by Jason Howard
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Good natured lying is healthy. I’m talking about tale-telling, embellishment, trickery, and the like. Sure these skills can be used for evil, but muscles can be used for evil and no one thinks they’re bad. People that never lie just end up believing someone else’s lies and passing them on. Also, lying is a highly enjoyable pastime. Ask anyone! They’ll tell you it’s bad to lie.”
–Lucretious Mattel, a famed thespian and philanthropist who was executed for cardsharping in the Gleam’s biggest gambling hall, Crystallonia
Cera asked Zac what his hand was. He told her the numbers and she decided not to take any of his cards. Then she smiled and said, “Uzzo. Hope no one minds that it was a quick hand.” She flipped her cards over and they totaled five. An excellent hand. She smiled.
Brock asked Reyna what her cards were and decided not to swap with her. Instead he took a card from the middle and swapped it with one of his own.
Next Artem asked Zac for his cards again, watching him carefully to see if he said anything different from the first time he had been asked. This was a technique that had been successfully used on Artem. Zac repeated the cards exactly the same. Artem swapped Zac a card. It didn’t matter, Zac had a bad hand so getting another bad card was irrelevant. He was more interested in the outcome between Cera and Mauler.
Kell was next. He asked Mauler what his hand was and Mauler replied, “Four, seven, eight, and zero. Kell swapped three of his cards for Mauler’s. But he left Mauler’s zero, which didn’t make sense to Zac. Until he realized that Kell wasn’t trying to win. He was only trying to make sure Mauler won so that Cera would have to share her story.
“Is he allowed to swap three at once like that?” Artem asked.
Reyna said, “Yeah, he just can’t swap again for two more turns. It’s a bold play.”
It dawned on Cera. “You just . . . you just joined the game so that you could make me lose. You deliberately gave him good cards!”
Mauler flipped over his cards. A zero, a one, a two, and another one. It was the best hand of the game so far. He shrugged and gave Cera a look of sarcastic apology.
She looked at Kell and said, “Take your cards back, if you lose the game you’ll lose your money. You won’t get cards that good again anytime soon.”
Reyna swapped a card with Artem and flipped over her hand. She had eleven in total.
Kell shook his head. “I’d rather hear about you than win this hand.”
“Why?” she asked, honestly curious.
“You’re the only one we know nothing about. You don’t fit in with the other conduits, in fact, you seem to be avoiding them. Zac and Artem told us a little about themselves, but you don’t talk with anybody.”
“How much of this was planned? Did you know you were going to do it before we even started the game?”
Mauler shrugged.
“Kell, you rigged the bet, so I don’t have to say anything.”
“No, I gave Mauler my cards, that’s completely legal. I did it right out in the open, following the rules of the game. I chose to help him win. There was nothing secretive or illegal about it.”
“Well, it was a little underhanded,” Mauler conceded, showing a grin. “But it stayed with the rules. So tell me, Cera, what’s your story?”
She sighed. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. My story is nothing special. I grew up poor in Sal Zerone’s Westwork District.”
Zac could tell by the way that Mauler raised his eyebrows that The Westwork District must have been a vicious ghetto.
Cera continued, “I probably would have ended up being a whore like my mother, but I had strong Genuity which kept manifesting itself with unintentional channeling. My mother saved up every coin she could so I could enroll in the Arcane Academy and live with a family in the Castle District. She said I’d end up a whore like her if I stayed in Westwork any longer. When I moved to the Castle District, I was full of hope.
“But after a few years I blew it. I hated my classes. Hated the professors. Hated everything. I still learned a fair amount about channeling magic, but it was mostly by reading and practicing on my own. I couldn’t seem to focus on any of the coursework. Couldn’t seem to make myself care about the tests and exercises. I missed my mother and she wouldn’t see me anymore. She was happy I was gone. Back then, I thought she just didn’t want to be bothered with raising a girl, especially a powderbomb like me. Now I think it was more that she was ashamed. And she didn’t want me to be like her.
“I missed her and I was bored with my new life. The alchemy projects and endless assignments. The dry manuals of channeling technique, with their extensive glossaries and fancy terms. I was a rebellious, foul-mouthed troublemaker, and eventually I dropped out. I wasted every coin my mom saved up for me. I wasted the only thing that showed that she loved me, probably the only good thing she ever did in her pointless shell of a life.”
“But why did you drop out? Why couldn’t you just . . . do the minimum amount to pass?”
“I have a problem with authority.”
“Most people do.”
“Mine’s bigger than most.”
“Why is that?”
“I just do. But I did learn the basics of channeling. I studied on my own after I dropped out. I became a conduit for hire and honed my craft until I was one of the best conduits in Ascadell.”
Mauler said, “So that’s how you became a witch wo—”
Cera’s irises flashed the color of blue flame as she said, “Conduit.”
“Right,” Mauler said.
Cera shifted like she was going to get up.
“Hold on, you agreed to more. You told us how you became a wi—a conduit, but how did you get here?”
Reflexively she felt like she shouldn’t tell him more, but then she considered that her business was pretty public by this point. She had been pardoned for all her crimes and was no longer on the run.
