Empire's Edge (Path of Light Book 2)

by N. A. Oberheide

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  “What’s wrong, dear?” She asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

  “Nothing…just another bad dream or something. The usual…” He wiped the cold sweat from his brow.

  He peeked out the window. Dawn had barely broken above the horizon.

  “Lay back down, you know how you get when you don’t sleep!” She coaxed.

  “I can’t now. My stupid mind won’t stop racing. What if he gets hurt, or worse—”

  “Dear, you really are overthinking it. Aren’t you happy he gets to go on such an adventure and do something important for once?”

  “Important?!” He gasped. “Nothing is more important than his life to me. He isn’t a pawn to be used for the dumbass political machinations of our dumbass King. No…he’s our son. I can’t let such a stupid thing happen to him.”

  “It’s too late for that, dear. He was so happy and excited before he left, now you get all worked up about it like you could’ve stopped it?” She was getting more annoyed.

  “No…you’re right. I couldn’t stop it here. But I can go over there. Track him down. Help him before he gets thrown in a dungeon, or hurt, or worse—”

  “You can’t do that! That’s just going to get you in trouble up to your neck! What if you end up in a dungeon, or hurt, or killed off in that land? You can’t abandon me!”

  “I’d much rather it be me, than my son. He’s young and has his whole life ahead of him. Yet he’s also naïve and fell for Recht’s smooth deals and Lucht’s pretty words and praises. He’s being used under the guise of glory this and honor that. What a load of bullshit. Makes me sick to my stomach.”

  He hopped out of the bed and started dressing himself. He was far too awake now to waste any more time in bed.

  “You don’t trust her, do you?”

  “Who?” He turned around with a puzzled look.

  “That woman, his handler or officer or whatever she is.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re right, I don’t trust her. All the fancy titles in the world won’t redeem her in my eyes. I know her. I’ve worked with her. She’s a twitchy-fingered spaz. She used to be a full field marshal and in fact oversaw my sapper battalion which was incorporated into her shock division back in the war. Now she is…or was knocked down to commodore. I don’t care much for titles, but know how that changed?”

  She didn’t answer, instead looking at him with concerned eyes.

  “Because she’s frankly a moron who shoots first and asks questions later. She was far too hot-headed to avoid various incidents including a healthy dose of friendly fire and even the Dyzlat Pass Incident. Yes, that was her doing. We all knew about it, and yet she managed to avoid any punishment more than a ‘court martial’ by a joke of a military tribunal. She was moved into the Grand Flotilla, where she would finish out the war. Now, she wants her glory of the old days back I bet. And our son is just such convenient cannon fodder for that isn’t he?”

  “What do you mean, dear?”

  “I mean he is being used like a damn pawn! He is far too young for this shit. I can’t stand it anymore. He has no business being over there while our illustrious King sits on his fat ass doing nothing as usual.”

  She didn’t answer. She was lost in thought looking out the window at the rising dawn.

  Trevin left the room, heading downstairs and setting a kettle to boil over the stove. Mokhey rubbed up against his legs, meowing sonorously. He knew the onslaught wouldn’t end until the cat was fed, so he made haste in filling the cats bowl with cream and a splash of fresh coffee once it was done. Thankfully, the cat was accommodating in his tastes. He pondered over his options as Mokhey made himself at home in his lap as was the routine now that his favorite persons bed was cold and empty. He thought back long and hard to the types of expeditions and missions he had to undertake during the Separation War. Things are different now, we aren’t at war…officially anyway. But that stupid bitch wouldn’t hesitate to start one. Of course, my son is paying for my sins in all this too. Why not? Just my luck, stuck in a ditch…a muddy gully. Wait a minute…

  An idea popped into his head. Gully was still around, and they used to be assigned to the same unit doing the same deep cover and long-range reconnaissance operations. The gears in his head spun up. How should I enlist his help? I really don’t want to waste my day and night riding all the way out to that shithole he lives in. Think…there’s an alchemist somewhere not far from here. I bet they might still have an old trick up their sleeve! He smiled, determined to relive the olden days with some good old-fashioned alchemy. He set off at once, cramming a biscuit into his mouth before the door was shut. Mokhey lamented the departure of his warm lap with a pitiful mewling.

