by Kel Kade
They all turned back to Myropa expectantly. “Well?” said Trostili.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” Upon seeing their disgruntled gazes, she turned to Arayallen and said, “It has lots of trees … and some of them talk?”
Arayallen appeared thoughtful as she tapped her lip. Then she waved noncommittally. “There are hundreds, thousands, that fit that description, and the magi could be in any time.”
Axus clenched his jaw. “I will find them, Arayallen.”
“Not likely, but you’re more than welcome to look. It will keep you too busy to claim the rest.”
Axus slammed his fist into a wall that didn’t exist, and the air in front of him shattered. “I cannot believe Enani gave those ridiculous human magi access to the pathways.” He turned and raised a finger. “She did this on purpose.”
Arayallen rolled her eyes. “She didn’t give access to all of them, and how was she to know you would get the itch to destroy everyone’s hard work?”
“She’s the Goddess of Realms. She can access any realm during any time. She would know.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” said Trostili. “She’s not Arohnu. She doesn’t dispense prophecies. If she saw that you destroyed the world in the future, then what she saw would be what happens in truth—without the possibility of alternative outcomes. Therefore, anything she did in response wouldn’t affect the outcome.”
“That’s what she says,” said Axus. “I am still not convinced her power works that way.”
“Only she knows,” said Trostili. “Now let the reaper finish her report.”
They all turned to Myropa again. “There was an attack on the forester.” Glancing accusingly at Axus, she added, “The old servant died, and the youngest of the companions almost succumbed to his injuries, but he’ll live. They’ve decided to seek out and join the forester.”
“Who is this forester?” said Axus. “And why should I care about him?”
Myropa had been sure the attack on the Forester’s Haven had come from Axus but conceded that he might not have had direct knowledge of it. She doubted his agents sought permission for every attack.
Trostili clapped his hands together. “Excellent. That’s a nearly ideal outcome.” He appeared thoughtful. “It may have been better had the youngest died. Revenge is a superb motivator.” He glanced toward Myropa. “Then again, too much loss could have broken their spirits, and we can’t have that so early in the game.”
“You sent the attack?” Myropa said, so mortified that she forgot her station. Trostili seemed too consumed with reveling in his accomplishment to reprimand her.
“Of course,” he said. “The forester can’t put up a fight if he has no one to fight for him. He keeps leaving them behind. It may seem petty now, but a few pawns can seed an army.”
Axus said, “What are you up to, Trostili? Are you pitting this forester against me?”
Trostili turned to him in amused dismay. “He’s not the chosen one, Axus—not your Lightbane. He’s just a human forester. He’s not even a warrior or a magus. He plants trees! How much damage can he do?”
“I like the foresters,” said Arayallen.
“So you have said,” replied Trostili. “You should enjoy watching this one flounder around for a while.”
Axus turned his full attention on Trostili. “What if he finds the Lightbane before we do? If you screw this up for me—”
“How could I?” said Trostili, raising his hands with innocence. “The prophecy is very specific, and the Lightbane is dead.”
Axus looked genuinely surprised. “He is?”
Motioning toward Myropa, Trostili said, “The reaper took his soul to the Sea.”
Axus grinned at her, and Myropa immediately felt drawn into him. The sensation abruptly stopped as he turned back to Trostili. “Then I can send my forces to cleanse the world immediately.”
“Just give it a minute,” Trostili replied. He sat back again, resting his head in his hands. “Someone needs to put up a fight or there’s nothing in this for me. It won’t do Aldrea any good in the end.” His sharp gaze narrowed on Axus. “If I don’t get anything out of this deal, I won’t be so accommodating on the next one.”
Axus balled his fists. “Fine, but I’ll not hold off forever.”
“I don’t need forever,” said Trostili as he sat forward and rubbed his hands together. “I just need a few terrible battles and one good war.”
