Until All Bonds Are Broken

by Tim Frankovich

  Dravid wanted to confide in Seri about the changes he felt inside, but… he couldn’t be completely sure she wasn’t under Forerunner’s influence. She ran when Forerunner called, and she argued a little too emotionally about staying here.

  He looked around his room and saw little earthquake damage. Seri and Ixchel had gone to check on their own quarters, giving him time alone again. He needed it.

  From the moment Ixchel awakened him, he felt something odd inside. He had ignored it, pushed it aside, while dealing with the aftermath of his dream, and then all of Seri’s revelations. And then the earthquake and Forerunner used his power…

  He took a deep breath and held up his left hand. Focus. He closed his eyes and concentrated. It was a different feeling from seeking out magic and channeling it, like Master Hain taught him back on Zes Sivas. He knew that feeling quite well, knew how to seek it out and draw it in, knew how to use it for various purposes. He possessed nowhere near the ability of Seri, of course, but he flattered himself he wasn’t all that bad. But this...

  There. The power pulsed, just like Forerunner’s. Except this power came from within him. Had he kept some of Forerunner’s power for himself somehow? Or awakened an ability unlike anyone else? Either way, the prospects made him shiver. Perhaps, just perhaps, with this power, he would not be a failure any more.

  He opened himself up to the pulse and let it flow through him. The effects felt similar to his absorption of Forerunner, but nowhere near that intensity. He felt a slight tightness in his chest, followed by a dry heat that rushed up his throat and glowed behind his eyes. He concentrated and focused on his hand. The power flowed to it, obeying his thoughts. He opened his eyes.

  His hand glowed again, that same glow which Forerunner’s protective dome had showcased. Curious, he attempted to release some of it, while tracing his hand through the air. To his delight, he created a round disc of light in the air. He took hold of it and moved it around. The disc had substance; it felt solid. Yet it also felt almost completely weightless.

  “That could come in handy.”

  Dravid jumped and looked up. “Ixchel! Don’t you ever let someone know before you barge into his room?”

  Her expression, as usual, did not change. “Why should I? When I have a task, I do it.”

  “Fine.” He sighed. “Just don’t tell Seri about this yet, please.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because… because I’m not sure about it, and I’m honestly not sure about her.” He turned the disc sideways and moved it back and forth.

  “You think she might tell Forerunner.”

  Dravid nodded. “I’m worried about her.”

  “I understand. I am concerned as well.” Ixchel stepped closer and looked at his disc. “How solid is it?”

  “I don’t know.” Dravid tapped the disc against the paving stone near his pool. The disc cut smoothly through the stone with a spray of tiny sparks. Shocked, Dravid dropped it. The disc fell and lay still without a sound.

  “Impressive,” Ixchel said. She drew her sword and struck the disc. Her sword bounced back. “Both shield and weapon.”

  “Is everything about fighting with you?” Dravid picked the disc back up and turned it back and forth in his hands.

  “Almost everything.” She knelt next to him, her presence a warmth not unlike the magic that still burned within him. He swallowed, and realized his throat had grown drier still. That might not be good.

  “Can you throw it?” Ixchel asked.

  In response, Dravid tossed the disc across his room with a flick of his wrist. It flew a few feet and came to a rest near his bed.

  The heat began to bother him. He closed his eyes against it and focused on releasing the power. Usually, he would just let it go, toss it out in a vibratory burst. But this power needed to go back inside him, didn’t it? He pushed down mentally. After a few moments, he felt it diminish. He bent to the pool, scooped up some water and swallowed.

  “It disappeared,” Ixchel said. “Did you mean to do that?”

  “I turned the power off,” Dravid said, “so I guess anything I made with it goes away when I do that.”

  “How much can you do?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t even know if this is a permanent thing, or if I only absorbed a small portion from Forerunner. So I might use it all up if I keep doing it.” He took another swallow of water. “I just don’t know.”

  Ixchel sheathed her sword. “I encourage you to discover what you can. It may give us insight into Forerunner’s powers.”

