Alamae (part 1)

Prologue:

Allamae

Allamae Laveau had been walking back and forth on the front lawn of Centre Hall for what seemed like hours.  But the large clock atop the Hall’s great steeple showed that it had been little more than fifteen minutes.  She had been pacing all the while, awaiting their decision.

Weeks ago she might have been able to appreciate the bright, vibrant peach-colored sky the signaled dusk’s approach.  But on this evening she was nervous. 

Her feet were bare.  She did allow herself that small pleasure.  Though, her eyes were fixed on the large, heavy wooden doors of Centre Hall.  She would notice the moment they opened.   

  She’d asked the Archscholar if she could please take part in the deliberation; or to at least put forth the evidence her father gathered: That a large fleet of Dual Kingdom warships are making their way into Sanguine Bay with plans to lay waste to all of Sephronia.  If her father’s informant had been right, the encroaching army had been given orders to kill indiscriminately of the Republic’s Vooduun and mundane inhabitants.  But the University’s Archscholar, old Clovis Greycaster, a man who had known her since she was a girl, denied her on both fronts.  He had been quick to remind her that she was still only an Adept, and although she was well on her way to becoming a Scholar herself, she was not one yet and could not take part in official faculty proceedings.  

He had been skeptical to believe that the Dual Kingdoms would involve themselves in internal Sephronian politics; however, he promised her that he would convey her father’s message in its fullness and with the utmost urgency – agreeing to do whatever the assembled faculty decided. And since time was of the essence, she restrained herself from arguing with him.   

To his honor, he’d kept his word.  He convened an immediate meeting of all faculty in the area.  Only nine heeded his call of the thirty scholars employed by the Sephronian University.  Alla wondered how many of the unattending Scholars had already fled the region.  It did not matter.  As long as the ten that were there would listen to reason and enact her father’s plan. 

In the meantime, she could do nothing but wait.

The vanishing sun caused shadows to creep along the ground, reaching out toward the darker horizon.  The shadow cast by the great white building before her loomed the longest and blackest across the landscape.  Its single steeple sharp, pointed like an arrow at the purpling sky above. 

Centre Hall was the largest building on campus.  Its exterior wooden citing was painted all white, except for the pair of large, stained, oaken double-doors that were the building’s main entrance, and the stark navy blue shutters that framed paned glass windows, evenly spaced around the structure, five stories high.  Thick Doric columns supported its symmetrical, hipped roof. 

When she was a girl, the first time she’d seen the building she’d asked her father who lived in such an enormous mansion.  Chuckling, he’d told her that no one lived there – that this was the home of all Sephronians.  At the time, the answer had confused her.  She knew that she didn’t live in that giant white house.  By the time she’d come to the University to study herself, she’d understood her father’s full meaning:  Centre Hall contained the living and written history, accumulated knowledge, and magickal secrets of the Sephronian people, and so it was, in a way, the home of Sephronian culture.  

Allamae ceased her pacing in front of a large Great Magnolia tree that stood in front of the hall.  She leaned her back against the smooth bark.  She could feel the placidness of life flowing throughout its massive trunk, branching upwards to the canopy above her.  And for an instant, she was comforted. 

Before her father had retired as Archscholar, she would spend hours perched on the tree’s fat, gnarled limbs, covered in hanging moss.  Climbing high in its branches, she would practice the simple charms her pappa had taught her on the bugs and critters that she came upon, while she waited for these same oaken doors to open and for her father to emerge.  Even after a full day of debating with scholars and training students, he would take the time to see what she had learned. 

Today she was a grown woman of twenty-three, and she wondered if her father had only been humoring her back then – keeping her occupied with simple tricks while he worked.  She appreciated his patience either way.  And it was those simple tricks that had ignited her interest in the study of Koormagia: Sephronian magick.

The sun had set, and faint stars began to illuminate in the darkest part of the sky.  Archscholar Greycaster had been inside the great hall with the other scholars for a full hour now.  Allamae was growing restless. She wasn’t sure how long she should wait… or could wait. 

I must be patient, she thought.  But if pappa is right and the other nations have united against Sephronia, the attack could begin tonight, unless we offer a suitable alternative.

She slipped her sandals back onto her feet – now damp at the soles, bright green blades of grass stuck to the pale bottoms of her feet.  She left the tree and walked up the hall’s creaking, wooden steps onto the broad covered porch that ran around the building.  She hesitated before grabbing the two large brass door handles.

I can’t wait any longer, she decided, pushing hard on massive dark wooden doors.  The old rusty hinges moaned loudly with discontent as they gave way to the full weight of her body. 

Inside the main hallway was dimly lit by flame filled sconces lining the walls and a few tall white candles on tables and shelves throughout the hall, and along the stairwells leading to the upper balcony overhead.  The room smelled of old books and incents.  Directly ahead of her was another set a wooden doors that led into the main meeting hall, where the Scholars had gathered. 

