by Clayton Wood
“Calm down,” Thorius ordered, easing off on Hunter’s chest. He rose to his feet. “Get up.”
Hunter stared at the man, then got up, rubbing his aching chest.
“That,” Thorius stated calmly, “…was your first lesson.”
“What, that you can beat the crap out of me?” Hunter retorted, glaring at the man. Thorius chuckled.
“That was your second lesson,” he corrected. “Your first was the sphere.”
“The sphere?” Hunter asked, glancing at the thing. “What about it?”
“There once was a middle-aged man,” Thorius explained. “A drunk. Alcohol didn’t exactly bring out the best in him.”
“Oh, so now it’s story-time,” Hunter muttered. “Great.”
“One day, he went drinking after work, as he normally did,” Thorius continued, ignoring him. “He came home to find his wife in bed with another man. Turns out she’d gotten sick of his drinking, and decided to head for greener pastures.” Thorius smirked. “He didn’t take it well. You see, drinking made him angry. Made him violent.”
“What does…”
“Don’t interrupt,” Thorius interjected. Hunter felt a twinge of irritation, but complied. “The man came home, found his wife being serviced by this other gentleman, and was understandably upset. What was less understandable was the fact that he beat the man’s head in, then strangled his wife to death.”
“Jesus.”
“And then he threw their two-year-old son out of the third-story window,” Thorius concluded. He glanced at the sphere at the other end of the room. “That,” he declared, pointing at it, “…was in his pocket the night he killed them. He’d bought it at the store as a present for his wife before going to the bar for a few drinks.”
Hunter stared down at the sphere, then looked back up at Thorius.
“That crystal,” Thorius continued, “…witnessed a triple-murder. Rage beyond description.” He turned his gaze back to Hunter. “It hasn’t forgotten. It may never forget.”
“Wait,” Hunter protested. “It can’t remember anything, it’s just a…”
“Why did you attack me?” Thorius interjected calmly. Hunter glared at him.
“You provoked me.”
“Did I?” Thorius pressed. “What did I say that made you assault your teacher?”
“You said…” he began, then frowned. “You said I was inferior.”
“True,” Thorius agreed. “You needed a little push, but you were already furious before I said that.”
“You called me ignorant,” Hunter reminded him. Thorius shrugged.
“Your ignorance is no fault of your own,” he countered. “And it is the easiest thing to cure.” He gestured at the sphere. “The sphere has never forgotten our drunk murderer’s rage. It absorbed that emotion, was corrupted by it. And now it in turn corrupts anything and anyone near it.” He smiled at Hunter. “Such as yourself.”
“You’re saying that thing made me attack you?”
“That’s correct,” Thorius confirmed. Hunter stared at him incredulously.
“Bullshit.”
“Is it?” Thorius pressed. “Tell me, how do you feel now?”
Hunter focused inward, realizing that he wasn’t angry anymore. Irritated yes, but only mildly so.
“Would you like me to hand you the sphere again?” Thorius inquired. Hunter glanced at it, then shook his head. “Your first lesson is this,” Thorius stated. “Objects absorb intense emotions, and the more intense the emotion, the more completely an object will absorb it. This emotion can then be transmitted to you, or anyone else, merely by being close enough to the object to be corrupted by it.”
“You’re serious about this,” Hunter realized. Thorius nodded.
“Oh yes,” he confirmed. “Dead serious.” He walked over to the sphere, picking it up and putting it back in his pocket, then walking back up to Hunter. Hunter eyed him warily.
“Aren’t you worried about being close to that thing?” he asked.
“Excellent question,” Thorius replied. “The answer is no.”
“But why not?” Hunter pressed. Given how easily Thorius had beaten him, if that sphere really did what the man said it did, then Hunter wouldn’t stand a chance if Thorius decided to beat the crap out of him…or worse.
