by Todd Herzman
When the day came, Peiter approached Joslin while she sat by the fire. Every evening she sat in that armchair, a blanket over her knees, a warm mug in her hands. She didn’t say a word as Peiter spoke, explaining how he wanted to take Marius on as an acolyte and travel with him until he made it back to the Tahali mountains. How Marius had a great gift, and given a chance, he had the potential to do great good in the world. He hinted at what might happen if Marius stayed, if his powers manifested, if the wrong people found out what he could do. When Peiter’s speech was over, Joslin looked to Marius.
‘This something you want?’
Marius let himself think about it, one more time. He looked around the farmhouse, where he’d been living since the raid, and wondered if there was anything about the place he would miss. Old Joslin had taken him in, looked after him. Still, living here didn’t seem right. Staying in the village at all when he had no family left here didn’t seem right, either.
He nodded.
Joslin put her empty mug down, warmed her hands by the flames, looking away from the monk and the expectant child. ‘Never been much use arguing with anyone from Marius’s family. Mother, father, sons and daughter. When they get somethin’ in their heads…’ She trailed off, shook her head. ‘Maybe being away from this town will do him some good. Make it easier for him to move on. Besides, no doubt his parents would be proud of a son who’s gone to serve others.’ She turned to Peiter. ‘You’re leaving soon?’
‘On the morrow.’
‘Thank you. For all you’ve done for us. This town got hurt, bad. Don’t know if the wounds’ll ever heal, but at least you’ve helped stitch ‘em up. You’ve given us a chance.’ Old Joslin gave Marius a look. ‘Come ‘ere, boy.’ Joslin held him then. Gave him a hug that felt like family. ‘Your sister’—she paused—‘or brother.’ She patted his back. ‘They ever come back, I’ll let ‘em know where you are, that you’re safe. I dare say they’ll go looking for ya.’
Marius tried to thank her, but his throat closed up. He didn’t want to cry in front of old Joslin. Didn’t want her to think he wasn’t brave, but the tears came. He sank into her touch. Time passed, he wasn’t sure how much. At one point Peiter put a hand on his shoulder before heading off to bed.
‘You’re gonna see the world,’ Joslin whispered to him. ‘They’d be proud of you, all of ‘em.’
The next day, Marius woke before the sun had a chance to rise. He was giddy, for the first time in a long time. He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even as he went out back to Sir Rabbit, took him from the cage, and walked into the forest. He didn’t walk too far, the sun’s shine only now beginning to touch the tops of the trees. He walked just far enough to where the forest became dense. He knelt in a patch of grass and sat the rabbit on the ground.
Sir Rabbit stared up at him, beady eyes quivering. The rabbit took a few tentative steps toward the boy, nuzzled his hand, then slowly hopped about the grass. Marius stood from the ground, a smile stuck to his face.
When he walked back to the village, he didn’t feel so young anymore.
~
Much of the town, those who’d heard of their leaving, turned out to see them off in mid-morning. The villagers gave them offerings of food and supplies, enough to fill the monk’s pack, and the pack Joslin had found for Marius. Hishem, Karli, and Decius, the three Peiter had healed, bowed low to the monk as they gave their thanks and said their goodbyes.
It wasn’t the sad affair Marius had expected. Peiter leaving meant the town was doing well enough on its own. Ever since the raid, Marius had barely spent much time with the other kids his age, those who were once his close friends. After losing his brother and sister, he hadn’t been in the mood to play.
His friends hugged him, patted him on the back, and wished him luck, but none of them cried. Marius felt more excitement than dread at leaving his home for the first time.
When goodbyes had been said and packs were packed, the boy and the monk set off. There were two roads out of Billings, the sea road and the westerly road. The westerly road headed into the heart of the Empire of Kharleon. It was rarely used, however, as the closest and busiest town near Billings was the dock town of Devien. Which is why Marius was surprised to find Peiter heading west out of the village square.
Marius, hands holding the straps that held the pack on his back, his short legs taking two steps for every one of Peiter’s, snatched a final look over his shoulder as they left the only place he’d ever known.
