Spellshift

by Allen Snell

  “Well, let’s start with the obvious comparison,” Aethis said, her tone less dramatic and more conversational. She stepped to one of the soldiers still cowering against the ground. “This is the sacrifice we must make, no matter how little resistance occurs.” The man was barely conscious when Aethis lifted his arm, and where the leather armor folded, she plunged a long, thin dagger into his side. The soldier took a final gasp. He never exhaled it. Aethis let go of his arm, and he fell limp.

  Behind her, Tragus managed to trap the Apatten’s feet into the ground with a bit of earth magic.

  Aethis didn’t seem to care. “The first death is unavoidable. Such is life. But every sacrifice beyond the first is the result of a poor choice. Men with conviction like your General are capable of choosing the least of all evils. If men like him were truly in charge, perhaps Sarkos would have spared Vikar-Tola. Unfortunately, this man is only a servant of the Jundux, and kings never care who dies fighting their battles.”

  General Tragus batted the Apatten’s sword away easily. He pulled his sword back for an executing strike against the helpless creature. The ground covering the Apatten’s feet parted. It lunged toward Tragus with a knee to the groin and pounced on top of him. It had only its fists, but the blows were horrifying to watch. Without a sword or any clean method of killing, the Apatten’s obedience to kill became monstrous. Its knuckles pounded into Tragus’ face one after another until the decorated, lifelong veteran stopped resisting for good.

  “I have no grievance with a leader who dies in his soldier’s place.” Aethis said as the second Centralian scurried away. She turned to Garen. “But your fate is still undecided.” She moved closer, holding the dripping red dagger by her side. “You are not a necessary sacrifice to save our kingdoms. So, will you be a pointless one? Or will you side with reason against the Jundux atrocities?”

  Garen had only seconds to consider his options before the Apatten and Aethis would be on top of him. He needed to stall. “If I’m willing to hear you out, will you answer me one thing?”

  Aethis stopped. “That depends on the question. What would open your mind?”

  “I want Drake alive.”

  “That’s not a question,” Aethis frowned.

  “I don’t care. If you have his spirits, he’s of no use to you now. But he’s my friend. Let me take him somewhere safe. After that, maybe I can help you make Amiri pay.”

  Aethis paused in thought. “You are a generous soul, and I can see your mind is made up. Unfortunately, Drake is worth more to me dead than you are alive. In fact, you’re actually worth quite a bit to me dead. So, my mind is made up as well.”

  She stepped toward him. Garen tried to shift in any direction. His body remained still. Like every other spell he tried to use near her, she dismissed it instantly. An Apatten pinned his wrists to the ground. Garen stared up into the blinding sun.

  Aethis knelt beside him, one hand on his chest and the other clutching her dagger. Garen had never felt this helpless, magicless. He tensed every muscle in his body as he imagined the piercing chill that would enter above his ribs.

  A gray spike shot through the Apatten’s chest and blocked the sun above Garen. The grip on Garen’s wrists released and the ground dropped out from under him. He fell out of Aethis’ reach. He saw the shock on her face as the ground swallowed him whole and sealed around him. For a second, he laid in complete darkness and silence.

  The ground shook, and Garen released an orb of light into the tiny space. Even if he’d wanted, he didn’t have enough room to stand. A small patch of dirt split apart. The cleft was too small to reach inside. A deep voice echoed through it.

  “You should leave. Go as far west as you can.”

  The voice was too garbled to recognize, but the power was obvious. Someone in possession of the Earth Spirit had returned a favor. The advice wasn’t even half bad. At the thought of traveling west, his mind went to the person who could turn the tide of war against the Apatten all by herself.

  Chapter 30

  “I need physicians to the throne room, immediately!” Morgan shouted. Half a dozen guards scattered out of the room. “Garen, what’s happening? Our relay operators haven’t had any returned contact today. And now, you show up looking like this?”

  Garen stared up at her with overwhelming pain and sadness and shook his head.

