The Tenets in the Tattoos (The King's Swordsman Book 1)

by Becky James

  No, they didn’t see him. They didn’t value him.

  “Does he even remember his family?” the dream Thorrn asked, shattering Aubin’s thoughts.

  “I changed his allegiances and his heart,” the dream Evyn replied. “He believes me to be in love with him. You were right; he was starved of affection, and I only had to smile his way a few times and he committed treason for me. At last our path is clear to enchanting Tuniel.” Evyn lifted her hand over Tuniel’s sleeping form. Aubin struggled and screamed uselessly, for he could not move a single muscle. “There. The enchantment is in place. She will think us allies.”

  “Will she remember what we did to Gough?” the dream version of me asked.

  “Not anymore. She will believe as Aubin did, that we are blameless and victims of circumstance to boot.” Evyn shuddered. “I couldn’t stand how he looked at me. As if I would be pleased to have a mere apothecarist fawn over me. He turned my stomach.”

  Rejection burnt Aubin’s throat. He knew this would happen, he had even dreamt the truth, hadn’t he? And she had convinced him that she welcomed his advances…

  Had that actually happened? Was that a dream? Or is this a dream? Aubin struggled to think, and I desperately wanted to help him. But this was a memory, and I could not change anything about what would happen next.

  Aubin recalled his recent history, of helping Evyn rescue herself, travelling to Earth, journeying to Spiritshere where, yes, it had been fraught at times. But then he remembered me suspended and screaming, and how I did not name him to spare myself. He knew that he helped me with those terrible, debilitating injuries, getting closer to Evyn, and then a clear memory of Evyn bursting into his dreamland and dismissing the dream with a possessive scowl at her double…

  All leading to Aubin putting his spirit into a dream Waker’s hands, offering himself in place of me to save Evyn.

  Aubin’s stomach curdled, a bitter taste to his mouth. He had not only been fooled, he was a fool. Thorrn is right, I’ve given up my life for very little in reality, he thought bitterly. A few shy glances. Snatches of a depth of kindness Aubin had never experienced in his life. A startling intellect and stubborn insistence on the right things…

  Reflected in Thorrn himself. I know him. I watched him grow up. This isn’t Thorrn.

  I wanted to cheer.

  A wealth of memories about me cascaded from Aubin’s mind. Aubin had grown up near me, eight turns older than me, and I never realised how he had watched over me.

  A clear memory flashed up, from the aftermath of my very first engagement. A border skirmish, near to Skien, where a band of rogue men had come across into a small Oberrotian village and erased it out of spite. I had been so heartsick from the violence I had seen and dealt that I needed treatment, and Aubin had come with his vials and tinctures. Seeing it through his eyes was surreal; a coltish boy when I had thought myself a man, curled up sobbing in the centre of my bunk. Aubin had cornered Shard – how could I not have remembered that?

  “I refuse to drug him. He needs time, that’s all.” Aubin clenched his fists, the new apothecarist pitted directly against the captain of Special Forces, shoring up his stance with his fresh professional knowledge and righteous ire.

  Shard sighed heavily, but I couldn’t tell if that was with impatience or regret. “It’s been four days. Four days without sleep. He needs to rest.”

  Aubin glanced back at me, torn between treating the root or merely the symptoms.

  “He will be hardened up, but slowly,” Shard had said.

  “He’s shouldered the moral responsibility as well as the orders themselves,” Aubin snapped. “He cannot accept that orders came from higher up.”

  Shard nodded. “I’ll watch him.”

  “Oh, I’ll be sure to watch over him,” Aubin said, turning away. He came to me, and I could see it from both sides, my jumbled and tangled memories sharp with pain and his, clear and detailed.

  “I don’t want to sleep!” I had protested, with as much rage as I could muster. “I don’t want that to happen to anyone ever again! I’ll make sure of it!”

  “And you’re doing fine work of that like this,” Aubin said, his voice full of dry resignation. “This will take away the nightmares.”

  The smaller me uncurled slightly. Then, “I have to remember it. I have to. Someone has to.” I turned away, burying myself in the pain. “I’m not going to kill. I’m going to find another way,” the smaller version of me sobbed. The memory of it dropped into me anew, a wave of sadness for myself as a boy from Evyn, and something like pride from Aubin.

