by B. A. Scott
“In that case, you can think of an enchantment like a recipe,” Kade said. “Have you ever heard of everfire?”
“No,” said Kaven.
“There are many different strains. Everfire that speeds healing. Everfire that never blows out. Promotes growth, encourages infatuation and lust. Or melts just about anything it touches. The Oblivion Flame is a form of everfire.”
“You said enchantments were like a recipe,” Kaven said, wondering how talking about everfire related.
“Yes,” said Kade, taking a nearby lantern from Faelia’s bedside. “Everfire is one of the most experimented-with forms of magic. It is created using proportions of magic and emotion—like a recipe. Two parts Verdure, one part Fury,” she poured the powers into the lantern’s flame as she spoke them, “and a dash of determination.” The fire resulted in an aqua-colored flame. “You see? This type of everfire is commonly referred to as ‘Planter’s Folly.’ It would birth a massive tree from even the sickliest of seeds in a matter of seconds.”
“You said you put ‘determination’ into it,” Kaven noticed. “How did you do that?”
“By recalling a memory of when I was determined. What emotions I experienced. My mindset. I used the night I was determined to save someone’s life. Nothing else mattered in that moment. It was my only care in the world. And I was driven beyond anything to see it done. The stronger the memory—the emotion—the stronger the spell. Let’s say you want to create an enchanted stone that, whoever touched it, would lose their memory. The first thing you’d consider is imbuing it with emotions of disorientation or confusion. Tell us, what’s the most confused you’ve ever been?”
“The time I woke up in the middle of the woods with a sack of onions,” said Kaven.
“There you are,” Kade said.
Kaven thought for a moment. “So, why can’t Daro make the Oblivion Flame for himself?” he asked. “You told us a long time ago that Idonitus could do it.”
“Because Daro’s never had all the ingredients,” Kade said simply.
“Ahem, do you mind putting that out now?” Faelia asked, nodding to the flame. “I don’t fancy any branches sprouting from the wood in my walls.”
Kade licked her fingers, and put the fire out by its wick.
“Thank you,” said the Borean. “I do love how everything on my ship seems to end up as some sort of victim of your experiments.”
“One question, Kade,” Kaven proceeded with the subtlest of wry smiles. “That everfire—you didn’t have to use Flame, did you—to make the enchantment?”
“I couldn’t have,” Kade said. “I haven’t sipped from Cyneas Dal.”
“So, manipulating that fire didn’t require the power of Flame—that’s what you’re saying?”
Kade shook her head and rubbed her temple, disguising her amusement.
“God, you’re annoying,” Faelia rolled her eyes.
“You’re just mad that I have a point,” Kaven said. “And now, I’d like to try one more time.”
“Kaven, you’re exhausted,” Kade protested, almost maternally.
“I know, I know. But my mind’s a fury. If I try to sleep now, I won’t be able to blink. Look, I promise I’ll rest—after. Just—just one more.”
“One more time?” Kade asked.
“Tonight, one more time,” Kaven assured her.
“I’d personally like to hear more about your sack of onions,” said the Borean.
“One more time,” Kade expressed.
“One more time,” Kaven agreed. “For tonight.”
They returned to the deck, and made for Kaven’s scrap pile.
“Alright, Arey’n,” Kaven said, filling himself with magic, “I could use a little good fortune right now.”
“I think luck would be more appropriate,” Faelia snickered.
“Focus,” instructed Kade.
Kaven took a deep breath. “I’m gonna try it without Gale. Hover charms, bits of emotion. Control. Control,” he told himself.
“Keep your thoughts clear and concise while performing this kind of enchantment,” Kade told him. “Like pouring details through your magic into the object. Any muddle, any confusion, doubt, or inconsistency will either render the object impotent, unwhole, or unpredictable.”
Kaven focused on the board, and layered his charms and enchantments. He recalled memories of crafting, shaping wood to perfection. Of Dareic, and the time he actually managed to keep him from tipping the cows. Every instance he could remember when he was able to control a situation effectively, he poured into the plank.
