The Eighth Born: Book 1 of the Pankaran Chronicles

by C. Night

  “No, it’s too dangerous for Caliena to be left alone. There might be more Zirites around. You stay here with her and Cazing. Avarek and I will go.”

  Avarek nodded and remounted his horse. Rhyen was impressed that a figure so tiny could vault himself easily into the saddle. He walked over to Caliena and took Respen’s reins from her. Though he had taken Thom’s horse, the saddle was small for him, and he couldn’t comfortably sit all the way down. His legs and back burned and ached from having ridden in it under the tunnels, and mostly he had just walked, his long legs keeping even pace with the horses. But now, when he was so tired, he dreaded the thought of getting back in that small saddle, and he couldn’t bring himself to ride the roan. “I need your horse,” he said quietly.

  “Of course.” Her eyes were shadowed from lack of sleep.

  After he mounted Respen, he moved alongside Brefen and gently disentangled Cazing’s magical bag from around his neck. He didn’t yet want to consider the importance of the shard of Pankara Stone, but he dare not leave it with anyone but a wielder, and Cazing was still unconscious. Also, they would no doubt need plenty of money for the supplies, since the fall of Conden’s capital had produced thousands of refugees. He had seen many making for the Low Country just moments ago, so Rhyen guessed that they would not be the first ones to go to Dit looking for supplies. Rhyen had come from a family of merchants in Yla, and he knew that traders would never pass on an opportunity to triple their profit. Fortunately, he knew there was plenty of money in the little bag, so he hung it around his neck and trotted south, his eyes focused on Dit. Avarek followed.

  As they rode, Rhyen felt the little bag. It seemed empty. He opened it, but there was nothing inside, and indeed an inside only large enough for a few items, but not all the things Rhyen knew it contained. What had Cazing said about it, all those years ago on the way to Avernade? Only a wielder could open it… and there was a kind of password. Rhyen put his hand on the bag and cleared his mind. He didn’t speak, but focused on the word “Open!” He felt the magic move through him to his hand and into the bag. He glanced away from his sandy road and opened the pack. He smiled, delighted in spite of his exhaustion. He was finally seeing inside the magical bag.

  This time, when he looked inside, he saw as if peering through a hole in a ceiling into a large room—so large that he couldn’t see the edges or walls. But he did see heaps and heaps of Cazing’s possessions, all neatly stacked despite the juggling motion of the bag as Respen trotted forward. His sharp eyes picked out, far below, an enormous mountain of gold, brass, and silver.

  How to get to it? Rhyen was surprised to find that he was enthusiastic about this puzzle. It was something exciting and unimportant and relatively easy, unlike the ominous problems of the fall of Corna, the shards of the Pankara Stone, or his connection to Taida.

  Respen was a good horse and clip-clopped diligently forward without requiring much direction. Rhyen could concentrate and look in the bag without worry. He occasionally glanced back up at the sandy grass that was his road, but he focused on the bag. He thought about it with simple relish. He had always enjoyed solving problems, and he appreciated the distraction from the real world and his currently less-than-ideal situation.

  Tentatively, he reached in. The moment he put his hand inside the bag, everything seemed to zoom closer to him, growing tinier as it did so. Rhyen paused, certain the coins would be too miniscule for him to grab, but when he put his finger on the pile, they grew to full size. Everything else instantly zoomed away again, as far down as though he was looking once again in from a ceiling. Rhyen grabbed a few fistfuls of coins and shoved them into his pocket. He smiled and thought “Close!” and felt the magic travel through him. When he looked into the bag again, it was just a small sack, and it was empty.

  Rhyen had guessed right. They were not the first refugees to arrive in Dit. Vendors and merchants happily told them this again and again, but Rhyen was in no mood to haggle. Even though their prices for basic foods and water were outrageous, as soon as they gave a number, Rhyen slammed the money down on the counter without argument. Though they seemed overjoyed at the amount of money, they all looked disappointed, as if they had really wanted him to haggle.