‘We’re not going to Devien?’ Marius asked.
‘The Tahali mountains lie west from here, that is where we are heading.’
Marius looked down the path, the grass high on each side. They headed toward a small rise. ‘Will we be able to see the mountains from up there?’ Marius nodded at the top of the hill.
Peiter chuckled. ‘Oh, no. Most certainly not.’ He looked at Marius. ‘Do you know how far Hirlcrest, the capital of Kharleon, is from here?’
Marius thought for a long moment. His father had been born in the capital and travelled around the empire a lot in his early years. Most of the stories he’d heard about Father’s travels came second hand from Ruben, though. Marius, not wanting to guess, shook his head.
‘It’s a one-week ride and a three-week walk.’
Marius, wide-eyed, mouth agape, stared at the monk. ‘Three weeks?’ He thought of the supplies they’d brought, and how far they could go until those ran out. Three weeks felt like a long time. He took a breath and stopped himself from panicking. ‘There are lots of places to stop on the way, right?’
The monk raised an eyebrow at Marius. ‘Kharleon is one of the most populated countries in the world. There will be no shortage of places to stop. We will sleep rough between towns, but rough nights are not so rough with a blanket and a fire. The road to Hirlcrest is an easy one, the road from Hirlcrest… that is another story. The Tahali mountains are not easy to pass through. It will be another few days to the monastery.’
Marius tried to contemplate walking for that long. He looked over his shoulder again as they trudged up the hill. He could still make out Billings from here, but soon it would be out of view.
The sun inched across the sky. Marius’s feet grew sore, his legs tired. Their first day walking took an age. Peiter didn’t speak much. He seemed to be off somewhere in his own mind. Marius wished the monk would tell stories or explain how things would be once they reached the mountains. Peiter said Marius would become an acolyte, but Marius wasn’t sure what that meant. He wondered how long it would take him to start moving things with his mind, or healing wounds with the touch of his hand. It would take practice, Peiter had said. But would it be weeks, months, years? He asked the monk all these questions and Peiter was as vague as ever, saying it would take as long as it took.
That night, they made camp a little ways off the road. Peiter took them far enough to make it hard for their fire to be spotted. He laid out the bedrolls and had Marius collect firewood. When Marius returned with a bundle of sticks and small logs in his arms, Peiter had dug a pit and rounded it with rocks.
Peiter placed two of the thicker logs at the base of the pit and covered it with the smaller sticks. They gathered dry leaves and placed them on top. Marius expected Peiter to click his fingers and spark the fire with magic, so when Peiter took out flint and steel the boy looked at him with brows furrowed.
‘Can’t you light it by magic?’
Peiter struck the flint several times before sparking one of the dry leaves. He cupped his hands around it and blew gently, coaxing the fire into life. Once the fire was well on its way, he sat and bode Marius join him.
‘I could have used magic.’ The monk warmed his hands on the fire.
Marius sighed. ‘Why didn’t you use magic?’
A small smirk curled one side of Peiter’s mouth at the more direct question. ‘The mana we take from nature is abundant, and I would not need much to spark a fire. However, and some of my fe
llow monks disagree with me, I think magic should be used for more.’
‘And if you had no flint and steel, would you use magic then?’
The monk seemed to consider this. ‘Probably, yes. It is not a hard rule. I am not saying one cannot use magic for simple things, just that I find there is much to be gained from doing as those without magic do. When someone gains power, it is easy to forget what life was like before having it. Just as when someone gains wealth, it is hard to remember what being poor is like.’
Marius frowned. ‘Why would you want to remember being poor?’ Marius asked, and thought, Or powerless?
Peiter rummaged through his pack. ‘Being a monk is about helping others.’ He took out two pieces of bread and some cheese. Marius, hungry from the long day’s walk, took his share gratefully. ‘The easiest way to help others is to know what they need. The way we do that is by understanding them first.’
Marius nibbled at the bread. ‘But you need power too, right? Or wealth? You were able to help my town rebuild because you have power.’
