“You’re awake…” a familiar voice stated.
It was a woman’s voice, but he couldn’t quite place it. His ears rang, his hand felt like it was on fire, and his head throbbed convulsively.
Where was he? What had happened?
Aeden struggled to prop himself up, only to be rewarded with a startling new wave of misery.
“Where am I?” he questioned, testing his voice.
“You’re in the medical room young man, and I suggest you lay back down.”
Aeden recognized the voice. It was Master Claire Ashdown. The realization failed to bring any answers.
He looked about, waiting for his eyes to adjust and take in the details of the room. He was on a bed. Beside him was a tray with a bowl of sour smelling herbs. Hints of vinegar, chamomile, and lavender washed over him in one nauseating wave.
“Sit back,” Master Ashdown said softly.
Aeden didn’t want to sit back. He wanted to know how he had gotten here. He wanted to know what had happened.
“Why am I here?” Aeden asked, desperate for answers.
Master Ashdown didn’t stop her small preparations as she moved to the far side of the room. The wall was lined with hundreds of small drawers, each filled with a different herb. She appeared to be placing them into a cup.
“I’ll let someone else explain why you’re here and it’s repercussions,” she said firmly as she approached, mixing the contents of the cup. “Drink this.”
Claire offered the cup to Aeden, who accepted it with his non-bandaged hand.
“It’ll help with the swelling and with the pain in your head.”
Aeden watched her for a moment, looking for any signs of malintent. There were none. He glanced briefly at the dark liquid before he emptied the contents down his throat. It was an odd mix of flavors, none of which he particularly cared for. Hints of elm, linseed, and animal charcoal lingered on his tongue.
“When can I talk to my friends?” he asked, wiping his mouth with his bandaged hand, stimulating extreme irritation.
“Soon,” she stated more gently. “Right now, you need rest.”
He took in a calming breath. The constant drumming of anger faded to a distant staccato as fatigue claimed him. He felt beaten, like he’d been trampled by a stampede of manticores. Perhaps Rafe had won after all.
Aeden felt his thoughts grow thick. His eyes grew heavy. The rhythmic throbbing within his head felt like the echoing call of some great beast. Still the questions burned. Yet, slowly, he sat back as his head swam with thought, pain, and the final image of a blue dragon drifting through a tank of water.
Chapter 37
“A single flower can become a garden of friendship.” Emperor Suda - Savikko
Aeden awoke with a start. The room was dark, save for the soft wash of purple light filtering through the window. He blinked a few times and rubbed at his head, only to discover his headache had disappeared. To his surprise, he felt startlingly better.
Aeden sat up slowly, waiting for an onslaught of discomfort. There was none. Instead, the cottony ballad of snoring drifted to his ear. It drew Aeden to his surroundings like a death hound to its demise. His eyes adjusted as he looked into the corner.
There, in shadow, sat three of his friends.
Dan and Laurent were leaning up against each other, fast asleep. Laurent’s mouth was open, drooling. Beside them was Adel, Aeden’s closest friend. They had once been brothers, within the walls of the Monastery of the Holy Order of Sancire, Bodig.
Adel felt Aeden’s gaze and turned to look intently upon him. There was relief in Adel’s face, although the mauve darkness masked the depth of worry that gripped him. Aeden could only glimpse the edges of his friend’s concern. It was like peering into the depths of a murky lake.
“Master Ashdown let us in,” Adel whispered, careful to not wake Dan and Laurent.
Aeden didn’t reply, he didn’t need to. The diminishing layers of tension were evidence of his gratitude, as was the smile that momentarily graced his lips. His friends had become his family, and they were here.
All but one.
His smile faded as he looked about. A single line of tension entangled him and tugged achingly at his heart. The woman who’d brought a semblance of balance was absent. The woman who’d patiently pursued him. The woman he’d betrayed. Thea.
Aeden’s thoughts were interrupted.
“How do you feel?” Adel asked.
