by Macie Cage
“So, it’s not that he hates me. He’s scared of me.” Evander found himself grinning, replaying every instance that should have made it painfully obvious.
Malik gave him a small, bitter smile. “I’m fairly certain he still hates you, but that’s more a fault of mine. That and you caused him to fail. That is his greatest fear.”
“Yours?”
“When your brother was born, I was a very different man. I didn't change until much later, shortly before we had you.”
Evander blinked at him. “Brother?”
“The Clan children are raised communally. The head of the Clan keeps records in an attempt to breed certain abilities, but there are several cases that a couple would have more than one child together.” Malik examined him carefully. “Does this change your resolve?”
Evander thought about it for a moment. “No. He’s power mad and clearly is not interested in any sort of blood tie. Besides, I was never one to put much stock in blood relations.”
Malik smiled again. “Then you’ll be fine. Ansom was scared of you because he cannot predict where you will be with your ability. He trained you into a very specific mindset that makes you predictable. If you lose that predictability, you will be fine.”
Evander gave a nervous chuckle. “It sounds almost too simple.”
“Sometimes that’s just how it is.”
Ten
Month of the Maiden 17, 421 HE
A gentle tune could be heard from the room where Caiden had once again taken the old King once breakfast was finished. Malik stood aside to let Evander enter and he found the pair huddled close together, their eyes glazed over, each with a hand on the tiny music box that was playing.
Evander found himself staring in wonder at the shelves upon shelves of music boxes. He’d never seen so many in one place before. It must have cost a fortune, or several.
“Where did all of these come from?” he asked, keeping himself quiet so he wouldn’t disturb Caiden and his grandfather.
“I made them,” Malik said quietly as he entered the room. He slowly began picking up the boxes that sat around the royal pair, cleaning them off and returning them to their proper places. Every shelf was labeled, most by year and date, but there were also larger boxes or chests with the names of other countries or people.
“Made them?”
“It would cost a fortune to keep buying them, so I made a few friends and I got the parts to make them in bulk. I can make a hundred small ones before I need to order more.”
“That is amazing.”
“Hmm, I wonder about that.” Malik strolled over to one of the shelves and started collecting boxes.
“How do you know what memories go where?” he asked, marveling at how easily the man picked out the boxes.
Malik raised an eyebrow at him and held up the box in his hand. A date and name were carved into the side.
“He used to have them all jumbled in boxes before I told him to do that.” Ellen’s voice was a soft chuckle. He was adjusting to hearing her but not seeing her, and he swore that he could almost feel the woman standing beside him though she had no physical presence.
Malik set his burden down on one of the small tables. “The keys are in the boxes. Put them back when you’re finished. If you touch any of the others, I will cut off your hands.”
Evander was shocked by the venom in that statement, glancing over at Caiden who was still lost in another memory.
“He has earned the right to my memories and because it was his wish, I’ve allowed your Prince to handle them as well. But let me make this very clear, you are being given permission to look through these. That is all. Anything else will be considered a trespass on par with the worst of crimes. Clear?”
Evander nodded mutely. He had never thought of it that way. Malik’s talent was so useful that he had forgotten it was a look into the man’s thoughts. His feelings, his senses, his physical sensations. It was a moment of the man’s life that was being handled and looked at by people who had no business being in his mind like that. He supposed there was no such thing as privacy with his ability.
He picked up the first of the music boxes with a newfound care and respect, carefully curling up in a chair before taking out the key and winding the instrument.
A young boy stood in front of a group of targets, some only a few feet away, some farther back. Others hung from the ceiling or the walls around him.
“Begin.”
As soon as the cue was given, the child started throwing. He had several knives in his off-hand, more strapped to his body, and an array of various items around him. In a matter of seconds, all had been launched. Rather than watching the knives hit their targets — as he knew they would — Malik watched the boy himself.
Ansom’s eyes trained on a target, the knife left his hand, his eyes switched to the next. It was extraordinarily fast, but Malik could see the flaw in the child’s ability very easily. Against a stationary target, he would not miss. However, it seemed that his ability only insured that the projectile would hit a specific spot that was targeted in space, not the target itself. That was the theory at least.
The child grinned as all the targets were taken down, and each had a blade directly in one of the kill spots. The gathered members were amazed. They congratulated the child, commending his amazing ability. Malik hummed. He’d have to point out the flaws before the praise got to his head.
Evander replaced the key and closed the box. It was strange seeing Ansom as a child. He’d always been so severe and controlling throughout Evander’s experience with him. He set the music box aside and picked up the next one.
Malik watched the boy frown at the mechanism in front of him. A series of targets were attached to rope and pulleys.
“Umm, what is this?” he asked slowly, recognizing the test.
Malik nodded to another of the Clan members who took up a spot by the pulleys. “A test,” he answered.
“Test? But you’ve already tested me.”
“Yes, but this is something new. Hit the targets.”
