I swallowed. It had been horrible enough the last time, and I still felt the acidic guilt eating its way through my conscience. But it was the King’s wish, and I had to obey his command. He was the King of Fer, after all.
“This highness has commanded that the punishment will be executed later this afternoon. Before, we have some time to practice a bit more. Are you still doing your exercises?”
I nodded. Twice a day, I reached down to my energy reservoir and practised my control of that energy. I had become better at estimating how much of my reserves I would need and had not wasted it as I had at the beginning. With each day, the reservoir became bigger. Despite that, I still couldn’t do the simplest tasks with my magic, like lighting a fire. It was frustrating to read about what magic was possible, but never being able to put it into practice. All I could do was manipulate time. Which wasn’t much use in most situations.
“Today I want to see if you can manage some basic ways of reading other people’s intentions. Most magicians cannot read the thoughts of others, but some manage at least to recognise the most basic emotions that swim on the surface of another’s mind. Of course, reading the mind of another magician is almost impossible, as they usually have good defences in place. However, it is fairly easy to see what ordinary people are up to without them even noticing. I’m going to show it to you, and afterwards, you can try yourself, ok?” I nodded, already getting myself in the right mindset. He dragged his armchair closer and placed his hand above my own. When Lassadar closed his eyes, I did the same. I opened my mind to him until I found his probing flame. It had become easier over time to connect with Lassadar. At the beginning, it took a lot of time and effort to link minds with the magician in order for him to show me how a certain thing was done. When he showed me his skills, it always seemed easy and effortless. Yet afterwards, when I had to try it on my own, it never worked out at all. Therefore I wasn’t all too enthusiastic about reading another’s mind, as I was sure that it would only lead to disappointment once more.
Lassadar took the tendril of thought that I sent towards him and wrapped it around himself so that I could feel and see what he was doing. I felt him accessing his own power reservoir before he expanded his mind, leaving the study and focussing on the corridors and rooms below. Instead of seeing other peoples’ minds as flames, like I usually did, for Lassadar they resembled grey shades, floating through the air. Their outline wobbled and shifted all the time, making it hard to recognise the shapes. Lassadar focussed on one shade, then discarded it and move on to the next. On and on we went, moving past hundreds of shades. It was a journey through a grey and eerie world, as cold as ice water. I recognised a few of them, like the contour of the big-bellied cook that floated past us, followed by the silhouette of one of the young servants that sometimes brought me my breakfast. Finally, Lassadar stopped in front of a young woman’s shape. I could feel him using some of his energy to wrap it around the woman again and again until her figure started to become more solid and less shaky. Slowly, her features emerged, until I could see her face. She was sitting on her own, holding something in her hand, yet whatever it was, it was made from even thinner fog than the people around her. Lassadar closed in on her and pressed himself against her body. Suddenly, with one flowing movement he stepped into her, his mind stretching around her. There was only calm then, the cold of our surroundings disappeared, and slowly, I could feel emotions drift into Lassadar. There was contentment, happiness and satisfaction. It seemed easy to read her feelings, they poured out of her, unstoppable. Yet it was not enough for my teacher. His mind seemed to press against the woman even more strongly, and I began to wonder if she was oblivious to what was happening to her mind. The more Lassadar pushed, the more thoughts flowed from her. They were not coherent sentences, more a mixture of feelings and images. She was happy because she would see her fiancée later on. She had just eaten, a picture of steaming vegetables and a thick sausage came from her mind. Slowly, Lassadar untangled from the woman, pulling back further and further, until with a snap we left the shadow worlds and arrived back in our bodies in Lassadar’s study.
“Did you see what I did there? Was it enough information for you to try or shall I show it to you again?”
“I think I can try. But the woman, did she really not notice anything?”
“They don’t usually notice, and if they do, it’s more a feeling of unease that lasts just a moment, nothing they can trace back to me. Have you ever felt like someone was watching you, and then you laugh about it, pretending that it was just a silly childish notion? That might have been someone trying to read your mind. Or, as I told you earlier, your feelings, which is much more likely. And reading other people’s emotions only tells you so much. But now, let’s see how you will get on. Close your eyes, and reach out. I’d advise you to start with someone close to this room, that will make it a lot easier for the beginning. I’ll let you try for yourself, my presence might distract you.”
