Welcome to Xaranya
Book 2 – The Knight’s Tale
Chapter 5 – Rebuilding the Temple
Swimming down is harder than swimming up, for so many reasons. It takes longer for one thing. Even with her stat boosts, her muscles strain. Even with enhanced breathing, the breaths come hard. But, she is driven. She is driven with all the force of someone who really, really wants to get this over with so she can move on to the next thing.
By the time Susan descends, she is far from where she started, but she can see the dome of the city and for a minute she floats there, staring at the dome, at the buildings beneath it, at the fish and merfolk swimming around it, taking no notice of her, because why would they?
She is just a half-elf adventurer with the ability to breathe underwater, wearing sparkling silver robes that eddy around her. The water is warm and uplifting as she makes her way back to the place where she started, to where the vision – or whatever that even is – remains: Svalen or some remnant of Svalen talking, repeating the same message, telling her that she will be his messenger and then telling her where to go next.
She is barely even listening, wishing there were some way to fast forward past this message, hearing just enough to pick out directions.
The directions lead to the temple – or to the remains of it.
There, in the midst of the temple ruins, she finds a merperson whose label reads, “Torent [Cleric]”.
Torent sits in a stone pew by the stone altar, hands folded on his lap. Like most of the merpeople, he has human legs when walking in dry areas, but he also has a distinctive, wavery shape. Susan doesn’t quite know any of this – yet, but she can tell that he is not even close to human or elf or anything else.
He startles when he hears her footfall behind him, turns to look and, for a second, hope lights his face. Then, it is gone.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
Instead of answering, she sits beside him for a second.
Then, she explains quietly and slowly but as thoroughly as she can, how she got there.
He listens without comment.
“I want to try to help them, the people in prison.”
“You should go to the palace.”
Susan smiled wryly. “If I do, they will likely arrest me again – or try.”
Torent stares at the altar, sadly.
And she almost feels bad for him. But she has had way too long a day of her own already.
“Tell me a story,” she says. “Please. Tell me the truth. How did…” she has to check her chat log for the name of this space again “…how did Tilton get like this?”
“How did we fail them, do you mean?”
That was not what she meant, at all, but …
“Sure,” she says, sitting again, a little further away this time, giving him room to speak.
“It all started long, long ago.”
He paints a picture for her with words, a picture of this temple in its glory days with over a hundred [Clerics], when Svalen – the creator of this land – ruled below and his spouse and love, Karafis, ruled the city above, Atlantis, a glistening city where no one lived but everyone visited.
Once all was made whole and steady, Karafis became disenchanted with her creation but not with Svalen.
“She stayed, they say for many long years after that,” Torent said. “I was still a child when she left, and I remember … having an opinion. Everyone had an opinion. I thought Svalen should go with her. In grief, Svalen destroyed the surface city. I do remember that much, that one day it was there. We would visit from time to time via the sky tunnel. One second it was there and then gone and … things got bad quickly after that, long before Svalen left.
“And even then, Svalen left artifacts. You must have found one of the last remaining ones that had gone unfound, although I’m not sure how…. It doesn’t matter. Little messages to help, to guide.
“After that, well….”
Susan forced herself to take a few long, slow breaths, because – oh wow, sad story. What did any of that have to do with what was happening now?
She started to get up and this time he reached out to grab her. She stepped back, surprised.
“Sorry,” he said. “I will do what I can to help you. We will. Those of us who still believe.”
“Believe what?” she asked.
“It doesn’t matter. We will talk to the rulers together.”
And, they do, meeting in secret with [Chief Administrator] Alistair in a small but comfortable room on the eastern side of the palace. Alistair is human, mostly human, with just a hint of blue-tinged skin hinting at some merfolk (his great-great-grandparents) in his background. He’s taller than Torent but not by much.
The conversation is brief, with Alistair nodding a lot, asking what she wants.
Susan demands that they visit the prison. With minimal argument, Alistair agrees to take them to visit the prison, which is a short walk from the palace, as it is also in the administrative center.
Once there, first of all Amaran stands up and walks to the door of her ceell when she sees Torent.
