The Orphan's Discovery

by Shawn Robert Smith

  He dropped to the forest floor, landing on his feet and walked to the beach. His traveling group left no trace, not even the tent he’d set up for himself. Someone must have packed it away so Lady Northa wouldn’t know she lacked someone. Winthrop watched the ocean he’d need to cross to get to his Order. He didn’t know how to swim so that option wasn’t available. He looked up and down the coastline for any signs of boats but saw nothing but the vast openness of the ocean. Down to the south sat a tower of some sort, but Winthrop did not comprehend what it was. Without any other options, he headed that direction.

  Winthrop had never seen an ocean or a lake for that matter. The sight was something to behold and amid his current struggle he found a glimmer of excitement in his upcoming travels as a wielder.

  Although, the thought reminded him of his inconsistency in performing magic. He needed to gain a better grip on his emotions and believe in his resolve. It hid deep within him, but learning the truth about his father and that the Council of Light lied to him took a toll on him. He’d put so much stock into the story fed to him about his father’s sacrificial actions in saving that village, that finding out his father served as a leader of the Decayed crumbled Winthrop’s beliefs in his own goodness and integrity. Who were my parents? He had fond memories of them, which made it difficult to disconnect that from reality. The news that Jack murdered Shannon’s parents clashed like knife hitting flesh.

  The structure he saw in the distance became clearer as he continued his approach. It’s an Arch-path. The regular reading his mother made him do on the Kingdom and its history spoke of these magical archways that allowed one to cross vast distances by walking through one. The Council of Light dismantled them when the Order of Man fell into darkness. It limited their movements during the war. It had the same impact to the Council’s forces. Ever since the Decayed lost the war, and the Council took Mapleglen back, they opened them when needed but otherwise left them inactive. Turning one on required the work of someone from the Order of the Ox.

  When Winthrop reached the middle, he began to inspect it. The two legs stood thirty paces across and he guessed that it stood around thirty paces tall. It appeared to be made of a glossy metal that looked dark gray. Its opening faced the ocean and toward the Order of the Ox. Winthrop tried walking through it, but nothing happened. He inspected it from floor to peak, noticing some cracks at the top. Winthrop closed his eyes. He let the waves calm his nerves. I can do this. He trusted in the Creator’s intentions that the world was a good place and that it needed people resolved to have integrity. People like him. He formed a sphere. Its blue light reflected in the arch's metal. Winthrop threw it to where the cracks damaged the metal. The sphere flew toward it, slowing more and more each second until it reached its peak and fell back to the ground. It dissipated until it was no more. Winthrop tried again, throwing the sphere with all his might. Still, it fell short by several feet.

  This is impossible. I can’t throw any father. I don’t have the equipment to make a sling and those arches look too steep to climb.

  Frustrated, Winthrop scanned the coastline, looking for another answer, but he found nothing. Nothing but sand and water. He grabbed a handful of sand and let it slip between his fingertips. The wind blew some of it away, but the rest fell back to the ground. He formed a sphere, and an idea formed in his head.

  Winthrop walked to the arch and placed the sphere on one of the metal supports. It stuck, and he placed his right foot onto it, lifting him up a few feet. He formed another sphere and repeated the process. After several minutes of work and lots of sweat he made it to a point where he shimmied up to just before where the cracks sat. He made the mistake of looking down and his head spun. He clung to the metal beam and breathed in deeply several times with his eyes closed. He took a moment to wipe the perspiration from each hand, giving him a better grip. He calmed his nerves, focusing on his resolve and formed another sphere. He reinforced the cracks, reminding him of his testing. He pushed his thoughts of his dad from his mind and continued to repair the arch-path. He stopped to check on his work, finding it mostly complete. Another crack lingered near the bottom. Why didn’t I notice that earlier? Not wanting to climb down just yet, he brought forth a large ball of magic and tossed it at the crack. He overshot it and it fell to the sand. He tried again, this time leaning over the edge. It made contact, but his other hand slipped and he fell.

  He closed his eyes and braced himself for impact, but the drop felt more like tripping on a rock on the ground than falling from the top of the arch-path. He sat up and ran his hand across the grass that helped protect his fall. About three hundred paces before him sat the Order of the Ox.

  Day 7 — Noon

  Viola kept a watchful eye on Linette, but rarely said much. Her perfect posture was as stiff as her personality. The continual glaring annoyed her, but she appreciated that Viola otherwise left her alone. Along with the other members of her Order, Linette stopped wearing her robes to the library, doing her best to keep them clean. Wearing white while traveling back and forth between Claybury and her Order didn’t help. She also changed into pants when she came to Claybury. She preferred to sit on the floor and examine books rather than make the trip to the front where the tables sat. It lengthened her reading time in the library and mitigated the risk of losing her spot. She found the end of the left side of aisle one when it ended in a stone wall with a brass ring in the center. It wasn’t a door as it had no creases, but the rusted ring seemed an odd decoration.

  She continued her search moving back up aisle one and back to the front of the library. The book's condition depended on its use, age, and quality of materials. Linette found one with the edges of the paper gilded and the binding reinforced with Ox magic. When she opened it to the title page, she chuckled to find it was about quality book making, written by an esteemed scholar from the Order of the Ox. Even after a decade old, it smelled new.

