by Ren Cummins
“Three hundred years?” Rom asked. “You don’t look that old.”
He smiled. “Benefits of the awakening – it locks us into the time of our transition – or at some relative time thereafter; it is of our choosing. You’ll figure that part out when it’s time.” He had, she was discovering, the annoying habit of walking while he talked; so she was forced to not only follow his words, but follow him with her eyes as he wandered around the room – simultaneously filtering out the various random objects or books he picked up and examined while he spoke.
“Eventually, my partner was moved on to another world and his replacement arrived. She wasn’t a newborn, like you are – she was a fully trained harvester like the Is’iin she was sent here to replace. Something about her bothered me – I couldn’t quite place my finger on it at the time, but when I had at last discovered her true plans, it was too late.
“What happened to your gem – you had one, right?” Rom asked, pointing to her own gem.
He nodded, pointing to the scar on his wrist. “Artifice stole it from me. To this day, I don’t know quite how she managed to do it – but I was able to escape before she could finish me off entirely. Spell for spell, I may have been more powerful than she is, but she was able to surprise me. And now, with my gem in her hands…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Rom had seen what she could do, and she could imagine well enough.
“Besides, I never really invested myself into mastering all the powers the spirit gems give us. I know the basics, but I was always more interested in knowledge and magic.”
Rom took Mulligan from her shoulder and cradled him in her arms, scratching his head. “What do the gems do? What kind of powers do they give us?”
Ian smiled. “It’s easier to show you than to tell you. Why don’t I come by tonight and we’ll give you your first lesson?” He looked at the staff she had momentarily leaned against a bookcase. “Bring that. And the cat.”
Mulligan hissed at him. “I’m not a cat.”
Pointedly ignoring Mulligan’s refutation, Ian continued, pointing a delicate finger at her feet. “And those are very good boots. Definitely wear those. It should be a nice, clear night: good for hunting.”
“Hunting?” she asked.
His mouth dropped open, and he turned back to Goya. “You haven’t told her?”
“I was going to, before you arrived.”
“Tell me what?” Rom demanded. “Don’t talk to me like I’m not in the room.”
Ian turned back to her, his expression suddenly more somber. “There are always two Sheharid Is’iin on every world; it is a structured and unshakable reality. But one is given to perform the guidance within the world of spirits – that Is’iin spends most of their time in that world, with only a fraction of their time here. The other Is’iin – in this case, you, Rom – spends the majority of their time in this world.”
Rom nodded. She could tell Ian was going somewhere with this, but she decided to try and be patient while he got around to it.
“The Is’iin who dwells mostly in their spirit gem is charged with moving souls on to the worlds beyond, particularly the souls who get lost in that world. But the Is’iin who dwells mostly on the world of the physical must bear the charge of moving souls from this world to the next that do not go there of their own accord.”
Goya clarified his statement. “You are the Sheharid Is’iin of this physical world, Rom. You will have to find the souls of those who must move on from this world…and force them to move on.”
“Force them? How, exactly, do I do that?” Rom asked. Mulligan had crawled back to her shoulder, and she had resumed holding her staff, but her knuckles were turning white; her grip was unconsciously tight enough to evoke a sound like stretching leather.
Ian stepped closer to her, placing one hand on her free shoulder. “We are not saying you must interfere in a person’s natural life span – but there are creatures which dwell on past death. They must be found… and destroyed.”
Confused by this, Rom asked, “How is that even possible?”
“You are aware,” Goya replied, “of the magical shield which protects the city? The one which keeps out all living threats to our citizens during the cover of night?”
Rom nodded. “It hasn’t been working so well, lately. The Matrons told us that people were still being attacked at night.”
“That is because our Defense guild has not yet discovered a way to bar the way to beings which have died but still dwell upon this world,” Goya explained. “And more than ten years have passed since the last Sheharid Is’iin has walked upon the world, and in that time the undead have begun to increase in numbers and boldness.”