  “You think we need more insight?”

  She nodded. “I do not trust him. His promises are false. But the hope he offers keeps my Lady here. I cannot dissuade her.”

  “Then we’ll have to protect her.”

  “Yes. And that is why we need the insight.” She stood, long bare legs brushing against him. “I will go find her now. You should rest some more. Afterward, we can both talk with her again.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Dravid watched her leave, then shook his head. What was he thinking? After a moment, he realized he felt ravenously hungry. He pulled his crutch to him, got up, and set out to find something to eat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  THE BOND YANKED Victor around, nearly throwing his legs into the campfire. How? Marshal left him only a few minutes ago. How could he be in danger already? And weren’t Bindings supposed to be negated by war? Second time today!

  He gasped as an invisible force pulled him several inches along the ground. The Bond had never been that strong! He scrambled to his feet, heart in his throat. He took several steps, then broke into a run.

  The sword! He left his sword. He paused to turn back, but the Bond wouldn’t let him. The flail would have to be enough.

  Where was Marshal? He hadn’t been gone long. Volraag! Did he find him?

  Victor stumbled. A haze of exhaustion nearly collapsed him, but the Bond pulled him on. He staggered on, one foot in front of the other, each step a victory somehow.

  He knew now. He ran this path hours ago, this morning. Across the camp, toward… the ravine. Why there? Why did Marshal go back there? And what was the danger?

  The Bond knew when Marshal faced life-threatening danger. Victor had experienced it multiple times over the past year. The curse-stalker. The assassin. The eidolon. Each time, he had been summoned. Each time, desperation consumed him, the magic enhancing his emotions.

  But none of them compared to this. His heart raced. Chills swept his body, followed by a sudden burst of sweat. Worse than monsters or killers. What could it be? Victor’s breaths came short and fast. He couldn’t catch it. The Bond might kill him if this kept up. But… it also might kill him if he were too late to help Marshal. He gritted his teeth and kept moving.

  The heavy flail weighed on him. Maybe he should drop it to move faster. What good would it do, anyway? He should have gone back for the sword. Too late now.

  The ravine drew near.

  “Marshal!” He coughed and lost his balance. The ground, the solid ground, met him and drove the air from his lungs. He gasped for more air, trying to ignore the pain that wracked his body. Aching, bruised muscles impacting everything. Yet still the compulsion dragged at him. He reached out and dug fingers into the dirt, pulling himself forward.

  The flail. He lost it. Leave it! No. He might need a weapon. Unable to turn his head back, he scrambled around with his other hand until it touched the chain. He grabbed hold and pulled it along.

  Knees. He got to his knees and crawled a few feet. The scabs formed from his earlier scrapings tore off in the dirt. His blood mixed with the dust.

  Feet. He wavered, staggered, but kept moving. His legs felt like immense weights to lift with each and every step. But he kept moving.

  “Marshal!” Why did he call? He needed that breath.

  No answer again. The ravine. Where was it? There. The darker region. The light of the moon showed it.

  And the single figure standing at its edge.
/>   “Marshal!”

  The Bond let him stop at last.

  “What… what are you doing?”

  “It’s no use, Victor.”

  “What is?” Victor almost fell again, put one hand on a bloody knee and held himself up. The flail dangled from his other hand. Useless piece of junk. He let it fall so he could lean on both hands.

  “I told you goodbye already. I… I can’t do it any more.”

  The truth started to take hold in Victor’s mind. “You can’t do what?” But he knew.

  Marshal turned toward him. In the moonlight, Victor could barely make out his face. “This is the only way. Blades still don’t work.” He held up the dagger Volraag had given him so long ago. Before Victor could react, he stabbed it at his own chest. It bounced off. The protection spell from the Eldanim.

  Marshal tossed the dagger aside and pointed down the ravine. “The rocks, though. They’re not blades.”

  “Stop.”