Aware of his examining glance, I leant back once more and focussed. Very slowly, I extended my senses, searching for other people around me. First, I only saw Lassadar, his golden flame burning brightly right in front of me. Close by was a dark red flame, even more intense than that of my teacher. I approached it carefully until I could hear Oisín’s thoughts.
Don’t look at me, ignore me. Try outside the door.
I followed his advice and reached out, extending my mind, letting it grow bigger and bigger, until I left the confinements of the room. As if from a vast distance, I heard whispers in the dark. Focussing on them, I slowly drifted towards them. There were two very different flames next to each other. One was almost as bright as Lassadar’s, but a little smaller. The other one was burning silver instead of golden, flickering faintly like a candle in the wind. I started with the golden flame, wrapping myself around it. Yet when I got close enough to reach out for it, the flames began to burn more brightly, sending sparks my way. It was hot so close to the fire, and the closer I got, the more the flames were leaning in my direction, until they were licking at my mind, scorching me. Pain erupted in my head. I pulled back until I was out of reach of the vicious flames. Once I stopped to focus on them, they got smaller again, until there were no longer fiery fingers fumbling for me. Taking a moment to catch my breath, I moved back a little, observing the two flames. They were leaning towards each other, the golden one dominating the silver. Small golden sparks were flying through the air, hitting the silver one from time to time. Time for another try. This time, I reached out for the silver flame. More careful after my first painful encounter, I took my time approaching the silver fire, yet even when I got closer, they did not change their flickering rhythm. Slowly, I wrapped a tendril of energy around the flame, careful not to quench it. Still, no reaction. I began to wrap more and more energy around it, until the flame was caged by a net of fibres. What had Lassadar done next? Somehow, he had stepped into the shade of that woman. Preparing myself for the pain, I went forwards, touching the fire, and on, until I was in the middle of the flame. There was no pain, only a tingling sensation as the silver flames licked harmlessly on my mind. And suddenly, there were images and voices, washing over me like waves over rocks. A soldier wearing the azure armour of the Blue Militia was looking at me, grinning, then he passed me a purse tingling with coins. The scene changed into a beautiful landscape, in the foreground a cottage, with several tilers scrambling on the roof. There was a girl standing in the door, waving happily. Again, a new image came crashing into me. The wine stall at the Autumn Fires celebration, the red-nosed landlord handing me a tankard of white wine. I heard something and turned my head, and suddenly, I looked into my own eyes. There I was, holding two mugs of wine in my hands, smiling. Dyllon. It was Dyllon whom I met that evening. I was looking at Dyllon’s thoughts. His gaze followed me as I walked to Jon. Then, Jon was called away, and I was standing there all alone by the fire. Never losing sight of me, Dyllon moved towards a guard that was standing in one corner. I could no
t hear his voice clear enough, but he was talking to the guard, pointing towards my lonely shape by the fire. The guard nodded and answered, looking slightly confused. Instinctively, I pulled more energy from my reservoir and wrapped it around Dyllon’s mind. The whispering conversation became louder and louder until I could make out individual words.
“… Lassadar’s pupil, which means that I can’t tell you anything. You have to beg an audience with his lordship, but I can tell you in advance, he doesn’t just talk to anyone. You’ll have to have a real good reason, otherwise you won’t even get to talk to his assistant, Lor. Now bugger off, let me do my job.” The scene dissolved into Lor’s sneering face. His laughter made my blood run cold with fear and hot with rage. Lor was Lassadar’s assistant? Surely, not after what he had done to me, it couldn’t be.
“So it was you who blackened that bitch? Hilarious, and now you’ve returned to claim her?”
I shook my head. With Dyllon’s voice, I said, “Not to claim her. To make sure that she pays for what she’s done. She’s a witch and she put a spell on me, as revenge. I want to see her burned.”
