The Esoteric Design: Civilization Lost Page 16

  Sir Gaius raised a hand; the constant murmurs of conversation quickly dulled. All had heard of Bayerd’s demise. Many Sorcēarians had perished in the heat of battle, but this was the first time an Emerald, a sermonizing pacifist, was brought down without cause. Bayerd was to meet personally with many in the seat of the World Council regarding the housing of thousands of refugees. He was a kind, passionate man. His death was unwarranted, disturbing, and an act of war against Ives. However, Sir Gaius knew it was not possible for Sorcēarians to fight purely in response to the attack. It was what the rebel groups wanted, to feed fuel to the fire to create a war between Ives and the Middle East. To respond in a hostile manner would be unjust. Sorcēarians harnessed far too much power. A prompt, impulsive attack could result in the annihilation of half a continent. Gaius knew better. He had to allow time for his people to cool off.

  “It’s been brought to my attention that many of you think we are to go to war with half the human race,” Sir Gaius said.

  Silence filled the hall. It did sound foolish.

  “As Elders, we all know how disastrous that would be. We were not allowed on this planet to destroy humanity. We were permitted here to prevent war, not act upon it. We’re mediators between the nations. We’re meant to maintain peace and order. If we were to act now in defiance of our Creator’s wishes, we could very well turn this entire planet to dust, whether by our hands or His.” Gaius straightened in his seat, his gaze drifting over the many faces before him. He knew them all, their names flying through his mind as he scanned the room.

  The Elder Fardon rose. “Permission to speak.”

  Gaius nodded in the man’s direction.

  Fardon continued, his irises swirling. “As we speak, I see acts of war in nearly every country. Things are getting out of hand. What do you propose we do?”

  “I’ve already discussed with the Elder Council, as you know, a plan to send an elite group from Ives on a prolonged mission. They will act as mediators, as friends to the World Council. The group will be comprised of Scarlet and Azure warriors with one Emerald who has combat training. Their goal is to help ease tensions between the nations. One such Azure, Euclid—son of Rhondin and grandson to Jaleal—will head the espionage. He’s one of the best we currently have on hand. With his tactics of manipulation and illusion, we believe he alone can mend a few burned bridges. The other men will act as support in the event things don’t go as planned. They will act as Euclid’s bodyguards and protect him in cases where he would otherwise be attacked or put in harm’s way. The unit will maintain constant communication with me.”

  Elder Narita stood next. “May I request an Emerald if it has not yet been decided?”

  Gaius quickly waved his hand. “Narita, I am fully aware and understand your wish to place your own blood within the category of the most elite, but please withhold your suggestion. I already have the desired Emerald in place. This decision is nothing against your lineage. I have the utmost trust that your great-granddaughter will eventually rank among the highest, but today is not the day. Besides, I require an Emerald of physical military strength, and I’Lanthe has yet to begin her training.”

  The beautiful Narita stood for a moment longer, looking more disappointed than angry. She gave a short bow and then took her seat once more.

  The door of the Grand Hall creaked open. All heads turned toward the one who entered—Dovian. The silver-haired man gave an unsure smile and quickly moved toward Euclid who held an empty spot beside him. Gaius, though on the opposite side of the aisle, gave a knowing nod to his great-grandson. Dovian held a hand up in a quick gesture and sank into his chair. Once settled, his searching eyes found his father and grandfather sitting across the way.

  “Have I missed anything?” Dovian whispered.

  Euclid leaned toward him. “Nothing of importance.”

  At that moment, Sir Gaius stood. “Before any more questions, I’d like to list the members of the elite squadron.” The Elder moved down the aisle, his extravagant cape trailing high and long behind him. “For Azure, as stated before, Euclid—son of Rhondin and grandson of Jaleal. The Emerald representative will be Orin—son of Giordan and grandson to Fardon. For Scarlet, Karter—son of Huntier, grandson to Loreille, and great-grandson to Cureal. Also for Scarlet, upon completion of his semester courses, is my great-grandson, Dovian. In the meantime, Quentin will take his place—son of Heuron, grandson to Theurony, great-grandson to Zaythef.”

