Rohvim #1: Metal and Flesh (9 page)

Aeden bounded out, heading for the dining room where the servants had left food for him, knowing he’d get out of bed eventually. He wolfed it down and left the house, wandering aimlessly through the city. A few hollers and whistles directed at him reached his ears—people from the crowd who recognized the young champion—and he waved proudly in return. Aeden thought about the last match. He had been desperate. He knew we would lose, and it angered him. The memory of looking down into the man’s eyes, who stared back up enraged, and then … the event seemed freshly seared on his consciousness. He tried to speak into the man’s head, as the master healer had done. It just may have worked, he thought to himself. He changed directions and aimed for the estate of the lord of the city, intending to talk to the healer one last time before he rejected the offer.

He marched down the street, sword swinging at his side, and saw the entrance to the estate, the sick and the afflicted still arriving in ones and twos before being directed to the healer’s clinic at the side of the grounds. Pausing, Aeden thought for a moment, turned, and walked down the street to the communal hall. He sprang up the steps and entered the building, light streaming in from the east, though clouds already threatened to cover the sun.

“Aeden!” cried Priest Anthony as he ran over to greet the boy. “Amazing yesterday! Amazing! I thought you were going to place second, and then, POW! Very well done!” he spluttered as he shook his hand. “And the next day, you come to see me? What an honor. Truly. What brings you here?”

The priest sat, Aeden took a chair next to him and began. “I just wanted to continue our conversation from the other day.”

“Very well,” the priest said. “What’s on your mind?”

“In the Chronicles, it tells of the Creator coming to us in our minds and hearts, and speaking to us. I can think of many passages where the Creator tells the person something—either a prophecy or a warning, or a message of love, or whatever—it’s always directly to their minds. Why is that?”

“Well, Aeden, it’s not only to their minds. I can think of two instances in the Chronicles where the Creator directly appeared and spoke face to face with his creations. First was when he created us. He stood before our first twelve parents and he touched them one by one on the head with his finger, and they drew in their first breaths. Then he addressed them—sang to them, really, singing the song of beginning. You know the rest of the story, I’m sure.”

Aeden nodded, “Yes, there is that one. And the other? I’m having trouble remembering.…”

“The other was several thousand years later, when our forefather, Galen Thunderspeak, ascended the mountain to ask for the deliverance of his people from the dreaded armies of the evil Lord Shagoth. The Creator descended out of heaven …”

Aeden finished for him, “Oh yes, I remember now, and he touched his head with his finger, symbolizing the re-creation of his people, and promised to vanquish the dark lord if the people would return to the ways of the creator.”

Priest Anthony remarked, “Very good. Not many people understand the symbolism. You must pay attention to my remarks during the communal meetings.”

“Most of the time. Actually, my mother is constantly talking to me and sis about the Chronicles. But, Priest Anthony, how come every other time, the Creator talks to people in the Chronicles in their minds instead of appearing before them? Does he really talk to us in our minds? Have you heard him in your mind before?”

The priest hesitated. “Well, no, he hasn’t to me. Some priests think that this is purely symbolic. I believe it is literal, but I know of no one who actually has heard the voice of the Creator in their minds. Sometimes, though, it’s as if I can feel him calling to me. It’s more in my heart than in my head, however.”

“So, it might not be real, then?”

The priest looked concerned, “As I said Aeden, many believe it is symbolic, but others believe it is real. You will have to work that out with the Creator yourself.”

“How? By asking him?”

“Perhaps. Study the book. Study the Chronicles. Finish your own copy, such that you own the words and make them yours. Maybe then, someday, you will find the answers you seek.”

Aeden got up. “Thank you, Priest Anthony. I must be going now, I was supposed to meet someone, but I am grateful for your help with this matter.”

The priest arose as well and bid the boy farewell. “Until we meet again, Aeden Rossam!”