“A Seeker must learn to sense the corruption in the world around them,” Thorius answered. “To understand the danger, and to sense that corruption in himself. You must learn to resist that corruption, to accept that it exists but not fall prey to acting upon it.”
“How do I do that?”
“By developing introspection,” he replied. “You must learn who you are to know what feelings are yours and what are not.” He gestured at Hunter. “For example, right now I am extraordinarily angry with you. In fact, I could kill you right now, and not regret a thing. No one would question me.”
Hunter felt the blood drain from his face, and took a step back from the man. Thorius smirked.
“The only reason I haven’t,” the Master Trainer continued, “…is because of my training…and willpower. And we’re going to have to spend a great deal of time developing yours.”
“How do we do that?”
“You’ll see,” Thorius replied.
Hunter glanced down at the pocket where Thorius had put the sphere.
“So that sphere can absorb emotions,” he stated. “Is it because it’s a crystal?” Thorius shook his head.
“All objects can absorb emotions,” he countered. “And animals, and people. Even plants, and water.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m afraid not,” Thorius replied. “I’ve read that in your world, this is not the case.”
“It’s not,” Hunter agreed.
“You can imagine how dangerous this might be,” Thorius stated. “Imagine a man wanted to force an enemy to commit murder. It would be as simple as putting this sphere in his pocket.” He gave a grim smile. “Very few people have as strong a will as I do.”
“So everything around me stores emotions like this?”
“Correct.”
“But…” he began, glancing around the room. “Why don’t people just walk around getting pissed off all the time?”
“Some objects absorb emotion better than others,” Thorius explained. “In general, the greater the density of an object, the better it absorbs. And weak emotions transmit weakly, while strong emotions transmit powerfully.”
“So if I get pissed, the floor will absorb that?” Hunter asked. It sounded ridiculous.
“Not well,” Thorius answered. “Wood does not absorb or transmit emotions efficiently. That is why most structures in the city are made of wood, and not stone.”
“Oh,” Hunter mumbled. He’d wondered about that. “Is that why the walls are made of paper?”
“Correct.”
“Wow,” Hunter murmured. He glanced around the room, then down at the medallion resting on his chest. “What emotion has this thing absorbed?” Thorius gave a tight smile.
“Nothing of consequence,” he answered. Hunter frowned.
“So what does it do?” he pressed.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Thorius replied.
Chapter 9
The sun was low in the sky by the time Hunter stepped out of the double-doors of the Guild of Seekers with Sukri, Gammon, and Kris. Donahue and Udeln had decided to tag along, walking behind the others. No one said very much about what they’d done that day, particularly after Thorius’s warning that doing so in public would get them murdered. For his part, Hunter had spent the rest of the day having Thorius hand him various objects, all supposedly “corrupted” by various emotions. At first, Hunter couldn’t help being skeptical, still attributing his anger to his teacher’s smug attitude.
It hadn’t taken long for him to realize how wrong he was.
First Thorius had handed him a small locket, an anniversary gift from a man to the woman he’d loved for years. He’d died before h
er, and she’d worn it on the day he’d died, sitting with him, remembering their life together. Sure enough, he’d started to feel rather sentimental after holding it for a few minutes. Another object – a book owned by a notorious shut-in – made him feel profoundly anxious, fearful of even leaving the room. Each time Thorius had handed him a new object, he’d felt something different. It’d become all too clear that the Master Trainer had been correct. Objects were indeed corrupted by the emotions of people around them, and carried the memory of those emotions with them, infecting anyone who drew near. Apparently it didn’t even require physical contact to transmit these emotions…just proximity. And the stronger the emotion, the farther the distance it could transmit.
He couldn’t help but feel a little paranoid of everything around him, knowing that he might be infected by their emotions. That they might be warping his mind. Controlling him.
“Man,” Gammon said, rubbing his belly. “I’m starving.” Kris gave him a skeptical look.
“You’ve got a long way to go before you starve big guy,” he observed. Donahue grinned at Gammon.
“He’s got you there.”
