by J. R. Castle
“Well, this is new, dear.” Miltie touched the back of Kardia’s left shoulder. “What does this mark mean?”
Kardia tried to peer over her shoulder but whatever had caught the old woman’s attention was hidden out of her sight. She would need to find a looking glass. “Maybe it’s a bit of ink smudge.”
The day was so warm, she hadn’t worn her undershirt that usually covered her arms. And she was so unused to the looking-glasses that hung in every room of the big house that she tried to avoid them as much as possible.
Miltie took the tie of her apron, spit on the end, and tried to wipe the stain off her shoulder. “Nope, it’s permanent. It looks like a…” her white brows furrowed. “A star, perhaps? It’s too faded for these old eyes to tell for sure. Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was the mark of a curse.” She cackled a laugh. “But what curse would a good-hearted child like yourself be under? Perhaps these old eyes are playing tricks.”
Mother was out on the steps, directing the men on where to take the new furniture. Kardia’s heart beat faster. Had the sorcerer’s contract somehow marked her? Would it grow darker and more prominent as the appointed time for his arrival approached?
“Uh, I better go help my mother.” Kardia thrust the bag of muffins at the old woman, then hurried through the gate. If Mother saw her, she’d order her to help bring in their “new” furniture, which they definitely did not need. What would be done with the old stuff? What was wrong with what they had in the first place? Didn’t Mother care what all this was costing them, or had she also pushed aside the inevitable?
Taking a long way around, Kardia hurried toward the back of the Meeting Hall. The white stones that made up the walls glistened under the bright sun hanging high in the sky. She followed the narrow path through their garden—which Mother hired people to work for her— and took the back entrance. The cooks were sitting in the small courtyard near the ovens. They not only had people to cook for them but also people hired to clean up after them. Mother said the building was much too large for her to bother with the upkeep.
Sometimes, Kardia wondered if she would end up spending all the gold they were given before that mysterious wizard returned. But she also knew that was impossible after the deal her parents had struck with the townsfolk. They would always be well supplied and cared for so long as the town thrived.
Would it continue to thrive once the gold was gone? That was a question that pestered Kardia on a daily basis.
Once she reached her room upstairs, she went into the dressing closet where the tall looking-glass sat in a corner. Kardia pulled aside the cloth covering the reflective glass. Her golden hair was a little disheveled, and some strands had escaped her long braid. Her cheeks were a bright red, and a gleam of sweat covered her forehead and neck. Turning so that the left side of her back faced the mirror, Kardia tried to see what the old woman had seen, but the small room wasn’t very bright.
She pulled the mirror out and propped it up beside the tall window near her bed. Then tried again.
Kardia’s breath caught. Yes, there was a strange mark on her shoulder. Faint, but still recognizable. A star, like the ones imprinted on the coins. She wasn’t sure exactly what it meant, but deep down, she had a feeling that the darker it became the closer she was to giving up her life as she knew it.
Shaking her head, Kardia wondered what could the sorcerer want with a peasant girl like her?
* * * *
Darnel pulled the caravan to a stop outside of the town Durlay in the southern province of Drakeslow. It was rumored that dragons lived in the valleys between the snow-capped mountains. Another clan supposedly dwelt in the northern part of the kingdom. He’d seen few drakes in his life when he lived in a town outside of Aloblase as a very young child. Since leaving to travel on his own, he’d only spotted a group flying overhead once as he passed through the Semitamon Mountains. Most likely a group heading toward the so-called great Halls of Knowledge.
He preferred to call that place the Hall of Arrogant Fools.
Darnel banged on the side of the cart to alert Fajer that they’d arrived at their destination.
The door in the back burst open. Darnel had just hopped down when Fajer came around the side and cuffed him on the back of his head. “Stupid boy! Did you purposefully try to run over every rut in the road? I couldn’t even work on my elixir with all the swaying and bumping going on. That means I’ll leave it to you to finish while I go claim my property.”
Darnel rubbed the back of his head but made no smart comeback. Fajer always had something to complain about. But he’d promised to teach him how to use his skills and become more powerful. He would give the sorcerer one more season to fulfill his promise before he figured out a way to escape and strike out on his own again.
What stopped him from making his move now was his fear of being hunted down by Fajer’s brethren. What an evil lot they were. A force he wasn’t ready to take on.
Maybe someday.
He still had so much to learn.
“My apologies, Master. I fear the rains washed out the road and made for rough traveling.” He quickly began unpacking their camping gear and gathering wood for a fire. The sooner he made his master comfortable and fed, the sooner he would focus his attention on something besides Darnel’s faults.
“What kind of potion do you need me to make?” Darnel snapped his fingers, creating a spark that ignited the bits of kindling. Blowing a couple of breaths of air onto the budding flames, the pile of sticks soon burned, and he had a nice fire going. “I’ll get on it right away if you wish.”
Fajer brought a short stool from inside the camper and set it beside the fire. Lighting his pipe, he took a long draw, then blew out several twisting rings that spun in between each other as they drifted up into the starry sky. “A simple sleeping drought. His mark will keep him from trying to run away.”