Ansom took his stance and as soon as he gave the go ahead, the child threw. And missed. The targets had moved as the knife left the boy’s hand.
Malik observed Ansom as the child processed his first failure. His face flushed red with outrage.
“That’s not—!”
“Try again,” Malik ordered. He’d make the kid realize his limitations even if he had to force him to fail repeatedly. He’d spent too long being praised for his ability.
“But—”
“Again,” he snapped. This time the targets kept moving in a steady rhythm. Ansom took his stance again and Malik could see the child struggling for the first time in his life.
He missed. His ability was backfiring. In order to lock onto the point he needed to hit, his eyes had to be on it. Which meant he couldn’t track the target and activate his ability or else it would be locked on several steps behind the moving target.
Ansom was becoming increasingly frustrated as he continued to fail, and Malik kept forcing him to do it again. Finally, the boy threw down his knives, tears of frustration brimming in his eyes.
“Again.” Malik’s voice echoed in the almost empty training room.
“No! I can’t!”
The blow was quick and harsh as Malik’s hand lashed out to cuff the boy’s head. Ansom recoiled, stumbling forward and staring up at him completely shocked. It was the first time he’d ever refused an order, it was the first time he’d failed, so it was also the first time he’d been hit.
“I said to do it again,” Malik growled at the child.
“But—”
“You can. You’re just doing it wrong.” If the arrogant brat would let go of his prior thinking and predict where the targets would be, then he wouldn’t be having that problem. “Now get up and do it again. Correctly, this time.”
There was a flash of anger in the boy’s eyes as he slowly stood. Good. Maybe he’d improve if he thought of it as a
challenge.
Evander stared at the memory in his hand. That was not the Malik he’d met. He could feel the violence that he’d been capable of, but the man didn’t give off the same feeling now. He shook his head and reached for the next one.
“That is amazing,” one of the younger members gaped at Ansom as the teenager finished his exercise.
Ansom gave a smug little grin, his eyes glancing over to Malik for a moment. “This much is nothing,” he declared. “My ability makes it absurdly simple.”
“What I wouldn’t give to have an ability to track my target.”
Malik ground his teeth. The boy had taken his advice to a whole new level of obsession. Malik had to replace the pulleys in the mobile training room from how much the child had practiced. Now any time he tried to intervene in the other’s bragging, it only turned into another chance for Ansom to prove himself as the ‘best’.
The worst of it was, every task the boy was given, he succeeded at. Every question had an answer and it was always correct, even if only by a technicality. He never failed. It fed into his flaws while simultaneously making it seem like he didn’t have any faults.
Ansom had been elected as the Prince’s Guardian despite Malik’s best efforts. No one seemed to realize just how ill-suited the brat was to the role. They only saw the glamor that was his ability. Sure, the child was powerful, he was smart, he was quick to learn, was discrete, was strong, was well-trained, and was brilliant at strategy and tactics, but he was completely and utterly unsuited.
The backward and convoluted thought made him growl. He needed to find a way to either knock him down a peg, or get rid of him entirely
A perfectionist, stubborn thinker, set in his ways, obsessed with appearances. Things that Evander suspected but now knew for certain. He immediately reached for the next memory.
“I will not be stepping down,” Malik declared.
There was muttering amongst the gathered Clan members.
Ansom had the audacity to actually laugh. “Excuse me? Look, I know that you don’t like me. It’s fairly obvious. But now you’re trying to hang on to your power just to… do what?”
“Ansom, if I give you this, it will spell the end of our hard work.”
“Malik, I understand your jealousy. Truly. However, I am not about to defend myself to someone who clearly will say and do anything to keep the power to himself.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Honestly, I never thought you’d stoop so low.”
He was too late. It was clear. Too many had fallen to Ansom’s way of thinking. No one would stand up to the man. And… no one would stand up for him. He didn’t blame them, he’d been… unforgiving over the years and he’d made the changes too late. He couldn’t stop this from happening.
Ansom smirked at him.
He couldn’t do anything. Ansom had finally won. He should have known.
--†-- Maiden 18 --†--
“Eva.”
Evander frowned, slowly stirring as Caiden shook his shoulder. He sat up, stretching and cracking his neck. He’d fallen asleep in the Music Room, surrounded by memories of Ansom. Specifically Ansom’s sparring practices, his fights, and scenes that portrayed his way of thinking. His habits. He felt tired, as though he’d lived a few years more.
“Ready?” the Prince asked.
“Did Malik already tell you?”
“What, that Ansom’s ability is a sham? I already knew that. I just wasn’t sure.” He grinned at him.
“So, did you do anything else while I was occupied?”
“I think I know where to stage the ambush.”
“Oh?”
“There are some ruins where we used to camp. About twelve miles northeast of the capital. Plenty of shadows and I know it like the back of my hand already. If we can lead Ansom there, we’d have the advantage.”
“Sounds like you have this all figured out.”