  They arrived back shortly after leaving. They had moved fast. Avarek and Rhyen were both tired, and they had not lingered in Dit. Liem and Caliena had cut Cazing away from the saddle and settled him comfortably on his side by a fire, which was comprised of a solitary driftwood log that Liem had found along the shore. The sparks were green from the salt of the sea, and the flames also flickered with a greenish hue. They had made their camp just below the ridge of the hill, so they were somewhat concealed from any unfriendly eyes riding out from Corna.

  As soon as they dismounted, Liem helped them remove their saddles and rub down their horses. They were tethering them all to Brefen, the elven horse and the oldest, so that they didn’t wander off. Then Rhyen passed around the supplies, and everyone was silent as they ate hurriedly and drank deeply. “I’ll keep the first watch,” Rhyen muttered to Liem. “There might be soldiers around.”

  Liem looked over his bread at Rhyen with concern. “You need sleep, Rhyen.”

  “We all need sleep. But I have my magic to keep me going, and none of you do.”

  Everyone was finishing off their food. They had all been awake for nearly forty hours. Caliena was nodding over her provisions, and it was not long before she crept to her saddlebags. She wrenched her cloak from within them and fell asleep, using the bags as a pillow. She was lying next to him, and Rhyen heard the deep slow breathing of sleep overcome her within seconds. Avarek too pulled out a cloak and lay down, staring with slitted eyes into the fire.

  Liem looked longingly at the ground, as though he wanted nothing more than to fall on it and sleep, but he resolutely lifted his chin. “You should get some rest first, Rhyen. You’ve been using that magic on all of us—”

  “Go to sleep, Liem,” Rhyen interrupted quietly.

  Liem seemed to know when he was beaten. He laid his head down, his hand clutched over the pommel of his sword, and it was not long before he too fell asleep. Rhyen ate far more than any of the others. As always, his magic quickened his metabolism, and he had been wielding quite a lot in the past two days. It took a long time for him to satiate himself.

  After having his fill, Rhyen knelt by his master and wielded some more magic and energy into him. With a start, Cazing finally opened his eyes, moaning.

  Rhyen rocked back onto his heels, relieved. “How are you?”

  Cazing stretched and groaned at his sore muscles. He sat up slowly, moving his limbs. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “How long was I out?”

  “Just a day.”

  Cazing looked up at him. “You gave me your magic. I can feel it running through my veins.”

  Rhyen nodded. “I’ve been giving it to you every few hours. I was trying to heal you. Did it work?” he added sarcastically. Now that Cazing was out of danger, the anger Rhyen had kept contained and aside rattled inside him, threatening to burst out. He looked away from his master, trying to control his emotions. He was too tired tonight.

  Cazing flexed his hands wonderingly. “It did. I feel… great, actually. Like a young man again…” he trailed off, his eyebrows pulling down in disbelief.

  “Great,” Rhyen spat. “Then that makes one of us. You can take the first watch. There might still be Zirites around.”

  Cazing grabbed his forearm, preventing him from rising. “Rhyen,” he asked seriously. “Did you… wield the Sorcerer’s Trace over Thom?”

  “You’re damn right I did,” Rhyen affirmed quietly. He shook off Cazing’s hand and looked his master evenly in the eyes.

  “Rhyen, what you might have seen in there—”

  “You know what? Save it!” Rhyen said angrily, cutting his master off. “I’m too tired to deal with you tonight.” He stood up,
keeping his eyes fixed on Cazing’s. He stared at him for a moment more, before finally shaking his head and walking away. But then he turned suddenly and pulled the magical bag from around his neck. Now that Cazing was awake, Rhyen wanted nothing more to do with the fragment of Stone. He lightly tossed his master the bag.

  “I had to borrow it, to keep the Stone safe,” he explained crossly. “And I needed money for the food.”

  Then he turned on his heel and strode quickly away to the opposite edge of the fire, grabbing his saddlebags along the way. He didn’t want Cazing to see the wetness that pricked uncomfortably in his eyes. He didn’t want to have anything more to do with the sorcerer. He didn’t want to be the component needed to reverse Taida’s spell or to be destined to put the Pankara Stone back together. But mostly he didn’t want to know that his friend had betrayed him. He wanted to sit next to Cazing and have him explain everything, and to smile at him and tell him that all was fine. But he knew that was not going to happen.

