by Kel Kade
“You came back,” said Teza. “I was beginning to wonder if you would.”
Aaslo glanced at the pile by his bed. “All my belongings are here, and you’re my guide.”
She waved a finger at him. “I know, but I thought maybe you had decided to abandon your quest and stay with Jennis.”
“She’s jealous.”
“Jealous?” muttered Aaslo.
Teza laughed. “Oh, no. She seems a sweet girl, if you’re into ordinary. A man who settles for ordinary isn’t a man for me.” She placed a hand on her hip and smirked. “You should be glad I didn’t take off. Really, you need to keep a closer eye on your prisoners.”
“Prisoners?” Aaslo said, thoroughly stumped.
She crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels. “You were considering kidnapping me, weren’t you?”
“What? No, I wouldn’t—”
“Kidnapping by omission?”
“I, uh … That’s not a thing,” he said. “Besides, you chose to stay.”
She shrugged. “I figure you still owe me for getting me fired.”
Aaslo shook his head. “Also not true.”
She abruptly handed him a small package.
“What’s this?” he said.
“It’s nothing—just something I picked up. It’s no big deal. Here,” she said, holding out several coins, “for the cloak.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he unwrapped the package.
“You think I can’t pay for my own cloak? I’m not a beggar, you know.”
“I never thought you were,” he said as he pulled the item from its burlap wrap. It was a cloak pin. The small wooden disk was inlaid with tiny bits of quartz, feldspar, onyx, and jasper, which were surrounded by shiny black resin. “It’s an ocelot,” he said.
“Is that what it’s called? I didn’t know. It reminded me of you.”
“It’s a creature of the wild,” he said. “They’re solitary and mysterious.”
“Solitary, yes. Mysterious, no—stubborn, ornery, work obsessed—”
“Yep, sounds like you,” she said. She held up the cloak and narrowed her eyes at him. “I know what this is. You feel guilty.”
“For what?” he said, surprised again by her reaction.
“For lying to me and trying to kidnap me by omission.”
Aaslo sighed and shook his head. “That didn’t happen.” Then he said, “If I bought you the cloak out of guilt, why did you buy me a cloak pin?”
“It’s poisoned. Don’t let it poke you.”
She winked at him, then pointed to the tub. “I already bathed. I’ll ask the twins to bring up more hot water.”
“Thank you,” he said as he peered into the tub.
“Don’t thank me. I insist.”
“Ha ha. She thinks you smell.”
Aaslo sighed. “I know what she’s saying.” When he turned back, Teza was already gone.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Mory,” said Myropa.
Mory hung his head and covered his ears as Peck cried.
“I’m sorry,” said the apothecary, leaning back against the long workbench covered in bottles, pouches, and bowls. “I stitched his shoulder and set his leg, but his internal wounds were extensive, and he lost a lot of blood. He was too far gone. If a healer had been here, maybe, but I couldn’t help him.”
Peck looked up, his eyes filled with grief and torment. “I’ll get a healer! Where do I go?”
The apothecary shook her head. “They’re all gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“I mean they left. All of them, and not just the healers. All of the magi are gone.”
“No! There has to be one left. I only need one!”
She laid a hand on his heaving shoulder and gazed at him with sympathy. “It wouldn’t do any good. He’s already dead.”
“No, I’m not,” shouted Mory, jumping to his feet. “I’m right here!”
“Where’s the serum?” Peck shouted. “You said you had a serum that could cure nearly anything.”
“It doesn’t cure death,” said the woman.
Peck pushed to his feet and raised a finger to her. “You don’t decide if he’s dead. I’ll decide if he’s dead. He’s not dead. Give him the serum.”
“I’ve never used it. I don’t even know if it works. It’s rare. I didn’t make it. I couldn’t. It requires the power of a magus, and I’ve met none in Uyan who even knew what it was. It shouldn’t be wasted on a corpse.”
