Into the Fold

by Chase Blackwood

  Again, Oria turned slightly red, but this time a smile claimed her.

  Aeden watched her for a moment, feeling a growing sense of desire claim him. It drowned out his thoughts. It quenched his dark emotions. It gave him a moment of purpose.

  He moved quietly through the water.

  Oria shrank back into the corner, some of the color draining from her face.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” he whispered.

  “I know,” Oria replied, looking Aeden in the eye with a strange sense of bravery.

  He stood before her, his muscular chest exposed, dripping water traced desperate lines upon angry scars. His white hair was slicked back and dripped upon his broad back and wide shoulders.

  Aeden looked at Oria for a moment before he sank into the water and moved closer, only inches from her. His hand graced the side of her face. Oria closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

  Aeden pulled her closer until their lips met. Oria seemed slightly surprised. Her lips remained closed as he probed them with his tongue. The touch was gentle, hesitant.

  There was a moment of resistance. Aeden pulled back ever so slightly. Oria hesitated before she succumbed. She tilted her head and parted her lips. Their tongues touched like two timid lovers.

  With his other hand, Aeden pulled Oria against him. Their naked bodies made contact, warm and slick and smooth. Oria’s hands were now on his back as her breasts pressed into his stomach.

  The fear of intimacy washed away in a hot wave of passion. Thoughts of privacy were foreboded and stripped away as the twosome explored each other with desperate fingers. Tempestuous desire fueled their movements and blinded them to the moment.

  The steam swirled and gathered and played with their naked forms until they were one. It danced and it whispered and it sang. It cleansed and it healed.

  Most of all, it masked a hidden set of eyes.

  They were the dark eyes of a former lover. One who’d come to the bathhouse to seek a respite from her thoughts. One who’d hoped to find Aeden alone.

  Chapter 75

  “Belief is the precursor of success.” Canticle of Bodig

  The following morning Aeden awoke with a start. He’d been dreaming. It had begun as a silky fantasy of soft curves and gentle skin. Warmth and proximity had defined the dreamworld, climaxing into a specter of Oria’s slender legs wrapped about his waist as a tangle of wild hair covered her face. Aeden brushed the strands aside, only to uncover Thea, glaring back at him. The dream shifted as a shadow befell the warmth. Peering through the murky depths of fragmented expression were hundreds of eyes, watching him, judging him, waiting, and casting their shame.

  Aeden bolted upright. The blanket covering him fell off the bed. He blinked away sleep as realization settled softly, tentatively. His eyes focused at the unmoving mass at the foot of his bed. There, before him, stood a shadowy figure, watching him.

  It was such a jolting transition that Aeden fumbled for a moment as his mind struggled to accept he was awake. Aeden’s hand was on his sword before he realized what he was doing. It sang softly to him as his fingers clasped the cool handle.

  “No.”

  Aeden was momentarily startled into stillness. Aeden felt the word penetrate his haze of awareness. It was like a needle shoved into his eye. He blinked and let go of the sword. There was a sense of reluctance and a strange sense of defeat in the gesture. It rankled at Aeden like the smell of week-old cheese.

  Was it some unknown use of the arkein? The shadow resolved into a semblance of clarity. The shape was none other than Master Xuban. A new reality took shape before Aeden’s watery eyes.

  The huge master loomed over Aeden’s bed like a sentinel. His dark eyes tracked his every movement.

  “So, no sword then,” Aeden uttered, swinging his feet over the side, feeling his fear subside and his pounding heart begin to slow.

  “Get dressed,” the large man said, “We’re resuming your training.”

  Aeden glanced about, wondering if anyone else was awake. More importantly, he wondered if anyone had witnessed him nearly piss his pants.

  The room was silent, save for the soft snoring of Laurent and the nearly inaudible tap of snow upon the window. The dormitory held the gentle energy of those in slumber and the cold feel of Vintas. Finally, it held the lingering taste of a dream gone sour.

  He tore his gaze from the sleeping forms and looked out the window. The sky was the deep purple of early morning, masked by clouds and swirling bits of frozen precipitation. It was dark, and it was cold.

