CHAPTER XI #3
Next comes Ordonna, the Ancient of Life and Maturation.
She’s fuller than her sisters, more heavy-set in her baring though gracing the woods with a friendly and matronly face.
After her comes Tomo, the Ancient of Acumen and Judgement.
The features on his statue are carved calm and stoic, holding a set of weights in his hands.
Next is Malachi, the Ancient whose idea it was to put the rest of his brothers and sisters to sleep.
He looks older than the rest of his brothers, mid-forties I would guess, with short cut black hair and strong facial features that almost make him look fatherly.
He’s the Ancient tasked with preserving the mystics of the Old World, not just for the people within the Kingdoms but for his Ancient Brothers and Sisters as well.
It’s his job to make sure no one exceeds the powers that are afforded to them…
a job that he failed at all those years ago.
It’s rumored that he sleeps the heaviest.
The last two Ancients stand at the end of the road, the two of them nearly parallel to one another but not quite.
Damen is closest, the second Ancient that is no longer of this Old World and who also made the deal with the Kingdom of Aireal alongside Windsor.
I look up to him in curiosity, knowing that he’s only second in power to his brother, Hirovale.
The Ancient’s shoulders are broad, with the full of his chest bare and muscled beyond any Discerni or human that I have ever seen.
His body is also unnaturally large, though I’m not sure if this is due to the sculptor’s rendition of him or the actuality.
He stands with two long broadswords at each side of his hips, his eyes narrowed just like that of Rivian’s and analyzing the forest around us.
His face is handsome, too handsome that it’s almost unnatural, giving off a presence that’s mixed of confidence and arrogance.
The attitude almost reminds me of Keane, but Damen doesn’t have the same kind eyes as my King does.
He stands as someone who wants to promote his title of being the Ancient of Power and Vigor, while Keane hides his own under cool resolve and humility.
I turn away from Damen and move towards the last statue, watching as the rest of the group stops in front of a large silver gate situated between two sweeping towers.
The gate swings open slowly to the city beyond, with Keane and Desmond leading our traveling crew into Alston just as I look up at the Ancient who made me his champion.
Oh.
Oh, Ancients.
Oh no.
I shouldn’t be laughing. I shouldn’t be amused. I shouldn’t be scoffing in pure joy and disbelief as I look at this statue… but I am!
I double over in my saddle, unable to stop the laughter that grips me to my very core, feeling as my eyes begin to water. Holis and the rest of the group all turn to me with wide eyes, looking at me in their own disbelief as I continue to laugh at the face of the Ancient of Death and Exploration.
Everything about the sculptor’s rendition of Hirovale is wrong, down from the thick robes that cover the ground at his feet to the heavy hood that surrounds his face.
There’s no amusement behind his eyes that I’ve come to know, no small grin that always graces his lips from the secrets of the Old World that he never seems to want to share.
No, this statue of the Ancient is angered and ominous as it looks over the road, dark in his full robe and towering over me like a man who is the bringer of death.
Yes, Hirovale is tall, but his features are more lively than they’re expressed here, exceedingly mature despite the youthfulness that greets them.
Stormfall caws loud as I wipe my eyes on my fingers and commit this faux interpretation of the Ancient to memory. It’s as if the sculptor wanted Hiro to look ominous and foreboding, the pinnacle of power next to his brother Damen.
The Bird of Ash soars towards me in a rush from the front of the crew, his eyes flashing a pure gold as I begin to laugh even more at the sight of them.
I’m going to remember you like this forever, Hiro!
Hirovale’s voice enters my mind, amusement dripping in his reply.
So long as you are thinking of me, Queen.
You would like that. I smirk before Stormfall lands on my shoulder.
I bring a hand up to his chest with a large grin, catching Keane’s gaze from afar.
He’s also grinning, smiling as the only other person in this group who knows the true nature of the Ancient of Death and Exploration.
He watches me for a few moments with his playful brown eyes that have a near lustful look behind them before turning back to the silver gate.
I shake my head in amusement, knowing that look and always curious by it.
I leave Hirovale behind with another amused grin and ride forward, catching Holis and Mana’s curious glances at my side.
