by T. A. Miles
“One of the Treir family did mention them, then,” Korsten surmised.
“Vaelyx had performed investigations for us,” Ceth answered. “Not only for us, but for his cause as well. His cause, at the time I was in communication with him, was the activist agenda in the east. The activists, you may have been told, believe in strength through progress … through moving forward, if you will. The Vadryn represent the past to them … ancient ways, ancient beliefs … superstition.”
While Korsten was nodding to acknowledge that he understood, Ashwin said, “To some the foundation of the war is nested in myth.”
“But it isn’t myth,” Korsten said. “It won’t disappear simply because they choose to ignore it and I hope very dearly that they don’t believe that it will.”
“Perhaps not so deliberately as that,” Ashwin replied with the slightest of smiles, not a look of humor, but one of patience. Korsten understood it when he heard his mentor’s next words. “Consider your original point of view on the Vadryn.”
“Well, that was ignorance, yes, but….”
“Refusal to believe because you didn’t want it to be real. If it wasn’t real, you wouldn’t have to respond to it.”
“But the activists in Indhovan acknowledge the Vadryn,” Korsten pointed out. “And mages as well. How could it serve them to maintain an attitude of dismissal and ignorance?”
“It’s not ignorance, but rather involvement,” Ashwin explained.
“The levels of involvement necessary to continue forward without becoming mired in the past,” Ceth added. “If the situation of the Vadryn is resolved by mages, then mages have succeeded … shielded Edrinor from the malignant corruption of demons. It will warrant a place in history … in stories of the past. Society, freed from what would otherwise have chained it to a dark era of stagnation, carries forward. Mages may still exist, but without demons waging war against them, they settle into the background and can be ignored.”
“Oh, I see,” Korsten murmured, somewhat affronted by the notion.
“In the eyes of these people mages will become as custodians of an old way,” Ashwin said. “And perhaps we are in part to blame for having allowed the Vadryn to push us into hiding. What seemed a valid strategy at the time has become a detriment.”
“A broken bone ill set,” came the all too familiar voice and method of Eisleth as he chose to join them, unannounced save for his contribution to the conversation already well at hand. It was slightly eerie that he echoed Korsten’s own previous analogy back at him. Whether it was unconscious or not, Korsten couldn’t always tell when Superiors were the topic. “The wound is healed, even if not ideally, and forgotten. The imperfect mend is vexing at times, but not crippling. The body adjusts.”
“And the mind lets go of hope to walk without a limp,” Korsten added, drawing eye contact from Eisleth. The man’s eyes were so dark and his manner so reserved. Korsten thought about Merran and wondered if all of Eisleth’s students shared the latter trait … if it was a form of grim resignation to their intimate alignment with mortality. Though they, as mages, would potentially live very long lives, with black as their medium color they took on an understanding of the frailty of a living vessel that other mages may have lost any true connection with over the decades, and centuries.
“Where do these witches stand?” Cayri asked the elders. “My experience with rogue magic use has always been just that; rogue behavior.”
“And oftentimes that is the case,” Ceth replied to her. “In fact, many of the rogues any of us have encountered have been individuals once trained here, who have chosen to forge a new path for themselves … for one reason or another.”
Korsten nodded, once again considering his own experience.
Ceth continued. “Witches, however—when they choose to label themselves such—tend to consider themselves children of nature and, like us, have their own system by which they appreciate and utilize magic.”
“Irslan referred to them as purists,” Korsten said.
Ceth nodded, raising a finger as if to tap the last word of his sentence, as if it had manifested physically and now hung in the air between them. “Yes, and they stand fundamentally opposed to the activists in Indhovan and, unfortunately, to mages as well.”
“Why is that?” Cayri wondered aloud, voicing Korsten’s own question in the process.
“We have a habit of disagreeing with each other,” Ashwin inserted. “It’s not often led to violence, but it has formed a considerable rift. A coven serves the gods in relation to nature. As the both of you know, the Seminary serves mankind in relation to the gods.”
“I see,” Cayri said thoughtfully and Korsten reiterated her tone with a regardful nod.
“We do have one thing in common, however,” Ceth said. “Over the centuries we’ve both fallen into a silence as groups, largely retreating from the collective eye of the people.”
“And what does this have to do with Vaelyx Treir?” Korsten asked, directing his question to Ceth, who seemed to have been the one last and most frequently in contact with their missing activist.
Ceth drew in a breath and looked across at Ashwin before delivering his answer to Korsten. “Vaelyx, as I’ve said, had performed some investigations for us. He’d mentioned the purists in more than one letter concerning the political state of his city. He became curious and I encouraged his curiosity. It was important to know the intricate layers of Indhovan’s growth as a city, as a political front, and as a projected military front. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after his investigation began that he was arrested.”
“For being an activist,” Korsten said, telling it as Irslan had more or less said it and sensing with the elder’s pause and the way he angled his gaze at him that it was not quite accurate.