Darnel soon had a nice blaze burning. “May I inquire what you want with this particular human?”
Fajer had several “contracts” on certain humans in various towns. The golden-haired girl was only one of many and seemed to possess something unique Fajer desired to have. Darnel had tried to show his loyalty, even if it was surface felt, at best. He’d carried out every order given and even tried to find ways to bring extra comforts to Fajer. He always made sure his tobacco pouch was filled, no matter where they were. Still, the sorcerer remained furious over Darnel’s reluctance to share his real name.
Hopefully, in time master would get over it.
Fajer stood and went inside the caravan, soon returning with a glass vial of strongly scented powder. “You start our dinner. I will finish my potion. It must be done correctly if I hope to have complete control over the boy. My sources say he is a willful youth who is strong from the hard labor of working lumber with his family. I’m sure, by now, they’ve forgotten our contract and have forgotten how I enchanted their saws to cut extra fast and never dull.” He chuckled as he sifted a bit of the powder into a bowl of amber colored liquid that smelled like old, damp straw. “It’s absurd what people will give up for a bit of ease and comfort.”
Darnel went inside and brought out their last loaf of bread, along with a piece of salted pork. “We need to restock our supplies. Will this be a good place to do that?”
Puffing on his pipe, Fajer gave a nod. “I will send you in to scout the area. I wish for you to check to see if there is a White Tree growing in the town center. If not, then I may enter at my leisure. Last time I passed through, there was not one, but these things change. I fear, if there is a thriving Healing Tree, you will not be able to enter, either.”
Darnel decided against telling him that a Healing Tree would not hinder his entrance into a town. Nor would a White Path harm him as it did other rebels of the Kingdom. He felt a great discomfort being in the presence of a Path or Tree, but his bloodline kept him from suffering as the other sorcerers did.
Some things Fajer did not need to know. It would only raise his
suspicion even more.
Fajer held the vial of bubbling liquid up to the evening light. “If the town has turned, we will have to make do with what we have until we return to Mytric.”
That was one place they would never have to worry about turning their allegiance to the Alburnium King. Those who dwelt in Mytric were slaves of the imprisoned Enchantress Zilvia. Despite her exile to the island of Solus, she still had many dedicated followers dwelling in the woods of Wilderland and the southern regions of Alburnium. Her power was so great and so evil, King Shaydon had banished her from his land for two thousand years. She could not leave her island of imprisonment, but that didn’t stop people seeking power from going to her.
Darnel, despite his own hardened heart, had hated spending any length of time in that cursed city.
After they ate a meager meal, Darnel set off along the narrow road toward the town. It wasn’t much, compared to others he’d visited. The buildings were sparse and all made of wood and thatch. The dirt roads were encumbered with mud holes and rocks. There was a stand in the middle of town where someone had been placed in a stockade.
Darnel chuckled. This was definitely not a White Tree town. He breathed out a sigh of relief and headed for the mercantile. By the time he returned to camp, Fajer had set his plans in motion.
Chapter Six
Kardia spent the next week, during every spare moment, camped in the Meeting Hall’s library. Books towered several feet up the tall, granite walls, stopping just below the vaulted ceiling. From what she could gather, there was a set logic to the placement of the books. Those on the upper shelves that required a ladder to access were mostly ledgers and journals written by previous Priors. The brittle, yellowed pages inside contained information about births and deaths. Some Priors liked to write detailed accounts of things that happened from season to season, but she found nothing about sorcerers or curses.
Goia was always meant to be a farming town with its rich soil fed by the Mire river. One particular entry caught her eye because of the bold writing and excessive exclamation points. A prince had visited. The prince of Aloblase, the writer boasted, saying what an honor and surprise to be blessed by his visit.
From the faded date, Kardia realized that unusual visit had happened nearly two lifetimes ago. Nobody talked much about the Light King named Shaydon who dwelt in the city by the sea anymore. Aloblase was somewhere in the far east. Stories were sometimes passed around about the king’s son, who often traveled the land. The prince would journey with people who were making their trek to see Shaydon and learn what their true purpose in the kingdom was.
Mother said the stories were pure folly. Dadda rebuked his wife when she said that. Neither of them had made such a trip themselves and didn’t know if the folktale were indeed folly or truth.
Kardia wondered… surely someone in this town had made the trek at some time during their lives?
“You foolish girl!” The library door banged open as Mother entered, glaring up at her. “Look at you, covered in dust and wasting away your day when there are important things to be doing! Get down this instant! I need the assembly room prepared for our council meeting tonight.”
Kardia slipped the journal back into its slot and slowly climbed down the ladder. Mother took her hosting responsibilities very seriously and demanded that everything be perfect or nobody would ever respect them.
All the old, functional chairs had been replaced with specially made comfortable seating. Nobody’s backside would grow numb in Asmita’s home. Although the Meeting Hall was supposed to be the people’s gathering place, nobody was admitted inside without an invitation. Unless they were part of the hired staff.
As Kardia neared the door, Mother asked, “What do you find so interesting about those dusty old books? They smell, and no matter how often I open the windows, a mustiness hangs in the air.”
