by Allen Snell
“A gift I should have realized years sooner. Thankfully, I’ve had some assistance lately,” Drake said with a grin. He continued before Garen could ask who he meant. “This gift is incredible. I imagine it’s similar to the way you create and twist light into someone’s eyes. I’m learning to do the same with my voice.”
“Like a relay?” Garen asked.
“It’s far more precise magic, and I don’t have to worry about someone listening in with a relay of their own. If we’re in the heat of battle, I can talk with anyone, separate or as one booming voice. I’ve been able to communicate to the entire city at once without crowding them together. I think that gift alone has been why the people accepted me on such a personal level. They know my voice, and they know I care enough to speak to them.”
Garen was equally curious about the extent of Drake’s magic. The spirits had warned him about overusing the conjoined gates, but it was exciting to hear what new kinds of deep magic Drake might discover. Before they could discuss it deeper, servants brought in a feast. The table still felt uncomfortably quiet at moments, but silence had much less of a sting while savoring a freshly poached egg. The fuller his stomach grew, the more relaxed he felt catching up with them.
“Morgan,” Garen turned in his seat to face her, “I’m surprised to see you haven’t burned the place down,” he said with a mouthful of toasted rye-loaf. “What kind of trouble have you been up to?”
“By your definition of trouble, I’d say none,” Morgan replied. Garen remembered how much he enjoyed the soothing tones of her voice, even if it was poking fun at him. “Drake’s efforts have been focused on the people’s interests, but I’ve been preparing the city’s defenses. I intend to be prepared to stand against the Apatten if someone loyal to Sarkos is still controlling them.”
“But there’s still no sign of them?” Garen asked.
“That’s the good news I planned to share,” Drake said over an ineloquent mouthful of smoked meats. “I think I’ve located their new barracks.”
Morgan and Garen were caught equally off guard.
Drake finished chewing and wiped his mouth. “A tip from a traveling merchant caught my ear. There’s a building like the last one we found. I scouted it myself, though I opted to keep my distance, lest we begin a conflict we’re unprepared for. You happened to arrive just as I alerted my advisors to the situation. I requested one more evening to gather information before we send troops to rout them.”
“That’s pretty sudden,” Garen said, shocked by the quick turn of events.
“I have to agree,” Morgan said. “The Council took the news well, then?”
Drake answered with varied tones and wide hand motions. It was a strange performance for just the two of them. “It is, perhaps, the first time I have encountered this much resistance, but I find that reassuring. No one should charge headlong into war, especially against an enemy we know so little about. These followers could have amassed thousands of Apatten by now. Or, they could only be starting. After tonight, I will make sure we know enough to decide properly.”
Garen was torn. It was incredible news to know the location of the Apatten. Putting that fear to rest would finally let the people of Vikar-Tola stop worrying about their safety and focus on rebuilding. But the more Drake spoke, the more uncomfortable Garen grew. He wanted to tell his friend to slow down and listen to himself. The words themselves were fine, but the mannerisms weren’t Drake’s.
Garen tried to think logically. It was only one more day. Garen didn’t have a solution for how to help Drake yet, anyway. It was probably for the best to let Drake keep solving problems out here, even if it meant he rambled with a mouthful instead of his usual refinement. Perhaps kings couldn’t afford to be indifferent. Fight it as he tried, they were all changing.
“I’m guessing there’s no way for me to accompany you if you’re waiting until nightfall.” Garen said, already knowing the predicament.
“Yes, our gifts are at somewhat of an odds there. I’ll need the night sky to scout any closer. Once we march out, though,” Drake’s voice lowered and he met Garen’s eyes with a fierce stare, “I hope we can work side by side.”
“Will he be…?” Morgan asked, motioning with her head and clearly wanting to discuss the matter privately with Drake. She quickly realized that wasn’t an option. “I mean to say, should we discuss with Micah any of our plans before we take action?”
Drake sighed. “That would ease my conscience greatly, but I have to act in favor of speed rather than oversight right now.”