  The next seven sections stored legal documents for transactions contracted in the Castle and surrounding areas. At random, she found a contract between merchants for the sale of rice and one of the Kings agreeing to pay a specified wage to guards based on experience or lack thereof. Nothing jumped out at her as unusual, but she jotted down some notes to bring it up to Knilin whenever he returned.

  She looked forward to speaking with Winthrop when he arrived at his Order. Had he stayed, his company would’ve relieved the dullness of this task. Still, working on this with him through an amanuensis brought her some hope that together they might figure this out sooner than later.

  A tapping sound pulled Linette from her thoughts. She looked up the aisle to find Viola. In her hands, she carried a small stack of books. Something about Viola caused Linette’s heart to pump faster. She took shorter, shallow breaths and waited. Viola approached and stopped before her.

  “I know why you are here,” Viola said.

  Linette didn’t say a word. Viola wore a purple dress that reached to her ankles. It squeezed against her skin, except toward the bottom where it flowed like silk.

  “You’re here to figure out what Aurora did after she murdered my predecessor.”

  Linette took a step back. “Who told you?”

  “You just did. But it wasn’t difficult to guess. You’re not old enough to have responsibilities to keep you busy or loyalties to anyone other than Knilin, who frequented your village during your youth and is a master in your Order.”

  Linette received a jolt of adrenaline followed by pangs of guilt. Knilin trusted her to keep this a secret and she let it go so easily. She kicked a bookshelf and glared at Viola.

  “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I’d like to help. I also had a rough childhood. Have you forgiven him?”

  Linette flustered with indignation. “My father? No, never.”

  “Too soon? Give it time. Forgiveness, in many ways, is more for you, than for him. It’ll liberate you.”

  Linette clenched her jaw. “Please, don’t bring him up again.” />
  “My apologies.”

  Linette planned to check with Knilin to confirm his opinion about including Viola whenever she could reach him. For now, it wouldn’t hurt to let her give Linette a tour. The woman might prove helpful over the coming days.

  “Can you show me around and give me an idea about what books are in each aisle?”

  “Yes, you’ve already seen most of the first aisle. It contains histories, guides, and legal proceedings.”

  They crossed over to the second aisle through a gap between bookshelves and walked down toward the far end.

  “The second aisle continues with more legal documents going back fifty years. Aisle three holds military strategies, soldier training, and warfare hygiene.”

  “Hygiene? Really?”

  “Oh yes, you’d be surprised at how many battles are lost from lack of proper care. The Battle of Dunvan never really started because of a dysentery outbreak.”

  The two walked down each aisle and then continued crossing over to the next aisle when breaks between shelves allowed.

  “Aisle four holds everything there is to know about the Order of the Ox. The repeated blue colors help give that away. Aisle five has the Order of the Eagle; six, Order of the Lion; and seven encompasses the tactics used when joining the Orders together.”

  Linette stopped. “Joining them together? I thought the Orders worked separately.”

  They continued their leisurely stroll through the rows of books. “An Order is like a family. The masters are like your parents and you are their children. They teach you how to live according to their values, train you in their magic, and bond with you like no one else can. Yet, when you’ve adopted their teachings, and others have adopted their Order’s values, you can work together in complementary ways. With several Ox members, they’ll provide an almost impenetrable defense, allowing you to use your eagle magic without the fear of death or injury. Without them, you are vulnerable. If an eagle works with a lion, the eagle can lift the lion and allow them a better vantage from which to attack an enemy. If high enough, that can also keep the enemy from reaching them with their weapons.”

  “What about the Order of the Decayed? Where is their section?” Linette asked.

  Viola frowned. “We discourage students from reading their works. They are in the back of the last aisle, but a cage keeps them locked away. Plus, the amount of detail you’ll find on that Order is minimal. The Order of Man was the most secretive of the Orders. They worked with others but kept details about their ways to themselves. Only Higel Jameston wrote anything of value about them. Let’s continue, shall we?”

  The Order of Man. Linette had grown up with the Decayed. Sometimes she forgot they weren’t evil in the past.

  Viola walked over to the eighth row and walked towards the front. “This row holds books on geography. Maps, lots and lots of maps. The ninth is where genealogies are kept—they go back hundreds of years. Many believed that we inherited magic, but the records proved that is not the case. Still, people continue to look for something that’ll predict which magic someone will have. The last aisle holds works of fiction: plays, myths, and legends.” Viola didn’t take Linette to the end to see the locked section—she’d have to sneak back there on her own sometime.

  “Thank you, Lady Viola. My time for today has run out. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Linette decided to visit Markus. After that, she’d speak with Death to see if he’d give up any information about Aurora. She doubted it, but she had to try. Still feeling energetic from the exercise, she nearly flew down the stairs. I can’t wait until I literally can fly down the stairs. She reached the foyer and several guards eyed her suspiciously until recognition filled his face.

  “Oh, it’s you. She’s okay to be down here,” the guard from the library who smelled like honey said to the others.

