They groaned and nodded.
The man stopped in front of me. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Fox.”
I cracked my back and stretched, moving my limbs uncomfortably as if out of alignment. I felt off, like a crooked stick, straightened and wanting to bend again. “Where am I?” The men laughed. They did that often.
“Cut it out,” said the leading man to the others. “If I were out for four days, it’d be my first question, too. Welcome to Hazelshire, Fox. The name’s Spang.” We shook hands.
“Darwin.”
“Pleasure. These little ones here are Milton and Averi, son and daughter to my late wife, Merissa.” The children were inattentively playing with each other. “These men back here are the fine patrons of the Hazel Guard.”
I greeted them.
Spang was about to say something else when, “Oh, I almost forgot. What good’s a Fox without his effects?” He snapped and waved his fingers at the Guard. Down a file of men came my knife, belt, and dagger.
I pat my hips. Can’t believe I didn’t notice.
“I had to be sure you were harmless, leaving you with my little ones and all. Sorry if I offended you. I’ve always wanted to join the Militia and fight those damned Abyssians. My old man was a Fox—died years ago, though. You might have known him—Kristovagn, ring any bells?”
“No.” So many had died, I’d lost count—and memories. The name wasn’t even vaguely familiar.
Spang morosely averted his gaze. “Well anyway, I never did follow in his footsteps.... Stuck behind to look after this place. Somebody had to. Only action we get around here is from goblins and the occasional wild troll from Elwood.”
I snapped eyes at him. Elwood? This must be a village in the Vozmon Plains. “How far are we from Gemmin?” I asked him.
He set fists on his waist, eyes lifting to his lashes in thought. “About ten leagues I suppose,” he answered. The little girl Averi grasped four of my fingers in two of her hands, pulling my arm forward, palm up to reveal the Amethyst. A silvery gleam ran over it. I retracted as quickly as I could, but all of them had seen it.
“No use in hiding it,” said Spang. “We’ve all seen it. Besides, nothing stays a secret in this village. But still, it’d be better to move into the house before discussing anything about it.”
Back in the house the men lit the single room with lanterns and hung them from protruding nails. From a black corner, Spang hauled over a bearskin rug, and the men sat on the floor. “Please, you can sit on my bed. It’d be an honor.”
I was still drowsy. “Thanks.”
“Go fetch us some food, Jarak,” Spang ordered. “Some of Millie’s buck stew if you can.” A lanky, dark-haired man with long bangs ran out of the door. “You must be starving, Fox. Four days, no food—I’m suffering just thinking about it.”
Oddly I wasn’t, and neither had I been thirsty. The men conversed. “It seems the goblins are migrating south. We had to deal with more of them this time,” said one of them.
“Aye,” said Spang.
“More than we bargained for.”
“We may have to build a larger wall at the edge of the village before the start of Elwood.”
“Aye.”
I was focusing on the embers of a hanging lantern. My headache was leaving me; the soreness in my chest too. I returned to the thought of food, turning my head in surprise at the fact that, after four days, I hadn’t felt the need for it. I hope I don’t pass out.
“I am your nourishment.” It was a voice only meant for me as the men were still obliviously conversing. “You will only want for mortal needs when you have spent too much of your power. But you are no longer like them. You are ageless. You are nearly imperishable by mortal hands, the limits of your mortality stretched. You exist now as a being of the supernatural, a keeper of this world; a destroyer of the Abyssians.”
Amethyst?
It didn’t respond.
“You still with us, Fox?” I heard Spang say.
There was a steaming pot in the center of them as they passed around bowls and utensils.
I declined the offer to partake. The offering man’s face tightened. “So, are you going to tell us how you ended up here? And about that stone embedded in your hand?”
“You know better than I how I got here. I have no memory of it.”
“We were patrolling the plains when suddenly, like a light, you appeared out of nowhere, sprawled on a hillock. We all saw it. I would’ve thought you were an Arkangel sent by Galothaia himself had I not spied the Militia creed on your forearm, or the fox on your jacket. That’s when we noticed that pearly gem grafted in your hand. Mind telling us about it?”