“That is not the Ancient,” I laugh.
The brothers turn back to the statue in consideration as the three of us follow the rest of the crew through the massive silver gate and into the city beyond.
My eyes widen at the sight of Alston, watching as the main road disappears into hundreds of cobblestone pathways that dart in different directions throughout the woods.
The large white buildings I saw from afar are now jutting sporadically out of the trees, the structures spaced along all the different roads at different intervals.
“Can you tell us of him?” Mana frowns at my side, not looking towards the city but instead at me.
I turn to my silent friend and see a deep desire behind his eyes. He wants to know more of the Ancient he has dedicated his life to.
I give him a small smile and ponder on how I’m going to word this.
“You both know of him,” I sigh, “of his powers and the way he lives. You know more than I do, that’s for certain…”
“But the Ancient himself is not a cloaked or dark being,” I continue. “He’s not ominous nor fearful to look at, though I will say he is a bit off-putting. He has this sense of entitlement about him, or perhaps that’s just around me…”
Large homes and shops of glittering white marble being to cut through the trees at our side, each towering skyward with the woods around us.
Everything here is grand and beautiful, shining with thousands of bottled lanterns of moonslight fashioned against the walls of the marble.
Multiple stairs lead up all the sides of the buildings, winding out of view and sometimes using the forest for help to move from one building to the next.
Nobody in the city seems to be awake, either on the road or in their homes, and everything is quiet, giving the city a very calm feel about it.
“He’s casual in that entitlement,” I look to Mana with a small chuckle, “too casual. He stands tall and lean, not broad and built like the statue. He’s always ready to grin, as if he’s privy to secrets that he wishes to share but he never actually wants to give up…”
Both brothers smile to themselves as we pass by a large temple that’s held up by massive pillars.
A beautiful fountain rests in front of it with a smaller statue of a mother cradling an infant in her arms. The water from the fountain rolls out of her hand and gently over the babe’s head, caressing it lovingly.
This has to be a temple for the Ancient Ordonna, so matronly and soft in its being.
The building itself is adorned by hundreds of homes and residences at its side, all of them lining the road as we pass by.
The homes are cozy, complemented by small courtyards and large verandas on the second floor with most of them covered in thick green vines that drape over the marble.
Some of them even have water flowing steadily off the balconies, splashing towards the foot of the homes as it lands into small and serene pools.
“The Ancient is simple in his attire. Boots and pants just like us. He’s always wearing the same deep grey tunic that is without sleeves and shows off his toned arms. I am curious about something on him, and perhaps you know of it more than I, but he has these thick black rings etched into the skin of his wrist. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.
They’re permanent, not any type of jewelry, and they grow larger as they move up his forearm. ”
“Inked markings,” Holis nods at my side. “It’s not common in Disce, but Pyre and Livyatan are known to carry the tradition on their skin.”
Inked markings…
That’s ink Hirovale has branded into his skin?
Mana leans forward on his horse, looking towards his brother. “The Plains of the Afterlife?”
“They have to be,” Holis nods, turning his blue-grey eyes on me. “How many are etched on him?”
I furrow my brows in confusion, never before hearing of the term Plains of the Afterlife.
“There’s four total on his left side.”
“The Plains of the Afterlife,” Mana nods, grimacing slightly as he turns his gaze to the road again. I eye the brother in curiosity, wanting to hear more, but the city around us catches my attention again.
We ride past another large temple that looks to belong to Tomo, with the scales of balance carved into the pillars that hold it up.
This temple is adorned by its own shops and homes as well, these covered at the foot by strong and proud white roses.
There’s even a small town square that graces the front of the temple, with the buildings clamoring all around it and leaning towards the Ancient’s place of worship.
“They’re very organized here, aren’t they?” I murmur, looking at our surroundings.
No matter what path we take through the forest, it all seems to organize itself the same: Temples that are dedicated to each of the Ancients with a small town that surrounds it.
I even spot a few small clearings between the woods that connect the different temples, clearings that resemble the parks in the Palisades and are complete with ponds and water fountains.