  He lay with his back against the fire. He was exhausted, but for many hours, sleep did not come, and all was silent from across the flames.

  Chapter 31

  Rhyen woke slowly the following morning. His eyes were stuck painfully together, his lashes tangled, and he had to rub them vigorously before he could blink himself awake.

  It was, of course, before dawn. Caliena was softly snoring next to him. Rhyen sat up gingerly, his sore legs and back throbbing. Avarek was sleeping on his side, his large pointed ear sticking comically up. Rhyen rose stiffly, stretching. He flexed his toes, wishing he had thought to remove his boots the night before.

  He looked around the fire. Liem was gone. There was only a small dent in the sandy grass where the soldier had slept. Rhyen craned his neck, anxiously searching this way and that for him.

  “He’ll be back,” said a dry voice from behind him. Rhyen stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. Cazing was standing with his feet firmly planted. He was focused on filling his pipe, and did not meet Rhyen’s eye.

  “Where did he go?”

  Cazing shrugged.

  Rhyen laughed shortly. It was so like Cazing to withhold information, or to downplay its importance. Rhyen felt his anger stir within him. “Then how do you know he’ll be back?”

  Cazing jerked his chin behind Rhyen. “His horse is still here.”

  Rhyen glanced at the stallion and scowled. He felt stupid for missing such an obvious fact. He turned around and squarely faced his master. The old sorcerer looked like his old self. No tired shadows bagged under his eyes, no lines of worry creased his face. Rhyen thought that his magic had finally worked—the old sorcerer looked completely healed. “You’re up early.” Rhyen said. He didn’t know what else to say to his master. The knowledge of his betrayal stung in his mind, and the accompanying confusion gnawed inside him like a cancer.

  Cazing raised his eyebrow. “I was on watch duty, remember?”

  Rhyen narrowed his eyes. How could Cazing be insolent, now that he knew Rhyen understood that he was nothing more than a pawn for the sorcerer? Rhyen examined him, searching for signs of regret or sorrow, but Cazing’s face was perfectly smooth.

  Rhyen wanted to shout at him, wanted to make him understand the depth of his feelings, but before he could do so, Liem hunkered up over the hill, and Rhyen caught his tongue. He didn’t want to have that conversation in the presence of a stranger.

  Once Liem arrived back at the fire, Rhyen shook Avarek’s shoulder gently. His slanted black eyes opened at once and narrowed against the graying light. Cazing woke Caliena. She sprang up with a cry and threw her arms around the old sorcerer, relieved and delighted that he was all right.

  After a quick bite, they all saddled and mounted their animals. Caliena took Thom’s saddle and traded Rhyen hers. The gnomish one fit her small frame perfectly, and Rhyen was far more comfortable in a saddle designed for a human. Then, without any more conversation, they turned their horses’ noses south and made for Adom.

  Conden’s coastline varied between cliffs and hills, all covered with white sand and thick green blades of harsh grass. They rarely stopped that day, only for short breaks and to rest the horses. They saw a steady trickle of refugees along the way, and when they stopped for the night just after sunset, there were at least a hundred others camped all around them.

  They chose their campsite more strategically than most, for Liem searched with the practiced eye of one trained to live for weeks off the land. With careful diligence, he selected a place for them on the high ground, in a small band of trees, hundreds of yards away from any of the groups of refugees. The trees were growing on the slanted slope of a cliff. From there, they could look out over the dozens of campfires that dotted the sandy hills and plains.

  Rhyen was filled with indecision. He had ridden as far from his master as possible that day. He was torn between a desire for answers and the wounded betrayal he felt. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk to the old sorcerer or not. Part of him wanted to leave, to ride away and never look back. Part of him was afraid too—afraid of Taida, afraid of his importance to the dark sorcerer. Afraid of himself. Mostly, though, he didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to be by himself with only his memories to remind him of the horrible things he had done for a cause he didn’t fully understand.

