by David Ekrut
This is her gift. But in exchange, she takes something as precious as new life. Once taken, this treasure can never be returned or held again.
For he who gains the most in knowledge, loses the most in innocence.
Elwin closed the book and glanced at the setting sun. Spending his day studying the words of Machiavel had become one of his favorite pastimes, but his free day had almost come to an end.
He stood and stretched. The spire beneath his feet was the tallest of the castle. It was one of the few places he could go to feel at peace. No one ever bothered him up here. He stepped to the top of the parapet and watched the setting sun.
The pink rays stretched out over the city of Justice like a blanket of warmth. The sun was already too low to make out the details of the larger houses belonging to the nobles quarter of the upper city to the west, so he faced the commons to the east of town.
Shadows from the redwoods fell across the wide lake that separated the common’s quarter from the noble’s. Though it seemed natural to the eyes, the divide had been created by the Elements. When close to the lake, he could feel the power that kept the water from escaping.
He had learned much this last year, but as his trial approached, he could not feel success from his achievements.
Worse, war had come to the northern isles. Already, so many lives were being lost around him. Before, war had only been a word that he read in stories. The meaning had been lost in glorious tales of heroism and valor.
In real life, war meant that soldiers and friends would leave, and many would not return. It made him think of Feffer. He had not seen Feffer since the day of his trial. Communication at all took place over days, if not an entire tenday via letter. Furlough for soldiers was rare, and most of the time it appeared to be given with spontaneity. This allowed Feffer to leave word at the castle, but not enough time for Elwin to respond before the day of furlough ended.
And, every day was full for Elwin while he trained with Jasmine and Zarah. Between lecture and working on his talents, he had little time to send word to Feffer. His only free time was in the evenings after supper, most of which he spent up here. He enjoyed most of his studies. Except, once a tenday, he and Zarah were given training with wooden swords by Zaak Lifesong. Though Zarah took to it with a natural grace, Elwin found he did not much care for swords.
Swords had one purpose. Even though it had been an accident, he had already killed with a sword. However, Jasmine insisted that learning would save his life one day.
As the trial day grew closer, he found it difficult to focus on much else.
“If only I could go back,” Elwin told the fleeting sun.
He had flown off the warehouse and then wind thrust the table. He knew that now, and he would have given anything to go back in time to stop it. Childish fancies.
But, maybe there was a way to slow time. He did not want to see Biron’s family and open the old wound. Six days until Summer Solstice and a tenday beyond that, he would return to the trial. Not quite the full year they had promised, but it would be good to be done with it.
Jasmine had suggested for him to go back to his home town for the Summer Solstice Festival. No. She had ordered him to go.
Elwin had his trepidations about going back to Benedict, but he missed his mother and father. And he wanted to see Poppe and Momme as well. Even if they weren’t his real family, he would always care for them. In their absence, he knew this to be true. And in a couple of tendays he may be executed.
He had wanted Zarah to go with him, but Jasmine would not allow it. Jasmine did not tell him the reason for his journey home, and he couldn’t figure out what it could be. Today had been his first day off in a month, and it had only been given for him to ready for departure. Now he would receive a tenday or more off to travel home? It didn’t fit.
“I wonder if she is testing me, somehow,” Elwin said. “Giving me a chance to run?”
Maybe she wanted him to run. Elwin shook his head. Of all things, that made the least sense. He wanted to run. But he wouldn’t. He would face the Inquisition with his head held high. He had been an infant with a knife. Elwin had flung the knife without knowledge of the danger he held. He would never stop mourning Biron’s death, but he would not blame himself either. He would make the inquisitor see the truth in this.
Shaking his head, Elwin pushed the trial from his mind and turned his thoughts on home. What would they think of him now?
At least he didn’t have to face them alone. Feffer would go with him. All of the soldiers in training were to be given a tenday furlough. The order came down from the king. Elwin had already coordinated their trip home with Feffer. In the morning, he would meet Feffer at the Kicking Breed near the east gate. It was a stable. Feffer had been receiving soldier’s pay and had money that his father had given him. Now he claimed that he needed a horse.
Of course, he would have to meet Jasmine for training one more night, but all that stood between Elwin and seeing his friend was a single night’s rest.
He made his mind empty and felt the Air around him. Upon first glance, the northern breeze seemed to caress the castle. The wind flowed around the castle’s sides and spires, but this was the result of a resisting power laden in the castle’s walls. Grey stones of the southern mountains had been used to form the castle.
Teams of men had carried unshaped stones down the River Serene to this location. Masons and artificers had dedicated their lives to the construction of this monumental palace. That was the power of Earth. Old and unyielding, stone must be shaped by a careful hand.
Feeling this strength, he understood the limitations of his own power of Air. The wind beat upon the stone in a frontal assault, but the earth resisted with an unrivaled strength. Elwin could feel the power of the age old blocks resisting the flow of Air around it and altering its natural course. It was as if an ancient battle was ensuing over the right to be in the space where the castle lived.
