by David Ekrut
“I know. I am just so thumping angry with him. Thumping leaving me like that. And taming? What was he thinking? All those people are dead, half the city destroyed. If he’s alive, I’ll kill him next time I see him.”
“I suppose it is safe to tell you, now.” Zarah picked her sword up from the grass. “But you cannot speak of this. Father would be furious if he knew I told you.”
He lifted his sword into Fire stance. “Told me what?”
“Elwin was attacked by another warder. Right in his quarters. He tamed to avoid being murdered.”
“Another one?”
“I am afraid so. The warder killed two of our guards. You understand why you cannot speak of this?”
He thought about it for a second, then nodded. “If word spreads of someone slipping past our soldiers, people would start to wonder if Zaak is competent enough to be king. Between Bain’s undead and the dragons, people can’t take much more of this.”
“That is correct.”
“And,” Feffer said, “they will be reluctant to see the guardians as enemies. Even if they are Life-cursed pieces of wyvern dung.”
“Language, Feffer.” She tapped her sword against his. “So you promise not to speak of this?”
“I do. And thanks for telling me. I’m still upset, but knowing he fled for his life takes the sting out a bit.” He tapped her sword half-heartedly.
They made a few exchanges, until Zarah lowered her blade. “You’re still mad? Knowing he was fleeing for his life?”
“Aye. If he is alive, he could have come back by now. Instead, he’s letting the people who care worry over him. Makes me want to throttle his fool-neck.”
She took a long breath and slowly exhaled. “Father ordered Elwin to leave.”
“What? Why in the abyss would he do that?”
“For the good of the kingdom. The guardians will continue to be a problem. Elwin’s leaving will keep them out, at least for now.”
“What do you mean, for now?”
“My father’s prohibition of taming will appease the high inquisitor—who now feels justified to track down Elwin—but our citizens have lost faith in the elementalists. For three thousand years, we have used our powers to protect them, but now we are as vulnerable as they, perhaps even more so. As we saw with Elwin, the dragons will come for us, not them.”
“Tell that to all those people in the infirmary.”
“But they will blame Elwin, not the dragon. The guardians will see to that.”
“But that isn’t fair,” Feffer protested, “Elwin didn’t call the dragon. They can’t blame him for what that monster did.”
“Agreed. But they will. Deep down, you do as well. That is why you are so irate.”
“No,” he said, refusing to even consider such a ridiculous statement. “I just wish I could join him.”
Her mouth opened as though she might say more, but she stopped.
“What is it?”
“Nothing for you to worry over.” She raised her sword into Earth stance and sprung into a series of quick attacks, which he deflected.
“Does it have to do with Elwin?” he pressed.
“No,” she said, switching back to Air. By the look in her eyes, she wanted him to correct her, but he didn’t.
“Wait.”
She pressed harder, attacks coming faster. He dodged and pushed her side. She stumbled, almost tripping.
“You know where he is,” Feffer accused.
“No, I most certainly do not. Why would you say that?” She lunged. Her swings became more forceful.
“What else could you be hiding?”
“He stole a book. He took the tome containing the Words of Power.”
“He took his own book when he left, and you’re calling that theft?”
“Yes,” she said, sweeping at his feet.” Elwin had an order to fetch the book, but he left with it instead. So, yes, that is technically theft.”
“But the tome is his.”
“It matters not. Elwin disobeyed a command from the king.”
“As you said, he was fleeing for his life.” He emphasized his point with a well-aimed lunge. It touched her just above her stomach.
He paused for a beat. She swatted his blade to the side. “And as you said, he could have come back by now. At least long enough to give us the tome.”
“But after being attacked, returning could place others in danger. And what if the tome is nothing. His presence could cause another warder attack, and he could be risking the castle’s safety over a piece of fiction.”
“That is not his decision to make,” she said, no long pulling her blows. “He has still disobeyed.”
“He was commanded to go. By the king. So it cannot be theft. He was following orders. It isn’t his fault he was given conflicting thumping orders. It is the fault of the idiot who ordered him.”
“You will watch your tone with me, guard.”
“Oh. So, I’m just a guard now, am I?”
She grunted as his sword hit her mid-section.
Guilt and horror filled him. “Zarah, I’m so sorr—”
She moved to Fire form. Her sword whipped into the flame dance kata. Her strikes were precise. It was all he could do to dodge. “Yes, Feffer, you are my guard, remember? You vowed to protect the royal persons, and my father saw fit to assign you to me, despite your being a simple-minded townie. You are sworn. And you will obey. And you will watch your tone. Is that understood?”
Anger flared with every word. He matched her strength and speed, looking for an opening. “I’ll watch my thumping tone, alrighty. I’ll watch it lash—”
Zarah stumbled backwards and dropped her weapon. The expression on her face made him freeze.
“What’s wrong?” Fear wrenched through him. He searched the skies, frantically.
“It is not a dragon.” All the anger had gone from her tone. “It is … I am not sure. It was like a Vision.”
“A Vision? What in the abyss do you mean? My thumping heart’s about to leap out my throat. I thought there was a dragon.”