“He’s not a corpse! He’s still warm.” Peck pulled a purse from his pocket and threw it at the wall. Coins spilled over the floor, mostly copper and silver with a few gold. “Give him the serum!”
The woman jumped, and it was obvious she was becoming frightened by Peck’s outbursts. “Okay, okay, but if this doesn’t work, will you leave in peace?”
Peck grabbed his hair and said, “Yes! Just give it to him, please.”
The woman used a tiny gold key to unlock a cupboard. She selected a red bottle and removed the stopper as she returned to Mory’s side. “Hold him in a sitting position, and tilt his head back,” she said. “Yes, like that.” She tipped the contents of the bottle into Mory’s mouth, and they waited.
Myropa stepped up beside Mory. She wanted to hold his hand or put her arm around him, but it was impossible. Mory turned to her with a pleading gaze. Myropa had seen the same look on countless faces. In the short time she had been following Aaslo and gotten to know Mory and Peck, she had grown fond of them. She had spent more time with these people than any since her death. Although they couldn’t know her, she felt as if she knew them, and this one hurt more than most. She hated to separate the pair and felt even worse for taking another of the forester’s companions. It was inevitable, though, that he would lose more. Everyone was going to die.
She held up a small, clear orb, and Mory shook his head as if he understood what was happening. She wondered if perhaps he did. She couldn’t remember her own, but she thought maybe people could recognize their deaths when they saw them. Just as she moved the orb into the stream, the light fizzled out. She glanced up to find that Mory had vanished, and the orb was clear. The ice in her veins shifted when Mory’s body began to convulse. It coughed and sputtered and shook in massive spasms. Then he inhaled deeply, and she recognized it for what it was. He had been granted the breath of life once again. She smiled to herself, knowing that Mory would no longer be able to see her. His gaze looked through her just as she released her breath and stepped into the Afterlife.
It always amazed her that with a single breath, she could be transported to another realm and be standing on a rocky butte or digging her toes into shimmering pink sand beside an endless sea—a sea of souls. Breath was perhaps the most magical of all the gods’ powers, she thought. She held up the dangling orbs she had collected that night. There had been many. Most of them, she knew, would be rejected by the Sea and sent into Axus’s service until they were deemed worthy. There was one among them, though, that she was both sad and glad to deliver.
She held the orb in her palm over the Sea as it lapped at her toes. Each time it touched her, she felt the most pleasant warmth mingled with cheer, excitement, desire, and love. The light within the pale blue orb began to pulse and swirl. Far in the distance, another light glowed, brighter than the rest. It shimmered, shifting between every color imaginable as it floated closer. Myropa enjoyed this part of the job more than any other. When the Sea light finally reached her, she bent and dipped the hand holding the orb into the water that wasn’t water. The orb dissipated, and the blue light joined with the other in a frenzy of joy that seeped into her through her feet. Myropa collapsed into a fit of giggles as the water danced around her legs.
Once it receded, Myropa stood frozen in an icy shell, no longer capable of feeling the joy of the Sea. She turned to leave and paused. Glancing back, she studied the churning waters. It wasn’t uncommon for them to stir, but something wasn’t right. She stood for a long tim
e trying to discern the problem. She finally focused her mind on the subject of her destination and took a step into Celestria.
The steps leading to Disevy’s temple hadn’t changed, but the temple itself looked different. The stone was black and shone like a mirror, and the soft greenery of the forest was replaced with deep red roses. A marble statue of a beautiful woman stood in the foyer, and white petals were scattered across the floor.
Myropa felt his presence behind her. She spun to find the God of Virility towering over her. He was clothed in a cream-colored silk robe over loose black silk pants. His feet were bare, and the robe hung open, but she was thankful he was clothed at all. He smiled at her and said, “My lovely Myropa. I am pleased you have come to see me again. Shall we dance?”
“Dance?” she said. “There’s no music.”
She closed her eyes as he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “There is always music if you care to listen.”
