The Orphan's Discovery

by Shawn Robert Smith

  He gave Markus a questioning look. Markus wasn’t sure what it meant, but he needed to sell this to other Decayed. If he could convince Death, he might convince the others.

  “Your best chance is when traveling to cities for testing. I won’t be with you for that. They won’t bring both of us. When you’re here in the Bailey, they watch you intently. In the dungeons, they use the cuffs to dampen your power, not to mention the cell itself, along with the guards. If you escaped here or there, you’d have to get through both gates and the series of guards that defend both. What you plan to accomplish only lives in your dreams. I’ll train you in the dark arts so you can make your escape when testing time comes around. If we can convince them you’re still weak, they won’t remove your small fingers until a time at which you’ve gained the appropriate strength.”

  Markus looked around at the guards. They continued to ignore them. He wanted to persuade Death, but decided to give him the opportunity to escape when the time came or let him risk rotting away in the dungeons. He looked at him closer, trying to read his thoughts. Death wore his usual black cloak and malicious grin. His ashen face made him look like a ghost and his frail body supported that image. When Death used magic, he wheezed and gasped for breath. Aurora had promised Markus he’d kill Death after learning enough from him. Yet, killing him in his current state wouldn’t feel like justice to Markus—more like mercy.

  Is that what Aurora wanted for him? Mercy?

  “Again!” Death yelled with a forcefulness that Markus didn’t think Death had in him.

  Markus focused on his anger, brought forth his hatred, and put out his hands. When Markus chose to follow the path that Knilin placed before him, he did so with the same dedication he gave to everything he set his mind to. He hated the Creator for this lot given to him. He hated the Decayed for existing and for turning towards the darkness. Dark spheres formed in his palms and energy flowed through his body, increasing his heart rate. In front of him, a bench sat on the grass. The guards had forbidden him from using dark magic. They only allowed him to form it and release it. To hell with that! He threw the balls at the wooden object and it shattered into a million pieces.

  The guards shouted and within seconds Markus found himself contained by Ox magic. He laughed, the echo bouncing off the walls of stone.

  Day 6 — Afternoon

  Winthrop stuffed his spare clothes into a knapsack. He didn’t have much to pack given he left Pinemere with only the clothes on his back. The castle provided some ill-fitting tunics and trousers for him to wear. Knilin assured him he’d receive proper attire when he reached the Order of the Ox. He shoved a robe into his bag. He didn’t want to leave for the Order. He tried to form a sphere and nothing came. He lacked the resolve needed to create it. Why did his father save that village? Why did Atwix and Zyadrin try to recruit him? Why did only members from the Order of the Ox defect? Aurora skirted off the join the Decayed. The son of Jack the Ransacker wasn’t ready to face his peers.

  He finished packing and pulled the sack over his shoulder diagonally. Across the other way hung his leather pouch of water, creating an “X” on his chest. He left the barracks and took a deep breath of fresh morning air. He walked to the main courtyard, taking in the sights and sounds of a castle in full swing. Servants bustled from one end to another on errands for their masters, merchants gathered in one corner negotiating deals for their wares, and soldiers rotated their posts. Ever since the attempted murder of the King, the Captain doubled the number of guards on duty, including those recovering from the illness Thomas spread.

  With Aurora gone, the Head Master from the Order of the Ox had to decide who she’d select as the next council member to serve on the Council of Light. Winthrop looked forward to the ceremony, which would begin after he expected to arrive at his new home.

  Winthrop stepped outside Claybury castle and stopped. He looked around until he spotted a white flag with the image of an ox painted on it staked in the ground about a hundred paces ahead and next to the road. A small group gathered there, including what he assumed were new additions like himself. He walked over to them and identified the leader as the one barking Orders.

