The Sword of Einiko

by A. R. Wilson

  He laid her on a couch, in a different room. “You need to use the spells which allow you to heal yourself.”

  “I have no power.” Her voiced sounded like an echo in her own ears.

  “That is not what I saw displayed when you met The Master.”

  “He was only playing with me. All that I destroyed, he replaced within moments.”

  “Because he can override what you do.”

  “How do you know he isn’t doing this to me?”

  “I know.”

  She glanced around the room. A few small tables and shelves of books stood along the walls. Perhaps a personal study area of sorts.

  “Tascana, please try.”

  She looked into his deep blue eyes. “No magic can heal a broken spirit. You of all people should know that.”

  “The Master will not be pleased if he sees the condition you have fallen into.”

  “He sees everything. I can feel his eyes upon me now and yet, he has done nothing.” Breaking eye contact, she eased her head into the soft cushion. “He can force me to hold this pregnancy. That is enough for it to survive.”

  “What saddens you so?”

  She didn’t respond to his absurd question.

  “What can I do to ease your discomfort?”

  With a shrug, she focused on her breathing. Another bought of nausea had already begun working on what little bile her stomach still held.

  He stepped away, then brought her a glass of water. “Here, you need to wash that taste out of your mouth.”

  She complied.

  “Would you like to go visit the unicorns?”

  Again with the giving her a choice. What was he up to? “No.”

  “I could arrange for a visit to Tretchin Valley, if you wish.”

  Glaring at him, she returned the cup. “No.”

  “You don’t have anything you want to say to Arnya?”

  The vine of dread writhed, pressing into her chest. Arnya, the one who performed the spells to discover the missing key to The Master’s plan. She helped The Master to look into the future at Tascana’s birth, and birthright. That dallest who lied about the death of her twin sons. Constantly treating Tascana like some kind of child. Always telling her things about The Master and Jerricoh as if she held secret wisdom.

  Wait. Arnya told me Jerricoh was an elf.

  Tascana stared at him. The hint of a grin crept across his lips. She put a hand to his ear. He clasped her wrist so fiercely she cried out. As quickly as he laid hold of her, he released her.

  “Don’t ever attempt such a foolish thing again.” The color strained out of his eyes.

  She put a hand over her wrist.

  Jerricoh straightened, turned an ear towards the door, then looked back her. “Did you even think an ounce of that idea through?”

  Blinking, she shrank into the couch. Having him stooped over her with his ice blue eyes made thinking difficult. That color always came with pain, and his irises had yet to relax. More of Arnya’s story came to mind. The Master had changed Jerricoh’s appearance with the intent of taking away the man’s identity. If she reversed that action, The Master would punish them both.

  How could Jerricoh know what I was doing? Arnya said he had no memory of his life before entering service in the castle.

  The number of lies Arnya had told her were becoming difficult to count. What might have changed if that dallest had chosen at any point in her life to speak truth? Would Jerricoh be free? The thing growing inside Tascana certainly wouldn’t be there. Everything would be different. Possibly even right, and good. She looked at the red mark on her arm. This is all her fault.

  “I have no desire to return to Tretchin Valley. The catacombs under the castle have a horrible smell.” Tascana let go of her wrist.

  “I can arrange another path, if you wish.”

  She blinked a few times at his pressing offer. Did he fear punishment or did he truly care? Did it matter? His insistence on helping might as easily have been a warning for her to find a distraction to get her out of this funk. They both needed her nausea to improve for either of them to be safe. But caring took so much effort.

  “What purpose could it even serve for me to go there?”

  “Perhaps if you released some of your pent up anger towards Arnya, you might despise your surrounding a little less.”

  “I’m not strong enough to do anything to her. My magic isn’t real.”

  “He would be far more interested in watching than intervening.”

  Slugs wriggled through her gut. Watch. Had there ever been a time in her life where her actions had gone unseen? She glanced around the small study, and it suddenly occurred to her that Jerricoh had taken a risk. Removing her from the library, helping her to take a break from her studies, and attempting make a bargain with her. If his little plan didn’t work, he would incur punishment for the wasted time. He had been charged with keeping her content.

  “Perhaps a small vacation would settle my nerves.”

  “I will speak to The Master. Stay here and rest until you feel well enough to return to your room.”

  She watched him leave. He could be kind when he wanted to. Or when able to. As long as neither of them crossed into anything which might result in The Master’s wrath, he was almost pleasant. Was he trying to be helpful out of duty or had she seen the real him?

  No matter. Nothing more than an illusion meant to keep her content enough to survive the pregnancy. A ruse to divert her from her commitment to being miserable. On both their parts. And for the moment, it was working. Visiting Tretchin would give her a chance to show Arnya what The Master had planned for their little village of liars.

  * * *

  The next morning, Jerricoh did not come for her after Rothar brought her breakfast. Not wanting to subject either of them to a reprimand, she headed for the library. She read through as much of that giant book as her soul could hold. The occasional bought of nausea felt less intense than the day before.