  The sides of Aubin’s mouth turned up.

  This is not them, he told himself, holding onto that certainty, because to let that go was to admit he was a fool. He had never given up his heart lightly to someone who was not worthy of it; he had not done so now.

  Aubin latched onto the truth. This must be a dream, a nightmare. Fragments Waker used to try and turn me against them! Aubin struggled, and in the present moment I cheered him. Waker must be searching for cracks in my belief, I have to keep firm, I have to keep my own memories intact and guard them against falsehoods…

  But then a new memory intruded, one with a call that Aubin could not ignore.

  She is not dead, Waker’s voice whispered. Morven is not dead.

  Aubin’s heart clenched. Morven had died at a score-less two. Murdered by her mancer soul, for he would never accept that she had killed herself as any good soul companion of a mage or mancer should. Hadn’t she?

  She is not dead, Waker whispered.

  A bright memory flashed up. This was of Evyn, bending over the book she had bought him while we were obtaining clothes. Aubin watched her face as she pointed out this or that. She had listened to his comments on the shortcomings of the texts she had and responded to them, leaning in close as he explained the properties of the mirror plants in his world, and Aubin’s heart swelled at her love of learning just for the sake of learning.

  Evyn’s face changed, rippled. Long black hair replaced her brown tresses, her eyes glowing green.

  “Aubin?” He faced Morven, the love of his youth. Her black hair curled around her bare shoulders. Cheeks kissed by the wind, pink and hale with life. Green eyes capturing his heart.

  “Morven.” He couldn’t believe it.

  Give in. This is real. Let go of the struggle, just accept.

  He could let his guard down. He could welcome her in.

  Give in.

  He ran to Morven. Kissing her felt like home. “I’m the only one who ever saw you,” she whispered. “I’m the only one who will ever love someone like you.” Aubin let go of his scepticism, pushed away his doubts, and embraced her body and mind. Everyone hoped to be worthy of love, and he was no exception. Morven had loved him, loved him still, and his love was strong enough for her to stay with him. He had no one else, there was no one else, and Morven was his only chance for happiness. Her love closed around him like earth patted over a grave, and I screamed for him to wake up.

  He could remember a bluff overlooking the wild northern reaches, wind whipping in his hair. Something caught the corner of his eye. Their house, the house he had imagined for them when he was younger. The memory was sure and strong, and his imagination created every single detail, every hand-sawed plank, every vine and leaf on the growth tangling around the house. Touching the lintel yielded the sensation of warm wood.

  Days were spent hunting, gathering plants and berries, cooking, talking, laughing, and nights were spent making love. The days rolled into sennights and sennights into moon cycles. Morven put on weight and birthed their daughter. Morwenna was soon joined by Auven, both children steeped in love. Now Aubin had company gathering plants, teaching his children what each one was and what it did and how to respect it. Their heads close, they read books together. He stroked their sleeping faces lit in the firelight at night.

  Morven folded him in her rounded arms. “This is our paradise,” she whispered.

  “It’s
like a dream,” he replied. “It’s perfect.”

  But it’s not real! I shouted. I was powerless to do anything, watching through Ellesmere’s magic. But what Waker had done to Aubin was something else, a memory of a dream as a memory, and the convoluted twists within it shook me to the core. What was real? What was not real?

  Aubin came home from hunting one day to find the house broken into pieces. Beside the wreckage stood a woman with tumbling red hair. “Aubin Tabreksson?”

  Aubin stared at the ruins of the life he thought he lived. “My children. Morven—”

  Waker was fully present and smirking at the back of his head. I roared, trying to get to her, to no avail, and Waker talked over my protests. “Thorrn Shardsson has taken them, the woman, the children. His unnatural soul companion has put them to sleep. Fortunately, that is my domain, so they are safe for now.” She shook her head sadly, sneering when Aubin turned his back to her.