  With a nod of acknowledgement, Aeden dressed, splashed some water on his face, and turned to stand before Master Xuban.

  “Follow me,” the master commanded, before turning and walking out the room.

  Aeden watched the large man for a moment, distraught as Master Xuban moved silently toward the exit. Aeden then looked upon his sword, the Kan Savasci. It had become as much a part of him as his left arm. Leaving it felt wrong.

  Its history whispered to him like the wind whispered through a forest.

  Jal Isa Sha’ril had told Aeden it had been crafted by the Prophet Majorem. The Jal had called it the Kan Savasci. What had he said it meant? ‘Fate Walker, Blood Warrior?’

  But the Jal had been wrong, for Master Meidl hinted at a much older weapon.

  What had Master Sigerica Meidl said? In an older tongue it had been called the God Killer.

  Aeden felt Master Xuban staring at him. With some effort on his part, Aeden tore his gaze from the midnight scabbard and worked his way out of the dormitory, following Master Xuban through Bellas Tower.

  They worked their way in silence through a cold, dark corridor. They wound their way down the stairs. Master Xuban appeared overly large for the tight, winding space. They strode down a hallway, before emerging into a cold Vintas morning.

  The air bit at Aeden’s skin with frigid teeth. It made his eyes water. It held a firm grip upon the mountaintop village of Andir, reminding Aeden briefly of S’Vothe. The images faded in a flurry of drifting snow.

  Aeden blinked away cold-induced tears as they rounded the windy base of the tower. Thoughts of warmth penetrated his mind. Images of steam, flesh, and water clamored for his attention. The taste of Oria still lingered as an intoxicating aroma of fresh memory and passionate release.

  Master Xuban continued, oblivious to the cold, oblivious to the thoughts that pestered and claimed Aeden.

  The twosome worked their way through the sleeping village, to the main gate. From there, they exited the safety of the mountaintop hamlet and emerged before the summit of the ten thousand steps.

  Master Xuban circled about the wall. Aeden watched the large man move quietly and carefully. His movements were seemingly perfect, calculated, and purposeful. Aeden then began counting the regular abutments along the wall and the capped spires above them. He counted to five before guilt found him.

  What would Thea think of his encounter with Oria? Had he betrayed her trust?

  Devon’s final look of devastation and hurt settled in Aeden’s heart like a frozen anchor.

  They circled about the town until they came upon a sheer cliff. The wind whipped up in heavy gusts of Vintas fury, spitting flecks of snow into Aeden’s eyes. It was as if the very weather was struggling to get his attention and pull him from the past.

  Aeden took a few tentative steps toward the edge and noted a steep drop.

  “We will train here,” Master Xuban said, without inflection or expression to mark his words.

  Aeden pulled his gaze from the cliff and turned his attention away from the angry snow that refused to settle. He focused on the massive master before him, remembering the venerable master from the S’Velt.

  “Clear your mind of thought,” Master Xuban said, as if seeing every emotion that rolled across Aeden’s face in the shadowy grip of a Vintas morning. “Remember what you’ve been taught.”

  Had Master Xuban been reading his mind? Had he seen the flashing images of naked s
hame and broken promises that tugged at his awareness?

  It didn’t matter.

  Aeden shrugged against the cold and took in a slow, controlled breath, bringing his awareness back into his body. He felt his thoughts slip away into a pool of unanswered questions.

  “Only the moment matters,” the master whispered.

  Aeden struggled as his mind resisted.

  Master Xuban grimaced. Images of the kovor flashed before Aeden.

  “Step to the edge,” the large master commanded, pointing to the steep drop off.

  Aeden glanced up uncertainly. The master was resolute with intent.

  “Perhaps the wind will cleanse you of incessant thought.”

  There was a sense of finality to the master’s words.

  With a grim face, Aeden inched closer to the edge. The snow pelted his face. The wind gusted and buffeted his body like a sail. The cold sliced through his clothing and clenched at his bones.

  “Good,” Master Xuban finally said. “Now we begin.”

  The words were but wisps of memory against a backdrop of clarity.

