Orkyra

I

The massive, winding staircase seemed incredibly ancient. Nyam studied its strange shape and bold construction. He climbed it cautiously, glancing uncertainly upwards as the steps disappeared around each new bend. And not long ago, he had complained about the climb to the Commander's Tower. At those steps, the granite steps of the Watchtower seemed insurmountable. The weary squire paused for a moment at one of the tower's surprisingly large windows. Beyond it stretched only the sea—the Watchtower perched on a steep cliff, impenetrable from this side. As he looked away, something glinted faintly on the stairs. He studied the steps above for a moment and noticed a small metal object. He began to ascend slowly, never taking his eyes off his find. He leaned forward, saw a key, and extended his hand. Only when he caught it did he see a hand reaching down from above, towards him as well. He glanced toward its owner and saw a white face with a bluish mouth twisted in pain. The boy almost jumped, lost his balance, and fell backward. He managed to brace himself with his left hand against the rounded wall of the tower, but that didn't save him from a painful fall onto his back. Fortunately for him, the large steps curved rather sharply, so he couldn't fall too far without leaning against the wall. When he opened his eyes again, all he saw before him were the stairs and a corpse's hand sticking around the bend. He slowly rose and hesitantly climbed a few steps. The body of one of the tower guards lay before him. Apparently, they hadn't had time to clear it away yet.

Nyam didn't regret now that he hadn't taken part in the assault on the castle. While he would have liked to cover himself with the glory of a great warrior, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance against even the guard he'd seen here. He now realized how wrong he had been about the fight he had described from the deck of the Est Elma…

"154 ustym yll 758 cycle*

11th day of the expedition

Yesterday evening we saw the rocky cliffs of Orkyra. At night we sailed around the island, to attack from its gentle southern shores at dawn. Today the assault began. As Lysias correctly assessed, the crew stationed on the island was really small. So we took the port practically without a fight. The knights of the King of Ahwyz locked themselves in the castle, hoping for relief, which was supposed to come within a few days. However, it was doubtful that anyone would sail from distant Ahwyz, when the storm season is approaching – honus fezye. Lysias therefore called on the crew to surrender. However, there has been no response from the castle so far. On

the same day,

the Orkyra Guard, consisting largely of the island's inhabitants, opened the castle gates, but the knights The Ahwyzans decided to defend themselves, and a fight ensued. Taking control of the castle wasn't a major problem. The assault lasted only an hour.

Nyam thought it would be a good idea to write something like a chronicle of the expedition, realizing how much he had missed while writing the logbook. He reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a wooden door before him. He opened it slowly and sighed as he realized there was no corpse inside. He smiled involuntarily at his thoughts. I'd make a lousy knight…

The room looked like a secretary's office. That was exactly what Nyam was looking for. Lysias had ordered him to find correspondence and documents relating to the island's governance.

After a moment of sifting through the stacks of parchment and paper, he realized the man residing here was probably a cartographer. This pleased Nyam, as he could see how maps were made in the East. The inhabitants of the City always used maps made by their own cartographers. After all, the homeland he had so recently left was renowned for its excellent maps, especially nautical ones. Most of the maps here also depicted seas and coastlines, but the boy was particularly intrigued by the maps depicting Ahwyz itself and the Eastern Isthmus. He knew there was a war going on there, but no one in the City could tell exactly who was fighting whom or how it was progressing. All that was known was that the King of Ahwyz was in serious trouble and had reduced the garrisons on Orkyra and Green Island because of it. The High Council decided to occupy Orkyra just before the arrival of Honus Fezye.

A gust of cool sea air blew into the chamber. Nyam glanced at the morning sky outside the window. The pale blue was woven with white streaks of light clouds. To the north, the sky was turning gray. The first wave of storms was undoubtedly approaching. The wind blew stronger again, stirring the papers on the table. One of the maps slid, rustling to the floor. Nyam noticed the clearly marked lines and names. The map must have been recently drawn. Much of it was still blank. But it accurately depicted Ahwyz and the lands north of the Eastern Isthmus. On every map Nyam knew, there was a mosaic of principalities and cities. This one had only one large inscription: Kingdom of the United Strongholds. The boy was astonished by the sheer size of this kingdom. It was also strange that all the previous cities and other names had vanished. Had everything changed so much there, or was the cartographer simply not finished with his work? But there was no time to ponder this. Lysias would probably want to familiarize himself with Orkyra's documents as soon as possible.

