Until All Bonds Are Broken

by Tim Frankovich

  But something didn’t seem right.

  He couldn’t see any doors in the room, but the side walls were only curtains, after all. He pushed his way through at the end closest to the pool and outside wall. He found himself in a narrow hallway formed by his own curtain wall and another one running parallel. Another room like his? It didn’t matter, as he also found the one thing he most wanted: a door. It had no lock, and he easily pushed it open and stepped out into the sunlight.

  He needed to see Seri. He moved past the building in which he lodged and crossed the main path toward the left-hand building where the women had gone. He took three steps onto the bridge over the creek before a blonde woman in white hastened to block his path.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but men are not allowed in the women’s lodgings,” she informed him, holding a palm up to stop his progress.

  “All right.” Dravid looked past her to the building, seeing no sign of movement. “Could you take a message to my friend Seri? Tell her I need to see her?”

  She cocked her head, considering him. “Oh, yes. You’re the ones who arrived in the group yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?” Dravid looked at the sun’s position. Late afternoon. They had arrived late morning. He could not have slept an entire day away. “No, no. We got here this morning.”

  The woman nodded, smiling. “You’re a little disoriented, as would be expected. You were very tired after your long journey, and slept quite soundly.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “I hear those words many times here in Forerunner’s Sanctuary.”

  Dravid did not know how to respond to that. “Well, um, could you take the message to Seri?”

  “I will tell her, but I would also suggest that you simply wait until the evening meal. You just have time to bathe beforehand.”

  Dravid took that as a not-so-subtle hint. If he truly had slept over a day, then he probably didn’t smell very nice. He nodded. “And where will the meal take place?”

  The woman pointed to the central building. “Forerunner will welcome all to his table in the pavilion.”

  Of course he will. Dravid turned and headed back to the men’s building. Come dinner time, he would find Seri and figure out what was going on here.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “ALL RIGHT, THAT card is the wild mage,” Victor explained to Callus. “We re-shuffle the deck now.”

  “But what if he ends up back at the top of the deck?”

  “Uh, then we’d re-shuffle again.”

  “And if he’s there again?”

  Victor rolled his eyes. “It could happen, but it probably won’t. Can we keep playing?”

  The conscript nodded. Victor kept trying to teach the card game to members of the curse squad. So far, only Topleb had been able to grasp it, but he had little interest in playing.

  “Now this is a soldier card. I can use it to take one of your Lords captive.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s how the game works.”

  “But a soldier can’t capture a Lord.”

  Gallus, the other twin, leaned in. “This is what I told him. A single soldier doesn’t stand a chance against a Lord!”

  “He can if it’s the right soldier,” said a quiet voice above them. All three looked up. Marshal stood there, but he wasn’t watching them. He stared off into the distance.

  “Look, it’s the way the game works,” Victor said. “It’s based on history or something.”

  “It still doesn’t make sense,” Callus said.

  “It’s a card. It takes another card. It’s how you play the game.”

  “But a soldier can’t stop a Lord.”

  “Fine. Pretend the soldier is actually protecting the Lord.”

  “Why would a Lord need protection?” Gallus asked. “They’ve got magic powers.”

  “They’re cards! Just cards!”

  “But it doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to make sense!”

  “Then why would you want to play it?”

  Victor started to pick up the cards. “I have no idea any more.”

  “Which one is this?” Callus picked up a card and handed it to Victor.

  “That’s the High Master Mage.”

  “Why is it a woman?”

  “It’s not—never mind.” Victor took the last of the cards and stood up. The twins began to argue about whether a woman could become a mage.

  Victor stepped over next to Marshal and looked him over. His friend continued to stare. Victor followed his gaze and saw the command tent.

  “He’s here, Victor. I can feel him.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Half-brother.”

  “That doesn’t mean… I mean, can he feel you?”

  Marshal broke his stare and looked back at Victor. “I don’t think so. My power’s still not very strong. If I were at full strength again, maybe. I don’t know how all this works.”

  “But you can feel his presence? How?”

  Marshal gestured weakly. “I’m not sure. I can feel a disturbance in the air, sort of a faint vibration. And when I focus on it, I can follow it. And it leads over there.” He pointed toward the command tent. “And there… it’s kind of like I can tell there’s a lot of vibrations. I know it’s magic, and it pulls at me. I want to reach out and try to take it. My mouth even waters.”

  Victor now understood a little bit about the vibrations involved in magic, but everything else Marshal said sounded completely strange.

  “Do we need to be worried? He has his own power now, so he doesn’t need yours. And that freaky assassin hasn’t come back.”

  “I don’t know. I still don’t understand why he even has power. Is that where mine went? Will it come back? Or does he have something else?” Marshal ran his hands through his hair. “And is he even the enemy we have to be worried about? He wasn’t the one who killed my mama and almost killed me. That was those… Durunim. The eidolons. Or whatever they are.”

  “I haven’t seen one of them since the temple, either.”

  “Neither have I. And that worries me. They followed us through our whole journey. And then told me that I was the key to restoring their world. I can’t imagine they just gave up. Where are they?”