  “Not even a pithy remark. That’s bad. We’re going to get you taken care of.”

  Garen nodded and laid back. Men in dark robes rushed into the chamber and knelt by his side.

  I’m going to need to stop easing some of the pain so they can see exactly what’s wrong, Kallista said.

  “You’re joking. This is eased?” Garen spoke aloud.

  The physicians gave a worried glance to each other and Morgan. “He’s fine mentally,” she said, words spoken about him for the first time in his life. Garen had no peace to appreciate it. The aches and stings along his body went from a steady pulse to a stabbing eruption. Garen flailed the limbs he could still control. They needed a guard’s help to restrain him.

  One physician felt along the shattered bone between his shoulder and neck. Another tried to stop the bleeding from his leg. He discovered there was little more than skin keeping it attached. The sedation finally arrived. Garen would never be at ease with the prick of needles along his neck, but he welcomed the outcome.

  He woke in a different room restrained by bandages and braces. He tested their strength. Moving was out of the question.

  “A precaution I personally requested,” Morgan spoke up. Garen couldn’t turn his head, but he knew her calming voice well. A quick filter of light let him confirm they were alone. She sat attentively in a chair by his side. “I was afraid that as soon as I stepped out, you’d wake up and try to run off to war.”

  Garen stopped trying to test his restraints. “How long?” His voice was raspier than he expected.

  “Just a day, don’t worry.”

  “You said war. So, you know what’s happening?”

  “An ambassador arrived from Kalyx last night by levitrans. It took about a dozen prominent individuals to convince him we have no part in the violence taking place.”

  “They believed you?”

  “I think. He left right away to deliver our message.”

  “Good,” he cleared his throat and sighed. “The sooner we can move soldiers east, the fewer towns will be ransacked by the creatures. The Apatten don’t have rations. They pillage all they can along the way. The relay towns don’t look much better than Vikar-Tola at this point.”

  Morgan hesitated. “Garen, I’m very sorry. But that wasn’t the message we sent.”

  Garen had no body language to express his confusion, only an aggravated tone. “What?”

  “We can’t afford to dispatch our limited military, not with an unknown threat out there. We have to consider a second assault on this city.”

  “But you were planning to march every troop to stop them when we thought we’d found their base.”

  “And I still would,” Morgan said, the authority in her voice holding strong. “But stopping their…creation process,” she found the odd words, “is a much different scenario.”

  “So, you just sit here, play queen, and protect yourself until every other capital falls?”

  The room fell silent, and Garen had plenty of time to taste the bitter air of his words. She spoke in a firm, calm voice. “You haven’t known me my entire life, but you know what I’ve done with it. I live to protect others. I have given up every peace and security to watch over Naia, to bring Drake back safe, and to guide a kingdom away from a war of convenience. And when the spirits saw fit to curse me with the gift to burn cities to the ground, I spent it alongside Drake forging the materials to build them back up. So yes, Garen, I will be leaving the standing army at Nhilim’s defense. That is their purpose.”

  “I see,” Garen said, feeling more restrained by her words than the bandages encasing him.

  “No, you don
’t yet. The army’s place is defending the city, but I’m not their queen. Without Drake, I doubt I ever will be. My place is by Naia. Her place is by Micah. And Micah, as I understand, is in desperate need of his Spellswords right about now.”

  Garen felt the pools of water build in the corner of his eyes. Without use of his hands, he had to endure the embarrassment and let one spill down his cheek. “Okay,” Garen whispered. “I might not—”

  “I don’t know what you’re capable of recovering from with that spirit, but take your time. I need to prepare for a few other scenarios that might result in my absence. Drake trusted me with an abundance of responsibilities that I now have to delegate. I’m taking a levitrans to Naia tomorrow. I’ll travel east with her, and we’ll begin the fortifications with Micah if that’s our only option. I intend to light a very literal fire under whoever is responsible for Drake’s death. Don’t rush getting back to us. I know you’ll join us when you’re ready.”

