by Sean J Leith
“Ow! What in the hells!” Zaedor yelped, flying back as he gripped his whole face.
“I put it back into place. Don’t be a baby. You like wolves, huh? Funny, since you aren’t from the forests or the north.”
“I always thought they were interesting, and it’s my sigil, after all. Some travelers would bring them to the city. They’re kind of a rarity in those parts. They would kill with such precision, but not more than they needed, with guile and skill rather than brute force while being fierce as all hell.” It was Eryndis’s favorite, Zaedor thought.
“I never liked wolves. They prey on the weak,” Freya said.
“Vultures prey on the weak. Wolves prey on the ill-prepared.”
“I guess you’re right. You win again, Blondie.” She fiddled with her long ponytail. She swished it about in front of her eyes. “I got my hair color from my mom. I miss her,” she said. Her thick, straight crimson hair was a sight, as he hadn’t seen a natural color like that before.
“What happened to her, if I may be so bold?” Zaedor asked.
Freya chuckled. “You’re a lot more polite than I expected—when you aren’t being a resentful child.”
She didn’t answer the question at first. Zaedor could see pain in her eyes, and a reluctance to open. The wound was fresh.
She looked quickly to him. A tear formed in her left eye. “My father killed her. He called her a traitor, and a liar.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
“She kept something from him. He is not a kind man—a horrid man, to say the least. He came for me, and my mother tried to stop him. He murdered her, so I ran away.”
Zaedor’s fists clenched at the thought. How could a man be so horrible? What could she have kept secret that would drive him to kill? he thought.
“He’s the ‘Red Dragon.’ One of the Orinas generals,” she said.
A General? Pathetic and hypocritical. A military leader was to be an example for their people, not a man of low morals. Zaedor listened quietly. He dared not interrupt her at such as sensitive moment. Or should I? “He sounds like a wretch.”
Freya shot him a grimace before returning to her drink. “I prayed to the gods. Shiada, mostly. She didn’t answer my prayers, only put me in that pit beneath the sands.”
Freya glared at Zaedor as he stifled a laugh. “Sorry. I was just thinking that maybe she has a plan for both of us, if she cares at all.” He paused, turning stone-faced. “I’m sorry for your loss. It’s difficult losing a parent.”
Freya nodded and sniffed loudly. “Maybe you’re right,” her voice turned brittle. “All I had from my mom was my violet necklace. They took it when I was kidnapped.” She placed her hand where her necklace would have been.
How did I forget? The necklace! Zaedor smirked at her. “Turn around and close your eyes.”
“What? Okay,” she said, confused. She turned around on her stool, away from him.
Zaedor carefully got the necklace out of the satchel he carried, placed it around her neck, and attached the clasp securely. “Okay, open them.” He turned her back toward him.
Freya opened her eyes and saw the necklace around her neck, violet tethers intertwined with steel rings and small rubies. She was breathless, then jumped at Zaedor with a hug. She held him so tightly it hurt more than a grapple from Gorlin. His arms would certainly bruise from the embrace, but he returned the hug, as she needed it. “I—I—I—” she stuttered. “Wh—where did you find it?” she asked, catching her breath. She looked into his eyes.
“It was in the chest in Maroia’s office. It was as you described it, so I kept it safe.” Zaedor smiled.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Wait, why didn’t you tell me?”
“I kind of forgot,” he replied. She punched him in the arm with a smile in kind. He knew it was precious to her, the way she talked about it in the prison dome.
“You jerk, I thought it was gone. I was worried I’d forget her.”
“You’ll never forget her.” He looked into her large eyes. “She’s in here.” He pointed to his heart, then his mind.
Freya smiled, nodding and sniffling. “Yeah, you’re right,” she moved in closer as she spoke. “Your city may be gone, but they live on through you.” She batted her lashes, her gaze never leaving his. She moved in for an embrace, and he felt the bruises upon his back swell, but it was countered by the feeling of lips touch against his cheek. Her touch was dry from the desert, but passionate and welcomed as his heart surged forth.