When he finished, he released his magic.
“Congratulations,” Kade said. “Your first sorentus.”
Kaven felt an instant rush of fatigue and hunger, yet he forced himself to his feet.
He placed a foot on the floating board, and it did not budge.
“Promising,” he said, then stepped up to it. It hovered a foot above the deck as Kaven steadied his balance.
Faelia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Can you control it?” she asked inquisitively.
Kaven shrugged his shoulders. “Let’s find out,” he said. “I’m gonna go up slow—”
Before he could finish the word, Kaven burst upward into the sky, faster than a sprung arrow. He felt the bones in his legs crack the moment he left the ship. The force was too much to bear as the sky pressed down on him, and the board shot upward into his gut, bruising his ribs.
He grasped it frantically as he approached the clouds, as it was the only secure thing to hold.
“Stop!” he commanded the plank, and it froze in place. But Kaven’s momentum still battled upward, and he continued well past it, slowed, then fell. He swore, and reached out for the wood, hoping to grab hold of it as he passed. But he only grazed it with his fingertips.
Kaven plummeted toward the ocean, its waves glowing orange in the light of the setting sun. The wind numbed his skin and blasted his broken body like he was a puppet, cut from its strings. It was the second most helpless he’d ever felt.
Kade, he thought as the glittering blanket of choppy turmoil raced to meet him. Help me.
Chapter 22: The Silver Passes
“Douse the sails!” Captain Cyver ordered. “Bring the ship about!”
“Where is he?!” Kade shouted. “Do you see him?”
“There!” shouted Captain Cyver, wearing her Keen Mask. She pointed to a distant speck in the skies, where Kaven’s body fell like a wingless bird.
“Oh God, Kaven!” Kade uttered. She filled herself with magic and reached out for him.
As Kaven approached the water, he felt his descent slowed substantially, like a great invisible glove was catching him. Kade stood with her arm outstretched and eyes aglow, levitating him back to safety.
She laid him upon the deck and observed his injuries. Bone had punctured skin from within, and Kade was certain his armor concealed further impairment.
“Kade,” Kaven’s voice cracked.
“Kaven, are you okay?” Kade said, rushing to his side. “You were like catching a falling horse.”
“It hurts a smidge,” Kaven said through gritted teeth.
“Faelia, get help,” Kade said. “We need to set the bones. Get your crew over here. Take off his boots. Get him out of his armor.”
Together, Kade and the Boreans repaired Kaven’s body, and all the while, all Kaven spoke of was his failed sorentus.
“It worked. Sort of,” he said. “My memories—AAH!” he winced as his bone snapped back into place. “The wrong ones,” he continued.
“Kaven, shut up,” Faelia said.
“Too much,” Kaven persisted, sounding as though he was rambling nonsense. “Controlling things—that didn’t want to be controlled. All wrong. Need new ones. Better ones.”
Kade surged his body full of Revival, healing flesh and bone. “How many times—am I meant—to keep healing this man?” she said to herself, gasping for breath. When she finished, exhaustion consumed her.
; “Will you help me get him to the cabin?” she asked Faelia.
They each grabbed one of Kaven’s arms and wrapped it around their shoulders.
“Come on, up you go,” Faelia said. “Off to your cabin, ambassador.”
“N-n-n-n-no,” Kaven slurred. “Below deck. Cabin’s for Kade.”
“I’ll not hear of it, Kaven,” Kade said. “Easy now. Take it slow.”
They helped Kaven to his bedside, and drew the covers.
“Thank you,” he told them. “Think I’ll rest now.” He collapsed onto the mattress. Kade and Faelia straightened him out and tucked him in.
Kade went to the other side of the bed and sat upon it, shaking her head at Kaven. Faelia noticed her curious crew had not left the cabin.
“Thank you, that’ll be all,” she told them, and they went back to their duties. She looked to Kade. “My, you’ve got your hands full with this one.”
Kade laughed. “You have no idea,” she said.
“Did the Revival knock him out?” Faelia asked as Kaven began to snore.