“Vaelyx Treir was arrested on obstruction and conspiracy charges, which of course can relate to his political alignment, but the position of activist is not something that’s considered unlawful as a standard in any city where their movement resides. My efforts to communicate with him through Constable Rahl were in Vaelyx’s defense—obviously, the man had been working as an operative for the Seminary, which was another reason to clarify. It was supremely important that no one mistook us for an aggressive force against any currently standing political body within Edrinor.”
Korsten nodded, understanding that very easily and understanding all too well how easy it would be for any governor of any city to misinterpret the role and the actions of mages.
“As to Vaelyx,” Ceth continued. “Both he and his brother Dahn had always been supporters of the Old Rule before the Cities Alliance became more appealing. But even within the Cities Alliance, there are those who believe that method of unification will lead to a greater, better lasting unification in the return of the Rottherlen family, or at least a rule with similar policy and appeal. When his brother died, Vaelyx lost faith a little, but still held on … and then the arrest. Our last communication was of his renewed spirit, but not in our cause, or in that of the activists, or of the Cities Alliance. The purists had converted him to their own agenda, whatever that may be, and when I mentioned that the concept of witches was not surprising, it was owed to Vaelyx’s talk of these purists and of his sudden, adamant swing in their direction. He’d either been spellbound or he’d been awakened to a new faith.”
“Then that potentially solves our mystery,” Korsten muttered as it occurred to him.
“Which mystery?” Ceth asked while the other two elders present gave their gazes to Korsten as well.
“The mystery of how Vaelyx escaped Rahl’s constabulary.”
Merran had been right in his instinct about who they should have been speaking to regarding those crystals. And now Korsten found himself very eager to return to Indhovan and provide Merran the satisfaction of knowing that.
“So, you wish to help us, is that it?”
The w
ay Constable Rahl presented the question, Vlas wondered if the man wanted an apology over confirmation. The latter was provided instead. “Yes, I believe we can.”
Rahl said nothing, in the manner of an aged man who had long ago tired of confrontation and would prefer it if individuals of conflicting points of view, or little foreseeable use, would simply remove themselves from his presence.
“I believe it would benefit all of us to resolve the matter of Vaelyx Treir,” Vlas added. As Rahl continued to consider the book on the desk in front of him, Vlas leaned further into the man’s view from the chair that had been provided him when he arrived. “You and I are not on opposing sides, constable. You and I are both enforcers of order in this gods-cursed country.”
The elder snapped him a sharp look, but it affected Vlas little, since he knew that in terms of years, he was a good many years the other man’s senior. Appearances could only work against one so far. Vlas had determined long ago that looking like a mere boy to some and being regarded as one by that same lot was not going to carry. He had work to do and little patience for the incessant delays of the ordinary masses, who couldn’t be bothered to see past a face … who couldn’t be bothered to trust where trust was due … and who couldn’t be bothered to organize themselves and work with one another.
“It’s a wonder,” Vlas said while he had Rahl’s attention, “that the entirety of Edrinor hasn’t simply been swallowed by Morenne. I suppose the reason it hasn’t lays with the fact that most of the western region has been exhausting itself, down to its oldest and youngest men, holding the enemy at bay. Meanwhile a city of resources such as this folds in on itself as it worries over petty social conflict.”
“Mage Vlas,” Rahl started, in a tone that only incensed Vlas now that he’d started.
He rose out of his seat and raised his voice at the constable. “Vaelyx Treir’s disappearance makes him a man of suspect intentions! His arrest already put his loyalties in question. Now, let’s find this man before he does us or this city true damage, if he hasn’t already.”
“Mage Vlas,” Rahl said again, his voice deepening as he rose to match Vlas’ stance over the desk. “Let me inform you that I’ve done my bit as a soldier in this war! Fifteen years going from one battle to the next, one training ground to another … always working with other soldiers to improve our strength and our strategies. Stamina was not as fervently enforced as urgency nor was it as readily restored. The fight frayed me to my innermost seams. I came here.”
“To wash your hands of it?” Vlas presumed—unsympathetically, he knew.
“To do exactly that,” Rahl answered without compunction. “Not because I had no care for the war or the outcome, but because after fifteen years if I waded through another bloody battlefield, I was going to lose my mind! You mages believe that because you can endure indefinitely that everyone else can as well, well you’re wrong. Damn all of you damned self-righteous bastards!”
Vlas watched Rahl as he bellowed in aggravation. He still had little sympathy—it was a flaw in himself, he knew—but he did understand the constable’s perspective better at least, with it so aptly spilled onto the desktop. Of course, it was all owed to pushing the man very quickly to his limits; Cayri would have been beside herself.
“Damn Morenne as well,” Rahl continued. “Damn whatever urges them onward in this ludicrous conquest!”
“It’s the Vadryn, Constable Rahl,” Vlas told him firmly. “Whether you like it or not, whether you want to believe it or not, this war is inspired by the desires of demons, empowering the ambitions of men. It is exhausting, I know. Living longer doesn’t make it any easier to endure and don’t believe that we can’t lose faith as we watch men and women meant to be our fellows in this country dying and retreating, falling out of interest and belief … thinking that distance and ignorance will protect them or make the enemy vanish, well it won’t. Whether you’ve seen us working or not, whether or not you care to believe that any of us even exist or have a place in Edrinor anymore, know that we are and we do. We are working tirelessly to protect you. I’m not asking you to return to the western line, constable, but I am asking you to help me locate a man who may be harboring dangerous secrets. The sooner you help me, the better, because I intend to deliver this same speech to your governor before the week is out.”