“Let’s go get dinner,” Sukri said, leading the way back to the Outskirts. They reached the community center within a few minutes, and as usual the long line to the front doors parted before them like the Red Sea. No one in the line gave them any trouble this time, almost certainly because of their uniforms. Apparently everyone here was aware of the consequences of messing with the Guild of Seekers.
This he could get used to.
They made it into the community center, grabbing their food and sitting down at a table. They all dug in to their food, no one saying much of anything at first. It wasn’t until Gammon had polished off his first plate – which didn’t take long – that anyone broke the silence.
“We should go have some fun after this,” the big man stated, eyeing his second plate as if strategizing its dismemberment.
“Sounds good to me,” Kris agreed. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need a drink.”
“I second that,” Donahue piped up. “You in, Udeln?” Udeln hesitated, then shook his head. Like Gammon, he didn’t drink. But at least Gammon was still fun when he was sober. Hunter wondered why Udeln even bothered tagging along with them.
“I need more than one,” Sukri muttered. “Seeker Draken kicked my ass today.” She glanced at Hunter. “How you holding up, Crispy?”
“Not bad,” he replied. “Still trying to process everything.”
“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” she apologized. “I meant to tell you more about your will and stuff, but we didn’t have time.”
“That’s alright.”
“Wanna go drinking with us?” she asked.
“I’ll bring you home again,” Gammon offered, perking up. Hunter smiled.
“Thanks big guy,” he replied. “Sure, why not.”
“I’ll make sure you don’t drink too much,” Gammon stated, finishing his second plate. “You need to be home on time for your girl.”
“Ooo,” Kris piped in, his interest clearly piqued. “Got a hot date Hunter?”
“Sure do,” Hunter confirmed. He felt much better after realizing it’d been Trixie all along last night, and not that girl from the guild.
“Nice, Crispy,” Sukri stated. “Hope to hell I find a nice hunk of meat to take me to his apartment tonight,” she added. “I love living with you guys, but having to being quiet sucks.”
“Yeah, please don’t bring anyone back to our apartment,” Kris pleaded. Gammon nodded in agreement.
“If she’s not sleeping, no one is.”
“Ooo, there’s a story there,” Donahue interjected, raising an eyebrow at Sukri. She ignored him.
“All right,” she declared, standing up. “Let’s go.”
They left the community center, passing through the Outskirts and into Lowtown. They reached the shops near where Trixie had taken Hunter to buy his clothes…and where Hunter had gone drinking the night before. The bar was at the end of the street, a small black wooden building. A large, burly man was standing at the front door, blocking it. Sukri walked up to the guy, fearless as usual. Having Gammon behind her probably helped.
“We’re closed,” the man stated, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What do you mean you’re closed?” Sukri asked. “It’s the weekend.”
“There’s a curfew tonight,” the man explained gruffly. “Haven’t you heard?”
“Heard what?” Sukri pressed.
“The king died,” the man stated. “One day of mourning. No alcohol.” His expression darkened. “Ironclad took out the Gate patrol last night too,” he added.
“Wait, what?” Kris blurted out. “The Ironclad attacked us?”
“That’s right.”
“Well shit,” Sukri muttered. She glanced up at the guy. “Thanks anyway.” She turned around, walking back the way they came. “Guess we’re going home.”
“That sucks,” Kris muttered.
“The king died?” Hunter asked. Sukri nodded.
“Yeah, he was really old,” she replied. “He would’ve been eight-three this year.”
“He ruled for sixty years,” Gammon added. “That’s almost a record.”
“So what happens now?”
“Well, he never did have a son,” Gammon answered. “That means the next in line for the throne is the Duke of Wexford.”
“Who?”
“He’s the second-most powerful man in the kingdom,” Sukri explained. “He’s old as hell though. Got to be in his early seventies.”
“Yeah,” Gammon agreed. Then he frowned. “Watch how you talk about him Sukri,” he warned. “You should be more respectful.”