  “Clear your mind as you feel the shape of the wind, as you center your weight, as you anchor to the moment.”

  Chapter 76

  “The fear of losing love is greater than the darkest corners of Verold.” King Illian Benbow of Bodig

  Several weeks had passed. Aeden’s days had been filled with private lessons, solitary reading, and visits with Oria.

  His private lessons were intensely physical and mentally draining. Master Xuban seemed to enjoy pushing Aeden to new extremes and past previously assumed limits. The lessons often left Aeden exhausted to the point of delirium.

  After his lessons, Aeden would relax in the library, away from the other students, away from Master Xuban.

  Some days he’d search for information on Dimutia, hoping to learn more about the wild tribes, their history, cultures, and traditions. On other days, he’d look for whatever he could find on draccus fiends, still remembering his promise to his people. Despite these aberrant searches, most of his time was spent researching the Dup Shimati. It consumed him and filled him with purpose. The promise of power, beyond understanding, was like a fire on a cold night.

  On the most challenging days, Aeden would simply stare, uncomprehendingly, at whatever book was out before him. On these days the words would swim maddeningly in his vision and he’d seek solace elsewhere.

  Aeden would find Oria, knowing that whenever his eyes blurred, books would hold little comfort and little meaning. Aeden and Oria would walk the gardens, huddled against the cold, speaking of simple things.

  On the nights where the wind swept in with icy purpose, they could be found enjoying the warmth of the bathhouse. It was within the steamy atmosphere that they’d explore the intimacy of each other’s bodies, transforming Bellas Bathhouse into a temple of lust and relaxation.

  This is not to say that Aeden was alone or that he only spent his time with Oria. He’d still see Adel and Dan and Laurent. On occasion he would run into Garit or Harmon. In passing he’d nod to Faro or Sakhira. And then, of course, there was Thea.

  The brief moments he’d seen her were vexing at the least and maddeningly frustrating at their worst. The day he’d been beaten by the arkein was such a day. It was a day in which he’d nearly been killed. A day in which Thea had broken his heart.

  Aeden awoke early that day. It had become his habit to rise before the first light of the sun. He stretched and exited the dormitory. Bellas Tower was quiet as an inhaled breath. He slipped down the stairs, through another corridor and to the exit.

  He stepped outside and felt the icy fingers of Vintas greet him, probing at his exposed skin like a desperate lover. Aeden blinked away the cold and walked through a stone archway and into the Gardens of Andir.

  Within the snowy confines of snow-covered plant life, Aeden practiced the gevecht. He incorporated the ideas of awareness and mindlessness that Master Xuban had taught him into his movements. His breath was slow and even. As he moved, despite the chill in the air, Aeden grew warm. His muscles became loose. His mind cleared like a pond after a stone settles.

  As the sun touched the horizon, Aeden slowed and stopped. He looked about and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of Vintas. It was crisp and clean. It was cold and visceral. In many ways it was like home.

  Aeden worked his way to the dining hall, his stomach rumbling with hunger. A frigid wind swept over the wall, reminding him of a cliff’s edge, sharp and steep.

  Within the shadow of Bellas Tower, he glanced at the clouds. Stray bits of snow swirled in the wind, dancing to a hidden tune as they descended toward his upturned face.

  Aeden smiled and entered the slender tower. He was immediately thankful for the respite from the wind and the relative warmth of the building. The kitchens were often warmer, due to the ovens with their baking bread, and the fires for warmth and light. The air was smoky and tasted of comfort.

  He made his way into the dining space and to a short line for food. The line was comprised of his friends, Adel, Dan and Laurent. Dan and Laurent were whispering to each other as Adel strained to listen.

  “Morning,” Aeden said, startling Adel.

  Adel turned and smiled.

  “I didn’t even hear you.”

  “Probably because these two never shut up,” Aeden replied, waving toward Dan and Laurent, who were deep in some discussion.

  “What’re they talking about anyway?” Aeden asked with a hint of curiosity.

  “Nothing you’d want to hear.”

  At first Aeden was ready to sluff off his friend’s response, but Adel’s expression had caught Aeden’s attention and his curiosity grew deeper.

