by Tamie Dearen
“I was fetching water for the forger when I met him. He was tromping through the square and didn’t see me. My water spilled when he ran into me, and he helped me fill another bucket. I know it was Kaevin because he told me his name.”
“He lives.” Vindrake fumed, balling his hands into fists. How did he survive? How did the blade fail to end his life?
“May I see my brother now? I did everything you asked of me.”
“Not at the moment. Your grandfather awaits you. Be gone.” Vindrake gave an impatient wave toward the door.
“What about my horse?”
“Not now!” In his frustration, Vindrake almost struck the impertinent boy. But Markaeus must have sensed the danger, for he scrambled out the door without another word.
“Judaene!” Vindrake called for his personal guard, a swarthy young warrior with bulging muscles befitting his gift of strength. He rather preferred his previous guard, Daegreth, who’d been lost in the battle against Laegenshire. But Judaene performed his duties with relish, though he lacked Daegreth’s soothing mannerisms.
Fortunately, Vindrake never allowed himself to become emotionally attached to his guards or anyone else, for that matter. He’d learned many years ago sentimentality was a weakness to be avoided at all costs. Personal affection only offered opportunity for pain. No one could be trusted… especially family. His own father and brother had proven beyond doubt that familial love and loyalty were as much a myth as the city of Serenshire.
Vindrake stood unobserved in the doorway, watching his younger brother at sword practice against an imaginary opponent. He couldn’t help but admire his grace as he deftly maneuvered the blade, slicing through the air in elegant arcs. He’d grown taller in the year since Vindrake had left their home in Portshire. Taller and broader in the shoulders. With his beard filling out, he looked more like their father than ever before. His long auburn curls bounced with every vigorous dancing step. Vindrake had been told his own slick black hair had come from their mother, though he didn’t remember her.
“Drakeon!” Vindrake’s brother cried, as the heavy practice sword slipped from his hands, clunking to the floor. Arriving in four long strides, his brother fell against him, and Vindrake found himself engulfed in a fierce embrace. “You’re alive! I can’t believe you’re alive! Father scoured all of Water Clan looking for you. It’s been twelve moons. He told me yesterday he was going to give up the search. Where have you been?”
“Alleraen, I’ve missed you.” Vindrake clung to him, desperate to abate the cold emptiness that had been growing in his chest during his flight through Stone Clan. In the fortnight since his fatal encounter with the Faelen, an aching pain had developed inside his ribs, like a shard of ice beside his heart. He felt certain it was guilt over his actions. Indeed his remorse was so great, he’d been tempted on multiple occasions to climb a tree and leap to his death. He’d fought against the urge, convinced his father’s approval would offset the horrible shame and self-reproach. His father would never know the means by which he’d gained his newfound strength. And as long as Vindrake used his ill-gotten gift for the good of Water Clan, Faelen’s death would be a noble sacrifice, rather than an act of evil.
“But where did you go? And why did you stay away so long?” Alleraen pushed back, gripping Vindrake’s arms. “You’ve changed. What’s different?”
“I have the gift of strength now. That’s the change you sense. I’ve been studying the writings in the Craedenza…”
“You let Father worry for twelve moons so you could study some stupid scrolls? Are you senseless? Father will be furious when he finds out.”
“Did you hear what I said? I have the gift of strength. Now I’ll be ready when my time comes to be Water Clan leader.”
“But you didn’t need to be gifted in strength. I already have that gift, and I’m going to be your weapons master someday.”
“Be still, Alleraen! We both know you’d never be satisfied as weapons master. It was only a matter of time before you challenged me as leader.”
“That’s not true!” Alleraen’s mouth hung open. “I would never do such a thing. God chose you as Water Clan leader when you were born. Who am I to question His decision?”
“You’ve always thought you were better than me.” Vindrake felt his anger growing, warming the icy place in his chest. His rage felt good. It felt justified. “And Father loved you more, because you were gifted in strength and weapons.”
