Lodestone

by Katherine Forrister

Melaine expected a soft taunt in reply or perhaps the hint of a smile, but none came. The Overlord simply watched her, his eyes gleaming from the shadows.

  “My lord?” Melaine said. She took a small step toward him. “My lord. Are you…awake?”

  The Overlord still said nothing. Perhaps he was sleepwalking again. But the way he stared at her was not with the vague, restless eyes of a dreamer. His eyes were keen. They were hungry.

  Melaine’s heart picked up speed. “Say something,” she said with a wary frown, her sense of danger weighing down her sense of respect.

  The Overlord’s eyes narrowed. He stepped forward from the shadows. He wore the same black robe as the night before, but one of the silver frog fasteners was loose, parting the satin lapels to expose his wrinkled black nightshirt and pale collarbones. The slice of moonlight from the narrow windows illuminated his gaunt face, but even through his weakness, it highlighted the good aspects of his sculptured features. Melaine had always known he was handsome, ever since she first saw his illustration on the broadsheets in Stakeside. She had long admired how his appearance added to his potent presence and charisma that could enrapture a nation.

  His expression was as serious now as on the broadsheets, but she pictured his soft, wry smile that she could bring out of him on occasion. It seemed to happen whenever they reached common ground. Melaine was surprised by how frequent that was becoming.

  As the Overlord stalked closer, she felt like she was stuck in a mudhole after a week of rain. His gaze ensnared her senses. Thoughts of his slightly crooked gait and his subtly twitching fingers failed to send off the warning signals she might normally feel. Her lips parted as he drew close, closer than he ever had.

  “My lord?” she whispered. She fought to keep her hands still at her sides. Her every muscle was taut and yet ready to give way like an over-beaten drum. She could smell his cool, icy scent of untamed magic rising to the surface, somehow stronger than it had been before.

  She stepped one foot back, but the Overlord grabbed her elbow and held her fast. Melaine let out an instinctual hiss at the intimate contact of a man, but when his warm chest touched hers, she felt a melting heat flood her body and stick her to the ground like hot wax.

  Melaine was as speechless as the Overlord, but her mind was screaming at her. It ordered her to run—to get away from this man who only wanted to use her and who no doubt wanted a mistress, to take her body like he took her magic every single day. Why else would he draw so close? Why else would he look down at her with such longing?

  She didn’t obey her urges. She breathed in his scent of sandalwood and parchment along with a raw musk that was purely masculine. She locked eyes with him, afraid to look anywhere else, and her heart fluttered as his mouth brushed hers.

  A muffled shout and a loud, distant rumble jolted Melaine back before the Overlord could fully kiss her. His head whipped toward the sound as he jerked back. A sinister, red gleam vanished from his pupils as he looked in the direction the noise had come from.

  Melaine recognized the voice of the prisoner, Serj. It sounded like he was railing against his cage, rattling chains and shouting indistinguishable ravings.

  The Overlord recoiled from the sound. He ignored Melaine and turned away, his black robe twisting around his thin frame as he strode back through the shadows into the sitting room, leaving Melaine behind.

  Serj bellowed and roared from floors below. Melaine was petrified for a moment, her mind trapped in the tension and fire of her body. She blinked and shook her head and then darted for the window and peered outside. The garden was empty.

  She listened hard for the Overlord’s fading footsteps but heard nothing. She waited a little longer to see if he would descend the steps into the garden. Perhaps from there he would use the small dungeon entrance and see to the raucous prisoner.

  But there was no sign of the Overlord. Melaine crept through the hearth room and peered into the sitting room. It was empty. The Overlord must have passed through and taken the interior hallways toward elsewhere in the castle—to the great hall or his personal quarters, perhaps. For an instant, Melaine wondered what the man would do if she followed him to his bedchamber, but she thrust the thought aside and headed for the windows of the sitting room.

  She looked out into the garden again. Serj still rattled his chains and wailed. She tightened her grasp on her wand and opened the door that led outside. She descended the steps and breathed out white puffs of condensation.

  Winter was creeping over Dramore. She wondered how Salma was faring, and what the woman would say if she knew where Melaine was or that an unthinkable kiss had nearly happened.