Myropa realized that she could indeed hear music playing ever so softly on the breeze. Disevy took her hands, and when she opened her eyes, she found that he had shrunk to a human size. He danced her gracefully around the foyer, and Myropa thought she might lose herself to the breeze. When the dance ended, he stepped back and bowed.
“Thank you, my dear lady, for a most invigorating dance.”
“No, thank you,” she said.
He tilted his head. “You did not come to dance on the breeze with me. No, you are one consumed with duty, which means it must be the Sea.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Something feels wrong. It’s not obvious. In fact, I couldn’t see it at all, but I can feel it.”
“Hmm, it is possible. The reapers are most attuned to its dispositions. What do you sense?”
“It’s the souls. There are so many, the numbers greater than I could ever comprehend, but I am sure of it. Some are missing.”
As Disevy’s expression darkened, the roses that filled the foyer turned black as the stone.
Myropa was suddenly afraid. This god was more powerful than Trostili, more powerful than Axus. “I-I could be wrong—”
“No,” he said softly. His touch was as delicate as ever when he brushed a kiss across her knuckles, but she could see the fury simmering in his gaze. “It is a shame this meeting is so brief, but I must go. I hope to see you again soon, lovely Myropa.”
The god’s form grew to fill the corridor as he walked away, his power lingering behind him, giving Myropa the sensation that he was still with her. She didn’t want to imagine what it would feel like to experience the wrath of Disevy.
CHAPTER 17
Aaslo gripped his throbbing arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain and breathed heavily through his nose. Bile swept up his throat, but he swallowed it down before he lost his breakfast.
Teza looked down at him with a disgruntled yet amused expression. “Are you sure you don’t want to get a different horse? Maybe one that doesn’t kick and bite?”
He picked himself up off the floor of the stable and met Dolt’s challenging gaze. “What is your problem?”
Teza crossed her arms and looked at the horse thoughtfully. “Maybe he’s mad at you for not spending time with him yesterday.”
“He didn’t lack for care,” Aaslo said. “The stable boy looked after him.”
“Well, I know that, but it doesn’t seem to matter to him.”
Aaslo’s hand came away from his forearm covered in blood. The skin was savaged around bite marks that extended deep into the muscle.
Teza’s face scrunched. “Ew, that looks bad. You need to see a healer.”
“You’re a healer. Why don’t you fix it?”
She shook her head. “Can’t. Banned, remember?”
Gripping his arm again, he said, “The magi have been recalled. They’re not going to come investigating. Besides, you used your power enough while you were unconscious to bring an army of investigators down on you.”
Teza pursed her lips. “I didn’t know that. Healer Soter can testify that I wasn’t in control of my powers at the time. This, however, is not exactly an emergency.”
“It will be if I get an infection,” said Aaslo.
She shrugged. “Then we’d best go find a healer or apothecary.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said a familiar voice.
“Grams!” Aaslo shouted as he spun to face the sorceress. “I mean Magdelay … ah, Ms. Brelle—er, High Sorceress?”
“Grams or Magdelay is fine, Aaslo. Greetings, Fledgling Catriateza.”
Teza rounded on him. “The high sorceress is your grandmother?”
“Not by blood,” he said.
Magdelay’s fierce gaze was familiar enough, even if her appearance wasn’t. Her formfitting clothes were the same, but her hair was jet black and pulled into a tight ponytail. She wore a familiar smirk on her glossy red lips. Aaslo was shocked. She looked no older than he at that moment.
Magdelay stepped forward and placed her hands to either side of his wound. They heated, and the pain, blessedly, dissipated as the flesh began to knit back together before his eyes. He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been trying to get to the citadel to speak with you.”
“I know,” she said as she stepped back. She nodded toward Teza. “Mage Soter came through the evergate last night. I overheard him talking to her mother, and he mentioned you.”
“My mother?” Teza said with a whimper.
