by Rae Brooks
“Erotic novels?” Lee asked. “Oh, whatever. I’ve been asking you—how do you suppose we are going to read through all of this?”
Calis let out a breath, and then he chewed on his lip for a moment. He picked up one of the books that had dropped from the cart, and then he glanced back as Aela let the book she had fall into the pile. “Try and remember the molding ones are mine,” she snapped. Calis glanced to her for a moment, and then his eyes fell on Taeru.
The book Taeru held didn’t appear particularly useful. The title was “Properties of the Light” and Taeru thought it felt rather thin to contain many properties at all. Calis picked up another book, and then he tilted his head at Taeru. “You think you’ll know which Magister we’re dealing with when you see it?” he asked gently.
Why was he constantly so gentle? Taeru felt restrained and freed at the same time—an electric duality—every time Calis displayed his feelings so readily. Even when he said nothing of merit, Taeru could feel it. “I hope. It might be nice to learn more about them, regardless. The last time I read anything on the Magisters was well… too long ago to remember.” He averted the childhood statement just before he said it.
Aela stared at him thoughtfully, glaring daggers into the back of his head. “The Fall of the Magisters,” she muttered, clearly trying to hide her distaste for the situation. “This one might be worth looking at.”
She tossed it to the side and, upon inspection of another book, pushed that one further away from her. The four of them sorted through the books in relative silence, each of them creating a stack of books they thought might merit another look. Taeru made sure to grab any of the ones that seemed more about explaining and less about worshipping. He was not interested in worshipping the Light—not until the Magister that apparently wanted him dead was dealt with.
Once the stacks had been sorted, Lee put the remainder of the books back into the cart. The sun had moved several shifts in the sky, and Taeru squirmed a little at how long the process had taken. He had not anticipated Calis bringing back so many books.
As he began to read the words, his lessons from his mother came back to him. His mother had always been a strong believer in the Light and the Magisters. She believed firmly that she had been put into the world for a purpose, and she thanked the Magisters daily for that. Rereading tales that he’d long since forgotten reminded him briefly of her.
Magisters were created from all the different energies in the world. The tiniest strands of difference resulted in another Magister. This led to their being many Magisters, and thus the Magisters had to come to an agreement. At first, they vied for control of Elyst, but then their compassion for the people within it took hold and they deemed all Magisters would get a small bit of power. So long as the Magisters operated honorably and within the bounds established—they would be able to manipulate Elyst as they saw fit.
Taeru had never paid much attention. He had always been caught up in one ordeal or another. He hadn’t worried about deities when there were people in the world that he could see and touch, who needed his help. Perhaps he ought to have been paying more attention, though. If he’d understood the Magisters better before—maybe he could have stopped this from happening now.
No, he had to stop letting his guilt distract him from the task at hand. He glanced across to Aela, who was busy reading a book titled “Magisters and the Light.” The Light was the energy that held every strand of power that the Magisters were created from, and it was also the power they wielded to manipulate the world. The Light sounded so wonderful in practice, and yet it was the very power that would be used to tear apart Elyst should Taeru fail.
“I don’t get it,” Calis finally said, shattering the silence and throwing Taeru from his reading with incredible force. “These books say that the Light is only used for good, and yet the Magisters use it to destroy?” he asked.
Taeru wondered momentarily if Calis had been reading his own thoughts. He twitched a little at the thought. The last thing he needed was someone who could affect him as much as Calis—and read his thoughts. Lee answered him. “The Magisters use the Light to manipulate things. The Light deems the means worthy, and then it is used to cause necessary destruction.”
Calis always said that Lee could have been a scholar, and Taeru hadn’t believed it until recently. Lee seemed intelligent on every issue. Not just social, not just religious, and not just practical—he understood everything with an in-depth knowledge that could only be formed from years of learning. Yet, he had been with Calis as his advisor most of his years.
