Over the Ends of the Earth

 A girl with a secret that threatnes her life discovers that everything she knows...is only a lie.

Prologue

             The candles flickered and sputtered as cold wind seeped through the gaps between the windows and the walls.  Feeble light barely illuminated the room, casting unsettling shadows upon the stone walls.  But for the group assembled, the setting couldn’t have been better.

            Around a roughly-carved round wooden table sat a group of men and women.  All had looks of weariness, but also of determination.  An observer could tell that these individuals would do nearly anything to accomplish their goals, no matter the price.

            One man, seated in a larger chair than the others, spoke first.  “I trust we all know why we’re here.  We’re facing a problem that could affect all of Eleskar, and it is our duty to prevent this.”

            “Sir,” another man said softly, sounding almost afraid to speak for fear of contradicting the first man, “how can this be accomplished?  The ones we speak of comprise a third of Eleskar’s population.  What could possibly keep them all contained?”

            “That is why we’re assembled,” a woman chided.  “To find a way.  There must be one, or else we condemn Eleskar to ruin.”

            A whisper of discomfort rippled through the circle of people.  To put the situation in terms like that heightened the tension.  One older woman, eyes flicking all over those assembled, allowed a spasm of anger to crease her face before switching back to impassiveness.

            The man seated in the large chair spoke again, “I believe I have an idea.”  Instantly, everyone focused on him and him only.  “What is something that can unite people of all kinds, no matter how different?”

            Silence.  And then someone, a younger man with only the barest trace of gray in his hair whispered, “Religion.”

            “Precisely,” the man in the large chair exclaimed, pointing his finger at them all.  “Hadn’t that occurred on Byria all the time?  Cults and sects spring up and bring together everyone who decides to listen, regardless of their individual traits!  And that, my good people, is what can help!”

            “Are you suggesting we make up a religion and induce the populace to follow it?” one man, who’d been silent the whole time, snorted disparagingly.  “They would have to be fools to fall for something like that!”

            The temperature in the room promptly dropped several degrees as glares of varying frigid anger were directed at the man, who wriggled uncomfortably and fell silent, hiding behind a curtain of hair.

            “How…dare you,” the first woman snarled, rising in her chair, pointing an enraged finger at the man.  “Speaking to our leader in such a way!”

            “Get out,” the man who sat in the large chair said quietly, but with a harsh undercurrent of menace in his voice.  The now-terrified cynic hurried from the cold room as fast as he could.  The group returned to business.  They knew he would not last the night.  After all, if any of them left individually, without the appropriate signal to the guards waiting outside the room, the offending individual would be quickly and quietly assassinated.  This was too important a task to allow anyone from blurting out secrets.

            “We must foster the image of total isolation,” the leader coolly murmured, barely audible to the others.  “If there is nothing to live for outside of Eleskar, people will want answers.  They will wish to know if there is any meaning.  And this religion we are planning…it would be the perfect antidote to their questions.”

            “What could we name it?” someone asked.

            More stillness.  And then a smile crept onto the leader’s face.

            “Why, let us name it after the man who just crept out of our council to his death.  Casr.”  He leaned back in his chair and gave a soft laugh.  “The Way of Casr.”

Chapter 1

             It wasn’t even noon and Cascada was already bored out of her wits.

            Cascada, or Cassie as she preferred to be called, sat daydreaming on the old rotted tree stump in the middle of the pasture, watching without seeing as the amiable quartons grazed.  Her pet streamer, a lithe, cat-like creature with long floppy ears and an intensely loyal disposition, was curled up in the grass next to her feet.  Cassie stroked his head absently.

            “What do you think, Lupic?” she asked him.  “Think we’ll have any excitement today?”  The streamer cocked his head and yawned peacefully, keeping his ears pricked for any suspicious noise.

            Sighing again, Cassie leaned back and drank a quick swig from her waterskin, running her eyes over the herd again before relapsing back into daydreams.  Without thinking, she fingered a badge, a light green object shaped like a square with two triangles fused to the sides, sewn into her collar.  An identical shape was tattooed on her left cheek, also dyed light green.  Cassie had had the tattoo for fourteen years, ever since she was a year old, for it marked her as something that brought her family enormous shame.

            Because Cassie was a mage.

           She’d been born one, as all mages are, coming out of her mother’s womb with a light green glow around her left arm.  The casror, a priest, who’d overseen her birth had been horrified.  Cassie had been lucky her parents hadn’t decided to put her to death right there and then, so great was the stigma of having a mage in the family.

            Lucky, Cassie snorted, I’d been a lot luckier if Mother and Pa hadn’t had a casror there to bless my birth in the first place.  Then I could stay unnoticed and lead a normal life.  I don’t even know what my powers are…I’ll never find out either.  That’s as much as my life is worth.

