Into the Fold

by Chase Blackwood

  Laurent ignored the comment and turned to Dan, “See!”

  “See what?” Dan responded, “That Rafe likes reading books? I still don’t see how that links him to homicidal proclivities. Let alone Muriel.”

  “Can you speak normally,” Laurent huffed, “It’s a clue. You’re so thick sometimes.”

  My attention was torn from their conversation as I caught sight of you.

  Master Meidl was escorting Rafe and you to the center of the tent. I could feel the space grow quiet as the audience’s attention was drawn toward center stage, toward the fierce Thane warrior and the avauncen student from the Tower of the Arkein.

  I’ll admit my breath became stuck in my chest. I was reminded of our time in Sha’ril at the Anwar Slave Market. We were led from the cages, overlooking the square. Odilo was already upon the slave block and we stood awaiting our turn. My stomach had dropped into my legs that day. It was the day Yazid had killed our brother and mentor, Odilo.

  It was the day you had done the impossible. You’d stopped four guards, while in shackles, no less! Sometimes I wish I were as strong as you. You had moved like lightning. You moved as if Salvare himself had guided you.

  Yet, for all that strength, I can see its effects. It’s like a burden around your neck, one that squeezes at your heart. I know you don’t like to talk about it. Probably because you don’t want others to feel bad. But mostly, I think it’s because you think no one would understand.

  I just want you to know that I do. I understand.

  I know you were angry that day. But, you were also scared. You were scared they’d hurt Odilo. Somehow, you’d been right. It’s like you knew what was going to happen. It had been the same at the market in Nailsea as well as that final night in Galdor. The night the Inquisitors had come. The night John died.

  A familiar feeling of dread settled over me as I sat there, in the tent, in Andir. Dan and Laurent continued their discussion. But for once, I hardly heard them. It was like I had plunged my head underwater and was viewing the world through the murky lens of a still pond.

  I watched as you approached a table, book-ended by two chairs. I watched as you fumbled your footing and looked about uncertainly. Something didn’t feel right. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering if you’d seen something I hadn’t. I couldn’t help but wonder if you knew something the rest of us didn’t.

  Yet, for all my apprehension, part of me felt safe. I knew that as long as you were there, I was protected. I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true.

  I don’t know if you remember that time on the pilgrimage, after we’d seen the subdeacon of Treton. It had begun to snow lightly. We were on a trail heading back to the North-South Road. A tongue-less man had stepped onto the road. Odilo, Neri, and I had been so distracted that we hardly noticed as you dealt with the real threat. You scared off one bandit and stopped the other. I had been so naive at the time. I had wanted to believe it was Salvare’s work. I wanted to believe in the power of the Book of Divinus.

  But it had been you. It had always been you. It seems so obvious now.

  I digress. I think at this point, I tore my gaze away as Dan’s words cut through my introspection.

  “Two bits on Rafe,” Dan whispered to Laurent.

  Laurent seemed to consider for a moment, as he watched Rafe and you take seats at the center of the tent.

  “They seem unsteady,” Laurent commented to himself, mirroring my thoughts.

  “That’s because they’ve been drugged,” Harmon interjected matter-of-factly, as he idly fingered the gold chain about his neck, “the fourth trial is one of mental toughness and temper. They’ve been administered a small dose of Stinking Nightshade, to make a simple task more difficult.”

  “How do you know this?” Dan asked in wonder.

  “I read,” Harmon said flatly, looking back toward the contestants, as if he had done enough talking.

  Laurent only smiled and tugged on Dan’s sleeve, bringing his attention back to him.

  “I’ll bet a full silver dinar,” Laurent said calmly, “on Aeden.”

  Laurent received the response he’d been looking for.

  “What?” Dan responded in exasperation.

  Laurent basked in Dan’s discomfort for a moment before he continued.

  “Please,” he said, “allow me to explain.”

  “You damn well better,” Dan cut in.

  Laurent held up a hand.