“Undead?”
Ian shrugged. “It lacks a certain … poetic quality, but it is what they are most often called. Like the Is’iin, there are many names by which they are known. ‘Undead’ is as good as anything. Their nature, regardless of their species while they lived, is a constant.”
“What are they – or, I guess, what were they?”
“They were simply wild animals,” he explained. “Larger and untamed compared to the ones we have here in Oldtown, but made even worse by…something.”
Goya sighed sadly. “Ian and I have been searching for the cause of it, but we have found nothing to explain why the beasts have been driven mad and to the brink of death in such great numbers.”
Rom scratched Mulligan behind his ears. “So I would be helping them? Not hurting them?” When they nodded, she added, “And just the…undead animals, right?”
Her eyes on her small friend, she missed a brief exchange of glances between Ian and Goya.
“They are the beings whose souls need to be moved forward,” Ian said, choosing his words carefully. Goya’s expression was inscrutable, but seemed kind to Rom.
As the young Sheharid considered this, her face evidenced a slow change to her convictions – confusion and dread were replaced by a sense of determination and purpose. “Okay,” she said at last, “how do I find them? And how do I kill them?”
“I will show you tonight,” Ian answered. “I will return shortly before the sun sets.” He bowed low to both Rom and Goya, waved his hand and vanished.
The two stood in silence for several moments, one due to her overwhelming questions and the other out of respect to the young girl’s internal conflict. At last, Rom spoke.
“So,” she said, simply. Her voice was passionless and even. “I’m a killer.”
The old woman shook her head, sadly. “You are what you choose to be, child. Your mission is as much one of protector as anything. Few others are capable of physically incapacitating these creatures: between death and life, their strength and physicality is impressive, and they are quicker than the people they prey upon. And they do not completely die easily.” She leaned closer, and dropped her voice to a more conspiratorial tone – it had the subconscious effect of causing Rom to listen more intently. “But these creatures – without fail – rarely desire the half-life they live. They seek release – and there is no one else empowered to grant it to them.”
Rom looked at her staff. Now that she’d been holding it a while – and now that she had a greater idea of what she was now called upon to do – it didn’t really look up to the task. Goya rose from her chair with a prolonged grunt. She shuffled across the floor, past Rom to the shelf by which the staff had been leaning. On the shelf, behind an old pair of soft boots, she picked up a simple silver bracelet.
“You will need this, as well,” she said, turning back to Rom and holding it towards her.
Rom looked at it and saw some of the same designs etched into the surface of the staff as on the bracelet, but aside from that and a small black stone, the bracelet seemed unremarkable.
“Put it on,” the old woman explained. Rom did so, noting that the bracelet seemed to shrink to more perfectly fit her wrist. It felt cool on her skin. Goya then instructed, “Now press the black gem.” Once Rom did, the staff trembled in her hand an
d vanished. Another push, and it reappeared in her hand.
“You’re kidding!” she said, a grin crossing her face.
Goya walked closer to Rom, scratching Mully behind the ears before placing her hand on Rom’s arm. “It is called the Shepherd’s Crook. It has many forms, but it is most commonly wielded in that form. It was used by your predecessor, and served him well.”
Rom looked towards Goya. “You mean… Ian?”
The old wise woman replied with a nod. “Yes.” She motioned towards the door. “But let us speak now of more pleasant things. For example, we need to find you a master under whom to apprentice. Or is there a college in which you wished to study?”
The girl’s mind went blank. Although she and Kari had often spoken about that, she’d never really come up with the ideal choice for her. “Um… can I think about it?” She pressed the stone on her bracelet once more, causing the staff to vanish again.
“Of course, of course. In the meantime, I am certain Briseida could use an extra hand in the shop. And when you are ready, I will invite masters here to speak to you until you have found a school in which to train.”
