The King Trials 2: Beyond.
~Welcome to Veilheim~

Consciousness leaks in slowly, like droplets dripping off leaves after rainfall. My senses awaken. Something’s wrong. I feel relaxed. My body embraced in soft comfort, lying on something too soft like a bed of cotton clouds, and if I make any sudden movements I might sink to obscurity.

I peel my eyes widen, my vision blurred, the intense light wanes, receding to the corners. Fully conscious, I bolt upright, frantically absorbing every granular detail of my surroundings. I am in an enormous, canopy bed with a gaudy, gilded frame walled by ornate columns that hold up the roof. My legs veiled over with orange, silky sheets and a mass of embroidered pillows around me.

I fling the sheet off me and scramble out of the bed, my feet meet with the cold glazed floor, elevated on a platform with a short, staircase. I brush past the cream, drooping drapes that are tied to each of the four bedposts. The bedchamber is extravagant and excessive in size with an elaborate vanity set decorated with bizarre objects.

Beside it, all my belongings and my boots are neatly packed beside the table’s legs that sit at a jaunty angle. The protruding vault in the ceiling is made of multi-coloured glass and the gilded bronze walls are decorated with ornate elements and accent lighting to highlight the opulent features.

How did I get here?

And why can’t I remember anything?

My gaze trails the patterned, tiled floors to the west side of the room that leads to an exclusive balcony, the two large doors swept open invites in the arid, desert air. Cautiously, I make my way towards it to the sight beyond enlarging. I make it outside and clutch onto the railing to keep myself steady.

“Impossible….”

My eyes skim over to what seems like a palace-city, a sprawling cluster of villages and public infrastructure. Beyond is an oasis, stretches of evergreen, fruitful orchards with lagoons, a paradise-green marvel with sparkling waterfalls that cascades into pools of crystalline surfaces. An entire civilization with its wonderland-green eco-system all hidden in the plains of the Night Desert.

A distant groan of a door opening alerts me a visitor.

I react and dash to the sidewall to flatten myself against it. I turn my head and I sneak peek through the glass door at a slim figure garbed in a one-shoulder, crimson dress holding a tray with an odd-shaped jug and a lone chalice beside it.

She stares at the empty bed for a brief moment, utterly confounded. She moves to it, in the direction of the bedside table. I abandon my hiding spot and expose myself, re-entering the bedchamber.

She spots me instantly. She drops with the tray with a small rattle. “Vaya miarkujecie adpačyvać.”

I frown at her. “What? Who are you? What did you do to me, why can I not remember how I got here?”

“Sakretnyja pryčyny.”

My frown deepens, my anxiety mounts. I turn from her and begin pacing thoughtfully. “I remember how we got here; I remember saying farewell to Zoar. Then…that thing spurted from the sand like some kind of resurrection. Then…blank.”

I look back at her and her galaxy-blue eyes fill with a thousand questions. Her skin starshadow-black yet still flaunts a shiny, hairless head.

Remember, as the Sagetai. You are linked to all species, all races. Their language is your language.

My first pathway. I channel my breathing to calm breaths, and I affix her with a focused stare.

“How did I get here?” I ask in her tongue. Velenese.

She gapes at me but shakes off her shock and quickly recovers.

She answers back and this time. Her words translate themselves in my mind, she says, “Your entire convoy was granted entry by the gatekeeper, it is he that keeps our city hidden and the barrier reinforced from the smallest to the biggest peril. The reason why you do not remember your entrance is a matter of precaution. A way to forever protect Velheim.”

Velheim. Thee Velheim. After all, I have witnessed, I shouldn’t be shocked that a legendary city which has only been spoken of in myth or echoed through fables, truly exists.

I put a hand on my chest and tug uncomfortably at the collar of my corsage.

I need to get out all this leather. “Could you show to me the way to a bathhouse? I haven’t washed in days.”

She slants her head to one side, perplexed. “What is a bathhouse?”

“A bath then?” I retry.

Her eyes light up with comprehension. “You wish to wash? Come, I will take you to the falls.”

Why does that sound like a communal, cesspool?

Without much of a choice, I nod my consent. She leads me out of the oversized, byzantine doors out to a single, gaping corridor lined with guards crafted of muscle and steel, armed in sleeveless, brass-coloured armour.

She effortlessly navigates me through a labyrinth of corridors, but I remember every single combination of turns whilst still admiring the scenery. The interior consists of marble colonnades and towers with Baroque style. A high uplift to reach the barrel ceiling, forming a patchwork of facade line, pillars inlaid with precious stones that gleam beautifully when traveling sunlight beams down at exactly the right angle.

