by Todd Herzman
‘Tomorrow, I’d like to start some of your training.’
Marius sat the straightest he had all evening. ‘My training?’ He thought of the ball of light he’d held in the forest, the feats he’d imagined learning when he got to the monastery. He remembered Peiter’s words, you have an Affinity for magic. A smile, far broader than the one he’d worn moments ago, spread across his face. ‘You mean it?’
The monk nodded. ‘I do, yes. With all these merchants around, chances are it should be easy enough to get our hands on some paper and ink.’
Paper and ink? Marius thought. ‘You mean you’re not going to teach me how to move things with my mind, or heal with a touch?’
‘Have you ever heard the saying, “One must learn to stand before they can learn to fight”?’
Marius frowned and shook his head.
‘Well, even so. We Tahali monks have our own saying: one should learn to read books before minds.’
‘You can read minds? Will I be able to read minds? Is that how you knew what Hishem’s name was? I’ve wondered at that, back before you healed him, no one ever mentioned his name, but you knew it already. Are you reading my mind now?’ The words tumbled out of Marius so fast he forgot to breathe between them. When he stopped to take a breath, Peiter chuckled.
‘You’re not the first acolyte to have this feeling, to want to skip ahead and learn magic.’ Peiter paused. ‘Do you remember what I said the first night we left the village? When you asked me why I didn’t light the fire with magic?’
Marius scrunched his face together and racked his brain. He put on a deep voice, ‘“Power without understanding, without compassion or empathy for others, only ever leads to dark places.”’
Peiter reached into his robes and produced the book he’d shown Marius earlier. He placed it on the table, on a spot untouched by food, and tapped a finger on the middle of the triangular symbol. ‘This is where part of that understanding will come from. Here’—he tapped the book again—‘here’—he tapped his temple—‘and here’—he placed a hand on his heart—‘you need all three. Knowledge from without, knowledge from within, only that way can your heart follow its true path.’
Marius scrunched his forehead. He stared at the leather-bound book, reached for it, then paused, looking for Peiter’s approval. The monk nodded. Marius picked up the book, felt its rough surface and ran a finger over the symbol. He hesitated to open it. He hadn’t seen many letters before, but they always made him frustrated. He would stare at them in miscomprehension, befuddled at their meaning. How could he find understanding within a book?
His hand shook as it came to rest on the side of the cover. He worried what Peiter would think of him, not being able to read what was inside. Would he decide Marius wasn’t worth bringing with him? Wasn’t smart enough to become a monk after all? A part of Marius knew his fears weren’t founded. The monk knew he couldn’t read. Marius suddenly felt ridiculous at his fear. He gripped the side of the book and opened it.
On the first page, there was no writing at all, only a picture. A drawing of a mountain. The Tahali mountains, thought Marius.
‘It is not all letters and words in there,’ Peiter said.
Marius didn’t look up from the picture. He wondered, briefly, if the monk had read his mind—how else could he have known exactly what he was thinking?
His thoughts fell back to the drawing. This was the mountain he was going to—the one he’d been so impatient to reach. It looked so tall. The drawing was in grey, but Marius imagined the green of the trees. The paper, yellowed with age, wouldn’t be able to show the white of the snow-capped peaks.
Marius turned the page. Lines and lines of tiny, indecipherable symbols assaulted him. He stared at them but didn’t see a thing he understood. He closed the book and put it back on the table. He tried not to look at Peiter, instead staring at the minstrels in the corner.
‘It will take time to learn,’ Peiter said. ‘But it will be well worth it in the end. Reading, writing… they are not just about knowledge. There is a pleasure to be found with them both.’
From the corner of his eye, Marius saw Peiter grab the book and flip through the pages until he settled on one. He went quiet for a long time, something Marius was glad for. He was excited to learn from the monk, but he was also afraid he wouldn’t be able to. He didn’t know where this fear came from, why it had hit him so hard.
The monk had been so amazed at what Marius could do back in the forest. Marius had sat by himself some nights, when Peiter had fallen asleep, and tried to summon that ball of light again—but he hadn’t been able to. He worried it had been a fluke, that he wasn’t really special—that the monk had made a mistake. Maybe that was why he wanted to get to the mountains so badly—it would be too late to leave him behind if he was already there.
He didn’t want to be left behind again.
Chapter 25
Ruben
Ruben’s door opened his second morning in the castle. He jumped up from the bed, ready—but not ready—to face the God King’s presence once more.
Servants walked through instead, two burly men carrying a bath. They placed it in the middle of his floor. More servants followed, women and men, carrying buckets of hot water.
They made Ruben undress, scrubbed his skin until it was red raw, until the dirt and grime had gone, and he finally didn’t smell like the brig of the ship anymore.
They took his old clothes and brought him new ones. Ruben put them on hastily. It felt wrong, being so exposed in front of these strangers who hadn’t even talked to him. But it wasn’t as bad as when the God King had been there.
The servants left. He waited a few minutes before trying the doorhandle. Locked. He knew it would be. He’d heard the click on the other side. He sparked fire in his hands and stared at the handle, the door. He could get through it, just as he’d broken out of his cell back on Malarin’s ship. But… where would he go? What in the world would he do?
