Order of Shirán

Order Of Shirán ELVEN WORLDS I R.K. LANDER Copyright © 2023 R.K. Lander. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters, names and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Naz’arán. Click to enlarge. In loving memory of Captain Edmund Kent You dreamt of wings and flew. Life took them away, but death has given them back. Fly free at last, dad, back to the stars you loved and beyond. Contents 1. Order of Dominie 2. Order of Shirán 3. The Choice 4. Enlightenment 5. Shields of the Mind 6. For All Elvendom 7. Desperate Measures 8. The Dominie Code 9. Arzenon 10. Kal’hamén’Ar 11. The Blue-eyed Raven 12. Origenta 13. Origin 14. Confinement 15. Dohai 16. Guiding Light 17. Guilty 18. Consequences 19. Shattered Rules 20. Angels 21. Acceptance 22. Return to Life 23. A New Order 24. Liminality Also by R.K. Lander About R.K. Lander Acknowledgments Chapter 1 Order of Dominie To the north-west of the Divine Isle of Estuary lies the Source, elven gateway from the first world of Bel’arán to the second world of Naz’arán. It is a path only the dead can take. But before they can live again, they must travel through the realm of the Order of Dominie: Resurrection, where the spirit regains its conscious self. Revival, where memories return. Academy, where knowledge of the new world is imparted. It is a necessary journey, taken by the guiding hand of the Order of Dominie. Order of Dominie. High Master Dominie Sebhat. * * * Frontier, Estuary, north-eastern Naz’arán – Second World. “It is the way of all elves who walk the Short Road. There are no exceptions.” Master Dominie Benzir leaned forward in his seat, inquisitive eyes glued to the master theorist who was pacing before his avid students. Brow furrowed, words flowing skilfully, eyes fixed on a world that was not here, Sebhat, leader of the Order of Dominie, had thoroughly captivated his audience of tutor and mentor Dominies. Sebhat had travelled from the Source itself, where the buildings of Resurrection lay. He had stopped at Revival, then Academy, and finally here, in Frontier, first and only city in Estuary. This was where the students of the Order of Dominie took their first steps upon a ten-year apprenticeship towards mastery. Indeed, so far, Sebhat had said little that Benzir didn’t already know. He was a master Dominie, had come only to listen to the words of an unrivalled metaphysician and thanatologist, subjects that fascinated Benzir more than any other, even wine making. But Sebhat was more than the high master Dominie. His fiery red hair and purple eyes were a testimony to his nature. He was a demi-god. Master Dominie Benzir had been guiding spirits back to life for many decades, had achieved the highest rank that existed within the Order of Dominie. But Sebhat was the true genius. His wisdom, his deep empathy, the passion with which he spoke, and his oftentimes subversive claims, made him one of the few elves Benzir truly admired. It also made him dangerous to know, for how does one hide things from such a perceptive soul? His eyes wandered over the avid crowd of mentor and tutor Dominies, their awe-inspired faces, tentative hands rising or slowly dropping in disappointment when someone else was singled out to question the greatest high master Estuary had ever seen. Other masters had come too, those who were not currently guiding spirits in Rival or Academy. He knew many of them, even liked a few of them. But none were his friends. “What of the Divine Ones? The Beranor and Berator?” Benzir looked at the young tutor sitting in the third row back, red tinge to his cheeks, hands fiddling with the buttons at his cuff. He’d surely only been in the Order for a few weeks, the concept of Beranor and Berator and what happened to them after death was still fresh, almost magical. “Aria, god of Bel’arán chooses her divine servants in life, but it is in death that they are given the choice to become Liminal. Should they refuse, they will pass through Resurrection and Revival, then Academy and Frontier, just like anyone else. Upon their Enlightenment, they will cross the Sundering Mists and live their lives in Naz’arán however they choose. But should they accept Liminality, they must evolve.” The young Tutor’s eyes flared, and Benzir knew he wanted to ask about the Shirán. But self-doubt and surrender were easy to spot for one as experienced as Benzir, and when the boy’s shoulders slumped and he sat back in his seat, another voice rose over the quiet murmurs. “How can we tell what choice a Berator or Beranor took?” Benzir sat straighter in his chair, looking from the hopeful tutor to the master theorist. Sebhat’s head tilted backwards, eyes closing. Exasperation, Benzir could see it in the set of his features. The young ones always wanted to know about the Order of Shirán. It was fair enough, he supposed. But there were so many other fascinating subjects on which to interrogate the master. However, far be it from Benzir to draw attention to himself. “It takes experience and empathy to identify a nascent Liminal. It takes patience and a superior sense of observation and logic. But should you suspect they chose the path of divine service, you must report it to a master or even to myself. We will guide you. Suffice it to say that once Enlightenment graces them and their past life emerges, they must travel to Origenta.” Benzir observed Sebhat closely, saw the calculated way he had answered, enough to satisfy a tutor, insufficient for a master like himself. There would be time enough for