  * * *

  Later that night, he looked around the fire. He was supposed to be on watch duty. His companions were sleeping, quiet lumps under cloaks and blankets that issued soft, steady breaths. Rhyen still had no desire to go to Wyda and search for the pieces of the Stone, but he didn’t know what to do if he didn’t go. He was angry and hurt by what he’d seen in Thom’s memories, but most of all he feared what he had learned. He wanted to leave, to forge his own destiny in some other unknown place. But something was keeping him there, some powerful compulsion—it was just like the night he had met Caliena and discovered the shard. He wanted to leave, but couldn’t. Rhyen hated himself for his weakness, but he was almost glad that he wasn’t able to leave, that the strange compulsion was too strong and absolute for him to break, that it was making him stay. He was afraid to go off on his own. And he would be lonely without Caliena. Even through his wounded anger, a small part of him admitted that he would also miss Cazing. His emotions were so conflicting that he felt like he was going crazy.

  He exhaled sharply and jumped to his feet. He wanted to get as far from his thoughts as possible, but didn’t know how to separate himself from them. So, fighting against the powerful pulling, he did the next best thing: He decided to leave after all, his loneliness be damned. He would put distance between himself and his companions, the physical reminders of his thoughts. Rhyen yanked his bags off the ground and started toward the tree where the horses were tethered. He made it a good fifty feet from the others when he ran into an invisible barrier. He felt a great physical resistance, and he gasped as he picked up his suddenly leaden legs, still trying to reach the horses.

  “Going somewhere?” asked a dry voice. Cazing stepped out from around a tree. He watched Rhyen out of the corner of his eye, his hands fishing in his pockets for his pipe.

  Rhyen thought about it. Was he going somewhere? It certainly didn’t feel like he was. Whatever the pull was, it was keeping him from leaving. But if he could leave, he would… wouldn’t he? But where would he go? What would he do? He let loose a frustrated sigh. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Cazing lit his pipe. “It looks like you’re having some trouble.”

  Rhyen chewed on his tongue. He was still furious with Cazing, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. Finally he shrugged. “I can’t go. There’s some kind of pull, some sort of compelling force that’s keeping me here. I physically can’t leave.”

  Cazing nodded.

  Rhyen rolled his eyes, his anger rising. “Well?” he demanded. “Do you know what it is?”

  “It’s your destiny. You are the fi
nal product of a thousand years of the world trying to balance itself. You cannot escape that fate so easily,” Cazing said, searching him.

  Rhyen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Cazing’s explanation made sense. He had felt the same pull compelling him toward the shard of Stone the night he had met Caliena. It would make sense that, if his destiny really was to put together the Stone, the same compulsion would keep him on course to do so. But it was another decision made for him, and Rhyen felt trapped by it.

  “What did you see in the Sorcerer’s Trance?” Cazing asked quietly.

  Rhyen snorted. “Plenty. I know what you’ve been keeping from me.”

  Cazing closed his eyes unhappily. “I didn’t mean for you to find out that way.”

  “Well, I did. And it seems like you didn’t mean for me to find out at all.” Rhyen strode past his master to look out over the cliff. Now that he was not trying for the horses, he didn’t feel the physical restraint of the compulsion.

  Cazing followed him at a respectful distance. He seemed somehow small. “Rhyen?”

  Rhyen continued looking out over the dark water. “What is the Order of Eternal Vigilance?”

  Cazing halted. He snuffed out his pipe and stowed it in his pockets. Rhyen waited. He was going to get answers, one way or another. Cazing frowned and looked at the ground. “It’s a secret society, an ancient one,” he finally said, picking his words slowly, “committed to upholding the balance of the world.”

  “They’ve been watching me my whole life,” Rhyen said in a low voice. “I know. I saw it in Thom’s memories. They were searching for me, even before I was born.”

  Cazing was still staring at the ground. “Yes. We were. When Taida broke the Stone, he threw the world off balance. We have been seeking to fix this for a thousand years. We knew that Taida could not be dead, for he had made a bargain with a Lesser God—any pact struck with a god must be fulfilled, one way or another. We also knew that to fulfill that bargain, he must undo his spell. We knew he needed to harness the power of the Pankara Stone, and the only way to reverse the spell was to balance it, to reenact it using the exact components. We needed someone who matched Taida, someone who shared the same blood, the same Name day, the same family type, everything.”