Once they had gotten through enough of the books so that they all felt like they could have written books of their own on how the Magisters worked—they went to work determining the identity of the Magister. This process was the much more tedious one. The reading had allowed time to pass quickly, but searching made it drag. “We’re running out of sun,” Aela offered quietly.
A few of the Magisters’ names, and their motives, flashed before Taeru’s eyes. He could think of a few that the voice in his head may have been. None of them were considered of the Light by Telandus standards. Being from Cathalar, however, Taeru believed that all of the Magisters held a property of holiness that could not be contested. He hoped that Telandus was correct for once, though.
You know all you’re doing is dragging these innocent people into this? You’ll only make their deaths worse in the end. You’ve already sentenced so many to death—why do you continue this? Even your own sister? Pathetic, little prince…
The voice took him by surprise, and though he’d been about to speak, hearing the whispers in his ears destroyed all words. He twitched, and he tried not to listen, but the voice was there, and there was little he could do to ignore it. They had involved themselves, he repeated over and over, in his mind. He was determined to keep being useful to Calis and the others. They had come out here for him.
You can’t fight it, Taeru. You’re not strong enough. Your mind is so frightened. You can’t protect yourself any more than you can protect your stupid friends. Not that the prince will want your help… not once he discovers who you really are, traitor. Then, after he tortures you… he’ll make you watch your sister die. You fool.
No, no, Calis would not do that. This was wrong. He knew Calis. He trusted Calis, and he knew that—if nothing else—Calis would not intentionally cause him so much harm. Calis cared about him—that much was obvious.
Now. When you are nothing more than a commoner… perhaps…
Then, when he opened his eyes, he was alone. He was no longer in the farmlands of Telandus, but he was standing in that grove. Many more of the plants had died since his last visit, and some bits of dried blood stained the flowers. The sky was a putrid red, and his throat knotted as he looked around. Where was he? Why was he here? Then, he saw the black obelisk. It had grown again, and it was much taller.
It was taller than any of the trees surrounding it. The purple crystal along the sides of it had opened, and it hung there, like some sort of peeled fruit. The center was a long black rod, one that was twisted around the edges with tendrils and other things—things that looked very much like barbs. Taeru swallowed, and he stepped away from it. When he did, though, he slammed into someone.
He turned to face his obstacle and was looking into the eyes of Calis Tsrali. Though, they weren’t their usual blue-green. No, they were red. They were red, and they were glaring at Taeru as if he’d committed a crime. “Go. You put that thing here. Go face it, you lying bastard.” Calis shoved him towards the black abomination.
“Calis,” he begged. “I never meant for this. I would never have brought this on knowingly. I was just trying to…”
A look of black anger twisted onto Calis’s face, and he shoved Taeru towards the black monstrosity again. When Taeru fought him, his fist collided hard with Taeru’s jaw. The blow sent Taeru sprawling to the ground. When he glanced up, there were the bodies of his family, of Aela and Ryo and Veyron. They were all laid out befor
e him, and he was the reason. “The war is inevitable. Because you’re too stupid to figure out how to stop it. You keep wanting to pawn off your responsibilities on others,” the red-eyed Calis sneered.
Taeru’s heart hammered and he tried to stagger back upright. “Just stop,” he snarled. “I can stop this. Just let me try.”
“You had your chance,” Calis said venomously. “You squandered that like a child.” This time, his fist slammed into Taeru’s abdomen, and somehow it drew blood. Taeru coughed blood onto the flowers below him. “After everything I did for you, you lied to me. I will very much enjoy watching you burn.” Calis shoved Taeru backwards again.
The terrifying part of it was that he could feel the tendrils waiting for him—waiting for him to step just a pace closer. They wanted to grab him, and they wanted to pull him along that rod. The Magister had said that was his grave. “D-do I go there? If I let it have me, will it stop the war?” he asked weakly.