Ruben extinguished the flames and paced around his new, shinier cell. There was a standing mirror in one corner. He looked at the man in the reflection. They’d shaved the beard that had formed while he was on Malarin’s ship, but they’d left his hair long, combing and washing out the knots in a painful pulling that made him wish they’d shaved it too.
He looked strange in the new clothes, the longer hair. He hadn’t let his hair grow long enough to curl since he was a young teen. The collar on the shirt hid the scars on his neck. The clothes were too rich to do any real work in. A day in his forge would have them destroyed. They looked like something a visiting merchant in Devien would wear. The darkness of them reminded Ruben of what Malarin, the blood mage, had worn.
He wiggled his toes in the stiff shoes and missed the feel of his old boots. The shoes looked like something a cobbler would take a week to craft. Swirling patterns had been tooled into the leather. Ruben appreciated the artisanship, but not the utility. The shoes hurt him on each step, and would take some time to break in.
Ruben stared into his own eyes in the mirror. Why am I worrying about shoes? Why is the God King treating me this way? He was a prisoner, but at the same time… he was being cleaned, dressed, groomed. But groomed for what? What did the God King want from him? Did he want his power? He hadn’t performed a bloodlock on him like Malarin had, but why else would the God King keep him here? He wants my mother, my siblings… our power? He stepped away from the mirror. None of it made sense.
A knock came at the door. Ruben jumped. A moment later, the door opened. A servant walked in, tray in one hand.
Ruben fought the compulsion to rush past them and through the open door. I am on an island, run by a magical God King, where everyone here serves him. If I even managed to escape the castle, how could I escape the island? Ruben tightened his fist and dug his nails into his palm.
The servant was a slender woman maybe ten years older than Ruben. She wore simple clothes of simple fabrics, a dress that flow
ed down to sit just below her ankle. The tray had a bowl and a cup on top. She placed it on the only table in the room.
Bread and cheese. The smell of it made Ruben’s stomach ache. He took an involuntary step toward the food. He wanted to wait until the servant left before digging in. He didn’t want to seem weak or desperate in front of these people. But the servant wouldn’t leave. She stood by the table, hands folded in front of her.
‘I know you’re hungry.’ She spoke in the same language as the God King—the language somehow placed in Ruben’s mind. ‘Go on, eat.’ She nodded at the food, a smile playing on her lips.
Ruben looked closer at the food. Could it be poisoned? Poisoned or not, he needed to eat. Besides, if they wanted him dead, he’d be dead. Ruben took a seat, cut the bread in half and put the cheese inside before devouring it.
‘You don’t have to be afraid, you know. The God King does what he does because he has to.’
Ruben ignored the woman. He had a dozen, a hundred, questions boiling inside of him. What does he want with me? Who is this God King? Will he ever let me go?
The woman, uninvited, sat opposite Ruben. ‘He told me you have power.’ From this close, Ruben could smell flowers from her. She must have bathed in them to produce such a sweet scent. ‘Here, you can learn how to use that power.’
Ruben worked hard to keep his expression blank as he looked at her. She looked serious, like she believed every word she said. You don’t have to be afraid. He couldn’t imagine not being afraid in a place like this. Did she know what the God King’s blood mages did out there? Did she know what it was like to be a prisoner?
She was probably being controlled—by the God King or another blood mage—just as Ruben had been controlled.
Ruben ripped into more bread and devoured the cheese, eating without care. When he’d finished, he pushed his chair back, the legs scratching the wood floor. He stood and turned away from her.
‘Why am I here?’ Ruben hadn’t wanted to say anything, but, as was often the case, he acted without thought—despite thought.
Ruben heard her stand. ‘You’re special.’ Her steps came closer until her hand touched his shoulder. It took every ounce of him not to flinch. ‘The God King sees it in you.’ She walked around and stood in front of him, so close he almost felt her breath. The sweet smell of flowers filled him. Her neck was bare, the skin smooth.
Free of scars.
‘He sees your potential, as he saw mine.’ She turned and faced the table. Her hands came out, as Malarin’s did when he used his powers—as Ruben’s did when he shot flame. She moved her hands in a half circle.
A bouquet of flowers appeared on the table. Ruben stepped back. At first. Then curiosity grabbed him. He walked to the table. He moved to touch the petals but kept his hand a fingerbreadth away. He leant forward to sniff them, but they didn’t smell. He frowned, then touched them.
His hand went through the petals. The stems. Right through the vase.
Ruben reeled back, his mind battling the dissonance. The flowers disappeared.
‘I can make things appear, or disappear, in people’s perceptions.’ The woman stepped forward. She raised her hand, palm facing her, close to her chest. She waved down at her body—she changed. Gone were the simple servant’s clothes, replaced with a red dress that reminded Ruben of his flames. ‘The God King sent me to teach you how to use your powers.’
‘Can you make me disappear? Can you make me invisible, so I can escape from this place?’ Ruben gestured wildly at the room.
She cocked her head and smiled. ‘No, I can’t do that. But, I can do better.’ She stepped close to him, put a hand on his cheek. ‘I can make it so you don’t want to leave. I can help you embrace your new life, your powers. Your place here.’ She dropped her hand, stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear. ‘Think on it.’