Finding all the documents took Nyam quite a while. By the time he finished, it was almost noon. He had gathered all his materials and was about to leave when he glanced at the bookcase by the window. "I still have a moment," he thought. He reached for the volume on the right, bound in burgundy leather. The inscription on the first page read: a history of the island and castle of Orkyra. He turned a few pages:

"In the seventeenth year of Oglein's reign, winged messengers found a beautiful, though rocky, island amidst the silver waters. Its inhabitants called it Otkyr, meaning Lonely One. Upon hearing of this, the king ordered a mighty fortress to be built there to defend the route to the East. The ruler sent the finest craftsmen from among the winged people to ensure the castle was ready as quickly as possible. At that time, there were fears of invasion from the west. The fortress was built very quickly, yet its construction was remarkably precise. However, Oglein's death interrupted construction, and for several subsequent cycles, the winged messengers did not arrive. Only when Tynius finally took power did construction resume. In the sixth year of Tynius's reign, the ruler, on his way to an expedition against the people of the Russet Mountains, stopped on Orkyr to admire the completed fortress..."

Nyam glanced toward the door, listening to the distant footsteps on the stairs. Winged messengers haven't been seen for 900 cycles, and in our region probably even longer – he mused – this Tynius reigned during the glory days of the Eastern Empire… so some 400-450 cycles earlier… So this castle must be at least 1,400 cycles old! Maybe a little less. In any case, it's almost twice as old as the City! The footsteps on the stairs grew louder. Finally, they stopped just before the door. Nyam glanced in their direction, where one of the youngest commanders of the expedition, the tall and silent Renyas, had appeared. He alone, of all the representatives of the noble families, wasn't malicious towards Nyam, and there were quite a few of them among the commanders. And yet Nyam himself could boast of a respectable pedigree, though his tidyum wasn't particularly wealthy.

"Lysias ordered me to send for you," Renyas said firmly.

Nyam was surprised by his tone.

"Where is the Commander?" – He didn't know why he wanted the question to sound a bit

casual. Then, without waiting for an answer, he began folding the papers he wanted to take with him.

– She's waiting in the lower guard chamber. Do you know where it is?

– I should find her, I just need to gather all the documents.

– Lysias is expecting you immediately. Bad news has arrived from the City. – This time,

a bit of nervousness could be detected in Renyas's voice. Nyam looked at him.

– Will you take me? I'll tell you something interesting about this castle on the way –

Nyam replied more cheerfully. Renyas only nodded, and they both began descending the tower's winding staircase.

II

The chamber's tall windows let in the harsh light of the midday sun. Only the purple banners and tapestries hanging on the north wall were bathed in delicate shadow. Nyam studied them closely, unsure of the meaning of the symbols embroidered on them or the beautifully embroidered scenes depicted. Lysias sat at the large table, his face gloomy, his eyes grim as he surveyed the next page of the letter. The boy had almost forgotten why he'd come, pondering the history of this place and the tapestries hanging before him. Only after a moment did Lysias's words rouse him from his reverie.

Have you brought the documents I asked for?

"Yes, Commander. I have accounts concerning the castle and the island, maps, and letters that recently arrived from Awhyzu...

" "Letters," Lysias repeated sadly, "I've had enough letters for today. My nephew reports that there's a lot of commotion in the City. Apparently, someone assassinated Kytios. The Council President only narrowly escaped. Of course, an investigation was ordered, and although nothing was discovered, rumors are spreading that I was behind the attack! I, who am here!

Lysias seemed to be losing his composure. However, he pressed his lips together and frowned, as if trying to find more peace within himself. Peace he usually possessed.

"Sir, have any orders or decisions from the Council arrived?" Nyam tried to break the awkward silence. Eon glanced in his direction, but his eyes were focused on an indeterminate distance.

"Yes, they sent one order. I am to stay here and put the island's affairs in order. Truth be told, once they got rid of me, they would not allow me to return to the City.

" "Now they will want to damage the Tymh tidyum and your family's influence on the Council, Sir. I know from Imys that Eon Kytios will want to get rid of your brother, who influences the fleet's funds through Grand Treasurer Enyon." Nyam said this in one breath, as if afraid the Commander would interrupt him mid-sentence. Lysias, however, looked surprised. He regained his composure and looked more intently at his squire.

"You're smarter than I thought," he said, rising. "Yes, I expected it. But who is this Imys you speak of?

" Nyam blushed slightly, but after a moment he regained his courage.

"Sir, Imys belongs to the Kazkyet tidyum... I know that the Paltyan eon is unfavorable to you, but know that you also have friends among the Kazkyet. You can count the Edyanels among your supporters." He bowed slightly as he uttered these words, believing it would add the appropriate emphasis to his speech. But the sounds in the great chamber faded so easily and softly... Lysias stood silent for a moment. When his eyes finally met Nyam's, he smiled benevolently and began to pace the hall.