  “Maybe they’ll go after Volraag, since he has power now. That would solve a lot of our problems.”

  Marshal shook his head. “No. He… said it was me. And talked about his masters. They wanted me.”

  Victor felt a chill at the back of his neck. Marshal had told him some of what happened in the Otherworld, but he hadn’t mentioned this part before. Masters? That didn’t sound good.

  “Look,” he said, “let’s not dwell on it. We have to deal with what’s going on right now. Let’s run the squad through some more practice.”

  Marshal nodded and took another look toward the command tent. “If you think it’ll do any good.”

  Victor looked up as two regular soldiers approached, pushing another conscript before them.

  “Where’s your decanus?” one demanded.

  Victor glanced at the tent. “I think he’s asleep. We did a lot of practice earlier, and—”

  “I don’t care. Here’s another one for your squad.” The soldier shoved a red-headed gangly conscript to the ground.

  As the soldiers departed, Victor called after them. “You will make sure our food allotment is increased, won’t you?” One of them waved back. Victor grunted. “Bad enough they shorted us on the wine yesterday. Here, let me give you a hand.”

  He helped the newcomer back to his feet. Like most of the conscripts, he didn’t have a uniform of any kind. He carried a standard spear and shield, and seemed to stumble a bit.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m Victor. What brings you to our curse squad?”

  The newcomer looked at Victor with questions in his eyes, no doubt wondering about his curse. “I’m Rufus. I don’t know why my old decanus sent me here. I don’t—I
mean, I do have a curse, but it’s just a twisted foot. I’ve been with him for months!”

  “As curses go, that’s not much,” Victor agreed. “Well, I guess, um, you’ll have to share a tent with Wolf. He’s an odd one, but seems harmless.”

  Marshal crawled out of his tent. “What’s going on?” He stood up and stretched.

  Rufus stumbled back and nearly fell. “You!”

  Marshal frowned. “Do I know you?”

  Rufus gripped his spear and took a step forward. “It’s all your fault they’re dead! Your fault!”

  “Wait…” Marshal’s eyebrows went up. “I do remember you…”

  Before Victor could react, Rufus lunged toward Marshal, thrusting his spear. Marshal spun into a defensive stance and struck at the spear with his palm. The tip caught his tunic sleeve and tore it. “What—” Marshal managed to say before Rufus struck at his face with his shield. The boss caught Marshal in the chin and knocked him back into the tent.

  Victor grabbed Rufus’s spear arm and yanked him off balance. “Stop it!” he yelled. “You’re attacking your decanus!”

  “He can’t be a decanus!” Rufus shouted, his voice shaking. “He tricked us! Got my friends killed!”

  Marshal scrambled out of the tent’s ruins and drew his sword. “We have met, Victor,” he said. “When Aelia needed medicine. For you.”

  “And you tricked us!”

  Marshal lifted his palm, but kept his sword at his side. “We did. We needed medicine for my friend.”

  “It saved my life,” Victor said. Without the starshine Aelia had obtained, he wouldn’t be here now. The assassin’s sword had ripped his back open. Even with Aelia’s treatment, the wound never fully healed, leaving an ugly scar. He could feel it now.

  “And killed three others.” Rufus’s voice was still raw, but he stopped struggling against Victor.

  “When… we left you, no one had died,” Marshal said.

  “We came back. And that other man was there. The leper. He killed… he killed them all!” Rufus dropped his spear and sank to his knees. “He made me help him. I spent weeks worried that I got leprosy from him.” He looked at his hands. “I washed my hands so many times…”

  Victor let go of the conscript’s arm. He looked to Marshal.

  “I’m sorry for your friends,” Marshal said. “But the killer was after me. He’s the reason Victor was hurt.”

  Rufus looked up. “So if you had stayed away from us, he would have stayed away. It is your fault. Or the woman’s. Where is she?”

  Marshal did not answer.

  “She’s dead,” Victor said.

  “Oh.”

  All three stayed quiet for a few moments.

  “Did you find him a tent?” Marshal asked Victor.

  Victor nodded.

  Marshal turned to Rufus. “You’ve been in this army longer than anyone here, I think. You can help us.”

  “Why should I?”

  Victor leaned in close. “Because without all the help we can get, we’re all going to end up dead in a few days.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JANAAB PUT OUT a hand and Talinir stopped in his tracks. Wandering the Starlit Realm was always a dangerous endeavor, made more so by the company. While Janaab had been reticent about his own identity and background, Talinir learned one important thing: magic filled Janaab more than any human he knew. How he had survived this long was a mystery.

  Talinir saw nothing, so he listened. Somewhere beyond the ridge in front of them, he heard the scuffling footsteps of a large creature. “Tunaldi?” he guessed in a whisper.

  Janaab shook his head. “Curse-stalker,” he answered softly. “A big one.” He paused. “No. Two of them.”

  Impressive. As a warden, Talinir should be able to make those identifications himself. But his senses were still in disarray from the unnatural way in which he now lived. But Janaab’s ability to be able to identify a creature by its sound indicated years of learning. Exactly how long had he been here?

  They waited in silence until the creatures passed on. A few moments later, Janaab led the way up and over the ridge.