  Outside, there was a nip in the air and a pep in his step. Now wasn’t the time to enjoy a lazy sunrise, however. He wasted no time in making his way over to Vehoapt Market Plaza. Vendors and street artists were busy setting up for the day and chasing off mooching strays that dogged anyone who set up in their territory. Trevin scanned around, squinting to read various signs in differing states of disrepair. He finally found his mark. He saw a painted mortar and pestle on a wood board with the shops name prominently stated above and below it. He strolled into the Accidental Alchemist and was quickly greeted by the shopkeeper along with an offensive caustic odor. She perked up and immediately locked eyes with him.

  “It looks like ataxia.” She stated in a deadpan voice, brushing her flaxen hair back.

  “Come again?”

  “I said it looks like you have ataxia. I have just the cure right over—”

  “No, just no.” He rubbed his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re on about and that’s not what I need.”

  “Oh?” She cocked her head.

  “Oh yes. You see, I need a special little formulation. Back in the day we called it ‘message in a bottle’. Know what I’m talking about?”

  The blank look on her wrinkled face was the only answer.

  “Okay, look…I need something that will allow me to send a small message telepathically, you know? I have a friend I know well, yet its urgent and I need this faster than the Pony Express can get there, yes?”

  She scratched her head, pondering and breathing sharply. She pulled a heavy and tattered leather book out from under the counter and plopped it down on top. She quickly thumbed through the pages, saying not a word which was golden silence to Trevin. After several seconds of pure golden quiet, she looked up with a wide smile.

  “Ah-hah! I have it! It’s called the Elixir of Targeted Ventriloquism.”

  “Of course. I knew that…” He felt stupid.

  “Now it says here side effects include but are not limited to nausea, heartburn, upset stomach, constipation, leprosy, spontaneous combustion, explosive incontinence, gout—”

  “Stop, for the love of the gods just stop. Do you have it or not?”

  She cocked her eyebrow at him. “Well someone is a bit pushy this morning!”

  “Look miss, I’m not here to pick a fight. I’m stressed out about something involving my son. What will the damage be?” He held up a hefty coin pouch.

  “I’ll have to make it. Shouldn’t take but a few minutes. Sit tight and I’ll be back!” She pointed to a dilapidated row of chairs behind him before retreating to a room behind her.

  He attempted to make himself comfortable in the squeaky and rock-hard wooden chairs. It didn’t work. He got up and paced about, examining such oddities behind the counter such as beakers, a copper still, a mortar and pestle that looked older than he was, along with various herbs and pastes. From the doorway in the opposite wall, he heard strange noises. He leaned over, straining his ears to hear soft cursing, various liquids being mixed together, more cursing, and all topped off with the sound of something shattering followed up with a blasphemy that would make the gods blush. He quickly sat back down and within seconds she reappeared with a stoppered vial full of a purple, effervescent liquid.

  “All done!�
� She wiped the sweat from her brow. “That will be ten silvers!”

  “Ten silvers for that?! What a…great deal…yeah.” He choked on his words as he produced the coin and set it down on the counter.

  “Oh, by the way, we have a sale going on! Buy one get on free on ataxia cures and—”

  The sentence was punctuated by the door slamming behind Trevin. Outside, he made his way back home and figured if he was going to be sick with a list of ailments, there would be no better place to do it. It had been quite a while since he had taken anything of this sort, but it wouldn’t be his first go around the block with questionable alchemical substances. Back home, he made himself comfortable and eyed his purple prize.

  “What’s that, dear?” His wife asked from behind him.

  “Just a little message in a bottle. Have to send a message with haste to an old friend.”

  “How does that work?”

  “I don’t know, dearest wifey. Its magick, after all.”

