by Allen Snell
“That boy wants to save the world and get a shiny medal for it every day. There isn’t a task I can get his help with that he doesn’t groan like it’s beneath him.”
“Yeah, I’ll go ahead and remind him how boring saving the world looks before I go.”
“Good,” Naia said. “He listens to you. And remembers things for about a whole day.”
Garen laughed and stretched forward enough to skim his heels against the water. The moon reflected near the far bank of the river, blurred by the natural current far beyond his own ripples. The dancing mirror was all Garen wanted to focus on. He wanted to forget the stress of how many places he needed to be at once.
“Back to Micah, then?” Naia asked.
“Eventually. I think I should pay Drake and Morgan a visit first. I know we’re not ready to mess with the spirits yet, but I need to see how he’s feeling. If he’s noticing changes…we may need to stop training and start trying.”
“Garen, I can’t even cancel a pinky-sized flame, let alone reach into someone’s soul like you keep saying.”
“We’re taking a break, you can stop stressing about it.”
“You’re the one who brought it up!” Naia shouted unexpectedly. “You keep saying ‘just let go.’ But I’m not like you. I can’t…” She looked away. Garen could almost hear how carefully she pieced the words together in her mind. She spoke each one with precision. “I can’t just let go of everything I care about.”
He opened his mouth to defend, but shivered instead. It actually hurt. No banter came to mind in time to cover it up. Naia’s expression softened as she noticed his hesitancy. She sighed at length. “Sorry, that’s meaner than I wanted to say it.”
Garen sat quietly, no longer kicking at the water. He felt like she was waiting for an apology, but he wasn’t sure where to start. “It’s bothering you. The way I abandoned you, back in Nhilim when I found out who Kiron was.” Garen could still picture the tunnels beneath the Western palace. He remembered seeing Micah’s face when the hood of Kiron finally dropped. He hadn’t even considered Naia or Argus in that moment. He fled because he wanted to, simple and selfish as that.
“It shouldn’t. I know it shouldn’t, because you came back.” Naia swallowed, which stilled the quiver in her voice. Her eyes stayed trained on the water. “And I know it was better that way because they kept me and Argus alive to get to you. But it still feels wrong, you know? The way you can vanish. That’s not supposed to be an option. We’re either supposed to go down fighting or survive together. I hate that you can always run.”
“I’m sorry,” Garen said softly.
“Exactly, you came back. You made things right. You’re sorry.” She sighed again, lower and more frustrated. “I just hate waiting for you to run off again. You’ll come back and be sorry and everything will be okay. It doesn’t make it any easier to trust you. When we were surrounded by Apatten. When Vikar-Tola was falling to pieces. I kept looking over expecting you to disappear.”
The words stung. Garen realized her coldness and distance wasn’t simply part of her personality. It was how she felt toward him. He hated knowing he’d created those pains, but he had one small drop of relief. He hadn’t abandoned Naia during the fall of Vikar-Tola. She might not understand exactly how it happened, but he had resisted the urge to escape safely on his own. There was no compulsion in him to defend himself, only satisfaction that he wasn’t quite the boy he once was.
And since he didn’t feel the need for sad introspection, he focused on her instead. The way she scrunched her forehead when she was angry. The nervous bounce of her heels against the stone, much faster than his, hard enough to look painful. The long and short breaths she took, and how easy it was to read her by them. He felt the hurt, even though it wasn’t his. Strange as it was, he knew he wouldn’t feel better until she did.
“Well, I’m not gone yet,” Garen said, still smiling. “How do you feel about a different approach to all this?”
“It sounds like you’re giving up. No more soul searching and shouting?”
Garen laughed. “I should have given up on that immediately. You’re right. You don’t let go. You’re loyal to a fault. You keep your friends close and your grudges closer.”
“Rude.”
“I know, but what I’m trying to say is, that might be better for the Gate of Choice. You take that magic by the throat and you tell it who’s in control,” Garen tried to rally her.
She was less than enthused. “That’s…sure. What spell am I trying to undo this time?”