“Surely you don’t believe that, Drakeon. The fact that we spent time together because we shared the gift of strength didn’t make Father love me more than you. The whole time we practiced he told me I was preparing to be your weapons master when you were clan leader someday.”
“He does love you more.” Vindrake’s anger deflated and the frozen ache returned. “You didn’t see his expression when he realized my major gift was language rather than strength or weapons. He was so disappointed.” He turned his face away to hide the tears welling in his eyes.
“You were born to be clan leader, and you were given the gifts you needed to perform your task.” Alleraen spoke the words as if he believed them.
“Exactly! I was given a strong gift of language so I could do what no man has ever done before—interpret the Maladorn scroll. God knew I would be the one who learned how to obtain another major gift after coming of age.”
“I suppose you could be correct.” Alleraen screwed his lips to the side. “Will you gain more gifts? Will you have all the major gifts some day?”
“No!” Vindrake realized he’d shouted the word when his brother flinched. “I have strength now, and I need no other gifts. Father will be impressed—you’ll see.”
“Perhaps. Still, you disobeyed him and allowed him to worry for twelve moons. He could be more angry than impressed. I’d gladly help you concoct a tale to pacify him, but he keeps Barristae by his side all the time now.”
“Barristae? Why does Father keep the clan judge with him?” Vindrake knew he couldn’t tell his previously planned story in Barristae’s presence.
“Father believes someone stole you away by force, and he’s convinced some citizen of Portshire was complicit. He keeps Barristae with him, thinking they will stumble upon the culprit together.”
“I never liked Barristae.” Vindrake’s mind spun, attempting to fabricate an account with enough truth to pass undetected by the judge. “But I mustn’t put off meeting with Father. I wouldn’t want him to learn of my return from someone else.”
Vindrake felt Alleraen’s hand on his arm. “Listen, Vindrake…”
Vindrake eyed his brother with suspicion. Although his father favored ‘Vindrake’ over his given name, Alleraen had always insisted on using the formal name. He only called him Vindrake when he wanted a favor.
“… I think this new gift has caused some other change in you. Something about you simply doesn’t feel right. Let me help you get rid of the gift—surely there’s a way to do it.”
“I knew you’d be jealous when you learned I’d surpassed you.” Vindrake stripped off his filthy traveling shirt. “You can help by letting me borrow a clean shirt before I go speak with Father.”
“I’m not jealous, Drakeon. I’m truly trying to help.” Alleraen rummaged through his trunk. “Here’s a shirt I can lend you, assuming it fits.” He held the shirt out, but froze in place, his mouth dropping open. “What’s that on your chest? When did you get a tattoo? Father will be furious when he sees it.”
Vindrake gave a casual glance downward toward his chest, recoiling at the image that greeted him. Struggling to maintain his composure, he wondered exactly when and how the hideous monster, the size of two hands, had appeared on his skin. Only with fierce control did he resist the intense urge to scratch the image off. Vindrake was certain his brother could hear his heart beating, so loud was the clatter it made inside his ribcage.
“I got a tattoo in Glaenshire.” His lying skills, though dismal in the past, seemed to be improving dramatically.
“All the scholars at the Craedenza wear tattoos.”
Alleraen moved closer, bending to study the image. “But Drakeon, what a dreadful tattoo. It has six horns and ghastly eyes. It looks quite evil. I must admit, the detail is amazing, but why would you choose such an awful creature?”
“Never mind, Alleraen.” Vindrake snatched the shirt from his brother’s fingers and slipped it over his head, fastening the ties tightly to protect his chest from accidental exposure.
*****
“Father, you’re squeezing so hard I can’t breathe,” Vindrake jested, returning the embrace with heartfelt fervor.
“You can’t understand because you aren’t a father yet. But the thought of losing your son is the worst possible feeling. I didn’t lose hope until the last fortnight. All this time I could still sense your lifeblood. But when I couldn’t feel…” Vinnasae’s voice faltered, and his hold tightened. “I thought you were dead, Vindrake; I couldn’t bear it.”
