by Kim Wedlock
He slowed and frowned down at his arms, pulling away his sleeves to find no trace at all of any burning on his skin. He looked across towards the mage, still panting in exhaustion as his confusion formed a question on his tongue, but hesitated as he found Denek staring back at him with intensity.
"Light." He raised his hands and twisted his fingers in slow, precise movements, which Salus immediately repeated to the best of his ability. Then stared completely dumbfounded at the small, glowing orb that sparked into life before him, no larger than a sugar cube. "Should it be that small?" Was all he found himself able to say through the dense silence, to which the mage, whose own expression hadn't changed from that first unreadable intensity, guided him through another, briefer series of motions. The ball quadrupled in volume.
Salus stumbled back in shock as he stared, his wide eyes flicking between the light and his own fingers, but as he sought for a rational, a possible explanation, only one thought, one fact, looped through his mind, so simple and yet utterly impossible for him to comprehend.
He had conjured that light. Him. He had conjured that light with his own two hands...
The air was thick; no one spoke even beyond the cell, the guards concentrated instead on not craning their necks to stare inside despite their desperate fascination. Denek observed him silently with his unreadable eyes, watching as a smile of elation, of victory, of power, curved Salus's lips.
The cellar remained that way for some minutes until footsteps began at the far end, sounding as loud in the silent void as the hooves of several galloping horses. Whoever it was quickly noticed the weighted atmosphere, slowing and softening their steps accordingly without losing urgency, and came to a stop outside.
"Keliceran?" He dared to speak, his voice as loud as a scream despite whispering, and yet Salus didn't seem to have heard him. But the phidipan was patient, and when Salus spun around a long moment later, he didn't flinch. Instead it was his superior's immense grin that caused curiosity to flash briefly over his young face. It vanished quickly, and he raised and displayed a tattered old bag.
Salus's own grin dropped at the sight of it, stunned again by disbelief.
He didn't even grace the mage with a thank you or farewell before darting out through the gate and snatching it from his hand, grinning manically once again as he dashed away.
Denek frowned after him as he disappeared around the corner, ignoring the subordinates who locked his cage back up and the mages who sealed it. The floating orb extinguished at his will, and again his thoughts didn't enter his eyes.
Salus all but ran through the corridors, weaving skilfully past the phaeacians while the phidipan and portian agents stepped easily out of his path themselves. Not one looked at him directly, and the higher ranks barely acknowledged him at all, but he was fully aware of the stupid smile on his face as he clutched the bag, and the elation in his chest which made him feel light enough to float off of the ground - and suddenly, he felt it was very much within the realms of possibility that he could.
"Going somewhere?"
The voice would usually have provoked a curl of his lip, a grunt or groan of dread and certainly a silently bellowed curse, but this time, Salus's smile didn't even loosen. "Only to my office," he replied with none of the usual resentment, "as always."
Lord Malson narrowed his eyes speculatively as he fell in step beside him, and the keliceran slowed his pace for his benefit as they made their way to the top floor. "You're awfully chipper," he said once they'd stepped inside.
"Well," he put the bag quite carefully onto the table and pushed it to one side while the liaison took his usual seat, "things are looking up."
"Oh really?"
"Oh yes."
His eyes narrowed again at the broadening smile. "Despite Doana and Skilan both striking several more of our cities?"
"Exactly because of it!" Salus dropped into his chair and saw the shock wash over his old face. He smiled reassuringly. "I won't bore you with the details, my Lord, but we've acted on a hunch and it's paid off. We should be able to prevent any further occupations of our settlements. But did you truly expect anything less? What is the Arana here for if not to move in the shadows and look for things others don't care to see?"
"...Well, I suppose so..."
Salus didn't miss his suddenly reluctant, thoughtful tone. He studied him for a moment, then straightened and allowed his smile to vanish, eradicated by the reassertion of professionalism. To look at the keliceran then, it would seem it had just been a passing amusement. "What do you have for me?"
Malson took a deep, hesitant breath. "Something I don't care to see." His gaze levelled, any suspicion and curiosity erased in its severity, but it still took him a moment longer to find the courage to speak. "There is a spy in the military."
'I told you my people weren't compromised.' He kept that thought to himself, and asked calmly instead: "What makes you so sure?"
"Skilan's responses to Moore's movements are too precise, as if they knew exactly what he planned to do as soon as he planned to do it."
"They could be nothing more than calculated manoeuvres. They could have made plans to provoke a certain response, then acted on the most likely outcome - though, that would be a bit too advanced for Skilan, even after what they've recently displayed. What else?"
"There is unreasonable discontent among the ranks. Some doubt is to be expected following such strategic blows, of course, but not to this level."
"What level?"
"Desertion, soldiers striking out in groups without orders to try to help the situation, in-fighting, suspicion."
Salus looked at him carefully. "And you're sure you and your colleagues aren't succumbing to the same paranoia?"
Malson met his gaze quite steadily. "We are not."
He nodded slowly. "Well I quite agree with you," he admitted, "but the army is spread over the entire country and there are more than just a handful of soldiers in its ranks. If you expect the Arana--"
"Start with Brigadier General Rackson."
