were a score of equally massive yet finely wrought tapestries depicting the many professions that the Guild sought to foster. Among them a smith hammered away at an anvil in one picture, while a painter drew masterful strokes in another. Dozens of gray robed artificers, ranking members of the official clergy attended to the needs of the throngs. Umaryn looked around the room for an Artificer with a red trimmed robe. They were the wielders of The Way.

  Harold made a grand gesture, and spoke dramatically, "The Varrland home of the Six Principles."

  "It's amazing," Umaryn whispered breathlessly. She looked around the room as a child might, still searching for a gray robe with red trim. Near the far southern corner of the hall, standing among a group of small desks filled with eager eyed children was a short man wearing the exact robe she was looking for.

  "Come," she beckoned to Harold. He followed.

  The two walked their way around the hundreds of gathered artisans and worshippers, making their way to the rear of the hall where the short man stood. He had his robe's hood down, and Umaryn could see he was an older man, sporting a tightly trimmed gray chinstrap beard. Even from a distance she could see his eyes were a mottled hazel, yet were bright with enthusiasm. He was smiling. She and Harold approached the man, and listened as he taught a class of young children.

  "And remember children to carry the one. You mustn't forget to carry the heavy load when doing mathematics," he said with a fatherly smile. Umaryn instantly liked him.

  "May I help you?" He asked her.

  She had been staring, "I'm sorry sir. We are in need of some assistance, and I saw the red trim of your robes. When you have time, I would greatly appreciate a moment."

  If the man was bothered, he hid it well, "If you need something repaired with The Way, there are several Neophytes and Apprentices that can fix your things for a nominal amount of Marks." The man had a thick accent. Clearly he'd spoken Entch as a child. He smiled again.

  Umaryn felt like an idiot, but spoke anyway, "I think I've made an artifact."

  The children doing the math problems at their tiny desks all stopped. Even at their tender age they knew the importance of that word; artifact.

  "An artifact you say?" The bearded man asked, his eyes dropping to the burlaps sack she held. "Might it be in that bag?" He took a calculated, yet eager step forward.

  She nodded nervously.

  "Many have brought in things they thought were alive. I wouldn't want to disappoint you. I've seen many skilled artisans throw their craft away over less."

  "I am able with The Way. I know what I've made… is special. I don't know the proper chant to ascertain the full story, but I spoke to what I made, and I believe it to be alive," Umaryn had a hint of defiance in her voice.

  The man smiled again, his eagerness tempered by concern for her, "What is your name young one? I am Librarian Nolan Renaud." He almost pronounced the R in his last name as a strong W. Wenaud.

  "I'm Umaryn Everwalk."

  Nolan dipped his head in a dramatic bow, and the kids he had been teaching giggled at him. He gave the students a chastising glare coupled with a grin, and they giggled even more. "It is a pleasure to meet you Umaryn. If my students can dredge up a few moments of patience for this task, I can look at your artifact right here." He looked to the kids for their approval, and nearly in unison, their heads wagged up and down in mutual agreement. With their consent, Nolan Renaud backed up and moved over to his small teacher's desk, and pushed several errant items away to make space.

  Umaryn loosened the bag's cord, and pulled out the chest plate, pauldrons and sleeves. The children all left their desks and began to ooh and ahh as she placed the dark red armor down. She looked up at Nolan's face to gauge his reaction. Judging by his expression of admiration, she'd done well.

  "It's beautiful. I will need to place my hands upon the armor?" He looked to Umaryn as a small crowd started to gather around them. Somehow, they could sense something important was happening, and the din filling the massive room slowly died away.

  "Go ahead. It's tough. I made it that way."

  Nolan beamed at her, and after cracking his knuckles, he lowered two hands of stubby fingers down to the brand new set of armor. The tips of his fingers touched first, then the palms of his hands. Umaryn looked at nothing but his face, nothing but his closed eyes. Other than the excited whispers of the lay inquisitive, the entire Guildhall was silent now. The sun falling through the skylights gave off more noise than the people gathered around.

  Only a moment later she watched as his eyelids twitched. Once, then twice more. They then popped open, and she saw the wonder in his hazel eyes. He opened his mouth, but no words came out, just several excited exhalations.

  "It's an artifact isn't it?" Umaryn asked him, already sure of the answer.

  Nolan nodded, and the room erupted into adulation for her, and her pretty red armor.

  They called themselves the Council of Bibliosophs, and they all wore gray robes, with red trim. Bibliosoph was a rank in the Church, the same as Nolan's title of Librarian. It was a substantial title, though not the highest. She was told before they let her into the round room that the Council was comprised of some of the highest ranking Guild leadership in all of Daris, all of Varrland. It was the Council's holy duty to examine, document, and bless each artifact brought before them.

