Before the Luck Runs Out: Can Magic Save Jedda? (Chanmyr Chronicles Book 1)

by TJ Muir

  None of them had any idea what Jedda was talking about. But Jedda was set on this, so Jedda directed Cham towards the market square, hoping that his horse would follow.

  The sound of horses walking was loud against the stillness of the night. He worried that it would attract attention. What if Hak'kar had men out looking for him? Or maybe, he reasoned, they wouldn't be looking for three men on horseback. But either way, he felt like he had to take the risk.

  They stopped the horses at the head of an alley that led away from the market square and led the horses out from the moons’ dim lights, and any watching eyes. Jedda stopped behind one of the shops, and went up to the door, pounding on it.

  He knew it was late, and that he would probably wake Turner up, but he wasn't going to leave without seeing the man first.

  It wasn't long before a light went on, followed by a shout and grumble. But the door opened, and Turner's look of annoyance changed to recognition, and then concern.

  “What are ye doin at the door, this time o night, or rather, morning?” he asked.

  “I don't really have much time. I've gotten into a bit of trouble, you see.”

  “I always knew something was up. Have you done some crime and gotten found out?”

  “No. Not really. No,” A small lie, he knew. “But I've upset some dangerous people. People who will hurt me. People who don't care about authorities and laws.”

  Turner just nodded. “I can't hide ya,” he said, looking thoughtful. “But if you give me some time, I might be able to find a place where you can hide out, like,”

  Jedda smiled, his heart aching for the kindness the man took for him. “That's okay, I've got some friends with me. Friends I can trust, who are going to help me get out of the city. At least for a while.” Another small lie. “But I couldn't just leave without saying goodbye,” he explained. “And also, I want to make sure you'll be okay.” As he said that, he reached into his shirt and took out a medium sized pouch. “This is most of what I've saved over the past few years. I want you to have it. It will help you with the little things. Repairs and things. You'll have some extra coin to hire one of the boys to help you out. And don't try to do the gutters on your own,” Jedda said, running out of words and feeling a deep pain, as he tried not to cry.

  Turner took the purse, felt the weight in his hand. His eyes went wide. “There's a lot of coins here, and not little pennies, either,” he said.

  “It's okay,” Jedda assured. “It's not stolen or anything. Promise.”

  Turner looked unconvinced. Jedda was relieved that the man didn't press the issue. First, he had no way to prove it wasn't stolen, and second, he didn't have an abundance of time.

  “I'll send more, as I can. And, I've made one of my friends, Trey, who is now a very important person, promise to look out for you.”

  With that, he flung his arms around Turner, gripping him in a tight hug. The man hugged him back, looking surprised. Then Cham put his hand on Jedda's arm, a light pressure, reminding him what he already knew.

  “I have to go. Remember me.”

  With that, he turned away, quickly, before he could change his mind or turn around again.

  “What about Diya?” Cham asked, as they cleared the property and headed down a dirt lane, wide enough for all three to ride abreast.

  Jedda looked deeply pained. Jedda felt the coward, for not going to see Diya in person. And he hoped she would understand, forgive him someday, even. It was the best he could hope for.

  “I have a letter for her and an idea of how to get it to her.”

  Kirrin looked up, hearing that.

  “I am not going there. I promise,” Jedda said. “But I know someone I know she trusts.”

  Kirrin shifted, about to object. But Jedda held up his hand. “Trust me. And I think I can find him without going anywhere near the House.”

  Kirrin’s eyes narrowed, not liking Jedda’s plan, but remained silent.

  Jedda used his skills and drew on his memory. Marrick lived in the city. Jedda found a young boy out on the streets, cleaning up outside a tavern. Jedda asked him a few questions, and then headed north.

  He found Marrick, in a small cottage buried at the farthest edge of the north terrace. He knew he was waking the man up.

  “By the Red God, Someone better be dying!” he swore. He looked at Jedda, rubbing his eyes as he tried to wake up.

