by Brandon Fox
The path meandered through a marshy area filled with papyrus reeds ranging from six to ten feet high. It soon emerged beside a pond, partially covered with green scum, where water lilies bloomed in a riot of color. A flat stone embankment five feet wide circled the pond. As good a place for it as any.
“Look at it,” Thane said. “Did they create it for beauty or only for the sake of growing the plants?”
Dannel shrugged. “Both, perhaps?” He knelt and ran his hand over the yellow stone blocks. “Smooth. Made for resting or meditation, I’d guess.”
Thane bent to feel the stone. It was warm beneath his fingertips and smooth as polished wood. He sat and crossed his legs, letting the calm that filled the garden seep into his bones. Dannel settled next to him. They watched the pond in silence for a few minutes, hearing only the buzz of bees and occasional rustling of reeds as a zephyr passed.
At last Thane turned to his companion. “We’re more alike than you know,” he said. “My parents were serfs. Our family worked the same land for generations, always in debt to the landlord. I don’t know if it’s the same here, but in Izmir, serfs who leave the land without first paying their debts forfeit their lives.”
“I remember Ander saying you ran away from your master,” Dannel said. “I guess that makes us alike, at least some. But you were a serf. You must have spent most of your time farming, not fighting.”
“I started out farming along with everybody else. When I got older, the landlord decided to give me schooling along with his own children.”
Dannel lifted an eyebrow. “Since when do landlords let serfs into their manors?”
Thane shrugged. “I had a reputation in the village for being clever, and he thought he could use me. At first I didn’t understand what he was doing. I was just happy to discover a world beyond the fields. But soon I saw how he cared less about his serfs than his cattle. I began to plead with him, then to argue.”
Dannel shook his head in disbelief. “I know what would happen to an Aerehoth Guardian who tried that. Did you fare any better?”
A pained squint was answer enough. “He treated me like a headstrong horse, tried to break me. It took me a few weeks to recover from the beating. Then I ran away. I’d just turned sixteen. I knew he’d kill me if I defied him again.”
“Did Ander run away with you?”
“This was before I met him. I went to Chanture and made some friends. One of them got me a job in an aristocrat’s household. Lord Tolmin was like a father to me, showed me how to look at the world with an open mind. He loves plants and taught me some of their secrets.” He paused, reluctant to continue. At last he went on in a soft voice.
“That’s when I met Lucian. We fell in love, and everything changed. We started using some of what I learned about botany, looking for ways to increase each other’s pleasure. Finally we touched the kei. It was a complete surprise. We kept exploring, and what we learned became the art.”
Dannel’s brow creased. “Are Ander and Lucian both your lovers, then? I understand about using sex to work magic, but I know you and Ander share far more than pleasure.”
Thane took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Ander…. You’re right, he means more to me than anyone. Lucian died ten years ago. I never stopped loving him, but Ander’s made a new place in my heart. It’s… a long story.”
“Ten years?” Dannel looked dubious. “You’re not making sense. You said you ran away when you were sixteen and didn’t meet Lucian until after that. You’re no older than me.”
“It’s time you know one of our greatest secrets. The art uses anima, the force of life itself. It creates anima. Once you master the art, you stop aging. Lucian and I mastered it when we were nineteen. Not long before he died in the zamindar’s torture chambers.” Thane’s eyes stung, and he looked away. Memories of lost love and bitter grief felt as sharp as ever.
Dannel stared at Thane in silence, the doubt on his face slowly transforming into sympathy. At last he nodded. “After what I’ve seen the last few days, I believe you. In a way, it makes it easier to believe you’re a real mage.”
“Let’s get back to work,” Thane said, surging to his feet. “It’s not good to think about the past too long.”
Dannel scrambled to keep up as Thane plunged back into the garden as if fleeing a demon. They followed a narrow stone path, dodging branches bristling with long thorns. The trail opened onto another courtyard, this one surrounded by purple star-shaped flowers that were beginning to open. Thane slowed as the exotic blooms tugged at his attention. A scent like roasting cloves tickled his nose. Then he noticed a tree to their right, its red bark peeling in curly strips. He stopped and grabbed Dannel’s arm, the past forgotten.
