Into the Fold

by Chase Blackwood

  Thea continued communicating her dream about her father, as Aeden listened.

  “The images are so clear, the dream felt so real.”

  Aeden felt Thea’s body tighten with the memory. He held her close, their bodies pressed together against the greater world. She gripped his hand without awareness as she continued to relay her nightmare.

  “He was on the docks of Lake Stevol,” her voice was on the verge of breaking, “It’s my last memory of him, proud on horseback, wearing the wolf hide the Harland’s had given him…”

  Thea’s voice faded as memory seized Aeden’s attention. Pieces of history began to assemble before him. The images were watery at first, as if viewed through a piece of sun-fogged glass.

  The memories began to coalesce, forming distinct lines. They sharpened, resolving into images from Galdor. More specifically their arrival at the University. Aeden remembered their encounter with Caine and then with Headmaster Sund. They had both referred to Thea as nobility from Gemynd.

  What was it the headmaster had said in his office?

  Aeden strained to remember. It had been so long ago. He had been so distracted that day, distracted by thoughts of the archduchess, by his recent interaction with the yeren.

  “What do you think it means?” Thea asked.

  Aeden was jolted from his thoughts. What had she asked?

  “It’s just a dream,” Aeden offered, his mind still working on the pieces of the puzzle.

  Thea turned to look at him. Aeden appeared distracted. Her mouth formed a tight, thin line.

  “Just a dream?” her tone of voice changed, firmer than before.

  It wasn’t a dream. Memory’s razor edge caught Aeden unaware and sliced into his awareness with angry purpose. Realization dawned on him. Aeden had been responsible for reshaping Thea’s history. He’d inadvertently changed the trajectory of her life.

  The forgotten words of the now deceased headmaster came to Aeden in a rush, “We haven’t had any of the noble houses of Gemynd send someone for a few years now, you’re not a Harland…and you don’t have the look of a Cox.”

  That left only one noble family of any merit. Bristol. How had Aeden been so blind?

  “I’m talking to you,” Thea said, pushing him away.

  Aeden’s face paled.

  He had been responsible for her father’s death.

  Aeden had been a monk at the time, pilgrimaging north. They had been fleeing the revolution of the Blue City. The city burned as turmoil gripped it. Aeden, Adel, Odilo, and Neri had falsely claimed to be Lord Bristol’s men in order to secure passage on a barge to Petra’s Landing.

  They had no intention of causing harm. Aeden had only wanted to keep his brother monks safe. He had wanted to leave the burning mass of Gemynd’s Capital behind. And in doing so, he had sentenced a man, Lord Bristol, Thea’s father, to death.

  Thea’s father.

  Thea regarded Aeden oddly, her arms folded across her chest. Her piercing gaze studied him as she stood on the verge of outrage and tears.

  “I don’t understand you,” she uttered, turning away in shame as a tear rolled down her face.

  Aeden stood rooted to the spot, frozen. He didn’t know how to act. He just realized he’d been responsible for Thea’s father’s death. How could he ignore that? How could he tell her? What could he say?

  He turned to look back across the valley. The soft warmth of the sun failed to set his mind at ease.

  “I open up to you, and you say nothing,” Thea whispered, her voice cracking about the edges, as if she barely had the energy to contemplate Aeden’s perceived indifference.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Thea hardly nodded.

  “It’s our first day of bijenna,” Aeden continued, “perhaps I’m stressed,” he uttered, knowing it to be a weak excuse.

  Silence.

  Aeden had decided. He couldn’t tell her. How would that help her?

  Sometimes lies were best. If it weren’t for lies, most people wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning. Lies shaped the history of Verold.

  Thea eyed Aeden from a distance as if waiting for something more.

  “Let’s get breakfast,” Aeden offered carefully, unsure of what to say or how to act, his mind still spinning.

  At first, Thea appeared ready to refuse. Her brow furrowed. Her shoulders were hunched, and tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.

  Aeden embraced her. It felt awkward, clumsy even. Thea didn’t hug him back, but she didn’t push him away either. The weight of history hung between them like a vial of stinkhorn extract.