  “Is it safe?” She asked with concern.

  “Should be. If I make any funny noises after taking it don’t worry. I shouldn’t keel over dead in any case.”

  “That’s not funny!” Syrah cried out.

  “Not with that attitude it’s not. Welp, bottoms up!”

  He chugged the contents of the vial. The violent effervescence caught him off guard and he nearly choked up his precious elixir. Once he made sure it would all stay down, he laid back on the couch and felt the knot growing in his stomach. The aftertaste was something like sawdust mixed with spoiled milk, but soon he couldn’t taste it anymore. Time seemed to warp and slow down considerably, and soon he knew it was working when he was watching himself from the opposite corner of the room. It was as if his mind detached from his body. Now he was in the zone. He focused intently in this dream-like state, realizing he was in an astral projection which was much like a lucid dream.

  He focused long and hard on where he wanted to be. His detached mind flew over a blurry landscape and came to a rest over Kaladore. He never had a bird’s eye view before now, and it was still just as unpleasant. Soon enough, he found his way to the only person he knew in that town and found his mind’s eye hovering in the corner of the room where Gully was.

  “Hey buddy, can you hear me?”

  “What in the holy fuck? Who’sh ‘ere?!” He looked around the room frantically.

  “Calm down Gully, its Trevin. I’m not actually there, this is just a tele-message.”

  “What’sa matter? Too lazy to bring yer fat ass over here?”

  “You could say that, but now is not the time for banter. I have a proposition for you. My son has been dispatched to Ostragan on a suicide mission on behalf of our lazy, worthless ruler who calls himself King. Remember the good old days? It will be like that, but only you and me. I need your help and your skills…I can’t go there alone.”

  “What does this have to do with me? I sure as shit ain’t humping the boonies over there again for free!”

  The vision of his mind’s eye was getting cloudy and a tunnel of darkness was closing in on his periphery. He knew what that meant.

  “Listen Gully, I’m about to run out of time here. There is a payoff in this for you. Meet me at the Fisherman’s Wharf tonight, at the stroke of midnight. This would mean the world to me. I promise you—”

  Trevin came to. A foul belch brought up the rank aftertaste once again as he rubbed the clouds out of his eyes. This scared the cat, who proceeded to dig his claws into his lap before launching off. The pain snapped him back into the present moment. He looked over and noticed his wife staring at him from the kitchen.

  “What was all that about? You aren’t leaving me, are you?”

  Trevin cursed under his breath, realizing he must have talked out loud.

  “It’s not something I take lightly, dear. I can explain…”

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  The tickling claws of a cold draft woke Naurus up from his slumber. He no longer felt warm. No arms were wrapped around his chest anymore. Only a pile of cold ash lay where the fire once was.

  “Good morning. Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

  He rolled over and realized Morra was sitting in the threshold of the entrance, gazing out onto the valley’s expanse.

  “Good morning.” He croaked, before yawning and sitting up. “What time is it?”

  “Time for you to get a watch!” She sneered, laughing to herself. “Pack up, time to roll out. I found some more nuts and berries this morning for breakfast.”

  “Awesome…” He muttered under his breath, starting to pack up his bedroll.

  She runs like a damn clock, always up before me and never a moment late for anything. She never sleeps in, how can she do it? He mused while shambling over to her, still half asleep. She held out a pouch full of an assortment of dark berries and wild nuts. He mindlessly munched on a handful while sitting opposite her.

  “Tell me,” She suddenly blurted out, “What do you dream about that makes you talk and thrash about in your sleep?”

  “Just…stuff. I’m not a soothsayer, it’s all just the usual I guess.”

  He felt her looking right through him. He was hesitant to meet her gaze.

  “And pray tell, what’s the usual?” She pressed.

  “I don’t know…I have weird visions and recollections. I can hear the shells screaming overhead, the explosions so close you can hear the shrapnel whistle by. I can taste defeat, see failure. I see shame and coming home empty handed…If we make it at all.” He felt embarrassed.