“Sorry big guy,” Sukri mumbled. For the first time, Hunter saw her look chastised. She noticed him looking at her. “Need to be careful what you say around here,” she explained. “A lot of people really don’t like you talking shit about anyone in the Acropolis.”
“A few years ago,” Gammon said, “…Sukri made a joke about the Duke at a bar.” He shook his head. “She got death threats for weeks. We’ve never been to that bar again.”
“It was a nice bar too,” Kris added wistfully.
“Lot of patriots here, if you know what I mean,” Sukri stated. “Best if you don’t talk politics.” She smirked at Hunter. “Your mouth is almost as big as mine.”
“Got it,” Hunter replied.
“I can’t believe the Ironclad attacked us,” Kris commented, shaking his head. “That scares the crap outta me.”
“Yeah,” Gammon agreed. “They haven’t attacked Tykus in years.”
“They attacked me,” Hunter interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “When I came through the Gate. Two of them attacked me. They killed a couple of soldiers before we managed to kill them.”
“Damn,” Kris swore. “You actually saw one? What was it like?”
“Terrifying,” Hunter admitted, remembering the massive creatures. “Wait, that guy said they killed the Gate patrol?” he pressed. That was the group of soldiers Alasar had been with.
“Yeah,” Sukri confirmed. Hunter felt a pang of fear. What if Alasar had been there when the things attacked? The guy had saved Hunter’s life, after all…and had treated him like a human being, unlike most of the people here. He felt suddenly depressed.
“Guess we’re going back to the apartment,” Kris muttered.
“We could use the extra sleep,” Gammon ventured. Donahue raised a hand.
“I’ve got alcohol at my place,” he offered. “Wanna come?”
“We don’t need sleep that much,” Gammon decided. Sukri grinned at Donahue, punching him playfully in the shoulder.
“I knew I liked you,” she declared. She grabbed his arm. “Show me the way, bartender!”
Gammon turned to Hunter.
“Are you coming with us?” he asked. Hunter considered it, then shook his head. He didn’t feel like socializing all of a sudde
n. He just wanted to go home and go to sleep. Trixie had kept him up two nights in a row, after all.
“I’m beat,” he replied. “Maybe tomorrow.”
They walked back to the Outskirts, and Hunter parted with his friends, going back to his apartment. It was still the weekend, so he didn’t have to meet up with Ekrin tonight, for which he was grateful. He climbed the stairs to his apartment, unlocking the door and stepping in. He flopped himself on his bed, his medallion resting heavily on his chest. He stared at it, remembering what Thorius had told him; he was supposed to wear it when he slept at night, but not if anyone else was going to be in the bed with him. He sighed, rolling off the bed and laying on his belly on the floor, peering under the bed. He was about to place the medallion there when he froze.
There was already something there. An obsidian cube.
He stared at it, then pulled it out. It had symbols carved into each of its six sides. He got up from the floor, sitting down at the edge of the bed, twirling it in his hands.
What the hell is this?
He took off the medallion, placing it on the floor. Then he closed his eyes, holding the cube close to his chest. Thorius had told him that stone absorbed emotions extremely well, and transmitted them powerfully.
Someone put it under my bed, he thought. Were they trying to control my emotions?
He held the cube, waiting to feel something. But other than feeling tired, nothing obvious came to him. He opened his eyes, staring at the cube. How long had it been there? Why was it there?
Trixie.
He felt a chill go down his spine. Had she put it there? She’d had access to his apartment, after all. And she’d still been here when he’d gone to the Guild of Seekers this morning. But he’d already been wrong about her once…he didn’t want to seem like he was paranoid.
Maybe it was there before I got the apartment.
It was a definite possibility. And he didn’t really feel anything holding the cube, so it must not be that corrupted. Still, he didn’t like the idea that it was here. He’d have to bring it to Thorius tomorrow, and see what the Master Trainer thought about it. If anyone would know, it was Thorius.