“Yes, traitor. Go to it. Perhaps you can still save us. You’ve done enough damage already. Stop fighting it and just accept it.” A blow crashed across Taeru’s face again, and as he staggered back, a tendril snaked around his ankle.
The moment the thing grabbed him, he knew he should do this. He had to try to talk to the Magister. This wasn’t Calis—though it could be if things continued on this path. He frantically pulled against the tentacle. “Listen to me. Tell me how to fix this. Tell me… I’ll stop this war! You can’t do this. There isn’t a war yet! I read the words. You can’t do this. People have faith, and compassion. Stop!” The Calis apparition slammed a boot into his face, though, and he whimpered.
The tendril was pulling him closer and closer to that terrifying obelisk. “Please, don’t! Calis!” he yelped. He begged the creature for help, somehow still maintaining that the Telandan prince would help him. But those eyes were not Calis’s. Still—it was all he had. Tears burned in his eyes as the black coil wrapped around his waist. His fingernails dug into the dirt, but he couldn’t fight against the pull. He scrambled as hard as he could, but his entire body felt like it was being crushed. “Calis! Please! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He reached desperately towards the apparition that was fast disappearing.
His breath came in short bursts, and every sensation in his body changed into agonizing pulses. He felt sick, and abruptly, blood bubbled from his mouth without reason. He cried out, desperate for anything that might help him.
Even now, you can’t be bothered to defend yourself. Waiting for someone to come help you. What a weak child you are.
The words struck him like a physical blow. He couldn’t depend on Calis, not after everything. How could he expect forgiveness? He had to find a way to end this nightmare without anyone’s help. He clawed wildly, though the tendrils squeezed tighter around his waist, and his body threatened to convulse. His body hurt. It hurt more than he had thought it was possible to hurt. But the Magister spoke the truth. He had to do this himself. His fingers minced desperately into the ground, and he managed to pull his body a little ways forward before he was yanked back.
He was at the obelisk, and his tears were so impossible to fight that he didn’t bother. He struggled, fighting for as long as he could until the vines finally yanked him back against the rod, which sent so much pain through him that he could feel his consciousness slipping. There was a hand on his chin, though, forcing him to look up, and then he saw it.
A woman with long, white hair that spilled down behind her. Her eyes were yellow, glaring at him, and on her red lips there was a twisted grin. Her entire body seemed a twist of vines and roses. Her hand, the one on his chin and cheek, was covered in thorns that pierced his skin.
So easy to manipulate.
Kilik!
The scene vanished, though Taeru could still feel the hand on his chin and the rod pressed against his back. Panic caused his heart to pound, and his eyes forced themselves open. He felt as though he’d swallowed water, and he choked on it as he blinked his eyes. There was someone there—someone was holding him. Calis.
“No,” Taeru choked. He couldn’t take any more of Calis’s kindness. Not after that. Not after what he’d seen. “Don’t touch me.”
Calis’s eyes narrowed, and instead of releasing Taeru as instructed, he brought the boy against his chest. Here the Telandan prince was again, whispering words that were so filled with gentleness and compassion that Taeru felt sick. Taeru was lying. He didn’t deserve this. “Stop.” He glanced down to his hand, noting with dismay that it was bleeding. Only when he moved to speak again did he realize that it was not his hand—but his mouth—that was bleeding.
Taeru pushed angrily at Calis’s hold, but he was weak, and Calis was holding much more tightly than he ever had before. Finally, he collapsed against Calis’s chest. “I don’t deserve this,” he whispered. “I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” Calis said decisively. They were on the ground, in the farmland, and Taeru was trying to untangle his body from Calis. Calis must have been supporting him previously, as Taeru had apparently passed out. Now Calis was sitting on the ground, holding someone that he didn’t even know—a liar and a failure. “None of it matters.”