  She drew her dressing gown tighter around herself as she crossed the garden, heading directly for the dark pocket of a doorway that led to the dungeons. She ducked inside and felt her way through the route that she remembered would lead her to Serj.

  She avoided the direction containing the urn of whispers and passed unscathed by any other dark mysteries that might lurk in the dark. She scuttled down more stairs and reached the thick torture chamber door.

  She pulled it open and twitched her head in annoyance as Serj’s ravings assaulted her ears. She shut the door and stepped in front of the barred cell, crossing her arms.

  Serj was standing and gripping the bars of his cell with white knuckles. His eyes blazed with rage, his face a vicious snarl, but he stopped yelling when he saw Melaine. He started laughing instead, so hard he doubled over into a coughing fit.

  “You’re going to wake everyone up,” Melaine said. “Are you yelling for a reason or simply to be an ass?”

  Serj’s shoulders stopped shaking with laughter. He smiled wide enough to suggest madness. “Got your attention? I was hoping it would be you, not that old crone. I knew the grand Overlord wouldn’t bother to grant me an audience. But you…oh, yes, you. I knew I could count on you.”

  “What do you want? Stop wasting my time.”

  Serj chuckled again, but a sharp gleam flashed through his eyes.

  “I felt you,” he said. He looked up at the ceiling with a grin. “Through the floor. Your magic.” He looked back into Melaine’s narrowed eyes. “You are powerful, Miss Melaine from Stakeside. Very powerful. I can imagine all sorts of things you could do with that magic of yours.”

  “I didn’t come here to talk about me,” Melaine said, but she felt a stirring excitement at the thought of Serj being able to feel her magic through the floor several stories up.

  Was that why the Overlord had come as well? Had he felt her magic and come to investigate? Or was his goal just to…? She pushed away the intimacy of their almost-kiss and focused on Serj.

  “You got your way. I’m here,” she said. “But you’re going to give me something for my time.”

  “Am I?”

  Melaine ignored his coy tone. “You know something. Something about the Overlord. I want to know what it is.”

  “Why would I tell you anything?” Serj asked, pushing himself lightly off the bars, though he swayed on his feet. “I asked you to tell me what he has planned for me. You refused. Someone like you should know that nothing in this world comes for free, Melaine.”

  Melaine clenched her jaw, but after a pause, she relented. “I don’t know what he has planned for you. He hasn’t said one word about you. But I can find out if you tell me what I want to know.”

  Serj scanned her eyes. Then he shrugged and leaned one shoulder against the bars.

  “You asked about the Overlord’s strength,” Melaine began, careful to control her words. “He’s the most powerful man in the kingdom, perhaps the world. Why would you doubt him?”

  Serj’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Because you do.”

  “No, I don’t,” Melaine said. “He’s my Overlord and my teacher. I respect him.”

  “But does he respect you?” Serj countered. His lip twisted in a smile. “Ah, you don’t think he does.”

  Melaine opened her mouth to argue, but her words caught.

 
; Serj turned to face her, still leaning his weight on the bars. “The Overlord’s power wanes, doesn’t it? He grows weaker by the day? Tell me I’m lying.”

  Melaine stared at Serj’s ragged face. His gaunt cheeks and fierce eyes mirrored the Overlord’s in some ways, but Serj still had color to his cheeks. He still bore signs of vivid life, whereas the Overlord did not.

  “What do you know about it?” Melaine asked. “Did you have something to do with it? Did your brother?”

  Serj winced the smallest amount at her mention of his brother, and to Melaine’s surprise, she did, too. And Serj noticed.

  “See?” he said softly. “I knew you weren’t as evil as you believe.” He gripped the bars hard again. “You may be the Overlord’s apprentice, but you are not like him, Melaine. You watched a man die, and you felt compassion for him. I can see it in your eyes. The Overlord doesn’t think twice before he murders someone. He relishes it. But you, Melaine, you disdain even watching.”

  “I killed him,” Melaine said. Her heart banged, and her gut twisted. “I killed Talem. It was me.” She looked down and twitched her head before meeting Serj’s eyes again. His face was slack and his eyes vulnerable, but then he gathered himself.