            As it was, life was drearily normal for her family.  Her father and mother were farmers, scraping a living out of the soil of Shilinger Province.  It was the poorest region of Eleskar and focused on agriculture, with only one major city.  The other two provinces, Tarling and Katorik, at least had mining and other things.  Shilinger…it just had fish and farms.

            Another swig and Cassie stood up, sick of sitting on the old stump.  Lupic stretched lazily and followed her as she passed through the small herd of seven quartons and walked to the rotting wooden fence that attempted to keep the animals from breaking through and going off into the wild.  Thankfully, quartons were too placid to get worked into a stampede, and a good thing too because they were quite large, over five feet tall and weighing eight hundred pounds.

            From the gate, Cassie could see the entire farm, for the quarton pasture was built on a hill.  A small path led away from the gate, down the hill, and up to the front door of her home, then skirting the steps and traversing past the chicken coop to stop at the barn, where the quartons and other animals were housed during cold weather.  Since it was early summer, the grass was a bright, fresh green mingled with yellow and the hot sun beat down on Cassie’s dark brown hair.  She brushed a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her twin ponytails and leaned against the gate.

            And to her surprise, she saw her little brother.

            Halesk, nicknamed Hal, was trudging up the path with a basket in his hand.  His seven-year-old legs were having a bit of difficulty with the hilly portion of the trail and he once had to stop and take a quick breath.  Finally, he scrambled up to the gate and grinned at his sister.  “Hi, Cassie!”

            “Hi yourself, Hal, I see you had some trouble,” Cassie returned the smile and pried open the gate for him.  He bounced inside and wiped away a few drops of sweat, holding the basket toward her.

            “Mummy said to get this to you since it’ll be noon soon.”  He paused.  “That rhymed!  And Pa said I wasn’t any good at rhyming!”

            “Yeah, you ought to be a poet,” Cassie smirked, taking the basket.  A smell of fresh bread wafted from it and she quickly dug her hand in, pulling out a newly baked loaf with some scrapings of butter and a hunk of dried meat between the two slices.  Several berries littered the bottom; they’d been pulled off their stem when Hal had been swinging the basket around while struggling up to the pasture.  The girl rolled her eyes slightly and seized one of the bright red berries, tossing one to Lupic.  The streamer happily grabbed it in midair and gobbled it down, waiting patiently for more.

            “Hey Cassie,” Hal began, but then paused.  “Pa said not to tell but...”

            “So don’t tell,” Cassie admonished, ruffling her brother’s coffee-colored hair.  “I’ll find out on my own, and if Pa said not to, then don’t.”

            Reluctantly, Hal nodded and tried to reopen the gate.  Cassie quickly shoved it open before he hurt himself and gently pushed him out.  “Mummy wants you back in another couple hours.  Pa’ll be done by then or something.”  He smiled again, a gap-toothed grin, and hurried back down the trail.  Cassie watched him go and then turned her attention to her meal.  But her thoughts also centered on what Hal had said.  What did Pa not want Cassie to know?

            Finishing her sandwich, Cassie gulped down another mouthful of water and walked back to the stump.  As she drifted back into a bored state, her mind spun theories.

            The sun was starting to drift farther down the horizon and Cassie stood up, brushing a few stray bits of drifting pollen from her hair.  The quartons were now separating, each one going to its mate.  The girl flicked away another few strands of hair and strode to the gate, latching it shut behind her as she trotted down the hill.  A cool breeze blew in her face and she couldn’t wait to get home.  Wonder what Mother’s making for dinner…she mused.  Her leather shoes bounced in the dry grass, adding a bit of extra spring to her step.  Then, she suddenly ground to a halt.

            Oh no, not him, not now, she groaned internally.  A caniscale, a horse-sized creature with yellow fur, fangs, and a long whip-like tail was tied to one of the beams of the porch.  And it was a very familiar caniscale, with a four-pointed star branded onto its hind leg.  With trepidation swirling inside, Cassie lifted the latch on the front door and nervously stepped inside.

            The house was only two rooms, one for the kitchen and table, and one for the family to sleep in.  Moldering logs made up most of the furniture but the walls were sturdy and the floor firm.  Seated at the table, eyes narrowing slightly, was the owner of the caniscale outside.

            “Casror Isoldatch,” Cassie murmured, keeping her eyes down.

            “Cascada,” he returned.

            “I really do prefer to be called Cassie,” the fifteen-year-old said in a monotone voice, but still infusing just a smidgen of insolence into her tone.

            The man’s eyes narrowed further.  He was twenty-three, with brown hair streaked with blond and the brightest green eyes Cassie had ever seen.  A headband with a four-pointed star circled his forehead and all his clothes were lightly colored, clean without a stray strand of fabric anywhere.  Pulling down the cuffs of his sleeves, he turned his gaze away without bothering to conceal a frown of disgust.  Cassie decided to just ignore him and went into the next room, where it was uncharacteristically quiet.