  Dovian and Euclid whispered to one another, neither had heard of the man named Quentin.

  “I don’t like it,” Euclid muttered.

  “It’s only for a couple of weeks. Who knows, he may be of great use,” Dovian whispered.

  “I don’t care. I still don’t like it. He could be the greatest warrior on Ives, but if I don’t know him, he’s useless to me. I need someone I know inside and out,” Euclid huffed.

  Dovian frowned. He understood and felt the same way. Regardless, it was the Elder Gaius’ ruling; therefore, it was most likely the best choice.

  “So, what is this? Some scheme to place a new Scarlet warrior in our group while eliminating you and placing you on instructor duty?” Euclid questioned.

  Dovian’s face paled. Was it like that? Was he being replaced? It wouldn’t be the first time he was surprised this day.

  “Surely not,” Dovian said with a hint of doubt.

  Euclid eyed him. “Surely there’s a possibility. Why else would they be booking you solid with teaching poetry to young snobs?”

  Dovian rubbed his brow. “Euclid, your assumptions aren’t helping my current situation. Aren’t you supposed to be supportive of me?”

  Euclid gave a hint of a chuckle. “I’m a realist, Dovian. I’m the one who’s supposed to bring you back down to Earth. There are always two sides to a coin. Either this Quentin is nothing more than a temporary substitute, or he’s permanently replacing you. Simple as that.” The dark-haired man slouched in his chair, folding his arms. “Hm. Perhaps I will like this new blood. You are getting rather dull.”

  “You’re an ass,” Dovian grumbled.

  Euclid laughed at that.

  Sir Gaius continued with other formalities. Euclid and Dovian didn’t pay much attention. They didn’t care what the mission entailed. Often than not, they received the location of their assignment, got into position, did their business, and then moved on. They didn’t need an abundance of mundane information or overly-descriptive political nonsense. Life was simple enough for the warriors. Good guys, bad guys. They never bothered to question anything; it wasn’t their place. Besides, Gaius was always right. His orders came directly from the Creator. No one else had a connection like the Elder Gaius did.

  “Want to catch dinner later? I’m supposed to meet Orin at Lucinda’s Café,” Euclid offered.

  As much as Dovian wanted to, he had to decline. “Ah, I’d love to, but I’m supposed to meet with Lita tonight. After today’s news, I must.”

  Euclid knowingly nodded. “She didn’t seem to have taken the news very well. I imagine she had one of her visions judging by her expression.”

  “That she did.”

  “And she wants to become a warrior? Getting so worked up over one man’s death.” Euclid shook his head.

  “She’s seen more than this one man’s death. She’s witnessed many,” Dovian contended.

  “Yes, but how many in person? A vision or dream doesn’t quite match up to a real-life situation,” Euclid replied.

  “No, it doesn’t. But I believe she could eventually become a decent warrior. Sure, she’d be a lot of work, but if she wants it bad enough, she could make her dream a reality.” Before Euclid could make any smart-ass comments, Dovian continued, “Her dream to be Scarlet someday.”

  Euclid’s mouth remained open and then curled into a sardonic smile. He snorted and shrugged. “Hard to imagine but maybe…someday…a long time from now.”

  Dovian couldn’t help but breathe a small laugh. Euclid was stubborn in his opinion
s, even if he were wrong. In many ways, he was like Martelle. An argument between the two of them would be priceless.

  After another half hour of mission briefing, Sir Gaius finally dismissed the crowd. In conclusion, Dovian would eventually meet up with his usual comrades. They’d carry out intelligence, espionage, and protect the defenseless villages. The only difference from the typical work was it’d be extensive and tedious. It could be years before Dovian would come back home. Usually, he’d be okay with a widespread assignment, but after today, he was a bit unsure. However, he couldn’t refuse. The opportunity was too great to pass up. He needed the experience.