  “How did you do it?” he asked.

  Melaine forced a cold expression. “A propulsion spell. He was weak.”

  “And did you weaken him?” Serj asked. His cocky demeanor was quelled, but the focus in his keen eyes strengthened.

  Melaine paused. “No. The Overlord had tortured him. He told me to knock him to the floor. I thought it was just to prove I would follow an order, but…” She swallowed and straightened her shoulders. She stilled her wavering voice. “My spell killed him. I was responsible.”

  Serj shook his head with a condescending sigh.

  “He tricked you, Melaine,” he said. “Don’t you understand? In killing Talem, you entered into a psychological pact with the Overlord. Killing someone for him? If you had any doubts about your ability to commit evils under his command, he squashed them then and there. And with blood on your hands, there’s no going back. No returning to a virtuous, spotless life.”

  “It was a test, and I passed,” Melaine bit out. “Simple as that.”

  “But you didn’t, not really,” Serj said. “I see the guilt in your eyes. It haunts you, which makes you a far better person than the Overlord. You have the ability to be good. He’s buried his ability so far down it’s annihilated. And he’s trying to teach you to do the same.”

  He leaned hard against the bars, his forehead red from the pressure. “Don’t let him, Melaine. You are stronger than him now. Your power is growing, not only from his teachings but from within yourself. His power weakens day by day, does it not? You, Melaine, you have the power to supplant him. You have the power to rule when he’s gone. You have ambition, Melaine. I can see it. Don’t waste this opportunity. Life has tossed you out as rubbish for too long. Seize what you are due.”

  Melaine shook her head. “I’m not a kind person, Serj. I’m a survivor. Even if I could rule, I wouldn’t be the benevolent leader you want. It’s laughable you’d think so. I killed your brother. Besides, the Overlord is fine. With my lodestones, he’s regaining power.”

  “Lodestones?” Serj asked. “You make him lodestones?”

  Melaine looked aside, the magic in her bones crawling.

  “That’s why he’s keeping you,” Serj continued. “It makes sense now. He doesn’t give a fuck about you, Melaine. He only wants your lodestones to replenish his diminishing supply of magic.” Serj laughed aloud. “It’s futile. Lodestones won’t help him, no matter how powerful the source. Don’t let him fool you another minute. He is dying. Take his throne. The people, like you, have been oppressed by his darkness for far too long. Free us, Melaine. You are the only one now who can do it.”

  “And you expect me to start with you?” Melaine said. “You think you can trick me with your soapbox words into setting you free?”

  Serj shook his head. “It’s not about me. I would gladly die just like my brother if it meant I could change Centara for the better.”

  “Your brother bore the sigil of Lux,” Melaine spat. “Is that what you think would better Centara? Letting those lunatics run loose? Slaughtering anyone they find different?”

  “No,” Serj said, tilting his head in annoyance. He scratched his jaw under his scruffy, blond beard and sighed. “Talem may have thought so, but…there are plenty of people in the rebellion who don’t. We aligned with the Luxians in an uneasy truce. Talem assured me that the Order wouldn’t be as harsh this time around. The Luxians have learned since the Overlord expelled their old ways. And if you help us, they will see that a lodestone-maker can be on our side. You’ll lead the revolution for change, Melaine. You’ll bring the well-meaning citizens and the religious together in a way that the Overlord never could.”

  “The Luxians won’t change. I don’t believe it,” Melaine said.

  “Just think about it, Melaine,” Serj said. “You are his apprentice. You could easily claim that he bestowed the right to rule upon you as his heir before he died. And, if you let me out, I could convince the people to follow you. Talem was high up in the Luxian ranks. With Talem gone, the Order will take a hit. The rebels will follow my lead.”

  “And you’ll set me upon the throne?” Melaine said. “So selfless? Deferring power to me rather than taking it for yourself, even though so many people already follow you?” She scoffed and turned away.

  “Wait!” Serj said. “Melaine. You don’t have to believe anything I say yet. But buy time so you can think about it at least. Make him weaker lodestones. Just for a time while you decide.”