“It’s usually refreshing and energizing,” Kade responded. “It was all his enchantments. Magic wears on us. It’s like a muscle. And the kind of enchantments he was performing require more…” she yawned, “… energy.”
“Perhaps you should lie down as well,” Faelia recommended.
“Yes, but I’ll sleep below.”
“Oh, nonsense,” Faelia said, coming to Kade’s side. She pressed her gently back into a pillow. “He’s already afforded you a gentleman’s courtesy of giving you this cabin. And after what you’ve been through, you deserve a soft mattress.”
“No, it’s fine,” Kade said, trying to get up. But her eyes closed, and she receded into the bed’s comforts.
“What is it with you two?” Faelia asked. “Let me guess, it’s complicated, isn’t it?”
Kade let out a sad sort of chuckle. “Oh, it’s more than complicated,” she said, then surrendered to her exhaustion.
Faelia blew out the lanterns and went to the door, where Captain Cyver stood, curious of her passengers.
“All’s quiet for once,” said Cyver. “Well done.”
“They really didn’t want to share the cabin,” Faelia said.
“Then why’d you leave them there? There’s plenty of space below.”
“I know. But imagine their faces when they wake up,” Faelia smiled devilishly. “Won’t that be fun?”
* * * * *
Lord Daro entered his chamber. With a wave of his hand, candles ignited, providing a soft, soothing glow.
It took only a moment for Daro to freeze in his tracks and stare at his mantel, where two amulets were missing. At first, he could not process how it was possible. But once the shock wore off, there was no mistaking what must have happened.
He stormed the hallways to Dexius’s chamber, and bashed upon the door.
“Dexius, open this door at once!” he commanded. No answer came, so Daro forced them open with an impellment spell. He entered, finding heaps of weapons and armor scattered about—no doubt used for practice in his bloodson’s solitude. But Dexius was gone.
“Oh Dexius,” Daro uttered. “What have you done?”
Daro commanded the Fated One, Scapses, to the council chamber—the very messenger who delivered news of Vexen’s passage to the Port of Skaelwood.
He paced wildly as the Fated knelt, still as stone.
“I require your speed, Scapses,” Daro said. “I believe my son, Dexius, has left the Tower in pursuit of the army traveling to Skaelwood. You will retrieve him. Take ten of your kindred with you.”
“Has it crossed your mind that he may have simply run off?” Finwynn suggested. “He’s an angry lad, but it will pass. He’ll come back.”
“He has taken an Alluvian Amulet,” Daro snapped. “And the Amulet of Oblivion.”
“Oh hell,” Finwynn gasped, fearfully.
“He would prove himself in battle, my will or no,” Daro said. “This is blatant disobedience. I commanded him to stay.” Daro turned to the Fated. “Dexius is cunning, Scapses,” he said. “He will expect this retrieval. Be very careful when you find him.”
“You think he will resist, my Lord?” Scapses asked.
“I think he is unpredictable. And confused. His heart is filled with such hate. Always. If necessary, take him by force.”
“And how will you deal with him when he returns?” Finwynn asked. “Will you spank him senseless? Or lashings galore? Humiliating your Prince for all to see? Perhaps, locking him in his room, like he refused to eat his peas would suffice?”
“He will be escorted back to the Wastelands,” Daro said resolutely.
“You’re banishing him?” Finwynn asked.
“Only until he regains my trust. He’s become a distraction I can ill afford. There, at least, he’ll be safe.” He turned to the Fated. “Scapses, depart at once. Reclaim the amulets and retrieve my son.”
“Yes, my Lord,” the Fated bowed, then exited the chamber.
Daro’s hands shook with frustration.
“Reclaim the amulets,” Finwynn slowly repeated his words, “and retrieve my son. Which, I wonder, do you value more?”
Daro eyed the Sage contemptuously, as if to ask ‘how dare you?’
“To save him from the world—and from himself,” Daro said, “I would just as soon melt them down.”
* * * * *
The sky was overcast. And Gabrel felt as disheartened as the day was gray.