Zaedor felt her words deeply and thanked her with a subtle nod. She was awfully close, and he hadn’t been as close with a woman since Eryndis and him were estranged. Now she was gone. He cared for Freya, and he felt something he forgot for some time. The closeness over their time in the pit, the intense experience of the escape, and the journey to Leena’s Lagers, all brought them closer. The sounds of wooden chairs scraping the ground and the lantern’s flickering flame suddenly filled his ears.
Zaedor’s eyes met the ground, then raised them to see Freya’s again. He moved closer until there was barely a moment between them. “I’ve never seen a woman as beautiful as you.”
But when he expected passion, there was a sigh instead.
Freya backed off, and expression changed from a relaxed, soothing warmth, to a subtle eye roll. “Uh-huh, that’s what they tell me.” There was a long pause to follow, and Freya drew her mouth to the side. “Well, we’ve had an intense day. We should get to bed.” She got up and walked toward the stairs.
Zaedor followed her, walking to the second room they were given. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Freya smirked. “No. Quite the opposite, actually. I care about you. Maybe not in that way, but—I hope you find your wife again.”
“I do as well.” Zaedor surmised, looking down. “We separated some time ago, differing in quite a few beliefs.” He still cared for Eryndis, he knew that.
He worried that they may never be one again.
“Tomorrow, we take different paths. I’m going to find this ‘Solmarsh’ in the west, and you have your own way. But I promise I will see you again.”
She simply nodded and closed her door softly.
Perhaps it was the moment; the candlelight, the days in the cages, but—she was right. It was all misplaced. A flash of emerald green eyes and fiery orange hair filled his mind; Eryndis. His passion felt for the one before him wavered…
Thoughts of his love were all that remained. He only wished he could see her once more.
Zaedor headed into his room, and put on the set of clothes Leena placed on his bed with a note on top.
These are for you. Good luck. Remember, good things bring more good in the world.
Leena
He smiled at her kind gesture. He lay down on the bed as he put out the lantern to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, he awoke to calls of his name. He got up and clambered down the old wooden stairs, in search of the voices, and met Leena at the bar..
“Zaedor, here, they’re all waiting. I packed some bread and fruit, waterskins, and some other things. Have a good trip!” she exclaimed.
What? I don’t even know where I’m going. “How do you know where I’m headed?”
“Ask them outside. They’re all ready, and said they had someone to go with you. A nice musical gentleman is waiting with them,” she said with a smile.
Zaedor raised an eyebrow, walked outside, and accepted her pack with thanks. “I won’t forget this!” he smiled, running out the door.
“About time!” Freya said, tapping her foot. Freya, Kindro, Rodrick, and the old gentleman he ran into when he first entered the town stood outside the door. Freya was wearing chain link armor and carried a spear. Rodrick and Kindro wore no armor or weapons, and the old, ragged man wore the same tattered clothes and carried his weathered mandolin.
Nargosh Shagon, the musician, spread his arms wide in welcome. “Ah, Mr. Zaedor! I believe I’ll be accompanying you
to your destination.”
As Zaedor was about to apologize for his previous actions, Nargosh raised his hand. “No need to apologize, I understand you were in mourning. It’s all right, old bean. Your friends here mentioned you may be going to Solmarsh. I’ve been in that region and happen to be going that way! I do love the place. Best fish in the mainland! What do you say?”
The other three looked to Zaedor with a sly grin. “Well, Mr. Nargosh, I believe I’d be happy to go with you. However, I am without gear and supplies,” Zaedor said.
“Here, we bought these in the bazaar this morning.” Rodrick walked up, holding out a great blade, a long blade, a small shield, and scale mail. “It’s not plate, but it’s all we can find in your size.”
Zaedor was overwhelmed with all of the kindness. He slept in, and now awoke to nothing but gifts. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say thanks, idiot.” Freya punched him in the arm.
Zaedor rubbed his arm and bowed. “Thank you, I do not know if I deserve—”
Kindro laughed and patted him on the back. “You take yourself too seriously.”
Zaedor shook hands with the brothers. They turned to walk toward the north gate. Freya shuffled her feet before approaching him.
