“This Silver Keeper is from another outpost, far to the north, where they harvest ice aurels. And we have wonderful news,” said the Silver Keeper, and he turned to Drayksy. “There are two others from that outpost who are to become Keepers like yourself. To preserve space, it’s best you ride with them, in addition to you sharing rank.”
“A most agreeable solution,” added Oliver.
“For both of us,” said Draysky, and Oliver spoke again as the Silver Keeper started to climb back into the carriage to take his spot.
“I’ll be enjoying my personal carriage. Almost home, and I need some time to myself. To prepare for my return. Besides, I need to finish my book on the heroic crusades against trolls.”
“There’s room for two–” started the Silver Keeper, but Oliver had already closed the door. Draysky moved to the other carriage, then climbed in, joining the other two bodies inside. Unfortunately, it was the same size as the first, and the new inhabitants were significantly larger than Oliver.
“Mynar,” declared the first, and Draysky shook his hand. His coat was even thicker than Draysky's, unbuttoned on the trek to the southern warmer weather, and his hand was coarse with calluses. As he shook, a long dark braid of hair danced over his barreled chest, and the woman next to him reached her hand out as well, her palm just as callused as the man's.
“Nyla,” she said, blinking twice as she looked Draysky over, and he introduced himself. There was a grating sound as the door of the carriage shut and was locked, keeping them in.
“As if we’d run off,” said Draysky, shaking his head. “If that Keeper school is anywhere near as exciting as they make it out to be, then they have nothing to fear.”
“Are they as big bastards in your outpost as they are in ours?” Mynar asked, scratching an ear that was missing its tip.
“Does the snow fall white?” asked Draysky, and Mynar and Nyla looked at each other before laughing.
“The same expression we have, though I suspect different meanings,” said Nyla. “To us, that is like saying they are innocent, for when snow first falls it is white, then tarnished under boot.”
“Then I’ll speak plainly. They are bastards.”
“And you are to become a Keeper as well?” Nyla asked.
“That’s why I’m here,” said Draysky. “Do either of you have any skill with runes?”
They looked at each other again and shared another smile.
“That we do. Our entire family,” said Mynar. “Nyla is my sister, and my father taught us and my brother the art. My brother departed to the city five years ago, though he still writes to us. He’s a Keeper now, and powerful. We intend to follow in his footsteps.”
“And we have this,” said Nyla, pulling a thin blue stone from her pocket. It resembled the crystal that Draysky mined, but was clear and he could feel a chill emanating from it. “The ice aurel, harvested from the heart of glaciers.”
Carefully, she drew a rune—a small one the size of a fist, rise, just as Draysky had learned. A cool breeze flowed from it, so cold that it fogged the air just in front of it.
“And yourself?” Mynar asked.
Draysky drew his own rise, and gently pushed power into it from his internal kernel. Fire licked forward, only the length of his thumb, and the other two leaned in to watch.
“Where is your aurel?” Mynar asked, looking at Draysky with suspicion, and Draysky showed him the stitching on his finger.
“I had it specially installed,” Draysky said.
“Clever. Clever as a fox,” Nyla said. “But when it runs out, that will be useless.”
“I think I have quite a while left,” Draysky said. “Or so I hope.”
After the initial conversation, Mynar and Nyla spoke even less than Oliver as they bumped along, and soon Draysky fell into practicing once more. He closed his eyes and entered the fire aurel, Balean coaching him as Draysky stood within the flames. Now he could just barely manage the heat—no longer fighting against the fire as it tried to push past him, but still managing to block it. The difference between someone drowning, and someone just barely staying afloat.
“You must listen,” said Balean. “You have defied fire’s hunger, it’s desire to consume. Now, you must understand its other facets. Seek that which is coolfire. That, too, hides in the aurel.”
So Draysky left his position at the entranceway to the aurel and strode deeper into it, to where the flame grew more irregular. There were piles that smoldered, and colors like blue and white that were too hot to come near. Beyond the constant wish to burn, he started to feel other desires. A desire to conquer darkness. A desire to spread joy into the world.