  “Line-up single file. Hurry, if you can’t follow simple Orders like this, then you don’t belong in the Order of the Ox,” a stout woman called. She reminded Winthrop of a baker with her large forearms and plump waistline. She wore pants and lacked a robe, giving him the impression she didn’t wield magic. Winthrop hurried in line next to a shorter boy with red hair and freckles. His hands clenched around the straps of his knapsack.

  “Scoot over,” a female voice said under her breath right before someone on his left squeezed him against the person on his right, popping him out of the line. Another boy fell out with him, but Winthrop stumbled to the ground.

  “You! Get back in line!” the lady exclaimed.

  Annoyed, Winthrop rejoined the line next to the redhead, but now found himself next to the voice he heard moments before.

  “I said scoot over. If you’d had listened, then you wouldn’t have been bumped out of place,” she said to the other boy.

  Winthrop gave her an appraising glance while she looked the other way. Her long brown hair flowed to her mid-back, drawing his attention to her backside. He hadn’t meant it to linger, but she spun on the ball of her foot and faced him.

  “What do you think you’re looking at?” She questioned.

  “Nothing, I… I just wanted to see who knocked me out of line,” Winthrop got his confidence back.

  “I’m Shannon Gordayan of Braleigh. Nice to meet you,” she said with irritation in her voice and then turned away.

  “Listen up, my name is Northa. You are to address me as Lady Northa,” the stout lady called. “We are on a schedule. If you are not back in this line after each break, then we will leave without you. You can walk the rest of the way for all I care. Good luck crossing the ocean. Hopefully, you know how to turn on an Archgate. Follow my commands and you’ll make it to the Order of the Ox safely and on time. If you don’t, find your way back home. The two members from the Order of the Eagle will arrive shortly. As soon as they get here, we are leaving. Stay in position.”

  The red head next to Winthrop wrung a piece of cloth from his knapsack forward and backward. Sweat stains soaked where his tunic touched his skin. “I’m Winthrop Galston from Pinemere.”

  The boy stopped wringing his hands and looked to Winthrop. “I’m Jared Mitchel from Gluon. Nice to meet you.” His voice had a higher pitch like a bird squawking. A smile broke through his anxious exterior. He looked back to the floor and moved some dirt with the front of his right shoe. It left an awkward silence that Winthrop tried to think of something to fill it with.

  “Are you the one that saved King Luther?” Jared asked.

  Winthrop tired of correcting people, but he didn’t feel right letting the facts continue to change. “Yes, but Thomas still wounded him.”

  “You’re a hero.”

  Winthrop smiled. He merely sought to stop the assassin from hurting their king. Something, anyone would do. His smile grew to another level. Jared hadn’t brought up his dad. Maybe he’d be known as a hero and not the son of a murderer.

  The two men from the Order of the Eagle arrived and took their places at each end of their line. They both wore white robes with sleek white pants. They formed spheres in their hands and created a gravitational tunnel that reached from one of the Eagle members to the other. They began travalling toward the east coast.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Day 6 — Afternoon

  The guards kept the hallway leading to the library brightly lit, giving them ample time to examine anyone who walked toward them. Linette noticed at least a dozen regular guards and counted two robes from each Order. Where were these guards earlier? Yet, she appreciated the security since Knilin asked her to spend her free time here. Traitors dealt their hand in the past week. Linette expected more. She’d paid the Captain of the Guard a visit. He noted that
they accounted for all volumes on the register. He also provided her with his write-up of the crime scene.

  “Halt,” one guard said, putting his hand up.

  Linette stopped. She presented the ring on her finger. “I’m here with permission from Master Knilin, a member of the Council of Light. Please let me enter.”

  The guard motioned her to approach. He inspected the ring. Honey wafted in the air. It took her by surprise since she expected the brute of a man to have a less than pleasant fragrance.

  “You may enter.”

  “Thank you, sir. You smell nice today, sir.” The other men chuckled.

