The Orphan's Discovery

by Shawn Robert Smith

  “You’re fortunate that my master wants you alive. Until we meet again.”

  His voice had a silkiness to it that made Winthrop shiver. The attacker head-butted Winthrop, breaking his nose and distracting him while the attacker fled. He stood up, holding his nose, failing at stopping blood from dripping on his hand and the floor. What was the book, was now a pile of ashes. Winthrop groaned. He left the secret room and found the hole that led back to the library. He barely formed a slide that allowed him to fall half the distance to the floor. It hurt, but he had nothing more to give. He dropped from the step down to the floor and released the magic. He sped to the front, hoping to make it to a washroom or his quarters without being seen. He passed the librarian’s desk and found him dead from Decayed magic. He’d withered to a thin layer of skin. Some of his bones peaked through where the skin had thinned more.

  Winthrop entered the hallway and found it empty. Class had started recently and most of the Order were in their respective rooms. Winthrop made it to the washroom near his room and cleaned himself up.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Day 9 — Afternoon

  The sun rose to its peak by the time they reached the Order of the Decayed. Also made of dark gray stone, it reminded him of Hell’s Gate. As they approached, Markus felt a distinct change in his mood. His rage started to rise in him again. They brought him here to die, like a sacrifice to appease the gods. Nothing would stop him in his quest for power. He’d make everyone bend their knee to him and his ideals. He wanted to enter this place, but he wanted to do it on his terms. He wouldn’t be put into prison again.

  Markus formed spheres in his hands and used them to attack his chains. He saw the metal weaken. One guard noticed and barked Orders to the men leading the wagon. The pace picked up and the bumpy road slowed his progress on the restraints. He heard them raising the gate. A quick glance showed six men lifting it enough for one to crawl under and continue the process using the pulleys.

  He attacked the chains with more magic and then began hitting them against the wagon floor. They shattered, and he looked up as they brought him inside the courtyard. He received a solid whack to the head, which made him see stars. His head and face heated with anger and he formed spheres in both hands. These men would pay. How dare they treat their future leader like this. The men surrounded him, swords and shields drawn. Markus jumped off the wagon onto a thick layer of hay that covered the entire courtyard like a blanket. The men backed away and step-by-step they converged to the exit which remained open. The only thing blocking his escape were these guards.

  Markus flung the two spheres at the four men who blocked the exit and they used their shields to protect themselves. The rest of the men shuffled to join them, shields ready for his next attack. Markus had progressed in his powers, but he wasn’t strong enough to break through metal easily. Had the shields been made of wood, they’d be destroyed with one hit. His best bet seemed to get through the gate before they closed it. Once outside, he’d have to steal a horse to give him any chance of escape. Markus moved forward to lessen the distance he’d have to travel to follow them outside. Thirty feet. The men filled the portcullis, leaving no room for him to maneuver through. Four of them remained on his side of the gate, but the rest had already moved outside. Markus kept enough distance until they rushed through the opening all at once. Twenty feet. All but one of them held the gate while one chopped at the rope holding the gate up. It took him several tries to cut through the wrist-thick material, giving Markus needed seconds to reach the exit. The rope flew upwards and the men bore the weight of the heavy gate. Ten feet. The last man ducked under the gate, but struggled to get through with all the men in his way. Five feet.

  “Release!” yelled one man.

  Markus dove but instead of sliding underneath the gate, he crashed into it.

  “Good riddance,” the guard said, and they all walked over to their horses and left.

  Markus rubbed his head where a nice little bump started to form. He took a moment to let the pain and swelling reach its peak. He felt his rage flare up and looked for something to break. Most of what remained in the courtyard was made of metal or stone.

  He observed his new home, wondering what happened to the others they brought here. He wandered to the Keep and found a set of stairs leading both up and down. He went up first, finding the second level demolished except for the stairs. The floor had collapsed. He continued upstairs to the third and highest level. He discovered every wall was covered in human bones displayed in an Orderly fashion. Markus didn’t know what to think of it. The volume disturbed him, but also let him know that these came from a bigger event than the handful of people from Thurus who tested as Decayed over the past several years.

