by BJ Hanlon
He felt like he could trust Le Fie, maybe Mersett, but had no idea where they were.
Edin glanced toward Gary’s shed. In the shadows he could barely make out the beast staring at him with doleful eyes.
The bedroom was empty. Dorset was gone, but his things were still there. The book he’d given Edin to read still sat on an end table. Edin slipped his weapon from beneath his bed and held it. It was all he had, that and maybe ten gold coins. He grabbed his pack and slipped into his normal clothes.
There was no way he’d wear the farmer’s garb in the outside world. Everything about this place and from it should be left behind… Arianne.
Edin swallowed as he pictured her. Arianne so proud showing him the keep, offering him hospitality, walking in on him in the bath.
A tear billowed in the corner of his eye. He quickly wiped it and reached for his flask… it was gone, taken by the jailors.
“I need to leave…” Edin whispered as if trying to get his body moving.
“This is not a haven…” Edin gritted his teeth and sat on the bed. He was tired… exhausted and was near breaking.
Everything he’d done to get here was for naught… He dropped his head to his pillow. This place was a smiling face in the clouds before a violent storm. It was an illusion.
He’d find some far away land where they didn’t care if he were a magus. Maybe some place even reveres them. He’d
make for the docks and steal a ship. He doubted anyone would go against the FAE and it was not likely the tyrant would let him leave. Edin would never return and never see her again. Edin closed his eyes and lost the fight against tears...
The door downstairs slammed open, crashing into a metal pot that made a dinner bell-like ring. Edin’s eyes pushed open and he glanced around.
Edin gripped his blade and pulled it from his scabbard. A moment later he knew where he was and what happened. How long had the guards been fooled by the oldest trick in the rapscallion’s book.
A guard’s head appeared, then another.
“He’s here!” One guard called back as they reached the top step.
Edin sat back into a serpent stance pointing his weapon at the two. “What do you want?” Edin spat, “if you come near me, you will die.”
Placisus appeared between the two guards. “You’re alive… thank the gods. I thought.” He shook his head. “Sorry.”
“You,” Edin growled, “you left me in that, that, that dark hell to die, you sent the assassin in.”
The broad guard captain shook his head. “I didn’t.”
“I should kill you,” Edin spat.
“Le Fie already is threatening that,” he chuckled.
The laugh startled Edin.
“I didn’t think I had to tell my jailors to leave the lights on and not let any trespassers in,” Placisus paused. “One of them is in custody though he’s not talking.”
“I don’t care,” Edin said. “I’m leaving this damned island. Don’t try to stop me.”
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere.”
“There’re no ships today, none for a while. Unless you’d swim or steal a craft…” He paused and stared at Edin. “That’s what you were going to do… understandable.”
“The water talent is one of my gifts,” Edin said. The words fell off his tongue before he realized what he just said.
Placisus’ eyes raised. A look went over his face. “Guards, leave us.”
“But sir.”
“Go,” Placisus said pursing his lips and looking at Edin though almost awed eyes. When they left he said, “The assassin… she was blinded, her eyes like milky crystals. She rambled about a bright white light.”
Edin said nothing.
“The dungeon is covered in wan stones, no one can use their talent down there not even Mersett.” He paused and eyed Edin. “She wore some sort of spectacles with a yellowish-green lens. Every light was blinding when I looked at them during the day. At night however I could see very well. I imagine a bright ethereal light could do some permanent damage.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Edin said.
“Witnesses spoke on your behalf, some want you commended. As for the assassination attempt… I want you safe, I will inform Le Fie of your whereabouts and discuss the investigation with him.”
“Investigation? You know who wants me dead… your great Fat Arse Egotist.” In many lands, it was punishable by death for insulting a duke or marquees. Clearly Pharont thought himself on par with them.
“Fat Arse…” He laughed. “It works… but I’m setting up a guard rotation for protection. Trusted guards.”
“Like the jailor that let in the assassin?”
Placisus stared at him for a long time. “Do not go to work again…” He said and then disappeared down the stairs.
Edin watched as Placisus rode away alone. The two guards stood like sentries outside of his door. Edin found a metal pail and put it behind the door to alarm him if anyone tries entering.
The pail knocked over with a hollow clang sometime later. Dorset called his name.
“Up here,” Edin yelled.
“You’re alright…” Dorset said when he appeared. When he spoke, Edin noticed a bottom tooth missing. He remembered the broson striking Dorset’s stomach.
“Your mouth?”
“It’ll be fine.” There was a hint of a grin growing on his face that puzzled Edin. “There are city guards outside… what happened? You were in the infirmary?”
“Someone tried to kill me.”
“Pharont?”
“Who else…”
“He’s not done, is he?”
Edin shook his head.
“Well, we better prepare. We’re isolated out here.” He glanced out the far window toward the open ocean. “I better start teaching you spellcraft then. And you have to show me the sword.”
He was tired but Edin agreed.
They moved outside and the guards eyed them warily but said nothing.
Edin watched Dorset using Mirage and practicing the early forms Grent had started him off with.