“Light,” he whispered, realizing what it was. And as if responding to his command, the fire surged around him, welling up so fast that a small piece escaped to touch his kernel. Drayksy clamped down on his will, opening his eyes at the same time as sparks flew from his finger, spraying over Mynar’s arm as the other man jerked back and growled.
“Sorry!” Draysky said, extinguishing any remaining sparks. “I didn’t mean to, it was a bad dream.”
“That is dangerous,” the other man said, looking to Draysky’s finger then back to his arm, where blisters had started to form. “Be more careful.”
“I will,” Draysky assured him, despite Mynar’s dark look, and he pushed off meditating for the remainder of the day. By that evening, crowds grew on roads that steadily became better maintained, and when they pulled off to stop at dusk, Draysky could see the horizon glowing in the distance.
“Consuo,” said Oliver as he climbed from his personal carriage behind them. “The city at last.”
He stood straight, and his fingers went to his glove, touching it with the surge of his memories. “You don’t understand what it is like to return,” he said to Draysky. “How could you? For you were always low. But I was high, cast down on the ground, and now I return to my rightful place. There are those who await me. Those preparing for my presence.”
“Because they sent you so many letters,” Draysky said, and Oliver scowled.
“I don’t need reassurance from you,” Oliver spat, and he whipped back around as Draysky returned to his own carriage for supplies. As usual, Balean seated himself upon the roof, the Keepers passing by as if he weren’t there. But Mynar had stopped before the carriage, his head tilted back.
“You think you’re getting a free ride?” Mynar challenged, and Balean jumped, the motion enough to make the corners of Draysky’s mouth twitch upward. The last time he had jumped like that had been when Draysky drew the rune in the Grinder. Aside from that incident, little had ever seemed to shake up Balean’s casual glide through the day. He looked behind him, where there was nothing but sky, then back to Mynar.
“I’d hardly call it free,” Balean answered, sniffing.
“I know a moocher when I see one. Get on, get. This is for the Keepers and Keepers-to-be.”
“I thought you said you didn’t want freeloaders?”
“You want to back that statement up with your fists?” asked Mynar, as Nyla walked up beside him. Her face scrunched together as she looked to Mynar, then the top of the carriage, then back to Mynar.
“Brother, who is it that you’re talking to?” she asked, a hand upon his shoulder.
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to find out,” he said, gesturing up at Balean. “Who do you think you are?”
“Mynar,” Nyla said, tentatively, and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re shouting into the air. There’s no one there.”
“No one there? There he is, right before my eyes!” Mynar said, as Balean cracked a smile, and raised his fingers up to his ears, waggling them. Mynar cursed, then started to climb up the side of the side of the carriage, tilting it to one side and drawing the attention of the Keepers.
“Hey! Get down from there, what do you think you’re doing?” shouted Oliver. “No regard for order. You ice pickers are worse than the ridgers.”
“Doing you a favor and
clearing this scum off!” retorted Mynar as he reached the top, throwing a heavily booted foot over and swiping at Balean’s leg. Balean raised his ankle a few inches, just enough to dodge Mynar, before kipping up to his feet. Lazily, he stepped back, his entire weight upon the wooden overhang that shielded the carriage from rain. In pursuit, Mynar followed, but the wood snapped as soon as he followed Balean’s footsteps, nearly toppling him from the roof.
“Damn barbarian, get down from there!” Oliver shouted, as Balean danced away once more. “Absolute madman, we’ll be taking you to the asylum rather than the city!”
“Mynar!” shouted Nyla, her voice nervous. “Mynar, are you well? What are you chasing?”
Mynar paused, and Balean blew a raspberry at him. He cocked his head, looking to Nyla, then Oliver, then over to Draysky where he watched Balean.
“You can see him, can’t you!” Mynar bellowed, pointing a fat finger at Draysky. But Draysky shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.
