Fletcher

by P. S. Power

  The question was for the King, or perhaps one of his sons. No one else spoke, so Anders did.

  “Easily enough answered. You have a spell bond with this man, Master Franken as we know him. That’s engraved in his skin. His blood flows through that. It grants you this illusion and control over him in the moment. Other spells on him have held him ageless and trusted in the minds of those he meets. To a point, at least. What you lack is any kind of weapon in the room with us. If you look down you’ll see that Master Franken wasn’t allowed to bring anything in here with him. Not ordinary blood magic. Even if you have a link to him physically there with you, it would take you time to ready a spell that would work. A threat that we can end at any moment, with no more than a bit of work with a knife. You aren’t going to harm us, because you simply cannot.” He waved, which had everyone else in the space who didn’t have one of those out, to make a blade appear in their hand.

  Anders smiled, not feeling it inside.

  “So, you can do impressive tricks with possession and illusion. I doubt you can quickly do much else. Not on a level that will affect any of us here before we can kill you. This body, anyway. If you had days or weeks it might well work. Possibly less than that. I have heard tell that you have become very good with magic, over the centuries. The only problem here is that you won’t be given that kind of time.” Anders stopped then, looking closely at the face which was very close to the same one that he’d seen as he lay dying.

  “Also, so that you know… I’m most disappointed in you, Ganges. I always expected better of you than this.”

  For a long moment there was no sound at all. Then there was a soft chuckle.

  “Oh? Who are you then? Manria Tharp? Master Cleavus? There are very few in this world who I would care if they thought less of me. That was very nearly always the case, so don’t feel too poorly over it. In many ways it means that you cannot use that sort of thing against me. It was a good attempt, anyway. A thing that could work on many.”

  It was the second time the question was asked, this time Anders moved in and looked the man directly in the face. Searching for the man that he once knew. The issue there was that he was truly there. The last face he’d seen in life was in front of him, looking identical to that image. There was no doubt about who he was.

  “I was once known as Farad Ibn Istel, Ganges. Your friend, mentor and teacher.” He was about to add that he knew his scorn wasn’t enough to sway whatever his old apprentice had become, when the tied up man took a deep breath. It was sudden and shocked.

  Almost painful to see happening.

  “It worked? After all this time, you have returned to me? My beloved?” Then, in a sudden flash of light, the spell broke.

  Left in the room with them was a slumped Master Franken, who gasped a few times then stopped, unable to go on. Slowly, over about ten seconds, the sense of movement from the tattoos on the old healer’s body ceased as well. Not everyone in the room could see or feel it happening. Truly, no one else seemed to notice it.

  They were too busy looking at him.

  Prince Robarts stared at him, his face puzzled.

  “I did not know that any man would call you his beloved, Anders. That’s rather…”

  It wasn’t a jest, though it should have been.

  He shook his head. The implications were drastically other than the truth, given the few words that the vision of his old friend had spoken.

  “In life Ganges was not that close to me. I lived a simple life at the hermitage and he left to pursue magic instead of the ways of history. This…” The idea, while foreign to him, wasn’t a thing that bothered him that much. Not on a level that would distract him from the true reason they were there.

  “Regardless, we know much now that we did not before. That the person we face is Ganges, the Great and Terrible. My old apprentice from over a thousand years ago. More than that by five hundred years. Also, that he is currently in the body of a woman, as I am in the body of a child. It fits, even if that isn’t a lot of information to go on. We need Master Tolan here, to try and find out more, if possible.”

  He could do it himself, if clearly not even a tenth as well.

  King Matheus turned, knife in hand, clearly considering the use of it on Anders. Thinking that he was a threat to them all. It wasn’t true, even if it was easy enough to see how these others might feel that way.

  “What then, Brolly? You run to your lost love… Your friend and student, if nothing else. Why would you side with us over what must be the last person in the world that can truly understand you and where you came from?” The grip on the blade tightened. It wasn’t lifted at all.

  Captain Ford simply nodded, though Master Belford sighed. It made a long, slow hiss.

  “There is some truth there. Then, Anders here has only worked in ways that have helped us, since his illness. That could be an act, of course. Only, if so, to what end? If he wishes any, perhaps all, of us dead, then we aren’t leaving this room. What’s your play here, Brolly? What do you plan to do next? Who do you serve?” The man sounded cold and bland. Brave.

  Also like he expected to die shortly.

  Anders shook his head a little.

  “I’m loyal to King Matheus and the royal family. Anders the boy always was, without knowing any different. Doing less would be wronging him. As for what we should do next… Finding Ganges and removing him for all time from this world seems a good place to start. Before he can bring his plan into play.”

  There was a grunt then, the long knife in the King’s fingers being stuck through his belt, with no scabbard on it.

  “Yes, that. A perfect world, which only requires that myself and my family cease to be in order to work. A thing that we are monsters if we stand the way of, if it could be made to work. Or monsters if we fail and allow the trick to go forward. It is likely just a way for a clever and powerful man to seek power. If he could really do it… Then a good ruler would have to step aside.”

  The man seemed bemused for a moment. Everyone else froze in place. As if he were truly considering doing just that. Removing himself from power, in order to allow something better to take the place of his rule.

  Anders didn’t. Instead he was uneasy on a level that no amount of living had prepared him for. He still had the ability to think left to him, even given that. It was his default, after his long life of contemplation, in fact.

  “His minion, Franken, killed a good woman, a friend to us all. Closer than that. Estella should be avenged. Would a good leader, a good person of any sort, allow that to happen in his name? I’ll stand ready to ride, or sail, out. Then I’ll hunt down Ganges and…” That part was harder.

  He truly was the last link to an old life. One so far in the past that even the very face of the world was different now. At least what he’d seen of it. Rather than letting him go on about how he’d exact revenge, everyone else started to leave the small room.

  Anders went last. Leaving the corpse of the old healer tied to the chair. At the door, just to be certain, he turned and with a single gesture made the center of his head explode. The body moved, making a single gasp. It wasn’t proof that the man had been alive still, before that action. Dead things could come back, under certain conditions. Doing it without a brain in his head would, Anders hoped, be more difficult.

  There was much to do. Perhaps too much for one lone person. There were others who might aid him however, even if the task itself was foolish.

  Walking out, he decided to go and make some arrows. There was still a war on and people would need those. It wasn’t a big task. Not truly important when taken as a separate action. Just a small thing that he could do, which might make a tiny difference.

  Then, if the King thought it fitting, he would leave and strive to find his oldest friend. One that had just claimed to love him. With a look of madness in his eyes.

  What happened then…

  Well, one way or the other, things would be put in their rightful place, he didn't doubt.<
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  The only trouble with that was that Anders Brolly was nearly certain that his place was very, very far away, indeed.

  Afterword

  What’s next for Anders and Farad? More importantly, how long will you have to wait to find out?

  This is planned to be a two-book story arc, in the Crystals of Memory line. The next book will be coming out no later than 2019, so keep an eye out for it!

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