Peiter nodded. ‘Yes, and no. The town would have been rebuilt without me, I just helped quicken the process. Joslin has no grand wealth or power, but she was able to help the whole town when it needed it the most, she took everyone in.’
‘She had the only house big enough.’
‘Perhaps, perhaps. But it is not enough to have power, you must remember that, Marius. Power without understanding, without compassion or empathy for others, only ever leads to dark places.’
Marius gazed at the flickering flames. ‘Like the blood mage.’
‘Indeed.’
Marius ate the rest of his food. He stopped asking questions after that, and soon they were lying down on their bedrolls. Marius rolled over, facing away from the fire. The warmth on his back kept away the evening’s chill. Since leaving Billings, he’d not thought about Ruben and Ella. He’d been too excited about the journey, about discovering the things he was going to learn. He’d been happy, smiling. Now, thinking about the blood mage, about what had happened to Ruben, about what might still be happening… he felt guilty for being happy.
Chapter 22
Ruben
Ruben’s cell was more comfortable than the last, and far larger. It had a bed instead of hard ground, a chamber pot instead of a bucket, and servants brought him food.
But it was still a cell.
Ruben lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The demon—Malarin—had taken over his thoughts, taken over his body. He’d made Ruben subservient, dulled his rage, stolen his ability to fight.
Then Malarin had shuddered in fear in front of his own master. Ruben had felt it, too. The fear. And he’d felt the power coming from the God King. The man hadn’t taken Ruben’s blood. Not yet, at least. But he’d taken control over Ruben all the same. He’d stopped Ruben’s attack, and done it so casually that Ruben no longer felt he could fight. Ruben had hoped to kill the God King in that moment. Or maybe he’d hoped if he attacked, the God King would kill him.
The bedchamber door’s latch unclicked. Someone opened it—hinges smooth as silk—and walked in.
Ruben shot up from the bed at the sight of the red-eyed man.
The God King spread his arms wide. ‘How do you like your new home?’ He stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, then paced toward a bookshelf on the wall.
Ruben looked to the door, wondering what it would take to escape.
‘I felt the power in you the moment you walked into my city. At first, I thought it was Malarin. The man is growing stronger, rather quickly. Then you walked into my hall, and I knew it was you. I saw you, your red hair, and I almost felt her presence.’ The God King wasn’t looking at Ruben. He had a hand on the bookshelf, staring at the dusty tombs’ spines. He wasn’t reading them, though. His eyes never moved.
Ruben furrowed his brow. Power, he thought. He felt my power? And what did he mean by her presence?
‘There was a woman among the prisoners. Taya, my—’ Ruben’s mouth moved, but it was no longer able to form words.
The God King had raised a hand, put thumb and forefinger together, and Ruben’s voice disappeared.
He could still breathe, in and out, but no noise came from him. He couldn’t hear the words he tried to say. He couldn’t hear the breaths he took.
‘I did not ask you to speak.’
The God King turned from the bookshelf, his cloak swishing along the stone floor. His full-red eyes bore into Ruben, through him. Ruben felt the man’s sight on his mind—on his soul. The God King stepped forward, closing the gap between them. ‘I can feel your hate for me. It boils inside of you.’ He gazed at the scars on Ruben’s neck.
Ruben stepped back, and his heel hit the base of the bed behind him. There was nowhere to go. He put his hands to his neck, covering it from the God King’s sight.
‘That power in you.’ The God King cocked his head to the side. ‘It tastes raw. Animal. No wonder Malarin presumed to talk back to me. He was drunk on it.’ His eyes were back on Ruben’s. ‘Do you know where she is?’ He waved a finger, and Ruben could hear his breath again.
Ruben said nothing. He just stood there, staring into the red eyes of a god. A devil. He didn’t know which.
‘Where has she been hiding?’ The God King took another step closer. Ruben remained quiet. The God King’s hand swung up. Ruben flinched, but he was not struck. The devil placed a hand on his forehead.