  “I will, if you give me a chance,” he was smiling now, “Here’s why I’d bet on Aeden. You seem to have forgotten that Aeden breezed through the University of Galdor. He began his tenure by beating a yeren to gain free admission, he would’ve won the tafl tournament had he wanted…”

  I continued to listen to Laurent’s reasons. I knew he was right. I’d always suspected you’d let me win the tafl tournament. You’re not normal. I don’t mean it in a derogatory manner. You’re different. Unique. Who else would’ve pushed an Inquisitor within the walls of a monastery!? Who else would’ve caught the eye of the archduchess and enticed her to fall in love?

  Laurent continued to list his reasons.

  “…now, at the Tower of the Arkein he almost immediately passed the novus tests and entered bijenna. He’s made it through all the trials. Plus, he’s a member of the Thane Sagan!”

  Dan was merely nodding his head, allowing the new discussion to ensnare him, “and Rafe is an avauncen student, one of two. And like Aeden, Rafe has passed each trial thus far,” Dan paused as if searching for another reason.

  “He’s also the son of Lord Berkshire,” Harmon said conspiratorially, as if he couldn’t help himself. “Lord Berkshire, who’s known for his penchant for young boys. The same Lord Berkshire who’d won the swordsmanship contest at Mend, and the same Lord Berkshire famous for quietly executing his father and his brother to attain his position.”

  Dan smiled and extended a hand to Laurent, “A lord who’d likely expect nothing less than excellence from his son. I’ll take your bet.”

  The two of them shook on it.

  As Laurent and Dan continued their whispers, Master Meidl made an announcement. Her voice filled the space and grabbed hold of the attention of all those present, momentarily silencing Dan and Laurent. It felt like the voice of Salvare had reached down from the heavens.

  “The fourth and final Trial of Ansuz,” Master Meidl started, “Is not only a trial of acumen, but of mental fortitude. It’s a test of ability under duress. Tonight, you will see two competitors pitted against each other. Both, students from the Tower of the Arkein.”

  Master Meidl looked about the space. Her eyes moved across the gathered crowd to the burning braziers, finally coming to rest on the seated contestants.

  Yet, for all her words, I was thinking about you.

  What were you thinking? How was the drug affecting your mind?

  It reminded me of a passage from the Book of Divinus, ‘and cast within the shadow of the Twin Pyramids is the Heart of Despair, broken and desolate.’

  Master Sigerica continued.

  “Before the contestants, you see a glass tank, filled with salt water. Shortly, you will witness them attempt to capture a sea creature of unique properties. A creature found only off the southern coast of Dimutia,” she paused just long enough to ensure all eyes were on her, “These creatures are known by the Amevi as tarakona puru. In the common tongue they are called, blue dragons!”

  Master Meidl waited for the crowd’s ripple of excited murmuring to die down, before she continued.

  “Their wings contain a powerful toxin. A toxin that affects the nerves, causing extreme pain upon contact, and in singular cases, death. They are rare and they are dangerous.”

  The crowd seemed to lean forward. Master Ashdown walked to Sigerica, as if on que, and handed her a small jar. Master Meidl held it up dramatically for a moment before approaching the two competitors.

  Without further hesitation she poured the contents into the tank. You turned in your seat, teetering, an
d gripped the chair as if uncertain of your balance. Your face was neutral, as always, but I knew something was wrong. If you ask me, it should have been obvious from then. But, perhaps the masters simply don’t know you the way I do.

  Master Meidl poured the contents of the jar into the open tank, for all to see. Two blue shapes slipped into the water and began gliding about.

  As the crowd leaned forward, Laurent commented a little too loudly.

  “That’s it?”

  Two, blue creatures moved slowly within the water. They couldn’t have been much larger than the tip of one of my thumbs.

  “When they said dragon,” Laurent continued, “I somehow expected more.”

  Dan chuckled. Harmon tried to shush Laurent, as he leaned forward in his seat, captivated. I too was entranced. The creatures moved about in a slow, graceful dance.

  For a moment the two of you simply sat there, as if trying to understand what to do. It was almost anticlimactic. A slow mummer of voices began to whisper within the stands, building to a crescendo. Then, without warning, you simply reached into the tank and grabbed hold of both creatures. You didn’t even flinch as you pulled them out of the water.