Salus blinked. "Lord Malson, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I'm afraid there's no room for you in the Arana, our ranks are full."
"I'm glad you're still in a jovial mood," he growled, sitting forwards in his seat, his eyes blazing, "but this is no laughing matter. Not at all."
"And I am not laughing," he replied coolly. "But you understand that all of my people are already spread thin, don't you? An operation like this would need to be seen to quickly and with minimal disturbance, which means it would take more than just one agent, each no less than portian."
"And you understand that this is an order from the Crown, don't you?" The old man countered with a snap of impatience. "You are obligated to address this!"
"I didn't say that I wouldn't, I'm merely making you aware of the Arana's situation - a situation no doubt shared by all the other authorities. But of course," he smiled, almost pleasantly, "I will address this, as a priority. You have my word."
Once again, Malson surveyed him with suspicion, but before he could finally challenge the matter, a knock came at the door. He tutted shortly in defeat and nodded his permission before Salus called entry, at which Teagan stepped inside, immediately inclined his head to both, then stood patiently to one side with his eyes fixed, as the keliceran's subordinates always did, on the wall behind the desk with unnatural disinterest.
"I trust that you will," Malson finally said as he rose to his feet. "And one final thing before I leave: the evacuations--"
"Are going smoothly, my Lord, you needn't worry. All on schedule and true to plan."
"Right... Good. Well, in that case, I will leave you to your work. I'm sure you're quite busy." He turned to the door, nodding at Teagan as he passed, then disappeared outside in what almost seemed like a hurry. But Salus didn't notice. Before the door had even closed he was dragging the satchel eagerly back towards him.
"Orders, si-- Is that--"
"Yes, it certainly is." He grinned childishly a
s his fingers nimbly dealt with the old, stiff buckles. "Our advantage." He quickly spilled the contents over the desk, a jumble of ink-stained and water-marked parchments, and books so old and worn their binding surely threatened to give out upon opening. Some coverings were so dusty that he doubted even a vigorous rub would remove the thick coats.
Teagan stepped forwards and peered down at the collection, his purpose forgotten, but any curiosity was invisible. His face was, as ever, devoid of expression. "What do you intend to do with them?"
"Catch up on what they know. With any luck, Karth's findings and his own notes will put us on level ground, and with our resources, we can get ahead of them quickly enough."
Teagan watched him flick through the books, the excitement in his eyes never once waning, even as he was faced with illegible scripts. "You can't read that."
"It's not a problem. There's bound to be someone in the Arana who can decipher this. The point is that we have it."
"Even if the texts can be translated, Karth's notes aren't likely to be straight-forward. Drassa had his own shorthand; Karth certainly will, too."
Salus cursed as his enthusiasm crumpled. "I hadn't thought of that. And I refuse to take this to Drassa. We can't risk the Order getting a hold of it." He pointed off vaguely towards one of the many ledger-lined shelves in the room. "Get me the--"
"There's no need for operatives' profiles," Teagan assured him. "I can recommend someone right now who should be suited to the task: Lucinda Grey; phaeacian. She has an academic background, specialised in history and reads elven, if she doesn't speak it. She could handle this."
He eyed him reluctantly. "Can she be recalled?"
"She isn't in the field. She's on leave; eight months pregnant. But she has been putting in requests for work since war came our way. She doesn't want to sit idle."
Salus's eyebrows rose as zeal gripped him again. "Perfect," he beamed, "call her in."
"Right away. But, in the mean time, I presume there are other orders besides, especially after Malson's unscheduled visit?"
Ah. Of course. Work. He forced himself back down into his seat, curbing his racing mind and dragging his eyes off of the treasure trove before him, deliberately angling himself away from it. "Yes. Orders." A familiar gravity returned to his eyes. "Doana and Skilan. Every attack they've made on our settlements has either been with the help of foreigners or no help at all. This time around we picked out the most likely conspirators, and in the places that were hit, we were right on all counts. Every one of them was of foreign blood and had lived in this country for anywhere between months to years. We even managed to foil two attacks before they could happen. So, now we know how to spot who's helping them, we have to take the next step."
"You want to watch all foreigners within Turunda's borders."
"I do..." his eyes became distant, thoughtful. "And...Malson."
"Malson?"
"He's been behaving peculiarly for some time," he mused, "and now he's come to me about a spy in the military."
"I don't make the connection, sir."
"It's just curious. He flicks between the composure of an old professional to an over-zealous guard recruit with ideas above his station a little too often these days..."
"Are you referring to his own request for us to infiltrate the Order?"
"Not exclusively, though it is a fine example." He tapped his chin in thought. "We've already been watching the discontent within the ranks, but Malson seems to think Brigadier General Rackson is responsible. I want a handful of those already planted in the military to look around it, make it their priority - Reich, Jaq and...Hayla. But otherwise, I want to keep an eye on Malson, too - and the rest of the Crown's liaisons. It doesn't hurt to look a little closer to home. Especially when he seems to have an idea from afar when those we have watching from within the ranks haven't seen enough to build such confident accusations..."