Garen had an idea for something new, but it gave him reason to hesitate. He remembered how Aethis and her followers in the cave altered their skin, appearing gold or silver. It was an odd, superficial kind of deep magic, but if it came from anywhere, Garen guessed it was the Gate of Choice. This could be the stepping stone he was searching for.
Garen leaned forward to see Naia’s opposite cheek. The scar was still prominent, reaching from her ear all the way down her chin. She noticed his glance and tucked her cheek against her shoulder.
“I couldn’t heal it,” Garen said. “But I’ll bet you can reject it.”
Naia rolled her eyes. “Just like that? I tell the hideous line on my face ‘no’ and it’s gone?”
“It’s your body. If Aethis can turn herself into a shiny little idol for her followers, I think you can choose to look like you did before.”
Naia stared at him with disbelief, but eventually shrugged. “Yeah, let’s try it.” She closed her eyes, relaxed her posture, and searched her depth.
Garen gave her a moment before attempting to guide her. “You know what you want. Take it.” Naia’s posture stiffened again. She still seemed more frustrated by her situation than in control of it.
Garen took her hand. Despite her reluctance, he forced her fingers to touch the ridge along her face. Her eyes opened and stared at him accusingly. Garen held the eye contact and tried to swallow his own nerves. “It doesn’t have to be real. You have the choice.”
Her glare tightened. He felt her hand press tighter along her cheek. Garen felt a small wave crash over his legs and noticed the entire river in an uproar. The rapids wove back and forth, each thread as distinct as braided hair. They crashed into each other and churned mist in the darkness.
Naia screamed. She clenched both hands against her face, one on the scar and one along smooth skin. She focused with an intensity Garen had yet to witness in their training. For the first time, she was reaching for something she truly wanted. Garen jumped as lightning pierced the sky behind her. The crash of thunder eclipsed her scream.
The sky and river quieted to a peaceful state once more. Kallista’s voice intruded his mind for the first time in weeks. Was the storm truly necessary, Ampelis?
Ha, she’s the dramatic one. I’m just along for the show.
“Well,” Garen said, unsure of her state. “That was louder than I expected.”
To his relief, she smiled. “Yeah, I really shouldn’t hold that in, huh?” Naia ran her hand along the hidden side of her face, her fingers pressing with curiosity. “I guess I should thank you.” Naia dropped her hand and swiveled to face him. “For helping me get that out of my system.”
Her skin was flawless. Seeing her smile without the cruel wound made Garen’s heart feel ten times lighter. He laughed and tapped excitedly on the stone slab. “You look good.”
“Thanks,” Naia sighed and peered back out at the water. Even though the river had calmed, lingering patches of foam glowed in the moonlight.
I can feel what you’re feeling, Garen. That has to be the biggest understatement I’ve heard, and you’ve made quite a few.
He’d never admit it out loud, but Kallista was right.
They headed back, content with their first sign of progress. He hadn’t found the spare time to create anywhere better to sleep than at the barracks, but he walked all the way to her hut, hoping to catch Belen before leaving the next morning. He had no such luck.
“He’s pr
obably running around the encampment,” Naia guessed, “helping or causing trouble. I can’t keep track anymore.”
Garen was secretly glad he didn’t have to face him right now. Belen had already asked a few more times when they could go rescue his sister. Garen hated telling him “not yet”. He hated knowing they weren’t any closer than when they started, especially after the promises he made. Garen swore to himself for the hundredth time that it would be his next pursuit, as soon as they handled matters with Drake and found the Apatten. Drake would probably be willing to help, considering his interest in the Geonode Guild and his newfound authority. Then, Garen could finally stop making excuses, to Belen and himself, and bring everything back to normal.
Chapter 24
Garen met Naia the next morning before leaving. “Tell General Tragus I went to pick berries or fight some magical monster. I don’t care what he thinks.”
“No chance. You tell him yourself,” Naia insisted.
Garen groaned and rocked back and forth on his feet. “I’m not sure how he does it, but every time I try to talk to Tragus, he gets what he wants, and I get to do what he wants.”
