“Where do you think you’re going?” the husky voice bellowed.
Thomas turned around and put the keg onto the ground. The man walked over and as he did, Thomas assessed him. Overweight but strong. Thomas might out run him but if he called out others might hear before he cleared the vineyard and escaped into the city proper. Then, he considered the rock.
“Why do you have the keg of magic? Go put it back.”
“No.”
The man furrowed his brows and stepped closer and within reach. When he glanced from Thomas back to the keg, Thomas took the opportunity. He hit the man’s head with the rock as hard as he could. The man collapsed to the ground and attempted to cover his head from further assault. Thomas, wanting to rid himself of any witnesses hit him a few times with his fists. Eventually, he lost consciousness. Blood poured from his head and covered his face. Thomas had blood on his hands and sleeves. He assessed what he’d done and saw that the man’s chest still rose and fell. Thomas inched closer to finish what he’d started, but heard the talk of more people at the other end. Thomas grabbed the keg and ran off back through the vineyard. Once he entered the city, he rushed to an empty alleyway and tore his sleeve until no blood remained. As he caught his breath, he opened the keg and placed his hand in the magic. It tingled. Yet, this time it was different. Somehow it seemed stronger.
Day 7 — Evening
The soaked through bed frustrated Winthrop. He assumed the Order kept most of the stone in his room bereft of coverings as a symbolic representation of the emotion that Ox magic relied on. Yet, it also kept his room frigid. A wet bed only made that worse. He needed to acquaint himself with the library so he went looking for it and hoped he might find Lady Northa and request different lodgings or at least another blanket.
He left his room and found the main hallway. He walked in the same direction as before, exploring where he hadn’t gone before. He had no idea where the library resided so picking one direction was as good as any. He saw a person here and there farther down enter the main hallway only to cross it and exit it before Winthrop could get their attention. From what he could tell, this hallway was like the trunk of a large tree and each door led to a branch and then to additional branches.
He meandered, more hoping to pounce on someone than anything else. The silence bothered him and reminded himself to look out for Shannon or Jared, who might find some bullies to corner him. “Ouch,” Winthrop exclaimed as someone brushed passed him, bumping into him shoulder to shoulder. The man continued, cloak flowing behind him as he accelerated down the path. The man ignored him, continued another fifty paces and then entered a door on the left. When he turned toward the door, Winthrop recognized him as Fath, the Master on stage earlier. Winthrop hoped the scholar was in the mood to read and followed him in haste.
Winthrop opened the door to another hallway and glimpsed his coat as he entered a door down the way and to the right. He thought he found the correct one, but it opened into a closet, filled with blankets. Crap! Wait! Yes!
He made a note that this door sat three down from the entrance back to the main hall. He tried the next door and found the library. He entered a foyer with several guards who manned the door. He hoped Knilin had added his name to the list.
“State your business,” one guard barked at him.
“Winthrop of Pinemere.”
The guard unrolled the scroll trying to find the end. He nodded his head and stepped out of Winthrop’s way. He entered and quickly confirmed that Knilin was correct — this library looked exactly like the one at Claybury. Winthrop walked over to the librarian’s desk, finding a rugged-looking man. His face had that two-day look, when the hair remained stiff and sharp.
“Hello, I’d like to send a message to Claybury.”
“Name.”
“Winthrop of Pinemere.”
“Of the Order of the Ox,” the man said.
It took Winthrop off-guard. “Yes, of the Order of the Ox.”
After finding out about his dad and Aurora, Winthrop struggled with his identity. He wasn’t certain if the Order of the Ox had the right intentions. The few he met lacked the virtue and integrity he’d expected of this Order.
“You have a message,” the man stated and handed him a piece of parchment.
Winthrop took the letter and read about Markus’s escape.
“Thank you. May I respond?”
The man placed the machine in front of Winthrop, letting him write it himself. Winthrop appreciated the privacy — at least in this direction.
Linette,
I ran into some trouble getting here, but I arrived half a day later than planned. The Master of Masters here resigned, and a vote is scheduled to happen in a few days to decide on a new leader who will appoint a new representative for the Council of Light. I’ll check in daily for news that you might have found something. I wonder what Markus is up to. I can’t believe he’d join the Decayed. I haven’t heard of any signs he went in the same direction as me, but I’ll let you know if I hear anything.
Your friend always,
Winthrop
Winthrop flicked the word “friend” with his finger but he knew that he needed to let go of her. Winthrop turned around to leave and found Fath sitting at a table on the other side of the front area of the library. The man seemed civil on stage, but bumping into him the hall began to rub Winthrop the wrong way. Winthrop observed him for a minute as the Master studied the scroll in front of him.
“Word of advice,” the librarian said.
Winthrop looked to him.
“Stick to magic. Leave research to the scribes.”
The comment surprised him “Why?”