* * *
Aaslo struggled to draw breath. No matter how hard he tried, his lungs wouldn’t respond. After a few agonizing seconds, they finally expanded, and the blessed breath of life filled his chest cavity. He blinked the tears from his eyes and rolled just in time to avoid a massive tail strike. He tumbled over the rubble, ignoring the sharp edges and thorns digging into his flesh. Finally, he caught sight of his sword where it had fallen over the embankment. He glanced back in time to dodge a swipe of the creature’s talons. This time, he rolled right over the embankment, his descent barely slowed by multiple briar bushes. Upon reaching the bottom, he quickly untangled himself, ripping the briars from his skin and clothes, then skittered over the debris to reclaim his sword.
The giant lizard paced along the edge of the embankment as if trying to decide if Aaslo was worth the effort. The beast was the size of a horse, with thick, green-black scales, long talons on its front and back paws, and giant spikes protruding from its head and spine. As it looked at him, Aaslo considered again that he might have made a mistake in damaging the beast’s wings. If he hadn’t, the monster might have flown away by now. The creature seemed dead set on making him the midday meal, though. He hoped Teza didn’t come looking for him. While he knew she had magic, he had no idea if it would be useful in a fight, and he didn’t want her getting eaten, too.
The monster finally lurched, jumping from the top of the embankment straight for him. Aaslo raised the sword, tightly gripping the hilt with both fists, and thrust upward just as the creature fell atop him. He felt the scales give, and the blade sank deep into the creature’s chest. The beast reared, its colossal shriek crashing off the canyon walls. Blue blood spurted from its chest as it inhaled deeply, then inhaled some more. Just when Aaslo thought the creature might burst, it exhaled. The air striking his face heated in an instant. Aaslo dragged himself from beneath the beast, scrambling backward as he stared into the creature’s maw. There, deep in its throat, was an orange-yellow light. The light grew rapidly, turning deeper red, then purple and blue before it came swirling out of the beast’s mouth, a flame caught in a wind current. Aaslo raised his left arm to shield his face as he rolled to his side, but he wasn’t fast enough. The most intense pain he had ever felt shattered his consciousness, and he instantly dropped into peaceful darkness.
Myropa screamed as the fire consumed Aaslo. She had arrived just as the fire beast released its deadly torrent. After the initial shock, her first thought was that Axus had reneged on his word. Aaslo was dead, and the war would be over before it started. Trostili would be furious. He might even exact payment from her, but nothing he did could compare to the pain she felt deep in her chest in that moment. It was a sensation she had thought impossible for her to experience. After decades of emptiness, she was suddenly filled with the worst longing and terror she had felt in both life and death. Not only was Aaslo hope for the world of Aldrea, he was her hope.
The monster succumbed to Aaslo’s fatal blow after releasing its final breath—the breath that had taken the forester from her. Although no tears fell, she wept, her chest heaving with the pain of her loss. She lowered herself to the ground beside his charred body and waited for the tether that would draw them together. She was the closest. It had to be her. The Fates could not be so cruel as to attach him to someone else. The longer she waited, the worse her dread became. Had they truly forsaken her? Had he already crossed the veil with a stranger?
A motion at the edge of the chasm drew her attention. A woman’s scream filled the air, but it didn’t come cl
ose to echoing her own. The forester’s companion, Teza, came sliding down the embankment. She hurried to his side, calling his name. Teza rolled Aaslo over, and Myropa wanted so much to stroke his peaceful face. Aaslo’s left side was badly burned, his arm charred to a crisp, but his handsome face had suffered only what looked like a sunburn.
Teza laid her hands on the burned flesh of his neck and shoulder, muttering to herself. “No, no, no, no, no. Not a burn. Aaslo, I can’t heal a burn. I’m sorry. I don’t know how. Please, let this be a bad dream. Please, this can’t be happening.”
Myropa shook her head as the young woman tried to deny what was right in front of her. Teza turned her attention to the monster that had taken Aaslo from them. A desperate look came over her, and she lurched to her feet. She stomped on the monster as she pulled the sword from its chest. Then she began hacking at the beast. Myropa understood the need to lash out at something. With the chosen one dead, she had thought Aaslo her only hope—her world’s only hope. She knew the prophecy, but she wanted to believe as much as Aaslo that it could be changed. Now, he was gone.