  For two more days, she waited. Those quiet hours alone, taking in the spells at her leisure, somehow made the growing anger within her worse. Without the distraction of trying to figure out Jerricoh, and consequently The Master he served, her mind had space to loath a great many other people. Her mother who always tried to keep her at home, practically guaranteeing Tascana would want to seek a life outside those rules. Her father who kept his bloodline a secret, and never told her she was a halfling. Not to mention the whole elven race who caused this stupid plan of Fate to begin in the first place.

  Had the entire world conspired against her? Not a single person took a single moment out of a single day to think about the consequences they set up for her. How could so many people, from so many places, come together in such a way to force her into this condition? She hated all of them. Every last one of them. All they ever thought about was themselves, and what they wanted. No one ever asked her what she wanted. Not Mother, Father, Kidelar, Dellia, Arnya, no one! They all went about their selfish little lives, pretending they cared about her, so they could take what they wanted. But one day, she would be the one doing the taking. One day she would try out her magic on Tretchin Valley, and the world would get a taste of what it had coming.

  This is all their fault.

  Everything that’s coming is all their fault.

  They deserve it. Every last plague.

  “Tascana?”

  Jerricoh’s voice broke through her mental rant like a boulder splashing into a still pond. “Huh? What?”

  “I have made the arrangements.”

  “Where have you been?”

  His deep blue eyes lightened. A fresh, red line ran next to the old scar along his hairline. “The permission for your vacation has been secured. You will have three days to enjoy whatever you wish to do in Tretchin Valley.”

  Had he paid a price for her excursion? Or had The Master hurt him for the slow rate of her progress?

  “Thank you, Jerricoh.”

  Nodding, he held
out a hand to the side. She gathered her white, silk dress, and followed him out the door. He led her back through the gardens to another gate, different from the one she went through to meet the unicorns.

  “Tretchin Valley is on the other side.” He stepped to the side of the entrance.

  Tascana looked around at the thick hedge surrounding a solid iron door. A single loop hung from its right edge.

  “At dawn on the third day, I will be waiting for you here.” Jerricoh folded his arms. “Do not come through before then.”

  Looking at him, she almost asked why. But with her memory filling with times when his eyes flashed from deep blue to ice, she thought better of it. Following the rules was easier than questioning their existence. Besides, three days would be plenty of time to release her frustrations.

  “I will see you then, my lord.”

  Nodding, he took another step back, then walked away. She watched him go for a moment. For some reason, she felt it odd he didn’t have anything more to say. She wrapped her hand around the cold, metal loop and pulled. A tree stood on the other side. Squeezing around it, she realized she stood in the middle of the forest on the mountainside slopes surrounding the valley. She tensed. The first time she had walked through them her lungs seized. Arnya called the trees the Soldiers of Basagic, claiming they prevented anyone from entering or leaving the valley. With Arnya as a guide, Tascana had safely walked through them only once.

  Hands shaking, she waited for something to overtake her. Nothing. She tilted her head, trying to sense any hint of warning beyond her constant nausea. Still nothing.

  A laugh escaped her. Why did she think that silly old spell could hurt her now? With The Master’s teachings, her power far outweighed anything Arnya could produce. That dallest had been a mere assistant during her years in the castle. Tascana lived far beyond an assistant. The Master called her an apprentice.

  Pushing her hair behind her shoulders, she walked down the mountain. For some reason the twigs and rocks littered among the undergrowth didn’t bother her bare feet. An hour later, the trees thinned. Beyond them ran fields of grass. The same grass she had stooped through while sneaking out of the valley. In the distance stood several buildings in a large circle around an empty town square.

  She grinned.

  Snapping a hand out to the side, she pushed a swath of dirt up into the foothills. The ground trembled. She bit her lip. As she walked towards the small village, she forced another scar across the land. Someone screamed up ahead. A scatter of movement scurried between several homes. She paused and put out both hands with palms up. As she had done so many times in her dreams, she broke the land and sent it skyward in a vast column.

  The village rose higher and higher. She felt the power surging through her at new levels. Rumbling filled the air. She could feel the control building. Dropping one hand, she caused a column to rise below her feet. The pillar of rock brought her to eye level with the village, which now sat at the same elevation as the top of the surrounding mountain. She guided the rock beneath her to move her closer.

  Dallests screamed. Their elongated, hairy bodies stood huddled together in some places, cowering in others. The Master had once mutated these people into a muskrat-like form in human size, though sometimes they had mole-like qualities as well. Watching them tremble in fear made them look more like animals than people.

  Tascana waited until the two columns butted together. Dozens of eyes stared at her as she walked onto the path leading into town. She ignored their vacant expressions. No one here held any importance to her. As long as they stayed cowering where they belonged, she didn’t have any purpose for them. The one she wanted lived at the other end of town. Strolling past dozens of houses, she went straight to Arnya’s small dwelling.

  Holding out a hand, she caused the door to disintegrate. In the single-room home stood only a table, three chairs, and disorganized shelves. No Arnya. Tascana turned to scan the area. Zander stood crouched behind her. His dark fur bristled. Leathery hands clutched at his chest, his shoulders shaking.

