Angst Box Set 2

by David Pedersen

  “Ada is much more than clay,” Millow said. “She eats cake, drinks tea, breaths, gets scared, and has a heartbeat. I confirmed this every way I know how. She’s very much alive, and very different than I was told.”

  “Oh?” Clod asked, surprised that someone had been talking about his friend.

  “Yugen is convinced she's merely a homunculus. They are servants made of clay and not as defined. Typically, homunculi are mindless creatures, and can be especially dangerous when they’re larger,” Millow said, speaking slowly as if choosing her words carefully. “He also said that she was tiny. Has she…grown?”

  Ada had grown, in a way. She easily stood more than four feet tall now. Her frame was a little thin, but Clod refused to make her heavy, like him. Her brown hair now framed her face in an easy-to-adventure bob that curled by her round cheeks. She hated her round cheeks, but he thought they were cute. Much of Ada was still gray, but over the ten years since he’d first made her, it had softened and paled in color. In recent months, he’d stopped worrying so much about her height and focused on those colors enough that splotches of blue had appeared around her dress. It took a lot of effort, but he was getting closer. Even though it wasn’t very becoming, she was thrilled at his progress.

  “Yes, I’m able to use more clay now,” Clod said. “I think my sculpting needs to be better, though.”

  “I see,” Millow said. “So, will you be a sculptor, like your father?”

  “No,” Eidy said.

  “Yes,” he said at the same time before shooting his mother a look.

  “His father had a passion for sculpting,” Eidy explained, trying to stare him down. “He died young, of the wasting sickness. But, I think it was his passion, how much of himself he poured into his work, that actually killed him. Clod is a baker. He makes amazing cakes for Mr. Haim.”

  “I’ve heard,” Millow said before slurping more tea. “How old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-seven,” Eidy said with a frown. “More or less.”

  Millow laughed at this, slapping her knee, and rocking back and forth several times. “I would think less. Thirty-seven is not young, and you seem filled with life, child.”

  It was odd hearing his mum referred to as a child, but Shaman Millow could have been fifty or five hundred, it was impossible to tell.

  “Shaman, I like the tea,” Clod said, almost politely. “But, why are you here?”

  “Clod,” Eidy said in her most motherly tone.

  Millow held up a hand, and Eidy took a step back. Millow leaned toward him and looked into his eyes. “I need your help, Clod,” she said. “I had hoped to help you in exchange, but I only have a little something to trade.”

  “I don’t understand,” Clod said.

  “The council believed that I could possibly teach you something that would help you do the magic that you do,” she said. “If Ada were clay, or a homunculus, I may have been able to offer you more. But as I thought, your magic is not my magic, and there is only a little I can do to help you progress. That said, I still need your help.”

  “No,” Eidy said, dropping to her knees before Shaman Millow. She grabbed the woman’s hand with both of hers. His mother’s face was stretched with panic. “The war. Please don’t make him go to the war.”

  Millow’s face became still, and her eyes cold as a frozen lake. She raised her head slightly, looking down at Eidy as if she were a beggar.

  “War?” Clod asked.

  “I realize you’re out of school, but I’m surprised you aren’t aware,” Millow said, pulling her hand free from Eidy’s grasp. “Do you know of the different factions?”

  “A little,” he said.

  “Necromancers, Demonologists, Neuromancers, and others have conspired to overtake our lands,” Millow said, her voice stiff. “An evil has been growing in our world. We don’t know where they come from, and we aren’t winning.”

  Clod glanced at his mum, who seemed torn between anger and fear. Her fists clenched tightly, but her eyes were filled with worry.

  “How can we help?” he asked.

  “Oh, child,” she said with a smile. “Thank you for your bravery, no matter how blind it may be. How old are you, Clod?”

  “Nineteen,” he said.

  “How have you kept your son from being drafted into the war?” Millow asked his mum.

  “Yugen wrote a letter to the local regiment, telling the captain that Clod harbors dark magic,” she said. “I didn’t argue because Clod’s not a fighter.”