“Do you know how to beat him?”
“I think so.”
“Then we’ve both done our parts. C’mon. Pretty sure Malik wants us gone as soon as possible. He might throw us out himself if we don’t get a move on.”
“What gave that away, I wonder?”
Caiden jumped, spinning around as Malik leaned against the door frame. Evander chuckled.
“Go on, little Prince. I’d like to have a word with your handler.” The words were harsh, but the man’s tone was friendly. Certainly coming from a man who cared nothing for Caiden’s supposed authority. Caiden bristled but made his escape.
“I’ll be downstairs then.”
Malik watched him leave then turned to Evander. “Think you’re ready for this?”
“As ready as I can be.” Evander shrugged.
Malik nodded, walking to one of the shelves that Evander had been forbidden to touch. He took a single box from its place and Evander knew immediately that it was something precious. It was larger, making room for a larger wheel, which meant a longer song and longer memory. It was also made from a dark wood, carved with vines, sanded and stained where the others were more simplistic in their design.
“When all is said and done, come back here. This will be waiting for you. Think of it as an incentive.”
“Incentive?”
“To survive.”
Eleven
Month of the Maiden 22, 421 HE
Evander dropped back down to where Caiden was keeping a fire going. “If he keeps going at this speed, we’ll be seeing him tonight or tomorrow if he decides to attack during the day.”
“Tonight, then? I doubt he’d come during the day, not to mention the cloud cover.”
They both looked up. The clouds were thick and heavy. There would be no shadows by moonlight tonight. They’d have to rely on the fire.
“How much fuel do we have?”
“Enough. We’ve spent the last few days gathering all we could.”
“Throw it all in, or as much of it as you can. We need the fire to last as long as possible.”
Caiden hummed in reply, starting to build up the flames. They were both tense. Evander had been leading Ansom to their location slowly. Once he found the man, it had only been a matter of leaving a few tracks then jumping and leaving a few more. He left a few every day, ensuring that they would have at least a little time to prepare.
Now he was almost there. They could only hope that they had enough of an advantage. Evander sighed, leaning against one of the crumbling walls. He knew the man’s fighting style. Knew how he thought, knew his habits.
“I want to hear you play the violin again,” Caiden said suddenly.
Evander raised an eyebrow at him, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “What do you mean?”
“I want to hear you play again, so when we get back home and everything settles down, will you play for me?”
Evander tilted his head. Nerves? Caiden was nervous. Understandably so. He himself was trembling slightly under the pressure. “Sure.”
“Heh, remember when Miss Galant thought she finally taught me how to play?”
Evander chuckled at the reminder. “I don’t think she ever figured out that it was me.”
Caiden grinned. “Thank the Gods. I don’t think I could sit through any more of those lessons.”
Evander smiled. On top of being tone deaf, Caiden couldn’t read music for the life of him. It just wasn’t something that came naturally. By the time the music instructor had cycled through several instruments, trying to find something that he could play, Evander had gotten the hang of reading it. When she finally forced the violin into the Prince’s hands, she was ready to declare the man a failure and quit.
Caiden had been frustrated and depressed. No matter what he did, it just wouldn’t work. He could play a few children’s tunes by memory, but even those were shaky and strained. Finally, Evander had snatched it from his hands while the instructor was on a break and tried to teach him a different way.
The woman had been in tears when she opened the door,
just as Evander had given the instrument back. She’d been so relieved that he’d finally shown promise. They’d been told that if he could show proficiency that the lessons would be done. So, Evander hid and played while Caiden pretended.
“I don’t think Miss Galant would have been able to either. She probably knew and just never said anything.”
“Probably.” Caiden laughed, and they lapsed into silence.
The sun was slowly sinking down, casting the world into shades of orange and red. Caiden made a light dinner of vegetables and greens that he’d gathered along with a small portion of meat. Their supply of water was slowly being depleted. If Ansom didn’t attack that night or the next morning, they’d have to risk Evander using his ability to go get more and leave Caiden alone.
It wasn’t an option that Evander was fond of.
“Hey, Eva?”
“Hmm?”
“I know I kind of dropped the subject before, but can you tell me more about your training?”
“What do you want to know? I thought I already told you everything.”
“Where did you go for that week, about… I don’t know, I was eight. I remember I ran all over the castle searching for you, but everyone said you were away for the Vladimir Clan’s training camp.”
Evander frowned, trying to remember the instance he was talking about. It was so rare for him to be separated from the Prince that he honestly couldn’t think of it. Then he remembered and instantly wanted to forget again. Gooseflesh covered his arms and he shivered at the memory.
“It was a training camp. Just the last round of testing before they left me alone. For the most part. Everyone goes through it.”
“Oh?” Caiden examined him. “What did they test you on?”
“Endurance,” he answered, hoping that the man would drop it.
“Endurance?”
No such luck. Evander sighed. “It’s tailored to the trainee, so it’s different every time.”