"You see, boy, sometimes fate brings together people seemingly indifferent to each other. That's how I felt about you, and you'll probably feel the same way about many others you meet along the way. Considering your words, I can, of course, rejoice that loyalty still means something today..." Nyam opened his mouth, sensing where the aeon's words were heading, but Lysias gestured for him not to interrupt, "but I must tell you something more important. My cause is lost in the City. I am Commander... but in exile, I govern Orcyra... as its prisoner, I have a fleet... but without men loyal to me. So who am I?"

Lysias walked slowly, examining the banners and coats of arms, the elegant tapestries and embroidered tapestries. Finally, he looked at Nyam again.

"My brother has been arrested. Kytios is afraid to touch me because of my aeon rights." But he'll probably soon accuse me of treason, invoking his right to punish the fleet commander. That's the only reason I've led this expedition, and Kytios' ambitions will decide the fate of the inhabitants of the City, this island, and perhaps even the peoples of the eastern isthmus..."

The commander's gaze settled on one of the tapestries, a thoughtful grimace playing on his lips. Nyam, too, began to wonder. This was the beginning of his great adventure, so many possibilities before him... And him? He didn't know what to do at all. But if Lysias Tymh himself doesn't know, then who will?

Eon recovered after a moment and began to speak.

"In any case, you must be very careful, boy. So I ask you not to take any steps that my opponents might consider favorable to me. Otherwise, your family may be in great danger... From now on, you will no longer be my squire."

Nyam couldn't even protest. He simply stood there, staring at the floor.

"So from now on," Lysias continued, "you will occupy a room in the eastern wing of the castle, along with the other commanders and their henchmen. And I will try to find a place for you on the next ship departing for the City. You may leave, boy."

Eon turned toward the table and began to look through the documents on it. Nyam, after a moment's hesitation, moved toward the door, glancing only at the windows, where the sunlight had disappeared behind the clouds.

"I almost forgot," he heard the Commander's voice behind him. "You have received a letter from the City, from a certain Imys Kazkyet..."

III

"I write to you with great anxiety. I don't even know if you will read this letter, much less if someone will read it before you. But I no longer care. I am angry with myself for not saying goodbye to you. And now? Now the future can bring so much evil."

Strange things are happening in the City… Everyone is accusing each other of treason and conspiracies. Many people have been arrested. I also know that Lysias's days as fleet commander are numbered. You must also know that his life is in danger. So if you care about his life, warn him. However, if you want to return to the City, you must be extremely careful. Your every move on Orkyr may be monitored. But enough already. You know best what to do and how to do it.

I miss you. But I don't know if we'll see each other again. As soon as the honus fezye ceases, by the will of the Kazkyet aeon, I will leave the City and head south, to our ancestral estates. This means that my aeon will find me a husband, and I will probably be engaged next cycle…

This may be the last letter you receive from me. I'm not writing goodbye. But I can't write see you later either. Farewell, Nyama Edyanel! Farewell!

Your Imys.”

Outside the window, the fog was thickening by the minute. Nyam stared into the graying distance, and it seemed to him that his thoughts were darkening like sea mist—silent and ominous. Sadness and anxiety enveloped him.

The room grew chilly. Days of Mist herald the arrival of stormy weather. For three days now, the sun had not been visible. For three days, Nyam had not spoken to Lysias. He wanted to warn him, help him, or return to the City… but he could do none of these things. Lysias knew of the danger, after all, and had promised to send Nyam on his return journey. Both knew, however, that honus fezye would prevent any contact with the City for the next several dozen days.

The sky brightened slightly, and the vapors that had previously tightly enveloped the fortress rose, forming a milky dome above it. The sea, however, was invisible, at least not from Nyam's window. So the boy decided to go outside. He took with him "The History of the Fortress and Isle of Orkyra" and set off for a stroll around the castle. He most enjoyed walking along the northern wall. It was the highest wall, and from its summits one could easily see the castle courtyards on one side and the high cliffs of Orkyra on the other.

His footsteps faded dully in the damp, heavy air, creating a sinister atmosphere of mystery. Distant voices broke off, distorted, as if blocked by an invisible barrier. Shouts of calling, laughter, the clatter of horses' hooves—all this reached Nyama from the courtyards below, as if from another world. So he opened the book he had brought with him and began reading about the castle's fate during the fall of the Eastern Empire.

The day was chilly and damp. Nyam wrapped himself more tightly in the brown cloak he had slung over his shoulder. Suddenly, the air quivered, and a wind swayed. Above, amidst the mists, a pale, fiery sun appeared. Silent and somber. The boy paused for a moment to enjoy the sun's rays. There would likely be few opportunities for that in the coming days… The wind lightly fluttered Nyam's traveling gear. The fog thickened again. A moment later, the sun disappeared, and the air became heavy and still again. As if some delicate spell had been broken, leaving nothing but longing.

