Dire Sparks (Song of the Aura, Book Five)

by Gregory J. Downs

  You became a thing of fire and ash, and you massacred the Lordytes who sprang to my aid. You cut off the rebellion’s head there, and then you burned its body.

  But you did nothing to me. And you did not finish Elia off, even after she denied you. I don’t understand… but I don’t trust you. I never did.

  What are you planning, Golden One? I have read your sacred books, in the dark places you thought you had hidden from me. I know your name among the Legion.

  You are the craftiest, those books said. The one who plans. Plots. Backstabs. You are a master of betrayal, yourself, Sheolus. Only the Master of the Legion himself is your rival.

  You confound me, Demon. Perhaps you knew all along I had read those books. Perhaps you knew that one day, I would turn on you. Perhaps.

  But if you did… why let me go? Can you see the future? Is there something I have missed, in my plans? There must be. If you wanted, you could catch me. But you haven’t.

  What have I missed? What is it? Fate is breaking, you say… but is it? Has not everything come to pass in its own way, no matter what we try? Prophecy cannot be defeated.

  I WILL defeat you, Sheolus, even if I must join the Aura to do so. And then it will be I, and not you, who plans the fate of heroes.

  I am not a hero. But I will guide the paths of heroes, and then you will be powerless to stop me. You taught me too much. Too well.

  Are you ready to die, Sheolus?

  Elia was stirring. Gramling snapped back to reality, and shook her the rest of the way awake. “Elia. Elia. It’s time. We have to go, before Sheolus sends out the other Agrivors. They could come any day, any minute now.”

  He doubted it, actually. If his suspicions were correct, then Sheolus would not spare his top assassins on a hunt he wanted to lose.

  “Alright,” Elia said quietly, and pushing her blanket aside, sat up and put out her hand.

  That was how they had worked it. She would reach for him, and he would guide her. He had helped her walk, and run, and eat. He had prepared a bed on the hard ground each night, and slowly taught her to do what she could on her own.

  He helped her up, pressed some dried fruits into her hand, and set about gathering the few things they carried around for camping. She still would not Stride, or even try, out of trauma or depression… and that worried him more than her blindness. He felt sorry for her… but he refused to believe all was lost, and blast it if he didn’t make her believe the same, in the end! Her gentle apathy frightened him more than the threat of Agrivors, by far.

  Camp was packed in less than a minute. They ate a cold meal of dried fruit and roots: trail food such as the Golden Nation armies thrived upon, enhanced with Pit Striding growing techniques… which he neglected to tell her, of course. Then they were on their way again, for the ninth day since the massacre in the Golden Sepulcher. This time he hoped to travel through the night and the rest of the next day, if possible.

  He could heal injuries, but not exhaustion. And exhausted was something they both were.

  Chapter Fourteen: Healing

  Uncounted days seemed only to prove Gramling’s theory. The Golden Nation was mobilized, and troops marched to Goldenport and Goldenpoint every day… but no Agrivors came, and his dreams gradually grew silent, if not perfectly contented. The land was populated, and the Kinn were a stubborn people, able to thrive even when totally enslaved and bound to the harshest of conditions. With stealth, they almost never lacked for shelter or provision… tasteless as that provision might be.

  And gradually, Elia began to improve. She did not Stride again, but she grew even tougher than she had been in the Sepulcher… more silent, and more ready to deal with her condition than he would have expected. She could soon do most things on her own, to the degree that he almost suspected she was not totally blind after all. She disagreed. The world was ever-dark for her, but she seemed able to sense things that no ordinary blind man or woman could. She spoke of “air-water,” and “feeling,” which he accepted as some lingering part of her Sea Nymph nature.

  And ever closer they drew, to Goldenport… and freedom.

  Stay alive, Brother, Gramling prayed, casting his thoughts out in hopes of somehow kindling a connection. It never worked, but he kept trying. Just stay in one piece. Fight the tide. Stem it. I’m on my way… just stay alive.

  Ever closer. Ever stronger. But always in danger.

  The game was far from over.

  ~

  Goldenport was far from golden, in Gramling’s opinion. He had been there several times during his life and training, and each time the city seemed to grow dingier and more… washed-out. Paler, as if the life was slowly being sucked from sandstone buildings and brownwood piers by the cold northern air.

  There was a remarkably healthy criminal element to the place, though, despite the iron-handed garrison that oversaw the Golden Nation’s naval functions. In fact, there was good business between certain underworld factions and the Golden Navy. Some of the best Deathfins in the navy were piloted by brigand-captains who dealt with both sides, and came off the richer for it. Submission had not hurt the natural vices of the Kinn race at all.

  And that was more than good for Gramling. Especially now, as he hurtled from the roof of one building to the balcony of another, on his way to make the deal that would ship Elia and him out of the Golden Nation. Balancing on the edge of the balcony, Gramling searched the mantelpiece of the door for the telltale signs…

  …Three slashes of black. Blast. That meant this mist-house was being watched. It was suspect, and business-minded individuals were to stay away until conditions were more favorable. Corruption could only get one so far in the Golden Nation… this wasn’t Ymeer, after all.