  Marshal shook his head. “It’s too much. Goodbye again, Victor.” He turned back and stepped to the very edge of the ravine.

  No. This could not happen.

  The flail. The only thing he brought with him. He grabbed it from the ground and lunged forward.

  Marshal leaned forward, falling into darkness.

  As he landed in the dirt once more, Victor swept the flail forward. Marshall’s feet came up as he fell. The ball of the flail wrapped around Marshal’s left leg. Victor grabbed it with his other hand and yanked his arms apart. The chain wrapped around Marshal’s ankle.

  Marshal struck the side of the ravine and yelled. Victor’s arms felt almost yanked from their sockets. The flail’s handle slid in his hand, but he gripped tighter. Was it the Bond or the vibrating magic that helped him? No way to know. The wound on the side of his chest re-opened. Blood stained the front of his tunic.

  “Let go!” Marshal shouted.

  “Never!” Victor screamed.

  Marshal pounded the side of the ravine, raining dirt down toward the rocks. “Let go!”

  “I won’t.” Victor found himself crying.

  Marshal grew still. His weight hung from the flail’s chain wrapped around his ankle. With one hand, Victor held the flail’s handle. With the other, its chain. The immense strain made his arms shake.

  “Let me go, Victor.” Marshal’s voice shifted to pleading. “It’s no use.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I, I know the Bond compels you, but it’s all right. You… don’t have to do this.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No. I want to go. Please.”

  “You can’t. You’re needed here, Marshal. Antises needs you!”

  “Antises? Antises cursed me for my father’s sins. Antises sent a curse-stalker to destroy my face. Antises… Antises killed my mother!”

  Victor let out a moan from his effort and closed his eyes. “The curses. Remember the curses. You can help.”

  “I can’t help! I’m worthless!”

  Victor struggled to breathe. His position, arms outstretched above his head, held his chest against the ground. Each time he inhaled, he had to push his entire body upward. And each time, it felt as though he slipped forward ever so slightly.

  “You. Are not worthless. You. Are the one. Who can change. Everything.”

  “How? I’m nothing! I’m a scarred, broken little boy who can’t save anyone!” He slammed his fist into the side of the ravine again. The impact jarred against Victor’s hands.

  “You have a Lord’s power,” Victor groaned. If this wasn’t the time, it never would be. “And more.”

  Marshal did not respond.

  “Your mother told me. About your grandfather. The one Varion killed. He was… he was the King. Of Antises.”

  Marshal hung silent and still. Victor took a deep breath, pushing against the ground.

  “You don’t just have a Lord’s power. You have a King’s power. Both, I guess. If anyone can change things, it’s you.” Victor took another deep breath. “It’s you.”

  “Why… why didn’t she tell me?” Marshal’s voice sounded even more broken. Had he done right in telling him?

  “I don’t know. She wanted me to tell you. At the right time. She said. I don’t know.”

  “Then I’m even more of a failure!” Broken switched to vicious. “I have all this power and it’s useless!”

  Victor didn’t answer. His muscles trembled from the burden.

  Silence stretched out for several moments.

  “Victor.”

  “Still here.”

  “I could use this power right now. I could force you to let go.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Why? Because of the Bond? It’s the only reason you’re here.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll do it, Victor.”

  “No.”

  “I will.”

  “Your mother begged me!”

  “What?”

  “Before she died. She begged me to watch out for you. She knew about the Bond and still she begged me. I told her I would.”

  “She… she wanted to die. And now I do. I want to be with her. Let me go.”

  “NO!”

  Marshal began to sob. Each of his movements pulled on the chain, pulled on Victor’s bloody, aching, exhausted hands.

  “Why… why won’t you… let go?”

  “It’s not the Bond.” As he said it, Victor knew the truth. “It’s not my word to Aelia.” He fought for another breath to speak again. “You are my friend, Marshal.” His voice cracked. “My friend.” He swallowed and struggled to find air. “You are.”