They were both quiet as they closed the door behind them and went downstairs to join the others in a light meal. Cousins – in spite of his insistence that he had many errands that needed tending to – was still here, eating and laughing beside Kari and Briseida. On the surface, Rom laughed along with them, but inside her mind was far away. Mulligan sat near her on the table, quietly eating his food as well, and his occasional glances towards her were deep and comprehending.
Across the street, in the darkened alcove of an unused doorway, stood a slender man in a dark jacket and fancy vest. He’d been standing there all afternoon, but so complete was his affected demeanor that the few people who wandered past simply looked through him – within a pair of steps, they’d already forgotten he was there. It was a simple enough cantrip, part of the simplest spells in the guild – sheer first-year material, really, but one which had infinite uses. It wasn’t so much like an actual illusion, which physically bent the light and left a tangible warp to those who knew how to look for it – it simply acted as a passive suggestion that what was behind the spell just wasn’t worth looking at. The eyes of the passers-by only remembered the wall, the tree, whatever was around the caster; and though the mind would’ve normally filed their face or appearance away to be recalled later, now they simply discarded it as useless data.
He brushed his fashionably unkempt hair back from his face and adjusted his glasses. The lenses had a faintly bluish tint to them – they were charged with a simple spell that allowed him to visibly track a single person wherever they went. They had let him follow his target to this building, and no further – it meant that they had come here and had yet to leave.
Reaching inside his jacket, he drew out a small copper-capped vial of clear liquid. He shook it gently, and, noting no change in color or temperature, replaced it into his jacket. Molla possessed its twin, and if she activated hers, it would trigger a chemical change in both vials. This meant that Molla still wasn’t ready for him, so he was content to remain here while he waited for the brat to leave.
The children went upstairs after their meal to talk and muse over their new artifacts, trying to guess just what they might do, although Rom remained very quiet about hers. Once or twice, she pulled out the pocket watch and listened to the mesmerizing rhythm of the gearworks within. Eventually, Cousins looked out one of the windows at the ringing of the bells in the adjacent clock tower and grimaced.
“I’ve completely thrown away an entire afternoon,” he declared. “You should take this as a sign that you’re on my good side.”
“Good to know,” Kari said dryly.
Kari looked over at the silver pocket watch that Rom had tucked into a pocket on her dress for the fourth time in as many minutes. “Why did you pick that?” she asked.
Rom shook her head. “I don’t know. It looked pretty, I guess, but…I don’t really know why. I didn’t really think about it, I just picked it up. What about yours?”
Kari slipped her left hand into one of the metal-scaled gauntlets, flexing her fingers. “It’s so wonderful!” she said, grinning broadly as she held her gloved hand close to her ear. “There’s leather gloves inside, and it’s very soft, but when I move my fingers I can hear all these gears moving around under the metal. These gloves do something, I just don’t know what, yet.”
“Rather makes you wonder why the old woman saw fit to entrust these fantastic items in our young hands, doesn’t it?” Cousins ruminated aloud. “She seems to do that a lot - - she generally knows so much more than she says.”
Rom rolled her eyes. “At least she doesn’t say more than she knows.”
Kari laughed, and Cousins merely shrugged. “I just see no harm in opening things to discussion with you,” he said. “I get the sense that between the three of us, we are substantially more than our individual parts. Clearly, Goya thinks so as well, but I wish I knew why she felt as such.”
“You think too much,” Rom said.
He put the glasses on, grinning. “I will leave that to you to decide whether that is a benefit or detriment. For now, I’m off to see where I need to go…” He paused. “That’s strange,” he said.
“What is?” Rom asked.
“The glasses show me staying here.” He turned a dark red at the girl’s expressions of horror. “I mean, not HERE, clearly, but here in the shop. Or something. But they definitely show me staying somewhere here, and not leaving.”
“They show that?”