“Look, a raffia tree. A useful plant. It could help us get around the firestone’s spell. Let’s collect some bark.”
“Whatever you say,” Dannel agreed. Thane had already released him and was weaving through foliage toward the tree. Small white buds had formed on the tree’s branches and gave off a sweet fragrance like cider.
“Peel off strips of bark,” Thane said, demonstrating. “You cut it into little pieces and scald it, then filter the pulp out and boil off most of the water. What’s left is like syrup, but it dissolves in lubricant oils.”
“What would it do? Make me less sensitive?”
“Not exactly,” Thane answered as he peeled translucent bark from the tree’s trunk. “Remember what happened when you touched Erik and Skorri? How you felt their pleasure?”
A hot flush spread up Dannel’s face as he nodded. “I’m not likely to forget. Ever.”
“I think the firestone makes you a channel, a place where anima flows strong and easy. But if you’re anointed with raffia oil, we can draw some of the anima off. Pleasure will still be there, but you’ll have a better chance to control it. It can grow slowly, the way your body was meant to feel it.”
“How much do we need?” Dannel asked as he started stripping bark from one of the tree’s spidery branches.
“A ball about six inches across should do it. The tree seems big enough. There should be plenty.”
They worked side by side in companionable silence, falling into an easy rhythm. The sun was warm on Thane’s back, and it felt good to have plants under his hands again. He could almost feel the placid life in the great tree, its place as a connection between the soil and the sun. As always, the routine of physical labor calmed him.
He glanced sidelong at his companion as he worked. Dannel toiled without complaint despite the sweat beading his forehead and staining his leather shirt. An unconscious frown tugged at his mouth. It wasn’t hard to imagine his anxiety; he had risked everything on a desperate gamble only to learn that success depended on a skill he’d never had a chance to master. Especially for a warrior, powerlessness would be hard.
Thane pondered the situation and soon remembered Ander’s happiness two months ago when Erik had asked to learn guitar. Though he was too modest to boast, Ander was proud of his skill and took joy in sharing what he knew. It had given him a sense of belonging and a chance to prove his worth. An idea formed, so obvious Thane wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before.
“What’s it like, doing your exercises without a fighting partner?” he asked. He kept peeling bark from the raffia tree, giving Dannel only a brief glance. “I’m impressed by your discipline.”
Dannel didn’t look up. “Some exercises can be done alone. But there are limits to what you can do without an adversary. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Maybe there is. You have ways of fighting I’ve never seen before. It could come in useful. Remember those nightblades in Chanture we told you about?”
Dannel looked up, as eager as Skorri before a tumble. “Would you like me to teach you? I’ve taught others, at the temple in Skarn.”
“I’d be honored if you would. And grateful. It would be a great gift.”
Dannel looked so pleased it almost made Thane laugh, but he kept a stra
ight face. His words were true, even if he had more than one reason for them.
“Would you like to start this afternoon?” Dannel asked. “It would be best to begin before eating.”
“You’re the master when it comes to warrior’s skills.”
“We’ll start slow,” Dannel said, returning to his work with new enthusiasm. “You have to learn how to train without getting hurt. Knowing how to fall—”
“There you are.” Erik stood where the path entered the courtyard, having approached without making a sound. “It’s hard to track in here. Too many stone paths and strange scents.”
Thane looked up, surprised at Erik’s arrival. “Done already?”
“We found something. A door of some kind, maybe. Ander had a strange feeling when we passed it, something in the kei too small for Skorri or me to notice. We thought you should be there before we try opening it.”
Thane felt his pulse quicken. “A door? In the chamber that ensnared Dannel and me?”
“A little before then, in the gallery. Come see.” He turned and started back down the path, even more economical with words than usual. It was a sure sign of tension. Thane wasted no time following, with Dannel close behind.