  Aubin picked through the trashed house, the broken scattered walls, belongings torn apart, the wind tossing smashed plants and toys. His paradise. Ruined, stripped of all peace, his love and his children gone. The heartbreak felt sickeningly familiar. Nothing worked out for him. He always had it taken away or realised it was never there in the first place. A phantom, a mirage. He should have never dared to dream, and he should never have trusted.

  Now he felt real. The turns of peace and love were a fantasy, nothing but illusion, not meant for the likes of him. That it had been taken from him was inevitable, a certainty come to pass at last. Almost a relief.

  No, Aubin! I could say or do nothing as I watched, but I fervently wished I could interrupt to tell him that he could trust us, me and Evyn, that we would show him what he meant to us. My soul was close by in that moment, and we were acting as one, both feeling the same in a fierce echo.

  Waker said, “We can stop them, Tabreksson. They wish to control your soul by using you.” She weaved memories of their association, of how she and Tuniel were on friendly terms. Aubin straightened up as more coils of lies wrapped around him. “If you kill the swordsman and bring me the Earthian alive, we can see what can be done about your family, but we have to rid the world of their evil first.” She smiled with sad understanding.

  That stab of hope. It hurt him. “I don’t understand. Why take them? What use is my family to them?”

  “To get to Tuniel,” Waker said, and Aubin’s jaw clenched as all his nightmares came true. “They will use you to get to your soul. You have to stop them, but they are able to alter your memories. If you come to the dreamlands at any point, that will shake your true memories free.” Her eyes flashed. “The swordsman is running unchecked, and Torgund gives him free rein to act on his base impulses.” Misty air formed between them, images leaping out at Aubin.

  It showed the dream me moving through the battlefield, fighting. Except this was no battlefield, but a village. Aubin’s breath caught in his throat, and I felt sick seeing snatches of it.

  Details, something insisted in the back of Aubin’s mind. He frowned, looking closer even though the image would make every decent person turn away. Good thing I’ve never pretended to as much, he thought. Aubin studied the images hard. There! My guard stance was nothing Aubin had ever seen before, halfway between two types of fighting. Details.

  That isn’t Thorrn.

  Before Aubin could argue, Waker flicked her fingers. The images snapped away. “I’ll be blunt,” she said, her eyes searching his. “Tuniel’s memories are being altered by necromantic energy. The wielder of this energy is an otherworlder, an Earthian called Evyn. She has altered the memories of the castle to accept her as the daughter of the king’s soul companion. She deposed Gough because he suspected her, and laid the blame firmly on my shoulders to instigate war.”

  Aubin rubbed his forehead. “Torgund took over…”

  “She can easily control him.” The MasterMage stepped closer to Aubin.

  He struggled to think. “What do they want Tuniel for?”

  Instead of answering, Waker ordered, “Infiltrate them. Find out why he looks like Luc. Evyn might use her magic on you, and they will target you because they know we are allies. She would claim you to taunt me. I am sorry to use you so but—”

  “It’s fine,” he said curtly. Everyone always uses me anyway. The heart I shared with Evyn twisted with shame and understanding.

  The dream Waker said, “It’s the only way to get your family back. Your love and your children.” Her eyes bored into Aubin’s.

  Aubin braced his shoulders, unable to look away. “It’s like they were a dream.”

  Waker’s eyes flashed. Aubin shook his head, coming back to himself, except now he was outside the Palais. Aubin looked at his hands, trying to focus on them, on the lines crossing them and the worn parts and callouses, trying to remember if they had always been this way.

  “What are you doing?” Waker asked.

  “Nothing.” He let his hands fall.

  Waker said, “Remember these words. Hold them close to you. Step three, work out what has happened. Step four, Aubin will bring her to me. Step five, my revenge on the Earthian will be complete.”

  Aubin frowned. “Am I to assume that made some kind of sense? What happened to steps one and two?”

  “Nevermind. It will make sense someday. Just remember those words.” Waker raised her arm toward the horizon. “You will wake up now. No one can take the memory of your beloved family from you. Magic cannot break through love,” she said, her smile consuming Aubin.

  And then she reached through Aubin and toward us, her teeth flashing. “I know you will ask the little reader mage with pretensions of ruling for assistance with this. Gods’ luck unravelling it, Earthian. He has everything he has ever wanted in the dreamlands, and he believes you two took it away from him. I am not without compassion, however. Bring me the swordsman, and I will undo this knot in his mind.” She snapped her fingers, and all went black.