The boy left the hall, resuming his walk to the healer’s clinic. He saluted the guard, who saluted back, and approached the building. Entering, he found several ill commoners waiting in the chairs by the door. Aeden sighed as he sat down, waiting for a healer to come and winnow the line. One by one, the sick were led away by the healers and at last, he found himself at the head of the line when another healer approached.

“Come with me, my lord,” said the same woman he had met before.

“I’m just here to see the master healer. We have business to discuss.”

“Well why didn’t you say so when you arrived? He’s back in his office,” she said, pointing to the rear of the room.

“But last time I was told … oh never mind. Thank you.” He could not quite hide the exasperation in his voice, nor in his step as he marched back to the office.

Aeden cautiously peered into the room, “Master? Are you here?”

“Yes my dear boy, come in, come in.” The graying man, who had been kneeling, arose and walked to the door, putting his powerful arm around Aeden’s shoulders and pulling him into the room. Aeden cast a sidelong glance at the man “What were you doing?”

“I was praying.” The old man replied, sitting down in his chair.

Aeden sat as well. “You? You pray?”

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“Well … yes! You come to me, try to convince me I was not made by the Creator but am just a pile of metal and flesh parts, powered by lightning, and here you are? Praying?”

The man sighed. “I’ve told you none of those things. I simply told you the truth. Your relationship with your Creator is your own business.”

“So, you don’t believe what the Chronicles say, you don’t believe what the priests say, you think we are, what’s the word you use? Rohva? And yet you pray?”

The healer nodded, saying firmly, “I do. And I’ve said nothing about belief in the Chronicles, or the priests. And yes, I do believe in the Creator—that he created us, in fact.”

Aeden protested, “But if you were to tell the priests any of the things you’ve told me, they would cast you out of the communal hall and you could never go back! I wager they would convince the lord of the city and even the king to banish you from the kingdom!”

“Which is why we don’t tell anyone but a select few about our true nature, now, is it not? No, but I’ve told you, and that’s what you’ve come to talk to me about isn’t it? What is it?” The master raised his eyebrows, “Would you like another demonstration?”

Aeden stammered, “Well … yes, I would. That … thing … you did, talking in my head and all, is that all you can do, I mean, we can do?”

“Of course not. We can do many wonders that would cause the priests to not just remove us from the communal hall or the kingdom, but would very well have us executed for. I can teach you all in good time, but there is much yet that I do not know.”

Aeden paused a moment, and confessed, “I did it. At least I think I did. That thing you did to me. Speaking in my head. Yesterday, during my last round of the tournament, I tried to speak in the mind of my opponent, trying to get him to yield. He looked shocked, and he did. Yield, that is.”

The master looked at him in disappointment. “Yes, I saw the whole thing. Not the most honorable way to win the tournament, I must confess—you could have simply rapped the man on the chest with the sword instead of holding it to his neck and won with far more honor. And now that you’ve told me this, it becomes worse. To use the knowledge of our true nature for personal gain at the expense of those who do not know is … not right.”

“I’m sorry. I did it on a whim. It was an intense moment. I didn’t want him to force me to cut him further …”

“And so you should have released him and won properly!” The master grew a little agitated, but quickly calmed himself. “Excuse me, Aeden. I am not being fair to you. This is all so new to you. Come, let me show you more. And by the way, you truly are a brilliant swordsman, in spite of how it ended—though seeing that last part makes me glad you’re on our side,” the man said with a wink.

“What will you show me?” Aeden asked.

“I will enter your mind, and bring you with me.” Aeden looked confused, so the healer continued, “We have the ability to enter one another’s minds, and we can see and talk to each other there. This is the second of our powers. There are seven total, but even the master of our society thinks we have only scratched the surface of what is possible for a rohva to do.”

Aeden wrinkled his brow, “I thought you led the society. Who is this master you speak of? How many of you are there?”