  “Adel?”

  Adel attempted a smile as he responded, “Aeden?”

  Aeden fixed Adel with a firm stare until Adel finally relented.

  “They’re talking about Caine,” Adel said carefully, looking away.

  “What about him?”

  Adel turned slightly red in the face.

  “Tell me,” Aeden pressed.

  “Well,” Adel started, but didn’t have a chance to finish.

  Laurent cut him off as he turned to face Aeden, “He’s a horse’s ass, is what. Caine’s saying that if it weren’t for him, none of you would’ve made it back from the Sages of Umbra. Apparently, he fought off a harpy as it tried to grab Janto, grabbing the beast by the leg, only losing his grip when another harpy joined the effort.”

  Aeden’s expression darkened like the sea in a storm.

  Dan turned around, jumping into the conversation as Adel slinked back.

  “Caine, apparently saved you from the Tree of Forgotten Children. What did he say…?”

  Laurent finished the sentence, “That you broke down, crying in fear…”

  Adel whispered to Aeden, “I told you, you wouldn’t like it.”

  Aeden only nodded. He grabbed some food and put it onto his plate, hardly noticing what he’d taken. He looked about for Caine, vowing he’d punch him square in the face if he saw him. Caine was not in the dining area. Instead, he locked eyes with Thea.

  She was seated on the other side of the columned space, at a small table. Her hand was on her slender neck. Her eyes were large and inviting. They’d narrowed slightly when spotting him, but she didn’t look away. She studied him with an angry look of amusement as she nodded at some unseen conversation.

  Only then did Aeden notice who she was with.

  Rafe.

  Thea laughed at that moment and reached out to touch Rafe’s hand. Her laughter carried to Aeden’s ear and rankled at his heart.

  Adel noticed the interaction and placed a hand on Aeden’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “Let’s go find a seat,” he said, pulling Aeden away from the sinking sensation that Thea had moved on.

  The four of them found a comfortable corner, tucked under a stained-glass window. The faint whisper of wind squeaking through a crack, whistled softl
y and spoke of a Vintas morning.

  Aeden dug into his breakfast, halfheartedly. He couldn’t help, but stare at Thea and Rafe. From his vantage point, he only saw Thea’s back, her auburn hair, part of her neck, and a thin slice of her face. Across from her, he saw Rafe. Aeden’s stomach turned. He put down the piece of bread he’d been eating. His stomach grew cold.

  “Where’ve you been hiding?” Laurent asked, looking at Aeden.

  “We haven’t seen you in classes,” Dan said.

  Aeden nodded, only half-listening. It was true. He’d been busy.

  Xuban had been finding new ways to torture him and elicit a response from his sleeping mind. Thus far, Aeden had spent hours balancing on a tree branch. He’d swam around the town of Andir in the frigid waters of the moat. He’d sat naked in the forest with nothing but his breathing to warm him. And he’d stood at the edge of a cliff, balancing as the wind buffeted him.

  “Master Xuban’s been showing me the finer points of suffering.”

  Laurent frowned as he stuffed some cheese into his mouth. Adel’s brow creased in worry as he looked from Aeden to Thea.

  “And today?” Dan asked.

  “Today I’m free to recover.”

  Dan merely nodded.

  “Harmon stated you’re bound for Dimutia?” Laurent said matter-of-factly.

  Aeden nearly choked on his food.

  “How did Harmon…” Aeden didn’t finish his sentence.

  Laurent smiled, “Harmon pays attention to the little things,” he pointed a piece of cheese at Aeden, “and you have been a thing of interest.”

  “Not to mention he’s nearly solved the puzzle of the dead students,” Dan chimed in.

  “Murdered students,” Laurent corrected.

  Aeden nodded but wasn’t paying attention. Just then Oria had walked in. He noticed Thea look up and frown. Oria hadn’t noticed, she was looking for him.

  Aeden waved and Oria’s face lit up with excitement. She skipped across the room. Aeden smiled in spite of himself. She was so light and full of energy, like a young bird who’d just learned to fly. She greeted him with a gentle kiss upon the cheek and waved to the others.