“I like your attitude. And let me guess, she bewitched your manhood?”
I – Dyllon – nodded grimly. “I wanted to give the bitch what she wanted, what she deserved, but she ran off and ever since, I’m unable to…” I cleared my throat uncomfortably. “Will she burn?”
“At some point in the future, yes, for sure. But the question is when. At the moment, my master still has some use for her, although what that might be, I don’t know. But once he’s finished with her, she will burn, like all the others. You can be sure of that. And I will stand there and watch her turn to ash. She has cost me a lot of time and effort, and seeing her slow and painful death will be a delightful sight.” A sly smile played on his thin lips. I couldn’t take it any longer. With one strong jerk, I removed my link with Dyllon, returning to my body. When I opened my eyes, I noticed there were tears running down my cheeks.
I saw what you saw. Don’t tell him anything, Oisín urged me.
“Why are you crying?”, Lassadar asked gently. “Because it didn’t work?”
He gave me an excuse, and I took it. I nodded, pretending to be downcast and despaired. “Can I leave? I need some time for myself.”
“Of course you can. Just wait here for a moment, I’m going to get a servant to accompany you down to your room.”
He went to the door and spoke with someone outside. Just before the door closed, I caught a glance of Dyllon waiting there impatiently, stepping from one foot to the other. The urge to slap him, to beat him bloody, to hurt him, surged through my body, and the only thing that stopped me was needing to hide the fact that I knew. Lassadar couldn’t find out that I was aware of what had happened. I squeezed past him and ran all the way until I reached my room.
Dyllon had betrayed me to the Blue Militia. I didn’t know when or how, but he had. It was his fault that I was no longer with the Ghorres family, that I no longer had control of my own life. I had done nothing to him, except not wanting to sleep with him. Was that a reason to want somebody dead? I didn’t buy his she-bewitched-me theory for a second, he could not be so childish as to actually believe that laughable story. Then I remembered the scene where a soldier had given him a large purse. Of course, it was the money that Dyllon wanted, he had always been greedier than what was good for him. As children, he had once incited me to steal a knife from a market stall, which he then sold on to a friend, spending the money on beer, not for both of us, but only for himself. How could I have been befriending this egotistical snitch?
You are not defined by the behaviour of your friends, but how you react to it.
Thanks, Oisín. What am I going to do now? Confront Dyllon? Ignore him?
It’s not about Dyllon, Eona. It’s about Lor and Lassadar.
Why?
Lassadar has you under his control, and you don’t even know it. You think your mind is safe from intrusions. That is a lie. He sits in there like a parasite, feeding off your strength and your thoughts, yet giving you the illusion of independence and willfulness. You have been deceived, Eona. He is not your friend.
How do you know?
Let me show you.
Suddenly, I was looking out of the peryton’s eyes. They were focused on his mother, the elvedritsch, who was looking at him through the bars of her cage. She doesn’t hear me, he told me sadly. Otherwise I could have warned her not to trust him. Lassadar approached the cage, carrying a candle to light the dim room. It seemed to be evening, there was no sunlight flooding the room as it usually did. The elvedritsch was looking up at Lassadar, curious and carefree as always. He put the candle on the ground and opened the cage, reaching for the elvedritsch with both hands. He took her out and settled her on his lap. Her eyes never left his golden necklace. As usual, curiosity had taken over her sense of fear. Lassadar’s hands petted her golden feathering, soothing her. With one hand, he reached behind his back and pulled out a knife from a hidden sheath. Oisín saw the danger and got to his feet, but when he tried to ran to his mother, he was pulled back. The silver collar I had seen earlier around his neck was connected with a thin, but strong chain that hung on a brass ring nailed to the floor. The peryton called for his mother, but she only looked at him for a heartbeat before becoming obsessed once more with Lassadar’s golden necklace. The sorcerer had produced a chalice that he put on the floor, beneath the elvedritsch’s throat. He gently scratched her neck, and she rubbed her head against his fingers, cackling happily. While Lassadar held the knife at her throat, Oisín was trying to escape his bonds, almost throttling himself by pulling at the chain. The sounds he was making hurt my soul, he was bleating and roaring, trying to tell his mother to look out, to escape, but she