The passage to Valea was met with relentless opposition from Daro’s forces on the road. Each time, Fortenstar’s army cleared the path, but each time, not all returned who left to make it safe.
Part of Gabrel was relieved. He’d fought Daro’s demons, and had no desire to engage even a single one more. Yet it undeniably aggrieved him to remain behind while others risked their lives for him. It unsettled his stomach and would not yield.
“General Fortenstar,” a scout spoke urgently. “We’ve reached the Silver Passes.”
“If the road thus far has been any indication, we’ll have company,” said the General. “Send a squad ahead and report.”
“General,” Gabrel said. “Let me go with them.”
“What?” Fortenstar asked, bemused by the request.
“I don’t want to lose any more soldiers. I can protect us. I can wield shields, Fury. I can—”
“Gabrel,” said Asos. “This is what they are here for.”
“But I might be able to—”
“This army is here to protect you,” said the General. “Not the other way around.”
Gabrel conceded, certain an ambush awaited his men. But after some time, the soldier returned with promising news.
“They’ve secured the passage,” he said. “All is clear.”
“You’re shitting me,” the General spoke incredulously.
“No sir, but there’s evidence of a skirmish—about half-way through.”
“I still don’t trust it,” said Domini. “They could be luring us in.”
“The Passes force us into a long, winding bottleneck,” said Fortenstar. “We proceed slowly. Caladen, dismount your horse. If we’re attacked from above, you’re an easier target when riding.”
Gabrel obeyed, and the army moved forward with the utmost caution.
Gabrel looked ahead and saw an expanse of silver valleys. “General, how does something like this happen?” he asked.
“The ancient Sages enchanted a lake in the mountains many ages ago,” Fortenstar told him. “This river ran from it. The Silver Passes are a series of valleys the river carved across the land. It has long since run dry. But whatever enchantment was placed upon its waters has coated the underlying rock.”
As Gabrel entered the pass, he marveled fearfully at the silver terrain.
“I’ve seen something like this before,” he said with widened eyes. “Could this have been a river of mirrorblood?”
“Mirror-what?” Fortenstar asked.
/> “Nothing,” Gabrel said.
“Gabe?” Kaven’s voice sounded in his mind, though it was hazy, almost muffled. Gabrel realized he’d used his and Kaven’s knock—‘mirrorblood.’
“Accident,” Gabrel thought. “How’s it going, though?”
“Tired,” Kaven’s thoughts were vague and disjointed. “Kade. Enchantments. I fell. Kade.”
Gabrel searched Kaven’s mind for a reason for his ambiguity. In doing so, he saw that the last thing Kaven remembered was falling asleep.
“Oh, Kaven, you’re knackered,” Gabrel realized. “Bad timing anyway, I need to go.”
He closed his mind, and returned his attention to the passes. The silvery valley’s walls were high, and a steady breeze chilled his skin. Behind the trot of hooves and the clanking of armor, an eerie silence unnerved him. The General was right, he thought. This is the perfect place for an ambush. He remembered the Fadenward Canyon, and the Fated watching from the walls. Surely, there were eyes upon them now.
“Use the surroundings to your advantage,” General Fortenstar urged the soldiers. “See what lies around the next turn before you take it.”
Gabrel saw the shapes of armored men distort against the smooth silver surface. Even the ground reflected their warped forms.
The passes wound southward, and Gabrel felt something crunch beneath his boots, like kernels of corn. He quickly reached down and picked up what appeared to be a strange tooth. The valley floor was littered with them. Just as he was about to share his discovery with the others, he heard commotion ahead.
It was not of battle, but of hurried evaluation. Gabrel searched the reflective walls for a hint of what lay ahead, and saw what looked like dark winged shapes.
The army poured into a large, round clearing—the deepest and widest area he’d yet to reach.
Upon the ground, hundreds of bodies of Fated, Primen, Blessed and Aeroli lay dead.
“There was an ambush,” Domini observed. “But it appears we missed it.”
“Make sure they’re dead,” Fortenstar instantly commanded, and his soldiers proceeded to skewer the dark bodies.