  Jedda heard a woman call from somewhere inside. Marrick called back, “It’s okay. I’ll be back inside in a minute. Go back to bed.” And he stepped outside, closing the door. As he did, he looked around, scanning the lane.

  ”I’m here because I know I can trust you,” Jedda said. “I remember Diya saying how the fliers held a strong commitment to their guild, and that loyalty was absolute.”

  “You’re here in the middle of the night to talk about loyalty?” Marrick snorted. “Why are you here?”

  “Can I trust you to give something to Diya? Give it to her yourself, directly?”

  Marrick scratched his head, trying to follow Jedda. “Why don’t you just give it to her yourself?”

  ”Because I can’t. I need to leave. And she is in danger. Danger for her life.”

  That had Marrick’s attention. Jedda explained for the third time that night why he was leaving and why there was danger. Marrick listened, nodding, asking the occasional question. Jedda found himself liking the man. He was level headed.

  “You’ve been good to little Diya,” he said. “She’s grown up, like, as since you two have been friends. Not like some of those frilly fools.”

  Jedda nodded, having a very good idea what kinds of frilly fools Marrick meant.

  “I have a letter for her. Can you please get this into her hands, directly and only her hands, immediately? Her eyes only. First thing tomorrow?”

  Marrick looked thoughtful, considering the question. After a moment, he nodded. “I think so,” he said.

  “And yourself?” he asked, looking at Jedda.

  “Leaving the city.”

  Another nod, and a pause. “You can trust the fliers. If you ask one to bring me a letter, it will get to my hand, untouched. It’s something we take seriously. So you can get word to me. To her, if there’s need.”

  Jedda felt a wave of relief and hugged Marrick. Two things taken care of. He gave Marrick the letter, knowing it would find Diya. And, he had just found a way that he might be able to stay in touch. Just maybe. Right now that sliver of hope was the whole world to him.

  He knew, had always known, he had no future with her. But that didn’t make parting any easier. Part of him was very much in love, young, passionate and intense love, with the So’Har Diya. It was a fun and exciting world to visit. But that world, like the sky, was not his home.

  At last, something lay in front of him, a mystery. The mystery of his birth, and a shell which had yet to give up its secrets. His secrets. Not anyone else's. And, he wanted, at last, to learn more about the rest of his heritage, the Faenyr side. So he was feeling a very bittersweet pain, deep inside.

  Cham looked at Jedda, and Jedda knew Cham felt his pain or at least read it. He smiled crookedly at Cham, and at Kirrin, determined to be the kind of person who deserved his friends.

  Jedda mounted up with Cham’s help and wiggled around in the saddle, trying to get comfortable. They headed down the lane and Jedda kept trying to reassure his horse, Jespen, that they were going to be good friends, and please not to do anything sudden. Begging it to just walk nice and smooth. The horse snorted its response, shaking its mane, and Jedda jumped in fright, almost falling out of the saddle.

  Kirrin and Cham smiled over Jedda’s head, trying not to laugh at him.

  “There is a place I'd like to stop, just outside of the city,” Cham said. “A Faenyr shrine,” he explained. “Or perhaps even older than the Faenyr.”

  The two looked at him, curious, both talking at the same time.

  “What is the shrine?” Jedda asked, curious about anything associated with the
Faenyr.

  And “Older than the Faenyr?” from Kirrin.

  “Well, perhaps. Assuredly older than Tatak Rhe, if the stories are correct.”

  “What kind of shrine?” Jedda asked, repeating his question. He understood that shrines were usually associated with religions. But he didn't know much about any specific religion or belief and he knew nothing about what the Faenyr believed.

  “Well, I imagine you are both familiar with wishing wells? Sometimes it's a well, or even how people drop pennies into fountains, in the hopes that the gods are listening and will bring luck to their wishes.”

  Jedda nodded and could see Kirrin nodding next to him.

  “This is a bit like that, only different. Wishing wells are for places to create something. This is an Ihrrn. It's a word that doesn't really translate well. It's a place that receives things you no longer need, to shed something.”