  “I’m surprised they didn’t come for you,” Talinir said.

  Janaab chuckled. “In my early days here, that’s all they did.” He glanced back at the Eldani. “Imagine my surprise to discover the misbegotten beasts are native here! They don’t belong in my—in the primary world at all.”

  Talinir nodded. “Yet they have slipped through, over the ages, through the high places, drawn by the magic your people bound up.” He waited a moment before adding, “Like the magic within you.”

  “Figured that out, did you? It’s hard to disguise, especially from one such as you. Even so, I’ve gotten better at hiding it from the less intelligent denizens of this place.”

  “How?”

  Janaab’s glance displayed no obvious emotion. “Some things I’m not ready to discuss,” he said.

  Talinir accepted that. Change of subject, then. “You said Marshal had returned to the primary world. How did that happen?”

  “You know, I’m not completely certain.” Janaab stopped walking and straightened his back, stretching. “I think our power combined somehow and he just… slid back.”

  “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  “Neither have I. But it happened. Perhaps it had something to do with the Bond to his friend.” Janaab looked off into the distance. “They should have been reunited pretty quick, I would assume. But how long will it take the girl, I wonder?”

  “What girl?”

  Janaab resumed walking. “She’s the key, you know. The key to everything. If she left Zes Sivas within a few days, and made straight for Varioch, she’d have been there by now. But will she find him?”

  “How do you know so much?” Talinir stared at his companion. He had made a habit of focusing on him as much as possible, to keep his eyes from wandering to the stars.

  “It must be maddening, I suppose.” Janaab tested the ground ahead with his spear point before moving on. “You’re here, in a way you shouldn’t be, you meet a human where he shouldn’t be, and he hints at knowing things he shouldn’t know. Insane, isn’t it?”

  “Outlining it does not make it any less strange,” Talinir said dryly.

  “No, I suppose it doesn’t. How can I explain? You know that I have magic and that I have been here a long time. Is that not enough?”

  “Many of my people have been here a long time, and we are all magical, in our way. Yet doing so does not grant us visions of the primary world.”

  Janaab raised a finger. “Most of you,” he corrected. “Most of you are not granted visions. Some are. I met an old woman in Intal Eldanir once—”

  “You have been there?”

  “You were out on warden duties at the time, most likely,” Janaab said. “But yes, I’ve been there. And an old woman looked into my future. She told me I had to go to Zes Sivas and meet the girl with the star in her eye.” He paused. “And what I must tell her to gain her aid.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “It doesn’t matter now. She helped Marshal against the Durunim. That’s what matters. And if she finds him, she can help him again.”

  Talinir wondered what help Marshal needed now. His curse had been lifted. Where would he go now? Back to his home in that mountain village? Or would he attempt to claim the Lordship of Varioch? Somehow, Talinir couldn’t see that happening. He returned his thoughts to his companion. Keeping his eyes on Janaab so often had revealed more than just magic. The wanderer tried to hide it, but his skin, pale from lack of sun, had dark blotches on it. Janaab himself was in danger of becoming Durunim, or a human equivalent, at least. How long did he have? And if he succumbed to it, what would Talinir be forced to do?

  Absently, he glanced up.

  Stars.

  “Theon’s pillars!” Janaab’s epithet broke into his ears some time later. “You have got to stop doing that!”

  CHAPTER NINETEE
N

  AFTER HIS BATH, which he had to admit was luxurious, Dravid got dressed and exited. As he left his room, Cato emerged from the curtains concealing the next room.

  “Ah, there you are!” Cato said. “Ready to see Forerunner again?”

  “I’m ready for some answers,” Dravid said. “Tell me: when did we get here?”

  Cato wrinkled his brow. “Earlier today, of course. Are you all right?”

  “One of the women told me we arrived yesterday.”

  “That can’t be right.”

  “That’s what I said. But she insisted.”

  “I’ve had some lengthy naps, but nothing like that.” Cato frowned. “Maybe it’s part of Forerunner’s magic. He wanted to be sure we were well-rested.”

  Dravid grunted.

  Together, they made their way to the central building. Unlike the quarters, which each held a round shape, Forerunner’s “pavilion” resembled a long rectangle. Dravid and Cato entered through a central pair of doors that led to a small atrium. Multiple doors all stood open, leading them further into an immense dining room. The walls alternated between carved wood panels and red curtains similar to their quarters.

  Eight wood tables stood in a u-shape. A couple dozen people were already sitting at them, while at least another dozen milled about, talking. About half of them wore white robes like the women who had welcomed them here.

  Dravid spotted Forerunner with ease, thanks to his bright clothing. He stood near the central tables, engaging with a small crowd of admirers. Even from this distance, Dravid could feel the magic radiating from him. It called to him, inviting him to come nearer, to take it for himself, to gain the power, to—

  “Dravid!”

  He shook himself. What had he been thinking? He turned and looked at Ixchel. He felt a strange sense of relief in seeing her still clad in her warrior’s garb. She frowned at him. “What is wrong with you? I called your name three times!”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening to me.” He looked past her. “Where is Seri?”