“It’s not like he can stop you from leaving. No one can.”
Garen snapped his glance to her with bewilderment.
Naia apologized. “Sorry, still trying to let that go. Anyway, don’t be a coward. If you need a day to handle things elsewhere, just tell him.”
“I wish it were that easy. You know how it is with him towering over you. When I stand next to Tragus, I feel like I should be washing his feet. My best option is basically to stand somewhere else. So, you tell him.” Garen tried not to show how much his chest tightened at the mere thought of confronting the man. It was much easier to leave and explain later.
“If he asks, I’m playing dumb,” Naia said.
“Well, let’s hope Drake doesn’t need any of my assistance yet. I might be back within the day,” Garen guessed, still unsure what to expect.
“Okay, and what if they need you for longer? Do I just keep training soldiers until Micah sends word that you’re all dead?”
“Whoa, even Micah would call that reckless paranoia.” Garen waited for her to finish rolling her eyes before indulging her serious state. “None of us are dying, least of all me. But if it’ll make you feel better, I can spellshift back tomorrow morning. I’ll, uh, let you know the latest gossip.” He didn’t want to come back so soon, lest Tragus coerce him into anything else, but he understood Naia’s fear of being disconnected from everyone else again.
The offer relaxed Naia, easing the tension out of her shoulders. “Alright, meet me here by the river tomorrow morning. And remind Morgan not to be too trusting out there.”
“It’s a plan. It’ll comfort her to know you’re wrapped tightly in your blanket of anxiety.”
“I changed my mind. Don’t come back.”
“See you tomorrow!” Garen waved, hoping to make his exit as impressive as possible. He spread his arms out and fell backward. With his eyes closed, he had no idea how close he made it to the ground before he left his physical form.
He felt no impact. The vision of Morgan entered his mind. Her unflinching, eyebrows-raised stare guided him through the gate. He was formless again, imperceptive to any sense outside of what his own mind could remember. Those slipped just as quickly. Garen tried to hold onto the caress of the grass against his ankles from seconds ago. Without physical form, he found himself unable to, like a word on the tip of his tongue. Familiar, but unspeakable.
Stop doing that! Kallista shouted. You can’t wrap your mind around this place. You nearly kill yourself every time you do. Think about the girl.
Garen’s mind went back to Naia instead of Morgan. He imagined the corner of her smile, something rare and mysterious to him. Immediately, he felt a tug at his soul. Karna had explained that he wasn’t actually moving in the Spirit Realm. It still felt like he was being yanked the opposite direction from a second ago.
A feminine voice screamed in pain. He thought Naia was in trouble for a moment, but he hadn’t left the Spirit Realm.
Idiot boy, Kallista bellowed through the pain. Pick a soul.
Garen panicked, unsure how to move or what to do to stop Kallista from screaming. The blood-curdling cries only grew louder. He wanted to be back on solid ground and in control again. Garen imagined where he stood in the muddy grass a moment ago. He felt helpless in this space.
Do you expect to find the mud’s soul? Think of Morgan! she shouted.
Garen realized that was his easiest way out. It took a moment to clear his mind and properly imagine her, but he focused. The sensation of movement began. The screaming grew fainter, as if lost in the distance he was told didn’t exist. He stopped trying to understand the Spirit Realm. That was what put him in this situation to begin with.
He went back to pondering the fierce loyalty and determination that was Morgan Talia. She had dedicated her life to protecting her little sister. She pledged her service to a king for the chance to do so with authority. And when that king demanded them to separate, possibly for the first time, she complied. Garen wasn’t sure if he would have done the same. It seemed like her loyalty would have stopped serving a purpose at that moment. The right decision should have been to refuse leaving Naia’s side. But he was a different soul from Morgan. She was uncompromising, unyielding, and as he blinked several times to confirm, had her sword pointed at his throat.
“Garen?” she said in surprise.