  “Yes, he is,” Millow said. “And so are you. We fight for what we want, with what we have. It’s called survival, and nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “He’s my…” Eidy sobbed.

  “I know what he is,” Millow interrupted. “And I would not send someone so…unique into war.”

  Eidy nodded but said nothing.

  “Please stop making my mum cry,” he said firmly. Clod stood and balled up his fists. Ada stood beside him and did the same. “What do you want from us?”

  “Noret was a spy. He retrieved information from the enemy that could help end this war,” Shaman Millow said. “He was brutally tortured, and escaped, but died from the wounds. I need you to bring him back to life long enough for him to tell me what he knows.”

  His stomach wrenched, and Clod felt slightly nauseous. Ada had just woken up, and should’ve been here for days. He didn’t know if he could bring the spy to life, but even trying would make Ada go away until he woke her again. It wasn’t merely a matter of being selfish; he needed his friend now more than ever. People in town had grown increasingly hostile to him since he’d gotten kicked out of school. Haim had helped him weather it, the old malgam having experienced something similar when he moved to Durgoon. At least now Clod understood it was because they thought he was from an evil faction—but that was like knowing someone kicked you in the shin for the wrong reason—it still hurt.

  Ada took his hand and looked him in the eye. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in a few weeks...if you don’t mess it up.”

  “Hey,” he said, unable to hold back a smile. He loved it when she teased.

  “I don’t understand,” Millow said.

  “It’s like the puppy,” Ada explained. “Clod brought her back for a short time, but I went away. He may not be able to help your spy, but even trying will probably do the same.”

  “Oh,” Millow said, looking at each of them.

  “Clod,” Eidy said, wiping her hands on her skirt. “If Shaman Millow came all the way here for your help, it’s important enough to make the sacrifice. But it’s your decision.”

  It wasn’t his decision. He saw that look in his mother’s eyes, in Shaman Millow’s eyes, and even in Ada’s eyes.

  “Where?” he asked, trying to keep the defeat from his voice.

  “There’s a cart just outside,” Millow said.

  “Ada,” Clod said. “You should probably stay here.”

  Ada shook her head and kept her death grip on his fingers. He couldn’t have been more grateful.

  “Let’s go,” Clod said.

  Clod took shuffling steps—so Ada could keep up, of course. He certainly wasn’t walking slowly because he feared seeing a dead body. He was a man now, and shouldn’t fear death. Especially someone else’s death. But really, up to this point, the only thing violent he’d ever experienced was being pushed over or falling on someone. He’d seen the results of several bar fights that had rolled out into the street, but they hadn’t deserved anything more than a wince. This was death caused by violent acts. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his mouth became so very dry.

  Clod took one step out of the cottage before shock knocked him back a step into his mum. He’d expected to find a simple cart and a body lying in it. Instead, a dozen armed knights stood at attention around a covered wagon that boasted armored war horses. A magician leaning against the wagon abruptly stood, nudging an illusionist wearing a pink frock. Another old shaman nodded respectfully while a druid peered at
him warily. This wasn’t an entourage; it was a war party.

  “What have you brought to my home?” Eidy asked.

  “It was necessary,” Millow said, her face stern and her presence commanding. “The result of this mission could save thousands of lives.”

  “Do we need to make more tea?” Ada asked.

  Millow stopped and abruptly turned to face the clay girl. “I adore you so very much,” she said softly. Millow looked up at Clod. “Keep doing what you’re doing. Please.”

  He could only nod. Nobody ever visited the cabin, and this was a little overwhelming.

  “I couldn’t hear them,” Eidy said. “Throughout your entire visit, I thought we were alone.”

  “I muted any sound outside the cabin,” Millow said. “It’s something I do with air. I didn’t want to alarm you.”

  “Oh,” Eidy said, placing a hand to her mouth.

  “Please, Clod, come with me,” Millow said, her low voice gentle. He took her offered hand, and she led him to the back of the wagon.