I felt an unsettling energy stream from the Amethyst that gave my arms goose bumps. A warning. I scratched behind an ear and ran a hand over my face. “I love jewels,” I said abruptly. “Found this one off in the Vanik Isles, and I admired it so much, I wanted it stuck to my hand. Obsession... can be... quite a curse sometimes.”
“A stone that big?” said one of them flatly. “It’s a wonder it doesn’t come through the other side. It’s a decent size.”
“Had it cut it in half—only a half sphere.”
The men were silent. Spang downed a spoon of stew and pointed the dull utensil at me with a squinting eye. “Not sure I buy it, Fox. You’re a soldier. Why would you want to handicap yourself in a fight—doesn’t quite add up if ya’ ask me,” he said. Even I couldn’t believe the ridiculous story. “You’ve got to learn to keep a secret better than that, learn to be a better liar. You’re supposed to be cunning.”
I rubbed my chin. “Alright. How about this... I was traveling through the ruins of an old village, chopping down nasty skeletons when the ground cracked open, and we fell. I woke up in a vast catacomb where this little stone was waiting for me on a pedestal. When I touched it, it dug itself into my hand, and I fainted... Now I’m here.”
There was a long pause. And then an explosive roar of laughter filled the room. I had amused even myself with the truth. I sat with a grin. “That a better story?”
Spang plopped on the bed and set an arm around me. “We must teach you to be better at this,” he said. “After much thought, I concluded that there're only two places you could’ve gotten it.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve kept company with sprites or naiads,” he said. “Although I don’t know how. I thought the enchanted aquatic whores were dead.”
Though it was only part of the truth, my face confirmed the latter. “Nasty bunch they are, none too fond of men. They once killed our brothers on the spot. I’d say be careful with relations with them. Sprites are none too much better either. I pray you haven’t gone and gotten yourself cursed, though it's likely if you’ve dealt with either of those kinds.”
A young boy barged in the house. “Spang!” he yelled as if the man had been a mile away. “Tog’s got himself stuck on the roof of the elder’s house again.”
“Calm yourself, boy,” Spang snapped. “Lead the way.” The two of them bolted outside, the Hazel Guard going behind them, and I in their shadow.
An eight-year-old inched toward the sloped edge of the roof on the house at the top of the rock arch. If he fell, it would’ve been to his death on sharp boulders more than thirty feet below. Spang ordered two of his men to the house, and he skipped closer toward where the boy might drop.
“Help!” the boy, Tog, belted.
Spang growled. “We’ve been telling you to stay off the roof, boy’o. You never listen! You’ve gone and gotten yourself into an awful rut this time. Gotta deal with this on your own.” Spang was right. There was only so close anyone could get. Trees stymied the path before the boulders. Tog lost his footing and slipped. Everyone winced in surprise. He laid down against the shingled triangular roof, staying put for five minutes. “You’re going to have to make a move sometime, boy’o.”
Tog tried sidling to his right, far enough so that if he fell, it would be either in arms or on the ground closest to him.
“That’s it,” Spang urged. Turning and slipping, Tog descended from the edge, his face bound for the rocks a long way down. Shouts of terror sounded across Hazelshire.
The Amethyst awakened, burning my hand. I hissed and groaned from the sensation. Impulsively, my arm flew forward trembling with delicate vibration. Before Tog came to an impaling death, he stopped midair and froze. A moment later, he hovered to safety before me. I clenched my wrist, steadying it. The Amethyst flickered in quick successive twos and cooled.
“Thanks,” said the boy on his palms and haunches, his legs bent.
Scores of eyes watched me in silence. It seemed everyone in the village had seen what had happened. I left quickly, never looking at anyone as I hurried to take refuge in Spang’s house. Suddenly woozy, I sat on the bed, not knowing what to make of what had happened. “It’s what you’re meant to do,” said a voice.
There was naught but the darkness of the room. The Amethyst blinked, and I eyed it with terrible realization. I know you’re talking to me. You were talking to me before. It blinked again.
