Luther came upon a section of the book that talked about forging Bractar and attaching them to a live host. Then he stumbled upon something useful:
Break the bonds
you use to enslave
free yourself
free your slaves
break the chains you have made
or in this earth
you will be laid
Supposedly this chant would split the Bractar open and free the slave. Luther spent a considerable time committing it to memory. Even though his blade would cut through the Bractar and remove the physical chains, the mind stayed trapped in the master's control, which did tend to imply that the refugees who had traveled to their fiefdom were all still tied, at least a little bit, to masters in the Southern Badlands.
Luther dueled again and lost, but he tried harder, so the elders didn't bitch and moan. Victor studied magic every day. He practiced summoning magic until his nose bled some days. He didn't talk unless spoken to, and then it was always a simple yes or no, or I don't know. Never any more. It began to be like living with the ghost of a man.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The third Ralph Storm text was a biography of the Southlanders' king, Quintak. It talked about an ancient crown and great sword forged by Isher. Luther buried himself in the book whenever he was not dueling or performing the household chores Mom demanded of him: cleaning out the horses' stalls, brushing the horses, and making sure they were getting enough exercise and grain. He enjoyed the work.
They were having a simple dinner of beans and rice when a great banging sounded on their door. Juxta raced to answer it, and Mom, Luther, and Victor followed. Although Victor moved sluggishly and didn't seem to really care.
A voice shouted, "Juxta!"
He threw the door open. A sweat-covered man in leather armor stood there breathing hard. "The Drakkar's wife is sick! She's deathly ill."
"Timothy Drakkar?" Juxta asked.
"Aye, we've got to hurry."
Juxta spun around. "Luther, ready the wagon. Victor, pull every Druidic healing book I have out of the library into the wagon."
Both young men ran off.
Within the hour they were on the way to Kirl's house. Kirl needed to know they were leaving. He nodded over and over. "I'll see to the chickens, go!"
They headed out of Weslan, traveling east into the twilight. As the sun set, Juxta threw up a ball of white light to guide the horses. They stopped at midnight and ate jerky and day-old dry bread. At sunup, Juxta egged them on to go faster and faster. They traveled like this for days into Lynken. Two days after crossing the border, they reached a crossroads. The sign to the north said, "Drakkar." They turned in that direction.
Timothy's estate was no more than a speck in the distance, and Juxta whipped the horses into a gallop. They arrived in time for the funeral. Timothy walked slowly next to a coffin in the back of a wagon. He carried his staff in his left hand, but no magic sparked in its gemstone. His empty eyes looked up at Juxta and his troop. He continued to walk beside the wagon.
Timothy was muscular across the shoulders and thin in the waist. Juxta and the others didn't say a word. They fell in step with the other mourners and inched their way to the family graveyard. Five other men with Timothy lowered the coffin into the ground. He took a fistful of dirt and tossed it on the box. Then he went kind of mad, pushing piles of dirt from the side into the hole. The men and women present simply let him. By the end of it, Timothy's arms were muddy, and his face was muddy from where he had wiped tears away. He pounded his fists down on top of the dirt. Finally, he fell backward and spread out his limbs on the ground.
People began to wander off. Most funerals in Lyken ended in a feast, if the man who died was ancient or crippled. There would be no feast today. For the first time that day, Timothy noticed Juxta.
Timothy spoke in whispers. "It fell upon her so quickly. I sent for you after the third day."
"I'm sorry," Juxta said. "Even if you had sent for me sooner..."
"She's gone!"
Timothy stood up from the ground. "You must be famished. You made it here in record time."
"We'll eat, but only if you are eating," Mom said.
"You're a priestess, still?"
"I perform some duties."
Timothy turned his bloodshot eyes to stare at Luther. "And you trained to be a priest?"
Luther tilted his head to the side. "I studied, yes, but I'm not ordained."
"Come on. I'll have a meal prepared."
They followed him into a walled structure. The gate stood open. Timothy led them into a great hall, which was empty except for one woman who was waiting. He said, "Slaughter a pig and roast it. I want my friends to be well fed."
Timothy looked into a mirror. "I'll bathe and return. If you have need of anything, ask a servant. See to your horses."
The man who had carried the message to Juxta stood there. "I did my best, my lord."
"Peter, you did everything you could. You're dismissed."
Timothy left to bathe. Peter disappeared. Luther and Victor saw to the horses. A small stable rested just inside the wall of the castle. People in the courtyard did not smile or nod at the strangers. They stoically went about their business.
Luther and Victor returned to the main hall. Victor said, "I don't know what the big deal is: people die all the time."
Juxta, Mom, and Luther gave him burning glares.
"I'm just saying," Victor said. "It's a well known fact that death isn't the end. They'll meet again."
"It doesn't make it hurt any less," Luther said.
Timothy cleared his throat from the corner of the room. How long he'd been standing there was anybody's guess. He wore a loose-fitting white shirt and tan breeches. He sat down next to Luther, not in the main chair at the head of the table.
"After dinner, I'd like to talk to you," Timothy said, and by his eyes' direction, he meant Luther.
"About what?" Luther asked.