  In the stillness that followed, in the quiet below the moon’s radiance, the Bond slipped away. Victor felt it leaving him with a caress, a soft touch of gentle vibration that swept over his body, and a warm glow within his heart that gave him the strength for one more breath.

  “Nnnnyaaarrgh!” Marshal screamed. Victor felt heavy vibrations run up the flail’s chain into his arms.

  And Marshal threw himself with the force of his power—not down, but up, up over Victor, pulling his ankle out of the twisted chain, and landing on the ground behind him, where he rolled over and over before finally coming to a stop.

  Victor wanted to run to his side, but he couldn’t move. It took all his effort just to let go of the flail.

  He did it. He saved Marshal’s life. The Bond was broken. Or fulfilled. Or whatever you wanted to call it. He was free.

  He rolled onto his side and managed to twist enough to see Marshal. His friend also rolled onto his side and looked back at him. In that moment, he knew.

  Some bonds should last a lifetime.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  JAMANA MOVED ANOTHER large rock, then wiped his forehead. The latest earthquake had been the worst yet. Even with the diminished populace here on Zes Sivas, the quake killed three people. An entire tower collapsed on top of them. At least the remaining Masters and acolytes had managed to escape major injury so far.

  Unfortunately, that also meant more work for Jamana. Master Korda sent the acolyte to help clear out some of the fallen tower’s ruins. The Masters still held out hope that everything could be rebuilt once the earthquakes stopped. If they ever stopped.

  “Jamana!” called a nearby voice. “Come here.”

  Jamana climbed over part of the tower’s debris and saw Adhi, the only other acolyte on the island. He looked curiously into an opening between several fallen stones.

  “What is it, little Adhi?”

  He glanced up and then pointed down into the opening. “There’s a chamber down here.”

  Jamana looked around, considering their location between the citadels. He prided himself on a thorough knowledge of every passage in both the King’s and Mage’s Citadels. He had already known them well, but after Seri and Dravid left, he had worked hard to learn more. He had more time to himself now. Adhi could be decent company occasionally, but he was not Dravid.

  “There should not be a c
hamber below here,” he said at last. “It does not make sense.”

  “Yet there it is.” Adhi pointed again.

  Jamana bent and looked. He did not like close spaces, but only the initial opening seemed small. The chamber below looked quite large. “Shall we, then?”

  Adhi climbed over a rock and slid down inside. Jamana followed slow and careful, only after moving a few more rocks out of the way.

  From the opening, he dropped a few feet down to the floor. The cave-in broke through one wall near the ceiling. The late afternoon sunlight shone almost directly through the hole, providing ample illumination, though the beams were filled with dust.

  Adhi approached what looked like a set of shelves not far from the opening. He looked back at Jamana, his face dirty from the dust. “Jamana, these are… books!”

  “Truly?” He joined the other acolyte and looked. Heavy volumes lined the shelf at eye level. He carefully grasped one and pulled. It came apart in his hand. The cover remained almost intact, but very little remained of the pages within.

  “Too old, I guess.”

  Adhi moved further into the room. “More of the shelves,” he said. “I think this might have been a library.”

  Jamana frowned. “The Masters have a library,” he said. “It’s upstairs.” Again, he tried to figure out how this room might connect somehow. Looking around the room, he spotted a door against the leftmost wall.

  “Now we’ll see,” he said to himself. He went to the door, found it unlocked, and pulled. It came open to reveal a solid wall of stone.

  “Not a very useful door, is it?” Adhi asked.

  Jamana touched the stones. “They walled this room up,” he said. “Why? If there is a hallway beyond this wall, then…”

  “Wouldn’t that be in the King’s Citadel?”

  “I am thinking you are right.” Jamana felt a slight irritation that Adhi calculated it before him. But even Seri had noticed how smart the little acolyte seemed to be.

  He concentrated, absorbed some of Zes Sivas’ magic, and channeled it against one stone in the wall behind the door. After two more attempts, he managed to break it down enough to open a hole into the hallway beyond. Now he could find this spot from the other side.