Jasmine had yet to work with Elwin on anything other than Air and Water, but when he returned, she would begin his training with Fire and Earth. Jasmine didn’t want to train him in the other two before the trial. If the inquisitor learned he was a true elementalist, he might find a way to twist his gifts into something they were not. Jasmine hadn’t said as much, but he couldn’t see any other reason for the delay. He had much more to learn in Air and Water, but she did not want him to be weak in the other two Elements.
Someday, he would tame Spirit. First, he would have to sense his tether. He had come a long way with moving his essence around in the shadow realm, but he had yet to sense the power of Spirit through his tether. If he had, he would have become Life bound in that instant, then proving he wasn’t Death bound would have become moot.
Elwin pulled a leather cord from his belt pouch and banded his hair back into a warrior’s tail. He peered over the edge of the spire. The lingering rays of the sun had vanished, so he could not see the inner courtyard in the darkness below. But, he could see the small lights of lampposts making a large square around the garden at the courtyard’s center, and he knew the path below by heart.
Hundreds of grey columns surrounded the garden and spanned upward for each level of the castle. Starting at the lowest level, several of the columns were etched to form the likeness of the kings that had ruled since the nation’s beginning. The majority of the columns on the upper half were unformed, awaiting the kings of the future.
Elwin could not see their faces from this distance, but he knew their faces well. Each new king had similarities to the previous generations. He couldn’t look upon them without wondering who his own face favored. Did he get his nose and eyes from his mother? Or from Bain? So many questions still to answer. The letter claimed that his mother had died so that he could live. Was the letter from his real mother? If so, then she would have been alive to deliver the letter. If not, then who was it that cared for him until he wa
s passed off to his Poppe? Maybe he could find her.
He took a deep breath and suppressed the thought once more.
Leaping into the night air, he dove toward the square’s center. He calmed his mind and touched the power of Air flowing around him and let it into his essence. The night air tasted crisper, and his skin tingled with the remaining day’s warmth. It was like the nectar of life, flowing through his veins.
The ground was rushing toward him. No other experience could describe the exhilaration of free falling. His body felt weightless and light. The wind rushed in his ears and pressed against his body, slowing his acceleration.
Using the power from his essence, he tamed this force to slow his decent. Repositioning his body to be upright, he tamed more power and willed his body away from the courtyard. Flying high above the castle, he stopped taming flight and fell freely once more.
He had discovered that if he flew too high, it became difficult to breath. Diving back toward the castle, he spread his arms and legs out wide to aim his body toward the northeastern side of the castle.
As the balcony to his room came near, he tamed enough power of Air to slow his decent. His curtains rippled when he crossed the balcony into his room. He maneuvered his body to face upward and crossed his arms behind his head. Intertwining his legs at his ankles, he eased himself onto the bed. He released the remaining bit of power in his essence and felt the other breezes of air displaced by the flow.
He sighed.
Had he only known this skill, the first every elementalist learned, the year before …
He pushed the thought from his mind and prepared for another night of sleep. Another night training with Jasmine and Zarah in the shadow realm.
Feffer balanced atop the wooden beam, ignoring the cheers and jeers of his squad and fellow soldiers surrounding him below. He pushed the roar of the crowd down to the buzzing of a fly in his mind and focused on the man-sized pendulums before him. Each wooden blade left just enough room between them as they passed in front of and behind him to fit a rigid body.
Though all of the blades were blunt, the shape and width of each blade varied, alternating the timing of each swing. The slowest ones were the two behind him, and he had four more to go. Each one narrowed in size, but had enough force to knock him to the mud pit below.
Neither he nor his comrades had made it through this particular obstacle. Sir Gibbins had given the challenge, which offered a nice reward. If any of them could make it across, then all squads got an early furlough. There wasn’t much light left to the day, but early furlough was early furlough. An hour or a minute of his own time had become as precious as his coin purse.
Any who wanted to attempt the gauntlet would get a single try. Feffer had seen several of his fellows fall before this point. One more step would take him as far as Gurndol had gone.
He closed his eyes and listened to the swooshing sound of the pendulums. Focusing on the one in front of him, he worked out the timing. He could feel the air become cooler as it sliced on either side.
Feffer took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He timed his step to take place the moment the blade crossed the beam. He had to judge the spacing as he moved.
The pendulums came back and just missed his front and back. His heart raced, as he teetered to keep his balance. He had less space between the swinging blades than the previous step, but he could just fit by balancing on one foot.
When he stopped swaying, he gave a long sigh of relief. The crowd’s voice became a single cheer, and they started chanting his name.
His heart pounded to the point of bursting, but with arms out to either side, he could maintain his balance without much effort. This was fire form stance.
Three more to go.
He pushed the noise from his mind once more, and he watched the three remaining blades. The next step had been Gurndol’s last. None had made it past this point. And Feffer realized why.