  Thea eventually pulled away, and without word, made her way to Bellas Tower.

  Aeden ignored the wide sweep of land visible from their mountain vantage point. A frown settled upon his masculine features as he followed the woman he loved, the woman he had hurt, the woman whose father he had killed.

  Aeden hardly noticed as the sun worked its way through the sky. His mind was stuck in the past.

  Chapter 19

  “The quickest path to disappointment is false expectation.” Lost Texts of Agathonia

  Breakfast was usually a mundane affair. If the University of Galdor had been a bustling town hall, then Bellas Tower was a village square in the midst of Vintas. There was a sanctimonious quality that hung upon the air with all the tension of two lovers on the verge of their first kiss.

  Cutting through the sanctimony with all the aplomb of a drunken sailor, was Laurent’s voice. It echoed across the open spaces, weaving blindly past the fine tilework of the floor and the mosaic of color that marched up each pillar in a twisting climb of snake-like beauty. It passed over the quiet pockets of conversations of gathered students, and it pulled gently at Aeden.

  Aeden glanced up and couldn’t help but feel a stab of sentiment. He had already grabbed some food and was instinctively walking toward his friend’s table. In many ways it felt like he was back in Galdor.

  The moment was short lived. Thea was ahead of him; the side of her face was a stern mask of anger.

  Aeden’s stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot. As much as he tried, he couldn’t shake lose the images of Lord Bristol. He shivered as he remembered that cold night, drifting away from the Blue City upon the icy waters of Lake Stevol. A well-dressed man had arrived on horseback, in the wane amber light of the docks. His face was a careful mask of nobility and fear. It had been Thea’s father.

  Aeden shook lose the memory and looked ahead.

  Seated by a partially stain-glassed window, were Laurent, Dan, and Adel. A collage of color spilled across the table as they continued with their conversation, nearly oblivious of Thea and Aeden’s arrival.

  “You’re wrong,” Dan intoned seriously, “it’s common knowledge that the troglodytes are not Amevi, but rather their own indigenous group.”

  Daniel’s face was cast in the lines of one intent upon making their opinion known. Laurent sat opposite him, slowly shaking his head in disagreement.

  Adel looked up and smiled as Thea and Aeden joined them. It was Adel’s innocence of expressed emotion that, at times, caught Aeden by surprise. After all they had been through, how had Adel managed to remain untainted?

  The death of Thomas, of Odilo. Having been captured on the Seventh Sage and taken slave, only to be sold into Jal Isa Sha’ril’s service. Finally, the destruction of the University of Galdor and John’s death.

  It was too much. Yet, for all their shared experience, there was one struggle they had not shared. It was the stark difference that stood out for all to see.

  Adel had not killed. He had not besmirched his soul.

  He hadn’t insisted on leaving Thea’s father upon the dock.

  Laurent’s voice pulled Aeden away from his incessant thoughts.

  “The Amevi Empire spans most of Dimutia, incorporating many tribes, including the cannibals and body painters, how would the troglodytes not be a part of that empire!?” Laurent scoffed.

  Aeden was only
partially listening.

  He tried to focus on his breakfast: eggs, cheese, and bread. He risked short glances at Thea. A sliver of red and yellow light marked her features. She was clearly upset. He wrestled with thoughts of morality and being.

  “Hello, Aeden…” Laurent repeated again, “I’m talking to you.”

  Aeden glanced up, distracted.

  “Sorry, I was thinking,” Aeden replied.

  “About himself,” Thea whispered just loud enough for Aeden to hear.

  Laurent, however, didn’t hear Thea’s near-silent rebuke and pressed on.

  “You practically live in the library,” he said, “perhaps you could settle this dispute. Dan here, thinks the troglodytes were not a part of the Amevi Empire, but I beg to differ.”

  Aeden put down the piece of bread he was holding and looked at Dan and Laurent. They were both focused on him as if they had bet on it. Laurent had a faint smile. Dan’s face was more passive, as usual.

  “How much?” Aeden asked.