  Gramling sighed, taking a quick look around on all sides to make sure he was not being watched himself. The Kinn on the bustling streets below hadn’t noticed him; they never looked up if they could help it, in his experience. It was quite a drop, though he felt confident Stone Striding could save him if he fell.

  Next, he checked the domed roofs that stretched out in sprawling zigzags on all sides. No one was visible, though they hardly would be if they were spies. He’d have to be more careful, then. His stolen white cloak and hood would hide his identity only partially. There were strange stories told of the Golden One’s Paleskin Agrivor, here on the coast. Few would know that he was the truth behind the tales, but still…

  Gramling arched his back, dropping off the balcony in a backwards flip that carried him through the air in slow-motion. When his body pointed almost straight down, he spread his fingers and slapped the sandstone wall with all his might. Stone Striding was more effort than Pit Striding, at least for him, but he was far from incompetent.

  His hands latched to the smooth structure as if they had been nailed there. His body whipped downward faster than the eye could follow, and he hit the wall with his bare feet, Stone Striding again. Whump. It hurt, but he bore it with pleasure.

  Perfect execution. His hood hadn’t even come off.

  Gramling began a rapid descent, hand over hand over foot, down the wall and behind a large pile of partially-hewn sandstone bricks that lay in the alleyway haphazardly, as if the lazy workers in this portion of town had just walked away from the job. He chuckled as he dropped off the wall into a crouch behind the cover of the blocks. Not likely, that. Laziness was punished with death, here.

  Rising, he dusted off his cloak, cinching it tighter with the embroidered scarlet belt that identified him as a lesser agent of the Law, allied with the Northern Argentor, high administrator of the Golden One’s will. With his hood up, gloves on, and a black silk mask across his face, he would look to the street-goers as an important Kinn who wished to remain anonymous. Hiding in plain sight… it appealed to him hugely, and was probably the best course of action in a place where he would be expected to skulk and hide from view.

  Twice more he checked to make sure he had not been seen or followed. Three times he doubled back on the same two alle
ys. One could never be too careful. Once out in the main city, though, he cut straight to his destination. The fewer people who saw him in this disguise, the better.

  Once he had reached the shipyard he sought, Gramling entered the largest warehouse in the complex, bribing the guards with stolen coppers from two days before. This place was run by the Golden Navy, but it was still one of the best places for business that he had ever come across. Inside, he made his way to the back rooms where he knew to find the one he sought. And in the smallest, dingiest mapmaker’s chamber, he found just the Kinn he’d planned to confront all along.

  Touch and go, he told himself. Very touch and go… but he’ll bend, if you make him. Just don’t let him break.

  “Hello, Trekno,” he said in the Kinntongue, sliding down the mask so that light from a window fell on his face. The thin Kinn man behind the desk leaped up, scattering his papers and ink. A flame flickered in one hand, but the mapmaker extinguished it as soon as he realized who was before him.

  “Ag… Ag… Agrivor Gramling! Why are… No. I don’t want to know. What do you want with me?” His consternation was amusing, really. Gramling would have to kill him if he blabbed, but if he served well…

  “You owe me. If not for my efforts, you would still have been back at the Golden Sepulcher when it fell. You’re a spineless rebel, Malcyte Trekno… but you’re too useful to let get away.”

  “Actually,” stammered the cowardly Pit Strider, “It was Lordyte Zonder who… I mean, he thought I’d be more use… disguised…”

  Gramling snorted, and leaned forward, palms on the desk, fire in his eyes. “It was ME, you fool. I told him to send you here, because you’d be a liability in battle. You’re weak, and twice as likely to sell out as you are to fight. Even that Paleskin girl was better than you… and you were her teacher!”

  “I… I… I…”

  Gramling let the Kinn stutter and shake. It was no concern of his what Trekno thought, as long as he performed his duty. Finally, though, he’d had enough.

  “Listen to me, Trekno. You are because I allow it. If the Law knew you were a rebel, and a disguised Pit Strider runaway to boot, they’d tell the Argentor. And the Argentor would kill you in minutes, if he knew.” The shock on the Malcyte’s face was hilarious, but Gramling kept his humor in check.

  “Ah… A… Are you with the Law?” Drat this uniform. He’d forgotten about it… if he said no, now, as he’d planned, his compromised position might cause Trekno to consider double-crossing him. Well… he’d have to risk it.

  “No. But if you don’t get me passage with the next troop convoy… SAFE passage, for two passengers, with no questions asked… The Law will be on you instantly. With the recent rebellion being put down, any traitors to the Golden Nation will be snatched up like twigs in a blaze. I have connections, Trekno. I could even burn you to death myself… RIGHT NOW!”

  He yelled the last two words, hoping no one outside the room would think strangely of it. Stranger things had happened in the belly of Goldenport, after all. Trekno was pale and trembling so hard his teeth chattered… but Gramling smiled coldly and straightened up, folding his arms casually across his chest.

  “I… I… will do as you ask,” the Malcyte said, bowing and scraping as if his life depended on it… which it did.

