Henry answered each question as though it was the direction he meant to steer the conversation and refused to allow his frustration to surface. But by the end of the evening, he was no closer to understanding his son’s troubles than he’d been that morning.
Finally Aleksei rose from his seat before the fire, put his book away, and went to bed. Henry watched him go, more troubled than ever. The boy had never gone to bed without a word before. He always had some last comment to make, even if it was just to wonder at the next day’s activities.
Henry sat before the dying embers of the fire well into the night, thinking. He didn’t remember falling asleep, so when the voice woke him his eyes started open.
Hello, Henry.
He looked around, trying to get his bearings.
Gone was the warmth of the hearth, the comfort of his chair. Instead he stood in an enveloping fog of shimmering gold.
He could see no one.
“Where am I?” Henry demanded.
A dream, Henry. This is merely an illusion. I apologize that I cannot offer you more comfortable surroundings at the moment.
“Who are you?” Henry called, feeling a touch foolish, shouting at phantoms.
His question went unanswered.
Henry, I’ve come to ask a favor.
“Who are you?” Henry repeated flatly.
There was a moment of hesitation before the voice responded. A man much like yourself, Henry Drago. One who only wants what’s best for your son.
“Speak then.”
When the favor was uttered, Henry blinked in confusion. A thousand questions bubbled to the surface, yet he found that he only possessed the strength to ask one.
“Why?” he choked, surprised by the weakness in his own voice.
The air before his face shimmered and distorted, as though he were looking through intense heat. Slowly, images formed. Images of Aleksei. An Aleksei he didn't recognize.
“Why are you showing me this?” Henry managed.
Because I want you to see what your son could become. The man he could be, if you’d only let him. If you just do as I say.
“I don’t trust you.” Henry barked back. “I can’t even see your face.”
Another image shimmered into being. A man, though Henry saw nothing remarkable about him. The man leaned forward and whispered in his ear, and Henry heard the unmistakable ring of truth.
In that moment he thought he might have preferred a dagger to the heart. It would have been far less painful to simply die at the end of a highwayman’s blade than to agree to this. Either way, he would lose the most precious thing he had.
“Bargain struck.” Henry whispered bitterly, a tear winding its way down his cheek.
You’re doing your son a great service, Henry Drago.
The voice even sounded earnest.
Henry started to say something, but even as he opened his mouth, darkness swirled around him. He slipped back into the empty chasms of sleep.
He sat back, a frown fixed firmly to his face. It had taken months, but they’d finally managed to locate the one he’d been searching for. And yet just as he made contact, he could feel it; another set of claws already sinking into the man.
He glanced at the woman sitting across from him, emerald eyes gauging her reaction in the dim firelight. “Well?”
She looked back at him, the golden flecks in her own peridot irises glimmering, “I…I don’t know what to make of it. Honestly, I don’t. But we aren’t the only ones who’ve taken an interest.”
He chuckled, but the laugh lacked humor. “He was supposed to be forming a bond with me. Even across the distance, I thought that’s what you saw in your vision.”
She averted her eyes to the low-burning hearth, “It was. It is. But it’s possible my vision didn’t show me everything.”
“Like what?” His voice was low and dangerous. “Like the presence of another? Another after the very same prize? How likely is that? And yet here we are.” His face contorted with rage. He slammed his fists on the desk before him, slopping wine from his goblet across the cuffs of his crimson silk coat.
“How?” he bellowed.
She shook her head, her heart pounding in her ears, “As I said, I don’t know. But whoever is reaching out to him has also formed a bond with him. At the moment, however, this new player’s claim seems no stronger than your own.”
“But that’s supposed to be impossible.” he growled. “You said these bonds were only formed between two people. Only ever between two people.”
She paused, still staring into the flames, before meeting his green-eyed gaze, “There is an exception, but it doesn’t make much sense in this context.”
He sat back, lacing his fingers together in front of his stormy expression, “Explain.”
She swallowed again, “A bifurcated bond has been formed before, but never invoked. Bonds can sometimes form through instinct, or need, or love. But a bifurcated bond is only ever formed for one reason.
“Someone has invoked a Primary prophecy.”
He inhaled sharply. “How?”
She shook her head, “I can’t say. But this boy is an eye in the storm; this prophecy has been invoked in his name. You and the other player, whoever it is, are now the two ends of the fork, each of you a terminal destination. Whatever he ultimately decides will alter the direction of the Primary prophecy irrevocably.”
“And we have no control over the boy?”
She shrugged, “We have the ability to influence events, as you have seen tonight. But this is a delicate business, make no mistake. Being too heavy-handed can be just as dangerous as lacking any presence at all. It’s a matter of the utmost delicacy.” Her eyes shimmered again in the gush of sparks from the hearth, “Not exactly your strong suit.”
He ignored her jibe. “And which Primary prophecy would you be referencing? At least that should shed a little light on what to expect.”