  Laurent broke out into a full grin.

  Dan shrugged, “One silver dinar.”

  Adel nearly spit out his food.

  “What!” Adel exclaimed, “Why so much?”

  Dan looked from Laurent to Adel. His face was serious.

  “Because I lost my last bet to Laurent.”

  Thea took a moment to stop glaring at Aeden and looked at Laurent and Dan.

  “Which bet?”

  It was Laurent who answered.

  “About the arkein,” Laurent said gloating.

  Thea looked away as if someone smiling at the same table were off-putting. Adel was nodding his head and smirking, infected by Laurent’s enthusiasm.

  “I’m curious,” Adel asked, looking at Dan “what proof, finally convinced you?”

  Aeden stopped deshelling his egg and looked up. Whatever thoughts he had about Thea and his broken soul had fallen away. He leaned in, interested. He didn’t notice Thea’s features turn from disinterested to angry.

  “Well,” Dan said, leaning in conspiratorially.

  Thea cut him off.

  “We need to go,” she said loudly, already pushing herself up and away from the table, glaring at Aeden.

  Aeden blinked and glanced up at her, the egg still partially deshelled in his hand. His mind still with Laurent.

  “Well,” she said, hands on her hips, “Do you want to be late for your first day of bijenna?”

  Aeden merely shook his head as he slowly lowered the egg. Laurent was looking from him to Thea with a faint smile on his lips. Adel was looking anywhere but at Thea.

  “Someone’s in the doghouse,” Laurent muttered.

  “What was that?” Thea said.

  “I feel like building a log house,” Laurent grumbled.

  Thea looked at Laurent for a second, “Good luck with that,” before returning her glare back to Aeden.

  “I’m coming,” Aeden relented, putting his egg down, guilt once again pooling about him.

  Thea didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Her body language spoke volumes.

  Aeden glanced back at the table as he departed, watching Adel, Dan, and Laurent slip back into conversation. At that moment he’d much rather have sat at the table and talked about most anything, than follow Thea.

  Unlike the novus students, bijenna classes were held in the Tower of the Arkein. They had a longer walk to make it to class on time. But, secretly, Aeden knew that Thea was testing him. She was seeing if he would choose her over a few more moments with his friends. She demanded loyalty. It was no surprise, he felt similarly, but expressed it differently.

  His mind was so consumed with thought, that he hardly noticed as they marched across the dining area and up the stairs. It wasn’t until the slap of the cool morning air hit him that he awoke from his haze of introspection.

  Thea and Aeden stood at the cusp of the open-aired bridge spanning the two towers.

  The low moan of air beckoned them to the bridge crossing. It whispered longingly to Aeden the way Thea had whispered to him only hours before. As they stepped onto the bridge the low moan became a howling roar as wind swept up the sheer sides of the stone spires.

  Aeden couldn’t help but think how Adel would have reacted.

  Aeden looked out, at the expanse of the Fold, catching a glimpse of Skadoian Valley to the north, and the village of Andir and the last of the ten thousand steps of Mystes Mountain to the south.

  He only stood there for a moment, halfway between two buildings. The wind tousled his hair. It buffeted his body and tugged at his clothing like a sail. He briefly contemplated letting the wind take him. Letting it end his shame, his failure to avenge his people, to end the guilt that he wore like leaden boots.

  The wind swept away the last embers of boyhood.

  Aeden took in one last gulp of morning air, before slipping past the threshold into the Tower of the Arkein.

  The rushing roar of passing air suddenly stopped. Instead there was silence. Silence and Thea. They had intertwined and formed a pair, both waiting impatiently for Aeden. It added a sense of weight to the atmosphere. It was the burden of future responsibility. It was the first step in a slow unraveling of self.

  Chapter 20

  “The root of anger often sprouts from the seeds of the past.” Saying of the Amevi

  Bijenna was nothing like Aeden had imaged it to be. The fantastical images of magical demonstrations and hidden knowledge remained masked by a plague of emotion and unmet expectation.