  A thin red sheet of handweave lay over a body that seemed very small and still in the back of that large, covered wagon. He glanced at Ada, who seemed transfixed, staring at the form. Millow drew the sheet away, revealing the face of a middle-aged man. Wisps of dark hair barely covered his balding head. His scarred face was sunken from death, which seemed to leave him in a restless sleep.

  “How long has he been dead?” Eidy asked.

  “Several days,” Shaman Millow said. “We tried masking the scent with flowers, but it really only helps if you don’t breathe.”

  “I’m not sure…” Clod said, his heart racing from the mounting expectation. His stomach clenched as the stench of death and decay reached his nose, forcing him to turn his head away.

  “You can do this,” Ada said. “I know you can, but it will take everything.”

  Clod’s heart became so heavy it must have landed in his stomach, and he could only bring himself to nod.

  “I’m sorry,” the shaman said, placing a hand on Ada’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” Ada said. “This is important.”

  “Ada, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Millow said. “I hope to see you again one day.”

  “I would like that very much,” Ada said sincerely. “Please bring more tea.”

  “You enjoyed that,” Millow said, “did you?”

  Ada nodded vigorously.

  Clod held Ada in a sincere hug. They clapped hands once, twice, three times and then kissed cheeks. He blushed, and smiled before facing the wagon.

  “What was that?” Millow asked.

  “A friend thing,” his mum said fondly.

  “Oh,” Millow said, sounding bemused.

  Clod studied the man’s face, and the body. It was much larger than Ada, and he wasn’t sure he could do what she wanted.

  “What do you think?” Shaman Millow asked.

  “I don’t think I can bring him back,” Clod said. “Not all of him.”

  Millow thought on this for a moment. “What about some of him?”

  “Wut?” Clod asked in surprise.

  “I need his lungs and his mouth,” Millow said. “I don’t need his legs.”

  “It’s not right,” Clod said hesitantly.

  “Please,” Millow said.

  Clod took a final look at Ada, who smiled at him fondly, nodded once, and closed her eyes. “I’ll try.” He tore his gaze away and stared at the dead man lying in the cart. Placing both hands on the man’s face, he infused life into the body. Nothing happened.

  “I don’t think I can,” Clod said, pulling his hands away.

  “Clod,” Ada said. “Stop it.”

  “But…”

  “You have to do this,” she said firmly. “It’s okay. I’ll be back soon.”

  “I hate this.”

  “Me too,” she said. “But you promised me you would always try. That you’ll give more than you take.”

  Clod set his hands on the face once more. The man’s skin was cold and oily. Clod tried not to think about it, tried to breathe without smelling, squinting in concentration. He willed, and he willed, and he willed. To his dismay, Ada went still, but that meant he was close. His breathing shallowed, and his heart beat so hard it felt like his chest would burst open. Clod let out a grunt.

  “No!” the dead man shouted.

  Clod jerked back, and Millow rushed forward, gently pushing him aside.

  “Noret, it’s Millow,” the shaman said.

  “Where am I?” Noret asked in a panic. “I was…oh gods, I was being tortured by demons, and now I’m here. I can’t move my legs!”

  “You’re safe now,” Millow said softly, patting his cheek. “You’re safe. Tell me what you learned.”

  Noret looked stark. Paler, if that were possible. His eyes darted around maniacally while his head thrashed to and fro. After a very long minute, Noret took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, his face became somber. “Am I…am I dead?”

  “Yes,” Millow said.

  “Gods damnit,” he said loudly, rolling his head back. “I thought I was invincible.”

  “So did I,” Millow said. “So did the council.”

  “So, I’m really not alive?” he asked.

  “You’re alive enough,” Millow said. “You can still be a hero.”

  “There’s no profit in being a hero, especially now,” he scoffed. “How long do I have before the clouds of Alberon?”

  Millow glanced at Clod, who shrugged.

  “Fine,” Noret said, sounding defeated. “I’ll tell you what I learned, Millow, and then I need you to settle some debts.”