We approach a gallery of gigantic archways that all align with each other in four different directions. She doesn’t lead me down either of them but to a well-concealed alternative, a dark stone passageway. We stream down into the depths, passing the earthen walls with built-in fire torches. The deeper we venture, the darker it becomes.

“You people seem to wash in strange places,” I comment, relaying my qualm light-heartedly.

“They will have questions for you, you know.”

The stone is so cold it stings my bare feet.

“If anyone has questions, and a right for them to be answered it will not be them,” I emphasize, referring to the mysterious, they. “It will be me.”

She says nothing. At first. Then she glimpses me from over her shoulder. “It is…impossible for you to know our language so fluently. There have only been three other convoys that were worthy to enter Velheim since the time of old, and both of them are dead now.”

I stare back at the outline of her bald head. “So only the Hitsches that led the quest here were worthy?”

“No. Kumentah despises sorcerers, but they were representing the High King’s inquisition and by surprise. He took interest in whatever you will be proposing to the Ecclesia.”

My eyebrows quirk. What are we proposing? “What is the Ecclesia?”

“The governing council of Velheim, they implemented the laws.”

It is starting to irk me that the more I unearth, the less I truly know.

We finally reach the end of the staircase to the underworld. She directs me through an expanse of the dark rock with metallic inflections. An underground cave. The ground smoothens out beneath my feet. The pathway is fringed with shoulder-length boulders, not carved but left jagged in its natural state.

I look up to the rock spikes formed like fangs that that jut out like the teeth of the cave’s maw.

But what intrigues me the most is the salvo of sound, rushing waters pelting off the surface. A waterfall. An enchanted blue glows in the distance and it only grows until we approach a rock pool with a short, single extension like a ledge to jump off from. It brims with mystical blue waters that glimmer with starry sparkles and it’s warm by the show of the steam emanating from the surface.

“You can disrobe, let the healing waters of Velheim soothe you. I will return with fine soups and washcloths.”

After a glorious bathing experience, I am escorted back to my bedchamber. On the way, Juwela, one of my assigned attendants appraises me that all the candidates, Duce Merian and even the Avangarde are still unconscious and are yet to wake. But in the meantime, Gaius, a sort of ambassador to our foreign convoy will give me a private tour of the Velheim bastion, the home of Kumentah. Another mystery.

When I do reach my luxurious bedchamber, I am astonished to find someone I least expected to be inside of it.

Anthia. She looms over the vanity table, studying the contents, overlooking my belongings. I glance at the newly chosen garments that are already laid out on the bed.

Imperiously, I flick up a few fingers. “Leave us. Wait outside.”

She nods obediently and turns to scurry out of the bedchamber, my gaze never leaves Anthia and I speak once I hear the heavy door thud close.

“What a pleasant surprise,” I say dryly.

“Is it?” She asks with equivalent contempt. With a gentle brush, she knocks over a few items. “I want to know something.”

“As do I,” I chirp jeeringly. “There were many things we were not told.”

Her gaze slithers to meet mine. “Where did Zoar take you?”

Sudden unease roils in my stomach. Nervously, I shove my hands inside the pockets of my long-sleeved, scarlet robe where I can feel Zoar’s bindings all bundled up inside.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Something in you has changed,” she says bluntly, her broken accent filled with suspicion. “The energy in you, it’s different now. I can’t tell what since it’s…masked…I cannot sense its nature. Whether malevolent or not.”

I regard her pensively, analysing her expression, trying to determine her intentions. “I have the distinct presumption that you sensed something in me when we were still aboard Elfort’s ship. But instead, you kept silent, why so vocal about it now?”

Her face twitches, an aggravated look flits across her face, barely noticed. “It’s nothing if one’s energy is only a threat to themselves. It is another if the nature of their energy is a threat to anyone near them.”

I grip the bindings. “It is not your concern to worry about my…energy.”

She removes her hood to allow her platinum hair to fall, exhibiting the tattoo on the centre of her forehead.

“Is too if you harbour something malignant. Tell me where he took you.” She takes foreboding advances towards me. “Or I can make you tell me, either way, I get what I want.”

I cock a curious brow at her. “You are welcome to try, sorceress.”

She lurches at me but restrains herself to an abrupt halt as the door opens behind me. I turn around and see Juwela slip through with a rueful smile.

“My apologies. A Primus Kelan is here to see you.”

On cue, Primus walks in eagerly. Instead of his burgundy armour and uniform, it is replaced with a red tunic with a diagonal neckline. His sword and holster are absent as well. It seems he visited the falls before me, his pristine and his hair is well-groomed with a side parting, flawlessly flopping on one side, the once trimmed flanks faintly overgrown.

I glance back at Anthia. She scoffs and marches out the bedchamber along with Juwela, leaving me alone with Primus Kelan.