Kardia shrugged. “I’m looking for…information.” She’d not told anyone about the darkening mark on her shoulder. Mother was anxious enough trying to manage the large manor and town affairs. And Kardia feared Dadda would only start crying again, riddled with guilt and dismay over trading his only child for the gold.
At least they were trying to do good with the gold, for the most part. She was determined to remain quiet and figure a way out of the contract on her own.
Mother clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Such a foolhardy girl I’ve raised. Life will give you all the knowledge you need, dear heart. I do wish you’d stop shutting yourself away in here. Our town is thriving again. The summer season is upon us. And we’ve been granted more time to grow and improve since the Regent has been delayed. Word has arrived that he will not come until next spring at the earliest.”
Kardia gasped. “What happened? Is everything all right?”
Mother waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure he decided to tarry in one of the finer towns. His visit here will most likely be short. Nobody cares about those of us along the outlying edges of the province. We must do what’s necessary to care for ourselves.”
Tucking her hands around Kardia’s arm, they headed down the narrow hall as Mother prattled on about getting ready for their party that evening. “Your father agreed that we should show appreciation to those who have helped us bring Goia back to its feet.”
The only people Kardia had seen on the guest list were those in positions of power or those who possessed the most land. Miltie, nor Mr. Tillus had been invited. Nor the blacksmith or livery owner.
Before Kardia could ask about that, Mother stopped and straightened the portrait of Prior Johnnes. “We should find an artist to create a depiction of us, don’t you think? Since we are the current Priors, it seems fitting. Except, I’ll have to send for one. I hear there are many in Conde, though that is nearly a month’s worth of traveling there and back.” Her head tilted to the side as she examined the frames, making sure they all lined up perfectly. “Wilhelm will complain about the expense, but I believe it’ll be worth it. We should do it soon before…” She turned away, leaving her last thought unfinished, and headed toward the assembly room.
Kardia closed her eyes. Before her time was up and the sorcerer came to claim her?
Well, not if she could help it. There had to be some loophole in the contract. There had to be.
* * * *
The horse-drawn cart bumped along the narrow road, barely wide enough to fit all four wheels. Darnel glanced down into the canyon, a fifty-foot drop if not more. His fingers dug into the wooden bench he sat upon. Beside him rode Fajer, a satisfied smile bending the lines of the marks covering his face. Inside the cart, a boy of nearly twenty years slept soundly due to the calming potion.
The lad had tried to fight them at first, surrounded by his family who no longer wanted to pay the dues of their agreement with Fajer. The family was lucky to still be alive. The father, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky.
Despite being told to stay with the caravan, Darnel had followed the sorcerer to the isolated log cabin, nestled deep in the woods. He’d intended to simply observe, then quietly return to the wagon, until he realized Fajer was in more trouble than he realized.
The missing father had snuck up behind Fajer and aimed an arrow right at Fajer’s back.
If not for Darnel’s quick thinking in throwing up a shield around his master, he might have been dead from the loosed arrow.
The sorcerer’s attention was too focused on the struggling boy. But the moment he noticed Darnel’s shield glowing around him, Fajer turned on the father and sent a blasting force so powerful it knocked the man right off his feet. Fajer finished him off with his sword across the man’s throat.
Darnel had subdued the boy by probing into his mind and causing great pain. Unfortunately, he feared that he’d given away too much by doing so.
The remaining family was so horrified, they relented once Fajer promised there would be more blood spilled if they did not comply with their contract.
“We make a good pair,” Fajer had said
as they quickly packed their camp and set the slumbering boy on the floor. His hands and feet were secured, and mouth gagged. “Your powers are astounding, my boy. You saved me back there. I underestimated my opponent. So daft of me, I’ll admit. I’d taken them for simple-minded peasants.”
“So did I, Master. Do people always fight like that when you come to claim your payment?” So far, Fajer had not probed any more about where he’d gotten his powers from. If he suspected, he was keeping that suspicion to himself.
“No, not always. I do expect a bit of resistance. I should have suspected something was amiss when the father was not present. They must have anticipated my arrival. The mark I leave on my subjects does give an indication when their time is close. Plus, I always attempt to wait until their talents have come to complete fruition. I have more to gain by waiting.”
Darnel pondered his master’s words. He knew how talents worked. A person would make the trip to Aloblase where they’d meet with the Light King and dedicate their talents to serve his Kingdom. Most waited until they reached their twentieth cycle to make the journey. In order to receive a medallion, one had to pledge their allegiance to King Shaydon and agree to follow his decrees.
Something Darnel had refused to do.
Darnel had to admit, though, possessing a medallion had its advantages. Fajer couldn’t mark a Kingdom subject. Nor would he be able to claim that person, once they were under the King’s protection, even if they’d been the payment for whatever favor had been traded.
Darnel had also found that he could not use his powers against a Kingdom subject, not even the mind probing. For that reason, he generally avoided towns that were truly dedicated to the Light King. He had nothing to gain by entering one.
Fajer gave the reins a flick, urging the horses to keep going up the steep incline. “Almost there, my loves,” he coaxed. “You will be rewarded with a good rub down and fresh oats.”