The woman picked up the empty plate and left without another word, the only trace of her the faint smell of flowers.
Ruben took a deep, shuddering breath. Her words played in his mind. I can make it so you don’t want to leave. He closed his eyes and felt the anger within. He touched the well of power inside and lit his hands afire.
He sees your potential.
He opened his eyes and watched the flames flicker from his fingers. The God King wanted her to teach him how to use his powers? The second she’d said it, he’d felt guilty. Guilty because he wanted her to teach him. He wanted to become more powerful—powerful enough to escape this place.
What other way was there? What else could he do but embrace this life, just long enough until he could escape? And free Taya, he thought. She was out there, without him. A slave, under Malarin’s bloody influence. Ruben clenched his fists. The flames reached higher, grew brighter. He had to learn how to use his powers, become stronger. Not for himself, of course, but for her. For Taya, so he could save her.
The next time the woman came around, he would have to take her up on her offer. He extinguished the flames in his hands. It was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? He knew it was. His mind told him it was—every way he looked at it, it seemed like the only option. So why did he feel so guilty? He wondered what Taya would think, should she see him learning magic from the woman in the red dress…
Ruben shook his head. He couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t doubt himself, his plan. If this was what he was to do, he needed to embrace it—otherwise there was no way it would work. He focused for a moment, extinguishing the flames before sitting on the bed. Then he put his head in his hands and scrunched his eyes shut. This is the only way.
Eyes closed, he saw the God King in his mind. Siblings, he’d said. The God King had accessed Ruben’s mind, looked for Ruben’s mother… if his mother was where his powers came from, then Ella and Marius might have power, too.
Ella had been here. In this room, in his head, somehow. Ruben needed his powers, needed to learn how to become stronger. So he could escape. So he could protect his younger brother and sister.
The God King had shrugged his flames away as if they were nothing but a light breeze. But everything had a weakness, even the strongest steel. And when Ruben found it, the crack in the God King’s armour—whether a fissure or a hairline fracture—he’d hammer into it.
Ruben held out his hand. He lit the flames, unlit them, lit them again. Malarin had taken his power from him with something called a bloodlock. With that woman’s powers, I could disguise myself…
His mind went to dark places. Places he didn’t feel comfortable—places he had no choice but to go.
Chapter 26
Ella
The captain’s dining room was rarely used on the Serpentine. It was certainly the first time Ella had been invited in there. Usually, Reena would eat with the crew in the larger mess, but tonight’s dinner demanded a more intimate—and private—location.
The meals were the usual salted beef and dried peas, seemingly the only foods that stayed good long enough to be worth stocking. Unlike in the mess hall, however, Reena had poured them each a goblet of wine from her personal reserve.
Drinking wine was a new experience for Ella. Reena waited until she’d taken a sip before diving into her questions.
‘So.’ The captain looked from Aralia to Ella. ‘Did the spell work?’
Ella took the compass from her pocket. She placed it in the middle of the table. ‘That needle points straight to my brother.’
Reena plucked the compass from the table. She examined it, watching the needle move as she turned it. She produced her own compass and compared where they pointed. Then she glanced at Ella. ‘You saw him? Was he okay?’
‘He was alive.’
Reena let out a sigh. ‘I’m glad.’
Ella, from the corner of her eye, saw Aralia looking at her. The witch hadn’t touched her food yet, or her wine. She had her hands neatly folded in front of her.
Are you going to tell her? her body language seemed to say.
; ‘Did you see anyone else with him?’ Reena had the compasses sitting beside each other. She took a bite of her food, but her eyes never left the needle pointing to Ruben.
Ella took another sip of wine. A generous one. The drink filled her mouth, frightening her taste buds. She put the goblet down and tried not to look at Aralia. She couldn’t lie to Reena. The captain had taken her in, tried to help her, whether for her own gain or not. ‘He was with a man.’
Reena perked up. ‘My husband?’
Ella shook her head. ‘No.’ She looked down, moved her peas around with her fork. ‘Aralia thinks his name is Renial. The—the God King.’
Reena shot up from the chair. ‘Albion. He was taken to Albion.’ Reena paced back and forth at the head of the table, her feet stamping on the deck, wood creaking beneath her. ‘I don’t need a compass to get to fucking Albion.’ She looked at Ella and Aralia in turn. ‘Why? Why would he have been taken to Albion? What in this world could he want the boy for?’
‘He—’ Ella started, but was interrupted.
‘We can’t know why,’ Aralia said. ‘But we can assume. We know every captive gets taken before the God King eventually.’
Ella had been about to tell Reena the truth, that there was power in her family—that Aralia had felt it, and the God King must have felt it too. Why had Aralia lied?
Then she realised something. If every captive gets taken to the God King…
‘Why do you think your husband is still on the ship?’ Ella asked. Reena’s head snapped to look at her. Aralia’s attention was suddenly on her food. Ella looked between them. There was something they weren’t telling her. Ella pointed her next question to Aralia. ‘If the captives get taken before the God King, do they go back to the ship afterwards?’