I free my hands from my pockets. “Do you require anything, Primus?”

Kelan’s eyes burn with something I never thought I’d see. Hunger. Merged with a look of aching vulnerability, restraint, and desire all at once. His eyes explore the length of my body, and it takes all of his remaining strength to glance away.

I stretch the silky fabric of my robe to cover my overly exposed chest, folding my arms over it. “Forgive me.” A mischievous smile blooms on my face. “I did not mean to distract you.”

He fixes me with a bewildered look, the shakes his head brokenly. “I—I never said,” he splutters in angered confusion. “I just wanted to ensure that you were alright,” he says so fast as in fear his true thoughts would voice themselves.

Since he won’t. I approach him slowly, still, he visibly bristles.

“I assumed they forced you to turn over your weapons and armour,” I say, and my eyes gesture to where his scabbard usually would sit.

He nods curtly. “We had no choice but to when we entered. Even now, my soldiers still slumber.”

I do a mental repeat. “Entered? You remember when we entered Velheim?”

“Difficult to forget.”

Ready to delve into more, I say, “That’s peculiar because—”

His arm lifts and the back of his fingers caress my cheek silencing me immediately, my breath hitches quietly.

“You look well.” Relishing in the sound of the deep timbre of his voice. “Colour has returned to your skin; your eyes are bright with life.”

I shrug innocently. “Perhaps it has something to do with the present company.”

“Or with where Zoar took you,” he says with a tint of accuse in his tenor.

I swivel from him and take a few steps away. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Ever since we left Urium, you have not been the same. This mysterious sickness, now suddenly after your encounter with him, you are magically well again. Forgive me if I am a bit curious.”

I twirl around. “There is no reason to be.”

“Then why are you keeping secrets?” he asks, his voice almost a growl. “I do not ask to force you to tell me your darkest truth. I ask because—I do not wish to see you burdened, whatever you bear. You do not need to do it alone. You are never alone.”

Stabbed by a pang of guilt, an agonizing longing to tell him all my truths. Even the ones I was unaware of to the ones I do not even understand. But where would I even begin?

Though I do trust him, Zoar’s warning proves as an obstinate hindrance.

But I trust him.

I nod my head several times, mulling over my thoughts, my options. I part my lips to speak but another intrusion stops my very breath. Juwela slinks in with a raised hand.

“Gaius is here for you.”

Kelan whips his head back. “What does Gaius want here?”

It seems they already met.

“To give me a tour of the bastion,” I say quickly. “You should go, rest and you can find me later. Since you always do.”

He snaps his head back at me with a seething glare. “I will not leave you alone. Do not suggest it again.”

I take a bold step towards him. “I am not suggesting; I am ordering you. When last did you sleep? Go and rest, gather your strength. How can you expect to take care of the rest of us, if you will not take care of yourself?”

He inhales a long breath, chest inflating.

“Rest,” I urge, driven by only one motive. “I can promise you no danger will occur, if Velheim managed to keep hidden from the beginning. I truly doubt an attack would happen out of nowhere, you know I am right.”

He clenches his jaw, severing eye contact.

I cup my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb across his mountain peak cheekbone. He closes his eyes. Even if it’s a morsel, I savour every feel of his skin beneath my own. “Do it for me. Please. Rest.”

The muscle in his jaw so sharp it seems it might pierce the skin.

He opens his eyes. Wordlessly, he turns from me and marches out of the bedchamber.

I let out an explosive sigh. I walk back to the bed and I climb up the platform to see the outfit chosen for me. I untie my robe, allowing it to drop to the floor. After a while, I am garbed in a draping, one-shoulder design dress, the left drape held together by a golden brooch that pairs well with the amethyst colour. The left side pours down with the light material that reaches my wrist, leaving my right arm bare.

I collect Zoar’s bindings from the robe’s pocket and I begin to re-bind them on my forearms, observing the strange symbols of the tattoos that even now I cannot identify.

When I am finished, I exit the bedchamber.

Juwela awaits with a burlesque being dressed in a long, white chiton embroidered with gold with a crimson draping, his shoulder pinned with a medallion, the drape crosses over and wraps around his waist, the ends flowing to his knees.

Gaius acknowledges me with an imperial nod, greeting me with a charmer’s smile.

Though he looks at me, he speaks to Juwela, “Heta toj, chto razmaŭliaje na našaj?”

Before she has a chance, I say, “Yes, I can.”

He looks at me and his eyes glitter with genuine interest. “And so can I,” he responds to in my tongue.

“How?”

“Velheim may be hidden from the world, but we have made it a priority to study the world, the people, culture, and languages. I have mastered nearly a thousand dialects, many of us have.”