“That’s just it,” she whispered, her attention riveted now on the fickle, flickering flames in the hearth, “there is no Primary prophecy that meets these criteria. Several share similar elements, but of all the books in the Voralla, none depict an invocation quite like this. We’re wandering in the dark.”
Feeling his frustration mounting, she hurried on, “But if we’re operating in shadows and smoke, then so is the other player. The Voralla has one of the oldest libraries on prophecy in the known world. Every Primary ever recorded is in the vaults somewhere. The chance of this…other player having the same access as you is highly unlikely.”
He paused, taking in her words, then burst out into a mirthless laugh, “Do you hear yourself? Really, do you realize what you’ve just implied?”
She frowned, “If you want to get angry about this, that’s your business, not mine. I'm not trying to offend you, just put things in perspective.”
“And what a fine job you’ve done of it.” he snorted. “Now, not only do we have competition for a boy, nay a man, who may be an eye in the storm, but we may have competition from outside the Voralla?”
The weight of the implication finally registered on her face. “So then…you believe the rumors? You believe there are other Magi out there? Other schools that the Voralla knows nothing about? I can hardly imagine how such a thing could be possible.”
A knock sounded at the door.
“Come.” he snapped.
A servant slowly opened the door, “Highness, the Queen has sent for you.”
He sighed, “Tell her I’ll be along in due time.” The servant lingered. “Leave us.” The door snapped shut just as the servant stepped back.
He returned his fierce emerald gaze to his companion, still intensely studying the dying flames. As though her life depended on the survival of those weakening, flickering flames.
He supposed in many ways the comparison was apt enough, for both of them.
“Yes,” he said finally, his voice keen as a razor, “there are
others.”
Morning greeted Aleksei gently, rousing him from a dreamless oblivion. It had taken him hours to finally find some rest, and his relief was immeasurable when he woke without encountering the specter of the green-eyed man. His wish had been granted. The man was gone.
He made his way down the narrow stairway and walked into the kitchen, frowning at what greeted him. Their rough wood table was laid out with provisions for what Aleksei could only guess was a journey.
But a journey where? His father hadn’t said anything about travel. There was still wood to chop and hay to store. The first snow might be weeks away, but there was no telling when the winds would usher in the chill of Northern air. Working outside in the cold was not something he, nor any farmer, relished.
“I see you’re up.” Henry said from behind. Aleksei jumped.
He turned, “Da, where are we going? I thought we were going to finish the hay this morning.”
His father shook his head and smiled, though Aleksei caught the deep sadness in Henry’s eyes. “We aren’t going anywhere, Son. You are.”
Aleksei frowned, “Me? But I thought—”
His father tried to hold the smile, but it was forced, “You’re needed, Son. In the North.”
Aleksei thought his heart should stop. He forgot to breathe. He could hardly process what his father had just said.
You know the truth he speaks, Aleksei.
Aleksei fought back a sob of frustration. He thought he’d freed himself of the damned voice, but now he knew the truth. He would never be free from it. It would hound him until the end of his days, or until it drove him mad, whichever came first.
Or until you simply do as I ask.
“Why?” he finally managed.
His father looked out the kitchen window, and Aleksei followed his gaze. Dash waited patiently outside, a saddle fitted snugly about his muscular frame.
“Because you’re needed, Son. It’s the only answer I can give you.”
“I’m not needed here, Da? Don’t you need me?”
Henry bit back the pain in his voice, “You are more of a help than I can say, Aleksei, and I love you dearly. But no, I don’t need you. Not like this. If you stayed here, you’d be wasting something…extraordinary. And honestly, I think you’d know it too. They need you in the North, Son. And their need is much more important than mine.”
Aleksei stood there, stunned by what his father was saying to him. And then the questions came pouring forth. What did Henry mean by ‘extraordinary’? What had his father learned? What was still being kept from him?
“And I’m sorry I can’t give you the answers you want, Son. But I think you know who can. Find him.”
“But how can I….” Aleksei began, fighting back the tears springing into his eyes.
“You’re strong, Aleksei. You’ve always been strong. That won’t fail you now.”
Henry swallowed back his own tears and tried to smile again, “Now you’d better get on the road. The sooner you get beyond the Southern Plain, the better. You don’t want to be riding under the Harvest Sun too long if you can help it.”
“But where am I going?” Aleksei cried, his voice breaking. It was happening too fast. His life was slipping through his fingers moment by moment and there was nothing he could do about it.
“North, Son. North. You’ll know where you’re headed as you get closer. That’s all I know to tell you.”
Aleksei looked into his father’s eyes and saw the sadness, the regret that burned within him. His father wanted to know just as badly as he, to know just what sort of place he was so blindly sending his son.
Finally, after a long silence, Aleksei nodded. “Alright, Da. If you want me to go, then I’ll go.”
“I’ll never want you to go, Son.” Henry whispered, his face contorting with pain. He had already lost his wife, and now he was losing his son, too. Aleksei would still be alive, but he would be so far away.