“Yes.”
What have you done to me?
“You’ve begun your transcendence. You are an Orbed One—made a protector of the world.”
A streak of anger found me, sweeping all other concerns aside. I sat upright and grumbled. I didn’t ask to be whatever that is. I hopped and pulled a knife from my belt, holding the point against my hand. I want nothing to do with you, orb, or your magic. As I went to chisel it free, it blinked, and the knife sparked with light, disappearing from my grasp against its touch. What?
“Your hatred for Abyssians and skill as a soldier was enough for my choice to become clear.” I was about to pull another from my belt until it warned me to stop. “You’ll never succeed. Only I can remove myself from you. If even in the slightest you did manage to depart from me, you would soon die.”
I drew the knife anyway, twirling it in my hand. Then leave my hand, stone.
It was silent.
Spang came in soon after, barking at everyone else to wait outside. “That’s a hell of a magic orb you got, Fox. Best not go outside for a while. The village folks are spooked.” He clicked his teeth and shook his head. “Humph... cursed,” he said. “You look tired again. If you are, I told you, my bed is your bed.” He left.
I’m not tired. Suddenly, I was. Blast! I leaned over against my will, eyes sluggishly blinking with fatigue. I was out again, sleeping into the dead of night when Spang’s throaty snore woke me. He and his two children had bagged themselves in bedrolls on the floor. I should get out of here, I thought, feeling I needed to be somewhere else.
I crept out of the house, careful not to wake anyone and shut the door soundlessly. I went on through the village with the feeling of something leading me. “Up there.” I heard in my head, almost as if it had been my own thought. I hiked the rock arch, going beside the house at the top into a cleared area built with a wood swing set. The moon was large and full, almost as if it had been drawing nearer, crashing down from the sky.
I sat on the edge of the hill, one leg hanging over the thirty-foot drop, and another bent with an arm over the knee. For the first time in a long time my mind was blank, my thoughts quieted. I looked at the Amethyst, wondering if it had been the cause of sudden cognitive peace. I was, yet again, numb. Magic used in warfare was uncommon to this age, ancient and nearly forgotten save for by sprites and naiads and rumors of witches. It belonged to the era of Angels and the Arkangels, during the time the Superiors lived amongst us, according to Doctrine.
Before the Superiors created Ezilum, the souls of those who had died had no place to dwell. They became distraught and, as a result, became specters—undead ghosts that killed the living and waged war against them. It was the war that caused the creation of Ezilum, and drove the Superiors into it, forever physically separating themselves from Vail. It was a great conflict of magic until they decreed all noble souls could join them in Ezilum. Those who were not, were locked away in a realm called the Revenance, cursed for eternity.
Afterward, there were many wars waged against the Angels for their power. But they were far greater beings than the Ruling Races. They slaughtered many, and as the last war came to a brutal end, the Angels saw fit to enslave the lesser beings. But this was not the will of the Superiors, and, for it, they received punishment. The Superiors took their wings from them, and the Angels relinquished dominion over the sky—cursed to walk the land. I knew the stories and the translations though I didn’t believe in them.
The Amethyst glowed coolly. The magnitude of magic from the orb had been a myth before that moment. The mauve stone had opened the door to possibilities I had neglected. The translations spoke of Angels doing mighty things, ruling the elements used to create the world, and even doing wondrous deeds merely on a whim of desire.
“Your will has been made into a tool of power.” It was the Amethyst again.
How did I get here—to this village, to Hazelshire? I came to ask it.
“You teleported, or rather, I teleported you.”
Tell me, where did you come from?
“From the shrine in which, you found me.”
I know that, but Guardian said you had been asleep for many years.
“Perhaps. I remember nothing before the moment I implanted myself in your palm. Nothing before then matters, neither for you nor me.”
What do you mean?
“I mean just that. You are no longer Darwin Valkyrie of Lucreris. You are Darwin, Wielder of the Ruling Orb—an Orbed One. Your inescapable task is to destroy the Abyssians.”