Rigel’s voice boomed down the hall, “LIGHTS OUT IN TEN MINUTES! TEN MINUTES!
Rigel was one of the soldiers enlisted by Lanthos to join the Nightblades. After Artem’s retelling of how he had met Rigel, Zac wasn’t surprised.
Zac looked down the flickering rows of oil lamps. Two Royal Guards headed toward them, snuffing out lamps.
Cera said, “Eventually I started taking dark contracts. After honing the skillsets of an assassin and my channeling abilities, I acquired wealth beyond my wildest dreams.”
“I knew it! Your last name is Winters, innit?” Mauler said.
Cera nodded.
“I heard you were in the Beholden.”
“There’s no such thing as the Beholden.”
“Not what I heard.”
“There are a lot of nonsense stories and rumors you heard then. Can I go on?”
“Yeah, yeah, go on Ms. Winters. Wouldn’t want you to strike me dead.”
“I started taking dark contracts. And I was good at it. Really good. After a while, I made a name for myself, which was stupid. Smart criminals don’t make a name for themselves, they make money and make sure no one knows who they are. Soon there was a huge reward on my head. I tried to lay low. I disappeared for a while, only took small jobs from a select group of contacts who were outlaws, and I knew wouldn’t turn me in. I still ended up getting arrested.” She glanced at Zac, then looked away and said, “I was put in the same dungeon as before, almost in the same damn cell. But someone told Ivor about me, and they brought me to him for a test. Ivor decided my channeling abilities could be put to use for this mission. So I agreed to go so that they’d reduce my sentence. That’s it, that’s how I got here. Are you happy? Does that answer all your questions?”
There was a pause as they absorbed the story. Mauler nodded that he was satisfied.
Cera said, “Alright then, that’s the last time I make a bet with you.”
“I’ll bet you ten silvers that I can get you to make a bet with me.”
Cera rolled her eyes, ignoring
his extended hand.
Mauler said, “Last question. Why’d you look at him when you said that?” Mauler asked.
“Said what?”
“When you said, ‘I still ended up getting arrested’ you looked right at the zell.”
“Don’t call him that,” Artem said.
“What are you, his wife or something? Take it easy,” Mauler said.
“If you say it again, I’ll make you apologize through your broken teeth.”
Mauler looked over at Artem and saw the steel in his gaze. “Alright, alright. I apologize.”
Kell added, “Mauler just has dung-for-brains and an extra foot always in his mouth. He wouldn’t be friends with me if he believed in the slurs he said.”
Artem accepted that logic. The tension dissipated.
Mauler said, “But she did look at him.” He scrutinized Zac and Cera.
“You two knew each other from before,” Mauler said. “What happened?”
“Mauler, come on, she told you everything you wanted to know, let it go,” Zac said.
“We’re done here,” Cera added, getting up.
“You two were ramming each other, weren’t you! You were rutting each other like field dogs, like two—”
Cera was ignoring this, walking away.
“—horny forest badgers, flogging the angry flesh like it was your last day for this world, doing the grunt and whimper—”
“Mauler, shut your chulgarous mouth,” Kell said through a smile.
Mauler waved a hand dismissively at Kell and said, “Zac, I commend you! How was—”
Cera stopped short and whirled around. Her face was red from the building rage. “I have never and will never lay with him, so get that out of your thick head, you repulsive pig!”
Though it was true, the way she said it angered Zac. She’d done more than just deny that they’d been together, but also made it clear she would never have an interest in him. She could have said it differently. She didn’t have to make it sound like the mere thought of being with him disgusted her.
That’s why he said, “I was one of her bounties. She wanted to bring me back to the guy who killed all my Raezellian brothers. I would have probably been tortured to death. But I outsmarted her, made her the fool—twice! I even got her thrown in Castle Sal-Zerone’s dungeon by City Guardsmen.”
He matched the heat of her glare.
“Well . . .” Mauler said. “That’s . . . er . . . far less romantic than I was imagining. Doesn’t really sit well for the story I was buildin’ up. The downtrodden escaped slave with a heart of gold savin’ the beauty with a dark past and a soft-spot she never knew she had. I suppose I’ve made things between you two even more awkward.”
“You should really shut up now,” Kell said, this time without a smile.
“Yes. You’re an ass,” Brock added, startling Mauler.
Brock had that way about him. He rarely spoke, but when he did he got your attention. His brevity lent his words weight.
“You’re right. I’m being a real chulgar tonight. Cera, I apologize—”
But she was already going. In the gloom Zac saw her climbing into her bed.
Reyna was packing up all the Uzzo cards. Brock had won the majority of the hands so he took the coins they’d put in the middle.
Once the cards were packed up, Zac went to his bed. Everything Zac owned in the world was in a little chest at the foot of his bed. He’d brought the armor he’d stolen from Apollo, as well as Razriel, a set of flint and steel for starting fires, a compass, a couple changes of clothing, what was left of the money he’d stolen from Apollo, and the tattered shirt he’d worn as a slave. He never wore that shirt, but kept it as a reminder of the brothers he’d lost and the life he’d risen above.