Ruben spasmed. A presence entered his mind, one far stronger than Malarin’s. It felt like the God King’s fingers rooted around in his skull, trying to grasp onto something. Ruben’s memories flooded to the surface, unbidden, free.
Memories of his mother. Memories of her telling stories at bedtime, tending to their small garden, crafting jewellery at her workbench, kissing Ruben’s father.
Memories of her lying in bed, sickly and small. He tried to retreat from the memories, tried not to see the sadness in his mother’s eyes. Tried not to feel her life slowly slipping away as he held her hand, as Marius and Ella cuddled up to her in the bed, as his father ran his fingers through her hair.
Ruben felt the God King’s anger.
The memory broke. The images snapped away in a flash. He was somewhere else. In a wooden room. The place rocked. A ship. A woman stared at him, blonde hair, a crystal necklace around her neck, a compass in her hands, her mouth gaping in fear.
‘Someone’s watching what they shouldn’t.’ The voice came from inside Ruben’s mind, as it had when the God King had first spoken.
Ruben’s eyes—the eyes of the person he was in—caught sight of themselves in a mirror on the wall. Ella stared back from the reflection. The blonde woman came forward, grabbed her head. Ruben’s presence sprang back into his own body.
The God King stepped away and paced back and forth. ‘Dead…’ His voice no longer reverberated in Ruben’s mind. He shook his head. ‘A trick.’ Then a smile curled his lips, and his attention returned to Ruben. ‘Siblings.’ The words didn’t feel like they were for Ruben. ‘Interesting.’
The God King left. He opened the door with a wave of his hand, and it swung closed behind him. Ruben shuddered. He reached feebly for the bed and lowered himself down.
The God King had accessed his mind. He’d thought Ruben knew something. But what could Ruben know? Had the God King been looking for his mother? He brought up his knees, hugged them close. None of this made sense.
His mother lived a simple life, one that ended far too early. Why would he search for her? And he was interested in Ruben’s powers…
No, Ruben thought. My powers—could they have come from her?
And he’d seen Ella. On a ship, with a strange woman. What he saw had felt real, true. It seemed impossible, yet he didn’t doubt it for a moment. He’d seen his sister. She was no longer in the village.
And the God King had her scent.
Chapter 23
Ella
‘Ella,
it’s alright. You’re back.’
Aralia sat with Ella on the bed, holding her in an embrace. The witch was still a stranger, but Ella hugged her back, breathing short and sharp. There was a pressure in her head, a tension that filled every part of her. She’d felt something dark in her mind, another presence take over.
‘It’s alright, he’s gone.’
‘I was there,’ Ella whispered. ‘I saw him. I was there—’
‘Hush, child. Hush, you’re safe now.’ She rubbed Ella’s back. ‘Just breathe.’
Ella tried to take a deep breath, but the air came in ragged, left shaky. Her skin prickled. ‘I can still feel him. I can feel him in my head. It felt like… it felt like…’ Darkness, she thought but didn’t say. Pure darkness.
‘I felt it, too.’ Aralia let go of Ella and picked something up from the bed. ‘But the spell worked.’ She held a compass out in her hand. ‘From now on, the needle will point toward your brother until we find him.’
Ella took the compass with shaking hands. She moved it left and right and watched the needle spin to point in a direction she was pretty sure wasn’t north, unless the ship had gotten turned around. She should have been excited, hopeful, but what she’d seen—what she’d felt—was too fresh.
‘I didn’t understand what they were saying. Ruben doesn’t speak more than the common tongue, how is it I couldn’t understand what he was saying?’
Aralia held out her hand. She clicked her fingers and caused a small storm of sparks to dance in her palm. ‘I can control sparks, lightning, wind, rain, hail. When I first discovered my Affinity, I could only control the wind.’ She motioned her hand. The sparks disappeared, replaced by a chill breeze that swept through the cabin like a ghost. ‘The more I practiced, the more my other abilities revealed themselves. In the village, you met Arin. She can control light—make light in the dark. She can also make darkness, take the light from a flame but keep it burning.’ Aralia closed her palm and rested her hands in her lap. The air in the cabin became still again.