He lay on his back against warm stone. Morgan stared down at him. Above her hung crystal and geonode-covered chandeliers. The ceiling was trimmed with metals thin as lace and the walls covered with tapestries. The room was decorated like a palace, strikingly similar to the fancier halls of Vikar-Tola. But he couldn’t be there. The Central palace didn’t exist anymore. Morgan sheathed her sword and helped him to his feet. “I take it you had another one of those black-out-and-reappear-elsewhere moments? Were you in trouble?”
“‘No’ to the trouble. ‘Yes’ to the reappearing,” Garen shook off the otherworldly feeling. “I think I can actually control them now.” Garen went through a few more stretches, meanwhile taking in the regal atmosphere. Sunlight filled the expansive room from a tall window behind a silver throne.
“Still having trouble arriving on your feet, I see,” Drake said.
Garen spun around to find Drake standing among five other men. Drake made a small dismissive motion with his hand. Each of them gathered the overlength of their formal robes and scurried out of the room. They looked almost as absurd as Drake in this moment. Garen couldn’t remember what his friend was wearing when he dropped in a couple weeks ago, but it wasn’t this. The basic greens and browns that Drake preferred were gone. He wore a tailored, crimson-red tunic, the collar tied all the way up his neck. Over his shoulders and dragging behind him as he walked was a thin silver cloak. The material dazzled like polished metal, but it flowed with each step like silk.
“Well hello, your excellence,” Garen said with a small bow.
Drake smiled. “Please, Garen. No need for formalities here. It’s still me.”
Garen cocked his head slightly, not sure whether to lean into the joke or not. This was clearly someone different than the Drake he knew. Maybe it was the spirits, maybe it was the circumstances. Becoming a king without warning would probably shift his personality more than anything Garen could imagine. Whether spirits or responsibility, it was hard to lead with accusations.
“It’s good to see you,” Garen forced himself to say, interrupting his own spiral of thoughts. “You definitely look the role this time.”
Drake continued toward him with his arms out. He had done the same last time, and Garen was no less surprised. Neither of them were the hugging type, even following the traumatic aftermaths this year. But with little other option, Garen stepped into the embrace. Drake was half a head taller than him, and the exchange made Garen feel younger. He was younger, of course. Morgan had six year
s on Garen, and Drake another two on her, but it was rare he thought along those lines. They were his friends and allies, and that made them peers.
“So,” Garen said, returning to a more comfortable speaking distance. “Bring me up to speed. Have you found where the Apatten moved to? Any word on Aethis and her followers?” Garen asked the questions seriously. It unsettled him when Drake laughed.
“I can tell they’ve been running you ragged out there. You look it.” Despite Garen’s confused stare, Drake smiled and clasped his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re so focused. You’ve come a long way from the mountain thief who wanted to drop all responsibilities.”
Garen reeled, his focus suddenly torn from evaluating Drake’s changes to considering his own.
“It’s a good thing,” Drake said. “I wish I could answer all your questions in as few words as you were able to ask them. But the matters here are complicated. What I can offer you is good news.”
Garen watched Morgan to see how she was reacting to all the strangeness around him. Her calm posture eased him a little.
“Alright, good news me up.”
“Not like this. I can hear your stomach growling from here. You’re in time for a royal breakfast.”
Garen felt equal parts guilt and excitement. He thought of the salvaging crews bringing in carts of food and supplies from Vikar-Tola. It seemed like so much, but when spread between soldiers, the injured, and everyone else working, it was never enough. Garen often wondered if he was helping enough to be worth one more mouth to feed, but he had to eat. And now, he had to eat with a king while Naia and Belen made do with their scraps.
Drake led him to a hall featuring an enormous banquet table. Garen looked down the length of it, unsure if he’d even be able to hear someone sitting that far away. Thankfully, it was just the three of them. Morgan and Drake sat down across from him.
Without raising his voice, Drake requested servants across the room to bring in portions for four. He gave Garen a knowing wink. Garen smiled, but only to hide the chills. Since when did Drake wink at anyone? And how did the servants hear him? Did he have a relay geonode set up? Garen opened his mouth to ask, but Drake seemed to know what puzzled him.