  * * * * *

  Garen needed to stay awake and force his body to heal. He couldn’t keep it working while he slept. Unfortunately, staying awake meant being locked in a room with thoughts he would prefer to run from.

  Aethis was a monster. That was one matter he didn’t have to question. He knew she was evil. But unlike any other enemy, he didn’t feel validated by opposing her. It only seemed to make matters worse. The question that bothered him most wasn’t whether she was evil. He wondered, with great discomfort, was she a necessary evil?

  He refused to believe it. No matter how many lives were stolen and oppressed by the slave trade, this kind of widespread destruction couldn’t be the ideal solution. Aethis, and whoever she was taking orders from, had deeper grudges. They didn’t have to lay waste to everything opposing them. They wanted to.

  Garen rested for a moment, firm in his belief that their evils were far from necessary. Another fear chipped away at his faith. What if this unnecessary evil was unavoidable? Kalyx might be able to hold off the Apatten, but an Earth Rogue changes everything. Their city couldn’t stand against both.

  He entertained a dangerous thought for a second, and he hated the outcome. What if Drake had been able to use Sarkos as a tool the way he wanted to? What if they had bowed to his threats? Argus and Drake would still be alive, as would the countless thousands in Vikar-Tola. For Kalyx, the present would look about the same. Aethis went pretty far to demonstrate how many lives his stubbornness was costing them. She shouldn’t have needed to.

  Every choice had its consequences. Garen knew even if the Spellswords arrived in Kalyx and repelled the Apatten, impossible as it seemed, slaves would still be starving to death inside the guild towers. He promised that he’d be back to help. He believed in that promise, too. He could see how easily he’d been able to push that promise out of his mind. Garen tried to rationalize his actions. His friends’ lives and sanity were at stake. Without those distractions, he would be fighting for the prisoner they met, for Belen’s sister, and for every other captive without question. Right?

  He felt an oppressive guilt and forced himself to remember that the guilds, Sarkos, and Aethis were the ones responsible for these evils. And yet, just like Pyralis, they looked down on Garen and tried to expose his flaws. He hated them for it. No matter how much he tried to help others, to live a life that his father would be proud of, they only tore him down.

  He didn’t have much encouragement in his life, either. Morgan was usually supportive, except for days like today, but he deserved that. Naia tended to be the opposite. She gave compliments about as well as she took them. And Micah was the last person Garen could turn to with misgivings about his actions. Every word they’d exchanged had ended in a shouting match recently.

  Who else did that leave? Idrian? Karna? She’d expressed her feelings about the Spellswords plainly enough. The world was falling apart, and Karna refused to use her magic to fix so much as a broken lute. He could still picture the wooden pieces in a pile. There was no reason not to fix it. The Gate of Persistence had shown him how, but she’d insisted, “Some things are meant to stay broken.” It was a tired and sad way to say, “I don’t care.”

  Garen turned his attention back to his shoulder and his knee. The braces and bandages were more than he could move on his own. He wished he could repair his body using the Gate of Persistence like the lute. Suddenly, he wondered why he’d never tried that at all. He could be in Kalyx helping Micah right now, possibly even beat Morgan and Naia there. Garen wasn’t sure if it was even possible, but he had to try.

  I’m not fond of the old hag, but you shouldn’t disregard her training so easily.

  “You’re just always eavesdropping on me, aren’t you?”

  Over a hundred years in this state and I haven’t learned how not to.

  “Alright, fine. What dire consequences will I face if I use the gate to restore my leg? Some sort of spell feedback that could blow us all up?”

  The consequences aren’t magical. When you restore something to the way it was, you ignore consequences. You learn nothing. You will make the same mistake twice as carelessly next time.

  “I’m not exactly looking for more knee-ripping opportunities.”

  You aren’t? Because it sounded a moment ago like you’d use your undeserved health to resume your recklessness.