“Don’t forget, you promised,” she said, giving him a strong hug. I promise, I will see you again, he remembered. She turned, glancing back to him with a smile before running to join the brothers.
“Do you care for her, Old bean?” Nargosh asked. His lemon-yellow eyes glowed in the bright morning sun.
“Yes, I do,” Zaedor said confidently. Maybe not as I do Eryndis, but she is a good friend.
“Well, we’d best keep you fighting, then. Can’t have anyone breaking promises, can we?” The old Nargosh let out a bellowing guffaw. “Shall we go? I can play us some travel music!”
Zaedor chuckled to himself. “Certainly, but you’d better hope I don’t get annoyed with it.” He laughed. “But will we be walking there?” Zaedor asked a moment later, worried. Loughran was a much farther walk than his last. He worried about their pace, as the west was not entirely far, and he wished to get there as soon as possible.
“Oh my, no. My old bones can’t take that sort of weathering. I have a friend that owes me a favor. He’s a traveling merchant and has a carriage that isn’t carrying much—and happens to be on his way to northern Loughran, so we’re on the way. He’ll be at the western elevation gate, waiting for our arrival.”
Zaedor was relieved. “Let us go find your friend.” He walked toward the western gate of Zenato city with his new travelling companion, Nargosh.
Chapter Thirty
Disobeying Orders
Kayden Ralta
Kayden focused her mind as best she could. Whenever the stream of mist passed from Vespers fingers into her eyes, it was impossible not to do whatever he said. The clearing was covered in lush flora and surrounded by blackwood trees still drenched by the rain from the night before. They were half a day outside Deurbin, on their way to inform Jirah of what they found. Vesper started ‘training’ her immediately.
Vesper swished his hands over his eyes, then flung them forward. The mist traveled quickly and gracefully toward her; Kayden was ready for another try.
It seeped into her eyes without a hint of pain, but then the commands began. Hop on one foot, do it, jump! Wave your arms around! Jump! Hop! One foot, one foot! Now! Now! Now!
“I won’t do it!” Kayden yelled. Her mind seared in pain as the commands continued. Lift your leg, do it! Do it and it will all end! Don’t be a fool, doesn’t it hurt? Isn’t it agonizing? Do it, do it! the voice yelled. She tried to force her arms to stay still and attempted to plant her feet. But then her limbs began to burn. She hopped up on one foot, waved her arms in the air like a moron, and only found herself yelling at Vesper. “Stop it, damn it! Stop doing that!”
Vesper shot her a sharp eye. “Make me.”
“You’re making me look like an idiot. Can’t you have me do something normal?”
“Whenever most take control, they make you do the things you don’t want. Some make you do awful things—terrible things. Would you rather me use one of the harsher ones?”
Kayden rubbed the side of her neck. “No.”
“Come, let’s go again.” Vesper swished his hands toward her again, whispering the command of control. “Thrahal.” The mist went in again, and the commands were the same. Kayden tried to resist, again and again, but each damn time, she hopped on one foot, waved her arms, and jumped up and down—until he let her go.
Kayden threw her arms up in a huff. “This is going nowhere.”
Vesper swished his finger in a circle. “Focus on commands. Listen to them, but don’t listen to them. Hear them, but don’t hear them. Obey them, but don’t obey them.”
All he’s doing is contradicting himself. “Ves, that doesn’t make any sense,” Kayden complained. “Are you going to make sense?”
“Perhaps we should take a break.” Vesper rubbed his head, scratched his bulbous nose, and sat on a large rock near the edge of the clearing. He patted the empty spot beside him.
Kayden sighed, and walked over. She didn’t sit down, though. The breeze blew softly through her thick, mousey hair, and she could hear the faint voices of the others in the distance. Kayden preferred more privacy, especially with what Vesper had her doing. She was sure someone spied a time or two.
“My dear, the purpose of the spell is to force someone’s mind. It has nothing to do with the body. You try to keep your feet on the ground, but that is the point—you are the one picking your legs up and hopping.”
“I’m trying to resist it, but I don’t know what to do. It hurts, and all the confusion from the commands overwhelms me.”