  Two other guards pulled open the metal door and the friction of it scrapping on the ground demanded Linette cover her ears. She walked inside and they closed them behind her. Air entered the large, cavernous room through small vents scattered along the ceiling and walls. Dampness was the mortal enemy of libraries. Which begged the question why they put the library beneath the castle.

  The room opened into a reading area with a dozen tables in two columns of six. Beyond that, ten aisles shot out like sun rays as far as Linette could see. Earlier, the Captain of the Guard had at least a dozen guards searching in here for any signs of tampering by Aurora. By his own admission, Captain Sewall said that they only checked to see if they could find each volume, not if someone had damaged anything. Linette held a copy of the report in her hands, surprised at the amount of detail the Captain put in here in such a short time.

  The quietness of the library contrasted with the merchants that bustled outside. She took deep breaths and the aroma of the parchment filled her lungs. It helped lower her heart rate and let her form a plan of attack. First, she’d read the report. Then, she’d—

  “Hello,” a voice called out.

  Linette jumped out of her skin, startled by the intrusion of sound. She clutched her chest above her heart and gripped the table nearest to her.

  “I’m sorry. It seems I’ve startled you. I’m Viola Reddington, the new librarian.”

  Linette caught her breath and slowly released the table. She adjusted her robe and stood straight. “I’m Linette, from the Order of the Eagle. I’m here on a task for Master Knilin.”

  Viola stood taller than most women she met and had red hair that hung to her waist. It’s length and complete lack of curls or waves accentuated her height. Her red lips matched the color of her hair but Linette believed both were natural. She didn’t wear a robe, so Linette assumed she lacked magical talent.

  “It’s a rare sight to see a wielder in a library and a young one at that. Usually, I only find scribes and scholars, even less so after the violent death of three people. How may I help you?”

  Viola’s light-hearted mood put Linette on the defensive. People died here earlier. How could she be so calm? “The matter is of utmost urgency and discretion.”

  “I see. I’ll keep my distance. However, the rules still stand. You may not leave the library with anything other than what you bring in. If you want to read or study something, you must do so at one of these tables. Normally, I return books to their rightful place, but in this case, I’ll allow you to return them yourself. Keep noises to a minimum and no food or drinks may enter. Never, ever remove one of the candles from their stands. We enclose them for a reason. Is all of that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Linette walked toward the leftmost aisle and walked away from Viola. She felt her eyes melting a hole in her back and confirmed that Viola glared at her. Once the bookshelves had a break in them, Linette crossed aisles until the bookshelves blocked the librarian’s line of sight. She sat down to contemplate her plan. How should I approach this? If by brute force, she could start at the first bookshelf and look at every book until she found anything odd. That would likely take her several months and drive her mad. If I walked the aisles, could I spot something unusual? If I did, that might only take a week. Plus, it would help familiarize me with the layout of the library. Then, the weight of the report in her hands brought her thoughts to the report. She needed to read this first.

  She sat down in between two aisles, forcing Viola to do more than look down a row to see her. She opened the report thankful that her mother taught her how to read. Her father didn’t like the idea, so her mother taught her when Geoffrey slept off his drunkenness. Linette never told a soul, not even Winthrop or Markus, lest they accidentally reveal her ability to her father. She opened the report and found a sketch of the three bodies. Linette covered her mouth and took several short breaths to calm herself. The likeness brought back her memory of the real thing. She took the image, turned it over, and placed it at the back of the report. It showed that the three bodies lay next to each other by the librarian’s desk. Several pages described their state and mentioned the presence of Ox magic. Linette skimmed those pages, avoiding the gruesome details as much as possible. She read those only to confirm she missed nothing.

  After that, it appeared dozens of the captain’s guards each added their marks to an inventory of books. Each page listed dozens of artifacts along with check marks and an occasional note. The last page spoke of the maid who saw Aurora and how that aligned well with the Ox magic they found on the bodies. The only other note she found was a comment about a stain mark on the ground near the middle of the third aisle.