The swinging blades beyond this point left no room to stand. Few children could squeeze between the next two falling blades, let alone a grown man. He would have to take the last three without pause. But each blade fell one after the other in rapid succession. He closed his eyes and focus on the blades as he had before.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
They would reach the pinnacle in one direction.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
Then, they would reach the pinnacle on the other side. Over and over, the cycle repeated.
He forced his heart to slow down by taking steady breaths. Mindful of the swinging blade at his back, he crouched just enough to get a strong start.
Waiting for the first swoosh, he threw his other foot forward, jumping for the beam in front of the final blade. Airborne, he felt the air from the first blade brush against his back as he moved past the second blade. He passed the final blade and landed on the beam just as it made its decent.
He felt the force of the blade hit the heel of his back foot before he could pull it clear. Raising onto the ball of his foot, he used the force of the blow to spin around to face the swinging blades. Cool air brushed his face as he turned.
Using his spinning foot, he kicked the top side of the beam in an attempt to balance his body. But, his balance was too far forward. The mud pit loomed below. Rather than trying to regain his balance, he dropped. Turning in the air, he grabbed the side of the beam. He hung for a moment, stunned. Then, he swung his feet and heaved to pull his midsection up to the beam. He stepped atop the beam, stood, and thrust his fists into the air.
Three hundred or more soldiers cheered.
Feffer felt himself smiling, and then he spotted Wilton leaning against the fence on the far side of the training yard, next to the outer gate. He hadn’t seen his brother in over six months. The last word Wilton had left for Feffer, a mission had taken him off-island. Something to do with the northern isles.
Even at this distance, his brother’s face looked pale and his hair a mess. But, he nodded in approval as their eyes touched. Feffer smiled and waved to his brother.
Wilton looked away and began walking toward the open gate.
Feffer dropped from the high beam and rolled as his feet touched the ground. He came up in a run, moving toward the gate. The other soldiers patted him none too gently on the back as he passed by. Everyone still cheered his name, but he didn’t slow.
Feffer ran out the gate but stopped for a thumping horse cart moving in his path. He couldn’t see any sign of his brother until the cursed driver moved. Across the cobblestone road, Wilton stood at the opening of an alleyway. Both buildings were merchant stores, higher than they were wide.
He crossed the street, attempting not to jostle too many people. As he approached Wilton, Feffer almost stopped. He had never seen his brother worse for wear. Dark circles surrounded eyes reddened from lack of sleep or excessive drink.
“Are you alright?” Feffer said.
Wilton rubbed both eyes with one hand, “Yes. I just need a bit of rest. I will be fine.”
“Did you just get back from your mission on the northern islands?”
Wilton winced as if slapped. There was a brief pause. Wilton didn’t look away from him, but his eyes never actually met Feffer’s.
“I arrived in time to see your conquest,” Wilton said with strained enthusiasm. “Well done, Feffer.”
“It was a cinch,” Feffer forced a smile. What was wrong with his brother? “I could do it again and not get nipped this time.”
“I am sure you could,” Wilton nodded. “And you should.”
“Elwin and I are going to go back home for the Summer Solstice Festival. Do you think you can join us?”
Wilton’s eyes widened. “Elwin you say? When do you leave?”
“At first light,” Feffer said. “I know Da would love to see you.”
Wilton looked into Feffer’s eyes for the first tim
e. They lacked the luster they had the last time he saw his brother. He opened his mouth to ask about the northern isles again, but Wilton spoke first.
“I have done what I could to keep you safe, Feffer,” Wilton said. “I am proud of you, and Father will be as well. You have a pure heart. I hope you always do. I want you to promise me that you will not try to be a hero in this war. If anyone asks you to be a thief-catcher, say no. Or take the training and disappear.”
Wilton grabbed the back of Feffer’s neck and brought their foreheads together. His voice was a tired whisper. “We are pawns in this life. Don’t die for a king who doesn’t even know your name. Promise me.”
Feffer felt pain from the grip on his neck, but he returned his brother’s embrace. He could not recall the last time his brother had shown him any affection. He said the only words that seemed to matter.
“I promise.”
Wilton pulled away, avoiding Feffer’s gaze. “I have something that I must do this evening, but I will meet with you and Elwin in the morning. I am looking forward to leaving this place.”
“That will be …,” Feffer began. He started over, forcing enthusiasm into his words. “That will be great. It will be nice to see our home.”
Wilton’s lips tightened into a smile that did not touch his eyes and nodded.
“I must go. Do not try to follow me.”
Feffer nodded. Try? He would follow him.
“Hey,” Wilton pointed toward the gate. “Isn’t that Gurndol, your squad leader?”
Feffer turned his head to see through the open gate. Gurndol watched them talk, but looked away upon being noticed.
“He probably just wants to meet yo—” Feffer began to say. But Wilton was no longer in the alley. He was simply gone. Feffer made a complete turn around and looked up to the roofline. The two buildings were close enough together to scale but too high to do so unnoticed in such a short period.
“That isn’t possible,” Feffer said. Then he thought about it for a moment and found irritation creeping into his thoughts. “Why in the abyss have they not taught me that trick?”