  They were also responsible for admitting in new members of the clergy.

  "Miss Everwalk, I am Bibliosoph Autumn Phairlan. Thank you for bringing in your creation for us. It's quite a thing. Your armor is very special." Autumn was an elderly woman with wizened eyes, and bent back. She seemed wise and ancient beyond her already lengthy years. She gave Harold a very gentle glance, and he got up and left. Sometimes men can get the proper message.

  "Thank you Bibliosoph. And thanks to the council for their time. Have you been able to do the Chant of Assessment on the armor yet?" Umaryn sat on a bench near the entrance of the round council room. She'd watched with wary eyes as the six members of the Council had put their hands on her pr
ized creation one after another. In turn they had all shown tremendous glee, childlike glee as they heard the voice, and felt its power.

  "Yes. We've cast the Chant six times, and all six castings have resulted in unclear tidings of your armor's powers. The Council has come to the decision that your armor has not fully decided for itself what it can do."

  "The armor hasn't decided? What does that mean Bibliosoph?" Umaryn sat forward on the bench.

  Autumn gave a warm response, "When a child is born, the mother and the father cannot tell whether or not their newborn is a painter, or a warrior, or a farmer. Much in the same way a parent must wait for their child to mature, so too must a crafter wait for their artifact to grow into what it wishes to be. What its calling is."

  "Fascinating. I've never… Never made an artifact before. I've never even held an enchanted item ever. I've called out to the spirits in a weapon to make it faster or sharper, but that's not a true enchantment. I've seen relics before, but nothing like this." Umaryn thought of the lantern Dram had given them for their final assault on Omniri's fortress. She and her brother had hidden it away for safekeeping, and mentioning it now seemed an ill decision..

  "You are not in the minority my dear. How experienced are you with The Way? Librarian Renaud said you'd mentioned skill with it?"

  "Experienced enough. I know several spells, some better than others." Umaryn wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. Her heart was fluttering from both fear and excitement.

  "Can you tell me how many spells you know?" Autumn asked as she sat beside Umaryn.

  Umaryn sighed, and searched her memory, "I know seven spells, but I'm studying for an eighth. As I said, some I know better than others." Again she felt a twinge of guilt over even having the conversation.

  "How did you learn all of those spells? Understudy at a small guildhall?"

  "I'm an avid reader."

  Autumn snorted a laugh, "That is a substantial amount of The Way my dear. You are quite an accomplished spellcaster. The spirits must have taking a firm liking to you. Have you any contact with the ancestor spirits as well?" Autumn seemed pleased.

  Umaryn shook her head, "No, but my mother was an Apostle. The only Apostle in our village."

  "A village here in Varrland?"

  Umaryn's face darkened, "New Picknell."

  The words were like a dagger in the back of the conversation. Autumn gritted her worn teeth in frustration, and rested her wrinkled, soft hand on Umaryn's. "I'm so sorry my dear. You must be one of the two survivors we've heard about. That wretched, cold blooded witch to the north has sunk her talons into the breast of Varrland for the last time I'll wager. The talk of war is everywhere, and sounds unstoppable now."

  "A war would be horrible Bibliosoph. Hundreds of thousands could die. I don't think my mother or my father would appreciate that many deaths on her behalf. They were people of peace. Simple folk." Umaryn looked down at the old hand of the Artificer, and wondered if her mother's hand would have looked the same in old age. Moisture filled her eyes.

  "Don't cry my dear. Your simple, perfect parents would be proud beyond reckoning. This is a wondrous day. Wondrous beyond the reckoning of a million makers of things my dear. You've created something that will outlast your own life, and give hope and magic back to the world. You've joined the lofty elite of the men and women who have created an artifact. Celebrate this please," Autumn said, trying to lift the young woman's spirits.

  Umaryn wiped the solitary tear running down her cheek away. "I know. I shouldn't cry any more over this. I've already spent so much energy. So much of it in the wrong ways too. I should've done so many things differently. Less anger, and more devotion. Less seeking of vengeance and more seeking of answers. I've done so much wrong Autumn. I don't know if I can change my ways now either. You say my parents would be proud, but I'm not so sure."

  Autumn squeezed Umaryn's hand, "Little one you are not alone in this world. You have a brother, yes? He will be with you always in spirit. As with the spirits of the things of Elmoryn. Your armor too, it will never abandon you. We will never abandon you. You have an entire Guild to call out to as your family, should you want it."

  "As my family?" Umaryn's eyes welled again. The mere mention of the word stirred feelings in her soul she hadn't felt in over a year.