  “Good,” Gramling said. He turned to go, but stopped just inside the door. “Malcyte Trekno?”

  “Y… yes, O Agrivor?”

  Gramling turned his head slightly. “I visited that scrawny woman of yours, earlier today. Don’t try to double-cross me. I know everything about you… and her. I’d hate for her to suffer for your cowardice… and that’s just what will happen, if you don’t do as I ask.”

  “Ye… Yes, my lord. Return in the… the evening, and it will be arr… arranged.”

  “Thank you.”

  Then he left. Elia was waiting in an abandoned building on the outskirts for him to retrieve her and bring her to the docks.

  This would be the trickiest part of all.

  ~

  The building where he’d left her and stowed their supplies had once been a city manor of some magnificence. The skeleton of what it had been still held some measure of the original splendor, but most of the structure had been razed to the ground in some unnamed earlier conflict. Now, it was not much more than a crumbling monument to what had been. No sound broke the tomblike silence, and…

  …No. Wait. Gramling halted, ready for trouble. There was a sound, coming from further in the ruins. It sounded like… water. Running water. Daring to hope, he sped around the corner of two cracked walls, into what had once been a central courtyard of the manor.

  Elia sat over the gutted remains of a sandstone fountain, floating on a seat of ever-flowing water that gushed up from below. Impossible… Gramling’s heart leaped, and he threw back his head, laughing at the sky.

  “You did it!” he cried, not caring who heard. “You’re Sea Striding again!” he ran to the edge of the fountain, but Elia did not break her posture in the slightest. Her legs were crossed under the skirts of the gray peasant’s garb he’d stolen for her, and her arms were wrapped around her stomach as if she felt cold.

  Slowly, her head raised and her eyes opened. The sightless white orbs disturbed even him… but he had never said as much to her. Then, hesitantly at first, but growing more confident, she smiled. She hadn’t smiled even once during their journey. Turning her head towards him, she joined in his laugh.

  “Yes…” her voice was nearly bursting with joy. “When you left… I was ready to die. To take my own life, even. But then… I felt the sea.”

  “The Power of Sea?” he asked, reaching up. She took his hand without hesitation, and he grinned like a fool. Her senses were improving dramatically, without sight. Could this really be happening?

  “No,” she answered. “The sea. We’re so close to it... I can sense its vastness, just waiting for me to touch it. To draw on it.”

  The water she had summoned from the long-dead fountain began to recede, and she stretched out her legs to step onto the lip of the pool. As the last of the liquid receded behind her, she stepped to the ground, taking his arm and leading him- leading him!- to where their supplies were stowed in the courtyard’s corner.

  “How… how has this changed things?” he asked, almost afraid for the answer. She was having trouble with her pack - not perfect, then - and he helped her put it on.

  “It’s changed everything,” she said, a bit wistfully. “The sea opened up a new world for me. I still can’t see… at least, not with my eyes. But I can sense things with Sea Striding that I could never sense before. It’s sight… of a kind. I could do it a little, back in the Sepulcher. Now… it’s the only way I can manage.”

  He put his own pack on, and they walked across the courtyard to the manor’s exit. Elia avoided the fallen blocks of sandstone as if she really could see again.

  “Are there limits?” Gramling asked.

  Elia shrugged. “I suppose. The more water in the air, the more nearby… the better. The less, the worse. I’m in my element, here.”

  “Literally,” he joked, and she gave him a flat stare. Blast, but that was unsettling!

  “Not funny,” she said, but her stare broke and she pealed into laughter.

  “Shhh,” he cautioned, “we’re not out of danger, yet.” He halted. “Oh… almost forgot. I have a disguise for you, similar to mine.” He pulled it out from under his robe, and handed it to her. “You’ll need it.” She took it, smiling oddly.

  “I still need you, too, Gramling,” she said quietly. “Don’t leave me, whatever you do.”

  He smiled, but something felt uneasy in his heart. “I won’t. I swear it.”

  Chapter Fifteen: Seeing

  Gribly closed his eyes for sleep, and when he opened them again he was standing atop Traveller’s mountain. The Gray Aura soon materialized beside him, looking singed on the edges but otherwise his usual, wry-humored self.

  “Well, you d
id that far easier than I’d expected, Youngling,” Traveller said. “The Otherworld is no easy thing to reach, but you’ve done it faster than… anyone.”

  “You mean faster than my father,” Gribly said, voice grim. That gave the Aura pause, but eventually he nodded.

  “Yes… that is what I meant. He was no easy student. Your powers of divination are quite astute, my young apprentice.”

  Gribly snorted. “When I learn to speak your language, I’ll tell you. Until then, please speak like a human being.”

  “But I’m not a human being,” Traveller protested. Gribly didn’t deign to answer. “Anyway,” the Aura finally continued, “that’s not what we’re here for.”

  “What are we here for?” Gribly inquired. The Aura’s mental summons had come most unexpectedly. “Lauro isn’t going to like me letting myself fall asleep on guard duty… especially since we’ve been pushed back past the Lost Walls. It’s been a hard month. His nerves are on edge, what with commanding… and all.”