"I want you to minister to me. Priests within my hold will never treat me right."
"I'm not a priest."
"You're close enough!"
Chapter Thirty-Six
Luther hesitated. Servants brought forth food. The servants made plates for themselves and sat at a smaller table. Every so often a bright-eyed girl of about nineteen years refilled wine cups. Luther ate and drank very little. Timothy didn't seem to eat anything.
Timothy stood up and walked away.
Mom nudged Luther. "Follow him."
Like he even had the first clue what he was doing. He stood up and followed. Timothy led the way to a tall tower, easily twenty yards high.
"What is it that priests say?" Timothy asked.
"I don't know."
"You do, tell me."
Luther did not want to play this game. "They like to say she's in a better place."
"Don't say it like that. Say it like you mean it."
Something clicked in Luther's mind. This was no game. "She's in a better place."
"I want to see her, one more time," Timothy said with tears in his eyes.
"Looking into heaven or Hell, even if you were strong enough, is a great sin."
"She was always terrified she'd end up in Hell for marrying me. Me!"
Luther began to speak a low prayer. Timothy picked up on the words and said them, too.
"You will meet her again," Luther said.
"Lies!"
Luther raised one eyebrow.
Timothy climbed up into the window stretching out over the compound.
"No!" Luther shouted.
"I could jump." Timothy wiped a few tears out of his eyes.
"You could."
"Tell me not to."
"You must want to live. You have a fiefdom here where they love you."
Timothy climbed back into the tower and planted his butt on the sill of the window.
"I don't want to live. That's the thing," Timothy said. "I know no hunger, no thirst. It's like I'm a gho
st, and Beth lives on."
"It'll pass," Luther said.
"I've heard stories of men who starve themselves after their wife's death."
"I've heard of these stories too."
Timothy let out a little groan. "I think maybe I should travel into the Southern Badlands and let the thirst or the monsters get me."
Luther shook his head. "If my experience and research are accurate, you'd just end up a slave. You don't want to head south."
"Give me something to live for."
Luther did have one final trick, an ancient rite. He wasn't sure if he wanted to invoke it. Would it make Timothy feel better? It was clear he wanted it.
Luther thought back. Make sure the words are right. "Give your life to me. Swear that you will perform any deed I ask, until you perish."
Luther hoped he got the words properly, and for the first time, Timothy's face lit up like magic. Did he know the words to say in response?
"My life is yours, command me unto death, but make it swift."
The words came out of Luther's mouth like water being sucked into parched earth. "I will command you unto death, but it may not be swift. I can only promise my best."
Luther had no idea what he was getting into, but by the expression on Timothy's face, he was at peace finally. Luther's best effort to order Timothy to his death?
"For the first time in a long time, I hunger," Timothy said.
Luther clapped the other man on the shoulder. "I'm sure there's food left over. I'm hungry, too."
The two of them feasted and drank.
Timothy was happy at breakfast. "Thank you so much for coming, Juxta, and bringing Luther."
"He ministered to you?" Mom asked.
"He showed me the way."
Mom turned to Luther. "You have to tell me all about it."
Luther sighed. "There isn't much to tell. And what there is, I cannot speak of."
Mom glared at Timothy. "You swore an oath!"
Timothy ate a piece of ham. Luther said nothing.
"So be it," Mom said.
"I don't know what either of them are talking about," Juxta said.
"It's an ancient thing," Timothy said. "I'm counting on Luther."
"He's never going on any sorts of adventures. His nose will be in books for the rest of his days. Or finding a woman. Or drinking cider. Nothing risky. He must produce at least five grandchildren."
"There's no reason for you to stay here," Timothy said.
"We're staying at least three or four days."
"Thanks, old friend."
"After breakfast," Mom said. "Luther and I are going to visit the nearest church."
"Mom, you haven't dragged me to a church in years. I'm a Magi now."
Mom leaned in close and whispered in his ear. "If you swore the oath I think you swore, it must be reported, and sacraments must be made."
"I thought the whole point is it's secret."
"It must be reported."
Luther pushed his plate away.
Mom said, "I know the way."
Luther followed her. They were halfway to the temple when Mom stopped walking. "Tell me what oath you swore."
"How is that a requirement?"
"If I were your superior in the church, it would be a requirement. Did you want to stop and get ordained? Then you would have a proper superior."
Luther looked around to make sure nobody would overhear. "We swore the death oath."
"Brilliant. Now you must find a way to get him killed. If he dies from some other cause, the One True God will frown upon him during judgment."
"I didn't feel like he was giving me any choice."
"You should have never agreed to it. No ordained priest would ever swear the death oath."
A little late now.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mom pushed the doors to the temple open. A priest looked up from his book.
"Idiot-boy has sworn a death oath," Mom said.
Since when did Mom call him idiot-boy?
The priest closed his book and stood up. "We have everything necessary, of course."
"Splendid," Mom said as she turned to glare at Luther.
The priest said, "I'm Jared."
"Lisa. The idiot-boy is Luther."
"Luther, son of Juxta?"
"Yes."