“Amaran?” Torent asks.
“You’re still here,” Amaran says. “But … how? But why?”
“I tried to warn you,” Torent says. “But you always had to push the edge.” He reaches out as if to touch the prison bars, as if to touch the hand of his former friend.
Then, he pulls back and shakes his head. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
Susan watches as Torent leaves, heading back upstairs, leaving her alone with Amaran. Well … that was a surprise.
“How long have you been….?” Susan asks.
“Longer than most of us,” another prisoner says. Turning, she sees the [Rogue] from last time.
“I remember you,” she says, quietly. Vaguely.
“She knows almost all of our stories,” a third prisoner says. “That’s why she is here. The only law she broke was to try to get fairer conditions for all of us.”
“So, you’re a political prisoner,” Susan says to Amaran.
“What?” Amaran asks.
“Hm,” Susan says. “Prison is more than bars.” She raises her hand, thinking of … so many stories. So many stories. “I have known people who in prison to addictions, to one-sided friendships, to jobs they hate. Trust me, not all prisons have bars.”
Amaran stares at her for a while. Then, after several seconds, she laughs. “But of course, I am still in here and you are still out there.”
“Prison is supposed to be fun,” the rogue says. “It is supposed to be part of the challenge, what happens when you fail to … not get caught.”
Susan turns to him, considering him. “There have to be other people who are angry enough to … do something, say something if they could only be persuaded that it might help.”
“Agreed,” Alistair says, quietly descending the stairs, where he has been standing, listening.
“How long were you…?” Susan asks, letting the question trail off.
“Long enough,” Alistair says. “More than long enough to get the gist of it. I want to help.”
“You?” Amaran asks, disbelieving.
“I remember you,” Alistair says. “I was … very young when you preached at my school one Saturday.”
Amaran frowns deeply.
“You were always the kind pastor. We all knew that. I don’t expect you to remember me, but I remember you and I have always thought … there has to be more to this story, and now I know what that more is.”
Amaran looks up at him, and watches him walk over and open the cell door.
Susan doesn’t see how he does it, and she is really watching. It wouldn’t matter, anyway, because he has a special key in his access panel. Kind of like how homeowners can access their homes. Of everyone on the floor at the moment, only he can lock and unlock the cells.
Amaran stares at him, not quite believing what is happening.
“And then what?” she asks. “I leave the cell and then what? Escape?”
Alistair shrugs with his hands, a very merperson kind of gesture. “No one would blame you if you did, but…. Many of us, especially the younger among us… We could use your help, if you are willing to give it.”
“Take me to the temple,” she says, curtly. “Take me and let me see.”
He does. The guards stare at them while leaving, deciding to say nothing when they leave together, three people but a different three people from those who entered and … everyone knows who Amaran is.
They all know that she is not supposed to leave. But they let her, maybe because they have been waiting for a reason to look the other way.
***
Amaran falls to her knees, her hand to her mouth as she surveys the temple or rather the ruins where the temple once stood.
“How long was I-?” she starts to ask and then stops.
Susan turns to [Chief Administrator] Alistair who is .. watching all of this, watching Amaran.
“Over two hundred years,” Amaran says. “I’m calling everyone.”
“We won’t be in parity with the rest of – Svalen won’t even hear you until … another two centuries.”
“Not Svalen,” Amaran said. “Although I should. I am so done with this nonsense. I can’t believe I…. I’m calling everyone on this world. And they all know? They all knew? None of their business? No. No.”
Alistair turns to Susan and somewhat unnecessarily (but helpfully) explains that while in prison Amaran was cut off from communication with the rest of Xaranya and – very quickly, because no one ever gets this the first time – that Xaranya is a “high-order staccato world” (don’t worry, this won’t be on any kind of test later, but the distinction is important – for context). Meaning, basically that every thousand years, for exactly a single day, Xaranya comes into parity with the rest of existence. Until that time, no time passes outside of Xaranya. Like many staccato worlds, Xaranya maintains what is known – for those who care about these technicalities and those who care, like Really Care, a “minimal causal relationship” to the rest of existence.