  “Tascana, why are you doing this? What have we done?” His voice held none of the cool nature from when he found her lost in the catacombs.

  “Where is Arnya?”

  “Please, don’t do this!”

  Using her will, she thrust him against the wall of the next house. He cried out. Probably in pain, but it didn’t matter.

  “Answer my question. Where is Arnya?”

  Slumped on the ground, holding out a feeble hand to protect himself, he gasped for breath. “She’s at the grove.”

  Tascana put a hand on his shoulder and healed the cracked rib caused by her attack. “How much of The Master’s plan did you know, Zander?”

  “What?”

  “Do not make me repeat myself.”

  His gathered eyebrows drooped. Looking at the ground, he shook his head. “Dellia’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “She made a deal with Jerricoh. Her fate is her own.”

  Zander closed his eyes. “Make it quick.”

  Was he asking her to kill him? Did he think she killed Dellia? That girl knew better than to make a deal with Jerricoh. So why was Zander so willing to hurry up and die himself?

  Tascana turned on her heel, and left. At the edge of the village, she caused a chunk of rock to split from the column and ease her to the ground. She followed the old trail she had taken so many times while studying under Arnya. Due west for two miles, then follow the flow of the stream to a group of young trees. Stumps rested in a circle in the middle of the grove with a dallest sitting on one of them.

  Arnya wore her usual short pants and hooded cloak. Blue and green flames danced in a fire ring several feet away from her. Tascana propped herself on the stump she once used to practice mediation.

  The dallest kept her eyes on the fire. “I see you have embraced The Master’s offer.”

  “Which one? You’ll have to be more specific?” Tascana made sure her tone dripped with contempt.

  Arnya didn’t react. “Both. The one to endure the pregnancy in peace, and the one to wipe out my people.”

  “So, you really did know the fullness of his plan the whole time.”

  “I told you that you would be safe if you stayed here. Did I lie?”

  “You lied about how your sons died.”

  Shifting her gaze to make eye contact, she straightened. “Did I?”

  “You said your sons died when The Master invaded your land. But that’s not true, is it? They died when you handed them over to the Fates. Was earning The Master’s favor worth the price they paid?”

  Arnya’s face sneered into a dark smirk. “You think I did what I did because I wanted The Master’s favor?”

  “Jerricoh told me everything, and he cannot lie.”

  She nodded, her stare hardening. “Do you believe he included all the details? Not a single thing left out for The Master’s benefit or Jerricoh’s protection? I paid the price I did to spare my sons from a fate worse than death. As one who has spent some time under The Master’s care, I would expect you to give me the benefit of the doubt.”

  Tascana scowled. Each of them had sufficient motive to lie to her. But who could she trust? “Jerricoh said after you watched the Fates toy with The Master for decades, you made a deal with Them to help him. To find me.”

  “That is partly true.”

  “So what’s your version?”

  “My people knew The Master sought great power. These lands have been under his yoke for centuries. The deal I made with the Fates stated that in exchange for my sons, one day I would be the key in helping my people escape his rule. In the process, their death would spare them from any life The Master wished to impose upon them. As I told you before, when I knew The Master sought to find you, is when I received the promise of this valley.”

  Pursing her lips, Tascana warred with herself. Yesterday, she had fantasized about how to destroy this valley and everything in it. Now that treasure seemed out of place.

/>   “You said your people would be free in this valley. But they’re not free. The Master’s influence still comes here.”

  “He can look, but he cannot touch.”

  “I’ve seen his touch on you. I’ve seen the flash of magic in your eyes when he pushes you to choose this rather than that.”

  “You saw the protection over me.”

  Tascana shook her head. She couldn’t possibly have gotten things this wrong. Could she? The vine of dread flicked out a thorn.

  “Does that mean I’m safe here now?” Tascana’s hands started to shake, and she clenched them together.

  “Now? No.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said my people are safe here. You only had one chance to make that choice. After you returned to the castle that door shattered.”

  Tascana sprang to her feet. “You should have told me!”

  Arnya remained seated. “How many times did I tell you that you would be safe if you stayed in the valley? How many?”

  “You never told me I couldn’t come back.”

  “What could I have said? What would have swayed you to stay?”

  “How about: ‘Did you know you’re pregnant with The Master’s child and he has big plans for you?’ Did you ever think of that?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  Tascana used her will to thrust Arnya through the grove of trees. Charging towards the dallest, Tascana arched her arms to create a split in the ground. The peeling dirt and spewing rocks covered the sound of Arnya screaming. Trees sprang out of her way as Tascana advanced.

  Arnya held up a furry arm over an ankle bent the wrong way. “You’re only angry because I’m right.” She groaned, pinching her eyes closed. “You didn’t want to trust me.”

  “What choice did I have?”

  Tascana pitched her in the air. The sound Arnya released made Tascana’s ears ring. Landing with a thud, Arnya howled all the more.

  “Do you want me to heal you, Arnya?” The words growled in her chest.