The Orphan's Discovery

by Shawn Robert Smith

  “Look at me, Fingers. I’m not done with you.”

  But I’m done with you.

  With this two friends off to help guard royalty, Bran’s life comprised of digging ditches, the tavern, and his wife. He spent his day doing back-breaking labor or any other odd job the town could find for him. His wife had crooked teeth, the temper of a fox, and drank more than Bran. The only woman in town who’d remotely consider marrying Bran, given his life path and pathetic hygiene.

  “You think you’re better than me? Don’t you, Fingers?” Apparently, Bran’s small brain concocted the idea that if he diminished Thomas with insults or with his fists, he’d somehow feel better about himself.

  “Of course not, Bran.”

  “That’s it.” The drunk stumbled to Thomas and took a swing.

  It lacked conviction and well… substance. The man stood with too-wide legs and continued to shift his weight back in forth to maintain balance. It didn’t take six years of training with a sword for Thomas to side-step the punch and let the man over shoot. Bran’s stumble proved too strong to slow down, and Thomas’ quick reflexes stopped the man’s demise. He firmly grasped Bran with his right hand as the fool dangled precariously over jagged rocks along the shore.

  “Don’t let go, Fingers,” Bran begged as the fright counteracted some of his stupor. His pupils narrowed, and he clenched the only thing he could — Thomas’s fingers.

  Thomas looked down at him. “I am better than you. If you, Vil, and Carel had given me any hint of friendship, I’d still have enough fingers to hold you here and save your life. Unfortunately, I don’t. Give me your Kithnop egg or I’ll let go.”

  Bran laughed. “It’s fake. Only you were dump enough to try and get a real egg.”

  Thomas lifted Bran a few inches closer, showing his strength, and then let go of him.

  Day 6 - Afternoon

  The jailer slammed the gate shut, locking Markus in. The familiar sound of metal hitting metal disturbed Markus. For one, it rang in his ears. For another, it reminded him of his fate. Forever locked in a prison of some sort, a verdict given at his birth, but hidden for long enough for him to develop the expectation of freedom.

  He hadn’t figured out yet how to break out of this prison. His magically infused cuffs halted his dark magic and even if he escaped his cell, the only exit sat several hundred feet above him. Assuming he had energy left after that, he’d have to pass the plethora of guards blocking both the inner gate and outer gate. The second a guard sounded the alarm, the portcullis at each gate would drop like a guillotine and end his escape.

  With Death helping him, he might fight off some guards, but Knilin would question his real motives if Markus killed any of them. Markus hoped the Decayed joined his escape and died in the attempt. He regularly filled Markus’s head with stories of his conquests, both violent and erotic. At their training session last night, Death shared his memories of the Night of Sorrow. He led a team of Decayed through the prison at Mapleglen, releasing the inmates and gutting the guards. Ending their life quickly with dark magic bored Death. He wanted to see their pain and enjoy watching their life slowly escape from their bodies.

  Solid footsteps brought Markus out of his thoughts. An older man carried a tray of food and a mug of ale. With each step, the porcelain dishes rattled like a nervous animal shaking in fear. The man looked like he could be tough but nervousness washed over his face.

  He’d never bullied anyone before becoming a Decayed, but he couldn’t help himself. After he placed the tray on the ground, Markus formed dark spheres in his hands, knowing they’d pop before reaching the right capacity to inflict damage. The servant stumbled back and fell onto his bottom. He set the tray down and pushed it toward Markus before scooting back against the wall. That was fun. Was that playful hazing or the beginning of my descent into sadistic pleasures? He tried not to beat himself up, but the old Markus had a stronger sense of integrity. He’d begun to flirt with the line between who he was and he would become.

  He inhaled the steam that rose off the top of the roasted chicken, green beans, and bread. Not even the constant stench of mildew and feces from his cell could overpower his hunger The food fought back those other scents rather than mingled with them. He appreciated the momentary break from his drudgery and began to devour the cooked meat. A regular training session—about an hour of using magic—left Markus famished. He never felt this hungry after a long day in the smithy with his father. His already large arms only seemed to grow lately and he couldn’t eat enough to satisfy his hunger.