This is all by design. The technical designation – in case this ever comes up in casual conversation – would be: 1000:1/1d. (You could write 1000y:1d, but this is generally assumed because it is a default setting, so no one would assume you mean 1000 to 1 ratio.)
Also – in case you were wondering, and a lot of people ask – there is a reason why staccato worlds have standard earth-based days and years. Because that is enough math for one forever lifetime.
You’re welcome. (I know you were at least a little curious.)
Anyway, Alistair explains all of that, probably, with considerably less sass and a few less unnecessary details, also probably. (I can only infer. I was not – in fact – actually there, and only know from the story afterward.) I’ve never actually met Alistair, although I feel like I have based on The Stories. Note to self, perhaps arrange to meet Alistair sometime.
Also … while we’re talking, while I’m picturing Tilton as it was at this time, while Alistair was an official in that particular locale.
Tilton. Seriously. What are you even doing? I have questions. And yes, I know after the aftermath of it all, but was it like to live in that kind of world, to not only live but to rule in it, to have some say in its governance? I wonder. I honestly do. Anyway.
“First of all,” Amaran says, coming to her feet again. “First of all, we need to … get some fuel for the road so to speak.”
After this, comes the part that Susan remembers for a long time after, the moment she watches [Cleric] Amaran with just the two of them, her and Alistair, celebrating the Eucharist as a woman mind you, a woman, after having spent several decades in Russia as a former Christian who gave up on the faith ages ago because of reasons, a former Christian following the death of Putin and the rise of a theocratic state that made her hate the faith she once believed in.
She keeps waiting for someone – and this she would understand – to say this is what Amaran went to prison for, for being a female priest, for presuming like some Lutheran – and oh how she remembers complaining about the Lutherans because – if you’re going to stay Christian, which she didn’t. But if you’re going to stay Christian, at least be consistent. Even now, decades later, it feels like some kind of blasphemy – well, if she still believed in God, which she doesn’t, which she hasn’t for a very long time.
Amaran breaks the host into three parts and offers the bread and the wine in what Susan does not even know is the western way. She remembers spoons and … something to do with a spoon. It has been a while.
She holds up her hand and shakes her head. She is here to watch, transfixed, but she doesn’t believe and … it is literally bizarre to her that they do. Is this a Xaranyan thing or just a Tilton thing or an Amaran thing?
But then Alistair bows his head and then somehow the other cleric, the one she met briefly what she can’t believe was a few short hours ago, then suddenly Torent is also there and … Amaran is surprised to see him too, on the verge of consuming the remainder of the host which instead she holds out to him.
“The body of Christ,” she says with a trembling voice.
“I’m sorry,” he says. And then, after what feels like a miniature eternity, he holds out his hands. “Amen.”
She hands him the host, which he consumes, and then the chalice which she says the words and then he takes the chalice and finishes what remains of it.
And then it’s the four of them, Torent who was – as far as Susan can make out – the only cleric remaining in Tilton and out of prison, in large part due to being a collaborator. He helped Susan to get his friend(?) or former coworker out of prison and then fled when he realized what was going to happen, and now he was back? Sort of?
Amaran finished the service, which was brief but heartfelt, and Susan did not want to interrupt but this all felt like … not her problem, not her world. Hopefully, these three friends would find some way to set the other prisoners free. If anyone could….
For her part, she was ready to get out of there. More than ready.
Which – of course – was the perfect time to get a call of her own.
This message came from Karol’s mother, Ivarice, who wanted to know how Susan had managed to get her son’s contact information before her son was even born. Ivarice agreed to meet Susan near the Tilton Hatchery, where Tilton children are – generally – grown until ready to “hatch” or to leave the pods where they are grown. (Some people like to say hatch and it caught on.)
*Author’s note: I may post one more time ahead of NaNoWriMo, but I feel as if this story, getting it out there is helping to prep me for this November already. I already have the next chapter outlined and it is going much slower than the first draft went, but that is not unexpected. Positive thoughts to anyone who may read.