“She is Clara. I met her long ago far away in the north. When we each discovered that the other had the true knowledge of ourselves—a story for another time, perhaps—we decided that we must form a group that could pass along this knowledge, and help to uncover more of it. We decided that she would be the leader, being the elder and frankly the more skilled of the two us. As of now, we number a little over one hundred. If you choose to do so, you would become number one hundred and thirteen, since we started all those years ago.”

“And they all live here in the kingdom?”

“Mostly, yes. Many of us have travelled widely in the world, though none have encountered others like us in their journeys, apart from Clara and me meeting each other. In the beginning, when there were only a handful of us, we decided to keep our society, our abilities, our knowledge, everything, a secret.”

“Why?”

The man leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “Who knows what would happen if all of the kingdom, or even the world were suddenly forced to face the truth about ourselves? Where did we really come from? Our religion? Our families? Friendships? What happens to these things when the secret is out? Our people have lived as we do for thousands of years. Thousands of years of culture, tradition, progress, faith … what becomes of it all? That is why we are very selective in our recruiting, and that brings us back to you. We only ask a few to confront this truth and whatever delights and horrors it might bring.” He paused, reflecting for a moment before he shook himself, suddenly returning to the present moment. “Now, the demonstration. Come here, and as before I will touch your head, and this time you touch mine as well. Right then, here we go …”

Can you hear me?

Aeden’s eyes once again grew wide, and he nodded, “Yes.”

Now, come follow me.

“How?”

Draw attention within yourself. Focus on my mind, and choose to enter it.

Aeden concentrated intensely. He thought about the man’s head, and what lay inside, and struggled to enter.

“Nothing’s happening. What’s wrong?” Aeden said, disappointed.

Nothing is wrong with you. It’s your first time, and some struggle at first. Here, let me help you.

Aeden felt a sensation of something pulling him, though nothing touched him but the stationary hands of the healer. He tried again, and with a rush, he felt himself enter the mind. The world turned dark. He looked around himself nervously.”I can’t see anything!”

No, you can’t. You are in my mind and I have not chosen our surroundings yet. What do you see now?

“Oh, there you are. I see you. You’re different. You look younger!”

Ah yes. This is how I looked long ago, many years before even your father’s birth
. The man smiled wistfully.
We all look much better in our heads, don’t we? I see you’ve packed a little muscle on yourself? I’m not the only one with an idealized self-image, hmm?

Aeden looked down and saw a bulging chest and shoulders, much like he dreamed of having when he was fully grown up. “Wow! Would you look at that?”

By the way, you can stop talking out loud, and simply think the words you want to say. And in here, it is much more difficult to hide what you are feeling. It shows up right in our faces
.

Aeden noticed now that the healer was grinning. Positively beaming. He looked at himself—strangely enough he could see his own face too, though he couldn’t understand how, and he had a look of shock on his face, which slowly turned to a grin.
So, I’m in your head?
He looked around at the darkness surrounding them
, Not the head I was expecting, really.

Oh. Well! I can change that. What would you like to see? We can be anywhere here. How about the red forest of the northern march?
Gradually the darkness gave way to a verdant wooded setting. Colossal trees surrounded them, towering towards the sky. Sunlight trickled down though the canopy in gently angled beams, suggesting late afternoon or early morning. Aeden gazed in wonder at his surroundings.

I’ve never been past Glendale. This is really the red forest? The trees! They’re massive!

Stunning, isn’t it? I was here just five years ago, passing through on my way to the northern kingdoms. They say some of these trees are older than the kingdom itself.
The old, now young, man ambled over to a giant tree and rested his back up against it. Aeden followed, still looking up at the behemoth.

You’re touching it? You can tough things in your brain?

Yes. Ah yes, thanks for reminding me.
With that, he looked to his right, and replacing the view of the forest in that direction appeared a wall, taller than the trees, extending far out of sight in either direction. The wall was covered with lights, some flashing, some steady, of all colors. Strange shapes covered it as well, some of the large square shapes held moving images of people in places he did not recognize.
Well, there it is.

There what is?