When the blade was pointed toward Edin, he nearly lost sight of Dorset. It was unnerving but he knew why it was called Mirage.
Edin corrected posture, moved the arm into a stronger position. “Like your spellcraft I imagine, everything needs to be just right. The mechanics of the spell is like the mechanics of the body.”
Edin showed him. The guards watched with curiosity. They were deeply enthralled with Edin’s lesson when hoof beats began to clap down the dirt path.
They grew louder and Edin turned toward the hill. Soon, the guards realized what was happening and grew stiffer, they’d moved ten yards away from Edin and placed their hands on their blades.
Slowly, a man appeared over the small hill atop a carriage.
“Give me that,” Edin said taking the weapon from a sweaty Dorset.
The carriage stopped before the guards. They spoke for a moment with the driver then opened the door with their heads bowed.
Was Pharont stupid enough to come out by himself?
The passenger stepped outside, he wore fine clothes, a brightly colored light blue tunic and cape with a circular golden clasp around his neck. A large hat sat on his round head. The man was heavy set but not fat and looked to be in some discomfort.
The driver, dressed in a servant’s livery, was thinner and slight of build. They looked to be unarmed and definitely out of place.
Edin noticed Dorset standing and wiping blades of brown grass from his tunic before standing up straight.
“Edin de Yaultan?” The large man said.
“Yes.”
He eyed Edin’s weapon. “Can you put away that weapon?”
“I’m not certain, can I?” Edin asked.
“He’s on the council,” Dorset whispered in Edin’s ear.
“My name is Belothann, but most people call me Belo… it works cause I’m loud you see.” The man of
fered a soft chuckle and then stopped when Edin didn’t respond. Probably not an assassin, he thought but wasn’t ready to sheath the blade. “I spent weeks trying to see you… I’m sorry about the attempt on your life and your imprisonment.”
“Weeks?” Edin asked and looked at Dorset.
“They took you away two weeks ago.”
Edin swallowed. More lost days. He’d have to worry about that later. “You’re with the Praesidium, I take it you’re here to offer your most sincere apologies for the way I’ve been treated.”
“On behalf of myself yes. We are not all his lackeys.” He bowed his head and looked back at Edin.
“What is it you want?”
“My daughter, Cannopina is alive thanks to you and your friend here.” Though he didn’t look at Dorset.
Edin stayed quiet.
“I owe you for my daughter’s return. She is almost fully recovered; the healers have been great and she is now back on her feet.”
Edin said nothing again.
“I have come to let you know I am planning a ball in three weeks. Normally, only the gentry is invited, though I suppose you are part of that being Rihkar’s son. I’d like to make you the guest of honor. As well as your friend here. It will be at my home in Alcor’s Row.”
“I’d have to clear it with the Captain,” one of the guards said.
“I do not know if I will still be here,” Edin said.
Dorset and Belo looked at him curiously. “Have somewhere to go? Our island not to your liking?” Belo said.
“I’d be safer in the midst of a Por Fen camp,” Edin said.
Belo gave a wan smile, “if you do stay, please join us.”
“We’d be honored,” Dorset said.
Belo nearly grimaced at Dorset’s voice. “Come Nan, let us go.”
To the right, Gary brayed. It took the council member’s attention.
“You’re Planning on leaving us?” Dorset asked.
Edin nodded.
His roommate paused for a moment, “do so after the party, his dinners and dances are grand. I’ve been to a few myself. All of the Praesidium will show up.”
“So I can wait for someone to stab me?”
“Come now, they have the assassin, it won’t be long before she talks. Whomever ordered you dead will be given up.”
“She’s Mireshka. I’m sure of it,” Edin said. “She won’t give up anything.”
“Mireshka?” Dorset laughed, “They’re fairy tales…”
Edin shook his head.
“Even if the legendary guild of assassins were real, there’s no way one of them would get on the island…”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. Anyways, I’m sure she’s already dead. Killed by whomever hired her.”
“That’s glib.”
They were quiet for some time before Dorset spoke. “Well then let’s get some tea and see how your spellcraft is coming.”
“No whiskey?”
“No,” Dorset said.
They left the guards behind and Dorset led him to the mysterious third floor. The entrance was through a door hidden behind a book shelf in their quarters.
“This is my sanctuary,” Dorset said with a grin.
It was a tall room with a conical roof. Four skylights were perched in a cross and toward the ocean, there was a large bay window.
“My office I suppose, when I have time…”
There was a dark stone hearth to one side, torn pillow-top chairs were pushed up in front of the bay window. There were small tables and a larger desk. Old paintings of boats at sea, a dock, and a lighthouse covered the walls as well as bookshelves, half empty.
Edin guessed the rest of the books were the ones covering the furniture and wooden floor. A pair of fluffy looking slippers sat next to one of the ratty looking chairs.
Soon, the sky began to grow gray and rain began pattering on the windows above.
“The glasorio are watering Brackland,” Dorset said. “Time for some spellcraft.
This is the ‘Sofito Magus,’ a rough translation is Spells of the Magi.”
They ate lunch and went over the words, the spells, and translations. Like he’d told Dorset with regards to the sword, everything needed to be perfect.