  The men returned their gaze to their captain—the man who addressed Linette.

  “Markus and Death escaped the dungeons last night. One bowman hit Death and killed him but Markus remains unaccounted for. They severely injured two guards in the process.”

  Her jaw dropped. Then guards went back to their discussion. She ran back up the stairs and stopped in the courtyard. She walked around slowly, catching her breath. Markus left? He wouldn’t join the Decayed, would he? Surely, Death injured the two guards and not her friend Markus. Or had the dark magic begun its poisoning of his mind? The thoughts raced through her mind and she headed for the library. She struggled to focus but didn’t want this trip to go to waste.

  Linette left. She made her way to the where the amanuensis resided. A young girl sat at a desk, quill in hand, as she scratched something onto paper. She looked up at Linette’s approach. “May I help you?”

  “Yes, I’d like to send a letter to someone at the Order of the Ox.”

  “Would you like me to transcribe it for you or would you prefer to do it yourself?”

  It was a polite way of offering to write the letter for someone who didn’t know their letters.

  “I’ll write it myself.”

  The girl wore a white blouse with beige trousers. She went to work setting up the machine and offered Linette a quill.

  Linette wrote:

  Winthrop Galston, of the Order of the Ox.

  Markus escaped. Death helped and died. The guards don’t know where he went to. I don’t want to believe it but I hope he hasn’t turned. I’ve begun my search but have nothing to report. The only oddities I’ve found was a splatter of gray ink in the library, presumably left by Aurora. Please let me know when you’ve arrived at your Order.

  Your friend,

  Linette

  ***

  42 years ago…

  They took a boat to Thurus via the Eastern Ocean for one of Higel’s research projects. His father sought to become the foremost expert on the Order of Man. Little was known of this Order because they refused to share details about their inner workings and histories. They traveled the Kingdom, using their powers to help, but rarely did they stay in one place long and when they did, they insisted on making camp away from town. One of them sat on the Council of Orders, but even he made his home away from the castle and left with his Keeper the instant the work his role required had finished.

  The few volumes written about them included only superficial details. For one, their magical abilities stemmed from aging and decay. With that they sped up composting to produce fertilizer for crops and they supplied the kingdom with beer and wine, making them valuable to the kingdom. On top of that, they were known for healing.

  Second, a member of the Order of Man always had a Keeper with him. This person seemed to act as a bodyguard for the wielder. Always connected at the hip, the Keeper never left their side.

  Third, they forwent parenthood. When questioned about this, their response revolved around a fervent need to focus on their magical talents.

  A few weeks ago, Higel had received a letter from Master Fiona requesting his presence in a research capacity. Master Fiona commented in her note about the confidential nature of her inquiry and asked that he come with only those he trusted, or preferably alone. Higel had brought his son and apprentice.

  Thomas stepped off the boat onto the dock, closed his eyes, put his hands on his head and willed the world to stop rocking.

  It didn’t work.

  Feeling the urge to vomit again, he ran to the edge and let his breakfast go. The trip had taken ten days, and he managed to keep one meal down.

  “Thomas!” Higel yelled and threw him a duffel bag. It landed at his feet. After picking it up, Thomas walked toward land. Once he escaped the sand, lush green grass filled the land before him. Higel caught up, carrying several bags.

  “Care to help?”

  Thomas took in three deep breaths, admiring the fresh air he found inland a few hundred paces. The nausea abated noticeably, and he lightened his father’s load.

  “Let’s get inside the city proper and ask
for Fiona.”

  “Father, she likely lives outside the city,” Thomas scanned the area and found a small hut off to the west. “There,” he pointed.

  Higel smiled. It was a test. “Good, son. You read the scrolls.”

  “All ten. Took me a few hours. Less, if the writers hadn’t said the same thing ten different ways.”

  They veered left toward the small hut and away from the city of Thurus.

  Higel unloaded his bags ten paces away from the hut and approached. He knocked three times and waited. Thomas stood by the bags.

  The door opened, revealing the shortest man Thomas had ever seen. From ten feet away, Thomas estimated that he’d be hard-pressed to reach his stomach.

  “Yes?”

  “Is this Master Fiona’s home?”

  “It is. Who’s asking?”

  “Higel Jameston,” he said as he produced the letter which the man took.

  “Vishal? Who is it?”

  He opened the door more and Fiona approached.

  “The researcher you requested, Higel Jameston.”

  She beckoned them inside and offered them tea. Fiona had pale white skin which contrasted with her deep, dark black hair and black eyes. She looked of above average height, but that may have been distorted by comparing her to Vishal.

  The room seemed larger than what Thomas guessed from how it appeared outside. It had a dirt floor, bamboo walls, and a thatched roof. Two beds filled the far side of the room and Fiona directed them to sit on the wooden chairs near the door.

  Thomas, feeling a tad bit less nauseous, risked bringing the cup of tea to his mouth. The steam reached his nose and brought him right back to the boat. He fled the small house and continued the experience of the past ten days, although this time there was grass instead of water. He went back inside to find Fiona had opened a chest she’d placed on the floor between them. Dozens of vials filled with black liquid nestled inside.