  Markus noticed a deep drumming sound. More he felt it than heard it. He held his breath and searches for its source. He moved back to the stairs and descended. It reverberated in his chest and grew as he took the steps down. Back at ground level, it was clear that the sound came from farther below. It was dark, but Markus managed to find each step before committing. He circled downward for several minutes in complete darkness. As he noticed a change in texture on the last step, he noticed a shift —like the darkness wasn’t as dark. Markus continued with his hands out in front and moved with extreme caution. After that second-floor collapse, Markus took no chances with Decayed architecture.

  The light grew and came into full bloom when he turned a corner. Dozens of cloaked people had their backs to Markus. They surrounded a pit and each of them contributed black orbs into it. Markus couldn’t see the complete pit because of the movement of the wielders as they approached, gave, and then moved on. The drums beat in a continuous rhythm and then stopped.

  “Welcome, Markus,” a voice at the far end commands. He couldn’t see him but thought he recognized the sound.

  The cloaked men and women move to the side allowing him to pass. He approached the front of the assembly, noticing each person had the darks lines that fanned out and away from their eyes. Some looked old and pale like Death had. Others had some color to their face. He reached a large throne, and a man sat atop with more confidence than King Luther ever did. His hood blocked most of his face, but Markus could see stubble on his cheeks. Before the hooded man was a Decayed book. He lit a match and pulled back his hood.

  Markus took a step back, realizing his fears.

  “General Stack,” Markus stated.

  He looked more ragged than when Markus saw him in the Claybury dungeons but that wasn’t Markus’s primary concern.

  “You made it.”

  Markus remained unsure what to say. He knew why Markus came here and he held a leadership role of some sort. He opted to continue with the plan and see what happened.

  “I did. I come to join the Decayed. I escaped with Death and he told me to come here.”

  Stack laughed.

  “This man is a traitor to our cause. Kill him.”

  The black-cloaked wielders began to converge on him.

  “Wait. I’ll prove myself. Give me a chance.”

  “Fine, you may join us after you kill Knilin, Master from the Order of the Eagle.”

  Markus hesitated. He glanced at the pit where the wielders had added their magic. The cauldron-sized ball brought immediate fear to his body. Sweat soaked his body and even tears formed in his eyes. It was made of pure evil. Markus felt the rage rise in him again. His hatred of the Creator, his jealousy of his friends, his disappointment at the blue wielder and what her actions spoke of this kingdom, brought him to the brink. But it was his failure that tipped him over the line. He screamed in rage and formed cantaloupe-sized spheres in his hands, letting them develop into the darkest and strongest he ever had. He flung them both into the pit and it grew substantially. Markus committed himself to the cause. He’d found the Decayed. Next, he’d not only join them. He’d lead the Kingdom as the most powerful Decayed ever known.

  Day 9 — Afternoon

  Winthrop sent a note to Li
nette explaining what happened. He’d found the book and learned part of the story but not everything. At least, no one else could find the secret. Then, he found the nurse and after telling her a wild tale of him falling down a flight of stairs while trying to get the attention of a girl he cared for; she nodded absently and readjusted his nose. It surprised him that someone so petite and kind as the nurse, could inflict so much pain on him. He logged that thought for the future.

  The bleeding had stopped and with a fresh set of clothes on he made his way to the dining hall. Wielder after wielder cast their vote at a table set up in the middle of the large room. Winthrop approached and as determined as ever to find a way to end the Decayed, he voted for Dymnos. They kept the election anonymous, which would fare better for those who voted for Fath. Winthrop saw that a public vote for Fath might raise suspicions. Someone who voted for him proved to have some sympathies for the Decayed.

  Winthrop picked up some food and found a place to sit amongst his friends. He hadn’t seen them since the night before when he’d sabotaged Fath’s speech.

  “Winthrop, you buried Fath with your comment,” Shannon said with a smile and a wink.

  “We wanted to celebrate with you last night, but we thought best to give you some space. Everyone was talking about you after. I don’t think Fath stands a chance against Dymnos,” Mikael said.