“I’m so sorry, Father. I didn’t want you to worry, but I had an undertaking. Do you understand? I had to go. I had to look for the answers I sought. And I was successful, Father. I did what no man has done in centuries. I interpreted the scroll of Maladorn and deciphered the path to increasing my gifting.”
Vindrake felt his father stiffen in his arms. “You disobeyed me? You traveled to the Craedenza to study some archaic writings? Risking your life for no good reason?”
“There was no harm done, Father. And now I have the gift of strength. Let me show you what I can do.”
“You are the next Water Clan leader. Your life is not your own to risk as you see fit. Your life belongs to Water Clan.”
Vindrake fought to subdue his anger. “I only did what was best for Water Clan. Our people deserve a leader with adequate gifts to fulfill the role. With my gift of strength—”
“You had adequate gifts. You had the gifts God granted you when He chose you by birth as leader of Water Clan. Are you implying God made a mistake when He bestowed your gifts?”
“No, I’m saying He gave me the gift of language knowing I could use this gift to obtain more gifts. I tried to tell you before, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“It is you who would not listen. I already forbade you from pursuing this foolish course of action, and you ignored my command. What am I to do now? Is Water Clan to have a leader who does not believe in authority?”
“What are you saying, Father?”
“I believe, Drakeon, your father is stating the obvious.” Barristae, heretofore silent, stepped between them, sporting a greasy smile that stretched from ear to ear. “By flaunting the command of the current Water Clan leader, you have forsaken your future succession.”
“No! You’ve always been against me, Barristae! I’ve heard your snide remarks that Alleraen should be clan leader.”
“Barristae, is this true?” Vinnasae’s jaw tightened as he turned his ire toward his chief judge.
“Someone else made the suggestion, Vinnasae—you know I cannot lie—and I defended Drakeon’s status, stating he was certainly chosen by God. Unless there could be some question of parentage, in which case Alleraen would be the rightful leader.”
“What are you implying, Barristae?”
“Only that the major gifts are typically passed from parent to child. There were some who questioned Drakeon’s legitimacy before he disappeared. But the fact you could sense his lifeblood after his departure has removed all doubt.” Barristae tilted his head as he spoke, his half smile reeking of condescension.
“I’m outraged you would even consider the possibility, Barristae! You are not only my chief judge; I thought you were a true friend.”
“Very few find my honesty bearable enough to call me friend, Vinnasae. I hope I haven’t lost that privilege tonight. The unintended slight is of no consequence now that Drakeon has lost his right to succession.”
“I haven’t disinherited my son, yet. He hasn’t had adequate opportunity to explain his actions.”
“But I’m afraid the decision is not in your hands, Vinnasae. You’ve already spoken the accusation within my hearing. As chief judge, only I can determine whether Drakeon has truly abandoned the rule of Water Clan or simply made a youthful mistake.” Barristae’s toothy smile transformed to a snarl as he met Vindrake’s glare.
With every word Barristae uttered, Vindrake’s rage grew. In a blink he was looming over the diminutive judge, his face so close he could smell his foul breath. “You have no right to judge me. I’ve risked everything for the good of Water Clan, while you cowered here in Portshire during every battle.” He felt his blood pulsing in his temples as he ground the words out. “I’ve gained the gift of strength, which could only come with God’s blessing. With my added gift, I’ll be invincible. Water Clan will be invincible.”
Barristae took two steps back, holding his hands up as if to protect himself from the onslaught of Vindrake’s furious words. “You speak truth, Drakeon. You have acted courageously while I’ve shown cowardice. Your words are all true… except one part. We both know the acquisition of your gift, though indeed extremely valuable to Water Clan, was not sanctioned by God.”
Vindrake’s chest burned with wrath; his very skin felt afire. The rage grew, swelling from his chest, scorching and clogging his head like molten iron. He flew at Barristae, gripping his neck and squeezing, while the man flailed helplessly in his hands. He was vaguely aware of his father’s frantic voice and someone pulling at his arms, but he kept his unrelenting grasp on Barristae’s neck until the man ceased his thrashing and his body crumpled to the floor.