“Spells are a mixture of power words that can be said or thought and combined with one’s openness to the talent.”
“I thought mundane can use spells?”
“They can, you still need to open to the world’s energy. It’s a bit like opening a door during the deep heart of winter. You can let in the snow and the elements which may cause you harm or you can shut it out and stay safe. The real spot place is in between.”
“So spells can cause harm?”
“Of course. It was why this island was first inhabited,” Dorset said.
“Then what is the benefit of opening your door in winter?”
“Huh?” Dorset said, he seemed to be thinking about something, his mind going somewhere else for a moment. “Oh, well I suppose it isn’t the best analogy, but you can make water from snow.”
Over the next few hours, they went over the basics and Edin learned ‘Eletanto,’ a healing power word with no real translation. The best interpretation was ‘wipe my body clean.’ This brought back the image of the nurse washing his body with the sponge. Edin shivered.
While Dorset was doing something at his desk, Edin tried to heal a scratch from the bushes on his leg.
“It’s not working,” Edin said.
“What?”
“The healing spell… I’m trying it on my leg but…”
Dorset furrowed his brow and then laughed. “It takes much of yourself to heal another. It’d be like trying to tug yourself up a steep hill using only your body weight. Maybe try Gary…”
“I’m not going to cut my donkey,” Edin spat. “How about you?”
“No thanks, I’ve been beaten far too many times in my life.” Dorset looked away toward the window and Edin remembered his griping about Casitas.
They went over a half dozen more words, Edin’s pronunciation was terrible, the highborn alphabet had backward Es and Rs and dashes denoting syllables and the like.
Edin couldn’t get a growing spell to work on a small tomato plant despite the power word that sounded nearly identical to ‘Gross.’
“I’ll make dinner,” Dorset said and Edin realized it was far later in the day than he’d imagined.
After Dorset had left, Edin sat back down on the chair and pulled out the book.
Dorset set him to work at a different spell, an easier one. At least from Dorset’s point of view.
The ‘Hydration spell,’ spelt almost the same way in Ulstapish. It was meant to draw water out of the air and fill it in a cup. Edin grinned. He didn’t need that spell; he could do it with his talent, though
he didn’t mention that to Dorset.
Edin ignored that one and went to the transmutation of water. Turning it into wine as the god Vipastio was said to have done when inventing the beverage.
With the trickling rain, the warm fire, and the comfortable chair, Edin began to tire. He hadn’t heard from Dorset in a while.
Edin drank from the tea glass and stood before the bay window. He could see for leagues. The horizon was dark and ominous and he could see gray fog rolling in like some monstrous beast. He felt uneasy. Soon the rain slowed and then stopped.
After a bit, he went back down the stairs. His
mind was tired but his body was restless. He saw Dorset cooking and the two guards had rotated out and new ones were seated at their kitchen table downstairs.
“I’m going out,” Edin said. The guards looked to get up but he held them there with a hand. “I’m just going to work out my forms… it’s been too long.”
He took the sword and went into the wet world. Edin was out of sorts, some movements came back and others it took a few tries to get right.
Edin whirled the blade around near the edge of the cliffs. He leapt, slashed, and dived out of t
he way as he began feeling like the man he had been.
Dorset called for dinner, a stewed pork, which they ate with the two guards and afterwards, Edin fell asleep in his bed.
The next morning, Dorset left for the city, he had a class to teach. They’d trained a little in the morning, but Dorset was again exhausted. “Try to get practice swords,” Edin said as his roommate left.
Two new guards appeared in the night to relieve the others. Edin found a broom handle and held it out. He remembered hitting himself with it the first time he’d tried this.
Soon, he had his altered sword and stick form moving again.
After he sweated, Edin pulled himself up to the sanctum and pulled down a book from the shelf. He knew he should be practicing spellcraft. He hadn’t gotten a single spell to work…
Instead of practicing, he found ‘Histories and Legends.’
The text started at the beginning, when Losilin and his wise brother Estoolin were birthed by the Ancient One. A nameless, faceless being, the god of gods. He read an alternative story on Losilin’s wife, Cleor, a former mortal turned goddess and the woman whom the Vestion portrayed as a witch of the wilds. A temptress a harlot and the reason for abominations walking the world. This story however showed her as peaceful and loving mother of Vestor, the first mage.
Some footnoting stated they were unsure if Vestor was actually the son of the two gods but offered no alternative theory.
Vestor the Profit lived in a time before the relatively peaceful world. Before Bestoria. When the world was a dangerous place and monsters roamed. He united warring tribal parties to fight back the beasts such as dragons, wyverns, giants, and numerous other vile creatures.
He supposedly died before the time of the kings of Bestoria, but was made a god.
The first king was his grandson. A bit of a womanizer and through him, the talent spread and flourished for generations under the magi. Slowly however, the kings and queens of Bestoria became involved in treachery, violence, and infighting. The monarchs grew ruthless and tyrannical. The author seemed to be of mind that there were uprisings to protest and these just added fuel to the fire. A saying as old as the book.