  "As your family. You are so clearly a candidate for our organization it pains my heart you haven't found your way to our doors yet. But that is our failing. I know for certain that if you were to petition for membership the Church would take you in with arms open wide, and your gray robe with red trim would be waiting for you. I'm sure you would be able to rise through our ranks to a respectable position very quickly. I doubt you'd spend more than a day or two at Neophyte and Apprentice ranks my dear. By month's end you're sure to be a Novitiate or Fabricator. I'll see to it. Of course there are some responsibilities that accompany the titles, but if you truly wish to change your ways, hard work is the first and most essential step."

  A Guild member? A robe wearer? Umaryn's entire body tingled with excitement. The decision was made before contemplation entered her mind, "I would very much like to be a member of the Guild Autumn. May I call you Autumn?"

  "Of course my dear. But first, you must decide what to name your armor." Autumn inclined her head towards the group of Artificers that surrounded the armor where it sat on a small table.

  "Name the armor? Like a person?"

  "Mmm hmm. Every artifact has some semblance of a personality my dear. Some more so than others. Your armor has quite the personality, and has been asking us what you plan on naming it. You. Everyone wants identity after all."

  "I think I'll name it after I know what it can do," Umaryn said decisively.

  "Wise. Now, you should tell your armor that. I believe it misses you."

  The two women stood, and hand in hand walked over to the dusky red armor that Umaryn had brought into the world.

  - Chapter Three -

  FAMILY

  It had been two weeks.

  "This is a bad idea Umaryn. Bad bad bad," Mal said, pacing powerfully back and forth in the sitting room of their flat. He wore a fine outfit made of quality wools and cottons. He was dressed to look good, and that he did.

  Umaryn sat at the square dining table, her face in a small hand mirror. She wore the flat gray robes of a Guild Neophyte. She was applying a small amount of blush to her cheeks. The color made her feel silly, like a fish out of water.

  "Mal, this is what I want. This is what I always wanted. You know that," she said softly, applying another thin layer of color, trying to pretty herself up for the ceremony later that day.

  "But it's too much visibility Umaryn. Do I need to remind you that we're here to kill someone? To hunt and murder the man who killed our parents? The last thing we need is more attention drawn to us."

  "I suppose you're going to tell me it's regrettable that I made that armor too?" Umaryn was starting to get angry.

  Mal sounded conflicted, "No, I won't tell you that. You've done something incredible Umaryn, and I'm so damn proud of you for that. I'm just scared that we're going to give up our element of surprise. The damn Guild already knows we're the two survivors from New Picknell. Once word of that gets out, whoever sent Omniri to kill us will know we're still alive."

  "You say that like it's a bad thing Mal. You ever heard of smoking the bees from the hive? So what if we're giving up a little advantage? Maybe we'll force our prey into the open by revealing who we are. I don't think I need to explain to you how useful having powerful connections can be for us? I don't know if you forgot already, but we're in painfully short supply of friends lately."

  There was a knock at the door. Umaryn turned in her seat and watched as Mal approached the shuttered window to see who was out there. After peering cautiously through a crack, he looked relieved.

  "Speaking of friends, it's Marcus and Chelsea," he said as he moved to the door, threw the heavy bolt, and opened it.

  Marcus immediately stu
ck a hand out for shaking. The knight of Varrland wore his dress uniform of white trimmed with red. "Good day to you Malwynn. You look quite handsome in your tunic. Your parents would be proud of you this day. Where is your sister?"

  Mal pointed over at the table where his sister sat.

  Marcus turned and took a few steps toward her, Chelsea stepping in behind him. Marcus stopped after a few steps, a hitch in his words, "Umaryn you look… Amazing."

  Umaryn didn't need much in the way of make up to show color in her cheeks. She smiled as an adolescent might and turned back to her mirror, "Thank you Marcus."

  Malwynn extended his hand to the knight's squire, "Chelsea, it is good to see you again. You look very nice."

  Like her commanding officer, she too wore her dress uniform. Hers was more red than white, denoting a lower rank. "Mister Everwalk, a pleasure."

  "Malwynn please. Or just Mal."

  "Thank you Mal." Chelsea shut the sturdy apartment door and followed Marcus in. Behind her, Malwynn relocked the thick bolt.

  "Are you ready? Have you prepared for your tests?" Marcus asked as he took a seat next to Umaryn. He seemed excited.

  Umaryn paused her beautification. "I believe. Most of what they ask of an applicant I've done a dozen times over, many of that in the heat of a fight for my life. This will be in a room filled with friends and allies. It should be simple work."

  Marcus reached out and put a large gloved hand on hers, "Don't underestimate the anxiety caused by the presence of power Umaryn. These are incredibly influential people. If you are thinking of a life in the Guild, how you perform today will color everything you try to accomplish within the organization. You've already set a very high bar with the creation of your armor. Expectations will be high."