  After closing the report, she went to look for the stain. She found it quickly given she had sat down nearby. She noted its grayish hue and looked like someone dropped a vial or a cup of something and it splattered. It nearly blended in with the color of the floor. She looked around and had a clear line of sight to the rock wall that formed aisle one and to the wall on the other side near aisle ten. Other than the splatter, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Given Knilin’s comment about a ruined page, Linette began to pull books off the shelves nearby and flip through them for obvious signs of vandalism. She checked the closest twenty books on each shelf of the four bookshelves nearest to the splatter. She’d revisit this line of investigation if nothing else panned out. It took her a while, but it ruled out the obvious, bringing her to the next step in the plan. Linette needed to gain a familiarity with the library, so she started from the beginning.

  Linette walked back the way she came, landing her near Viola. The librarian flashed a kind smile and then looked down at something on her desk. Pivoting one-hundred-an-eighty degrees, Linette faced what she would call “aisle one.” The bookshelves to her left, if you could call them that, were shelf-shaped holes carved into gray rock. A label in the first section of about ten paces wide and six paces high read: “Castle Claybury, A History.” She scanned the contents, searching for anything out of place or any topic that jumped out at her. Her gut reaction was that Aurora didn’t need something about the Castle’s history. As a member of the Council she likely knew all the Castle’s secrets. Still, she possibly sought a secret passageway to help the Decayed overthrow the Castle someday. Linette jotted down a note to bring it up with Knilin later.

  Linette continued, focusing only on the left side of the aisle. Flipping back and forth would drive her mad, if not nauseous. She spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing the left side of the first aisle. It covered the history of the Council of Light, the history of the Kings of Claybury, the duties and principles of solders, scribes, and magic-wielders, several sections on occupational codes and guidelines, and a shelf dedicated to library policies. Nothing had stood out to her as unique or of interest to the Decayed. She jotted down which sections she reviewed and where she stopped, giving her a starting place for tomorrow. She’d need to have a quick dinner to make it on time for her evening training. She gave a curt nod to the librarian and without a word she left.

  ***

  44 years ago…

  Thomas had decided years ago that he’d never let his incident with the Kithnop stop him from reaching his goals. He’d never be a victim. I’m a survivor; no, a conqueror. I can accomplish anything that I put my mind to. That mentality allowed him to wield a qui
ll as well as a sword.

  His father, a renowned scribe among other accolades, had given Thomas a quill a few months after the attack. Believing that Thomas lacked the ability to even consider magic, his father took his chance to steer him to the same path he had taken. Thomas learned the techniques of the quill, allowing him to create well-crafted and artistic pieces of famous essays. Yet, he devoured every book or scroll his father allowed him to read on magic.

  Knowing that scribes and wielders alike traveled often, Thomas sought an instructor in swordplay. He’d started off small and weak, but in the time that had passed he’d developed a strong core like a stone wall and the strength to fight with a broadsword.

  He practiced that now on the top of a hill on the coast of Kieran. He swung the heavy piece of metal starting from over his right shoulder down to his left hip. Sweat began to drip into his eyes, burning them. The ocean breeze made his nose tingle and his perspiration caused it to twitch. He paused and took a deep breath as he looked out at the water. The breeze cooled him as he caught his breath. As he enjoyed the view, he heard footsteps approach.

  Thomas turned to find Bran who stumbled toward him. The older kid, now an adult, that Thomas had idolized took two steps right, shuffled back, and then three steps left. Unlike him, Bran reeked of the local tavern. His tunic appeared moist, partially, from the drool that the man let fall to his chest.

  “Whater you lookin’ at, Fingers?” Bran slurred. He had a layer of dirt that absorbed his sweat, leaving him muddy. His altered state left him without the full capacity to balance, so he continued to shift in different directions.

  “Bran, you’re drunk. Go back to your wife.” Thomas turned away and swung his sword in a three-move succession that he’d perfected over the past year.