Humph. Let me guess, with your magic?
“Magic is a flippant term. The prestigious moniker to which you refer is Thaumaturgy,” it policed.
It was a term from Doctrine once used to describe the divine powers of the Angels before their fall from grace—miracles connected to the will and purpose of the Superiors. It became magic sometime after the fall. The Angels retained their powers, but the Superiors no longer blessed them.
But I told you, I want nothing to do with the supernatural. I’ve been fighting them as a man, and I’m still alive. I felt the orb’s irritation. Burning energy seethed through my left arm. I hissed.
“Stubborn as a bull, you are. It will be difficult to suppress this from your mind, I see. Better then to convince it.”
Suppress? You’ve been tampering with my head?
“Suggesting things is a better fit, just to keep your emotions intact. I don’t seek to control you. You can rest assured of that.”
I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t. It was like an unreachable feeling guarded by an unfamiliar force in my mind. The yearning energy I soon came to understand as curiosity overwhelmed me. The Amethyst was still suggesting things to my brain, though I couldn’t feel anything telling me so. There was no indicative sensation, but I knew, because I knew myself. I held strong resentment for anything connected with the Superiors. Just hours ago, I tried to cut the stone from my hand, and yet as I sat on the edge of the cliff, I felt almost no hostility toward it at all. It was at that moment in time that I became uncontrollably interested about that which I would have never been in the first place. I couldn’t fight it.
So, I’m psychic? I came to ask.
“Divine is a more suitable term. Your potential suggests that one day you’ll be as close to omniscient as any being of Vail can become. For now, your powers remain a fraction of such. You exist in a limited form. Very limited.”
Are there any more surprises I should know?
“Look at the moon.”
It was bigger than it was when I first sat, looming over me as if it were suddenly tangible. I stared unblinkingly. Suddenly I felt something touch my eyes, and the large, silvery blue circle became severely clear. I felt as if I’d leaped forward. I could see it as if I were but only a hundred miles away. Its surface was dull and cratered—a land of rock engulfed in the blackness of space. There was no life. My sight retracted in a blur. I
flinched.
What magic was—
“Your senses are greatly enhanced.”
The once quiet night erupted with sounds of wildlife. Amongst the loudest were crickets and birds and somewhere was running water.
“The river north of the village,” said the Amethyst.
The Tucson? But it’s ten leagues from here.
“Yes.”
Miles beyond the entrance of the village, on a rock formation in the Vozmon Plains, sat an owl. I could hear its hoots and the flap of its wings once it swooped into the air. I pressed hands to my face and grimaced. Make them stop.
The sounds quieted. “They will worsen if you don’t learn to control them.”
How bad?
“You’ll go mad and die one way or another, perhaps by taking your own life or from the potency of the thaumaturgy coursing through you.”
Can I die otherwise?
“Your mortality is improved, but you are mortal nonetheless. You can be killed—though it will be no easy task. I cannot dull the edge of a blade, but any natural force without thaumaturgy is nearly useless against us.”
Any other way?
“Reckless expenditure of your power. This should be your most pressing concern, certainly more than any blade. You will be in a weakened state and in dire need for mortal provisions: sleep, food, water, rest. Only then will you ever be so mortal again.”
Good to know.
I lay back setting an arm over me. The chilled wind was soothing. I stayed in that position for hours, never tiring. It wasn’t until I desired to be tired that I fell away in slumber.
“Very well.” And after that, the Amethyst said no more.
I woke up to a loud voice blaring across Hazelshire.
“We’re under attack! Goblins from Elwood!” The man who was large and bleeding, collapsed with a gasp, his blade covered in green liquid. Spang and the Hazel Guard came bolting from many houses with swords and shields at the ready. I met them at the bottom of the arch.
“How many? Are there any trolls?” questioned Spang sharply. The man gasped once more, never answering. His head leaned with soulless eyes. Spang pressed his fingers deep into his throat. Dead. “All right, men, get ready! To the trail!”
Enigma: Awakening Page 12