In that moment, Myropa wanted only to destroy Axus. She began to heave a tearless cry all over again as she simultaneously laughed. What would Aaslo say about a simple little reaper challenging the God of Death? Would he say it was useless fantasy? No, Aaslo would applaud her courage in fighting for what was right.
Myropa’s entire attention had been consumed by her thoughts of Aaslo and the gods, so when Teza suddenly stepped into her, she was shocked. She scurried away from the disturbing situation, then watched in horror as the girl stood over Aaslo and raised his sword over her head. Myropa and Teza screamed in unison as the blade descended, and Myropa knew the young woman had gone mad.
CHAPTER 19
Peck’s boots scuffed the dirt road as he glanced back at Mory again. The boy was different since he awoke from death. He had the same genuine humor, the same eagerness to please; but, somehow, he seemed less … innocent. There was knowledge in his youthful gaze, knowledge that had not been there before. Whenever Peck stared too long, he was overcome with a sense of depth, of otherworldliness. Mory never spoke of it, though, and Peck consoled himself with the prospect that it was he who was cracked. When he had thought Mory dead, he had broken inside. He had felt pain that he had never thought anyone could bear, and if Mory hadn’t returned, he didn’t think he could have. It was in the moment of Mory’s demise that Peck had learned how much he truly needed Mory.
“How are we going to find him?” said Mory for the hundredth time since they had left Tyellí.
“I told you. We’ll go to that marquess. He’s paying Aaslo’s way, right? Aaslo’s gotta end up there eventually.”
“Right, but where’s the marquess?”
“In Ruriton.”
“Where’s that?” said Mory.
“Pretty much due south,” said Peck, pointing down the road. “Should I draw you a map?”
Mory shrugged. “I wouldn’t know how to read it.”
Peck grinned and ruffled Mory’s shaggy mane. “That’s okay. I wouldn’t know how to draw it.”
“I’ve never seen a map,” said Mory.
Peck rubbed his chin, trying to think of the map he’d seen. “There was part of one hanging in the Rusty Nail. You remember? It was in the rear by the back door. I think someone mighta used the missing part in the outhouse.”
“Oh right. That was a map? It just looked like squiggles and dots to me.”
“The squiggles are supposed to show the kingdom borders, I think. The dots are places, like cities.”
“How do they know where to put them?” said Mory.
Peck shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they count their steps.”
Mory looked at him aghast. “You mean they count their steps all the way to Ruriton? There’s gotta be hundreds.”
“More like millions,” said Peck.
Mory shook his head. “How much is a million?”
Peck rubbed his chin again. “I don’t know. Can’t say that I’ve ever counted a million of anything, but I know it’s more than thousands. That’s what people mean when they say it.”
“That makes sense,” said Mory with a nod. “I counted a thousand once. I wanted to know how much it was, so I made a pile of pebbles by the river. It took a long time.”
“When did you do that?” said Peck. “I think I would’ve remembered.”
Mory shrugged. “I was supposed to stay home since I was too little to help you in the streets. I got bored and went down to the river.”
“Mory! Something could’ve happened to you. You shouldn’t’ve left the den by yourself.”
“It was years ago, Peck. Nothing happened. I’m fine.”
Peck glanced into Mory’s deep gaze and swallowed what he was about to say. “Yeah, I know you’re fine. It’s okay now.” He scuffed his boot on a rock as he looked down the road and then glanced behind them. Fields of grass swayed peacefully as far as he could see in every direction, and the road was empty. It felt like he and Mory were the only people in the world. For a moment, he felt safe.