“You just died. I can still see it. I can see everything.”
Her eyes panned around the courtyard and into the sky, widening with surprise.
“Zarah,” he said, slowly. “I am sorry about my tone before, but you are not making any sense.”
“My essence is full and has been for a month. It hurts all the time, but it is feeling better now. While I can see.”
“I’m going to get your father. Will you be safe by yourself for a few seconds?”
She met his gaze again. “Wow. This is incredible. Come at me again.”
“Have you lost your wits?”
“As hard as you can. Do not hold back.”
“You need to see a healer. I’m not sure—”
She swung her practice blade at him, forcing him to block or get his skull crushed in. He chose to parry. He followed up with a lunge. Zarah swatted it and countered. And back and forth, they went.
Her form was still sloppy, but she blocked every time. He decided to stop holding back, advancing into a full attack. She side-stepped or deflected every blow.
Then Zarah moved into Fire stance. Feffer dodged or parried her first few attacks, looking for a counter but finding none. After a few moments, sweat dripped from his brow. He worked his feet, trying to move back to the offensive, but Zarah was always one step ahead of him.
Pain stung his hand and leg. He felt the brief sensation of falling. The ground hit his back, knocking the air from him. Zarah leaned over him, a huge smile filling her rosy cheeks.
“What in the abyss was that?” Feffer asked. “Have you been toying with me all this time?”
“No,” she laughed, offering him her hand. “I can see what you are going to do, before you do it. There are dozens of
you. They are all very faint, but some are more solid than others. The most solid one. It is the one that shows me what you’ll do.”
He let her help him to his feet. “How?”
“I have Visions, never before when awake. But, Feffer,” her smile was infectious, “I can make it happen. But …,” her smile faded.
“But what?”
“I don’t know how to make it stop.”
“Why in the nine circles of the abyss would you? Do you know what sort of advantage this is? Let’s find out what else you can see. Is it just me? Why were you looking at the sky?”
“Dragons. I can see them, but they are even more faint than the extra yous. Lifebringer save us, there are so many of them.”
“What does this mean?”
“I do not know.”
Feffer found his feet moving. He wanted desperately to get out of the open. Before long, they were running.
Chapter 11
A Foreign Tongue
Creation cannot occur without Will, and neither is possible without precise focus and understanding. To create the smallest of sparks, the magus must first believe in the existence of the very fire one wishes to be. This paradox has defeated many.
~Asianda’s Incantia, 127 A.R.
~
The light of the fire illuminated the tome in Elwin’s lap and stretched across the small clearing to the forest. Tall redwoods loomed overhead, blocking out the stars and moon. Elwin could feel the moisture in the air, threatening to loose its rain.
Elwin closed the leather binding and shoved the volume back into his pack. Eighteen days they’d been traveling, and the instructions in this tome, Asianda’s Incantia, still made little sense. Without putting any will into the words, whatever that was, nothing would happen, so he practiced the syntax of the incantation for dimensional folding.
He kept practicing until Daki came into their camp, carrying a small fox carcass. Daki’s black hair hung past his shoulders. Two curved blades, called raqii dath, hung from the belt woven into his loincloth. Despite the chill, Daki would not don a cloak. His bond with the bear somehow provided resistances and strengths beyond his normal limits.
Taego lumbered behind him, sniffing at the grass as he moved with surprising stealth for a bear of his size. Seeing no signs of danger, he plopped his rear beside a tree and stared toward the fire. He gave a few snorts and groans.
“No, Taego. The fire will not draw enemies. Bain’s minions have fled our territory, and the dragons have better tasks at hand than us.”
Taego pawed the ground and bared his teeth at Elwin.
“Elwin knows better than to tame. Did you not hear him practicing the words?”
The bear let out another series of groans.
“I think he is doing very well.” Daki sat near Elwin and got to work skinning the fox. “Once he has our libraries and the aid of the elders, he will be even more prepared for what is to come.”
“I hope you are right,” Elwin said, not feeling a fraction of Daki’s confidence. “I need to find a way to reverse what the dragon did to Jasmine. And without a proper teacher, I’ll never learn these incantations.”
“Your articulations sound very much like the dragons.”
“Maybe,” Elwin admitted, “but what in the abyss does it mean to spend will? The tome doesn’t tell me that. To will something to happen is the same as really wanting it, right?”
Daki shrugged, an awkward gesture while trying to spit a fox. Realizing the Chai Tu Naruo would offer no more insights, Elwin watched his friend roast their dinner in silence. Daki’s people cherished their secrets more than gold or silver and would give up knowledge as freely as a wealthy miser gave aid to the impoverished. If Daki did know more, prying would only bring about more frustrations for both of them.
Quiet meditation was better.
“It is done,” Daki declared, cutting off a bite and offering the knife to Elwin.
The meat was not so tender as rabbit, but the savory juices were worth the extra chewing. They ate the outer flesh and turned the spit to roast the raw inner layers, eating until the fox was reduced to bones. They cleaned their mess, burying the remnants of their meal.