Unbidden, Vindrake recalled the words of allegiance from the Maladorn scroll. A strange clarity entered his mind.
“Vindrake! What have you done?” His father’s words finally penetrated as the thick heat receded from his body.
Vindrake blinked hard, suddenly aware of Barristae’s limp form at his feet. Had he done that? It had seemed like he was watching a dream, not committing the act.
“Father, I didn’t mean to. My new gift… I didn’t realize how strong I was.” His mind raced. “We mustn’t tell anyone. We can tell them he choked on a piece of meat. There’s an uneaten piece on his plate. I can stuff it in his throat.”
“Drakeon, you know we can’t do that. We can’t lie, though I believe it was an accident.”
“But Father—”
“Silence! Let me think.” Vinassae paced, shaking his head as he raked his fingers through his hair. “We must tell the truth, but they will understand, Drakeon. Your new gifting in strength is strong, and you have no training. We have other judges in Water Clan. You can tell the truth, and you’ll be cleared of murder.”
“Will you defend me, Father? Will you explain to the council how my new gift will be beneficial for me as clan leader?”
His father’s eyes filled with tears. “Drakeon, I’m afraid you cannot be clan leader, not after this.”
Vindrake’s chest squeezed tight, cutting off his air. His vision narrowed until all he could see was his father’s face, his downturned lips speaking silent words of disappointment.
“Father, how can you say that after I sacrificed a year of my life to be a better clan leader?”
“Yet there was no need for your actions. You would have been a fine clan leader, just as you were. Who knows… perhaps with your gift of language, Water Clan was meant to expand across the seas. But now…”
“Now I’m even better. I still have my gift of language, and now I have strength as well. Don’t you see?”
Vinnasae bit his lip as tears tracked down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Drakeon. You must be chained until the judge clears you of wrongdoing. I’ll be certain he comes to you early on the morrow.” Vinnasae reached out, placing a sympathetic hand on Vindrake’s arm.
“You would chain up your own son?” Shaking off his father’s grasp, Vindrake panicked at the thought of confinement. Inside his chest and head, he felt hot, bitter anger expanding. “I’m warning you, Father. Do
n’t do this.”
“I don’t want to. Truly, I don’t. But I have an obligation to Water Clan and its laws. Try to understand…” Vinnasae seemed to shrink as he pleaded.
Though his father’s words rang true, Vindrake’s rage grew until it threatened to burst from his skull. “You have an obligation to me, too. You should protect your son.”
“Drakeon, I have no choice.”
“I bet you’re happy now. I always knew Alleraen was your favorite son.” Vindrake’s entire body vibrated as he seethed within.
“Vindrake, that’s not true. I don’t have a favorite son. I love both of you equally.”
The lie plunged through Vindrake’s heart like a sword. Barristae had cursed Vindrake, for in his death the Water Clan judge passed to Vindrake the gift that now confirmed his greatest fear… his father truly loved his brother more.
Vindrake lunged for him in a blinded frenzy. Grappling. Wrestling. As his rage grew, feeding his furious struggle, his hands reached his father’s neck and squeezed his throat.
Vindrake cried out as a sharp stab pierced his arm. Dropping his hands, he screamed with pain and fury over the blade imbedded in his flesh. He grasped the handle and pulled it free, staring in shock at the blood pouring from the gash.
“Vindrake, please stop now.” Vinnasae touched his fingers to the reddened skin on his neck. “All that matters to me is you’ve returned. I have my son back. I don’t care whether you are clan leader. Please… I will not leave you long in chains. And I will remain by your side as much as possible.”
With a cry of wrath, Vindrake sprang at his father, knocking him to the floor. When his father ceased his struggling, he stared at Vindrake with wide eyes. Blood seeped from his lips as his hands clutched at the hilt of a blade that protruded from his abdomen.
“Father! Father, I’m sorry!” His own injury forgotten, Vindrake knelt and leaned over his father, searching frantically for something to staunch the flow of blood from his wound. “I didn’t mean to, Father. I love you. I simply wanted you to love me. I wanted to make you proud.”