“The Masters believe that a wielder should dedicate himself completely to training in the magic given to them by the Creator. Studying ancient texts is a waste in their opinion. It’s beneath them. Scholars do that work and articulate it to the Masters who use that information to make informed decisions.”
“Wielders never read books?”
The librarian chuckled “Yes, they do, but only in matters of magic. Some historical, but only how that relates to their powers. They consider anything else administrative work.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Is that why Aurora waited to visit the library until the attack on Luther? It didn’t give him any more clues about what she did but he kept the thought for later. Winthrop left and found the linen closet. He helped himself to a dozen blankets and wandered back to his room. In the remaining floor space, he stacked ten blankets on top of each other and used the other two to cover himself. He thought of Fath, Dymnos, Aurora, Knilin, and Linette until he fell asleep.
Day 7 — Evening
Linette’s visit earlier in the day had helped little. She had skimmed some scrolls and books on various topics like tent-making and food logistics. They were informative but nothing led her to more information on the seventh progression or to whatever Aurora did after murdering the librarian and two guards.
On this visit, Linette decided to find Aurora’s office and look for clues there. Once in the courtyard, she found a guard and asked him where to find said office. He directed her to the top floor of the Keep and she traversed the few flights of stairs to get there.
Once she made it to level ground, she found a large wooden desk that filled most of the hallway, allowing only enough space on either side to pass by. Behind that, guards stood with their backs to the walls evenly spaced every twelve paces until they reached a large, wooden door at the end.
“State your business,” a voice from behind the desk startled Linette back to her task at hand. “I don’t appreciate loitering so close to the King’s offices.”
The woman owned a permanent scowl on her face along with wrinkles so often found on people of old age. Her white hair was kept in a bun and she wielded a quill in her hand like it had all the authority of the kingdom in its ink.
“I’m looking for Aurora’s office.”
“And
what business do you have searching in the office of that traitor?”
Linette produced the ring that Knilin provided her.
“I see.” She paused, using what power she had to force Linette to wait.
“You may proceed. It’s the third door on your left.”
Linette passed through the narrow space next to the desk and walked up the hallway. The several guards paid her no mind. She reached the door. It was made of solid oak and two seals were branded onto it. The first was that of an Ox and the second was the seal of the Council of Light. Unlocked, she opened the door and entered. The grand room could hold fifty, leaving Linette to wonder why Knilin kept such a small office on the first floor.
Aurora kept the room immaculate. Not a speck of dust sat on the desk or on the table and chairs kept in the middle of the room. The room was also sparse. Besides the desk and meeting table, there was a rug and some drapes covering the windows. Linette moved to her desk, hoping to find something. The top remained bare. She tried the first drawer and found quills, ink, and blank parchment. Another drawer kept a small stack of parchment that Linette went through. She skimmed each page, but it was all Council of Light details. She found a few pages about the trial against her regarding the death of her father but all of that came out during the trial. After searching through the rest, Linette wandered the room and even pressed the wall in a few places looking for a secret passage or hiding place.
She found nothing.
Linette gave up and left. She ventured to the Chief of Guards, hoping he had already searched the office and took a piece of evidence for his own records.
Chief Sewall sat behind his desk engrossed in a stack of papers of his own. He held his quill limply and then with utmost speed and precision crossed something out on the page before him.
“Sir.”
He looked up. “You’re Linette, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Knilin told me to help you in any way I can.”
“Thank you, sir. I just visited Aurora’s office, looking for clues. Did you remove anything from there?”
He put his quill down. “No, I’m afraid not. We searched it but there’s nothing there to find. My men are thorough.”
Linette closed her eyes. “Thank you, sir.”
“Linette, if you need anything else, please come see me.”
“Thank you.”
Linette left to see if Winthrop wrote to her and to update him on her status.
Day 7 — Evening
Markus awoke, feeling recharged, but still sore from the trip and from his excessive use of magic earlier. A part of him felt disgusted at his unleashing of such darkness from his body and soul. Another part shivered at what he might have done had people been around. He feared that in his rage, he’d lash out at anyone nearby, innocent or not.
He stood up, brushed off the pine needles that stuck to his cloak and walked back to Pinemere. He entered slowly, fearing someone might see him and give the Claybury guards a lead to his whereabouts.
The village looked like it had earlier, but the fires started to dwindle. He worked his way to the fields where Winthrop had helped farm crops. A large part of it burned with the fires, but toward the end, there remained some food. He pulled up several carrots and ate them to his fill. He moved along and found potatoes and near that, some corn. He meandered back to the village and found a canvas bag to help carry the food. Before long, he had plenty of vegetables. The work of pulling them up aggravated his sore muscles, but his hunger outweighed his desire to not feel pain. They weren’t exciting rations, but he didn’t know which towns he’d need to pass through that required avoiding.