  Millow leaned in as Noret whispered in her ear. Ada was already a pile of ash, and a hot fire of anger flared in Clod’s chest. He despised that he had to give her up to help save people who feared and hated him, even if it was the right thing to do.

  “So, we need to go to Oyeret?” Millow asked.

  “That’s where they’ll meet to make final plans,” Noret said.

  “Thank you, my Noret,” she said. “Did you learn how they turned so many to the dark?”

  "Somehow, children of the dark infected adults," he said. "I don't know who was tainted by evil, but it’s everywhere. Darkness has spread to all of the towns."

  Millow thought on this before finally saying, “I will settle your debts.”

  “How much longer must I lie here?” Noret asked sternly before a wry smile covered his gaunt face. “There are adventures to be had in Alberon, and this delays my fun.”

  Clod had never taken life. It was always given as a gift, and usually to Ada. But this wasn’t a life; it was barely a half-life. Millow nodded at him, and he immediately drew in. Noret gasped, and returned to being still. The life energy returned to Clod’s body, but it made him feel sickly.

  Millow stared at the ground for long moments. “You, and Ada, may have saved us all,” she said, her voice more gruff than normal. “Thank you.”

  “Sure,” Clod said with a heavy sigh, not quite feeling it. This had been the right thing to do, but his heart wrenched with pain every time Ada went away. “Shaman?”

  “Yes, Clod,” she said.

  “Can you help me?” he asked. “I want Ada to stay longer…forever.”

  Millow looked at him and nodded in understanding. She knelt and grasped a handful of the ash left behind by Ada. Closing her eyes, Millow muttered some of those words he didn’t understand. Thankfully, they weren’t accompanied by another song. Long moments passed, and everyone remained silent as she did whatever it was shamans did. Clod sucked in his lips, holding his breath in anticipation.

  “She’s not even here,” Millow said in disbelief. “I sense no life. This isn’t even clay. It’s merely ash.”

  “Yeah,” Clod said, the knowledge weighing down his large shoulders.

  “I can help, but not the way you want,” she said.

  “Oh?” he asked. Hope teased his despair like a pinprick of sunlight peeking out th
rough a storm.

  “Your magic is as special as your friendship with Ada,” Millow said, her features softening. “It’s a beautiful thing, and I will let the council know this.”

  “Okay,” Clod said, wondering how this helped. “But how do I make my magic work better?”

  “This is hard to explain, but it comes from you, Clod,” Millow said. “When I call on the elements, it takes every bit of concentration, and will, and confidence I can muster. I also have to believe in myself. All schools of magic are this way. As you continue to grow in understanding of your power, and your need becomes stronger, she will stay awake longer. I believe that there will come a point when she won’t go away.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Millow said, placing a hand on his arm. “But I’m sure you can understand, that isn’t something I can teach you.”

  “I understand,” he said, not completely disappointed.

  Shaman Millow snapped her fingers and reached out. The other shaman scrambled forward with a large book and placed it in her hand.

  “You are a life-giver, and an artist, and those are beautiful things. They are beauty that comes from inside you, and you have to believe in this,” Millow said with a sigh. “While I can’t tell you how to do your magic, I would like to give you this gift.”

  He wanted to sigh, and roll his eyes. How could a book possibly help him with anything? It was dusky brown, thick, and well-worn. Reading wasn’t his specialty, but with concentration, he could make out words if he had to.

  “Techniques of Master Sculptors,” he read aloud. Frowning, Clod opened the book and flipped pages. The tome was filled with hundreds of drawings that detailed body parts. It showed what tools to use, and how best to sculpt with them. His heart warmed with hope that this could help him make Ada look more like he envisioned her.

  His mum coughed loudly enough to catch his attention.

  “Oh, uh, thank you,” Clod said.

  “You’re most welcome,” Millow said. “I will also be leaving you with some tools similar to those found in the book.”

  “Really?” he asked, excitement completely washing away any disappointment.