“And in that event, I shall be placing you under arrest on Governor Tahrsel’s orders and we’ll find ourselves dancing the same dance, Mage Vlas.”
“I shall look forward to it when the time comes, constable,” Vlas volleyed and their gazes remained locked, each of them pressed by stubbornness that was many years accumulated. It was somewhere in their overlapped age and ancientness that they found a common footing and mutually agreed to rest.
“What are your men doing to recover Vaelyx Treir?” Vlas finally asked, relaxing his stance.
Rahl held his position and kept his eyes on Vlas, but his tone and expression had both eased somewhat. “An active search is under way. We’re questioning all known associations.” The gray-haired man straightened from the desk now, folding his hands neatly behind his back. “And checking all previously associated locations and establishments, including our resident rebels on both sides.”
The activists and purists alike, Vlas assumed. However, if these purists were witches … “Constable Rahl, you do realize that if Vaelyx Treir was associated with a coven of witches—rogue magic users—that his escape would have been a simple task for a person of any notable skill.”
“You’re referring to spell casting, I presume,” Rahl said with a nod and a slight raising of his thick eyebrows, which furthered to sap some of the stone from his features. “Yes, we’ve considered it. With no evidence of conventional resources by which he could have escaped his cell, we presume it was by some sort of magecraft. Now, let me ask you; how far and how quickly might he have gone?”
“It depends on the individual who may have assisted him. If they were very proficient, then I imagine he could have gone as far as the next city. The Seminary trains its mages to travel many miles at a time, but the spell can be taxing and difficult with companions in tow.” Vlas lifted his shoulders as he fell into a brief pace before the desk. “Someone more novice would be able to perform the spell—it isn’t the spell itself, so much as the distance that strains … so they would likely only have gotten him just out of the building or not more than a few streets over. In fact, after going in to get the man, they would have likely required a brief rest in order to perform the spell again. Well, I say spell as if it’s as ordered as our system, though I know it’s not. Even so, performing a specific task with magic requires some form to it, else all one would be doing is expelling raw, shapeless energy. It must be channeled, shaped, focused … which is why it can take many years to master spells. And, of course, without proper discipline, accomplishing one’s full potential is very unlikely.”
Rahl let him ponder aloud, waiting until Vlas had paused to consider in silence before speaking. “So you believe, then, that the magic user was of mediocre or novice skill?”
Vlas nodded slowly, then turned to face the other man fully. “I do,” he said with confidence.
“And if it was Vaelyx himself?”
Vlas was taken somewhat aback by that proposal. He hadn’t really considered it. It didn’t seem as if the man would have had enough time between soldiering, activism, and arrest to have learned … well, to have learned anything at all, if he even had any sort of instinct regarding magic. “Are you … suggesting that it may have been Vaelyx?”
“With no evidence of conventional resources, were my earlier words,” Rahl reminded. He lifted his gaze toward the ceiling, assumably the floors above where the cells themselves may have been. “We did find … peculiar markings, you could call them. He appeared to have drawn them with blood—his own, I presume.”
Vlas’s expression must have appeared more disturbed or surprised
than he felt it was; Rahl quickly raised one hand to ward off whatever the man thought he might say to that.
“There wasn’t a lot of it, just enough to make the markings.” Rahl lifted both shoulders. “He probably accomplished it over the years by inflicting small wounds on his fingers—with his teeth for example. He’s fortunate that he didn’t expire of an infection.”
“That is fortunate,” Vlas replied, unable to help the sardonic undercurrent his tone carried. This would have been very valuable information to share with Korsten and Merran when they’d been present the night before.
“Well,” Rahl said, as if alert to the unspoken thought. He glanced briefly down at his desk. “We found the markings this morning, folded within the cell’s pallet.”
Maybe, Vlas allowed, electing not to openly contradict the man.
Rahl reached out his hand and someone nearby brought forward a folded blanket. The chief constable took it, pulling back the first layer to reveal dark stains soaked into the surface of the coarse fabric. They were characters of some sort … nothing immediately recognizable.
Vlas reached for it and Rahl surrendered the blanket, allowing Vlas to unfurl more of it. Though crude, the intricacy of the diagram that unfolded was impressive. If not for the morbid circumstances, some may have viewed it as some form of art. And it could have well taken more than a year to work out, especially considering the possible method.
“I suppose the question that remains is where he may have transported himself to,” Vlas eventually said, surrendering himself to the idea that this pedestrian display in front of him was in fact, witchcraft.
Rahl watched him briefly, then looked toward a neighboring table. “Constable Imris will accompany you, Mage Vlas. Should you find Vaelyx Treir, he’s to be placed under arrest by my agent and brought directly back to this constabulary, whereupon questioning will take place. Do we have an understanding?”