He went to gather his horse, but it lay dead on the ground where Markus tied it up. Dark ooze spilled from its mouth. The dumb animal ate something tainted with Decayed magic. He spent some time checking each person again for coin to help fund his journey to find the Decayed. It pained him to see his townsfolk murdered. What surprised him the most was when he found Layla, a young woman who helped tend the crops. She didn’t deserve this. Markus’s eyes welled up with tears. The sadness he felt fueled his determination to destroy the Decayed. When he finished, he had found enough to pay for a night’s stay and a hot meal.
Unsure which way to go, Markus circled the village square. As he approached the south side, he noticed tracks along with dead grass heading south toward Thurus, the Decayed’s home before the Council of Light sabotaged it and blocked the way to the island. He followed the spots of dark liquid and wilted grass to the main dirt and rock road that headed in that direction. Eventually, the breadcrumbs that led him where to go disappeared and he continued. He’d been to Darfield before, when he competed in a tournament there a few years back. Beyond that, he’d never ventured further south. Generally, people avoided anything passed Darfield for fear of coming close to the Decayed’s former headquarters.
Markus continued at an even pace. The walking loosened his muscles and helped with the soreness. He felt himself again, having released his pent-up anger at Pinemere. He wondered where his mom and dad escaped to, still hopeful they made it away in time to survive. They had some family to the north in Ronor, but they didn’t get along well. He didn’t know the full story, but his dad came south after several disputes went unresolved with his brother. They had shared a metal-working shop, but when the economy became sour, they fought over finances. His dad and mom moved on and settled in Pinemere. Markus had never met his relatives, but it didn’t bother him because he had such a great relationship with his parents. Plus, Winthrop was like a brother to him. He didn’t think of Linette like a sister because… well, because. Yet, he never pursued her because of his goal of becoming King. He thought his time for romance would coincide with his Kingship. Now, neither were likely to happen.
The road remained empty which Markus approved of. The sun began to set. He’d traveled for a few hours now and looked for any signs of the city. The flat terrain allowed for a steady pace. He pulled a potato from his pack and ate it raw. It’s earthy flavor and tough texture left something to be desired, but he refused to stop and tired of carrots. It took him another hour, but then Darfield came into view. The sun had set and torches throughout the city made it unmistakable that he reached the right place.
A large city by most standards, even more so when compared to Pinemere, Darfield contained the normal ruckus of nightlife. The work day complete, the people spent their time at the local pub or made their way home to sleep off their stupor. Few were outside when he entered through the main gate, but he heard laughter and conversations through the walls of several nearby establishments. In Darfield, the buildings were made of stone and built to withstand fires. Only the roofs contained wood beams to support the thatch.
He walked down the main thoroughfare, looking for any sign that one of these places offered a room for him to rent. Markus never learned to read, so he sought a sign near the door that showed as much. He failed so see any, so he picked one to enter. The sign above the establishment had two horseshoes nailed to it.
Inside, the room bustled with people. They kept the light low, making it hard to see everything. The men were dressed in dirty leather. The women wore cotton skirts and silk blouses. A common color among them was purple. He scanned the room for any magic-wielders and found none. He kept an eye out for guards or anyone who might look for him. Markus made his way to the barkeep. The rotund man had a thick beard and his hands looked rough. Markus imagined he worked in the mines by day and the bar by night.
“Whatdya need?” the barkeep barked.
“A place to stay and a hot meal. Just for one night.”
“Where ya headed?”
“To Waernell.”
The barkeep gave Markus a discriminating look.
Markus jumped to give a plausible explanation. “My father headed there to do some metal-working. A commission he couldn’t refuse given the condition of Pinemere.”
“Pinemere. What happened there? They did not deliver
food to me this morning.”
“Burned down. The whole village. I came back from Castle Claybury to find it smoldering in ashes.”
“How’d that happen?”
Markus vacillated on whether to suggest the Decayed caused it or not. He decided against it. “I don’t know. It’s how I found it.”
The barkeep cleaned beer mugs as they spoke. He continued his stare at Markus. The pause worried him and he searched for an escape route.
“Show me your fingers,” he commanded.
Markus twitched, hopefully imperceptibly. He raised them.
“Given your age and recent time at Claybury, I had to confirm you weren’t an Ashen. The room and meal is eighty-five coppers.”
“Ashen?”
“Yes, someone who tested for the Decayed, but agreed to have their middle fingers cut off to stop the darkness.”
“Oh, I’d never heard them called that before.”
“Makes sense if you’ve lived in Pinemere your whole life.”
Markus pulled out the coin he found. He had seventy-five coppers and told the barkeep.
“It’s not enough. You can skip your meal and we’ll call it good.”
Markus tired of potatoes and carrots, then thought of something. He pulled his bag off his back. He dropped the almost full bag on the countertop.
“How about a trade?”
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