was only looking at him confusedly, not able to understand what he was trying to tell her. Then, at the moment that Lassadar chose to cut her throat, she locked her eyes with his, and the love she felt for her child reflected in the tears that ran down her lifeless body, disappearing in her golden feathers. Blood welled from her throat, running down into the chalice that Lassadar held to the wound. With every drop of blood that escaped his mother’s body, Oisín’s heart hardened. He would never again bond with another creature, he would never again be hurt by the connection he felt to others. Then he remembered the human girl that he had imprinted on, and his determination changed. He would not let her down. He would free her from the grips of the sorcerer, and protect her as he had wanted to protect his mother. Together with the human he would avenge his mother, and then they would be free, they could return to where the other perytons lived, to the places of learning and beauty that he knew from his dreams. There, they could live in peace. But first, the sorcerer had to die. He lifted his tear-filled eyes, only to see Lassadar drink from the chalice. Blood was running down his chin, dripping onto his robe. He tilted his head back to drink the last remaining drops of elvedritsch blood in the chalice. Then he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. In a single fluid movement, he stood and turned his back to Oisín. Something happened to his body. It was shifting, there were growths on his back and shoulder blades, getting bigger and bigger, while his arms seemed to disappear, then the stretched cloth of his robe ripped, exposing golden feathers growing on the sorcerer’s back. Further they grew. The torn robe fell to the floor. Lassadar was naked, yet his entire body was covered in feathers, golden and shimmering. He flexed his large wings, then opened them. They were magnificent, yet the colour of the feather tips was as red as the elvedritsch’s blood. As if spellbound, Oisín watched as Lassadar stepped to the largest window of the room and opened it. Cool air ruffled his feathers. He put his legs over the ledge, and then he was gone. I could feel the peryton’s hope that the sorcerer was gone for good, that his body would fall into the lake, never to be seen again. But it was not so. Suddenly, he could see the winged figure of Lassadar fly across the sky, beating his wings as strongly as a full-grown peryton would. Oisín turned his eyes away from the window, avoid
ing to look at the puddle of blood in which his mother’s body lay. He flexed his own wings, spreading them, then beginning to beat them up and down. He knew how to fly; he had flown with others of his race in his memories and dreams. He crouched down, then jumped up, his scaled hind legs propelling him high into the air. But he had forgotten the leather collar around his neck. The chain pulled him back down and then his flight became a fall. He turned in the air and landed heavily on one wing. He felt a tendon snap, then his head hit the ground. Everything went black.
Oisín’s sorrow filled me like an empty vessel until I could take no more. I stepped back a little from our connection, resisting the stream of emotion that threatened to overwhelm me. I took in a deep breath, steadying myself.
How do you stand it? I asked him, tears running down my face.
There was a pause. I don’t. But in a way, I have to be grateful to have an injured wing. The physical pain distracts me from my loss, at least partly. He sent me an image of his opened wings. One of them was folded in the middle, like a straw bent by the wind. The wrongness of it filled me with hatred for the sorcerer whose fault this injury was. Lassadar was not my friend. How had I ever believed this to be otherwise? How could I have been so stupid? I searched my mind for remnants of the link he had forced on me. I could find none.
Don’t be deceived by him again, Eona. The link is still there, it still holds, even though it’s frayed. But I promise you, we will find a way to break it, once and for all. And then we can escape.
13
Nythea
Not much is known about the hidden realm of Nythea, separated from the northern countries by the deep woods of the Lonely Forest. Only a few humans live there, while most people are K’tuin, a race that - according to legend - originates from the union of Kaleissa, an elf and her mate Fridric, a human. K’tuin are different from the people of the northern countries not only by their looks but also by their values and society. For example, K’tuin women share their home with up to four men or women and the children that stem from these or other relationships. Girls are preferred to boys as it’s a matriarchal society. Many K’tuin are gifted with magical talent.
Heart of Time (Ruined Heart Series Book 1) Page 17