The sun had dropped halfway to the horizon by the time they reached the Aerehoth Gate. The white stone flanking the portal glowed a dull orange, and the glyphs seemed carved from fire. Shimmering heat coming off the plaza made the Gate appear to waver, as if the imposing entryway was the figment of a fevered dream. As soon as they passed the threshold, the afternoon heat vanished. The air inside was as cool as a crypt.
A faint golden haze in the distance broke the inky darkness. As they approached, the glow resolved into two telos lights hovering a few yards above the stone floor. Ander and Skorri were on their hands and knees, each casting a double shadow, brushing dust aside to clear a section of the floor. The cleared area was more ornately decorated than the walls. Intricate mosaics formed geometric patterns that wove together like a tapestry. Blue and green tiles dominated, with red and gold pieces forming most of the lines. Like the glyphs on the walls, the patterns seemed more than merely ornamental.
“Take a look at this,” Ander said, beckoning as Thane entered the double circle of light. “I felt something when we walked past. A chill is the best I can describe it. We stopped, and Erik noticed a line in the dust. See?” He pointed to an area where the dust was undisturbed. A nearly imperceptible indentation continued into the cleared area, lining up with an edge in the tile pattern. “It makes a rectangle. About five feet wide and seven feet long. The strange feeling is there when you stand inside it but vanishes if you step outside.”
Thane moved next to Ander. His partner’s suspicions were confirmed as soon as he stepped across the line. A cool sensation rippled through him, leaving a weak tingle in its wake.
A jolt of recognition made Thane shiver. “Water. This is how it feels if you enter the kei when a river’s nearby. But why would we feel it here?”
Dannel shifted uneasily. “Flowing water is sacred to the hierophants. It’s a part of many rituals. Even in ceremonial combat.”
Thane dropped to his knees, brushing dust aside where it had not yet been cleared. “Let’s get this cleaned off. Maybe seeing the whole pattern will reveal something.”
A patch of floor around the rectangle was soon swept bare. Thane conjured another light, brighter than the others combined, then stood back to examine the pattern from a distance. After a long pause, he shook his head. “I don’t see any difference in the pattern inside and outside the box. If it’s a door, where would they conceal a latch? Under a loose tile?”
Ander knelt and traced a portion of the line with a finger. “Maybe it’s not a door at all?”
“What else could it be?” Thane stamped on the tiles inside the rectangle, but the dull thump was no different from the sound outside the thinly etched lines. The light he had created began to sizzle, throwing off glinting red sparks, a reflection of his frustration.
“Maybe it’s a trap,” Erik suggested.
“I don’t think so.” Thane stamped again, harder. The thud of boots striking tile reverberated off the high walls. “If it’s a trap, it’s not working. If it’s not a door, what else could it be?”
Ander moved to Thane’s side and put a hand against the small of his back. “Maybe we’re looking at this wrong. Maybe it’s a door and the latch is in front of us, but we’re just not seeing it.”
Thane stopped his restless investigation. “What do you mean? There’s nothing to see except tiles and four grooves in the floor.”
“That’s all most would see. But only mages can sense the kei. Maybe you have to use magic to open the door.”
Thane blinked, feeling like a fool. Ander only grinned at him.
“You’re right. I didn’t stop to remember that sorcerers built this place.” He took Ander’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Would you help me explore? You’re more sensitive to the kei than any of us imagined.”
Ander didn’t hesitate. “What do you need? I’ll do anything.”
The pulse of affection through their bond was enough to make Thane’s heart melt. It still amazed him that Ander offered such unconditional devotion. He resolved for the thousandth time to spend more hours with his beloved. But it would have to wait; a mystery still remained. He held Ander at arm’s length, basking in his partner’s happiness for a few moments before returning to the task.
“We’ll start by sharing anima without fully joining. We might need to act quickly if the door opens.”
Ander nodded, his eyes half closing in a seductive gaze. “As you say. The rest can wait until tonight.”