Elwin gathered his cloak about him and settled on one side of the fire. Daki laid across from him and sighed with contentment. They stared at the star-filled sky in companionable silence. He found the constellation, called the Trickster and instantly missed Feffer. That had always been Feffer’s favorite.
“You will watch over us from the shadow realm?” Daki asked, as he had every night since entering the forest.
Elwin gave the same answer he always gave. “Yes. Sleep well, Daki.”
“Same to you, Elwin.”
He laid there for several minutes, unable to close his eyes. He kept considering the instructions in the incantia. He breathed out a sigh and sat up.
Elwin reopened the tome and studied the words, well into the night.
~
Elwin felt the exhaustion in his body as he slept next to the fire. The dancing light did nothing against the ever-present haze of the shadow realm. Even by day, the fog remained, but he could see as if the way was lit by the full moon.
He’d studied later than he had intended. After nearly two tendays of traveling and studying the words, he felt no closer to getting the incantation right. Almost, he wanted to see a dragon again to hear the intonations.
But no, he would not bring one intentionally.
Elwin rose into the air. The moment he passed through the canopy of leaves, Daki and Taego vanished from his view. He moved higher, until the trees of the Carotid Forest blended together. Unless he found a way to stop the dragons, this was the closest he’d get to flying.
He hovered, watching the leaves shifting in the mild breeze.
It had not been long ago, when he had fled through this same forest with Feffer. They’d fought giants, barely escaping with their lives. After climbing the mountains and reaching Goldspire, they’d battled with the black savants. Feffer’d been taken. And before they could fully celebrate his friend’s return, here he was again. Fleeing a different enemy.
Slowly, Elwin flew southwest, watching the forest change. He felt his body grow distant, but his sanctuary still protected him from the Seeker’s domain. He stopped at the edge of the protective boundary and peered ahead.
The forest opened to a lake of modest size. Even at this distance, he recognized the body of water. He’d spent so many days there with Feffer, playing at being adventurers. His home was not far from here.
Deciding to risk a glance at his favorite spot, Elwin flew forward. He felt the protective boundary vanish but pressed onward. He landed near the rope swing. The hemp looked worn. It had been pulled up and wrapped around the knob at the base of the large redwood.
“Hello, Son of Bain.”
Elwin spun, ready to flee, but stopped. The man in blue silks sat near the edge of the lake. Abaddon’s back was to him. He dug his bare toes into the sand.
“What,” Elwin asked, “are you doing?”
“Enjoying the moment. What else?”
“You are behind the Awakening,” Elwin accused. “You’ve done this to us.”
“Not I. It is the Librarian’s meddling who has brought them back. My designs for the dragons are different than his. Of course, the magi spoke the words, but it would not have been possible without his touch. No doubt that little magus was never even aware of the Librarian’s influence on her work. He does enjoy moving through the game behind the veils of his many guises.”
“The magi spoke words to bring the dragons back? That cannot be.”
“Can it not?” Abaddon looked at Elwin over his shoulder. “Why so?”
“They are going to help me stop it. Only they can return the dragons to their slumber.”
Abaddon let out a snort of la
ughter. “Is that what the Librarian is telling his people these days? Believe what you will. You are no longer my concern.”
“Then why are you here? Taunting me?”
He shrugged. “Eternity is long. And I was curious. After all this time in hiding, you reveal yourself to me. Why?”
“I only wanted to see the lake.”
“Oh yes,” he mused. “The lake. This is the spot we first met. That night you came into your powers. Do you remember?”
How could he forget? Elwin nodded.
“It is a good spot,” Abaddon said. “I cannot wait to feel these sands upon my feet, once more.”
Elwin raised an eyebrow. “Your toes are in the sand now.”
“What you see is a projection of my consciousness. It isn’t real. I cannot feel. But soon, that will change. Without you.”
“What are you saying?”
Abaddon smiled. “Another will provide what I need. The vessel will be older than I would prefer, but the dead cannot be so choosey, after all.”
“The dead?”
“Though my power touches your realm, I am not alive and cannot be without the blood of my blood to bid me rise.”
Elwin felt a sense of dread as he realized, “You are trying to come back to life?”
“Do not sound so vexed. I am your only chance at salvation. The dragons cannot fall without me. It is I who sent them into their Great Slumber the first time. Or is this truth not in your history books?”
Everyone knew Abaddon was the one responsible for the dragons’ fall. But could it be true? Was Abaddon the only way to stop them? No. If the Seeker did it once, Elwin could do it a second time. There was a way.
He doubted Abaddon would be forthcoming but what did it hurt to ask. “How do I defeat the dragons?”
“Dear boy, why would I tell you this? If I gave you my knowledge, you would have no need of my return.”
“I will never aid you.”
Again, Abaddon shrugged. “As I said, I have no need of your assistance, and I will not lend you mine. I felt your presence and merely wished to greet you. In truth, I never needed your participation. You and your brother were mostly tools to manipulate your father’s sense of grandeur. When the time comes, he will open the door, despite your best efforts. He is my creature, utterly and completely.”