Aeden stretched and swung his feet about, so they dangled off the bed. His thoughts felt sluggish but his body felt rested, albeit restless.
“Surprisingly good,” he said, “Certainly better than after Water’s Gate.”
Memories of his encounter with the Inquisitor soured his mood as the faint embers of the archduchess fought to be remembered.
Adel let out a breath, as if he’d been carrying tension in his lungs the entire time.
“What happened?” Aeden asked, leaning forward.
Adel looked away, examining the floor in the wane light of gloaming. He studied the stonework as if searching for an answer.
“What do you remember,” Adel asked carefully.
Just then the snoring sputtered and stopped. Laurent’s head fell from Dan’s shoulder as he startled himself awake. Laurent looked about for a moment as if remembering where he was. Surprise, then understanding, rolled over his overweight features. Laurent glanced from Aeden to Adel before he shoved Dan.
“You didn’t start without us,” Laurent asked urgently, looking more carefully at Aeden’s expression.
Aeden shook his head, smiling in spite of his rapacious curiosity. Somehow Dan and Laurent managed to entertain, even in the midst of sleep.
“Good,” Laurent said, nudging Dan again to ensure he was awake, “We want to hear everything,” Laurent paused for a moment, “from the beginning.”
Aeden narrowed his eyes. Something about the way Laurent spoke tugged at Aeden’s sleeping mind. Was it the subtle glance to the ground? The cadence of his voice? The subtle shift of positions?
Aeden had the distinct feeling that Dan and Laurent weren’t purely there as supportive friends, desperate for news of Aeden’s wellbeing.
“You want to know what I remember,” Aeden responded rhetorically.
Laurent looked away. Dan was still rubbing his eyes, longer than was necessary, in an effort to wake up. It was Adel who answered for them.
“Dan and Laurent have a bit of a wager.”
Dan interjected, “more like two overwrought friends who also happened to be curious about what you remembered…”
Laurent looked at Dan, “Overwrought? Really?”
“It means concerned…” Dan replied offhandedly.
Aeden simply sat, watching the exchange, as curiosity ate away at him. The edges of decorum were rapidly closing in as he felt the first hints of anger rise from deep within.
“Maybe,” Laurent said, “we had a friendly wager to that end. But mostly just two concerned friends.”
Aeden rubbed his forehead with a bandaged hand. What had he remembered?
There had been a celebration of sorts. Corpses paraded down the street. Colorful fires burning outside the city walls. Children ran about in costume, scaring the populace.
Adel was there, so were Dan and Laurent. He had been with friends, but not Thea. Had she been there? She must have been. The whole town had been present.
Broken memories attempted to slide together. Images of Thea leapt to mind. Her auburn hair was all tied up, exposing the slender form of her neck. She had been smiling. The bright colors of the fires had highlighted her features. She had been outside the city walls. Yet, her features were in profile and from afar.
The painful realization of a flagging reality, revealed a sliver of its greater self. Thea had been with another man. The memories sharpened. Rafe. More pieces started falling together as his distemperment sparked lucidity.
“The Trials of Ansuz,” Aeden said heavily, “I was competing against R
afe.”
Dan and Laurent fell silent as they listened intently. Adel studied his friend carefully.
“It was the final trial and Master Ashdown had given us a hallucinogen,” Aeden’s brow furrowed as he struggled to remember, “There was a blue fish or something…” Aeden’s voice faded.
“I knew it!” Laurent exclaimed a little too loudly, his voice quickly falling to a whisper, “I mean, I had a feeling you didn’t remember everything.”
Dan seemed disappointed. He took a slow breath before speaking.
“We’re happy that you feel better.”
Dan began to stand up.
“Truly,” Laurent piped in.
“But it’s late,” Dan continued, “and we don’t want to keep you from resting.”
Dan hardly made eye contact as he helped Laurent struggled to his feet.
Aeden only nodded. He waved half-heartedly as they left, struggling to piece fractured memories together. Adel smiled weakly and moved to a chair beside Aeden’s bed, watching as the twosome departed the room.