“It does!” Taeru shrieked. “You can’t help me anymore. None… none of you.” Somehow, he writhed away from Calis long enough to glance at his sister and Lee. They both looked worried, though Aela looked considerably more so. Taeru’s voice quaked. “No more help,” he said. He stood up, and his legs shook. “I was selfish for bringing you all into this. I’ve been… I will…” He whimpered, realizing a moment too late that his legs were going to fail.
Calis, though, was there in time to bring him back upwards so that he never hit the ground. Taeru squeezed his eyes shut against his tears. When he looked into Calis’s eyes, though, he felt dizzy. They were so blue—so filled with anguished worry that Taeru didn’t know how he could fix this. “Please stop,” Calis whispered. “Enough.” Finally, Calis pulled Taeru to him and the blond man’s lips captured his own without much effort.
Taeru thought for a moment that it wasn’t very romantic, as his mouth had been bloody a moment ago. Still, Calis kissed him as though it didn’t matter. Then, when he pulled away, he still had that worried expression and his hand moved over Taeru’s sweat-soaked cheek. “I’m sorry,” Taeru said.
“It’s this one,” Lee said definitely. His voice felt like a knife through the atmosphere. But he sounded so serious, and so convinced of himself. He turned the book to face the rest of them with assurance.
There she was. The yellow eyes. The white hair. Taeru could still feel the thorns of her hands on his cheek. He trembled. “Th-that’s… she was…”
“Aleia,” Lee informed him, “the Magister of Manipulation. Or, as she is known in Cathalar, the Magister of Direction. I’d say our word is more correct, though, as she seems to be twisting every feeling Kilik has into a weapon.”
Why had Lee mentioned Cathalar? Taeru’s heart sank, but Calis kept holding him against his chest. Calis was whispering, and though Taeru didn’t know what he was saying—the Cathalari felt safer, in spite of himself. Aela watched him, and there was a changed look in her eyes. She seemed complacent, and for a single moment, as she regarded Calis. She did not hate him.
“Love’s only question is ‘what can I do?’ and so that is what he asked.”
-A Hero’s Peace v.ii
Chapter xxxvi
Lee Keiichi
Lee didn’t usually spend much time washing. He’d worked out a way to get as clean as possible, while minimizing the time he spent in the bath. The whole place lacked a certain privacy. After all, servants were constantly wandering in and out and dropping off things they thought you needed. He didn’t like—though he couldn’t deny that warm water did do a fairly good job of easing his mind. And his mind needed a lot of easing, at the moment.
The thought had started slowly, as an inquiry that he’d vowed to look into. He hadn’t thought anything would come of it once he start
ed digging further, but oh, plenty had come of it. The little red-haired girl, Katt, may have held back that she knew who the Phantom Blade was, but in this area—she was as curious as he. His heart hammered as he sat, staring blankly at the water, and trying to get his mind to give him a logical solution to his.
This had not been anything with which he’d expected to deal. His whole body felt sick at the idea of it. He’d discovered the truth, and now he was having to handle it. He’d never thought he would curse his curiosity—but on this sun, he did. Though, perhaps it didn’t really matter much. Perhaps he was overthinking it. Calis constantly told him that he overthought things, and he’d always dismissed the prince until now.
Oh, Lee envied Calis. Despite the fact that the prince had to deal with the constant strain of his father’s expectations, Calis seemed to have found a balance. Somehow, he was managing to ignore the world around him and focus on the singular thing that he wanted to accomplish. That goal was a rather large one too, and Lee knew that he ought to be more focused on it. Aleia. The Magister of Manipulation. It would make sense that she laid the curse, that she had never expected the deal to be broken—but she would manipulate events so that the deal would break on her terms.
The whole idea didn’t seem fair, and Lee had been looking into that as well. Aleia was a Magister, and she ought to be held to some sorts of standards. What he didn’t know—was if her manipulation allowed her certain leniencies or not. Surely the Light didn’t work that way. Yet, Lee hadn’t been able to focus on that particular string of thought. No, he’d been entirely occupied by a newer one.