The August air was warm and the sun bright. Armande almost eschewed his full sleeve dark purple exercise shirt in favor of something more...open. But somehow it just felt...odd. The fabric did well enough, wicking away any moisture so that he felt cool.
He had forgotten when clean air tasted and smelled like this. Between Rome and Moscow, the last few years had kept him in metropolitan environs.
But now, the nearly endless blue before him, the clean majesty of the lake, the fresh air seemingly born in the surrounding trees...Armande felt young. Truth be told, he did not yet feel his age. Aside from an occasional ache, he woke each morning vigorous.
Valeriya, standing by his side, could attest to that. Not that he would say anything out loud. At least to others. She knew, though, that with her he felt young again. A man in his prime. Not simply because she was his consort. Some sort of arm candy to show off. The thought made him shake his head in horrified laughter. No. She was a lioness. His equal. Viscious and tender at the same time in confusing ways.
Ways he was happy to enjoy. In terms of number, he was only half done with his life.
To his other side was Rowan. Another mystery. What she and Vale shared was something he couldn't fathom. But against all logical thought, together, they formed twinned sets of eyes. Despite what she was, he found himself intrigued at her esoteric knowledge. She was no fool.
She and Vale represented traditions outside of the Occidental. He knew his blind spots. A western oriented education sometimes made one oblivious to the larger world, despite his efforts
And Armande hated not knowing. It made him itch, as if someone was sneaking up behind him. Not just wisdom. Fate. But for the first time, he had Eyes that saw into the dark unknown. Showed him the way.
And he had found his peace. Rowan was not his to destroy. She was a tool. And an ear. And an eye. And she brought joy to his beloved. For that alone, he was content to leave be. He was not God or Fate. That realization had somehow.. set him free. He would do what he must. But knowing there was a larger force at work was curiously liberating.
So here they stood at the shoreline, having left the village of Listvyanka only a short time ago. He marvelled. The plates underneath continued to move in opposite direction, creating a rift that only grew deeper and deeper.
In truth, that had been the key. There, back in Moscow, he had read the Cyrillic phonetic characters and Vale had recognized them, Evenki words. Enough of the writing on the skin. The "Naval of the World" and the "rivers four that become one". What they sought, he did not know. The map was evasive. Or maybe some of the words elusive, unknown. The "destroyer" stood out. But what was the "swapping"? And the "birthplace"?
"Tree of knowledge" was certainly recognizable, but also generic. The Tree granting the "key of change" less so.
But all the same, Armande felt a pull eastward. They all did.
And once he pieced together the clues, the starting point, Lake Baikal, there was nothing holding them back. Khylsty safely housed with devoted Atharim- minus the now dead Matvei- they had struck out to find what Rasputin had thought so important to vouchesafe all these years.
To find what the future had waiting for them.
He had forgotten when clean air tasted and smelled like this. Between Rome and Moscow, the last few years had kept him in metropolitan environs.
But now, the nearly endless blue before him, the clean majesty of the lake, the fresh air seemingly born in the surrounding trees...Armande felt young. Truth be told, he did not yet feel his age. Aside from an occasional ache, he woke each morning vigorous.
Valeriya, standing by his side, could attest to that. Not that he would say anything out loud. At least to others. She knew, though, that with her he felt young again. A man in his prime. Not simply because she was his consort. Some sort of arm candy to show off. The thought made him shake his head in horrified laughter. No. She was a lioness. His equal. Viscious and tender at the same time in confusing ways.
Ways he was happy to enjoy. In terms of number, he was only half done with his life.
To his other side was Rowan. Another mystery. What she and Vale shared was something he couldn't fathom. But against all logical thought, together, they formed twinned sets of eyes. Despite what she was, he found himself intrigued at her esoteric knowledge. She was no fool.
She and Vale represented traditions outside of the Occidental. He knew his blind spots. A western oriented education sometimes made one oblivious to the larger world, despite his efforts
And Armande hated not knowing. It made him itch, as if someone was sneaking up behind him. Not just wisdom. Fate. But for the first time, he had Eyes that saw into the dark unknown. Showed him the way.
And he had found his peace. Rowan was not his to destroy. She was a tool. And an ear. And an eye. And she brought joy to his beloved. For that alone, he was content to leave be. He was not God or Fate. That realization had somehow.. set him free. He would do what he must. But knowing there was a larger force at work was curiously liberating.
So here they stood at the shoreline, having left the village of Listvyanka only a short time ago. He marvelled. The plates underneath continued to move in opposite direction, creating a rift that only grew deeper and deeper.
In truth, that had been the key. There, back in Moscow, he had read the Cyrillic phonetic characters and Vale had recognized them, Evenki words. Enough of the writing on the skin. The "Naval of the World" and the "rivers four that become one". What they sought, he did not know. The map was evasive. Or maybe some of the words elusive, unknown. The "destroyer" stood out. But what was the "swapping"? And the "birthplace"?
"Tree of knowledge" was certainly recognizable, but also generic. The Tree granting the "key of change" less so.
But all the same, Armande felt a pull eastward. They all did.
And once he pieced together the clues, the starting point, Lake Baikal, there was nothing holding them back. Khylsty safely housed with devoted Atharim- minus the now dead Matvei- they had struck out to find what Rasputin had thought so important to vouchesafe all these years.
To find what the future had waiting for them.