  The tent fell silent, before you pierced it with your voice.

  Silence fell over the crowd. I don’t think you even knew what had happened. Rafe looked furious.

  “I win!” you shouted.

  Laurent broke out into a laugh. Dan cursed quietly. Harmon was shaking his head. Across the way I saw Thea stand, her eyes wide. She was looking from you to Rafe. A worried look had claimed her features.

  “Rafe loses,” you continued, as Master Meidl moved toward you, in shock. “I win Thea.”

  Your words were slurred, but your message was clear. We all understood you. The tent couldn’t have been quieter had everyone stopped to hold their breath. Only the flickering fires dared utter noise.

  “I have the dragons,” you shouted again, holding a fist into the air.

  “Thank you,” Sigerica stated calmly.

  Master Ashdown was approaching you as well, but by now you were standing and stumbling away from the masters.

  “Rafe’s a weak lily boy, who lost his chance,” you said, moving away from Sigerica and Claire Ashdown, “and I’m a victorious Thane!”

  Your voice took on a different tone as you ignored Master Ashdown’s physical attempts to calm you.

  “He’s having an adverse reaction,” Harmon commented, almost to himself.

  You had a wild look in your eye. It reminded me of when you’d first arrived at the monastery in Bodig. You’d been wearing armor, your white hair was loosely tied back and largely in disarray, and your eyes were like that of a hungry wolf.

  “You see father,” you shouted, this time a hint of desperation was in your voice, “I can succeed! I can win!”

  Your voice became softer, “I’m no longer afraid. I have dragons in my hand.”

  You thrust your clenched fist into the air as if to prove your point. Your eyes were trained skyward until Master Sigerica spoke to you again. Her voice was calm, it was even, but you drowned her out with your own.

  “Let the draccus come, let me face it,” you shouted as Master Sigerica continued whispering to you, but you seemed unaffected, “I will save you Dannon, I will avenge you father.”

  You dropped your hand from the sky and brushed Ashdown aside. With a few quick strides you had swooped out of the tent, leaving a stunned crowd in your wake.

  “I’ve got to see this,” Laurent exclaimed, already out of his seat.

  Dan simply nodded in agreement as he bolted out of the tent behind Laurent. I too was already following you out the door, as were the rest of the onlookers.

  “Rafe!” you shouted, “get out here you coward.”

  The night felt cooler somehow. The stars shined more brightly as the strawman fire died a slow death, presently nothing more than a flickering bundle of embers.

  Thea pushed her way out of the tent. Her face was tight with worry. Her eyes were fixed on you. Tilly Steck had a hand on her shoulder. Thea brushed it aside in annoyance and approached you with concern.

  For a moment, I thought everything was going to be okay. Your anger seemed to fade away. The wildness in your eyes was momentarily tamed. You didn’t even notice as Caine stepped out, smiling, as if enjoying your moment of weakness.

  Even the masters stopped. I think they too, wanted to see if Thea could control you.

  “My beautiful Thea,” your voice was softer, affectionate, “my love.”

  Thea paused before you. You held up your hands. One was still formed into a clenched fist, clutching the blue dragons. The other, Thea grasped ahold of. Her hands looked so small in your massive palm.

  “What would Verold be without you?”

  You were slowly shaking your head, as if imagining it.

  “How could I continue living?”

  A single tear welled against the edges of your vision. Thea remained silent. She didn’t seem to know what to say

  “I’m so sorry,” although your voice was but a whisper upon the wind, we all heard.

  Thea’s expression changed. Layered upon the concern and love she held for you was another emotion. Curiosity.

  “Your father,” your words faded into obscurity.

  The crowd seemed to press in. They were silent, as if watching a drama unfold before them. I must admit, I too was curious. I felt rooted to the spot, unable to move.

  “What about my father?” Thea asked carefully, wiping a tear from her eyes.

  You looked to the ground, shaking your head.