  “Like leftovers or rubbish?” Jedda asked, clearly confused about how garbage would be sacred.

  Cham laughed. “Not really, but kind of. You'll see.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  When they reached the sacred grove, Jedda felt a change. There was a low hum that he couldn't quite hear, and the air felt more charged somehow, like right before a storm breaks. He looked over at Kirrin, but his tutor seemed unaffected. He looked across, to Cham, who nodded back at him.

  “You can feel it, can't you?” Cham asked. Jedda nodded.

  “It feels different. More than just being out of the city. It feels sad and angry and mournful. But not. Like when you walk into a room where people have been arguing, like an echo,” Jedda said, as he tried to tune in to what it was his senses were picking up on.

  Cham nodded, understanding that slippery sense that Jedda was describing. Kirrin just shrugged, being deaf to any magic that was in the woods.

  They rode through a light mist, between standing stones that lined the way toward a clearing. They dismounted there, and walked up through a thinner path, crossing through a strangely circular gate, wrought with runes and scrollwork.

  The actual shrine was a bit disappointing. Although Jedda wasn't sure what he was expecting. There was a stone facing, smooth carved, where water poured into a small font. Cham led them past that, though, towards a shadowy area. In the shadows was a well, made of black stones. At least Jedda thought the stone was black. The moons’ lights didn't reach into the trees where they stood and he couldn't be sure, in the darkness.

  “What are we supposed to do?” Jedda asked.

  “Just go up to the well. Think about something you want to let go of. It might be a broken heart, or fear, or anything. Anything that bothers you or disturbs the harmony of your life.”

  “I can think of a lot of things,” Kirrin said.

  Cham laughed. “Very true. We all have things that weigh us down. Some people write letters to the dead and feed them to the Ihrrn. Or love letters that they will never send. Or something that represents a painful memory. It's different for each person. Each who comes to the Ihrrn finds the right thing to do if they do not already have something.”

  The three of them stood there, silently. Jedda guessed they all had plenty to think about.

  Cham stepped forward first, partially swallowed by the shadows around the well. Jedda could hear him murmuring, but it sounded like he was speaking in a different language. A few minutes later, he stepped back out from the well, with a sigh.

  Kirrin stepped forward next. Jedda heard him rustling and murmuring also, but now he was paying more attention to his own circumstances. What would he release? What did he need to release? What wishes or hopes had he been carrying? Finding out who his family was or where he came from? Did that hold him back or was he angry about it? He wasn't sure how he felt. He hadn't even considered the questions before now.

  Kirrin came back to where they were standing, so Jedda didn't have to ponder those questions for long. His turn. He felt a sense of heaviness, a dread. There was a knot in his stomach, and he realized he was a little bit afraid. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath, and stepped forward.

  The well came up to his waist. He laid his hands on the stones and tried to peer down inside. He wondered how deep it was, and stooped to pick up a pebble. He dropped it down into the murky darkness. A few moments later he heard a tiny plink, of the stone hitting water. At least it wasn't some bottomless eternal gaping mouth.

  He thought back over the past year, the past several years. What he felt most right now, was regret. He wasn't even sure why. He wished he hadn't lied to his friends, about who he was. And he regretted all of the spying he had done, the secrets. The reality of his double-life weighed on him more than he had realized. He knew his friends liked him, but they didn't even know who he really was. Would they have liked him as Jedda the beggar? Only Turner had given anything to that boy. He regretted leaving Turner, and wished the man well, and resolved to try and send coins to him-- wherever he ended up. And then he fingered the pendant that he had been carrying around his entire life. And he knew that endings and beginnings were slippery things. Where did Jay end, and Jedda begin?

  In his pocket, next to the pendant, was a carving. He drew it out and felt its shape in the dark. It was an owl, perched on a tree stump. He held it clenched in his hands for a while as a surge of emotions washed through him too quick to identify. It felt like a wind passing over him, but the air around the well remained still.