Morgan shook her head. “The Trans-Empire Relay is working again now that Vikar-Tola is back in the chain. Assuming Micah is still with Amiri in Kalyx, I could have word to him and receive correspondence before you return from scouting.”
Drake stared at his nearly-empty plate in front of him. He flicked at the scraps of crust. “You think an overcautious, out-of-touch man two kingdoms away is likely to approve a militant act without hesitation? We’ve all benefited from Micah’s personal touch of leadership, but he’s chosen to work alongside his brother Amiri for now. They both like to hold everything up close and stare it to death. Who knows the difference in forces we’d face if we wait an extra week. Or with Micah and Amiri bickering at each other, months. We need to strike first. There could be unfathomable numbers preparing to march on us.”
“Yeah, it’s a lot to take in,” Garen said. “But I’m with you. Action is better than waiting.” He turned and faced the still visibly distressed Morgan. “Thankfully, you guys aren’t the only ones mobilizing. I’ve been working with General Tragus. Naia and I are helping train his Centralian regiment he’s putting all his faith in.”
“Oh, really?” Drake perked up, intent with curiosity. “How many could he assemble?”
“Something shy of two hundred, I think. There’s hundreds more of the city guard that survived. They don’t have the depth to learn what we’re teaching, but it’s given them lots of hands to scavenge and lead rescue efforts.”
“I imagine that’s less Centralians than they’d hoped, but it’s good to know,” Drake said. “If we find ourselves outmatched, I’ll begin conversations toward a partnership there. Thank you for bringing those details to me.”
Garen shrugged and gave another awkward smile. “That’s what we do.”
The conversation lulled while Garen and Morgan cleared their plates. Drake smiled and nodded while staring out at nothing. “Yes, we’re so close,” he whispered to himself.
Garen snickered. “Okay, I’m trying to hold off on the ‘going crazy’ jokes, but you can’t start talking to yourself. I’ve got that kind of crazy covered for the group.”
Drake let out a deep-belly laugh. Normally, causing that kind of joy would have made Garen smile. The uncharacteristic response actually tensed him.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about the news,” Drake said. “As I mentioned, I’ve been receiving help learning my new abilities.”
Garen asked the question he wasn’t sure he wanted an answer to. “From who?”
“The other spirits wouldn’t tell you about mine. So, I asked him myself. And Therov spoke to me.”
The color left Garen’s face. “That’s not good.”
“Why not?” Drake asked. His brow furrowed. “He’s been teaching me how to communicate with the masses. He showed me a deeper magic than wind, and it’s restoring the soil here. We’re giving these people land they can live off of.”
“Okay,” Garen nodded along cautiously. “The magic seems fine. The spirit isn’t. He’s a monster, and he’s probably torturing the other spirit right now to gain that kind of power.”
“I see,” Drake said, pensive. “I’ll admit, I haven’t been able to speak with the Earth Spirit yet. I assumed that would come with time.” Drake thought for a moment longer. “Did your spirits finally share that information with you?”
If I’d known Therov would find a way to speak to his host, I would have, Kallista said. Therov should no
t be trusted. Your friend needs to stop using the Gate of Rupture and allowing Therov to speak, immediately.
Garen answered Drake through gritted teeth. “They should have much sooner. I’ve seen the memories myself. You need to back off on the magic, and you definitely can’t keep talking with him.”
Drake glared. “But you can? You understand my spirit is helping people. What have yours done? And why are the voices in your head trustworthy and mine evil?”
“Drake!” Morgan shouted. Her voice struck the glare from his eyes. “Listen to yourself! I know we’re doing good things here, but it is affecting you. You can’t keep pretending it isn’t. You should listen to Garen right now. He’s trying to help you.”