  Chapter 27

  The room was silent except for Tuniel and Evyn’s barely audible weeping. Even my cheeks were wet.

  Tuniel let out a shuddering breath, staring at her interlaced fingers between her knees. They trembled as she spoke. “I understand. Experiencing that brief paradise is what has changed him. Torture wouldn’t have broken him, but that did. And then turning him against us, well, convincing him he was nothing to you was easy, he believed that in a heartbeat. But those remembered turns of peace…” Tuniel swallowed back what could have been another sob. “How are we ever going to convince him that the dream is not real?”

  Evyn put her fists to her temples. “It will break his heart to learn he has no wife or children,” she murmured.

  “He lived a lie, though,” I said, my voice breaking. Mastering it, I cleared my throat.

  “He thinks it’s true. It’s… inhumanly cruel.” Evyn put her head in her hands.

  In the long silence I murmured, “Details.”

  Evyn sniffed. “Excuse me?”

  “Details. It was the little details that didn’t add up that made Aubin stop and question what he was experiencing. Like… here.” I rolled up my sleeve. “I’d wager Waker wouldn’t be able to completely replicate my tattoos. Aubin has an eye for detail, he would see any difference. He noticed my stance was wrong. He noticed a lot of things.”

  “Details. Yes, details.” Evyn sat up. Her eyes glistened with tears, but now they lit with renewed hope. “We can help him question everything, what we said, what we did…” She deflated a little. “But that still doesn’t stop him from longing to go back to that idyllic place.”

  “It’s not real,” Tuniel pressed, wiping her eyes and scowling at her sodden handkerchief. I held out my last unused one. She glared at me, then took it.

  I pointed out gently, “It’s real to him. It was real enough for him to build a life there.”

  A sob burst from Tuniel’s lips; she wiped fresh tears from her eyes.

  “A life that’s a play with a cast of characters,” Ev
yn said, hiccupping. She swiped her tears away with a scowl. “Where were the difficult talks in the small hours of the morning? The mini fights over whose turn it was to load the dishwasher? Where were the times of humdrum boredom, and where were the unexpected surprises that make you laugh until you cry? That’s what real life is. That’s what’s real.” Her fists shook, lips white.

  “But he may not want that. He may want his perfect fantasy,” I said.

  Tuniel sat up straight, resolute. “I cannot let him go back. There’s no guarantee Waker would even recreate it for him if he did sign some new contract. He’ll have to mourn it, and we should give him time to do that. It’s as real as any of our memories.”

  That made my eyes bulge a bit. “So how do we know what’s real?” I asked. Reaching over, Tuniel pinched my hand. “Ow! What was that for?”

  “That’s to show you what’s real.”

  “But we could feel pain in the dreamlands,” I protested, rubbing my hand where she pinched it. The sensation had not been altogether unpleasant. “How do we know we’re not in a dreamland right now? And how do I know you’re you and not dream things?”

  Evyn tapped my forearm. “I’ve been thinking about that, and it goes back to your tattoos, Thorrn. What if we created a design that only we knew, and in the dreamlands, we can show each other those tattoos as proof?”

  I blinked. “A special commemorative tattoo would probably be created for this campaign anyway.” I looked hopefully at Ellesmere.

  “What, for all the swordsmen on this campaign so… just for you?” Evyn pointed out, a wry look between the tears on her eyelashes.

  “And Aleric. He gets one for being… involved, of a sort.” I tapped the hilt of my father’s sword. “And we are heavily relying on Gavain to protect the prince.”

  “The only special thing he’s getting is a special kick up his head,” Evyn scowled.

  My chest felt heavy and hot thinking of Gavain’s betrayal, but my heart definitely warmed at the image of my intrepid soul companion trying to kick him. “Eventually we’ll get enough momentum with Special Forces, who will believe Gough is alive and serve him again, so there will be further additions to our team. But I would perhaps have the biggest tattoo.” I turned toward the queen. “Can I design it? I had a great idea.”