The voices she heard behind the thick doors were muffled – she could not make out what they were saying from this end of the hallway.  Edging closer, Allamae could hear that the voices inside the room were speaking in excited tones – still unintelligible.  She pressed her ear onto the thin middle line, where the two heavy doors met.

“Why should we risk our own necks, when all they want is to take out the Bokor?” One voice was saying.

“Indeed,” a second voice added, “we have ourselves tried to remove those wretched blood cultist from the High Seats of this land.  But their willingness to make use of blood mana has meant that even we Scholars are not powerful enough alone to overtake them without ourselves making use of murder and sacrifice to gain equitable power.  It may be that this invasion is a blessing in disguise.”

A few voices in the room gasped, at least. 

“The collective power of the four other nations may be strong enough to remove our blood lusting rulers once-and-for-all.”

Archscholar Greycaster replied, exasperation in his voice: “Then why will you not agree to follow the course of action our previous Archscholar has recommended and treat with our ‘would be saviors?’”

“Because they are cowards!” Allamae’s voice boomed, the doors flying open before her.  Had she touched them?

When the reverberations of her voice had faded from the vast hall, for an instant the room was silent.  The ten scholars were seated at a large table that was in the form of a circle, except for a section that was cut out directly in front of where she had entered the room, where the head of the table might have been.

“You would stay here, cowering? While foreigners invade our land?”  She continued.  She could feel the anger rising up in her, like a hot lump of coal in her chest, the head radiating outward and upward towards her limbs and face.  She walked forward thru the open section of the curved table to the center of the room.  Most of the chairs surrounding her were empty.   But Allamae had the shocked attention of the ten who were there.

“Do you think they will spare you?” she went on.  “The Dual Kingdoms are leading this charge.  And those of you in this room know better than I that they have little regard for us Sephronians and our Koormagia – ‘the black magick’ they call it.  If they attack, they will kill us indiscriminately – one dark face will be as good as the next as far as they’re concerned.”

“And so you and your daddy think we should offer ourselves up to them on a silver platter?” A wrinkled old crone-of-a-scholar interjected.

Allamae gazed at the old woman for a moment before speaking.  She had to be careful not to let her impatience get the best of her.  Scholar Ida had always known how to get under Allamae’s skin. 

“What I suggest is that we give them an alternative,” she managed through clenched teeth.  “That we show them that all Sephronians do not crave power to the point of murder.”

Ida interrupted her, waving a crooked finger. “You watch your mouth when you talk to your elders, girl!  If your father wanted to make decisions for this body, he shouldn’t have retired from his position as Archscholar, three years ago.” 

The woman seated next to the old-crone, who might have been her twin-sister, intervened: "Don't you pay no mind to Ida, child. Your father is a great man and was one of the greatest archscholars this University has known. And given all that he accomplished during his tenure here, it’s no wonder that the man took an early retirement.  Smarter than some of us –saving some of his good years for his family, and that new little sister of yours. Maybe he should serve as an example to us all in that regard,” said Scholar Elanora, directing a smug look at Scholar Ida to her left.

The women’s familiar bickering allowed Allamae to collect herself.  “Indeed, it was the example of my father that led me to pursue my own studies.  And though many suggested that I pursue my study outside of Sephronia – that I master a discipline other than Koormagia, I chose to stay in my homeland and study this magick. And I have learned much.  As both a Supplicant and an Adept, this University has become as a second home to me.  I have great respect and admiration for all of you who have dedicated your lives to teaching, scholarship, and the retention of our culture.  Even those who are absent on this night.”

 “This faculty,” she went on making eye contact with each of the scholars around the table as she spoke. “This faculty, who have professed your love and swore an oath to the people of Sephronia, and who have a deep knowledge and understanding of the magick of our people, are uniquely positioned to provide a voice of reason to assuage this threat that marches toward our borders, as we now speak.  Many of the lands to the north, including the Dual Kingdoms, regard their scholars as lords and representatives of the people. Their universities serve as high seats, charged with governing their surrounding parishes.  If you treat with them, it is my father’s belief that you may be able to come to some terms to remove the Bokor with limited bloodshed.”

No one responded. 

The quiet following her words slowly percolated into low murmurings that gave way to full-blown arguments shouted across the room.  A few of the scholars rose to their feet, pointing accusatory fingers at one another, leaning over the opulent table between them.

Amidst the chaos, Allamae realized that she had been wrong.  She could not convince them.  She caught the eyes of Archscholar Greycaster, sitting directly in front of her at the center of the circular table, still trying to convince the two scholars seated beside him.  His eyes were apologetic.

I tried. They seemed to say.

Allamae turned around, walked through the open section of table, and out both sets of large wooden double doors.  Behind her, one of the old scholars was shouting after her: “They only coming for the Shamans, child.  If they coming at all!” She would at least protect her family – she thought - the warm outside air filling her nostrils. 

And then, she felt it.  

Something is wrong!