Drake forced a sadder, guilty smile. “As ever, you know me best.” Drake pushed back the heavy oak chair and stood. “Garen, I apologize for my shortness. I feel the long nights have taken their toll on my mind, and tomorrow’s will be the longest. I will take your words to heart while I rest. I believe Morgan can catch you up for any other questions on your mind. She has become the beating heart of the palace. No one is more essential to the Western Kingdom than her. No matter what happens to us when we face the Apatten, she’s committed to keeping the people here safe.”
Garen nodded, unsure how to respond. Morgan stood and stepped close to Drake for a private word. Garen couldn’t make out her question, but he heard Drake’s response all too clearly. “Take your time. We’ll tell him after.”
Chapter 25
“Just tell me now,” Garen said, pushing Morgan back with consecutive swings of the dulled training sword.
Morgan backpedaled with each blow. Her expression was serene. “You’re making this bigger than it deserves. You should stop worrying about it.”
Garen struck a low opening, the forward leg of her stance. She was lighter on her feet than he remembered. With the heel of her boot, she batted away the flat side of his sword, leaving him unguarded. Garen light-shifted behind her. He swung his practice sword around horizontally. It was the third time he’d tried to slip through her guard with the trick. He wasn’t sure why he expected it to work. She spun in time to parry the blade down and put him on the defensive.
“You’re spoiling me,” Garen laughed, trying to keep up with her feints. “I don’t think the Apatten will put me on my toes quite like this.”
“One of them? No. But it might help you fight a few hundred.”
Morgan’s movements grew predictable as she spoke, a weakness Garen didn’t share. He waited until their blades met to shift into a state of light. Morgan swung into nothing. The lack of contact caused her to stumble forward. Garen reappeared behind her. Before he could get the triumphant swing in, she released a burst of heat in every direction. He lost his own balance, falling forward onto his hands.
Instinct kept him from staying still. Without looking, he rolled forward to dodge whatever follow-up she’d deliver. He wasn’t quick enough. The dull edge of her sword slapped against his thigh. He felt the impact tremor all the way to the bone.
“Agh, yes, you got me.” Garen made it to his feet and dropped his weapon. He put one hand against his aching leg and the other palm forward to signal surrender. “Whew, so much for my guess that you’d gone soft living the palace life.”
The inner courtyard was too extravagant to forget where they were. The grass was vividly green, unlike the chaff outside the city. Wildflowers and taller plants lined the red-brick walls. Garen could see where some of Morgan’s sparring had withered the foliage, but no one came running to usher them away or treat them like children. Each of her interactions with the palace staff implied how much weight she carried, although Garen wasn’t sure to what extent yet. It was at least enough to blemish their beautiful inner garden and not have to deal with the backlash.
“This right here has been the extent of my ‘palace life.’ Fortifying the city. Aiding Drake in his political endeavors. Overseeing the discipline of a thousand underfed and undertrained soldiers. So, no, not much softness.”
Garen felt like an idiot for even joking that she’d had an easier time than the rest of them. He didn’t know the half of their struggles.
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I know that face. You’re not going to concern yourself with me. We’ve been successful. The people in and around Nhilim love Drake. And we’re a day away from handling the biggest unknown threat to our kingdom. Drake has been…different, but he’s nothing like the murderous Spellsword from Idrian’s story. He’s been the best thing that’s happened to this kingdom, possibly ever.”
Garen took a seat in the grass. He felt better knowing it was working out for them. He stretched the leg and put his healing magic to work. “Well, it’s nothing so grand as drinking tea with your angry grandmother while learning about the fabric of reality, but I’ll take your word.”
Morgan took a seat across from him. “Perhaps. I am willing to hear a little more about your progress. Where are you with helping Drake share one of his spirits?”
“It’s not coming together as quickly as I hoped, and it’s going to take more than just me. Karna showed me how the Water Spirit helped last time.”
Morgan looked upset. “Will that require Naia’s help?”
“Probably,” Garen shrugged. “We’ve been training the Gate of Choice to see if she can imitate how Ampelis pushed the other spirit out. Right now, she can’t even reach into another person’s soul.”