Before I knew what I was, I would be impressed. But know that I do. I assume I can best him at that count.

I powder on a tantalized smile. “Well, what else would you do with all that time? I mean, with the world doubting your existence and all.”

“It has its perks.” His smile growing into a grin.

His eyes are unique colour, one I cannot name, it’s like pools of liquid fire, a blend of amber, red and yellow. His skin an autumn brown and as smooth as a moonstone.

“So who are you?”

“A connoisseur in the Velheim nobility, your guide, an emissary to the Urium dilemma,” he says cheekily with a star-radiant smile. He saunters ahead with his arms folded behind his back. Compelled, I follow to be at his side. But that’s not all, Juwela and four other guards break from their post to pursue us at a comfortable distance.

I peer at them from over my shoulder. “Do you believe me a threat, Gaius?”

He lets out a heartfelt laugh like the mere thought is amusingly inconceivable. “Additional protection. Primus Kelan insisted.”

“Uh.” We stroll down the corridor with echoing footsteps at our rear. “So who was it that implemented the security protocol to wipe memories?”

“Only to the entrance of Velheim. We cannot let anything slip through the cracks. It is not a personal reflection on any of you but a measure we must take to safeguard our people, it will always be safe if others deny our existence. You understand, do you not?”

“There will come a day where Velheim will be forced to come out of hiding,” I say evenly.

He watches me for a while. Then says, “Perhaps, but for now, it will remain as it has for eras.”

We venture on the tour and I realize what I have seen was only a glimpse. Gaius guides me through a lapidary of precious gemstones. The inner chambers are an octagon shape with the design allowing for each entry to face each other. The interior walls are roughly twenty-five meters high and are topped by a dome decorated with a sun motif. The four central upper arches form balconies, viewing areas, and each balcony’s exterior window has an intricate screen cut from marble.

The surfaces are enamelled in delicate detail with semi-precious stones forming twining vines, fruits, and flowers. Each chamber wall is highly festooned with an intricate inlay and refined calligraphy panels which reflect, in little detail, the design elements seen throughout the exterior of the complex.

When we travel the outside, the outdoor colonnade that winds around the waist of the building, it gives a spectacular view of all the interior courtyards. The domes and vaults of the sandstone buildings are worked with a tracery of incised paintings to create elaborate geometric forms. With four main standalone spires that border the outer limits of the entire bastion.

Gaius stops me at an empty space, a mural, an expansive wall of marble lattice engraved with calligraphy. Despite all the distracting, extremely convoluted patterns with motifs, I can read what is inscribed in the centre.

موږ خدمت کوو ، خدای چمتو

“Služym, Boh zabiaspiečvaje,” I read outloud. “He Provides, we serve.”

Gaius stares back at me with bulging, animated eyes. I have to rein in a laugh.

“Who are you?” He flicks an apprehensive look at the guards. “That is an ancient dialect of our language, most of our citizens do not even know it. How is it that you do?”

I scan over the stoic-faced guards, a common expression for all soldiers it seems. “Now, now I cannot tell you all my secrets.”

He stares back at me challengingly, the charmer’s visage is withering. “Not even if those secrets are a threat? The Ecclesia does not take too kindly to threats. We hide by choice of mercy but if Velheim was ever confronted…. Well, there is a reason why we have never known defeat.”

I entwine my fingers before me. I met his angst stare with calm certitude. “We were sent as part of the mandate of the King Trials to enlist future aid from Velheim. Just because I know your tongues, does not mean that I am secretly plotting your demise.”

“If you know that means you were taught, if you were taught, someone else knows. And by now, how many others know, too?”

I raise a placating hand. “Gaius, I swear on my life. I was never taught, no-one told me of this. Before the King Trials, I never even believed Velheim existed.”

Doubt flickers in his gaze like he wants to believe me, but rationality prevents him from doing so. “Then how do you know? No-one can wake one day with a new language in their mind.”

You would be surprised.

I become mute. Mainly because I do not have anything to say. I cannot resent his suspicion of me since not even I would believe my far-fetched tale.

“You are a Valwa, yes?” he prompts. “I read that it is a Regnum praiseworthy for its feat in knowledge and wisdom. But all the wisdom in the world cannot help you learn a language that you have never been taught, Hera.”

I nod understandably. “I know you do not know me, and you have no reason to. But I need you to trust me, I do not bear you or your city ill will. What I know is my own secret, one that is not a threat to you.”

His expression hardens into a steely look. “You should rest and ready yourself for tonight.”

“Why?”

“There is going to be a big banquet tonight to celebrate Havdalah. There the Ecclesia will be present. No official affairs will be discussed but it is important to make a good, first impression. And if you and the other candidates are fortunate. You might meet the Tigress.”

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