"Very well. Consider both taken care of - though I feel I should remind you that the strain of watching every foreigner is going to compromise other standing orders our watchers are under."
Salus waved his hand dismissively. "This is a priority. It's precisely this kind of thing they're watching for in the first place, isn't it?"
"It is, but at the same time, we are not the only ones keeping an eye on foreigners. Word has already spread to other towns and cities of a few individuals who have helped Skilan, and people are beginning to suspect anyone from across the borders of treachery. It will make observation more difficult. Our targets will behave in a suspicious manner simply because they're uncomfortable."
"It will be fine. If they're innocent, they have nothing to worry about, do they?"
Teagan blinked at his calm response. Usually he would have been rewarded for his persistent realism with an scathing comment, or, lately, the rough side of Salus's tongue before he went into a seething if thoughtful silence. The centre of his brow almost imperceptibly knotted as he noticed in his peripherals the sixth appearance of the smallest of smiles, one that seemed to be tugging relentlessly at Salus's lips though he smothered it at every attempt it made. Understanding abruptly dawned as he noticed a flash of what could only have been victory in his eyes as he looked down at his empty hand.
His heart jumped in a curious sensation he'd not felt for years, too long ago to identify. "You did it..."
Salus's eyes shot back towards him and the smile he restrained was finally unleashed. But he said nothing. He raised his hand instead, moving his fingers slowly in the patterns Denek had showed him, and the portian took a stunned step backwards as a ball of light appeared and swelled in the air between them.
They both stared at it in silence.
"What else?" Teagan eventually asked, though his tone was tame and flattened Salus's pride more than a little, and his words struck even deeper.
"Nothing," he replied resentfully, "this is all he showed me. But the point is that I did it, Teagan. I have magic! And I can use it! And with more help, more guidance, I could finally make a real difference in this country!"
He frowned slightly. "You're making an enormous difference already. You are Keliceran, you command all of the Arana's ranks. What could you alone do with magic that would be so much greater than that?"
His lip curled at his lack of enthusiasm, and he slammed his hand down atop the gathered books. "I could wield this relic myself."
"Even if you possess magic, you don't have the understanding you would surely need to operate something like that on your own."
"What is wrong with you, Teagan?" He hissed "Why are you trying to poke holes in this? Why aren't you pleased? This is good for us - all of us! Now we don't have to rely on the magic of others to see this thing through!"
Teagan watched him, measuring his eyes, and he easily recognised pride, desperation, and the immense desire to protect Turunda and its people by any means necessary - the same things he always saw in him, even throughout his recently foul moods. But each quality had been intensified by the possibility that he'd found the means to truly and personally achieve it, and though the thought set a strange discomfort deep within his gut, he also found he understood it, and appreciated it. With the rate the world around them was crumbling - the distrust citizens were showing towards each other, the disorder in the military, the betrayal of the Order - it was understandable that Salus, a deeply driven man who had reclaimed his emotions and sense of self after being a portian for almost ten years, would grasp such a gift and yearn with all his being to use it to that same purpose.
He straightened and shifted his gaze back onto the wall. "I apologise, Keliceran. Though I feel I should also point out that Denek won't teach you anything useful."
"What do you mean?"
"He is of the Order. He may have taught you how to unlock your magic, but he's not going to teach you how to use it. Forming a light is harmless, and he's going to want to keep you that way."
Again, Salus cursed.
"May I make a suggestion? Continue seeing De
nek - he'll grow suspicious if you suddenly disappear, and we don't know what he's truly capable of. And keep pressuring him to teach you more spells, as he'll expect that, too. He won't oblige, but you can learn more about wielding and controlling your magic from him. Then, in the mean time, seek tuition from one of our mages. They will be keen to help you - and, after all, the nature of their work has lead them to develop spells that even the Order has not."
Salus nodded vigorously as he absorbed the idea. "Yes...yes, you're right. On all counts..." He sat back in his seat and grunted wearily, burying his face in his hands. "I'm such a fool. How could I think that foul mage would teach me how to truly wield it? Of course he would want to keep me harmless. He said right from the beginning that it was for the sake of everyone else that I learn to control it. I just...assumed 'control' meant 'use'." He uttered a curse. Then another. Then turned his eyes heavily onto his favoured. "Thank you, Teagan." He sat forwards, a dangerous flame of determination sparking and flickering in his eyes. "Now get me a mage."
Chapter 48
The morning's trek had been unbearable, to say the least. Though from first light the sky had been freckled with soft, white clouds, the land slowly began levelling out and a stronger breeze swept in from the nearby mountains, the atmospheric bubble that consumed them was almost crushingly unsurvivable. No one spoke; no one exchanged glances. They actively ignored one another, keeping their distance as if feigning disassociation, lone travellers coincidentally journeying in the same direction at the same time and place in the middle of absolutely nowhere.
Garon was the only one not to participate. He maintained a vigilant watch all around them, certain that last night's fire hadn't been an accident, and kept the rest of them under his eye all the while, ready to intervene should someone finally snap and try to start something.