Morgan gave him a timeless expression, a singular-raised-eyebrow. It was the exact face he had imagined while spellshifting here.
Garen smiled. “I know, it sounds crazy, but that’s all I have to go off of. I need Naia’s help since we don’t have the Water Spirit trapped in a soul with Therov this time.”
Morgan nodded, a little less skeptical now. “It’s Earth. What gate does that draw from?”
Garen hadn’t considered trying to get help from the Earth Spirit. Before he could answer, he realized why Karna hadn’t suggested it. “That would be the Gate of Persistence. Good for keeping things the way they are. Sort of the opposite of what we want.”
“Then it has to be Naia?”
Garen saw the way Morgan shared every burden placed on her sister. He wracked his mind for what assistance the gates other than Choice could offer. “Who knows, Therov might not want to split, but if Drake dedicated the time to train with me, maybe he could harness the Gate of Rupture to do it himself.”
Morgan bit her lip. She chose her words carefully. “He may be,” she sighed with frustration, “less than willing at this moment.”
Garen had a strong guess where this was headed. He’d seen how Nereus had to be talked down.
Morgan sighed. “It’s impressive some of the feats he can accomplish. I watched him rebuild the palace walls in a matter of minutes. This courtyard is his doing. I can show you districts of Nhilim where he’s won the love of these people by providing them with beautiful homes and fresh wells. I can’t even comprehend how deep he can shift the terrain to make some stretches of land fertile. He’s trying to be a good king, but they’re starting to worship him like a god. I don’t know that I blame them, either.”
Garen nodded. “All of that stuff is great, but he’s changing. Doesn’t it make you a little uncomfortable? Every time he says something, I keep wondering whether it’s him or the spirits talking.”
“No, that much I don’t worry about, “Morgan said with conviction. “The outgoing, somewhat improper Drake you’re seeing hasn’t done a thing that the old Drake would disapprove of. It sounds like having a second spirit hasn’t affected his judgment, only his temperament.”
Garen wanted to agree, but he didn’t share the same amount of confidence. “I hope so.”
They sat in tense silence for a minute until Morgan stood and motioned him to follow. “Come on. Let’s introduce you to the Council. They’ll be helping us plan our next move.”
“Sure,” Garen said, walking behind her. “I’ll say, I’m surprised you aren’t more
curious about your spirit and his gate.”
Morgan led him into the palace proper. By the time Garen’s eyes adjusted from the sunlight, he realized Morgan was glaring at him. “I’m a little more clever than you credit. What would you call the opposite of Choice? Slavery? Doesn’t seem like the kind of magic I’d be interested in.”
“Karna called it the Gate of Compulsion. But yeah, same idea I guess. Apparently, my dad didn’t care to dabble with controlling people’s minds either.”
Morgan’s expression stayed firm as she kept walking. “From all I’ve heard, your father was a respectable man, and I wouldn’t respect anyone who’d manipulate another human being like a puppet.”
Garen remembered what it was like to see Naia and Argus being controlled at the Theltus Nisdal—their glossy eyes and empty stares. If Naia had shared any part of the story with her sister, he knew why Morgan would find it repulsive. Garen nodded solemnly. “I get chills thinking about it some days. But you have to admit, if we’re talking about a full-on war, it would be powerful to turn our enemies against each other.”
Morgan stopped in the center of the main hall. Servants and overdressed dignitaries went about their business, paying her no attention. The fire in her eyes stilled Garen’s breathing. “It’s hard enough to let Naia venture out on her own. I had to give up control of protecting her. Of her life!” Her emphatic disapproval gathered plenty of unintended ears. “Now you think I should be interested in magic that would warp me the opposite direction?”
Garen shook his head sheepishly.
Morgan sighed. Her voice became a gentler rebuke, a heat flickering at arm’s length. “This morning it sounded like you understood Drake’s dilemma. Now, I’m not sure you do. Some powers, no matter how good or useful, do terrible things to us. Their benefit will never be worth their cost.”
* * * * *