  As the committee released, Dovian took a long way home after saying a proper farewell to Euclid who was to leave the next morning for the assignment. The mist had thickened, and the drizzle had turned into a soft patter of rain. Dovian drew his hood and took a deep breath of crisp, cool air. It could be a long while before he’d be able to enjoy similar weather again. He took the time to soak it up, not caring about getting drenched.

  As expected, the following weeks were sunny and warm. Even the mornings were void of the creeping fog. As much as Dovian enjoyed the opportunity to sit outside and have picnics with Lita and to fish with his father and grandfather, he did pray for at least one more rainstorm before he left as endless desserts were in his future.

  His training courses carried out as anticipated. Most of his students ended the semester with high rankings, outside of a couple who were adamant about blasting each other with electric energy when one or the other wasn’t looking. His genetics class ended happily enough. Everybody’s lizard had survived and remained healthy throughout the semester. Even Lita’s egg hatched, far too early as well. Dovian decided to let her suspicious success slide. He’d investigate the matter once he returned home. But by then, it wouldn’t matter. Besides, the egg hatched. That was the point of the entire course. Now all she had to do was keep the thing alive. Judging by the way she coddled and doted on the tiny reptile, Dovian didn’t think she’d have a problem with that. He went ahead and gave her a passing grade, which earned him a sore eardrum from all her boisterous cheers.

  As for his literature course, the first week after the announcement of instructor Bayerd’s death left his entire class dismal and quiet. Thankfully, the final week of the semester his students became alive again. Dovian changed the syllabus to be unique and more creative. His class seemed to enjoy their new assignments. Despite the increasingly joyful mood, Dovian still felt a bit out of place in room 303. I’Lanthe barely participated in class discussions. She no longer challenged him as her teacher or questioned anything he said. Even her interactions with Lita had cut back. The woman was withdrawn and seemed terribly bored. Dovian could tell that she was fighting her emotions. As much as she wanted to appear ordinary, she failed miserably. And then the moment arrived that Dovian had dreaded since the day they had their private meeting. On the final day of the semester, once the closing bell rang, I’Lanthe immediately clung to Lita’s arm and distracted the girl from having any interaction with him. The two girls were the first out the door, leaving Dovian behind to say his goodbyes to his other students. Just like that, she walked out of his life. She didn’t even take one glance back.

  Dovian scoffed. Why should it matter to him? What had he expected? Perhaps she had no feelings for him at all. Maybe it was truly all in his head. I’Lanthe gave a speech, and he overreacted. It was possible she feared him, creeped out by his advancements and admission to feeling something from her words about love. Of course, her actions were completely innocent. She was merely tagging along with Lita the night they arrived at his room. She was purely kind when she cut his hair. Anything perceived as flirting was due to the wine they all had drunk. She was a sweet, innocent girl, and he had become infatuated with her, put her on the spot by falsely accusing her of cheating, and had nearly frightened her out of her mind. Scum, he felt like utter scum.

  Dovian rushed home as quickly as he could just as a downpour started. With his hood pulled to the point of covering nearly half his face, he strode with wide steps toward the cathedral of his family home. He made his way across the stretching ivory bridge, the pelting of the rain tinkling against the gems inlaid within the railings. A deep roar of thunder vibrated from the faraway mountains, down the valley, and toward his location, a wild wind rushing with it. Windchimes from every direction clanged together, adding an erratic music to the fast approaching storm.

  Why waste time? The semester was officially over. He had nothing waiting for him, no reason to stick around. All he wanted was to join his friends in battle. This nonsense of being a literary instructor had done nothing beneficial for him. It made him soft and weary. It caused him to question everything. He was Dovian—a boring and hardened warrior. Civilians of Ives feared him and rightfully so. There was nothing about him that was worth loving. There was nothing about him that would allow him to love. Teaching literature to a bunch of kids made him second-guess things that didn’t matter. Where would love get a person in the heat of battle? Nowhere. Love was a distraction. Nothing good ever came from love. It was a silly emotion that only led to heartbreak. It gave people high expectations and unrealistic fantasies.