Cousins nodded. “It’s hard to explain. There are different lenses or filters on these, and each lens lets me see something different, like seeing in the dark, or seeing things close up or far away. One just lets me see…purpose. I’ve been playing with them, putting coins in hidden places and the glasses always show me where they are, and show me where to walk to find them. They’re really quite extraordinary.” He took the glasses off, looked around, and then put them on again. Shaking his head, he said, “Still the same. If you will excuse me,” he said, moving towards the door, “I need to speak with Goya about this.”
Rom and Kari exchanged confusing expressions. He was an odd one, Cousins. Taking the pocket watch out again, Rom listened to the ticking mechanisms behind the ornately- designed face and wondered why it felt so comfortable in her hand.
Chapter 14: Training Begins
Goya confirmed Cousins’ suspicions and had him move fresh sheets up to a spare room on the second floor. He spent the remainder of the night taking the glasses on and off, concentrating and putting them back on, walking towards every possible door in the shop and all the windows, growing more and more concerned. Eventually, he gave in and went back upstairs while the two girls helped Briseida prepare dinner.
Halfway through the meal, Rom noticed the darkening skies, and she lost her appetite completely. She pushed the food around on her plate with her fork, and drank most of the juice in her ceramic cup, but her stomach twisted at the thought of more food passing her throat.
Finally, she was distracted by movement in the hall beyond the dining room, and looked up to see Ian standing there, a sword sheathed at his side. Kari saw him a moment later, and jumped up, knocking her chair to the floor – the sudden racket caused Cousins to spin from his chair, while Goya and Briseida held out their hands to try and calm the children.
Kari squinted, pointing at him. “Wait, you’re the one who helped carry Rom back – but… you didn’t look like…you.” She blushed and sat back down quickly.
Ian bowed at the waist, arms out from his sides. “My apologies, Lady Hikari – I generally travel with a bit of an artistic element woven about me.” He stood straight, and winked to her. “Keeps a popular man like myself from being remembered too carefully.”
“It’s okay,” Rom said. “He’s a friend.” Mulligan leaped up to her shoulder and she stood up from her chair. “He’s going to take me training,
I’ll be back…ummm?”
“We shall only be gone an hour or so. It is best to not press yourself too hard, too quickly,” he explained.
Kari opened her mouth to protest, but Rom waved her off. “I need to learn how to do… whatever it is I do,” she said. “He’s the only one who can really teach me. I’ll be okay.”
“Don’t worry, Kari,” Mulligan echoed. “I’ll keep her safe.”
“Yeah, I feel a lot better now,” she said.
Mulligan made a brief sound of air passing from his lips in obvious annoyance, but Rom moved quickly from the table to avoid any further debate. “I’ll be back soon,” she said. She double checked to be certain the bracelet was on her wrist – it was on, quite snugly, in fact – and that her pocket watch was secured by its chain. She nodded her head to her friends at the table and turned to follow Ian up the stairs.
At the second floor landing, he walked to the very end of the hall in which was set a darker door, smaller than the rest. Placing one knuckle against the door frame, he whispered a small set of indecipherable words and rapped his knuckle again – and the door opened silently.
“After you,” he said, holding the door open for her. Behind the door was another set of stairs, ascending into darkness. “Tell me when you reach the top door – you cannot open that door until this one has closed.”
She made her way cautiously, climbing the stairs one at a time until she finally reached another door. “I’m here,” she called down, her voice echoing strangely in the darkness. There was a brief moment where the air felt thick and cold, and her ears popped against the increased pressure. A second later, Ian’s voice sounded just behind her, causing her heart to pound in surprise.
“Open the door, now, if you please,” he said.
She did so, but to an unexpected sight – in front of her was suspended a large trio of bells. Surrounding these were large wheels covered in squarish teeth, fitted together in a dizzying structure. Beyond the bells and gearworks sat the large face of the clock. She instantly recognized the pattern of the numbers as the very clock face across the street from the apothecary. Ian stepped out behind her and closed the door – but when she turned around, no doorway was visible.