“Can’t see anything. It’s the heat, climb on down before you hurt yourself.”
“You heard the man, off you go. This is my little spot and you’ve invaded it,” sneered Balean, shooing Mynar from the carriage roof. “Like a good little student. Go on, listen to your Keepers.”
Mynar stiffened, but departed, dropping to the ground. Then he bent over in a flash, picking up a rock, and whipped it with all his strength at Balean before he could move. It slammed into Balean’s midsection, then kept moving as if there were nothing there, passing through the man, who showed no trace of pain on his face. Mynar paled, his mouth hanging open slightly as Balean settled down once more for a nap.
“Ghosts,” Mynar said to Nyla, shaking his head and stomping off, his enormous, fur-lined boots leaving a dust cloud in their wake.
“Madman,” corrected Oliver. “Damn ice pickers and their superstitions.”
Mynar sat with unease the rest of the day in the carriage, his eyes not meeting Draysky’s, and whispering to Nyla. Draysky closed his eyes, as he usually would for meditation, but this time he ignored Balean’s prompting, though Mynar’s head jerked every time Balean spoke. Instead, he thought back over the last few days as pieces of information slid into place. He shook his head. Had his sister been there, she would have figured it out far faster than he had, but still, the truth couldn’t elude him forever. That night, when Draysky walked out away from the carriage for his practice as the others slept, he carried with him a knife in his belt.
“It’s about time we talked,” said Draysky, as Balean appeared before him.
“I told you, if you want to learn, you should hold your questions. They might get in the way of your lessons.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re doing more than teaching me. I think you’re using me.”
“Of course I’m using you. Why else would I be here? We’re going to take down the Keepers, remember?”
“Nice try,” said Draysky, and he pulled out the knife. A wicked thing, with a serrated edge, as long as his forearm and glinting in the moonlight.
“You have me terrified,” said Balean, backing away with his hands up in mock defense. “Go on, slice the mighty Balean to ribbons. Do what so many have tried before you, oh powerful one.”
“It’s not you that the knife is for,” clarified Draysky, then placed his own hand down upon a stump, and turned the knife so that the blade hovered over it. Balean tensed, as suspicion flashed through his eyes for an instant, then covered it up with a faux smile.
“Come now, I don’t see–”
Draysky took the edge and pressed it down over his knuckle, just hard enough to indent the skin of the finger that held the fire aurel, speaking as the edge bit in.
“I thought it odd that you seem so powerful, yet so helpless. And that you were so adamant that I accept the fire aurel as payment for freeing you. When I think back on it, there was no reason for me to take it with me from the Grinder. Using the dais or scratching out the runes should have been enough to depower it, yet you insisted that I bring it with me.”
“I couldn’t bear to see such an incredible treasure go to waste!” protested Balean, shifting from foot to foot. “Now, there’s no reason to be hasty, I’m sure you love that finger.”
“Not as much as you do,” Draysky said, pressing down hard enough to draw blood as Balean started forward, appearing at his side in a flash with a desperate squeak. “The next hint came when I started having dreams. Not my dreams, but your memories. And that’s when I realized, I didn’t just see your memories—you saw mine, too.”
“Or maybe I’m just an excellent listener, and you’re a paranoid maniac,” Balean said, raising his hand in objection.
“Maybe. But everything came together today, when Mynar saw you. But only after he was burned,” said Draysky. “Then when the rock passed through you, I saw that you don’t have any substance. That’s why you can jump like you do, and the Keepers cannot see you, and you have no weight. Because you’re not real, at least physically. No, somehow this is you.” Draysky tapped his finger, so that the aurel bounced within. “For all I know, you planted the idea inside Aila to place yourself here, within my body. And you’ve been intent upon me learning fire, and becoming burnt. Why is that, I have to ask? Is it to help me? Or is it so that you can take over, like a parasite when I’ve been exposed to enough flames?”