  The food disappeared well before his hunger died down. Markus’s stomach growled and he looked down the hall for another half chicken to keep his strength. He looked down at his empty plate and willed food to appear. He looked up to find the old man continued to sit a few feet away outside of Markus’s cell.

  “What are you still doing here?” Markus asked.

  The man gestured to the plate and made a lifting motion. Markus obliged and found a key. He turned his attention back to the man.

  His nervous look vanished and that inner strength came to fruition in his demeanor. He tilted his head and his neck make a popping sounds. He stood against the prison bars, daring Markus to try something. “My name is General Stack. Knilin sent me here to help with the first phase of your new life. That there will let you out of your bonds and this cell. Tonight, when the guard rotation occurs, they’ll come to check on you. One has a limp. A swift kick to his knee and he won’t get back up. The other started night shift three nights ago. I suspect his reaction time will give you an advantage.”

  Stack paused and looked down the hallway. The guards entered the hallway, glared at Stack, and promptly turned around.

  “Take their uniforms and lock them in your cell. The guards out front will let you leave. If they ask just say your shift is over. Any questions?”

  “Yes, why should I trust you?”

  “Knilin trusts me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “It’s your life kid. Trust me or don’t.”

  Markus nodded.

  “Okay then. Keep me informed. When you find an amanuensis, tell them to send it to General Stack and it’ll go to my private machine. Good luck.”

  He left and Markus began to plan his escape.

  Day 6 - Evening

  The group of travelers to the Order of the Ox stopped for the night when they reached the coast. Across the east channel, sat the country Presau. Living his whole life in Aeseron, Winthrop had never crossed an ocean. He didn’t expect to as a boy, but if he did, he pictured it on a boat. Lady Northa unloaded her own knapsack, a bag the size of Winthrop. She pulled out several bags and handed them out.

  “These are tents for tonight. Find someone to share. There aren’t enough tents for each individual,” Northa said.

  Winthrop walked over and grabbed a tent. He found Jared and indicated to the tent. Jared scowled at him and walked away. Without an explanation, Winthrop didn’t know what Jared’s problem was. Winthrop scanned the beach, searching for another partner to tent with. He noticed Shannon setting up with a dark-skinned girl with green eyes that had a soft glow in the night. He guessed she came from Mor, the large city near the Order of the Lion. He found pair after pair of seventeen-year-olds with none left to partner with him. He gave up and pitched his temporary home by himself.

  As night fell the wind off the ocean brought with it a frigid breeze. Lady Northa sent everyone back to the nearest forest to gather wood for a fire. Winthrop kept to himself, getting the distinct impression that no one wanted to befriend him. Everyone found a new friend from Northa’s tent-sharing scheme—everyone except him.

  Why am I here?

  He attempted to form a sphere. It formed, but popped like a bubble an instant later. He heard a chuckle from nearby. Shannon and the Mor girl smiled from their laughter at him and then kept walking toward the forest. Winthrop looked up and stars began to wink into existence. He longed for Pinemere where he’d wake up,
pull weeds or harvest the crops, then spend time with Linette and Markus. He had family and friends there. Farming bored him beyond measure, but at least he succeeded at growing food.

  Away from Pinemere and Claybury, Winthrop missed his time with Linette and Markus. It thrilled him when he passed his test for the Order of the Ox. It meant a life of magic, an adventure, a new family, and knowing he’d made his father proud. Instead, his best friend joined the Decayed, he’d left behind the love of his life, his ability in magic was fleeting, and many people treated him like murderer his father was known for.

  Winthrop reached the forest and found it empty but for a few dozen trees scattered around. Where did everyone go? He looked back to the coast and saw the grouping of tents, but the other Ox members were nowhere in sight.