“But promise me something, Aleksei.”
Aleksei nodded, “Anything, Da.”
“If you find this place and if it’s not what you want, what you need, promise me you’ll come back. Even if this isn’t what you want either, at least we can figure that out together.”
Aleksei finally allowed a tear to wind its way down his cheek, “I promise, Da.”
Henry stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around his son, hugging him as close as he could, as though any moment Aleksei might turn to mist and vanish forever. Henry stepped back and managed a sardonic smile. Aleksei might remain solid as stone, but surely enough he was about to vanish.
Henry didn’t watch his son ride away. In truth, he couldn’t bear it. As long as he’d never seen Aleksei leave he could always pretend the boy was out in the barn or by the pond he’d swum in as a child. It was a good hour before Henry allowed himself to sit down in his chair and sob.
CHAPTER 4
A Shift in Savagery
ALEKSEI RODE NORTH, his face disconsolate as the familiar farmland passed and faded away behind him. A tangible fear wormed its way through his heart. What was he doing? For the first time in his life, Aleksei didn’t know where he was headed. There was no structure to this, no one to tell him what needed to be done or where he was supposed to go.
He had a single direction; that was all.
By mid-afternoon Aleksei was passing the last farms before Voskrin. He allowed himself to relax a little. He was still in familiar territory. But once past the village, he would be the furthest he’d ever been from home since they’d left the Seil Wood.
Aleksei smiled softly as the memories drifted back through his mind. He remembered little about the Wood, mostly faded images, but they always made him smile. He’d been happy there, truly happy. He’d fit in. He’d felt at peace. And while he loved the Southern Plain, he also knew it for what it was.
His father’s attempt at escape.
His mother had been Ri-Vhan, the forest people who inhabited in the trees of Seil Wood, and when she died Henry had come to resent everything that brought back her memory.
Except him.
He knew his father was pained by how much Aleksei resembled his mother, although he rarely let it show. Occasionally, Aleksei caught those moments of hurt when Henry lowered his guard, but he loved his father all the more for the attempt.
As he rode into Voskrin, he was spotted almost immediately. Aleksei considered kicking Dash into a gallop as Katherine came towards him, but ultimately decided better of it. He couldn’t just leave without saying good-bye. At the same time, he had no desire to attract the ire of her brothers.
He slipped out of the saddle just as his friend reached him and smiled at her youthful, buoyant expression.
“Aleksei? I didn’t expect to see you until Solstice! Did your Da send you into town for something? My father just bought new bows off a peddler. He claims they’re red-hearted rowan, but I said….”
Aleksei shook his head, “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t have the time. I’m heading out.”
Katherine frowned, “Heading out? Aleksei, I don’t catch your meaning.”
Aleksei tried to keep a smile on his face, “Thought I might travel around a bit, see the realm. You know, like we always said we’d do?”
Katherine started laughing.
Aleksei sighed.
She thought he was joking. They’d spent many a summer night talking about one day riding out of Voskrin forever, to become heroes in a great city. But they had long ago given up such dreams as the impossible fantasies of children.
When she realized Aleksei wasn’t laughing, Katherine stopped. “You’re serious, aren’t you? Have you gone completely mad?”
“Who’s gone mad?”
Both turned towards Pyotr, who seemed to have appeared from thin air.
“Aleksei’s leaving.” Katherine said softly.
He stared at Aleksei in confusion, “Leaving for where?”
Aleksei shook his head, “I can’t say. Da said I needed to head north. He said I’d only be wasting my time if I stayed here.”
Pyotr looked angry, “Wasting your time? What, you have something bigger or better to do? Did you become a knight since the last time I saw you?”
“I am the same man today that I was yesterday.” Aleksei growled.
He paused, glancing around the village, looking at the faces of his friends. Catherine’s luminous brown eyes, the look of utter confusion written across her fine features. And Pyotr. Simple, slow-witted Pyotr. Of course Pyotr couldn’t understand what was happening. Katherine, on the other hand, seemed to understand the situation perfectly. He was abandoning her, but he saw no anger, no hatred in her eyes, only endless bewilderment.
“But where will you go?” she managed, fighting back tears.
Aleksei shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I suppose I’ll find my way.”
“But surely there must be some other way!” she demanded, her anger suddenly surfacing. “You can’t just leave like this! Have your Da talk to the Elder. He’ll understand! He’ll fix things.”
Aleksei reached out and gently took hold of Catherine’s arm, “I don’t want him to fix things.”
And for the first time since he’d left the farm, Aleksei heard the conviction in his voice. He didn’t want to turn around and go home. Something inside of him needed to follow the voice, to discover the truth behind the dreams. To understand why someone had chosen him.
He stepped back and looked around Voskrin one last time. It broke his heart to leave, but right then it was clear to him. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this life. He looked at Katherine and Pyotr. He didn’t want their lives, and he couldn’t have them.
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