Thane felt Ander’s anticipation through their link and answered it with his own. He could already tell the night’s lovemaking would be memorable. He slid his hands around Ander and tugged up his shirt.
Ander raised his arms and shimmied out of the leather garment. His smooth skin gleamed in the soft glow of the telos lights. He pulled Thane’s shirt off and then moved into an embrace.
Thane felt Ander’s strong heartbeat against his chest. They exchanged a fierce hug before stepping apart. “You know what to do,” he said as they moved to the center of the rectangle. “Share your strength, let me know if you sense anything. Especially if you think it might be a cantrip.”
Ander nodded, then moved behind Thane and put his arms around him with fingers splayed against his skin. While the limited contact wouldn’t provide as deep a bond as sex, the technique was far safer if something should go wrong and they needed to act quickly.
Thane slowed his breathing and leaned back, letting Ander brace him. He cleared his mind and focused on the chilly tingle that lurked on the edge of his awareness like a wolf in a dark forest. It was a dispassionate magic that he sensed, not filled with agony like the sorcery used by the zamindar’s mages or pleasure in the manner of the art. The prevailing sensation was of cool remoteness, vast as an ocean but moving with relentless purpose.
A strange combination of sensations began to fill his body. He could feel Ander’s strong embrace, accompanied by a steady flow of anima that warmed his skin where they touched. Thin lines of amber light outlined Ander’s hands. As their bond strengthened, the bands of light began to shimmer outward across Thane’s torso. Lines of ribs and muscle lifted and glowed with golden accents as he breathed. Gradually his awareness of the gallery faded. He closed his eyes and focused on the impressions lurking behind ordinary perception.
At first all he sensed was water, a mighty river flowing through dark caverns. He shivered at its coldness; ages had passed since these waters had last sparkled beneath the sun’s warming rays. Whether he was sensing a real river or his mind was conjuring water as a substitute for some cold and ancient mystery in the kei was impossible to know. All he could do was open himself to the experience and see where it led.
Thane drew on the anima flowing freely through his bond with Ander and surrendered himself to the frigid wa
ters. Touching them magically was enough to raise goose bumps, but he knew the cause was psychic rather than physical. He ignored the discomfort and allowed his mind to move with the dreamlike current as it picked up speed.
Soon he felt as if his body rushed headlong through narrow chasms, carried by a force as irresistible as a tidal wave. The sense of pressure was occasionally broken by heart-stopping moments of weightlessness as he felt himself hurtled over invisible waterfalls in pitch-black caverns. He swayed, barely aware of Ander’s strong embrace keeping him on his feet. The sorcery had sucked him in like a vortex and was rapidly becoming more real than the physical world. It carried him on a wave of power, filling him with equal parts terror and elation.
Dimly he heard the whisper of Ander’s voice in the back of his mind. The tone was insistent and anxious. Though it was nearly impossible to turn his attention from the weighty tugs and jerks that seemed to grip him, Ander’s voice wouldn’t relent. Down, it seemed to say. Look beneath the waters.
Confused by the propulsive forces that made him feel like a cork on storm-tossed waves, it took him several seconds to even decide what direction was down. At last he decided that down might mean the direction of his feet, regardless of his disoriented senses. He bent his head forward until the back of his neck strained.
At first he saw nothing but the same inky blackness. He began to feel real fear. This sorcery was immensely strong and physical. It was a force to struggle against, not a puzzle to unravel like most spells.
Heeding the urgent tone in Ander’s barely heard words, he continued to search the darkness. Finally a swirling gray patch separated from the black. He concentrated on it, trying to force clarity to emerge from murky gray clouds spinning like a whirlpool beneath him.
Touch it, Ander’s voice urged. Thane hesitated, wondering if he would be able to extricate himself from whatever force was manifesting in the void. Then, trusting in Ander, he visualized himself moving closer to the vortex. He extended a hand toward it. The world seemed to spin until the gray cloud swirled directly in front of him.