“Miss Ralta, you shouldn’t resist. That’s what makes the spell so powerful. Resisting only gives the master more power. You have to twist the commands. Alter them to your own benefit. Think of it like a contract. You’re looking for a way to get around the rules and regulations.”
Using the gaps in laws to your advantage. The Guild of Shades was infamous for skewing the laws to avoid arrests. While low-born and not well-learned, they knew how to twist laws and commands to the way they preferred. Kayden learned that well enough. She thought of her past experiences, seeing how she could work around the commands.
One time a man begged for his life when Kayden went to collect a debt. She stood over him, listening to him pray to his gods for mercy. He shoved the money at her and asked for his life. Kayden couldn’t kill him—it was implied in her contract that she should, but it wasn’t blatantly written. When she returned to the Guild and Sheeran asked her why didn’t cut the man’s throat, she just responded ‘The contract didn’t say kill him. It said get the money back.’ Sheeran didn’t get mad at her, that time. “Let’s try it again,” she said strongly.
Take the money, but don’t kill the man. Hop on one foot, but jump and attack, Kayden thought.
“Good, let us see what you can do.” Vesper rose and brushed off his robes.
“Don’t use the waving one this time,” Kayden grumbled.
He only chuckled in response. “Make me.” He pulled his hands across his eyes and threw them toward her. “Thrahal.”
As the mist came, the commands followed. Lift your leg. Do it! Hop! Jump off on your leg, do it, do it, do it! Kayden grunted in pain, feeling her mind aflame. She didn’t bother with her body, but focused on the commands. Lift your leg! Move your arms around! Do it! You have to, or else it will never end! The words ran together and contrived in a mess, but Kayden focused on a few. Lift your leg! Jump off the ground! Move your arms around! Kayden agreed. She lifted one leg, hopped off the ground forward with all her strength, fell to the ground and rolled. She popped back up, drew her blades and swirled them in a circle wildly, stopping straight at Vesper’s neck. Kayden coughed and breathed heavily, feeling the commands disappear. Her chest felt tight; she worried for Vesper, as she could have kille
d him. But the look in Vesper’s eyes wasn’t fear, it was pride.
Vesper sported a sly grin. “Fantastic.” After a long pause, he said, “Ah, would you put those away Miss Ralta? A moment is acceptable, but more than that is unsettling.”
Kayden jumped back and dropped her blades on the grass. “Oh, sorry.” Kayden stuck up her hands. “I did it!” She was proud of herself. After all those attempts, she finally beat him—once.
Noticing Vesper chuckle, she dropped her hands. She was surprised to even smile, remembering who she saw recently.
“What is the matter? That was a quite an accomplishment. Beating me, oh, that is an impressive feat.” He rubbed his head again and sat back down. With a swish of his hand, rainwater from the leaves nearby formed into an orb of water above his hand. He took out a flagon from his pack, flicked the orb into it, and had a sip. He offered her a drink, but Kayden declined it.
“Everything that’s been going on. All the prisoners that were moved—to Lira’s home, no less—for some reason we don’t even know yet. Lira didn’t sleep last night. We need to hurry. It concerns me, and we’re wandering back to Jirah which will take who knows how long.” Kayden ruffled her knotted hair. Then she clued into what Vesper said. Beating him is impressive? “Wait, hold on. Why is beating you a big accomplishment?”
“I just haven’t met many that could,” Vesper replied bluntly, making no eye contact.
Kayden slowly narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you do this often? Control people?”
“Absolutely not. I was making a comment. Each individual has a place they learn their craft. Some would rather not talk about it.”
Vesper was about to get up, but Kayden stopped him. “Hey, hold on. Where did you learn all of it? Where were you before the circus? Why don’t you tell anyone?”
Vesper sighed. “I learned my craft from the School of the Magi in Orinas, my dear. Sometimes people run from something, and they don’t talk about it.” He scratched his beard feverishly, and glanced at her. His voice vibrated slightly when he spoke.
I would know. I’ve been running for a long time. “I know what it’s like. That’s why I’m here.” He seemed to be very resistant to admit anything from his past. The same for me. She thought maybe talking about hers might help. Help him, and me, too.