  Winthrop smiled. It made his face hurt, but he pushed past the pain. “We should know shortly. Look, they are taking the ballots away for counting,” Winthrop replied.

  They ate together and the excitement of their teacher becoming the new leader of their Order was clear in their conversation. Soon, the ballot counters returned. Fath and Dymnos stood together where everyone could see them. An older man, cloaked in blue, stood before them with a rolled piece of parchment. It had an unbroken wax seal. He broke it and unfurled the paper.

  “I hereby announce that Dymnos is the new leader of this Order!”

  The crowd cheered. Winthrop looked around and saw that no one appeared to look upset over the election. Then he circled around and saw Mort. He didn’t clap. He looked grim and stared into his bowl of food. Fath appeared disappointed, showing neither a smile nor a frown, but an empty look.

  Dymnos took the parchment and stood in front of the old man.

  “Men and women of this Order. I thank you for entrusting this position to me. I promise to uphold the values we hold dear. We will put an end to the Decayed and root out those who’d betray us.”

  The old man grasped Dymnos hand and raised it above his head, a symbol of his victory. It was then that Winthrop saw his wrist. He looked at it closely, waiting for the back of it to turn towards Winthrop. When it did, he spotted it. Tiny scratches covered his wrist. The redness of it shone like a beacon. Dymnos rushed to bring his hand back to his waist to conceal the wound. Winthrop quickly turned to Shannon, hoping Dymnos hadn’t noticed Winthrop watching.

  Dymnos attacked Winthrop.

  Dymnos belonged to the Decayed.

  Day 9 — Evening

  Linette sat across from Knilin. He looked ten years older than when he tested her less than two weeks ago. The attack at Pinemere, the Travalling, and his search for Aurora hadn’t been good for him. Linette worried about his health.

  Knilin put down the parchment that contained Winthrop’s account.

  “The second rule mentioned never have children. Why?” Linette asked.

  Knilin frowned. “Close the door.”

  Linette obliged and glanced up for spies. She found none.

  “I suspect you’ve learned more of the progressions?”

  “Yes, I have. Do you know Joshua?”

  Knilin flashed a smile. “I do. He hopes to beat my record.”

  “And?”

  “He has a chance but…”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. To guess why the rule said to never have children, you must understand how one reaches the progressions in the Order of Man. I received an advanced copy of Higel’s research, including his private notes. To reach each progression, they had to commit horrible acts. Every ‘master’ in their Order has committed murder of someone defenseless. I think to reach the final progression they have to do the same to one of their own children.”

  “No!” Linette gasped.

  “It’s an unspeakable evil. We can’t let the Decayed learn this knowledge. Only the three of us know.”

  “What about Aurora?”

  “Let’s just say she won’t be a problem anymore. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Do you think she passed the knowledge to anyone?”

  “I don’t but I have instructed my spies to keep tabs on those who might barter with this type of information.”

  Linette considered the “for” rules. Then, she thought of Winthrop.

  “Knilin, is Winthrop the only wielder born of a Decayed?”

  He nodded. “Yes, that I’m aware of. It’s why Atwix and his attacker want him alive. I don’t know how it would work but they must hope that his father can come back somehow and claim immortality with the death of Winthrop.”

  Thank you for reading The Orphan’s Discovery. I hope you enjoyed and that you look forward to the next book. Please consider signing up to my newsletter for updates. Please visit shawnrobertsmith.com to join. I promise not to flood your inbox and I will never sell or give away your information. If you’re new to my work, you’ll gain access to short stories that I’ve only shared with my email list.

  Thanks again,

  Shawn

  Copyright

  This story is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and dialogue are pulled painfully (well, not really) from the author’s imagination and are not real. Any similarity to actual events or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The cover was designed by the author using creative common zero pictures.

  The Orphan’s Discovery. Copyright (C) 2019 by Shawn Robert Smith. All rights reserved.

  FIRST EDITION

  About the Author

  Shawn Robert Smith is a new author and is working on writing a fantasy series that starts with The King’s Defense. He lives in Dallas, Texas with his wife and kids.