  “Well, that would explain a few things. However, failure isn’t an option. We work together or die alone. Which will it be?”

  He didn’t answer, instead popping some berries into his mouth.

  “I asked you a question.” She grew stern.

  “Work together…” He said half-heartedly.

  “Good, that’s a start. Now let’s get a move on, we are almost there. Actually, we should be there before nightfall.”

  Away they went, abandoning the rocky refuge into a teeming forest that was damp and foggy. It was a largely uneventful day. At least he was more mindful of tripping over tree roots on this day. By the time noon rolled around and the fog had burned off, they were all out of any sort of rations, so water was their only fuel. The hunger pangs were growing, but he couldn’t complain seeing how Morra saw little issue with it. In fact, she was becoming progressively more chipper and hadn’t looked at her map since the morning. She seemed to know exactly where she was now. This lifted his spirits, as she was the sole reason he even made it this far without being captured or turned into a smoking crater. Eventually the stream they were following terminated in a small lake at the bottom of the valley. The cold, clear water forced their hand in going around it and eventually they entered another wooded area on the opposite side of it.

  It was here that he realized they must be very close to someone or something that wasn’t just wildlife. Here and there, carefully planted rows of vegetables, fruits, and herbs grew in well cultivated rows.

  “What is all this?” He couldn’t stay silent any longer.

  “This…this means we’re finally safe. Follow me, we’re so close I can taste it!”

  Indeed, they came upon logged trees and cords of firewood and that’s when they finally laid eyes upon the destination. He knew what it was before she even said anything. She took a deep breath before stepping into the clearing. In this clearing was a thatched roof abode that was cobbled together with logs, clay bricks, sod, and even stacked rocks. It was a jumbled looking mess but was as they drew closer it was apparent that it was more than large enough for several people.

  “So, where’s your friend?” He asked, seeing no signs of life.

  “I’m not sure if he’s here, let’s check.”

  That they did. She walked up to a window cut out of a log wall and peeked her head through, calling out for anyone inside. She looked at him and shook her head, walking around to find another window and r
epeated this process. Her calls were met with nothing more than the distant creaking of trees in the wind and the calls of song birds. She seemed a bit flustered at this point and walked straight up to the large wooden door. Pounding on it vigorously gained no answer either.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes…I don’t know where he is.” She answered with some dismay.

  “Well, maybe he doesn’t live here anymore.”

  “Are you calling me stupid?” She snapped back.

  “No ma’am, I…ow! Why’d you hit me?”

  “I told you stop calling me ma’am! Next time I’m aiming for your face. Now shape up, were going in and seeing what’s going on.”

  Fortunately for her, the door was unlocked. Unfortunately for them, no signs of life greeted them in the room they entered. The focal point of the room was a clay chimney that rose up over a stone firepit. Surrounding it were various carved wood and crude wicker furniture. There wasn’t much light in this room. Their footfalls creaked over the well-worn floor boards. Naurus decided to stay quiet and follow her lead as she made her way to a doorway on the opposite side. Snap! Crick-Crack! Rang out from behind them. She froze. He followed her lead.

  “Do you usually invite yourselves in like that?” Came a gravelly voice from behind them.

  Morra cocked her head and looked sidelong at Naurus.

  “Well, we did knock. Didn’t hear us, huh?”

  “I heard you just fine, dumb bitch. Didn’t recognize your voice, sure has gotten a bit husky lately. The hell they have they been doin’ to you?”

  Naurus saw her smile and turn around. He followed suit, only to face a dark corner which concealed a tall and shadowy figure. Out from this shadow emerged a tall man with a mop of auburn hair and an equally thick spade beard to match.

  “Well I should be asking the same question.” Morra puffed up. “You look like an old bum and live like an ogre I see…but I’m glad you still have your favorite little lupara. I’m even more glad I didn’t taste it just a few seconds ago. I’d hate to stain the floors of this shit-shack any more than they are!”