  “It wasn’t on purpose,” you started, “The city, it was on fire. My brothers…Blaise had said…it had been my duty, my burden…”

  Thea was still clutching your hand, but her expression changed. She studied your face as if it were a curiosity, as if trying to understand.

  But I already knew what you were about to say. I wanted to shout to stop you. I wanted to run and rip Thea away from you, to protect her from those words. To protect you from the pain of an impossible decision. But I was too slow. I was too late. You had already spoken.

  “I’m responsible for your father’s death…”

  Somewhere in the distance the final drummer stopped. Silence fell as thick as a Vintas snow.

  Thea let go of your hand. Her face turned ashen as she processed your words. Tilly Steck approached.

  “…Lord Bristol, on the docks of Lake Stevol.”

  Your voice became threadbare as Rafe came out of the tent.

  Thea didn’t notice. Her face was the perfect picture of pain. Tears now streamed down her skin, as sadness claimed her. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t move. Her eyes were averted, as she no longer looked at you. Her chest heaved as if no one were around.

  I don’t think she wanted to understand. It was as if you’d stolen the ground from under her.

  So many faces were watching. So many people. I moved to comfort her, but Rafe was already there. How he wasn’t as affected as you were, I’ll never understand. But, there he was nonetheless, an arm placed around her.

  Master Sigerica moved forward now.

  “Aeden,” Meidl said, “Listen to me.”

  But you didn’t. You ignored her as you ignored everyone else. I’m not even sure if you knew we were all there.

  The softness that had temporarily claimed you was gone. It was replaced by cold, hard fury. You locked eyes with Rafe, watching him step back with Thea.

  “Do not touch her.”

  Rafe only smiled, letting his arm slip from Thea. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked lazily from Aeden to Caine.

  You followed his gaze. For a moment it felt like you were going to succumb to Master Meidl’s whispers. But you didn’t. Your gaze solidified and turned to ice.

  “How dare you show your face,” you spat, now focused on Caine, “You little shit. You little man. So frightened of your own lack of self-worth, you’d rather bring down fire and
death upon Galdor than face your inadequacy, than admit you’re wrong.”

  Each word dripped with vitriol. It held the weight of remembered emotion. It cut through the heart of the crowd and tore at Caine like an angry snake.

  Master Ashdown slipped away into the crowd. Master Sigerica placed a hand onto your arm. You shrugged her off.

  “I should have killed you. It should have been you before the Inquisition, shaking, crying, and wetting yourself…”

  Master Ashdown returned with Master Glass.

  You hardly noticed as they approached. Your eyes had returned to the retreating forms of Thea and Rafe. Rafe had put his arm across Thea’s shoulders again.

  “Rafe!” you shouted.

  Rafe stopped and turned around.

  I can’t explain it, but it felt like time slowed. I felt a nervous angst build in my gut. I watched as Rafe stepped forward. I noticed his lingering gaze and unsteady feet. I noticed your swollen hand, red, and inflamed, tighten its grip.

  “Yes Arden?” Rafe replied.

  The air seemed to collect about you, as if drawn to your ire. You took in a slow breath. The crowd stepped back, as if somehow fearful of what would happen next. Master Glass spoke to you, but you didn’t hear him.

  For you, there was only Rafe.

  “I told you, do not touch her…” your words dripped with raw passion and energy.

  Without warning you took a half step forward and shouted. It was unlike anything I’d ever heard or seen before. The wind tore through the plaza like an angry boar. I was forced a step back. The canvas of the tent rippled uncomfortably. People coughed and stumbled.

  But it was Rafe who was struck. He had been swept clean off his feet. He had slid along the cobbles like a deer across a frozen lake, striking his head against a post with a muted thunk.

  “Enough,” a voice commanded.

  It was Grandmaster Kaldi. He stood upon the stairs to the Tower of the Arkein.

  Master Glass and Meidl approached you. They both placed hands on you. Master Glass spoke softly, almost tenderly.

  At first you seemed defiant, like you wouldn’t obey his hidden commands. But then slowly your knees buckled and you fell to the ground. Yet, your fist remained clenched about the two blue dragons.