The memories refused to come.
“Do I have to keep waiting?” Aeden asked, “Or, are you going to tell me what in the seven hells happened?”
Adel smiled again, “The second one, but without the cursing.”
Aeden nodded, remembering that Adel had been a monk for far longer than he’d been, and didn’t much like it when he referred to hell.
“I mean, what in Salvare’s name happened.”
Adel smiled awkwardly and inhaled slowly, glancing out the window. The night sky was the color of monkshood, a poisonous purple flower, found growing about the monasteries of Kynd’s Point.
“I don’t want to upset you,” Adel said carefully.
Aeden sighed heavily. He held up his bandaged hand and gestured to the medical space.
“You think I’m happy with any of this?”
Adel only shook his head.
“Don’t be mad, but you’re probably not going to like it.”
Adel seemed to avoid Aeden’s eyes. Adel’s eyes were steadfast upon the window as he studied the stars that filled the firmament.
“I don’t care if I like it,” Aeden replied, “just tell me.”
Adel risked a quick glance at his friend. Sadness marked his features. Adel nodded to himself and took in another deep breath, as if gathering his courage.
“Alright, I’ll tell you,” Adel said before he glanced once more out the window, “This is what I remember of that fateful night…”
Chapter 38
“The greatest hinderance to success often comes from within.” An old Q’Bala expression
“I remember entering the final tent with a sense of apprehension. I don’t know if it’s because of the prior trial of fire or because of the hidden secrets of the other tents. I know Dan and Laurent were part of the reason, but another reason lurked just out of reach…
“I’m telling you, I don’t think Rafe is to be trusted,” Laurent said dismissively.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
Laurent smiled. I’d fallen into his trap. Yet, it was Dan who answered.
“You know he’s baiting you, right?” Dan asked me, “Laurent has come to think that the student arkeinists who were killed were not killed but murdered, and no less, by another student.”
I was taken aback by the statement. It was hard to believe that a student could murder someone, let alone want to.
“Not just any student,” Laurent jumped back in, “I have a short list.”
Dan closed his eyes and placed a hand over his face, as if trying to hide from the ridiculousness of Laurent’s statements.
“And?” I asked, already roped into another one of Dan and Laurent’s arguments, “Who’s on this list?”
Part of me wondered how much money they had riding on this latest disagreement. Part of me was morbidly curious who they thought the killer was.
“Hugo, Tilly and…” Laurent paused, making sure I was paying attention, “Rafe.”
Dan was already shaking his head.
“Hugo the medius student?” I questioned.
“Yup,” Laurent stated proudly, “the short-tempered one from Chur.”
It seemed remotely possible, but only because I didn’t know him. Somehow the idea of a stranger committing atrocities was more comforting than someone familiar.
“Tilly?” I questioned.
It didn’t make sense to me. She seemed too quiet, too reserved. I rarely saw her interact with others. What would be her motive?
“You don’t think a woman can kill?” Laurent scoffed, mocking me.
“It’s not that,” I stammered, “but she doesn’t seem the type.”
“I’ll admit, it’s a stretch,” Laurent conceded, “that’s why Rafe’s toward the top of my list.”
Dan rolled his eyes.
“You’re wrong,” Dan replied, “Let’s re-examine the evidence: Three students have been killed.”
“Four,” Laurent corrected, “You forget Muriel.”
Dan shook his head and continued, “All three were mutilated nearly beyond recognition. Each died in a different manner. One was an avauncen student, one was in medius, and one was in bijenna. There’s no common theme. I fail to see the connection.”
Laurent now smiled openly, “but there is a common theme. Each murder was staged to look like a mythological creature had killed them.”
“Staged?” Dan said rhetorically. “So, Muriel’s death, which you lumped in, was also staged?”
“Yes,” Laurent continued, ignoring Dan’s tone, “and each of them knew Rafe.”
