by J. S. Morin
But Brannis would have time to devise strategies against the Megrenn before the season turned. Winter had not even begun in earnest to sink its icy talons into Kadris, and the whole of winter would pass before any serious threat from Megrenn could be mounted. Kyrus, on the other hand, could use his help much more immediately. While his twin was stranded on a remote island, he seemed to be in little actual danger. Still, Brannis felt he owed much to his counterpart, both for the help he had been against Jinzan Fehr and for the richness he added to the sleeping portion of his life. In a strange and mildly uncomfortable way, he yearned for Abbiley as well and wanted to see Kyrus returned to her.
And so, for Kyrus, he read.
Aetherial Navigation was a treatise on the use of the aether as a means of finding one’s way over long distances. The Greatest of Ptakk’s Works explained how to form permanent structures out of materials at hand, with particular emphasis on how to build them to last. Spirit Magic was of questionable use, but it explored the view of aether as a spiritual medium and many of the beliefs that sprung from that view. The one that Brannis felt held the most promise was To Anywhere, a volume that held the transference spell that Rashan had used to cross half of Koriah to reach Raynesdark. With any luck, Kyrus would be able to use it one day to return home. The spell was much more complex than any Kyrus had learned previously, and there were many warnings of the dire consequences of mistakes in its use, but it seemed the best option.
Brannis settled in to his bed with the stack of borrowed books at his bedside table.
No fear, Kyrus. I will find a way to rescue you, or at least to find you a way to rescue yourself.
Chapter 39 - Letter Home
Dearest Abbiley,
I barely know where to begin my tale. The events of the last few months deny description, though I must try. Understand that half of what you have heard about me is indeed true, while the other half are exaggerations and falsehoods, borne of fear and misunderstanding.
I have discovered that magic does exist in our world, not relegated to the bedtime tales we heard as children. I have been blessed with a glimpse into another world, one of magic and wonder, where fantastical things are possible. I have learned from what I have seen there and have put it to practice. I made a record of my studies, after the manner of Sir Waldon, Lord Candelwright, or Professor Hawkweave, seeking to use the methods of science to find reason where there is naught but mysticism. I admit that my scholarly endeavors were led astray by something rather embarrassing: I had fun with it.
I can only imagine the joy you feel seeing your paintings leap into life upon the canvas as your brush transforms bits of sticky multicolored pastes into visions of reality or fancy as you choose them. I have not the eye to be an artist. Neither do I have the voice to sing or ear to compose. I have not the heart nor arm to be a warrior, and I lack the slick tongue to enter politics. I lack all the faculties that allow a man to change the world, save for a new one that I have discovered.
I find before me the choice of how to use the gift I have discovered. What was not so long ago a barely understood trick of trial and error, I now find under some nascent degree of real control. Had I learned such mastery before my unfortunate encounter with the fearful custodians of law in Scar Harbor, I might have held them at bay long enough to make them see reason. Alas, the hordes of fear and superstition fell upon me and sought to claim my life for their peace of mind. At the time you last saw me, I was frightened and uncertain, wondering if some aspect of my newly found ability might secure my freedom.
The events after that night bear much explanation, for as fanciful as my tale so far has been, it grows stranger still. The notorious pirate, Denrik Zayne, had escaped from his exile and was lurking about in Scar Harbor when he heard of my plight. Not one for pity, he believed in magic and knew some paltry amount of it himself. Seeing in me a potential ally, scorned alike by the authorities of Acardia, he effected my escape from the prison, and took me on as a part of his crew when he stole the Harbinger from its berth.
I admit my mistake now, seeing it with the benefit of hindsight. Though I knew not how to harness my power, I could have stayed and defended myself until such time as I could make men see reason, that I was not a threat, and that my magics were harmless—nay, beneficial even—to the community at large. Instead I took the coward’s path and allowed whatever rumors might flourish after my escape to run unchecked, no doubt growing to monstrous proportions.
As my short time among the pirates passed, it became clear that I would never fit in with them and that I was not the sort of man they wished to keep among them. As what they claimed was a small kindness, they have stranded me upon a remote isle, inhabited by an inoffensive native people who have, I must say, treated me well enough.
I am in good health and sound of mind. It is only my heart that aches. For whatever kindness is visited upon me by my gracious hosts, they cannot provide the only desire I find myself lacking: the pleasure of your company. There has not been a day to pass that I have not wished to be with you, either to be back home with you in Acardia to escape the distasteful sights I have seen among the squalor of a pirate’s life, or to have you with me to see the wonders of the world beyond the horizon from all you have known.
Ships are a rarity here, with merchants having little reasons to travel here, to this place called Denku Appa. I find myself discontent with waiting upon the next lucky vessel to come my way to take me from here and back to the civilized lands where I might book passage home. Instead I look to my own studies, for in magic, should not all be possible? If by chance some errant vessel may pass, I shall leap upon it, with a farewell to my hosts upon my lips and a song in my heart, but I will not sit idly by and count upon such fortune.
One way, though I know not how as yet, I will make my way back to see you again. You may have my solemn word upon it.
With All My Heart,
Kyrus Hinterdale
When all the words had arranged themselves, Kyrus ceased his spell and let the rest of the ink from Denrik Zayne’s message pour into the inkwell. Once the ink on the letter dried, Kyrus carefully folded and rolled up the only paper upon the island of Denku Appa, then bound it around the leg of the parrot he had enspelled. The colorful bird watched him curiously as he worked but offered no comment, nor objected to bearing the message it was being given.
“Find your way, little friend,” Kyrus told the parrot, lifting it to the air to help it take flight.
The bird headed off to the north and west, a long journey ahead of it, and with just a few mental images from Kyrus to guide its way.
“Find your way to Abbiley, so that I might one day follow.”
* * * * * * * *
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About The Author
Born in New Hampshire in 1977, J.S. Morin found himself captivated by the wonders of fantasy novels at a young age. He was introduced to the genre via the works of R.A. Salvatore, Ed Greenwood, and Margaret Weiss and Tracy Hickman. He loved exploring other people’s worlds, from Shadowdale to Hyrule. He also quickly found Dungeons and Dragons to be a creative outlet for stories, characters, and new worlds of his own creation.
His other passion was for building and designing things, and when it came time to choose a career, he went down that road. A Mechanic
al Engineer by day, he spends his evenings with his wife in their New Hampshire home, enjoying the simplicity of life in a quiet state.
By night he dreams elaborate dreams of visiting fanciful worlds, performing acts of heroism, and solving intriguing puzzles, which inspire him to craft stories that he hopes will help shape the lives of the next generation of fantasy readers. He hopes to avoid finishing growing up.
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