Jared motioned with his hand towards the back, then started moving in that direction while chanting in a low voice. Mom started a similar chant. Neither prayers were familiar to Luther.
They followed Jared into a tiny room with a chest along one wall. Jared opened it and withdrew a brazier, a copper bowl with legs. He set it in the center of the room. It stood about two feet tall. Jared took a leather bag out of the chest while Mom continued to pray. The contents of the bag, crushed up leaves and flowers, ended up in the brazier. Jared said, "It'll burn quickly. Pull your shirt up, capture the smoke, and breathe in deeply."
Luther pulled his shirt up. Jared produced flint and steel out of the chest and threw a spark. The dry plant matter started to sizzle and smoke. Luther leaned over, breathing in the smoke. His head instantly began to spin. Mom and Jared's chants became low tunes with barely discernible words. Luther breathed in the smoke over and over.
His mind disconnected from his body, and he began to fly. He flew across Lynken, heading south. His spirit floated for league upon league. Drifting into the Southern Badlands, he tried to return to his body but could not. He flew into a great castle housing Quintak. A huge expanse opened up, and it was a massive room full of cushions and pillows, and women. Hundreds of women. Luther realized he was looking upon Quintak's harem.
In a rush, Luther was back in his body. Jared and Mom were smiling.
"Don't tell us what you saw," Mom said.
"Whatever you saw, it means nothing," Jared said. "You cannot assume it's the path for the death oath."
Mom and Luther walked back to Timothy's castle. They spent the night and set out for Weslan in the morning.
Luther went back to dueling. Juxta spent his time either forging a new Cuts-metal blade for Lynken or trying to lecture Victor on proper technique. Victor did not progress. He became more and more sullen around the house.
Luther found a fourth Ralph Storm book. It discussed the great sword and crown, gifted to Quintak from Isher. According to this book, the Bractar across the Southern Badlands were tied into this crown and great sword, and it was this magic that let the Bractar control people.
A plot began to form in Luther's mind. An idea, reaching out to him from afar. Quintak's last excursion into Lynken killed hundreds, and for that alone, he needed to die. Luther would be the hand of doom. But he did not know how. If it were just Timothy and Luther, they wouldn't be able to hold a line against odds. They wouldn't be able to fend off attackers and cast healing at the same time. Luther didn't know what he would do. His nineteenth birthday approached.
Victor quit eating. At least not when Luther was around. Juxta gave up all hope. They were at dinner one night, with Victor just poking at his food.
"You must find a new apprenticeship, Victor," Juxta said. "You'll never be a Magi. I'll give you coins, and you can get more coins from King William. Go back to farming, or become a merchant or a blacksmith."
"I knew this day would come," Victor said. "You have failed me."
"I've done everything I possibly can."
Juxta held out a coin purse. Victor grabbed it and fled the house. Luther didn't know where he went.
* * *
In Lynken, a rogue scout stepped into William's throne room. Teresa and William were both there and Mathew. A few scribes. The rogue scout saluted.
William returned the salute. "You have news?"
"A Ranger sergeant has been convicted of murder."
William frowned. "You traveled all this way to tell me."
"The sergeant was Jason son of Simon."
William raised his voice, "Surely you have some story for me beyond just this!"
"Jason c
laims the man he killed was sodomizing a cadet. The cadet didn't back up Jason's word: he denied it. Jason asked for a duel and slew the other man."
"Somebody get me Simon!"
All the scribes ran off. The rogue scout made to leave. William said, "You stay."
Soon enough Simon was there in the throne room with tears in his eyes.
William grabbed him by the shoulder. "We can make this right."
"How can we make it right!" Simon said with a growl.
"We'll give him coins to train as a Magi or a blacksmith. He can live a good life."
"All he has ever cared about was being a Ranger."
The rogue scout spoke, "He'll likely come to find you, Simon."
"Yes, he'll come looking for me at our home. I've got to be there for him."
William said, "Go!"
Victor Chapter
Victor rode east out of Weslan's capital. Juxta's words floated in his mind: approach King William and ask for enough coins to get a new apprenticeship. Victor didn't believe. In fact, Victor didn't believe a word Juxta said in the last year. A growing seed of hate grew in Victor's heart for Juxta.
Why did he not teach him magic? Just the same recycled rhetoric repeated ad nauseam. There must be some secret to it that Juxta failed to share. What was Victor going to do? No way was he going to beg for coins from King William. Returning to his family was an option, but then he recalled the beatings doled out by his mother.
He was a failure. His heart beat for only one reason. Revenge upon Juxta for failing. Something told him, the answer was in Tercia. Maybe, if he was not to be a Magi, he could be a Necromancer.
Victor passed through Lynken's capital with his brain focused on one thing. Tercia. What dark secrets did it hold? He followed the road, spending his coins on drink at inns. He crossed the border and reached a small town. A white stone mausoleum stood on the side of the road. He stepped inside, and it smelled cleaner than anything he smelled before. A Necromancer was kneeling in prayer. Victor made a small noise.
The Necromancer turned. His eyes burned with a red fire. "You seek Rivek. It's a flame in your heart."
Luther, Magi: Blood of Lynken II Page 11