The trickle of blood trailed onto the stump now, Draysky ignoring the pain as Balean sighed and threw up his hands.
“Fine, fine, you’ve got me!” he said. “But you’re not as clever as you think. I wouldn’t call myself a parasite, and largely, I can’t control you. Except besides the occasional stumble, to make you fall into the Silver Keeper, so he might drop his kernel for me to show you later.”
“And that rune that you made me draw.”
“Only because you didn’t try to stop me,” Balean pointed out. “To put your mind at rest, I’m not trying to control your body. I’m trying to control mine. Or rather, fashion it anew. What you see here, this is all spirit. And that’s precisely why that aurel is so valuable.
“Aurels are like kernels. They fade after a few runes, all used up in the art of drawing. But internal aurels are different. Like the kernel within you, they regrow. With time, they replenish. As does that fire aurel you hold, because that is no simple aurel at all; rather, it is my internal aurel. My first one, to be exact. And when you so foolishly implanted it into your finger, well, you opened your own mind and body to me. Before, you could only sense me. Now, we share something of a consciousness.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Draysky. “How can this be your aurel? I’ve never seen any left behind after someone dies. Does that mean you’re dead?”
“No, but I should be,” Balean said. “You see, the Grinder was my experiment. My attempt at the Eternal Flame, which is the preservation of my first level of self. As you grow, Draysky, and gain levels, you too will inherit more versions of yourself. But I cut my weakest form away, removing my aurel and keeping it preserved. Such that if I should die, my consciousness would live on and I could rebuild myself. An exceptionally powerful tool, especially if you have the amount of enemies that I do. I learned of the trick from the phoenixes themselves.
“But the eternal flame is not a perfect art, and something must have gone wrong. It has been quite some time since I created the flame, and when the other part of me died, I should have awakened in the Grinder with the remnants of my power. At the very least I should have been retrieved if the other part of me still lives. But alas, here I am, at a level one. Less than a level one, for I have no body to connect kernel with aurel. Instead, my flame must be rekindled by someone else. That someone is you. Now you can carry me back to the heavens, where I can seek my body or attempt to rebuild it.”
“That... that sounds insane,” said Draysky.
“As insane as talking voices in your head?” asked Balean. His mouth didn’t move, yet Draysky heard it perfectly clearly. “Surely you did
n’t think the Grinder was for decoration alone? I’m surprised the Keepers never tried to steal my dirty secrets within; they were probably too ignorant to realize it was no natural phenomenon.”
“And how do you expect me to trust you?” asked Draysky, holding the knife even tighter. He should cut the aurel out right now, he thought. Be rid of the interference. Balean surely was hiding more secrets from him.
“Because, Draysky, I need you. You cut off that finger, and lose that aurel—well, that puts me back to sleep, dormant. Cast it aside, and it could be a hundred years before someone else finds me. Realize it is in my best interest to make you powerful, for my own protection. But there is one problem.”
“What’s that?” asked Draysky.
“You seem all too adamant to get yourself killed, or to act against your own interest,” said Balean, and he turned his back on him. “So if you’re going to cut me off, go on, do it. Find me someone who will take better care of me. But you will lose the sage advice from Balean the great. All your life you shall regret losing me, as you look in the history books and gaze upon my deeds. As you realize the mentor that you could have had. But if you choose this mistake, I shall not stop you.”
He waited, as did Draysky. Then Draysky raised the knife and slammed it down, and Balean turned and shouted, his face locked in horror. But the blade buried itself between Draysky’s fingers, and not into them.
“Why would you do that?” panted Balean, struggling to regain composure and staring at the embedded tip, the knife still quivering.
“I had to make sure that you wouldn’t be able to stop me,” said Draysky. Then he drew a rune in the air, rise, conjuring up fire as the night began. “So long as I am in control, I permit you to stay. Now, it’s time to train, but no secrets from here on out. We only have one more day until we reach the city and need to determine our next move.”
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