  On impulse, he opened his hand, peering at the owl. He had to hold it close to his face in order to see anything at all. What was it trying to tell him, he wondered? Did it have a message for him? As if in answer, he heard an owl hooting, off in the distance. A shiver rippled through him. This was not a place to linger, he realized. On a strange impulse, he kissed the owl and dropped it into the well.

  He waited a moment, expecting to hear a small kerplunk as it landed in the water below. Nothing. Another moment went by. Still nothing. He peered over the edge, curious. But only darkness looked back.

  Then an explosion of light burst up from the depths of the well. Vivid magical colors swirling: violets and turquoise and lime green, like the ghost lights they occasionally saw in the night sky. Only this was not far away. This was right here, and brighter and stronger. It reminded Jedda of the glowing lights that lined the walls under the city.

  Jedda jumped back, closer to the other two, as the light burst up from the ground, casting the little glade into streaming color. An owl burst out of the well, flapping its wings, hovering before them. Directly in front of Jedda. It was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

  The only sound was the steady thwump thwump of its wings. Jedda couldn't tell what color the owl was, as it hovered in a bath of swirling colored light. It looked like it was becoming more solid or alive or something. It seemed like it was a little disoriented.

  “What did you do?” Kirrin asked his voice a thin whisper that hissed slightly. Jedda guessed that Kirrin was as frightened as he was by the sound.

  “I don't know,” Jedda heard the distress in his own voice now. “I just went up. And then I dropped my carving into the well. And then Bam!”

  The sound of their voices helped restore a feeling of ordinary. The owl rose slightly as they spoke and then took off through the trees. Once the owl left, the light dimmed out and they stood in the shadows again.

  “That was some powerful magic,” Cham said, as they went back towards the little font of water. He stopped by the font, and turned to the others. “It's a kind of tradition to drink from the spring afterward, to replenish the magic energy inside.” With that, he dipped his head and drank from the gentle flowing water.

  Kirrin followed, mimicking what Cham had done. Then Jedda took his turn. He didn't feel very thirsty. In fact, he felt ill, as though he might spew. He hoped not. He already had a reputation for throwing up and this was a significant moment. He didn't want to spoil it. He bent down to take a drink. And he drank and drank. When he straightened up, he felt better. The si
ck feeling inside and the fear seemed less, or further away.

  Then Cham pulled out a small bottle. “Don't worry, it's just brandy. I thought we all might like a little something... after... that,” he said, waving his hand back towards the Irrhn. Kirrin nodded, reaching for the bottle. Cham found a low rock to sit on, and Kirrin followed his example. Jedda sat on the ground, not trusting his balance yet.

  “What does it mean? Is that normal?” Jedda asked, nodding his head back towards the well.

  “That,” Cham said, meaning the owl, “was anything but normal.”

  Jedda felt them both looking at him. They weren't accusing him or anything, but they felt different, and he thought Kirrin looked afraid. Well, he might be, magic was not part of his world. For that matter, it really wasn't part of Jedda's world either. And even Cham admitted that this was beyond what he might understand.

  “But what does it mean? My carving just came to life!” Jedda said, hoping that by giving it words, it would make more sense.

  “I do not know why your owl... changed,” Cham said, sounding like he was on unfamiliar ground. “Or what happened down in the well-- wherever it leads.” Cham paused, staring into the shadows for a moment. “I can tell you that the owl represents Magic, and Omens and Seeing through the night, or darkness. The cat that flies. The owl extracts secrets.”

  That last bit hit home, and Jedda felt his insides tighten up. Secrets. He hoped he was done with secrets, and spying, and stealing. He wanted to leave that-Jedda, or rather Jay, behind, in Tatak Rhe.

  “Does it change anything?” Jedda asked. “I mean, where we are going or what happens next?” He looked at the others for any signs that they might abandon him.

  Up until then, Jedda had been most concerned with getting away. Now, he felt closer to being away, and especially with this new change, he wondered where he, or they, might be going. What was ahead?

  Kirrin handed the bottle of brandy down to Jedda. He took a quick gulp, feeling the warmth of it soothe his insides. He took a second swallow, before passing it back to Cham.