  He heard a scuffle to his right and turned that way. Something hit him in the forehead, causing a sharp pain. He held up his arms to shield any further projectiles, looked down, and found a rock at his feet. Blood seeped from the wound. Something moved behind the tree line fifteen paces away.

  “What’s your problem?” Winthrop yelled.

  No one came out from their hiding place. He picked up forearm-length pieces of wood and carried the bundle in his left arm. In his right, he held each piece ready to defend himself until he found another piece. Before turning his back to the forest and heading to the beach, he checked his surroundings once more. Jared and his tent partner stood a couple hundred paces away picking up sticks. At least it wasn’t Jared. He turned and immediately the sounds of sprinting feet barreled toward him. Winthrop pivoted to see the attacker, but they collided before he finished his turn.

  The wood tumbled out of Winthrop’s arms and he fell on the brush that layered the forest floor. An Ox member from the line this morning, unloaded punch after punch into Winthrop’s face. He tried to block, but couldn’t stop each hit. The kid picked Winthrop up like he weighed nothing and pushed him against a tree trunk. Winthrop gasped for breath, as he choked on saliva. The boy’s arm pushed against Winthrop’s chest, holding him against the tree. In his other hand, he formed a blue sphere and threw it towards Winthrop’s chest. The Ox magic encased Winthrop and the tree, locking them together. It created a prison of sorts.

  The sudden lack of aggression against Winthrop allowed him to see the boy through the eye that hadn’t swollen shut. Built like someone from the Order of the Lion, he had to be two heads taller than Winthrop. His arms matched Winthrop’s thighs, and the sphere in his palm had a depth to it that Winthrop envied.

  “I hear you’ve been harassing Shannon. Come on out. It’s safe.”

  Shannon stepped out from behind a tree. She took her time approaching him, stopping next to the tall boy. The other members of the Order gathered around.

  “This the one bothering you?”

  “Yes, Mikael. He pushed me out of line this morning.”

  Winthrop glared at her. “You knocked me out of ---“

  Mikael threw his sphere at Winthrop’s face, silencing him.

  “Don’t interrupt the lady. The Order of the Ox stands for stability, for following rules. Our integrity holds when no other Orders does. You are a disgrace to our Order. It’s why you struggle to perform magic.”

  Winthrop did not hide his surprise and frustration.

  Yes, I’ve heard of your weakness. It doesn’t surprise me considering your taint. Yes, I’ve heard of your father too. Good luck getting out of those bonds. When you do, I suggest you go back to farming. You don’t belong here.”

  All the new members glared at him as they walked back to the beach. Winthrop remained stuck to the tree. He could breathe through the enclosure, but the strong wind coming off the ocean washed out his screams for help. Where is Lady Northa when you need her? He doubted she would from her earlier statement. With no way out, he’d miss their departure time and the ability to travall across the ocean. He’d miss the opening ceremonies for the Order of the Ox.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Day 6 — Night

  A few hours had passed and the stars failed to provide enough light for him to see past a dozen paces. Pushed against the tree, the Ox magic covered him like a blanket, keeping him from freezing to death. Yet, his right foot remained free and it worried him that he failed to feel it when he hit it against the bark. He’d worn himself out from trying to yell through the enclosure, but it muffled his voice. His magic was no use either. His forearms ached from his failed attempts to initiate his magic. Tears formed in his eyes, but he didn’t want to give the other members the satisfaction—whether or not they could see him.

  He heard footsteps approach from the noise they made on the forest floor. Winthrop hesitated about whether he should get their attention or remain quiet. He remained silent. Shannon approached. Her long brown hair swayed from the ocean wind blowing inland. She wore brown riding pants and a white tunic. She walked in front of him and looked into his eyes. Tears dripped down her cheeks.

  “During a pilgrimage, my family and I traveled to Cordun to see the historic quill of Penmora. It’s a beautiful place to visit for those of the Duragi religion. The stained-glass windows are unparalleled in Aeseron. Only Fradal has a more significant place of worship. My mother and father served as bishops of the church, Keepers of secret knowledge that few are allowed to know even exist.”