* * *
The sky was burnt orange fading to dark purple. A few stars shimmered directly before his eyes, and Aaslo wondered if they were calling to him with their pulsating lights. He blinked several times, then coughed. Suddenly, his view was blocked by a dark-haired beauty. Her intense gaze was darker than the night and devoid of the stars’ sinister enchantment. His vision began to clear; and, no, he wasn’t looking at a goddess. It was—
“You’re awake! Oh, Aaslo, I’m so glad you’re awake. No”—Teza pushed him as he tried to sit up—“don’t move. Just rest for a minute. You were hurt badly. I didn’t think I could save you, but I did, Aaslo—I saved you. You’re going to be okay.”
He was relieved. It didn’t feel like anything was wrong with him, but he was glad to have her assurances that all was well. He tried to lift his arm to wipe his face, but it didn’t respond as it should have. It felt heavy and moved awkwardly. He felt a pressure on his arm and realized Teza was gripping it.
“Don’t—don’t move this one right now,” she said. “It’s, um, not finished. It’ll get better, I’m sure. It just needs time to adjust.”
“What are you talking about?” he said as he tried again to lift it. He then attempted to turn his head, but it, too, didn’t seem to move right. “What’s going on?” he said. “I thought you said I’m okay.”
“Well, you are,” she said, but by the way she worried at her lip, he was not convinced. “I had to make a few adjustments. Don’t panic, okay, and I’ll show you.”
“All right,” he said, “What is it?”
Teza helped him to lift his arm into his field of view, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. “What did you do?” he shouted as he whipped the appendage out of her hands. It slammed into the dirt beside him with a whomp, and dust was thrown into the air, causing him to cough. Teza scrambled backward as he struggled to sit upright.
“Now, now,” she said in a placating voice. “You said you wouldn’t panic.”
“Panic? Panic?” he said. He looked down at the green-black scales that covered the bulging muscles of an appendage that ended in two-inch-long black talons. “This is the arm of a monster!”
“Well, it’s your arm now,” she said with a grin that failed to appease.
“Why?” was all he could muster among his chaotic thoughts.
“You were horribly burned—worse than anything I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how to heal a burn that bad. I never got that far in my lessons, but I know how to reattach an appendage.”
“You can reattach an arm but not heal a burn?” he said.
“Healing a burn is very complicated. I’m not even sure a master could have healed your arm. The only way to save your life was to remove it. I didn’t want to leave you without an arm, though, so I cut the arm from the beast and attached it to you.” She wrung her hands. “Um, we’re not supposed to attach parts of
different animals together. It’s forbidden, actually. Most of the time the animals don’t survive; and, well, the ones that do usually have serious side effects.”
“Like what?” he said, his heart racing. He searched for his sword. He wanted nothing more than to hack the foreign appendage from his body.
“Well, you see, the healing magic encourages the body to regrow the links between the part and the whole. Your part, though, isn’t human, so your body is trying to … um”—she pointed to his torso—“consolidate … the two.”
Aaslo hesitantly traced the scales up the arm, but they didn’t stop at the shoulder. Smaller scales covered the left side of his neck, under his jaw, to just below his ear. Then he looked down as his hand explored additional scales over his left pectoral muscle, across his ribs, and around to his back.
“Am I turning into one of those monsters?” he said with alarm.
Her dark curls bobbed as she adamantly shook her head. “No, not at all. Your body is changing the arm more than it’s changing you. You see? It has scales, and it’s stronger, but it’s shaped more like a man’s than a beast’s.”
Aaslo tried again to move the appendage. The motion felt foreign, but it did move similarly to his other arm. He opened and closed the long, muscular fingers, accidentally stabbing himself in the palm with his talons in the process. The sharp nails barely scored the thick scales that covered his flesh. At a loss for words, he looked up at Teza. “Will it stop?”
“Oh, yes. It’s slowed considerably already. I don’t expect it to spread much more. As your body adjusts, the motion will become more natural. I expect you’ll be able to use it just as well as your old arm.” She smiled and, with forced enthusiasm, said, “This one even has some improvements, don’t you think?”
“I look like a monster, Teza. People will run screaming.”
“That’s true.”
Aaslo nearly jumped when he heard the unexpected voice. Had Mathias been giving him the chance to come to terms with his new reality, or had his mind finally calmed enough to produce the phantom voice again?