  “You know what love is?” Dovian grimly muttered to himself. “It’s a lie. It’s a lie we tell ourselves to fill us with a false sense of hope.”

  He shoved through the double doors of his cathedral, trudging through the massive church. As he passed the podium, he quickly gestured a “cross” on his form and continued forward without pause. A blast of thunder called out to him, and Dovian’s mouth only turned further upside-down. He kicked in the door to his bedroom, tossing his bag onto the mattress. A soft hiss alerted him, and Dovian paused to pet his lizard, Hector, on the head.

  His heart sank with a new ache. He had no idea how long he would be gone. He’d have to leave his pet behind.

  “My boy…” he whispered. “I have a long mission ahead of me. Please don’t hate me, but I must go. I hope I return in your lifetime.”

  Hector curled up beside the man’s leg, laying his head atop his foot.

  “No…you can’t go with me.” He crouched beside the creature. Hector’s tongue flicked, his golden eyes narrowing to slits. “Don’t give me that look.”

  Dovian had many lizards in his lifetime. This wasn’t the first Hector, nor would it be the last. Still, it never made it any easier to leave a friend behind. He could be back sooner than expected, but Dovian could very easily be gone so long that his pet would perish while he was away.

  “You know the drill. Bother Lita as much as possible. She’ll fatten you up. You know where father keeps his secret stash of jerky and cookies. Annoy him as well as I won’t be here to do so, but do not steal his pen. He hates it when you move any of his writing utensils.” Dovian ran his fingers atop the lizard’s head, down his neck, and back up again. “Okay…maybe one pen. But don’t eat it like you did last time. You know that didn’t settle well with your stomach.” He chuckled, feeling a bit better than he had before.

  Sighing, Dovian rose. The storm outside had picked up, becoming a bit violent. He looked out his open window. Not a soul remained outside, and nearly every window in Ives appeared latched shut. He stared a while longer before timidly closing his own. It was best he did not leave it open while he was gone. He had made that mistake a time before and found his room covered in bird feathers and white splatters.

  Dovian suddenly felt the need to hurry. Gathering all he could, he swiftly shoved the items into his bag. He had read the debriefing time and time again in anticipation for the mission. If anything, the more time he wasted, the more lives were potentially lost. He slung his hefty bag over his shoulder, said a goodbye to his slumbering pet, swung open his bedroom door, and came to an immediate stop.

  “Hello, sir.” I’Lanthe waited in the hall.

  The man’s eyes quickly darted from side to side, searching for Lita. She was not with the woman.

  �
�Hello,” Dovian croaked.

  Every illogical thought he had over the past hour had just crashed through the window and into the wind. All his frustration and anger twisted into a fluttering fit of butterflies and nerves. He felt like a hormone-riddled teenager.

  Her wet hair stuck to the sides of her neck and face. Her soaked dress clung to her every curve. The darkness of the hallway accentuated her glistening eyes, her overall appearance being feral. She breathed heavily; a couple of feathers clung to her curls. She apparently rushed to catch Dovian before he left.

  “I’m sorry to arrive in your home in such an abrupt and casual manner, but there has been something bothering me. I know…I know that it isn’t the right time and that you’ve got an important mission ahead of you, but I wanted to give you something,” she said, breathless.

  Without saying another word, she held up a purple orchid.

  “It may seem odd to you, but it means something to me. Do with it what you will, but I felt compelled to bring it to you,” I’Lanthe quickly stated.

  “An orchid?” He cleared his throat. “And what does it mean?”

  She sucked on her lower lip, unsure. “That’s for you to figure out.”

  Dovian twisted the flower in his fingertips, examining the item. “You…are a peculiar woman.”

  The words flew out of his mouth before he even thought about it. His eyes widened as he realized what he said. Luckily, I’Lanthe giggled.