  “Tell me why he’s weakening. Then I’ll consider it.”

  Serj released the bars and scowled. “I can’t explain everything now. I’ll tell you when the time is right, but I can only trust you so much without more proof that you’re on my side. I’m sure you can understand that.”

  “You give nothing; you get nothing,” she said. She turned back around and strode past the myriad of torture devices and toward the door.

  “Will you willingly kill again, Melaine?” Serj called. “Talem was an accident. But who will be next? If the Overlord orders you to kill someone else in cold blood, will you be able to? What if it’s me, Melaine? Would you kill me where I stand?”

  Melaine placed her hand on the door and dug her fingernails into the wood. Then she dragged her hand away, leaving shallow claw scratches in its grain. She opened the door, slammed it behind her, and stumbled into the dark.

  She waited for Serj to call after her or to start yelling or singing deranged songs again, but all was silent. All but her pounding heart and her hounding thoughts that pitched loyalty against power.

  He’s dying.

  Serj had to be lying. The Overlord looked weak, to be sure, but dying? He was the Overlord. He couldn’t die. Not of sickness. He deserved to die in battle and a long time from now.

  Melaine felt a stabbing pain to think about him dying at all.

  The world as she knew it would be erased, wiped out in an instant. She felt empty and lost at the mere thought of a world in which her idol was gone. She had relied on the man’s sheer existence to sustain her through her darkest hours on the streets. He was a light she had never imagined would go out, a light she’d dreamed would always be waiting for her if she could just find a way to reach him. And now that she had reached him and learned from him and spoken with him, her ache for him had only grown deeper.

  She suppressed her painful longing and forced her thoughts toward a more practical plan. If he died, her place in the castle would disappear. Who knew what would happen? Serj’s assurances of Melaine’s rise to power sounded far-fetched at best. Most likely, Karina would leave Highstrong and kick Melaine out. The overseers would take over Centara and perhaps work with the Luxians to instigate a new reign of terror for anyone different.

  “Different” would include people who tampered wi
th mechagics and other unnatural forms of magic. It would include anyone who dared to imitate the power of Lux to make lodestones. Melaine would either disappear as a Stakeside nobody, or she would be hunted down and executed with any others deemed blasphemers.

  Now, standing in the Overlord’s vast library filled with Insights, she had an opportunity to save herself. She had to learn as much as possible while she still could. She couldn’t handle more than a few Insights at a time without draining her mind to exhaustion, but fortunately, she now possessed something that could.

  Melaine walked to the nearest shelf, not knowing exactly what the Insights upon it contained. She raised her wand, which she had resolved she would keep, no matter what happened to her position here, even if she had to whisk away and steal it.

  She had never filled a wand with knowledge before, but the concept seemed simple. Glean the magic from each Insight as she would with her bare hands, but let it infuse into the wand instead, only passing through her head like a distracting thought.

  Then, the wand would remember the spells the Insights contained. The wand’s knowledge would be temporary, lasting only as long as the Insight’s power ordained. Some might last for only one casting. Others might last for months of use. But none of them would be as permanent as if Melaine were to imbibe them herself.

  The wand was a failsafe. She would store as many spells into the wand as she could and hope that she would be in Highstrong long enough to learn more for herself.

  She touched the tip of the wand to a braided leather bracelet upon the shelf. The bracelet looked ordinary and plain, but as soon as she focused on the magic within, a light burst into her head like sunshine through clouds. She laughed with the exhilarating joy. She felt like she was floating from her body upon a swell of euphoria, leaving all of her aches, physical and emotional, behind.

  Then the heady sensation faded, and her worries swarmed in like wasps. Her chest spasmed and tightened, her breaths shallow and quick. Sorrow and fear dragged her down with such force, she had to hold onto the shelf. She focused hard on the bracelet’s magic again, wanting the happiness to come back, but it didn’t. In its place, a whispered spell brushed her mind. Her deep sorrow lifted, her next breath broadened her chest, and she exhaled with a slow flow of soothing calm. She realized that the spell contained in the bracelet was meant to temper emotions across the spectrum from dark to light, pacifying the user.