  Aeden struggled to listen as Master Glass explained his intentions to the class. Yet the words were nothing more than the distant droning of a whispered conversation. His thoughts tugged at him from multiple directions.

  The most prominent were thoughts of Thea.

  What had she faced in the aftermath of the revolution? What had she found in the remains of the burning embers of her home?

  Master Glass’ voice carried on in the background. His monotone words slipped passed Aeden’s sleeping mind and found purchase.

  “The study of the arkein isn’t for the faint of heart or weak of mind,” Master Glass extolled, looking specifically at his newest students, Sakhira, Aeden, and Thea, “but for the dedicated mind there is a glimmer of hope that you won’t lose your way and you may glean a hint of the divine. It is slow, it is difficult, and it is nothing like the grand wizards you may have read about from storybooks…”

  The mention of the arkein reminded Aeden of Laurent and Daniel’s bet. He thought about their breakfast together. His curiosity tugged quietly at him like a newborn marsupial.

  “…madness is the price one pays for arrogance, lack of discipline…”

  Master Glass continued, but Aeden was only partially paying attention. His thoughts transitioned to Adel and the possible dangers of this new place. Had Aeden made a mistake bringing him here? He dismissed the thought as quickly as it arose.

  Aeden would watch over him, keep him safe. He wouldn’t allow another to be hurt by his actions. Especially not someone he cared for. Not his best friend.

  “…as previous students can attest, it is the rare mind, the fractured mind, that is best suited to cracking the code that underlies the mysteries of the universe…”

  Aeden continued to struggle to truly listen. He fought to clear his mind of the constricting vice of contrition.

  Master Glass’ voice was flat and the languorous air of the classroom helped Aeden’s mind wander. He struggled to imagine scenes from The Bard and the Sea or the Feats of Cedric the Magical, hoping against hope that he could stop his incessant thoughts.

  His imagination whisked him away to the haunted forests of Varna. He imagined himself strolling among the bent trees as the sun fought to light the path ahead. He imagined something scary and powerful approaching, and all he had to do was whisper a binding to fell it to its knees.

  “The principles we will learn today have to do with esoteric bindings,” Master Glass continued, “as you may have learned from
Headmaster Sund,” Master Glass’ voice changed in pitch and he paused.

  It was a silent moment of reflection, one that pulled Aeden from his revere. He remembered Master Sund standing before three massive Inquisitors. He remembered the shout Sund had hurled, shaping the wind and knocking the Inquisitors back. Aeden remembered the feeling of dread deep within his gut. It was the helpless feeling of childhood, the feeling he had felt before the might of the draccus fiend.

  The thoughts dissipated like a late morning fog under the relentless fury of a Sumor sun. Master Glass resumed his monologue.

  “The nature of Verold is one of vibration. Underlying all that we see, feel, and smell are vibrational energies. These energies have their own sense of weight and movement and distinctive characteristics that one can hear and sense. Detecting these vibrations are the first step in understanding the arkein…”

  Aeden’s head perked up at mention of the arkein. He looked about and saw that some students were writing notes, their quills scratching every word diligently upon vellum.

  “…once you can sense these energies then one can learn to match their frequency and thereby manipulate objects.”

  Aeden glanced over to Kallon, the tall and handsome student rector. Kallon had his paper turned to the side and quill resting upon the table with the feathered end facing Master Glass.

  “Question?” Master Glass asked, looking intently upon Kallon.

  “Yes Master,” Kallon responded, “Can you remind the newer students where they can find the table of manipulations and resources needed for this class.”

  A smile rested briefly on the master’s lips as he looked from Kallon to Aeden and Thea, his eyes skipping over Hugo, Sakhira, and Janto.

  “As bijenna students, you may now enter the second level of the library, simply check with the library scribes to be admitted,” Master Glass stated flatly, “And I suggest you begin with the Table of Esoteric Manipulations by Master Fared as well as Esoteric Principles and Bindings by Grandmaster Berinon,” Master Glass’ eyes now fell upon Aeden, “and I suggest a quill and vellum if you wish to learn anything of value.”