  Tears dripped down her cheek. Yet, she smiled as she talked about them. Her voice shook and she clenched her brow.

  “I played in the pews while they spoke with the local church patron. I slipped and fell onto the floor. It knocked the air out of my chest and I lay there recovering. The front door slammed open, and the wind blew in a foul stench. I imagined a pile of horse droppings sat just outside. I heard my parents and the patron scatter like sheep in a storm. I thought the wind blew out the candles, but when I peeked over the pew, I saw that the dark magic from a Decayed rendered the flames almost useless. The darkness hit my chest like someone sat on top of me. I hid and the following screams from my parents still haunt my nightmares. He killed my father and took my mother with him. They found her body in Cordun. I was seven years old.”

  Realization hit Winthrop like someone punched him in the stomach. His father killed Shannon’s parents right before he saved that village. His father received praise and honors for his last action. No one told Winthrop that he killed people that same day. No wonder why she hated Winthrop. She needed someone to blame—someone to take her anger out on. Winthrop couldn’t speak. The Ox magic still muffled his voice so that no one could hear him call for help.

  “My religion calls us to forgive others. But I can’t. I won’t. Not your father and not you. I hate you and his blood that flows through you. I will do everything in my power to keep you from joining my Order. I will also push the Order of the Ox to banish your father from our records. If it means I must work my way to the top of the Order, I’ll do it.”

  Acid creeped into Winthrop’s mouth and his stomach tensed. She had every right to hate his father. He didn’t blame her for hating him, too. He didn’t inherit dark magic, but his father passed down his legacy, regardless. She wiped more tears from her eyes and left him. Winthrop cried himself to sleep.

  Day 6 - Night

  The stepping sounds indicated to Markus that the guards completed their shift change. The day guards climbed the long staircase up to the courtyard and the night guards pattered toward him. As they approached, Markus readied himself. The one closest to him had a slight limp and favored his left leg just like General Stack told him. He stood about a half a head shorter than Markus and kept himself in decent shape, other than the leg injury.

  The second guard hovered over the first. His size and strength matched Markus, but he should be thrown off by the shift change from day to night.

  Earlier, Markus had unlocked the cell and shoved a wad of fabric into the locking mechanism. It gave the impression that the iron door remained shut, when all Markus needed to do to open it was push on it. When the men stood outside of his
cell, Markus stepped up to the door, ready to put these two out of commission.

  “Markus?” The taller guard questioned.

  He looked at the larger guard, recognition filtering through his brain.

  “Joseph?” Markus asked.

  Joseph smiled, but then lowered his head and his initial excitement at seeing an old friend faltered. Markus saw that look before. It’s the same look that Winthrop and Linette gave him when they visited him after his Decayed test. It was a reaction to seeing a friend who no longer belonged in your world, whether or not you wanted him to. Markus also noticed that Joseph didn’t look sleep deprived. Not even a bit.

  Markus competed against Joseph at the annual tournament each year. The one year that Markus lost, Joseph had won. They’d be arch enemies if they hadn’t liked each other so much. Their competition was always fierce but never hostile. It bothered Markus that he did not match Joseph in all things. His presence as a guard meant that Joseph lacked any magical talents, something Markus had, but little good did it do.

  “You’re a Decayed,” Joseph said.

  “I passed the test for the Order of the Lion, but it doesn’t matter much now.”

  “I’m sorry, Markus. You don’t deserve this.”

  “I agree. Mind letting me out? I promise I’ll be good,” Markus joked.

  They both laughed. Markus hated to do this to a friend, but when Joseph tilted his head back in laughter, Markus took the opportunity. His hatred of the look Joseph gave him helped fuel his anger. He formed two large spheres in his hands and threw them through the bars at the two guards. The size and intensity of the magic dissolved their shields to almost nothing. It sapped his strength, but his adrenaline kicked in and gave him an added boost of energy. He pushed open the iron door, giving him access to the first guard. With a swift kick, he dislocated his knee, and the guard fell to the floor with a scream.