Magdelay raised an eyebrow at Teza, then looked back to Aaslo. “Why were you looking for me?”
“I was coming to ask you for help. Not just you. The council. King Rakith will do nothing. He’s ready to lie down and die and take the rest of the kingdom with him.”
“The council won’t help you,” she said. “Although we hated to consider it, we prepared for this eventuality. We’re implementing the backup plan. The magi are recalled. We’re leaving this realm.”
Aaslo’s heart threatened to burst through his chest. “What do you mean, you’re leaving the realm?”
“We are settling in another world, Aaslo. I’m sorry.”
“You’re abandoning us?”
“Believe me, this isn’t what I want. If we could, we would take the seculars with us. You can’t go through the evergate, though. You’d be lost in the pathways.”
“No! You can’t just leave. If Mathias were here, you wouldn’t be leaving. You would fight beside him. I know you would. And what about me? You helped to raise me as much as him. Do you no longer care?”
“Of course I care,” she snapped. “I am left with little choice.”
“What if this is exactly the reason the prophecy leads to the death of everything? What if it’s only because you all turn coward and leave?”
“We don’t know that,” she said. “The prophecy is clear. All life in this world will die. We must save those we can. Unfortunately, only the bloodlines will survive.”
Anger overcame Aaslo’s sense, but he didn’t care at that moment. The fate of all life was at stake. “Isn’t that what you wanted all along? A society without seculars? You abandon us so that your precious bloodlines will no longer be watered down?”
“You know that isn’t true. I care about you, Aaslo. Believe it or not, I came to think of you as my own, just as I did Mathias. I would take you with me if I could, but I can’t. The truth is, the bloodlines may not survive either. We find it increasingly difficult to produce offspring between us. We need seculars as much as you need us.”
“Except that you have a chance at survival without us, but we don’t without you.”
Magdelay looked away. He could tell she was trying to put on a strong face, but he saw the glisten of tears in her eyes. She glanced at the sack hanging from his waist. “You still have it.”
“Of course. I would never leave him behind—especially not with the king. That man is a coward.”
Magdelay shook her head. “Not a coward, just realistic. Give it to me, and I’ll take it to his parents.”
“Don�
�t let her take me, Aaslo.”
“No. They don’t even know him. I’m his brother. Besides, I still need it if I’m going to find help from someone with a spine.”
“What are you two talking about?” Teza said nearly in a panic. “You act like the world is ending.”
Magdelay turned her attention to Teza. “The path of survival in the Aldrea Prophecy has failed. The chosen one is dead. You must come with us if you want to live.”
Teza’s golden skin became pale, and her wide-eyed gaze stared at Aaslo as if he were a monster she had never before seen. She glanced at the sorceress and then back to Aaslo. “What’s in the bag?”
Aaslo swallowed his anger toward the magi and pulled Mathias’s head from the bag, holding it up for Teza to get a good look. She quickly averted her gaze with a groan. Slowly, she turned back to peek at it out of the corner of her eye, as if somehow that would make the image less gruesome.
“That’s him, isn’t it?”
Aaslo nodded. “Yes, he’s the chosen one.”
“No, I mean, he’s the one you’re always talking to.”
Aaslo said nothing as he placed the head back into the sack.
Teza turned back to Magdelay. “I can’t go. If the prophecy has truly failed, then people will need me here.”
“They’re all going to be dead,” said Magdelay, eyeing Aaslo with concern.
“Yes, I suppose,” said Teza. “We all die someday.” She lifted her chin stubbornly. “I’m a healer, though. It is our duty to bring relief and comfort to the dying, even if they can’t be saved.”
“We’re not talking about a patient, girl. We’re talking about the world—about life.”
“The prophecy never said how long it would take everyone to die.” Teza’s color returned with her anger. “Besides, why would I want to survive with all of you? You turned me out, sent me away, banned me from ever using my power, even after I served my punishment.”