  Garen had to lie in silence, unable to think of any potent response. He hated that Kallista could hear all the insincere quips his mind formed and dismissed. “So, that’s it? I have to wait and let others fight my battles for me?”

  There are more alternatives to moving backward than just standing still. Continue to meditate on the road ahead. Sleep as your body allows you. I will continue your healing as you rest.

  “There you are again, helping me when I least expect it. I thought you’d want me to stay here out of Therov’s reach as long as possible. Safer for you.”

  I took my time considering the possibilities. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that Therov will come for me eventually. I would prefer to face him head on than wait for him to gather the others and come for me alone.

  “Thanks. I know you explained it all selfishly, but still…thanks. It’s nice to know there’s someone on my side.”

  The sound that followed was peculiar. Not quite a laugh, but more jovial than a sigh. I’ve been on worse sides.

  In a drought of encouragement, a drop felt like a downpour. And Garen slept.

  * * * * *

  Some of the physicians marveled at Garen’s recovery. Others cursed. He saw the disdain in their eyes when he started walking with a brace on his second day. They told him he was being reckless. They didn’t realize how slow he was taking it. It was still surreal to simply rest. A dozen times he’d considered spellshifting to Kalyx, just to stay informed. He chose to trust his friends instead. It was a constant trial, one he didn’t care for.

  Recovering in Nhilim was strange in its own way, too. Half a year ago, he would have assumed every person in the palace worked for Pyralis, and he’d have cut down anyone who raised a weapon against him. Now, he saw their innocence, just citizens working for their wage. They treated him kindly and attended to his needs like he was their own.

  One woman in particular made sure of it. She didn’t know him prior to his injuries, and he hadn’t figured out why she kept bringing him home-baked goods. But twice a day she arrived with a bowl of stew or a meat pie. All she told him was, “A friend of King Drake’s is a friend to us all.” Her smile beamed beneath shoulder-length hair. He saw her joy in giving it, so he didn’t question it further. After tasting the first meal, he wouldn’t have dared refuse it, either. Her concoctions were infinitely tastier than the oat gruel his physicians offered.

  The next day, he asked a few of the guards to spar with him to test his mobility. They were reluctant but easily provoked. There was something effective about a nearly-crippled boy taunting how many ways he could disarm you. Garen held his own, but every movement still felt slow and stiff. He knew they were holding
back on him. They also weren’t seven feet tall and made entirely of muscle. He chose to trust Morgan for the thousandth time and gave himself another night of sleep.

  By the fourth day, he felt almost as good as new. He took the brace off and savored every moment of the warm bath they drew for him. He donned a fresh tunic and trousers, then retrieved his cleaned, re-stitched jerkin.

  Garen belted his father’s katana to his side. He’d given himself a welcome distraction for the last few days by cleaning and diamond wrapping the red fabric along the hilt. With the sword in its sheath, the bronze image of a tiger stared up at him from the tsuba. That was encouragement enough. His father never needed to be told he was doing the right things. He just did them. It was time to rejoin the fray.

  “You’re listening to my thoughts, right? Are you ready?” Garen asked.

  I am. But the formal request is appreciated.

  Garen smiled, closed his eyes, and let his soul plunge through the gate. He pushed aside memories of a nervous, young Micah. He moved past the mysterious respect he held for Kiron. He found the present Micah, an unlikely leader. The over-caring, over-burdened king with just a streak of furious majesty buried deep inside. Garen was lucky to have friends like Micah.

  He felt the wind on the back of his neck.

  “There’s no way for you to warn someone before you arrive, is there?” Micah asked. He leaned his back against the railing of the Spiredal balcony.

  “Not yet. But the day I start sending messages through the Spirit Realm is a scary one for everybody.”

  Micah’s expression softened until their grins matched. “It’s good to see you in one piece. Morgan’s description of your injuries had me worried.”

  “You? Worried?” Garen went heavy on the sarcasm but kept his smile fixed. “What other madness have I missed?”