Zac looked down the hall and saw the approaching guardsmen extinguishing the oil lamps. The darkness seemed sinister as it crept toward them. Each extinguished torch brought it closer. Zac thought about the mission and his once again uncertain future. He glanced to the next bed. Artem was already sleeping. He had never met someone who fell asleep so quickly and awoke so fresh and ready for the day. Zac himself always had trouble getting to sleep. Thoughts would pester him like gnats buzzing in his ear. No matter how tired the day made Zac, he always seemed to find nervous energy before he tried to sleep. It was like he was fighting to still a whirlpool of worries and insistent memories.
Zac thought about the First Blood fights and his perilous journey to Sal Zerone. He thought of Elias. While saying their good-byes Elias’s voice had gotten husky as if he was about to cry. He’d given Zac and Artem each a long hug.
Zac had said, “When I come back we’ll travel through all the city-states. Artem and I will be your fighters and bring you wealth and fame.”
“Yes. It will be done. Keep your neck off blades and your eyes watching every way of the compass needle.”
Elias had clapped him on the shoulder before walking away.
This journey changed all his plans. All the dreams he’d imagined pursuing after he’d fought in First Blood. Maybe he would still join Elias someday and become a travelling prizefighter. But now, as he sat thinking, he somehow doubted it. This mission seemed like the sort of thing that would change everything. The sort of thing that would mold his life into something far different than he could possibly predict. He didn’t know what lay ahead, but he felt like his life had changed directions permanently.
Zac was exhausted, his body sore, his mind muddled with fatigue. He hoped that the darkness would bring him sleep, hoped these thoughts wouldn’t win their battle to keep him awake.
The guard was on the last torch.
“Lights out!”
And then there was only darkness.
His mind filled that darkness with one strong image. It wasn’t a memory from the whirlwind of life-changing events he’d recently been through. And it wasn’t a recollection from his painful, long gone past. It wasn’t even a vision of the incredible destiny that seemed to be unstoppably approaching.
It was Cera.
He didn’t know why she came to mind. Part of him was already asleep, but part of him marveled at how vivid she looked in his mind’s eye. He passed fully into sleep without realizing it, before he could contemplate the meaning of that image.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Stone and snow
Gems and ore
Blood and bone
Tears and war
This is home
Nothing more
-Raezellia by Vannal Illus
Their journey to Raezellia was exhausting. Ivor had arranged for new horses to be prepared at a number of towns and cities along the way. They would ride the horses hard until they were nearly dead, then exchange them at towns for new ones so they could keep the incredible pace.
At first Zac had worried about Althos, but he found that the lizard had incredible endurance. Despite Althos’s constant complaining, he was always able to keep up.
As they travelled north the forests had changed to pines and other evergreens. The ground was carpeted with needles, and the air got sharper and colder. Zac’s inner thighs were painfully chafed from riding. His rump was saddlesore, and the skin of his face was dry, his cheeks flaking from the constant breeze of riding.
Artem let Zac use a bluish ointment on the raw skin of his inner thighs, and rub Naga tree oil on his face to moisturize it.
“Where’d you get this stuff?” Zac said as the wonderful coolness of the blue ointment assuaged the pain of his chafed skin.
“I took it from the jungle when I was journeying to Sal Zerone,” Artem said. “The jungle has a kind side if you know her well. But if you let down your guard she’ll kill you.”
“You think of the jungle as a woman?”
Artem smiled. “She gave us life, and for that we give thanks. But she has tumultuous moods and can go from beautiful to deadly in an eyeblink. She could only be a woman.”
Zac smiled and shook his head.
The
y mounted up and rode near the back of the column of Nightblades. Ivor and a mysterious rider who served as Ivor’s bodyguard rode at the fore. The rider had introduced himself only as Sothnal. There were whispers that he never slept, he just sat outside of Ivor’s tent all night tending his fire and staring up at the stars. He was always with Ivor and never socialized with anyone else. In fact, he never seemed to talk at all.
Zac turned his thoughts away from Sothnal. After all, a bodyguard should be an imposing person, and Ivor was an important man.
Zac smelled the freshness of the air and let his eyes wander across the horizon. Today was an excellent day for riding, and although Zac was sore and tired, he still felt good. Riding was much easier than working in a mine—Zac preferred the sunlight and fresh air to the hours of hammering in the darkness.
They were laboring up a hill, following a dirt road, when the clouds covered the sun. They crested a hill and could suddenly see far into the distance. There was a thin strip of ocean that separated the mainland of Ascadell from a mountain-covered region that Zac knew. Raezellia.
He could see the sails of a ship far in the distance. He’d known this moment was coming, but he still hadn’t been prepared for it. The strip of ocean was The Strait of Slaves. Ships travelled back and forth across it every day, carrying their cargos of Raezellian slaves.
Zac felt a tightness in his throat. He’d never imagined that he’d be back in Raezellia. He had never considered journeying home after he’d escaped Lockridge. Raezellia was a violent, dangerous place. Not only did the slavers constantly reach into his homeland, but his own people were a danger. They were impoverished and desperate, and there were constant skirmishes between factions that held claim over different parts of the country.