Nyam was roused from his reverie by the sound of footsteps coming from the same direction he had come from. As the people, still invisible to him, approached, he felt an irrational fear. He took a step back, then another… until he was finally hidden by the bend of one of the corner battlements. Two soldiers were walking along the top of the walls. They were clearly in a hurry. When they reached the end of the wall, where it connected to another tower, they split up, and one of them began running down the stairs toward the castle courtyards. The other paused for a moment and said to the other,

"Join the others, I'll look for another squire!" Then he continued along the ridge of the walls.

Nyam recognized him as Nathy, one of the most boorish men he had encountered on the way to Orkyra. For a moment, he wondered who he was looking for. As he pondered, he began to realize that perhaps it was he they were looking for. And if so, then what he feared most was beginning to happen in the castle.

The neighing of horses and the clatter of hurried, heavy footsteps broke the silence that had reigned over the castle for a while. Nyam woke up and decided to find out what was really going on. He couldn't, of course, go to Lysias—if a coup were planned, he would be the first to be arrested. But who could he question without risking arrest? At first, he thought it would be best if the interlocutor didn't know him. But then he thought of Renyas. He grabbed the book under his arm and started forward. Only after a moment did he realize he didn't know where Renyas might be. So he decided to walk above the main halls of the citadel and descend from its eastern side to the edge of the outer courtyard. There, he could at least hide among the wagons parked by the stables and watch the entrance to the middle courtyard. With a bit of luck, he might spot a friendly face there.

He quickened his pace, turned right, and headed for the steps that descended to the outer courtyard on one side and to the side buildings of the citadel on the other. At first, he couldn't see much through the thickening fog. He stopped and began to watch for any signs of any particular activity below. At that moment, guards appeared in the courtyard and, chatting, began to climb the wall where Nyam was still. The boy became frightened and turned abruptly toward the other steps. He was running quickly when Nathy suddenly appeared opposite. The squire reached the first available alcove and clung to the small iron door there. It was the first time he had seen it, though he had already explored the castle quite thoroughly. Meanwhile, Nathy had approached to within a few steps of the boy's hiding place. But then a soldier stopped him.

"Sir," the guardsman said, "Tyngys of Fyenel's house and Ystan of Obna's house wish to see you immediately." They demand an explanation.

"I don't care what these cowards demand," he growled, "do you have to bother me with such matters? Let them be outraged, they can also doubt my words. They won't do anything themselves anyway," he added mockingly.

Nyam frantically tried to open the door as Nathy dismissed the soldier. Suddenly, he remembered the key he'd found shortly after arriving on Orkyra. He pulled it from his pocket and turned it in the lock. The door creaked softly, and the boy slipped inside quickly. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he heard Nathy's quick, measured footsteps heading for the north wall. Ahead, Nyam saw a narrow but high corridor, the end of which loomed dimly, as if reflected in a shimmering surface of water. This illusion was caused by shafts of pale, distant light. They entered the room through small openings on the left side of the high, semicircular vault.

The place looked completely unused for years. It was, therefore, an ideal hiding place. After a moment, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he noticed that the high walls of the hall were covered with reliefs and bas-reliefs depicting winged warriors in battle. Nyam guessed these were scenes depicting the wars of the Eastern Empire. He moved slowly down the corridor, examining each image of the Empire's victories and defeats. When he reached the end, he found a small passageway from which a narrow, winding, and completely unlit staircase led up. After a moment's hesitation, he slowly moved forward, glancing only at the fading light he had left at the bottom.

* Cycles (years) are the basic units of measurement for the history of the City and many neighboring lands, adopted due to the recurrence of natural phenomena. The cycle is divided into four main seasons: the first is the calm season (ustym ine), lasting from the first rising of the Star In until the first rains (42-51 days); the second is the time of rain (onus umni), lasting 62-66 days; the third is the season of the sun (ustym yll), which lasts about 160 days; and the last is the time of storms (honus fezye), lasting 95-100 days, always ending (regardless of the current weather) with the rising of the Star In.

** Tidyum – the typical social structure adopted by wealthy and influential families of the City, headed by the eldest male in the family – the eon. The eon manages the entire family's property and oversees the upbringing of its minor members. Girls, upon reaching adulthood, are married off and become part of a new tidyum. Boys, at age 17, must leave their tidyum to pursue civic apprenticeships, serving alongside high-ranking city officials, or attempt some other, equally laudable career path. They are readmitted to their tidyum at at least age 25. They may also (if they acquire enough wealth) attempt to found a new tidyum.