Dan was shaking his head again, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Look,” Dan began, “the student body is small, of course they all knew Rafe, besides, most everyone seems to like him.”
“He seems nice to me,” I piped in.
“Exactly,” Dan exclaimed, “He’s nice to most everyone.”
“Kresimer was supposedly nice, that is, until she became the Blood Queen,” Laurent said.
Dan looked about as if seeking someone sane to assist him. He held out his hand, extending a finger and began to list his reasons against Laurent’s premise.
“The masters have admitted Rafe into avauncen, which I doubt they’d do if they thought he was some sort of maniac. He had to undergo the Substantiation Ordeals with the Sages of Umbra…” Dan said, holding a different finger to emphasize the next point, “…and let’s remember, the Sages of Umbra are supposed to be able to see all possible futures. Why’d they let a killer pass the tests?”
Laurent shrugged and looked elsewhere.
“Maybe the sages can only see all futures when they’re in their reclusive temple,” I offered.
Neither Dan nor Laurent seem interested in my opinion. Dan then turned to watch the strawman burn before the steps of the Tower of the Arkein. A temporary divide had fallen between them.
The fractured remnants of the squabble drifted away, carried by the Mystes Mountain wind.
The smell of smoke and the incessant beating of a distant drum, distracted me. As I looked about, I noticed the crowd had grown considerably. I had been so entrenched in Dan and Laurent’s debate that I’d hardly paid any attention.
I looked up at the night sky. It had turned a deep purple and was filled with the faint, pinpoint light of a thousand stars. It really was beautiful, like a painting.
It’s strange, but I still hadn’t gotten used to the bizarreness of the Fold.
My thoughts fell away as Laurent spoke, picking up the pieces of a broken argument.
“Well,” Laurent said, resuming the discussion, “Harmon and I disagree.”
Laurent fell silent again as if contemplating his next words carefully. He was obviously still mulling over Dan’s argument. After a moment Laurent had formulated his retort.
“I’m not supposed to say this, but Harmon caught Rafe reading a book on mythological creatures and their destructive signs.”
Dan, who was normally the calmer of the two, seemed exasperated.
“That’s your evidence!?”
Again, Laurent looked away. He frowned and appeared to be studying the crowd, looking for someone.
I too looked about. I caught sight of the twins, Janto and Faro. I saw Oria with some of the other novus students, to include Garit, even though she’d just passed her tests and had already been admitted into bijenna. I waved to Garit, but I don’t think he saw me.
The crowd began jostling toward the tent. It felt like the whole town was pushing toward the entrance. I turned around to see Master Ashdown tying the tent flaps back, finally allowing admittance to the final Trial of Ansuz.
Dan and Laurent didn’t wait on me, as they shoved their way to the front.
“Grab a front row seat!” Laurent shouted to Dan, his prior tone of annoyance all but gone.
Dan pushed past, already squeezing ahead. He passed Kallon and slipped into the massive tent, claiming a wide space on the first bench. Laurent was already moving to grab a seat.
I followed, being pushed from behind as the crowd fought to enter the space. As I took a seat, I caught sight of Thea. Admittedly I was keeping an eye out for her. I knew you’d be interested. She looked distraught. Tilly Steck, the avauncen student from Sawol, was talking to her, but Thea didn’t seem to be paying her much attention.
Upon further reflection, I think Thea was looking for you.
“Hey, Harmon,” Laurent shouted, “over here.”
Laurent was maniacally gesturing to a startled looking Harmon.
I watched from the relative safety of the first row as Harmon carefully navigated the crowd. He looked out of place, like a cat tossed into a river. I always pictured him in a library, or somewhere quiet.
Laurent shouted across the seats to Harmon, who had just sat to my right.
“Tell Dan here, that you saw Rafe in the library,” Laurent said.
Harmon seemed to shrink back. He looked like a turtle retreating into its shell.
“I told you that in confidence,” Harmon whispered, his face contorting into a mask of fear and discomfort.
Into the Fold Page 25